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 UNIVERSITY 
 
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 A' home and abroad: 
 
 in.an? ^^24 031 215 035 
 
 olin,anx 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031215035 
 
PROSE WRITINGS 
 
 or 
 
 BATAED TATLOE. 
 
 REVISED EDITION. 
 
 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 SECOND SERIES. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 G. P. PUTNAM, 532 BROADWAY. 
 
 1862. 
 
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AT HOME AND ABEOAD 
 
 A SKETCH-BOOK 
 
 LIFE, SCENERY AND MEN. 
 
 BY 
 
 BAYAED TAYLOE. 
 
 ^KOttb ^tme. 
 
 NEW YOEK: 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM, 532 BEOA.DWAY. 
 
 1862. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, In the year 1862, by 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District oi New York. 
 
 B. ORAIGnnM), 
 
 Primer, Stureoiypnp, riiiI Klccirotyper, 
 
 Cn.vtait iSuilHtns* 
 
 81 , 83, and 85 Cottttv Stnat. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I.— A COUNTIIY HOME IN AMERICA. 
 
 1. HOW I CAME TO BT7Y A FARM, 
 
 2. " TREE SOIL," 
 
 3. THE BUILDING OF A HOUSE, 
 
 4. — RESULTS AND SUGGESTIONS, 
 
 1 
 
 10 
 19 
 28 
 
 II.— NEW" PICTURES PROM CALIFORNIA, 
 
 1. — SAN ERANCISCO, AFTER TEN TEARS, 
 
 2. THE VALLEY OF SAN JOS^, 
 
 3. ^A JOURNEY TO THE GEYSERS, . 
 
 4. — A STRUGGLE TO KEEP AN APPOINTMENT, 
 
 5. THE SACRAMENTO VALLEY, 
 
 6. — THE NORTHERN MINES, . 
 
 7. TRAVELLING IN THE SIERRA NEVADA, 
 
 8. THE SOUTHERN MINES, . 
 
 9. THE BIG TREES OF CALAVERAS, 
 
 10. OALITOENIA, AS A HOME, 
 
 37 
 50 
 
 65 
 86 
 105 
 125 
 144 
 159 
 176 
 191 
 
 III.— A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 
 
 1. TAKING POSSESSION, 
 
 2. HOW WE SPENT THE FOURTH, 
 
 3. ^REINHARDTSBRUNN, AND ITS LEGEND, 
 
 4. THE FIRST GERMAN SHOOTING-MATCH, 
 
 203 
 210 
 218 
 225 
 
IV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 5. — THE SAME, CONTINUED, . 
 6. — ERNEST OF 0OBDB&, 
 7. — STORKS AND AUTHORS, . 
 8. — " THE VISION OF SUDDEN DEATH," 
 9. — THE FOREST AND ITS LEGENDS, 
 10. DAY-DREAMS — DEPARTURE, . 
 
 PAGH 
 
 236 
 243 
 253 
 261 
 270 
 279 
 
 IV.— A "WALK THEOUUH THE PRANCONIAN 
 SWITZERLAND 
 
 v.— TRAVELS AT HOME. 
 
 1. THE HUDSON AND THE CATSKILLS, 
 
 2. — BERKSHIRE AND BOSTON, 
 
 3. THE SACO VALLEY, 
 
 4. — THE ASCENT OF MOUNT WASHINGTON, .... 
 
 5. — ^MONTREAL AND QUEBEC, 
 
 6. UP THE SAGUENAY, 
 
 7. — NIAGARA, AND ITS VISITORS, 
 
 8. TRENTON FALLS AND SARATOGA, 
 
 286 
 
 319 
 330 
 341 
 355 
 366 
 374 
 388 
 396 
 
 VI.— PERSONAL SKETCHES. 
 
 1. — THE LESLIES, 404 
 
 2. — THE BROWNINGS, 410 
 
 3. — THE WRITERS FOR " PUNCH," 416 
 
 4. — LEIGH HUNT, 421 
 
 5. — HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN, 426 
 
 VII.— THE CONFESSIONS OP A MEDIUM. 
 
 433 
 
 VIII.— THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 
 
 473 
 
AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 SECOND SERIES 
 
 I. 
 
 A COTJNTRT HOME IN AMERICA. 
 
 1. — ^How I Came to But a Faem. 
 
 In the first place, it runs in the blood. If there is any 
 law I believe in, it is that of the hereditary transmission of 
 traits, qualities, capacities, and passions. My father is a 
 farmer; my grandfather was, and his father before him, and 
 his, and his again, to the seventh ancestor, who came over in 
 one of William Penn's vessels, and immediately set about 
 reducing the supei-fluous sylvanism of that Apostle's Sylva- 
 nia. If I could brush away the clouds which hang about 
 this portion of the genealogical tree, I have no doubt but 
 that I should find its trunk striking through cottages or 
 country halls for some centuries further ; and that " Roger, 
 {ob. 1614,) the son of Thomas, the son of Roger," who 
 wore the judicial ermine upon his escutcheon, had his 
 favorite coui)trj-hou.se in the neighborhood of London. 
 
 1 
 
2 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 The child that has tumbled into a newly-ploughed furrow- 
 never forgets the smell of the fresh earth. He thrives upon 
 it as the butcher's boy thrives upon the steam of blood, 
 but a healthier apple-red conies into his cheeks, and his 
 growing muscle is subdued in more innocent pastimes. 
 Almost my first recollection is that of a swamp, into which 
 I went bare-legged at morning, and out of which I came, 
 when driven by hunger, with long stockings of black mud, 
 and a mask of the same. If the child was missed from the 
 house, the first thing that suggested itself, was to climb 
 upon a mound which overlooked the swamp. Somewhere, 
 among the tufts of the rushes and the bladed leaves of the 
 calamus, a little brown ball was sure to be seen moving, 
 now dipping out of sight, now rising again, like a bit of 
 drift on the rippling green. It was my head. The trea- 
 sures I there collected were black terrapins, with orange 
 spots, baby frogs the size of a chestnut, thrush's eggs, and 
 stems of purple phlox. 
 
 I cannot say that my boyish experience of farmwork was 
 altogether attractive. I had a constitutional horror of 
 dirty hands, and my first employments — picking stones and 
 weeding corn — were rather a torture to this superfine taste. 
 But almost every field had its walnut tree, and many of the 
 last year's nuts retained their flavor in the spring ; melons 
 were planted among the corn, and the meadow which lay 
 between never exhausted its store of wonders. Besides, 
 there were eggs to hide at Easter ; cherries and strawberries 
 in May ; fruits all summer, fishing-parties by torch-light • 
 lobelia and sumac to be gathered, dried, and sold for 
 pocket-money ; and in the fall chestnuts, persimmons, wild 
 
A COtTNTET HOME IN AMEETCA. 3 
 
 grapes, cider, and the grand butchering after frost came — 
 so that all the pleasures I knew were those incidental to a 
 farmer's life. The hooks I read came from the village 
 library, and the task of helping to " fodder'' on the dark 
 winter evenings was lightened by the anticipation of sitting 
 down to Gibbon's" Rome, or Thaddeus of Warsaw, after- 
 wards. To be sure, I sometimes envied the store-keeper's 
 boy, whom I had once seen shovelling sugar out of a hogs- 
 head, and who now and then stealthily dipped his hand 
 into the raisin-box ; but it is not in the nature of any child 
 to be perfectly satisfied with his lot. 
 
 A life of three years in a small country town effectually 
 cured me of all such folly. When I returned to the home- 
 stead as a youth, I first felt the delight and the refreshment 
 of labor in the open air. I was then able to take the plough- 
 handle, and I still remember the pride I felt when my 
 furrows were pronounced even and well turned. Although 
 it was already decided that I should not make farming the 
 business of my life, I thrust into my plans a slender wedge 
 of hope that I might one day own a bit of ground, for the 
 luxury of having, if not the profit of cultivating it. The 
 aroma of the sweet soil had tinctured my blood ; the black 
 mud of the swamp still stuck to my feet. 
 
 It happened that, adjoining my father's property, there 
 was an old farm, which was fast relapsing into a state of 
 nature. Thirty or forty years had passed since the plough 
 had touched any part of it. The owner, who lived upon 
 another estate at a little distance, had always declined to 
 sell — perhaps for the reason that no purchaser could be 
 found to ofier an encouraging price. Left thus to herself, 
 
AT HOSIE AND ABROAD. 
 
 Nature played all sorts of wild and picturesque pranks with 
 the property. Two heaps of stones were all that marked 
 the site of the house and bam ; half a dozen ragged plum 
 and peach trees hovered around the outskirts of the 
 vanished garden, the melancholy survivors of all its bloom 
 and fruitage ; and a mixture of tall sedge-grass, sumacs, 
 and blackberry bushes covered the fields. The hawthorn 
 hedges which lined the lane had disappeared, but some 
 clumps of privet still held their ground, and the wild grape 
 and scarlet-berried celastrus clambered all over the tall 
 sassafras and tulip-trees. 
 
 Along the road which bounded this farm on the east 
 stood a grove of magnificent oaks, more than a hundred 
 feet in height. Standing too closely to permit of lateral 
 boughs near the earth, their trunks rose like a crowded 
 colonnade clear against the sky, and the sunset, burning 
 through, took more gorgeous hues of orange and angry 
 ci'imson. Knowing that if the farm were sold, those glo- 
 rious trees would probably be the first to fall, and that the 
 sunset would thereby for me lose half its splendor, I gra- 
 dually came to contemplate them with the interest which 
 an uncertain, suspended fiite inspires. At the foot of the 
 oaks, on the border of the field, there was an old, gnarled 
 mother-pine, surrounded by her brood of young ones, who, 
 always springing up in the same direction, fi-om the fact 
 that the seeds were scattered by the nor'west winds, 
 seemed to be running off down the slope, as if full-fledged 
 and eager to make their way into the world. The old 
 pine had an awful interest to me as a boy. INIoro than 
 once huge black snakes had been seen hanging from its 
 
A COTJNTKT HOME IX AMEEICA. 5 
 
 boughs, and the farm-hands would tell mysterious stories 
 of an old mother-serpent, as long as a fence-rail and as 
 swift as a horse. In fact, my brother and I, on our way to 
 the peach-trees, which still produced some bitter-flavored 
 fruit, had more than once seen snakes in our patli. On a 
 certain occasion, as my memory runs, I chased the snake, 
 while he ran away. His story is, that he chased and I ran 
 — and the question remains unsettled to this day. 
 
 In another wood of chestnuts, beyond the field, the finest 
 yeUow violets were to be found ; the azaleas blossomed in 
 their season, and the ivory Indian-pipe sprang up under the 
 beech-trees. Sometimes we extended our rambles to the 
 end of the farm, and looked down into the secluded dells 
 beyond the ridge which it covered : such glimpses were 
 like the discovery of unknown lands. How far ofi" the 
 other people lived ! How strange it must be to dwell con- 
 tinually down in that hollow, with no other house in sight! 
 But when I build a house, I thought, I shall build it up on 
 the ridge, with a high steeple, from the top of which I can 
 see far and wide. That deserted farm was to me like the 
 Ejuxria of Hartley Coleridge, but my day-dreams were far 
 less ambitious than his. If I had known then what I 
 learned long afterwards, that a tradition of buried treasure 
 still lingers about the old garden, I should no doubt have 
 dug up millions in my imagination, roofed my house with 
 gold, and made the steeple thereof five hundred feet high. 
 
 At last came the launch into the world — a slide, a plunge, 
 a shudder, and the ship rides the waves. Absence, occu- 
 pation, travel, substituted realities for dreams, and the 
 farm, if not forgotten, became a very subordinate object in 
 
AT HOME AKD ABROAD. 
 
 the catalogue of things to be attained. Whenever I visited 
 the homestead, however, I saw the sunset through its 
 grating of forest, and rememhered the fate that still hung 
 suspended over the trees. Fifty years of neglect had given 
 the place 'a bad name among the farmers, while Nature, as 
 if delighted to recover possession, had gone on adorning it 
 in her own wild and matchless way. I looked on the spot 
 with an instructed eye, and sighed, as I counted up my 
 scanty earnings, at the reflection that years must elapse 
 before I could venture to think of possessing it. My wish, 
 nevertheless, was heard and remembered. 
 
 In July, 1853, 1 was on the island of Loo-Choo. Return- 
 ing to the flag-ship of the squadron one evening, after a 
 long tramp over the hills to the south of Napa-Kiang, in a 
 successful search for the ruins of the ancient fortress of 
 Tiraa-gusku, I was summoned by the ofiicer of the deck to 
 receive a package which had been sent on board from one 
 of the other vessels. Letters from home, after an interval 
 of six months without news ! I immediately asked per- 
 mission to burn a lamp on the orlop-deck, and read until 
 midnight, forgetting the tramp of the sentry and the sounds 
 of the sleepers in their hammocks around me. Opening 
 letter after letter, and devouring, piece by piece, the ban- 
 quet of news they contained, the most startling, as well as 
 the most important communication, was — the old farm was 
 mine I Its former owner had died, the property was sold 
 and had been purchased in my name. I went on deck. 
 The midwateh had just relieved the first: the night was 
 pitch dark, only now and then a wave burst in a flash of 
 white phosphoric fire. But, as I looked westward over the 
 
A COCNTEY HOME IN AMERICA. 1 
 
 stern-rail, I saw the giant oaks, rising Mack against the 
 crimson sunset, and knew that they were waiting for me — ■ 
 that I should surely see them again. 
 
 Five months afterwards I approached home, after an 
 absence of nearly two years and a half. It was Christmas 
 Eve — a clear, sharp winter night. The bare earth was hard 
 frozen ; the sun was down, a quarter-moon shone overhead, 
 and the keen nor'west wind blew in my face. I had 
 known no winter for three years, and the bracing stimulus 
 of the cold was almost as novel as it was refreshing. Pre- 
 sently I recognized the boundaries of wiy jproperty — yes, I 
 actually possessed a portion of the earth's surface ! After 
 all, I thought, possession — at least so far as Nature is con- 
 cerned — means simply ^otecfo'ow. This moonlit wilderness 
 is not more beautiful to my eyes than it was before ; but I 
 have the right, secured by legal documents, to preserve its 
 beauty. I need not implore the woodman to spare those 
 trees : I'll spare them myself. This is the only difference 
 in my relation to the property. So long as any portion of 
 the landscape which pleases me is not disturbed, I possess 
 it quite as much as this. 
 
 During these reflections, I had reached the foot of the 
 ridge. A giant tulip-tree, the honey of whose blossoms I 
 had many a time pilfered in boyhood, crowned the slope, 
 drooping its long boughs as if weary of stretching them in 
 welcome. Behind it stood the oaks, side by side, far along 
 the road. As I reached the first tree the wind, which 
 had fallen, gradually swelled, humming through the bare 
 branches untU a deep organ-bass filled the wood. It was 
 a hoarse, yet grateful chorus of welcome — inarticulate, yet 
 
AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 intelligible. " Welcome, welcome home !" went booming 
 through the trees, " welcome, our master and our pre- 
 server ! See, with all the voice we can catch from the 
 winds, we utter our joy ! For now there is an end to fear 
 and suspense : he who knows us and loves us spreads over 
 us the shelter of his care. Long shall we flourish on the 
 hill : long shall our leaves expand in the upper air : long 
 shall our grateful shadows cover his path. "We shall hail 
 his coming from afar: our topmost boughs will spy him 
 across the valleys, and whisper it to the fraternal woods. 
 We are old ; we never change ; we shall never cease to 
 remember and to welcome our master !" 
 
 So the trees were first to recognize me. Listening to 
 their deep, resonant voices, (which I would not have 
 exchanged for the dry rattle of a hundred-league-long 
 forest of tropical palms,) I was conscious of a new sensation, 
 which nothing but the actual sight of my own property 
 could have suggested. I felt like a tired swimmer when he 
 first touches ground — ^like a rudderless ship, drifting at the 
 will of the storm, when her best bower takes firm hold — 
 like a winged seed, when, after floating from bush to bush, 
 and from field to field, it drops at last upon a handful of 
 mellow soil, and strikes root. My life had now a point 
 d'appid^ and, standing upon these acres of real estate, it 
 seemed an easier thing to move the world. A million in 
 bank stock or railroad bonds could not have given me the 
 same positive, tangible sense of property. 
 
 When I walked over my fields (j es — actually my fields!) 
 the next day, this sensation returned in an almost ridiculous 
 excess. " You will of course cut down that ugly old tree " 
 
A COUNTEY HOME XS AMEEICA. 9 
 
 said some one. It impressed me very much as if I had been 
 told : " That chapter in your book is inferior to the others 
 — tear it out !" or, " Your little finger is crooked : have it 
 amputated !" Why, even the sedge-grass and sumacs — how 
 beautiful they Virere 1 Could I ever make up my mind to 
 destroy them? As for the cedars^ the hawthorn, the privet, 
 the tangled masses of climbing smilax — no, by the bones of 
 Belshazzar, they shall stand ! "This field will not be worth 
 much for grain." Well — what if it isn't ? " Everything is 
 wild and neglected — it wants clearing, sadly." Everything 
 is grand, beautifiil, charming : there is nothing like it ! So 
 ran the course of remark and counter-remark. I did not 
 suffer my equanimity to be disturbed ; was I not sole 
 owner, appellator, and disposer of all? Nor did the trees 
 appear to be sensible of the least fear. They leaned their 
 heads against one another in a sort of happy, complacent 
 calm, as if whispering : " It's all right : let us enjoy the sun- 
 shine ; he'll take care of us !" 
 
 Yes, one cannot properly be considered as a member of 
 the Brotherhood of Man, an inhabitant of the Earth, until 
 he possesses a portion of her surface. As the sailors say, he 
 stays, he don't actually live. The Agrarians, Communists, 
 Socialistic Levellers, and Flats of all kinds, are replenished 
 from the ranks of the non-owners of real estate. Banks 
 break ; stocks and scrips of all kinds go up and down on 
 the financial see-saw ; but a fee-simple of solid earth is 
 il^^ TuBEB ! You see it, you feel it, you walk over it. It is 
 yours, and your children's, and their progeny's (unless mort- 
 gaged and sold through foreclosure) until the Millennium. 
 
 And this is how I came to buy a Farm. 
 
10 at home and abroad. 
 
 2. — "Feeb Soil." 
 
 " Foe and in consideration of the sum of dollars, 
 
 good and lawful money of the state of , I, the aforesaid 
 
 A. B., do hereby convey and transfer to the aforesaid C. D., 
 etc.. etc., his heirs, executors, or assignees, all my nght, 
 title, and interest in the aforesaid messuage and tract of 
 land," etc., etc. The signatures, duly witnessed, the decla- 
 ration of the wife, alone in the presence of the magistrate, 
 that she had signed the deed of her own free will, without 
 compulsion on the part of her hushand, even the note of 
 
 registry in the Registrar's oflSce of county, were all 
 
 there. The stiff phrases and redundant tautology of the 
 law, once so absurd, now seemed highly exact and appro- 
 priate. Ought not the casket which holds my property to 
 be so thoroughly wrapped and cemented, th.it not a rat 
 shall find a hole to creep through ? Certes, fifty folios v,ore 
 not too much to secure my right of possession ! Let all the 
 synonyms in the English language be exhausted — so much 
 the better. Mrs. Browning tells somebody to say to her : 
 " ' Love me, love me, love me,' in silver iteration," and what 
 is true of one kind of love, is true of all kinds. If the deed 
 had simply stated that C. D. had " bought" the land of A. B. 
 I do not think I should have been satisfied. But this luscious 
 lingering upon the circumstance, ringing it over and ovci 
 upon all words which had a remote approach to the mean- 
 ing — conveyed, transferred, made over, disposed of, invested 
 with, deeded to, granted, given, empowered — what fuhiess 
 and richness, what vitality and certainty it gave to the act ! 
 
A COUNTET HOME IN AMERICA. 11 
 
 I repeat it, the only positive property is real estate. Not 
 only in imagination, but also in fact. You may hold in your 
 hand a hundred thousand dollars in bank-notes ; a sudden 
 puff of wind surprises you, and whisk ! away they go. Or 
 you may fall into the water, and they are reduced to a 
 worthless pulp — or the house burns down, and your notes, 
 and jewels, and mortgages, are consumed with it. But who 
 ever heard of an estate being blown away, or burned up, or 
 carried off by an absconding defaulter ? Did any man ever 
 see a counterfeit farm? The market value of land may 
 fluctuate considerably, but, unless Nature is subjected 
 to violence and outrage, its intrinsic value never varies. 
 It always possesses the same capabilities, if not the same 
 qualities. 
 
 There is one feature at least — and, to me, not the least 
 important — wherein the bleakest barren is equal to the 
 most bountiful intervale. Within its limits the proprietor 
 is sovereign lord. He may build, tear down, excavate, fill 
 up, plant, destroy, or do whatever else he will. Yea, he 
 may even (in our own country) write, speak, proselytize, 
 establish a new religious sect, adopt another form of govern- 
 ment — provided he still pays his taxes — and in every other 
 way, compatible with the rights of his neighbors, give free 
 play to the eccentricities of his individual nature. 
 
 I, at least, in' receiving the deed, determined that my land 
 should be " Free Soil." Free to myself, free to my friends, 
 free to all the world, — with certain restrictions to be herein- 
 after specified. Before proceeding to these, let me note 
 another feature of human nature, which, as homo sum, 
 could not have failed to present itself without constituting 
 
12 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 me a highly ■ exceptional person. I forget whether it was 
 on the first, second, or third visit I made to the old farm, 
 (I believe I went every day for the first weet,) when my 
 satisfaction received a check. The ridge running through 
 the property is the highest in the neighborhood, with the 
 exception of one immediately to the north, which conve- 
 niently protects it from the cold winds of winter. My own 
 ridge, therefore, commands an extensive view over the 
 regions to the east, south, and west. Through the inlets 
 of cedar-besprinkled lawn between the triple groves, I 
 caught lovely glimpses of other valleys, between me and 
 the distant purple hills. A line of postand-rail was drawn 
 across the middle ground of each picture — ^it was my line 
 fence ! There my sovereignty ceased. 
 
 My previous sense of possession, "This is mine," was 
 immediately displaced by the unreasonable longing : " If all 
 that were only mine !" Like the Frenchman, who, sitting 
 down to a crust of bread and a cup of water, and being 
 unexpectedly presented with a bottle of wine, growled, 
 '■'■Peste! vin ordinaire! you might have given me Bur- 
 gundy !" — or the child who gets an apple and then cries 
 because he can't have six, I now wanted to feel myself the 
 owner of all the land within the range of vision. My pos- 
 session was incomplete — it was only part of a laiulscupe. 
 Those forests which now so beautifully feather the distant 
 hills may be destroyed at the will of another. I liave no 
 power to preserve them. How fortimute are those laro-e 
 landholders in England, who can ride thirty miles in a 
 btraight line through their own property! They can mount 
 the highest hill, and all which the rounded sky incloses, 
 
A COUNTET HOME IN AMERICA. 13 
 
 belongs to them — stream, forest, meadow, mountain, vil- 
 lage, mills, and mines ! 
 
 But presently an inner voice whispered : " Great estates 
 are a curse. They flatter the selfish pride of one man, that 
 a thousand others may be homeless. You, who rejoice in 
 the soil you have just achieved, finding therein a better 
 right to residence on the earth, would you crowd out others 
 from the same privilege ? You, with your fields and groves, 
 would you grudge the laborer his single acre, or yonder 
 farmer his hill-sides, made dearer to him by the labors of 
 his fathers for a hundred and fifty years ? Have you not soil 
 enough for the exercise of your coveted freedom ? Were 
 all the land yours, to the furthest hill, you would stand 
 upon that, and extend your wishes to the next horizon. He 
 has enough who makes a wise use of his property. Beware ! 
 for there have been those", who, not satisfied with ten thou- 
 sand acres, were reduced to seek contentment at last in six 
 feet of earth !" 
 
 Besides, I thought, this is bat the outside of my farm. 
 Possession is not merely the superficial area : it extends, 
 legally, to the centre of the earth. I own, therefore, a nar- 
 row strip of territory nearly four thousand miles in length! 
 Truly I cannot travel to the end of my dominion ; what of 
 that ? — I have no desire to do so. And above me, the seas 
 of blue air, the dark, superimposing space — all is mine, half- 
 way to the nearest star, where I join atmospheres with some 
 far-off neighbor ! The scattered clouds, as they pass over, 
 the rain, the rainbow, lightnings and meteoric fires, become 
 my temporary chattels. Under my feet, what unknown 
 riches may not exist ! — beds of precious minerals, geodes 
 
14 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 of jewels, sparry caverns, sections of subterranean seas, and 
 furnaces heated from the central fire! This is wealth 
 which, indeed, would not be received as collateral security 
 for a loan, but it is therefore none the less satisfactory to 
 the imagination. 
 
 Standing, once, on the lawn at Farringford, I congra- 
 tulated Alfred Tennyson on the beauty of his view across 
 the Solent, to the blue, wavy outline of the New Forest. 
 " Yes," he answered, " but it wants another feature — three 
 summits of perpetual snow, yonder !" pointing to the north- 
 west. To make my landscape complete, not only those 
 three peaks are required, (also in the northwest,) but a 
 lake or a river in one of the intervening valleys. Until I 
 can procure them, I construct temporary Alps from the 
 masses of sun-gilded cumuli which settle along the western 
 horizon, and flatter myself that I shall be able to see a dis- 
 tant river from the top of my future house. The changes 
 of the atmosphere — the shifting of some prevailing tone in 
 the colors of the landscape — give me, vii-tually, the range 
 of many lands. My property may lie in Norway, in Ame- 
 rica, or in Andalusia: it depends upon the sky. Usually, 
 however, it represents the midland vales of England — ^undu- 
 lating, deep in the richest foliage, intersected with lanes of 
 hawthorn and clematis, and dotted with old stone country- 
 houses and capacious barns. The sentiment of the scenery 
 is the same — order, peace, and home comfort. 
 
 But I have wandered away from the proposed disposition 
 of my farm. It is to be Free Soil, I have said — whereby I 
 do not mean the narrower political, but the larger social 
 sense of the phrase. If I am lord of my own acres, (as the 
 
A COUNTBY HOME IS AMBEICA. 15 
 
 politicians say, addressing their agricultural constituents,) 
 I can certainly establisli my own social laws. In the first 
 place, I proclaim the decrees of Fashion, so far as dress is 
 concerned, to be null and void, anywhere inside of my line- 
 fence. No gentleman shall there be obliged to cut his 
 throat with dog-collars, nor any lady to present the appear- 
 ance of a smashed skull, by wearing the hideous new bonnet. 
 Understand that I do not prescribe ; I merely abrogate : 
 my guests are at liberty to wear the most frightful cos- 
 tumes, if they please. I prefer beauty to deformity — ^that 
 is all. 
 
 Thought and speech (unnecessary profanity excepted, 
 which, indeed, is not to be presumed of any of my guests) 
 shall be as free as possible. My political, religious, or lite- 
 rary antagonist, if he be not inadmissible on personal 
 grounds, shall have free range of my woods and fields. 
 Believing that men can only be justly estimated by their 
 character, not by their opinions, I shall ask no man to 
 declare himself on the foregoing points. I have been 
 treated with brotherly kindness by pious Mussulmen and 
 noble-hearted heathen : God forbid that I should possess a 
 narrower soul than they ! There is one class of characters, 
 however, which will be tolerated on no condition. Hypo- 
 critical, insincere, time-serving creatures, shams of all kinds, 
 men with creaking boots, stealthy cat-step, oily faces, and 
 large soft hands, (which they are always rubbing)— for such 
 there is no entrance. To this class belong most of the 
 Pharisees, who, it is needless to say, are excluded, severally 
 and collectively. The other variety — the men with thin 
 faces, bilious, sallow complexions and mouths depressed at 
 
16 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 the corners, with a melancholy aridity of face — the human 
 Saharas, in fact — will not seek me. 
 
 While I am upon the subject of Prohibition, it occurs to 
 me that there are two other classes of men to whom the 
 taboo must necessarily be applied. Those who worship the 
 Golden Calf, to the exclusion of all other gods, are some- 
 times men of acquirements, agreeable talkers, candid and 
 consistent characters, even. Where their stinginess is 
 hereditary or congenital, I can make great allowance for it. 
 I could have torn down every fence to let Wordsworth in. 
 Pope, who spent a thousand pounds on his garden, would 
 be most welcome, were he living. But in these examples, 
 the aesthetic sense was as fully developed as the acquisitive 
 faculty. Where the latter predominates, without any 
 counterbalancing grace of mind, it is sure to protrude hate- 
 fully in all directions. My trees, for instance, would 
 become so much standing lumber, my lawn a hay-field, my 
 violets "trash," in the eyes of a genuine miser. My oaks 
 would consider it an insult to be forced to cast their sum- 
 mer shadow on such a head. 
 
 At the outer gate I shall hang up a large board, with the 
 inscription, "No Admittance foe Bores." Not that I 
 expect it will do much good— for the Bore never seems to 
 suspect that he is a bore. I have known some so pro- 
 nounced in character that they might almost be classed 
 under the genus Vampyre, who yet imagined themselves 
 the most charming persons in the world. Unexceptionably 
 dressed, booted, gloved, and perfumed regardless of 
 expense, they resembled automatic figures, and exhausted 
 ) ou in your attempts to find a soul, or to infuse one into 
 
A COUNTET HOME IN AMEEICA. l? 
 
 them. You may cry Prooul, procul! until you are 
 hoai-se. They draw all the nearer, complacently suf)posing 
 that their parrot phrases are the certain " Open Sesame !" 
 to your spiritual crypts. May my Dryads and Hamadry- 
 ads — or, if these fail, my underground gnomes^ — find some 
 spell to keep them off! If every other charm fails, I think 
 I shall have a special chamber in my house for their accom- 
 modation, a reproduction of the Falterkammer or torture- 
 chamber of the Middle Ages, where they shall sleep 
 between sackcloth sheets, breathe carbonic acid gas, and 
 be visited at midnight by My Skeleton, which shall issue 
 from its closet in the corner. I shall also assume a cha- 
 racter for their benefit — ridicule their ideas, (if they have 
 any,) shock their prejudices, (which they always have,) and 
 so i-elieve myself of the disgust which I feel for them by 
 making them disgusted with me. 
 
 With the foregoing exceptions, all honest men and 
 women are free to my soil. Antagonism does not preclude 
 respect or admiration. I shall be happy to see Mr. H., the 
 young Virginian Christian, feeling confident that he will 
 not attempt to muzzle me, on my own ground. But of all 
 visitors, that class described by Wordsworth in his " Poet's 
 Grave" will be most welcome. The Poet, whether known 
 or unknown, shall have the range of my pastures. He may 
 come with his brother, the Artist, by his side : no questions 
 will be asked : the gate will open of itself: the trees will 
 drop their branches in salute, and if the house be built, 
 banners will suddenly unfold from the topmost tower. 
 They may lie in the tropical shade of sassafras trees or bury 
 themselves in arbors of wild-grape ; listen to the song of 
 
18 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the wind in the pines, or track the hidden brook under its 
 banks of concealing fern. I can number five poets, ah-eady, 
 ■who have given their benediction to the landscape, and one 
 of them whom Nature has taken to her heart as an accepted 
 lover, said to me, in the hearing of my trees : " Spare them, 
 every one !" With such guests, no secret beauty of my 
 possession shall remain undiscovered. Every mind shall be 
 associated with some new grace, some previously over- 
 looked beauty, until I shall live, as in an island of a tropic 
 sea, enringed with enchanted warmth and bloom. 
 
 Thus much may Life grant to me — but can I keep out 
 the spectral visitors which enter every door ? WiU not 
 Care leap over my fence from her perch behind the horse- 
 man ? Will not the tutelar deity of these United States — 
 the goddess Worry — compel me to erect an altar for her 
 worship ? Ah, me ! the soil that is free to light must be 
 free also to shadow. The sun shines upon my southward- 
 sloping lawn, but sometimes a gloomy rain comes over the 
 northern hill. Well, if Care but come hand-in-hand with 
 Cheerfulness — if the statue of Patience look with com- 
 posed face upon the knit brows of Worry — my soil shall 
 be free, even to the persecuting deities ! Like Polycrates, 
 I shall now and then throw a ring into the sea. To enjoy 
 the loan of Peace, which we borrow from a Power outside 
 of this bankrupt world, we must pay an interest of at least 
 ten per cent, of Trouble. 
 
 But individual freedom is so rare a blessing as to be 
 worth any price a man can pay. Therefore, whatever visi- 
 tors take advantage of the open gate, no immunity would 
 be quite so bad as a padlock. The gate shall stay open — > 
 
A COUNTET HOME IN AMEEICA. 19 
 
 nailed back, if need be, like tbe hospitable doors of Tartary 
 — aod the Soil shall be Free ! 
 
 3. — ^Thb Building of a House. 
 
 As a matter of course, when I bought the old farm, it 
 was with the expectation of building a house at some time 
 or other. Not but that I was for the present satisfied to 
 possess and protect the old trees, and to have a basis of 
 reality for ray airy architecture; but I also looked far 
 ahead, and hoped, at least, that the necessity for a house 
 would be among the fruits of Time. For, you understand, 
 a house implies something more than — a house. Nothing 
 in this world should be done without a reason for it, and 
 the true reason, which I could not give at that time, is one 
 which can only come to a man through the favor of some 
 benignant Fate. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was pleasant to walk over the briery 
 fields, and say : " In case I should build a house, here — or 
 here— would be a good site for it." " Oh, not there," 
 would some kind adviser suggest — "but here, in the 
 wood." " Nearer the road, by all means," said another. 
 " No, I should build on the foundations of the old house," 
 was the opinion of a third. Nature, however, had fixed 
 the true site too palpably to be mistaken, and the discovery 
 of this fact saved me all discussion. Between my grove 
 of oaks and the clumps of vine-entangled trees which had 
 sprung up along the line of the old hedge-row, lay some 
 ten acres of ground, sloping gently toward the south-east. 
 
20 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 and dotted with the most charming groups of cedars which 
 it is possible to inaagine. In the centre thereof stood a 
 single oak, with hroad arms drooping until they touched 
 the ground in a wide circle around its trunk. Further 
 down were five scattered chestnut and hickory trees, a 
 glossy gum, two maples, and a bowery wilderness of haw- 
 thorns, which, in May, rose like mounds of snow against 
 the borders of another grove on the south. But in the 
 gaps between these scattered trees and the groves on either 
 hand, one could see the village on the hill-top, a mile away, 
 and the soft blue slopes of other and higher hills in the 
 distance. 
 
 Here was a lawn, ready-made by Nature, such as half a 
 century of culture could scarcely achieve elsewhere. To 
 the north, where it reached the highest portion of the 
 ridge, the ground was level and bare of trees, except a 
 single group of walnuts, close at hand, and two colossal 
 chestnuts, a httle to the west. As the ground began to 
 fall off northward, the cedars again made their appearance, 
 increasing in number as they approached the edge of still 
 another wood, which bounded my possessions on that side. 
 On this ridge, crowning the natural lawn, sheltered on the 
 north, open to the south-east and to the sunset, and sur- 
 rounded with the noblest specimens of tree-beauty, was the 
 place. Having once imagined a house there, it could 
 not be removed. "Why," said T, "I have only to cut 
 off these briers and turn the sedge-grass into sod, and 
 the building of the house ^\ill transform this wilderness 
 into an ancient park, suggesting care and culture every, 
 where — 
 
A COUNTRY HOME IN AMERICA. 21 
 
 " an English house, — gray twilight poured 
 
 On dewy pastures, dewy trees, 
 Softer than sleep — all things in order stored, 
 
 A haunt of ancient Peace." 
 
 Now, what kind of a house shall I build ? was the next 
 question I asked myself; and I ran over in my mind the 
 Grecian temples of some years ago, the misnamed Gothic 
 of to-day, the Palladian, the Elizabethan, and the Non- 
 descript (very popular), only building to tear down again, 
 as I saw some incongruity, some want of adaptation to cli- 
 mate, soil, and surroundings. Soon, however, I hit upon 
 the truth, that, as the landscape was already made and the 
 house was not, the former should give the character of the 
 latter. I have no choice : I must build something that will 
 seem to belong naturally to the lawn and the trees. Except 
 in a city, where houses are the accessories of houses — often 
 a mere blank background, against which you can paint 
 anything-^the situation of a dwelling must determine its 
 architecture. The cottage that would be charming beside 
 a willowy brook, is ridiculous behind an avenue of elms, and 
 the mansion which dominates superbly over a broad and 
 spacious landscape fails to impress you when built in a 
 secluded valley. 
 
 The community, I found, had settled the matter long 
 before me. The house was to contain something of every 
 style of architecture which I had seen in my wanderings 
 over the world. There was to be a Grecian fagade, with 
 one wing Gothic and the other Saracenic ; a Chinese pagoda 
 at one corner, an Italian campanile at the other, and the 
 pine-apple dome of a Hindoo temple between the chimneys. 
 
22 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 The doors would bo copied from Westminster Abbey, 
 the windows from the Mosque of Omar, the ceilings from 
 the Alhambra, and the staircases from the Mormon temple 
 at Salt Lake. The material, of course, was to be a mixture 
 of brick, granite, porcelain tiles, clap-boards, marble, 
 adobes, and porphyry. But a man's life and works, alas ! 
 too often fail to realize the expectations of his friends. 
 
 More than five years elapsed, from the time the property 
 came into my jjossession, before I saw a good reason for 
 making it habitable. When I came to think, seriously, 
 upon the plan of a house which was to be built up with no 
 imaginary mortar, but bond fide lime and sand, I found 
 that the true plan was already there, perhaps unconsciously 
 suggested by the expectant trees. It must be large and 
 stately, simple in its forms, without much ornament — in 
 fact, exjjressive of strength and permanence. The old halls 
 and manor-houses of England are the best models for such 
 a structure, but a lighter and more cheerful aspect is 
 required by our Southern summer and brighter sky. There 
 must be large windows and spacious verandas for shade 
 and air in summer, steep roofs to shed the rain and winter 
 snow, and thick walls to keep out our two extremes of heat 
 and cold. Furthermore, there must be a tower, large 
 enough for use as well as ornament, yet not so tall as to 
 belittle the main building. 
 
 This much being settled, the next step was so to plan the 
 interior arrangements that they should correspond to the 
 external forms. The true way to build a house is to deter- 
 mine even the minutest details before commencing the 
 work. In any case, the interior is of paramount import- 
 
A COUNTET HOME IN AMERICA. 23 
 
 ance, and it is bettei' to get the rooms, staircases, closets, 
 doors, and windows rightly arranged at first, and then 
 inclose them with the external wall, than the reverse. 
 Here, again, another subject claims our consideration — the 
 furniture, which demands certain . spaces and certain 
 arrangements. In short, none of the appliances of domes- 
 tic life can be overlooked. I was astounded — when I came 
 to the downright work at last — to find what a multitude of 
 interests it was necessary to harmonize. The soul of a 
 house, after all, which is its character as a home, is of more 
 importance than the body. 
 
 I do not propose to take up the question of the internal 
 details, as every man — or, rather, every man's wife — has, 
 or ought to have, her own views of housekeeping, and its 
 requirements. I had some general ideas, however, which 
 I determined to carry out, and, the result of my experi- 
 ence, inasmuch as it has no reference to individual tastes, 
 may be useful to others. 
 
 I saw, in the first place, that the houses built in this cen- 
 tury are generally much inferior, in point of comfort and 
 durability, to those built in the last. Walls crack, roofs 
 leak, wood rots, plaster peels off, in a way that would have 
 astonished our ancestors. I know of a house in Maryland, 
 two hundred years old, the foundation wall of which, 
 having been completely undermined at one corner for the 
 purpose of building a vault, held together unmoved, sup- 
 porting the weight of the house by lateral adhesion only_ 
 Good mortar, then, was the first requisite : thick walls, the 
 next : well-seasoned timber, the third. The shells erected 
 in our cities, with mortar that crumbles and joists that 
 
24 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 bend or ci-ack, would not be tolerated in Europe. We 
 build in the most expensive style possible — ^that is, so 
 rapidly and slightly, that a house is ready to be pulled 
 down at the end of twenty-five years, instead of being 
 habitable at the end of five hundred. Here, then, is one 
 error which I shall avoid. 
 
 Moreover, once in a lifetime is often enough for most 
 men to build. It is very little more trouble to build a 
 large house than a small one, when one's hand is fairly in. 
 As for mnning up a building proportioned to your present 
 necessities, and then adding to it as your necessities enlarge, 
 I set my face against it. Besides the repetition of a dis- 
 tracting labor, the result is generally an incongruous mass, 
 where both external beauty and internal convenience are 
 sacrificed. I shall, therefore, I said, bmld larger than I 
 need. Better have a few empty chambers for some years, 
 than build a second time. 
 
 With regard to the material, a stone house is the most 
 beautiful and durable, and, if the external walls have a 
 hollow chamber (as they always should have), as dry and 
 comfortable as any other. I scarcely know a more appro- 
 priate house for the country than a rough, irregular stone- 
 wall, with dressed quoins, projecting a little beyond it. 
 My choice, however, has to be directed by other considera- 
 tions. Thoi-e are both limestone and hornblende in the 
 immediate neighborhood, and within six miles quarries 
 of serpentine ; but I have a bed of excellent clay in one 
 of my own fields. The expense of hauling the stone, in a 
 hilly country, would alone equal the cost of the brick. 
 Some architect has said, that the color of a liouse should 
 
A COUNTBY HOME EST AMERICA. 25 
 
 always have some resemblance to that of the soil upon 
 which it stands — which is really a very good general rule : 
 then why not also, if you can, get the material for your 
 house out of the soil ? Some rocks of gray, silvery sand- 
 stone which cropped out on the ridge at the edge of the 
 oak-wood, promised to furnish me with the loveliest mate- 
 rial, hut after furnishing just enough for the foundation- 
 walls, the deposit suddenly ceased. 
 
 After much deliberation I decided upon brick, with 
 stone quoins. The clay, to my' great satisfaction, had a 
 pale purplish tinge when burned, instead of the usual 
 glaring red, and harmonized admirably with the bluish- 
 gray granite of the corners. There was such an abundance 
 of it that I felt entirely free to carry out my ideas with 
 regard to strength and durability. I therefore fixed the 
 thickness of the walls at two feet, including a hollow cham- 
 ber of an inch and a half, and the thickness of the inner 
 partition-walls (which were also of brick) at one foot. 
 The latter, besides being fire-proof and almost impervious 
 to sound, proved to be as cheap in the end as studs and 
 laths. The result has satisfied me that no house can be 
 truly comfortable unless the walls are thick, with a hollow 
 chamber, or at least firred on the inside. The latter plan, 
 however, does not always insure complete dryness. On 
 the other hand, I have heard of one brick wall of thirteen 
 inches, which proved to be quite dry ; but in this case the 
 mortar was of the best quality. The additional thickness 
 of the wall would be paid for in a few years by the saving 
 in fuel, in many parts of the country. 
 
 For the finishing of the rooms there is nothing equal to 
 
 2 
 
26 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the native Tvood, simply oiled to develop the beauty of the 
 grain. Even the commonest pine, treated in this way, has 
 a warmth and lustre, beside which the dreary white paint, 
 so common even in the best houses, looks dull and dead. 
 Nothing gives a house such a cold uncomfortable air as 
 white paint and white plaster. This color is fit only for 
 the tropics. Our cheap, common woods — pine, ash, chest- 
 nut, oak, maple, beech, walnut, butternut — offer us a 
 variety of exquisite tints and fibrous patterns, which, until 
 recentl}', have been wholly disregarded in building. Even 
 in furniture, we are just beginning to discover how much 
 more chaste and elegant are oak and walnut than maho- 
 gany. The beauty of a room is as dependent on the har- 
 mony of its coloring as that of a picture. Some of the 
 ugliest and most disagreeable apartments I have ever seen, 
 were just those which contained the most expensive fttrni- 
 ture and decorations. 
 
 My experience shows that a room finished with the best 
 seasoned oak or walnut costs actually less than one finished 
 with pine, painted and grained in imitation of those woods. 
 Two verandas of yellow pine, treated to two coats of boiled 
 oil, have a richness and beauty of color beyond the reach 
 of pigments ; and my only regret connected with the house 
 is, that I was persuaded by the representations of mecha^ 
 nics, to use any paint at all. 
 
 There is another external feature which the brilliancy 
 of our sunshine not only suggests, but demands. Belief \s 
 an absolute requii-cment. Most houses should have, not 
 only a cornice proportioned to their dimensions and in 
 keeping with their character, but string-pieces between the 
 
A COUNTEY HOME IN AMERICA. 21 
 
 stories, and window-caps and sills projecting sufficiently to 
 cast a shade. I found also, that an excellent effect could 
 be obtained, without additional expense, by setting the 
 windows and doors in raised panels of brickwork, project- 
 ing two or three inches from the face of the wall. For the 
 string-pieces, a simple row of dentils, fornaed by setting 
 out alternate bricks, can be made by the most ordinary 
 workman. Design, not cost, is the only difference between 
 a fine house and a poor one. The same material used in 
 building the plainest and dreariest cube called a house, 
 may be cast into a form which shall charm every one by 
 its elegance and fitness. I have seen very beautiful villas 
 — the residences of wealthy families — on the islands of the 
 Neva, at St. Petersburg, which were built entirely of un- 
 hewn logs, exactly of equal size, barked, dovetailed at the 
 corners, and painted the color of the wood. Such a house, 
 with a rustic veranda of unbarked limbs, overgrown with 
 our wild ivy or clematis, would make a more beautiful and 
 appropriate farmer's home than a brown-stone palace. 
 
 Let me give one more hint, derived from my experience, 
 to those who may be contemplating a little private archi- 
 tecture. Get all the estimates from the various mechanics, 
 add them together, and increase the sum total by fifty per 
 cent., as the probable cost of your undertaking: but do not 
 Sfiy what the real cost is until everything is finished. 27ien 
 you will know. Even the estimates of the most experi- 
 enced workmen, I have found, are not to be depended 
 upon. It is the little ills of life that wear us out ; and it is 
 likewise the little expenses that empty our purses. 
 
 However, let me content myself that another requisition 
 
28 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 of the Italian proverb is fulfilled— that the house is built, 
 and likely to stand for two or three centuries, when, in all 
 probability, the inscribed stone over its portal will be the 
 only memorial of the name of its builder. That, however, 
 does not concern me. While I live, I trust I shall have 
 my trees, my peaceful, idyllic landscape, my free country 
 life, at least half the year, and while I possess so much, 
 with the ties out of which all this has grown, I shall own 
 100,000 shares in the Bank of Contentment, and consider 
 that I hold a second Mortgage Bond on the Railroad to 
 the Celestial City. 
 
 4. — RESuiiTS AND Suggestions. 
 
 Now that my house has been inhabited for upwards of 
 eighteen months — that sedge and briers have vanished from 
 the lawn, and thick green English grass is usurping the 
 place of mullein and white-weed ; that, high over the spot 
 where I once walked and dreamed, I now sit and write — ^it 
 may be well to report, confidentially, to my friends, on the 
 result of the plans already laid before them. A kite of 
 fancy always flies more steadily when it is weighted by a 
 tall-bob of fact. Let no reader presume that the foregoing 
 papers are merely imaginative. Every object I have named 
 I can still exhibit in proof, except the lower boughs of my 
 solitary lawn-oak which a murderous farmer cut off during 
 my absence. The cedars unpruncd, but cleared of the 
 choking wilderness and given a smooth base to stand upon, 
 are the admiration of strangers. But a single tree in the 
 grove has been foiled — not by my orders. The bees had 
 
A COUNTEY HOME IST AMEEICA. 29 
 
 cliosen one of its hollow limbs for tteir hive, and some un- 
 known wretch, whom I have not yet forgiven, sawed the 
 stately trunk asunder on a dark midnight, ruining for ever 
 the work of three hundred years ! The lightning has cut 
 a deep gash in my tallest tulip-tree from crown to root, and 
 the patriarchal chestnuts have lost some boughs in a storm ; 
 but they still retain their twenty-four feet of girth, hang 
 themselves with mealy tassels in June, and feed our squir- 
 rels when the burrs crack open in the early frost. 
 
 Meantime, our store of associations has been enriched by 
 two discoveries. The muck having been removed from a 
 swamp in the edge of a piece of primitive woodland, we 
 found underneath a compact bed of gravel and blue clay, 
 in which, four feet below the surface, the pick unearthed 
 the guard of a sword-hilt. It was of hammered brass, 
 straight and simple in form, with no feature by which its 
 origin could be determined. I am pretty sure, however, 
 that it is Swedish. More than two hundred years ago, the 
 troopers of Gustavus Adolphus landed on the banks of the 
 neighboring river ; and this relic, doubtless, tells of some 
 party of exploration sent inland from the fortress of the 
 giant Printz on Tinicum island. A hundred and thirty 
 years later, the armies of Howe and Cornwallis plundered 
 my farm, on the morning of the Brandywine battle, and it 
 is also possible that the guard may date from that incur- 
 sion. I prefer the older and more interesting conjecture. 
 
 One morning, before the house was built, we were sur- 
 prised at finding that two large holes had been dug during 
 the night near our clump of walnut-trees, at the corner of 
 the ancient garden. Who the excavator was, we have never 
 
30 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 been able to discover, but he was probably some person of 
 the neighborhood who had kept the tradition of the buried 
 treasure. That he had found nothing, was evident, and 
 the fact of the attempt gave so much color to the tradition 
 that I was really very glad it had been made. I can now 
 say, with tolerable assurance, " somewhere near this spot 
 lies the treasure" — but I shall take good care not to dig for 
 it, lest I should not find it. The story is, that one Fitzpa- 
 trick (properly known as " Fitz,") a noted highwayman, 
 who was the terror of collectors seventy years ago, had a 
 lair in the neighboring woods, and secreted a portion of his 
 spoils on the old farm. His arrest was so unexpected, and 
 he was so carefully guarded until his execution, that he had 
 no opportunity of imparting the secret to his confederates. 
 The attempt to discover the treasure so long afterwards, 
 shows that the story must have been very generally 
 believed. 
 
 The house stands as I have said, and the farm is gra- 
 dually assuming an aspect of olden culture. One would 
 never guess the wilderness it so recently was. Fifty years 
 of neglect have done for me what twenty years of careful 
 landscape gardening could not accomplish. The groups of 
 dark .southern cedars suggest the planting of a hand guided 
 by as true a taste as Downing's ; yet they have been so 
 little disturbed that my brood of owls still sit there in the 
 summer evenings and hoot their melancholy music. We 
 have placed a rude table and seats under the Avalnuts, and 
 lo ! they seem to have been the bower of generations. The 
 bunches of blue and white violets, set in among the grass 
 on a sunny bank, come up in the spring as naturally as if 
 
A COUNTET HOME IN AMERICA. 31 
 
 they had grown there for a thousand years. Nature repays 
 with boundless gratitude the smallest attention of her 
 lovers. She seems to know every point of finish that is 
 necessary for her own completeness, and devotes a special 
 energy to the employment of the offered help. Difficult as 
 it is to force her into new and unusual developments, no- 
 thing is easier than to lead her towards the beauty which 
 Bhe herself suggests. 
 
 Of the pines and firs which I planted along ray northern 
 boundary, not one in fifty died, and their growth has been 
 so constant and luxurious as to assure me that they feel 
 themselves to be in their true position. The larches in the 
 openings of the grove are no less satisfied with their places, 
 and I have already discovered spots which the elm, the 
 purple beech, and the magnolia, will at once recognize and 
 appropriate. The experience of a year satisfies me that the 
 cedar of Lebanon, the deodar of the Himalayas, the Japan- 
 ese cryptomeria, and the gigantic sequoia of California, can 
 be acclimated to my lawn. The deciduous cypress of the 
 Southern States is a near neighbor ; the magnolia grandi- 
 flora needs but a slight protection through the winter, and 
 I am not without hopes of the live-oak. The ridge on 
 which my house is built, I find, is much more favorable to 
 the growth of delicate trees and plants than are the deep 
 and sheltered valleys on either side. The early and late 
 frosts scarcely touch us, and the extreme cold of winter, 
 besides being dry in its character, is never of long duration. 
 On this very 25th of November, the geraniums, the pome- 
 granates, and the golden-belled arbutilon are still growing 
 in the open air. My latitude, I should explain, is 39° 50'. 
 
32 AT HOME A1?D ABEOAD. 
 
 I hope all builders of houses will be as well satisfied 
 with their work as I am with mine. Not that the plan 
 might not have been bettered in many ways. There never 
 yet was a house built which its owner could pronounce 
 incapable of further improvement. Further, no new house 
 ever stood a year without certain repairs being necessary. 
 Build as you may, a violent storm will disclose to you the 
 fact, that there is one leak in the roof; one chimney will 
 smoke when the wind is in a certain direction ; one window 
 will rattle o' nights, and one door warp so that the bolt 
 fails to shoot clear. But in the main requisitions, there is 
 success : the thickness of the walls baffles alike cold, heat, 
 and moisture. Storms war around us, and we sit in a 
 calm, dry, pure air. We kindle our fires in the autumn a 
 fortnight later than our neighbors, and let them go out a 
 fortnight earlier, in the spring. In a southern room, which 
 was not heated, the thermometer did not fall below 38°, 
 during the whole of last winter, and the hardier green- 
 house plants throve finely. In fact, when the sun shines, 
 fire is scarcely necessary in the rooms that look towai'ds 
 him. 
 
 In summer, though the shadow of no tree touches the 
 house, it holds a core of coolness in the midst of the 
 fiercest heat. The sun, unchecked, may exercise his whole- 
 some chemistry. The morning pours into our windows 
 a vitalizing torrent of light, until the air feels crisp 
 with electric vigor : the deep verandas give us shade as 
 the day advances, and keep it until the sunset strikes 
 under them from the opposite side. \Ye thus receive 
 the beneficent infiuences of light — we keep free space for 
 
A COTJNTET HOME IN AMERICA. 3^ 
 
 the enjoyment of cloud- scenery, and the colors of morn- 
 ing and evening — without being obliged to take the glare 
 and heat with it. I have always considered that the 
 masses of foliage in which most of our country-homes are 
 buried, are prejudicial to the health of the occupants. 
 They are necessary, no doubt, as a protection, both sum- 
 mer and winter, in the absence of thick walls. A cottage 
 low enough to looh under a tree, may stand beside one ; 
 a large mansion should have trees near it, but not so close 
 as to hide the out-look from its windows. 
 
 Notwithstanding I am so new a resident on my .own 
 acres, I have already hoarded up quite a store of sug- 
 gestions as to what may be done. I perceive ways by 
 which I can lure the returning Spring to my doors, in ad- 
 vance of her season, mitigate the green monotony of Sum- 
 mer, arrange in harmonies or splendid contrasts the scat- 
 tered colors of Autumn, and even contrive aremedy for the 
 bleakness of Winter. There are quaky patches I can drain, 
 and groups of living springs, which I can collect into a 
 pond. There are unsightly features to be hidden, and gaps 
 to be opened for fairer views — ^here, a bit of rough land to 
 be smoothed and rounded ; there, a wild briery clump to he 
 spared for some possible future office in the scenery. The 
 successful commander must know his men, and the gar- 
 dener, likewise, must have an intimate personal acquaint- 
 ance with his trees and plants. If you want a certain duty 
 performed, you must select the individual best fitted to dis- 
 charge it. I really believe that plants will grow better 
 when they are set out in accordance with true taste, than 
 when taste is violated. A weeping-willow, with its pen- 
 
 2* 
 
34 AT HOME AND ABROAD 
 
 dent, swaying tresses, suggesting reliance and dependence, 
 would be ridiculously out of place on the summit of a cliff, 
 and it will not grow there. A beech is handsomest in 
 groups, and it does not thrive so well singly : an oak is 
 most perfect when alone, or at a respectful distance from 
 its brethren. The sassafras is loveliest when it is wedded 
 to the wild-grape, and neither party languishes in the 
 union. 
 
 Hence follows a rule, simple enough, but which cannot 
 be repeated too often. Do nothing in a hurry. Above all, 
 lift the axe twenty times before you strike once. Do not 
 remove a tree, until you have studied it for a whole year — 
 until you have seen its autumnal as well as its summer hue, 
 and looked through its bare boughs to see whether the 
 objects behind it would be a gain or a loss to the eye. 
 Whenever you plant, take a mental picture of the full- 
 grown tree, with its individual form and color ; place it in 
 the spot, and compare it with the surroundings. Substi- 
 tute other trees, in your mind, so as to suggest a different 
 effect. Be as patient, if you like, and as hard to suit as a 
 girl in selecting the ornaments for her hair, on the evening 
 of her first ball. Every time you walk over your grounds, 
 perform this imaginary process of planting, until you accus- 
 tom yourself to see trees, and study their effects in advance 
 of their growth. Then, when you plant, you may plant 
 deep and sure, with a tolerable certainty th;it your tree will 
 grow and be a credit to you. 
 
 These practices have taught me the capabilities (an auc- 
 tioneer's word) of the country everywhere. The superior 
 beauty of England is owing to no inherent superiority of 
 
A COUNTKY HOME IN AMEEICA. 35 
 
 soil, vegetation, or climate ; it is simply development, as 
 contrasted with our transition state. Here, one sees frag- 
 ments of the wilderness all through the oldest settled States : 
 wood-sides, where the tall naked trunks show that the axe 
 has shaped their boundaries ; spindly trees without indivi- 
 duality left standing where woods have been cut away, or 
 stretches of field and meadow without a tree. We lack 
 nothing which England possesses, but her fresh, perennial 
 turf. Our tree-forms are finer, and infinitely more varied, 
 as the forms of our scenery are grander. But those who 
 will see America in her developed beauty will be our 
 descendants a hundred years hence. 
 
 Thus, you see, the day-dreams I spun about the old farm 
 long ago, are actually realized. N'or have the later dreams 
 deceived me. The trees are protected, the house is built, 
 and the soil is free ! The poet and the artist have tested 
 their right to admittance ; the Bore and the Pharisee have 
 shunned my gates. A few clumps of shrubbery will soon 
 hide my line-fence from sight, and I shall then possess the 
 entire landscape. The flag of the imdivided Union floats 
 from my tower, and no traitor's footstep has yet blackened 
 my door-sill. So much has been changed from the airy 
 coinage of the brain into the hard ringing gold of actual 
 life, that I have no right to grieve if a piece turns out to 
 be counterfeit, now and then. God is bountiful just in pro- 
 portion as men are able to see His bounties. 
 
 I have often, at sea, gone on deck in a dark, rainy night, 
 and looked abroad into the wild confusion of w-ind and 
 wave, the chaos of the fatal elements, where life is instantly 
 swallowed up. Yet, under my feet, inclosed within the 
 
36 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. 
 
 hollow timbers, were warmth, and light, and gay trium- 
 phant life — a shell of immortal existence rushing onward 
 through darkness, over the surface of death. It seems to 
 me no less miraculous that I have heen ahle to inclose a 
 portion of the common atmosphere, so that heat, cold, wind, 
 and rain, must turn aside and pass it by — a warm region 
 of secure life which they cannot wither or blow away. 
 Every house is such a miracle — a geode, which, however 
 rough on the outside, beaten by the unkind elements, may 
 cover the hollow calm in which jewels ripen. Not unrea- 
 sonably did the old Romans adopt their lares and penates. 
 Every home attests the presence of the Divinity that works 
 through man. But our Lar shall be a Christian goddess, 
 crowned with amaranth and olive ; and on the borders of 
 her garment shall be written, " Content." 
 
II. 
 
 NEW PICTUBES FROM CALIFORKIA. 
 
 1. — Sait Feancisco, aftbe Ten Teaes. 
 
 When I first landed in San Francisco, on the 1 8th of 
 August, 1 849, I was put ashore on a clay bank, at the foot 
 of Clark's HUl. I saw before me a large encampment of 
 tents and canvas houses, among which some wooden build- 
 ings arose with an air of ostentation. For the fee of two 
 dollars, a Mexican carried my trunk to the Plaza, where I 
 found quarters in the loft of an adobe building — a rude 
 bed, and three meals of beefsteak, bread, and cofiee, at 
 thirty-five dollars per week. The town was already laid 
 out, however, and there was much speculation in building- 
 lots. About a dozen streets had assumed a visible outline, 
 but beyond the chaotic encampment rose, bleak and barren, 
 a semi-circle of high sand-hills, covered with stunted cbap- 
 paral. The population of the place was about 5,000. 
 
 On the 28th of August, 1859 — ten years and ten days 
 
38 A'r HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 later — I found, instead of the bay between Rincon and 
 Clark's Point, spacious and well-built streets, completely 
 covering the former anchorage for smaller vessels. From 
 the water-front — which forms a chord across the mouth of 
 the lost harbor — stretched fifteen massive piers out into the 
 bay. The low ground in front of us was crowded with 
 warehouses and manufactories, as the tall brick chimneys 
 denoted ; while up the heights behind, stretched row after 
 row of dwellings, and the diverging lines of streets, to the 
 very summits of the four hills. Our steamer drew up to 
 the end of a pier, and made fast; we were immediately 
 saluted with the cries of hackmen and omnibus drivers ; 
 runners with hotel cards jumped aboard ; residents (no 
 longer dressed in flannel-shirts, revolver-belts, and wide- 
 awakes) came down to welcome returning friends — in fact, 
 there was not a Californian feature about the picture, if I 
 except the morning-blanket of gray fog, which the hills of 
 the Coast Range never kick off until nine or ten o'clock. 
 There were no wash-bowls to be seen ; no picks ; no tents ; 
 no wonderful patent machines ; no gold-dust. 
 
 The scene upon which I looked was altogether unfamiliar 
 to my eye. Flags in the breeze, church-spires, fantnstic 
 engine-houses, gay fronts of dwellings, with the animation 
 of the holiday crowds in the streets below, gave the city a 
 gay Southern aspect. Unhke all other American to\vns, 
 there was nothing new in its appearance. The clouds of 
 sand and dust, raised by the summer monsoon, speedily 
 wear off the gloss and varnish of newly-erected buildings, 
 and give them a mellow tone of age and use — the charac- 
 teristic, as well as the charm of Mediterranean ports. 
 
NEW PICTUBBS FKOM CALIFOENIA. 39 
 
 Without the evidence of my own experience, I should 
 have found it impossible to believe that I looked upon the 
 product of ten years. 
 
 When the fog had rolled off seaward, and the soft, pale- 
 blue sky of San Francisco arched over the beryl plain of 
 the bay and its inclosing purple mountains, I experienced a 
 mighty desire to shake off the lethargy of a tropical voyage 
 by a drive into the country. I took the precaution, how- 
 ever, to ask what such a luxury would cost. "Twenty 
 dollars, probably," was the answer. Here I began to 
 realize that I had reached California. ^Nevertheless, I was 
 about to order a vehicle, when a friend placed his own 
 private team at my disposal. • We were advised to take the 
 new San Bruno road, which had recently been opened 
 beyond the mountain of that name, in order to afford a 
 shorter and more agreeable road to San Jos6 than the old 
 trail over the hUls. 
 
 The restless, excited, ultra-active condition of mind and 
 body engendered (in myself, at least,) by tlje San Francisco 
 air, can only be cured, homoBopathically, by draughts of 
 the same. People work here as they work nowhere else 
 in the world. The nor'west wind, flavored with Pacific 
 salt, which draws through the Golden Gate every day at 
 noon, sweeps away not only disease, but sloth, despondency, 
 and stupidity. Bulwer says : " On horseback I am Csesar, 
 I am Cicero!" — but that afternoon, when I saw again the 
 Mission Valley, and first breathed the heavenly odor of the 
 Yerba £uena, sitting behind a span of noble bays, I was 
 Homer, Pindar, Alexander the Great, Peter the Great, 
 MUo of Crotona, and General Jackson, all in one ! 
 
40 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 We drove through an enchanted land. I thought I had 
 been there before, yet everything I saw was as new to me 
 as it was to my companion. Our hotel stood without the 
 bounds of the San Francisco of 1849. Well I remembered 
 the three miles of loose sand and thorny chapparal which 
 intervened between the ridge terminating in Rincon Point 
 and the Mission of Dolores. Now we drove for half a 
 mile down a broad well-built street. Here and there, 
 behind the houses, lowered a mound of yellow sand, like 
 the scattered forces of a desert kept at bay and but half 
 conquered. The rear of Clay-street Hill, dotted over with 
 small square cottages, resembled Earth's picture of Tim- 
 buctoo. But the Mission Yalley, in front of us, green and 
 lovely, with a background of purple mountains, was a 
 reminiscence of the fairest scenery of Greece. "Xow," 
 said I, " have I found the original type of the landscapes 
 of California !'' She has been compared to Italy — to Syria, 
 with more correctness — ^but her true antetype in nature is 
 Greece. , 
 
 Even the vegetation had undergone a change since my 
 first visit. Along the streets, in rows, grew the exquisite 
 feathery acacia ; from the balconies, fuchsias hung their 
 pendants of coral and sapphire ; heliotropes wantoned in 
 immense clumps under the windows ; and the fronts of 
 some of the cottages were hidden to the eaves in the 
 scarlet splendor of geraniums. The maloa, here a tree, 
 opened its hundreds of pink blossoms : the wild pea-vine 
 of Australia clambered over the porticoes, and the willowy 
 eucalyptus flourished as if in its native soil. The marshy 
 thickets near the mouth of Mission Creek had vanished, 
 
NEW PICTDEES FEOM CALIEOENIA. 41 
 
 and vegetable gardens filled their place ; on either hand 
 ■were nurseries, breathing of mignonette and violets, and 
 covered, chin-deep, with superb roses — huge bouquets of 
 which were offered us by boys, along the road, at " two 
 bits" apiece. German beer and music gardens, the French 
 Hospital, a sugar refinery, and groups of neat, suburban 
 residences, which extended even beyond the Mission, com- 
 bined to give the valley an old, long-settled air. 
 
 Near the top of the hill, behind the Mission building, was 
 a spot which I looked for with a curious interest. In 1849, 
 I had taken up a claim there, had paid for the'survey, and, 
 for aught I could learn, acquired as secure a title as most 
 others in San Francisco. My tract contained about two 
 acres — part of which was stony, and all of which was barren : 
 there was neither grass nor water, but a magnificent pros- 
 pect. At that time, I could scarcely say that I owned any- 
 thing ; and the satisfaction which I felt in sitting upon one 
 of my rocks, and contemplating the view from my imagined 
 front-window, amply repaid me for the surveyor's fee. 
 Where the documents are, I have not the least idea : whe- 
 ther the claim was ever worth anything is exceedingly 
 doubtful ; but I noticed with exultation that nobody had 
 as yet built upon it. I herewith magnanimously present 
 the property to the first man who shall be absurd enough 
 (in all eyes but mine) to build the house I imagined, and 
 enjoy the view I admired. And this shall be sufficient to 
 him, his heirs, executors, and assigns, to have and to hold, 
 etc., etc. 
 
 Crossing the Mission Creek, the road kept on, over roll- 
 ing hills, toward the San Bruno mountain. On either side 
 
42 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 were farms — the fields divided by substantial fences of red- 
 wood, the houses small and one-storied, but sufficiently com- 
 fortable, and the gardens luxuriant with vegetables. The 
 landscape was dotted with windmills, which are very gene- 
 rally used for irrigation, 'and form a marked feature in the 
 agricultui-al scenery of California. About six miles from 
 the city, we came upon a hUI, divided by a narrow valley 
 from the San Bruno range. The mountains, lighted by the 
 oblique rays of the afternoon sun, gleamed in the loveliest 
 play of colors. The tawny hue of the grass and wild oats, 
 brightening into lines of clear gold along the edges of the hills 
 buttressing their base, brown on their fronts, and dark in 
 the sloping ravines, resembled velvet of the richest texture ; 
 white the farther peaks — pink in light, and violet in shade — 
 gave the contrast of a delicate silk. A grove of live-oaks — 
 slanting away from the wind in such curious attitudes of 
 haste, that they seemed to be scampering at full speed over 
 the hill— stood in the foreground, while on our left the 
 transparent green of the bay shifted through blue into pur- 
 ple, far off. For aerial beauty and harmony of color, I have 
 never seen anything to surpass this view, except in Greece. 
 My first walks through San Francisco were devoted to 
 the search for some old landmark — some wooden, iron, or 
 copper house which had been standing in 1849. But I was 
 disappointed : there was nothing which I recognized. 
 Four great fires had swept away the temporary structures, 
 which had cost almost their weight in silver, and stately 
 houses of brick or granite stood in their places. Montgo- 
 mery street — which is now, as it was then, the centre of 
 business — would be considered a handsome, well-built street 
 
NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFORNIA. 43 
 
 anywhere ; while the other main avenues, although abound- 
 ing in cheaply-built and hastily-erected wooden edifices, 
 partake, at least, of the same character of life and activity. 
 San Francisco, with its population of 80,000, has already 
 the stamp of the great metropolis which it is destined 
 to be. 
 
 Everywhere change ! I went to the plaza, which I last 
 saw inclosed by gaming-hells on three sides, and the U. S. 
 Custom House on the fourth. The flimsy structures of '49 
 had vanished like an exhalation — even the old adobe, with 
 its tiled roof, representing the early days of California, was 
 gone. In place of the Parker House stood a City Hall, of 
 Australian freestone. A lofty, irregular mass of buildings 
 had arisen on all sides, dwarfing the square, which, sur- 
 rounded by a heavy iron railing, and devoted entirely to 
 threadbare turf and some languishing, dusty trees, had a 
 prim and respectable air, truly ; yet I missed the rude, fan- 
 tastic, picturesque, unrestrained life wherewith it was filled 
 ten years ago. The old Post-Office had almost passed out 
 of memory, and a structure much more massive and spa- 
 cious than our lubberly city of New York can boast of 
 (which must be content with the most inconvenient little 
 church this side of the Atlantic), is now devoted to Mails 
 and Customs. From all parts of the city rise the spires of 
 churches and engine-houses, showing that the most ample 
 provision has been made for the quenching of both spiritual 
 and temporal fires. To complete the climax of progress, 
 San Francisco is more honestly governed than New York, 
 has a more efiicient police, and better guards the lives and 
 property of her citizens. 
 
44 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 It is unfortunate that the advice of an intelligent engineer 
 could not have been taken, when the city was first laid out, 
 and thus the advantages of its topography turned to better 
 account. The people seem at first to have cherished the 
 idea that the hills would ultimately be levelled, or, at least, 
 their tops thrown into the hollows between, so as to pro- 
 duce that uniformity of surface in which the American mind 
 delights. Great excavations have been made at the foot 
 of Telegraph Hill, but mainly for the purpose of running a 
 street through to ISTorth Beach. The other hills, however, 
 proved too formidable; and the inhabitants have at last 
 found out, perforce, that the slight inconvenience they occa- 
 sion is a hundredfold atoned for by the picturesque beauty 
 they confer upon the city, and the charms which they 
 give to a residence in it. Clay street Hill is but little short 
 of four hundred feet in height, and the windows of the pri- 
 vate houses on its side command the grandest views of the 
 city, the bay, the Golden Gate, and the Mission Valley. 
 Had the streets been arranged terrace-wise along the hills, 
 as in Genoa, they would not only have been more conve- 
 nient, but far more beautiful. It is still not too late to 
 remedy this mistake, in part. 
 
 The view of San Francisco, from either Rincou or Tele- 
 graph Hill, surpasses — I say it boldly — ^that of any other Ame- 
 rican city. It has the noblest natural surroundings, and will, 
 in the course of time, become the rival of Genoa, or Naples, 
 or even Constantinople. From the breezy height of Rincon, 
 the whole town lies before you, rising gradually from the 
 water to the summit of the semi-circular sweep of hills. Its 
 prevailing colors are gray, white, yellow, and pale red ; 
 
NEW PICT0EES PEOM CALIFOENIA. 45 
 
 while, at this distance, the very confusion and incongruity 
 of its architecture becomes an additional charm. Over 
 Telegraph Hill rise the dark-blue mountains of An gel Island 
 and Sousolito ; to the right stretches the bay, with the 
 brown steeps of Yerba Buena guarding the anchorage ; 
 while beyond all, the mountains of Contra Costa, bathed in " 
 the loveliest golden and lilac tints, melt, far to the north and 
 south, into the distant air. I have seen this landscape, with 
 all its grand features, of a cold, dark, indigo hue, under 
 heavy clouds— glittering with a gem-like brilliancy and play 
 of color, under a clear sky, and painted — bay, islands, and 
 shores — with the deepest crimson of sunset, till you seemed 
 to look on a world smouldering in the fires of Doom. It 
 was therefore no marvel to me, when nine out of ten of my 
 old acquaintances said : " I have made up my mind to live 
 and die here — ^I cannot be contented elsewhere.'' 
 
 The first thing which attracts the notice of the stranger 
 who arrives at San Fi'ancisco in summer, is probably the 
 last thing which he would expect to find in so recently-set- 
 tled a country. The profusion, variety, and quality of the 
 fruit which he sees displayed on all sides fills him with 
 astonishment. What magic, he asks, has evoked from this 
 new soil such horticultural splendors ? What undiscovered 
 nutriment has fattened these plethoric apples? Whence 
 did these monstrous, melting pears gather their juice? 
 What softer sun and sweeter dew fed these purple necta^ 
 rines — these grapes of Eshcol — ^these peaches, figs, and 
 pomegranates ? 
 
 California, in fact, is the Brobdignag of the vegetable 
 world. The products of all other lands arc Lilliputian 
 
46 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 compared with hers. Erect your ears and expand your 
 eyes, my reader ; for I am going to tell the truth, and no- 
 thing but the truth. I forget the exact measurement of 
 the peaches ; but there are none in the world so large — 
 with, perhaps, the exception of those of Papigno, in the 
 Apennines. The size, however, is not procured at the 
 expense of the flavor. Excessive irrigation of the orchards, 
 it is true, dilutes their rich, ambrosial quality; but the 
 peaches of Marysville and the lower slopes of the Sierra 
 Nevada are not a whit inferior to those of "New Jersey or 
 Montreuil. The skin has a peculiarity which I have not 
 found elsewhere. Delicate as the silky lining of an egg- 
 shell, it peels off at a touch ; and the royal fruit, with its 
 golden and ruby nerves laid bare, is flayed without a knife. 
 As you crush it upon your tongue, you remember the am- 
 brosial fruits upon which, according to Arabic tradition, 
 Adam was fed ; and wonder how soon your breath, like his, 
 will be able to turn the coarse growth of the thickets into 
 cinnamon and sandal-wood. 
 
 Apples and pears have been raised, weighing three pounds 
 apiece ; and I have been told of instances in which the 
 fruit upon a tree weighed more than the tree itself. An 
 orchard begins to bear the second year after planting ; and 
 the grafts upon an old tree have yielded two hundred 
 pounds' weight of fruit in the same length of time. I have 
 never seen a single instance in which the fruit was knotty, 
 wormy, or otherwise imperfect. Nature seems to possess 
 not only a fecundity, but a degree of health, unknown in 
 any other part of the earth. In Santa Cruz, a peach tree 
 two years old produced two hundred perfect peaches. Apple 
 
NEW PICTUBBS FROM CALIFORNIA. 47 
 
 trees sometimes yield two crops in the course of a single 
 season. The extent to which fruit is already cultivated in 
 California may be inferred from the fact that the peach 
 trees in the State number 2,000,000 ; apple trees, 750,000 ; 
 and pear trees, 100,000. The number of grape-vines is 
 estimated at Jive millions, the average yield of which is 
 fourteen pounds of grapes for each vine. 
 
 A few days after our arrival at San Francisco, the annual 
 Fair of the Horticultural Society was held. It was a sin- 
 gular collection of vegetable monstrosities. I saw, for the 
 first time in my life, cabbage-heads weighing between fifty 
 and sixty pounds ; onions as large as my head ; and celery 
 that threatened to overtop corn-stalks and sugar-cane. 
 Upon one table lay a huge, dark-red object, about the 
 thickness of my body. At a distance, I took it for the 
 trunk of some curious tree ; but on approaching nearer, I 
 saw that it was a single beet, weighing 115 pounds ! The 
 seed was planted in the spring of 1858 ; and when taken 
 up in the fall of that year, the root weighed 43 pounds. 
 The owner, desiring to procure seed from so fine a specimen, 
 planted it again last spring. But it wouldn't go to seed ! 
 It devoted all its energies to growing bigger ; and here it 
 was, sound throughout, and full of a life which seemed 
 almost supernatural. I was glad to learn that it was to be 
 planted again the next spring, and perhaps the year after 
 — the owner having declared that he would keep on plant- 
 ing it untU it reached a thousand pounds, or consented to 
 run to seed ! 
 
 The circumstances under which I visited San Francisco 
 naturally procured for us a very pleasant introduction to 
 
48 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 its society. Besides, many of my friends of '49 were still 
 residing there, no longer lonely and homeless, enduring a 
 virtual exile for the sake of speedy gain, but with their 
 families around them, working with more moderation, and 
 finding a permanent and happy home in the spot which 
 they first looked upon as a temporary stopping-place. Ac- 
 tive as their life is, it does not wholly prohibit a fair amount 
 of social relaxation. Society there is also too new to set 
 up exclusive barriers ; its tone is liberal and metropolitan, 
 and the mingling of so many various elements relieves it of 
 that prim, respectable dulness which characterizes some of 
 our older cities. The society of San Francisco seems to 
 me to be above the usual average of refinement and culti- 
 vation, which is partly owing to the fact that the female 
 portion has improved even more by transplantation than the 
 male. 
 
 As we in the Atlantic States often exaggerate the pre- 
 vailing fashions of Europe, so in California there is a still 
 further exaggeration. Nowhere are wider hoops expanded, 
 smallei- bonnets placed against the head, or more barbaric 
 circles of gold attached to the ears. Nowhere are the 
 streets sfl-ept with such expensive silks. Few of the dwell- 
 ing-houses, as yet, admit of very luxurious entertainments, 
 but it is easy to foresee that this additional field of expen- 
 diture will ere long be opened. Where there is so much 
 female beauty, and where so many of the gentlemen have 
 unlearned habits of close economy, luxury is the natural 
 result. Why, even servant-girls in California dress in silk 
 and wear twenty-dollar bonnets ! 
 
 I had the best opportunity for judging of the average 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 49 
 
 cultivation of the San Franciscans. A lecturer sees people 
 collectively, as well as individually, and takes their intellec- 
 tual measure by the impressions which come to him in a 
 single hour — nor are such rapid conclusions as he draws 
 generally far from the truth. Holmes says that a popular 
 lecture should contain nothing which five hundred people 
 cannot understand and appreciate at the same instant : 
 therefore, when a lecturer finds that five hundred out of a 
 thousand are following him closely, treading securely and 
 evenly in the tracks of his thought, he may be sure that 
 their mental calibre is at least equal to the bore and range 
 of his own mind. In San Francisco, lectures (at least spe- 
 cial importations for that object) were new: curiosity no 
 doubt contributed to the success of the experiment, but it 
 was none the less a test of the cultivation of the audience. 
 The impression made upon me was precisely similar to 
 that produced in Boston. At first, there was the usual 
 amount of curiosity, followed by an uncertain silence and 
 impassiveness. Judgment was held in abeyance ; each 
 depended a little on the verdict pronounced by others, but 
 aU at last silently coalesced unto a mutual understanding, 
 and were thenceforth steadily attentive, critical, and appre- 
 ciative. These phases of the mind of an audience are not 
 betrayed by any open demonstration. They communicate 
 themselves to the mind of the lecturer by a subtle mag- 
 netism which he cannot explain, yet the truth of which is 
 positive to his mind. I am sometimes inclined to think 
 that there is as distinct an individuality in audiences as there 
 is in single persons. The speaker, after a little practice, is 
 able to guess the average capacity as well as the average 
 
 S 
 
50 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 cultivation of those whom he addresses. Thus, notwith- 
 standing the heterogeneous character of the population of 
 California, the companies to whom I lectured made no 
 divided impression upon me ; each community, new as it 
 was, had already its collective character. 
 
 2. — ^Thb Valley of San Jose. 
 
 Having made arrangements to give two lectures in San 
 Jos6, I availed myself of the kind offer of Mr. Haight, of 
 the Mercantile Library of San Francisco, who proposed 
 conveying us thither in his carriage. The distance is fifty- 
 one miles — San Jose lying in the mouth of the celebrated 
 valley of the same name, which stretches southward for 
 forty miles between the two ranges of the Coast Mountains 
 — having once been, from all appearance, a portion of San 
 Francisco Bay. I had been over the road four times in 
 1849 — once on foot, once in a cart, and twice on muleback 
 — and flattered myself that I was thoroughly familiar with 
 the country ; but I soon found I knew very little about it. 
 The difference between a trail through a wilderness and 
 a fenced-in road, with bridges, taverns, incipient villages 
 even, scattered along it, was greater than I had imagined. 
 
 " Where are the nine-league ranches of the native Cali- 
 fornians ?" I asked. 
 
 "They have been swindled out of them." 
 
 " Where are the grizzly bears and coyotes ?" 
 
 " They have been killed off." 
 
NEW PICTURES FBOM CALIFOENIA. 51 
 
 " Where are the endless herds of cattle ?" 
 " Butchered for the San Francisco market." 
 " Who cut down the magnificent trees that once stood 
 here ?" 
 
 "The Pikes." 
 
 Here I must make an explanation. A " Pike," in the 
 California dialect, is a native of Missouri, Arkansas, N^orth- 
 ern Texas, or Southern Illinois. The first emigrants that 
 came over the plains were from Pike county, Missouri ; 
 but as the phrase, " a Pike county man," was altogether 
 too long for this short life of ours, it was soon abbreviated 
 into " a Pike." Besides, the emigrants from the afore- 
 mentioned localities belonged evidently to the same genus, 
 and the epithet " Western" was by no means suiEciently 
 descriptive. The New England type is reproduced in 
 Michigan and Wisconsin; the New York, in Northern 
 Illinois ; the Pennsylvania, in Ohio ; the Virginia, in Ken- 
 tucky ; but the Pike is a creature different from all these. 
 He is the Anglo-Saxon relapsed into semi-barbarism. He 
 is long, lathy, and sallow ; he expectorates vehemently ; 
 he takes naturally to whisky ; he has the " shakes" his life 
 long at home, though he generally manages to get rid of 
 them in California ; he has little respect for the rights of 
 others ; he distrusts men in " store clothes," but venerates 
 the memory of Andrew Jackson ; finally, he has an impla- 
 cable dislike to trees. Girdling is his favorite mode of 
 exterminating them ; but he sometimes contents himself 
 with cutting off the largest and handsomest limbs. When 
 he spares one, for the sake of a little shade near his house, 
 he whitewashes the trunk. 
 
62 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. 
 
 In all parts of California you now find the Pike. In the 
 valleys of San Jos6, Napa, and Russian River, he has 
 secured much of the finest land. But some of his original 
 characteristics disappear, after he has been transplanted for 
 a few years. He wears a tan-colored wide-awake ; sits in 
 a Mexican saddle ; becomes full and ruddy, instead of lank 
 and sallow ; and loses his chronic bitterness of spirit as " the 
 shakes" cease to torment him. If he would but pay a little 
 more attention to the education of his children, the young 
 Pikes, or Pickerels, might grow up ■without those qualities 
 which have made their parents rather unpopular. The 
 name "Pike" is a reproach — a disparagement, at least — 
 in most parts of California. 
 
 Following the new turnpike until we had passed the San 
 Bruno Mountain, we came upon the rich level country 
 beyond, as the sun, driving the dull fog-clouds seaward 
 before him, brought warmth to the air and color to the 
 landscape. On one side were salt marshes, whereon hun- 
 dreds of cattle were grazing; on the other, white farm- 
 houses, nestled in live-oak groves, at the bases of the yellow 
 hills. I looked eagerly for the ranche of Sanchez, where I 
 had twice passed a night ; but, though our road led us 
 directly past the house, I failed to recognise it. The mud- 
 colored adobe hut, with its tiled roof, had been transformed 
 into a white building, with shining roof and a broad veranda. 
 All the surroundings were changed ; other buildings had 
 sprung up in the neighborhood ; and the very face of the 
 landscape seemed no longer the same. 
 
 I noticed with pleasure that the settlers had generally 
 selected the sites of their houses with good taste, building 
 
NEW PICTUEBS FROM CAMFOKNIA. 53 
 
 them in the midst of the superb natural parks, which were 
 not always wantonly hewed away. The architecture, also, 
 was well adapted to the country and climate — simple forms, 
 raofs flatter than usual, and always spacious verandas, 
 sometimes encircling the whole house. As there is no snow, 
 and but little frost (the thermometer never falling below 
 20°), both paint and stucco are very durable ; and the 
 cheerful, airy architecture of Southern Europe will, in the 
 end, be preferred to any other.* What a country this wUl 
 be, when stately mansions, adorned with art and taste, 
 replace the first rude dwellings, and the noble parks sur- 
 round the homes for which they have waited thousands of 
 years ! 
 
 To me, there is no delight of the senses quite equal to 
 that of inhaling the fragrance of the wild California herb — 
 the " yerba buena " of the Spaniards, the " tar weed " of 
 the Pikes. It is a whitish, woolly plant, resembling life- 
 everlasting, and exudes, when mature, a thick aromatic 
 gum. For leagues on leagues the air is flavored with it — 
 a rich, powerful, balsamic smell, almost a taste, which seems 
 to dilate the lungs like mild ether. To inhale such an air 
 is perfect ecstasy. It does not cloy, like other odors ; but 
 strengthens with a richer tonic than the breath of budding 
 pines. \i Life had a characteristic scent, this would be it: 
 that a man should die while breathing it, seems incredible. 
 A lady with weak nerves informed me that it made her sick 
 — but some persons " die of a rose, in aromatic pain." To 
 me, it stirs the blood like a trumpet, and makes the loftiest 
 inspiration easy. I write poems, I paint pictures, I carve 
 statues, I create history. If I should live to be old, and feel 
 
54 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 my faculties failing, I shall go back to restore the sensations 
 of youth in that wonderful air. 
 
 After a ride of twenty miles, we passed some noble 
 ranches of 2,000 acres each, and approached San Mat^o. 
 The deep, dry bed of the creek, shaded with enormous bay- 
 trees, chestnuts, and sycamores, was fresh in my recollec- 
 tion. The glorious trees were still standing ; but among 
 them, on the right, rose a beautiful Gothic residence ; and 
 after we had crossed the arroyo on a wooden bridge, we 
 drew up at a handsome hotel on the left. Everywhere, 
 neatness, comfort, and a profusion of shrubs, flowers, and 
 vines. Opposite the hotel was the country residence of 
 Captain Macondray, my fellow-passenger ten years ago — 
 now one of the oldest inhabitants, happy in a success which 
 he has wholly deserved. As we reached the house, through 
 a lawn dotted with glittering bays and live-oaks, the cap- 
 tain came out to welcome us ; and I could not refrain from 
 expressing my delight that San Mateo had fallen into hands 
 which will protect its beauty. 
 
 Our walk through the garden was marked by a succes- 
 sion of exclamations. Such peaches, such pears, such apples 
 and figs ! What magic is there in this virgin soil ? The 
 wild crab is as far behind the products of our Atlantic 
 orchards, as are the latter behind the fruit that we saw. 
 Colossal, splendidly colored, overflowing with delicious 
 juice, without a faulty specimen an^ywhere, it was truly 
 the perfection of horticulture. In a glass-house (necessary 
 only to keep off the cool afternoon winds) we found the 
 black Hamburg, the Muscatel, and other delic;ite grapes, 
 ladcu from root to tip with clusters from one to two feet in 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFOENIA. 55 
 
 length. The heaps of rich color and perfume, on the tahle 
 to which we were summoned, were no less a feast to the 
 eye than to the palate. 
 
 Continuing our journey, we bowled along merrily over 
 the smooth, hard road, and presently. Redwood City, the 
 county-seat, came in sight. Ten miles ahead, towered the 
 solitary redwood, two hundred feet" in height — the old 
 landmark of the valley. The town numbers perhaps four 
 or five hundred inhabitants, having grown up within the 
 last four or five years. Beyond this, the quality of the soil 
 deteriorates somewhat ; the sea winds, sweeping over gaps 
 in the coast-range, giving a rawness to the air, and fringing 
 every branch of the oaks with long streamers of gray moss. 
 This part of the road would have been monotonous, but for 
 the magnificent frame of mountains which inclosed it. The 
 bay, on our left, diminished to a narrow sheet of silvery 
 water, and the ranges on either hand gradually approached 
 each other, their golden sides no longer bare, but feathered 
 with noble groves of oak and redwood. All along this 
 Jornada of twenty miles without water — as it was ten years 
 ago — farm now succeeds to farm, the whirling wind-mill 
 beside every house, pumping up orchards, and gardens to 
 beautify the waste. 
 
 After crossing San Francisquito Creek, finding our appe- 
 tites waxing in" the keen air, we looked out for a tavern. 
 The first sign we saw was " TJnclb Jim's," which was enti- 
 cingly familiar, although the place had an air of " Pike." 
 Our uncle was absent, and there were actually four loafers 
 in the bar-room. That men with energy enough to cross 
 the Plains, should " loaf," in a country ten years old, is a 
 
56 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 thing which I would not have believed if I had not seen it. 
 The house betrayed its antiquity by the style of its con- 
 struction. Instead of being lathed and plastered, the walls 
 and ceilings were composed of coarse white muslin, nailed 
 upon the studs and joists. This is the cheap, early method 
 of building in California, and insures sufficient privacy to 
 the eye, though none at all to the ear. Every room is a 
 Cave of Dionysius. Whatever is whispered in the garret, 
 is distinctly beard in the cellar. There can be no family 
 feuds in such a house ; Mrs. Caudle might as well give her 
 lectures in public. 
 
 A further drive of ten miles, brought us to Santa Clara. 
 The old Jesuit Mission, with its long adobe walls, tiled 
 roof, quaint Spanish church, and orchards hedged with the 
 frnitbeai-ing cactus, were the same as ever; but beyond 
 them, on all sides, extended a checkerwork of new streets 
 — brick stores, churches, smiling cottages, in the midst of 
 gardens and orchards, which seemed unnaturally preco- 
 cious. Here both the Catholics and Methodists have large 
 and flourishing schools. 
 
 The valley, bathed in sunset, lay before us, calm and 
 peaceful as Eden. The old avenue of trees still connects 
 Santa Clai-a with San Jose ; but as we drove along it, I 
 looked in vain for the open plain, covered with its giant 
 growth of wild mustard. The town now lies imbedded in 
 orchards, over whose low level green rise the majestic 
 forms of the sycamores, which mark the course of the 
 stream. As the eastern mountains burned ^vith a deep 
 rose-color, in the last rays of the sun, the valley strikingly 
 reminded inc of the Plain of Damascus ; color, atmosphere, 
 
NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 57 
 
 and vegetation were precisely the same — not less, but even 
 more lovely. But in place of snowy minarets, and flat 
 oriental domes, there were red brick masses, mills, and 
 clumsy spires, which (the last) seemed not only occidental, 
 but accidental, so little had they to do with architectural 
 rules. 
 
 San Jose, nevertheless, is a very beautiful little town. 
 Many of the dwellings recently erected are exceedingly 
 elegant, and its gardens promise to be unsurpassed. Its 
 growth has been slow (the population, at present, not 
 exceeding twenty-five hundred), but it has scarcely reco- 
 vered from the misfortune of having been the State capital. 
 The valley in which it lies is one of the most favored spots 
 in the world, in point of fertility, salubrity of climate, and 
 natural beauty. When the great ranches are properly 
 subdivided, as they will be in time, and thousands Itve 
 where units are now living, there will be no more desirable 
 place of residence anywhere on the Pacific coast. 
 
 What a day was that which succeeded our arrival ! As 
 Howadji Curtis says : " Opals and turquoises are the earth's 
 efibrts to remember a sky so fair.'' As soon as the last 
 fringe of fog disappeared, and the valley smiled in cloud- 
 less sunshine, we twain, seated in a light buggy, behind an 
 enthusiastic horse, set out for the mines of N"ew Almaden. 
 Our road led southward, up the valley. Near the town, 
 the soil, baked by four months of uninterrupted sun, and 
 pulverized by thousands of wheels, was impalpable dust 
 for six inches deep ; but the breeze blew it behind us, until 
 some eddy caught and whirled it into slender, smoky 
 pillars, moving across the yellow stubble-fields until they 
 
58 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 dissolved. After three or four miles, however, the road 
 became firm, and gloriously smooth ; and the ambrosial 
 herb, which had been driven back by gardens and orchards, 
 poured its intoxicating breath on the air. 
 
 "Now, how shall I describe a landscape so unlike anything 
 else in the world — with a beauty so new and dazzling that 
 all ordinary comparisons are worthless? A valley ten 
 miles wide, through the centre of which winds the dry bed 
 of a winter stream, whose course is marked with groups 
 of giant sycamores, their trunks gleaming like silver 
 through masses of glossy foliage : over the level floor of 
 this valley park-like groves of oaks, whose mingled grace 
 and majesty can only be given by the pencil : in the distance, 
 redwoods rising like towers ; westward, a mountain-chain, 
 nearly four thousand feet in height^showing, through the 
 blue haze, dark-green forests on a background of blazing 
 gold : eastward, another mountain-chain, full-lighted by the 
 sun — rose-color, touched with violet shadows, shining with 
 a marvellous transparency, as if they were of glass, behind 
 which shone another sun : overhead, finally, a sky whose 
 blue lustre seemed to fall, mellowed, through an interven- 
 ing veil of luminous vapor. No words can describe the 
 fire and force of the coloring — the daring contrasts, which 
 the difference of half a tint changed from discord into har- 
 mony. Here the Great Artist seems to have taken a new- 
 palette, and painted his creation with hues unknown else- 
 where. 
 
 Driving along through these enchanting scenes, I indulged 
 in a day-drenm. It will not be long, I thought — I may 
 live to see it before my prime of life is over — until San 
 
NEW PICTUEES FKOM CALIFOEXIA. 59 
 
 Jose is but a five-days' journey from New York. Cars 
 which shall be, in fact, travelling-hotels, will speed on an 
 unbroken line of rail from the Mississippi to the Pacific. 
 Then, let me purchase a few acres on the lowest slope of 
 these mountains, overlooking the 'valley, and with a distant 
 gleam of the bay : let me build a cottage, embowered in 
 acacia and eucalyptus, and the tall spires of the Italian 
 cypress : let me leave home when the Christmas holidays are 
 over, and enjoy the balmy Januaries and Februaries, the 
 heavenly Marches and Aprils of my remaining years here, 
 returning only when May shall have brought b'eauty to the 
 Atlantic shore ! There shall my roses out-bloom those of 
 Paestum : there shall my nightingales sing, my orange- 
 blossoms sweeten the air, my children play, and my best 
 poems be written ! 
 
 I had another and a grander dream. A hundred years 
 had passed, and I saw the valley, not, as now, only partially 
 tamed and revelling in the wild magnificence of Nature, 
 but from river-bed to mountain-summit humming with 
 human life. I saw the same oaks and sycamores, but their 
 shadows fell on mansions which were fair as temples, with 
 their white fronts and long colonnades : I saw gardens, 
 refreshed by gleaming fountains — statues peeping from the 
 gloom of laurel bowers — palaces, built to enshrine the new 
 Art which will then have blossomed here — culture, plenty, 
 peace, happiness everywhere. I saw a more beautiful race 
 in possession of this paradise — a race in which the lost 
 symmetry and grace of the Greek was partially restored — 
 the rough, harsh features of the original type gone — milder 
 manners, better-regulated impulses, and a keener apprecia- 
 
60 AT HOME AND ACKOAD. 
 
 tion of all the arts which enrich and embellish life. Was 
 it only a dream ? 
 
 After a drive of ten miles, we drew near the base of the 
 western mountains, and entered a wilder, but not less 
 beautiful region. The r'oad led through a succession of 
 open, softly-rounded hills, among which the first settlers 
 were building their shanties. The only persons we met 
 were Mexicans, driving carts, who answered my questions 
 in Spanish. Three miles further, a deep, abrupt glen 
 opened on our right. The hot, yellow mountain-sides shut 
 out the breeze, and the sun shone fiercely upon the deep, 
 dazzling green of the trees which overhung a little brook 
 below us. Presently we reached a large, white mansion, 
 surrounded by a garden of fig, peach, and pomegranate 
 trees. A uniform row of neat wooden cottages followed ; 
 and beyond them, on an open space, rose the tall, black 
 chimneys of the smelting-furnaces. This was New 
 Almaden. 
 
 At a small, but comfortable, tavern we obtained dinner. 
 The host, a perfect specimen of sunburnt health and 
 natural politeness, afterwards showed us the soda spring and 
 the smelting-houses. The mines of cinnabar are two miles 
 off, near the top of the mountain, and thirteen hundred 
 and fifty feet above the sea. As they were then under 
 litigation, instituted by the United States government, all 
 labor had been suspended. The principal adit is four 
 thousand feet in length — the ore being found in detached 
 m.asses. The average annual production is something over 
 a million of pounds, which is obtained at an expense of 
 $280,000, and yields a profit considerably greater. The 
 
NEW PICT011ES PEOM CALIFORNIA. 61 
 
 process of smelting is very simple, the mercury being 
 detached from the cinnabar by heat, and afterwards col- 
 lected by condensation. Below the condensing chambers 
 are huge bowls, some of which were still partially filled 
 with the metallic fluid. It was a curious sensation to set 
 your foot into the cold, slippery mass, which, as if disdaining 
 such treatment, rolls oflf, leaving your boot unsoiled. Huge 
 heaps of cinnabar, of a rich dark-vermilion color, lay idly 
 beside the furnaces. Some specimens, which I ventured to 
 carry away, contained seventy-five per cent, of quicksilver. 
 Before leaving San Jose, I visited two or three of the 
 pleasant private residences, which, with their gardens and 
 orchards, adorn the outskirts of the town. It seems really 
 incredible that ten years could work such a marvellous 
 change. Instead of a bare, open plain, there were groves 
 and bowers — streets lined with rows of trees, and houses 
 hidden in foliage and blossoms. Fig-trees, laden with 
 their second crop of fruit, encircled the fountain-basins ; 
 rustic summer-houses, overgrown with fuchsia, passion- 
 flower, and the Australian pea, rose out of thickets of 
 acacia, laurel, and the African tamarack, with its thin, 
 thready foliage ; and with the simple protection of glass, 
 the orange and banana flourished as in the Tropics. A 
 cluster of cottonwoods, planted eight years ago, were 
 already fifty feet high, with trunks fifteen inches in diame- 
 ter ! Here, old proverbs fail. A man does not plant an 
 orchard, that his grandchildren may have fruit, or a tree, 
 that his sons may sit beneath its shade : if he can count on 
 five more years of life for himself, he does these things foi 
 his own sake. 
 
62 AT HOME AND ABROAD 
 
 Now, I ask, where N^ature does so much, should we not 
 expect proportionably more from Man ? The Californians 
 have labored well, it is true, but not so much as they might 
 have done. I am not going to flatter them with unmingled 
 praise. Coming from such a stock, carrying the habits, 
 tastes, and ideas of the older States with them, they could 
 not have accomplished less, without exhibiting a deteriora-- 
 tion in character. The material progress of the State is 
 not so much to be wondered at, when we consider that 
 every improvement either pays, or is expected to pay. 
 There are fine roads constructed at great expense, all 
 through the mining districts — but ask the teamsters how 
 much toll they pay. There are good bridges everywhere 
 — your purse acknowledges the fact, as well as your eyes. 
 But there is, as yet, no thorough geological survey of the 
 State : the Common School system is far less generally 
 established than it should be : and the population are too 
 bent upon money-making to insist on the proper adminis- 
 tration of the laws, which, except in San. Francisco, are as 
 loosely and carelessly regarded as in — New York City. 
 The energy of Selfishness has woi'ked wonders — ^but it takes 
 something more to make a State great, wise, and happy. 
 
 We determined to return to San Francisco up the east- 
 ern shore, through Alameda County, thus making the 
 circuit of the bay. The distance to San Antonio near 
 Oakland, is about forty miles ; the fare, if you take a team 
 at a livery-stable, is twenty-five dollars — by the stage, it is 
 one dollar. The difference would buy an acre of land : so 
 we took the stage. To avoid the dust, as well as the 
 rough crowd of French laborers, Chinamen, and .Pikes 
 
HEW PICTUEES PEOM CALIPOENIA. 63 
 
 inside, my wife and I climbed to the top of the Concord 
 coach, and established ourselves behind the driver. The 
 morning was overcast and raw : the mountains were drab 
 instead of golden, and the bay indigo, instead of purple. 
 To conciliate the driver, I presented him with a cigar, 
 accompanied with a remark. He had a full, handsome 
 face, a military moustache, and a rough courtesy in his 
 manners, emphasized with profane words. I should never 
 have suspected him of being a "Pike," if he had not 
 admitted it. He had been in the country nine years ; 
 weighed one hundred and twenty-seven pounds when he 
 came ; now weighed one hundred and ninety ; used to be 
 sick all the time at home ; had the shakes — had 'em }>ad ; 
 never had 'era now ; was afraid to go home, for fear he 
 should git 'em again. Knowed all about horses ; druv 'em 
 bo's to go fast, and so's not to hurt 'em nuther. Some 
 
 drivers upsot the stage, goin' over side-hills ; if 
 
 he did ; passengers might swear 'cause he went slow ; he 
 knowed what he • was about — he, did. All which latter 
 statements proved to be perfectly true. He was an honest, 
 careful, skilful fellow ; and we enjoyed the journey all the 
 more, from our confidence in him. 
 
 For some ten miles our road led over the level floor of 
 the valley. The land here appeared to be tolerably well 
 divided into farms, the fields fenced with redwood, regard- 
 less of expense, and the most superb orchards and vine- 
 yards springing up everywhere. I was glad to see that 
 the fences were all substantial post-and-rail — ^none of those 
 hideous " worm-fences" which are so common in the Middle 
 and Western States. Redwood timbei- has a great dura- 
 
64 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 bility in a moist soil, though it is liable to dry-rot else- 
 where. Col. Fremont saw a redwood post at the Mission 
 of Dolores, which had been in the ground seventy-five 
 years, and had only rotted to the depth of half an inch. 
 Nearly all the frame houses are built of this timber, and I 
 never saw without pain its rich, ieautiful natural color — 
 intermediate between that of mahogany and black walnut 
 — hidden under a coat of paint. If it could be preserved by 
 oil, or a transparent varnish, nothing could be more elegant. 
 
 We were obliged to stop at Warm Spring (which lies 
 off the road) on account of the mail. As we slowly 
 climbed the glen, the national flag, flying from a flag-staff 
 which towered above a clump of sycamores and live-oaks, 
 announced the site of the hotel. Here was truly a pleas- 
 ant retreat. A two-story frame building, with a shady 
 veranda, opening upon a garden of flowers, in the midst 
 of which the misty jet of a fountain fluttered in the wind, 
 vineyards in the rear, and the lofty mountain over all. 
 There must be leisure already in this new world of work, 
 when such places exist. 
 
 Three miles further, up and down, crossing the bases of 
 the hills, brought us to the Mission of San Jose. I foimd 
 the old Mission intact, but a thriving village had sprung 
 up around it. Its former peaceful seclusion has gone for 
 ever : a few natives, with their sarapes and jingling spurs, 
 lounge in the tiled cori'idors ; while, in bar-rooms opposite, 
 the new owners of the land drink bad liquors and chew 
 abominable tobacco. The old garden on the hill has passed 
 into the hands of speculators, and its wealth of figs, pears, 
 and melons is now shipped to San Francisco. 
 
NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFOKNIA. 65 
 
 Here I left my trail of 1849, which turned eastward, 
 over the mountaiDS, while our road kept along their base, 
 northward. As the sun came out, the huge stacks of 
 sheaves, in the centre of the immense wheat-fields, flashed 
 like perfect gold. I have never seen grain so clean, so 
 pure and brilliant in color. If the sheaves had been washed 
 with soap-suds and then varnished, they could not have 
 been more resplendent. The eastern shore of the bay is 
 certainly more fertile than the western, and richer in arable 
 land, though it has less timber and less landscape beauty. 
 The land appears to be all claimed (generally in despite of 
 the original proprietors) and nearly all settled. 
 
 We now saw the dark line of the Encinal, in front, and 
 sped onward through clouds of black dust to San Antonio, 
 which we reached at noon. An old friend was in waiting, 
 to convey us to his home in the village of Alameda, two 
 miles distant. We here saw more of the wonders of 
 horticulture — but I am really tired of repeating statements 
 so difficult of belief, and will desist. We spent the after- 
 noon under his live-oaks, bathed in the aroma of giant 
 pears and nectarines, and in the evening returned to San 
 Francisco. 
 
 3. ^AJOUENBT TO THE GeYSEES. 
 
 A WEEK later, we left San Francisco in a little steamer, 
 for Petaluma. I had made arrangements to lecture there 
 on Saturday evening, and in Napa City on Monday eve- 
 ning ; and determined to accomplish a visit to the Geysers, 
 
06 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 in the iatervening time, although most of my friends pro- 
 nounced the thing impossible. Yet, at the same time, 
 they all said : " You must not think of leaving California 
 ■without seeing the Geysers" — those who had never been 
 there being, as usual, most earnest in their recommenda- 
 tions. It was all new ground to me, as I had seen literally 
 nothing of the north side of the bay during my first visit. 
 
 Petaluma is the westernmost of three valleys which, 
 divided by parallel spurs of the Coast Range, open upon 
 the north side of San Pablo Bay. It communicates, with 
 scarce an intei'vening " divide," with the rich and spa- 
 cious valley of Russian River — a stream which enters the 
 Pacific at Bodega, some twenty miles north of the Golden 
 Gate, where the Russians once made a settlement. It is 
 thus, virtually, the outlet of this valley to the Bay of San 
 Francisco ; and the town of Petaluma, at the head of 
 navigation, bids fair to become a place of some importance. 
 In 1849, the valley was an Indian ranche, belonging to one 
 of the brothers Yallejo ; and the adobe fort, built for 
 protection against the native tribes, is still standing. At 
 present, there is a daily line of steamers thither — a fact 
 which shows that the progress of California is not restricted 
 to the gold-bearing regions. 
 
 We passed close under the steep mountain-sides of 
 Angel Island. At the base, there are quarries of very 
 tolerable building-stone, which are extensively worked. 
 Across a narrow strait lay Sousolito, overhung by dark 
 mountains. Here there is a little settlement, whence is 
 brought the best supply of drinking-water for San Fran- 
 cisco. An hour more brought us to Point San Quentin, 
 
NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFOKKIA. 67 
 
 "where the State prison is located. In this institution, 
 terms of imprisonment are shortened by wholesale, with- 
 out the exercise of executive clemency. When the 
 inmates have enjoyed a satisfactory period of rest and 
 seclusion, they join in companies, and fillibuster their way 
 out. During my sojourn in California, forty or fifty of 
 them took possession of a sloop, and were only prevented 
 from escaping, by a discharge of grape-shot, which killed 
 several. 
 
 As we approached Black Point, at the mouth of Peta- 
 luma Creek, the water of the bay became very shallow and 
 muddy, and our course changed from a right line into a 
 tortuous following of the narrow channel. The mouth of 
 the valley is not more than two miles wide ; and the creek, 
 which is a mere tide-water slough, winds its labyrinthine 
 way through an expanse of reedy marshes. To the west- 
 ward, towers a noble mountain-peak, with groves of live- 
 oak mottling its golden sides ; while on the east a lower 
 range of tawny hills divides the valley from that of Sonoma. 
 
 The windings of the creek were really bewildering — more 
 than doubling the distance. But there is already enterprise 
 enough to straighten the channel. Gangs of men are at 
 work, cutting across the bends, and in the course of time, 
 the whole aspect of the valley will be changed. We left 
 the steamer at a place called The Haystack, about two 
 miles' from Petaluma. Time is gained by taking an omnibus 
 here, and avoiding the remaining curves of the stream. 
 The town, built on the southern slope of a low hill, makes 
 a very cheerful impression. The main street, built up con- 
 tinuously for near half a mile, slowly climbs the hill — its 
 
68 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 upper portion overlooking the blocks of neat cottages and 
 gardens in the rear. The houses, of course, are mostly 
 frame ; but a beautiful dark-blue lime-stone is rapidly coming 
 into use. The place already contains 2,500 inhabitants, and 
 the air of business and prosperity which it wears is quite 
 striking. 
 
 After collecting all possible information concerning the 
 journey to the Geysers, I determined to go on the same 
 night to Santa Rosa, sixteen miles further up the valley. 
 A considerate friend sent a note by the evening stage to 
 Mr. Dickinson, a landlord in Healdsburg (in Russian River 
 Valley), engaging horses for the mountains. I then sought 
 and found a reasonable livery-stable, the proprietor of 
 which furnished me with a two-horse buggy — to be left at 
 Napa City, twenty-four miles distant, on the thii-d day — for 
 $20. The vehicle was strong, the horses admirable, and I 
 was to be our own driver and guide. I had intended em- 
 ploying a man to act in the latter capacity, until I was told, 
 " You can never find the way alone." 
 
 After my evening duty was performed, and the moon 
 had risen, we took our seats La the buggy, well-muffled 
 against the cold night-wind. I was especially warned 
 against this midnight journey to Santa Rosa. People said : 
 " We, who have been over the road, lose the way in going 
 by daylight. How can you find it by night ?" But I have 
 my plan of action in such cases. I ask half a dozen men of 
 very different degrees of intelligence, separately, to give 
 me instructions. No matter how much they may differ, 
 there are always certain landmarks which coincide: hold 
 on to these, and let the rest go ! Thus, after much ques- 
 
NEW PICTUEES FKOM CALITOKNIA. 69 
 
 tioning, I found out that I must keep a certain main road 
 until 1 had passed the Magnolia Tavern ; then turn to the 
 right around the garden-fence ; then cross a gully ; then 
 not take a trail to the right ; then drive over a wide, fence- 
 less plain ; then take the right hand, and mount a hill : and, 
 after I had struck the main fenced road, keep it to Santa 
 Rosa. 
 
 Accompanied with good wishes and misgivings, we left 
 the Washington Hotel, in Petaluma. The yellow landscape 
 shone with a ghastly glare in the moonlight ; and the 
 parched soil and dust of the road were so nearly the same 
 color, that I was only able to distinguish the highway by 
 the sound of the wheels. I found the Magnolia, rightly 
 enough ; turned around the garden, crossed the gully, and 
 struck out boldly over the dim plain. The cold wind, still 
 raw from the Pacific, blew in our faces, and cheered us 
 with the balsam of the tar-weed. N"o sound of coyote or 
 gray-wolf disturbed the night. Through a land of ghostly 
 silence the horses trotted steadily onward. Up the pro- 
 mised hill ; through groves of wizard oaks ; past the dark 
 shanties of settlers : with wheels rattling on gravel or muf- 
 fled in dust ; crossing the insteps of hills, and then into an 
 apparently boundless plain — so we dashed until midnight, 
 when we reached a large stream. Thus far we had not seen 
 a living soul ; but now, a " solitary horseman" came up 
 behind us. 
 
 " Is this the road to Santa Rosa ?" I asked. 
 
 " You are in Santa Rosa now," was the reply. 
 
 Once over the stream, there lay the village, which the 
 oaks and sycamores had concealed from us. 
 
10 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 I thundered vigorously on the door of a tavern; but it 
 was long before there was any answering sound. Finally, 
 the door was opened by a barefooted man, in shirt and 
 trowsers — not growling, as I anticipated, but excessively 
 polite and obliging. Passing through a parlor, with glaring 
 ingrain carpet and hair sofa, he ushered us into a bedroom, 
 bounded on one side by a kitchen, and on the other by a 
 closet, where servant-girls slept. It had evidently been his 
 own room ; for the bed was still warm, and no imagination 
 could endow the limp cotton sheets with freshness. The 
 room was disgustingly dirty — old clothes, indescribable 
 towels and combs being scattered in the corners. Fortu- 
 nately, our fatigue was great, and the five hours' sleep 
 (which was all we could take) cut short the inevitable 
 loathing. 
 
 Our lodging cost two dollars ; our horses the same. 
 Soon after six o'clock, we were under way again — intend- 
 ing to take breakfast at Healdsburg, sixteen miles further. 
 As we got out of the shabby little village of Santa Rosa, I 
 perceived that we were already in Russian River Valley. 
 Its glorious alluvial level, sprinkled with groves of noble 
 trees, extended far and wide before us — bounded, on the 
 west, by the blue mountains of the coast. The greater part 
 of the land was evidently claimed, and the series of fenced 
 and cultivated fields on either side of the road was almost 
 uninterrupted. It was melancholy to see how wantonly the 
 most beautiful trees in the world had been destroyed ; for 
 the world has never seen such oaks as grow in Russian 
 River Valley. The fields of girdled and blackened skeletons 
 seemed doubly hideous by contrast with the glory of the 
 
NEW PICTURES PEOM CALIFOKIiriA. 71 
 
 surviving trees. Water seems to be more abundant in this 
 valley than in that of San Jose : the picturesque windmill is 
 not a feature in the landscape. The settlers are mostly 
 Pikes ; but one man, of whom I asked the way, rather 
 puzzled me, at first. His shaggy brown hair, flat nose, and 
 Calmuck nostrils, led me to suspect that he might be a 
 Russian remnant of the old settlement of Bodega. After 
 trying Spanish and German without success, I was vainly 
 straining after a Russian phrase, when he suddenly addressed 
 me in French. His patois, however, was harsh and barba- 
 rous, and I set him down for a Basque or a Breton. 
 
 The valley gradually narrowed to a breadth of five or six 
 miles ; the mountains became more densely wooded ; impe- 
 rial sycamores lifted their white arms over the heads of the 
 oaks ; and tall, dark redwoods towered like giants along 
 the slopes and summits. The landscapes were of ravishing 
 beauty — a beauty not purchased at the expense of any 
 material advantage ; for nothing could exceed the fertility 
 of the soU. Indian corn, which thrives but moderately 
 elsewhere in California, here rivalled the finest fields of the 
 West. The fields of wild oats mocked the results of arti 
 ficial culture; and the California boast, of making walking- 
 canes of the stalks, seemed to be scarcely exaggerated. 
 Then, as we approached Russian River, what a bowery 
 luxuriance of sycamores, bay trees, shrubbery, and climbing 
 vines ! What wonderful vistas of foliage, starry fiowers, 
 and pebbly reaches, mirrored in the sparkling water ! It 
 was a kindred picture to that of the Valley of the Alpheus, 
 in Greece, but far richer in coloring. 
 
 Such scenery was not to be enjoyed without payment. 
 
^2 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 There was beauty around, but there was dust below. After 
 crossing the river, our wheels sank into a foot of dry, black 
 powder, which spun off the tires in terrific clouds. It was 
 blinding, choking, annihilating ; and the only way to escape 
 it was, to drive with such rapidity that you were past 
 before it reached the level of your head. But under the 
 dust were invisible ruts and holes ; and the faster you 
 drove, the more liable you were to snap some bolt or 
 spring, by a sudden wrench. Less than a mile of such tra- 
 vel, however, brought us to the outskirts of Healdsburg. 
 This town — which is only two years old, and numbers six 
 or eight hundred inhabitants — is built in a forest of fir and 
 pine trees. The houses seem to spring up faster than the 
 streets can be laid out, with the exception of an open 
 square in the centre — a sort of public trading-ground and 
 forum, such as you see in the Sclavonic villages of Eastern 
 Europe. Wild and backwoodsy as the place appeared, it 
 was to us the welcome herald of breakfast. 
 
 The note dispatched from Petaluma had had the desired 
 effect. Mr. Dickinson had gone on to Ray's tavern, at the 
 foot of the mountains, with the saddle-horses ; and his 
 partner soon supplied us with an excellent meal. The road 
 to Ray's was described as being rough, and hard to find ; 
 but as the distance was only eight or nine miles, and my 
 instructions were intelligibly given, I determined to take 
 no guide. There are settlements along Russian River, 
 almost to its source — some seventy or eighty miles above 
 Healdsburg ; and still beyond the valley, as you go north, 
 ward, extends a succession of others, lying within the arms 
 of the Coast Range, as far as Trinity River. They are said 
 
NEW PICTUKES FROM CAUEOENIA. 73 
 
 to be wonderfully fertile and beautiful, and those which are 
 not appropriated as Indian reservations, are rapidly filling 
 up with settlers. As there are no good harbors on the 
 coast between Bodega and Humboldt, much of the inter- 
 course between this region and the Bay of San Francisco 
 must be carried on by the way of Petaluma and the Rus- 
 sian River. The sudden rise of Healdsburg is thus ac- 
 counted for. 
 
 Resuming our journey, we travelled for four or five miles 
 through scenery of the most singular beauty. To me, it 
 was an altogether new variety of landscape. Even in 
 California, where Nature presents so many phases, there is 
 nothing like it elsewhere. Fancy a country composed of 
 mounds from one to five hundred feet in height, arranged 
 in every possible style of grouping, or piled against and 
 upon each other, yet always rounded off with the most 
 wonderful smoothness and grace — ^not a line but curves as 
 exquisitely as the loins of the antique Venus — covered with 
 a short, even sward of golden grass, and studded with trees 
 — singly, in clumps, or in groves — which surpass, in artistic 
 perfection of°form, all other trees that grow ! " This," said 
 I, " is certainly the last-created portion of our planet. 
 Here the Divine Architect has lingered over His work with 
 reluctant fondness, giving it the final caressing touches 
 with which He pronounced it good." 
 
 Indeed, our further journey seemed to be through some 
 province of dream-land. As the valley opened again, and 
 our course turned eastward toward the group of lofty 
 mountains in which Pluton River lies hidden, visions of 
 violet peaks shimmered afar, through the perfect trees. 
 
14 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 Headlands crowned witli colossal redwood were thrust 
 forward from the ranges on either hand, embaying between 
 them the loveliest glens. The day was cloudless, warm, 
 and calm, with barely enough of breeze to shake the 
 voluptuous spice from the glossy bay-leaves. After cross- 
 ing Eussian River a second time — here a broad bed of dry 
 pebbles — we found fields and farm-houses. The road was 
 continually crossed by deep arroyos, in and out of which 
 our horses plunged with remarkable dexterity. The smaller 
 gullies were roughly bridged with loose logs, covered with 
 brush. We were evidently approaching the confines of 
 civilization. 
 
 I missed the road but once, and then a cart-track through 
 the fields soon brought me back again. At noon, precisely, 
 we reached Ray's — a little shanty in a valley at the foot 
 of Geyser Peak. Thence we were to proceed on horse- 
 back to the region of wonders. 
 
 Ray's Tavern (or stable) is only twelve miles from the 
 Geysers ; yet we should find these miles, we were told, 
 longer than the forty we had travelled. Some of our 
 friends had given us threatening pictures of the rocks, 
 precipices, and mountain-heights to be overcome. It was 
 fortunate that the horses had been ordered in advance ; for 
 Ray's is a lonely place, and we might otherwise have been 
 inconveniently delayed. Mr. Dickinson and an Indian boy 
 were the only inhabitants. There ~was a bar, with bottles, 
 a piece of cheese, and a box of soda-crackers, in one room, 
 and a cot in the other. 
 
 Presently, our horses were led up to the door. Mine 
 was a dilapidated mustang, furnished with one of those 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 15 
 
 Mexican saddles whicli are so easy in the seat and so un- 
 easy in the stirrups (on mountain roads) ; while my wife 
 received a gray mare, recommended as an admirable crea- 
 ture ; and so she was — with the exception of a blind eye, a 
 sore back, and a habit of stumbling. " You can't miss the 
 trail," said Mr. Dickinson — which, in fact, we didn't. 
 Starting off, merrily, alone, up a little oafion behind the 
 tavern, with the noonday sun beating down fiercely upon 
 our backs, it was not long before we breathed a purer air than 
 that of the valley, and received a fresher inspiration from the 
 richly-tinted panorama which gradually unfolded before us. 
 The high, conical peak, behind which lay the Geysers, 
 and the lower slopes of which we were ascending, was 
 called Monte de las Putas, by the Spaniards ; but is now, 
 fortunately, likely to lose that indecent appellation, and 
 return to respectability, as Geyser Peak. Its summit is 
 3,800 feet above the sea, and distinctly visible from the 
 Bay of San Francisco. Eastward, across an intervening 
 valley, rises the blue bulk of Mount St. Helene, 5,000 feet 
 high ; while, to the West and South, the valley of Russian 
 River, which here makes an abrupt curve, spread wide 
 below us — a dazzling picture of warmth, life, and beauty, 
 covered as with a misty violet-bloom. Our road was 
 shaded with pines and oaks, with an undergrowth of buck- 
 eye and manzanita. The splendid forms of the trees were 
 projected with indescribable effect against the yellow har- 
 vest which mantled the mountain-sides. The madrono, 
 elsewhere a shrub, here becomes a magnificent tree, con- 
 stantly charming the eye with its trunk of bronze, its 
 branches of copper, and its leaves of supernatural green. 
 
76 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Ascending gradually for a mile and a half, we reached 
 the top of the first terrace or abutment of the mountain- 
 chain. Here stood a shanty, near a spring which suddenly 
 oozed out of the scorched soil. Half-a-dozen used-up horses 
 were trying to get a drink, and a hard of at least four hun- 
 dred sheep was gathered together under the immense 
 spreading boughs of some evergreen oaks ; but settlers and 
 shepherds were absent. I rode up to the window ; but a 
 curtain of blue calico, placed there to exclude the sun and 
 flies, baffled my curiosity. 
 
 "We now followed the top of the ridge for three or four 
 niUes, by a broad and beautiful trail marked with cart- 
 wheels. A pleasant breeze blew from the opposite height, 
 and the clumps of giant madronos and pines shielded us 
 from the sun. As we cantered lightly along, our eyes 
 rested continually on the wonderful valley below. The 
 landscape, colossal in its forms, seemed to lie motion- 
 less, leagues deep, at the bottom of an ocean of blue air. 
 The atmosphere, transparent as ever, was palpable as glass, 
 from its depth of color. No object lost its distinctness, but 
 became part of an unattainable, though not unreal world. 
 The same feeling was excited, as when, leaning over a boat 
 in some crystal cove of the tropical sea, I have watched the 
 dells and valleys of the coral forests below. Across a deep 
 hollow on our right, splendidly robed in forests, rose Gey- 
 ser Peak, covered to the summit with purple chamisal. I 
 am afraid to describe the effect of this scenery. It was a 
 beauty so exquisite, a harmony so complete, as to take away 
 the effect of reality, and our enjoyment was of that supreme 
 character which approaches the sense of pain. 
 
NEW PICTURES FEOal CALIFOENIA. 77 
 
 Finally we descended into the hollow, which narrowed 
 to an abi'upt gorge, losing itself between steep moantain 
 walls. Masses of black volcanic rock, among which grew 
 Titanic pines, gave the place a wild, savage air, but the 
 bottom of the gorge was a bower of beauty. An impe- 
 tuous stream of crystal water plunged down it, overhung 
 by a wilderness of maples, plane-trees, and deciduous oaks. 
 As we were about to cross, a wild figure on horseback 
 dashed out of the thicket. It was a Pike boy of fourteen, 
 on a Mexican saddle, with calzoneros, leather-gaiters, and 
 a lasso in his hand. " Have you seen a stray cow ?" he 
 shouted. "We had been looking at something else than 
 cows. " 'Cause," he added, " one of ourn's missin'. You're 
 goin' to the springs, I reckon ? Well, I'm goin's fur's the 
 Surveyor's Camp." He had been four years in the country. 
 His father lived in the valley, but sent cattle upon the hills 
 to pasture. " Lost cattle reg'lar. Grizzlies eat 'em some- 
 times — still, it paid. What was them trees ? — matheroons 
 (madronos)." "Like California?" "Yes. Didn't want 
 to go back, nohow. Didn't want a cigar — chawed /" as a 
 dexterous squirt of brown juice over hishorse's head proved. 
 Such was the information elicited by my questioning. 
 
 Meanwhile we had been gradually regaining the summit 
 of the ridge beyond the gorge ; riding under broad-leaved 
 oaks, which reminded me of the Erymanthean forests. Pre- 
 sently there opened the most unexpected picture. A cir- 
 cular meadow of green turf, the peak on our right, golden 
 and purple to its summit ; an oak-knoll on the left, dotted 
 with white tents, with picketed horses, men lying in the 
 shade, and all the other picturesque accessories of a camp 
 
'78 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 It was the head-quarters of Capt. Davidson, of the Coast- 
 Survey — evidently a man of taste as well as science. The 
 repose was tempting, especially to my companion, to whom 
 rough mountain travel was a new thing ; but we had no 
 time to lose, for there were the Geysers before us, and a 
 journey of sixty miles on the morrow. A made trail, 
 engineered up the steep by easy windings, led us to a 
 height of 3,200 feet above the sea ; whence the unknown 
 realms behind Geyser Peak became visible, and we turned 
 our backs on Russian River Valley. 
 
 It was a wild region upon which we now entered. Sheer 
 down slid the huge mountain-sides, to depths unknown, for 
 they were concealed by the thick-set pillars of the fir and 
 redwood. Opposite rose heights equally abrupt ; over their 
 almost level line, the blue wall of a chain beyond, and scat- 
 tered peaks in the dimmest distance. The intervening 
 gorges ran from east to west, but that immediately below 
 us was divided by a narrow partition-wall, which crossed it 
 transversely, connecting the summits of the two chains. 
 Over this wall our road lay. The golden tint of the wild 
 oats was gone from the landscape. The mountains were 
 covered to the summits with dense miasses of furze, chami- 
 sal, laurel, and manzanita, painting them with gorgeous 
 purples, yellows, browns, and greens. For the hundredth 
 time I exclaimed, " What a country for an artist !" 
 
 On the sharp comb of the transverse connecting- wall over 
 which we rode, there was barely room for the trail. It was 
 originally next to impassable, but several thousand dollars 
 expended in cutting chapparal, blasting rocks, and bridging 
 chasms, have made it secure and easy. The carcass of a 
 
NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFOENIA. YO 
 
 calf, killed by a grizzly bear a few days before, lay beside 
 the path. We also passed a tethered mule, with a glimpse 
 of somebody asleep under a rock ; after which, the silence 
 and solitude was complete. 
 
 We reached the opposite ridge with feelings of relief— 
 not from any dangers passed, but because we knew that 
 Pluton River must lie in the gorge beyond, and we were 
 excessively fatigued and hungry. The sky between the 
 distant peaks became so clear as to indicate that a conside- 
 rable depression lay below it, and I conjectured (rightly, as 
 it proved,) that this must be Clear Lake. Looking down 
 into the gulf below us, I noticed only that while the side 
 upon which we stood was covered with magnificent forests, 
 the opposite or northern steep was comparatively bare, and 
 the deep gullies which seamed it showed great patches of 
 yellow and orange-colored earth near the bottom. But no 
 sound was to be heard, no column of vapor to be seen. 
 Indeed, the bottom of the gorge was invisible, from the 
 steepness of its sides. 
 
 Straight down went the trail, descending a thousand feet 
 in the distance of a mile. It was like riding down the roof 
 of a Gothic church. The horses planted themselves on their 
 fore feet, and in some places slid, rather than walked. The 
 jolts, or shocks, with which they continually brought up, 
 jarred us in every joint. Superb as was the forest around, 
 lovely as were the glimpses into the wild dells on either 
 side, we scarcely heeded them, but looked forward at every 
 turn for the inn which was to bring us comfort. At last we 
 saw the river, near at hand. The trail, notched along the 
 side of its precipitous banks, almost overhung it, and a sin- 
 
80 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 gle slip would have sent horse and rider into its bed. Ha ! 
 here is a row of bathing shanties. A thin thread of steam 
 puffs out of a mound of sulphur-colored earth, opposite. Is 
 that all? was my first dolorous query — followed by the 
 reflection : if there were nothing here, we have still been 
 a thousand times repaid. But — there comes the hotel at 
 last! 
 
 It was a pleasant frame building of two stories, sur- 
 rounded with spacious verandas. Patriarchal oaks shaded 
 the knoll on which it stood, and the hot river roared over 
 volcanic rocks below. A gentleman, sitting tilted against 
 a tree, quietly scrutinized us. While I was lifting my help- 
 less companion from the saddle, an Indian ostler took the 
 beasts, and an elegant lady in a black-velvet basque and 
 silk skirt came forward to receive us. I was at a loss how 
 to address her, until the unniistakable brogue and manners 
 betrayed the servant-gal. She conducted us to the baths, 
 and then assumed a graceful position on a rock until we 
 had washed away the aches of our bones in the liquid sul- 
 phur. A pipe, carried from a spring across the river, sup- 
 plies the baths, which have a tempei-ature of about 100 
 degrees. In their vicinity is a cold spring, strongly impreg- 
 nated with iron. 
 
 The bath, a lunch, and a bottle of good claret, restored 
 us so thoroughly, that my wife declared her ability to make 
 the tour of the Geysers at once. In the meantime, Mr. 
 Godwin, the proprietor of the hotel and the adjacent Pan- 
 demonium, arrived with Capt. Davidson, who had been 
 endeavoring to ascertain the temperature of the steam. 
 The former was kind enough to be our guide, and we set 
 
NEW PICT0EBS FKOM CALIFOENIA. 81 
 
 out immediately, for the remaining hour and a half of day- 
 light was barely sufficient for the undertaking. The Gey- 
 sers lie in a steep little lateral canon, the mouth of which 
 opens on Pluton river, exactly opposite the hotel. The 
 best way to visit them is, to enter the bottom of this canon, 
 and so gradually climb to the top. Many persons, ladies 
 especially, are deterred from attempting it, but there is 
 nothing very difficult or dangerous in the feat. The air of 
 the valley is strongly flavored with sulphur, but beyond 
 this fact, and the warmth of the stream, there are no indi- 
 cations of the phenomena near at hand. 
 
 Mr. Godwin first showed us an iron spring, in a rude 
 natural basin among the rocks. The water is so strongly 
 ferruginous, that a thick, red scum gathers on the top of it, 
 and the stones around are tinted a deep crimson. A little 
 further there is an alkaline spring, surrounded with bub- 
 bling jets of sulphur. The water becomes warmer as we 
 climb, the air more stifling, and the banks of the ravine 
 higher, more ragged in form, and more glaringly marked 
 with dashes of fiery color. Here and there are rocky 
 chambers, the sides of which are incrusted with patches of 
 sulphur crystals, while in natural pigeon-holes are deposits 
 of magnesia, epsom salts, and various alkaline mixtures. 
 One of these places is called the Devil's Apothecary Shop. 
 Hot sulphur springs become more frequent, gushing up 
 wherever a little vent-hole can be forced through the rocks. 
 The ground grows warm under our feet, and a Kght steam 
 begins to arise from the stream. The path is very steep, 
 slippery, and toilsome. 
 
 After passing several hot springs, impregnated with 
 
 4* 
 
82 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. 
 
 epsom salts and magnesia, we come, finally, to the region 
 where sulphur maintains a diabolical pre-eminence. The 
 trees which shade the ravine in the lower part of its course, 
 now disappear. All vegetation is blasted by the mixture 
 of powerful vapors. The ground is hot under your feet : 
 you hear the bubbling of boiling springs, and are half 
 choked by the rank steam that arises from them. From 
 bubbling, the springs at the bases of the rocks gradually 
 change to jetting, in quick, regular throbs, yet — what is 
 most singular in this glen of wonders — no two of them pre- 
 cisely alike. Some are intermittently weak and strong, 
 like a revolving light ; some are rapid and short, others 
 exhale long, fluttering pants or sighs, and others again 
 have a double, reciprocal motion, like the sistole and dia- 
 stole of the heart. In one you fancy you detect the move- 
 ment of a subterranean piston-rod. They have all received 
 fantastic names, suggested by their mode of working. 
 
 With the light bubbling and sputtering of these springs, 
 and the dash of the boiling brook, there now mingles a 
 deeper sound. Above us are the gates of the great cham- 
 ber, whose red, burnt walls we dimly see through volumes 
 of whirling steam — nothing else is visible. We walk in a 
 sticky slush of sulphur, which burns through the soles of 
 our boots ; we gasp for breath as some fiercer whiff drives 
 across our faces. A horrible mouth yawns in the black 
 rock, belching forth tremendous volumes of sulphurous 
 vapor. Approaching as near as we dare, and looking in, 
 we see the black waters boiling in mad, pitiless fury, foam- 
 ing around the sides of their prison, spirting in venomous 
 froth over its jagged lips, and sending forth a hoarse, hiss- 
 
NEW PICT0KES FROM CALIFOENIA. 83 
 
 ing, almost howling sound. This is the Witches' Caldron. 
 Its temperature, as approximately ascertained by Capt. 
 Davidson, is about 500 degrees. An egg dipped in and 
 taken out is boiled ; and were a man to fall in, he would be 
 reduced to broth in two minutes. 
 
 Climbing to a little rocky point above this caldron, we 
 pause to take breath and look around. This is the end of 
 the canon — the gulf of perdition in which it takes its rise. 
 The torn, irregular walls around us glare with patches of 
 orange, crimson, sulphur, livid gray, and fiery brown, which 
 the last rays of the sun, striking their tops, turn into masses 
 of smouldering fire. Over the rocks, crusted as with a 
 mixture of blood and brimstone, pour angry cataracts of 
 seething milky water. In every corner and crevice, a little 
 piston is working or a heart is beating, while from a hun- 
 dred vent-holes about fifty feet above our heads, the steam 
 rushes in terrible jets. I have never beheld any scene so 
 entirely infernal in its appearance. The rocks burn under 
 you ; you are enveloped in fierce heat, strangled by pufia 
 of diabolical vapor, and stunned by the awful hissing, spit- 
 ting, sputtering, roaring, threatening sounds — as if a dozen 
 steamboats blowing through their escape-pipes, had aroused 
 the ire of ten-thousand hell-oats. You seem to have ven- 
 tured into a prohibited realm. The bubbling pulses of the 
 springs throb in angry excitement, the great vents over- 
 head blow warning trumpets, and the black caldron darts 
 up frothy arms to clutch and drag you down. 
 
 I was rather humiliated, that I alone, of all the party, 
 was made faint and sick by the vapors. We thereupon 
 climbed the "fiery Alps," crushing the brittle sulphur- 
 
84 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 crystals, and slipping on the steep planes of hot mud, until 
 we reached the top, whence there is a more agreeable, but 
 less impressive view of the pit. I here noticed that the 
 steam rushes from the largest of the vent-holes with such 
 force, and heated to such a degree, that it first becomes 
 visible at the distance of six feet from the earth. It there 
 begins to mix with the air, precipitate its moisture, and 
 increases in volume to the height of eighty feet. In the 
 morning, when the atmosphere is cool, the columns lise 
 fully two hundred feet. These tremendous steam-escapes 
 are the most striking feature of the place. The term 
 " Geysers" is incorrect : there is no spouting, as in the 
 springs of Iceland — no sudden jets, with pauses of rest 
 between : yet the phenomena are not less curious. Mr. 
 Godwin informed me that the amount of steam discharged 
 is greater during the night than by day, and in winter than 
 in summer. I presume, however, that this is only a differ- 
 ence in the visible amount, depending on the temperature 
 of the air — the machinery working constantly at the same 
 rate of pressure. 
 
 A short distance to the east is another cluster of pulsating 
 springs, on the side of the hill. Here the motions are again 
 different, and present some curious appearances. In one 
 place are two pistons working against each other ; in ano- 
 ther, a whirling motion, like that produced by the blades of 
 a propeller. Still further up the valley are other springs, 
 which we had no time to visit. The accounts heretofore 
 published are very incorrect. No appreciable difference in 
 the temperature of the valley is occasioned by these springs. 
 The hotel is 1800 feet above the sea, and snow falls in the 
 
NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFORNIA. 85 
 
 winter. The abundance of maples and deciduous oaks 
 shows the same decrease of warmth as is elsewhere observed 
 at the same height. The plan of planting tropical trees on 
 the sides of the canon, which I have seen mentioned in the 
 CaHfornia newspapers, is preposterous. No vegetation can 
 exist within the limits of the heated soil. 
 
 Sunset was fading from the tops of the northern hills, as 
 we returned to the hotel. The wild, lonely gi-andeur of 
 the valley — the contrast of its Eden-like slopes of turf and 
 forest, with those ravines of Tartarus — charmed me com- 
 pletely, and I would willingly have passed weeks in explor- 
 ing its recesses. A stage-road is to be made over the 
 mountain, but I should prefer not to be among the first pas- 
 sengers. One man, they say, has already driven across in 
 his buggy — a feat which I could not believe to be possible. 
 The evening before our arrival, a huge grizzly bear walked 
 past the hotel, and the haunch of a young one, killed the 
 same day, formed part of our dinner. In the evening I sat 
 in the veranda, enjoying the moonlight and Capt. David- 
 son's stories of his adventures among the coast tribes, until 
 thoroughly overcome by sleep and fatigue. 
 
 At sunrise, the hissing and roaring was distinctly audible 
 across the valley. The steam rose in broad, perpendicular 
 columns, to an immense height. There was no time for 
 another visit, however, for we were obliged to reach Napa 
 City the same evening, and by seven o'clock were in our 
 saddles. The morning air was fragrant with bay and aro- 
 matic herbs as we climbed the awful steep. A sweet wind 
 whispered in the pines, and the mountains, with their hues 
 of purple and green and gold, basked in glorious sunshine. 
 
86 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 In spite of the rough trail and rougher horses, we got back 
 to Ray's in three hours and forty minutes. My companion 
 dropped from the saddle into a chair, unable to move. Mr. 
 Dickinson, with kindly forethought, had provided some 
 melons, and I think I was never refreshed with more cold 
 and luscious hydromel. 
 
 4. — ^A Steugglb to Keep an Appointment. 
 
 The change from our bone-racking saddle-horses to the 
 light, easy buggy and span of fast blacks, made the com- 
 mencement of our journey a veritable luxury, in spite of 
 the heat and dust. Our road led up a lateral arm of Rus- 
 sian River Yalley, extending eastward toward the foot of 
 Mount St. Helene. Though the country was but thinly 
 settled, there was more than one stately two-story farm- 
 house standing, with a lordly air, in its natural park of oaks, 
 and we passed — what I had been longing to see — a school- 
 house. The few cultivated fields were fenced without re- 
 gard to expense — or, rather, with a proper regard to their 
 bountiful harvests — yet the trees, whose slaughter we had 
 lamented, further down the valley, were generously spared. 
 The oaks were hung with streamers of silver-gray moss, 
 from one to three feet long, and resembling, in texture, the 
 finest point-lace. So airy and delicate was this ornament, 
 that the groves through which we passed had nothing of 
 that sombre, weeping character which makes the cypress 
 swamps of the South so melancholy. Plere they were 
 
NEW PICTUEBS FEOM CALIFOENIA. 87 
 
 decked as if for a bridal, and slept in languid, happy beauty, 
 in the lap of the golden hills. 
 
 More than once, the road was arbitrarily cut off, and 
 turned from its true course, by the fencing in of new fields. 
 This was especially disagreeable where a cove of level bot- 
 tom-land had been thus inclosed, and we were forced to 
 take the hill-side, where the wheels slipped slowly along, 
 one side being dangerously elevated above the other. I 
 was informed (whether truly or not I cannot say) that the 
 county has never yet located a single road — consequently, 
 the course of the highways is wholly at the mercy of the 
 settlers, each of whom makes whatever changes his interest 
 or convenience may suggest. A mile of side-hill was some- 
 times inflicted upon us, when a difference of ten yards 
 would have given us a level floor. Our horses, however, 
 were evidently accustomed to these peculiarities, and went 
 on their way with a steadiness and cheerfulness which I had 
 never seen equalled. 
 
 Still more remarkable was their intelligent manner of 
 crossing the deep arroyos which we encountered near the 
 head of the valley. There were rarely any bridges. The 
 road plunged straight down the precipitous side of the gul- 
 ly, and then immediately mounted at the same angle. As 
 we commenced the descent, the horses held back until they 
 seemed to stand on their fore-feet, poising the buggy as a 
 juggler poises a chair on his chin. When half way down, 
 they cautiously yielded to the strain, sprang with a sudden 
 impetus that took away one's breath, cleared the bottom, 
 and, laying hold of the opposite steep as if their hoofs had 
 been hands, scrambled to the top before the vehicle had 
 
88 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 time to recover its weight by wholly losing the impulsion. 
 Even my inexperienced companion, to whom these descents 
 seemed at first so perilous, was soon enabled to make them 
 with entire confidence in the sagacity of the noble animals. 
 
 In one instance, they showed a self-possession almost 
 human. We came to an arroyo, which, at first sight, ap- 
 peared to be impassable. It was about forty feet deep, the 
 sides dropping at an angle of forty-five degrees, and meet- 
 ing in a pool of water at the bottom. Down we went, 
 with a breathless rush ; but, fearing that the sudden change 
 from the line of descent to that of ascent might snap some 
 bolt in the vehicle, I checked the speed of the horses more 
 than was prudent. We were but half way up the other 
 side, when the buggy recovered its weight, and began to 
 drag back. They felt, instantaneously, the impossibility of 
 bringing it to the top ; stopped ; backed, with frightful 
 swiftness, to the bottom, and a yard or two up the side they 
 had just descended ; then, leaping forward, in a sort of 
 desperate fury, throwing themselves almost flat against the 
 steep, every glorious muscle quivering with its tension, they 
 whirled us to the summit. I felt my blood flush and my 
 nerves tingle, as if I had witnessed the onset of a forlorn 
 hope. 
 
 Finally, the valley, growing narrower, wholly lost itself 
 in a labyrinth of low, steeply-rounded, wooded hills. The 
 road, following the dry bed of a stream, was laboriously 
 notched in the sides of these elevations. There was barely 
 room for a single vehicle, .and sometimes the hub of one 
 wheel would graze the perpendicular bank, while the tire 
 of the other rolled on the very brink of tlio gulf below us. 
 
NBW PICTUEES FKOM CALIFOENIA. 89 
 
 The chasms were spanned by the rudest kind of corduroy 
 bridges. Bad and dangerous as the road was, it was really 
 a matter of surprise that there should have been any road 
 at all. The cost of the work must have been considerable, 
 as the canon is nearly two miles in length. I had every 
 confidence in the sagacity of our horses, and knew that our 
 vehicle could safely go where a settler's cart had already 
 gone; but there was one emergency, the possi^ity of 
 which haimted me until my nerves fairly trembled. What 
 if we should meet another vehicle in this pass ! No turn- 
 ing out, no backing, often not even the chance of lowering 
 one of them by ropes until the other could pass ! The 
 turnings were so sharp and frequent, that it was impossible 
 to see any distance ahead ; and I approached every corner 
 with a temporary suspension of breath. Suddenly, in the 
 heart of the canon, where the bays exhaled thick fragrance 
 in the hot air, a dust arose, and horses' heads appeared 
 from behind a rock. My heart jumped into my mouth for 
 an instant, then — riders, thank Heaven ! 
 
 " Is there a team behind you ?'' I cried. 
 
 " I think not," said one of them. "Hurry on, and you're 
 safe !" 
 
 The pass opened into a circular valley, behind which 
 towered, in the east, the stupendous bulk of Mount St. 
 Helene. This peak received its name from the Russian 
 settlers, as a compliment to the Grand-Duchess Helene. 
 It is generally called St. Helena by the Americans — who, 
 of all people, have least sense of the fitness of names. The 
 mountain, 5,000 feet high, rises grandly above all the 
 neighboring chains. As seen from this point, its outline 
 
90 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 strikingly resembles that of a recumbent female figure, 
 hidden under a pall of purple velvet. It suggests to your 
 mind Coreggio's Magdalen, and a statue of St. Cecilia in 
 one of the churches of Rome. The head is raised and 
 propped on the folded arms ; the line of the hack swells 
 into the full, softly-rounded hip, and then sweeps away 
 downward in the rich curve of the thigh. Only this Titaness 
 is robed in imperial hues. The yellow mountains around 
 are pale by contrast, and the forests of giant redwood 
 seem but the bed of moss on which rests her purple drapery. 
 
 It was now past noon, and still a long way to Napa 
 City, where I had engaged to lecture in the evening. I 
 supposed, however, that we were already in Napa Valley, 
 with all the rough and difficult part of the road behind us. 
 Driving up to the first settler's shanty I accosted a coarse, 
 sunburnt fellow, who was making a corral for pigs and cattle. 
 
 "How far to ISTapa?" 
 
 " Well (scratching his head), I don't exactly know." 
 
 " Is this Napa Valley ?'' I then asked. 
 
 " No," he answered ; " this is Knight's Valley. Tou've 
 got to pass Knight's afore you come to Napa." 
 
 Presently, another man came up with a lasso in his hand, 
 and stated, with a positive air of knowledge that was refresh- 
 ing, that we had thirty miles to go. In doubtful cases, how- 
 ever, I never trust to a single informant ; and this was the 
 result of my inquiries in passing through Knight's Valley: 
 
 Head of valley (to Napa City) 30 miles. 
 
 A mile farther " " 21 " 
 
 Half mile " " 35 " 
 
 One " " " 45 " 
 
 One-fourth mile " " 40(1)" 
 
NEW PICTCTEES FROM CALIFORNIA. 91 
 
 After this, I gave up the attempt in despair, being satis- 
 fied that I was upon the right road, and that if the place 
 could be reached, I should reach it. At Knight's, near the 
 eastern end of the valley, we found a company of emigrants, 
 who had just crossed the plains, and were hastening on, 
 dusty and way-worn, to settle on Eussian River. The men 
 were greasing the wheels of their carts, while the younger 
 children unhitched and watered the horses. The former 
 had a sullen, unfriendly look — ^the result of fatigue and 
 privation. An emigrant, at the close of such a journey, is 
 the least social, the least agreeable of men. He is in a 
 bad humor with the world, with life, and with his fellow- 
 men. Let him alone ; in another year, when his harsh 
 experience has been softened by memory, the latent kind- 
 ness of his nature returns — unless he be an incorrigible 
 Pike. Nothing struck me more pleasantly, during this trip, 
 than the uniform courtesy of the people whom we met. 
 
 Crossing an almost . imperceptible divide, after leaving 
 Knight's, we found ourselves in Napa Valley. The scenery 
 wore a general resemblance to that of Russian River, but 
 was, if possible, still more beautiful. Mount St. Helene 
 formed a majestic rampart on the north ; the mountain- 
 walls on either hand were higher, more picturesquely 
 broken, and more thickly wooded ; the oaks rising from 
 the floor of the valley, were heavier, more ancient — some 
 of them, in fact, absolutely colossal — and fir-trees two hun- 
 dred feet in height rose out of the dark glens. A wide, 
 smooth highway, unbroken by arroyos, carried us onward 
 through Druid groves, past orchards of peach and fig, 
 farm-cottages nestled in roses, fields and meadows, and the 
 
92 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 sunny headlands of the mountains. It was a region of 
 ravishing beauty, and brought back, lovelier than before, 
 the day-dreams which had haunted me in the valley of San 
 Jos6. 
 
 As the valley grew broader, and settlements became more 
 frequent, we encountered the old plague of dust. The 
 violet mountains, the golden fields, even the arching ave- 
 nues of the evergreen oaks vanished in the black cloud, 
 which forced me to close my eyes, and blindly trust to the 
 horses. To add to our discomfort, we were obliged to 
 pass drove after drove of cattle, each enveloped in almost 
 impenetrable darkness. But my gallant blacks whirled on, 
 in spite of it, and at sunset we reached a gate with the 
 inscription " Oak Knoll" — the welcome buoy which 
 guided us into our harbor for the night. 
 
 Oak Knoll is the residence of Mr. Osborne, one of the 
 largest farmers and most accomplished horticulturists in 
 California. His ranche of 1600 acres is on the western 
 side of the valley, four miles north of Napa City. It is a 
 princely domain, as it comes from the hands of Nature, and 
 its owner has sufficient taste not to meddle unnecessarily 
 with her work. The majestic oaks she has nurtured for 
 centuries form a splendid irregular avenue for the carriage- 
 road to his house, which stands upon the mound she placed 
 for it, sheltered by the mountains behind, and overlooking 
 the valley in front — no glaring mass of brick, or Grecian 
 temple with a kitchen attached, but a quaint wooden 
 structure, full of queer corners and gables, which seemed 
 to have grown by gradual accretion. Its quiet gray 
 tint, framed in dark green foliage, was a pleasant relief 
 
NEW PICTUEES PROM CALIFOENIA. 93 
 
 to the eye, after looking on the dazzling colors of the fields 
 and hills. 
 
 After riding to Napa City and back again to Oak Knoll 
 in the misty night-air, I felt satisfied with the day's woi-k — 
 twelve miles of mountain-climbing, fifty-five in a vehicle, 
 and one lecture (equal, under the circumstances, to fifteen 
 more !). The next evening, however, was appropriated to 
 San Francisco, involving another journey of nearly eqvial 
 extent. So, with the first streak of dawn, I tore my bruised 
 body from the delicious embrace of the bed, and prepared 
 to leave the castle. The steamer to San Francisco left 
 ISTapa on alternate days, and Tuesday was not one of them. 
 There was no other way, then, but to drive to Benicia, cross 
 the Straits of Carquinez, take a fresh team to Oakland, and 
 catch the last ferry-boat across the Bay. It was a difficult 
 undertaking, but it was possible. Mr. Osborne, to whom 
 there is no such word as " fail," started us off with a cheer- 
 ing prediction and a basket of his choicest fruit. The five 
 dusty miles to N^apa City soon lay behind us, and I left my 
 Petaluma team at a livery stable, in good condition. 
 
 The distance to Benicia was estimated at twenty-two 
 miles. It was neoessarythat I should reach there by eleven 
 o'clock, as the ferry-boat only makes a trip every two hours. 
 I asked for a two-horse buggy and driver, which the stable- 
 "keeper refused, on the ground that there was no use for it. 
 A less expensive team would do the business. He produced 
 a taU, clean-limbed dun mare, which he said would " put 
 you through." I could drive, myself, and leave the team 
 in Benicia. Ten dollars. There was reaUy no time to make 
 any other arrangement, so I acquiesced-^ondering why it 
 
94 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 is that the liverymen in California always prefer to let you 
 drive to your destination, and then go to the trouble of 
 sending for the team. I never obtained a driver — though I 
 always offered to pay especially for one — without reluctance. 
 
 It was half-past eight when we were fairly seated and in 
 motion. Napa City, by daylight, resembles any young 
 Western " city" — which means, a very moderate specimen 
 of a village. There were two or three blocks of low houses, 
 brick and frame, ambitiously stuck against each other, so as 
 to present a metropolitan appearance— outside of these a 
 belt of frame cottages inserted in small garden-plots, with 
 here and there the ostentatious two-story residence of the 
 original speculator and the "head-merchant,'' surmounted 
 by a square pigeon-box, called an " observatory" — we all 
 know how such a place looks. The population is about 
 eight hundred, and not likely to increase very fast, as the 
 region supplied from this point does not extend beyond the 
 valley. Just below the town, Napa Creek terminates in a 
 tide-water slough, which enters the Bay of San Pablo near 
 Mare Island, forming a channel for vessels of light draught. 
 Tule swamps, forming at first narrow belts on both sides 
 of this slough, gradually widen as you descend the valley, 
 until, at its mouth, they usurp nearly the whole of its sur- 
 face. 
 
 It was impossible to lose the road, I was told. I there- 
 fore drove on boldly, occupied with getting the dun mare 
 gradually warmed up to her best speed, until I noticed that 
 we had entered a lateral valley, which lost itself in a deep 
 canon between two mountains to the eastward. The road 
 was broad and ^cll-travelled ; but after proceeding two 
 
NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFORNIA. 95 
 
 miles, it split into several branches. I began to suspect that 
 we were on the wrong trail, and therefore hailed two women 
 who were washing clothes near a shanty. They pointed to 
 the main branch, which, I could see, climbed the mountain, 
 assuring me that it was the road to Susool — the first stage 
 on the way to Benicia. The broad slope of the mountain 
 was covered with a stream of lava, from an eruption thou- 
 sands of years ago. The rough blocks had been cleared 
 away from the road, but the ascent was still very toilsome. 
 Twisted live-oaks partly shaded the highway ; above us 
 towered the mountain, bare and yellow, while the canon, 
 on our left, sank suddenly into a gulf of blue vapor. It was 
 a singularly wild and picturesque spot, and I marvelled that 
 my friends had made no mention of it. 
 
 From the summit we had a prospect of great beauty. 
 All Napa Valley, bounded to the west by the range which 
 divides it from Sonoma, lay at our feet — the transparent 
 golden hue of the landscape changing through lilac into 
 violet as it was swallowed up in the airy distance. The 
 white houses of the town gleamed softly in the centre of 
 the picture. I gave our aftimal but a short breathing-spell, 
 and hurried on, expecting to find a divide, and a valley be- 
 yond, opening southward toward the Straits of Carquinez. 
 I was doomed, however, to disappointment. There was 
 no divide ; the road became very rough and irregular, with 
 side-hill sections, as it wound among the folded peaks. We 
 passed the shanty of a settler, but nobody was at home — 
 the tents and wagons of an emigrant party, deserted, 
 although recently-washed shirts and petticoats hung on the 
 bushes ; and, to crown all, no one was abroad in the road. 
 
96 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Presently, side-trails began to branch off into the glens ; 
 the main trail, which I kept, became fainter, and finally — ■ 
 two miles further — terminated altogether in front of a 
 lonely cabin ! 
 
 A terrible misgiving seized me. To miss one's way is 
 disagreeable under any circumstances ; but to miss it when 
 every minute is of value, is one of those misfortunes which 
 gives US a temporary disgust toward life. I sprang from 
 the buggy, halloed, tried the doors — all in vain. " O ye 
 generation of vipers !" I cried ; " are ye never at home ?" 
 Delay was equally impracticable ; so I turned the horse's 
 head, ' and drove rapidly back. A boy of eighteen, who 
 came down one of the glens on horseback, thought we 
 were on the right road, but wasn't sure. At last I espied 
 a shanty at a little distance ; and, leaving the buggy, has- 
 tened thither across a ploughed field, taking six furrows at a 
 stride. A homely woman, with two upper teeth, was doing 
 some washing under a live-oak. " "Which is the road to 
 Benicia ?" I gasped. " Lord bless you !" she exclaimed, 
 " where did you come from ?'' I pointed to the caSon. 
 " Sakes alive ! that's jist right wrong ! Why didn't you 
 keep to the left ? Now you've got to go back to Napa, 
 leastways close on to it, and then go down the valley, fol- 
 lerin' the telegraph poles.'' 
 
 Talk of a " sinking of the heart !" My midriff gave way 
 with a crash, and the heart fell a thousand leagues in a 
 second. I became absolutely sick with the despairing sense 
 of failure. Here we were, in the mountains, seven miles 
 from Napa, all of which must be retraced. It was a doubt- 
 ful chance whether we could reach Benicia in season for the 
 
NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 97 
 
 uext ferry-boat, at 1 p. m. — and then, how were we to cross 
 the mountains to Oakland (twenty-five miles) by 5 p. m. ? 
 It had been my boast that I always kept my appointments. 
 During the previous winter I had lectured 135 times in six 
 months without making a failure. I had ridden all night 
 in a buggy, chartered locomotives, spent, in some instances, 
 more than I received, but always kept the appointment. I 
 had assured my doubting friends in San Francisco that no- 
 thing short of an earthquake should prevent me from return- 
 ing in season : yet here I was, at ten o'clock in the fore- 
 noon, with sixty-six miles of mountains, bays and straits to 
 be overcome ! The merchant who loses half his fortune by 
 an unlucky venture is a cheerful man, if his sensations could 
 be measured with mine. 
 
 I do not know whether other lecturers experience the 
 same weight of responsibility. If they do, there is no more 
 anxious and unhappy class of men. The smallest part of 
 the disappointment, in case of failure, falls upon the lecturer 
 himself. In the first place, the evening has been chosen by 
 the association which engages him, with a nice regard to 
 pecuniary success. Nothing else must interfere, to divide 
 the attendance of the public. In the second place, five 
 hundred, or a thousand, or three thousand people, as the 
 case may be, hurry their tea, or decline invitations, or travel 
 many miles, in order to attend ; they " come early to secure 
 good seats," wait an hour or two — the dreariest of all expe- 
 riences — and then go home. It is no agreeable sensation 
 to be responsible for the disappointment of one individual : 
 multiply this by a thousand, and you will have the sum 
 total of my anxiety and distress. 
 
98 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 Back again, through the wild cafion ; down the steep, 
 whence the landscape, so sunny before, now looked dark 
 and wintry ; over the bed of lava ; across the bottom-land, 
 and over the hill we went — until, just in the outskirts of 
 Napa City, we found the telegraph poles and a broad road 
 leading down the valley. Two hours and a half were still 
 left us for the twenty-two miles. The dun mare was full 
 of spirit, and I began to pluck up a little spirit also. Roll- 
 ing along over low, treeless hills, we reached Suscol (five 
 miles) in half an hour. The dun mare whisked her tail and 
 stretched out her head ; her hoofs beat a lively tattoo on 
 the hard, dry soil, as she trotted off mile after mile, without 
 a break. A cool wind blew up from the bay, bringing us 
 balsam from the fields, and the ride would have been glo- 
 rious, if we could have enjoyed it. A carriage travelling 
 the same way enveloped us in dust. I submitted to this, as 
 we were approaching the town of Vallejo, opposite Mare 
 Island, by avoiding which we could save a mile or more, 
 and I had a presentiment that the carriage was bound for 
 Benicia. True enough, it struck into an open traU ; I fol- 
 lowed, and in fifteen minutes found myself on the main 
 road to Benicia. For this service I thanked the travellers, 
 by pushing ahead and giving them clouds of dust to swal- 
 low. The straits of Carquinez lay on our right, sparkling 
 in the sun. The road crossed the feet of the bare, yellow 
 hills, upon which the sun beat with culinary force ; flecks 
 of foam gathered on the mare's hide, but she still stepped 
 out merrily, and at a quarter before one we were in 
 Benicia. 
 
 The ferry-boat, I found, did not leave before half-past 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 09 
 
 one, and consumed half an hour in crossing the Strait to 
 Martinez. This left me but three hours and a half for the 
 journey thither to Oakland. Clearly it would be impos- 
 sible to make the trip over the mountains in a vehicle — but 
 it might be done on horseback. I therefore decided to 
 leave my wife in Benicia (whence she could reach San Fran- 
 cisco by the evening boat from Sacramento) and try my 
 further luck alone. Having telegraphed to San Francisco 
 that if I should not arrive in the last boat from Oakland, it 
 was to be specially sent back for me, regardless of expense, 
 there was nothing further to be done. Dinner was upon 
 the table at the hotel, but although I had driven forty-one 
 miles since breakfast, I found it impossible to eat. 
 
 While waiting at the pier for the ferry-boat, a man came 
 up hastily, saying : 
 
 "Have you heard the news? Broderick is killed!" 
 " What ?" " When ?" '■ How ?" rang on all sides. 
 " This morning — there is a telegraphic dispatch — Judge 
 Terry shot him. Broderick is dead, and Terry has run 
 away !'' " Well," said one of the bystanders, " it's no more 
 than was expected." This was true, in fact. I had already, 
 a dozen times, at least, heard the prediction : " Broderick 
 will be killed after the election is over." I do not suppose 
 that there was really anything like a conspiracy to that end, 
 as his friends afterwards charged ; but from the virulence 
 which marked the campaign, a series of duels was antici- 
 pated, in one of which he would probably fall. ISTo man in 
 California had warmer friends or bitterer enemies. 
 
 The boat was delayed by taking on board a herd of cat- 
 tle, and it was a quarter past two before I landed at Mar- 
 
100 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 tinez. I hastened up the long piev, and up the hot village 
 street, until I discovered a livery stable. The keeper was 
 lounging indolently in the shade, and the horses seemed to 
 be dozing in their stalls. " Can I magnetize this repose, 
 and extract speed from it?" was the question I put to 
 myself; whereupon the following dialogue ensued : — 
 
 " I must reach Oakland in time for the last boat for 
 San Francisco. Give me two fast saddle-horses and a 
 guide." 
 
 " It can't be done !" (with a lazy smile.) 
 
 " It must be done ! What is the shortest time you have 
 done it in ?" 
 
 " Four hours." 
 
 " How much do you get — two horses and a man ?" 
 
 " Fifteen dollars." 
 
 " You shall have twenty-five — saddle the horses imme- 
 diately." 
 
 " There's no use in taking saddle-horses — a two-horse 
 buggy will get along faster." 
 
 " Get it then ! Instantly ! Don't lose a second !" 
 
 He was magnetized at last. The pass which I made over 
 the region of his pocket, subjected him to my will. Hos- 
 tlers, horses, and vehicles, were magnetized, also. There 
 was running hither and thither — examination of bolts, 
 buckling of straps, comparison of horses — chaotic tumult 
 burst out of slumber. At half-past two I jumped into the 
 buggy. We had exactly three hours in which to make a 
 journey of twenty-five miles, by a rough road, crossing a 
 mountain i-ango two thousand feet high. The horses were 
 smallj not handsome, but with an air of toughness and 
 
NEW PICTURES PEOM CALIFOKNIA. 101 
 
 courage : the driver had the face of a man who possesses a 
 conscience. These were encouraging signs. My spiritual 
 mercury immediately rose to fifteen degrees above zero. 
 
 It was hard, though, to sit still while we drove mode- 
 rately up the hot glen behind Martinez, waiting for the 
 horses to get the requisite wind and flexibility of muscle. 
 I quieted my restless nerves with a cigar, sufficiently to 
 enjoy the Arcadian beauty of the scenery. Clumps of 
 evergreen oak, bay, and sycamore, marked the winding 
 course of the stream ; white cottages, embowered in fig- 
 trees, nestled at the foot of the hills, every opening fold of 
 which disclosed a fresh picture ; and to the eastward tow- 
 ered, in airy purple, the duplicate peak of Monte Diablo. 
 Out of this glen we passed over low hills into another, and 
 still another, enjoying exquisite views of the valleys of 
 Pacheco and San Ramon, with Suisun Bay in the distance. 
 The landscapes, more contracted than those of Napa and 
 San Jose, had a pastoral, idyllic character, and I was sur- 
 prised to find how much loveliness is concealed in the heart 
 of mountains which, as seen from the Bay, appear so bare 
 and bleak. Scarcely any portion of the land was unclaimed. 
 Farm succeeded to farm, and little villages were already 
 growing up in the broader valleys. 
 
 The afternoon sun burned our faces, though a light 
 breeze tempered the heat enough to allow our horses to do 
 their best. I urged upon the driver the necessity of mak- 
 ing all he could at the start, and evaded his inquiries with 
 regard to the time. This plan worked so well that we 
 reached a village called Lafayette, thirteen miles from 
 Martinez, in one hour and ten minutes. Here we watered 
 
102 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the horses, and I lighted a fresh cigar. The mercury had 
 risen to 32°. Beyond this extended "a wild, winding valley, 
 some three or four miles in length, to the foot of the high 
 range. The hills shut us in closely : settlements became 
 scanty, and at last we entered a narrow gorge, through 
 which the road had been cut with much labor. A clear 
 brook murmured at the bottom ; bay-leaves scented the air, 
 and climbing vines fell over us in showers, from the 
 branches of the trees. Through the dark walls in front 
 rose the blue steep of the mountain which we were obliged 
 to scale. The roughness of the road and the chance of 
 being stopped by meeting another team could not wholly 
 spoil my delight in the wild beauty of this pass. 
 
 Now we grappled with the bare mountain-side, up which 
 the road zigzagged out of sight, far above. Of course, it 
 was impossible for the horses to proceed faster than a walk, 
 and the lingering remnants of my anxiety were lost sight 
 of in the necessity of preserving the equilibrium of our 
 vehicle on those sidelong grades. We leaned, first to the 
 right and then to the left, changing at every tura, to keep 
 our wheels upon the slippery plane, until the shoulder of 
 the range was surmounted, and we saw the comb about 
 half a mile distant. From the summit we looked down, as 
 from the eaves of a house, into the throat of a precipitous 
 canon which yawned below us. Between its overlapping 
 sides glimmered, far away, ,i little triangle of the Bay of Sau 
 Francisco. Now, let us see how much time is left to reach 
 the shores of that blue vision? Fifty-five minutes ! The 
 mercury immediately sank to 10". 
 
 What a plunge it was until we reached the bottom of the 
 
NEW PICTQKES FEOM CALIFOENIA. 103 
 
 summit-wall, where the first springs gushed forth ! — ^and 
 how the horses held back, with our weight pressing upon 
 them, was more than I could understand. The narrow 
 canon then received us, and the horses, as if maddened with 
 the previous restraint, dashed recklessly down the shelving 
 road, which, as it crossed from one side to the other, back 
 and forth, obliged us to fling our weight always on the 
 uppermost wheels. From the rapidity of their descent, a 
 little jolt would have been sufficient to have hurled us over 
 into the bed of the stream. The excitement of the race 
 made us perfectly regardless of the danger : there was even 
 a keen sense of enjoyment, to me, in the mad, reckless man- 
 ner in which we turned the sharp corners of the ravine, or 
 spun along brinks where the pebbles, displaced by our 
 wheels, rattled on stones twenty feet below. Neither of us 
 said a word, but held fast for life, flinging our bodies half 
 out of the vehicle as the road shifted sides. There was owe 
 fear hanging over us, but we no more mentioned it than the 
 Alpine traveller would shout under the poised avalanche 
 which the sound of his voice might start from its bed. 
 
 Corner after corner was passed ; the horizon of the Bay, 
 seen through the gap in front, sank, lower, and the inter- 
 vening plain glimpsed nearer. Then a house appeared — lo ! 
 the end of the canon, and in fifteen minutes from the top 
 we had made the descent of more than two miles ! We 
 both, at the same instant, drew a long, deep breath of relief, 
 and the driver spoke out the thought which was in my own 
 mind. " That's what I was afraid of," said he, without 
 further explanation. " So was I," was my answer. "I didn't 
 say a word about it, for fear talking of it would make it 
 
104 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 happen — but think, if we had met another team on the way 
 down !" " But we didnH,''^ I shouted ; " and now we'll 
 catch the boat ! And my thermometer stands at 90° — and 
 the world is beautiful — and life is glorious — and aU men 
 are my brethren!" He smiled a quiet, satisfied smile, 
 merely remarking : " I thought I'd do it." 
 
 The remaining trot of five miles over the plain was child's 
 play, compared with what we had done. When our smok- 
 ing and breathless horses were pulled up on the steamboat 
 pier at Oakland, there were just eight minutes to spare ! 
 We had made the trip fj-om Martinez in two hours and fifty- 
 two minutes — ^the shortest time in which it had ever been 
 accomplished. The bystanders, to whom my driver trium- 
 phantly proclaimed his feat, would not believe it. I paid 
 the stipulated twenty-five dollars with the greatest cheer- 
 fulness — every penny of it had been well earned — jumped 
 aboard the ferry-boat, and threw myself on one of the cabin 
 sofas with an exquisite feeling of relief. The anxiety I had 
 endured through the day wholly counteracted the fatigue 
 of the journey, and the excitement continued without the 
 usual reaction. When we reached San Francisco, at seven 
 o'clock, I found my friends waiting for me on the pier. 
 They had arranged to send the boat back in case I should 
 not arrive, which would have cost one hundred dollars. 
 
 Fortifying myself with repeated doses of strong coffee 
 (for there was no time to get dinner), I made my appear- 
 ance on the rostrum at the appointed hour. My face was 
 baked and blistered by the sun, nnd my lungs somewhat 
 exhausted by the day's labors, but I went through the dis- 
 course of an hour and a half with very little more than the 
 
NEW PICTCTEES FBOM CALIFOENIA. 105 
 
 usual fatigue. At the close, when I felt inclmed to congra- 
 tulate myself a little, I was rather taken aback by my friends, 
 who seeing my fiery face, and knowing nothing of the day's 
 struggle, exclaimed, with wicked insinuation: "You have 
 been dining out this evening!" At ten o'clock, my wife 
 arrived in the Sacramento boat, and our supper at the Ori- 
 ental was a happy finis to the eventful day. 
 
 5. — The SACEAMBiero Valley. 
 
 Bbfoeb completing my engagement at San Francisco, I 
 had already made arrangements for a lecturing tour 
 through the interior of the State. Literary associations are 
 few in California : the prosperity of the mining towns is, in 
 general, too precarious — their population too shifting — to 
 encourage the growth of permanent institutions of this 
 character ; and the lecturer, consequently, misses the shel- 
 ter and assistance to which he has been accustomed at 
 home. He must accept the drudgery along with the profit. 
 I confess that, after my previous experience, the undertak- 
 ing was not tempting ; but while it was incumbent upon 
 me to visit the mining regions before leaving California, it 
 was also prudent to make the visit (such is human nature !) 
 pecuniarily advantageous. For Sacramento and the moun- 
 tain-towns, I secured the services of Mr. E , news-agent, 
 
 as avant-courew, hirer of theatres, poster of placards, and 
 distributer of complimentary tickets. 
 
 This arrangement took the drudgery of the business 
 
 5* 
 
106 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 off my hands, it is true ; but, at the same time, it brought 
 me before the public in a new and less agreeable character. 
 No longer the invited guest of societies — no longer intro- 
 duced to audiences by the jiresidents thereof — I fell to the 
 level of itinerant phrenologists and exhibitors of nitrous 
 oxide gas : nay — let me confess it — I could no longer look 
 down upon the Ethiopian minstrel, or refuse to fraternize 
 with the strolling wizard. It did not surprise me, therefore, 
 that the principal of a classical academy, in a town which 
 shall be nameless, not only refused to hear me, but denied 
 permission to his scholars. " He is an author !'' exclaimed 
 this immaculate pedagogue ; " yet he degrades his calling 
 by thus appearing before the public. I have too much 
 respect for authors to countenance such degradation !'' 
 
 My lecture in Sacramento was to take place on Saturday, 
 and my friend, Judge Hastings, of Benicia, arranged for 
 the previous evening at the latter place. Preparing our- 
 selves, therefore, for a month's journey, we left San Fran- 
 cisco in the afternoon boat. 
 
 About twenty-five miles from the Golden Gate, the 
 Bay of Pablo terminates, and we enter the Straits of 
 Carquinez, which connect it with Suisun Bay, the reservoir 
 of the Sacramento and San Joaquin valleys, lying beyond 
 the Coast Range. These straits are from six to seven 
 miles in length, with a breadth varying from half a nolle to 
 four miles. With their bold shores, and their varying 
 succession of bays and headlands on either side, they have 
 been compared to the Bosphorus — which, indeed, they sur- 
 pass in natural beauty. When the hills, folding together 
 in softly- embracing swells, which give the eye a delight 
 
NEW PICTt'KES FEOM CALtPOENIA. lO'? 
 
 like that of perfect music to the ear, and now draped in 
 gUded velvet as the sunset strikes along their sides, shall 
 be terraced with gardens of never-fading bloom — when, 
 besides the live-oak, the dark pillars of the cypress, the 
 umbelliferous crowns of the Italian pine and the plumy 
 tufts of the hardy Chinese palm shall flourish in their shel- 
 tering arms, and when mansion on mansion shall line the 
 water's edge, with balconies overhanging the tide, and 
 boats tossing at the marble steps — ^then the magnificent 
 water-street which leads from Constantinople to the Euxine 
 will fi.nd itself not only rivalled, but surpassed. 
 
 As the sun went down, in a blaze of more than Medi- 
 terranean beauty, we reached Benicia. In 1849, many 
 persons actually supposed that this place would become 
 the commercial metropolis of the Pacific, and speculation 
 raged among the lots staked out all over its barren 
 hills. Vessels of the largest tonnage could lie close to 
 the shore, said they — forgetting that it was possible to 
 buUd piers at San Francisco. There was a fine back- 
 country — as if all California were not the back-country 
 of its metropolis ! In fact, there was no end to the argu- 
 ments (especially if you owned a lot) advanced to prove 
 that San Francisco must go down, and Benicia must go 
 up! But Commerce is a wilful and a stubborn goddess. 
 She pitches on a place by a sort of instinct, and all the 
 coaxing and forcing in the world won't budge her a jot. 
 Benicia was made the headquarters of the Army — but it 
 didn't help the matter. Lots were given away, shanties 
 built, all kinds of inducements offered — still, trade wouldn't 
 come. It was made the State capital — ^but, alas ! it is not 
 
108 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 even the county seat at present. It is still the same bare 
 looking, straggling place as when I first saw it, but with 
 more and better houses, the big brick barracks of the sol- 
 diers, and the workshops of the Pacific Steamship Company. 
 The population is about 3,000. 
 
 I have no doubt the failure of his plan broke old Semple's 
 heart. Robert Semple, the lank Indiana giant — one of the 
 first emigrants to California, and the President of the Con- 
 stitutional Convention at Monterey — owned a great part of 
 the land, and it would bring, he believed, millions of money 
 into his coffers. He never spoke of San Francisco, but 
 with the bitterest disgust. " Augh !" he exclaimed to me, 
 as we once camped together in the Pajaro Valley; " don't 
 mention the name : it makes me sick !" If this feeling was 
 general among the speculators, there must have been a 
 great many invalids in Cahfornia about that time. 
 
 The superb, solitary mass of Monte Diablo, robed in the 
 violet mist of twilight, rose before us as we landed at Beni- 
 cia. Monte Diablo is a more graceful peak than Soracte : 
 he reproduces the forms as well as the tints of the storied 
 mountains of Greece. Like Helicon or Hymettus, he over- 
 looks a ruin. At his base, on the shore of Suisun Bay, ano- 
 ther metropolis was founded by Col. Stevenson, who com- 
 manded the New York Regiment sent to California in 1846. 
 He called his embryo city (Heaven help us !) " New-York- 
 of-the-Pacific !" Nature tolerates many strange names in 
 our United States, but this was more than she could stand. 
 In 1849, I saw three houses there ; and then, one could not 
 venture to laugh at beginnings. What was my joy, when 
 I now beheld only Uco houses — one of them iminhabited — 
 
NEW PICTTJEES FROM CALIFOBNIA. 109 
 
 and was informed that the shore was covered With the ske- 
 letons of musquitos which had died of starvation ! 
 
 To keep my engagement at Sacramento the next evening, 
 it was necessary that we should make the journey thither 
 by land, a distance of sixty miles. After riding in a jolting 
 stage around the great tul6 marsh, to Suisun City, twenty 
 miles off, I had the good luck to meet a gentleman who 
 placed a two-horse team at our disposal. We were thus 
 free to finish the journey on our old independent footing. 
 
 The day was cloudless, and intensely hot, and even the 
 dry, yellow grass appeared to have been scorched off the 
 cracked and blistered earth. Low undulations of soil rolled 
 away before us, until the plain vanished in fiery haze, and 
 the wind which blew over it was as the blast from out a 
 furnace. At intervals of four or five miles, we found a set- 
 tler's cabin, with its accompanying corral and garden, and 
 a windmill, lazily turning in the heated gusts. Miles away 
 on our right, a blue line of timber marked the course of the 
 Sacramento River, apparently separated from us by a lake, 
 dotted with island-like clumps of trees. Every distant 
 depression of the plain was filled with the same illusive water. 
 Newly-arrived emigrants, unacquainted with the mirage, 
 often ride far out of their trail, in the endeavor to reach 
 these airy pools. An accustomed eye has no diificulty in 
 detecting them, as the color is always that of the sky, 
 whereas real water is a darker blue. 
 
 After a steady travel of nearly five hours, the road 
 swerved to the right, and ascended an artificial dyke, or 
 embankment, which has been made with much labor, in 
 order to raise it above the reach of the winter floods. At 
 
110 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 intervals of fifty or a hundred yards, there are bridges, to 
 allow passage for the water : and I think we must have 
 crossed twenty-five of them in the distance of a mile. On 
 either side were dried-up swamps of giant tul6. This 
 causeway conducted us to the river-bank, which is consi- 
 derably higher than the plain in its rear. Thence, for six 
 miles, we followed the course of the stream — ^the road, deep 
 in dust, winding among golden and purple thickets, which 
 exhaled the most delicious fragrance, and under the arching 
 arms of the oak and sycamore. It was a storehouse of 
 artistic foregrounds. I know not which charmed us most 
 — the balmy, shadowed sweetness of the air, the dazzling 
 gaps of sunshine, the picturesque confusion of foi-ms, or the 
 splendid contrasts of color. 
 
 Four miles below Sacramento, we crossed the river on a 
 ferry-scow, and hastened onward through Sutt^rville ; for 
 the sun was nigh his setting. A cloud of white dust hid 
 the city, and lay thick and low all over the plain. Increas- 
 ing in volume, huge, billowy eddies of it rolled toward us, 
 and we were presently blinded by the clouds that arose 
 from our own wheels. Of the last two miles of the drive I 
 can say nothing — for I saw nothing. Often there was a 
 rattling of wheels near me, as the strings of vehicles return- 
 ing from the fair-grounds passed by ; but the horses instinct- 
 ively avoided a collision. I shut my eyes, and held my 
 breath as much as possible, until there came a pufi" of fresher 
 air, and I found myself in one of the watered streets of the 
 city. Blinded, choked, and sun-burned, we alighted at the 
 St. George Hotel, and were so lucky as to find a room. 
 The city, like San Francisco, was altogether a different 
 
TSEW PICTUEES FROM CAI.TFOENIA. 11 j 
 
 place from the picture in my memory. Having been not 
 only laid in ashes, But completely washed away by the 
 inundation of 1853, not a house remains from the pioneer 
 times. It was, in reality, only six years old — a fact which 
 accounted for the light character of much of the architec- 
 ture, and the unusual number of one-story buildings. The 
 streets are broad, inflexibly right-angled, and prosaically 
 named after the numerals, and the letters of the alphabet. 
 The business portion of the city extends five or six blocks 
 back from the river, and a greater distance along J, K, and 
 L streets. Beyond this region, there are many beautiful 
 private residences and gardens. The place is greatly 
 admired by its inhabitants, but the uniformity of surface 
 and plan made it appear tame and monotonous, after San 
 Francisco. 
 
 The first thing I looked for, and totally missed, was the 
 profusion of grand, ancient oaks and sycamores, which once 
 adorned the streets. Every one had fallen — some destroyed 
 in the conflagration, but the most part cut down, because 
 they interfered with buildings, or dropped their aged limbs 
 in a storm. Their place was miserably filled with rows of 
 young cottonwoods, of astonishing growth, which cast 
 alternate showers of down and sticky gum upon the gar- 
 ments of those who walk in their shade. I grieved over 
 the loss of the noble old trees. Perhaps it was inevitable 
 that they should fall, but it was none the less melancholy. 
 
 Sacramento is a cheerful, busy town of. about 15,000 
 inhabitants, with a State-house which would be imposing if 
 it were all one color, substantial churches and school-houses, 
 a few flourishing manufactories, and drinking saloons innu- 
 
112 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 merable. It boasts the best daily paper in the State {The, 
 Union), the biggest hotel, and (being the capital) the worst 
 class of politicians. It is a city whose future is sure, 
 but whose character must necessarily be provincial. Its 
 difference from San Francisco, in this respect, is already 
 striking. 
 
 Hearing the sound of solemn singing in the street, on 
 Sunday morning, I went upon the balcony. There was 
 a crowd below, collected around a young man with a pale 
 face and short-cut blonde hair, who was singing a Method- 
 ist hymn, in a clear, penetrating voice. After he had 
 finished, he commenced an exhortation which lasted about 
 twenty minutes, the crowd listening with respectful atten- 
 tion. At its close, a seedy-looking individual went around 
 with a hat, with such good result, that some twenty or thir- 
 ty dollars in silver were poured out on a stone at the 
 preacher's feet. By this time, most of the ladies in the 
 hotel were collected on the balcony. Casting his eyes up- 
 ward, the preacher acknowledged their presence in a series 
 of remarks rather courtly than clerical. He concluded by 
 saying : " That distinguished traveller, J3ai/-ard Taylor, has 
 also stated that, wherever he went, he was kindly treated by 
 the ladies! When he visited the Esquimaux, in the Arctic 
 Regions, the ladies received him with great hospitality ; 
 and even among the Hottentots, his friends were still — the 
 ladies!" Not content with attributing Ledyard's senti- 
 ment to myself, he made that noble traveller guilty of a vul- 
 garism. Ledyard said "MO>»rt.n," not "lady.'' After this, 
 I can almost credit Miss Martineau's statement, that an 
 American clergyman said, in one of his sermons : " Whc 
 
NEW PICTUEKS FEOM CALIFORNIA. IIS 
 
 were last at the cross ? Ladies ! Who were earliest at the 
 sepulchre ? Ladies !" 
 
 The State Agricultural Fair (then in progress) was held 
 in a Pavilion, the erection of which, for this special occa- 
 sion, was the boast of the city. It was a hall of brick, rest- 
 ing on a basement — two hundred, by one hundred and fifty 
 feet in dimensions, and fifty in height. About seven weeks, 
 only, were consumed in building it. The display of pro- 
 ductions — agricultural, horticultural, mineral, mechanical, 
 and artistic — astonished even the Californians themselves. 
 Few of them had been aware of the progress which their 
 State had made in the arts — ^nor, though familiar with the 
 marvellous energies of her soil, could they guess how rich 
 and varied were its productions, until thus brought toge- 
 ther. Few of the annual fairs of our Atlantic States could 
 have surpassed it in completeness, to say nothing of the 
 vegetable wonders which can be seen nowhere else in the 
 world. 
 
 Entering the basement, you saw before you a collection 
 of carriages, fire-engines, saddlery, harness, furniture, and 
 agricultural implements — all of California manufacture : 
 blocks of granite and freestone, blue, white, and amber 
 Suisun marble : statuary, cured hams, pickles, sauces, pre- 
 serves, canned fruits, dried fruits, honey, oil, olives, soap, 
 butter, cheese, vinegar : twenty or thirty different varieties 
 of wine : rows of bee-hives near the windows, which were 
 opened, that the unembarrassed insects might go on with 
 their work : rope, tanned hides, boots, clothing ; in short, 
 all the necessaries of life, and not a few of the luxuries. 
 Coming upon a pile of green boulders — huge geodes of 
 
114 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 malachite, you suspect — you find them to be water-melons •, 
 walking down a glen, between rounded masses of orange 
 colored rock, you see, at last, that they are only pumpkins, 
 weighing two hundred and sixty pounds apiece ! What is 
 this silvery globe, the size of your head? Bless me, an 
 onion ! Are those turnips, or paving-stones ? White 
 columns of celery, rising from the floor, curl their crisp 
 leaves over your head ; those green war-clubs are cucum- 
 bers ; and these legs, cut off at the groin and clad Ln orange 
 tights, are simply carrots ! 
 
 Again, I say, it is useless to attempt a description of 
 California vegetables. The above comparisons suggest no 
 exaggeration to those who have seen the objects — yet my 
 readers this side of the Rocky Mountains will not believe 
 it. Growth so far beyond the range of our ordinary expe- 
 rience seems as great a miracle as any which have been 
 performed by the toe-nails of saints. I have been informed 
 even, that some vegetables change their nature, after being 
 transplanted here for a few years. The lima-bean becomes 
 perennial, with a woody stem ; the cabbage, even (though 
 I should prefer seeing this), is asserted, in one instance, to 
 have changed into a sort of shrub, bearing a head on the 
 end of every branch I I believe no analysis of the various 
 soils of California has yet been made. It would be curious 
 to ascertain whether this vegetable vigor is mostly due to 
 a fortunate climate, or to a greater proportion of nutriment 
 in the earth than is elsewhere found. 
 
 The great hall was devoted principally to fruits, and pre- 
 sented a rare banquet of color and perfume. Green, lemon- 
 yellow, gold, orange, scarlet, pink, crimson, purple, violet, 
 
NEW PICT0EES EEOM CALIFOENIA. HE 
 
 blue, and their mottled combinations, fairly made the mouth 
 water from the delight of the eye. There were thousands 
 of specimens, from gardens in the Sierra Nevada and gar- 
 dens on the sea-coast ; in Los Angeles, under the jialm, and 
 in Oregon under the pine. A fountain, at one end of the 
 hall, played upon two enormous cubes of crystal ice — one 
 from Nevada Lake and one from Sitka. The latter was so 
 airily clear, that it would have been invisible but for the 
 gleam of light on the edges. As an illustration of progress 
 in California, the contents of the pavilion were doubly re- 
 markable. Who so mad, ten years ago, as to have pre- 
 dicted this result ? Who, now, can appreciate, without 
 seeing it ? 
 
 I must not leave Sacramento without speaking of the 
 garden and nursery of Mr. A. P. Smith, a visit to which 
 was the crown and culminating point of a glorious ride over 
 the plain around the city. After dragging along through 
 deep roads, where wagon-loads of straw had been scattered, 
 to keep down the dust, we approached the American Fork, 
 some three miles above Sacramento. There were various 
 suburban beer-gardens, shaded with cottonwoods, and with 
 long arbors of grape-vines to attract the Teutonic imbibers 
 — all of them pleasant places, but tame and vulgar in com- 
 parison to what we were to see. 
 
 An avenue, lined with locusts and arbor vitm, conducted 
 us, finally, to some neat wooden cottages, the verandas of 
 which were overrun with the scarlet-fruited passion-flower. 
 A clean gi-avel road inclosed a circle of turf, in the centre 
 whereof grew willow, locust, and pomegranate trees,beyond 
 which extended a wilderness of splendid bloom. Behind 
 
116 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the house rose the fringe of massive timber which lines the 
 American Fork. A series of stairs and balcony-terraces 
 connected one cottage with another, and formed an easy 
 access to the very roof-tree. A wild grape-vine, which had 
 so covered an evergreen oak that it resembled a colossal 
 fountain, pouring forth volumes of falling Bacchic leaves, 
 stretched forth arms from the topmost boughs, took hold 
 of the balconies, and ran riot up and down the roof, wav- 
 ing its arms above the very chimneys. Behind this Titar 
 nic bower were thickets of bay and willow, with a glimpse 
 of the orange-colored river, framed on the opposite side, 
 by as grand and savage a setting. From the top of the 
 roof, the eye overlooked the whole glorious garden, the 
 spires of the city, the yellow plain, vanishing in purple haze, 
 and the range of violet mountains in the east. 
 
 I was curious to see what had been done toward intro- 
 ducing the trees and plants of other parts of the world into 
 a climate so favorable to all, from Egypt to Norway. I 
 found even more than I had anticipated. There, side by 
 side, in the open air, grew the natives of Mexico, AustraUa, 
 the Cape of Good Hope, China, the Himalayas, Syria, Italy, 
 and Spain. The plants were mostly very young, as suffi- 
 cient time had not elajDsed since the seeds were procured, 
 to enable any of them to reach a full development ; but the 
 character of their growth was all that could be desired. To 
 my great delight, I found not only the Indian deodar and 
 the funeral cypress of Chma, but the cedar of Lebanon, 
 .ind the columnar cypress of Italy, and the Orient. The 
 exquisite Cape erirns and azaleas flourished as in their native 
 air ; the thready tamarack of Africa, the Indian-rubber 
 
NEW PICTUKES EEOM CALIFOENIA. 117 
 
 tree, the Australian eucalyptus^ and the Japanese camelia 
 were as lush and luxuriant as if rejoicing in their new home. 
 In the conservatories, no artificial heat is required, except 
 for the orchids and other tender tropical plants. What a 
 vegetable splendor will California present in fifty years from 
 now ! I should almost be content to live so long, that my 
 eyes might behold it. 
 
 Not less remarkable was the superior luxuriance which 
 the growths of the Atlantic States exhibit, when transferred 
 to the Pacific Side. The locust, especially, doubles the 
 size of its leaf, and its pinnated tufts almost rival those of 
 the sago palm. T!he> pawlonia spreads a tremendous shield . 
 and even the evergreens, especially the thuya, manifest a 
 new vitality. The rose is frequently so large as to suggest 
 the idea of a peony, yet loses nothing of its fragrance and 
 beauty. I never beheld a more exquisite bouquet of half- 
 blown roses, than Mr. Smith's gardener cut for my com- 
 panion. Great beds of violets, heliotrope, and mignonette, 
 fairly ran wild, like weeds, and the lemon verbena became 
 a bush, higher than our heads. The breezes fainted with 
 excess of perfume as they came over this garden — the lan- 
 guid, voluptuous atmosphere of which can only be com- 
 pared to that of the nutmeg orchards of Ceylon. 
 
 Mr. Smith related to me a curious fact with regard to the 
 habits of fruit-trees in California. He uses no irrigation — • 
 in fact, finds no necessity for it. Seeing that the young 
 trees throve without interruption, during the long summer 
 drouth, he was led to examine them closely, and discovered 
 that every plant makes it the first business to send down a 
 straight, slender tap-root, until it reaches the stratum of 
 
118 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 moisture. Having once accomplished this, it feels secure, 
 and devotes its energies to the visible portion of its body. 
 I saw a pear tree, three feet high, which in one summer had 
 thrust a tap-root six feet straight down into the earth, and 
 no thicker than a knitting-needle! AU plants appear to 
 change in this respect. 
 
 And then comes the question — if plants change, where- 
 fore not men ? And if so, how ? Or is the change only 
 in the hidden roots of our character, not in the boughs and 
 blossoms which we show to the world ? 
 
 Travelling in California is very like what it was in the 
 Atlantic States thirty years ago. The stage-coach, obsolete 
 among us, is there a prominent institution. The various 
 lines are very well managed, on the whole — ^the proportion 
 of speed and safety being fully up to the old average. 
 There are, however, three disadvantages — jolts, dust, and 
 Chinamen. The amount of freighting done on all the prin- 
 cipal roads speedily wears the best highways into holes and 
 ruts ; the hoofs of four horses, playing in a bed of pow- 
 dered earth, raise volcanic puffs of brown dust ; and unless 
 you are on a hard plain, where there is a pick of tracks, 
 and the wind abeam, you have your mouth jerked open as 
 fast as you can shut it, and choked every time it is opened. 
 Then the proximity of a greasy, filthy Chinaman, with his 
 yellow, libidinous face and sickening smell of stale opium, 
 is in itself sufficient to poison all the pleasure of the jour- 
 ney. I have often felt an involuntary repulsion when seated 
 near a negro in some pubUc conveyance, at home ; but \ 
 confess I would rather be wedged in between two of the 
 blackest Africans than be touched by one Chinaman. In 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CAIIFOENIA. 119 
 
 both cases, the instinct is natural and unconquerable ; but 
 on the score of humanity, the former race stands immea- 
 surably above the latter. 
 
 I must plead guilty to a prejudice against the Chinese. 
 If it were possible for human nature to be so thoroughly 
 perverted that even the simplest, most general ideas of 
 right and wrong should be transmitted from generation to 
 generation in distorted forms, this phenomenon would be 
 found among them. Of all people with whom I have 
 become' acquainted, they stand on the lowest moral plat- 
 form — rather, indeed, on none at all : and when one once 
 knows with what abominations their lives are filled, he 
 sees, thenceforward, pollution in their presence. Those 
 who have been in China will understand me — for many of 
 the reasons of my dislike cannot be told. The Chinaman 
 in California, it is true, is hardly treated ; but it were 
 better if he could have been wholly excluded. He has the 
 one virtue of industry, and his cheap habits of life enable 
 him to get a profit out of bars deserted by the white 
 miners, and soil scorned by the white farmers. In this 
 way, he adds something to the production of the State : he 
 also washes, cooks, and serves in various menial capacities 
 — ^but I doubt whether these services atone for the moral 
 contamination of his presence. I have never found it more 
 difiicult to exercise Christian charity, than toward these 
 fungi of a rotten civilization. 
 
 On leaving for Marysville, I avoided the three discom- 
 forts of stage travel, by securing a seat behind the driver. 
 Rolling out through the watered streets of Sacramento, 
 between shivering rows of dusty cottonwoods, which con 
 
120 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 tinually drop their gum and tow on the promenaders, we 
 speedily reached the American Fork. The color of these 
 rivers, since the discovery of gold, has changed from a 
 pure crystalline beryl to an opaque reddish-yellow, similar 
 to that of pickled salmon. They are not only hopelessly 
 polluted, but the earth brought continually down from 
 above fills up the channel, changes its course, increases 
 inundations, and year after year, so clogs the bed of the 
 Sacramento that steamboat navigation — which is now 
 feasible for one hundred and eighty miles above the city — 
 threatens to be cut off altogether. 
 
 A balmy wind blew from the north, carrying the dust 
 away from us, and the journey, in my lofty seat, with a 
 free outlook over the vast landscape, was very enjoyable. 
 At the Six-Mile House, our horses were watered, and the 
 passengers brandied : at the Twelve-Mile House, the horses 
 were changed, and the passengers whiskied. Our speed 
 perceptibly increased after each halt, and ere long, the far 
 line of oaks marking the course of the Feather River 
 became visible. First, a pale-blue braid, tacked along the 
 hem of the landscape, it gradually became an irregular 
 flounce, cut into embayed scallops ; and, finally, the very 
 pattern on the golden ground of Nature's dress. The eye 
 rested with double delight on those superb trees, after the 
 monotony of the sun-scorched plain. The river flows in a 
 more contracted bod than the Amerio.in Fork, whence it is 
 navigable, although the body of water is not greater. 
 
 A quiet, sleepy little place is the town of Nicolaus, on 
 Feather river, twenty-five miles from Sacramento. Huge 
 oaks, stretching their arms over the single broad street, 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 121 
 
 give it an air of rural repose. There is also a very com- 
 fortable inn, where we halted a few minutes, and the 
 passengers beared or brandied. Owing to this fact, no 
 doubt, the new horses were exceedingly spirited, and the 
 four miles to Bear Creek were accomplished in twenty 
 minutes. Over the bard, level road, through alternate 
 belts of sunshine and shade, galloped the four fiery animals 
 until we reached a spot which was to have been called- 
 " Oro," and would have been, if anybody could have 
 been induced to settle there. A single house, on a knoll 
 above the dry bed of Bear Creek, is all that is to be seen. 
 This was formerly one of the many capitals of the State. 
 A certain State Senator, who bought a ranche here, intro- 
 duced a bill making it the seat of government, " Why," 
 remarked another member, " there is no water in Bear 
 Creek : how will steamboats get up to the place ?" " Do 
 you mean to insult me ?" exclaimed the mover of the bill, 
 fiercely brandishing his cane ; " I assure the House that 
 Tlie Senator can reach the spot every day in the year, and 
 I will chastise you if you deny my word !" " The Senator" 
 was a large steamboat, which plied between San Francisco 
 and Sacramento. Thereupon the other apologized, with- 
 drew his remark, and the bill passed. The ranche was 
 immediately staked into lots, and the possessor realized 
 some forty or fifty thousand dollars by the sale thereof. 
 
 Summer came. Bear Creek dried up, and the humbug 
 was seen by everybody. " What did you mean by saying 
 that The Senator could get here every day in the year?'' 
 exclaimed the indignant purchasers. " Why," coolly 
 answered the ex-Senator, "it is true : the Senator who 
 
 6 
 
122 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 conti-adictecl me can get here at any time — what is to 
 hinder him ? I never said a steamboat could do it !'' 
 Having thus reconciled the swindle to his conscience, the 
 gentleman prudently retired from Cahfornia. This was 
 told me by two fellow-passengers, while passing the spot. 
 
 As it drew toward noon, the breeze fell, and the sun 
 beat fiercely upon our heads. Tlie temperature was at 
 •least 90° in the shade — which, for the 19th of September, 
 was a fair degree of heat ; though, as the driver said : 
 " This here ain't a circumstance to the hot days in June." 
 " How hot was it then ?'' I asked. " Why,'' said he, " 120° 
 in the shade.'' " Impossible !" " Well, it was, and more'n 
 that. Lord ! how the horses used to drop dead along this 
 road ! The leaves jist curled up in the heat, and the trees 
 looked as they was ready to take fire. The wind blowed 
 from the south, and you'd ha' thought a piece of hot sheet 
 iron was held before your face. Why, the crows couldn't 
 fly, but jist sot on the branches ; and every now an then 
 one would tumble off, dead as a hammer." "That's so !" 
 said one of the passengers ; " it was the awfuUest heat I 
 ever see. The ground burnt through your boots, and the 
 sky was sort o' hazy, like the world was nigh bustin' into 
 a blaze." These accounts were afterwards corroborated 
 by others. The temperature must have equalled that of 
 the Sahara — yet the effect upon human life seems not to 
 have been so fatal as some of our " heated terms" on the 
 Atlantic Coast. 
 
 The Sacramento Buttes — a curious isolated group of hills, 
 which form a landmark for near a hundred miles up and 
 down the valley — now rose blue and beautiful befoie us, 
 
STEW PICTUBES FEOM CALIFOENIA. 123 
 
 their craggy sides tinted ■with rose-color in the sunshine. 
 From the topmost peak, which is about twelve hundred 
 feet above the level of the valley, there is a wonderful 
 panorama, in clear weather. The view extends from 
 Monte Diablo in the south to the solitary Alpine cone of 
 Shasta in the north, a distance of more than two hundred 
 miles. Lovely little dells lie between the bases of the 
 group ; and the citizens of Marysville, only eight miles 
 distant, are beginning to perceive the prudence of securing 
 residences in a spot which combines so many natural 
 advantages. Here, again, there is the basis for another 
 Arcadian day-dream. 
 
 As we approached the Yuba River, the country became 
 rolling, the road a fathomless bed of dust — yet this was 
 disregarded, in the contemplation of the superb trees, 
 studded with growths of misletoe, and hung with a gor- 
 geous drapery of wild grape-vines. Where the land had 
 been cleared, there were fields of Indian corn which sur- 
 passed anything I had ever seen. The average height of 
 the stalks was not less than fifteen feet, and the size and 
 number of the ears was in proportion. The brick blocks of 
 Marysville now appeared in front, on the west bank of the 
 Yuba, which we crossed by a lofty and substantial bridge. 
 
 Marysville is the best-built town of its size in California. 
 At the head of navigation on Feather River, it occupies 
 the same situation with regard to the northern mines that 
 Stockton does to the southern, while the opening of Honey 
 Lake and Pitt River valleys insure for it a more prosperous 
 fixture. Its founder, Mr. Fall, who is still the largest pro- 
 prietor, is one of the few men who made a lucky hit at the 
 
124 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Start, and kept it. He was absent on a trip to Carson 
 Valley at the time of my visit, and I regretted that I did 
 not see his garden, which is one of the most beautiful in the 
 State. Marysville has already a population of eight thou- 
 sand. It is laid out in regular squares, the houses being 
 mostly of brick, flat-roofed, and two stories high. The 
 prevailing red tint is not agreeable to the eye ; but this 
 will probably disappear in the course of time. The situar 
 tion of the town is very beautiful, the Yuba, in spite of its 
 orange tint, being a lovely stream, not yet denuded of its 
 timber, through the openings in which you see the. far 
 peaks of the Sierra jN'evada. 
 
 My performances were held in the theatre, which was 
 then vacant. Considering the fact that five or sis hundred 
 of the principal citizens were then in Sacramento, attend- 
 ing the State Pair, the attendance was very good, and I 
 was gratified at seeing, in the gallery, quite a number of 
 flannel-shirted miners. One circumstance puzzled me at 
 first. After I had been discoursing for half an hour, 
 several gentlemen got up and left. Presently, another 
 pai-ty rose and retired in a body. Well, thought I, they 
 are certainly bored: it is not the entertainment they 
 expected : they have been accustomed to negro minstrels, 
 and anything of a serious nature is tiresome to them. 
 But, to my surprise, they all returned in five minutes 
 afterwards, and sat quietly until the close. On stating this 
 to a fiiend, lie laughed. " Why," said he, " didn't you 
 guess it ? They only wont out for a drink !'' I after- 
 ward got accustomed to this practice, as it happened 
 almost every night. The innocence with which it was 
 
NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFOENIA. 125 
 
 done amused me, although the interruption was annoying. 
 I had serious thoughts of engaging waiters, in felt slippers, 
 to attend, take orders, and bring to each thirsty auditor 
 the drink he desired. In other respects, the Marysville 
 audience was very agreeable — decidedly more warm and 
 genial than in San Francisco, with an equally intelligent 
 attention. 
 
 6. — ^The Noetheek Mines. 
 
 I HAD made an engagement with a literary society in the 
 town of Nevada, high up in the mountains, for the next 
 evening ; and it was therefore necessary to take a stage 
 which left Marysville at three in the morning. The driver 
 cruelly picked us up first of all, and then went around the 
 town, in the cold morning starlight, calling for the other 
 passengers. Two or three miners and traders and a Chi- 
 nese woman entered — the latter surrounded with a hideous, 
 jabbering crowd of countrymen, who yelled after her 
 adieux which sounded more like curses. Then we drove 
 oif upon the dark plain, silent and uncommunicative for the 
 first two hours. The dawn came as we were passing 
 through the oak openings at the base of the foot-hills, and 
 revealed to us the bearded faces and stalwart forms oppo- 
 site, and the squat yellow figure on the middle seat, with 
 her lantern, tea-kettle, paper-box, and various other arti- 
 cles, tied separately in dirty handkerchiefs. She looked 
 around with a grin, cackled a few unknown words, and 
 then proceeded to roll a cigar, strike fire, and smoke. 
 
]26 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Noticing my wife, she made a second cigar, and offered it 
 to her. As this was declined, she took a small black cake 
 in her harpy talons, and made a second attempt to be 
 friendly. To refuse, without an open manifestation of dis- 
 gust, was all that was possible. 
 
 By sunrise, we were toiling up and down a rough, side- 
 ling road, on the west bank of the Yuba. I looked with 
 great interest for the first signs of gold-washing, and they 
 were soon visible in the bare, yellow, devastated river-bed 
 below us. Soon after entering the hills we reached Long 
 Bar, a mining-camp which extends for some distance along 
 the river. Wooden flumes, raised on tall tressels, brought 
 water from some reservoir above to the diggings, where it 
 fell into the sluices in which the earth is washed. The 
 absence of any appearance of permanent settlement — the 
 rough board shanties in which the,miners live — did not give 
 evidence of a great yield of gold. In fact, they were 
 washing the same bars over for perhaps the fifth or sixth 
 time. Every year some new deposit is struck, besides 
 what is continually brought down by the winter floods ; 
 but the chances of great strikes are gradually lessened. 
 These operations are now carried on by small companies 
 of miners: individual labor, which was the rule in 1849, 
 has almost entirely ceased. 
 
 The miners were just turning out of their bunks, and the 
 doors of their shanties being open, enabled us to see 
 how rude and simple are their habits of life. They lived, 
 two or three in a hut, doing their own cooking and house- 
 keeping. Some were washing their eyes, and combing 
 their matted hair : some kindlinsj fires in little stone ovens: 
 
NEW PICTLTKES FKOM CALIFORNIA. 127 
 
 others taking a morning draught at the " Hotel de la 
 France!" and some few singing songs in the patois of the 
 Canadian voyageurs. Rough, ruddy fellows they were, 
 with any amount of animal health and animal appetites. 
 Where culture is engrafted on such a physical stock, the 
 fruit is — Men. 
 
 Crossing the Yuba by a species of floating bridge, we 
 climbed the opposite bank, and after winding among the 
 red, dry-baked hills for a mile or two, reached Timbuctoo 
 — a place which has recently grown into notice through the 
 hydraulic mining carried on there. It lies in a narrow glen, 
 down the bottom of which poured a stream of yellow bat- 
 ter, scarcely to be recognized as water after it has been 
 employed in mining. The village consists of a single street, 
 well-built, though wooden, and lively and cheerful to look 
 upon. We only stopped to leave the mails, and then drove 
 on, gradually ascending, to the Empire Ranche, two miles 
 further, where breakfast awaited us. Fine oak-trees, a 
 large barn and stabling, a peach-orchard, vineyard, and 
 melon patch, were the first signs of permanent settlement 
 we had seen since entering the hills. The breakfast was 
 abundant and good, and there was a marked increase of 
 social feeling among the passengers, afterwards. 
 
 Beyond this, the hills, which had been terribly denuded 
 of timber, retained their original forests. The road crossed 
 several spurs, and then entered a long, shallow canon, up 
 which we toiled in heat and dust. Blue mountain-ranges 
 gleamed afar, through the gaps in the trees ; the olaj^ey 
 water rushed overhead through the flumes, or fell in turbid 
 cascades down the side of the hill, and huge freight teams, 
 
128 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 drawn by long strings of mules, occasionally blocked our 
 way. It was a singular mixture of savage and civilized 
 JSTature. From the top of the canon we descended three 
 or four miles into Penn's Valley, a rich, circular tract of 
 bottom land, studded with magnificent trees, and already 
 mapped into farms, and fenced. Two miles beyond this is 
 Rough-and-Ready, a mining camp in a very I'ich ravine. 
 It had recently been destroyed by fire : half of it consisted 
 of new, uninhabited shanties, and the other half of black- 
 ened embers. 
 
 Another hour, over a rolling,.well-timbered region, two 
 thousand feet above the sea, and crossing the brow of the hill, 
 we saw a large town below us. Blocks of brick buildings, 
 church spires, subui'ban cottages and gardens, gave it quite 
 an imposing air — but war and tempest seemed to have 
 passed over the surrounding landscape. The hills were 
 stripped of wood, except here and there a single pine, which 
 stood like a monumental obelisk amid the stump head-stones 
 of its departed brethren : the bed of the valley was torn 
 into great holes and furrows ; and wherever the eye turned, 
 it met with glaring piles of red earth, like redoubts thrown 
 up in haste and then deserted. This was Grass Valley, 
 famous in the annals of mining : and such are the ra^•ages 
 which the search for gold works on the fair face of Nature. 
 
 Descending into the town, we found macadamized and 
 watered streets, and plank sidewalks, respectable hotels, a 
 theatre, express offices, and all other signs of a high civili- 
 zation. Here the young woman called John (every Chi- 
 naman, male or female, is called " John" in California) 
 left us. Mails were delivered, and we bowled along over 
 
NKW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 129 
 
 a broad turnpike to Nevada, four miles farther. The 
 approach to the town, along the steep bank of a ravine, is 
 very striking. The houses rise along the opposite bank, on 
 both sides of a lateral ravine, sending out irregular arms 
 up the hills, to the foot of a conical peak, called the Sugar 
 Loaf, which overlooks it. But for the red brick, I should 
 compare it to some Syrian city. Around it there is a bar- 
 ren, desolated space, full of yawning gaps, and piles of 
 naked earth, with here and there a young garden inter- 
 posed ; and over all — like a raised rim to the basin in which 
 it lies — a forest of pines. The place is a little larger than 
 Grass Valley, having about four thousand inhabitants. 
 
 We found comfortable quarters in Mr. Lancaster's fire- 
 proof tavern. The afternoon was devoted principally to 
 repose, as my day's work had to be done in the evening. 
 An audience of more than three hundred assembled in the 
 theatre, which, as the tickets cost a dollar, was equivalent 
 to double the number at home. With the exception of San 
 Francisco, the attendance was the best I found in Califoi'- 
 nia. In character, the people resembled the communities 
 of the Western States — genial, impulsive, quick, anticipative 
 even. Professional talkers will understand how pleasant is 
 an audience of this character. 
 
 Having expressed a great desire to get a sight of the 
 central chain of the Sierra Nevada, Mr. Rolfe proposed an 
 excursion along the main ridge, which runs parallel with 
 the South Fork of the Yuba, up to the Truckee Pass. We 
 started early the following afternoon, designing to reach a 
 point some eight or ten miles distant, whence the highest 
 peaks of the northern Sierra could be seen. Behind Nevada, 
 
130 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 an admirable road, cut along the side of the hill, leads off 
 in a north-eastern direction for two miles, gradually mount- 
 ing to the summit of the ridge. The unbroken, primitive 
 forest then received us. Pillars two hundred feet high and 
 six feet in diameter, straight as a lance, and tapering as 
 gracefully as the shaft of the areca palm, rose on all sides : 
 far above mingled the tufted boughs, admitting only chance 
 beams of sunshine, which struck in slanting lines of gold 
 through the fragrant, shadowy air. The road was a rough, 
 rutty, fathomless bed of dust, but elsewhere the dry earth 
 was hidden under a carpet of yellow ferns. Where the 
 ridge fell off on either side, the summits of the trees below 
 formed an impervious canopy which shut out the distant 
 view. We drove for several miles through the aisles of 
 this grand natural cathedral, before which the pillared hall 
 of Karnak and the aspiring arches of the minster of Cologne 
 sink into nothingness. No Doric column could surpass in 
 beauty of proportion those stupendous shafts. They are 
 the demigods of the vegetable world. 
 
 Here and there we saw a small clearing, or a saw-mill — 
 the blasphemous dragon which lays waste these sacred soli- 
 tudes — or a tavern, patronized by the teamsters who trar 
 verse this road on their way to the upper diggings, near 
 the source of the Yuba. Still further on, we were surprised 
 by a fierce roaring sound, and the sight of scarlet gleams 
 of fire, flashing out of the shades. The giant trunks stood 
 scornfully in the midst of it, secure in their bulk, but the 
 underwood and the dead boughs which had fallen snapped 
 and crackled, as the flames leaped upon them. We drove 
 through the midst of it, and, on a ferny knoll beyond, saw 
 
NEW PICTURES PEOM CALIFOENIA. 131 
 
 whence it originated. A comjsany of Digger Indians, half- 
 naked, lay uf)on the ground. They had been burning a 
 dead body, and, according to their custom, had plastered 
 their hair and cheeks with a mixture of pitch and the fat 
 rendered out of the dear departed, as a token of sorrow. 
 During the performance of this ceremony, their bowlings 
 and lamentations are frightful. Those whom we saw had 
 completed their task, and had an air of stupid satisfaction, 
 resulting from the consciousness of having done their duty. 
 The dust raised by our wheels was so fine, penetrating, 
 and suffocating, that the excursion became a torture rather 
 than a pleasure. We, therefore, relinquished the idea of 
 going on to Gold Hill — a picturesque mining-camp on a 
 terrace overhanging the river — and halted at a point where 
 the ridge turns sharply to the south, allowing a wide out- 
 look to the north and east. The view was vast in extent, 
 grand and savage in character, yet monotonous in form, 
 lacking the usual abruptness and picturesqiieness of moun- 
 tain scenery. Directly below us yawned the valley of the 
 South Fork, at least two thousand feet deep. Opposite, 
 rose a ridge similar to that on which we stood, dividing the 
 South and Middle Forks — its summit presenting an almost 
 even line, covered with dark forests. Over this a few 
 higher peaks lifted themselves, in the distance ; and still 
 further. Pilot Knob and the other summits of the Sierra, 
 beyond Downieville. Eastward the deep gorge vanished 
 between vapory mountain-walls, over which towered the 
 topmost heights between us and the Great Basin of Utah. 
 The highest peaks were about ten thousand feet above the 
 sea-level ; yet, greatly to our disappointment, no snow was 
 
132 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 to be seen. The unusual heat of the summer had denuded 
 even the loftiest summits, and they stood bare and broken, 
 of a pale violet color, like the dolomite mountains of South- 
 ern Tyrol. 
 
 Returning along the same track, we emerged from the 
 forest just at sunset, and halted, involuntarily, at the won- 
 derful beauty of the scene before us. The deep, trough- 
 like gien down which our road lay, slept in shadow : at its 
 mouth Nevada, with her encircling hills, burned in a flush 
 of imperial purj)Ie light ; while the mountains of the Coast 
 Range, seventy miles away, were painted in rose-color, 
 transparent against the sunset. I know of but one pencil 
 capable of reproducing this magic illumination. In Spain, 
 and Sicily, and Syria, I have never seen a lovelier effect of 
 color. For a full half-hour the glow lingered, as if reluc- 
 tant to fade away and leave to us the unlovely reality of 
 shanties, shabby houses, heaps of dirt, and riddled and per- 
 forated hills. 
 
 While in Sacramento, I had received an invitation to 
 spend an evening in Timbuotoo, and on my waj^ to Xevada, 
 completed the arrangements for visiting that unknown and 
 mysterious place. It involved a journey of twenty miles 
 over the road I had already travelled, and a return to Ne- 
 vada on the following day ; but as Timbuotoo is said to be 
 the grandest example of hydraulic mining in California, I 
 did not grudge the extra travel. Early on Monday morn- 
 ning we took saddle-horses, my companion being ambitious 
 to gain experience in an art new to her. AVe had a pair of 
 spirited aiiiiiials — almost too much so, in fact, for such a 
 sultry, stifling day — and got over the four miles to Grass 
 
NEW PICTUKBS FEOM CALIFORNIA. 133 
 
 Valley in short order. Thence to Rough-ancl-Ready and 
 Penn's Valley, all went well ; but as the sun mounted 
 higher, and the dust rose, and the unaccustomed arm wea- 
 ried of the check-rein, the inspiration of the ride flagged, 
 and never was haven more welcome than the Empire 
 Ranche, two miles from Timbuctoo. 
 
 In the afternoon, Mr. Carpenter, to whom I was indebted 
 for the opportunity of visiting the place, accompanied me 
 to view the mining operations. A ridge about five hundred 
 feet in height divides the glen in which the town lies from 
 the Yuba River, and the whole of this ridge from the sum- 
 mit down to the bed-rock, contains gold. At first the wash- 
 ings were confined to the bottom of the valley, and to 
 Rose's Bar, on the Yuba. After the richest deposits were 
 exhausted, short drifts were carried into the hills at their 
 base, and it was finally ascertained that if aiiy plan could 
 be devised to curtail the expense of labor, the entire hill 
 might be profitably washed down. In this manner origin- 
 ated what is called hydraulic mining — a form of working, 
 which, I believe, is not known in any other part of the 
 world. 
 
 The undertakings lor the purpose of procuring a steady 
 supply of water through the dry seasons, commenced as 
 early as 1850. It was found that the deposits of gold were 
 not only on the river-bars, but that scarcely a valley, or 
 glen, or dip among the hills, throughout the whole extent 
 of the gold region, was barren of the precious metal. That 
 these might be worked, the rivers were tapped high up in 
 the mountains, and ditches carried along the intervening 
 ridges, raised on gigantic flumes wherever a depression 
 
134 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 occurred, from distances varying from fifteen to forty miles. 
 Here was immediately a new field for enterprise. Water 
 companies were formed for the construction of these vast 
 works, and the ditches led so as to supply the greatest num- 
 ber of raining localities. The water is furnished at so much 
 per inch — generally at very exorbitant rates — and is there- 
 fore a surer source of profit than mining itself. Nothing 
 seemed to me more remarkable, in travelling through the 
 gold region, than the grand scale on which these operations 
 are conducted. 
 
 The ditch which supplies Timbuctoo is thirty-five miles 
 long, and was constructed at a cost of $600,000. Yet, on 
 this capital it yields an annual dividend of at least forty per 
 cent. Some ditches are still more profitable than this, and 
 it may be said that none of them has failed to pay hand- 
 somely, except through mismanagement. One of the com- 
 panies at Timbuctoo uses water to the value of $100 every 
 day. Near the end of the ditch there is a reservoir, into 
 which the stream is turned at night, in order to create a 
 reserve for any emergency. 
 
 Following a line of fluming along the top of the ridge, 
 we presently came to a great gulf, or gap, eaten out of the 
 southern side of the hill. A wall of bare earth, more than 
 a hundred feet high, yawned below our feet, and two 
 streams of water, pouring over the edge, thundered upon 
 the loose soil below, which was still further broken up by 
 jets from hose which the workmen held. After the water 
 had become thoroughly commingled with earth, it was 
 again gathered into a stream and conducted into a long 
 sluice, in the bottom of which grooves of quicksilver 
 
NEW PICTURES FKOM CALIFORNIA. 135 
 
 caught the scattered grains of gold. Nothing could be 
 more simple than the process. The water of itself ate chan- 
 nels into the lofty wall of earth, and then pulverized and 
 dissolved the dirt it had brought down. Commencing at 
 the base of the hill, the soil has thus been gradually eaten 
 away to the depth of two hundred yards, down to the bed- 
 rock, leaving a face exposed, in some places 150 feet in pei-- 
 pendicular height. The whole of the immense mass of 
 earth which has been displaced has passed through the 
 sluice, deposited its gold, and been carried down by the 
 waste water to clog the currents of the Yuba, the Feather, 
 and the Sacramento. 
 
 On the northern side, a similar process was in operation, 
 and the two excavations had approached each other so 
 nearly, that a few months only were requisite to break the 
 back of the hill. Crossing the narrow bridge between, I 
 approached the end of the ridge, and found myself on the 
 edge of a third, and still grander work ! Thousands on 
 thousands of tons had been removed, leaving an immense 
 semicircular cavity, with a face nearly 150 feet in height. 
 From the summit, five streams fell in perpendicular lines 
 of spray, trampling and boiling in cauldrons of muddy foam 
 as they mingled with the loose dirt at the bottom. While 
 I gazed, a mass of earth, weighing, at least, five tons, de- 
 tached itself from the top, between the channels cut by two 
 of those streams, and fell with a thundering crash, which 
 made the hill tremble to its base. Another and another 
 slide succeeded, while the pigmies below, as if rejoicing in 
 the ruin, sprang upon them with six-inch jets from the hose- 
 serpents which coiled around the bank, and reduced the 
 
136 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 fragments to dust. Beyond this scene of ohnos, the water 
 gathered again, and through the straight shiice — like a giant 
 bleeding to death from a single vein — the mountain washed 
 itself away. 
 
 It seemed a work of the Titans. When I saw what the 
 
 original extent of the hill had been how certainly the 
 
 whole ridge, which rose so defiant, as if 'secure of enduring 
 until the end of the world, was doomed to disappear — how 
 the very aspect of Nature would be in time transformed by 
 such simple agents as this trough of water, and those three 
 flannel-shirted creatures with their hose — I acknowledged 
 that there might be a grandeur in gold-mining beyond that 
 of the building of the Pyramids. 
 
 Some fascination must be connected with this labor, or 
 men would not trifle so recklessly with the forces they 
 attack. Scarcely a week passed without some report of 
 workmen being buried under the falling masses of earth. 
 Though continually warned — though familiar with the dan- 
 ger from long experience — ^they become so absorbed in the 
 work of undermining the slippery blufi's, that they gradually 
 approach nearer and nearer; the roar of the water drowns 
 the threatening hiss of the relaxing soil — down comes the 
 avalanche, and, if the man's foot is not as quick as his eye, 
 he is instantly crushed out of existence. In descending to 
 the village, I followed two miners, taking a path which led 
 downward, on the top of a narrow wall, left standing be- 
 tween the two excavations on the southern side. In some 
 ]>lacos, the lop was not more than six feet Avide, and the 
 appearance of the loose, gra\elly soil, dropping straight 
 down a hundred feet on either hand, threatening to give 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFOENIA. 13V 
 
 ■way beneath my weight, was not calculated to inspire con- 
 fidence. Seven days afterward, the entire mass fell (fortu- 
 nately in the night), with a crash that jarred the earth for 
 a mile around. 
 
 In Mr. Carpenter's office, I found a choice collection of 
 standard works — Ruskin, Coleridge, Emerson, Goethe, Mrs. 
 Somerville, and others, whom one would not expect to find 
 in the midst of such barren material toil. I also made the 
 acquaintance of a miner — a hired laborer — who had sent 
 all the way to Boston for a copy of Tennyson's " Idyls," 
 knew "In Memoriam" by heart, and was an enthusiastic 
 admirer of Mrs. Browning. One of my first visitors, on 
 reaching San Francisco, was an old Oregon farmer, who 
 called to know whether I had ever seen the Brownings — ■ 
 what was their personal appearance— what sort of a man 
 was Tennyson, also Longfellow, Whittier, and various 
 other poets. Verily, no true poet need despair — 
 
 " His words are driven 
 Like flower-seeds by the far winds sown, 
 Wliere'er, beneath the sky of heaven, 
 The birds of Fame have flown" — 
 
 and, also, where such birds have not flown. If I knew, as 
 Tennyson does, that a poem of mine made an imprisoned 
 sailor, in the long Arctic night, shed tears, I would smile 
 upon the critic who demonstrated, by the neatest process 
 of logic, that there was no veritable afflatus to be found 
 in me. 
 
 The next day we returned to Nevada — my companion, 
 much less enthusiastic than before, taking the stage, while 
 
138 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 I galloped back with a led horse attached to my right arm. 
 The day was overcast, with a i^resentiment of ill in the 
 atmosi^here. It was that anxious, oppressed, congested 
 feeling, which Nature often experiences before a rain, when 
 life looks cheerless, and hope dies in the soul of man. 
 Anywhere else I should have laid my hand on The Book, 
 and aflSrmed that rain would come — and even here, rain 
 did come. I did not believe my ears, when I heard the 
 pattering in the night — -I could scarcely believe my eyes, 
 when I looked abroad in the morning, and saw the dust 
 laid, the trees washed and glittering, and the sky as clear 
 and tranquil a blue as — no matter whose eye. We were 
 to go to Iforth San Juan, an enterprising little place on 
 the Middle Yuba, ten miles off; and, in spite of bruised 
 bones, there was no thought of fatigue. With the help of 
 that exquisite air, we could have climbed Chimborazo. 
 
 This time, however, it was a light, open buggy and a 
 capital black horse. I have rarely seen better or more 
 intelligent horses than there are in California. Probably 
 the long journey across the Plains sifted the stock, the 
 poorer specimens dropping by. the way, as many humans 
 do, blood and character holding out to the end. Be this 
 as it may, I made the acquaintance of no horse there to 
 whom I would not willingly have done a personal favor. 
 Merrily we rattled up the planked street of Nevada, around 
 the base of the Sugar Loaf, past the mouths of mining 
 drifts, and the muddy tails of sluices, and into a "rolling 
 upland region, about half stripped of its timber, where 
 every little glen or hollow was turned upside down by the 
 miners. After a drive of three or four miles, the blueness 
 
NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFORNIA. 139 
 
 of the air disclosed a gulf in front, and we prepared for a 
 descent to tlie bed of the South Yuba. 
 
 It was a more difficult undertaking than we were aware 
 of. The road plunged down the steep at a pitch fright- 
 ful to behold, turning and winding among the ledges in 
 such a manner that one portion of it often overhung 
 another. Broad folds of shade were flung into the gulf 
 from the summits far above, but the opposite side, ascend- 
 ing even more abruptly, lay with its pines and large-leaved 
 oaks, sparkling, in the clearest sunlight. Our horse was 
 equal to the emergency. Planting himself firmly on his 
 fore-feet, with erect, attentive ears, he let us carefully, step 
 by step, down the perilous slopes. With strong harness, 
 there is really no danger, and one speedily gets accustomed 
 to such experiences. 
 
 The northern bank, as beautifully diversified with pictur- 
 esque knolls and glens as the rapidity of the descent would 
 allow, confronted us with an unbroken climb of a mile and 
 a half Luckily we met no down-coming team on the way, 
 for there was no chance of passing. At the summit, where 
 there is a little mining-camp called Montezuma, we again, 
 entered on that rolling platform, which, like the fjelds of 
 Norway, forms the prominent feature of this part of the 
 Sierra Nevada — the beds of the rivers lying at an average 
 depth of two thousand feet below the level of the inter- 
 vening regions. Looking eastward, we beheld a single 
 peak of the great central chain, with a gleaming snow-field 
 on its northern side. Montezuma has a tavern, two stores, 
 and a cluster of primitive habitations. The genus " loafer" 
 is also found — no country, in fact, is so new that it does 
 
140 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 not flourish there. Far and wide the country is covered 
 with giant pines, and not a day passes but some of them 
 fall. They are visibly thinning, and in a few years more, 
 tliis district will be scorched and desolate. It is true 
 young trees are starting up everywhere, but it will be 
 centuries before they attain the majesty of the present 
 forests. 
 
 Pursuing our winding way for three miles more through 
 the woods, we saw at last the dark-blue walls of the 
 Middle Yuba rise before us, and began to look out for San 
 Juan. First we came to Sebastapol (!), then to some other 
 incipient village, and finally to our destination. North San 
 Juan is a small, compact place, lying in a shallow dip 
 among the hills. Its inhabitants prosecute both drift and 
 hydraulic mining, with equal energy and success. As at 
 Timbuctoo, the whole mass of the hill between the town 
 and the river is gold-bearing, and enormous cavities have 
 been washed out of it. The water -descends from the flumes 
 in tubes of galvanized iron, to which canvas hose-pijies, 
 six inches in diameter, are attached, and the force of the 
 jets which play against the walls of earth is really terrific. 
 The dirt, I was informed, yields but a moderate profit at 
 present, but grows richer as it approaches the bed-rock. 
 As each company has enough material to last for years, the 
 ultimate result of their operations is sure to be very pro- 
 fitable. In the course of time, the very ground on which 
 the village stands will be washed away. We passed some 
 pleasant cottages and gardens which must be moved in 
 two or three years. The only rights in the gold region 
 are those of miners. The only inviolable property is a 
 
NEW PICTURES PEOM CALIFOENIA. 141 
 
 " claim." Houses must fall, fields be ravaged, improve- 
 ments of all sorts swept away, if the miner sees fit — there 
 is no help for it. 
 
 The next morning, we drove back to Nevada betimes, 
 in order to reach Grass Valley before evening. Before 
 taking leave of the pleasant little town, where we had 
 spent three delightful days, I must not omit to mention 
 our descent into the Nebraska Mine, on the northern side 
 of Manzanita Hill. This is as good an example of success- 
 ful drift mining as can readily be found, and gave me a 
 new insight into the character of the gold deposits. All 
 the speculations of the early miners were wholly at fault, 
 and it is only within the last four or five years that any- 
 thing like a rational system has been introduced — that is, 
 so far as so uncertain a business admits of a system. 
 Hydraulic mining, as I have before stated, is carried on in 
 those localities where gold is difi'used through the soil ; 
 but drift mining seeks the " leads'' — mostly the subterra- 
 nean beds of pre-Adamite rivers — where it is confined 
 within narrow channels, ofiering a more contracted but 
 far richer field. 
 
 These ancient river-beds are a singular feature of the 
 geology of the Sierra Nevada. They are found at a 
 height of two thousand feet above the sea, or more, often 
 cutting at right angles through the present axis of the 
 hills, jumping over valleys and re-appearing in the heights 
 opposite. One of them, called the " Blue Lead," cele- 
 brated for its richness, has been thus traced for more than 
 a hundred miles. The breadth of the channels varies 
 greatly, but they are always very distinctly marked by the 
 
142 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 bluff banks of earth, on each side of the sandy bed. 
 Their foundation is the primitive granite — upon which, 
 and in the holes and pockets whereof, the gold is most 
 abundant. The usual way of mining is, to sink a shaft to 
 the bed-rock, and then send out lateral drifts in search of 
 the buried river. The Nebraska Company at Nevada has 
 been fortunate enough to strike a channel several hundred 
 feet wide, and extending for some distance diagonally 
 through the hill. Until this lead was struck, the expenses 
 were very great, and a considerable capital was sunk ; but 
 now the yield averages ten thousand dollars per week, at 
 least three-fourths of which is clear profit. 
 
 One of the proprietors, who accompanied us, was kind 
 enough to arrange matters so that we should get a most 
 satisfactory view of the mine. After having been arrayed, 
 in the office, in enormous India-rubber boots, corduroy 
 jackets, and sou'-westers, without distinction of sex, we 
 repaired to the engine-house, where the sands of the lost 
 Pactolus are drawn up again to the sunshine, after the 
 lapse of perhaps five hundred thousand years. Here, my 
 Eurydice was placed in a little box, from which the dirt 
 had just been emptied, packed in the smallest coil to avoid 
 the danger of striking the roof on the way down, and, 
 at the ringing of a bell, was whisked from my eyes and 
 swallowed up in the darkness. I was obliged to wait until 
 the next box came up, when, like Orpheus, I followed 
 her to the shades. A swift descent of six hundred feet 
 brought me to the bed-rock, where I found those who had 
 gone before, standing in a passage only four or five feet high, 
 candles in their hands, and theii- feet in a pool of water. 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFOKNIA. 143 
 
 Square shafts, carefully boxed in with strong timbers, 
 branched off before us through the heart of the hill. Along 
 the bottom of each was a tram-way, and at intervals of five 
 minutes, cars laden with gray river-sand were rolled up, 
 hitched to the rope, and speedily drawn to the surface. 
 Following our conductor, we traced some of these shafts 
 to the end, where workmen were busy excavating the close- 
 packed sand, and filling the cars. The company intend 
 running their drifts to the end of their claim, when they 
 will commence working back toward the beginning, clean- 
 ing out the channel as they go. Probably, three or four 
 years will be required to complete the task, and if they 
 are not very unreasonable in their expectations, they may 
 retire from business by that time. We sat down for half 
 an hour, with the unstable, sandy ceiling impending over 
 our heads, and watched the workmen. They used no 
 other implements than the pick and shovel, and the only 
 difSculty connected with their labor was the impossibility 
 of standing upright. The depth of the sand varied from 
 three to six feet, but the grains of gold were scantily distri- 
 buted through the upper layers. In one place, where the 
 bed-rock was exposed, we saw distinctly the thick deposits 
 of minute shining scales, in situ. 
 
 The air was very close and disagreeable, and the unre- 
 lieved stooping posture so tiresome, that we were not 
 sorry when the guide, having scraped up a panful of the 
 bottom sand, conducted us by watery ways, to the entrance 
 shaft, and restored us to daylight. The sand, on reaching 
 the surface, is tilted down an opening in the floor, and is 
 instantly played upon by huge jets of water, which sweep 
 
144 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 it into a long sluice. Here it is still further- agitated by 
 means of riffles across the bottom, and the gold is caught 
 in grooves filled with quicksilver. Every week, the 
 amalgam thus produced is taken out and assayed. The 
 tailings of these sluices are frequently corraled (a Califor- 
 nia term for " herded" or " collected"), and run through a 
 second sluice, or turned into some natural ravine, which is 
 washed out twice a year. In spite of this, a considerable 
 percentage of the gold, no doubt, escapes. There is a 
 gentleman in Nevada, who owns a little gully, through 
 which runs the waste of a drift on the hill above. He had 
 the sagacity to put down a sluice and insert quicksilver, 
 thinking snflBoient gold might be left in the sand to pay for 
 the experiment ; and his net profits, from this source, 
 amount to fifteen thousand dollars a year. 
 
 The pan of dirt brought up with us, having been skil- 
 fully washed in the old-fashioned way, produced a heap of 
 mustard-seed grains, to the value of five or six dollars, 
 which was courteously presented to my wife as a souvenir 
 of her visit. Those who predict the speedy failure of the 
 gold of California, do not know what wonderful subterra- 
 nean store-houses of the precious metal still lie untouched. 
 The river-bars were but as vnndfalls from the tree. 
 
 1. — Travelling in the Sierra Nevada. 
 
 San Juan was the northern limit of our mountain wan- 
 derings. I then turned southward — having so disposed of 
 my time, that a fortnight Avould be devoted to the mining 
 
NEW PICTUEBS FROM CALIFOKNIA. 145 
 
 regions between the Yuba and the Stanislaus. Leaving 
 Nevada on Thursday afternoon, we drove over to Grass 
 
 Valley, where Mr. E had arranged for my discourse in 
 
 the theatre that evening. I found that the announcement 
 had been made with more zeal than modesty. When that 
 gentleman asked me, before starting on his journey of pre- 
 liminaries : " What shall I put on the posters in addition 
 to your name ?" I earnestly charged him to put nothing 
 at all. " If the subject of the lecture will not attract audi- 
 tors, I must do without them ; and I shall never be guilty 
 of blowing my own trumpet." I leave the reader to ima- 
 gine my feelings, when, on entering Grass Valley, the 
 colossal words, " The world-renowned traveller and his- 
 torian ! ! !" stared at me from every blank wall. And so it 
 was wherever I went. My agent's indiscreet zeal made me 
 appear, to the public, not only as a monstrous self-glorifier, 
 but also as arrogating to myself a title to which I had no 
 claim. " The printers would have it so," was his meek 
 excuse. 
 
 Grass Valley and Nevada, being only four miles apart, 
 and very nearly of the same size and importance, are, of 
 course, deadly rivals. Curiously enough, this fact was the 
 occasion of some pecuniary detriment to myself The cir- 
 cumstance was, at the same time, laughable and vexatious. 
 In the evening, shortly before the appointed hour, a gen- 
 tleman approached me with a mysterious air, and, after 
 some beating about an invisible bush, finally asked, plumply : 
 " Are you going to lecture to-night for the benefit of the 
 Nevada people ?" " What do you mean ?" I exclaimed, in 
 great astonishment. " Why," said he, " it is reported that 
 
 7 
 
146 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 the Society in Nevada has engaged you to come here, as 
 if on your own account, so that we sha'n't know anything 
 about it, and they are to have the profits!" "What do 
 you take me for ?" I asked, indignant at such a mean sus- 
 picion ; "but even if Z were capable of it, the Nevada peo- 
 ple are above such trickery." " Well," said he, " I will 
 hurry out and correct the impression, as far as possible • 
 for it is going to prevent scores of people from coming to 
 hear you." 
 
 My next point was Forest Hill, a new mining camp, 
 situated on the left ridge between the North and Middle 
 Forks of the American River. The distance was more than 
 thirty miles, over a very wild and broken portion of the 
 mountains, and I was obliged to hire a two-horse buggy 
 and driver, at an expense of $35 for the trip. A miner 
 from Michigan Bar, returning homeward, also joined us, 
 and his knowledge of the road proved indispensable. We 
 took an eastward course on leaving Grass Valley, crossing 
 bleak, disforested hills, where the dust was frightfully deep 
 and dry ; then, approaching Buena Vista Ranche, plunged 
 by degrees into the woods, where the air was cool and bal- 
 samic, and the burnt ground was hidden under a golden 
 plumage of ferns. The rd&d at last dropped into a linked 
 succession of dells, which enchanted us with their beauty. 
 The giant pillars of the forest rose on all sides, but here and 
 there the pines fell back, leaving grassy knolls dotted with 
 clumps of oak, or green meadows fringed with laurel and 
 buckeye, or tangled masses of shrubbery and vines. There 
 were also cottages and gardens, secluded in these Happy 
 Valleys, where, one sighed to think, care, and pain, and 
 
NEW PICTCTEES FliOM CALIFORNIA. 147 
 
 sorrow, come as readily as to the Weakest moor or the 
 rudest sea-shore. 
 
 For four or five miles we drove merrily onward through 
 that Arcadian realm. The blue sky shone overhead, the 
 pines sang in the morning wind, the distant mountains 
 veiled themselves in softer purple, and the exquisite odors 
 of bay and pine, and dry, aromatic herbs gave sweetness to 
 the air. Then the scene became wilder, a rugged canon 
 received us — a gulf opened in front — broken, wooded steeps 
 rose opposite, and we commenced the descent to Bear 
 Creek, the first of the valleys to be crossed. It was, how- 
 ever, an easy task, compared with that of the South Yuba. 
 The road was stony and sideling, to be sure, but not more 
 than half a mile in descent. 
 
 At the bottom was a bridge — useless in the dry season — 
 with a toll of a dollar and a half at the further end. A 
 ruddy, bustling woman, who kept the toll-house and accom- 
 panying bar-room, received us with great cordiality. Hear- 
 ing the driver address me by name, she exclaimed : " Why, 
 are you Mr. Taylor ? Excuse me for not knowing you ! 
 And that is your wife, I suppose — how do you do, Mrs. 
 Taylor ? Won't you have a bunch of grapes ?" Into the 
 house she popped, and out again, with a fine cluster of 
 black Hamburgs. " Now then," she continued, " since we 
 know one another, you must come and see me often." 
 " With pleasure," said I ; " and you must return the visit, 
 though it's rather a long way." " Oh, I don't mind that," 
 she rejoined ; " but you must stop longer the next time you 
 come by" — which I readily promised. Really, thought I, 
 as we drove away, this is fame to some purpose. How 
 
148 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 friendly this woman became, as soon as she found out who 
 I was ! How much she must admire my writings ! What 
 a sublime contempt she has for time and space— inviting us 
 to come over often, and visit her ! My complacent reflec- 
 tions were interrupted by a chuckle fi-om the driver. 
 " Well," said he, " the old lady's rather took in. She 
 thinks you're Mr. Taylor, that lives up t'other side o' the 
 Buena Vista Ranche !" 
 
 Regaining the summit on the southern side, we found a 
 rolling country, ruder and more broken than that we had 
 passed through, and in half an hour more reached a large 
 mining camp, called Illinoistown. It was eleven o'clock, 
 and "we determined to push on to Iowa Hill, eight or nine 
 miles further, for dinner. As we approached the Iforth 
 Fork of the American, a far grander chasm than any we 
 had yet encountered yawned before us. The earth fell 
 sheer away to an unknown depth (for the bottom was invi- 
 sible), while a mighty mountain wall, blue with the heated 
 haze of noonday, rose beyond, leaning against the sky. 
 Far to the east, a vision of still deeper gorges, overhung 
 by Alpine peaks, glimmered through the motionless air. 
 We had an uninterrupted descent of two miles, and a climb 
 of equal length on a road hacked with infinite labor along 
 the sides of the steeps, and necessarily so narrow that there 
 were but few points where vehicles could pass. It was not 
 long before we arrived at a jiitch so abrupt that the horses, 
 with all their good-will, could not hold back ; we alighted 
 and walked, enjoying the giddy. ^■iews into the abyss, which 
 enlarged with every turn of the road. The muddy river 
 was already in sight, and the bottom seemed not far distant, 
 
TSMW PICTURES FEOM CALIFOENIA. 149 
 
 when three heavy teams emerged from around a corner, 
 dragging their slow length up the height. Our driver 
 selected the widest part of the road, drove to the edge, and 
 ran his near wheels into the outside rut, where they held 
 firm, while the off portion of the vehicle dropped over the 
 edge, and remained thus, half-suspended. There was barely 
 space for the teams to graze past. "We reached the bottom 
 with tottering knees, and faces plastered with a thick mix- 
 ture of dust and sweat. 
 
 The bridge-toll was two dollars — which, however, inclu- 
 ded a contribution for keeping the road on both sides in 
 good repair, and was really not exorbitant. The road 
 itself, considering the youth of the country, is a marvel. 
 We found the ascent very tedious, as the horses were 
 obliged to stop every fifty yards, and regain their wind. 
 But all things have an end ; and at two o'clock, hot, dusty, 
 and hungry, we drove into Iowa Hill. 
 
 This was formerly a very flourishing mining town, but 
 has of late fallen off considerably, on account of some of 
 the richest leads giving out. In spite of a broad, planked 
 street, hotels, express offices, and stores, it has rather a 
 dilapidated appearance. At the tavern where we stopped 
 for a dinner, the following notice was stuck up : 
 
 " constable's sale. 
 " Fifty Chiokins and Six Rose Buslies will be sold on Friday next." 
 
 The guests' parlor was, at the same time, the sitting- 
 room of the landlord's family, and, while we were waiting 
 for dinner, the hostess entered into conversation with my 
 wife. " Why won't you stop here this evening ?" she asked. 
 
150 AT HOME AND ABHOAD. 
 
 " We are bound for Forest Hill," was the reply. " But 
 you might as well stop ; our theatre is empty, and every- 
 body would go." Thinking she referred to my lecture, 
 my wife answered : " The engagement was made at Forest 
 Hill for this evening.'' " I wish I could go," exclaimed the 
 lady ; " 1 do like to hear concerts. Tou give quartetts, of 
 course, as there are four of you. Is he (pointing to the 
 driver) the comic one ? What is your husband — tenor or 
 bass ? I'm sure you could get our theatre at a minute's 
 notice. We haven't had no concert for a long while ; and 
 if there's fun, you'd have lots of people !" 
 
 We started again at three, as there were still twelve 
 miles to be gotten over. A scene of truly inspiring beauty 
 now received us. Emerging from the woods, we found 
 ourselves on the brink of a deep, wild, winding valley, up 
 which streamed the afternoon sun, tinting its precipitous 
 capes and their feathery mantle of forests with airy gold, 
 while the intervening gulfs slept in purple gloom. The 
 more gradual slopes on either side were nobly wooded, 
 with a superb intermixture of foliage. The road — broad, 
 smooth, and admirably graded (costing, lam told, $30,000) 
 — wound around the hollows and headlands, sometimes 
 buried in the darkness of oracular woods, sometimes poised 
 in sunshine over the hazy deeps. Our journey across 
 this magnificent valley was a transit of delight. There is 
 nothing more beautiful anywhere in the Sici-ra Nevada. 
 
 Now, what do you suppose is the name attached to this 
 spot ? What melodious title enfolds in its sound a sugges- 
 tion of so much beauty ? It is called — conceal thy face, 
 O modest reader t I write it with a blush mantling my 
 
NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 151 
 
 steel-pen, down to tbe very point — " Shirt-tail Caiion !'' 
 Palsied be the profane tongue that first insulted Nature by- 
 bestowing it ! The story is, that the first miner, washing 
 in the stream, with nothing on but his shirt, was seen by the 
 next comers, carrying up his gold in the tail thereof, like 
 an apron, regardless of appearances. Be that as it may, 
 this part of the Sierra Nevada has been made infamous by 
 its abundance of the most condemnable names which a 
 ' beastly imagination ever invented. A little further up In 
 the hills is a mining-camp, called " Hell's Delight !" There is 
 also " Bogus Thunder" not far off, and a village with the 
 delicious appellation of " Ground Hog's Glory !" Hallelu- 
 jah ! what a field the future poets of California wiU have ! 
 Fancy one of them singing : 
 
 " 'When in Shirt-Tail Canon buds the grove. 
 And the larks are singing in Hell's Delight, 
 To Ground Hog's Glory I'll come, my love. 
 And sing at thy lattice by night 1" 
 
 Or thus : 
 
 " My heart is torn asunder, 
 My life is filled with paia ; 
 The daughter of Bogus Thunder 
 Looks on me with disdain I" 
 
 I have only given the most favorable specimens. There 
 are some places, the names of which are current from mouth 
 to mouth, but which, for obvious reasons, are never printed. 
 Some of them are out-of-way camps, which will never 
 become classic localities — but a spot of such remarkable 
 beauty as the caiion we have just passed through (I wiU 
 not repeat the name) deserves to be immediately redeemed. 
 
152 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Let me suggest a title. I noticed a resemblance, in certain 
 features, to a wild and beautiful valley in the Taygetus. 
 Let it, therefore, be called " Spartan Canon" — which will, 
 at the same time, convey the idea of the original name to 
 the classical traveller. I call upon ye, inhabitants of Iowa 
 Hill, Forest Hill, Yankee Jim's, Mount Hope, and Hell's 
 Delight, to accept this name (if you cannot find a better) 
 and let the present epithet perish with the wretch who first 
 applied it ! 
 
 Toward sunset we reached Yankee Jim's — a very pic- 
 turesque and cheerful little village, in spite of its name. 
 Thence, there were four miles along the summit of a ridge 
 covered with gigantic pines and arbor vitse (the latter often 
 200 feet high), to Forest Hill. The splendor of the sunset- 
 glow among these mountains is not to be described. The 
 trees stood like images of new bronze, inlaid with rubies — 
 the air was a sea of crimson fire, investing the far-off ridges 
 with a robe of imperial purple — while dark-green and violet 
 hues painted the depths that lay in shadow. The contrasts 
 of color were really sublime in their strength and fierce- 
 ness. 
 
 We wandered off the trail, and, before knowing it, found 
 ourselves in the bottom of a weird glen, called the " Devil's 
 Canon.'' The dusk was creeping on ; sheets of blue smoke, 
 from fires somewhere in the forest, settled down between 
 the huge, dark trunks ; unearthly whispers seemed to float 
 in the air ; and the trail we followed became so faint in the 
 gloom as barely to be discei-ned. I thought of the "WolPs 
 Glen,'' in Der Freischiltz ; and " Samiel, come ! appear !" 
 was on my lips. The only exit was by climbing a bank 
 
NEW PICTUEES FROM CALIFORNIA. 153 
 
 which seemed almost perpendicular. By springing out and 
 holding on the upper side of the vehicle, we prevented it 
 from capsizing, regained the proper trail, and ere long 
 reached Forest Hill. Mr. Webster, the express agent, 
 kindly tendered us the hospitalities of his house — the repose 
 of which was most grateful after our long journey. 
 
 Forest Hill is a charming little place, on the very sum- 
 mit of the lofty ridge overlooking the Middle Fork of the 
 American, and at least three thousand feet above the sea. 
 The single broad street is shaded by enormous pines and 
 oaks, which have been left standing as the forest is thinned 
 away. The hill is perforated with drifts, which run under 
 the town itself ; and, as they settle, will some day let it down 
 — as recently occurred at Michigan Bluffs, where the people 
 awoke one morning to find one side of the street five feet 
 lower than the other. Forest Hill is a new and successful 
 camp, and probably secui-e for two or three years yet. 
 When the leads fail, it wiU faU into ruins, like Wisconsin HiU. 
 
 From a point near the village, we had a fine view of the 
 main chain of the Sierra Nevada, dividing the waters of the 
 American from Carson Valley. Pyramid Peak (which rises 
 to the height of near twelve thousand feet) was clearly visi- 
 ble, with a few snow-fields yet lingering on its northern side. 
 Directly opposite to us lay Georgetown, my destination for 
 the night; butthegreat gulf of the Middle Fork intervened ; 
 and while the distance, in an air-line, was not more than five 
 miles, it was ten miles by the bridle-path across, and thirty 
 by the wagon-road which we were obliged to take. This 
 will give some idea of the grand fissures by which this 
 region is divided. 
 
 7* 
 
154 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 The journey from Forest Hill to Georgetown was so 
 tedious, so fatiguing, and so monotonous, that I have no 
 mind to say much about it. Our vehicle was an old- 
 fashioned carriage, with seats about six inches apart. 
 Being wedged in so tightly, we were doubly sensitive to 
 the incessant furious jolts of the road ; while, the day being 
 intensely hot and still, the dust arose in clouds, which 
 rarely allowed us to open our eyes. There were fifteen 
 mortal miles of jolting down the gradually descending 
 ridge to Murderer's Bar (another name !) and then fifteen 
 miles up a similar ridge to Georgetown. Here and there, 
 we had a pleasant bit of landscape ; but generally, the 
 scenery was tame, compared with that of the previous 
 day. 
 
 Georgetown is one of the oldest mining camps in the 
 State. I heard of it in 1849, although my trip did not ex- 
 tend so far north. The place has a compact, quiet, settled 
 appearance, which hints at stagnation rather than progress. 
 The hotel is a very primitive afiair — the bed-rooms being 
 simply stalls, divided from one another, and from the sit- 
 ting-room by muslin partitions. The theatre is <a bankrupt 
 church : nothing seems to flourish except drinking saloons. 
 Mining was at a low ebb at the time of my visit, and many 
 persons had taken up gambling instead. Nevertheless, 
 there are several jolly and genial gentlemen in the place, 
 and its atmosphere of leisure was rather attractive to me 
 than otherwise. After rising in season, next morning, for 
 the journey to Placerville, I had the satisfaction of rousing 
 the sleeping stable-men, and waiting a full hour in the grow- 
 ing dawn before they were ready with the vehicle. Across 
 
NEW PICTURES PEOM CALIPOENIA. T55 
 
 the way was a driuldng-saloon, in which a company of gam- 
 blers, who had been sitting there the evening before, were 
 still plying their trade, with haggard faces, and blood-shot 
 eyes. The law against gambling is quite inoperative in the 
 mining districts, as the Maine Liquor Law, or any other 
 statute repressing the coarse, natural appetites of men would 
 be. The ruder the toil, the ruder the indulgence for which 
 it pays. So long as the population of these places fluctu- 
 ates according to the mineral wealth, and the moral influ- 
 ence which springs from a stable society is wanting, this 
 must continue to be the case. I see no help for it. Men 
 will have cakes, though stuffed with nightshade berries ; 
 and ale, though it be hell-broth. 
 
 It was fairly sunrise before we got away from George- 
 town, and the temper with which I began the day's jour- 
 ney was not sweetened by the knowledge that I had lost 
 an hour of precious sleep to no purpose. But the balmy 
 air, the golden light, and the soothing flavor of a sedative 
 herb worked their accustomed magic, and I reserved my 
 discontent for the heat and dust to come. We travelled 
 ' for six miles, or more, through a succession of pleasant 
 little valleys, all more or less populated, and, consequently, 
 ravaged and devastated by pick and spade. In place of 
 the green meadows, set in circles of glorious forest, as in 
 1849, there were unsightly heaps of dirt and stones, and 
 naked hill-sides, perforated, with drifts, and spanned by 
 lofty flumes, from which poured torrents of liquid mud, 
 rather than water. Nature here reminds one of a princess, 
 fallen into the hands of robbers, who cut off her fingers for 
 the sake of* the jewels she wears. 
 
156 AT HO JUS ANt) ABROAD. 
 
 The passage of the South Fork of the American, which 
 followed, resembled that of the other branches, on a smaller 
 scale. Once on the summit, two miles across the flat top 
 of the i-idge brought us to the brink of a narrow, winding 
 valley, in the bottom of which lay Placerville. Passing 
 between rows of neat cottages, shaded with young cotton- 
 woods, or embowered in trellises of passion-flower and 
 Australian pea, we reached the business portion of the 
 town — jammed in the narrow bed between the hills, com- 
 pact, paved, and bustling — and halted at the Gary House. 
 To travellers coming from Utah, who have lived ten days 
 on salt pork, and drank the alkaline waters of Humboldt 
 River, this hotel must seem a veritable Elysium ; and even 
 to us, who had had no breakfast, and were unconscionably 
 hungry, it was a welcome haven. Clean, comfortable 
 rooms, and an obliging host, seconded the first impression, 
 and I did not so much wonder at the toughness of the 
 meats, on learning that there is but one butcher in the 
 place, who buys out or competitiously ruins, all rivals. 
 
 The diggings around Placerville are among the oldest in 
 California. The place was known, in 1849, as "Hang- 
 town," but having become a permanent centre of business, 
 and the capital of Eldorado County, the original name 
 (suggestive of Lynch law) was very properly dropped. I 
 cannot say, however, that property is much more secure 
 than under the old regime. A few days before our arrival, 
 the County Treasurer's office was broken into, and the pub- 
 lic funds, amounting to $8,000, cai-ried off. Scarcely a day 
 passed during our sojourn in the mountains, without our 
 hearing of some store or express office being plundered, 
 
NEW PICTUKES FROM GALIFOENIA. 157 
 
 and it did not once happen that the thief was caught. As 
 the currency is specie (banks being prohibited by the Con- 
 stitution), money is a serious embarrassment. Besides, it 
 cannot be identified, if stolen. One result of this prohibi- 
 tion is, that many capitalists, having no secure place of 
 deposit, bury their money until they need it. From one 
 end of California to the other, coin is potted and put into 
 the earth for safe keeping. Often, when a farmer wishes 
 to make an investment, you may see him measuring so 
 many feet from such a tree, at such an angle with such 
 another tree, etc., until he has found the right spot, when 
 he will dig you up five, or ten, or twenty thousand dollars. 
 This is a phenomenon which I commend to the attention of 
 political economists. 
 
 To return to Plaoerville. The sides of the hills around 
 are scarred with surface-mining and penetrated with drifts, 
 while the stamps of quartz-mills may be heard pounding in 
 the valley. Ditches, brought from the river twenty-seven 
 miles above, are carried along the summits of the ridges, 
 where they not only furnish means for washing the dirt, 
 but occasionally irrigate gardens on the slopes. The best 
 placers, I was told, are exhausted, and mining in the imme- 
 diate neighborhood of the town is rather precarious, at 
 present. I was more interested in visiting the reservoir of 
 the Water Company, on a height some three or four miles 
 distant. The cost of the ditch, fluming, etc., was upwards 
 of 1750,000. No idea can be formed of the immense labor 
 bestowed on such works, along the whole range - of the 
 Sierra Nevada. There has been some wild engineering, it 
 is true, and many of the works might have been con- 
 
158 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 structed at half the expense ; yet they are none the 
 less an exhibition of the colossal enterprise of the new- 
 country. 
 
 In the afternoon, we paid a visit to a quartz mill, in a 
 little ravine behind the town. The propelling power is 
 steam, add the capacity of the mill twenty stamps, which 
 will crush about one hundred tons of rock per week. These 
 stamps are simply heavy iron pounders, lifted by the action 
 of cogs on a main shaft, which turns behind them, and then 
 allowed to fall on the pieces of broken quartz, which are 
 fed in below. A stream of water flows constantly over the 
 bed whereupon they fall, carrying away the powdered rock, 
 after it has been reduced to sufiicient fineness, over an in- 
 clined plane, at the bottom, of which it is gathered into a 
 sluice. The quicksilver then separates the gold in the usual 
 way. N"o use, I believe, has yet been made of the refuse 
 quartz-powder ; but I should think it might be profitably 
 employed in the manufacture of stone-ware. The plan of 
 working is the simplest that can be devised. In many 
 places, the old Spanish arastra is still employed. This is a 
 hopper, in the centre of which is an upright shaft, turned 
 by horse-j)ower, in the same manner as a cider-mill. From 
 the shaft project two horizontal bars, at the end of which 
 heavy stones are suspended, while the hopper is filled with 
 broken quartz. By the turning of the shaft, the stones are 
 dragged over the quartz, slowly crushing and reducing it. 
 It is a tedious, but very cheap manner of extracting the 
 gold. 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFOENIA. 159 
 
 8. — ^The Southern Mines. 
 
 Hitherto, my journeys in the Sierra ]!f evada had been 
 entirely over new ground ; hut now, I was to revisit the 
 field of my adventures in 1849. I looked forward with 
 much interest to seeing again the bear-haunted woods, the 
 glens where I had been lulled to sleep by the baying of the 
 wolves, and where a chorus of supernatural voices sang to 
 my excited imagination. The fresh, inspiring beauty of 
 those scenes was still present to my eye, and I did not 
 doubt that I should find them, if possible, stiU more attrac- 
 tive since the advent of civilization. 
 
 The first point to be reached was Jackson, the capital of 
 Amador county, about thirty-five miles fi-omPlacerviUe. As 
 it was a cross road, traversing the ridges at right angles, 
 this was an ample journey for one day. We were obliged 
 to start before sunrise, taking the Folsom stage as far as 
 Mud Springs, whence, after a delay of an hour, another 
 vehicle set out for Drytown. This interval we employed in 
 getting breakfast, which, had quantity and quality been re- 
 versed, would have been a good meal. The table-cloth, from 
 its apjjearance, might have lain all night in a barnyard, tram' 
 pled by the feet of cattle ; upon it were plains of leathery beef, 
 swimming in half-congealed tallow, mountains of sodden 
 potatoes and leaden biscuit, with yellow, stratified streaks of 
 potash, and seas of black, bitter fluid, which — mixed with 
 damp, brown sugar, and cold, thin milk — was called coffee. 
 Satan would have rejoiced to see the good gifts of God so 
 perverted. We starved in the midst of plenty. It was 
 
160 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 " Victuals, victuals everywhere, 
 And not a bit to eat." 
 
 Presently the stage came along. It was a square-bodied 
 machine, with imperfect springs, drawn by two horses. The 
 seats were hard and flat, and covered with slippery leather. 
 As Cowper says, " The slippery seat betrayed the sliding 
 part ;" and one was obliged to be on the look-out, lest he 
 should find himself on the floor of the vehicle in descend- 
 ing the hills. 
 
 The country through which we drove, though at a consi- 
 derable elevation above the sea, was comparatively level. 
 It was sparsely timbered, and more bi'own and scorched 
 in appearance than the hot plains below. Here and there, 
 however, were some pleasant little valleys — still pleasant to 
 the eye, though cruelly mutilated by the gold-diggers. 
 Quartz-mills, driven by steam, were frequent ; I could not, 
 however, ascertain their proportion of success. I was struck 
 with the great variety of opinion regarding quartz-mining 
 among those with whom I conversed. I made it a point to 
 ascertain the views of intelligent men, for the purpose of 
 drawing juster conclusions. I found about an equal num- 
 ber of the sanguine and desponding. Some said : " The 
 richest yield is at the top of the vein ; it gradually runs out 
 as you go downward" — while others afiirmed, with equal 
 certainty: "The gold increases as you approach the bed- 
 rock ; and it is very evident that quartz-mining will give a 
 deeper return as the drifts are sunk deeper." Most of them, 
 however, considered the auriferous harvests of California as 
 tolerably certain for the next fifty years. 
 
 After several additional miles, thi'ough the same torn and 
 
NEW PICTURES PROM CALIFORNIA. 161 
 
 devastated region, offering very little to gratify the eye, we 
 reached Drytown. This is a village of four or five hundred 
 inhabitants, in a district once famed for its rich placers. 
 The only interest it had for us was, that it gave us a dinner, 
 and an hour's respite from our jolting stage-coach. Both 
 these refreshments were welcome, as we still had ten or 
 twelve miles to Jackson. 
 
 I now began to look out for remembered land-marks; but 
 after a time gave up all hopes of recognising anything which 
 I had seen before. In 1849, I had travelled this road on 
 foot, plodding along through noble forests, which showered 
 their suspended rain-drops upon my head, rarely catching a 
 view of the surrounding hills. Now, the forests are cut 
 away; the hollows are fenced and farmed; the heights are 
 hot and bare ; quartz-mills shriek and stamp beside the road, 
 and heavy teams, enveloped in dust, replace the itinerant 
 miners, with wash-bowl on back and pick in hand. The 
 aspect of this region is therefore completely changed. Even 
 the village of Amador, which I remembered as a solitary 
 ranche, was no longer to be recognised. The changes 
 were for the worse, so far as the beauty of the scenery is 
 concerned. 
 
 After crossing Dry Creek, the road ascended a long, 
 gradual slope, on gaining the crest of which, I cried out in 
 delight at the vision before us. The level, crimson rays of 
 the sun streamed through the hazy air, smiting the summits 
 of the mountains with a bloody glow. In the valley, two 
 miles off, lay Jackson, half hidden by belts and groups of 
 colossal pines. High in the east towered the conical peak 
 of The Butte, which my feet first scaled, and to which I 
 
162 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 gave the name of Polo's Peak. In. front, violet against the 
 burning sky, was Mokelumne Hill and the picturesque 
 heights around the Lower Bar — while far away, in an atmo- 
 sphere of gorgeous color, we saw, or thought we saw, a 
 pyramid of the Sierra Nevada. I knew the prominent 
 features of the landscape, yet beheld them again, as in a 
 dream. 
 
 My recollections of Jackson were of two rough shanties 
 in the woods, where I tried to feed a starving horse on corn- 
 meal, and afterward slept all night on a raw hide spread on 
 the ground, beside an Indian boy. Now, in the falling twi- 
 light, we drove down a long, compact street, thronged with 
 miners and traders, noticed the gardens in the rear, the 
 church and court-house, and finally a two-story hotel, with 
 a veranda filled with tropical flowers. As the sunset faded, 
 and the half-moon shone in the sky, veiling whatever was 
 peculiarly Californian in the appearance of the place, I could 
 easily have believed myself in some town of the Apennines. 
 
 Midway between Jackson and Mokelumne Hill rises the 
 Butte, a noble landmark far and wide through the moun- 
 tains. On my way to the Volcano, in November, 1849, I 
 climbed to its summit ; and by right of discovery, conferred 
 upon it the name of a brave old Indian Chieftain (Polo), 
 who once lived in the neighborhood. I had hoped the 
 name might remain, but was disappointed. It is now uni- 
 versally called the Butte (which means any isolated hill), 
 and all my inquiries had no greater success than to ascer- 
 tain that there was one man on the Mokelumne who had 
 heard some other man say, years ago, that he (the other 
 man) had heard it once called " Polo's Peak." My good 
 
NEW PICTTTEES PEOM CALIFORNIA. 163 
 
 name (as I conceived it to be) is forgotten, while " Bogus 
 Thunder" and " iSTew-Yort-of-the-Pacific " still exist. Such 
 is life ! 
 
 I was glad to iind, however, that a tradition of my ascent 
 is still preserved in the neighborhood. The summit is now 
 a favorite place of resort for pic-nio parties, in the pleasant 
 season. Not long ago, a romantic widow of Jackson made 
 it a condition that she should be married there — ^which was 
 accordingly done ; clergyman, bride's-maids, friends, and 
 refreshments all being conveyed to the top. There is no 
 limit, however, to the eccentric fancies of brides. Dming 
 the State Fair at Sacramento, a young couple succeeded in 
 having themselves married on the platform of the great 
 hall, in the view of two thousand people. While in Minne- 
 sota, I heard of a marriage behind the sheet of Minne-ha-ha. 
 Fancy the happy pair standing with their feet in mud and 
 their heads in spray, the clergyman yelling through the 
 thunder of the fall : "Wilt thou have this man?" etc., and 
 the bride screaming " I will !" at the top of her voice ! 
 Others have been married in the Mammoth Cave, on Table 
 Rock, on the Washington Monument, in a balloon, for 
 aught I know. Whenever I see such an external straining 
 after sentiment, I always suspect an inner lack of it. 
 
 The next morning dawned warm and cloudless. Our 
 day's journey was but eight miles to the village of Moke- 
 lumne Hill, which we had seen the evening before, in the 
 last rays of the sun, on the top of a mountain beyond the 
 Mokelumne. I therefore hired a two-horse buggy, with a 
 bright, intelligent driver, and we set out early, to avoid the 
 noonday heat. After crossing some hills, which gave us 
 
164 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 lovely views toward Polo's Peak, we entered a narrow 
 canon, winding downward to the river between steep accli- 
 vities. The road, which was broad and of easy grade, had 
 been excavated and built up with great labor ; ditches of 
 sparkling water ran along the opposite bank, and groups 
 of bay, evergreen oak, and manzanita rose warm in the sun- 
 shine. While we were heartily enjoying the wild, shifting 
 beauty of the glen, the driver suddenly turned around to 
 me, saying : 
 
 " You know this place, don't you ?" 
 
 " I seem to recognise parts of it," said I, "but everything 
 is so changed, since '49, that I could not be certain." 
 
 " Why," he exclaimed, " the people say you are the first 
 man that ever went through this canon !" 
 
 Looking more closely, and taking the bearings of the hill 
 above Lower Bar and the Butte, I saw that it was in reality 
 the same ravine up which I had climbed after leaving the 
 river, supposing that it might be a shorter passage to an 
 Indian trail beyond. The old, forgotten picture came back 
 suddenly, as if revealed by some lightning-flash in the dark 
 of Memory. There was the gusty November sky ; the wild 
 ravine, wet with recent rains ; dark pines rising from its 
 depths; suspicious clumps of madrono and manzanita, 
 which might conceal some grizzly bear; and myself, in 
 V7ell-worn corduroy armor, slowly mounting the rocky bed 
 of the stream. This circumstance, which I had wholly for- 
 gotten, had been remembered by others, and the descent 
 of the canon had a double enjoyment to me, after the 
 discovery. 
 
 We came upon the Mokelumne River at Middle Bar, a 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFOKNIA. 165 
 
 great bed of gravel and sand, now almost deserted, except 
 by a few Chinamen in huge umbrella bats, who were forag- 
 ing here and there, after the gleanings left by the white 
 harvesters. A turn of the river concealed from my view 
 the camp on the hill-side at Lower Bar, where Lieut. Beale 
 and I had shared the hospitality of Baptists, the voyageur, 
 and where, during a two-days' rain, I had amused myself 
 by watching Senator Gwin lay down the political wires 
 which he afterward pulled to some purpose. There I ven- 
 tured on my first and last speculation. I was persuaded 
 to invest $200 in an operation for damming the river. It 
 promised well, the work was completed, the washings 
 turned out splendidly, and I was in full hopes of receiving 
 $1,000 in return for my venture, when the rains fell, the 
 river rose, and away went the dam. " Let me give you a 
 serious piece of advice," said Washington Irving to me, 
 one day, " never invest your money in anything that pays 
 a hundred per cent. !" And 1 never have, since then, and 
 never will. 
 
 For the sake of old times, I should gladly have gone 
 down to the Lower Bar, but the sun was already high and 
 hot, and an ascent of near a mile and a half lay before us. 
 The Mokelumne at this point, however, does not lie in a 
 tremendous trough, like the Forks of the American and 
 the Yuba ; the steeps on either side are of irregular height, 
 and broken by frequent lateral canons. The scenery is, 
 therefore, less savage and forbidding in appearance, but 
 infinitely more picturesque. On reaching the summit of 
 the mountain plateau, we saw before us the village — 
 perched, as it were, on scattered hills, a loftier peak over 
 
166 AT HOME ABTD ABEOAD. 
 
 hanging it on the east, a table-shaped mountain (with a 
 race-course on the top), guarding it on the south, while 
 elsewliere the steeps dropped off into gorges filled with 
 dim blue mist. Though on a still grander scale, it reminded 
 me somewhat of the positions of Perugia, or Narni, among 
 the Roman Apennines. 
 
 In other respects, the resemblance was quite as striking. 
 The dry soil, with its rich tints of orange and burnt sienna 
 — the evergreen oaks, so much resembling the Italian ilex 
 — the broad-leaved fig-trees in the gardens — the workmen 
 with bare, sunburnt breasts — the dolce far niente of a few 
 loungers in the shade — and the clear, hot, October sky, in 
 which there was no prophecy of winter, all belonged to 
 the lands of the Mediterranean. If we had here the grace 
 which Art has cast over those lands, thought I, we might 
 dispense with the magic of their history. 
 
 Bidding a reluctant good-bye to Mokelumne Hill,«next 
 morning, we continued our journey southward across the 
 mountains — our next destination being San Andreas, the 
 court-town of Calaveras county. The table-shaped moun- 
 tain behind the former town is the water-shed between the 
 Mokelumne and the Calaveras — the latter river having a 
 broad and comparatively shallow basin, with numerous afflu- 
 ents, while the Mokelumne and the Stanislaus, to the north 
 and south of it, flew through deep, precipitous troughs. 
 After we had passed the summit, our road dropped into a 
 picturesque, winding glen, beyond which rose the blue mass 
 of the lofty Bear Mountain. 
 
 It was a journey of only eight miles to San Andreas, 
 through a rolling, cheerful country, with some beginnings 
 
NEW PICTURES EEOM CALIPOENIA. 16 V 
 
 at cultivation. A farmer who was threshing his wheat in 
 the open air informed me that the yield averaged forty- 
 two bushels to the acre ; this, of course, without manure, and 
 with the most superficial ploughing. The vine grew with 
 the most astonishing luxuriance wherever it was planted, 
 and I have not the least doubt that the best wines of Cali- 
 fornia will ultimately be produced from the hill-sides of the 
 Sierra Nevada. As we approached the Calaveras river, 
 the range of Bear Mountain rose high and blue on our left, 
 like a last bulwark against the plain of the San Joaquin. 
 The view from-its summit is said to be magnificent. 
 
 At noon we reached San Andreas, a village of perhaps 
 eight hundred inhabitants, scattered over the northern 
 slope of a hill, whose conical summit overhangs it. The 
 place is neither so picturesque nor so well-built as Moke- 
 - lumne Hill, with the exception of the hotel, a new and 
 spacious edifice of brick. Here, everything was neat and 
 commodious, and we congratulated ourselves on finding 
 such agreeable quarters. The hot autumnal afternoon dis- 
 posed to laziness, yet we could not resist the temptation 
 of strolling through and around the town, running the 
 gauntlet of the curious eyes of the loafers congregated 
 aboiit the doors of the drinking-saloons. 
 
 In their structure, these mining villages are very similar. 
 The houses are built close against each other, as in a large 
 city. The most of them are of wood, and one story in 
 height. Here and there, you see a block of brick stores, 
 two stories high, flat-roofed, and with iron doors and 
 shutters, as a protection against fire. There are plank 
 sidewalks, and very often the streets are planked, also. 
 
168 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Awnings keep off the hot sun, and verandas are introduced 
 \\'herever it is practicable. Behind the main street are 
 clusters .of shanties inhabited by the miners — small, dusty, 
 barren of ornament, and usually standing alone, with a 
 rough oven of stones and clay adjoining. On the outskirts 
 of these are the still more rude and repulsive dwellings of 
 the Chinese. The alleys between are strewed with rags, 
 old clothes, broken bottles, and miscellaneous filth, and 
 swarm with — fleas, at least. This portion of the village 
 strikingly resembles the native towns in Central Africa. 
 There are usually one hotel, one small church, a theatre of 
 rough boards, and five-and-twenty dram-shops to a place. 
 On pleasant locations in the vicinity, are the comfortable 
 residences and gardens of the successful traders, the owners 
 of " leads," or quartz-mills, and the holders of oiBce. 
 
 Life in such a place, to a refined and cultivated man, 
 must be rather dreary. There is already, it is true, some 
 little society ; but relaxation of any kind is irregular and 
 accidental, rather than permanent. Women fail ; reading 
 (except of political newspapers) is an obsolete taste ; and 
 the same excess which characterizes labor is too often 
 applied to amusements. On the other hand, there is a 
 freedom from restraint — an escape from that social tyranny 
 which is the curse of the Atlantic States — almost sufficient 
 to reconcile one to the loss of the other advantages of 
 society. I do not think that the Californians, now that 
 they have cast off their trammels, will ever voluntarily 
 assume them again. The worst feature of the absorbing 
 rage for gold is the indifference of the people to the 
 morality of those whom they elect to office. No State 
 
NEW PICTUEES EBOM CALIFORNIA. 169 
 
 in the Union has been, and still is, more shamefully 
 plundered. 
 
 Reaching the slope of the hill, where a hot hreeze, 
 charged with rich, minty odors, blew in our faces, we 
 climbed to the summit, which, as we now saw, was a level 
 of about two acres, laid out and inclosed as the cemetery 
 of San Andreas. A lofty cross is its appropriate crown. 
 No roses were planted on the graves, but the manzanita 
 and a sort of dwarf ilex grew in clusters. The place had 
 a solemn, yet soothing and cheerful aspect. No nearer 
 hills interrupted the azure circle of the air, wherein the 
 distant mountains floated ; the noises of labor, and trade, 
 and profanity, and jollity, in the town below, blended into 
 an indistinguishable hum ; while, to the east and west, a 
 gap in the mountains seemed purposely left, that the sun 
 might give this spot his first and latest greeting. The pre- 
 dominant colors of the landscape were blue and a pale 
 golden-brown, mottled with the dark, rich green of scatter- 
 ing trees. A range of irregular peaks to the east shut out 
 the snowy chain of the Sierra Nevada, but a lofty moun- 
 tain, near the head-waters of the Stanislaus, was visible, far 
 in the south. 
 
 EVom the flat roof of the veranda, upon which our win- 
 dow opened, we enjoyed a delicious view of the sunset illu- 
 mination of the landscape. Evening after evening, the 
 same phenomenon had been repeated — a transmutation of 
 the air into fluid color, of a pale crimson tinge, which lent 
 itself to every object touched by the sun. The mountains 
 shone like masses of glowing metal, and the trees near at 
 hand stood as if formed of compact flame. During the 
 
 8 
 
170 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 few mimites-of sunset the color changed into the purest 
 Vermillion, after which it gradually faded into dull purple, 
 followed by an after-glow (as among the Alps), of faint 
 golden radiance. The wind always falls at this hour, and 
 the atmosphere is balmy, and fragrant with the odor of 
 dry herbs. The nights are cool, but not cold — making one 
 blanket comfortable, and requiring no more. 
 
 We hailed the morrow, for it was to take us to the south- 
 ern limit of our journey through the mining regions. Two 
 weeks of such rough, dusty travel, unrelieved by a single 
 day of rest, had made us heartily weary, while the sceneiy, 
 grand as it is, is nevertheless too monotonous to inspire an 
 unflagging sense of enjoyment. The stage-coaches are ter- 
 ribly uncomfortable, and the inhaling of an atmosphere of 
 dnst which effectually hides your complexion and the color 
 of your hair in the course of two or three hours, is not one 
 of those trifling discomforts to which you soon become 
 accustomed. It is said not to be unhealthy — in fact, our 
 lungs suffered no inconvenience from it — but it oflen pro- 
 duces violent inflammation in weak eyes. There are in- 
 stances of persons having endangered their sight from this 
 cause. The first symptom is an acute pain, intermittent in 
 its character — which, if not allayed, tormhiates in ophthal- 
 mia more malignant than that of Egypt. Women are more 
 subject to it than men, and the worst cases are probably 
 those who have been accustomed to a life of unnatural semi- 
 darkness at home. 
 
 At nine o'clock, the stage-coach from Mokelurane Hill to 
 Sonora nriivod, and wo took passage to the latter place, 
 thirty-four miles distant. As fate would have it, I was 
 
NEW PICTUEES FKOM CALIFOESriA. IVl 
 
 crammed into the narrow back-seat, beside- a disgusting 
 Chinaman. If there had been any enjoyment in the jour- 
 ney, this fact alone would have spoiled it. The stale, musky 
 odor of the race is to me unendurable : no washing can 
 eradicate it, and this fellow was not washed. Hue, in his 
 travels in Taitary, refers to the peculiar smell of the Chi- 
 nese, and states that the dogs always discovered him under 
 any disguise, by the difference of his bouquet. I do not 
 doubt the statement. I would undertake to distinguish 
 between a Chinaman, a Negro, an Indian, and a member 
 of the Caucasian race, in a perfectly dark room, by the 
 sense of smell alone. The human blossoms of our planet 
 are not all pinks and roses; we find a\so the datura stramo- 
 nium, the toad's-flax, and the skunk-cabbage. 
 
 Our course at first led in a southeastern direction, through 
 one of the tributary valleys of the Calaveras, with the Bear 
 Mountains rising grandly on our left. Here the drooping, 
 elm-like evergreen oaks, which had so charmed us in the 
 valley of Russian River, again made their appearance, and 
 the landscapes were once more warm, idyllic, and character- 
 ized by exquisite harmony of color and outline. The hol- 
 lows were less frequently scarred by surface-washings : the 
 plough only had disturbed, in order to beautify, the face of 
 Nature. On the other hand, it was evidently a region of 
 gold-bearing quartz. In the neighborhood of Angel's, I 
 noticed a number of mills, many of them running from 
 twenty to thirty stamps. Some of these mills are said to 
 be doing a very profitable business. They have effectually 
 stripped the near hills of theii former forests, to supply fuel 
 for the steam-engines and beds for the sluices in which the 
 
172 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 gold is separated from the crushed rock. The bottoms of the 
 sluices are formed of segments a foot thick, sawed off the 
 trunks of pine-trees and laid side by side ; yet such is the 
 wear and tear of the particles of rock and earth, carried 
 over them by the water, that they must be renewed every 
 two or three weeks. 
 
 We found Vallecitos (an intermediate place,) to be a bran- 
 new village of about three hundred inhabitants, having been 
 burned to the ground a fortnight previous. The new houses 
 were of wood, stuck side by side, like the old ones ; and the 
 place will probably burn again, every summer. There was 
 a French hotel and restaurant, which our conductor scorned 
 — halting before the " Valhalla,'' an open saloon, with lager 
 beer attachment. A dinner of sour-krout and boiled pork 
 smoked upon the table ; but the beer, which should have 
 completed the three-fold chord of Teutonic harmony, was 
 decidedly out of tune. It mattered little, however, as but 
 five minutes were allowed us for the meal. 
 
 The worst part of the journey was still before us. The 
 road wound for two or three miles up a shallow vaUey, 
 walled on the right by a steep, level ridge, which denoted 
 our approach to the Stanislaus River. In a dip of this 
 ridge is the reservoir of the ditch which supplies the mines 
 in the neighborhood. Our road led past it, and over alow 
 " divide,'' into a glen thickly wooded with oak and pine. 
 The soil was very stony, and oui- progress rough and pain- 
 ful, though rapid. In the middle of this glen, where it 
 opened to the sun, stood a neat farm-house, with a melon- 
 patch and an orcOiard of hixurinnt fruit-trees. Two miles 
 beyond, crossing a ridge, and emerging from the thickest 
 
NEW PICTtTEES FEOM CAXIFOENIA. 173 
 
 portion of the forest, we found ourselves on the brink of 
 the great chasm of the Stanislaus. 
 
 This pass, or gorge, is only equalled by that of the North 
 Fork of the American. The length of the descent is about 
 two miles ; but advantage is taken of little spurs and shoul- 
 ders of the mountain to obtain a less difficult grade. The 
 river was invisible, and we could only guess its distance 
 below us by the perspective of the misty mountain-wall 
 beyond. The scenery was of the most grand and inspiring 
 character. Giant oaks and pines clung to the almost pre- 
 cipitous steeps ; clumps of manzanita, covered with red 
 berries, fringed the road, and below us yawned the gulf, 
 full lighted by the afternoon sun, except to the eastward, 
 where its sides so approach and overhang as to cast a per- 
 petual shade. 
 
 I walked to the bottom, but preferred riding up the oppo- 
 site ascent. The other passengers, who trudged on in ad- 
 vance, found their advantage in a rest of twenty minutes 
 at the summit, and the hospitality of a farmer's wife, who 
 regaled them with milk and hot biscuits. Before fairly 
 reaching the top, I was surprised to see traces of mining 
 operations, on all sides. On the left of the road was a deep 
 chasm, resembling a tropical barranca, which appeared to 
 have been entirely excavated by art. Beyond it, on a level 
 tract which was left standing, like an island between two 
 arms of the chasm, was an orchard of splendid peach-trees 
 — the branches whereof trailed upon the ground under the 
 weight of their fruit. In the east rose a mountain-ridge — 
 a secondaiy elevation of the Sierra Nevada ; for it appeared 
 to overlook all between it and the central line of snowy 
 
174 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 pyramids. We entered a broad basin, inclining to the 
 south, and drained by winter streams, which join the Stan- 
 islaus further down. Everywhere the soil was dug up, and 
 turned up, and whirled upside down. 
 
 Presently, cottages and gardens offered a more cheerful 
 sight, and the reservoir which supplies the mining com- 
 panies of Columbia with water lay spread out before us 
 like a lake, reflecting in its bosom the houses and spires of 
 the town beyond. We were surprised and delighted at the 
 extent and evident stability of the place. The population 
 cannot be less than three thousand. There are solid blocks 
 of buildings, streets of stores, a wide extent of suburban 
 cottages dotting the slopes around, and aU the noise and 
 life of a much larger town. The airy verandas, festooned 
 with flowering vines, the open windows, the semi-tropical 
 character of the trees and plants, make a very different 
 impression upon the visitor from that produced by Nevada 
 or Grass Valley. Although scarcely a degree and a half 
 apart, there are still the distinctive traits of North and 
 South. In the population you find something of the same 
 difference — the Northern emigrants taking to the northern 
 mines by a natural instinct, and the Southern to the south- 
 ern. 
 
 Columbia and Sonora, towns of nearly equal size, are 
 only four miles apart — rivals, of course. The broad valley 
 lying between is probably the most productive placer in 
 California. It has been dug over a dozen times, and still 
 pays handsomely. From the perseverance with which every 
 particle of earth, down to the bed-rock, has been scraped 
 away in many places, one sees that the soil must be every- 
 
NEW PICTtTEES FEOM CALIFOKNIA. 175 
 
 where gold-bearing. Such a scene of ravage I have never 
 beheld. Over thousands of square rods, the earth has been 
 torn and burrowed into, leaving immense pits, out of which 
 project the crooked fangs of rocks, laid bare to the roots 
 and knotted together in unimaginable confusion. A sav- 
 age, coming upon such a place, would instantly say : " Here 
 the devil has been at work !" Our road, sometimes, was a 
 narrow ridge, left standing between vast tracts where some 
 infernal blast of desolation seemed to have raged. I was 
 involuntarily reminded of the words of a hornpipe, more 
 rowdy ttian refined : 
 
 Did you ever see the Devil, 
 With his iron wooden shovel, 
 Scratchin' up the gravel 
 With his big toe-nail ?" 
 
 Here was the very place where he must have performed 
 that operation. The earth seemed to have ■ been madly 
 clawed into, rather than dug out. I thought I had already 
 seen some evidence of the devastation wrought upon Na- 
 ture by gold-mining, but this example capped the climax. 
 It was truly horrible. You may laugh, you successful ope- 
 rators, who are now fattening upon the gains drawn from 
 these incurable pits ; but still I say, they are horrible. N"o 
 cultivation, no labor will ever be able to remove such scars 
 from the face of the earth. 
 
 I found Sonora a very lively, pleasant place. Many intel- 
 ligent Southern gentlemen are among the inhabitants, and, 
 though there is scarcely a greater amount of fixed society 
 than elsewhere, what there is of it is genial and attractive. 
 The mining operations are carried on, not only around the 
 
176 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 town, but in it and undei- it. The principal street is com- 
 pletely undermined in places, and I even saw a store which 
 was temporarily closed, in order that the cellar might he 
 dug out. The Placer House had been burrowed under 
 within the past year, and a large quantity of gold extracted- 
 Some of the inhabitants seemed to think that the whole town 
 would be gradually removed, until all the houses rest on the 
 bed-rock, below which there is nothing. 
 
 If a vein of gold could be found extending straight 
 through the Sierra Nevada, there would soon be a tunnel, 
 without cost, for the Pacific Railroad ! 
 
 9. — The Big Trees oe Caiaveeas. 
 
 At Vallecitos (where we had dined the previous day, in 
 the Valhalla of the Teutonic gods), we were but twenty 
 miles from the grove of Giant Trees, in Calaveras county. 
 This grove was one of the things which I had determined 
 to see, before setting out for California. I have a passion 
 for trees, second only to that for beautiful human beings, 
 and sculpture. I rank arboriculture as one of the fine arts. 
 I have studied it in all its various schools — the palms of 
 Africa, the cypresses of Mexico, the banyans and peepuls 
 of India, the birches of Sweden, and the elms of New Eng- 
 land. In my mind thei-e is a gallery of master-pieces, which 
 I should not be afraid to place beside those of the Vatican 
 and the Louvre. Types of beauty and grace I had already 
 — the Apollo, the Antinous, the Faun, even the Gladiator — 
 but here were the Heraclidse, the Titans ! 
 
NEW PICTUEES TEOM CALIPOENIA. Ill 
 
 Besides, on the American Continent, trees are our truest 
 antiquities, retaining (as I shall show) the hieroglyphics, 
 not only of Nature, but of Man, during the past ages. The 
 shadows of two thousand years sleep under the boughs of 
 Montezuma's cypresses, at Chapultepec : the great tree of 
 Oaxaca is a cotemporary of Solomon, and even the sculp- 
 tured ruins of Copan, Palenque, and Uxmal are outnum- 
 bered in years by the rings of trunks in the forests which 
 hide them. In California, the only human relics of an ear- 
 lier date than her present Indian tribes, are those of a race 
 anterior to the Deluge; but those giants of the Sierra 
 Nevada have kept, for forty centuries, the annual record 
 of their growth. As well think of going to Egypt without 
 seeing the Pyramids, as of visiting California, without 
 making a pilgrimage to her immemorial Trees ! 
 
 I procured a two-horse team, with driver, in Sonora, 
 
 regardless of expense. Mr. E , whose labors were now 
 
 drawing to a close, also accompanied us. We had but two 
 days for the trip — in all, sixty miles of very rough moun- 
 tain-road — and therefore started with the first peep of 
 dawn. As far as VaUecitos, our road was that which we 
 had traversed in coming from San Andreas, crossing the 
 great chasm of the Stanislaus. The driver, however, took 
 another route to Columbia, leading through a still more 
 terribly torn and gashed region, and approaching the town 
 from the eastern side. Here were huge artificial chasms, 
 over which the place seemed to hang, like Fribourg over 
 its valley. The multitude of flumes, raised on lofty tressle- 
 work, which crossed these gulfs — the large water-wheels — 
 
 the zigzag sluices below, and the eart-roads running on nar- 
 
 s* 
 
178 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 row planes of different elevation into the various branches 
 of the mines, vcith distorted masses of primitive rock stick- 
 ing up here and there, formed, altogether, a picture so vast 
 and grotesque as to make us pause in astonishment. I 
 remember nothing like it in any other part of the world. 
 
 We breakfasted at the Broadway Hotel, and then hast- 
 ened on, in order to reach Murphy's by noon. The gulf of 
 the Stanislaus was crossed without accident, as it was rather 
 too early for any other teams to be abroad on the road. 
 The possibility of meeting another vehicle is the one great 
 risk which haunts you, during such transits. Near Val- 
 lecitos, while crossing one of the primitive bridges, our 
 " off" horse got his leg into a hole, injuring it rather 
 severely, though not so as to prevent his going on. The 
 miners carry their ditches and sluices across a road just as 
 they please ; and in order to save a few planks, bridge them 
 with rough logs and the branches of trees, interspersed 
 with irregular boulders, to hold them. " When a stick is 
 too crooked for anything else, they make a bridge of it," 
 growled the driver, who threatened to tear up a fence or a 
 flume, and would have done so, had not the bridge been 
 mended on our return. 
 
 At Vallecitos, we left the road to San Andreas, and took 
 a trail leading eastward to Murphy's, an old mining-camp, 
 four or five miles distant. We passed though a succession 
 of shallow valleys, which in spring must be lovely, with their 
 scattered trees, their flowery meadows, and the green of 
 their softly-rounded hills. They were now too brown and 
 dry — not golden with wild oats, like the Coast Mountains, 
 but showing the dull hue of the naked soil. In one of the 
 
NEW PICTUEES FEOM CALIFOKNIA. IT 9 
 
 broadest of these valleys lay Murphy's — a flourishing vil- 
 lage until ten days previous, when it was svrept away by 
 fire. This was the fourth mining town destroyed during 
 our visit ! The cottage residences, standing alone in the 
 midst of their gardens, escaped ; but the business portion 
 of the place, including the hotel, was utterly consumed. 
 
 The proprietors of the hotel, the Messrs. Perry, are also 
 the owners of the Big Trees. They enjoy a wide repu- 
 tation for their enterprise, and the good fare wherewith 
 they regale the traveller. They had already erected a 
 shanty among the ruins, and promised us dinner while the 
 horses were feeding. My wife was kindly received by 
 Mrs. Perry, and I was overwhelmed with cordial invitations 
 to stop and entertain the Murphyites — which, to my regret, 
 was impossible. We had, in fact, a miraculous dinner — 
 everything was good of its kind, and admirably cooked. 
 What more can be said ? The claret was supreme, and the 
 pears which we purchased for dessert dissolved in inexpres- 
 sible fragrance upon the tongue. The farmer from whom 
 we procured them presented me with a watermelon, Mr. 
 P. added some fresh meat for our supper at the forest botel, 
 and we went our way rejoicing. 
 
 In the outskirts of the village were encamped companies 
 of newly-arrived emigrants, among their shattered wagons 
 and their weary cattle, and we met numbers of others on 
 the way. From Luther's Pass at the head of Carson Val- 
 ley, a trail turns southward, crosses the Sierra, and passing 
 down the ridge above Silver Valley to the Big Trees, forms 
 the most direct road from Carson River to the Southern 
 mines. These emigrants were now at the end of their toil 
 
180 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 and suflfeiings; but, instead of appearing rejoiced at the 
 deliverance, their faces wore a hard and stern expression, 
 with something of Indian shyness. The women, as if con- 
 scious that their sun-browned faces and their uncombed 
 hair were not particularly beautiful, generally turned their 
 heads away as we passed. Dirty, dilapidated, and frowsy 
 as many of them were, they all wore hoops ! Yes, even 
 seated in the wagons, on the way, their dusty calicoes were 
 projected out over the whiffle-trees by the battered and 
 angular rims of what had once been circles ! It was an exhi- 
 bition of sacrifice to fashion, too melancholy for laughter. 
 
 The valley of Murphy's is 2,000 feet above the sea, and 
 lies at the foot of those long lateral ridges which connect 
 the broken ranges called the Foot-Hills with the central 
 ridge of the Sierra Nevada. The distance to the Big Trees 
 is jBfteen miles, with an additional ascent of 2,500 feet. 
 Immediately on leaving the village, we entered a close, 
 wooded canon, down the bottom of which rushed the water 
 of a canal, as if in its natural bed. It was delightful to 
 drive in the shade of the oaks and pines, with the clear 
 waters of a roaring brook below us — clear water being the 
 rarest sight in these mountains. Gaining the summit of 
 the ridge, we drove for miles over an undulating, but 
 rapidly-ascending road, deep in dust and cut into disagree- 
 able ruts by the wheels of emigrant wagons. Huge shafts 
 of fir, arbor-vita), and sugar-pine, arose on all sides, and the 
 further we advanced the grander and more dense became 
 the forest. Whenever we obtained an outlook, it revealed 
 to us hUls similarly covered : only now and then, in the 
 hollows, were some intervals of open meadow. The ditch, 
 
NEW PICTCEES PEOM CALIFOENIA. 181 
 
 coming from far up in the mountains, still kept beside us, 
 sometimes carved in the steep side of the hill, and some- 
 times carried across a valley on a wooden framework a 
 hundred feet high. 
 
 The air perceptibly increased in coolness, clearness, and 
 delicious purity. The trees now rose like colossal pillars, 
 from four to eight feet in diameter, and two hundred feet 
 in height, without a crook or a flaw of any kind. There 
 was no undergrowth, but the dry soil was hidden under a 
 bed of short, golden fern, which blazed like fire where the 
 sunshine struck it. We seemed to be traversing some vast 
 columned hall, like that of Karnak, or the Thousand 
 Columns of Constantinople — except that human art never 
 raised such matchless pillars. Our necks ached from the 
 vertical travels of our eyes, in order to reach their tops. 
 Really, the V/estern hyperbole of tall trees seemed true, 
 that it takes two men to see them — one beginning where 
 the other leaves off. 
 
 Our progress, from the ascent, and the deep dust which 
 concealed the ruts, was slow, and would have been tedious, 
 but for the inspiring majesty of the forest. But when four 
 hours had passed, and the sun was near his setting, we 
 began to look out impatiently for some sign of the Trees. 
 The pines and arbor-vitis had become so large, that it 
 seemed as if nothing cmdd be larger. As some great red 
 shaft loomed duskily through the shadows, one and then 
 another of us would exclaim : " There's one !" — only to 
 convince ourselves, as we came nearer, that it was not. 
 Yet, if such were the courtiers, what must the monarchs 
 be ? We shall certainly be disappointed : nothing can 
 
182 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 fulfil this promise. A thick underwood now appeared, 
 radiant with the loveliest autumnal tints. The sprays 
 of pink, purple, crimson, and pure gold flashed like 
 sprinkles of colored fire amid the dark-green shadows. 
 " Let us not ask for more," said I ; " nothing can be more 
 beautiful.'' 
 
 Suddenly, in front of us, where the gloom was deepest, 
 I saw a huge something behind the other trees, like the 
 magnified shadow of one of them, thrown upon a dark-red 
 cloud. While I was straining my eyes, in questioning 
 wonder, the road made a sharp curve. Glancing forward, 
 I beheld two great circular — shot-towers ? Not frees, 
 surely ! — but yes, by all the Dryads, those are trees ! Ay, 
 open your mouth, my good driver, as if your two eyes 
 were not suflBcient, while we sit dumb behind you ! What 
 can one say ? What think, except to doubt his senses ? 
 One sentence, only, comes to your mind — " there were 
 giants in those days." 
 
 Between these two colossi, called The Sentinels, ran our 
 road. In front, a hundred yards further, stood the plea- 
 sant white hotel, beside something dark, of nearly the 
 same size. This something is only a piece of the trunk of 
 another tree, which has been felled, leaving its stump as the 
 floor of a circular ball-room, twenty-seven feet in diameter. 
 Dismounting at the door, we were kindly received by the 
 Doctor, and assured of good quarters for the flight. The 
 sun was just setting, and we were advised to defer the 
 inspection of the grove until morning. Seating ourselves 
 in the veranda, therefore, we ju-oceeded to study The 
 Sentinels, whose tops, three hundred feet in the air, were 
 
NEW PICTURES FEOM CALIFOENIA. 183 
 
 glowing in golden lustre, while the last beam had passed 
 away from the forest below them. 
 
 To my astonishment, they did not appear so very large, 
 after all ! Large they were, certainly, but nothing remark- 
 able. Ax first, I was puzzled by this phenomenon, but pre- 
 sently remembered that the slender saplings (apparently) 
 behind them, were in themselves enormous trees. In 
 dwarfing everything around them, they had also dwarfed 
 themselves. Like St. Peter's, the Pyramids, and every- 
 thing else which is at once colossal and symmetrical, the 
 eye requires time to comprehend their dimensions. By 
 repeatedly walking to them, pacing round their tremendous 
 ■ bases, examining the neighboring trees, and measuring 
 their height by the same comparison, I succeeded in gradu- 
 ally increasing the impression. When the last gleam of 
 twilight had gone, and the full moon mounted above the 
 forest, they grew in grandeur and awful height, until the 
 stars seemed to twinkle as dew-drops on their topmost 
 boughs. Then, indeed, they became older than the Pyra- 
 mids, more venerable than the triune idol of Elephanla, 
 and the secrets of an irrecoverable Past were breathed in 
 the dull murmurs forced from them by the winds of night. 
 " Thank God that I have lived to see these works of His 
 hand!" was the exclamation with which I turned away, 
 reluctantly driven in-doors by the keen, frosty air. Before 
 a cheerful fire the doctor related to us the history of the 
 discovery of the grove. When I was on the Mokelumne, 
 in 1849, its existence was unknown. At the close of that 
 year, some miners, prospecting high up in the mountains, 
 are reported to have come upon some of the trees, and to 
 
184 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 have beea laughed at, and called hard names hy their 
 friends, on account of their incredible stories. In the 
 spring of 1850, however, a company on a tour of prospect- 
 ing, hunting, and general speculation, happened to encamp 
 in a valley about four miles distant. One of the men, 
 pushing up the ridge, alone, found himself at last in the 
 midst of the monstrous grove. He was at first frightened 
 (I can well imagine it), then doubtful, then certain. Re- 
 turning to the camp, he said nothing about the trees, 
 knowing that he would only be called a liar, but informed 
 the leader of the party that he had found signs of gold, or 
 of deer, higher up, and offered to guide them. By this 
 device he brought them all to the grove — and the story of 
 the Big Trees soon afterward astonished the world. 
 
 But with discovery came also ruin. After the first 
 astonishment was over, came the suggestion of a speculative 
 mind — " Can't some money be made out of this here 
 thing?" A plan was soon formed. One of the biggest 
 trees must be cut down, bai-ked, and the pieces of bark 
 numbered, so that when put together again in the same 
 order, they would, externally, exactly represent the 
 original tree. Take them to 'New York, London, Paris — 
 and your fortune is made. How to get the tree down ? 
 was the next question. A mass of solid wood, ninety feet 
 in circumference, was clearly beyond the powers of the 
 axe. Where was the saw, or the arms to wield it, ^^■hich 
 could do the work ? But the prospect of money sharpens 
 the wits, and this difficulty was finally overcome. Pump- 
 augers vvere the thing ! By piercing the trunk with a 
 great number of horizontal bores, side by side, it might 
 
NEW PICTUEBS FEOM CALIFOENIA. 185 
 
 finally be cut asunder. Augers were therefore procured, 
 and two sets of hands went to work. 
 
 After a steady labor of six weeks, the thing was done — 
 but the tree stood unmoved ! So straight and symmetri- 
 cal was its growth, so immense its weight, and so broad 
 its base, that it seemed unconscious of its own annihilation, 
 tossing its outer branches derisively against the mountain 
 winds that strove to overthrow it. A neighboring pine, of 
 giant size, was then selected, and felled in such a way as 
 to fall with full force against it. The top shook a little, 
 but the shaft stood as before ! Finally the spoilers suc- 
 ceeded in driving thin wedges into the out. Gradually, 
 and with great labor, one side of the tree was lifted : the 
 line of equilibrium was driven nearer and nearer to the 
 edge of the base : the mighty mass poised for a moment, 
 and then, with a great rushing sigh in all its boughs, 
 thundered down. The forest was ground to dust beneath 
 it, and for a mile around, the earth shook with the concus- 
 sion. 
 
 Yet, perhaps, it is as well that one tree should be felled. 
 The prostrate trunk illustrates the age and bulk of these 
 giants better than those which stand. We learn from it 
 that the wood was sound and solid throughout ; that the 
 age of the tree was thirty-one hundred years ; that it 
 contained two hundred and- fifty thousand feet of timber; 
 and that, a thousand years ago, the Indians built their fires 
 against its trunk, as they do now. The stump, as I said 
 before, is the floor of a ball-room : higher up (or, rather, 
 further off), is a bowling-alley. The pine trees, forming 
 the forest around the house, though apparently so small. 
 
186 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 average six feet in diameter, and over two hundred in 
 height. 
 
 Our quarters at the little hotel were all that could be 
 desired. Pure, ice-cold water, venison, delicious bread and 
 butter, and clean beds, all combined to make us regret 
 that our stay was so limited. At daybreak the Doctor 
 summoned us, and we prepared for a stroll through the 
 grove before sunrise. The great Trees, to the number of 
 ninety, are scattered through the pine-forest, covering a 
 space about half a mile in length. A winding trail, 
 ascending one side of the glen, and descending on the 
 other, conducts to the principal trunks. They have all 
 received names, more or less appropriate. Near the house 
 is the " Beauty of the Forest," really a paragon of colossal 
 elegance, though comparatively young. Her age is pro- 
 bably not more than two thousand years. 
 
 How cool, and silent, and balmy was the stupendous 
 forest, in the early morn ! Through the open spaces we could 
 see a few rosy bars of vapor far aloft, tinted by the coming 
 sun, while the crimson and golden sprays of the undergrowth 
 shone around us, like "morning upbreaking through the 
 earth !" The dark-red shafts soared aloft rather like the 
 great, circular watch-towers of the Middle Ages, than any 
 result of vegetable growth. We wandered from tree to 
 tree, overwhelmed with their bulk, for each one seemed more 
 huge than the last. Our eyes could now comprehend their 
 proportions. Even the driver, who at first said, "They're 
 not 80 — condemned big, after all!" now walked along 
 silently, occasionally pacing around a trunk, or putting his 
 hand upon it, as if only such tangible proof could satisfy him • 
 
NEW PICTUEES FKOM CALIFOENIA. 187 
 
 We first visited the " Three Graces,'' then the " Miner's 
 Cabin" and "Uncle Tom's Cabin." The two last are 
 hollowed out at the bottom by Indian fires, which have 
 burned themselves central chimneys far up the trunk. 
 Either of them would give shelter to a family of moderate 
 size. The next group bore the traces of fools. Some love- 
 sick blockhead, visiting the grove in company with three 
 ladies, one of whom looked coldly upon his suit, another 
 sang, and another did something else, has fastened upon three 
 of the trees marble tablets, inscribed severally, in letters 
 of gold, " The Marble Heart (!)" " The Nightingale," and 
 " The Salem Witch." I said to the Doctor : " Have you 
 a ladder and a hammer about the house ?" " Yes — why ?" 
 " Because if I were to remain here to-night, you would 
 find those things smashed to-morrow morning." His fur- 
 tive smile assured me that the search for the trespasser 
 would not be very strict. Miss Avonia Jones, an actress, 
 who was there a short time previous, bestowed her own 
 name upon a tree, and likewise had a marble tablet pre- 
 pared, regardless of expense. Fortunately the tablet 
 happened to reach Murphy's, on its way to the grove, just 
 before the fire, and was destroyed. Fancy one of those 
 grand and awful trees bearing the name of " Avonia Jones !" 
 Even Senat&r Gwin, as I was informed, had his name cast 
 on an iron plate, and sent to the Mariposa Grove, to be 
 placed on one of the largest trees. Oh ! the pitiful vanity 
 of our race ! 
 
 At the top of the glen stands the "Mother of the 
 Forest," ninety-three feet in circumference, and three hun- 
 dred and twenty-five feet high. Her bark, which has been 
 
laa AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 stripped off to a height of one hundred and ten feet, 
 now represents her in the Crystal Palace at Sydenham. 
 This was wanton wickedness. She now stands Wasted, 
 stretching her bare, reproaching arms high over the forest. 
 She forms part of what is called the "Family Group," 
 numbering twenty-four trees. Here we commenced the 
 return trail, and soon came upon the " Father of the 
 Forest," which surpasses everything else by his tremendous 
 bulk. He lies upon the earth, as he fell, centuries ago. 
 His trunk is one hundred and ten feet in circumference at 
 the base, and his original height is estimated to have been 
 four hundred and fifty feet ! In contemplating him, one 
 almost refuses to credit the evidence of one's senses. By 
 counting a few of the rings, and making a rough estimate, 
 I satisfied myself that his age could not have been less than 
 five thousand years ! The interior of the trunk is burned 
 out, forming a lofty, arched passage, through which you 
 walk for one hundred and eighty feet, and then emerge 
 from a knot-hole ! Not far off is another prostrate trunk, 
 through which a man may ride on horseback for more than 
 a hundred feet. 
 
 There are a variety of trees named after various States ; 
 also the " Old Maid" and " Old Bachelor,'' two lonely, 
 leaning, dilapidated figures, and " Pike," a tall, gannt 
 trunk, not so inappropriately named., Tlie largest of all 
 the living trees is called " Hercules," and is, if I mistake 
 not, ninety-seven feet in circumference. I suggested that 
 his name should properly be changed to " The Patriarch." 
 Young trees, sprung from the seeds, are seen here and 
 there, but the soil seems insufiioient to nourish many of 
 
NEW PICTUEES FBOM CALIPOENIA.. 189 
 
 them, until the older race passes away. The Doctor called 
 my attention to a new and curious fact. In the earth, 
 completely covered by the gradual deposits of centuries 
 of falling leayes, are the trunks of the progenitors of these 
 giants. The wood is almost black, and has a dry, metallic 
 sound. In one place a living tree, between two and three 
 thousand years old, is found to be planted astride of 
 another trunk, entirely hidden* in the soil! It is evident 
 that eight, or perhaps ten, thousand years have elapsed 
 since this race of trees first appeared on the earth. One 
 is bewildered by the refl.ections which such a discovery 
 suggests. 
 
 During our walk, we watched the golden radiance of 
 the sun, as, first smiting the peaks of the scattered giants, 
 it slowly descended, blazing over a hundred feet of their 
 massive foliage, before the tops of the enormous pines 
 were touched. This illumination first gave us a true com- 
 prehension of their altitude. While sketching The Senti- 
 nel afterwards, from the veranda, the laws of persj)ective 
 furnished a new revelation. The hostess and my wife, 
 standing together at the base of a tree, became the veriest 
 dwarfs. Beyond them was what appeared to be a phild's 
 toy-cart — in reality the wagon of an emigrant family, 
 which had arrived the evening before ! Some of the 
 young "Pikes," expert with their rifles, brought down a 
 few cone-bearing twigs, two of which the Doctor presented 
 to me, together with a large stick of timber, and a piece 
 of bark, four inches thick, of a golden-brown color, and 
 with the softness and lustre of velvet. 
 
 Botanists have now decided that these trees are akin to 
 
190 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the California redwood, Sequoia sempervirens, and they 
 will henceforth be known as the Sequoia gigantea, thereby 
 settling the national quarrel as to whether they shall be 
 called Washingtonia or Wellingtonia. It is singular 
 that this discovery should not have been sooner made : a 
 pingle glance at the cone is enough. It is very small, not 
 one-fourth the size of a man's fist, containing a few thin, 
 laminar seeds, something like those of a parsnip. As the 
 tree will bear a degree of cold equal to zero, it may be 
 successfully grown in the latitude of Washington. The 
 growth is slow at first — so the gardeners in Sacramento 
 and San Francisco inform me — ^but increases rapidly as the 
 tree gains root. 
 
 Since the discovery of this grove, three others have been 
 found, showing that the tree is not phenomenal in its 
 appearance. One of these groves, near the head-waters 
 of the Tuolomne, lies at an altitude of six thousand feet, 
 and contains about four hundred trees, but few of which 
 are thirty feet in diameter. The Mariposa Trees, on the 
 road to the Yo-semite Valley, number about three hun- 
 dred, one of which is said to be one hundred and two feet 
 in circumference. Visitors are divided in opinion as to 
 which grove is grandest and most impressive in its charac- 
 ter. But he who would not be satisfied with the Calaveras 
 Trees is capable of preferring his own nondescript cottage 
 to the Parthenon, and his own crooked legs to those of 
 the Apollo Belvidcrc. 
 
 Taking a last look at these immemorial giants of the 
 forest, as they stretched their tufted boughs silently in the 
 sunshine, over the heads of the vassal trees, wo drove 
 
NEW PICTURES FROM CALIFORNIA. 191 
 
 down the mountain through the aisles of pine, and between 
 the gem-like sprays of the thickets. In four hours we 
 reached Murphy's, dined again luxuriously, and then sped 
 away for Columbia, where my evening's work awaited me. 
 It seems almost miraculous that we should cross the great 
 chasm of the Stanislaus for the third time, without meet- 
 ing another team. 
 
 10. — California, as a Home. 
 
 At last we packed for a final departure from the moun- 
 tains. The trip to Stockton, a distance of about fifty-five 
 miles, was to be accomplished in a single day. At three 
 o'clock in the morning we took our seats in the stage, and 
 after picking up a sufficient number of passengers to fill the 
 huge, swinging vehicle, emerged from Sonora by the lower 
 entrance of the valley. The morning was chill, the road 
 rough, and our ride remarkably tedious. After we had 
 made ten or twelve miles, the sun rose, we breakfasted, 
 and the scenery improved. There were three or four vil- 
 lages on the road, which had an air of permanence and 
 prosperity, but the valleys were too narrow and too entirely 
 given over to gold-mining to allow of farming to any great 
 extent. The road was, at the same time, stony and dusty, 
 and we were heartily glad when the settlement at Knight's 
 Ferry, on the Stanislaus, announced our exit from the 
 mountain region. 
 
 Knight's Perry is a smart, busy place of near a thousand 
 inhabitants. The broad bar which the river here makes is 
 quarried up, and trenched in all directions by the indefati- 
 
192 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 gable gold-miners. There is a large hotel, the chief energy 
 of which appears to be expended on a spacious bar-room, 
 ■well supplied with ice and liquors. "We here changed 
 stages, having the satisfaction of knowing that only thirty 
 miles, for the most part of level road, separated us from 
 Stockton. A few more long, sweeping undulations — the 
 last subsiding waves of the Sierra Nevada — and we entered 
 the great plain of the San Joaqnin. We lost, it is true, the 
 pure mountain air, the blue chasms, the splendid pines, but 
 we had no longer the dread of meeting vehicles, the danger 
 of overturns, the jolts and the dry quagmires of dust. 
 Merrily our coach roUed.along over the level floor, between 
 the high redwood fences, past occasional groves of live-oak, 
 farm-houses, dusty orchards, wind-mills, turning in hot 
 puffs of southern wind, and stacks of shining straw or 
 snowy bags of grain. Ten rapid minutes, only, were 
 allowed us for dinner, and by two o'clock we saw the 
 spires of Stockton over the groves of scattering oaks which 
 surround the town. 
 
 Broad, cheerful, watered streets, suburban gardens, neat 
 churches, and a glimpse of shipping in the tide-water slough, 
 gave us a pleasant initial impression of the place, which was 
 not diminished by the clean, comfortable quarters we 
 found at the Weber Plouse. How delicious it A\'as to sit 
 in the open French windows, watching the golden afternoon 
 light deepen into sunset color on the blue water, the groves 
 of oak, the church-spires, and the dim mountain-ranges far 
 away, knowing that our month of rude mountain-travel 
 was over! Repose is always sweet, but never more so 
 than after pi-olonged fatigue. 
 
NEW PICTURES PKOM CALIPOKNIA. 193 
 
 We were greatly delighted with our visit to the resi- 
 dence of Mr. Weber, the original proprietor of Stockton, 
 who has transferred a tongue of land, between two arms 
 of the slough, into a garden, and built himself a spacious 
 house in the centre. There is no more delightful villa on 
 Bellosguardo or the slopes of Fiesole. A thick hedge, out- 
 side of which is a double row of semi-tropical trees, sur- 
 rounds the peninsula. The gate opens into a lofty avenue 
 of treUis-work, where the sunshine strikes through pulpy 
 bunches of amethyst and chrysolite, while, on either hand, 
 beds of royal roses of every hue (except the impossible 
 blue) fill the air with ripe odor. The house is low, but 
 spacious, with wood-work of the native redwood, scarcely 
 less beautiful than mahogany. Vine-covered verandas sur- 
 round it and keep ofi" the sun, and every window discloses 
 a vision of plants which would be the glory of any green- 
 house on the Atlantic side. 
 
 In Mrs. Weber, I found an old acquaintance of my 
 former visit. Well I remembered the day when, hot, hun- 
 gry, and foot-sore, I limped up to the door of her father's 
 ranche, in the valley of San Jose, and found her reading a 
 poem of mine (no author ever had a more welcome intro- 
 duction !) — when her father saddled his horse, and rode 
 with me to the top of a mountain, and her own hands pre- 
 pared the grateful supper and breakfast which gave me 
 strength for the tramp to Monterey. It was pleasant to 
 meet her again as the happy mistress of such a princely 
 home. 
 
 The garden delighted us beyond measure. The walks 
 were waist-deep in fuchsia, heliotrope, and geranium ; the 
 
 9 
 
194 AT HOME ANLl ABROAD. 
 
 lemon verbena grew high above our heads, and the pepper- 
 trees, with their loose, misty boughs, hailed us as old 
 friends from the skies of Athens. A row of Italian cypress- 
 es, straight and spiry as those which look on Florence 
 from San Miniato, were shooting rapidly above the other 
 growths of the garden. How they will transform the 
 character of the landscape when, at last, their dark obe- 
 lisks stand in full stature ! Here, in the middle of October, 
 all was bloom and warmth, as in our Atlantic Augusts. A 
 week or two of heavy rain, in ISJ^ovember, ushers in the 
 winter, and the balmy skies, green turf, and sprouting 
 daisies of January, announce the coming of another beau- 
 tiful year. What a country is this for a home — if it were 
 not quite so new ! 
 
 Our passage was taken for Thursday, the 20th of Octo- 
 ber, so that but few days were left us on Californian soil, 
 and we hastened back to San Francisco. We had already 
 overstayed by a fortnight the time which we had allotted to 
 our visit, but although private interests and sacred ties 
 alike called us home, we could not conceal an emotion of 
 sorrow and regret at the thought of leaying. We had 
 found many kind friends in San Francisco, so that the 
 charm of human associations was added to that of its cli- 
 mate and scenery. Besides the free, liberal, sensible life 
 of the place has its separate attractions. The society of 
 San Francisco is a combination of two extremes — the aris- 
 tocratic and demooiatic principles in sharp contrast — Puri- 
 tanism in religion, and Sunday theatres— and between the 
 two, a man of sense and reflection finds a clear space, where 
 he m.ay live and move untrammelled. 
 
NEW PICTUEES FROM OAilFOBNIA. 195 
 
 On Wednesday evening, I gave my final lecture, for the 
 benefit of the Protestant Orphan Asylum — ^making, in all, 
 thirty-eight lectures in California, in the space of eight 
 weeks. As the first attempt to transplant the Great Insti- 
 tution to the Pacific Coast, the result was in the highest 
 degree cheering. My visit was made at probably the most 
 unfavorable period of the year — at the close of the dry 
 season, when business is dull, and in the midst of violent 
 ]>olitical excitement — yet there was no single instance of 
 i'ailure. The people everywhere showed themselves wide- 
 awake, intelligent, and appreciative. 
 
 Although my impressions of California have been scat- 
 tered plentifully throughout the foregoing sketches, my 
 readers may, like myself, feel the necessity of reproducing 
 them in a final resume, detached from my narrative of per- 
 sonal experiences. During the interval often years between 
 my two visits, I traversed the three continents of the ancient 
 hemisphere, passing through all zones of the earth (with 
 the exception of the Antarctic) ; and therefore possessed 
 the best possible means of verifying or correcting the im- 
 pressions of the first visit by those of the second. This 
 circumstance, I trust, may give additional weight to my 
 opinions, even with those who may honestly differ from 
 them. 
 
 The first thing to be considered, in discussing the cha- 
 racter of a new country, is its climate. California possesses 
 the great advantage of lying upon the western side of the 
 continent, which, as compared with the eastern, is an iso- 
 thermal difierence equal to ten degrees of latitude. Thus, 
 San Francisco, lying on very nearly the same parallel as 
 
196 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Richmond, possesses the climate of Andalusia and Sicily — 
 or Jacksonville, Florida, on our Atlantic Coast. There are 
 local differences, however, which give it an advantage over 
 countries in the same latitude in Europe. Climate, it is 
 well-known, is greatly modified by the character of the 
 prevailing winds. California, like India, is exposed to the 
 action of a periodical monsoon, blowing from the north- 
 west during the summer, and from the south-east during 
 the winter. The former wind, cooled by the Arctic current 
 which sweeps downward along the coast, precipitates fog 
 as it meets with the hot, dry winds of the interior ; and 
 the summer, in the valleys of the Coast Range, seeius actu- 
 ally to be cooler than the winter. In the same manner, 
 the dry, warm south-east winds, coming over the vast 
 deserts of heated sand on both sides of the Colorado, 
 heighten the winter temperature. The mean temperature 
 of noonday, throughout the year, is remarkably equable, 
 for such a latitude. The seasons seem to have shifted their 
 parts, the winter being green and fragrant with flowers, 
 and the summer brown and bare on the hills, while the 
 forests of live oak, bay, redwood, and pine, rejoice in eter- 
 nal verdure. 
 
 A record of temperature has been for nine years carefully 
 kept by Dr. Gibbons, at San Francisco. The greatest cold 
 in that time was 25°, and the greatest heat 98°. These 
 may, therefore, be taken as the extremes, showing the 
 utmost range of the thermometer. The difference is 73°, 
 but the average annual range is not more than 65°. In 
 New York and the New England States, it is near 130°. 
 At San Francisco, in 1853, the maximum was 88°, and the 
 
NEW PICT0EES FBOM CALIPOENIA. 19 '7 
 
 minimum 40°. Another peculiarity of the climate is the 
 diiference between the temperature of day and night. The 
 mean daily range varies from 12° to 23°, being least in 
 winter and greatest in summer. The nights, therefore, 
 throughout the year are of a much more uniform tempera- 
 ture than the days — a fact which contributes very greatly 
 to the health of the inhabitants, as well as to the vigor of 
 vegetation. In the interior, where the heats of summer are 
 much more intense than in the coast valleys, the difference 
 is still greater. The summer thus possesses a bracing ele- 
 ment in the midst of her fiercest fires. California presents 
 the anomaly of a semi-tropical climate, with all the inspiring 
 and invigorating qualities of a N^orthern atmosphere. 
 
 In this respect, therefore, our Pacific Coast stands une- 
 qualled by any land in the world. It is not without draw- 
 backs — for the cold coast-winds of summer, the unfathom- 
 able dust of autumn, and the first deluging rains of winter, 
 are things to be endured — but no one, except a fool, expects 
 to find absolute perfection on this planet. The dry, pure 
 air possesses no taint of malaria ; fevers are rare, except in 
 a few localities, and the great, world-encircling epidemics 
 lose half their violence. The statistics of San Francisco 
 show that it is, already, one of the healthiest cities in the 
 world. As a place for the development and the enjoyment 
 of animal life, I know no land equal to California. 
 
 The peculiarity of the climate, combining great variation 
 between day and night — with comparatively little variation 
 between winter and summer — seems to be especially favor- 
 able to vegetable life ; and this, I suspect, is the main cause 
 of those productions which have astonished the woi-ld. 
 
198 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 Something, of course, may be attributed to the virgin vigor 
 of a new soil ; but where this has already been expended, 
 as in the region about Los Angeles, the same results are 
 obtained. With the exception of the apple, all fruits, from 
 the fig to the pear, from the pomegranate and olive to the 
 gooseberry and currant, thrive better than elsewhere. 
 With regard to grapes, the average annual yield is four- 
 teen pounds per vine. When all the vines now planted are 
 in bearing condition, they will produce ^we million gallons 
 of wine annually. A more wholesome and deUcate spark- 
 ling wine is not easily found than that manufactured by the 
 Brothers Sansevain, who bid fair to reproduce, on that far 
 shore, the famous " Sansovino," the praises of which Redi, 
 the Tuscan Bacchus, sang in his dancing verse. Let me 
 add a few more specimens of vegetable production to those 
 I have already given. The California Register says : " A 
 fig-tree, four years from the cutting, is seventeen inches 
 around the stem, twenty feet high, and bears two crops a 
 year ; a grape-vine, three years old, yields eighty pounds 
 of grapes ; a tree, three years old, bears fifby-five apples, 
 weighing, on an average, nine ounces each !'' 
 
 The six mouths during which no rain falls have not the 
 usual effect of a drouth in the Atlantic States. The grain 
 is all ripe early in the season, and may be cut, threshed, 
 measured, and sold (all in the open air) just as the farmer 
 can spare time. The hard-baked surface of the earth covers 
 a stratum of moister soil, into which the trees thrust their 
 roots, and flourish ; and though the velvet turf, which is 
 the glory of northern lands, is wanting, yet the blue lupin, 
 the orange-colored poppy, and other salamandrine flowers, 
 
NEW PICTtJEES FEOM CALIFORNIA. 199 
 
 blossom in all the valleys. I saw but one genuine piece of 
 turf in California. It was in front of a house in San Jos6, 
 where it was kept alive and fresh by artificial showers. Its 
 dazzling greenness and beauty seemed to be little short of 
 a miracle. Trees, when transplanted, require to be care- 
 fully watered the first summer, after which, they are gene- 
 rally able to supply themselves. Water, which is struck 
 everywhere in the valleys, at a depth of twenty or thirty 
 feet, is sweet and good. 
 
 So far as scenery is concerned, I can imagine nothing 
 lovelier than the valleys of San Jose, Napa, Russian River, 
 and San Ramon. The one feature which they lack — in 
 common with the landscapes of Italy and Sjsain — is water. 
 The streams which traverse them in winter, become dry, 
 stony beds in summer, and the matchless trees which adorn 
 their banks, have no glass wherein to mirror their beauty. 
 In all other respects — color, outline, harmony of forms — 
 there is nothing to be desired. Even the great plains of 
 Sacramento and San Joaquin are redeemed from tameness 
 by the superb framing of the distant mountains on either 
 side, and thus are far more beautiful than those dreary, 
 interminable prairies of the West, which fatigue the sight 
 with their monotony. The scenery of that portion of the 
 Sierra Nevada which I visited is less picturesque and strik- 
 ing than that of other mountain-chains of equal height, 
 owing to the uniform character of the great slopes between 
 the rivers, buttressing the central chain. The two or three 
 exceptions to this judgment, are Spartan canon, the 
 region about Mokelumne Hill, and Columbia. The valley 
 of the Yo-Semite, further south, is the one grand and 
 
200 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 incomparable feature of the Sierra Nevada. Further 
 north, however, the Shasta Peak, Lassen's Butte, and the 
 upper valley of the Sacramento, present a new series 
 of magnificent landscapes, forming the proper vestibule 
 through which to approach Oregon, with its giant cones of 
 solitary snow. 
 
 On the whole, California is a land where life seems to be 
 most plastic — where, so far as climate, soil, and scenery are 
 concerned, one may shape his existence in the most various 
 moulds. Within the range of two hundred miles, he may 
 live on the mountains, or by the sea — among pines or pome- 
 granates — in snow or flowers — in the maddest whirl of busi- 
 ness, or in dreamy indolence — on the confines of barbarism, 
 or the topmost round of civOization. Why not, then, escape 
 care, consumption, cold, neuralgia, fashion, bigotry, east- 
 winds, gossip, and chilblains, and fly to that happy shore ? 
 For one simple reason : It is too new — too recently fallen 
 into the possession of man — ^too far away from the great 
 centres of the world's life — too little touched, as yet, with 
 the genial influences of Art and Taste. Life, at present, is 
 beautiful there, but lonely ; and so it must remain for an- 
 other generation to come. In the valleys of the Coast 
 Range, Nature is in advance of Man. Gold is yet King — 
 though, I think, and hope, already beginning to shake a 
 little on his throne. 
 
 Taking into consideration the fact that California was 
 settled exclusively by persons in pursuit of wealth, and that 
 money-making is, more especially there than elsewhere, the 
 main object of life, the character of society is far less cold 
 and sordid than might have been expected. Even the 
 
NEW PICTDEES PEOM CALIFORNIA. 201 
 
 wealthy circles, composed of families from all parts of the 
 United States, and of all phases of refinement, have less 
 pretentiousness and exclusiveness than the same circles in 
 New York, Philadelphia, or Boston. There is a genial libe- 
 rality, courtesy, and heartiness of demeanor, which is as 
 refreshing as it is unexpected. A highly cultivated person 
 would, undoubtedly, find many agreeable associates in San 
 Francisco — though he might miss that vitalizing influence 
 which a productive class of authors, artists, and savans 
 always imparts to the intellect of a country. These are 
 flowers that only grow after all other kinds of growth have 
 been in a measure accomplished. 
 
 The influence of the climate has already made its impres- 
 sion on the character of the people. They will, in time, 
 exhibit the same combination of Northern and Southern 
 peculiarities.; and the result, 1 hope, will be as favorable 
 to their moral, as it undoubtedly will be to their physical 
 nature. If this should be so — ^if they should possess an 
 equal capacity for action and repose, warmth without fickle- 
 ness, principle without coldness, a broad and genial huma- 
 nity, earnestness combined with grace and softness, and a 
 perception of life's duties in the midst of its sensuous enjoy- 
 ments — there will at last be a happy American-born race. 
 But this is expecting too much. I confess, when I look 
 into the vile pit of California politics (holding my nose all 
 the time), and note what is the standard of honesty in pub- 
 lic afiairs, my hope grows small. It is no worse, I must 
 admit, than in the city of New York — an admission which 
 does not better my statement. The home of Literature 
 and Art, however, will be in the valleys near the coast — 
 
 9" 
 
202 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 not among the scarred and tortured hills of gold, where 
 official misrule most flourishes. 
 
 The children born in California are certainly a great im- 
 provement upon those born among us. Nowhere can more 
 rosy specimens of health and beauty be found. Strong- 
 limbed, red-blooded, graceful, and as full of happy animal 
 life as young fawns, they bid fair to develop into admirable 
 types of manhood and womanhood. To them, loving their 
 native soil with no acquired love — knowing no associations 
 which are not linked with its blue skies and its yellow hills, 
 we must look for its proper inhabitants, who wiU retain aU 
 that is vigorous, earnest, and generous in the present race, 
 I'ejecting all that is coarse and mean. For myself, in breath- 
 ing an air sweeter than that which first caught the honeyed 
 words of Plato — in looking upon lovelier vales than those 
 of Tempo and the Eurotas — in wandering through a land 
 whose sentinel peak of Shasta far overtops the Olympian 
 throne of Jupiter — I could not but feel that Nature must be 
 false to her promise, or Man is not the splendid creature 
 he once was, if the Art, and Literature, and Philosophy of 
 Ancient Greece are not one day rivalled on this last of in- 
 habited shores ! 
 
III. 
 
 A HOME IN THE THtJKINGIAlSr FOREST. 
 
 1. — Taking Possession. 
 
 July 1, 1861. 
 The postillion has driven off down the hill, the letter- 
 carrier has brought in the last small bundle, the landlady- 
 has opened the rooms and initiated us into all the mysteries 
 of closets, cupboards, and cellars — and here we are, at home ! 
 I herewith take possession of my little study, with its one 
 window opening on the mountains, and the writing cabinet, 
 (as small and plain as that which SchiUer used,) and feel 
 myself already lord and master of the cottage and garden, 
 and co-proprietor of the landscape. The air is so cold — ■ 
 after six days' rain — that we have kindled a fire of pine- 
 splints in the great earthenware stove. The fir-clad moun- 
 tains are black and lowering, and there is really, just at 
 this moment, no very cheerful point in the scenery, unless 
 it be the Felsenkeller, a rustic tavern on the ridge beside us, 
 where the beer is always of the best. 
 
204 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Nevertheless, the gloom of the evening is comiterhalanced 
 by our pleasant feeling of independence — ^by the knowledge 
 that we occupy a house which we can temporarily call our 
 own, conducting our housekeeping as we see fit. The 
 rooms are neatly but completely furnished ; a little bare, 
 perhaps, to an American eye, but we are accustomed to the 
 simplicity of German life, and, moreover, our home is rather 
 outside than inside the cottage. Still, it is well to know 
 that the beds are of fresh linen, that the supply of water is 
 ample, and that the cane arm chairs in the drawing-room 
 are agreeable to sit upon. A peep into the kitchen dis- 
 closed the surprising fact that we have butter, eggs, salad, 
 and raw Westphalian ham, and as Hanna, the tidy servant- 
 girl who awaited our arrival, has already made a fire in the 
 ponderous range, I feel that our supper is secure. Let no 
 apprehension for the morrow, therefore, disturb our first 
 day of possession ! 
 
 Really, this is the ideal of Travel. N"ot in great hotels, 
 where one lives according to fixed rules, or pays enormously 
 for breaking them — not in capitals, where the levelling 
 civilization of our century is fast annihilating social pecu- 
 liarities, and establishing, so to speak, a uniform gauge, 
 adapted to all nationalities, can one feel the pulse of a 
 foreign life. Men must be studied in their homes, and, 
 whenever possible, from a home among them. We must 
 find an empty cell in the hive, and inhabit the same, though 
 it be in the character of a drone. What the tent — the 
 wandering house of the nomad — is to the traveller on the 
 Tartar steppes, the furnished summer residence is to the 
 stranger in most European countries. But one must not, 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 205 
 
 like poor Tom Hood, on tlie Rhine, be so ignorant of the 
 language, as to have a bunch of quills put on the table 
 instead of a fowl, nor so wedded to his home habits as to 
 make himself unhappy because he cannot retain them. With 
 a little human flexibility, a catholic breadth of taste, and an 
 entii-e freedom from the prejudices of the Little Peddlington 
 in which most men are born, we may, without sacrificing a 
 jot of our individuality, without hazarding the loss of a 
 single principle, live the life of other races and other cli- 
 mates, and thus gather into our own the aggregate expe- 
 rience of Man. 
 
 This is the true HeimsJcringla, or World-Circle — the 
 completed sphere of life on this planet, whicb he must tra- 
 verse who shall write the yet unwritten human Cosmos. 
 
 — This little study, I find, illustrates a truth which is 
 known to authors, and to none else : that the range of 
 thought is in inverse proportion to the dimensions of the 
 material dwelling of the thinker. In other words, the nar- 
 rower your chamber, the wider your brain : hence poets 
 seek garrets by a natural instinct, and the philosopher who 
 could not sling a cat in his room assuredly never felt the 
 need of.that diversion. The mental labor which it would 
 be difficult to perform in a spacious Gothic hall, would be 
 comparatively easy in a low hut, with one window. If this 
 journal should be discursive — of which I have a strong pre- 
 sentiment — the reason will be apparent. 
 
 But where is our home ? A familiar spot in a foreign 
 land — distant, happily, from any capital, except that of a 
 small principality, aside from the highways of tourists, yet 
 embosomed in a region of the loveliest scenery, and breath- 
 
206 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 ing an atmospheve of song and saga. Thtiringia is the 
 Heart of Germany, embracing the scattered Saxon Duchies 
 of Gotha, Weimar, Meiningen, and Schwarzburg. Its soil 
 has not only witnessed the most picturesque episodes of 
 medieval German history, but is the home of the fairest 
 traditions, as, in later years, it has been the chosen home 
 ' of poets. 
 
 In a valley on the northern slope of the mountain-range 
 known as the Thtiringian Forest, separated by a low ridge 
 from the Ducal park and castle of Reinhardtsbrunn, lies the 
 little city of Friedrichsroda. Although claiming a remote 
 antiquity, like most of the towns hereabout, it was first 
 brought into notice by Frederic Perthes, the pious and suc- 
 cessful publisher, of whom you have doubtless heard. The 
 beauty of the scenery, the purity of the mountain air, and 
 its proximity to a number of attractive or historically famous 
 localities, gradually drew strangers hither, until the city 
 has now become a sort of summer suburb of Berlin. I say 
 " the city " intentionally, for, although the place has but 
 2,300 inhabitants, I should give offence by calling it a vil- 
 lage. There was formerly a sculptured head with wide-open 
 mouth, over the gate, recording the fate of a stranger, who, 
 on his arrival, asked " what is the name of this village ?" 
 He had no sooner said " village," than his jaws became set, 
 and his mouth remained open ; nor could he close it until 
 he perceived his error. The place was best known in the 
 Middle Ages by a malicious song which the jealous inhabit- 
 ants of the neighboring towns were accustomed to sing, 
 One verse thereof will be sufficient : 
 
A HOME IN THE TIIUKKSTGIAN FOREST. 207 
 
 " Tell me, of what is the ehuroli-spire made, 
 
 Oho, in Friedrichsroda ? 
 They took and killed a lean old cow. 
 And made the spire of her tail, I trow, 
 
 Oho, in Friedriohsroda!" 
 
 It is nearly nine years since, descending from the heights 
 of the Inselsberg, I first saw the quiet, peaceful, pleasant 
 little city, lying in its green valley-basin, with a protecting 
 rim of dark forests. I then made some acquaintances 
 which, in the course of time, and through the course of 
 circumstances, became family connections, and thus it is 
 that I now find myself here. Three years ago my friend 
 Dr. K. built a summer cottage in his garden, above the 
 town, on the ridge between Friedrichsroda andEeinhardts- 
 brunn, commanding a charming view of both valleys. This 
 cottage I kept in my mind, and was so fortunate as to secure 
 it before leaving home, as a little eddy into which I might 
 whirl and rest for a few weeks, out of reach of the roaring 
 stream. My predecessor. Dr. Petermann, the distinguished 
 geographer, left no inharmonious associations behind him. 
 The invisible pictures of Timbuctu, and the "White Nile, 
 and the Tanganyika Lake, which no doubt cover the blue- 
 papered walls of my study, might have floated out of my 
 own brain. Palms and crocodiles and hippopotami ! They 
 are to me as welcome and as familiar as the stately firs 
 which I can see by lifting my head, or the three ravens on 
 the grass before my window. 
 
 One only thought disturbs the peace and seclusion of my 
 mountain home. I do not need to close my eyes, to see 
 that long, imperial street, transformed into an avenue of 
 
208 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 banners — to see the sudden blossoming of national colors 
 from every roof, every oliurch-spire, every hilltop — to see 
 the " sun-burst" of Freedom spreading southward in a 
 mighty arc, slowly driving before it the black cloud of 
 tyranny and treachery. I see my noble countrymen, God 
 bless them ! creating a race of heroes, fefreshing our slow 
 commercial blood from the fountains of sublime self-sacrifice 
 and purest patriotism ; I wait for the tardy messages which 
 reach me across the Atlantic, and with every new instance 
 that a great people is thoroughly in earnest, with every 
 illustration of bravery, and endurance, and devotion to the 
 good cause, I hear a voice saying, like Henry of Navarre : 
 " Pends-toi, hrave Grillon : nous avons comiattu, et tu ri'y 
 Stois pas !" My consolation is, that if " they also serve, 
 who only stand and wait,'' in the present crisis they who 
 are afar from the field of action may yet make themselves 
 echoes of the battle-trumpets — interpreters of the war-cries, 
 to these millions of European spectators. 
 
 Yes ! Here, at this distance, I see truly the significance 
 of the struggle. Here, where, in years past, I have com- 
 bated hostile opinions, grappled with tough monarchical 
 prejudices, and exhausted myself in endeavors to make our 
 political system clear to minds which, otherwise well in- 
 structed, had not the least comprehension of its character 
 — my present difiiculty is, not to show that the rebellion 
 should be suppressed, but to show how it could possibly 
 have arisen. The fatal imbecility of Buchanan's adminis- 
 tration has seriously damaged our prestige abroad: any 
 liesitancy, any tampering with treason, any failure on the 
 p.irt of our rulers to press the war boldly and vigorously 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOEEST. 209 
 
 to a conclusion, would complete the mischief. In Europe, 
 it is our republican form of government that is on ti-ial. A 
 despotic assumption of power would injure us far less, in 
 the present instance, than an exhibition of weakness. As 
 an orthodox believer in self-government, my constant pray- 
 er is : " God preserve us from the shame, the ineradicable 
 infamy of Peace on any other terms than the unconditional 
 submission of the traitors !" 
 
 The postman has returned with a manuscript-book, in 
 which we are required to write our names. At the same 
 time he is authorized to receive " contributions," which go 
 into a common fund for the preservation of the forest-paths, 
 of the numerous benches, or "rests'' as they are called, and 
 for newspapers for the reading-room. The latter institution, 
 I have discovered, is no other than the aforesaid Felsen- 
 keller, where one can read Tlie Cologne and The National 
 Gazette, it is true, but is expected to drink a mug of beer 
 at the same time. As for the paths and benches, there is 
 no part of the world where the convenience of strangers is 
 so carefully consulted, as here. The entire mountain-region, 
 fifty miles in extent, resembles a private park, traversed by 
 macadamized highways, gravelled foot-paths, and with com- 
 fortable benches or even arbors at every possible point where 
 the scenery offers any attraction for the eye. Fancy the 
 White Mountain group civilized in a similar manner ! This 
 is Nature stripped of her paint and feathers, washed, and 
 her nakedness decently covered. You may admire the 
 strength and primitive rudeness of the savage, but you 
 
210 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 better love the tamed domestic creature ■who sympathizes 
 with your calm, cheerful, or reflective mood, walks by your 
 side with ordered stejo, and can sit down with you, quietly, 
 in the sweet, rosy silence of the long summer evening. 
 
 2. — ^How WB Spent the Fourth. 
 
 July 4th — E-tenino-. 
 
 On awaking this morning, I became aware of an unusual 
 sound of hammering about the cottage. A mysterious 
 whispering between the two servant-maids in the passage 
 also attracted my attention. I went into the salon, which 
 opens upon the veranda, and was surprised to find two 
 long ladders reared in front of the glass-doors. Dr. . K. 
 standing on the grass-plot, under an apple-tree, appeared 
 to be gazing steadfastly at the roof. As we found the 
 house in admirable condition, I was curious to ascertain 
 what repairs or improvements he had in view. There were 
 two men on the ladders, employed in fixing the last clamp 
 to a flag-staff which rose from the apex of the gable. .Tust 
 then, a breeze came down from the mountains and blew 
 out the folds of — an American flag ! Yes — our national 
 banner, although it contained but six stripes ; for the good 
 Dr., in his anxiety to give me at once a surprise and a 
 welcome on this day of all days, had been more kind than 
 correct. But the stars were all there. The whole thirty- 
 four glittered in the blue field, in defiance of secession or 
 compromise ; and thus the first American flag which ever 
 
A HOME IN THE THUBINGIAN FOREST. 211 
 
 waved above the Thtiringian Forest was no symbol of a 
 divided Union ! How brightly the red stripes shone against 
 the background of the firs! How the stars seemed to 
 lighten and sparkle in the morning sun ! 
 
 To-day, it occurs to me, is the pivot on which our politi- 
 cal balance turns. As the men who this day meet in 
 Washington shall decide, shall Honor or Disgrace, Weak- 
 ness or Strength, prevail. I am so far away that the 
 involuntary conflict of hope and fear is worse than useless, 
 and before these words can reach America, the doubt will 
 either be dissolved in hopeful confidence, or deepened into 
 desperation. This much is certain : the path of Honor, of 
 Duty, of Patriotism is plain — there is but one. Woe to 
 the Republic, if that path be not followed ! 
 
 — The weather, thus far, has not been propitious for our 
 contemplated mountain walks. Unhappily, after a fort- 
 night of splendid weather, it rained last week, on the day 
 of the Seven Sleepers ! This, in German weather-prophecy, 
 denoted rain every day for seven weeks thereafter ; and, this 
 year, the rule seems likely to hold good. The sun rises in 
 cloudless splendor, but by seven o'clock the sky is overcast : 
 heavy bluish-gray clouds drag along the mountain-tops : 
 distant thunder is heard, and presently a hard shower 
 comes driving from the West. In half an hour the sky is 
 blue, the meadows sparkle, and snowy masses of cumuli 
 topple over the forests. We rejoice at the prospect of a 
 lovely afternoon, and straightway plan an excursion to one 
 of the legendary spots in the neighborhood. Perhaps we 
 are already under way, enjoying the warmth and sunshine, 
 heedless of an ominous blackness which is gathering behind 
 
212 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 the Evil Mountain — evil, indeed, to us! — until, suddenly, 
 the sun vanishes, and a far-off rustic among the woods 
 announces the inevitable fate. 
 
 It is singular how slight a degree of heat suffices to 
 provoke a thunder-shower in this region. Even to an 
 American, accustomed to sudden changes of temperature, 
 the continual vibrations of the thermometer are far from 
 agreeable. Two or three hours of sunshine, at 80°, and 
 you see the gray vails of showers on the horizon. Then 
 the air is suddenly cooled for a time, but becomes close and 
 sultry again as soon as the breeze falls. The latitude 
 (nearly 51°) is partly accountable for these vagaries, yet 
 I attribute them principally to the fact that the spine of the 
 Thtiringian forest, which is only about three miles above . 
 us, divides two weather systems, which occasionally over- 
 lap each other. It is difficult to realize that less rain falls 
 here annually than in our Middle States, and I am inclined 
 to suspect that the comparison was based on the estimate 
 of a single year, which did not represent the normal average. 
 In the chronicles of the country there are accounts of years 
 in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, when so much 
 rain fell that the harvests were destroyed, and thousands 
 of persons died of hunger and of a pestilence engendered 
 by the rotten grain. On the other hand, it is true that the 
 streams which issue from these mountains are remarkably 
 small, and but slightly swollen after heavy rains. The deep 
 bed of spongy moss which forms the floor of the forests, 
 holds much of the moisture, and perhaps accounts for both 
 facts. 
 
 An atmospheric phenomenon, scarcely known to us, is of 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 213 
 
 frequent occurrence here. It is called the cloudrburst, a 
 term which describes its character. The clouds, heavily 
 laden, and balled or rolled together by the wind, suddenly 
 break down under their combined burden, and discharge a 
 deluge of water, which often occasions immense damage 
 to the fields and herds. Where the burst takes place at 
 the head of a narrow valley, an instantaneous flood is 
 formed, from ten to twenty feet in depth, uprooting trees 
 and sweeping houses from their foundations. A few weeks 
 ago the town of Skohlen, not far from Jena, was visited 
 by one of these cloud-bursts, whereby thirteen persons 
 were drowned and more than twenty buUdiugs destroyed. 
 In countries which have not yet been denuded of their 
 forests, such a phenomenon is less likely to occur. Rich- 
 ardson describes a cloud-burst which overwhelmed his 
 camp at Tin-tellust, on the frontier of Asben, in the Sahara, 
 and our trappers can tell of others on the plains. 
 
 Hail-storms are so frequent and so destructive in North- 
 ern Germany, that the prudent farmer always insures his 
 grain in the Hail Insurance Company — a regular branch of 
 the insurance business. The hail-cloud is recognized at a 
 distance by the hard, cold, yellowish-white color of its 
 dropping curtain. Its upper edges are often of a pale 
 brownish hue. Even when it passes by at a distance, it 
 chills the atmosphere far and wide, as an iceberg chills the 
 sea^air. 
 
 This morning dawned so brightly, and the scattered 
 clouds hung so lazily around the bottom of the sky, that 
 we felt tolerably sure of a favorable day for our private 
 festival. At ten o'clock the postillion's horn announced 
 
214 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the approach of our friends, and the post-chaise slowly 
 climbed the hill, and discharged its cargo of four ladies, 
 two gentlemen, one child, and a supply of meat and drink, 
 at our door. There were cordial greetings, for we had 
 been separated three days, and those whose hospitality we 
 had so often enjoyed — or rather claimed as a right — were 
 now for the first time our guests. To honor them, as well 
 as the day, I had sent to the landlord at Reinhardtsbrunn 
 and ordered six pounds of trout, fresh from the tank. 
 I also secured a supply of the nobler German beverage, as 
 was meet, and therewith my duties ended. 
 
 Our guests took eager possession of the veranda and 
 garden ; the children first embraced and then pulled each 
 other's hair, and thus the festive machinery was put in 
 motion. In Germany one does not need to go around 
 with a conversational oil-pot and grease the individual cogs 
 and cranks ; the wheels turn as soon as they touch. It is 
 as easy as rolling a snow-ball down a steep hill. The least 
 impetus is sufficient. The ball increases in volume as well 
 as in swiftness, and the only danger is in attempting to 
 stop it. This, of course, where the material is not too 
 composite ; though, even in this respect, you can safely 
 combine more various elements than in any other society 
 I know of 
 
 In England, a successful dinner-party is the result of 
 consummate art. The social ingredients are as carefully 
 measured and mixed as in a sauce or a salad. The oil of 
 Mr. A. is secured to neutralize the vinegar of Mr. B. 
 The Misses X. are the chickens, those promising young 
 gentlemen the lettuce, rich Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so the 
 
A. HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 215 
 
 lobster, and somebody else the mustard. The host is 
 usually the spoon. Here, I am glad to say, there is more 
 nature and less calculation. Repellant substances are 
 avoided, of course, but the attractive quality of the social 
 atoms is much greater. Another advantage — it is a part 
 of German politeness to talk. A " wall-flower" or a 
 " dummy" is the rarest apparition. Johanna Kinkel, with 
 a good deal of truth, calls the habitual silence of many 
 really intelligent English-women a laziness of the jaws. 
 Such persons have no scruple in shirking their share of 
 social duty. They find it less trouble to look on and listen, 
 caring not that their silence becomes a rock, against which 
 the flow of social feeling is turned aside. Who does not 
 know how one moody individual may obstruct the sunshine 
 of a whole company of cheerfully-attuned persons? Soci- 
 ety, while offering enjoyment of the highest character, 
 imposes a corresponding obligation — a fact which many 
 honest and worthy people seem not to recognize. 
 
 In the German language there is no epithet which exactly 
 translates our word bore, or its intensification, vampyre. 
 The nearest approach to it, " lemsieder," means, literally, 
 " a boiler of glue," and applies especially to a man who 
 takes you by the button-hole. This fact, alone, indicates a 
 more correct social culture — at least, so far as the social 
 duties are concerned. There is no society without its 
 faults, which have their root in faults of national character. 
 Of these I shall speak at another time. Let me now 
 return to the Fourth of July. 
 
 There was no reading of the Declaration of Independence, 
 for the very good reason that we have no copy thereof 
 
216 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Neither was there an oration portraying the greatness and 
 glory of Our Country, because it has yet to be demon- 
 strated, by the last and severest test, that our country is 
 truly great and glorious. On this day of this year, 1861, 
 orations are out of place. But a divided family, united 
 for the first time in three years, took their places at the 
 round table, and when the trout and the roast-beef (quite 
 as much an American as an English reminiscence) had 
 disappeared, a young German spoke thus : " Seeing that 
 we, whose hopes and labors are directed toward the esta- 
 blishment of German unity and nationality, cannot be 
 indifferent to the preservation of the American Union, 
 which is in many respects the realization of our own political 
 ideas — seeing that so many of our countrymen have become 
 American citizens, and that a thousand ties of blood and 
 friendship unite us — seeing, moreover, that in the present 
 struggle we recognize a conflict between Barbarism and 
 Civilization, between Anarchy and Order, let us drink to 
 the success of the Defenders of the Union, and the triumph 
 of the Good Cause !" 
 
 We all rose and drank the toast standing, and the silvery 
 clinking of the glasses was like a peal of distant bells, 
 ringing in the (let us hope) not distant day of our national 
 redemption. 
 
 After one of the inevitable showers, the day again 
 became bright and balmy. Our arm-chairs were trans- 
 ferred to the shadow of an apple-tree on the little lawn, 
 and while the younger ladies indulged in a somewhat 
 irregular game of ball, we enjoyed anew the beauty of 
 the landscape in the enjoyment of our friends. At our 
 
A HOME IN THE THUllINGrAN FOREST. 217 
 
 feet lay Friedrichsroda, its tiled roofs crowded together ia 
 a long line through the middle of the valley. The slopes 
 on either side, divided into narrow strips of grain, varying 
 in growth and color, are evenly covered, as with a ribbed 
 velvet carpet, above which, dark and grand, stand the fir 
 forests. At the bottom of the valley, facing us, is the 
 Badger Mountain, rising square against the sunny blue and 
 gold of the distant hills. Southward, wooded to the 
 summit, stands the Kernberg, divided by a shady glen from 
 the Praise-God (Gottlob) — a conical hill, from the western 
 slope of which rise shattered pillars of basalt, the topmost 
 crowned with a rustic temple. Between the Praise-God 
 and the Wolf's-steep opens a deep mountain valley, gloom- 
 ing purple with its forests. On the other side we see the 
 profile of the Abbot's Mountain, green with beeches, over- 
 looking Reinhardtsbrunn, and behind it the Evil Mountain, 
 whence comes all our weather-woe. Groups of summer 
 guests are constantly threading the lanes, or climbing to 
 the benches disposed along the heights, and the three asses 
 in the town are always in requisition to carry children or 
 female invalids. Women pass us, laden with basket-loads 
 of hay from the meadows, or fir-twigs from the hills ; the 
 men work among their turnip and potato fields ; carriages 
 rattle along the highways, and every morning and evening 
 we hear the multitudinous chime of the cow-bells, as the 
 herds are driven out to their pastures. The landscape, 
 with all its beauty, is full of life, which is the greatest 
 beauty of all. 
 
 The evening came, and with it the postillion, blowing : 
 
 10 
 
218 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 " A rose in his hat, and a staff in his hand, 
 Tlie pilgrim must wander from land unto land ; 
 Through many a city, o'er many a plain, 
 But ah I he must leave them, must wander again!" 
 
 And so it was with our friends. The grandfather must 
 back to his telescope and the new comet : there were 
 household duties for the women — expected relatives from 
 afar : each was bound by some one of the strands which 
 go to make up the thread of life. And, after they had 
 left, I took up this, my own particular strand, which having 
 spun to this length, I now leave until I receive a fresh 
 supply of material- — silk, or flax, or spider-gossamer — any- 
 thing but Cotton ! 
 
 3. — Rbinhaedtsbetjnn", and its Legend. 
 
 .TnLT 6, 1861. 
 
 Within a mile of our cottage is the castle of Reinhardts- 
 brunn, one of the summer residences of Ernest 11., the 
 reigning Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. As a specimen of 
 landscape gardening, the surrounding park is unsurpassed 
 by any similar spot on the Continent. The castle is built 
 on the ruins of a former Benedictine monastery, which 
 owed its foundation to one of the most romantic passages 
 of ThCiringian history. The first landgrave of Thiiringia 
 was Ludwig the Bearded, who, in the first half of the 
 eleventh century, built the castle of Sehauenburg, (just 
 beyond the Wolf-steop, and almost visible from my window,) 
 and made himself master of all the region round about. 
 
m^^'W^i:- 
 
A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN F0KE5T. 219 
 
 His eldest son Ludwig succeeded to the title and posses- 
 sions. The latter was a stalwart, handsome fellow, and it 
 is perhaps comprehensible that Adelheid, wife of the Count 
 Palatinate of Weissenburg, should have loved him, in pre- 
 ference to her husband. Unfortunately for both, the 
 passion was mutual, and a quarrel, purposely brought on, 
 resulted in the death of the Count Palatinate, at the hands 
 of his wife's lover. 
 
 A year afterwards the guilty pair were wedded, but the 
 matter having come to the ears of the Emperor, Henry 
 IV., he ordered the landgrave to be arrested. The latter 
 refused to obey the mandate, but was finally taken by 
 stratagem and confined in the fortress of Giebiohenstein, 
 near Halle. Here he remained two years and eight months, 
 waiting for trial. (Justice appears to have been as slow, 
 if not as blind a divinity, then, as now !) Finally, weary 
 of the long confinement, he pretended to be mortally sick, 
 and was allowed to see a servant who was to bear his last 
 message to bis wife. The servant, however, received 
 orders to bring the landgrave's white horse. The Swan, to 
 the meadow below the castle, on a certain day. When the 
 time arrived, the landgrave, who continually complained 
 of cold and was wrapped in thick mantles, tottered to the 
 window as if to take a last look at the sun. The six 
 knights who guarded him were absorbed in a game of 
 chess. The castle was built on a rock, overhanging the 
 river Saale. The prisoner, with a cry of " Holy Virgin 
 Mary, save thy servant!" leaped from the window. The 
 mantles spread out, broke the force of the fall, and he 
 descended safely a hundred feet into the water. A fishing- 
 
220 AT HOME AND -ABKOAD. 
 
 Iboat, purposely in waiting, picked him up, and in a few 
 minutes afterwards he was on the back of the Swan, 
 speeding homewards. 
 
 For this daring feat he received the name of Ludwig the 
 Leaper, by which he is still known in German history. 
 
 Notwithstanding the matter was finally compromised, 
 and the landgrave allowed to retain his possessions, neither 
 he nor his wife was happy. They had conscience enough 
 to be troubled by the remembrance of their crime ; and so 
 it happened once, on a Good Friday, that Adelheid placed 
 dishes of fowl and game before her husband. Whereupon, 
 he marvelling that she should expect him to sin in this 
 manner, she answered : " Should this sin be worth consider- 
 ing, in comparison with that other sin whereof we have 
 not yet repented ?" Both wept, and consulted as to what 
 penance was proper. The result was a journey to Rome. 
 The Pope promised them complete absolution, provided 
 the landgrave should build and richly endow a monastery, 
 and his wife, in like manner, establish a nunnery. The 
 former returned to his home in the Schauenburg, and 
 busied himself with the choice of a site, but for a long 
 time found himself unable to decide upon one. 
 
 His attention was finally directed to the neighboring 
 valley, where, deep in the forest, lived a potter named 
 Reinhardt. There, beside a strong fountain which gushed 
 from the earth, this potter saw, at night, two lights like 
 candles, which disappeared whenever he approached them. 
 The landgrave, having himself witnessed the phenomenon, 
 accepted it as a sign from above, and founded the stately 
 monastery of Roinhardtsbrunn on the site of the potter's 
 
A HOME TJSr THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 221 
 
 humble cottage. This was in the year 1089, according to 
 the chronicles, but more probably in 1098. A few years 
 afterwards, Ludwig the Leaper became a monk, and 
 remained in the monastery until his death, in 1123. 
 
 The place was completely ransacked and destroyed 
 during the Bauernkrieg, or Peasants' War, and remained 
 a ruin until the accession of Ernest I. of Coburg (father 
 of the present Duke) to the sovereignty of Saxe-Gotha. 
 This prince removed the tottering walls of the old monas- 
 tery and built a summer palace on the foundations. The 
 material used was a warm gray sandstone, found in the neigh- 
 boring mountain, and the style that domestic Gothic which 
 harmonizes so exquisitely with the forms of a If orthern 
 landscape. The old Duke also restored the monkish fish- 
 ponds, and completely remodelled the gardens, woods, and 
 meadows, but with a sparing and beautifying, not a des- 
 troying hand. In this respect, his taste was admirable. 
 He appreciated scenery with the intuition of an artist, and 
 knew where to prune, and where to plant, so as to attain 
 that ideal grace and loveliness which Nature, unassisted, 
 can never reach. 
 
 There ought to be some better name for this faculty 
 and its exercise. " Landscape gardening" is both incon- 
 gruous and incomplete. The German expression, "Art- 
 gardener," is better ; but the idea of a garden is too limited, 
 when the artist's plan embraces the landscape to its furthest 
 horizon. In his eyes, all its features are, to a certain 
 extent, plastic. That which he cannot change or remove, 
 he can throw into perspective, or so conceal by the inter- 
 vention of other forms, that its individual ugliness shall 
 
222 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 become a component part of the general beauty. To con- 
 tracted spaces he can impart a character of expansion; 
 dead levels he breaks by picturesque interruptions ; he 
 works not alone for the eye, but excites the fancy by stolen 
 glimpses which hint at some concealed charm. He collects 
 the wandering rills, and opens a mirrored under-sky, to 
 brighten the too uniform green ; he arranges his trees with 
 regard to their forms and tints, to the lights they catch 
 and the shadows they cast, until they stand as far in 
 beauty above the uncultured woods as the pediment-groups 
 of Grecian temples are above a group of ordinary men. 
 He sees, like the sculptor, the suggestions of Nature, and 
 pilfers the graces of a hundred forms to blend them 
 harmoniously in one ideal. Should not this Earth^sealp- 
 ture have its place among the Fine Arts ? 
 
 The park, or garden-park, of Reinhardtsbrunn (for it is 
 neither alone, but a combination of the two) is an almost 
 perfect illustration of the art. The lower ridges of the 
 Querberg and E-einhardtsberg, thrust out at right angles to 
 the axis of the Thtiringian Forest, inclose it on either side, 
 and the lofty Abbot's Mountain, a part of the main chain, 
 fills up the intervening space. Northward, the brook, fed 
 by its ponds, flows toward the plain through a narrow, 
 falling glen. The castle, with its picturesque confusion of 
 towers, Gothic gables, and quaint out-buildings, stands 
 near the foot of Reinhardtsberg, on an ii-regular, natural 
 terrace, sloping toward the water on two sides. The land- 
 scape visible therefrom has a length of two miles and a 
 half, with an average breadth of three-quarters of a mile. 
 Though not wholly included in the park, it is subjected to 
 
A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOKEST. 223 
 
 the artist's will, to the very summits of the mountains, and 
 the transitions from fir-forest and meadow to the shelvy 
 terraces of roses and verbenas, from evergreen to decidu- 
 ous trees, from ivied castle and gravelled avenues to the 
 seclusion of bowery foot-paths and the sun-sprinkled 
 shade of the woods, are so skilfully managed that you fail 
 to distinguish the boundaries. You see but one rich, 
 harmonious, many-featured, enchanting picture. 
 
 In the forms and colors of the trees, and their disposition 
 with regard to each other and to the character of their 
 background, we detect that art which never appears as art 
 — never can offend, because it is developed through the 
 ordinary processes of Nature. Plant a tree, and it will 
 take, of itself, its own characteristic form. Nature, how- 
 ever, can simply produce ; she cannot combine and arrange. 
 She will not plant yonder weeping-ash on the slope, so that 
 its outer boughs shall just touch the water : she will not 
 rear those purple beeches to relieve the huge green masses 
 of the ancient lindens, nor give the silver birch an airy 
 lightness and distinctness by a background of pine. She 
 plants weeds among the flowers and ripple-grass in the 
 turf, muffles the brook with autumn leaves, and fills the 
 pond with sickly water-mosses. 
 
 Here there is nothing of that. She is kept clean and 
 healthy by a regimen which simply aims at developing her 
 highest beauty. There seems to be, verily, a joyous con- 
 sciousness thereof in the trees and flowers. Nowhere 
 stunted, nowhere deformed, they give to the summer the 
 deepest tints, the richest undulations of foliage. The sun- 
 beams touch them with a softer splendor, and their shadows 
 
224 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 liave a clearer purple or violet than elsewhere. In the late 
 afternoon, when golden breaks of light stream down the 
 long meadows, between the cloudlike gloom of the forests, 
 turning the turf to fiery velvet, smiting the lakes and the 
 red-and-white flag on the floating skiff; when the banks 
 of flowers burn with blinding color, and the venerable firs 
 of the Reinhardtsberg take the hue of bronze, and the 
 wooded glen beyond swims in hazy shadow, it is the land- 
 scape of a brighter planet, a transfigured earth. 
 
 At the bottom of the valley, where it contracts into the 
 glen, there is a spacious inn, which has a wide renown for 
 its good though somewhat expensive cheer. At all hours of 
 the day, unless the rain is unusually hard, the out-door tables 
 and benches, under the shelter of the firs, are frequented 
 by visitors from all parts of the Thtlringian Forest. We 
 sometimes go thither for tea, and find it difficult to obtain 
 places among the crowd. The fat waiter, and his two 
 juvenile assistants, go back and forth with empty or foam- 
 ing beer-glasses, sausages, black bread, raw ham, fermented 
 cheese, cucumbers, salted sardines, or trout and potatoes. 
 The German supper usually consists of some of these 
 articles, each of which has a positive flavor. The cheese, 
 even in the open air, must frequently be covered with a 
 glass bell, on account of its powerful odor of decomposi- 
 tion. It seems to improve in digestible quality, however, 
 in proportion as it becomes insufferable to the nostrils. 
 Beer is the unvarying masculine beverage. The ladies 
 di'ink tea, or a mixture of beer, water, sugar, and black 
 bread, which is called " music .'" It is a very weak har- 
 mony indeed. 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOEEST. 225 
 
 It is singular that, with their fondness for the open air, 
 the Germans should have such a dread of " draughts," in 
 houses and railway-carriages. Doors and windows are 
 closed as soon as there is a motion in the air. On entering 
 a shop, on a warm day, you are generally told "Pray, 
 put your hat on : you are warm." Nay, this goes so far 
 that by many intelligent persons (hereabouts at least) colds 
 are considered contagious. Possibly, one cause of such a 
 physical sensitiveness is the difference of temperature be- 
 tween the sun and shade, which is more marked in a North- 
 ern latitude. Prof. Bergfalk, of Upsala, told me that 
 during his first summer in America he lived in great dread 
 of the draughts to which he was exposed, until he found 
 that his health did not suffer. On returning to Sweden, 
 however, he resumed his former sensitiveness. 
 
 — It is impossible to write more this evening, while the 
 sunset beckons from the mountains,— especially when my 
 household, bonneted and shawled, is beckoning also. I am 
 not hard to move, for I prefer the outer to the inner air, 
 the reality to the description. So, here is the last ink I 
 shall shed to-day. Rest, you weary steel, that are not 
 always mightier than the sword ! 
 
 4. — The Fikst Geeman Shootisg-Match. 
 
 July 12, 1861. 
 Here is already a considerable gap in my journal, and 
 the reader, referring to his own experience, may suspect 
 that my undertaking is beginning to flag. Only the most 
 
 10* 
 
226 AT HOME AlfD ABROAD. 
 
 ultra-methodical minds are capable of noting down tbeir 
 " thoughts, feelings, &c." (as the school-girls say) day after 
 day, whether or no there is anything to note. For my 
 part, having so many a dies non to record, I have never 
 been able to hold out longer than two months, except upon 
 my journeys abroad. I was recently very much amused at 
 finding, among some old papers, a journal conscientiously 
 commenced at the age of ten, to be continued thenceforth 
 indefinitely ; but on the eighth day the entry stood — " wea- 
 ther cloudy, and I find it impossible to keep a journal !" 
 
 After all, I presume the true explanation is, that a jour- 
 nal, to be really worth anything to the writer thereof, must 
 be a confessional in the broadest sense of the word — a record 
 of weakness and error, as well as of good deeds or good 
 resolutions. Everybody agrees that the true history of one 
 life would be worth all the romances ever written, yet no- 
 body writes the whole truth, even for his own eyes, lest 
 other eyes should accidentally get sight of it. In Stifter's 
 story of the " Fortress of Fools," the heads of the family, 
 in a direct line, write their own secret biography, which 
 each one places in a rock-hewn chamber, whereto he only 
 possesses the key — which, with the obligation to continue 
 the history, he transmits to his son. The result is, in the 
 course of a few centuries, a race of madmen. There are 
 few eyes steady enough to look on the absolute Truth — few 
 hands bold enough to lift the last veil from the image in the 
 temple of Sals. 
 
 I, however, whose journal is personal only so far as I am 
 connected with scenes and subjects which may interest my 
 friendly readers, am not troubled by these considerations. 
 
A HOME IN THE THURINGIAISr TOEEST. 227 
 
 The simple fact is, we have all been absent for the past four 
 days, attending a Pan-Germanic festival in the neighboring 
 city. The great popular movement which now prevails, 
 from the Alps to the Baltic, has for its basis the idea of 
 National Unity. It is singular to note how unsteadily the 
 political balance is held in the hands of nations. As the 
 scale rises in one hemisphere, it sinks in the other. Here, 
 where in spite of the jealousies, the hostilities even, of a 
 thousand years, in spite of differences of character, cus- 
 toms, dialects, ideas, institutions, and creeds, there is an 
 earnest desire to kindle a spirit of patriotism which shall 
 rise above all narrower distinctions, and lay the foundation 
 of one great and homogeneous empire : while, across the 
 Atlantic, the same principle is violently assailed, and the 
 Nation's blood and treasure must be spent to prove that 
 she is a nation, in fact. The miserable divisions from which 
 Italy is being healed, which Germany is leaving behind her 
 by sounder and safer paths than she chose in '48, which 
 even the Slavic and Scandinavian races are seeking to avoid, 
 are now racking our political frame. Is this a disease from 
 which our land can only be freed, by communicating it to 
 another ? 
 
 Gotha had been excited, for weeks in advance, by the 
 anticipation of the Convention of German Riflemen, which 
 was appointed to meet on the 8th. As this was the first 
 convention of the kind which embraced all Germany, and 
 had therefore a political significance, there was much fear 
 that the little city would not be able to hold all her guests. 
 She resolved, at least, that they should be worthily enter- 
 tained, and her citizens (with the exception of the nobility, 
 
228 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 who, for the most part, stood sullenly aloof,) spared neither 
 pains nor expense. Hundreds of houses were opened for 
 the strangers ; flags were made, wreaths woven, triumphal 
 arches built, and prizes, by scores, contributed for the vic- 
 tors. Silver goblets came from the Duke and Duchess, the 
 Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia, Prince Albert, and 
 the Free Cities ; rifles and revolvers ; sets of silver spoons, 
 cases of wine, gold watches, embroidered gun-belts and 
 game-bags, shoes, meerschaum pipes, cigars, portfolios, 
 cushions, books and statuettes ; and even the children's 
 schools in the neighborhood brought together their pfen- 
 nings to buy some trifle which should represent their inter. 
 est in the festival. 
 
 It was pleasant to witness this universal sympathy with 
 a' movement which, however indirect its political influence 
 might be, was at least directly attacked by the Reactionary 
 Party, and therefore, to that extent, a political expression. 
 I rejoiced with my German friends, not only for the sake 
 of Germany, but because the least progress anywhere helps 
 Progress everywhere. During the whole of last week the 
 weather was watched with great anxiety, and every addi- 
 tional shower was welcomed, since it lessened the proba- 
 bility of continued rain, in spite of the Seven Sleepers. 
 Even when Sunday came, and dark thunder-clouds, rising 
 in the West, took their way to the Thtlringian Forest or the 
 distant Hartz, they said "let it rain !" The companies of 
 riflemen who were to arrive would have a wet reception, it 
 was true, but better that than have the grand procession on 
 the morrow spoiled by a storm. 
 
 As this procession was to be organized at seven in the 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 229 
 
 morning, we drove over to Gotha in the afternoon, during 
 an interregnum of sunshine between two storms. The trees 
 of Reinhardtsbrunn sparkled with unshed rain-drops ; the 
 Horsel Mountain (the home of the minstrel Tannhauser) 
 stood out, bare and yellow as a mountain of Palestine against 
 the dark sky ; and in the village of Wahlwinkel the wife- 
 stork, standing up in her nest, was drying her wet wings in 
 the sun. Ah! here is at once the entrance to another - 
 digression : but no ! I will avoid the by-path, pastoral and 
 pleasant though it be, and follow the highway of my nar- 
 rative. I will return to the storks to-morrow. 
 
 From afar, over the trees, the old banner of the German 
 Empii-e — black, red, and gold, in "horizontal bars — waved a 
 welcome. It is not ten years since these colors were pro- 
 hibited in almost every part of Germany. As we entered 
 the suburbs, the colors of Saxony (green and white) 
 and Thiiringia (red and white) floated from every house, 
 subordinate, however, to the all-embracing national flag. 
 The streets leading to the railroad-station, whence came 
 the sound of music, were crowded with riflemen, hurrying 
 down to welcome expected corps from abroad. On reach- 
 ing our family home, we found the gentlemen sporting 
 badges of white satin, and Fraulein Hildegarde trying on 
 her wreath of oak-leaves before the looking-glass. She was 
 one of a hundred maidens who, thus crowned, in white 
 dresses, with scarfs of red, black, and gold, were to take 
 part in the procession. 
 
 Presently we hear the yelling of two locomotives, which 
 come slowly up the grade from the direction of Weimar, 
 drawing twelve ears. We make for an arbor, overlooking 
 
230 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the main avenue, up whioh the strangers must march. 
 Trumpets blow, the people rush past, the thunders rattle, 
 out goes the sunshme and down comes the rain ! We hud- 
 dle together in the leafy house, which affords but slight 
 protection against the driving sheets of water. But in half 
 an hour the sun follows, and a double rainbow, complete 
 and magnificent, arches above the Seeberg. The trumpets 
 blow again, the target-men in scarlet caps and shirts tramp 
 by with the baggage, the hacks, garlanded with flowers, 
 follow, and then the riflemen with their escort, cheerfully 
 keeping step on the muddy road. The banners and the 
 crowds of spectators are their only welcome. There is no 
 shouting — no waving of hats. The Germans have not yet 
 learned that. They have been kept silent so long that they 
 have not the full use of their voices. 
 
 In the morning, we set out betimes for the market-square 
 in the centre of the city, where the procession was to form. 
 I had the honor of escorting Hildegarde, in her oak-wreath 
 and scarf. From under the linden boughs of the park two 
 other German maidens sprang out to meet us, and the three 
 formed a vanguard, before which the crowd fell back and 
 made us a passage. The market-square lies on the northern 
 side of the steep hill, crowned by the castle of Friedenstein. 
 Approaching it from the top, we looked down, as into an 
 arena, filled with waving flags and moving masses of men, 
 and sprinkled all over with glittering points of color. The 
 gray old council-hall, in the centre, thrust a flag from every 
 window, and shook its pendant wreaths of oak-leaves in the 
 wind. The fountain was hidden in a pyramid of birch- 
 boughs, and daring young peasants clung to every " coign 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOEEST. 231 
 
 of vantage" offered by its layers of basins. In the middle 
 of an open space, kept clear by gensd'armes, the chief 
 marshal was riding to and fro, while his aids stationed the 
 different deputations of riflemen at their posts, ready to 
 fall in at the proper time. The crowd, thousands in num- 
 ber, looked on in silence. 
 
 We descended into the square, broke through the guard- 
 ed space, and took leave of our maidens at the door of the 
 council-hall, where ninety-seven others were waiting for 
 them. On all sides waved the flags of the various German 
 States — the black and white of Prussia ; blue and silver of 
 Bavaria ; red and yellow of Baden ; fortress in a red field, 
 of Hamburg; the Saxon and Thiiringian colors; the tri- 
 color of Schleswig-Holstein ; the cross of Switzerland — and, 
 over all, the symbol of strength and unity, the red, black, 
 and gold. What was my delight, at seeing from a cor]:er 
 of the square, the stars and strijjes of America ! — singu- 
 larly enough, the only foreign power thus represented. 
 Every house was hung with gai'lands — ^principally of the 
 German oak, looped up with knots of roses, and disposed in 
 an infinite variety of forms, but in every instance with excel- 
 lent taste. The general effect was exceedingly beautiful. 
 
 The streets through which the procession was to pass, 
 were similarly decorated. Occasionally the wreaths were 
 of fir, with gilded cones as pendants, or with rosettes of 
 forget-me-nots and harebells. Even in these details there 
 was a national significance. You may be sure, whenever a 
 German is sufficiently ad\anced to express himself by 
 means of outward symbols, he always puts an idea behind 
 them. 
 
232 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 We followed the path of the procession to the outskirts 
 of the city, where, in the house of the architect S., hospi- 
 table windows had been offered to us. I continued my 
 walk to the shooting-hall and target-stands, around which 
 a court of show-booths had already sprung up. There was 
 a menagerie, in front of which, as an attractive sign, a live 
 pelican was perched on a high post. I did not wonder 
 that the bird yawned terribly. There was also an " Art- 
 Cabinet," with " Anatomical Specimens" — the " Harbor of 
 Fortune," where you either won a penny plaything by 
 firing off a pop-gun, or lost your penny — " Live Bushmen 
 from Africa," and two carrousels, or flying-horses for 
 children. In spite of my satin badge, I was refused admit- 
 tance into the shooting-grounds before the arrival of the 
 procession, and contented myself with admiring the tri- 
 umphal entrance, the work of my friends S. and S. The 
 square gateway was composed of the shields of German 
 States, set in frames of fir-twigs, while on either side two 
 lofty masts, spirally wreathed to the summit, lifted high in 
 air their crowns of banners. From the centre of the arch 
 floated the colors of the German empire. Really, I could 
 find no fault with the structure. From end to end it was 
 arranged with admirable taste, and the moral I drew there- 
 from was this : " why cannot our ofiicials or committees, 
 on such occasions, employ artists and architects as well? 
 Why can't we put round men into round holes ?" 
 
 Boom ! went the cannon from the castle, announcing 
 that the procession had started. All the church-bells began 
 to chime, a circumstance wlicrcat the few Roactionists in 
 Gotha were deeply shocked. The road was already lined 
 
A HOME IN THE THUXIINGIAN FOREST. 233 
 
 with expectant crowds, who filled the banks on either side, 
 while the central space was kept clear by mounted gens- 
 d'armes. On my return to our fiiends at the window I 
 met the Duke, already on his way to the shooting-ground. 
 He was driving a span of dun-colored horses, with black 
 manes and tails, and with such a skilful hand that I have no 
 doubt many of the strangers supposed he was the coach- 
 man. I took off my hat to the gay, clear-eyed, galliard 
 Prince, whom I had recently had occasion to know and to 
 honor, as a man. For him, it was a well-deserved day of 
 triumph. 
 
 Next to the house of our friend S. was another American 
 flag of silk, floating from a wreathed staff. I also took off 
 my hat as I passed it. Everybody knew it, and looked 
 upon it with a friendly eye. Suppose it had been the Vir- 
 ginia coat-of-arms or even the New York " Excelsior ? " 
 It would probably have been torn down as an abortion — a 
 counterfeit of nationality — even granting that any person 
 had known what it meant. State pride ! State fealty para- 
 mount ! what wicked nonsense passes for wisdom in some 
 parts of our favored Republic! However, there is not 
 much likelihood that the starveling Palmetto itself would 
 have been recognized, for in these inland European cities 
 the people know but little about national symbols. In the 
 garden opposite our window there was a banner of Schles- 
 wig-Holstein (red, blue and white, horizontal), which the 
 Turners — who ought to have known better — were on the 
 point of tearing down, supposing it to be that of France ! 
 
 A blast of trumpets — a stretching of the necks of the 
 crowd — an increasing murmur, and the procession comes ! 
 
234 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 It is a double display, for the Turners of Thiiringia hold 
 their convention in Gotha at the same time, and have 
 joined their forces to those of the riflemen. The former 
 first appear, preceded by music, and graced by the pre- 
 sence of a second hundred of maidens in white, with 
 wreaths of white flowers and rose-colored scarfs. Our 
 friend E., as Grand Marshal, rides in advance, and his baton 
 bends us a solemn greeting. Then come the Turners. Ah ! 
 here is some sign of life, but not from the spectators. 
 They are simply silent and curious. The various deputar 
 tions greet our ladies with genuine cheers ; mild, indeed, 
 but well meant. Handkerchiefs flourish acknowledgment. 
 Students in velvet caps wave their swords, banners dip, 
 and the trumpets blow a,fanfaron, as they pass. Hurrah ! 
 hurrah ! I should like to shout, but there is no one to join 
 me. Young, gallant fellows, in gray linen, they can do 
 something else besides spring over bars and climb ladders, 
 hand over hand. 
 
 M. counts the maidens, who seem to be portioned off as 
 angelic escorts to the standard-bearers, to the hundredth. 
 Now come the riflemen ! The band plays " Schleswig- 
 Holstein, sea-surrounded," as they pass the tri-colored flag. 
 I wish they knew the Star-Spangled Banner, but they 
 don't. Here is Hildegarde, in the van, shaking her bou- 
 quet at our window. The tall brother follows, in a white 
 sash. Then, company after company of riflemen, in plain 
 gray or blue fatigue uniforni, but preceded by oflicurs in 
 astonishing costume. Who are these in green and gold, 
 with such plumed chapcaux, such excessive epaulets, such 
 length of sword ? Generals ? Fitld-Marshals ? you ask. 
 
A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 235 
 
 By no means, my friend : they are not even soldiers. It is 
 some relief to know that the vanity of seeing oneself in 
 " full regimentals " is not confined to our militia officers at 
 home. Some of the banners, however, tattered and rid- 
 dled in former wars, were genuine. The number of per- 
 sons in the procession is certainly over two thousand, and 
 the spectators number at least twenty thousand. It is not 
 a large affair, compared with some of our political gather- 
 ings, but in point of order, taste, harmony, and effect, I 
 have never seen it surpassed. 
 
 The presence of the two hundred maidens was decidedly 
 the most pleasing feature of the display — to the eye, at 
 least. The flowing lines of the white robes, the soft gleam 
 of the colored scarfs, and the bright flush of the girlish 
 faces, wound like a thread of grace and beauty through 
 the long files of the men. Here, again, one recognizes the 
 artistic sense, if not the direct arrangement of an artist. 
 
 Another lesson of the festival was afforded by the per- 
 fect order jDreserved by the spectators, thousands of whom 
 "were peasants from the surrounding country. The very 
 freedom which was allowed was in itself a guarantee of 
 order — a fact which the Continental governments are slow 
 to learn. 
 
 But — here is the end of the procession, and of to-day's 
 chapter. 
 
236 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 5. — The Same, Contintjed. 
 
 July 13, 1861. 
 First — To resume the interrupted narrative : — 
 After the procession had passed, we descended from our 
 windows and followed in the rear, designing to enter the 
 inclosure in season to hear the Duke's address of welcome, 
 and the song, " The German Tri-color," to which he had 
 himself composed the music. But, on reaching the gate- 
 way, we were informed, " Ladies cannot he admitted at 
 present." This portion of the party, supposing it to be a 
 precautionary measure, on account of the crowd, returned, 
 and I entered in company with a Russian relative. To ray 
 surprise, there was ample space within, and the prohibition 
 was a gratuitous rudeness. By this time the address had 
 been delivered, and the strains of the song were swallowed 
 up in the noise of the multitude. 
 
 The Duke's speech occupied about four minutes in deli- 
 very. I know some persons who, under similar circum- 
 stances, would not have let us off under three-quarters of 
 an hour. After referring to that new direction of the 
 popular ideas which had called forth the festival, he said, 
 in a firm, decided tone : " Strength and skill shall to-day 
 unite in emulation for prizes, in order that the individual, 
 elevated by the consciousness of his own value, may become 
 more valuable to the entire people. The chief aim of these 
 mutual endeavors should be the protection of the great 
 German Fatherland, and the preservation of its honor. 
 With such feelings lot us reach to one another the fraternal 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN rOEEST. 237 
 
 hand !" Many of the riflemen from abroad, who were 
 accustomed to see their own rulers surrounded by the most 
 rigid ceremonials, were astonished at the manly simplicity 
 for which Ernest IE. is distinguished. It was amusing to 
 hear their remarks : " Why, he took off his hat to us !" 
 " Pie wears a plain citizen's dress — not even a star on his 
 breast !" " Ah, that's the right sort of a Prince !" 
 
 Two riflemen who were quartered in our residence were 
 loud in their expressions of delight. " Why," said one of 
 them, " it's really comical to see your Duke !" " Why so ?" 
 I asked — ^not knowing that " comical," in his dialect, ex- 
 pressed the highest admiration. " You see," he said, " I 
 once had the honor of standing before our King. Ah, ha ! 
 bow down, and be silent : don't you recognize the divi- 
 nity ? But here — ^he's a man, like ourselves — yes, actually 
 a human being ! He walks, and talks, and lets the sun 
 shine without his permission. Why, there was a gentleman 
 in a hunting-coat with him, who joked and clapped him on 
 the shoulder, and he took it all like a hon camarade.'''' We 
 were obliged to laugh at this description of our worthy 
 B., whose connexion with us the speaker did not guess. 
 
 The shooting, which was to continue four days, imme- 
 diately commenced. There were thirteen hundred rifle- 
 men in all, and but twenty targets, and the pressure for 
 a chance was very great. The shooting-stand was a spa- 
 cious pavilion, erected for the purpose, on the western 
 side of which were twenty stalls, numbered to correspond 
 with the targets. The latter were also named, in the order 
 of rank ; the first, to which the highest prizes were attached, 
 being " Germany," the second " Duke Ernest,'' the third 
 
238 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 " Thtli'ingia," and the fourth " Schleswig-Holstein." After- 
 wards came the German rivers, and then the representative 
 men, among whom Humboldt, Fichte, and Arndt had a 
 place. The distance was four hundred feet for ten of the 
 tai-gets, and two hundred and fifty feet for the remaining 
 ten. The manner of shooting was divided into three 
 classes, arranged so that all should apply to both the dis- 
 tances : First, shooting " with free hand," without rest or 
 aid of any kind; second, with the use of the diopter, 
 or sight-gauge ; and lastly, with rests. These technical 
 arrangements were a great worry to the committee, who 
 were obliged to take into consideration such a variety of 
 habits and preferences among the riflemen. It must be 
 admitted, however, that they performed their work with 
 great tact, and to the satisfaction of the guests. 
 
 The cracking of rifles became more and more frequent, 
 and soon rattled, like scattering volleys, from one end of 
 the pavilion to the other. I was interested in noticing 
 the arrangement of the targets. Each was double, and 
 turned on a pivot midway between the two, so that when 
 one was up the other was down, and concealed from sight 
 in a pit, in which the attendant sat. His duty was, when- 
 ever a shot was fired, to turn the axle, thus bringing the 
 target down to note the shot, while he elevated the other 
 for a fresh one. The shots were carefully registered, and 
 the record sent back to the pavilion from time to time, in 
 a bag attached to a travelling rope. It is a lucky circum- 
 stance that none of the attendants were shot during the 
 festival. Once, indeed, there was a slight alarm. One of 
 the targets having tailed to revolve, the firing was sus- 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOEEST. 239 
 
 pended, and the pit examined, when the man was found 
 lying fast asleep at the bottom ! It is no less an illustra- 
 tion of the care and method native to the German charac- 
 ter, that although thirty-five thousand shots, in all, were 
 fired, no accident of any kind occurred. 
 
 I was invited to take part in the trial, but as my rifle- 
 practice is very limited, and I was the only representative 
 of a country famous for sharp-shooters, I judged that I 
 could best preserve our reputation by declining. I had an 
 opjjortunity of doing some service, nevertheless, by explain- 
 ing the character of the rebellion against the Federal author- 
 ity, for there was no lack of eager questioners and sympa- 
 thetic listeners. 
 
 Wandering about through the crowd, I fell in with Dr. 
 Petermann, the geographer, who had left his maps to swell 
 the crowd of those who wish to abrogate geographical dis. 
 tinctions. His first question, also, was in relation to our 
 American difficulty. I was midway in a statement when 
 we were joined by Gustav Freytag, the author of " Debit 
 and Credit," and one of the clearest thinkers in Germany. 
 " What do the people of the Free States think of the strug- 
 gle ?" he asked. "They see now that it is inevitable," I 
 answered. " Furthermore, the general impression is, that 
 it must have come, some time, and better now than later. 
 When I left, the feeling was that of relief, almost of satis- 
 faction." Freytag is one of those men with whom it is a 
 pleasure to talk, as well as to hear. His brain is warm and 
 vital, and seeks and assimilates, instead of repelling, warmth 
 in others. 
 
 In another group I found the artists Jacobs and Gurlitt, 
 
240 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 with both of whom I established a freemasonry of interest, 
 in our reminiscences of Greece. The " Temple of Gifts'' 
 attached to the shooting-hall had, as one of its pediments, 
 a striking picture from the pencil of the former. It repre- 
 sented Germany, crowned with oak, leaning on her sword 
 and offering a wreath to the victor. The other pediment, 
 by Professor Schneider, illustrated the (just now more than 
 ever) popular legend of the slumbering Barbarossa. The 
 old Emperor sits in the vaults of the Kyffhauser, with his 
 red beard grown to his feet, while the ravens fly around his 
 head. So long as they fly, the enchantment binds him : the 
 hour of his awaking has not yet come. But, on either side, 
 in the lower caverns, the mountain-gnomes are busy, forg- 
 ing swords, casting bullets and hammering the locks of 
 guns. Barbarossa symbolizes the German Unity. I should 
 have represented him, however, if not in the act of awak- 
 ing, as starting in his sleep, at least. To complete the alle- 
 gory, one of the ravens should be double-headed, with yel- 
 low wings (Austria) ; the second wearing the papal tiara 
 and with the keys of St. Peter in his claws ; and the third, 
 with a spiked helmet, representing, not Prussia, but that 
 combination of pride and obstinacy which distinguishes the 
 military profession in Germany. 
 
 By this time other pavilions than those of the riflemen, 
 were crowded with visitors. Beside one of these I counted, 
 at eleven o'clock in the morning, thirteen empty beer-bar- 
 rels ! The Turners, grouped together at tables under the 
 trees, sang in chorus ; the bands played ; and outside of the 
 inclosure you could hear the voices of showmen, crying : 
 " This way. Gentlemen : here ii the wonderful and astonish- 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAIf FOEEST. 241 
 
 ing,'' etc. I strayed down thitherward, where thousands of 
 peasants were looking and listening with open mouths and 
 eyes. The family of Bushmen from Africa attracted me, 
 and I entered the hooth. A young fellow, with loud voice 
 and eyes fixed on vacancy, performed the part of lecturer 
 and interpreter. "Here, your Lordships!" he cried, "I 
 will show you the wild people of Africa, the only specimens 
 in Europe. I will first call them. You cannot understand 
 their language, but I will translate for you. Tath imang- 
 hoho .''' " Nya — a — a — a!" answered a voice behind the 
 curtain. " Kilibu-horbingo .'" he repeated ; " that means, 
 I told them to come out." Thereupon appeared a little old 
 woman, with a yellow skin, and an immense bushy head of 
 hair, followed by a girl of eighteen, ditto. Bushmen they 
 were not, nor Africans : very likely ordinary gypsies, dyed 
 and frizzled. " Marino-borhibhlee-ioo !" he commanded ; 
 " I told them to sing." And sing they did, or rather scream. 
 " Your lordships," said the showman, who looked enough 
 like the old woman to be her son, " they want money to 
 buy raw flesh, which is their food." The girl took up a 
 collection, in a cocoa-nut shell. " Your lordships," he con- 
 tinued, "if you have cigars, or pipes, or tobacco, they 
 would like to have them." The peasants winked at each 
 other, as much as to say " we've had enough of this," and 
 left in a body, I following. 
 
 In the afternoon the Turners had a grand performance, 
 followed by a ball at the Theatre, in the evening. As all 
 wearers of badges had the right of entrance, we deter- 
 mined to go thither as spectators. But here the order, 
 which had characterized the festival, failed. The building 
 
 II 
 
242 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 was open on all sides, to every one. There were no door- 
 keepers, no managers, and from the back of the stage to 
 the top of the gallery, the space was crammed to suffoca- 
 tion with a mixed multitude, varying in costume from the 
 most elegant ball-toilet to the shabby dress of the street- 
 loafer. We made our escape as soon as possible, strongly 
 impressed with the inconsistency of shutting out ladies from 
 the ceremonies of the morning and admitting the unwashed 
 to the festivities of the evening. 
 
 At a subsequent visit to the shooting-stand I encountered 
 B. who said to me : " Have you seen Auerbach ?" Berth- 
 old Auerbach here ! W. and I immediately set out in 
 search of him, although our chance of success seemed slight 
 indeed. But before we had made our first round through 
 the crowd, I espied a pair of familiar broad shoulders, in 
 the middle of which, on a short neck, was planted a sturdy 
 head. Without more ado I gave the shoulders a hearty 
 slap, whereupon the head turned with an air of resentment 
 which immediately resolved itself into friendly surprise. 
 The genial author of "Village Stories'' and "Little Bare- 
 foot'' joined us, but was so constantly hailed by friends and 
 admirers that we soon lost him again. I learned, however, 
 that he has another story in press, called Edelweiss — the 
 name of an Alpine flower. 
 
 At the dinner of riflemen, on the same day, at which the 
 Duke presided, one of the guests gave the following toast : 
 " Let us not forget, on this occasion, our brethren across the 
 Atlantic, who are also proving their fidelity to the sentiment 
 of Unity, who are engaged in upholding the cause of Law 
 and Order. Success to the Germans who are fighting the 
 
A HOME IN THE THUBINGIAN FOREST. 243 
 
 battles of the Union, in America !" This was received with 
 a storm of applause, the whole company rising to their 
 feet. 
 
 At the close of the Convention, De Leuw of Dusseldorf 
 was declared to be the first shot, and Corner of Nuremberg 
 the second. Besides the contributed prizes, four hundred 
 in number, there were additional prizes in money, and the 
 lucky first dozen of sharp-shooters received several hundred 
 dollars apiece, together with their silver goblets and spoons. 
 
 6. — Eenest of Oobueg. 
 
 Now that the smoke of the thirty-five thousand shots 
 has cleared away, the guests have departed, the oak-wreath 
 withered, the banners roUed up for the next time, and the 
 first National Convention of German Riflemen declared to 
 be a great success, we may already begin to calculate its 
 direct results. In the popular estimation it stands for more 
 than it really is, and, therefore, is more than it seems. 
 
 Mere expertness with the rifle is a simple art, and the 
 various corps of shooters might develop their skill to an 
 equal extent without leaving home. But the eclat given to 
 that skill by a public trial at which all Germany looks on — 
 the wide renown, the rich rewards which await the victors 
 — tend directly to make these volunteer associations 
 popular, and to greatly increase their number and eflSci- 
 ency. Again, behind this consideration lies the idea of 
 making the German people strong for their own defence, of 
 
244 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 bringing them together from the remotest states, and pro- 
 moting a spirit of unity, a harmony of interests and of 
 aims, in spite of political divisions. Not in vain has the 
 lesson of Italy been studied here. The people at last 
 understand that they must be a People, divided by no 
 provincial jealousies, animated by no narrow aims, before 
 Germany can be the one powerful consolidated Empire, 
 which is their political dream. 
 
 In the Convention at Gotha, as well as in the Singers' 
 Festival, to be held in Nuremberg (and at which five thou- 
 sand participants are already announced), this is the deep, 
 underlying idea. The JSTational-Verein (National- Associ- 
 ation), which was established in 1859, and already numbers 
 between twenty and thirty thousand members, has for its 
 object the union of all the scattered elements of Progress 
 in an organized body, which shall work for the same end. 
 After long wanderings hither and thither ; after many a 
 chase of ignes-fatui through the swamps of Red Republic- 
 anism, Communism, and Socialism, the Liberal Party in 
 Germany has at last found its rational and proper path. 
 There is no longer a Republican, but a wise, enlightened 
 National Party, against whose growing strength the reac- 
 tion is beaten back on every side. 
 
 Not the least important of the circumstances which have 
 contributed to the success of the Convention is the fact that 
 the party possesses a leader who ,not only enjoys an 
 unbounded popularity among the masses, but, being him- 
 self a reigning Prince, is at once a guarantee of its charac- 
 ter for his fellow-rulers, and a shield for itself against their 
 forcible opposition. This leader is Ernest II., Duke of 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN EOEEST. 245 
 
 Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, whom we best know in America as 
 the elder brother of Prince Albert of England, while in 
 Germany the latter is best known as the younger brother 
 of the Duke. The Reactionists — especially the Junker- 
 thum, or Squirearchy, as the reactionary nobility are called 
 — charge Ernest II. with being a demagogue ; with heading 
 the popular movement merely for the sake of gratifying a 
 hollow ambition : but they cannot deny that his course has 
 been thoroughly consistent from the beginning, and that 
 he remained true to the cause, in spite of the earnest 
 remonstrances of his royal relatives, at a time when it 
 seemed to be utterly crushed. If he is simply cunning, 
 and not sincere, as they affirm, it is that nobler cunning 
 which foresees the inevitable course of events, and rides 
 on the top wave of the flood which it cannot stay. 
 
 Certainly since the Schleswig-Holstein war, in which he 
 commanded the battery at Eckernfiord, whereby the 
 Danish frigate Christian VIII. was destroyed, no German 
 Piince has been so popular with the people as Ernest II. 
 During the last two years this popularity has taken a much 
 wider and deeper significance. In 1859 he not only wel- 
 comed the establishment of the National-Verein, but when 
 the Free City of Frankfort refused to allow its members 
 to meet in convention there, invited them at once to 
 Goburg. A month ago the Legislative Assembly of the 
 Duchy, at his recommendation, concluded a military con- 
 vention with Prussia, whereby the useless little army of 
 the State is consolidated into that of the greater power — a 
 practical step toward unity. And now, by his indefatigable 
 labors as President of the Convention of Riflemen, by his 
 
246 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 plain, cordial bearing, his conciliatory patience and kindness 
 in adjusting disputes and jealousies among the guests, and, 
 more than all, by his earnest, patriotic utterances, he has 
 sprung to a height of popularity which might make giddy 
 a head less clear and cool than his. 
 
 On the last day of the Convention, when the members 
 assembled in the hall, the Duke made a short address, 
 recommending the formation of a permanent union of 
 volunteer rifle-corps throughout all Germany, not only for 
 the purpose of uniting upon normal regulations in regard 
 to the exercises, but also to arm and discipline the young 
 men, so that they may finally constitute a reserve for the 
 regular army. " The time to create a sensation by words 
 alone,'' said he, " is past. The people demand action, for 
 the sake of their strength and unity. I hear of dangers 
 which threaten our Fatherland; but a people is beyond 
 danger as soon as it is truly united, truly strong.'' The 
 proposal was unanimously adopted. A plain-spoken doubt- 
 er, however, during the day, ventured to approach the 
 Duke and to say : " Your Highness, your words were 
 noble and patriotic ; but will you stand by them ?" The 
 Duke answered, good-humoredly clapping the speaker on 
 the shoulder, " My friend, all that I have heretofore 
 promised I have performed : I think you may safely confide 
 in me this time." 
 
 I had recently the honor of a long personal interview 
 with Ernest II., from which I came away with a most 
 agree.'ible impression of his character and talents. I had 
 previously been presented to him during the visit of Prince 
 Albert to Gotha, three years ago, and was then struck by 
 
A nOMIC IN THE ThCeINGIAN P'OEEST. 247 
 
 his free, off-hand, animated demeanor, which offered a 
 marked contrast to the somewhat reserved and haughty 
 bearing of his younger brother. On my way through 
 Coburg to the Franconian Switzerland a month ago, I ex- 
 pressed a wish, through a friend in the Ministry, to wait upon 
 him at the castle of Callenberg, near that city — his residence 
 in the early summer. The permission was at once given, and 
 with a cordiality which relieved me from any fear of intrusion. 
 
 On alighting from the train at the Coburg station, I was 
 accosted by a personage in a white cravat, who, after 
 satisfying himself as to my identity, announced, "His 
 Highness expects you to dinner, at the Callenberg, at seven 
 o'clock this evening.'' Then probably suspecting that an 
 American might be unfamiliar with the requirements of 
 costume, he added, in a whisper, " You only need a black 
 cravat and a dress-coat." I satisfied his mind on that score, 
 and we proceeded together to the hotel. He took the 
 further precaution of ordering the "carriage, in order that I 
 might be punctual ; but I was already aware that punctuality 
 is a necessary virtue of princes. 
 
 The evening was delicious, and the drive of three miles 
 was a cheerful ante-chamber, through which to enter 
 pleasant society. (There are few European courts which 
 can be thus designated.) The old fortress of Coburg, 
 where Luther wrote, " Our l^ord, JTe is a Toteer of 
 Strength," stood golden in the sun, and long shadows lay 
 across the meadows of Rosenau. A mild breeze, hay- 
 scented, blew over the hills, and frosted the poplars with 
 the silver of their upturned leaves. 
 
 The Duke's valet, a stout African, met me at the 
 
248 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 entrance, and conducted me to an upper terrace — a lovely, 
 shaded spot, planted with flowers in rococo patterns, with 
 a fountain in the centre. The castle completely covers the 
 sharp summit of the mountain, and is visible far and wide. 
 I was about entering, when I was confronted by a tall, 
 stately gentleman, who bowed with appropriate gravity. 
 One of the lackeys, seeing that I did not recognize him, 
 introduced him, with ready tact, as " The Oberhofmarshall 
 (Chamberlain) von ." This personage courteously con- 
 ducted me around the terrace and pointed out the beauties 
 of the landscape. I had been upon the CaUenberg years 
 before, but had never seen it in the splendor of summer. 
 
 There is scarcely a more exquisite situation in Germany. 
 It differs from Reinhardtsbrunn as a mountain differs from 
 a valley, depending more on the natural characteristics of 
 the view than on the artistic development of Nature. It is 
 high enough to command a wide and grand panorama, yet 
 not so high as to lose the sentiment and expression of the 
 different features. Each angle of the parapet gives you a 
 new landscape. There is, first, the valley of Coburg, 
 crowned by its hill and fortress ; then a broad mountain of 
 dark firs, all else shut out from view ; then a vision of 
 England — hedge-row trees, gfeen. la-s\Tis, clumps of oak, 
 and water; and, finally, a rich plain, stretching away to 
 the west, where the volcanic peaks of the Gleichberge rise 
 ngainst the sky. The trees on the hill itself are superb, 
 and the castle on the summit so thoroughly harmonizes 
 with the scenery that it seems the natural crowning expres- 
 sion of the whole. 
 
 Presently the Duke's Adjutant, Herr von Renter, 
 
A HOME IN THE THUELNGIAN FOEEST. 249 
 
 arrived, in company with his wife and sister, to all of whom. 
 I was presented in due form. The Adjutant was a slight, 
 gentlemanly person, with an air of refinement and intelli- 
 gence ; the ladies handsome and graceful, and simply, but 
 very elegantly, dressed. Scarcely had we exchanged a 
 few commonplaces, when the Duke and Duchess came out 
 upon the terrace. The Chamberlain immediately presented 
 me to the latter. She was the Princess Alexandrina, of 
 Baden, a sister of the reigning Grand-Duke. Of medium 
 height, a full rather than plump figure, with blonde hair, 
 blue eyes, and a quiet, almost retiring, simplicity of manner, 
 I could readily understand the affectionate regard in which 
 she is held by the people. Her kindness of heart is evident 
 to any one who looks on her face. 
 
 The Duke then advanced and addressed me very cor- 
 dially. He-has but a slight family resemblance to Prince 
 Albert, than whom he appears younger, although two years 
 older. His features are not so regularly chiselled as those 
 of his brother, who is certainly one of the handsomest 
 men in Europe, but far more animated and expressive. 
 He is about five feet ten inches in height, slender, but 
 perfectly symmetrical, and quick and elastic in his move- 
 ments. His face is a fine oval, the forehead expansive at 
 the temples, and the eyes a clear, splendid hazel. His nose 
 is rather long, but not prominent, the lips firm and sharply 
 cut, while a mustache and short, pointed beard increase their 
 character of decision. It is a mediaeval rather than a 
 modern head — such as might have belonged to that Ernest 
 who was carried off by the robber-knight, Kunz von Kauf- 
 ungen, and who was his own ancestor in a direct line. He 
 
 11* 
 
250 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 is passionately fond of hunting, riding, driving, and all 
 other out-door diversions, of which taste his tanned face 
 and hands gave evidence. 
 
 He took me off to th.e parapet and began to comment on 
 the landscape ; but in a few minutes dinner was announced, 
 and we rejoined the company. The etiquette observed 
 was very simple. The Duke and Duchess took the lead, 
 I, as a stranger, following — in advance of the ladies, to my 
 surprise — and the Chamberlain brought up the rear. The 
 princely pair were first served, of course, but this was the 
 only formality observed. There was a free, unrestrained 
 flow of conversation, in which all took part, and the 
 subject was naturally varied, without waiting for the Ruler 
 to give the cue. The Duke, it is true, was the leader, not 
 from his position, but from natural right. I cannot judge 
 of the depth, but I can testify to the great extent of his 
 acquirements. He has, at least, the mental qualities of 
 attraction and assimilation, which are not the least import- 
 ant concomitants of genius. With an admirable memory 
 and a vital interest in every field of knowledge, there are 
 few subjects upon which he cannot converse brilliantly. 
 Quick, animated, sparkling, he provokes the electricity of 
 those with whom he comes in contact. His greatest aver- 
 sion, I should think, would be a dull person. Perhaps this 
 is the reason why there is so little love lost between him 
 and the nobility. He would rather talk with an intelligent 
 burgher than a stupid baron. 
 
 The Duke has talents which, if he were not a duke, 
 might have made him eminent in various ways. He is the 
 author of a work on the Schleswig-Holstein war, and the 
 
A HOME m THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 251 
 
 composer of five operas, two of which — " Santa Chiara" 
 and "Diane de Solanges" — have attained a certain popular'- . 
 ity. I have never had an opportunity of hearing either. 
 As an amateur player he is said to be admirable. Yet, 
 with all these brilliant qualities, he is steady, prudent, and 
 clear-headed — ambitious, no doubt, but intelligently so. It 
 is no damage to his future that his enemies are nobles and 
 princes, and his friends the people. 
 
 After dinner, which lasted about an hour, we went upon 
 the terrace for coffee and cigars. The Duke called my 
 attention to a small but thrifty specimen of the Sequoia, 
 or California tree, and inquired particularly about the soil 
 in which it grew, the temperature it could endure, etc., as 
 he was anxious to acclimate it completely. He then invited 
 me to a corner of the parapet, looking down on the love- 
 liest woods, where our conversation soon became entirely 
 frank and unreserved. He expressed his poUtioal views 
 without the least reticence, and thereby instituted — what 
 he probably desired — a similar frankness on my part. In 
 fact, I ceased to remember that I was addressing a reigning 
 Prince, and he had the full advantage of such forgetfulness. 
 I have not the right to repeat this conversation, but I will 
 venture to give one remark in evidence. In speaking of a 
 certain crowned head, the Duke said : " He has one rare 
 quality. He hears, patiently, views which are directly 
 opposed to his own, turns them over in his mind, and, if he 
 finds them good, adopts them, frankly acknowledging that he 
 was wrong.'' " An admirable quality !" said I : "it would 
 be a blessing to Europe if all her rulers possessed it." To 
 which he assented most heartily. 
 
252 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 His last political step — the account which he has ren- 
 dered to the German people of his position as ruler — is, in 
 its boldness and candor, a new apparition, and marks the 
 downfall of a fossilized conventionalism in politics. As 
 this expression undoubtedly was suggested by the results 
 of the national-shooting match, I quote its manly conclu- 
 sion : " The popular mind resembles the swelling, swift- 
 advancing current of a river. To dam it, to delay it in its 
 course, is a fruitless undertaking. The waves rise foaming 
 aloft, and sweep every barrier away with them. Patriots 
 and princes should therefore be inspired by the same 
 endeavor, to keep the flood pure in its forward movement, 
 and restrain it within its proper banks. In order to accom- 
 plish this, the active sympathy of the people themselves is 
 necessary. They should not stand aloof from the men 
 whose duty it is to hold the reins of government. It is to 
 be condemned, indeed, when one struggles for popularity, 
 in the universally-accepted sense of the word, and makes 
 himself artificially popular, regardless of the work in his 
 hands. But it is equally wrong to suppose that without 
 the warm sympathy of the people — therefore, without 
 popularity in its truer sense — patriotic men can benefi- 
 cently exercise the leadership of the masses. The people 
 must, therefore, honor the names of their leaders, them- 
 selves protect them from aspersion, and should never lose 
 sight of the fact that mutual confidence is inseparable from 
 mutual charity and consideration.'' 
 
 In regard to our American difficulties, the Duke expressed 
 himself as earnestly as I could have desired. He doubted, 
 however, whether the rebels would hold the field, after 
 
A HOME IN THE THiJEINGIATf FOEEST. 253 
 
 ascertaining the immense force which the Federal Govern- 
 ment could bring against them. I explained that resistance, 
 even against such odds, was but a part of that enormous 
 Southern vanity which did not seem to be ajDpreciated by 
 European spectators of the struggle; but he evidently 
 disbelieved in a vanity so at variance with common sense. 
 
 At ten o'clock there was a movement of departure. 
 The Duke shook hands with a friendly " au revoir f" and 
 I followed the Chamberlain, Adjutant, and ladies to the 
 carriages. Independently of the interest connected with 
 the principal personage, I had passed, socially, a most 
 delightful evening, and returned to Coburg with the 
 agreeable conviction that some Princes can be men as well. 
 
 — ^This chapter is what Jean Paul calls an " Extra-Leaf," 
 interpolated into the regular course of my journal. It is 
 possible that in the future developments of German history 
 Ernest 11., of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, wUl occupy an important 
 place, and my readers wiU then thank me for having made 
 them, to this extent, acquainted with him. 
 
 V. — Stoeks and Authoes. 
 
 July 15, 1861. 
 After four days of such agreeable excitement as the 
 Festival in Gotha had given, it was nevertheless with 
 renewed satisfaction that we returned to our cottage in the 
 mountains. We did not even wait for the closing fire- 
 works, (the illumination of Constantinople in the night of 
 
254 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Balr^m having spoiled us for all inferior displays,) but 
 started at sunset, leaving the banners and trumpets behind 
 us, for the welcome gloom and stillness of the Forest. 
 
 The carriage rolled rapidly, in the soft glow of evening, 
 over the familiar road. Past the old quarries of red sand- 
 stone, past the "Mad Dog," a noted "beer-locality," 
 through the little village of Sundhausen, and then out on the 
 rich, undulating plain. To the left lay the Boxberg, a low, 
 wooded hill, where I had enjoyed family pic-nics years ago, 
 and frightened the German children with an imitation of 
 the cry of the American wild-cat; and far to the right, 
 purple in the twilight, the haunted Horsel. By and bye, 
 as the dusk fell, we reached Wahlwinkel (Election-corner), 
 but the little one who should have sent the wife-stork a 
 greeting, as she sat on her nest, was sound asleep. The 
 stork looked down, and nodded, as much as to say : " Ah 
 ha ! Is that the little one I brought from Egypt three 
 years ago ? How she's grown !" 
 
 And straightway, in the dusk, opened a gate into Fable- 
 land. I saw not only the Osiride pillars of rosy sandstone 
 in the halls of Karnak, but the pass-word of that magic 
 which unites the divided Palm and Pine, was whispered 
 in my ear. " What are you doing here ?" said the stork, 
 as she clapped her bill from her nest on the chimney ; " I 
 saw you once, under the palms of Luxor. The brown 
 mare is dead, and Hassan is blind of an eye, and Teffaha, 
 who danced by torch-light — oh, I saw it, through a hole in 
 the temple-roof I — went away long ago; but the sphinx 
 says to me every winter, ' Have you seen him ? will he come 
 back soon ?' and I answer : 'He'll come — be sure of that! 
 
A HOME IN THE THUKINGIAN POEEST. 255 
 
 I saw him sitting on the steps of the Parthenon, as I flew 
 over with the lotus-bud in my bill. He was looking across 
 the sea and the sand.' " I gave the stork a message in the 
 same language ; but what the message was, you must ask 
 the sphinx at Luxor, and I don't believe she wiU tell you. 
 
 Incredulous readers may doubt my knowledge of the 
 stork-language, and, to justify my assertion, I must give 
 them proofs of the higher intelligence which this bird pos- 
 sesses. In Germany he is sacred ; and he knows it. I have 
 seen him walking in the crowded street of a city, with as 
 much gravity and composure as if he had black pantaloons 
 on his red legs and an umbrella under his wing. He builds 
 his nest only on house-tops, and comes back regularly to 
 the same spot from his yearly journeys to Africa. He is 
 a faithful provider for his family, irreproachable in his 
 connubial relations, and of a Spartan strictness of discipline. 
 He does not associate with other birds— unless, perhaps, 
 with the Ibis, whose aristocracy is of about as old a date 
 as his own. Staid, constant, thrifty, conscientious, he sets 
 an example on the top of the house to the family under 
 him, and is therefore fastidious in his selection of a resi- 
 dence. 
 
 Moreover, the stork is the only bird that regularly pays 
 rent. During the first year of his residence, he plucks out 
 a stout feather fi-om his wing, and casts it down. The 
 second year, his payment is an egg, and the third, a young 
 bird. He would be highly offended, if the payment should 
 be returned. While he is very devoted in his attach- 
 ment to his mate, he requires an equal devotion from her, 
 and forgives no departure from the strict line of duty. 
 
256 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 A person once perpetrated the cruel joke of taking a 
 stork's egg out of the nest while the parents were absent, 
 and putting a goose's egg in its place. When the brood 
 was hatched out, the astonishment of the male and the 
 dismay of the female bird were without bounds. The 
 former presently flew off and summoned a council of his 
 fellow-storks, who, after examining the unfortunate gosling, 
 pronounced a verdict of " Guilty !" and thereupon pierced 
 the innocent female to death with their sharp bills. 
 
 A curious case of a different character occurred last 
 summer, in Holstein. A male-stork, well-known to the 
 inhabitants, reached his summer home at the usual time, 
 unaccompanied by his mate. He repaired and re-lined his 
 nest, like a careful husband : still, the wife did not come. 
 He became sad, then restless, and finally, taking a sudden 
 resolution, brought home a blushing young stork-bride 
 from a neighboring colony. The household was now hap- 
 pily formed, and everything went on as usual, until, a 
 week afterwards, the old wife suddenly made her appear- 
 ance. Her anger, the alarm of the younger female, and 
 the embarrassment of the husband, were so expressive, 
 that the spectators at once understood the situation. 
 After the first confusion was over, calmer explanations 
 followed. The difficulty was dispassionately considered, 
 and the result was, that all three set to work the next day 
 to enlarge the nest, and the reconciled wives hatched out 
 a double brood of young. Here are two additional facts 
 for the use of those who maintain that animals can not only 
 express their feelings, but relate narratives and discuss 
 questions. For my part I once heard a lengthened conver 
 
A HOME IN THE THUKINGIAN FOEEST. 257 
 
 sation (which the attending circumstances made perfectly 
 intelligible to me) between two crows. 
 
 It was quite dark as we entered the glen, leading to 
 Reinhardtsbrunn, and the postillion's horn breathed forth 
 only slow, lamenting melodies, the notes of which wan- 
 dered far away under the trees, as if seeking an outlet to 
 the starlight. Our cottage glimmered on the height, as 
 we approached, and the flag flapped ■ in the night-wind, 
 saying : " All's well !" The house-maid, Hanna, had heard 
 the horn, and stood already at the door, with a candle in 
 her hand. Verily, the place already possessed an atmo- 
 sphere of home. 
 
 The next day, I rested from the past excitements, enjoy- 
 ing Gray's highest idea of earthly happiness. That is, it 
 was rainy, and I read a novel, which gave me a new and 
 interesting insight into a particular field of German litera- 
 ture. In England, the three-volume novel is the fashion- 
 able form : in Germany, of late years, it is the nine-volume 
 novel! If a mystical luck is connected with the number 
 three, why, three times three is of course a double assur- 
 ance. The work in question is Gutzkow's "Knights of 
 the Mind" (Ititter vom Geiste), which I should call a, pano- 
 ramic novel, since it seems to embrace the whole circle 
 of the philosophies, the sciences and the passions. Still, in 
 spite of the undoubted genius which it displays, I am 
 inclined to think that there is a little too much of it. 
 Here, I have gotten through with three volumes, or nearly 
 fifteen hundred pages, and the action has advanced but 
 eight days since the commencement ! The fourth volume, 
 upon which I am now engaged, is wholly taken up witt 
 
258 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the transactions of a single evening. At this rate, if the 
 author's plan had extended over a year, we should have 
 had a hundred volumes, instead of nine. Gutzkow has 
 recently published a second novel, " The Wizard of Rome,'' 
 also in nine volumes. One is tempted to ask : " Why 
 nine P" In literature as in painting, it is not the immense 
 frescoes that are the greatest pictures. Gutzkow is a fine 
 artist, but he takes too large a canvas. 
 
 It occurs to me that in this manner a popular novelist 
 might, with a little cunning, secure to himself employment 
 for life, and a permanent income. Let him first announce 
 a work in five or six volumes, to be published at intervals 
 of three months. At the end of the first year, having 
 obtained from twenty to fifty thousand readers, he could 
 state that the exigencies of his plot required him to add 
 half a dozen more volumes. After having led his readers 
 thus through four or five years, the simple fact of their 
 having already read so much, would secure them for the 
 rest of his life. The work would have the same attraction 
 as a lottery, each consecutive volume promising to be the 
 prize (that is, the conclusion,) — and, in spite of fifty 
 blanks, the poor readers would still hope for better luck 
 next time. Dumas' " Three Guardsmen" and its successors, 
 are specimens of this strategy, on a smaller scale. 
 
 The " Knights of the Mind,'' however, has the advantage 
 of a strong national interest, which has caused it to be 
 read with avidity in Germany ; while, for the same reason, 
 a translation of it into English would not repay the 
 Ijublishcr. Many of the characters are real individuals, 
 slightly disguised, and the thread of the story, which is 
 
A HOME IN THE THnRIlTGIAN FOREST. 259 
 
 sufficiently improbaWe, is subordinate to its political and 
 philosophical development. As I said before, it exhibits 
 great powers, but unnecessarily diluted. 
 
 Saturday dawned fair and warm, and the wooded moun- 
 tains blissfully enjoyed the sunshine. Onr old friends 
 across the gardens, and the Councilloress B. with her boys, 
 joined us at breakfast, under the locust-trees in front of 
 the Felsenkeller. Scarcely had we taken our seats, when 
 the plague of the Thiiringian Forest — the lace-peddlers — 
 assailed us. In valley and on height, by wood and field, 
 they lay in wait for you. Sit under a tree, and one of 
 them drops from the branches ; look into a pond, and the 
 shadow of another opens its pasteboard-box. Denial does 
 no good, and it is not lawful to use force. On this particular 
 morning, the lady B., in a flow of merry spirits, took up a 
 new weapon, which, to our surprise, proved entirely 
 effectual. " Lace !" said she, assuming an air half tragic, 
 half sentimental, "talk not of lace (spitzen) in the majestic 
 presence of Nature ! we have mountain-peaks (berg-spUzen) 
 already. For the border (saum) of a dress ? see, yonder 
 is the edge of the forest {wcdd-saum) ! Remove your 
 lace, ye profane ! The bosom of Nature requires it not !" 
 The rest of us took up the cue, and the peddlers, at first 
 mystified, presently went off in great indignation. 
 
 At Reinhardtsbrunu we met B., in company with a giant 
 
 rifleman, the Captain von K , on their way to 
 
 the summit of the Inselsberg. "We straightway joined the 
 party, the ladies promising to meet us at the Hunter's Rest, 
 high on the mountain, in the aflernoon. It was intensely 
 hot as we drove up the Monsters' Ravine, between its tall 
 
260 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 bluffs of rock, now and then scaring a doe from her pasture. 
 I secretly rejoiced that the easy grade of the macadamized 
 road allowed me to keep my seat while climbing the steep 
 at the end of the glen. Once on the ridge, we had a long 
 level to the foot of the Inselsberg, with a view extending 
 northward to the Brocken, and southward over the princi- 
 pality of Saxe-Meiningen into Bavaria. The Captain, an 
 Austrian by birth, had much that was interesting to relate. 
 He had made the campaign in Italy in 1849, had been in 
 Dalmatia, in Turkey and Hungary, and was now an 
 inhabitant of Holstein — a Liberal in his political views, but 
 by no means a Democrat. Although himself a noble, he 
 was excessively severe upon the adelstolz, or pride of caste, 
 which is the chief characteristic of a large portion of the 
 German nobility. "For a young fellow who has been 
 brought up at home, by a silly mother, and knows no 
 better,'' said he, " I have only commiseration ; but a 
 nobleman who has seen the world, and is acquainted with 
 men, and still exhibits this pride of caste, is a stupid ass !" 
 We all laughed at the Captain's honest emphasis, and 
 I mentally contrasted his good sense with the conversation 
 of certain P.F.V.'s whom I have met, and who so bored 
 me with accounts of "good families," that I devoutly 
 wished there had been a few bad families in Virginia. 
 
 We had a lovely day for the view from the Inselsberg. 
 Now, I shall not attempt to describe this view, for I find 
 that the panoramas visible from inland mountains which 
 rise beyond a certain height, have very much the same 
 general features. All the lower ranges are flattened to the 
 eye, and the perspective of color passes through the same 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 261 
 
 delicate gradations. Nearest below you a group of dark 
 fir mountains, then a middle distance of varying green, 
 brown, and 'gold ; and, embracing all, a glassy, transparent 
 horizon-ring of the tenderest blue and purple tints. Any 
 one who has stood upon a mountain can from these hints 
 construct the picture. 
 
 The landlord recognized in B. a beneficent patron, and 
 gave us a sumptuous dinner, including trout and venison, 
 in his lofty hotel. We drank our coffee in the open air, 
 taking (I at least) full draughts of the loveliest colors for 
 the palette of the eye, while the fragrant Mocha gratified 
 the palate of the baser sense. The Hunter's Rest was 
 visible far below, a green meadow-spot among the woods, 
 and we descried, through a telescope, a familiar rose-colored 
 dress, which announced that the ladies had already arrived. 
 We joined them in season to pass an hour of the sweet 
 evening in their company, and then walked together in the 
 c«iol twilight, three mUes down the mountain, to our 
 cottage. 
 
 8. — "The Vision of Sudden Death." 
 
 July 17, 1861. 
 Did you ever read De Quincey's "Vision of Sudden 
 Death?" — that powerful, fascinating paper, which whirls 
 you onward with impetuous speed as to an inevitable 
 doom, and finally terminates in a puff of dust, leaving you 
 a little bewildered, but none the worse ! It was recalled 
 to my mind yesterday evening by a vision more terrible 
 
262 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 than that which he describes, and as fortunate in its close. 
 I have not read the article for years, but I shall read it 
 again with that keen understanding, that sharp interior 
 illumination which a moment's sensation is suflScient to 
 give. I look out of my window on the fair valley, fairer 
 than ever in the morning sunshine and the ripening grain, 
 and as my eyes touch, one point where a row of trees 
 bends along the side of the mountain, an icy chiU suddenly 
 strikes to my heart. Yet — everything remains as it was 
 twenty-four hours ago, in Nature, in my own household, 
 in all our hopes and plans. The ship that just grazes an 
 iceberg comes into port as surely as that which passed it, 
 out of sight ; but the passengers step on shore with very 
 different feelings. 
 
 Four miles eastward of this, on the end of a mountain- 
 spur, is the site of the first Christian church in Middle 
 Germany. The whole neighborhood round about was 
 consecrated by the labors of that " Apostle of Peace," St. 
 Bonifacius, whom Saxon England sent to redeem her 
 mother-land from heathendom, and this church was the 
 first temple he raised over the ruined altars of Odin and the 
 Druid oaks which he felled with his own hand. An excur- 
 sion to the spot was part of our summer programme, which 
 we carried out yesterday afternoon. During all my 
 previous rambles in the Thtiringian Forest I had somehow 
 neglected this locality, and when the cool air, the shaded 
 sky, and the subdued, mellow light which lay upon the 
 landscape, giving its tints that ripe, juk^y depth which is 
 to the eye as a strong flavor to the palate, lured us forth 
 from our cottage, I said "Let us go to Altenberga I" 
 
A HOME IH THE THUKINGIAN FOREST. 263 
 
 That the reader may follow this pilgrimage with the 
 proper interest, let me communicate to him the history of 
 St. Bonifacius and his labors, as I have gathered it from 
 the Thiiringian Chronicles. The commencement of Chris- 
 tianity in Germany was also the commencement of Civiliza- 
 tion, and Bonifacius deserves a place next after Charle- 
 magne, among the founders of the Empire. His true name 
 was Winfried. He was born in England in the year 680, 
 and was educated in the monastery of Nut-shell (?), where, 
 as a boy, he determined to devote his life to missionary 
 labors. His first attempt was made in Friesland, as an 
 assistant of the English bishop, Willibrod. Failing in this, 
 he made a pilgrimage to Rome, and was consecrated for 
 the work by Pope Gregory IT. Crossing the Alps, he 
 passed through Bavaria to Thtiringia and Hessia, where 
 he preached to the people at first with more zeal than 
 success. Afterwards, having secured the protection of 
 Charles Martel, the virtual ruler of the Franks, to whom 
 nearly the whole of Germany was then subject, his labors 
 began to exhibit cheering results. He made himself the 
 object of special awe among the people by the boldness 
 with which he overthrew and destroyed the rude statues 
 of their gods. At the village of Geismar, in Hessia, he 
 seized an axe and hewed down the immense Thunder-oak, 
 sacred to Thor, whUe the people looked on in silent con- 
 sternation. 
 
 It was in or about the year 126, (the precise date cannot 
 be ascertained) when he built a chapel dedicated to St. 
 John the Baptist, on the hill overlooking the village of 
 Altenberga. Tradition relates that the people so crowded 
 
264 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 to hear him preach, that the chapel was soon unaWe to 
 contain them, and he was obliged to hold service in the 
 open air. The Devil thereupon sent flocks of crows, 
 ravens and blackbirds, who made such a chatter as to 
 drown his voice ; but at his prayers, and the repeated sign 
 of the cross, they flew oif in afi'right and returned no more. 
 
 Gradually, with an activity that never wearied, a zeal 
 that never grew cool, Bonifaeius planted the Christian 
 religion in the place of the paganism which he had so 
 forcibly rooted out. He became the head of the Church 
 in Germany, and was made Archbishop of Mayence by 
 Gregory III. in 746. During the internecine wars which 
 followed the death of Charles Martel, his influence was 
 potent in the councils of the Franks, and when Childeric 
 III., the last of the Merovingian dynasty, was set aside, 
 his hands anointed Pepin, the father of Charlemagne, at 
 Soissons, in 752. But he had no personal ambition to be 
 flattered by these honors. His heart yearned for a renewal 
 of his early triumphs, as a simple missionary. Laying 
 down the archepisoopal dignity, he set out for Friesland, 
 the scene of his earliest labors. The wild race fell upon 
 his little party with sword and spear. Holding the Bible 
 before him as his only shield — relying, perhaps, upon a 
 miraculous interposition of heavenly aid — he met his death, 
 at the age of seventy-four, after a life without a blot, the 
 death he had coveted when a boy. He was canonized, but 
 his holiest title is " The Apostle of Peace." 
 
 In Germany a thousand years seem to embrace a nar- 
 rower (^yclo than two hundred years in America. "We still 
 see the primitive race, in wampum, moccasin and war-paint, 
 
A HOME IN THE THUKINGIAN FOKEST. 265 
 
 in the streets of New York ; but here, the footsteps of the 
 ante-feudal era are so completely washed out, the grooves 
 in which the life of the present race moves are so old and 
 worn, apparently so irrevocably fixed, that we look back 
 upon the long-haired, half-naked savages of the seventh 
 century, as if they were ootemporaries of the Egyptian 
 Remesides. In throwing out, here and there, a thread of 
 comparative chronology, as I read these historicalfragments, 
 I find myself constantly forgetting that our history covers 
 so small a portion of the time, and that Frederic with the 
 Bitten Cheek was not a cotemporary of Petrus Stuyvesant. 
 The Seven Years' War, here, seems no farther back in the 
 Past than with us the Missouri Compromise. The explana^ 
 tion is, perhaps, that we live more in the same length of 
 time. 
 
 Let me look out of the window, to correct the digressive 
 influences of my contracted study. There ! the sight of 
 yonder mountain, where 
 
 "Like black priests, in order slow, 
 Round and round, row after row, 
 Up and up the pine-trees go, 
 And so down on the other side — " 
 
 brings me back to the story. It was a family pilgrimage, 
 in which the whole household, servants excluded, took 
 part. A donkey was procured for our little one and her 
 Russian cousin, respectively three and four years old, the 
 two occupying a single saddle, upon which they were so 
 tied that they could neither fight nor fall ofi", while a for- 
 ward and stupid boy held the bridle. I have frequently 
 
 12 
 
266 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 noticed that men degenerate by continual intercourse with 
 horses (witness grooms, hackmen and jockeys), swapping 
 their good traits with the animal, for his vices. This boy 
 proved the same with regard to donkeys. He brayed as 
 continually, and concealed a talent for malicious tricks 
 under a like aspect of innocent stupidity. However, we 
 were too much interested in the delight of the children to 
 notice such traits at the start. 
 
 Passing through the town, we followed the highway 
 along the side of the Kernberg, around its eastern base, 
 and through a dark wood into the neighboring valley. 
 How surprising was the aspect of this quiet and seclusion, 
 in contrast with the lively Friedrichsroda ! The irregular 
 valley-basin, a mile in diameter, and bounded by forests on 
 all sides, seemed to be entirely deserted. The picturesque 
 little village of Engelsbach, in the centre, was finished at 
 least a century ago, and has stood still ever since. Now 
 and then a white-headed child popped a " good day !" at 
 us from the window, but adult inhabitants were not to be 
 seen. They were off somewhere in the " under-land," or 
 far up in the woods. No girls gossipped around the foun- 
 tain, and the tavern-sign creaked with a lonely sound, for 
 the lusty beer-drinkers failed. 
 
 Some sculptured, fragments built into the churchyard 
 wall attracted my attention ; but my hope of discovering 
 mediajval relics was soon dissipated. Under a half-lengtli 
 bas-relief of a man with incomplete features and very 
 angular muscles was the inscription: "Adam. 1V47." — 
 while a similar being, with the addition of two inverted 
 tea-cups between her arms, was designated " Eva." They 
 
A HOME IN THE THURINGIAN POKEST. 267 
 
 were the work of a pious wood-cutter — an unconscious 
 Pre-Raphaelite. 
 
 At the other end of the valley we found a toll-house, 
 where the boy was obliged to pay for his donkey. Here, you 
 pass a toll-tree about every four miles, but you have the 
 finest roads in the world. From Friedriohsroda to Gotha 
 and back (twenty miles in all) the toll is about twenty-five 
 cents for a two-horse carriage, which is little enough for a 
 macadamized highway, good in all weathers and at all 
 seasons. Loose cattle are also tolled : ia fact, pedestrians 
 are the only exempts. " The ass pays nothing," said our 
 gate-keeper. " How — nothing ?" " Why, because he can't 
 carry money : the boy pays for him" — and the old man 
 grinned with delight at a jest which he had already 
 repeated seven hundred times. 
 
 The way to Altenberga led through delicious pastoral 
 landscapes. Through the smooth, emerald meadows 
 wound brooks shaded with alder trees, while the heights 
 were clothed with mingled woods of oak and fir. The 
 villages of Altenberga and Catterfeld, on opposite slopes, 
 are united by a narrow isthmus of hill, on the highest 
 point of which stands a fine old church, in a grove of 
 lindens. Below it, the drainage of the mountains forms 
 a pool, reflecting the sky in a sheet of darker blue. The 
 site of the chapel built by Bonifacius is on the summit of 
 the mountain, south of the first-named viUage. Here, in 
 an open space, surrounded on three sides by the forest, is a 
 monument of sandstone, thirty feet high, in the form of 
 a candlestick. Its existence is owing to the zeal of a pious 
 miller, with whom originated the idea of thus commemo- 
 
268 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 rating the spot. The eccentric Duke August of Saxe- 
 Gotha-Altenhurg designed the monument, wliieh is a very- 
 heavy candlestick indeed. The gilded flame at the top is 
 divided into four parts, which, as there is no doctrine of a 
 Quaternity, may have mystical meaning not apparent to 
 us. The foundations of the original chapel have been laid 
 bare, and a stone, said to have been part of the baptismal 
 font, stands under the adjacent trees : but it is evidently of 
 a much later date. There seems to be no doubt, however, as 
 to the antiquity of the foundation-walls, which, in all pro- 
 bability, are those laid by the Apostle. 
 
 We returned more rapidly than we went, on account of 
 the difference of the donkey's pace towards home. We 
 passed Engelsbach and turned the corner of the Kem- 
 berg, whence the narrow grain-fields along the slope of 
 Reinhardtsberg, which they covered as with a mantle of 
 striped and watered silk, were visible, gleaming with a 
 truly silken lustre in the evening sunshine. The children, 
 crowded together in the saddle, had exhausted the novelty 
 of the ride, and were growing tired. They were a little 
 in advance of us, and we did not notice that the donkey- 
 boy, who was tying on a hat which one of them had 
 dropped, had carelessly let go of the bridle. All at once 
 the beast sprang forward, and in a second was out of the 
 boy's reach, careering at full gallop along the highway. 
 " Run for your life 1" I shouted to the bewildered fellow, 
 following him as fast as my strength could carry me. The 
 terrified children screamed as they were violently tossed to 
 and fro, helpless and happily unaware of the fearful peril. 
 I ran, as it were, between Death and Despair. Behind 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOKBST. 269 
 
 me, the frantic cries of two mothers ; before me, the two 
 young lives, flung from side to side, as by a wind, which at 
 any moment might blow them out for ever. 
 
 The sight sickened me with a dread which I never felt 
 before, and yet I could not turn away my eyes. One toss 
 on the highway, hard as stone^ — one more bound, and the 
 fate might come ! And with all the speed which my des- 
 peration could give me, I came no nearer. The cries 
 ceased : was it from terror, or a cause I dared not suspect ? 
 "Something hung from the saddle — but no ! let me draw a 
 veil over the torture of those few moments. I had run 
 upwards of a quarter of a mile, and felt, with a pang of 
 despair, that my strength would soon begin to fail, when 
 the donkey slackened his pace. The boy soon caught and 
 stopped him, and I saw, as I approached, that the saddle 
 was half-turned, and the children were hanging nearly to 
 the ground. To cut the fastenings which held them, to 
 catch them in my arms, and set them on their feet to 
 determine whether any limbs were broken — all this hap- 
 pened I scarcely know how. Thank God for a miracle ! 
 our darlings were unharmed. Shaken, stunned, and terri- 
 fied, they were yet able to stand, and I stepped aside that 
 the mothers might see their safety before they came. 
 
 We walked back to the cottage, silent and shuddering. 
 The transition from our careless security to an almost hope- 
 less horror, and our release from the latter, had been 
 equally sudden. The current of our lives flowed onward 
 in its accustomed channel, but it had passed over a bed of 
 ice, and retained the chill. We had beheld the " Vision 
 of Sudden Death." 
 
270 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 As we came upon the height where our cottage stands, 
 the sun breaking through a bank of clouds, poured an 
 unspeakable glory upon the landscape. Over the fir-woods 
 of the Kernberg gushed a torrent of golden fire, and the 
 summit-trees stood like flickering spires of flame against a 
 background of storm. Out of blue shadow, so blear that it 
 seemed a softer light, rose the burning basalt of the " Praise- 
 God," with a magnificent fragment of rainbow based upon 
 its pointed peak. Strong and dazzling, painted in intensest 
 light, and crowned with an altar-flame of sevenfold color, 
 the mountain concentrated in itself the splendor of the 
 dying day. But in name and in lustre, it was a faint sym- 
 bol of that feeling within us which measured the mercy 
 of our deliverance by the depth of the abyss into which 
 we had gazed. That flaming evangel of the sunset found 
 itself already written on our hearts — not to fade as the 
 rainbow faded, not to narrow itself away as the gleam from 
 the darkening forests. And that night our unconscious 
 darling fell asleep with a halo around her head, and the 
 wings of a closer and humbler tenderness enfolding her. 
 
 9. — ^Thb Forest and its Legends. 
 
 July 24, 1861. 
 
 A week of walks and excursions — of visits and domestic 
 
 f6tes — of song and ti-adition, of historic legend so ideal, and 
 
 pure romance so real, in their reciprocal tints, that the chief 
 
 personages of both walk hand in hand through our dreams! 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 2T1 
 
 How is it possible to keep the record of these days? An 
 author writes, generally, from the dearth of that which he 
 desires : where life gives it to him in overflowing measure, 
 he enjoys and is silent. I know of a youth, the son of a 
 distinguished poet, who was laughed at for saying : " No, 
 I shall not write poems, though I inherit the faculty ; but I 
 am going to do a much finer and rarer thing — I shall live a 
 poem !" Now the youth was not so far wrong in his 
 notions ; but he overlooked the fact that a poem in life is 
 as little the result of a cool resolution, as a poem in lan- 
 guage. This much is true, however — that the poetic epi- 
 sodes in our own experience are worth more to us than all 
 the poems we write or read. I would not give my day in 
 the Acropolis for all Childe Harold, nor that one chapter 
 of the Arabian Nights which I lived, in Aleppo, for the 
 entire Thousand and One. 
 
 Halt, hippogrifi", that charapest the bit, scenting the 
 Orient afar off! And you, ye Muses, even now buckling 
 his girth, and putting on your sandals for the shining high- 
 way — unsaddle, and turn him loose, to graze for awhile in 
 these green Thuringian meadows ! Here there is still fresh 
 pasture : not the voluptuous breath of the musky rose, or 
 the tulip's goblets of blood and fire, but sprinkled hare- 
 bells, as if the summer sky had rained its color upon the 
 mountains, blood-pinks, which spring up wherever a knight 
 was murdered, in the old feudal times, and scentless heath- 
 er, the delight of fairies. Here, in some wild nook, still 
 grows the enchanted Key-flower — the golden lily of Fable, 
 which opens to him who plucks it the diamond halls of the 
 gnomes. The day of departure will come but too soon : 
 
272 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 let US gather a few more blossoms for the wreath we shall 
 hang over our cottage-door ! 
 
 I have been struck, in reading the legends of the Forest, 
 with the family likeness which they present, in its different 
 districts. The repetition of the same story, in various loca- 
 lities, would seem to indicate a very remote antiquity of 
 origin. It is not likely that one neighborhood would bor- 
 row of another, but the fragments of the original tribe, 
 migrating hither, and scattering themselves among the 
 valleys, would preserve the common legendary stock, and 
 gradually attach it to their several homes. The legend of 
 the Key-flower, one of the most beautiful, is thus found in 
 a number of places. Sometimes the blossom is of a won- 
 derful golden color : sometimes it is blue or purple : but the 
 story is the same. A herdsman sees the flower on the 
 mountain. Attracted by its beauty, he plucks it and puts 
 it in his hat. Immediately he perceives an open door in 
 the mountain-side. The passage conducts him to an im- 
 mense subterranean hall, sparkling with its heaps of gold 
 and jewels. A gray-bearded gnonie, the guardian of these 
 treasures, says to him : " Take what you want, but don't 
 forget the best !" He fills his pockets, his bosom, and final- 
 ly his hat, the old gnome still crying : " don't forget the 
 best ! The flower falls upon the earth, but he hastens away 
 without. noticing it. "Don't forget the best !" shouts the 
 gnome for the last time. There is a clap of thunder, and 
 the herdsman rushes to the open air, the gates banging be- 
 hind him. The door has disappeared ; the gold and jewels 
 are nothing but dry leaves. He has forgotten the best — the 
 enchanted Key-flower, by the i)Ossession of which his gold 
 
A HOME IN THE THUKINGIAJST FOEEST. 273 
 
 would have remained gold, and the doors opened to him as 
 often as he might choose to come. He never sees it again. 
 
 The legend of Tannhiiuser, the home of which we can see 
 from any of the heights near us, has gone around the world, 
 and I need not repeat it. There are some curious local 
 superstitions connected with it, and the story seems to have 
 been confounded by the peasants with another and earlier 
 legend. The " Venus" of Tannhauser becomes identified 
 in their mouths, with " Frau Holle," who evidently belongs 
 to the Pagan period — perhaps the Hela of Scandinavian 
 mythology. When it snows, the peojple say : " Frau Holle 
 is plucking her geese." Occasionally, in the winter, she 
 leads a chase of airy hounds, like the Wild Huntsman of 
 the Odenwald. Wo to him who should dare to look on 
 this infernal rout ! His head would be instantly twisted 
 around, and his face would look behind him for the rest of 
 his days. But the faithful Eckart,- the squire of Tannhau- 
 ser, who sits at the mouth of the cave, awaiting his master's 
 return, always goes forth — in the shape of an old man with 
 staff and silver beard — in advance of the wild chase, and 
 warns those whom he meets to throw themselves on their 
 faces until it has passed by. 
 
 In the Venus-Mountain — but two hours' drive from our 
 
 cottage — there is really a cavern, which has not yet been 
 
 thoroughly explored, so far as I can learn. Peasants who 
 
 have ventured into the entrance, of course report that they 
 
 see the figure of Eckart sitting in the dusky shades beyond. 
 
 Two or three centuries ago, the story runs, a number of 
 
 boys who were pasturing horses on the mountain, agreed 
 
 to go in and explore the secrets of the cave. Turning loose 
 
 12* 
 
•274 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 their horses, they took the bridles, attached themselves to 
 one another, in single file, and boldly entered. But, as the 
 daylight disappeared behind them, the last boy in the line 
 was seized with a dread so powerful that he cut the thong, 
 and stood still, watching the light of the splints they had 
 kindled disappear, one by one, in the bowels of the earth. 
 Then he crept back towards the entrance, calling loudly 
 and fearfully on his lost companions. They never returned. 
 The boy was found at the mouth of the cave, at twilight, 
 by the alarmed peasants ; but he steadily pined away from 
 that hour, and died in a few months. The noises which at 
 times issue from the cavern add to the terror with which it 
 is still regarded. The author Bechstein, whom no one 
 would accuse of an excess of imagination, states that once, 
 when standing on the mountain, he was surprised by a sud- 
 den subterranean roar, like that of a mighty cataract, the 
 cause of which he was utterly unable to discover. 
 
 — Thus, in the mornings, we read history and legend : 
 in the afternoons, we wander off to some point which they 
 celebrate. We have climbed to the Schaueuburg, the fast- 
 ness of Ludwig the Bearded, first Landgrave of Thilringia, 
 luring even the little one up to the height, by the discovery 
 of a wild strawberry, here and there. Buried in harebells 
 and heather, we watched the shadows of the clouds and 
 mountains fold themselves over the broad, sunny landscape, 
 now quenching the castle of Gotha, now disclosing the 
 sparkling house on the Seeberg, and finally filling with 
 evening-smoke the valley of Friedrichsroda. Nothing of 
 the Sohauenburg remains, except the foundation of one of 
 the round towers. Invisible herdsmen, far across the deep 
 
A HOME IN THE THUBINGIAN FOEEST. 275 
 
 gulfs of the hills, answered our shouts, and the musical 
 chime of a thousand bells, faintly flung upon our ears hy 
 the wandering puffs of air, seemed the very voice of the 
 Earth, humming to herself some happy strain of the sum- 
 mer. 
 
 Then, there was the Baron's birth-day, when we met the 
 jubilant family at the Hunters' Rest, and. walked three 
 miles along the wooded comb of the Forest, led by B., the 
 mighty hunter. We were bound for the Glassback Rock, 
 a lonely ledge on the Hessian side of the mountains, known 
 but to few, and hard to find. B. confidently took the lead, 
 but, meeting with a forester who reported a stag in the 
 neighborhood, the two darted off together into the woods. 
 The remainder of us, thus forsaken, became entangled in 
 the wood-paths, uncertain whether to advance or fall back. 
 Our combined shout was sufiicient to frighten any stag 
 within a mile's distance, and the result was soon manifest, 
 in the return of the two indignant hunters. 
 
 We sat upon the Glassback Rock, hanging over fifty 
 miles of mountain landscape, singing the peasant songs of 
 Thiiringia, and staining our clothes with crushed whortle- 
 berries. B., however, was determined to have a stag before 
 sunset, and hurried us back, through one of the most ex- 
 quisite sylvan dells in the Avorld. At the Hunters' Rest, a 
 long table was set in the open air, and the balmy odor of 
 boiled potatoes greeted us. Butter as sweet as new chest- 
 nuts, with the creamy, honeycombed cheese of Swiss val- 
 leys and ruddy Westphalian ham, studded the board, and 
 the Baron, as he caught sight of certain slender urns of 
 purple and green, began to sing: — 
 
2V6 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 " So crown with leaves the dear, the brimming beaker, 
 And drain its liquid bliss : 
 Search Europe over, jovial nectar-seeker, 
 There's no such wine as this I" 
 
 Crack ! went a rifle in a neighboring copse, before even the 
 birth-day health had been drunk. Presently we saw B., 
 flourishing his gray hunter's hat, followed by two of his 
 sons, with rifle and powder-flask, and the forester, bearing 
 a tawny load. To him the potatoes were sweeter, and the 
 wine more inspiring, than to any of us. Then followed 
 leap-frog among the men and boys, with various games 
 wherein the ladies could take part, and thus the dew-fall 
 came unawares, warning us down the mountain-side. 
 
 Our most recent exploit is the ascent of the Inselsberg 
 in a hay-wagon, by moonlight. Our departure fi-om the 
 cottage was postponed so long that no other vehicle could 
 be obtained. The clumsy, bone-shattering afiair was drawn 
 by an old gray horse, driven by a peasant in a green blouse. 
 The last streak of sunset burned on KyflThauser, the castle 
 of Barbarossa, and the Golden Mead, as we reached the 
 crest of the mountain ; but the moon was already in the 
 sky, and for three hours our course lay through an enchanted 
 realm. The air was breathless, and, to our surprise, far 
 warmer and balmier than in the valleys ; the brown shadows 
 of beeches and firs, on our road, belted the silver of the 
 moon ; and far down, on either side, glimmered a dim, blue, 
 mysterious world. Snake-like wreaths of vapor crept along 
 the courses of the streams; the distant forests lay. like 
 flecks Of cloud, and the horizon was gii'dled with a lumi- 
 nous belt. It was eleven o'clock when wp reached the house 
 
A HOME IN THE TH URIJSTGIAN POKEST. 277 
 
 on the summit, -which was so thronged with guests that the 
 kind hostess was obliged to give us her own room. 
 
 We descended by way of the Portal Rock into the 
 Monsters' Ravine. Of course we stopped at Henneberg's 
 Mill for a draught of beer. " Give it to the little one !" 
 said the green coachman, " it's good for children. Why, 
 i have a child that had to be weaned at six months, and 
 Ave gave it as much beer as cow's-milk. It's thirty years 
 old now, and has so much forsoh (force) and so much 
 schpritt (esprit) that you wouldn't believe ! It seems to 
 feel the good o' the beer yet !" We laughed heartily at 
 this, not so much at the idea of " bringing up by hand'' on 
 beer, as at the comical effect of the Germanized French 
 words, which are handed down among the peasants from 
 the Napoleonic times. 
 
 The term " Forest" here represents something very 
 different from our wild woods in America. A western 
 settler, fresh from his girdled clearings, Afould be amazed, 
 at finding these wooded mountains more carefully looked 
 after than his own garden-patch. There is not a nook in 
 the whole length and breadth of the chain, that is not 
 regularly visited and guarded — where the trees are not 
 counted, measured, and subjected to sanitary inspection. 
 When a trunk is ripe, anywhere, down it comes. But as 
 for a stump to tell where it stood, such shameful waste is 
 unknown here. The roots are carefully extracted, down 
 to the very fangs, the earth smoothed, and a young tree 
 set in the place. You sometimes overlook miles of forest, 
 on the steepest slopes, every tree of which was planted. 
 The straight rows, converging from the base towards 
 
218 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the summit, or slanting obliquely along the side in 
 regular parallels, are not agreeable to the eye. These 
 artificial signs disappear as the trees become older, but 
 the forest never entirely recovers the unstudied grace of 
 nature. 
 
 So carefully is this wood-culture fostered, that it is pro- 
 hibited to break a branch, or pull up a young seedling. 
 The Forest is the property of the State, and quite an army 
 of woodmen is necessary in order to look after its interests. 
 The amount of wood felled every year is carefully propor- 
 tioned to the growth, so that the main stock is never dimi- 
 nished. In some districts the finer twigs and roots are the 
 perquisites of the adjacent villages, and quite an interesting 
 discussion is going on at this time, between some of the 
 latter and the State, as to the precise point where the 
 trunk terminates and the root begins. From eighty to a 
 hundred and twenty years, according to the locality, is the 
 time required fo»the maturity of the trees. 
 
 "When we consider that game, also, comes under the 
 same regulations, we must call the entire mountain-range 
 of the Thuringian Forest a park on the grandest possible 
 scale. We lose, it is true, the charm of wild, tangled, 
 irregular woods — of tracts of wilderness over which still 
 hovers the atmosphere of exploration — of that utter seclu- 
 sion which com'es from the absence of any trace of man ; 
 but, on the other hand, we have, everywhere, — on moun- 
 tain-top and in remotest glen — the accessibility of a garden, 
 the warm atmosphere of care and culture, and the con- 
 trary, but equal charm, of the neai'ness of man. Centuries 
 must elapse before any system of this kind can be neces- 
 
A HOME IN THE THUBINGIAN FOEEST. 279 
 
 sary in America. It is the difference between a settlement 
 of two hundred and two thousand years. 
 
 Meanwhile, let me rejoice in the fact that I have taller 
 oaks of my own, at home, than any I have seen here ; that my 
 tulip-trees, a hundred feet high, are masses of starry hloom, 
 while the single starveling specimen at Reinhardtsbrnnn 
 never blossoms ; and that my chestnuts stand twenty -four 
 feet in girth, while here they cannot grow ! In the Philo- 
 sophy of Compensation one finds the surest source of 
 contentment. 
 
 1 0. — Dat-Deeams — Depaettjee. 
 
 JULT 31, 18C1. 
 
 " Must I leave thee, Paradise ?" says Milton's Eve ; but 
 on this last day of our cottage-life in the mountains, I, the 
 Adam of our temporary Eden, ask the same regretful 
 question. Our fate is fixed. No amount of rent, paid in 
 advance, will enable us to tarry longer on the banks of the 
 Four Rivers : the cherub has warned us, and the flaming 
 sword which he carries, to drive us away, is a previous 
 lease of the cottage to an English family, who take posses- 
 sion to-morrow. We have been whirled for a month into 
 a quiet eddy, where our waves have been still enough to 
 mirror the flowers on the banks. Now the roaring stream 
 takes US' again. 
 
 Why should it take us at all? Why should we not 
 regulate our lives in accordance with the common sense of 
 our own natures, whether or not it chimes in with the com- 
 
280 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 mon sense of the world ? On every side we see blossoms 
 that only seem to wait for our plucking ; every wind brings 
 us their betraying odors ; yet we turn away, and go on 
 with our old business of pulling thistles, no matter how 
 our hands bleed. A great portion of our lives is spent in 
 achieving something that we do not actually need. If 
 Wealth— the chief result is, that we leave our children more 
 than is wholesome for them : if Fame, the " bad picture and 
 worse bust " grin at us their derisive answer : if Power, 
 we give up the sanctity of life, and allow a thousand 
 curious or malicious eyes to peer into our dressing-room. 
 Now, wealth that is won without too exhausting a strug- 
 gle, fame that comes unsought, and power unconsciously 
 exercised, are things to be desired; but they are gifts 
 which only some chosen favorite of Fortune receives, and 
 we must gauge our expectations by the common experience 
 of man. 
 
 On the ridge, between our cottage and the Felsenkeller, 
 there is a granite block, whereon you read : " In the cheer- 
 ful evening of life walked here, grateful to God, Frederic 
 Perthes." It is one of those memorials which you never 
 find but in Germany. Elsewhere, the dead body is re- 
 corded, not the joys, or triumphs, or the tranquil happiness 
 of the living man. The universal record simply tells you 
 the individual has ceased to exist : here yon learn where he 
 lived, enjoyed, and was grateful. The mellow glow of his 
 cheerful evening of life, not the damp chill of His tomb, 
 lingers upon the spot. Thus, on a house in the Rosenau, 
 near Leipzig, you read : " Here Schiller wrote his Hymn 
 to Joy." Give me some such inscription of a moment of 
 
A HOME IN THE THUBINGIAN FOEEST. 281 
 
 full, inspired life, and I will be satisfied with a nameless 
 grave ! 
 
 Around this monument of Perthes, the grass is bright 
 with harebells and daisies. On one side, you look down 
 upon Friedrichsroda, and past the basaltic cone of the 
 Praise-God into the deep green glen behind ; on the other, 
 upon the park of Reinhardtsbrunn, abutting against the 
 lofty Abbot's Mountain, beyond which rises the Evil 
 Mountain, dark and lowering. The sweetest winds of the 
 Forest reach this spot, and thence you have the loveliest 
 pictures of sunset. Here, say we, let us build a cottage of 
 our own — a little ark of refuge whither we may fly, at 
 intervals, from the stormy life of our American home, from 
 the brightness of its newer heaven and earth, to enjoy the 
 contrast of this intense quiet, this veiled atmosphere of the 
 Past. Here is an air in which my unwritten poems may 
 ripen : where something worthy of the divine art may be 
 reached — something which men may take to their hearts 
 and cherish for its loveliness. Then, if any one, long 
 afterwards, should place a tablet over the cottage-door, or 
 a head-stone upon its site, saying: " Here he wrote," my 
 memory would become a portion of the cheerfulness and 
 the delight of others, not of their grave and solemn 
 thoughts. 
 
 But, alas ! how many castles of this sort have I builded 
 — and only one, as yet, stands realized in stone and mortar! 
 I have a tropical home on the mountain terrace of Jalapa, 
 embowered in coffee-trees, with a view of Orizaba from my 
 study-window. I have a palace on the lower slope of Etna, 
 with hanging gardens of aloe, orange, and palm — a Moor- 
 
282 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 ish tower, overlooking the Vega of Granada, and an empty 
 tomb (cleansed of bats), in the limestone crags of Goorheh, 
 with the plain of Thebes at my feet. Then, there is my 
 little ranche in the valley of San Jos6, in the perfect atmo- 
 sphere of California ! How to pluck these aromatic blos- 
 soms from the rough, prickly stem of life ? Ample means 
 might do it, but where would be the sweet satisfaction of a 
 home, or the full maturity of mind, the want of which 
 is one's chief source of unrest ? If an oyster could change 
 his shell, at pleasure, I presume there would be no pearls. 
 Yes, but the pearl is a disease, you say : art, literature, 
 science, you may add, flow from restless and unsatisfied 
 natures. Why not take the existence this planet offers, in 
 all its richest and loveUest phases, and thus make Life itself 
 your art and your passion? 
 
 Because I cannot. Give me means, time, freedom from 
 restraining ties — still I cannot. Leave the Christian idea 
 of Duty out of sight — separate the question from its moral 
 aspects— still, we are so constituted that our truest enjoy- 
 ment comes through the force of contrast. We receive 
 delight from ISTature, not by passive sensation, but from 
 faculties whose activity is not limited by such delight — 
 faculties which will not allow us to be still and enjoy. 
 Why should I not sit, with folded hands, and be satisfied 
 with feeling these thoughts lazily ripple along the shores o? 
 the mind, instead of grappling with language, and achiev- 
 ing, at best, an imperfect expression ? Because the strug- 
 gle is necessary, in order to give coherent shape to thought. 
 You may imagine any amount of perfect statues in the 
 marble quarry, but your true joy is in the slow result of 
 
A HOME IN THE THUEINGIAN FOREST. 283 
 
 the chisel. Expression rewards one, not only by the sense 
 of something accomplished, but by giving palpable form 
 and visible color to the vague delight of the mind. 
 Nature, thus, provides against 
 
 " pampering the coward heart 
 With feelings all too delicate for use." 
 
 The Sybarites, I suspect, were the most peevish and un- 
 happy creatures of their time. For my part, I know per- 
 fectly well that if I could build my cottage, and remain here, 
 even engaged in healthy study, I should finally miss the 
 encounter with other minds, the breezy agitation of com- 
 plex life, in some of the great Vanity Fairs of the world. 
 So the day-dream fades : but it is not too much to substi- 
 tute such an occasional holiday for the flashy aims wherein 
 others find their happiness. We have made our home here, 
 for instance, at a lower expenditure than a month in the 
 whirlpool of Saratoga would require. I am willing that my 
 fashionable friends should say : " Poor fellow ! he cannot 
 keep a carriage," so long as I can reply, " Yes, but I keep 
 a cottage.'' What if I cannot give balls, while I can give 
 sunsets, and twilights, and summer moons to my friends ! 
 We have served up the superb mountain landscape, in all 
 lights, to our visitors from the neighboring city, and I am 
 sure they regret our departure. 
 
 Here, then, is an end to a quiet which has been all the 
 sweeter, because it was unsought. I hear, already, the 
 grating of the upper and nether mill-stones of every-day 
 life, and prepare to jump into the hopper. Trumpets peal 
 from across the Atlantic, and this pure air of Peace chokes 
 
A HOME IN THE THCBINGIAN EOEEST. 285 
 
 him, in times of danger, to place himself under the protec- 
 tion of our national flag ; to display the same on all public 
 occasions, in token of his diplomatic character, and in asser- 
 tion of his neuti'ality, in case of foreign invasion. Further, 
 we herewith warn all authorities, whatever they may be, 
 against interfering with the rights and powers hereby 
 granted to him, since such interference would provoke our 
 extreme displeasure, and might result in serious complica- 
 tions between Powers hitherto friendly. 
 
 " Given at Friedrichsroda, this 31st day of July, A. D. 
 1861.'' 
 
 I have no doubt that the good Dr. will justify the extra- 
 ordinary confidence wherewith he has been invested. And 
 now, farewell ! The postillion's bugle, sounding nearer as 
 he climbs the hill, warns us with the unrestful melody : 
 
 " A rose in his hat and a staff in his hand, 
 The pilgrim must wander, from land unto land — 
 Through many a city, o'er many a plain : 
 But ah, he must leave them, must wander again 1" 
 
IV. 
 
 A WALK THROUGH THE FRANCOIsriAN SWET- 
 ZERLAND. 
 
 EvBBT one has heard of Franconia — the old Frankenland, 
 or Land of the Franks — but as no branch of knowledge 
 which we acquire at school is so neglected in after-life as 
 geography, it will do no harm if I explicitly describe its 
 position. Franconia occupies the very heart of Germany, 
 and, consequently, of Europe, so far as the rivers of the 
 continent fix its central point. Springs, ■which rise within 
 a circle two miles in diameter, send their waters to the 
 Black Sea, the German Ocean, and the British Channel. 
 Draw a line from Nuremberg to Dresden, and another 
 from Hanover to Ratisbon, on the Danube, and their inter- 
 section will give you, very nearly, the centre of Franconia. 
 The Frankish Mountains are an offshoot of that long irre- 
 gular chain, which, leaving the Rhine as it issues from the 
 Lake of Constance, forms a vast curve through the very 
 heart of Europe, embracing the Black Forest, the Oden- 
 wald, Spessart, the Rhon, the Thuringia Forest, the Erzge- 
 birge, the Giant's Mountains, and the Carpathians and 
 
A "WALK THROUGH THE FKANCONIAN SWITZERLAND. 28V 
 
 Ttaiisylvanian Alps. Franconia lies south of the axis of 
 this chain, but its streams are nearly equally tributary to 
 the Danube, the Elbe, and the Rhine. Politically, it never 
 had an indei^endent existence. Divided during the feudal 
 ages into a number of quarrelsome baronies, it was after- 
 ward parcelled between the Bishopric of Bamberg and the 
 Principalities of Bayreuth and Anspacb, but since 1809 has 
 been incorporated into the Kingdom of Bavaria. 
 
 This region, less interesting in a historical point of view 
 than on account of its remarkable scenery and its curious 
 deposits of fossil remains, is very rarely visited by other 
 than German tourists. The railroads from Leipzig and 
 Frankfort-on-the-Main to Munich pass within sight of its 
 mountains, but few indeed are the travellers who leave these 
 highways, unless at Schweinfurt for the baths of Kissingen, 
 or at Hof for those of Eger and Cai-lsbad. 
 
 Indeed, in my own case, the journey through the Fran- 
 conian Switzerland requires a little explanation. The pri- 
 mary cause of it was the construction of seats in the 
 passenger-cars on American railways ! During nearly six 
 months in the year, for three years, I had been obliged to 
 use those inconremences, and the result of this (for a tall 
 man) continual cramping, and wedging, and jarring, was a 
 serious injury to the knee-joints, which threatened to unfit 
 me for duty as a pedestrian. Had I been enrolled among 
 the ranks of our gallant volunteers, I am afraid I should 
 have fallen by the wayside before the end of the first day's 
 march. Some years ago I had occasion to regret that the 
 directors of all railroad companies were not uniformly seven 
 feet high, and I now repeat it with emphasis. The Cam- 
 
288 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 den and Amboy Railroad is to me simply a torture, the 
 Philadelphia and Baltimore the rack, and from Baltimore 
 to Washington I am broken on the wheel. It is greatly to 
 be regretted that the fares on these roads are so very low, 
 and the business so insignificant, that the companies can- 
 not afford greateir space for passengers. 
 
 The prescription was : Moderate daily exercise, carefully 
 timed so as to avoid unusual fatigue. But I am one of 
 those persons who cannot walk simply for the sake of exer- 
 cise ; I must have an object for locomotion. If I were to 
 carry stones, like De Quincy on the Edinburgh turnpike, I 
 should be crippled in an hour, but place me in a winding 
 valley, where every turn discloses an unknown landscape, 
 and I shall hold out for half a day. So the first thing I 
 did, after reaching Germany, was to select an interesting 
 field wherein to commence my Walking-Cure. Saxony, 
 Thiiringia, the Black Forest, the Hartz, I knew already ; 
 but here, within a day's railroad travel of my summer home, 
 lay Franconia, with its caverns, its dolomite rocks, and its 
 fir-clad mountains. In one month from the day I left New 
 York I found myself at Forchheim, on the railroad between 
 Bamberg and Nuremberg, and on the western border of 
 the Franconian Switzerland. 
 
 Here I commence my narrative. 
 
 The omnibus for Streitberg was in waiting, with two 
 passengers besides myself. The first was a pleasant old 
 gentleman, who I soon discovered was a Professor from the 
 University of Erlangen — a graduate of Gottingen in 1816, 
 where he was fellow-student with George Ticknor and 
 Edward Everett. Then entered a miserable-looking man, 
 
A WALK THROUGH THE FKANCOIflAN SWITZERLAJSTD. 289 
 
 with a face wearing the strongest expression of distress and 
 disgust. He had scarcely taken his seat before he burst 
 into loud lamentations. " No, such a man !" he cried ; " I 
 have never met such a dreadful man. I could not get rid 
 of him ; he stuck to me like a blue-fly. Because I said to 
 one of the passengers, ' I see from your face that you have 
 studied,' he attacked me. ' What do you think from my 
 face, that I am ?' he said. I didn't care what he was. 
 ' I'm not very well dressed,' said he, 'but if I had my best 
 clothes on you might guess twenty-four hours before you 
 could make me out !' Oh, the accursed man ! Wh^t did 
 I care about him ? ' Don't go to Streitberg !' he said, 
 ' stop at Forchheim. Go to the Three Swans. If you stay 
 there a day, you'll stay three ; if you stay three days, you'll 
 stay three weeks. But what do you take me for ?' ' A 
 journeyman shoemaker !' I cried, in desperation. ' No, 
 you're wrong; I'm a dancing-master!' Holy Saint Peter, 
 what a man !" After this I was not surprised when the 
 narrator informed us that he was very sick, and was going 
 to Streitberg to try the " whey-cure." 
 
 We entered the valley of the Wiesent, one of the far-off 
 tributaries of the Rhine. The afternoon was intensely hot, 
 but the sky was clear and soft, and the landscape could not 
 Lave exhibited more ravishing effects of light and shade. 
 Broad and rich at first, bordered with low hills, the valley 
 gradually became deeper and narrower, without losing its 
 fair, cultivated beauty. We passed around the foot of the 
 Walpurgisberg, on the summit of which is a chapel, whereto 
 a pilgrimage in honor of St. Walpurgis is made on the first 
 of May. Further up the valley, on the opposite side, is the 
 
 13 
 
290 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 VexirJeapelle (the Chapel of Annoyance) ; so called, I pre- 
 sume, because you have it in view during a day's walk. 
 Its situation is superb, on the very crest of a wooded moun- 
 tain. Peasant-women, with gay red cloths on their heads, 
 brightened the fields, but the abundance of beggars showed 
 that we were in Bavaria. 
 
 At the little town of Ebermannstadt two young ladies 
 joined us. They wore round hats, much jewelry, and 
 expansive crinolines, which they carefully gathered up 
 under their arms before taking their seats, thereby avoiding 
 the usual embarrassment. They saluted me with great 
 cordiality, apologizing for the amplitude of dress which 
 obliged me to shift my seat. I was a little disappointed, 
 however, to find that they spoke the broadest pa<o«s, which 
 properly requires the peasant costume to make it attractive. 
 The distance between their speech and their dress was too 
 great. " Gelt, Hans, 's geht a bissel harsch ''ufP'' said 
 one of them to the postillion — which is as if an American 
 girl should say to the stage-driver, " Look here, you Jack, 
 it's a sort o' goin' up-hUl, ain't it ?" 
 
 The valley now became quite narrow, and presently I 
 saw, by the huge masses of gray rock and the shattered 
 tower of Neideck, that we were approaching Streitberg. 
 This place is the portal of the Franconiau Switzerland. 
 Situated at the last turn of the Wiesent valley — or rather 
 at the corner where it ceases to be a gorge and becomes 
 a valley — the village nestles at the base of a group of huge, 
 splintered, ovei-hanging rocks, among which still hang the 
 ruins of its feudal castle. Opposite, on the very summit 
 of a similar group, is the ruin of Niedeck. The names of 
 
Tj:&ii.roK5r hjt iFJiajS'ir.Girrisva" r,wTrjAfa^. 
 
A "WALK THROUGH THE FBANCONIAN SWITZEELAND. 281 
 
 the two places (the "Mount of Quarrel" and the "Corner 
 - of Envy") give us the clew to their history. Streitberg, 
 no doubt, was at one time a very Ebal, or Mount of Curs- 
 ing — nor, to judge from the invalid who accompanied us 
 thither to try the whey-cure, can it yet have entirely lost 
 its character. At the cure-house (as the Germans call it) 
 there were some fifty similar individuals — sallow, peevish, 
 irritable, unhappy persons, in whose faces one could see 
 vinegar as well as whey. They sat croaking to each other 
 in the balmy evening, or contemplated with rueful faces 
 the lovely view down the valley. 
 
 I succeeded in procuring a bath by inscribing my name, 
 residence, and the precise hour of bathing, in a book for 
 the inspection of the physician. I trust he was edified by 
 the perusal. Then, returning to the inn, I ordered a sup- 
 per of trout, which are here cheap and good. They are 
 kept in tanks, and, if you choose, you may pick out any 
 fish you may prefer. A tap on the nose is supposed to kill 
 them, after which the gall-bladder is removed, and they are 
 thrown into boiling water. In Germany, trout are never 
 eaten otherwise. The color fades in the process, but the 
 flavor of the fish is fully retained. A slice of lemon, bread, 
 butter, and a glass of Rhenish wine, are considered to be 
 necessary harmonics. 
 
 I took a good night's sleep before commencmg my walk- 
 ing-cure. Then, leaving my travelling-bag to follow with the 
 diligence, I set out encumbered only with an umbrella-cane, 
 a sketch-book, and a leather pouch, containing guide-book, 
 map, note-book, and colors. Somewhat doubtful as to the 
 result, but courageous, I began a slow, steady march up 
 
292 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the valley. Many years had passed since I had undertaken 
 a journey on foot, and as I recalled old experiences and old 
 feelings, I realized that, although no sense of enjoyment 
 was blunted, the fascinating wonderment of youth, which 
 clothed every object in a magical atmosphere, was gone for 
 ever. My perception of Beauty seemed colder, because it 
 was more intelligent, more discriminating. But Gain and 
 Loss, in the scale of life, alternately kick the beam. 
 
 The dew lay thick on the meadows, and the peasants 
 were everywhere at work shaking out the hay, so that the 
 air was sweet with grass-odors. Above me, on either 
 side, the immense gray horns and towers of rock rose out 
 of the steep fir-woods, clearly, yet not too sharply defined 
 against the warm blue of the sky. The Wiesent, swift and 
 beryl-green, winding in many curves through the hay -fields, 
 made a cheerful music in his bed. In an hour I reached 
 the picturesque village of Muggendorf, near which is Rosen- 
 mtlUer's Cave, celebrated for its stalactitic formations. I 
 have little fancy for subterranean travels, and after having 
 seen the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky and the grottoes of 
 Crete, I felt no inclination to visit more than one of the 
 Franconian caverns. After resting half an hour, and re- 
 freshing myself with a glass of water and the conversation 
 of a company of ladies who alighted at the little tavern, I 
 started again, still feeling tolerably brisk. 
 
 The valley now contracted to a wild gorge, with almost 
 perpendicular walls of rock, and a narrow strip of meadow 
 in its bed. In a distance of five miles I passed two fine old 
 mills, which were the only evidences of life and habitation. 
 Suddenly, on turning a rocky corner, the castle of Giiss- 
 
A WALK THEOUGH THE FBANCONIAN SWITZBELAIfD. 293 
 
 weinstein appeared before me, as if hung in the sky. The 
 picture was so striking that, in spite of the intense heat, I 
 stopped to sketch it. On reaching a mill at the foot of the 
 mountain I found there was no bridge over the stream, 
 which I should have crossed some distance back. I was 
 sufficiently tired, however, to be glad of a good excuse for 
 not scaling the height. Presently I reached a little village 
 iu a nook where the gorge splits into three prongs, through 
 two of which wild trout-streams come down to join the 
 Wiesent. The meadows were covered with pieces of coarse 
 linen in the process of bleaching. Here there was a tavern 
 and a huge linden-tree, and after my walk of ten miles I 
 considered myself entitled to shade and beer. It occurred 
 to me, also, that I might lighten the journey by taking the 
 landlady's son to carry my coat, sketch-book, etc. This 
 proved to be a good idea. 
 
 The main road here left the valley, which really became 
 next to impracticable. We took a foot-path up the stream, 
 through a wild glen half-filled with immense fragments that 
 had tumbled from the rocky walls on either side. The close 
 heat was like that of an oven, and, as the solitude was com- 
 plete, I gradually loaded my guide with one article of dress 
 after another, until my costume resembled that of a High- 
 lander, except that the kilt was white. Finally, seeing some 
 hay-makers at a point where the glen made a sharp turn, 
 I resumed my original character ; and it was well that I did 
 so, for on turning the corner I found myself in the village 
 of Tuchersfeld, and in view of a multitude of women who 
 were bleaching linen. 
 
 I know of few surmises in scenery equal to this. I was 
 
294 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 looking up the glen, supposing that my way lay straight on, 
 when three steps more, and I found myself in a deep trian- 
 gular basin, out of which rose three immense jagged masses 
 of rook, like pyramids in ruin, with houses clinging, in gid- 
 dy recklessness, to their sides ! On a saddle between two 
 of them stands the Herrensitz, or residence of the jiroprie- 
 tary family. A majestic linden, centuries old, grows at the 
 base, and high over its crown tower the weather-beaten 
 spires of rock, with a blasted pine on the summit. The 
 picture is grotesque in its character, which is an unusual 
 feature in scenery. One who comes up the glen is so un- 
 prepared for it that it flashes upon him as if a curtain had 
 been suddenly lifted. 
 
 Here I rested in the shade until the mid-day heat was 
 over. A Jew and a young Bavarian lieutenant kept me 
 company, and the latter entertained me with descriptions 
 of various executions which he had seen. AYe left at the 
 same time, they for Bayreuth and I for the little town of 
 Pottenstein, at the head of the gorge, five miles further. 
 By this time, I confess, the journey had become a toil. I 
 dragged myself along rather than walked, and -nhen a stout 
 boy of twelve begged for a kreutzer, I bribed him for twelve 
 to accompany and assist me. His dialect was of the broad- 
 est, and I could sooner have imderstood a lecture on the 
 Absolute Reason than his simple peasant gossip. His tongue 
 was a very scissors for clipping off the ends of words. The 
 pronoun " ich" he changed into " a," and very often used 
 the third person of the verb instead of the first. I man- 
 aged, however, to learn that the landlord in Ttichersfeld 
 was " fearfully rich :'' all the hay in the glen (perhaps ten 
 
A WALK THEO0GII THE FRANCONIAN SWITZEHXAND. 295 
 
 tons) belonged to him. I had already suspected as much, 
 for the landlord took j)ains to tell us about a wedding trip 
 he had just made to the old monastery of Banz, a day's 
 journey distant. " It cost me as much as forty florins," 
 said he, " but then we travelled second-class. To my 
 thinking it's not half so pleasant as third-class, but then I 
 wanted to be noble for once." 
 
 For an hour and a half we walked through a deep, wind- 
 ing glen, where there was barely a little room here and 
 there for a hay or barley field. On the right hand were 
 tall forests of fir and pine ; on the left, abrupt stony 
 hills, capped with huge irregular bastions of Jura limestone. 
 Gradually the rocks appear on the right and push away 
 the woods ; the stream is squeezed between a double row 
 of Cyclopean walls, which assume the wildest and most 
 fantastic shapes, and finally threaten to lock together and 
 cut oif the path. These wonderful walls are three or four 
 hundred feet in height — not only perpendicular, but actu- 
 ally overhanging in many places. 
 
 As I was shuflSing along, quite exhausted, I caught a 
 glimpse of two naked youngsters in a shaded eddy of the 
 stream. They plunged about with so much enjoyment 
 that I was strongly tempted to join them : so I stepped 
 down to the bank, and called out, " Is the water cold ?'' 
 Whoop ! away they went, out of the water and under a 
 thick bush, leaving only four legs visible. Presentlj^ these 
 also disappeared, and had it not been for two tow shirts, 
 more brown than white, lying on the grass, I might have 
 supposed that I had surprised a pair of Nixies. 
 
 The approach to Pottenstein resembles that to Tuchers- 
 
296 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 felcl, but it is less sudden and surprising. It is wonderfully 
 picturesque — the houses are so jammed in, here and there, 
 among the huge shapeless limestone monoliths, and the 
 bits of meadow and garden have such a greenness and 
 brightness contrasted with the chaos which incloses them. 
 I found my way to the post-inn, and straightway dropped 
 into one of the awkward carved wooden chairs (the pattern 
 of five centuries ago) in the guests' room, with a feeling 
 of infinite gratitude. The landlord brought me a mug of 
 beer, with black bread and a handful of salt on the plate. 
 I remembered the types of hospitality in the Orient, and 
 partook of the hallowed symbols. Then came consecutive 
 ablutions of cold water and brandy ; after which I felt 
 sufficiently refreshed to order trout for supper. But what- 
 ever of interest the little town may have contained, nothing 
 could tempt me to walk another step that day. 
 
 In the morning I engaged a man as guide and sack- 
 bearer, and set out by six o'clock for Rabenstein (the 
 Raven-rock) and its famous cavern. We first climbed out 
 of the chasm of Pottenstein, which was filled with a hot, 
 silvery mist, and struck northward over high, rolling land, 
 from which we could now and then look down into the 
 gorges of the Ptittlach and Eschbach. There was not a 
 breath of air stirring, and even at that early hour the heat 
 was intense. I would have stopped occasionally to rest, 
 but the guide pushed ahead, saying : " We must get on 
 before the day is hot." The country was bald and mono- 
 tonous, but the prospect of reaching Rabenstein in two 
 hours enabled me to hold out. Finally the little foot-path 
 we had been following turned into a wood, whence, after a 
 
A "WALK THEOUGH THE FKANCONIAif SWITZERLAND. 297 
 
 hundred paces, it suddenly emerged upon the brink of a 
 deep, rocky basin, resembling the crater of a volcano. It 
 was about four hundred feet deep, with a narrow split at 
 either end, through which the Eschbach stream entered 
 and departed. The walls were composed of enormous 
 overhanging masses of rock, which rested on natural arches 
 or regular jambs, like those of Egyptian gateways, while 
 the bed was of the greenest turf, with a sHid of the blue 
 sky mirrored in the centre, as if one were looking upon a 
 lower heaven through a crack in the earth. Opposite, on 
 the very outer edge of the rock, sat the castle of Raben- 
 stein, and the houses of the village behind it seemed to be 
 crowding on toward the brink, as if anxious which should 
 be first to look down. 
 
 Into this basin led the path — a toilsome descent, but at 
 the bottom we found a mUl which was also a tavern, and 
 bathed our tongues in some cool but very bitter and dis- 
 agreeable beer. " Sophia's Cave," the finest grotto in the 
 Franconian Switzerland, is a little further up the gorge ; 
 and the haymakers near the mill, on seeing me, shouted up 
 to the cave-keeper in the village over their heads to get his 
 torches ready. The rocks on either side exhibit the most 
 wild and wonderful forms. In one place a fragment, shaped 
 very much like a doll, but from eighty to a hundred feet 
 in height, has slipped down from above, and fallen out, 
 resting only its head against the perpendicular wall. On 
 approaching the cave, the rocky wall on which the castle 
 of Rabenstein stands projects far over its base, and a little 
 white chapel sits on the summit. The entrance is a very 
 broad, low arch, resting on natural pillars. 
 
 13* 
 
298 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 You first penetrate for a hundred feet or more by a 
 spacious vaulted avenue : then the rock contracts, and a 
 narrow passage, closed by double doors, leads to the sub- 
 terranean halls. Here you find yourself near the top of an 
 immense chamber, hung with stalactites and tinkling with 
 the sound of water drojiping from their points. A wooden 
 staircase, protected by an iron railing, leads around the 
 sides to the bottom, giving views of some curious forma- 
 tions^waterfalls, statues, a papal tiara, the intestines of 
 cattle — and the blunt pillars of the stalagmites, growing 
 up by hundreds from every corner or shelf of rock. 
 
 The most remarkable feature of the cave, however— as 
 of all the Franconian grottoes — is the abundance of fossil 
 remains in every part of it. The attention of geologists 
 was first directed to these extraordinary deposits by the 
 naturalist Rosenmtlller, who explored and described them ; 
 but they were afterward better known through the writ- 
 ings of Cuvier and Humboldt. Here, imbedded in the 
 incrusted stone, lie the skulls of bears and hyenas, the 
 antlers of deer, elk, and antelopes, and the jaw-bones of 
 mammoths. You find them in the farthest recesses of the 
 cave, and the rock seems to be actually a conglomerate of 
 them. Yet no entire skeleton of any animal, I was in- 
 formed, has been found. Under the visible layers are other 
 deeper layers of the same remains. How wore all these 
 beasts assembled here? What ovcrA\helming fear or neces- 
 sity drove together the lion and the stag, the antelope and 
 the hyena? and what convulsion, hundreds of centuries ago, 
 buried them so deep ? There is some grand mystery of Crea- 
 tion hidden in this sparry sepulchre of pre-adamite beasts. 
 
A "WALK THBOUGH THE FEANCONIAN SWrrZEELAISTD. 299 
 
 We passed on into the second and third chambers, 
 where the stalactites assume other and more unusual forms, 
 such as curtains, chandeliers, falling fringes of lily-leaves, 
 and embroidered drapery, all of Avhich are thin, transparent, 
 snowy-white, and give forth a clear, bell-like tone when 
 struck. The cave is curious and beautiful rather than 
 grand. The guide informed me that I had penetrated 
 two thousand feet from the entrance, but this I could not 
 believe. Eight hundred feet would be nearer the mark. On 
 returning, the first effect of daylight on the outer arches 
 of the cavern transmuted them into golden glass, and the 
 wild landscape of the gorge was covered with a layer of 
 crystal fire so dazzling that I could scarcely look upon it. 
 
 By this time it was ten o'clock, and the heat increasing 
 every moment : it was 90° in the shade. An hour's walk 
 over a bare, roasting upland brought me to the Wiesent 
 valley and the town of Waischenfeld, which I reached in 
 a state of complete exhaustion. Here, however, there was 
 an omnibus to Bayreuth. My guide and baggage-bearer 
 was an old fellow of sixty, who had waited upon me the 
 evening before in Pottenstein, and besides had fallen in the 
 street and broken his pipe while going to the baker's for 
 my breakfast : so I gave him a florin and a half (60 cents). 
 But I was hardly prepared for the outburst which followed : 
 " Thank you, and Heaven reward you, and God return it to 
 you, and Our Dear Lady take care of you ! Oh, but I will 
 pray ever so many paternosters for you, until you reach 
 home again. Oh, that you may get back safely ! Oh, that 
 you may have long life ! Oh, that you may be rich ! Oh, 
 thafyou may keep your health ! Oh, that I might go on 
 
300 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 with you, and never stop ! But you're a noble lordship ! 
 It isn't me that likes vulgar people : I won't have nothing 
 to do with 'em : it's the fine, splendid gentleman like your- 
 self that it does me good to be with !" With that he took 
 my hand, and, bending over, kissed me just under the right 
 eye before I knew what he was after. He then left ; and 
 when I came to pay my bill I found that he had ordered 
 dinner and beer at my expense ! 
 
 I waited at Waischenfeld until late in the afternoon, and 
 then took the post for Bayreuth. The upper vaUey of the 
 Wiesent exhibits some remarkable rock-forms; but they 
 become less and less frequent, the valley widens, and finally, 
 at the village of Blankenstein, the characteristics of the 
 Franconian Switzerland, in this direction, disappear. The 
 soil, however, is much richer, and the crops were wonder- 
 fully luxuriant. We passed a solitary chapel by the road- 
 side, renowned as a place of pilgi-image. " The people call 
 it die ICdbel," said my fellow-passenger, a Bayreuther. 
 "If you were to say Kapelle [chapel], they wouldn't know 
 what you meant." The votive ofierings placed there are 
 immediately stolen ; the altar-omaments are stolen ; even 
 the bell is stolen from the tower. 
 
 At last the Fichtelgebirge (Fir-Mountains) — ^the central 
 chain of Franconia — -came in sight, aud the road began to 
 descend toward the valley of Bayreuth. My feUow-pas- 
 senger proposed that we should alight at the commencement 
 of a park called the Phantasie, belonging to Duke Alexan- 
 der of Wflrtemberg, and he would conduct me through to 
 the other end, whore the omnibus would wait for us. We 
 entered a charming park, every foot of which betrayed the 
 
A "WALK THEOUGH THE rEANCONIAN SWITZEELAND. 301 
 
 most exquisite taste and the most tender care. Nowhere 
 could be found smoother gravel, greener turf, brighter flow- 
 ers, or a more artistic disposition of trees, fountains, statues, 
 and flower-beds. Presently we reached a stately Italian 
 palace of yellow stone, with a level, blossomy terrace in 
 front, overhanging a deep valley, which seemed to have been 
 brought bodily from Switzerland. In the bottom was a 
 lake, bordered by the greenest meadows ; the opposite hill 
 was wooded with dark firs, and every house which could 
 be seen was Swiss in its form. Two men were on the ter- 
 race, looking over the heavy stone balustrade — one of them 
 a very stout, strong figure, with a massive gray beard. 
 "Ah," said my companion, "there is the Duke himself!" 
 His Highness, seeing us, returned our salutes very politely, 
 and then slid behind a bush. " He always does that," said 
 the Bayreuther, " when strangers come : he goes away lest 
 they should be embarrassed, and not see as much as they 
 wish." This is really the extreme of politeness. The Duke's 
 wife was the Princess Marie d'Orleans, that gifted daughter 
 of Louis Philippe, whose" statue of Joan of Arc is in the 
 Versailles Gallery. She died, however, not in consequence 
 of excessive devotion to her art, as is often stated, but from 
 a cold contracted after her first confinement. Duke Alex- 
 ander has never married again. 
 
 The Phantasie struck me as being one of the most exqui- 
 site specimens of landscape gardening in Germany. It is 
 an illustration of what may be accomplished by simply 
 assisting nature — by following her suggestions rather than 
 forcing her to assume a new character. 
 
 As we approached Bayreuth my friend said : " Now I 
 
302 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 will try and show you the grave of Jean Paul (Richter)." 
 But the foliage in the cemetery was too thick, and I only 
 thought I saw the top of a black marble tombstone. " I 
 remember him very well," he continued. " When I was a 
 boy I often saw him on his way to Frau Rollwenzel's. He 
 wore a wide coat, and always had a bottle of wine in his 
 pocket. One hand he held behind him, and caiTied a stick 
 in the other. Sometimes he would stop and take a drink 
 of wine. I remember his funeral,, which took place by 
 torch-light. He was a most beautiful corpse ! His widow 
 gave me one of his vests, a white one, with embroidery 
 upon it, and I was fool enough to let it go out of my hands ; 
 I shall never forgive myself for that. But then, nobody in 
 JBayreuth thought he was a great manP And this was 
 said of Jean Paul, the greatest German humorist ! There 
 is a melancholy moral in the remark. 
 
 Bayreuth is a stately town for its size (the population is 
 some 18,000) ; the streets are broad, the houses large and 
 massive ; but over all there is an air of departed grandeur 
 like Perrara, Ravenna, and the otlier deserted Italian capi- 
 tals. In the former century it had an ostentatious court — 
 its Margraves, no doubt, considered themselves Grands 
 Monarques in miniature, and surrounded themselves with 
 pompous ceremonial — but all this is over. Now and then 
 a curious stranger arrives, and he passes with scarce a 
 glance the palace of the old rulers on his way to the statue 
 of the grand plebeian, Jean Paul Friodrich Richter. At 
 least the latter was the only object in the city which Z cared 
 to see. It is of bronze, colossal, and from Schwanthaler's 
 model. The poet is represented as leaning against a tree, 
 
A WALK THEOTJGH THE FEASTCONIAN SWITZERLAND. S03 
 
 with a pencil in one hand and a note-book in the other, 
 while his head is slightly lifted, as if with the inspiration of 
 a new idea. But it is by no means a great work. 
 
 In spite of the heat (92° in the shade) I walked out to 
 the Hermitage, a summer resort of the Margraves, about 
 four miles from the city. The road thither is an unbroken 
 avenue of magnificent lindens, from which, as the ground 
 gradually rises, you have wide views of the surrounding 
 countiy. On the summit of the ridge stands the famous 
 coffee-house, formerly kept by Fran RoUwenzel. On a 
 tablet beside the door are the words : " Hier dichtete Jean 
 Paul.'''' (Here Jean Paul wrote his works.) He had a 
 garret room in the little low house, and it was his habit for 
 many years to walk out from Bayreuth in the morning, and 
 write there all day, returning in the evening. I climbed 
 the steep, dark stair-case, and entered his room, a narrow 
 den, with two windows looking toward the Fichtelgebirge. 
 Eveiy thing is kept in precisely the same condition as dur- 
 ing his life. There is the same old calico sofa, the same 
 deal table and rude book-shelf which he used. In the table- 
 drawer is one of his manuscript works : " Remarks About 
 Us Fools.'' The custodian informed me that he had been 
 offered 300 florins ($120) for it by an Englishman. Over 
 the sofa hangs a portrait of Jean Paul, under which is a 
 smaller one of Frau RoUwenzel. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour more I reached the Hermitage, 
 which I found entirely deserted. Laborers and loafers alike 
 had fled from the unusual heat. In the deep avenues of the 
 park, where the sunshine, passing through triple layers of 
 beeoh-leaves, took the hue of dark-green glass, I found a 
 
804 Ar HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 grateful coolness ; but the fountains, the sand-stone dra- 
 gons, and rococo flower-beds in front of a semicircular tem- 
 ple of rough mosaic, dedicated to the Sun, basked in an in- 
 tense Persian heat. The god really had visited his altar. 
 Here there are very remarkable jeux d'eau / but I confess, 
 \vith humiliation, that I had not sufficient energy remaining 
 to find the person who had them in charge, and thus did 
 not see their performance. The water, I was told, comes 
 forth from all sorts of unexpected places ; forms suns, 
 moons, and stars in the air ; spouts from the trees ; spirts 
 out of the bushes ; and so envelops the beholder in a foun- 
 tain-chaos that he is lucky if he escapes without a drench- 
 ing. There is one seat in particular which the stranger is 
 directed to take, in order to obtain the best view. Woe 
 to him if he obey ! All the trees and rocks around fling 
 their streams upon him. 
 
 The Hermitage is a good specimen of what is called in 
 Germany the Zopf (Queue) style — the quintessence of for- 
 mality. Its position, on the opposite side of, and equidis- 
 tant from, Bayreuth, challenges a comparison with the 
 Phantasie, and the difference is just this : in the Phantasie 
 one sees that Nature is beloved — in the Hermitage, that she 
 is patronized with lofty consideration. 
 
 Returning to Bayreuth, I took the railroad to a little 
 town called Markt-Schorgast, in order to enter the Fichtel- 
 gebirge from the most approved point. Here I tried to 
 procure a man to carry my sack to Berneck, some three 
 miles distant, but only succeeded in obtaining a very small 
 boy. " Really," said I, when the mite made his appear- 
 ance, " he can never carry it." " Let me see," said the 
 
A WALK THKOTJOH THE FEANnONIAN SWITZEELAND. 305 
 
 station-master, lifting the sack ; "/a wohl, that's nothing 
 for him. He could run with it !" Tnie enough, the boy 
 put it into a basket, shouldered it, and trotted off as brisk 
 as a grasshopper. The load was larger than himself, and I 
 walked after him with a sense of shame. There was I, a 
 broad-shouldered giant in comparison, puffing, and svveating, 
 and groaning, finding even my umbrella troublesome, and 
 the poor little pigmy at my side keeping up a lively quick- 
 step with his bare feet on the hot road. 
 
 We crossed a burning. hill into abroad, shallow valley, 
 with a village called Wasserknoten (the water-knots). Be- 
 yond this valley contracted into a glen, shaded with dark 
 fir-woods, which overhung slopes of velvet rather than 
 grass, they wore so even and lustrous a green. After a 
 while the ruins of Hohen-berneck (High Bear's Corner), 
 consisting of one square tower, eighty feet high, appeared 
 on the crest of the hUl. The town is squeezed into the bot- 
 tom of the glen, which is only wide enough for a single 
 street, more than a mile long. I was so thoroughly fatigued 
 when I reached the post-inn at the farther end of the place 
 that I gave up all thoughts of going further. 
 
 The landlord made much of me on learning that I was an 
 American. He not only regaled me with beer, but took me 
 to see another Bernecker, who had been in England, India, 
 and China. Several " cwre-guests" joined the company, and 
 I was obliged to give them a history of the Southern Rebel- 
 lion, which was- no easy matter, as so much incidental expls^ 
 nation was necessary. In Berneck there is a frequented 
 whey-cure. In fact, there are few towns in Germany with- 
 out a "cure" of some kind. Whey-cures, water-cures, 
 
306 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 grape-cures, hunger-onres, cider-cures, pine-needle-cures, 
 salt-cures, and herb-cures flourisli in active rivalry. In 
 addition to all these the beer-cure is universally employed. 
 
 I had engaged a man to be ready in the morning to 
 accompany me to Bischofsgrtln, ten miles further ; but the 
 man turned out to be an old woman. However, it made 
 little difference, as she walked quite as fast with her load as 
 I was willing to walk without one. The same temperature 
 continued ; there was not a cloud in the sky, and a thin, 
 silvery shimmer of heat in the air and over the landscape. 
 We followed the course of the young Main, at first through 
 a wide, charming valley, whose meadows of grass and flow- 
 ers fairly blazed in the sunshine, while on either hand tow- 
 ered the dark blue-green forests of fir. Shepherds with 
 their flocks were on the slopes, and the little goose-girls 
 drove their feathered herds along the road. One of them 
 drew a wagon in which a goose and a young child were 
 sitting cozily together. The cuckoo sang in all the woods, 
 and no feature of life failed which the landscape suggested, 
 unless it were the Tyrolean yodel. After an hour's hard 
 walking the valley became a steep gorge, up which the road 
 wound through continuous forests. 
 
 The scenery was now thoroughly Swiss in its character, 
 and charmed me almost to forgetfulness of my weak and 
 bruised knees. Still, I was heartily rejoiced when we 
 reached Bischofsgrtln (Bishop's-green), a ^■illage at the base 
 of the Ochsenkopf, one of the highest summits of the Fich- 
 telgebirge. Here a rampant golden-lion hung out, the wel- 
 come sign of food and rest. Before it stood a carriage 
 which bad brought a gentleman and three ladies — very 
 
A WALK THKOUGH THE FEAWCONIAN SWITZBELAND. 307 
 
 genial and friendly persons, although they spoke a most 
 decided patois. They had just ordered dinner, and the 
 huge stove at one end of the guests' room sent out a terri- 
 ble heat. The landlord was ^ slow, peaceful old fellow, 
 with that meek air which comes from conjugal subjugation. 
 But his wife was a mixture of thunder, lightning, and hail. 
 The first thing she did was to snatch a pair of red worsted 
 slippers from a shelf; then she rubbed her bare feet against 
 the edge of a chair to scrape off the sand, and, sitting down, 
 pulled up her dress so as to show the greater part of a pair 
 of very solid legs, and put on the slippers. " There !" said 
 she, stamping until the tables rattled, " now comes my 
 work. It's me that has it to do. Oh yes ! so many at once, 
 and nothing in the house. Man ! and thou standest there, 
 stock-still. Ach ! here, thou Barbel ! See there ! [Bang 
 goes the kitchen door.J It's a cursed life! [Bang the 
 other door.] Ach! Hai! Ho, there!" she shouted from 
 the street. 
 
 Just then came a hay-wagon from Berneck, with thirteen 
 additional guests. The thunders again broke heavily, and 
 for half an hour rolled back and forth, from kitchen to sta^ 
 ble, and from stable to kitchen, without intermission. The 
 old peasants, with their heev-seidls before them, winked at 
 each other and laughed. I was getting hungry, but scarcely 
 dared to ask for dinner. Finally, however, I appealed to 
 the meek landlord. " Be so good as to wait a little," he 
 whispered ; " it will come after a while." Presently his son 
 came in with a newspaper, saying, "Mammy, there's t' 
 Ziting (Zeitung)." " Get out o' my way !" she yelled. 
 " Ja, jo, I should read t' paper, shouldn't I ? Ha ! Ho, 
 
308 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 there! Man! Barbel!" and the storm broke out afresh. 
 I wish it were possible to translate the coarse, grotesque 
 dialect of this region^ — which is to pure German what Irish 
 is to English, and with as characteristic a flavor — ^but I 
 know not how it could be done. 
 
 Not quite so difficult would be the translation of an aris- 
 tocratic poem, written in the Fremdenhuch^ two days before, 
 by a sentimental baron. It might very well compare with 
 Pope's " Lines by a Person of Quality." But no ; we have 
 an ample supply of such stuff in our own language, and I 
 will spare my readers. Bischofsgriin is noted for its manu- 
 facture of bottles and beads for rosaries. There is a glass 
 furnace here which has been in steady operation for eight 
 hundred years. I doubt whether anything about it has 
 changed very much in that time. I peeped into it, and saw 
 the men making bottles of a coarse texture and pale green- 
 ish color, but the mouths of the furnaces, disclosing pits of 
 white heat, speedily drove me away. Although the village 
 is at least eighteen hundred feet above the sea, there was 
 no perceptible diminution of the heat. 
 
 The men were all in the hay-fields, and I was obliged to 
 take a madel (maiden), as the landlord called her — a woman 
 of fifty, with grown-up children. As the last thunders of 
 the landlady of the Lion died behind us, the " maiden" said, 
 " Ach ! my daughter can't stand it much longer. She's been 
 there, in service, these five years ; and it's worse and worse. 
 The landlady's a good woman when she don't drink, but 
 drink she does, and jtretty much all the time. She's from 
 Sclioubrunn : she was a mill-daughter, and her husband a 
 tavern-son, from the same place. It isn't good when a 
 
A WAXK THKOUGH THE FBANCONIAN SWITZERLAND. 309 
 
 woman drinks schnapps, except at weddings and funerals; 
 and as for wine, we poor people can't think o' that !" 
 
 It was near three o'clock, and we had twelve miles 
 through the mountains to Wiiusiedel. Our road led through 
 a valley between the Schneeberg and the Ochsenkopf, both 
 of which mountains were in full view, crowned with dark 
 firs to their very summits. I confess I was disappointed in 
 the scenery. The valley is so elevated that the mountains 
 rise scarcely twelve hundred feet above it ; the slopes are 
 gradual, and not remarkable for grace ; and the bold rock- 
 formations are wanting. Coming up the Main-glen from 
 Berneck, the lack of these features was atoned for by the 
 wonderful beauty of the turf. Every landscape seemed to 
 be new-carpeted, and with such care that the turf was 
 turned under and tacked down along the edges of the 
 brooks, leaving no bare corner anywhere. If the sunshine 
 had been actually woven into its texture it could not have 
 been brighter. The fir-woods had a bluish-green hue, pur- 
 ple in the shadows. But on the upj)er meadows over which 
 I now passed the grass was in blossom, whence they took 
 a brownish tinge, and there were many cleared spots which 
 still looked ragged and naked. 
 
 We soon entered the forest at the foot of the Ochsenkopf, 
 and walked for nearly an hour under the immense trees. 
 The ground was carpeted with short whortleberry-bushes, 
 growing so thickly that no other plant was to be seen. 
 Beyond this wood lay a rough, mossy valley, which is one 
 of the water-sheds between the Black Sea and the German 
 Ocean. The fountains of the Main and the Nab are within 
 Minie rifle-shot of each other. Here the path turned to the 
 
310 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. 
 
 left, leading directly up the side of the mountain. In the 
 intense heat, and with my shaky joints, the ascent was a 
 terrible toil. Tip, and up we went, and still up, until au 
 open patch of emerald pasture, with a ohal6t in the centre, 
 showed that the summit was reached. A spring of icy crys- 
 tal bubbled up in the grass, and I was kneeling to drink, 
 when a smiling hausfrau came out with a glass goblet. I 
 returned it, with a piece of money, after drinking. " What 
 is that ?" said she. " No, no ; water must not be paid for!" 
 and handed it back. "Well," said I, giving it to her flaxen- 
 headed boy, " it is not meant as pay^ but as a present for 
 this youngster." "God protect you on your journey !" was 
 her hearty farewell. 
 
 The ridge, I should guess, was about twenty-eight hun- 
 dred feet above the sea-level. The descent, I found, was a 
 very serious matter. I was obliged to limp down slowly, 
 with a crippled step, which in itself was no slight fatigue. 
 When the feet have not free play it seems to tire some 
 unused internal muscle — or, to judge by my ovm sensations, 
 the very marrow of the bones. We had a tough foot-path 
 through a dense forest for half an hour, and then emerged 
 upon a slanting meadow, whence there was a lovely view 
 of the country to the east of the Fichtelgebii'ge, with Wun- 
 siedel away iu the distance, a bright island-spot in the sea 
 of dark-green firs. Down on the right was a broad, rich 
 valley, in which ponds of water shone clear and blue ; vil- 
 lages dotted the cultivated slopes, and the wooded heights 
 of the Lulsenburg and the Kosscine rose beyond. Here 
 I began to find again the scenery of Richter's works, which 
 had struck me so forcibly in the vicinity of Bayreuth. 
 
A WALK THROUGH THE FBANCONIAN SWITZERLAND. 3 ] 1 
 
 By the time we had reached the bottom of the moMntaui 
 and left the forest behind us, I had almost touched the 
 limits of my endurance. But there was still a good three 
 miles before us. The " maiden," with twenty pounds on 
 her back, marched along bravely ; I followed, a disabled 
 veteran, halting every now and then to rest and recruit. 
 All things must have an end, and it is not every day's jour- 
 ney that winds up with a comfortable inn. I am not sure 
 but that the luxury of the consecutive bath, beef-steak, 
 and bed, which I enjoyed, compensated for all the pain 
 endured. 
 
 A shower the next morning freshened the air, diminished 
 the heat, and put some little elasticity into my bruised muscles. 
 It was a gala day forWunsiedel. The Turners of the place, 
 who had formed themselves into a fire-company, performed 
 in the market-square, with engines, ladders, hose, etc., 
 complete. Early in the morning the Turners of Hof and 
 their female friends arrived in six great hay-wagons, covered 
 with arches of birch boughs and decorated with the Bava 
 rian colors. There was a sham fire : roofs were scaled, lad- 
 ders run up to the windows, the engines played, the band 
 performed, and the people shouted. The little city was 
 unusually lively ; the inns were overflowing, and squads 
 of visitors, with green boughs in their hats, filled the 
 streets. 
 
 After dinner I undertook an excursion to the Luisenburg, 
 notwithstanding I felt so decrepit at starting that I would 
 have given a considerable sum to anybody who would have 
 insured my coming back upon my own legs. A handsome 
 linden avenue led up the long hill to the southward of Wun- 
 
312 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 siedel, fi'om the crest of which we saw Alexandersbad, at 
 the foot of the mountain, and seeming to lean upon the 
 lower edge of its fir-forests. By a foot-path through fields 
 which were beds of blossoms — hare-bell, butter-cup, phlox, 
 clover, daisy, and corn-flower intermixed — we reached the 
 stately water-cure establishment in three-quarters of an 
 hour. I first visited the mineral spring, which, the guide 
 informed me, was strongly tinctured with saltpetre. I was 
 therefore surprised to hear two youths, who were drinking 
 when we came up, exclaim, " Exquisite !" " delicious !" But 
 when I drank, I said the same thing. The taste was veri- 
 tably fascinating, and I took glass after glass, with a con- 
 tinual craving for more. 
 
 This watering-place, once so frequented, is now compara- 
 tively deserted. But- fifty guests were present, and they 
 did not appear to be very splendid persons. The grounds, 
 however, were enlivened by the presence of the youths and 
 maidens from Hof. I visited the ICurhaus, looked into the 
 icy plunge-baths of the Hydropathic establishment, tasted 
 some very hard water, and then took the broad birchen 
 avenue which climbs to the Luisenburg. On entering the 
 forest I beheld a monument erected to commemorate the 
 presence of Fred. Wilhelm III. and Louisa of Prussia, in 
 1805. " On this very spot," said my guide, " the King and 
 Queen, with King Max, I. of Buvaria and the Emperor of Aus- 
 triii (!), were talking together, when the news came to them 
 that Napoleon was in Vienna. They hired a man to go to 
 Nnretnberg and see whether it was true. The man — he is 
 still living, and we shall probably see him this afternoon [in 
 fact, I did see him] — walked all the way [ninety English 
 
A WALK TUEOtJGH THE FKANC02S1IAN SWITZERLAND. 313 
 
 miles] in twenty-four hours, then rested twenty-four more, 
 and walked back in the same time. Then the King of 
 Prussia immediately went home and decided to fight against 
 Napoleon, which was the cause of the battle of Leipzig!" 
 
 The road slowly but steadily ascended, and in half an 
 hour we reached the commencement of the Luisenburg. 
 Huge, mossy rocks, piled atop of one another in the wildest 
 confusion, overhung the way, and the firs, which grew 
 wherever their trunks could be wedged in, formed a sun- 
 proof canopy above them. This labyrinth of colossal 
 granite boulders, called the Luisenburg (or, more properly, 
 the Ijugshurg, its original name), extends to the summit 
 of the mountain, a distance of eleven hundred feet. It is a 
 wilderness of Titanic grottoes, arches, and even abutmeuls 
 of regular masonry, of astonishing magnitude. I have seen 
 similar formations in Saxony, but none so curiously con- 
 torted and hurled together. 
 
 Although this place has been, for the past eighty years, a 
 favorite summer resort of the Bavarians, it has scarcely been 
 heard of outside of Germany. Jean Paul, during his residence 
 at Wunsiedel, frequently came hither, and his name has been 
 given to one of the most striking rocky chambers. There 
 is an abundance of inscriptions, dating mostly from the last 
 decade of the past century, and exhibiting, in their over- 
 strained sentimentalism, the character of the generation 
 which produced " Werther," " Paul and Virginia," and 
 " The Children of the Abbey." In Klinger's Grotto, the 
 roof of which is formed by an immense block fifty-four feet 
 long and forty-four feet broad, there is a tablet, erected in 
 1794 by a certain Herr von Carlowitz, on which he says : 
 
 14 
 
314 AT HOJIE AND AEEOAD. 
 
 "My wish is to enjoy my life unnoticed, and happily mar- 
 ried, and to be worthy of the tears of the good when I fear- 
 lessly depart !" This is all very well ; but it can scarcely 
 be expected that for centuries to come the world will care 
 much whether Herr von Carlowitz was happily married 
 or not. 
 
 Climbing upward through the labyrinthine clefts of the 
 rocks, we find everywhere similar records. The names 
 " Otto, Therese, Amalie," deeply engraved, proclaim the 
 fact that the present King of Greece met his two sisters 
 here, in 1836. Just above them six enormous blocks are 
 piled one upon the other, reaching almost to the tops of the 
 firs. This was a favorite resort of Louisa of Prussia, and 
 the largest rock, accordingly, bears the following descrip- 
 tion : " When we behold the mild rays of the lovely spring 
 sun shining on this rooky colossus, we think on the gentle 
 glance of blissful grace wherewith Louisa to-day made us 
 happy : and the rock itself suggests our love and fidelity to 
 her!" As a specimen of aristocratic sentiment, this is 
 unparalleled. Beyond this point the immense masses lean 
 against each other, blocking up the path and sloping for- 
 ward, high overhead, as if in the act of faUing. In 1798 
 somebody placed the inscription here, "Thus far shalt thou 
 come, and no farther ;" but under it is carved, " I made the 
 attempt, and behold! I went farther. 1804." A ladder 
 enabk'S you to reach an opening, whence the path, travers- 
 ing sunless clefts, crawling through holes and scaling gigan- 
 tic piles of the formless masonry of the Deluge, reaches the 
 Buniniit. Here, on a lonely rock, still stands a single tower 
 of the old robber-fortress which was destroyed in the thir- 
 
A WALK THROUGH THE FEANCONIAN SWITZERLAND. 315 
 
 teenth century by Philip of Streitberg, in revenge for the 
 abduction of his bride by the knight of the Lugsburg. 
 
 From the tower we had fine views to the north, east, 
 and west. The day could not have been more fortunately 
 chosen. The air was unusually clear, and the distant 
 villages showed with remarkable distinctness, yet a light 
 golden shimmer was spread over the landscape, and, by 
 contrast with the dark firs around us, it seemed like an 
 illuminated picture painted on a transparent canvas. 
 
 On the side of one of the largest boulders is an inscrip- 
 tion recommending those who are at enmity to mount the 
 rock and behold the landscape, as a certain means of recon- 
 ciliation. It records the meeting of two estranged friends, 
 who first looked around them and then fell into each 
 other's arms, without a word. This was truly German. 
 Enemies of Anglo-Saxon blood, I am afraid, would have 
 tried to push each other ofi" the rock instead of allowing 
 the scenery to reconcile them. One more inscription, the 
 climax of sentiment, and I will cease to copy : " Nature is 
 great, Love is divine. Longing is infinite. Dreams are rich ; 
 only the human heart is poor. And yet — fortunate is he 
 who feels this, miserable he who does not even suspect it. 
 Thou losest a dream and winn'st — Rest !" To be candid, 
 silly as many of these inscriptions were, they gave a human 
 interest to the spot. Even the record of human vanity is 
 preferable to the absence of any sign of man. 
 
 Feeling myself in tolerable condition, I went on, along the 
 crest of the mountain, to the Burgsteln, a mass of rock 
 one hundred feet high, and crowning a summit nearly 
 three thousand feet above the sea. The top is about seven 
 
316 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 by nine feet in compass, and inclosed by a strong railing to 
 prevent the visitor from being blown off. Hence I looked 
 far down into the Upper Palatinate of Bavaria, away to 
 the blue Bohemian mountains, and, to the west, on all the 
 dark summits of the Fichtelgebirge. The villages shone 
 ■white and red in the sun ; the meadow-ponds were sapphires 
 set in emerald, and the dark-pui-ple tint of the forests 
 mottled the general golden-green lustre of the landscape. 
 A qviarter of an hour further is the Haberstein, a wonderful 
 up-building of rock, forming a double tower, from eighty 
 to a hundred feet high. 
 
 On returning to Wunsiedel I did not neglect to visit 
 Jean Paul's birth-place — a plain, substantial house, adjoin- 
 ing the church. Here the street forms a small court, in 
 the centre of which, on a pedestal of granite, stands a 
 bronze bust of the great man. The inscription is : " Wun- 
 siedel to her Jean Paul Fr. Richter." Xothing could be 
 simpler or more appropriate. In front, the broad street, 
 lined with large, cheerful yellow or pink houses, stretches 
 down the hill and closes with a vista of distant mountains. 
 The place is very gay, clean, and attractive, notwithstand- 
 ing its humble position. Jean Paul describes it completely, 
 when he says : " I am glad to have been born in thee, thou 
 bright little town !'' 
 
 I was aroused the next morning by the singing of a 
 hymn, followed by tlie beating of a drum. Both sounds 
 proceeded from a company of twenty or more small boys, 
 pupils of a school at Ebersdorf (in the Franconian Forest), 
 who, accompanied by their teachers, were making a tour on 
 foot through the Fichtulgebirge. The sight admonished 
 
A WALK THKOtTGH THE FKANCONIAN SWITZEELAND. 317 
 
 me to resume my march, as I intended going southward to 
 Kemnath, in the Upper Palatinate. The wind blew fresh 
 from the southwest, and heavy black clouds filled the sky. 
 My road led up a valley between the twin mountain-groups, 
 crossing a ridge which divides the waters of Europe. The 
 forests were as black as ink under the shadows of the 
 clouds, and the distant hiUs had a dark indigo color, which 
 gave a remarkable tone to the landscape. Take a picture 
 of Salvator Rosa and substitute blue for brown, and you 
 may form some idea of it. 
 
 Presently the rain came, at first in scattering drops, but 
 soon in a driving shower. My guide, to keep up my spirits, 
 talked on and on in the broad Frankish dialect, which 
 I could only comprehend by keeping all my faculties on 
 a painful stretch. " Down in the Palatinate," said he, " the 
 people speak a very difficult language. They cut off all 
 the words, and bring out the pieces very fast." This was 
 precisely what he himself did ! For instance, what German 
 scholar could understand '■'■wid'r a weng renga !" (wieder 
 ein wenig Regen) — which was one of the clearest of his 
 expressions. To beguile the rainy road he related to me 
 the history of a band of robbers, who in the years 1845 
 and '46 infested the Franconian mountains, and plundered 
 the highways on all sides. 
 
 By this time I had the Fichtelgebirge behind me, and 
 the view opened southward, down the valley of the Nab. 
 The Raulie Sulm, an isolated basaltic peak, lifted its head 
 in the middle of the landscape, and on the left rose the 
 long, -windy ridge of the Weissenstein. Here and there a 
 rocky summit was crowned with the ruins of an. ancient 
 
318 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 robber-castle. But the scene would have been frightful on 
 canvas, it lay so bleak and rigid under the rainy sky. In 
 two hours more I passed the boundary between Franconia 
 and the Upper Palatinate. 
 
 Here my Franconian excursion closes. The next day 
 I reached Amberg, on the Eastern Bavarian Railway, 
 having aocomijlished about a hundred miles on foot, to the 
 manifest improvement of one knee at the expense of the 
 other. But I had, in addition, a store of cheerful and 
 refreshing experiences, and my confidence in the Walking. 
 Cure is so little shaken that I propose, at some future time, 
 trying a second experiment in the Bohemian Forest — a 
 region stUl less known to the tourist, if possible, than the 
 Franconian Switzerland. 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 
 
 1. — The Hudson and The Catskills. 
 
 July, 1860. 
 I HAVE been so often asked, " Where are you going 
 next ?" and have so often answered, " I am going to travel 
 at home," that what was at first intended for a joke has 
 naturally resolved itself into a reality. The genuine travel- 
 ler has a chronic dislike of railways, and if he be in addi- 
 tion a lecturer, who is obliged to sit in a cramped position 
 and breathe bad air for five months of the year, he is the 
 less likely to prolong his Winter tortures through the Sum- 
 mer. Hence, it is scarcely a wonder that, although I have 
 seen so much of our country, I have travelled so little in it. 
 I knew the Himalayas before I had seen the Green Moun- 
 tains, the Cataracts of the Nile before Niag.ira, and the 
 Libyan Desert before the Illinois prairies. I have never 
 yet (let me make the disgraceful confession at the outset) 
 
320 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 beheld the White Mountains, or Quebec, or the Saguenay, 
 or Lake George, or Trenton Falls ! 
 
 In all probability, I should now be at home, enjoying 
 Summer indolence under the shade of my oaks, were it not 
 for the visit of some European friends, who have come over 
 to see the land which all their kindness could not make 
 their friend forget. The latter, in fact, possesses a feir 
 share of the national sensitiveness, and defended his 
 country with so much zeal and magnificent assertions, that 
 his present visitors were not a little curious to see whether 
 their own impressions would correspond with his pictures. 
 He, on the other hand, being anxious to maintain his own 
 as well as his country's credit, offered his services as guide 
 and showman to Our Mountains, Rivers, Lakes, and Cata- 
 racts ; and this is how he (I, you understand) came to start 
 upon the present journey. 
 
 On the whole, I think it a good plan, not to see all your 
 own country until after you have seen other lands. It is 
 easy to say, with the school-girls, " I adore Nature !" — but 
 he who adores, never criticises. " What a beautiful view !" 
 every one may cry : " why is it beautiful ?'' would puzzle 
 many to answer. Long study, careful observation, and 
 various standards of comparison ai-e necessary — as much so 
 as in Art — to enable one to pronounce upon the relative 
 excellence of scenery. I shall ha^■c, on this tour, the assist- 
 ance of a ])air of experienced, appreciative foreign eyes, in 
 addition to my own, and you may therefore rely upon my 
 giving you a tolerably impartial report upon American life 
 and landscapes. 
 
 When one lias a point to carry, the beginning is evei7 
 
TEAVELS AT HOME. 321 
 
 thing. I therefore embarked with my fi-iends on a North 
 River day-boat, at the Harrison-street pier. The calliope, 
 or steam-organ attached to the machine, was playing " Jor- 
 dan's a hard road to travel," with astonishing shrillness and 
 power. " There's an American invention !" I exclaimed, in 
 triumph ; " the waste steam, instead of being blown off, is 
 turned into an immense hand-organ, and made to grind out 
 this delightful music." By-and-by, however, came one of 
 my companions, who announced : " I have discovered the 
 origin of the music," and thereupon showed me a box of 
 green wire-gauze, in which sat a slender youth, manipulat- 
 ing a key-board with wonderful contortions. This dis- 
 covery explained to us why certain passages were slurred 
 over and others shrieked out with awful vehemence — a fact 
 which we had previously attributed to the energy of the 
 steam. 
 
 Other disappointments awaited me. The two foregoing 
 days had been insufferably warm — 92° in the shade — and 
 we were all, at my recommendation, clad in linen. "This 
 is just the weather for the Hudson," said I ; " the motion 
 of the boat will fan away the heat, while this intense sun- 
 shine will beautify the shores." But, by the time we 
 reached Weehawken, the north wind blew furiously, streak- 
 ing the water with long ribands of foam ; we unpacked 
 heavy shawls and coats, and were still half frozen. The air 
 was so very clear and keen that the scenery was too distitict 
 — a common fault of our American sky — destroying the 
 charm of perspective and color. My friends would not 
 believe in the actual breadth of the Hudson or the height 
 of the Palisades, so near were the shores brought by the 
 
 14* 
 
322 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 lens of the air. The eastern bank, from Spuyten-Duyvel 
 to Tarrytown, reminded them of the Elbe between Ham- 
 burg and Blankenese, a comparison which I found correct. 
 Tappan and Haverstraw Bays made the impression I 
 desired, and thenceforth I felt that our river would amply 
 justify his fame. 
 
 Several years had passed since I had seen the Hudson 
 from the deck of a steamer. I found great changes, and 
 for the better. The elegant summer residences of the New 
 Yorkers, peeping out from groves, nestled in warm dells, 
 or, most usually, crowning the highest points of the hills, 
 now extend more than half-way to Albany. The trees 
 have been judiciously spared, straggling woods carved into 
 shape, stony slopes converted into turf, and, in fact, the 
 long landscape of the eastern bank gardened into more 
 perfect beauty. Those Gothic, Tuscan, and Norman villas, 
 with their air of comfort and home, give an attractive, 
 human sentiment to the scenery, and I would not exchange 
 them for the castles of the Rhine. 
 
 Our boat was crowded, mostly with Southerners, who 
 might be recognised by their lank, sallow faces, and the 
 broad, semi-negro accent with which they spoke the Ame- 
 rican tongue. How long, I wondered, before these Chivs 
 (thu California term for Southerners — an abbreviation of 
 Chivalry) start the exciting topic, the discussion of which 
 they so deprecate in us ? Not an hour had elapsed, when, 
 noticing a small crowd on'the forward deck, I discovered 
 half a dozen Chivs expatiating to some Northern youth on 
 the beauties of Slavery. The former were very mild and 
 guarded in their expressions, as if fearful that the outrages 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 323 
 
 inflicted on ISTorthern men in the South might be returned 
 upon them. " Why," said one of them, " it's our interest 
 to treat our slaves well ; if we lose one, we lose a thousand 
 dollars — you may be shore of that. No man will be so much 
 of a d — d fool as to waste his own property in that way." 
 " Just as we take care of our horses," remarked a North- 
 ern youth ; " it's about the sam^ thing, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Well— yes — it is pretty much the same, only we treat 
 'em more huraanitary, of course. Then agin," he con- 
 tinued, " when you've got two races together, a higher and 
 a lower, what are you gwme to do ? " — but you have read 
 the rest of his remarks in a speech of Caleb Gushing, and I 
 need not repeat them. 
 
 The Highlands, of course, impressed my friends as much 
 as I could have wished. It is customary among our tour- 
 ists to deplore the absence of ruins on those heights — a 
 very unnecessary regret, in my opinion. To show that we 
 had associations fully as inspiring as those connected with 
 feudal warfare, I related the story of Stony Point, and 
 Andre's capture, and pointed out, successively, Kosciusko's 
 Monument, old Fort Putnam, and Washington's Head- 
 quarters. Sunnyside was also a classic spot to my friends, 
 nor was Idlewild forgotten. " Oh," said a young lady, as 
 we were passing Cold Spring, " where does the poet Morris 
 live ? '' Although I was not the person appealed to, I took 
 the liberty of showing her the dwelling of the warrior- 
 bard. " You will observe," I added, " that the poet has 
 a full view of Cro'nest, which he has immortalized in song. 
 Yonder willow, trailing its branches in the water, is said 
 to have suggested to him that gem. 
 
324 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 " ' Near the lake where di'ooped the willow.' " 
 
 " Oh, Clara ! " said the young lady to her companion, 
 " isn't it — isnH it sweet V 
 
 In due time, we reached Catskill, and made all haste to 
 get off for the Mountain House. There are few siimmits 
 so easy of access — certainly no other mountain resort in 
 our country where the facilities of getting up and down are 
 so complete and satisfactory. The journey would be tame, 
 however, were it not for the superb view of the mountains, 
 rising higher, and putting on a deeper blue, with every 
 mile of approach. The intermediate country has a rough, 
 ragged, incomplete look. The fields are stony, the houses 
 mostly untidy, the crops thin, and the hay (this year, at 
 least) scanty. Even the woods appear stunted : fine tree- 
 forms are rare. My friends were so charmed by the pur- 
 ple asclepiads, which they had never before seen except in 
 green-houses, the crimson-spiked sumachs, and the splendid 
 fire-lilies in the meadows, that they overlooked the want 
 of beauty in the landscape. 
 
 On reaching the foot of the mountain, the character of the 
 scenery entirely changes. The trees in Rip Van "Winkle's 
 dell are large and luxuriantly leaved, Avliile the backward 
 views, enframed with foliage and softly painted by the blue 
 pencil of the air, grow more charming as you ascend. Ere 
 long, the shadow of the towering North Mountain was 
 flung over us, as we walked up in advance of the laboring 
 horses. Tlie road was bathed in sylvan coolness ; the noise 
 of an invisible stream beguiled the steepness of the way ; 
 omurald ferns sprang from the rocks, and the rod blossoms 
 of the showy rtibiis and the pale blush of the laurel bright- 
 
TKAVELS AT nOME. 325 
 
 ened the gloom of the undergrowth. It is fortunate that 
 the wood has not been cut away, and but rare glimpses 
 of the scenes below are allowed to the traveller. Landing 
 in the rear of the Mountain House, the huge white mass 
 of which completely shuts out the view, thirty paces bring 
 you to the brink of the rock, and yon hang suspended, as 
 if by magic, over the world. 
 
 It was a quarter of an hour before sunset — perhaps the 
 best moment of the day for the Catskill panorama. The 
 shadows of the mountain-tops reached nearly to the Hudson, 
 while the sun, shining directly down the Clove, interposed 
 a thin wedge of golden lustre between. The farm-houses 
 on a thousand hills beyond the river sparkled in the glow, 
 and the Berkshire Mountains swam in a luminous, rosy 
 mist. The shadows strode eastward at the rate of a league 
 a minute as we gazed; the forests darkened, the wheat- 
 fields became brown, and the houses glimmered like extin- 
 guished stars. Then the cold north wind blew, roaring in 
 the pines, the last lurid purple faded away from the distant 
 hUls, and in. half an hour the world below was as dark and 
 strange and spectral, as if it were an unknown planet we 
 were passing on our journey through space. 
 
 The scene from Catskill is unlike any other mountain 
 view that I know. It is imposing through the very sim- 
 plicity of its features. A line drawn from north to south 
 through the sphere of vision divides it into two equal 
 parts. The western half is mountain, falling oif in a line of 
 rock parapet; the eastern is a vast semi-circle of blue land- 
 scape, half a mile lower. Owing to the abrupt rise of the 
 mountain, the nearest farms at the base seem to be almost 
 
826 AT HOME AJTD ABROAD. 
 
 under one's feet, and the country as far as the Hudson 
 presents the same appearance as if seen from a balloon. 
 Its undulations have vanished ; it is as flat as a pancake ; 
 and even the bold line of hills stretching toward Saugerties 
 can only be distinguished by the color of the forests upon 
 them. Beyond the river, although the markings of the 
 hills are lost, the rapid rise of the country from the water 
 level is very distinctly seen : the whole region appears to 
 be lifted on a sloping plane, so as to expose the greatest 
 possible surface to the eye. On the horizon, the Hudson 
 Highlands, the Berkshire and Green Mountains, unite their 
 chains, forming a continuous line of misty blue. 
 
 At noonday, under a cloudless sky, the picture is rather 
 monotonous. After the eye is accustomed to its grand, 
 aerial depth, one seeks relief in spying out the character- 
 istics of the separate farms, or in watching specks (of the 
 size of fleas) crawling along the highways. Yonder man 
 and horse, going up and down between the rows of corn, 
 resemble a little black bug on a bit of striped calico. 
 When the sky is full of moving clouds, however, nothing 
 can be more beautiful than the shifting masses of light and 
 shade, traversing such an immense field. There are, also, 
 brief moments when the sun or moon are reflected in 
 the Hudson — when rainbows bend slantingly beneath you, 
 striking bars of seven-hued flame across the landscape — 
 when, even, the thunders march below, and the fountains 
 of the rain are under your feet. 
 
 What most impressed my friends was the originality of 
 the view. Familiar with the best mountain scenery of 
 Euroiie, they could find notliing with which to compare it. 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 3 2 7 
 
 As my movements during this journey are guided entirely 
 by their wishes, I was glad when they said : " Let us stay 
 here another day !'' 
 
 At the foot of the CatakUl, the laurel showed its dark-red 
 seed vessels ; halfway up, the last faded blossoms were 
 dropping off; but, as we approached the top, the dense 
 thickets were covered with a glory of blossoms. Far and 
 near, in the caverns of shade under the pines and oaks and 
 maples, flashed whole mounds of flowers, white and blush- 
 color, dotted with the vivid pink of the crimped buds. 
 The finest Cape azaleas and ericas are scarcely more beau- 
 tiful than our laurel. Between those mounds bloomed the 
 flame-colored lily, scarcely to be distinguished, at a little 
 distance, from the breast of an oriole. The forest scenery 
 was a curious amalgamation of Norway and the tropics. 
 " What a land, what a climate," exclaimed one of my 
 friends, " that can support such inconsistencies !" " After 
 this," I replied, " it wiU perhaps be easier for you to com- 
 prehend the apparent inconsistencies, the opposing elements, 
 which you will find in the American character." 
 
 The next morning we walked to the Katterskill Falls. 
 Since my last visit (in 1851) a handsome hotel — the Laurel 
 House — has been erected here by Mr. Schutt. The road 
 into the Clove has also been improved, and the guests at 
 the Mountain House make frequent excursions into the wild 
 heart of the CatskiU region, especially to Stony Clove, 
 fourteen miles distant, at the foot of the blue mountain 
 which faces you as you look down the Katterskill glen. 
 The Falls are very lovely (I think that is the proper word) — 
 they will bear seeing many times — but don't believe those 
 
828 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 who tell you that they surpass Niagai'a. Some people have 
 a habit of pronouncing every last view they see: "the 
 finest thing in the world!" 
 
 The damming up of the water, so much deprecated by 
 the romantic, strikes me as an admirable arrangement. 
 When the dam is full, the stream overruns it and you have 
 as much water as if there were no dam. Then, as you 
 stand at the head of the lower fall, watching the slender 
 scarf of silver fluttering down the black gulf, comes a 
 sudden dazzling rush from the summit ; the fall leaps away 
 from the half-way ledge where it lingered ; bursting in 
 rockets and shooting stars of spray on the rocks, and you 
 have the full effect of the stream when swollen by spring 
 thaws. Really, this temporary increase of volume is the 
 finest feature of the fall. 
 
 No visitor to Catskill should neglect a visit to the 
 North and South Mountains. The views from these points, 
 although almost identical with that from the house, have 
 yet different foregrounds, and embrace additional segments 
 of the horizon. The North Peak, I fancy, must have been 
 in Bryant's mind, when he wrote his poem of " The 
 Hunter." Those beautiful features, Avhich hovered before 
 the hunter's eyes, in the blue gulf of air, as he dreamed on 
 the rock — are they not those of the same maiden who, 
 rising from the still stream, enticed Goethe's " Fisher" into 
 its waves ? — the poetic embodiment of that fascination 
 which lurks in height and depth ? Opposite the North 
 Rock, there is a weather-beaten pine, which springing from 
 the mountain-side below, lifts its head just to the level of 
 the rock, and not more than twelve feet in front of it. I 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 329 
 
 never see it without feeling a keen desire to spring from 
 tbe rock and lodge in its top. The Hanlon Brothers, or 
 Blondin, I presume, would not have the least objection to 
 perform such a feat. 
 
 In certain conditions of the atmosphere, the air between 
 you and the lower world seems to become a visible fluid — 
 an ocean of pale, crystalline blue, at the bottom of which 
 the landscape lies. Peering down into its depths, you at 
 last experience a numbness of the senses, a delicious wan- 
 dering of the imagination, such as follows the fifth pipe of 
 opium. Or, in the words of Walt. Whitman, you " loaf, 
 and invite your soul." 
 
 The guests we found at the Mountain House were rather 
 a quiet company. Several families were quartered there 
 for the season ; but it was perhaps too early for the even- 
 ing hops and sunrise flirtations which I noticed ten years 
 ago. Parties formed and strolled off quietly into the 
 woods ; elderly gentlemen sank into arm-chairs on the 
 rocks, and watched the steamers on the Hudson ; nurses 
 pulled venturous children away from the precipice, and 
 young gentlemen from afar sat on the veranda, and wrote 
 in their note-books. You would not have guessed the 
 number of guests, if you had not seen them at table. I 
 found this quiet, this nonchalance, this " take care of your- 
 self and let other people alone" characteristic very agree- 
 able, and the difierence, in this respect, since my last visit, 
 leads me to hope that there has been a general improve- 
 ment (which was highly necessary) in the public manners 
 of the Americans. 
 
330 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 2. — Beekshieb AJSTD BoSTOlf. 
 
 We descended the mountain on the third day, in a lum- 
 bering Troy coach, in company with a pleasant Quaker 
 family, took the steamer to Hudson, dined there (indif- 
 ferently), and then embarked for Pittsfield, which we made 
 a stopping-place on the way to Boston. My mascuUne 
 companion, who is a thorough European agriculturist, was 
 much struck with the neglected capacities of the country 
 through which we passed. .His admiration of our agri- 
 cultural implements is quite overbalanced by his deprecia- 
 tion of our false system of rotation in crops, our shocking 
 waste of manures, and general neglect of the economies of 
 farming. I think he is about three-fourths right. 
 
 The heat was intense when we left Hudson, but, during 
 the thousand feet of ascent between that place and Pitts- 
 field, we came into a fresher air. A thunder shower, an 
 hour previous, had obligingly laid the dust, and hung the 
 thickets with sparkling drops. The Taghkanic Mountains 
 rose dark and clear above the rapid landscapes of the rail- 
 road : finally old Greylock hove in sight, and a good hour 
 before sunset we reached Pittsfield. As I never joined the 
 noble order of the Sponge — the badge whereof so many 
 correspondents openly sport — but pay my way regularly, 
 like the non-corresponding crowd, my word may be impli- 
 citly taken when I say that the Berkshire House is one of 
 the quietest and pleasantest hotels in the country. 
 
 Here let me say a word about hotels in general. The 
 purpose of a tavern, hostel, inn, hotel, house, or whatever 
 
TEAVBLS AT HOME. 331 
 
 it may be called, is, I take it, to afford a temporary home 
 for those who are away from home. Hence, that hotel 
 only deserves the name, which allows each of its guests to 
 do as he pleases, no one conflicting with the rights of the 
 others. If I would not allow close, unventilated bed-rooms, 
 lack of water, towels the size of a handkerchief, dirty sheets 
 and general discomfort, in the home I build for myself, 
 should I not be permitted to eschew such things in the 
 home I hire for a night? Should I not call for what I 
 want, and have it, if it is to be had ? Should I, late 
 arrived, and suffering from loss of sleep, be roused at day- 
 light by a tremendous gong at my door, and be obliged to 
 rush down to breakfast, under penalty of losing it alto- 
 gether ? But in too many of our hotels the rule is the 
 reverse. The landlord says, in practice: "This is my 
 house : I have certain rules by which it is governed : if 
 you pay me two dollars and a half a day, T will grant you 
 the privilege of submitting to my orders." One is often 
 received with a magnificent condescension, which says, as 
 plainly as words : " See what a favor I am doing you, in 
 receiving you into my house !" In reality the house, the 
 furniture, the servants, do not belong to the landlord, but 
 to the traveller. I intend some day to write an Essay on 
 Hotels, in which I shall discuss the subject at length, and 
 therefore will not anticipate it here. 
 
 My friends were delighted with Pittsfield, which, in its 
 summer dress, was new to me. We spent so much of our 
 time at the windows, watching the evening lights on the 
 mountains, that it was unanimously resolved to undertake 
 an excursion the next morning before the arrival of the ex- 
 
332 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 press train for Boston. "We took an open carriage to the 
 Ilancocli Settlement of Shakers, four miles west of the vil- 
 lage. The roads were in splendid order, last night's rain 
 having laid the dust, washed the trees, and given the wooded 
 mountains a deeper green. The elm, the characteristic tree 
 of New England, charmed us by the variety and beauty of 
 its forms. The elm, rather than the piue, should figure 
 on the state banner of Massachusetts. In all other trees — 
 the oak, the beech, the ash, the maple, the gum, and tulip 
 trees, the pine, even — Massachusetts is surpassed by Penn- 
 sylvania, Virginia, Ohio, and Kentucky, but the elm is a 
 plume which will never be plucked from her bonnet. 
 
 "Here!" said one of my companions, pointing to one of 
 the many wooded knolls by the roadside, " is one of the 
 immeasurable advantages which America possesses over 
 Europe. Every one of these groves is a finished home, 
 lacking only the house. What we must wait a century to 
 get, what we must be rich in order to possess, is here cheap 
 and universal. Build a house here or there, cut down a 
 tree or two to let in the distant landscape, clear away some 
 of the underwood, and you have a princely residence." 
 Bear in mind, my fashionable readers, that my friend has 
 only been six weeks in America ; that he has not yet learned 
 the difference between a brown-stone front on Fifth Avenue 
 and a clap-boarded house in the country ; that (I blush to 
 say it) he prefers handsome trees out-of-doors to rosewood 
 furniture in-doors, and would rather break his shins climb- 
 ing the roughest liills than ride behind matched bays in a 
 carriage ornamented with purchased heraldry. I admit 
 his want of civilization, but I record this expression of his 
 
TRAVELS AT HOMB. 333 
 
 taste that you may smile at the absurdity of European 
 ideas. 
 
 Our approach to the Shaker settlement was marked by 
 the superior evidences of neatness and care in cultivation. 
 The road became an avenue of stately sugar maples ; on the 
 right rose, in pairs, the huge, plain residences of the bi-e- 
 thren and sisters — ugly structures, dingy in color, but scru- 
 pulously clean and orderly. I believe the same aspect of 
 order would increase the value of any farm five dollars an 
 acre, so much more attractive would the buyer find the 
 property ; but farmers generally don't understand this. We 
 halted, finally, at the principal settlement, distinguished by 
 a huge circular stone barn. The buildings stood upon a lot 
 grown with fresh turf, and were connected by flag -stone 
 walks. Mats and scrapers at the door testified to the uni- 
 versal cleanliness. While waiting in the reception-room, 
 which was plain to barrenness, but so clean that its very 
 atmosphere was sweet, I amused myself by reading some 
 printed regulations, the conciseness and directness of which 
 were refreshing. "Visitors," so ran the first rule, "must 
 remember, that this is not a public-house. We have our 
 regulations just as well as other people, and we expect that 
 ours will be observed as others expect theirs to be." An- 
 other was : " Those who obtain lodging, or who are fur- 
 nished with meals at their own request, are expected to pay 
 for the same." One of the most important, apparently, 
 was this : " Married persons visiting the Family must oc- 
 cupy separate apartments during the time of their stay." 
 
 Presently, an ancient sister made her appearance. She 
 wore a very plain book-muslin cap, and a coarse blue gown, 
 
334 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 which hung so straight to her feet that more than one 
 under-garment was scarcely possible. She informed us, 
 courteously, that curious strangers like ourselves were not 
 usually admitted, but made an exception in favor of my 
 companions, seeing they had come such a distance, and 
 called one of the brethren to show us the barn. This is 
 really a curious structure. The inside is an immense mow, 
 divided into four sections for different kinds of hay. Next 
 to the wall is a massive platform, around which a dozen 
 carts can drive and unload at the same time. Under this 
 platform are the stables, ranged in a circle, and able to 
 accommodate a hundred cattle. The brother, with an air 
 of secresy which I was slow to understand, beckoned the 
 gentlemen of our party to a portion of the stable where 
 he had a fine two year old bull, which, he seemed to think, 
 was not a proper animal for ladies to look upon. 
 
 The sister afterward conducted us to the dairy, where 
 two still more ancient sisters were engaged in cutting up 
 curd for a cheese. They showed us with considerable 
 pride the press-room, cheese-room, and milk-room, which 
 were cool and fragrant with the rich nutritive smeU of cheese 
 and whey. The dwellings of the separated sexes, which I 
 was most desirous to see, were not exhibited. The sis- 
 ters referred us to Lebanon, where strangers are habitually 
 admitted. The only peculiarity of their speech seemed to 
 be the use of the " Yea'' (which they pronounce Yee) and 
 " Nay," instead of " Yes" and " No !" 
 
 Notwithstanding their apparent cheerfulness and con- 
 tontnicnt, not one that I saw seemed to be completely 
 hoaltliy. They had a singularly dry, stai-ved, hungry, lone- 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 335 
 
 ly look, which — if it be the result of their celibate creed — 
 is a sufficient comment upon it. That grace and mellow- 
 ripeness of age which is so beautiful'and so attractive in the 
 patriarch of an abundant family, was wholly wanting. No 
 sweet breath of house-warms their barren chambers. The 
 fancied purity of their lives is like the vacuum of an ex- 
 hausted receiver, whence all noxious vapor may be extract- 
 ed, but the vital air with it. The purest life is that of the 
 wedded man and woman — ^the best of Christians are the 
 fathers and mothers. 
 
 It is a fact that most of our railroad lines avoid the best 
 scenery of the United States. With the exception of a 
 portion of the New York and Erie, the Hudson River, 
 Pennsylvania Central, and Baltimore and Ohio, I cannot 
 now recall any road which affords fair pictures of the region 
 it traverses. This is especially the case with the main artery 
 of Massachusetts. No one, flying through Berkshire on a 
 Western Railroad train, can perceive more than one-third 
 of its actual beauty. Going eastward, on our way to Bos- 
 ton, we had some pleasant glimpses among the narrow dells 
 of the Berkshire Hills, but the valley of the Connecticut, 
 in reality so lovely, presents but a tame appearance. The 
 charm of Springfield — its semi-circular sweep of suburban 
 villas — is invisible, and Mount Holyoke shows but a low, 
 blue, triangular mass in the north. 
 
 To one fresh from the exquisite pastoral scenery of Penn- 
 sylvania, so like mid-England in its smooth fields, its hedge- 
 rows, and magnificent tr^es, the couiitry between Spring- 
 
336 XT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 field and Boston seems exceedingly bleak and sterile. The 
 rocky, gravelly soil, the gloomy woods of fir and pine, or 
 dwarfish deciduous trees, the clap-board villages, hinting 
 of a new Western State rather than of one of the mothers 
 of the Republic, must disappoint, I fancy, those who visit 
 'Nbw England for the first time. At least, this was the case 
 with my friends. " Can this be Massachusetts — this barren 
 region, where it seems impossible for a farmer, with all his 
 industry,' to do more than barely live ?'' " Think a mo- 
 ment," I answered, " and you will perhaps remember that 
 you have never heard the soil of Massachusetts praised, but 
 her laws, her school system, her morals, and her men I" 
 These it is that have made her what she is, while Virginia, 
 favored of Heaven in regard to soil and climate, has become 
 the degenerate Spain of our Republic. 
 
 Naturally, the eastern portion of Massachusetts, with the 
 exception of the region about Wachuset, and some points 
 on the sea-coast, is neither beautiful nor picturesque. It is 
 not only rough, with an indifferent vegetable development, 
 but monotonous in its forms. The numerous lakes — or 
 ponds, as they are prosaically called — constitute a redeem- 
 ing feature. It is astonishing how the gleam of water 
 brightens the commonest landscape. Here, however, where 
 Nature has done comparatively little, Man has done a great 
 deal. As you approach Boston the roughest region is yet 
 a region of homes. The granite boulders, so unsightly in 
 a field of grain, become ornaments when breaking the 
 smooth turf of a lavvn ; the scrubby pines, trimmed and 
 cared for, shoot into beautiful trees, and one elm, growing 
 and exjianding in the symmetry which freedom gives, is the 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 337 
 
 glory of an entire landscape. Man may sometimes deform, 
 but he oftenest improves Nature : it is mere cant to assert 
 the contrary. And I know no better illustration of the fact 
 than the environs of Boston. 
 
 As we flashed past the quaint wooden cottages of New- 
 ton and Brighton, my friend asked: "Are those houses 
 really meant for dwellings ? They seem to me too sportive 
 and toy-like, as if somebody had been playing at village- 
 making, putting down a house here and a house there, to 
 see how it would look best.'' This playful character of the 
 villages never struck me before, but it is one which would 
 naturally present itself to an eye accustomed to the solid, 
 matter-of-fact, unlovely aspect of the country-towns of Eu- 
 rope. The rus in urhe is a thing never seen in the Old 
 World, unless, rarely, in England. We are too used to 
 villages, where every house has its garden and its threshold- 
 trees, to appreciate their novelty and freshness in a stran- 
 ger's eyes. 
 
 The approach to Boston is almost the only picturesque 
 city-view we have on the Atlantic Coast. The broad reach- 
 es of water, the cheerful suburbs on either hand, the long, 
 gently-rising, brick hill in front, crowned with the yellow 
 dome of the State-House, when seen in the tempered even- 
 ing light, under a cloudless sky, form an imposing and truly 
 attractive picture. New York, from the bay, suggests com- 
 mercial activity only ; Philadelphia, from the Delaware, is 
 the tamest of cities ; but Boston, from any side, owing to 
 her elevation, has a stately charm which her prouder sisters 
 do not possess. 
 
 A Boston Sunday, in Winter, is a day of sack-cloth and 
 15 
 
338 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 ashes. A foreigner would suppose there was weekly fast- 
 ing and prayer for some great national calamity. Instead 
 of an expression of thankfulness for rest, of joy in the 
 relaxation from toil, of happy because spontaneous devo- 
 tion, the city wears a grim, sullen, funereal aspect, as if 
 undergoing the Sabbath perforce, but with a strong silent 
 protest. In the bright summer weather of July, however, 
 the painful precision of the day was considerably relaxed, 
 and the faces of the multitude exhibited a profane expres- 
 sion of cheerfulness. In the afternoon, piloted by two poets, 
 we drove up and down, through and around, the enchant- 
 ing southern suburbs. The filling up of Back Bay — a 
 municipal work, second in magnitude only to the raising of 
 the city of Chicago above its original level — ^first claimed 
 our attention. The Boston of the next half-century will 
 cover the spacious plain thus created. Incipient streets 
 already branch out from the bottom of the Common, and 
 stately stone dwellings, in Louis Quatorze style, are spring- 
 ing up with magical rapidity. The extension of Beacon 
 street is the beginning of a Boston Fifth Avenue, of which 
 the city is not a little proud. 
 
 In her southern suburbs, however — in Roxbury, and the 
 hills beyond, and princely Brookline, and Brighton, Boston 
 may challenge comparison with almost any city in the 
 world. This undulating region, dotted witli crystal ponds, 
 superbly wooded, and covered for miles with covmtrj'-seats 
 in every conceivable style of architecture, from the once- 
 prevalent Grecian temj)le to the now-fashionable mansard- 
 roof, is a portfolio crammed with delicious pictures. The 
 velvet turf, golden-green in sunshine, the trim buckthorn 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 339 
 
 hedges, the trellised roses, the commingling of pine, elm, 
 maple, larch, chestnut, and fir in the groves, the unexpected 
 dells and water-glimpses, the gleam of towers and mellow- 
 tinted house-fronts far and near, the old avenues, ribbed 
 with Gothic boughs, are among their features, and you can 
 scarcely say that any thing is wanting. Many of the houses, 
 it is true, are too much buried from the sun and air, to be 
 healthy residences ; but they are none the less beautiful on 
 that account. The New Yorkers spread their country resi- 
 dences over Staten Island, along the shores of the Sound, 
 and half-way up the Hudson, beautifying a great extent of 
 territory, while the Bostonians, by crowding theirs together, 
 have produced a smaller, but nearly perfect region of land- 
 scape gardening ; for, where so much is beautiful, the occa- 
 sional anomalies and grotesqueries of taste fail to offend you. 
 
 The general impression which Boston and its environs 
 made upon my friends was that of substantial prosperity 
 and comfort. They also noticed its prim, proper English 
 air, so strongly contrasted with the semi-Parisian vivacity 
 of New York. Boston, in fact, prides itself on its Deport- 
 ment : it is nothing if not proper. All the ridicule which 
 other cities are in the habit of heaping upon it does not 
 seem to disturb its equanimity in the least. I do not remem- 
 mer to have seen the Boston papers greatly enraged by any 
 hostile assertion, except that the harbor sometimes freezes 
 over : then, they cry out in indignant wrath. 
 
 I must say, I rather admire this stolid self-reliance and 
 Novanglican assumption — if for nothing else, at least because 
 it shows a thicker cuticle than we excitable New-Yorkers 
 possess, whose nerves are exposed to the atmosphere, or 
 
''40 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 that of the morbidly sensitive Philadelphians, who ransack 
 the Union for derogatory remarks, and exalt one horn 
 while depressing the other to gore all who doubt their 
 greatness. The genuine Bostonian is the most complacent 
 of mortals. With his clean shirt on, and his umbrella under 
 his arm, he sits upon his pedestal of Quincy granite, and 
 reads his mild, unexceptionable newspaper. He believes in 
 Judge Story and Daniel Webster, reads the poems of Han- 
 nah Gould and George Lunt, votes for Bell and Everett, 
 and hopes that he will go to Paris when he dies. 
 
 With me, however, who have been knocked about the 
 world too much to have any special veneration for any par- 
 ticular class of men, excessive propriety is always a suspi- 
 cious circumstance. I would sooner trust the ragged Chris- 
 tian who sits in the hindmost pew, than the smoothly-shaven 
 deacon who leads the hymn. I have sometimes wondered 
 whether all the Bostonians postpone their Parisian delights 
 until after death. Is there nothing volcanic under this cold 
 lava? No indulgence in improprieties, all the more attrac- 
 tive, because secret ? My friend related to me this morn- 
 ing an experience which he had innocently made. "What 
 a curious city this is!" he exclaimed; "last night, while I 
 was walking out alone, it occurred to me that a glass of 
 beer would be a good thing for my thirst. So I looked 
 here, and looked there, going through many streets, but 
 every house was closed : only the churches were open. At 
 last I stopped a man in the street, and said to him, in my 
 imperfect English : ' Is it possible that in this great city I 
 cannot get one small glass of beer?' 'Hush!' said the man, 
 * come with me and I'll show you.' So we went through 
 
TEAVEI^ AT HOME. 341 
 
 many streets, until he stopped at a little dark dooi-, and said 
 ' go up.' Then he went away. I went up one flight of 
 stairs : it was dark. Then I went up another flight, and 
 saw a lighted glass door with the word ' Seeenity ' upon 
 it. Inside were many men, drinking beer. I also drank a 
 glass, but I was obliged to pay double price for it, and the 
 beer was very bad." 
 
 I laughed heartily at my friend's adventure, the explana- 
 tion of which led me into a statement of the various phases 
 of the Temperance reform. In Germany, where a Liquor 
 Law would be not only an impossibility, but an incredihility, 
 such clandestine dodges are unknown, and I am afraid my 
 friend's respect for the administration of the laws in this 
 country was somewhat lessened. 
 
 3. — ^Thb Saco Valley. 
 
 There are two routes of travel from Boston to the 
 White Mountains — ^the eastern, by way of Lake Winnipi- 
 seogee and the Saco Valley, and the western, up the Con- 
 necticut River to Littleton, and thence up the valley of the 
 Ammonoosuc. The former, which we chose, is again sub- 
 divided into two branches — one, via Manchester and Con- 
 cord to Wier's, on Lake Winnipiseogee, and thence by 
 Centre Harbor to Conway, and the other, via Lawrence, 
 Dover, and the Cocheco Railroad to Alton Bay, at the 
 lower extremity of the lake. We preferred the latter of 
 these branches, as affording us the greater quantity of 
 
342 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 lake travel : those who prefer haste to scenery take the 
 former. 
 
 I noticed one change for the better on the Boston and 
 Maine road — that of the introduction of a comfortable 
 smoking-car. I think I should appreciate this if I were not 
 a consumer of the delectable weed : but as I know from 
 experience how the dreary time we spend in railroad-cars is 
 beguiled by that 
 
 " Kind nymph to Bacchus bom 
 By Morpheus' daughter, she that seems 
 Gifted upon her natal morn 
 By him with fire, by her with dreams," 
 
 I think the Company has done a commendable thing. Any- 
 thing that contributes to the comfort of the public (and the 
 public will smoke, oh ye Reformers !) deserves to be praised, 
 and I therefore praise it. There is one thing more needed 
 — a Spitting, or rather, Chewing Car. I fancy that most 
 ladies, delicate as their nerves may be, would rather sit in 
 a smoky atmosphere than have their dresses dabbled in the 
 liquid filth which the Chewer is at liberty to disgorge every- 
 where. In Boston you are fined two dollars for smoking 
 in the streets (or would be if the law were enforced), but 
 you may spit to your heart's content. The genuine smoker 
 does not spit : he ofiers only the rarest and most fragrant 
 incense to his god ; and why his coarser brother should be 
 tolerated and he proscribed, is what I cannot understand. 
 
 A smart shower on Monday night had laid the dust : the 
 air was like fluid diamond, and the forests sparkled and 
 gleamed as if newly varnished. 'We flew past Lawrence, 
 
TEAVELS AT HOME. 343 
 
 noticed the melancholy site of the Pemberton Mills, admired 
 the cerulean blue of the Merrimack at Haverhill, found the 
 further scenery tame, and in the course of time reached 
 Dover. 
 
 The Cocheco Road passes through a wild, sterile, and alto- 
 gether uninviting region, but it is only twenty-eight miles 
 long, and in a little over an hour we embarked on the 
 steamer Dover at the lower extremity of Lake Winnipi- 
 seogee. Alton Bay is along, narrow inlet between wooded 
 hills. The dark-blue waves danced under a strong northern 
 breeze, but our staunch little steamer swiftly parted them 
 and brought us into the open water, whence we saw far to 
 the north, the blue outposts of the White Hills. The 
 shores of the Lake are rough and wild, but rendered very 
 picturesque by the multitude of coves, inlets, and islands. 
 Winnipiseogee is an almost exact reproduction of some of 
 the Scandinavian Lakes — the Tindso, in Tellemark, or the 
 Malar, in Sweden, for instance. Its atmosphere is quite as 
 northern, notwithstanding it lies fifteen degrees further 
 south. On other days it may present warmer tints and 
 softer outlines, but with such a keen, bracing wind, under 
 a July sun, my experiences three summers ago came vividly 
 to my mind, and I almost fancied myself again in Norway. 
 
 We did not see the whole of the Lake, owing to a slight 
 misunderstanding of mine, which, after all, turned out for 
 the best. This route again, I had discovered, is subdi- 
 vided ; there being rival stage-lines from Wolfborough and 
 Centre Harbor to Conway. Supposing Wolfborough to 
 be at the north-eastern corner of the lake, instead of the 
 south-eastern, as it really is, and learning that the stages 
 
344 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 thence reached Conway iu advance of these from Centre 
 Harbor, I left the boat at the former place, and therefore 
 missed seeing as I had intended, the upper portion of the 
 lake. But, on the other hand, I gained the pleasantest 
 stage route and the best ajiproach to the mountains, so 
 that, on the whole, the balance was rather in our favor. 
 
 After climbing the hill before reaching Ossipee, we had 
 our last and loveliest view of Winnipiseogee, lying in 
 many a strip of dim silver among the blue hiUs. A mile 
 further, on the ridge of the Tuftonborough Hills, a noble 
 panorama awaited us. In front — great tracts of forest, 
 broken in upon here and there by roughly-cleared farms — 
 lay the valley of the Saco, while in the north-west rose the 
 White Mountains, showing each separate peak distinctly in 
 the clear air. Chocorua, with his pyramid of rock, on the 
 right, and peaked Kearsarge on the left, stood in advance, 
 like sentinels at the entrance of the deep, dim valley, whose 
 walls of increasing elevation seemed buttresses, resting 
 against the shoulders of Mount Washington, the central 
 dome-shaped monarch of the group. Light clouds were 
 hovering in the sky, but above the mountains, and belts of 
 cold shadow across the middle distance heightened the 
 sunny warmth of the foreground. 
 
 Thenceforward, we overlooked the stony soil and the 
 shabby farms. We had entered artist-Lind, and even when 
 the forests narrowed our prospect, we only saw the pictu- 
 I'esque in mossy rocks and twisted trees. As we approached 
 the Saco, after passing Six-Mile Pond, much of the scenery 
 consisted of renienibrances of New York studios. Every 
 foreground was made up of sketches by Shattuck, Cole- 
 
TBAYELS AT HOME. 345 
 
 man, and the younger painters : every background was 
 a complete picture by Kensett. I watched the shifting 
 quadruple peaks of Chocorua with a peculiar personal 
 interest. Gradually they assumed the familiar position : 
 the crest of sheer rook gleamed with a faint red in the sun 
 that lay so warm upon the hills — yes, there is my Choco- 
 rua ! And really, at this distance, he towers not more 
 grandly in the afternoon light than on those four feet of 
 canvass, in my room at home, "where it is always afternoon." 
 
 I do not think any approach to the White Mountains 
 can be more beautiful than that of the Saco Valley. You 
 are carried so gently and with such sweetly prolonged sur- 
 prises, into their heart, — touched first, as it were, with 
 their outstretched fingers, held awhile in their arms, and 
 finally taken to their bosom. Their beauty wins before 
 their sublimity awes you. On such an evening, with the 
 depth of color increasing as the light fades, bars of alter- 
 nate gold and violet flung from summits and through 
 lateral gorges across the valley, and blue glimpses of stream 
 or lake interrupting the rich, uniform green, every turn 
 of the road gives you a new delight, every minute of the 
 fleeting time is more precious than the last. 
 
 Now, wherein is this scenery inferior to that of the 
 Scotch Highlands, or the Lower Alps, or the Jura ? In 
 no respect, to my eyes, but rather finer in its forms and 
 combinations. To be sure, it lacks the magic of old 
 associations ; but this — if it be a defect — is one which is 
 soon forgotten. The principal difierence is one which 
 applies to almost all American scenery. Virgin nature has 
 a complete charm of its own : so has nature under subjec- 
 
 15* 
 
346 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 tion, cultivated, enriched, finished as a dwelling-place for 
 man : but that transition state, which is neither one thing 
 nor the other, gives an unsatisfactory impression in the 
 midst of our highest enjoyment. Imagine the intervales 
 of the Saco under thorough culture, the grassfields thick 
 and smooth, the grain heavy, not a stump to be seen, the 
 trees developed in their proper forms, fair pastures on the 
 hillsides, shepherds' cottages high up on the mountains, 
 thrifty villages, farm-houses and summer villas scattered 
 over the landscape, and what is left for the eye to crave ? 
 But take it now, with its frequent unsightly clearings, its 
 fields dotted with ugly stumps, and the many single trees 
 which, growing up spindly in the midst of others, are now 
 left standing alone, robbed of then- characteristic forms, 
 and you will readily see that here are discordant elements 
 in the landscape. It is not always the absolute superiority 
 of Nature which we recognize ; we are influenced by these 
 indirect impressions, and they are not to be reasoned away. 
 
 Yet, during the last stage of our ride some perfect 
 pictures were presented to us. Mote Mountain, beyond 
 the Saco, lifted a huge mass of blue shadow iuto the sky ; 
 Kearsarge was tipped with yellow light, and, in front, 
 high over the valley. Mount Washington shone in splendid 
 purple. Occasional gaps through the trees gave us limited 
 views, where every feature was fair and hai-monious. One 
 farm in particular, with its white house, high on a ledge of 
 Mote Mountain, where the sunset still lingered, came again 
 and again to sight, thrown so far off by the brown sha- 
 dows around us that it seemed a fairy picture in the air. 
 
 At dusk we reached North Conway, and found lodgings 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 347 
 
 at the Kearsarge House — a tall shaky building, crammed 
 with visitors. We were lucky, in fact, in finding quarters 
 at all. Hundreds are turned away during the season. 
 But as the landlord says, when people complain of his 
 neglecting to enlarge his bounds: "I have a right to 
 complain that you don't patronize me for eight months of 
 the year." Splendoi', so temporary in its uses, will not 
 pay. "We found everything clean and convenient, and 
 were well satisfied. 
 
 When I awoke this morning the rain was beating an 
 accompaniment to my dreams upon the balcony roof, 
 the wind was roaring in the woods, and low masses of 
 cloud were driving over the gateway of The Notch. It 
 was a genuine mountain storm which had come upon us, 
 and threatened to confine us within, doors during the day 
 — a prospect whereat I heartily rejoiced. If there is any- 
 thing which fills me with a comfortable feeling of happi- 
 ness — which makes me at peace with all mankind, and bids 
 me see only the bright side of life, it is a rain-storm among 
 the mountains. It has become a conventionalism to speak 
 of the dreariness of a rainy day in the country : for my 
 part, I know nothing more beautiful, except sunshine, and 
 that is generally less cheerful. While a rain is gathering — 
 while the atmosphere is heavy, portentous, congested (to 
 borrow a medical word, which expresses the feeling better 
 than any other), I am plunged into the lowest depth of 
 despair, but I begin to mount, with the first drop ; and 
 when the trees bend, and turn the under side of their 
 
348 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 leaves to the gale, and the hills are blotted out with rain, 
 and the roof becomes a resonant sounding-board, whereon 
 "ies Gouttes d'JEau'''' is i^layed with a delicate grace 
 beyond the reach of Liszt or Chopin — then, I revel in an 
 Olympian buoyancy of spirits, and the lost sun of the outer 
 rises on my inner world. 
 
 So I sat down to write, feeling sure that a whole day of 
 quiet comfort was before me ; but scarcely had I written 
 six pages before the clouds broke, the rain ceased, and the 
 sun began to give glimpses of his face. The mountains 
 came out bright and green, the bears rose, shook off their 
 wet, and stood on their hind legs ; the band played adieus 
 to departing stages, and all the distractions of good wea- 
 ther thrust themselves between brain and paper. It was 
 no use to try: I must be up and away. The air called, 
 the sun called ; the trees, waterfalls, and distant blue 
 peaks sent their voices up to my window. Conscience 
 (literary, only) was silenced ; duty was a bore : " I did 
 not come to write," I said to myself, and out we went 
 into the woods, 
 
 " As sunbeams stream through liberal space, 
 And nothing jostle or displace, 
 So waved the pine-tree through ray thought, 
 And fanned the dreams it never brought." 
 
 But now, while the stars are sparlding over the hills, and 
 the dancers are dancing in tune in the great saloon, to the 
 sound of the horn and bassoon, and the crowd of guests 
 are " going on '' precisely as if there were no mountains 
 about them, and no Mount Washington to be ascended on 
 
TEAVELS AT HOME. 349 
 
 the morrow, let me pick up the thread dropped this morn- 
 ing, and resume our travels. 
 
 The morning, at North donway, was so wonderfully 
 clear, that I immediately predicted a storm. Mount Wash- 
 ington seemed near at hand ; even the bridle path on the 
 southern side was visible. The eclipse came off, according 
 to contract, but so brilliant was the day that I should not 
 have noticed it but for the peculiar shadows cast by the 
 trees. We resisted the temptation to climb Kearsarge, 
 having too much before us, to exhaust each locality. So 
 much the better : we can come back again, and still have 
 something in store. The stage for Crawford's went off, 
 packed with tourists, and, to our cost, we engaged a special 
 team to take us thither in the afternoon. The price 
 demanded, and of course paid (for there was no resource), 
 was eighteen dollars for an open two-horse wagon, to con- 
 vey us twenty-five mUes. This is rather ahead of Illinois, 
 and about equal to California. But there was some sense 
 in the landlord's remark : " I have to keep fifty horses all 
 winter at a heavy expense, in order to supply travellers for 
 three or four months in the summer, and they must pay for 
 it." Certainly, a lumbering Concord coach, with nine 
 inside, is no place whence to behold White Mountain 
 scenery, and we were speedily reconciled to the double 
 fare. 
 
 The road follows the valley of the Saco, rising from 
 North Conway, which is six hundred feet to the source of 
 the river, at Crawford's, two thousand feet above the sea- 
 level. At first, the valley is broad, and the farms frequent. 
 After passing Bartlett's Comer, where Ellis River comes 
 
350 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 down from the right, and a stage road branches off to 
 Pinkham Notch and the Glen House, we drove for eight 
 or ten miles in a western direction, between still loftier 
 mountains. Here the soil appeared kinder, and the rough 
 shanties, whence issued, at our approach, little girls with 
 birchen boxes of raspberries, ceased. " If the road were 
 macadamized," said my friend, " and a few cataracts poured 
 down the ledge, it would be very much like Guldbrands- 
 dal, in Norway." New-Hampshire, in fact, is Norway, 
 with a somewhat richer vegetation. 
 
 At the Upper Bartlett House we were gratified with the 
 sight of some trout, in a spring. We had tried, in vain, 
 to procure trout at the hotels. At breakfast there were 
 some on the table, but fried in such a manner that their 
 peculiar flavor was unrecognizable. What more easy than 
 artificial trout-breeding in these clear mountain streams ? 
 And what more remunerative than trout (charged extra in 
 the bill) to the keepers of these mountain hotels ? 
 
 Turning North again, we took a last view of Kearsarge, 
 down the glorious valley, and pushed forward into wilder 
 regions. The highest peaks on either hand reached a 
 height of five thousand feet, the bed of the valley became 
 contracted, and the. Old Crawford House, now closed, 
 seemed to be the last outpost of civilization in this direc- 
 tion. We were never weary of noting the bold, beautiful 
 sweep of the mountain sides, clothed to their very summits 
 with as thick and green a foliage as the tropical hills of 
 Mexico. I had anticipated landscapes of a wilder and 
 rougher cast. Here, however, for several miles, we drove 
 through forests which arched above the road, and shut out 
 
TBAVELS AT HOME. 351 
 
 all view — ^not only woods of fir, oak, and beech, but the 
 beautiful birch, with its slender milk-white stem, while the 
 ground is covered with giant ferns, as large and as beau- 
 tiful as the pandanus and the sago-palm of the Pacific 
 isles. The size and beauty of the birches caused us for a 
 time to forget the mountains altogether. Straight, and 
 white as ivory, they shone through the gloom of the ever- 
 greens, and formed a fairy colonnade far before us. 
 
 After twice crossing the infant Saco, the road turned a 
 little to the left, and we found ourselves between Mount 
 Webster and the Willey Mountain, elevations of equal 
 height, whose bases touch in the bed of the stream, and 
 whose sides rise at an average angle of 45°. The trees 
 which cling to them are scant and dwarfish, and torn away 
 in long strips by slides which start from their very brows. 
 They appear to be almost inaccessible, but may be climbed 
 by a man of strong nerve and solid muscle. The crest of 
 Mount Webster, a long wall of perpendicular rock, bright- 
 ened by the sinking sun, towered over us, midway to the 
 zenith. The driver, of course, pointed out the traces of 
 the fatal slide of 1826, on Willey Mountain, and presently 
 the house came in sight. It it now but an appendage to a 
 larger building which has been inhabited (a sort of hotel, I 
 believe) for the past year or two. The occupants, pro- 
 bably, reckon that two slides will hardly be likely to occur 
 in the same place. 
 
 Here commences The Notch, which is properly no notch, 
 but a very deep, wild valley, or trough, formed by the 
 bases of the two mountains before mentioned. At its 
 head, overhanging it in an immense precipice of gray rock, 
 
352 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 and seeming to block all egress, is Mount Willard, a peak 
 more remarkable from its abruptness and its isolation, than 
 its actual height. For two miles we drove forward through 
 the woods, climbing the ascending gorge. The topmost 
 crags of Mount Webster were no longer burnished with 
 sunset ; the air around us grew dark and cool, and the 
 Saco became a rill which I could almost collect in a bucket. 
 A spruce rider, prancing through the woods on a hand- 
 some black horse, assured us that Crawford's was close at 
 hand, and obligingly galloped ahead to engage rooms for 
 us. A few very steep pulls brought us to a cleft between 
 immense masses of dark rock, leaving a space of little more 
 than twenty feet for the road and stream. Here, turning 
 back, we saw The N"otoh, looming huge and awful through 
 the blue vapors of twilight — a grand, a truly Alpine land- 
 scape. 
 
 A hundred yards further, and we emerged from the 
 Gate of the Notch, as it is called, upon a little plateau, two 
 thousand feet above the sea. A black pond beside iis, was 
 the fountain of the Saco. Lights glimmered ahead, the 
 sound of music sainted us, and the long front of the Craw- 
 ford House rose like a palace in the wilderness. From the 
 balcony pealed the band — with a good-will, if not with 
 great artistic talent ; a hundred well-dressed gentlemen and 
 ladies promenaded along the veranda; gas-lights flared 
 through the broad entrance — in short, all the evidences 
 of a first-class hotel, " with the latest improvements," 
 saluted our delighted eyes. Our bedrooms wore actually 
 lighted with gas — and there were bell-pulls — and some- 
 body came when you pulled — and what you ordered was 
 
TEATBLS AT HOME. 353 
 
 brought to you ! Nature is good, I thought, but Nature 
 in combination with the latest improvements is best of all. 
 In the words of a New England poet, whose name I am 
 sorry not to know : 
 
 " Give to Natur' Natur's doo, 
 But give to Art, more too." 
 
 In the evening the guests gathered in the grand saloon, 
 about half the size of the Great Eastern's deck, and there 
 were performances on the piano, heard in becoming silence, 
 and the inevitable hop. In this I did not join, preferring 
 not to do a thing at all rather than to do it badly, but the 
 rhythm of the dancers' feet reached me in bed, through all the 
 timbers of the house. With the exception of the hop, which 
 occasioned a temporary unbending ceremony, the company 
 appeared to me rather grave and formal. Those conven- 
 tionalities from which we so gladly escape, penetrate even 
 here. Immense trunks are unshipped from the stages, costly 
 dresses appear in the evening, the ladies criticise each other 
 — in short, the utmost resistance is oifered to the levelling 
 influence of the mountain air. It is but a shifting of location 
 — not of nature. I was impressed with a pleasant sense of 
 freedom in the evening when the stage from Conway drove 
 up, with a company of ladies packed on the very top, and sing- 
 ing in chorus, with a hearty scorn of all artificial proprieties. 
 To me, the hesitation to break through rule occasionally, 
 implies a doubt of one's own breeding. Those whose 
 behavior is refined, from the natural suggestions of a refined 
 nature, are never troubled by such misgivings, and show 
 their true gentleness most when most free and unrestrained. 
 
354 AT HOME AND AHROAD. 
 
 One may ride to the top of Mount Willard in an omni- 
 bus, but it is not a severe walk, even for ladies. In spite 
 of the dead, sultry heat of the air, we found refreshment in 
 that steep, unvarying line of shade, with its mossy banks, 
 starred with a delicate oxalis, the pigmy cornus, ground- 
 pine, club moss, and harebells. ITothing was to be seen, 
 so thick was the forest, until we reached the top of the 
 mountain, about 3,500 feet above the sea. Here, after two 
 or three hundred yards of comparative level, the wood 
 suddenly opened, and we found ourselves standing on the 
 very pinnacle of the great cliff which we saw last night, 
 blocking up The Notch. 
 
 The effect was magical. The sky had in the meantime 
 partially cleared, and patches of sunny gold lay upon the 
 dark mountains. Under our feet yawned the tremendous 
 gulf of The Notch, roofed with belts of cloud, which 
 floated across from summit to summit nearly at our level ; 
 so that we stood, as in the organ loft of some grand cathe- 
 dral, looking down into its dim nave. At the further end, 
 over the fading lines of some nameless mountains, stood 
 Chocorua, purple with distance, terminating the majestic 
 vista. It was a picture which the eye could take in at one 
 glance : no landscape could be more simple or more sub- 
 lime. The noise of a cataract to our right, high up on 
 Mount Willey, filled the air with a far, sweet, fluctuating 
 murmur, but all round us the woods were still, the hare- 
 bells bloomed, and the sunshine lay warm upon the 
 griiuite. 
 
 I had never heard this view particularly celebrated, and 
 was tliorcfore the more impressed by its wonderful beauty. 
 
TEAVELS AT HOME. 355 
 
 As a simple picture of a mountain-pass, seen from above, 
 it cannot be surpassed in Switzerland. Something like it I 
 have seen in the Taurus, otherwise I can recall no view with 
 which to compare it. A portion of the effect, of course, de- 
 pends on the Ulumination, but no traveller who sees it on 
 a day of mingled cloud and sunshine will be disappointed. 
 
 4. — ^Thb Ascent of Mount Washington. 
 
 " You breakfast at seven, start at eight, and ride up in 
 four hours," said Mr. Gibb. Everything depended on the 
 weather. There had been two glorious days for the ascent, 
 the beginning of -the week, and a third was almost too much 
 to expect. At seven, the mountains in front were covered 
 with heavy layers of cloud, and countenances fell. I went 
 to the back of the house, and, seeing a low, arched gap of 
 blue sky in the west, denoting a wind from that quarter, 
 confidently predicted a fine day. Ladies prepared for the 
 ascent by taking off hoops, putting on woollen jackets and 
 old straw hats (hired of the porter), and gentlemen by 
 adopting a rough, serviceable rig, leasing, if they did not 
 already possess one. 
 
 Eight o'clock came, but the stages had to leave first, each 
 accompanied by a pathetic farewell from the band in the 
 balcony. For half an hour I had been striding about in a 
 woollen wamms, uncomfortably warm, while the other gen- 
 tlemen luxuriated in horsemen's boots : the ladies kept their 
 collapsed skirts out of sight until the last moment. Finally, 
 
356 AT HOME AND AliKOAD. 
 
 Mr. Gibb, with a list in his hand, took his place, like a mas- 
 ter of the ring, in the midst of a whirlpool of rough-looking 
 horses, and the travellers mounted, as their names were 
 called, the beasts which he assigned to them. A little con- 
 fusion ensued, shght shrieks were heard, saddles were ad- 
 justed, girths looked after, stirrup-leathers regulated, and 
 then, falling into a promiscuous line, we defiled into the 
 bridle-path, while the band played " Away to the mountain 
 brow." 
 
 We might have been a picturesque, but we were not a 
 beautiful company. The ladies resembled gipsies on the 
 inarch, wearing the clothes they had picked up on the way : 
 the gentlemen might have been political refugees, just 
 arrived from Europe, and not yet received by the Com- 
 mon Council of New York. The horses Were intended by 
 nature for use rather than ornament, and our two guides, in 
 fact, were the only figures that were handsome, as well as 
 vastly useful. Accustomed to walk up and down Mount 
 Washington (nine miles from Crawford's to the summit) three 
 or four times a week, they had the true Zouave development 
 of muscle. Tall, strong, tireless, cheerful, kind-hearted fel- 
 lows, I looked on them with pride, and wished that more 
 Americans were like them in the possession of such manly 
 qualities. One of the ladies of my party had never before 
 mounted a horse, and could never have gotten through her 
 first lesson in so rough a school without their careful tutor- 
 ship. 
 
 Striking into the woods, we began immediately to ascend, 
 gently at first, until we had scaled the lower shelf of Mount 
 Clinton, when the ascent became more steep and toilsome. 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 357 
 
 The road has been judiciously laid out, and made practica- 
 ble with considerable labor. The marshy places are cordu- 
 royed with small logs, and the gullies bridged in the same 
 manner, so that you pass easily and securely. Indeed, 
 nearly half the distance to the summit of Mount Clinton — 
 three miles — has been paved in this manner. The rains 
 have gradually worn the path deeper, and you frequently 
 ride between high, mossy banks, bright with flowers. The 
 oak, birch, maple, and other deciduous trees become less 
 frequent as you ascend, until the forest consists entirely of 
 fir. The lower boughs have rotted and dropped off, and the 
 upper ones form a dark roof above your head, while all the 
 ground is covered with a thick growth of immense ferns. 
 A young tropical wood seems to be spiinging up under the 
 shadow of an Arctic forest. Perhaps this singular contrast 
 of forms (for the fern is Nature's first attempt at making a 
 palm-tree) explains the charm of this forest, wherein there 
 is no beauty in the forms of the trees. 
 
 We rode on steadily — delayed sometimes by the guide's 
 being obliged to mend his corduroys — for three miles, when 
 the wood, which had been gradually becoming more ragged 
 and stunted, came rather suddenly to an end, and we found 
 ourselves on the summit of Mount Clinton, 4,200 feet above 
 the sea. Looking to the northward, we saw before us the 
 bald, rounded top of Mount Pleasant, about five hundred 
 feet higher, while beyond, a gray cloud-rack, scudding 
 rapidly from west to east, completely hid from view the 
 dome of Mount Washington. 
 
 To make our position clear, I must give a little geogra- 
 phy. Mount Washington is the culmination of a connected 
 
358 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 series of peaks, which have a general direction of N. W. 
 and S. E. Mount Webster, which forms one side of The 
 Notch, is the commencement of this series, as you ascend 
 the Saco Valley. Then follow Mounts Jackson, Clinton 
 (which we have just surmounted), Pleasant, Franklin, Mon- 
 roe, and finally Washington, summit rising above summit 
 in Titanic steps, from 4,000 until the chieftain attains the 
 crowning height of 6,285 feet. Beyond Mount Washing- 
 ton are the peaks of Clay, Adams, Jefferson, and Madison, 
 all of which exceed 5,000 feet in height. The road from 
 the Crawford House, therefore, scales five mountains in 
 succession : it is the longest, but by far the most compen- 
 sating road to the top of Mount Washington. That from 
 the Glen House, at the eastern base of the mountain, touches 
 no other peak, which is also the case with the road from 
 Fabyan's, up the valley of the Ammonoosuc. Both the 
 latter, however, are practicable for carriages about half the 
 way. 
 
 The still heat we had felt in the woodland path suddenly 
 ceased, and a strong wind, chilled by the elevation of be- 
 tween four and five thousand feet, blew upon us. The 
 ladies were glad to use the porters' rough pea-jackets, and 
 those who were unaccustomed to saddles looked at the 
 blue mountain-gulfs which yawned to the right and left, 
 with an awful feeling of apprehension. In the rocky dip 
 which separated us from Mount Pleasant, trees no longer 
 grew: tlio path, in many places, was a steep rocky ladder, 
 toilsome both to man and beast. Our sturdy guides leaped 
 back and forth, suppoi-ting and encouraging the timorous 
 ladies; nervous gentlemen dismounted and led their horses, 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 359 
 
 but the latter were as nimble and sure-footed as cats, and 
 I rode my " Sleepy David" (so the beast was properly 
 called) down and up without fear or peril. On either side 
 opened a mountain landscape — great troughs of blue forest 
 at first, then dimmer ranges, lighter patches of cleared land 
 beyond, sparkles of houses and villages, and far waves of 
 purple mist, merging in the sky. 
 
 Our path did not scale Mount Pleasant, but crept around 
 its eastern side, where a few old trees — ^bushes in appear- 
 ance — grew, being sheltered somewhat from the nor'west- 
 ern winds. Here my lady-friend, appalled by the road, and 
 the perils of the side-saddle, was about to give up the jour- 
 ney, but having convinced her of the greater security of the 
 masculine seat, we changed saddles, and thenceforth all 
 went well enough. I would advise all ladies who are at all 
 nervous, to take a man's saddle, and ride as Catharine of 
 Russia did. It may not be so graceful, but then, I hope 
 you don't go up Mount Washington to display your own 
 points of attraction. 
 
 Mount Franklin came next, and we found him rougher, 
 steeper, and more laborious than his Pleasant predecessor. 
 The path goes directly up his side to the very summit : 
 path, did I say ? — rather a ruined staircase, with steps vary- 
 ing from one to three feet in height, agreeably diversified by 
 smooth planes of slanting rock. It seemed impossible that 
 the horses should climb these latter without slipping, yet 
 they all did so, to an animal. At the top, we had reached 
 a height of 4,900 feet, without encountering a cloud, while, 
 to our joy, the hood of Mount Washington was visibly 
 thinner, and shoved higher up on his brows. 
 
360 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 From Franklin to Monroe the ridge is but a sharp comb, 
 barely wide enough for the bridle-path, and falling sheer 
 down to the wildernesses of forest which collect the waters 
 of the Saco and the Ammonoosuc. This comb, in my opi- 
 nion, commands a finer view than that from Mount Wash- 
 ington. Looking either to the right or left, the picture is 
 partly framed by the vast concave sweep of the mountain 
 sides ; below you, the solitude of the primeval forest ; 
 beyond, other mountains, broader valleys, the gray gleam 
 of lakes, and the distant country, flattened into faint blue 
 waves by the elevation from which you behold it. All the 
 noted summits of the White Mountain region are here visi- 
 ble, and Kearsarge, Chocorua, and the Franconia Group 
 display themselves with fine eifect. Your satisfaction is not 
 diminished by the presence of the rocky, cloudy mass, which 
 still towers high over you : you only fear that its summit 
 will not give you grander panoramas than those unrolling 
 below you — which is the case. 
 
 " What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang), 
 In height and cold, the splendor of the hills ?" 
 
 A great deal, certainly. But I imagine such pleasure 
 springs not merely from the sense of beauty, because all 
 details, wherein, mostly. Beauty lies, are swallowed up in 
 the immensity of the airy picture: there is also a lurking, 
 flattering sense of power, which we feel, although it may 
 not consciously float on the surface of our emotions. We 
 are elevated above the earth : other men and their concerns 
 are below us : their stateliest possessions are insignificant 
 jiatches, which we look down upon without respect or envy. 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 361 
 
 Our own petty struggles and ambitions fade away also in 
 the far perspective. We stand on the pinnacle of the earth, 
 whereof we are lords, and above us there is nothing but 
 God. 
 
 For this reason, a height is not a proper place for a home. 
 Great elevations and far prospects excite the intellect rather 
 than move the heart. No man of loving nature would build 
 his house upon a mountain-peak. " Love is of the valley," 
 and his chosen home is shut in and sheltered by hills and 
 woods, nestled in a warm hollow of the earth, accessible, 
 familiar, and yet secluded. One would rather see his 
 neighbor's trees and fields near him, than look from his 
 vv^indow upon a hundred miles of blue earth. " I have 
 climbed to this summit with much toil," says Herwegh, in 
 one of his poems, '' and now the dust of those streets where 
 I lived is dearer to me than this pure, cold air. I can 
 almost grasp Heaven with my hands, and my heart desires 
 to be down on the earth again." A mountain-top may be 
 a fine place for lovers, in the spring-time of their betrothal, 
 but when their day of exaltation is over, and the common 
 loves and common cares of the world approach, they will 
 come down and settle contentedly at the base. 
 
 Mount Monroe is a sharp, rocky mass, rising abruptly 
 from the spinal ridge. Its summit has an elevation of five 
 thousand three hundred feet. This, however, we do not 
 scale, but climb around it by a dangerous-looking path, and 
 find ourselves on the ridge again, which here broadens out 
 and slopes upward to Mount Washington. On the left, in 
 a hollow, about a hundred feet below us, is the Lake of the 
 Clouds, a little pool of blue-black water, out of which 
 
 16 
 
362 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 ti-iukles the Ammonoosuc, highest-born of New-England 
 rivers, but (like the scions of certain families) not much of 
 a stream, after all. The Saco, of three or four thousand 
 feet lower origin, achieves a much more conspicuous 
 destiny. 
 
 By this time, every vestige of cloud had disappeared, and 
 the chieftain summit rose before us bare, bleak, and cold, a 
 steep, slightly conical mass of greenish-gray rocks, destitute 
 of a single shrub. Here and there grew a tuft of brown, 
 hardy grass, or a bunch of dwarf, delicate white flowers, 
 with a sweet odor of May about them. The strong wind 
 blew cold and keen from Canada, and there was no longer 
 any shelter — no higher peak in that direction, nearer than 
 the Rocky Mountains. The path, or rather stairway, was 
 so rough and laborious, that I dismounted for awhile, to the 
 great joy of my horse, and climbed until the thin air failed 
 to supply my lungs. It was a steady upward pull of half 
 an hour, before we found the sharp crest flatten under us, 
 and reached the fold of piled stones where the horses are 
 left. The rest of the company (twenty-eight in all) had 
 already arrived, and some of the gentlemen were engaged 
 in mixing the waters of an icy spring among the rocks with 
 the contents of pocket-flasks. In such a place, and under 
 such circumstances, all — even the ladies — partook of the 
 mixture without hesitation. " The Maine Law, I suppose, 
 is inoperative up here," I said to the guide. " Oh," he 
 replied, " no law comes this high ; we are out of the State 
 of New-Hampshire." If a man should commit a crime in a 
 balloon, where should he be tried ? 
 
 A few steps further brought us to the summit, which is a 
 
TKAVBLS AT HOME. 363 
 
 platform of loose rocks, containing, perhaps, half an acre. 
 Against the loftiest pile, in the centre, is built a long, low 
 hut, styled the "Tip-Top House." Having a register, a 
 bar, kitchen, and dining-room, it may be considered a hotel. 
 A few steps further is the " Summit House" (a little below 
 the summit), where travellers can pass the night in com- 
 fortable bunks, and (perhaps) see the sun rise. There is 
 one room for ladies and one for gentlemen, and an ancient 
 chambermaid, who sleeps in the doorway between. A 
 magnificent hotel is projected, with a carriage-road to the 
 very summit. The latter, I was informed, will be com- 
 pleted next year, but I have my doubts about it. The 
 enterprise, to be sure, is not half so great as that of the 
 Siraplon Road, but it could scarcely be remunerative, while 
 there are such excellent hotels as Crawford's and the Glen 
 House, in more agreeable locations. 
 
 One thing, however, is greatly needed — a tower about 
 fifty feet in height, which will enable the traveller to over- 
 look the edges of the rocky platform and take in the whole 
 grand panorama from one point. Any of us would have 
 gladly paid a handsome fee for such a lift. At present, you 
 must climb over heaps of stone, from point to point, to 
 catch the various views, each of which is superb of its kind, 
 but the effect would be infinitely sublimed if they could all 
 be united in one picture. To the south-east you have the 
 valley of the Saco, with its sentinels of Chocorua and Kear- 
 sarge ; to the south, Lake Winnipiseogee, lying in its cradle 
 of purple hills ; south-westward, the tossing sea of wild, 
 wooded, nameless peaks, stretching away to Franconia, 
 whose summits shut out further horizon; westward, the 
 
364 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 valley of the Connecticut, the Green Mountains, with Mans- 
 field and Camel's Hump, far and dim; Canadian wilder- 
 nesses on the north, and the scattered lakes of Maine — 
 glimmering among pine-forests which seem the shadows of 
 clouds — to the east. Earth and sky melt into each other, 
 a hundred miles away, and the ocean, which is undoubtedly 
 within the sphere of vision, is not to be distinguished from 
 the air. 
 
 The atmosphere, according to the guides, was as clear as 
 it ever is, yet so great were the distances, so vast the spaces 
 overlooked, that all the circle of the landscape, except the 
 nearer gorges of the mountains, appeared dim and hazy. 
 The sense of elevation is thereby increased: you stand, 
 verily, " ringed with the azure world." I have stood on 
 higher summits without feeling myself lifted so far above 
 the earth. This— although there are many grand features 
 in the different landscapes — is the predominant characteristic. 
 
 On the southern side of the peak, under a pile of stones, 
 which shelters you from the wind, a mountain panorama is 
 unfolded, which most of our party barely honored with a 
 glance — some, in fact, did not see it at all — ^but which, to 
 me, was grandly and gloriously beautiful. Here you see 
 the main body of the White Mountains, ridge behind ridge, 
 summit over summit, in lines commingling like the waves 
 of the sea, harmonious yet infinitely varied — an exquisite 
 study of mountain-forms, tinted with such delicate grada- 
 tions of color as would have plunged an artist into despair. 
 I counted no less than twelve planes of distance, the fur- 
 thest no less distinct than the nearest, and gem-like in their 
 fine clearness of outline. 
 
TBATELS AT HOME. 365 
 
 The sound of a bell called us to dinner, and it was no 
 less welcome than miraculous a fact, that beefsteaks and 
 potatoes, pies and puddings grew on the barren granite. 
 Our dining-room had walls of stone, four feet thick, plas- 
 tered and ceiled with muslin, and the wind whistled in a 
 hundred crannies ; yet the meal was epicurean, and the 
 shelter inspired a feeling of comfort beyond that gorgeous 
 saloon at Crawford's. There was a party of thirty up from, 
 the Glen House, making fifty-eight visitors in all. The 
 ladies, in their collapsed gowns and pea-jackets, huddled 
 on the warm side of the house in melancholy groups, while 
 the gentlemen unstrapped their telescopes and opera-glasses 
 and climbed upon the roof. Two o'clock was the hour fixed 
 for our return, which allowed us but an hour and a half 
 upon the summit. 
 
 The descent was more toilsome than the ascent. We 
 walked, in fact, to the Lake of the Clouds, where, by 
 spreading ourselves among the rocks, we caught the cun- 
 ning, unwilling horses. The wind still blew furiously, 
 although the sun blistered our faces : we began to be sore 
 and shaken, from the rough ride, and the cheerful chatter 
 of our company subsided into a grim, silent endurance. So, 
 nearly four hours passed by, until, in the ferny forests of 
 Mount Clinton, we heard the strains of the distant band — 
 not now discordant, oh no ! a seraphic harmony, rather — 
 and, by-and-by, a bruised, jaded company straggled out of 
 the woods, tumbled out of the saddle, and betook them- 
 selves to sofas and rocking-chairs. The ladies, without 
 exception, behaved well — in courage and endurance they 
 quite equalled the gentlemen. 
 
366 AT HOME ASTD ABROAD. 
 
 And now, if any gentleman ask me : " Shall I ascend 
 Mount Washington?" I answer "Yes" — and if a lady, 
 " yes" again ; and if they reproach me afterwards for the 
 advice, I know how to classify them. 
 
 5. — Montreal and Quebec. 
 
 At Crawford's we were advised to take a road which leads 
 northward over Cherry Mountain, and so around to Gor- 
 ham, on the Grand Trunk. We should have followed this 
 advice, but for two circumstances — first, there was no direct 
 conveyance thither, and secondly, had there been one, as the 
 day was Saturday, we should have been obliged to wait 
 thirty-six hours at Island Pond. On the other hand, by 
 leaving Crawford's at 4 a. m., one can reach Montreal at 
 11 P.M. — a round-about journey of 270 miles, but very de- 
 lightful as regards scenery. 
 
 My friends were greatly impressed by the difference be- 
 tween Vermont and New Hampshire scenery. Our after- 
 noon ride up White River Valley, and onward to the shores 
 of Lake Champlain, bore no resemblance to those of the 
 previous days. We missed the almost Alpine grandeur of 
 the White Mountains, the vast pine woods, and the broad 
 lonely lakes ; but the mountains on either hand assumed 
 every variety of form. Their chains were broken by deep, 
 lateral glens, the meadows were smooth and green, the foli- 
 age richer, tlie crops better, and even the farm-houses more 
 inviting in their aspect of thrift and prosperitj'. We had 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 367 
 
 a constant succession of such landscapes as you see in the 
 Northern Swiss cantons. Glorious showers of Summer rain 
 dropped veil after veU of dim gray between us and the 
 pictures of the car- window ; then the sun burst from behind 
 a cloud, filling the air with palpable gold ; then a deep in- 
 digo shadow fell on the valley and the gray film of the 
 shower dropped again. To have properly enjoyed and 
 appreciated "this sceneiy, we should have spent three days 
 between the Junction and Essex, not in a railway car, but 
 in an open wagon, propelled by horse power. 
 
 We had sunset at St. Alban's, and by the time we reached 
 Rouse's Point, it was confirmed night. Here you must 
 change your tickets, and have your baggage examined^ 
 which consists in your telling the ofiicial that you are tra- 
 vellers and carry only your necessary clothing, whereupon 
 he makes a chalk mark on your trunks, and don't ask for 
 your key. There is nothing, in fact, to indicate that you 
 are entering a foreign country (I have been asked the same 
 question about my baggage on the Camden and Amboy, 
 and Philadelphia and Baltimore Railroads). But I forget : 
 there is one circumstance, which shows, at least, a change 
 in the character of your fellow travellers. The sombre 
 silence of the American car no longer lulls you into slum- 
 ber ; you see animated gesticulations ; from end to end the 
 car rings with the shrill, snapping voices of the Canadian 
 French. I have never crossed the frontier from Rouse's 
 Point without being startled by this change. We were 
 heartily weary, but sleep was impossible. Our progress 
 was slow, and it was a welcome sight when, towards mid- 
 night, we saw the lights of Montreal reflected in the dark 
 waters of the St. Lawrence. 
 
368 AT HOME AXD ABROAD. 
 
 The Sunday repose was doubly pleasant in the fresh Ca- 
 nadian air. Next morning we took the Grand Trunk road 
 to Quebec, passing through the deafening Victoria Bridge. 
 Of the road, there is little to say. After leaving St. Hya- 
 cinthe, the country is mainly a level stretch of wild wood- 
 land, nntil you reach the Chaudifere. We arrived at Quebec 
 in season to view the sunset from Durham Terrace, which 
 was for us the splendid drop-curtain of the day. After 
 that, we were satisfied to return to the Russell House, and 
 sleep upon the impressions of the scene. 
 
 The sky threatened rain, but we set out boldly for the 
 Falls of Montmorency. Descending through an ancient and 
 fish-like quarter of the city, we crossed the St. Charles 
 River, and entered the long suburban street which extends 
 to the Falls. This highway, crowning the undulating rise 
 of the northern shore, commands a broad and superb view 
 of the queenly city, the St. Lawrence, the Isle d'Orleans, 
 and the opposite bank. It is therefore a favorite location 
 for country residences, though the greater part of the soil 
 seems to have been pre-occupied by the French habitans. 
 Quaint old houses, old gardens (which are always beauti- 
 ful), small fields of grain and potatoes, and village-clusters 
 of neat cottages succeeded one another rapidly on both 
 sides — all with the same mellow aspect of age and use. I 
 saw scarcely half a dozen new houses in all the eight miles. 
 The old dwellings, with their heavy stone walls, tin roofs, 
 tall chimneys, and the snug way in which they crouched 
 for sheltor among groves of firs, \\ere strongly suggestive 
 of comfort and domesticity. But I was even more charmed 
 with the French cottages and their cheerful occupants. For 
 
TBAVELS AT HOME. 369 
 
 the most part simple, one-story structures, a hundred years 
 old or more, they were scrupulously neat and orderly, and 
 the women and girls whom we saw through the open doors 
 and windows, at their knitting and sewing, or engaged in 
 lively gossip, were the fitting pictures for such frames. Many 
 of the cottages had their little gardens, with beds of cab- 
 bages and onions, and some bunches of gaudy marigolds, 
 snapdragons, bergamot and lavender. All the northern 
 bank, sloping below us, carefully cultivated and thickly in- 
 habited, basked in an atmosphere of pastoral peace and 
 simplicity, while in the background towered the city and 
 citadel, a mountain of glittering roofs. 
 
 We passed the Insane Asylum, a handsome building of 
 gray granite, in front of which a harmless patient, in fan- 
 tastic attire, was walking with a banner in his hand. A 
 mile or two beyond, on the other side of the road, stood an 
 ancient stone building, with steep roofs and tall chimneys, 
 which, according to the coachman, was once the residence 
 of the Marquis de Montcalm. Little boys, with bunches 
 of wild flowers, lay in wait for us as we advanced, and all 
 the French children, standing in the cottage-doors, saluted 
 us by a quaint, old-fashioned wave of the right hand. I 
 wish our own race partook a little more of the ingr.uined 
 cheerfulness and courtesy of the French. These habitwiis 
 are not only kind, faithful, and as virtuous as the average 
 of men — and a little cheerful cordiality wins their hearts at 
 once — but they also offer an example of religious tolerance 
 worthy of imitation. They are very devoted to their own 
 faith, but regard their Protestant neighbors without the 
 least bitterness of prejudice. 
 
 16* 
 
370 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 The gray clouds which had been gathering during our 
 drive finally broke out into rain, just as we reached the 
 Falls. We drew up at a house — a compound of tavern and 
 Indian curiosity-shop, in a grove of evergreens, and were 
 met with the hospitable announcement "Twenty-five cents 
 apiece !" A party of Southern gentlemen who preceded 
 US grumbled loudly at this tax and openly expressed their 
 disgust with Canada ; but where platforms must be built, 
 and staircases erected for the traveller's accommodation, it 
 is nothing more than fair that he should pay for it. The 
 native American mind, however, which can complacently 
 contemplate the spending of fifty dollars on a spree, rebels 
 against the payment of fifty cents in the shape of a just tax. 
 We might have fine macadamized highways in all the older 
 portions of the United States, if our people would calculate 
 the present wear and tear of teams, and be willing to pay 
 the same amount in the shape of toUs. But no — none of 
 your tolls ! Give us our bad roads and our glorious inde- 
 pendence ! 
 
 There was no sign of a cessation of the rain, and we 
 therefore descended through the grove under umbrellas, 
 to the river, which, above the fall, flows in a rough bed, 
 some forty or fifty feet deep. The stone piers of the 
 former suspension bridge stand on either side, as melan- 
 choly monuments of its fall. The ihains gave way a few 
 years ago, as a farnier with his horse and cart was passing 
 over the bridge, and all plunged down the abyss together. 
 A safe platform leads along the rooks to a pavilion on a 
 point at the side of the fall, and on a level with it. Here 
 the gulf, nearly three hundred feet deep, with its walls of 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 3'll 
 
 chocolate-colored earth, and its patches of emerald herbage, 
 wet with eternal spray, opens to the St. Lawrence. 
 
 Montmorenci is one of the loveliest waterfalls. In its 
 general character it bears some resemblance to the Pisse- 
 vaclie, in Switzerland, which, however, is much smaller. 
 The water is snow-white, tinted, in the heaviest portions 
 of the fall, with a soft yellow, like that of raw silk. In fact, 
 broken as it is by the irregular edge of the rock, it reminds 
 one of masses of silken, flossy skeins, continually overlap- 
 ping one another as they fall. At the bottom, dashed 
 upon a pile of rocks, it shoots far out in star-like radii of 
 spray, which share the regular throb or pulsation of the 
 falling masses. The edges of the fall flutter out into lace- 
 like points and fringes, which dissolve into gauze as they 
 descend. The peculiar charm of a cataract depends on 
 the character of these exquisite, transient forms. 
 
 The view of the fall from below must be still finer, in 
 some respects ; but it can only be obtained by taking a 
 circuitous path, too long to be travelled in a driving rain. 
 We omitted visiting the Natural Steps for the same reason, 
 and set off, dripping, for Quebec. All afternoon the win- 
 dows of heaven were opened, and muddy cataracts poured 
 down the steep streets. At Russell's, the roof of the dining 
 saloon leaked in such a manner that little streams poured 
 upon the heads of the guests, and a portion of the floor 
 was swamped. After the long drouth, this rain was indeed 
 a blessing. 
 
 Ever since, as a boy, I read Prof. Silliman's " Tour to 
 Quebec," it had been one of my wishes to visit the city. 
 Pictures and descriptions, I found, had given me a very 
 
372 AT HOMB AND ABROAD. 
 
 accurate idea of its appearance. The high, massive, steep- 
 roofed stone houses, crowded together at the foot of 
 the rock, and climbing around its eastern side, the nar. 
 row, crooked streets, old churches, contracted, badly- 
 paved squares, and the citadel, with its huge walls of de- 
 fence, crowning all, exactly answered my anticipations; 
 but I was conscious of disappointment in one particular. 
 The rock is not a perpendicular cliff, but sloping, covered 
 with a growth of hardy shrubs, and capable of being scaled 
 in some places. I read, some years ago, of a soldier on 
 guard having incautiously stepped over the edge, and 
 fallen two hundred and fifty-seven feet through the air, 
 alighting upon a pile of earth in the back-yard of a house 
 below, without any other inconvenience than a g.neral 
 sense of soreness, from which he recovered in a few days! 
 This struck me as one of the most beautiful accidents of 
 which I had ever heard. I placed it on my list of " remark- 
 able escapes," beside the case of the Vermont quarryman 
 who had a crow-bar shot through his brain. But I fear I 
 must give it up. When I came to look at the citadel, I 
 found no place where such an accident could possibly 
 happen. A man, indeed, might roll from top to bottom, 
 and find himself sore at the end of the journey. 
 
 We again walked on Durham Terrace, the view from 
 which surpasses that from Calton Hill, in Edinburgh. The 
 Citadel cannot be entered without a special permission. 
 The flat summit of the hill, westward, is the celebrated 
 Plain of Abraham, which we saw from the other side of 
 the St. Lawrence, but wore not able to visit. In fact, when 
 we left Quebec, it was with the consciousness that we had 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 373 
 
 not done justice either to its natural beauties or its historic 
 associations. Several weeks might be spent with great 
 pleasure and profit here, and in the neighboring portions 
 of Lower Canada. 
 
 It is pleasant to notice the friendly feeling which is 
 growing up between the inhabitants of Canada and the 
 United States. The number of American tourists and 
 sportsmen who come this way is annually increasing, and 
 \\ ith it there is a certain assimilation of habits, by which 
 both parties are the gainers. For travellers the frontier 
 is but a nominal line, and in the newer parts of Canada 
 there is nothing but the preponderance of English faces 
 among the inhabitants to indicate a difference of nation- 
 ality. On steamboats, and in hotels, the two peoples fra- 
 ternize readily and naturally, and discuss their points of 
 difference without acrimony. Twenty years ago this was 
 not the case. An American was looked upon with preju- 
 dice, if not with suspicion, and if he settled in the country 
 was treated as an unwelcome intruder. Now, there are 
 communities of American residents in Montreal, Toronto, 
 and the towns of Canada West, many of whom are deserv- 
 edly honored by their Canadian brethren. The increased 
 facilities of intercourse, the intimacy of commercial rela- 
 tions, and, above all, the difference of tone adopted towards 
 the United States by the English Government— ^/b?* Canada 
 not only reflects, hut exaggerates English opinion* — have 
 
 * The reader will naturally compare thia expression, written in July, 
 1860, with the present condition of affairs (December, 1861). Nothing 
 seems to be so reckless and fickle as the tone of popular sentiment. Three 
 months after my visit to Quebec the heu- to England's throne was received 
 
3 '7 4 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 wrought an entire revolution in public sentiment. Let me 
 confess, also, that this change is reciprocal. No decent 
 American can visit Canada vi'ithout finding many people 
 whom he can esteem, and, when he is tempted to pick at 
 the flaws of the Colonial Government, let him first think 
 of the flimsy patches in the woof of his own. 
 
 6. — Up the Saguenay. 
 
 Let us now step on board the steamer Magnet, Capt. 
 Howard, bound for the Saguenay River. Most of the Summer 
 tourists whom we had met at Russell's, on our arrival, were 
 booked for the same trip, and of the hundred passengers on 
 board, more than half were Americans. The remainder 
 were English Canadians, bound for the various watering- 
 places down the St. Lawrence. As so much — nay, all — of 
 our enjoyment depended on the weather, it was comforting 
 to find the morning mist rolled away, the sky clear, and a 
 warm, genial sun in the midst of it. 
 
 The St. Lawrence, which, at Quebec, is not more than 
 
 in the United States with a welcome, truly sublime in its sincerity and 
 generosity. Now, the English press and people, and their subservient 
 imitators in Canada, are convulsed with a madness — so blind and unrea- 
 sonable that it taxes our powers of belief— to rush to war in consequence 
 of a slight technical difference, and in defence of an " institution," which 
 they have heretofore held in 'utter abhorrence! Who shall venture to 
 write history when the professed "moral sense" of half a century turns 
 out to have been a sham — when England, whose conscience on this pomt, 
 at least, was conceded, becomes the Pecksniff of nations ? 
 
TBATELS AT HOME. 315 
 
 a mile wide, broadens immediately below the city into a 
 majestic expanse of water, which the great Isle d'Orleans 
 divides into two nearly equal arms. The hurricane-deck 
 of the steamer, from the moment of departure, offered us a 
 panorama so grand, and fair, and attractive on all sides, that 
 the fear of losing any portion of it kept us vibrating from 
 fore to aft, and from aft forward again. Behind us lay the 
 city, with its tinned roofs glittering in the morning sunshine, 
 and its citadel-rock towering over the river ; on the south- 
 ern shore, Point Levi, picturesquely climbing the steep 
 bank, embowered in dark trees ; then the wooded bluffs 
 with their long levels of farm-land behind them, and the 
 scattered cottages of the habitans, while, northward the 
 shore rose with a gradual, undulating sweep, glittering, far 
 inland, with houses, and gardens, and crowding villages, 
 until it reached the dark, stormy line of the Laurentian 
 Mountains in the north-east. In front, the Isle of Orleans 
 reproduced the features of the shores. Pictures so bright, 
 so broad, so crowded with life and beauty, I had not 
 expected to find. 
 
 "This is DO longer America," said my friends. There 
 was not a feature in all the wide view (except our double- 
 decked steamer), to remind us of the New World; yet, «n 
 the other hand, we could not have referred it to any one 
 portion of Europe. The sky, the air, the colors of the land- 
 scape, were from Norway; Quebec and the surrounding vil 
 lages suggested Normandy^ — except the tin roofs and spires, 
 which were Russian, rather ; while here and there, though 
 rarely, were the marks of English occupancy. The age, the 
 order, the apparent stability and immobility of society, as 
 
SYB AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 illustrated by extenial things, belonged decidedly to Europe, 
 This part of Canada is but seventy or eighty years older 
 than New-England, yet there seems to be a difference of 
 five hundred years. A century of foreign domination has 
 made no material change in the character and habits of the 
 French population. In fact, the change in the peasantry 
 of France has been much greater during the same period. 
 That magic atmosphere of the Past, which makes Europe 
 so attractive to an American, already spreads a thin veil 
 over these Canadian shores. 
 
 As we approached the end of the Isle d'Orleans, a spar- 
 kle of silver light shone through the trees fringing the chasm 
 on the northern shore — then a long, wavy line, and, at 
 length, the whole cascade of Montmorenci opened to the 
 view, glittering in the sun. We were two or three miles 
 distant, and no sound reached our ears, but the movement 
 of the filling water, the silent play of airiest light and sha- 
 dow over its face — like ripples on a skein of snowy silk — 
 was exquisitely beautiful. Many varieties of scenery as I 
 have looked upon, it was at last something new to see a 
 great waterfall set in the midst of a vast, sunny landscaj^e, 
 where it is seen as one of many features, and not itself the 
 point to which all others are subordinate. 
 
 Taking the channel between Isle d'Orleans and the south 
 shore, we lost sight of Quebec, and settled ourselves quietly 
 on the forward deck, to contemplate the delicious pastoral 
 pictures which were unfolded on either side. The island, 
 which is twenty miles long, is densely populated and most 
 thoroughly cultivated. The high, undulating hills are 
 dotted with cottages, mostly white as snow, roof and all, 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 377 
 
 and every cove of the irregular shore has its village. Most 
 of the St. Lawrence pilots have their homes upon this island, 
 the population of which is exclusively French. The per- 
 manence of habits to which I have referred, is exhibited on 
 the southern shore of the river, where the broad, original 
 fields of the father have been portioned among his children, 
 and their diminished inheritances among theirs, until you 
 see narrow ribbons of soil rather than fields. There is thus 
 an apparent density of population, an aspect of age and long 
 culture, which is scarcely to be seen anywhere else on the 
 American Continent. 
 
 The grand features of the scenery, no less than the power 
 of transmitted associations, must bind these people to their 
 homes. They are happy, contented, and patriotic — if such 
 a term can be properly applied to them, who, governed by 
 a foreign race, have forgotten the ties which once bound 
 them to their own. The soil, I believe, is good, but the 
 climate — that of lat. 60° on the European Coast — makes 
 their lives necessarily laborious, and diminishes the profits 
 of agriculture to such an extent that most of them barely 
 live. Cattle must be stabled during seven months of the 
 year, and when the hay-crop faUs, as this Summer, half their 
 resources fail with it. A gentleman who owns a farm on 
 the northern shore informed me that he can just support 
 his family, and no more. Another, who has several cows 
 during the Summer, which are valued at |20 apiece, sells 
 them in the Fall, on ascertaining that it costs just $28 to 
 keep them through the Winter. By buying fresh ones in 
 the Spring, he saves $8 a head. It is now the height of Sum- 
 mer, and a wind is blowing which makes us shiver : what 
 
8 '7 8 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 must it be in the dead of Winter? I never visit these 
 northern regions without a vivid recollection of those tropic 
 islands where life is one long, splendid Summer — where 
 twenty days' work in every year will support a man. Here, 
 however, is a home, as well as there ; and, so long as a man 
 is happy, it makes no difference whether he lives at the 
 Equator or the North Pole. 
 
 Below the Isle d'Orleans, the St. Lawrence exhibits a 
 majestic breadth. In fact, this is already an inlet of the 
 sea rather than a river. The water is brackish at flood-tide, 
 and the wind soon gets up a disagreeable sea. At Quebec, 
 the rise and fall of the tides is sixteen feet, but in the Lower 
 St. Lawrence it frequently amounts almost to a bore. Seve- 
 ral low, wooded islands succeed ; the Laurentian Mountains 
 come down boldly to the river on the north, and as we stand 
 across toward Murray Bay, the south shore fades into a dim 
 blue line, above which rise, in the distance, groups of lofty 
 hills. These are the connecting link between the White 
 Mountains and the Laurentian chain, which stretches away 
 across the country to the coast of Labrador. We ran along 
 the bases of headlands, one thousand to fifteen hundred feet 
 in height, wild and dark with lowering clouds, gray with 
 rain, or touched with a golden transparency by the sunshine 
 — alternating belts of atmospheric effect, which greatly in- 
 creased their beauty. Indeed, all of us who saw the Lower 
 St. Lawrence for the first time were surprised by the impos- 
 ing character of its scenery. 
 
 The Isle aux Coudres, which we next passed, is a beauti- 
 ful ])astoral mosaic, in the pale emerald setting of the river. 
 Here, I am told, the habitans retain their ancient customs 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 3 '7 9 
 
 to a greater extent than in any other part of Lower Canada. 
 One need not refer to History to ascertain their Norman 
 descent : it is sufficiently exhibited in their fields, cottages, 
 and gardens. 
 
 Murray Bay, a short distance beyond, is the fashionable 
 watering-place on the north shore, as Kakouna is for the 
 southern. It is a small cove, opening up into a picturesque 
 dell among the mountains. Access to it is had by means of 
 an immense wooden pier — a Government work, built by con- 
 tract, and, of course, put in the wrong place. " It seems, 
 then," I said to the Canadian gentleman who imparted to 
 me this piece of information, "that your Government jobs 
 are no better performed than ours." " Oh, much worse," 
 was his answer. " Is it possible they can be worse ?" I asked 
 incredulously. " I assure you," said he, " our official cor- 
 rujDtion surpasses yours ; but we have the English reluc- 
 tance to say much about such things. We quietly cover 
 up, or ignore, what we cannot help ; whereas, you, in the 
 States, make an outcry from one end of the land to the 
 other. The difference is not in the fact, but in the procla- 
 mation of it." If this view be true, it is consoling to us, 
 but discouraging to humanity. 
 
 The wind blew violently from the west, and our steamer 
 pitched dangerously at the end of the pier. The passengers 
 were thrust up the plank, or tumbled down it, to the great 
 diversion of a crowd of spectators, whose appetites were 
 whetted by the prospect of an accident. I was much amused 
 by the timidity of three priests, who, when the vessel gave 
 a mild lurch, sprang to some awning-stanchions with every 
 appearance of extreme terror. One of them, seeing no other 
 
380 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 support near at hand, seized upon a lady, and clung to her 
 arm rather longer than was necessary. They then rushed 
 collectively into the cabin, whence they did not emerge 
 afterward, although the water became smooth. This re- 
 minds me of the singular fact that the most timorous class 
 of persons at sea are clergymen. Why those who can cou- 
 rageously face death in other forms should exhibit this 
 weakness, I am at a loss to understand, but the fact is so 
 patent as to have become a sailor's proverb. 
 
 A jolly, red-giUed, full-blooded Englishman, lying at full 
 length on a narrow lintel above the gangway, was recount- 
 ing his exploits in trout-fishing. I forget how many hundred 
 he had caught in the mountain-streams the day before. 
 " How about the bathing ?" asked some one. " Capital !" 
 he exclaimed, " I had a bath to-day." We were wrapped 
 in the thickest shawls, and the bare idea made us shudder, 
 but one look at the speaker, whose frame contained latent 
 carbon enough to melt an iceberg, explained to me the 
 mystery of bathing in such waters. We, who are thui- 
 blooded Southerners, in comparison, would not have found 
 it so enjoyable. 
 
 Leaving Murray Bay, we stood diagonally across the St. 
 Lawrence to Riviere du Loup, which is on the southern 
 shore, nearly a hundred miles below Quebec. The river is 
 here about twenty-five miles wide, and presents a clear sea- 
 horizon to the eastward. It was almost sunset when we 
 succeeded in making fast to the long pier, and theT crowd 
 oi habitans, with their riclcetty, one-horse caleches, who 
 had been patiently watching our battle with the wind for 
 an hour or more, were enabled to offer their services. Some 
 
TEAYELS AT HOME. 381 
 
 of our passengers were bound for Kakouna, six miles fur- 
 ther down the shore, and landed here ; while those who 
 had shipped for the entire trip were anxious to visit the 
 village, whose white houses, and tall gray church crowning 
 the hill, gleamed softly in the last gold of the sun. It was 
 pleasant to find hackmen who could accost you once, and 
 once only, in an ordinary tone of voice, and whose first de- 
 mands were moderate enough to be accepted. 
 
 I chose an honest fellow, whose face was English, though 
 his language and nature were decidedly French, and pre- 
 sently we were bouncing in his car over a rough road, 
 around the deep cove which separates the landing-place 
 from the village of Riviere du Loup. ^^V.oilh du hon hie!'''' 
 said he, pointing to some fields of very scanty oats, and his 
 admiration appeared so genuine that I was compelled to 
 admire them also. '•'•'Vbtre cheval est hoiteux^" I replied, 
 pointing to his limping horse. " Oh, pardon, monsieur .'" 
 said he, " c'est une jument, vaillante, vigoureuse ! Get up, 
 ma paresseusse !" and with an extra shake of the lines, away 
 we dashed, showering the mud on all sides. By this time, 
 the sun had set, and the village appeared before us, neat, 
 trim, and home-like, with a quaint. Old- World air. Houses 
 one story high, scrupulously white-washed doors, raised 
 above the average level of the winter snows, well-kept gar- 
 dens, and clean gravel roads, were the principal features of 
 the place. The river comes down a wild glen in two bold 
 waterfalls, and finishes its course by driving a large flour- 
 mill. A mile inland is the terminus of the St. Lawrence 
 branch of the Grand Trunk Railroad. 
 
 We drove around and through the village in the gather- 
 
382 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 ing twilight, visited tte new Catholic Church, of immense 
 dimensions, and finally turned about, on the top of the hill, 
 whence a bi'oad, macadamized road struck southward into . 
 the country. This was the Government highway to St. 
 Johns, New Brunswick, three hundred miles distant. It 
 is now finished, with the exception of eighteen miles along 
 Lake Temiscouata, which will be completed this year. 
 The American frontier is not more than thirty or forty 
 miles distant from Riviere du Loup. The overland jour- 
 ney from the Bay of Pundy to the St. Lawrence offers 
 many inducements to the home tourist. Were I travelling 
 alone, I should undertake it myself. In winter, the trip 
 from Rivifere du Loup to Madawaska is sometimes made in 
 a day. 
 
 The Magnet lay at the pier until three o'clock this morn- 
 ing, when she started for the Saguenay, across the St. Law- 
 rence, but twenty-seven miles distant. When I went on 
 deck, we were passing Tadoussac, a post of the Hudson's 
 Bay Company, just inside the Saguenay. Here, an old 
 Jesuit church is pointed out to the visitor as the first 
 church built on the American continent. This must be a 
 mistake, however, as one which was built by Cortez is 
 still standing in Vera Cruz, and Jacques Cartier's first visit 
 to Canada was made, I believe, in 1542. Nevertheless, 
 the little chapel of Tadoussac is not only an interesting 
 antiquity, but a picturesque object in itself. Two miles 
 further is L''An8e a PEau^ a lumber station, where we 
 touched, and where, to my regret, Sir. Witoher, an oflicial 
 surveyor, whose conversation I had found very instructive, 
 left us. 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 383 
 
 Passing around the headland of La Boule, we found our- 
 selves at last surrounded with the gray rocks of the Sague- 
 nay. The morning was clear, but cold ; an icy wind blew 
 down the river, and the more delicate lady-passengers 
 congregated about the cabin-stove. No magical illusions 
 of atmosphere enwrap the scenery of this northern river. 
 Everything is hard, naked, stern, silent. Dark-gray cliffs 
 of granitic gneiss rise from the pitch-black water ; firs of 
 gloomy green are rooted in their crevices and fringe their 
 summits ; loftier ranges, of a dull, indigo hue, show them- 
 selves in the background, and, over all, bends a pale, cold, 
 northern sky. This keen air, which brings out every object 
 with a crystalline distinctness, even contracts the dimen- 
 sions of the scenery, diminishes the height of the cliffs, 
 and apparently belittles the majesty of the river, so that 
 the first impression is one of disappointment. Still, it 
 exercises a fascination which you cannot resist. Tou look, 
 and look, fettered by the fresh, novel, savage stamp which 
 Nature exhibits, and at last, as in St. Peter's or at Niagara, 
 learn from the character of the separate features to aj)pre- 
 ciate the grandeur of the whole. 
 
 The Saguenay is not, properly, a river. It is a tremen- 
 dous chasm, like that of the Jordan Valley and the Dead 
 Sea, cleft for sixty miles through the heart of a mountain 
 wnlderness. The depth of the water varies from twenty- 
 five to one hundred and forty-seven fathoms, and the 
 height of the rocks on either side from five hundred to 
 fifteen hundred feet. On approaching Chicoutimi, sixty 
 miles from the St. Lawrence, the river suddenly becomes 
 shallow, and thence to Lake St. John it is an insignificant 
 
384 AT HOMB AND ABEOAD. 
 
 Stream, navigable only for canoes. The upper valley, 
 which is rapidly becoming settled, is said to be very fertile, 
 and to possess a milder climate than Quebec, although 
 nearly two degrees further north. But from L'Anse k 
 I'Eau to Ha-ha Bay, the extent of our voyage, there are not 
 more than half a dozen places where a settler could find 
 room enough for a house and garden. 
 
 Steadily upwards we went, the windings of the river and 
 its varying breadth — from half a mile to nearly two miles 
 — giving us a shifting succession of the grandest pictures. 
 Shores that seemed roughly piled together out of the frag- 
 ments of chaos overhung us — great masses of rock, gleam- 
 ing duskily through their scanty drapery of evergreens, 
 here lifting long, irregular walls against the sky, there split 
 into huge, fantastic forms by deep lateral gorges, up which 
 we saw the dark-blue crests of loftier mountains in the 
 rear. The water beneath us was black as night, with a 
 pitchy glaze on its surface, and the only life in all the 
 savage solitude, was, now and then, the back of a white 
 porpoise, in some of the deeper coves. 
 
 By nine o'clock, we saw the headland of Eternity before 
 us, with Trinity beyond. These two celebrated capes are 
 on the western bank of the Sagueuay, divided by a cove 
 about half a mile wide. They are gray, streaked masses 
 of peri)ondicular rock, said to be fifteen hundred feet in 
 height. By the eye alone, I should not have estimated 
 them at over one thousand feet, but I was assured the 
 height had been ascertained by actual measurement. Cer- 
 tain it is, they appear much higher on the second than on 
 the first view. These awful cliffs, planted in \\ater nearly a 
 
TKAYELS AT HOME. 385 
 
 thousand feet deep, and soaring into the very sky, form the 
 gateway to a rugged valley, stretching inland, and covered 
 with the dark, primeval forest of the North. I doubt 
 whether a sublimer picture of the wilderness is to he found 
 on this continent. 
 
 Toward noon, we reached Ha-ha Bay, which is a branch 
 or inlet of the river, some miles in length. At its extre- 
 mity, there is a flourishing settlement. The hills around 
 were denuded of their forests ; fields of wheat, oats, and 
 barley, grew on the steep slopes, and the cold ridges were 
 dotted with hay-cocks. Capt. Howard gave us but an 
 hour, but we determined to spend the most of it ashore. 
 As we approached the beach in the steamer's boat, we 
 noticed a multitude of caleches, drawn by ponies, standing 
 in the water. Presently we grounded, and there was a 
 rush of vehicles to our rescue. With infinite yelling and 
 splashing, and much good-humored emulation on the part 
 of the drivers, half a dozen caleches were backed out 
 against the boat (the water rising over the shafts), and we 
 stepped into them. Away went the delighted coachmen, 
 and our wheeled gondolas soon reached the shore. The 
 village contains about a hundred houses, most of which 
 were quite new. I noticed some cherry and plum trees in 
 the gardens, and the usual vegetables, which appeared to 
 thrive very well. 
 
 Our coachman, an habitant, was loud in his praises of 
 the place, although he had so little to show us. " Where 
 is the hotel ?'' I asked, after we had seen all the cottages 
 and saw-mills. "There is none,'' he answered. "But 
 where do strangers go, when they come here ?" " Why," 
 
 17 
 
886 AT HOME A>D ABEOAD. 
 
 said he, with a grin, " they dorCt come !" Thereupon, we 
 drove hurriedlj' back into the water, stepped from our 
 carriages into the boat, and returned to the steamer. 
 
 Our return down the Saguenay convinced me that the 
 scenery of the river cannot be i^roperly appreciated at a 
 single visit. Viewing the same objects a second time, we 
 found them markedly grander and more imposing. The 
 river is a reproduction — truly on a contracted scale — of 
 the fjords of the Norwegian coast. One of my companions 
 was also a fellow-traveller in Norway with me three years 
 ago, and ^^•as no less struck with the resemblance than 
 myself. The dark mountains, the tremendous precipices, 
 the fir forests, even the settlements at Ha-ha Bay and 
 L'Anse k I'Eau (except that the houses are white instead 
 of red), are as completely Norwegian as they can be. The 
 Scandinavian skippers who come to Canada all notice this 
 resemblance, and many of them, I learn, settle here. 
 
 As we passed again under the headlands of Trinity and 
 Eternity, I tried my best to make them fifteen hundred 
 feet in height — but without success. The rock of Gibraltar 
 and Horseman Island, both of which attain that height, 
 loomed up, in my memory, to a much loftier elevation. 
 The eye, however, is likely to be deceived, when all the 
 proportions of a landscape are on the same vast scale ; as in 
 St. Peter's, the colossal cherubs which hold the font, 
 appear, at the first glance, to be no larger than children of 
 six years old. From long practice, I can measure heights 
 and distances with tolerable accuracy by the eye, under 
 ordinary circumstances ; but even our most certain and 
 carefully-trained faculties are more or less influenced by 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 387 
 
 habit. The compositor, who has been using minion type 
 for some days, knows how unusually large long primer 
 appears, and how small, after pica. I have no doubt but 
 that the dimensions of the Saguenay scenery were some- 
 what dwarfed to me, by coming directly from the White 
 Mountains. 
 
 Capt. Howard kindly ran his boat a little out of her 
 course, to give us the best view of Trinity and the sublime 
 landscape of Eternity Cove. The wall of dun-colored 
 syenitic granite, ribbed with vertical streaks of black, hung 
 for a moment directly over our heads, as high as three 
 Trinity spires, atop of one another. Westward, the wall 
 ran inland, projecting bastion after bastion of inaccessible 
 rock over the dark forests in the bed of the valley. A 
 photographer on board took two or three views, but no 
 artist, either human or solar, can give more than the 
 faintest hint of such scenery, because a near view is impos- 
 sible, and the effect diminishes in geometrical ratio as you 
 recede. 
 
 Leaving the black water and the giant cliffs behind us, 
 we steamed across the St. Lawrence to Rivifere du Loup, 
 which we reached at dusk. The same crowd of Canadian 
 teams waited patiently on the long pier, but waited in vain. 
 Our captain took advantage of the moonlight to continue 
 his journey, and we slept until morning dawned on the Isle 
 Aux Coudres. A slight accident detained us an hour or 
 more, and we did not see the silvery roofs of Quebec untU 
 after noon. Nevertheless, we were so well satisfied with 
 the trip, that most of us would have willingly repeated it. 
 
388 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 t. NlAGAEA, AND ITS ViSITOES. 
 
 We were to have left Montreal at nine o'clock in the 
 evening — the regular hour for the starting of the night 
 express on the Grand Trunk lioad ; but, as the train from 
 the East had not arrived, ours was kept waiting. After a 
 delay of an hour and a half, we had our beds made and 
 went to sleep. Somewhere near midnight, I heard the 
 noise of departure, mingled with the swearing of various 
 western passengers, who were anxious to reach Milwaukee 
 by Sunday morning. There was no additional delay on the 
 road, however, and on reaching Toronto the next day at 
 noon, the train for Sarnia was found waiting in the same 
 obliging manner. The scenery through which the road 
 passes is rather tame, with the exception of the last divi- 
 sion, along the shores of Lake Ontario, where many a 
 charming little bay opens out between low, wooded head- 
 lands and discloses the blue water horizon. 
 
 I have been interested, during the whole progress of this 
 trip, in observing the manners and peculiarities of travellers 
 from different portions of the United States. It is not dif- 
 ficult to distinguish, after a little practice, those who come 
 fiom New-England, New- York, Philadelphia, the South, 
 and the West. The highest cultivation, of course, is that 
 which casts off all local characteristics, and impresses you 
 with the stamp of an individuality independent of place, 
 profession, or even nationality. Such persons may be found 
 in all portions of our country, but they are rare apparitions. 
 Nine men out of every ten whom you meet have an odor 
 of their native soil about them. 
 
TKAVliLS AT HOME. 389 
 
 The New-England tourist has a grave, respectable air. 
 He is slightly petulant with regard to accommodations, 
 charges, food, and the like. His face is generally thin (the 
 lips particularly so), rarely bearded, his voice even and of 
 little depth or compass, and his language marked with a 
 certain precision, betraying a consciousness of, or at least a 
 belief in, its accuracy. Sometimes he wears gold-rimmed 
 spectacles. He does not insist upon an introduction before 
 speaking to a fellow-traveller, but he speaks with a calm 
 decorum, which says : " I am a very proper person for you 
 to know." This is his outward shell. Under it you will 
 find a good deal of solid information, a fair capacity for 
 enjoyment, positive opinions (rather too much so, perhaps,) 
 on all subjects, and a genuine appreciation of Nature. 
 He is by no means the worst companion you could have 
 on a journey. 
 
 The New-Yorker is mellower and more demonstrative. 
 He is also more flexible in his nature, fraternizes more 
 readily with others, and is less precise, both in person and 
 speech. His language is not so carefully chosen, but his 
 voice has more variety of modulation. He dresses well, 
 and afiects a careless elegance of appearance. He gene- 
 rally possesses his own private enthusiasm for something or 
 other, which he is not afraid to display. His philological 
 peculiarity lies in voice rather than in accent, though he 
 says doo instead of due, etc. (understand, I am speaking of 
 the average man), rather oftener than the New-Englander. 
 He also pronounces the a in palm, pass, etc., a little closer. 
 He makes acquaintances with ease, and forgets them, ditto. 
 He has his opinions, but as he is not certain that he may 
 
390 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. 
 
 not change them some time, can listen cheerfully to con- 
 trary views. 
 
 The Philadelphian, in the primness of his deportment, 
 resembles the New-Englander. The Quaker and the Puri- 
 tanic elements have this point of contact. There is this 
 difference, however : you will not hear the Philadelphian 
 talk fifteen minutes without his mentioning Philadelphia. 
 His face, though generally thin, has also a warmer color, 
 and his mouth more of the Southern fulness. Yet, notwith- 
 standing this, there is something pinched and contracted in 
 his personality, which I find difiicult to describe. Perhaps 
 it lies mainly in his voioe, which is thin and sharp. He 
 pronounces the a in palm, calm, and kindred words, like 
 the a in hat. He also snubs all the short vowels, saying 
 promus, spirut, morul, modH, &a. — which, by-the-by, is an 
 inelegance very general in the United States. I have even 
 heard some persons affect an elegance by changing the 
 short vowels into short i, as moril, gospil, iffectuil! The 
 Philadelphian has much quiet warmth of character. He is 
 a good friend and a hospitable host. Though not so free 
 and easy in his intercourse as a New-Yorker, it does not 
 require a hard knock to open his shell. 
 
 There are two classes of Southern tourists. The first, 
 which you occasionally meet, exhibit a rare refinement of 
 character. The gentleman of this class is quiet, cultivated, 
 earnest — a little exacting, perhaps — and a specimen of that 
 genuine good breeding, which is natural and unconscious, 
 and hence never makes a mistake. The other variety, 
 which is very common, is marked by a bold, swaggering 
 air, neglects no opportunity of assertion, and is morbidly 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 391 
 
 alert to discover some ground of offence. It is a curious 
 fact that, during this trip, whenever I have heard loud and 
 coarse conversation in railroad-cars, swearing at hotel tables, 
 or impertinent or offensive criticism of the place or country, 
 the parties proved, in every instance, to be Southerners ! 
 If the features of the Southern tourist did not proclaim his 
 nativity, his voice would at once betray liim. His accent 
 almost invariably betrays the fact that he has played with 
 young darkies, as a child. He not only says — whar and 
 thai — very often wliah and thah — but pore and shore (for 
 poor, sure), and generally drops the r altogether, after the 
 manner of an English exquisite. . He cannot say " master'" 
 without an effort. When I was in the Navy, a Virginia 
 captain always called me " maus'' mate" (master's mate). 
 The other day I was profoundly surprised at hearing a 
 young lady, of a distinguished Southern family, say : 
 " Jl'i/ah's the do /" Some persons pretend to admire this, 
 affirming that it gives a softness to the language— which is 
 true ; but it is too soft altogether. 
 
 The Southerner — refined or vulgar — always has this to 
 recommend him, that he is free, frank, and companionable, 
 perfectly unreserved in the expression of his opinions, though 
 his manner be a little arrogant, and wholly impulsive and 
 imcalculating. He will fight and be reconciled with you 
 ten times, while the ISTew-Englander is slowly making his 
 way to a single, life-long enmity. 
 
 The Western man may be pretty correctly described, if 
 you know the latitude in which he lives. New-England is 
 reproduced in Northern Ohio, Michigan, and Wisconsin ; 
 New York in Chicago and Iowa ; Pennsylvania in Southern 
 
392 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 Ohio and the States west, in the same line ; and Virginia 
 and Kentucky in Southern Illinois and Missouri. He has 
 no especial characteristics except a certain restlessness in 
 his manner and an expansive use of adjectives in his talk. 
 He has a great habit of saying, "That's so!" and his loca- 
 tion is denoted by the use of peculiar words and phrases 
 rather than any distinctive peculiarity of accent. He has a 
 rampant pride in his own particular city, and county, and 
 state, and our Atlantic communities seem " slow" to him. 
 He is the most demonstrative of Americans, and you never 
 need to ask a second time for his opinion. He, as well as 
 the Southerner, is apt to chew tobacco, and he prefers 
 Bourbon to Verzenay. He does not object to a community 
 of towel and hair-brush in hotels — ^in fact, he is easily satis- 
 fied, and generally of a very cheerful and jovial tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 I have only given a few general indications, and wish it 
 to be distinctly understood that they are meant for classes, 
 and not individuals. The manners of the travelling public 
 have greatly improved since I made my first summer trip, 
 thirteen years ago, and in this particular there is not much 
 difference between the difierent sections of the country : 
 the provincialisms of speech and habits, however, are not so 
 easily obliterated. 
 
 We stopped at Toronto in order to take the afternoon 
 boat across the lake to Lc^^'iston. Our baggage having 
 been sent to the landing-place half an hour before the 
 departure of the steamer, we were called upon to pay a 
 wharfage fee of twenty cents. " If you had come in a car- 
 riage," said the agent (or whoever he was), " there would 
 
TKATELS AT HOME. 393 
 
 have been no charge !" This is a refinement of extortion 
 worthy of a better field of action. 
 
 A mirage lifted the southern shore of the Ontario to 
 view, so clearly that we could distinguish single trees. A 
 gentleman informed me that the spray-cloud of Niagara is 
 sometimes visible at Toronto. We had a lovely but windy 
 afternoon for the transit, and the beryl-colored waters of 
 the lake were so rough that a pale and wretched looking 
 crowd appeared on the deck, as we ran into the mouth of 
 Niagara River. I was glad for the sake of my friends, that 
 we had chosen this avenue of approach to the Falls. The 
 picturesque shores of the river, the splendid green of the 
 water, and the lofty line of the upper plateau in front, 
 crowned with Brock's Monument, and divided by the dark, 
 yawning gorge of Niagara, form a fitting vestibule to the 
 grand adytum beyond. The railroad, climbing rapidly 
 from the station behind Lewiston, piercing the rocky bluff 
 and boldly skirting the tremendous abyss, commands a 
 complete view of the river — with the exception of the bend 
 at the Whirlpool — from the lake to the Falls. The chasm 
 grows wilder, deeper, and moi'e precipitous with every 
 mile, until having seen the Suspension Bridge apparently 
 floating in air, on your right, you look ahead, and two 
 miles ofij catch a glimpse of the emerald crest of Niagara 
 standing fast and fixed above its shifting chaos of snowy 
 spray ! 
 
 I have seen the Falls in all weathers, and in all seasons, 
 but to my mind the winter view is most beautiful. I saw 
 them first during the hard winter of 1854, when a hundred 
 cataracts of ice hung from the cliffs on either side, when 
 
 17* 
 
394 AT HOME AND ABKOAI). 
 
 the masses of ice brought down from Lake Erie were 
 wedged together at the foot, uniting the shores with a 
 rugged bridge, and when evei-y twig of every tree and 
 bush on Goat Island was overlaid, an inch deep, with a 
 coating of solid crystal. The air was stUl, and the sun 
 shone in a cloudless sky. The green of the fall, set in a 
 landscape of sparkling silver, was infinitely more brilliant 
 than in summer, when it is balanced by the trees, and the 
 rainbows were almost too glorious for the eye to bear. I 
 was not impressed by the sublimity of the scene, nor even 
 by its terror, but solely by the fascination of its wonderful 
 beauty — a fascination which continually tempted me to 
 plunge into that sea of fused emerald and lose myself in 
 the dance of the rainbows. With each succeeding visit, 
 Niagara has grown in height, in power, in majesty, in 
 solemnity ; but I have seen its climax of beauty. 
 
 To my friends, it is all they had been promised, and 
 more ; and I have enjoyed anew, in their enjoyment, the 
 views from the rocks, the delicious walks on Goat Island, 
 the bewildering pictures of the rapids, and the stunning 
 roar and ceaseless rain at the bottom. I "watched by the 
 hour, the piling up and sliding away of the huge masses of 
 water, the downward blossoming into vast, umbelliferous 
 flowers of spray, the cloudy whirl and confusion below, 
 and the endless, endless inotion through the same unchang- 
 ing forms, with a delight, which, it seems to me, could not 
 be wearied out in a lifetime. Of course, wo have taken a 
 trip in the " Maid of the Mist," gone behind the sheet, and 
 done everything else that is usually done (and let me say, 
 all ol'them are worth doing). Niagara is a diamond with a 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 395 
 
 hundred facets, every one of wMcli reflects a different 
 lustre. 
 
 One is rather bored here by the Indian curiosities and 
 the solicitous hack-drivers. The articles in fluor spar, how- 
 ever, are beautiful, and the photographic illustrations are 
 commendable. The gratitude of every visitor is due to 
 Mr. Porter, and the other proprietors of Goat Island, for 
 the pious care with which its glorious sylvan beauty is pre- 
 served. Fancy Goat Island given up to speculators, and 
 crammed with hotels and factories ! I have now and then 
 seen an ill-natured remark, on account of the moderate 
 toll charged for crossing the bridge ; but the entire amount 
 received in this manner cannot much more than suffice to 
 pay for the necessary repairs of the roads, bridges, stair- 
 cases, and tower. I have never paid a fee more cheei-fuUy, 
 and every sensible visitor would rather double it than see 
 one of the loveliest bits of God's creation spoiled. 
 
 It is a little singular that all the poetry written about 
 I^iagara, from Brainard's pious effusion to Saxe's profane 
 lyric, should be so common-place. The best of all is that 
 of Lord Carlisle. Brainard commences awkwardly : — 
 
 " The thoughts are strange that crowd into my hrain, 
 As I gaze upward to thee." 
 
 What good does it to us, simply to know that his 
 thoughts are " strange ? " Grenville Mellen concludes a 
 similar rhapsody by exclaiming: " Oh, go in!" Very 
 well : but suppose you set us the example ! Mr. Bulkley 
 has written an epic, which is too much on the subject. If 
 it were boiled down to two hundred lines, we should get a 
 
396 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 good concentrated flavor. The distinguishing characteristic 
 of Niagara — its color — ^has been mentioned, I believe, by 
 but one poet, Lowell, who says — 
 
 " And green Niagara's never-ending roar." 
 
 As for people saying " It cannot be described," that is 
 folly. It can be described just as much as anything else. 
 But those who endeavor to be sublime are often simply 
 highfalutin : when a man says, " I am overpowered," he is 
 not in a fit state to write ; but he who looks calmly upon 
 it, measures its features, analyses the impression which it 
 creates, and writes with the conscientious endeavor to 
 represent what he has seen, can give as good a description 
 of Niagara as he could of a crab-tree in blossom, and a 
 much better one than it would be possible for him to make 
 of the woman whom he loves. 
 
 I read last Winter, in one of the papers, a most admirable 
 description of the falling of the water, entitled, " Niagara, 
 but Not Described !'' The writer knew all the time he 
 was describing it. 
 
 8. — Trenton Falls and Sakatoga. 
 
 At Niagara our party dissolved. On Tuesday night my 
 German friend took the midnight train westward, intend- 
 ing to visit Minnesota, Missouri, and Kentucky, and on the 
 following morning accompanying the ladies as far as Utica, 
 whence they continued tlio homoward journey, I turned 
 aside for a solitary excursion to Trenton Falls. 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 397 
 
 The liTew York Central, after leaving the Mohawk Val- 
 ley, seems to avoid all the best scenery. I have frequently 
 noticed how completely the landscapes change, when you 
 have gone but a few miles either to the north or the south 
 of the road. The immediate neighborhood of TJtica is 
 rather tame, but, on taking the Black River train it pre- 
 sently assumes a charming pastoral character, which verges 
 into the picturesque as you approach Trenton. In an hour 
 I was put down at the station, where omnibuses were in 
 "waiting to carry us to Moore's Hotel, a m^ile distant. " Is 
 the hotel full ?" I asked of the driver. " Oh, no," said he ; 
 " there is plenty of room ;" but, on arriving, I found it 
 overflowing with guests, and no place to be had. I was 
 fortunate enough, however, to find quarters at Joy's, near 
 at hand, and after admiring the beauty and seclusion of 
 the valley for half an hour, set out in search of my friend 
 Hicks. 
 
 It was the night of the full moon, and the guests at 
 Moore's had sent to the Wide-Awake Club of Utica to 
 borrow torches for a nocturnal visit to the glen. Mr. 
 Moore, whose acquaintance I had made in Hicks's studio, 
 the artist and his wife, and a merry company of at least a 
 hundred ladies and gentlemen, were preparing to go, and I 
 congratulated myself on arriving in season to join them. 
 We started a little after nine o'clock, taking the path 
 which leads through the forest to the top of the High Fall. 
 The straggling procession, at least two hundred yards 
 long, with its line of brilliant lights, winding through the 
 dense shadows of the wood, produced a magical effect. 
 Gray trunks and hanging boughs flashed out for a moment 
 
398 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 in golden lustre against the darkness, and then as suddenly 
 vanished ; red shawls glimmered splendidly through the 
 dusky green ; white dresses danced in and out of the gaps 
 of moonlight with an elfish motion, and a confusion of 
 shouts and laughter rang through the echoing hollows. 
 
 The moon stood over the gorge, which, as we approached, 
 seemed filled with a silvery mist, beyond which rose the 
 shadowy outline of the opposite bank. The crest of the 
 cataract shone with sparkles of white fire, and dim, shoot- 
 ing gleams hovered over the gulf into which it fell. The 
 leaves of the overhanging boughs were cut as clearly as 
 bronze against this wonderful picture. It was lovely 
 enough to have been a grot in the gardens of Calypso or 
 Armida. Many of the company went down the rocks to 
 the foot of the fall, and saw it through the rainbows of the 
 moon ; but 1 preferred preserving my first view until sun- 
 rise. 
 
 The next morning I accompanied the artist in a ramble 
 over his farm, which lies on the eastern side of Canada 
 Creek about half a mile below the village. "We com- 
 pared agricultural notes, and set off the advantages of our 
 respective farms, one against the other. I was wOUng 
 to concede the superiority of his elms and hemlocks, but 
 balanced them with my oaks and tulip trees. His potatoes 
 and pumpkins looked promising, but I had very fine 
 squashes and tomatoes at home. I had, moreover, the 
 climate of the passion-flower and magnolia, of the Hima- 
 layan deodar, the Cedar of Lebanon, and the cypress. So, 
 although I admired the fine curves of the surrounding 
 hills, the excellence of the tree-forms, and, most of all, 
 
TBAVBLS AT HOME. 399 
 
 the amber beauty of the river, I was well satisfied with my 
 own piece of earth. So was he with his, and with good 
 reason. 
 
 We then made the round of the Falls, entering the glen 
 from below, and ascending it for a distance of nearly two 
 miles, to a point marked "Dangerous," beyond which 
 there is no path. It was the loveliest possible day — one of 
 those bright, laughing days which give an additional color 
 and sparkle to the earth. The sun was high enough to 
 illuminate the deep glen from end to end, leaving shadows 
 only where the rocks overhung their bases, or the trees 
 reached their arms from opposite sides, as if vainly striving 
 to clasp hands. The water, also, was at its most favorable 
 stage — low enough to leave the path bare, yet high enough to 
 coper the whole breadth of rocky ledges where it falls. 
 With a guide who had studied the glen for ten years with 
 an artist's eye, and knew it in aU its aspects, I was justified 
 in considering that I saw Trenton under the most favor- 
 able circumstances. 
 
 What particularly struck me was the originality — the 
 uniquity of the place. The glen, or rather crack, through 
 which the stream runs, is three miles long, and not more 
 than two hundred feet deep at any point. It has been out, 
 by the action of water duruig thousands of years, through 
 a bed of mica slate, disposed in nearly horizontal strata. 
 The sides, therefore, while they are perpendicular for near- 
 ly the whole distance, present a great number of shelves or 
 ledges, which furnish root-hold to ferns, wild flowers, shrubs, 
 or even trees, according to their size, while an unbroken 
 wood — a charming mixture of evergreen and deciduous 
 
400 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 trees — crowns the summits. Add that the glen is full of 
 corners, turning this way and that, leading you now into 
 black cauldrons, wet with eternal spray, now into long, 
 sunny avenues, where the water dances as if possessed with 
 the spirit of joy, and you may judge what a gallery of wild 
 and lovely pictures is here concealed. 
 
 The color of the water, again, is an unusual element of 
 beauty. "Amber" perhaps describes it better than any 
 other word, but it runs through all tints from topaz to the 
 richest and deepest Vandyke-brown. Maria Lowell, in one 
 of her poems, calls it "fretted Sherry." In the falls, the 
 color has a warm, glassy lustre at the top, shading off 
 through the successive frills of spray, until it vanishes into 
 white at the bottom. Owing to this color, the water 
 appears to assume an astonishing variety of forms, but I 
 presume it is only because the forms are distinctly marked, 
 more apparent to the eye. I have noticed the same effect 
 in the bright, green water of the TroUhatta Fall, in Swe- 
 den. To be sure, the angles of the glen and the various 
 positions in which the rocky shelves are disposed, are suffi- 
 cient to produce every form of water, except that airy 
 lace-work which is only seen in falls of great height. Here 
 it falls forty feet in one unbroken sheet ; there slides down 
 an inclined plane in a smooth mass splendidly feathered at 
 the edges, shoots under or over another watery slide, or 
 whirls in gleaming curves around a semi-basin worn in the 
 rocks. 
 
 Some of the visitors spoke of the rage of the water. To 
 me it was not rage, but joy — a mad Bacchanalian revel ; 
 and the resemblance to wine strengthened the impression. 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 401 
 
 The path, which has the fascinating appearance of danger, 
 without being dangerous, leads you along narrow ledges, on 
 the very verge of the whirlpools and cauldrons ; so near 
 the falls, that the rainbow surrounds you like a dazzling 
 gossamer, and its red and gold smite you in the eyes. The 
 tourists and guide-books make comparisons between Tren- 
 ton and Niagara, but no comparison is possible. They are 
 as unlike as Homer and Anacreon. 
 
 I went further, the next day, simply to have one look at 
 the Summer life of Saratoga : " To see the stir, and not 
 feel the crowd.'' I find it delightfully gay and pleasant to 
 look upon, and can easily understand why the fashionable 
 world continues to drink of Congress Water, in spite of the 
 superior natural attractions of other places. The park is 
 agreeable, the springs unequalled of their kind, the drives 
 in the neighborhood charming, the lake accessible, and, not 
 least, the hotels can accommodate their thousands without 
 crowding. The village itself is hot and dusty, but there is 
 shade everywhere ; and the long colonnades of the hotel 
 furnish the ladies with an enviable opportunity for dis- 
 play. I think I could spend an entire week here without 
 getting tired. 
 
 I have done nothing but walk up and down and contem- 
 plate the multitude. In this survey two things have parti- 
 cularly struck me — the absence of marked inteUigence or 
 cultivation in the faces of the gentlemen, and the absence 
 of beauty in the faces of the ladies. Among the former, 
 the trading and stock-jobbing type predominates. There is 
 speculation in the eyes, railroad bonds are written upon 
 the brow, and mortgages are buttoned tightly under the 
 
402 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 waistcoat, on the left side. In the fragments of conversar 
 tion which reached my ears, one of the words " stocks," 
 "Board," "par," "Douglas," " Breckenridge," or "Lin- 
 coln," invariably occurred. Black is the prevailing color. 
 The coo], light tints, so well adapted for the negligee of a 
 watering-place, are very rare. The hats are mostly of the 
 stove-pipe pattern. In short, the aspect of the male crowd 
 shows that a struggle is going on between the desire for 
 recreation and the endeavor to retain the old, respectable, 
 hard-money air. 
 
 The ladies, to my surprise, are not gorgeously over- 
 dressed. Here and there you see a dame at the Congress 
 Springs in moiri and jewels, but the majority affect an ele- 
 gant simplicity which is highly becoming. At a hop last 
 evening I found much more taste in costume than I had 
 anticipated. Yet as I said before, there is a striking ab- 
 sence of beauty. I see many pleasant and some handsome 
 faces, but very, very few which can be called beautiful. In 
 such a Vanity Fair as this, I had supposed that the reverse 
 would have been true. Saratoga is our Ranelagh, but the 
 stock on hand this year may be inferior to that of ordinary 
 seasons. There is possibly less demand, as one notices little 
 flirtation going on. 
 
 As for the manners of such a place, there is not much to 
 be said. You find all the classes — the refined, the snobbish, 
 and the \'ulgar — whicli enter into tlie composition of all 
 society. The rich families have the best rooms and are best 
 served at the table (they fee the waiters heaviest) ; the 
 more moder.-itu take the odds and ends of accommodation; 
 there are clans and cliques and jealousies as elsewhere; con- 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 403 
 
 quests and triumphs, hatred, fidelity, infidelity, love, mar- 
 riage, divorce and death. The tragedy of life dances in 
 the same set with its comedy. The gentlemen have their 
 side of the veranda, where they sit in arm-chairs, read the 
 New York papers, smoke, and cock up their- feet on the 
 railing ; and the ladies theirs, where they spread their ten- 
 der-tinted skirts, flutter their fans, bend their swan-like 
 necks, and exchange sweet inuendoes. Outwardly, all is 
 gay, innocent, cheerful, fashionably Arcadian (which con- 
 sists in turning all out-of-doors into a drawing-room) — but 
 I could wish, for my own private benefit, that, as in the 
 shapes of the Hall of Eblis, there was a pane of glass in- 
 serted in every bosom, showing the currents of the true 
 and hidden life. I have no doubt that I should find — mak- 
 ing all allowance for education and associations — Human 
 Nature. 
 
 I have said that this crowd is delightful to look upon. So 
 it is ; but we all enjoy the vanities of the world. 
 
VI. 
 
 PERSONAL SKETCHES. 
 
 1. — The Leslies. 
 
 One of the first stories 1 remember to have read, as a 
 child, was " Mrs. Washington Potts," by Miss Eliza Leslie. 
 It was in the days when *' Atkinson's Casket" flourished, 
 and The Saturday Muening Post was considered a standard 
 literary paper — at least among the people whom I knew. 
 Miss Leslie had then been known for many years as a writer 
 of stories, which, from their covert humor and their plain, 
 homely presentation of everyday characters, were very 
 generally popular. Her model — if she had one — must have 
 been Maria Edgeworth, but she had a fund of humor, and 
 an appreciation of the comic and the grotesque, which was 
 all her own. Something of Flemish fidelity belonged to her 
 descriptive style, but it was ;dwMys subordinate to her tasto. 
 Though she often introduced \ulgar characters, she never 
 described them vulgarly. I have never since been more 
 
PERSONAL SKETCHES. 405 
 
 amused and entertained by any stories than by those from 
 her pen, which I read in my boyhood, as they appeared in 
 the -weekly paper. 
 
 In 1844, when I became ambitious to make myself known 
 as an author, and published a thin volume of untimely 
 poems. Miss Leslie was one of the first persons to whom I 
 sent a copy, and her cordial letter in acknowledgment was 
 one of the first voices of encouragement which reached me. 
 She treated my first crude efibrts more kindly and conside- 
 rately than, I fear, I should be able to do, in a similar case. 
 With this admission, I venture to quote a passage from her 
 letter : 
 
 " Whenever I meet with any new evidence of the genius 
 of my countrymen, it renders me superlatively happy for 
 that day, and, fortunately, these days of happiness are be- 
 coming more and more numerous. So, in reading your 
 book, I rejoiced that there was 
 
 One poet more, America, for thee 1' 
 
 " When you again visit Philadelphia, I shall be very glad 
 to see you at the Markoe House (my present residence), 
 and to show you an admirable portrait of Franklin, copied 
 from the last and best likeness of the statesman, the patriot, 
 the philosopher, and the printer : the man who has always 
 seemed to me as the most American of Americans — or 
 rather, who was completely what an American ought 
 to be." 
 
 When I next visited Philadelphia, I called upon her, and 
 was received with genuine kindness. She was then nearly 
 sixty years of age, but hale and robust, with a face attrac- 
 
406 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 tive in spite of its plainness, and a cheerful, merry light in 
 her gray eyes. Something I said suggested to her a 
 humorous story, which she told with a hearty relish. The 
 portrait of Franklin was painted by her sister Anne, and 
 she remarked, on stating this : " "We are a family of paint- 
 ers. Perhaps you have heard of my Brother Charles, who 
 lives in London." It chanced that I had seen engravings 
 of Leslie's pictures from Don Quixote and the Merry 
 Wives of Windsor, hut I was not before aware of the 
 relationship. 
 
 Miss Leslie gave me some -friendly advice in relation to 
 poetry, which was another illustration of her sound sense. 
 "I see," said she, "that you have been reading Mrs. Hemans. 
 Pray don't be led by her irregular anapaestic metres to for- 
 get that the simplest forms of versification are the best. 
 Those jingling, slipshod measures seem to me to have been 
 invented to conceal the lack of poetical conceptions. Look 
 at Milton, Pope, Gray, and Goldsmith, how simple and 
 straightforward are their styles ! The plainest words are 
 also the best. ' England' is much finer than ' Albion,' and 
 ' Scotland' than ' Caledonia.' " Of course, I did not quite 
 agree with her, then ; but the evident kindness with which 
 her views were presented led me to ponder upon them after- 
 wards, and to find that she was right. 
 
 After my return from Europe in 1846, I ^-isited her fre- 
 quently. Among our passengers in the packet from 
 London through the Channel to Portsmouth, had been 
 Mr. Robert Leslie, son of the painter, and himself a painter 
 also. lie was a tall young man of twenty-two, and spent 
 most of his time on deck, making sea-sketches in water- 
 
PERSONAL SKETCHES. 407 
 
 colors. Our captain, Morgan, had taken tbe Leslie family 
 to and from America, when the painter received his appoint- 
 ment to the Professorship at West Point, and was still his 
 intimate friend. Miss Leslie had therefore many questions 
 to ask concerning her nephew, but in the same summer, I 
 believe, he visited America. In February, 1847, she wrote 
 to me : " I hear you are publishing a weekly paper. You 
 will please to send it to my address : I inclose the amount 
 of a year's subscription." It was a country paper, devoted 
 to local news, and could have no possible interest for her — 
 but she doubtless conjectured, as was true, that I was 
 endeavoring to establish myself in business, and that every 
 paid subscription was a real assistance. I have heard that 
 she made enemies by her frankness and her scorn of all dis- 
 simulation : she reserved her tact for the exercise of her 
 kindness. 
 
 Between five and six years later, I was in London for the 
 fourth time, having just returned from the Orient, previous 
 to making an overland journey to India. I was so fortu- 
 nate as to be present at an entertainment given one evening 
 by Mr. George Peabody, at which some hundreds of English 
 and Americans attended. While conversing with Mr. Ab- 
 bott Lawrence, a short and rather slender man, with gray 
 hair and a singularly mild, pleasant, and benevolent face, 
 came up and addressed him with much cordiality. " Let me 
 introduce you to Mr. Leslie, whom you must know already 
 as an artist," said Mr. Lawrence, turning to me. We found 
 a little eddy in the apartment, outside of the crush of the 
 crowd, and I enjoyed some quiet conversation with him. 
 The portrait accompanying the recently published biogra- 
 
408 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 phy gives the character and expression of his face very cor- 
 rectly, although he was considerably older at the time I met 
 him. All conventionalities were dropped on his learning 
 of the friendship existing between his sister and myself, and 
 he questioned me with an eager interest concerning her 
 and his Philadelphia friends. 
 
 On learning that I was a native of Chester county, he 
 said : " Ah, I know the Brandywine. I spent several sum- 
 mers on its banks, as a boy." " Is it still beautiful to you, 
 in memory ?" I asked. " As beautiful as the reality can 
 jDossibly be," was his answer; "I remember the scenery 
 distinctly, and I often recall the happy days I passed, ram- 
 bling over the hills." " Do you not think," said I, " that 
 the landscapes of that part of Pennsylvania bear a wonder- 
 ful resemblance to those of England ?" "Yes, but with a 
 wilder, richer character. However, it is many years since 
 I saw them. I have been so long in England that my early 
 life in America seems scarcely to belong to me." From 
 the fondness with which the artist returned to the subject, 
 it was evident that those early associations still retained all 
 their charm. 
 
 He invited me to visit his house and make the acquaint- 
 ance of his family, which the shortness of my stay in Lon- 
 don prevented me from doing ; but I met him, together 
 with two of his daughters, at the house of another Ameri- 
 can banker, in the neighborhood of the city. His person- 
 ality gave the impression of a very frank and simple nature, 
 great sweetness of disposition, and a warm, faithful heart. 
 His voice was low and agreeable, and I associate it some- 
 how, in memory, with that of Leigh Hunt. Between him- 
 
PERSOHAL SKETCHES. 409 
 
 self and his daughters there was an affectionate tenderness 
 and a reciprocal pride which was delightful to see. His 
 life, indeed, was a smooth stream, having, truly, a few ob- 
 stacles at the start, but flowing afterwards through pleasant 
 fields. 
 
 Leslie was especially fortunate in this respect, that he 
 knew the exact measure of his powers. His " Clifibrd and 
 Rutland" is the only picture of his in the grand historic 
 manner which I have seen — a manner which he speedily 
 dropped, devoting himself, thenceforth, to those exquisite 
 cabinet pictures in which be had no living superior. He 
 painted, I should judge, with. great rapidity, first arranging 
 and afterwards finishing, with scrupulous care. His " San- 
 cho Panza and the Duchess" happened to be in the same 
 room with Church's " Niagara" in London, and even the 
 dazzle of the fragment of rainbow, in the latter, could not 
 touch its soft, subtle harmony of coloring. 
 
 He was a member of the Sketch Club, the products of 
 two meetings whereof are in the possession of Captain Mor- 
 gan, who, as an honorary member, was present, and gave 
 the subject. This Club met by turns at the houses of the 
 members, one of whom named a subject, which the artists 
 were obliged to represent in two hours. The result attained 
 by this was a marvellous rapidity both of conception and 
 execution. Capt. Morgan gave " Night," and Leslie's con- 
 tribution is a very spirited sketch of Titania and Bottom : 
 Stanfield, Roberts, and others furnished moonlit landscapes. 
 The Queen, I was told, doubting the ability of the artists 
 to improvise with such rapidity, asked permission to give a 
 subject one evening. The artists assented, and at the ap- 
 
 18 
 
410 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 pointed hour received a slip of paper on whieli the word 
 " Desire" was written. A Jjage was in waiting, and two 
 hours afterwards Her Majesty was furnished with a dozen 
 handsome illustrations of the theme. Leslie's, I believe, 
 was a boy reaching from the edge of a pond, after water- 
 lilies. 
 
 2. — ^The Beownijstgs. 
 
 Few of the thousands who now place the poems of Eli- 
 zabeth Barrett Browning in the niche devoted to their 
 favorite authors, are aware that she first became known to 
 American readers as a contributor to Graham's Magazine. 
 In the volumes of that periodical for 1841, '42, and '43, 
 they will find her " Child and Watcher," " Sleep,'' " Catar 
 rina to Camoens," and many other of her minor poems. 
 I think it was Poe who was first to recognize a genius 
 hitherto unknown, but destined to a speedy and permanent 
 popularity. Her power (so rare an elemtnt in female 
 poets), fulness, tenderness, and the haunting music of her 
 verses, which an occasional roughness only made more pro- 
 minent, were at once acknowledged. In fact her American 
 reputation was coeval with, if it did not precede, that 
 which fshe has won at home. 
 
 Nearly thii'teen years ago, I heard a young lady, whose 
 pure Greek profile and exquisite voice can never be forgot- 
 ten by those who saw and heard her, recite " Count Gis- 
 mond.'' The wonderful dramatic truth of this poem — a 
 truth which disdains all cxi)lanations and accessories — 
 
PEESOJSTAI, SKETCHES. 411 
 
 Struck me like a new revelation, and I eagerly inquired the 
 name of the author. " It is a new English poet, named 
 Browning," was the answer. I then remembered having 
 seen reviews of his " Bells and Pomegranates," and " The 
 Blot on the 'Scutcheon," and lost no time in making myself 
 acquainted with everything he had published at the time. 
 In the words of Keats, 
 
 " Then felt I, as some watcher of the skies, 
 When a new planet swims into his ken." 
 
 Here was no half-poet, piping melodious repetitions on 
 his limited reed, but a royal harper, striking double-handed, 
 the fullest chords and the extremest notes of the scale of 
 human passion. His very faults were the wilful faults of 
 conscious power ; his mannerism was no subterfuge to con- 
 ceal poverty of thought, but lay in the texture of his mind ; 
 while in his boldness, his blunt Saxon plaiimess, and his 
 faculty of hitting the target of expression full in the white, 
 by a single arrowy word, I looked in vain through the 
 ai-ray of English authors since the Elizabethan age to find 
 his equal. Many of his poems reminded me of the Day 
 and Night of Michael Angelo — figures of immortal beauty 
 struggling into shape through the half-chiselled marble, yet 
 grander in their incompleteness than the completed works 
 of other sculptors. He tries the sinews of language, it is 
 true ; he writes, occasionally, for the evident purpose of 
 exhibiting his verbal gymnastics (" Old Pictures in Flo- 
 rence," for instance), but he will stand the test which 
 proves a true poet — he is best when simplest in his forms. 
 
 It is a curious fact that while the first volume of Alex- 
 
412 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 ander Smith (a man not to be named on the same day with 
 Browning), was greeted with a sale of 20,000 copies the 
 first year, the first American edition of Browning's Poems, 
 in two volumes, was not exhausted until seven years after 
 its publication. One thousand copies in seven years. The 
 sale of the English edition, in the same time, was probably 
 not much greater. Of Browning's last volume, " Men and 
 Women," nearly three thousand copies, I believe, have 
 been sold. The same comparison might be made between 
 the exfieriences of Tapper and Tennyson ; but we all know 
 whose works will be printed and read in the year 1960, 
 and whose won't. 
 
 When I was about starting for Europe, on my way to 
 the East, in the summer of 1851, a mutual friend offered 
 me a letter to Browning, who was, then, with his wife, 
 temporarily in London. (After their marriage, which took 
 place three or four years previous, they made their home 
 in Italy.) Calling, one afternoon in September, at their 
 residence in Devonshire street, I was fortunate enough to 
 find both at home, though on the very eve of their return 
 to Florence. In a small drawing-room on the first floor I 
 met Browning, who received me with great cordiality. In 
 his lively, cheerful manner, quick voice, and perfect self- 
 possession, he made upon me the impression of an Ameri- 
 can rather than an Englishman. He was then, I should 
 judge, about thirty-sovon years of age, but his dark hair 
 was already streaked with gray about the temples. His 
 complexion was fair, with j^crhaps the faintest olive tinge, 
 eyes large, clear, and gray, nose strong and well cut, mouth 
 full and rather broad, and chin pointed, though not pro- 
 
PERSONAL SKETCHES. 413 
 
 minent. His forehead broadened rapidly upwards from 
 the outer angle of the eyes, slightly retreating. The strong 
 individuality which marks his poetry was expressed, not 
 only in his face and head, hut in his whole demeanor. He 
 was about the medium height, strong in the shoulders, but 
 slender at the waist, and his movements expressed a com- 
 bination of vigor and elasticity. 
 
 In the room sat a very large gentleman of between fifty 
 and sixty years of age. He must have weighed two hundred 
 and fifty pounds, at least ; his large, rosy face, bald head, and 
 rotund body would have suggested a prosperous brewer, 
 if a livelier intelligence had not twinkled in the bright, 
 genial eyes. This unwieldy exterior covered one of the 
 warmest and most generous of hearts, and that heavy right 
 hand had written one of the finest English anacreontics. 
 The man was John Kenyon, who giving up his early am- 
 bition to be known as an author, devoted his life to making 
 other authors happy. Possessed of ample means, his house 
 near London was opened to all who handled pen, brush, or 
 chisel, and the noble hospitality which he gave to Art was 
 repaid to him by the society and esteem of the artists. He 
 was a relative of Mrs. Browning, and at his death, four 
 years ago, bequeathed to her a legacy of £10,000. 
 
 Mr. Kenyon had called to say good-by to his friends, 
 and presently took his leave. " There," said Browning, 
 when the door had closed after him, " there goes one of 
 the most splendid men living — a man so noble in his 
 friendships, so lavish in his hospitality, so large-hearted 
 and benevolent, that he deserves to be known all over the 
 world as ' Kenyon the Magnificent !' " His eulogy was 
 
414 AT HOME ANT) ABROAD. 
 
 interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Browning, whom he 
 ran to meet with a boyish liveliness. She was slight and 
 fragile in appearance, with a pale, wasted face, shaded by 
 masses of soft chestnut curls which fell on her cheeks, and 
 serious eyes of bluish-gray. Her frame seemed to be alto- 
 gether disproportionate to her soul. This,, at least, was 
 the first impression : her personality, frail as it appeared, 
 soon exercised its power, and it seemed a natural thing 
 that she should have written the " Cry of the Children " 
 or the " Lady Geraldine's Courtship.'' I also understood 
 how these two poets, so difierent both intellectually and 
 physically, should have found their complements in each 
 other. The fortunate balance of their reciprocal qualities 
 makes them an exception to the rule that the intermarriage 
 of authors is unadvisable, and they appear to be — and are 
 — perfectly happy in their wedded life. 
 
 They both expressed great satisfaction with their Ame- 
 rican reputation, adding that they had many Ameiicau 
 acquaintances in Florence and Rome. " In fact," said 
 Browning, " I verily believe that if we were to make out a 
 list of our best and deai-est friends, we should find more Ame- 
 rican than English names." Mrs. Browning was anxious to 
 learn something with regard to Art in this country, and the 
 patronage extended to it ; and, in the course of the con- 
 versation, freely expressed her belief that a Republican 
 form of Government is unfavorable to the development of 
 the Fhie Arts. To this opinion I dissented as moderately 
 as possible, but I soon had a powerful ally in Browning, 
 who declared that no artist had ever before been honored 
 with a more splendid commission than the State of Vir- 
 
PERSONAL SKETCHES. 415 
 
 ginia had given to Crawford. A general historical discus- 
 sion ensued, which was carried on for some time with the 
 greatest spirit, the two poets taking directly opposite 
 views. It was good-humoredly closed at last, and I thought 
 both of them seemed to enjoy it. There is no fear that two 
 such fine intellects will rust : they will keep each other 
 bright through the delight of the encounter. 
 
 Their child, a blue-eyed, golden-haired boy of two years 
 old, was brought into the room. He stammered Italian 
 sentences only : he knew nothing, as yet, of his native 
 tongue. He has since exhibited a remarkable genius for 
 music and drawing — a fortunate circumstance, for inherited 
 genius is always fresher and more vigorous when it seeks a 
 new form of expression. 
 
 I feel that I have no right to touch further the person- 
 ality of these poets. The public always demands to know, 
 and there is no improjoriety in its knowing, how its favorite 
 author looks and talks, but, while he lives, it has no right 
 to pry into the sanctities of his private life. Robert and 
 Elizabeth Barrett Browning, however, have thousands of 
 unknown friends in this country who will be glad to know 
 that their lives are fortunate — that their share of the neces- 
 sary troubles and trials is not more than the average lot of 
 man — or, if greatei', is borne with a cheerfulness and 
 courage which hide it from other eyes. "Owing to Mrs. 
 Browning's feeble health, they have made Italy their per- 
 manent home, but they visit England from time to time. 
 
 I met them again in London, in 1856, where I had the 
 pleasure of breakfasting at Barry Cornwall's in company 
 with Browning. He was very gay and witty, and as 
 
416 AT IIOME AUfi) ABEOAD. 
 
 young and buoyant in appearance as when I first saw him. 
 Mrs. Browning was then reading the proofs of " Aurora 
 Leigh," which appeared shortly afterwards. 
 
 3. — ^The Weitees foe " PuKCH." 
 
 Me. Thackeeay, whose connection with ITie London 
 Punch dates bact almost, if not quite, to its initial num- 
 ber, is in the habit of giving an annual dinner to the 
 editors, contributors, and publishers of that periodical. In 
 July, 1857, I happened to be in London when the dinner 
 for that year came off, and was one of four Americans who 
 were guests on that occasion. The other three were a 
 noted sculptor, the architect-in-ohief of the Central Park, 
 and an ex-editor of The New York Times. 
 
 In summer, the usual dinner-hour in London is seven, 
 although, even then, the shutters must be closed to make 
 gas-light effective. Dinner, as is well-known, is a much 
 graver affair in England than elsewhere, and daylight is 
 destructive to its success. The summer twilight of the 
 North, however, exacts a compromise, which I found very 
 agreeable. You drive to your destination in the hazy 
 orange splendor of sunset, and are then ushered into the 
 soft lamp-light which streams upon the hospitable board. 
 The transition of feeling is something like that you expe- 
 rience on entering a theatre. The threshold of the build- 
 ing is the dividing line between two worlds, and you sur- 
 render yourself willingly to the illusions before you. 
 
PEESONAI, SKETCHES. 417 
 
 In this case of the "Punch Dinner," however, there 
 were no special illusions to be accepted : everything was 
 simple, unconventional, and genial. The guests assembled 
 in Mr. Thackeray's drawing-room, most of them wearing 
 easy black cravats instead of the stiff white " chokers" 
 which English society requires, and marched thence to the 
 dining-room without any particular order of precedence. 
 Bradbury and Evans, whose names are as well known as 
 those of the authors, who have grown famous behind 
 their imprint, were there : Mark Lemon, the patriarch of 
 " Punch ;" Horace Mayhew, " the Greatest Plague of 
 Life ;" Tom Taylor, and Shirley Brooks ; and two or three 
 other gentlemen whose names are not mentioned in connec- 
 tion with their contributions, and whom, therefore, I shall 
 not individually designate. The absence of Douglas Jer- 
 rold was lamented by all. He was then, I think, at Bou- 
 logne, for his health. The following June, on the very day 
 I returned to London, the gay company, whose acquaint- 
 ance I was now to make, attended his body to its resting- 
 place in Norwood Cemetery. 
 
 " The gay company," I have said : but by no means so 
 uproariously gay as the reader may suppose. An author's 
 books rarely reflect his external life, and he who most 
 provokes your mirth by his writings may chance to have 
 the saddest face when you meet him. If I had not 
 known this fact previously, I might have been disappointed : 
 for not a single joke did I hear during the whole blessed 
 evening. There was much cheerful chat, and some amusing 
 stories, but no sparkle of wit, no flash of airy banter and 
 repartee, such as might have been expected in the atmo- 
 
 '18* 
 
418 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 sphere of the Humorous Olympus. The Punch wherewith 
 we were regaled was not that swift, warm, inspiring beve- 
 rage of the Ifoetes Ambrosiance — ^but cool claret and 
 borage — ^in fact, that veritable fragrant cup, without a 
 knowledge of which (according to the Hon. Grantley 
 Berkley), no man can justly be called a gentleman. 
 
 Our giant host, upon whose head lie the snows of wis- 
 dom, not of age, illustrated the grandeur of cheerfulness, 
 as he took his place at the head of the table. The eyes 
 which can pierce through the triple mail of shams and 
 hypocrisies, sheathed their trenchant glances, and beamed 
 only a cordial hospitality. At the other end of the table 
 sat Mark Lemon, his very opposite in appearance. Mark 
 is evidently a Lemon which has not yet been subjected to 
 the process of squeezing. In arithmetical formula his 
 height being 16, his diameter would be 9. His face is 
 broad, mild, and massive, but receives character from a 
 heavy moustache. In a crowd I should have taken him 
 for a prosperous Dutch banker. He was formerly a pub- 
 lican, but not a sinner, I should judge, for he evidently 
 enjoys a good conscience, as well as good health. His 
 manners are quiet and gentlemanly, but I suspected the 
 presence of a huge cetaceous rairthfuhiess behind this 
 repose. It would take a harpoon, however, to draw it out. 
 
 My v«Vd-««s happened to be Tom Taylor, who was de- 
 cidedly the liveliest of the company. Tom is a man of 
 thirty-eight, or thereabouts, rather tall than short, well- 
 built, with a strong, squareish face, black eyes, hair, and 
 moustache, and a gay, clieerful, wide-awake air, denoting a 
 happy mixture of the imaginative and the practical facul- 
 
PERSONAL SKBICHBS. 419 
 
 ties. He was always ready to join in tte laugh, and to 
 crown it by provoking another. In fact, he showed so little 
 of English reserve, so much of unembarrassed American 
 bonhommie, that we ovight, properly, to call him, " Our 
 English Cousin." 
 
 Shirley Brooks, who, in addition to his contributions to 
 Punch, is the author of " Aspen Court,'' a successful novel, 
 and " The Silver Cord," (now being published in " Once a 
 Week,") appears to be a year or two younger than Tom 
 Taylor — a fair, blond, blue-eyed, plump Englishman, with 
 the conventional whiskers and smoothly-shaven lips and 
 chin. His face is good-humor itself. He seems to have no 
 sharp angles in his nature — -does not flash or dazzle — but 
 beams with a steady, cheerful light, receiving as well as 
 giving the spirit of the hour. Upon myself, at least, he 
 made a most agreeable impression. 
 
 Horace Mayhew, on the other hand, is tall, dark, and 
 grave in manner, with aquiline nose, keen eyes, and heavy 
 moustache. My place at table did not happen to be near 
 him, and he said nothing during the dinner to draw the 
 attention of the company upon him. His articles upon . 
 " London Labor and the London Poor" suggest the charac- 
 ter of his personality much better than that admirable 
 domestic satire, ". The Greatest Plague of Life.'' He was 
 at that time, I understood, a regular contributor to Punch. 
 
 The publishers, Bradbury & Evans, must not be over- 
 looked. Their presence at the dinner was an evidence that 
 Campbell's assertion of the natural enmity between pub- 
 lishers and authors, was founded on some personal spite 
 rather than upon actual fact. The reciprocal cordiahty 
 
420 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 which was manifested between them and the other guests, 
 was not simulated. They were really, as well as apparent- 
 ly? /»'»e«(?s. Quiet, unobtrusive, genial, and unmistakeably 
 benevolent in character, they increased the harmony of the 
 circle. No one felt the presence of a chilling material ele- 
 ment. A year later, I learned that when Douglas Jerrold 
 died, he was £800 in their debt, not a penny of which they 
 ever claimed. It is a pity that the honorable treatment 
 which they extend to authors should not have always been 
 returned to them. 
 
 The company, as I have already said, was wholly and 
 heartily cheerful, but could scarcely be called brilliant. The 
 best things, as usual, were, said by our host. One occasion 
 of this kind, however, is by no means a specimen of all. 
 Perhaps the barometer was falling ; perhaps two of the 
 guests had private worries of some sort ; perhaps no pro- 
 per conductor was present, to draw the electricity from 
 those charged clouds. It is very unfair to judge any man 
 by a single interview. Therefore, I would not be under- 
 stood as saying, that the writers for Punch are not witty 
 in society : I simply describe them as I saw them. Words- 
 worth, after his wife's death, sat by his lonely fireside, ab- 
 sorbed in grief, and paid no attention to a curious visitor 
 who accosted him. The latter immediately went home and 
 spread the report that Wordsworth was losing his mind. 
 There is much bright, keen humor among the Loudon au- 
 thors, but I have no doubt the New York Press Club can 
 get together as brilliant a party. 
 
 Albert Smith should have been present, but he was not 
 ."xblo to attend. His wonderful powers as an improvisatore 
 
PBESONAL SKETCHES. 421 
 
 were so highly extolled, that I regretted having lost the 
 opportunity of hearing him. I afterwards visited his As- 
 cent of Mount Blanc — a combination of cheap panorama 
 and diverting narrative, the success of which depended so 
 much on the peculiar humor of the man himself, that he can 
 have no successor. It was simply a collection of grotesque 
 incidents of travel, but related with such di-oU imitations, 
 and in such a hearty, off-hand, comic tone, that the audience 
 was convulsed with laughter, from beginning to end. The 
 very same things, in the mouth of another man, might have 
 failed to produce any effect. The mirthful eyes, broad face, 
 cheery voice, and stout figure of Albert Smith, were indis- 
 pensable parts of the performance. These alone enabled 
 him to gain a fortune of £30,000 in a few years. And the 
 moral I would deduce therefrom is this : Cheerfulness is a 
 Power. 
 
 4. — ^Lbigh HmsTT. 
 
 I HAD but one interview with Leigh Hunt, yet so satis- 
 factory was that interview, in its exhibition of his peculiar 
 characteristics, both as poet and man, that I doubt whether 
 a month's acquaintance would have done more. It was in 
 June, 1857, when I was spending a fortnight in London, 
 preparatory to my summer tour in Norway. Mr. Buchanan 
 Read, the poet and artist, and Mr. Moran of the American 
 Legation, both of whom were friends of Mr. Hunt, kindly 
 invited me, with his permission, to spend an evening with 
 him. 
 
422 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 In tte long summer twilight we drove out past Ken- 
 sington and Brorapton, mile after mile, through the endless 
 London, until we reached the quiet shades of Hammersmith. 
 Here the jjulses of the great city are no longer felt : lanes 
 of modest cottages and gardens branch off from the main 
 thoroughfare, and one can live in as complete a seclusion as 
 among the mountains of Cumberland. In one of those neat, 
 silent lanes, where grass and paving-stones seem to be striv- 
 ing alike for the upper hand, we found the poet's residence 
 — a plain two-story brick cottage, of the humblest size, but 
 as trim and snug in its outward aspect as it could well be. 
 
 Hunt's wife had been dead for nearly a year, and he was 
 living alone, "with but a single servant. His pension, and 
 the moderate income which he received from his books, 
 were sufficient for his necessities, and he was at last enjoy- 
 ing a little pecuniary peace, after a long struggle with those 
 material difficulties which he, least of all poets, was fitted to 
 encounter. The servant ushered us through a diminutive 
 hall, into a little library, on the threshold of which Mr. Hunt 
 met us. The first impression which I received from his 
 presence was that of his thorough gentleness and refine- 
 ment. He was tall— nearly six feet — but slender, and still 
 perfectly erect, in spite of his seventy years. This w-as all 
 that I could notice in the twilight, but I felt the cordial 
 pressure of a small, warm, delicate hand, as he welcomed 
 me with a manner in which there was something of a fine 
 anticjue courtesy. 
 
 We entered the little room, the servant lighted the lamp, 
 and we took seats at the four sides of a table just large 
 enough to accommodate us. The walls were covered with 
 
PERSONAL SKETCHES. 423 
 
 books from floor to ceiling : a single window opened upon 
 a few square yards of garden, and there was just sufficient 
 room for the servant to pass around, outside of us. No- 
 thing could be more cozy and comfortable. The narrow 
 quarters disposed each one of us to genial, social converse, 
 and we should have felt much less at home in the large and 
 lofty hall of an aristocratic mansion. It was a partie car- 
 ree, such as would have rejoiced the heart of Barry Corn- 
 wall. 
 
 While our host was filling the tea-cups, I studied his face 
 in the lamp-light. It was a head which Vandyke should 
 have painted — a fine oval, with a low, placid brow, kind, 
 sweet, serious eyes of bluish-gray, a nose rather long, but 
 not prominent, full, delicately-cut, sensitive mouth, and a 
 chin short and retreating, but dimpled in the centre. His 
 hair, abundant, and pure silver in its hue, was parted in the 
 middle, and fell in long waves to his shoulders. He was 
 dressed in black, with a collar turned down, so as to show 
 more of the throat than is usual in Englishmen. There 
 was something saintly in the mildness, serenity, and perfect 
 refinement of his features, but they wore an expression of 
 habitual cheerfulness and happiness which we rarely find 
 on the face of declared saints. His voice was low and 
 clear, with an exquisitely distinct articulation. 
 
 Leigh Hunt, in fact, might justly be called, among poets, 
 the Apostle of Cheerfulness. No author ever possessed a 
 sunnier philosophy. All the hardships and disappointments 
 of his life could not sour or embitter him. He stuck bravely 
 to the theory that everything was good and beautiful — that 
 there was no inherent evil in the nature of Man, and no 
 
424 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 reason why every human being on the face of the earth 
 should not be jolly. Not a dark, or morbid, or complain- 
 ing line is to be found in all his works. His poems are full 
 of breezes, and odors, and sunshine, and laughter. His 
 personality conveyed just the same impression, and one of 
 his first remarks, on that evening, was an amusing confirm- 
 ation of it. " I have recently lost most of my teeth," said 
 he ; " and I am surprised to find that I suffer some incon- 
 venience from it. I always supposed that Nature would 
 compensate us for every loss of the kind^either that the 
 gums would harden so as to take the place of teeth, or that 
 I should lose all desire for food which requires mastication : 
 but it does not seem to be so. I am a little disappointed, 
 I must confess ; but I shall try the experiment a while 
 longer." 
 
 By degrees, he fell into his favorite theme — that of the 
 absolute goodness and beauty of everything. I expressed 
 a different opinion, mainly for the sake of hearing how he 
 would defend himself. He skipped over contradictory 
 facts and arguments, however, with a cheerful agility which 
 showed that he was used to it. " Why," he exclaimed, 
 " nobody does evil for the love of it. Evil is simply a bad 
 habit, a diseased condition of the mind. Even the man 
 who assaults or robs you tries first to excite your anger 
 .against him, so that his act may seem to himself to be a 
 retaliation, rather than an unprovoked wrong. If men 
 were properly educated, they would all be good. The bad 
 are simply to be pitied, not blamed, because tl;eir lives have 
 been distorted, and generally by no fault of their own." It 
 w as pleasant to hear such kindly sentiments from an old 
 
PEESONAL SKETCHES. 425 
 
 man whose life had not been very fortunate, except in its 
 associations ; but I candidly confessed that I was unable to 
 accept quite so good-natured a philosophy. 
 
 In the course of our conversation, some remark about 
 birds led Hunt to tale down a volume and read to us the 
 song of a nightingale, as put into words by some Italian 
 author. He read it in a silvery, chirping tone, running 
 over the trills and lingering on the sustained notes in a way 
 which reproduced all of the nightingale's song except its 
 passion. His reading of poetry was likewise fine, but cha- 
 racteristic : he never could have chanted Milton with the 
 grand and solemn monotony of Tennyson's voice. 
 
 Hunt's father was a Philadeljjhian, and he was related to 
 Benjamin West by the mother's side. He was much inte- 
 rested in learning that the children of Americans, though 
 born abroad, are still American citizens, and that, there- 
 fore, he enjoyed the citizenship of both hemispheres. His 
 first volume of poems (" Foliage'') was reprinted in Phi- 
 ladelphia in 1817. He spoke with great satisfaction of 
 his American reputation, his previous idea of the " shop- 
 board" having perhaps been modified by the offer of Tick- 
 nor & Fields to pay him a copyright on his works. 
 
 Dickens's character of " Harold Skimpole," in " Bleak 
 House," which, by the novelist's confession, was drawn 
 from Leigh Hunt, is a glaring caricature. Placing, himself, 
 very little value upon money. Hunt could not recognize its 
 actual value in the eyes of others. He borrowed as freely 
 as he would have given, had the case been reversed, and he 
 was perhaps as careless about paying as he would have 
 been about demanding payment. This, of course, was a 
 
426 AT noins and abeoad. 
 
 weakness -which we cannot justify ; but neither can we jus- 
 tify the wanton and distorted exhibition of it by a brother 
 author. Hunt was also called selfish. All persons of ex- 
 quisite and delicate taste are necessarily — perhaps uncon- 
 sciously — selfish in certain ways. Hunt's conduct, however, 
 during his imjjrisonment, shows that he knew how to en- 
 dure serious loss for the sake of a principle, and that the 
 baser forms of selfishness had no place in his nature. His 
 kindly philosophy was sincere, and, whatever faults he may 
 have had, the example of patience and cheerfulness which" 
 he gives us far overbalances them. 
 
 The world is full of weeping and wailing authors, and we 
 should be thankful for one who does not swell the utterance 
 of misery — who conceals his tears, and shows us a happy 
 face wherever we meet him. 
 
 5. — Hans Cheistian Andersen. 
 
 Hans Cheistian Andbesen is one of the few fortunate 
 authors whose works are racy with the peculiar flavor of 
 their native soil, yet harmonize with the natural taste of all 
 other lands. The naive simplicity of his style, the richness 
 aud quaintness of his fancy, and a minute delicacy of touch 
 in his descriptive passages which reminds one of the pencil 
 of Teniers, may be enjoyed by those most remote from the 
 inoors of Jutland and the clifl>bound Baltic isles whence his 
 themes are mostly drawn — yet doubly enjoyed by the few 
 to whom the originiils of his landscapes are familiar. Den- 
 
PERSONAL SKETCHES. 427 
 
 mark is rich in the natural elements of poetry. Its history 
 is a wonderful panorama of romance, wherein the heroic 
 iigures stand out sharp and splendid against a background 
 of storm. There the pagan chant of the sacred forests of 
 Odin mingles with the masses of Chiistian monks ; the rob- 
 ber-knight of the mainland meets the pirate of the sea; 
 barbaric splendor and Titanic wassail alternate with a life 
 of savage endurance. The convulsions of the Present may 
 create soldiers, priests, statesmen : the Past is the mother 
 of poets. 
 
 Denmark is not renowned for its scenery, yet its land- 
 scapes have a picturesque homeliness — at times a sublime 
 monotony — which have more power to attract the Muse 
 than the grandest natural features. And here let me remark 
 that scenery does not create poets, either. Where is the 
 native poet of the Alps? or the Pyrenees? or the Bos- 
 phorus? or of Cashmere, the Caucasus, and the Himalaya? 
 The Genius of Song does not alight on the icy peaks, or 
 drop into the awful gorges of mountain chains. He hovers 
 over the smoke of cities, or seeks the lowly pastoral vales, 
 the plains, the heathery moorlands, to pick out his chosen 
 children. This is no accidental result : for the life of the 
 mountaineer transmits to his children the quick foot, the 
 strong nerve, the keen eye, rather than the brooding and 
 singing brain. The ploughman's son, the herd-boy of the 
 meadows, the nursling of the town, inherit no such overplus 
 of animal culture : the struggling intellect amd vague dreams 
 of the father or mother blossom naturally, in them, into the 
 vision and the faculty divine. People are apt to exclaim 
 (because many people either never think, or think in tlie 
 
428 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. 
 
 shallowest possible way), on beholding a grand mountaiu 
 landscape : " This is the true home of poets !" The remark 
 simply indicates that the ideality of the spectator is slightly 
 excited. The reverse is true. Even Holland has produced 
 more poets than Switzerland. 
 
 Denmark, in spite of its northern latitude, seemed to me 
 to be admirably adapted for the cradle of authors. It has 
 many " waste and solitary places," such as Shelley loved ; 
 melancholy sweeps of sandy " dunes," fretted with the 
 embroidery of the North Sea's waves, and rolling moor- 
 lands, purple with heather or golden with gorse and broom. 
 The highest hill in Jutland is only six hundred feet above 
 the sea, yet there are lovely, green, winding valleys, 
 threaded by the clearest of streams ; woods of oak, beech, 
 birch, and fur ; quaint villages with tiled roofs, and Tartar 
 church-spires, and stately country mansions, with the trim 
 gardens and formal parks of the past century. On one side 
 deep sea-bays run far up among the wooded hills ; on the 
 other long friths penetrate the land, and bring the quaint 
 coasting-craft into the central landscapes. On the islands, 
 high cliffs of chalk, tunnelled and caverned by the waves, 
 front the Baltic, and every break in this white wall shows a 
 valley sloping up inland, and bright with the greenest pas- 
 tures and the fairest groves. " Ah," said a Dane to me, 
 " you have walked under the palms of Egypt and the banyan 
 trees of India, but you have never yet seen the beech woods 
 of Langeland 1 ' Nothing in the world is so beautiful. 
 There, in June, you may lie on the moss, under a canopy 
 of transparent emerald — no leaves are so green as beech- 
 leaves in June — and see the blue waters of our Northern 
 
PERSONAL SKETCHES. 429 
 
 uEgean shimmering below, between the huge boles, white 
 as silver ! Then you would understand our Danish poets !" 
 
 My friend was right. He who would truly enjoy Oeh- 
 lenschlager and Heiberg and Baggesen and Andersen, must 
 know Denmark. The latter, especially, although he has 
 travelled much and has occasionally laid the scenes of his 
 stories in foreign lands, is Danish, not only in the character 
 of his mind, but in his most successful subjects. He 
 was born on the island of Ftinen, in 1805, and until 
 1833, I believe, resided either there or in Copenhagen, 
 without ever having trodden the mainland of Europe. The 
 son of a poor shoemaker, a shy and persecuted factoi'y-boy, 
 a supernumerary on the stage, a charity scholar, he has 
 worked his way steadily upward, through that tireless 
 energy which is nothing less than a concentrated enthu- 
 siasm, until now he stands acknowledged as the first of 
 living Danish authors — in fact, without a rival anywhere in 
 his own special province of literature. 
 
 I cannot remember when I first became acquainted with 
 Andersen's writings ; but I think it was during my first 
 residence in Germany in 1845. Shortly afterwards, Mary 
 Howitt's translations of the " Irnpromsatore,'''' " O. T.," 
 and other works appeared. They were reprinted in this 
 country, and became immediately popular. His " Story of 
 My Life" was published in Boston in 1847. It is a charm- 
 ing autobiography, a little petulant, perhaps a little too free 
 in the narration of his private hostilities, but as frank and 
 picturesque as that of Benvenuto Cellini. I am rather sur- 
 prised that it should have passed out of print so soon. 
 Like Oehlenschliiger Andersen wrote manv of his books in 
 
430 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 German as well as in Danish, but his " Two Baronesses," 
 which he wrote in English, was not so successful. All edu- 
 cated Danes speak German, and the affinity between the 
 two languages renders a double authorship comparatively 
 easy. 
 
 An intimate friend of mine, who was living in Copen- 
 hagen, in the year 1852, made the acquaintance of Ander- 
 sen. One day, while looking over the poet's library, he 
 found a copy of my first book of travel, and called Ander- 
 sen's attention to it. The latter remarked that he was 
 sorry the author should have died before he had an oppor- 
 tunity of writing some additional volumes ! My friend 
 undeceived him, of course, and the result was a cordial 
 invitation, on his part, for me to visit him at Copenhagen. 
 I was then travelling in the East, and received his message 
 at Constantinople. It was then in my plan to become 
 acquainted with Northern Europe, but many seas and con- 
 tinents stiU lay between the invitation and its fulfilment. 
 
 Time, nor space, however, can cheat a man out of that 
 which he is sure he shall have. Six years afterwards, I 
 came down from the Arctic Thule to find the first tokens 
 of spiing on the shores of Zeeland. I had but a day or two 
 to spend in Copenhagen, and the sights of that capital — 
 Thorwaldsen's Museum, the Rosenberg Palace, and the 
 Collection of Northern Antiquities — gave me enough to 
 do ; but I set aside a portion of my time for Hans Christian 
 Andersen. lie was then living in his comfortable bachelor 
 rooms, not far from the Kongcns Nytorv, where I was 
 lodged. On sending a messenger to announce my readi- 
 ness to malvc his acquaintance, according to promise, I 
 
PERSONAL SKETCHES. 431 
 
 received woi'd that he was just going out to fulfil an 
 engagement for the evening, but would call upon me the 
 next day. 
 
 I was sitting at my window, the following afternoon, 
 busily engaged in sketching the Nytorv, with its bronze 
 statue of Christian IV. in the centre, when some one 
 knocked at the door. Without waiting for a summons 
 the door opened, and a tall, awkward, shambling figure 
 entered. The first idea which occurred to me was : " Here 
 is a man who is perfectly at home wherever he goes." 
 Without a moment's hesitation I sprang up, quite forgetting 
 that we had never met before, and cried out, " Andersen ! 
 how are you ?" as to an old friend. He greeted me with 
 both hands outstretched: "Ah, here you are at last!" 
 Then, still holding my hands, he said : " To think that you 
 might have passed through Copenhagen, without my know- 
 ing it ! How I should have been vexed !" Presently we 
 were seated face to face, and in a few minutes I knew his 
 features as well as if I had seen them for years. 
 
 He is nearly six feet high, but very loosely put together, 
 large-jointed, angular, and ungainly in his movements. 
 His head is thrown back in a way common to near-sighted 
 persons, and he also has the peculiarity of partly closing 
 the eyelids when looking at you. His features are as ill- 
 assorted as his limbs : the eyes are gray and projecting ; 
 the nose large and not quite straight, the mouth broad, 
 and the teeth irregular. His forehead is high and narrow, 
 but well developed at the temples, and his hair thin and 
 sandy-gray. Yet the plainness of his face is attractive, 
 through its air of frankness, honesty, and kindness. His 
 
432 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 manner is as simple and natural as that of a child. He has 
 been called egotistical, but his egotism is only a naive and 
 unthinking sincerity. He has that winning and confiding 
 way which not only encourages, but almost compels con- 
 fidence in others. Such a man is not only unembarrassed 
 himself, but his presence is an antidote to the embarrass- 
 ment of others. This fact accounts for his personal popu- 
 larity with all classes of men, from peasants to kings. He 
 is a Knight of Dannebrog, with the honorary titles of Pro- 
 fessor and Doctor, yet it will never be possible to call him 
 anything else than Hans Christian Andersen. 
 
VII. 
 
 The Confessions op a Medium. 
 
 It is not yet a year since I ceased to act as a Spiritual 
 Medium. (I am forced to make use of this title as the 
 most intelligible, but I do it with a strong mental protest.) 
 At first, I desired only to withdraw myself quietly from the 
 peculiar associations into which I had been thrown by the 
 exercise of my faculty, and be content with the simple 
 fact of my escape. A man who joins the Dashaways does 
 not care to have the circumstance announced in the news- 
 papers. " So, he was an habitual drunkard," the public 
 would say. I was overcome by a similar reluctance, — nay, 
 I might honestly call it shame, — since, although I had at 
 intervals officiated as a Medium for a period of seven years, 
 my name had been mentioned, incidentally, only once or 
 twice in the papei's devoted especially to Spiritualism. I 
 had no such reputation as that of Hume or Andrew Jack- 
 son Davis, which would call for a public statement of my 
 recantation. The result would be, therefore, to give pro- 
 minence to a weakness, which, however manfuUy overcome, 
 might be remembered to my future prejudice. 
 
 19 
 
434 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 I find, however, that the resolution to be silent leaves 
 me restless and unsatisfied. And in reflecting calmly — 
 objectively, for the first time — upon the experience of 
 those seven years, I recognize so many points wherein my 
 case is undoubtedly analogous to that of hundreds of 
 others who may be still entangled in the same labyrinth 
 whence I have but recently escaped, so clear a solution of 
 much that is enigmatical, even to those who reject Spirit- 
 ualism, that the impulse to write weighs upon me with the 
 pressure of a neglected duty. I cannot longer be sUent, 
 and, in the conviction that the truth of my statement wOl 
 be evident enough to those most concerned in hearing it, 
 without the authority of any name (least of aU, of one so 
 little known as mine) I now give my confession to the 
 world. The names of the individuals whom I shall have 
 occasion to introduce are, of course, disguised; but, with 
 this exception, the narrative is the plainest possible record 
 of my own experience. Many of the incidents which I 
 shall be obliged to describe are known only to the actors 
 therein, who, I feel assured, will never foolishly betray 
 themselves. I have therefore no fear that any harm can 
 result from my disclosures. 
 
 In order to make my views intelligible to those readers 
 who have paid no attention ^o psychological subjects, I 
 must commence a little in advance of my story. My own 
 individual nature is one of those apparently inconsistent 
 combinations which are frequently found in the children 
 of parents whose temperaments and mental personalities 
 widely differ. This class of natures is much larger than 
 would be supposed. Inheriting opposite, even conflicting, 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 435 
 
 traits from father and mother, they assume, as either ele- 
 ment predominates, diverse characters ; and that which is 
 the result of temperament (in fact, congenital inconsistency) 
 is set down by the unthinking world as moral weakness or 
 duplicity. Those who have sufficient skill to perceive and 
 reconcile — or, at least, govern — the opposing elements are 
 few, indeed. Had the power come to me sooner, I should 
 have been spared the necessity of making these confessions. 
 
 From one parent I inherited an extraordinarily active 
 and sensitive imagination, — ^from the other, a sturdy prac- 
 tical sense, a disposition to weigh and balance with calm 
 fairness the puzzling questions which life offers to every 
 man. These conflicting quaUties — as is usual in all similar 
 natures — were not developed in equal order of growth. 
 The former governed my childhood, my youth, and enve- 
 loped me with spells, which all the force of the latter and 
 more slowly ripened faculty was barely sufficient to break. 
 Luxuriant weeds and brambles covered the soil which 
 should have been ploughed and made to produce honest 
 grain. Unfortunately, I had no teacher who was compe- 
 tent to understand and direct me. The task was left for 
 myself, and I can only wonder, after all that has occurred, 
 how it has been possible for me to succeed. Certainly, 
 this success has not been due to any vigorous exercise of 
 virtue on my part, but solely to the existence of that cool, 
 reflective reason which la,j perdite beneath all the extrava- 
 gances of my mind. 
 
 I possessed, even as a child, an unusual share of what 
 phrenologists call concentrativeness. The power of ab- 
 sorption, of self-forgetfulness, was at the same time a source 
 
436 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 of delight and a torment. Lost in some wild dream or 
 absurd childish speculation, my insensibility to outward 
 things was chastised as carelessness or a hardened indiffer- 
 ence to counsel. With a memory almost marvellous to 
 retain those things which appealed to my imagination, I 
 blundered painfully over the commonest tasks. While I 
 frequently repeated the Sunday hymn, at dinner, I was too 
 often unable to give the least repoi-t of the sermon. With- 
 drawn into my corner of the pew, I gave myself up, after 
 the enunciation of the text, to a complete abstraction, 
 which took no note of time or place. Fixing my eyes 
 upon a knot in one of the panels under the pulpit, I sat 
 moveless during the hour and a half which our worthy old 
 clergyman required for the expounding of the seven parts 
 of his discourse. They could never accuse me of sleep- 
 ing, however ; for I rarely even winked. The closing hymn 
 recalled me to myself, always with a shock, or sense of 
 pain, and sometimes even with a temporary nausea. 
 
 This habit of abstraction — properly a coiaplete passii'iti/ 
 of the mind — after a while developed another habit, in 
 which I now see the root of that peculiar condition which 
 made me a Medium. I shall therefore endeavor to describe 
 it. I was sitting, one Sunday, just as the minister was 
 commencing his sermon, with my eyes carelessly following 
 the fingers of my right hands, as I drummed them slowly 
 iicross my knee. Suddenly, the wonder came into my 
 mind, — How is it my fingers move ? — What set them 
 going ? What is it that stops them ? The mystery of that 
 communication between will and muscle, which no physi- 
 ologist has ever fathomed, burst upon my young intel- 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 437 
 
 lect. I had been conscious of no intention of thus drum- 
 ming my fingers; they were in motion when I first noticed 
 them : they were certainly a part of myself, yet they acted 
 without my knowledge or design ! My left hand was 
 quiet ; why did its fingers not move also ? Following these 
 reflections came a dreadful fear, as I remembered Jane, 
 the blacksmith's daughter, whose elbows and shoulders 
 sometimes jerked in such a way as to make all the other 
 scholars laugh, although we were sorry for the poor girl, 
 who cried bitterly over her unfortunate, ungovernable 
 limbs. I was comforted, however, on finding that I could 
 control the motion of my fingers at pleasure ; but my ima- 
 gination was too active to stop there. What if I should 
 forget bow to direct my hands? What if they should 
 refuse to obey me ? What if my knees, which were just 
 as still as the hymn-books in the rack before me, should 
 cease to bend, and I should sit there for ever ? These very 
 questions seemed to produce a temporary paralysis of the 
 win. As my right hand lay quietly on my knee, and I 
 asked myself, with a stupid wonder, "Now, can I move 
 it ?" it lay as still as before. I had only questioned, not 
 willed. " No, I cannot move it," I said, in real doubt. I 
 was conscious of a blind sense of exertion, wherein there 
 was yet no proper exertion, but which seemed to exhaust 
 me. Fascinated by this new mystery, I contemplated my 
 hand as something apart from myself, — something subor- 
 dinate to, but not identical with, me. The rising of the 
 ■congregation for the hymn broke the spell, like the snap- 
 ping of a thread. 
 
 The reader will readily understand that I carried these 
 
438 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 experiences much farther. I gradually learned to suspend 
 (perhaps in imagination only, but therefore none the less 
 really) the action of my will upon the muscles of the arms 
 and legs ; and I did it with the greater impunity, from 
 knowing that the stir consequent upon the conclusion of 
 the services would bring me to myself. In proportion as 
 the will became passive, the activity of my imagination was 
 increased, and I experienced a new and strange delight in 
 watching the play of fantasies which appeared to come and 
 go independently of myself. There was still a dim con- 
 sciousness of outward things mingled with my condition ; 
 I was not beyond the recall of my senses. But one day, I 
 remember, as I sat motionless as a statue, having ceased 
 any longer to attempt to control my dead limbs, more than 
 usually passive, a white, shining mist gradually stole around 
 me ; my eyes finally ceased to take cognizance of objects ; 
 a low, musical humming sounded in my ears, and those 
 creatures of the imagination which had hitherto crossed my 
 brain as thoughts now spoke to me as audible voices. If 
 there is any happy delirium in the first stages of intoxica- 
 tion, (of which, thank Heaven, I have no experience,) it 
 must be a sensation very much like that which I felt. The 
 death of external and the birth of internal consciousness 
 overwhelmed my childish soul with a dumb, ignorant ecs- 
 tasy, like that which savages feel on first hearing the 
 magic of music. 
 
 How long I remained thus I know not. I was aroused 
 by feeling myself violently shaken. " John !" exclaimed 
 my mother, who had grasped my arm with a determined 
 hand, — " bless the boy! Avhat ails him? Why, his face is 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 439 
 
 as white as a sbeet !" Slowly I recovered my conscious- 
 ness, saw the church and the departing congregation, and 
 mechanically followed my parents. I could give no expla- 
 nation of what had happened, except to say that I had 
 fallen asleep. As I ate my dinner with a good appetite, 
 my mother's fears were quieted. I was left at home the 
 following Sunday, and afterwards only ventured to indulge 
 sparingly in the exercise of my newly discovered faculty. 
 My mother, I was conscious, took more note of my pre- 
 sence than formerly, and I feared a repetition of the same 
 catastrophe. As I grew older and my mind became inter- 
 ested in a wider range of themes, I finally lost the habit, 
 which I classed among the many follies of chUdhood. 
 
 I retained, nevertheless, and still retain, something of 
 that subtile instinct which mocks and yet surpasses reason. 
 My feelings with regard to the persons whom I met were 
 quite independent of their behavior towards me, or the 
 estimation in which they were held by the world. Things 
 which puzzled my brain in waking hours were made clear 
 to me in sleep, and I frequently felt myself blindly impelled 
 to do or to avoid doing certain things. The members of 
 my family, who found it impossible to understand my mo- 
 tives of action,— because, in fact, there were no motives, — 
 complacently solved the difficulty by calling me " queer." 
 I presume there are few persons who are not occasionally 
 visited by the instinct, or impulse, or faculty, or whatever 
 it may be called, to which I refer. I possessed it in a more 
 than ordinary degree, and was generally able to distinguish 
 between its suggestions and the mere humors of my imagi- 
 nation. It is scarcely necessary to say that I assume the 
 
440 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 existence of such a power, at the outset. I recognize it as 
 a normal faculty of the human mind, — not therefore uni- 
 versal, any more than the genius which makes a poet, a 
 painter, or a composer. 
 
 My education was neither general nor thorough ; hence 
 I groped darkly with the psychological questions which 
 were presented to me. Tormented by those doubts which 
 at some period of life assail the soul of every thinking man, 
 I was ready to grasp at any solution which offered, without 
 very carefully testing its character. I eagerly accepted the 
 theory of Animal Magnetism, which, so far as it went, was 
 satisfactory ; but it only illustrated the powers and relations 
 of the soul in its present state of existence ; it threw no 
 light upon that future which I was not willing to take upon 
 faith alone. Though sensible to mesmeric influences, I was 
 not willing that my spiritual nature should be the instru- 
 ment of another's will, — that a human being, like myself, 
 should become possessed of all my secrets and sanctities, 
 touching the keys of every passion with his unhallowed 
 fingers. In the phenomena of clairvoyance I saw only 
 other and more subtile manifestations of the power which 
 I knew to exist in my own mind. Hence, I soon grew 
 weary of prosecuting inquiries which, at best, would fall 
 short of solving my own great and painful doubt, — Does 
 the human soul continue to exist after death? That it 
 could take cognizance of things beyond the reach of the five 
 senses, I was already assured. This, however, might be a 
 sixth sense, no less material and perishable in its character 
 than the others. My brain, as yet, was too young and im- 
 mature to follow the thread of that lofty spiritual logic in 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 441 
 
 the light of which such doubts melt away like mists of the 
 night. Thus, uneasy because undeveloped, erring because 
 I had never known the necessary guidance, seeking, but 
 almost despairing of enlightenment, I was a fit subject for 
 any spiritual epidemic which seemed to offer me a cure for 
 worse maladies. 
 
 At this juncture occurred the phenomena known as the 
 " Rochester Knockings." (My home, let me say, is in a 
 small town not far from New York.) I shared in the gene- 
 ral interest aroused by the marvellous stories, which, being 
 followed by the no less extraordinary display of some un- 
 knowtt agency at Norwalk, Connecticut, excited me to such 
 a degree that I was half-converted to the new faith before I 
 had witnessed any spiritual manifestation. Soon after the 
 arrival of the Misses Fox in New York I visited them in 
 their rooms at the Howard House. Impressed by their 
 quiet, natural demeanor, the absence of anything savoring 
 of jugglery, and the peculiar character of the raps and 
 movements of the table, I asked my questions and applied 
 my tests, in a passive, if not a believing frame of mind. In 
 fact, I had not long been seated, before the noises became 
 loud and frequent. 
 
 " The spirits like to communicate with you," said Mrs. 
 Fish : " you seem to be nearer to them than most people.'' 
 
 I summoned, in succession, the spirits of my mother, a 
 younger brother, and a cousin to' whom I had been much 
 attached in boyhood, and obtained correct answers to all 
 my questions. I did not then remark, what has since oc- 
 curred to me, that these questions concerned things which 
 I knew, and that the answers to them were distinctly im- 
 
 19* 
 
442 AT HOME AND ABBOAD.' 
 
 pressed on my mind at the time. The result of one of my 
 tests made a very deep impression upon me. Having men- 
 tally selected a friend whom I had met in the train that 
 morning, I asked, — " "Will the spirit whose name is now in 
 my mind communicate with me ?" To this came the an- 
 swer, slowly rapped out, on calling over the alphabet, — 
 '•'•He is living!'''' 
 
 I returned home, very much puzzled. Precisely those 
 features of the exhibition (let me call it such) which repulse 
 others attracted me. The searching day-light, the plain, 
 matter-of-fact character of the manifestations, the absence 
 of all solemnity and mystery, impressed me favorably to- 
 wards the spiritual theory. If disembodied souls, I said, 
 really exist and can communicate with those in the flesh, 
 why should they choose moonlight or darkness, graveyards 
 or lonely bed-chambers, for their visitations ? What is to 
 hinder them from speaking at times and in places where 
 the senses of men are fully awake and alert, rather than 
 when they are liable to be the dupes of the imagination ? 
 In such reflections as these I was the unconscious dupe of 
 my own imagination, while supposing myself thoroughly 
 im.partial and critical. 
 
 Soon after this, circles began to be formed in my native 
 town, for the purpose of table-moving. A number of per- 
 sons met, secretly at first, — for as yet there wore no avowed 
 converts, — and quite as much for sport as for serious inves- 
 tigation. The first evening there was no satisfactory mani- 
 festation. The table moved a little, it is true, but each one 
 laughingly accused his neighbors of employing some mus- 
 cular force : all isolated attemjjts were vain. I was con- 
 
THE CONFESSlOiSrS OF A MEDIUM. 443 
 
 scious, nevertheless, of a curious sensation of numbness in tlie 
 arms, which recalled to mind my forgotten experiments in 
 church. No rappings were heard, and some of the partici- 
 pants did not scruple to pronounce the whole thing a delusion. 
 A few evenings after this we met again. Those who 
 were most incredulous happened to be absent, while, acci- 
 dentally, their places were filled by persons whose tempera- 
 ments disposed them to a passive seriousness. Among 
 these was a girl of sixteen, Miss Abby Fetters, a pale, deli- 
 cate creature, with blond hair and light-blue eyes. Chance 
 placed her next to me, in forming the ring, and her right 
 hand lay lightly upon my left. We stood around a heavy 
 circular dining-table. A complete silence was preserved, 
 and aU minds gradually sank into a quiet, passive expect- 
 ancy. In about ten minutes I began to feel, or to imagine 
 that I felt, a stream of light — if hght were a palpable sub- 
 stance — a something far finer and more subtile than an 
 electric current, passing from the hand of Miss Fetters 
 through my own into the table. Presently the great 
 wooden mass began to move — stopped — moved again — 
 turned in a circle, we following, without changing the posi- 
 tion of our hands — and finally began to rock from side to 
 side, with increasing violence. Some of the circle were 
 thrown off by the movements ; others withdrew their 
 hands in affright ; and but four, among whom were Miss 
 Fetters and myself, retained their hold. My outward 
 consciousness appeared to be somewhat benumbed, as if 
 by some present fascination or ajDproaching trance, but I 
 retained curiosity enough to look at my companion. Her 
 eyes, sparkling with a strange, steady light, were fixed upon 
 
444 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 the table; her breath came quick and short, and her cheek 
 had lost every trace of color. Suddenly, as if by a spas- 
 modic effort, she removed her hands ; I did the same, and 
 the table stopped. She threw herself into a seat, as if 
 exhausted, yet, during the whole time, not a muscle of the 
 hand which lay upon mine had stirred. I solemnly declare 
 that my own hands had been equally passive, yet I expe- 
 rienced the same feeling of fatigue — not muscular fatigue, 
 but a sense of deadness, as if every drop of nervous energy 
 had been suddenly taken from me. 
 
 Further experiments, the same evening, showed that we 
 two, either together or alone, were able to produce the 
 same phenomena without the assistance of the others pre- 
 sent. We did not succeed, however, in obtaining any 
 answers to our questions, nor were any of us impressed by 
 the idea that the spirits of the dead were among us. In 
 fact, these table-movings would not, of themselves, sug- 
 gest the idea of a spiritual manifestation. " The table is 
 bewitched," said Thompson, a hard-headed young fellow, 
 without a particle of imagination ; and this was reallj' the 
 first impression of all: some unknown force, latent in the 
 dead matter, had been called into action. SlUl, this con- 
 clusion was so strange, so incredible, that the agency of 
 supernatural intelligences finally presented itself to my 
 mind as the readiest solution. 
 
 It was not long before we obtained rappings, and were 
 enabled to repeat all the experiments which I had tried 
 during my visit to the Fox family. The spirits of our de- 
 ceased relatives and friends announced themselves, and 
 generally gave a correct account of their earthly lives. I 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OP A MEDIUM. 445 
 
 must confess, however, that, whenever we attempted to 
 pry into the future, we usually received answers as ambi' 
 guous as -those of the Grecian oracles, or predictions which 
 failed to he realized. Violent knocks or other unruly 
 demonstrations would sometimes interrupt an intelligent 
 communication which promised us some light on the other 
 life : these, we were told, were occasioned by evil or mis- 
 chievous spirits, whose delight it was to create disturb- 
 ances. They never occurred, I now remember, except when 
 Miss Fetters was present. At the time, we were too much 
 absorbed in our researches to notice the fact. 
 
 The reader will perceive, from what he knows of my pre- 
 vious mental state, that it was not difficult for me to accept 
 the theories of the Spiritualists. Here was an evidence of 
 the immortality of the soul — nay, more, of its continued 
 individuality through endless future existences. The idea 
 of my individuality being lost had been to me the same 
 thing as complete annihilation. The spirits themselves 
 informed us that they had come to teach these truths. The 
 simple, ignorant faith of the Past, they said, was worn out ; 
 with the development of science, the mind of man had 
 become skeptical ; the ancient fountains no longer sufficed 
 for his thirst ; each new era required a new revelation ; in all 
 former ages there had been single minds pure enough and 
 advanced enough to communicate with the dead and be the 
 mediums of their messages to men, but now the time had 
 come when the knowledge of this intercourse must be 
 declared unto all ; in its light the mysteries of the Past 
 became clear ; in the wisdom thus imparted, that happy 
 Future which seems possible to every ardent and generous 
 
446 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. 
 
 heart would be secured. I was not troubled by the fact 
 that the messages which proclaimed these things were often 
 incorrectly spelt, that the grammar was bad and the lan- 
 guage far from elegant. I did not reflect that these new 
 and sublime truths had formerly j)assed through my own 
 brain as the dreams of a wandering imagination. Like that 
 American philosopher who looks upon one of his own neo- 
 phytes as a man of great and profound mind because the 
 latter carefuUy remembers and repeats to him his own care- 
 lessly uttered wisdom, I saw in these misty and disjointed 
 reflections of my own thoughts the precious revelation of 
 departed and purified spirits. 
 
 How a passion for the unknown and unattainable takes 
 hold of men is illustrated by the search for the universal 
 solvent, by the mysteries of the Rosicrucians, by the patron- 
 age of fortune-tellers, even. Wholly absorbed in spiritual 
 researches — having, in fact, no vital interest in anything 
 else — I soon developed into what is called a ^ledium. I 
 discovered, at the outset, that the peculiar condition to be 
 attained before the tables would begin to move could be 
 produced at will.* I also found that the passive state into 
 
 * In attempting to describe my own sensations, I labor under the dis- 
 advantage of spealcing mostly to those who have never experienced any- 
 thing of the kind. Hence, what would be perfectly clear to myself| and 
 to those who have passed tlu'ough a similar experience, may be unintelli- 
 gible to the former class. The Spiritualists excuse the crudities which 
 their Plato, St. Paul, and Shakspeare utter, by ascribing them to the im- 
 perfection of human language; and I may claim tlio same allowance in 
 setting forth mental conditions of which the mind itself can grasp no com- 
 plete idea, seeing that its most important faculties ai-e paralysed during the 
 existence of those conditions. 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 447 
 
 which I naturally fell had a tendency to produce that trance 
 or suspension of the will which I had discovered when a 
 boy. External consciousness, however, did not wholly 
 depart. I sa,w the circle of inquirers around me, but dimly, 
 and as phantoms — while the impressions which passed over 
 ray brain seemed to wear visible forms and to speak with 
 audible voices. 
 
 I did not doubt, at-the time, that spirits visited me, and 
 that they made use of my body to communicate with those 
 who could hear them in no other way. . Beside the plea- 
 sant intoxication of the semi-trance, I felt a rare joy in 
 the knowledge that I was elected above other men to be 
 their interpreter. Let me endeavor to describe the nature 
 of this possession. Sometimes, even before a spirit would 
 be called for, the figure of the person, as it existed in the 
 mind of the inquirer, would suddenly present itself to me 
 — not to my outward senses, but to my interior, instinctive 
 knowledge. If the recollection of the other embraced also 
 the voice, I heard the voice in the same manner, and 
 unconsciously imitated it. The answers to the questions I 
 knew by the same instinct, as soon as the questions were 
 spoken. If the question was vague, asked for information 
 rather than confirmation, either no answer came, or there 
 was an impression of a wish of what the answer might be, 
 or, at times, some strange involuntary sentence sprang 
 to my lips. When I wrote, my hand appeared to move of 
 itself; yet the words it wrote invariably passed through 
 my mind. Even when blindfolded, there was no difference 
 in its performance. The same powers developed themselves 
 in a still greater degree in Miss Fetters. The spirits which 
 
448 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 spoke most readily through her were those of men, even 
 coarse and rude characters, which came unsummoned. Two 
 or three of the other members of our circle were able to 
 produce motions in the table ; they could even feel, as they 
 asserted, the touch of spiritual hands ; but, however much 
 they desired it, they were never personally possessed as we, 
 aud therefore could not properly be called Mediums. 
 
 These investigations were not -regularly carried on. 
 Occasionally the interest of the circle flagged, until it was 
 renewed by the visit of some apostle of the new faith, 
 usually accompanied by a " Preaching Medium." Among 
 those whose presence especially conduced to keep alive the 
 flame of spiritual inquiry was a gentleman named Stilton, 
 the editor of a small monthly periodical entitled " Revela- 
 tions from the Interior." Without being himself a Medium, 
 he was nevertheless thoroughly conversant with the various 
 phenomena of Spiritualism, and both spoke and wrote in 
 the dialect which its followers adopted. He was a man of 
 varied, but not profound learning, an active intellect, 
 giving and receiving impressions with equal facility, and 
 with an unusual combination of concentrativeuess and 
 versatility in his nature. A certain inspiration was con- 
 nected with his presence. His personality overflowed upon 
 and influenced others. " My mind is not suflBciently sub- 
 missive," he would say, " to receive impressions from the 
 spirits, but my atmosphere attracts them, and encourages 
 them to speak.'' He was a stout, strongly built man, with 
 coarse black hair, gray eyes, lai'ge animal mouth, square 
 jaws, and short, thick nock. Had his hair been cropped 
 close, he would have looked very much like a prize-fighter ; 
 
THB CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 449 
 
 but he wore it long, parted in the middle, and as meek in 
 expression as its stiff waves would allow. 
 
 Stilton soon became the controlling spirit of our circle. 
 His presence really seemed, as he said, to encourage the 
 spirits. Never before had the manifestations been so abun- 
 dant or so surprising. Miss Fetters, especially, astonished 
 us by the vigor of her possessions. Not only Samson and 
 Peter the Great, but Gibbs the Pirate, Black Hawk, and 
 Joe Manton, who had died the previous year in a fit of 
 delirium-tremens, prophesied, strode, swore, and smashed 
 things in turn, by means of her frail little body. As Cribb, 
 a noted pugilist of the last century, she floored an incau- 
 tious spectator, giving him a black eye which he wore for 
 a fortnight afterwards. Singularly enough, my visitors 
 were of the opposite cast. Hypatia, Petrarch, Mary Mag- 
 dalen, Abelard, and, oftenest of all, Shelley, proclaimed 
 mystic truths from my lips. They usually spoke in inspired 
 monologues, without announcing themselves beforehand, 
 and often without giving any clue to their personality. A 
 practised stenographer, engaged by Mr. Stilton, took down 
 many of these communications as they were spoken, and 
 they were afterwards published in the " Revelations." It 
 was also remarked, that, while Miss E'etters employed vio- 
 lent gestui-es, and seemed to possess a superhuman strength, 
 I, on the contrary, sat motionless, pale, and with little sign 
 of life except in my voice, which, though low, was clear 
 and dramatic in its modulations. Stilton explained this 
 difference without hesitation. " Miss Abby," he said, 
 " possesses soul-matter of a texture to which the souls of 
 these strong men naturally adhere. In the spirit-land the 
 
450 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 superfluities repel each other ; the individual souls seek to 
 remedy their imperfections : in the union of opposites only 
 is to be found the great harmonia of life. You, John, 
 move upon another plane ; through what in you is unde- 
 veloped, these developed- spirits are attracted." 
 
 For two or three years, I must admit, my life was a very 
 happy one. Not only were those occasional trances an 
 intoxication, nay, a coveted indulgence, but they cast a 
 consecration over my life. My I'estored faith rested on the 
 sure evidence of my own experience; my new creed con- 
 tained no harsh or repulsive feature ; I heard the same 
 noble sentiments which I uttered in such moments repeated 
 by my associates in the faith, and I devoutly believed that 
 a complete regeneration of the human race was at hand. 
 Nevertheless, it struck me sometimes as singular that many 
 of the Mediums whom I met — men and women chosen by 
 spiritual hands to the same high office — excited in my mind 
 that instinct of repulsion on which I had learned to rely as 
 a sufficient reason for avoiding certain persons. Far as it 
 would have been from my mind, at that time, to question 
 the manifestations which accompanied them, I could not 
 •smother my mistrust of their characters. Miss Fetters, 
 whom I so frequently met, was one of the most disagree- 
 able. Her cold, thin lips, pale eyes, and lean figure gave 
 me a singular impression of voracious hunger. Her pre- 
 sence was often announced to me by a chill shudder, before 
 I saw her. Centuries ago one of her ancestors must have 
 been a ghoul or vampire. The trance of possession seemed, 
 with her, to bo a form of dissipation, in which she indulged 
 as she might have catered for a baser appetite. The new 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 451 
 
 religion was nothing to her ; I believe she valued it only on 
 account of the importance she obtained among its follow- 
 ers. Her father, a vain, weak-minded man, who kept a 
 grocery in the town, was himself a convert. 
 
 Stilton had an answer for every doubt. No matter how 
 tangled a labyrinth might be exhibited to him, he walked 
 straight through it. 
 
 " How is it," I asked him, " that so many of my fellow- 
 mediums inspire me with an instinctive dislike and mis- 
 trust ? " 
 
 " By mistrust you mean dislike," he answered ; " since 
 you know of no reason to doubt their characters. The 
 elements of soul-matter are diiferently combined in diiferent 
 individuals, and there are affinities and repulsions, just as 
 there are in the chemical elements. Your feeling is che- 
 mical, not moral. A want of affinity does not necessarily 
 imply an existing evil in the other party. In the present 
 ignorance of the world, our true affinities can only be 
 impei'fectly felt and indulged ; and the entire freedom 
 which we shall obtain in this respect is the greatest happi- 
 ness of the spirit-life." 
 
 Another time I asked — 
 
 " How is it that the spirits of great authors speak so 
 tamely to us ? Shakspeare, last night, wrote a passage 
 which he would have been heartily ashamed of, as a living 
 man. We know that a spirit spoke, calling himself Shak- 
 speare ; but, judging from his communication, it could not 
 have been he." 
 
 " It probably was not," said Mr. Stilton. " I am con- 
 vinced that all malicious spirits are at work to interrupt 
 
452 AT HOME. AND ABROAD. 
 
 the communications from the higher spheres. We were 
 thus deceived by one professing to be Benjamin Franklin, 
 who drew for us the plan of a machine for splitting shin- 
 gles, which we had fabricated and patented at considerable 
 expense. On trial, however, it proved to be a miserable 
 failure, a complete mockery. When the spirit was again 
 summoned he refused to speak, but shook the table to 
 express his malicious laughter, went off, and has never 
 since returned. My friend, we know but the alphabet of 
 Spiritualism, the mere ABC; we can no more expect to 
 master the immortal language in a day than a child to read 
 Plato after learning his letters." 
 
 Many of those who had been interested in the usual 
 phenomena gradually dropped off, tired, and perhaps a 
 little ashamed, in the reaction following their excitement ; 
 but there were continual accessions to our ranks, and we 
 formed, at last, a distinct clan or community. Indeed, the 
 number of secret believers in Spiritualism would never be 
 suspected by the uninitiated. In the sect, however, as in 
 Masonry, and the Catholic Church, there are circles within 
 circles — concentric rings, whence you can look outwards, 
 but not inwards, and where he alone who stands at the 
 centre is able to perceive everything. Such an inner circle 
 was at last formed in our town. Its object, according to 
 Stilton, with whom the plan originated, was to obtain a 
 purer spiritual atmosphere, by the exclusion of all but 
 Mediums, and those non-mediumistic believers in whose 
 presence the spirits felt at ease, and thus invite communi- 
 cations from the farther and purer spheres. 
 
 In fact, the result seemed to justify the plan. The cha- 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OE A MEDIUM. 453 
 
 racter of the trance, as I had frequently observed, is vitiated 
 by the consciousness that disbelievers are present. The 
 more perfect the atmosphere of credulity, the more satis- 
 factory the manifestations. The expectant company, the 
 dim light, the conviction that a wonderful revelation was 
 about to dawn upon us, excited my imagination, and my 
 trance was really a sort of delirium, in which I spoke with 
 a passion and an eloquence I had never before exhibited. 
 The fear, which had previously haunted me, at times, of 
 giving my braia and tongue into the control of an unknown 
 power, was forgotten ; yet, more than ever, I was conscious 
 of some strong controlling influence, and experienced a 
 reckless pleasure in permitting myself to be governed by it. 
 " Prepare," I concluded, (I quote from the report in the 
 " Revelations,") " prepare, sons of men, for the dawning 
 day ! Prepare for the second and perfect regeneration of 
 man ! For the prison-chambers have been broken into, and 
 the light from the interior shall illuminate the external! 
 Ye shall enjoy spiritual and passional freedom ; your guides 
 shall no longer be the despotism of ignorant laws, nor the 
 whip of an imaginary conscience, — but the natural impulses 
 of your nature, which are the melody of Life, and the natu- 
 ral affinities, which are its harmony ! The reflections from 
 the upper spheres shall irradiate the lower, and Death is 
 the triumphal arch through which we pass from glory to 
 glory !" 
 
 I have here paused, deliberating whether I should 
 
 proceed farther in my narrative. But no ; if any good is 
 to be accomplished by these confessions, the reader must 
 walk with me through the dark labyrinth which folio «'s. 
 
454 AT H03IE AND ABROAD. 
 
 He must walk over what may be considered delicate ground, 
 but he shall not be harmed. One feature of the trance 
 condition, is too remarkable, too important in its conse- 
 quences to be overlooked. It is a feature of which many 
 Mediums are undoubtedly ignorant, the existence of 
 which is not even suspected by thousands of honest 
 Spiritualists. 
 
 Let me again anticipate the regular course of my narra- 
 tive, and explain. A suspension of the Will, when indulged 
 in for any length of time, produces a suspension of that 
 inward consciousness of good and evil which we call Con- 
 science, and which can be actively exercised only through 
 the medium of the Will. The mental faculties and the 
 moral perceptions lie down together in the same passive 
 sleep. The subject is, therefore, equally liable to receive 
 impressions from the minds of others, and from their pas- 
 sions and lusts. Besides this, the germs of all good and of 
 all evil are implanted in the nature of every human being ; 
 and even when some appetite is buried in a crypt so deep 
 that its existence is forgotten, let the warder be removed, 
 and it will gradually work its way to the light. Persons 
 in the receptive condition whicli belongs to the trance may 
 be surrounded by honest and pure-minded individuals, and 
 I'eceive no harmful impressions ; they may even, if of a 
 healthy spiritual temperament, resist for a time the aggres- 
 sions of evil influences ; but the final danger is always the 
 same. The state of the Medium, therefore, may be described 
 as one in which the Will is passive, the Conscience passive, 
 the outward senses partially (sonietimes wholly) suspended, 
 the mind helplessly subject to the operations of other minds, 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 455 
 
 and the passions and desires released from all restraining 
 influences.* I make the statement boldly, after long and 
 careful reflection, and severe self-examination. 
 
 As I said before, I did not entirely lose my external con- 
 sciousness, although it was very dim and dream-like. On 
 returning to the natural state, my recollection of what had 
 occurred during the trance became equally dim ; but I 
 retained a general impression of the character of the pos- 
 session. I knew that some foreign influence — the spirit of 
 a dead poet, or hero, or saint, I then believed — governed 
 me for the time ; that I gave utterance to thoughts unfa- 
 miliar to my mind in its conscious state ; and that my own 
 individuality was lost, or so disguised that I could no longer 
 recognize it. This very circumstance made the trance an 
 indulgence, a spiritual intoxication, no less fascinating than 
 that of the body, although accompanied by a "similar reac- 
 tion. Yet, behind all, dimly evident to me, there was an 
 element of terror. There were times when, back of the 
 influences which spoke with my voice, rose another— a vast, 
 overwhelming, threatening power, the nature of which I 
 could not grasp, but which I knew was evil. Even when 
 in my natural state, listening to the harsh utterances of 
 Miss Fetters or the lofty spiritual philosophy of Mr. Stilton, 
 I have felt for a single second, the touch of an icy wind, 
 accompanied by a sensation of unutterable dread. 
 
 Oui- secret circle had not held many sessions before a 
 
 * The recent experiments in Hypnotism, in France, show that h verj 
 similar psycliologieal condition accompanies the trance produced by gazing 
 fixedly upon a bright object held near the eyes. I have no doubt, in fact, 
 that it belongs to every abnormal state of the mind. 
 
456 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 remarkable change took place in the character of the reve- 
 lations. Mr. Stilton ceased to report them for his paper. 
 
 " We are on the threshold at last," said he ; " the secrets 
 of the ages lie beyond. The handff-of spirits are now lifting 
 the veil, fold by fold. Let us not be startled by what we 
 hear : let us show that our eyes can bear the light — ^that 
 we are competent to receive the wisdom of the higher 
 spheres, and live according to it." 
 
 Miss Fetters was more than ever possessed by the spirit 
 of Joe Mantou, whose allowance of grog having been cut 
 off too suddenly by his death, he was continually clamoring 
 for a dram. "I tell you," yelled he, or rather she, "I 
 won't stand sich meanness. I ha'n't come all the way here 
 for nothin'. I'll knock Erasmus all to thunder, if yon go 
 for to turn me out dry, and let him come in." 
 
 Mr. Stilton thereupon handed him, or her, a tumbler 
 half-full of brandy, which she gulped down at a single 
 swallow. Joe Manton presently retired to make room for 
 Erasmus, who spoke for some time in Latin, or what 
 appeared to be Latin. None of us could make much of it ; 
 but Mr. Stilton declared that the Latin pronunciation of 
 Erasmus was probably different from oui-s, or that he might 
 have learned the true Roman accent from Cicero and Seneca, 
 with whom, doubtless, he was now on intimate terras. As 
 Erasmus generally concluded by throwing his arms, or 
 rather the arms of Miss Fetters, around the neck of Mr. 
 Stilton — his spirit fraternizing, apparently, with the spirit 
 of the Litter — we greatly regretted that his communications 
 were unintelligible, on account of the superior wisdom 
 which they might be supposed to contain. 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 457 
 
 T confess, I cannot recall the part I played in what would 
 have been a pitiable farce, if it had not been so terribly 
 tragical, without a feeling of utter shame. N'othing but 
 my profound sympathy for the thousands and tens of thou- 
 sands who are still subject to the same delusion could com- 
 pel me to such a sacrifice of pride. Curiously enough (as 
 I thought then, but not now), the enunciation of sentiments 
 opposed to my moral sense — the abolition, in fact, of all 
 moral restraint — came from my lips, while the actions of 
 Miss Fetters hinted at their practical application. Upon 
 the ground that the interests of the soul were paramount to 
 all human laws and customs, I declared — or rather, my 
 voice declared— that self denial was a fatal error, to which 
 half the misery of mankind could be traced ; that the pas- 
 sions, held as slaves, exhibited only the brutish nature of 
 slaves, and would be exalted and glorified by entire free- 
 dom ; and that our sole guidance ought to come from the 
 voices of the spirits who communicated with us, instead of 
 the imperfect laws constructed by our benighted fellow-men. 
 How clear and logical, how lofty, these doctrines seemed ! 
 If, at times, something in their nature repelled me, I simply 
 attributed it to the fact that I was still but a neophyte in 
 the Spiritual Philosophy, and incapable of perceiving the 
 truth with entire clearness, 
 
 Mr. Stilton had a wife, — one of those meek, amiable, 
 simple-hearted women whose individuality seems to be 
 completely absorbed into that of their husbands. When 
 such women are wedded to frank, tender, protecting men, 
 their lives are truly blessed ; but they are willing slaves to 
 the domestic tyrant. They bear uncomplainingly, — many 
 
 20 
 
458 AT HOME AND ABROAi:). 
 
 of them even without a thought of complaint, — and die at 
 last with their hearts full of love for the brutes who have 
 trampled upon them. Mrs. Stilton was perhaps forty years 
 of age, of middle height, moderately plump in person, with 
 light-brown hair, soft, inexpressive gray eyes, and a meek, 
 helpless, imploring mouth. Her voice was mild and plain- 
 tive, and its accents of anger (if she ever gave utterance to 
 such) could not have been distinguished from those of grief. 
 She did not often attend our sessions, and it was evident, 
 that, while she endeavored to comprehend the revelations, 
 in order to please her husband, their import was very far 
 beyond her comprehension. She was now and then a little 
 frightened at utterances which no doubt sounded lewd or 
 profane to her ears ; but alter a glance at Mr. Stilton's face, 
 and finding that it betrayed neither horror nor surprise, 
 would persuade herself that everything must be right. 
 
 "Are you sure," she once timidly whispered to me, "are 
 
 you very sure, Mr. , that there is no danger of being 
 
 led astray ? It seems strange to me ; but perhaps I don't 
 understand it.'' 
 
 Her question w^as so indefinite, that I found it difScult 
 to answer. Stilton, however, seeing me engaged in endea- 
 voring to make clear to her the glories of the new truth, 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 "That's right, John ! Tour spiritual plane slants through 
 many spheres, and has points of contact with a great vari- 
 ety of souls. I hope my wife will be able to see the light 
 through you, since I appear to be too opaque for her to 
 receive it from mo." 
 
 " Oh, Abijah ! " said the poor woman, " you know it is 
 
THE CONCESSIONS OF A MEDIUM, 459 
 
 my fault. I try to follow, and I hope I have faith, though 
 I don't see everything as clearly as you do." 
 
 I began also to have my own doubts, as I perceived that 
 an " affinity " was gradually being developed between Stil- 
 ton and Miss Fetters. She was more and more frequently 
 possessed by the spirit of Erasmus, whose salutations, on 
 meeting and parting with his brother-philosopher, were too 
 enthusiastic for merely masculine love. But, whenever I 
 hinted at the possibility of mistaking the impulses of the 
 soul, or at evil resulting from a too sudden and universal 
 liberation of the passions, Stilton always silenced me with 
 his inevitable logic. Having once accepted the premises, 
 I could not avoid the conclusions. 
 
 " When our natures are in harmony with spirit-matter 
 thi-oughout the spheres,'' he would say, " our impulses 
 vs'ill always be in accordance. Or, if there should be any 
 temporary disturbance, arising from our necessary inter- 
 course vfiih the gross, blinded multitude, we can always 
 fly to our spiritual monitors for counsel. Will not they, 
 the immortal souls of the ages past, who have guided us 
 to a knowledge of the truth, assist us also in preserving it 
 pure ? " 
 
 In spite of this, in spite of my admiration of Stilton's 
 intellect, and my yet unshaken faith in Spirituahsm, I was 
 conscious that the harmony of the circle was becoming 
 impaired in me. Was I falling behind in spiritual progress ? 
 Was I too weak to be the medium for the promised reve- 
 lations ? I threw myself again and again into the trance, 
 with a recklessness of soul which fitted me to receive any, 
 even the darkest impressions, to catch and proclaim every 
 
460 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 guilty whisper of the senses, and, while under the influence 
 of the excitement, to exult in the age of license which I 
 believed to be at hand. But darker, stronger grew the 
 terror which lurked behind this spiritual carnival. A more 
 tremendous power than that which I now recognized as 
 coming from Stilton's brain was present, and I saw myself 
 whirling nearer and nearer to its grasp. I felt, by a sort 
 of blind instinct, too vague to be expressed, that some de- 
 moniac agency had thrust itself into the manifestations, — 
 perhaps had been mingled with them from the outset. 
 
 For two or three months, my life was the strangest mix- 
 ture of happiness and misery. I walked about with the 
 sense of some crisis hanging over me. My " possessions " 
 became fiercer and wilder, and the reaction so much more 
 exhausting that I fell into the habit of restoring myself by 
 means of the bottle of brandy which Mr. Stilton took care 
 should be on hand, in case of a visit from Joe Manton. 
 Miss Fetters, strange to say, was not in the least affected 
 by the powerful draughts she imbibed. But, at the same 
 time, my waking life was growing brighter and brighter 
 under the power of a new and delicious experience. My 
 nature is eminently social, and I had not been able — indeed, 
 I did not desire — wholly to withdraw myself from inter- 
 course with non-believers. There was too much in society 
 that was congenial to ine to be given up. My instinctive 
 dislike to Miss Abby Fetters, and my compassionate rogan-d 
 for Mrs. Stilton's weakness, only served to render the com- 
 pany of intelligent, cultivated women more attractive to 
 mc. Among those whom I met most frequently was Miss 
 Agnes Honey wood, a calm, quiet, unobtrusive girl, the 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 461 
 
 characteristic of whose face was sweetness rather than 
 beauty, while the first feeling she inspired was respect 
 rather than admiration. She had just that amount of self- 
 possession which conceals without conquering the sweet 
 timidity of woman. Her voice was low, yet clear ; and 
 her mild eyes, I found, were capable, on occasion, of both 
 flashing and melting. Why describe her? I loved her 
 before I knew it ; but, with the consciousness of my love, that 
 clairvoyant sense on which I learned to depend failed for 
 the first time. Did she love me ? When I sought to an- 
 swer the question in her presence, all was confusion within. 
 
 This was not the only new influence which entered into 
 and increased the tumult of my mind. The other half of 
 my two-sided nature — the cool, reflective, investigating 
 faculty — had been gradually ripening, and the questions 
 which it now began to present seriously disturbed the 
 complacency of my theories. I saw that I had accepted 
 many things on very unsatisfactory evidence ; but, on the 
 other hand, there was much for which I could find no other 
 explanation. Let me be frank, and say, that I do not now 
 pretend to explain all the phenomena of Spiritualism. This, 
 however, I determined to do, — to ascertain, if possible, 
 whether the influences which governed me in the trance 
 state came from the persons around, from the exercise of 
 some independent faculty of my own mind, or really and 
 truly from the spirits of the dead. Mr. Stilton appeared 
 to notice that some internal conflict was going on ; but he 
 said nothing in regard to it, and, as events proved, he 
 entirely miscalculated its character. 
 
 I said to myself. — "If this chaos continues, it will drive 
 
4G2 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 me mad. Let me have one bit of solid earth beneath my 
 feet, and I can stand until it subsides. Let me throw over 
 the beat bower of the heart, since all the anchors of the 
 mind are dragging!" I summoned resolution. I made 
 that desperate venture which no true man makes without a 
 pang of forced courage; but, thank God! I did not make 
 it in vain. Agnes loved me, and in the deep, quiet bliss 
 which this knowledge gave I felt the promise of deliver- 
 ance. She knew and lamented my connexion with the 
 Spiritualists ; but, perceiving my mental condition from the 
 few intimations which I dared to give her, discreetly held 
 her peace. But I could read the anxious expression of that 
 gentle face none the less. 
 
 My first endeavor to solve the new questions was to check 
 the abandon of the trance condition, and interfuse it with 
 more of sober consciousness. It was a difficult task ; and 
 nothing but the circumstance that my consciousness had 
 never been entirely lost enabled me to make any progress. 
 I finally succeeded, as I imagined (certainty is impossible), 
 in separating the difierent influences which impressed me — 
 perceiving where one terminated and the other commenced, 
 or /vhere two met and my mind vibrated from one to the 
 other until the stronger prevailed, or where a thought 
 which seemed to originate in my own brain took the lead 
 and swept away with me like the mad rush of a prairie colt. 
 "When out of the trance, I noticed attentively the expres- 
 sions made use of by Mr. Stilton and the other members of 
 the circle, and was surprised to find how many of them I 
 had reproduced. But might they not, in the first place, 
 have been derived from me ? And what was the vague. 
 
THE nONFESSIOXS OF A MEDIUM. 463 
 
 dark Presence which still overshadowed me at such times ? 
 What was that power which I had tempted — which we 
 were all tempting, every time we met — and which continu- 
 ally drew nearer and became more threatening ? I knew 
 not; and I know not. I would rather not speak or think 
 of it any more. 
 
 My suspicions with regard to Stilton and Miss Fetters, 
 were confirmed by a number of circumstances which I need 
 not describe. That he should treat his wife in a harsh, 
 ironical manner, which the poor woman felt, but could not 
 understand, did not surprise me ; but at other times there 
 was a treacherous tenderness about him. He would dilate 
 eloquently upon the bliss of living in accordance with the 
 spiritual harmonies. Among us, he said, there could be no 
 more hatred or mistrust or jealousy — nothing but love, 
 pure, unselfish, perfect love. " You, my dear,'' (turning 
 to Mrs. Stilton,) " belong to a sphere which is included 
 within my own, and share in my harmonies and affinities ; 
 yet the soul-matter which adheres to you is of a different 
 texture from mine. Tours has also its independent affini- 
 ties ; I see and respect them ; and even though they might 
 lead our bodies — our outward, material lives — away from, 
 one another, we should still be true to that glorious light 
 of love which permeates all soul-matter." 
 
 " Oh, Abijah !" cried Mrs. Stilton, really distressed, 
 " how can you say such a thing of me ? You know I can 
 never adhere to anybody else but yoci !" 
 
 Stilton would then call in my aid to explain his meaning, 
 asserting that I had a faculty of reaching his wife's intel- 
 lect, which he did not himself possess. Feeling a certain 
 
464 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 sympathy for her painful confusion of mind, I did my best 
 to give his words an interpretation which soothed her fears. 
 Then she begged his pardon, taking all the blame to her 
 own stupidity, and received his grudged, unwilling kiss 
 with a restored happiness which pained me to the heart. 
 
 I had a growing presentiment of some approaching cata- 
 strophe. I felt, distinctly, the presence of unhallowed pas- 
 sions in our circle ; and my steadfast love for Agnes, borne 
 thither in my bosom, seemed like a pure white dove in a 
 cage of unclean birds. Stilton held me from him by the 
 superior strength of his intellect. I began to mistrust, even 
 to hate him, while I was still subject to his power, and una- 
 ble to acquaint him with the change in my feelings. Miss 
 Fetters was so repulsive that I never spoke to her when it 
 could be avoided. I had tolerated her, heretofore, for the 
 sake of her spiritual gift ; but now, when I began to doubt 
 the authenticity of that gift, her hungry eyes, her thin lips, 
 her flat breast, and cold, dry hands excited in me a sensa^ 
 tion of absolute abhorrence. 
 
 The doctrine of affinities had some time before been 
 adopted by the circle, as a part of the Spiritual Truth. 
 Other circles, with which we were in communication, had 
 also received the same revelation ; and the ground upon 
 which it was based, in fact, rendered its acceptance easy. 
 Even I, shielded as I was by the protecting arms of a pure 
 love, sought in vain for arguments to refute a doctrine, the 
 practical operation of which, I saw, might be so dangerous. 
 The soul had a right to seek its kindred soul : that I could 
 not deny. Having found, they belonged to each other. 
 Love is the only law which those who love are bound to 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDITJM. 465 
 
 obey. I shall not repeat all the sophistry whereby these 
 positions were strengthened. The doctrine soon blossomed 
 and bore fruit, the nature of which left no doubt as to the 
 character of the tree. 
 
 The catastrophe came sooner than I had anticipated, and 
 partly through my own instrumentality ; though, in any 
 case, it must finally have come. We were met together at 
 the house of one of the most zealous and fanatical believ- 
 ers. There were but eight persons present — the host and 
 his wife, (an equally zealous proselyte,) a middle-aged 
 bachelor neighbor, Mr. and Mrs. Stilton, Miss Fetters and 
 her father, and myself. It was a still, cloudy, sultry eve- 
 ning, after one of those dull, oppressive days when all the 
 bad blood in a man seems to be uppermost in his veins. 
 The manifestations upon the table, with which we com- 
 menced, were unusually rapid and lively. " I am convinced," 
 said Mr. Stilton, " that we shall receive important revela- 
 tions to-night. My own mind possesses a clearness and 
 quickness, which, I have noticed, always precede the visit 
 of a superior spirit. Let us be passive and receptive, my 
 friends. We are but instruments in the hands of loftier 
 intelligences, and only through our obedience can this second 
 advent of Truth be fulfilled." 
 
 He looked at me with that expression which I so well 
 knew, as the signal for a surrender of my will. I had come 
 rather unwillingly, for I was getting heartily tired of the 
 business, and longed to shake off my habit of (spiritual) 
 intoxication, which no longer possessed any attraction, 
 since I had been allowed to visit Agnes as an accepted lover. 
 In fact, I continued to hold my place in the circle princi- 
 
 20* 
 
466 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 pally for the sake of satisfying myself with regard to the 
 real nature and causes of the phenomena. On this night, 
 something in Mr. Stilton's face arrested my attention, and 
 a rapid inspiration flashed through my mind. " Suppose," 
 I thought, " I allow the usual eflfect to be produced, yet 
 reverse the chai'acter of its operation ? I am convinced 
 that he has been directing the current of my thought accord- 
 ing to his wiU ; let me now render myself so thoroughly 
 passive, that my mind, like a mirror, shall reflect what passes 
 through his, retaining nothing of my own except the simple 
 consciousness of what I am doing." Perhaps this was 
 exactly what he desired. He sat, bending forward a little 
 over the table, his square jaws firmly set, his eyes hidden 
 beneath their heavy brows, and every long, wiry hair on 
 his head in its proper place. I fixed my eyes upon him, 
 threw my mind into a state of perfect receptivity, and 
 waited. 
 
 It was not long before I felt his approach. Shadow after 
 shadow flitted across the still mirror of my inward sense. 
 Whether the thoughts took words in his brain or in mine, 
 — whether I first caught his disjointed musings, and, by 
 their utterance reacting upon him, gave system and deve- 
 lopment to Jiis thoughts — I cannot tell. But this I know : 
 what I said came wholly from him — not from the slandered 
 spirits of the dead, not from the vagaries of my own ima- 
 gination, but from him. "Listen to me!" I said. "In 
 the flesh I was a martyr to the Truth, and I am permitted 
 to communicate only with those whom the Truth has made 
 free. You are the hernlds of the great day; you have 
 climbed from sphere to sphere, until now you stand near 
 
THE CONFESSIOSTS OF A MEDIUM. 467 
 
 the fountains of light. But it is not enough that you see : 
 your lives must reflect the light. The inward vision is for 
 you, but the outward manifestation thereof is for the souls 
 of others. Fulfil the harmonies in the flesh. Be the living 
 music, not the silent instruments." 
 
 There was more, much more of this — a plenitude of elo- 
 quent sound, which seems to embody sublime ideas, but 
 which, carefully examined, contains no more palpable sub- 
 stance than sea-froth. If the reader will take the trouble 
 to read an " Epic of the Starry Heavens," the production 
 of a Spiritual Medium, he will find several hundred pages 
 of the same character. But, by degrees, the revelation 
 descended to details, and assumed a personal application. 
 " In you, in all of you, the spiritual harmonies are still vio- 
 lated," was the conclusion. " You, Abijah Stilton, who are 
 chosen to hold up the light of truth to the world, require 
 that a transparent soul, capable of transmitting that light 
 to you, should be allied to yours. She who is called your 
 wife is a cloud«d lens ; she can receive the light only 
 
 through John , who is her true spiritual husband, as 
 
 Abby Fetters is your true spiritual wife !" 
 
 I was here conscious of a sudden cessation of the influ- 
 ence which forced me to speak, and stopped. The mem- 
 bers of the circle opposite to me — the host, his wife, 
 neighbor, and old Mr. Fetters — were silent, but their faces 
 exhibited more satisfaction than astonishment. My eye 
 fell upon Mrs. Stilton. Her face was pale, her eyes widely 
 opened, and her lips dropped apart, with a stunned, bewil- 
 dered expression. It was the blank face of a woman walk- 
 ing in her sleep. These observations were accomplished in 
 
468 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 an instant ; for Miss Fetters, suddenly possessed with the 
 spirit of Black Hawk, sprang upon her feet. " Ugh ! 
 ugh ! " she exclaimed, in a deep, harsh voice, " where's the 
 pale-face ? Black Hawk, he like him — he love him much 1" 
 ■ — and therewith threw her arms around Stilton, fairly- 
 lifting him off his feet. " Ugh ! fire-water for Black Hawk ! 
 — big Injun drink!" — and she tossed off a tumbler of 
 brandy. By this time I had wholly recovered my con- 
 sciousness, but remained silent, stupefied by the extraordi- 
 nary scene. 
 
 Presently Miss Fetters became more quiet, and the pos- 
 session left her. " My friends," said Stilton, in his cold, 
 unmoved voice, " I feel that the spirit has spoken truly. 
 We must obey our spiritual affinities, or our great and 
 glorious mission will be unfulfilled. Let us rather rejoice 
 that we have been selected as the instruments to do this 
 work. Come to me, Abby ; and you, Rachel, remember 
 that our harmony is not disturbed, but only made more 
 complete.'' 
 
 " Abijah !'' exclaimed Mrs. Stilton, with a pitiful cry, 
 while the tears burst hot and fast from her eyes ; " dear hus- 
 band, what does this mean? Oh, don't tell me that I am 
 to be cast off! You promised to love me and care for me, 
 Abijah! I'm not bright, I know, but I'U try to understand 
 you ; indeed, I will ! Oh, don't be so cruel ! — don't" — 
 and the poor creature's voice completely gave way. 
 
 She dropped on the floor at his feet, and lay there, sob- 
 bing piteously. 
 
 " Rachel, Rachel," said he — and his face was not quite 
 so calm as his voice — " don't be rebellious. We are gov- 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 469 
 
 erned by a higher Power. This is all for our own good, 
 and for the good of the world. Besides, ours was not a 
 perfect affinity. You will be much happier with John, as 
 he harmonizes " 
 
 I could endure it no longer. Indignation, pity, the full 
 energy of my will possessed me. He lost his power over 
 me then, and forever. 
 
 " What ! " I exclaimed, " you blasphemer, beast that 
 you are, you dare to dispose of your honest wife in this 
 infamous way, that you may be free to indulge your own 
 vile appetites ? — you, who have outraged the dead and the 
 living alike, by making me utter your forgeries? Take 
 her back, and let this disgraceful scene end ! — take her 
 back, or I will give you a brand that shall last to the end 
 of your days !'' 
 
 He turned deadly pale, and trembled. I knew that he 
 made a desperate effort to bring me under the control of 
 his will, and laughed mockingly as I saw his knit brow and 
 the swollen veins in his temples. As for the others, they 
 seemed paralyzed by the suddenness and fierceness of my 
 attack. He wavered but for an instant, however, and his 
 self-possession returned. 
 
 " Ha ! '' he exclaimed, " it is the Spirit of Evil that 
 speaks in him ! The Devil himself has risen to destroy our 
 glorious fabric ! Help me, friends ! help me to bind him, 
 and to silence his infernal voice, before he drives the pure 
 spirits from our midst !" 
 
 With that, he advanced a step towards me, and raised a 
 hand to seize my arm, while the others followed behind. 
 But I was too quick for him. Weak as I was, in compari- 
 
470 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 son, rage gave me strength, and a blow, delivered with the 
 rapidity of lightning just under the chin, laid him sense- 
 less on the floor. Mrs. Stilton screamed, and threw herself 
 over him. The rest of the company remained as if stupe- 
 fied. The storm which had been gathering all the evening 
 at the same instant broke over the house in simultaneous 
 thunder and rain. 
 
 I stepped suddenly to the door, opened it, and drew a 
 long, deep breath of relief, as I found myself alone in the 
 darkness. " Now," said I, " I have done tampering with 
 God's best gift ; I will be satisfied with the natural sun- 
 shine which beams from His Word and from His Works ; 
 I have learned wisdom at the expense of shame ! " I ex- 
 ulted in ray new freedom, in my restored purity of soul ; 
 and the wind, that swept down the dark, lonely street, 
 seemed to exult with me. The rains beat upon me, but I 
 heeded them not ; nay, I turned aside from the homeward 
 path, in order to pass by the house where Agnes lived. 
 Her window was dark, and I knew she was sleeping, lulled 
 by the storm ; but I stood a moment below, in the rain, 
 and said aloud, softly^ 
 
 " Now, Agnes, I belong wholly to you ! Pray to God 
 for me, darling, that I may never lose the true light I have 
 found at last I " 
 
 My healing, though complete in the end, was not instan- 
 taneous. The habit of the trance, I found, had really 
 impaired the action of my will. I experienced a periodic 
 tendency to return to it, which I have been able to over- 
 come only by the most vigorous efibrts. I found it pru- 
 dent, indeed, to banish from my mind, as far as was possi- 
 
THE CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIUM. 471 
 
 ble, all subjects, all memories, connected with Spiritualism. 
 In this work I was aided by Agnes, who now possessed my 
 entire confidence, and who willingly took upon herself the 
 guidance of my mind at those seasons when my oivn 
 governing faculties flagged. Gradually my mental health 
 returned, and I am now beyond all danger of ever again 
 being led into such fatal dissipations. The writing of this 
 narrative, in fact, has been a test of my ability to overlook 
 and describe my experience without being touched by its 
 past delusions. If some portions of it should not be wholly 
 intelligible to the reader, the defect lies in the very nature 
 of the subject. 
 
 It will be noticed that I have given but a partial expla- 
 nation of the spiritual phenomena. Of the genuineness of 
 the physical manifestations I am fully convinced, and I can 
 account for them only by the supposition of some subtle 
 agency whereby the human will operates upon inert mat- 
 ter. Clairvoyance is a sufiicient explanation of the utter- 
 ances of the Mediums — at least of those which I have 
 heard ; but there is, as I have said before, something in the 
 background, which I feel too indistinctly to describe, yet 
 which I know to be EvU. I do not wonder at, though I 
 lament, the prevalence of the belief in Spiritualism. In a 
 few individual cases it may have been productive of good, 
 but its general tendency is e\il. There are probably but 
 few Stiltons among its apostles, few Miss Fetterses among 
 its Mediums ; but the condition which accompanies the 
 trance, as I have shown, inevitably removes the wholesome 
 check which holds our baser passions in subjection. The 
 Medium is at the mercy of any evil will, and the impres- 
 
472 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 sions received from a con-apt mind are always liable to he 
 accepted by innocent believers as revelations from the 
 spirits of the holy dead. I shall shock many honest souls 
 by this confession, but I hope and believe that it may 
 awaken and enlighten others. Its publication is necessary, 
 as an expiation for som^e of the evil which has been done 
 through my own instrumentality. ^ 
 
 I learned, two days afterwards, that Stilton (who was not 
 seriously damaged by my blow) had gone to New York, 
 taking Miss Fetters with him. Her ignorant, weak-minded 
 father was entirely satisfied with the proceeding. Mrs. 
 Stilton, helpless and heart-broken, remained at the house 
 where our circle had met, with her only child, a boy of 
 three years of age, who, fortunately, inherited her weak- 
 ness rather than his father's power. Agnes, on learning 
 this, insisted on having her removed from associations 
 which were at once unhappy and dangerous. We went 
 together to see her, and, after much persuasion, and many 
 painful scenes which I shall not recapitulate, succeeded in 
 sending her to her father, a farmer in Connecticut. She 
 still remains there, hoping for the day when her guilty 
 husband shall return and be instantly forgiven. 
 
 My task is ended ; may it not have been perfoi-med in 
 vain! 
 
VIII. 
 
 THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 
 
 As the principal personage of this story is dead, and 
 there is no likelihood that any of the others will ever see 
 the " Atlantic Monthly,'' I feel free to tell it without reser- 
 vation. 
 
 The mercantile house of which I was until recently an 
 active member had many business connexions throughout 
 the Western States, and I was therefore in the habit of 
 making an annual journey throughout them, in the interest 
 of the firm. In fact, I was always glad to escape from the 
 dirt and hubbub of Cortland Street, and to exchange the 
 smell of goods and boxes, cellars and gutters, for that of 
 prairie grass and even of prairie mud. Although wearing 
 the immaculate linen and golden studs of the city Valen- 
 tine, there still remained a good deal of the country Orson 
 in my blood, and I endured many hard, repulsive, yea, 
 downright vulgar experiences for the sake of a run at large, 
 and the healthy animal exaltation which accompanied it. 
 
 Eight or nine years ago, (it is, perhaps, as well not to be 
 very precise, as yet, with regard to dates,) I found myself 
 
474 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 at Peoria, in Illinois, rather late in the season. The busi- 
 ness I had on hand was mostly transacted ; but it was 
 still necessary that I should visit Bloomington and Terre 
 Haute before returning to the East. I had come from 
 Wisconsin and Northern Illinois, and, as the great railroad 
 spider of Chicago had then spun but a few threads of his 
 present tremendous mesh, I had made the greater part of 
 my journey on horseback. By the time I reached Peoria 
 the month of November was well advanced, and the 
 weather had become very disagreeable. I was strongly 
 tempted to sell my horse and take the stage to Blooming- 
 ton, but the roads were even worse to a traveller on 
 wheels than to one in the saddle, and the sunny day which 
 followed my arrival flattered me with the hope that others 
 as fair might succeed it. 
 
 The distance to Bloomington was forty miles, and the 
 road none of the best ; yet, as my horse " Peck " (an abbre- 
 viation of " Pecatonica"), had had two days' rest, I did not 
 leave Peoria until after the usual dinner at twelve o'clock, 
 trusting that I should reach my destination by eight or 
 nine in the evening, at the latest. Broad bands of dull, 
 gray, felt-like clouds crossed the sky, and the wind had a 
 I'ough edge to it which predicted that there was rain within 
 a day's march. The oaks along the rounded river-blufis 
 still held on to their leaves, although the latter were 
 entirely brown and dead, and rattled around me with an 
 ominous soimd, as I climbed to the level of the prairie, 
 leaving the bed of the muddy Illinois below. Peck's hoofs 
 sank deeply into the unctuous black soil, which resembled 
 a jetty tallow rather than earth, and his progress was slow 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTT. 475 
 
 and toilsome. The sky became more and more obscured; 
 the sun faded to a ghastly moon, then to a white blotch in 
 the gray vault, and finally retired in disgust. Indeed, there 
 was nothing in the landscape worth his contemplation. 
 Dead flats of black, bristling with short corn-stalks, flats of 
 brown grass, a brown belt of low woods in the distance, — • 
 that was all the horizon inclosed : no embossed bowl, with 
 its rim of sculptured hills, its round of colored pictures, 
 but a flat earthen pie-dish, over which the sky fell like a 
 pewter cover. 
 
 After riding for an hour or two over the desolate level, 
 I descended through rattling oaks to the bed of a stream, 
 and then ascended through rattling oaks to the prairie 
 beyond. Here, however, I took the wrong road, and 
 found myself, some three miles farther, at a farm-house, 
 where it terminated. " You kin go out over the perairah 
 yander,'' said the farmer, dropping his maul beside a rail 
 he had just spilit off, — " there's a plain trail from Sykes's 
 that'll bring you onto the road not fur from Sugar Crick." 
 "With which knowledge I plucked up heart and rode on. 
 
 "What with the windings and turnings of the various 
 cart-tracks, the family resemblance in the groves of oak 
 and hickory, and the heavy, uniform gray of the sky, I 
 presently lost my compass-needle, — that natural instinct 
 of direction, on which I had learned to rely. East, west, 
 north, south, — all were alike, and the very doubt paralyzed 
 the faculty. The growing darkness of the sky, the watery 
 moaning of the wind, betokened night and storm ; but I 
 pressed on, hap-hazard, determined, at least, to reach one 
 of the incipient villages on the Bloomington road. 
 
4*76 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 In an hour more, I found myself on the brink of another 
 winding hollow, threaded by a broad, shallow stream. On 
 the opposite side, a quarter of a mile above, stood a rough 
 shanty, at the foot of the rise which led to the prairie. 
 After fording the stream, however, I found that the trail 
 I had followed continued forward in the same direction, 
 leaving this rude settlement on the left. On the opposite 
 side of the hollow, the prairie again stretched before me, 
 dark and flat, and destitute of any sign of habitation. I 
 could scarcely distinguish the trail any longer ; in half an 
 hour, I knew, I should be swallowed up in a gulf of impe- 
 netrable darkness ; and there was evidently no choice left 
 me but to return to the lonely shanty, and there seek shel- 
 ter for the night. 
 
 To be thwarted in one's plans, even by wind or weather, 
 is always vexatious ; but in this case, the prospect of spend- 
 ing a night in such a dismal corner of the world was esfie- 
 cially disagreeable. I am — or at least I consider myself — 
 a thoroughly matter-of-fact man, and my first thought, I 
 am not ashamed to confess, was of oysters. Visions of a 
 favorite saloon, and many a pleasant supper with Dunham 
 and Beeson, (my partners,) all at once popped into my 
 mind, as I turned back over the brow of the hollow and 
 urged Peck down its rough slope. " Well," thought I, at 
 last, " this will be one more story for our next meeting. 
 Who knows what originals I may not find, even in a soli- 
 tary settler's shanty ?" 
 
 I could discover no trail, and the darkness thickened 
 ra])idly while I picked my \\ay across dry gullies, formed 
 by the drainage of the prairie above, rotten tree-trunks, 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 477 
 
 Stumps, and spots of thicket. As I approached the shanty, 
 a faint gleam through one of its two small windows showed 
 that it was inhabited. In the rear, a space of a quarter 
 of an acre, inclosed by a huge worm-fence, was evidently 
 the vegetable-patch, at one corner of which a small stable, 
 roofed and buttressed with corn-fodder, leaned against the 
 hill. I drew rein in front of the building, and was about 
 to hail its inmates, when I observed the figure of a man 
 issue from the stable. Even in the gloom, there was some- 
 thing forlorn and dispiriting in his walk. He approached 
 with a slow, dragging step, apparently unaware of my 
 presence. 
 
 " Good evening, friend !" I said. 
 
 He stopped, stood still for half a minute, and finally 
 responded, — 
 
 "Who air you?" 
 
 The tone of his voice, querulous and lamenting, rather 
 implied, " Why don't you let me alone ?" 
 
 " I am a traveller," I answered, " bound from Peoria to 
 Bloomington, and have lost my way. It is dark, as you 
 know, and likely to rain, and I don't see how I can get any 
 farther to-night." 
 
 Another pause. Then he said, slowly, as if speaking to 
 himself — 
 
 " There a'n't no other place nearer 'n four or five mile." 
 
 " Then I hope you will let me stay here." 
 
 The answer, to my surprise, was a deep sigh. 
 
 " I am used to roughing it," I urged ; " and besides, I 
 will pay for any trouble I may give you." 
 
 " It a'n't that," said he ; then added, hesitatingly — " fact 
 
478 AT IIOMB AND ABKOAD. 
 
 is, we 're lonesome people here — don't often see strangers ; 
 yit I s'pose you can't go no furder ; — well, I'll talk to my 
 wife." 
 
 Therewith he entered the shanty, leaving me a little dis- 
 concerted with so uncertain, not to say suspicious, a recep- 
 tion. I heard the sound of voices — one of them unmistak- 
 able in its nasal shrillness — in what seemed to be a harsh 
 debate, and distinguished the words, "I didn't bring it on," 
 followed with, " Tell him, then, if you like, and let him 
 stay" — which seemed to settle the matter. The door pre- 
 sently opened, and the man said — 
 
 " I guess we'll have t'accommodate you. Give me your 
 things, an' then I'll put your horse up." 
 
 I unstrapped my valise, took off the saddle, and, having 
 seen Peck to his fodder-tent, where I left him with some 
 ears of corn in an old basket, returned to the shanty. It 
 was a rude specimen of the article — a single room of some 
 thirty by fifteen feet, with a large fireplace of sticks and 
 clay at one end, while a half-partition of unplaned planks set 
 on end formed a sort of recess for the bed at the other. A 
 good fire on the hearth, however, made it seem tolerably 
 cheerful, contrasted with the dismal gloom outside. The 
 furniture consisted of a table, two or three chairs, a broad 
 bench, and a kitchen-dresser of boards. Some golden ears 
 of seed-corn, a few sides of bacon, and ropes of onions hung 
 from the rafters. 
 
 A woman in a blue calico gown, with a tin coffee-pot in 
 one hand and a stick in the other, was raking out the red 
 coals from \mder the burning logs. At my salutation, she 
 partly turned, looked hard at me, nodded, and muttered 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 479 
 
 some inaudible words. Then, having levelled the coals 
 properly, she put down the coffee-pot, and, facing about, 
 exclaimed — " Jimmy, git off that cheer !" 
 
 Though this phrase, short and snappish enough, was not 
 worded as an invitation for me to sit down, I accepted it as 
 such, and took the chair which a lean boy of some nine or 
 ten years old had hurriedly vacated. In such cases, I had 
 learned by experience, it is not best to be too forward : 
 wait quietly, and allow the unwilling hosts time to get 
 accustomed to your presence. I inspected the family for a 
 while, in silence. The spare, bony form of the woman, her 
 deep-set gray eyes, and the long, thin nose, which seemed 
 to be merely a scabbard for her sharp-edged voice, gave me 
 her character at the first glance. As for the man, he was 
 worn by some constant fret or worry, rather than naturally 
 spare. His complexion was sallow, his face honest, every 
 line of it, though the expression was dejected, and there 
 was a helpless patience in his voice and movements, which 
 I have often seen in women, but never before in a naan. 
 " Henpecked in the first degree," was the verdict I gave, 
 without leaving my seat. The silence, shyness, and puny 
 appearance of the boy might be accounted for by the lone- 
 liness of his life, and the usual " shakes" ; but there was a 
 wild, frightened look in his eye, a nervous restlessness about 
 his limbs, which excited my curiosity. I am no believer in 
 those freaks of fancy called " presentiments,'' but I certainly 
 felt that there was something unpleasant, perhaps painful, 
 in the private relations of the family. 
 
 Meanwhile, the supper gradually took shape. The coffee 
 was boiled, (far too much, for my taste,) bacon fried, pota- 
 
480 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 toes roasted, and certain lumps of dough transformed into 
 farinaceous grape-shot, called " biscuits." Dishes of blue 
 queensware, knives and forks, cups and saucers of various 
 patterns, and a bowl of molasses were placed upon the table ; 
 and finally the woman said, speaking to, though not looking 
 at, me — 
 
 " I s'pose you ha'n't had your supper." 
 
 I accepted the invitation with a simple " No," and ate 
 enough of the rude fare (for I was really hungry) to satisfy 
 my hosts that I was not proud. I attempted no conversa- 
 tion, knowing that such people never talk when they eat, 
 until the meal was over, and the man, who gladly took one 
 of my cigars, was seated comfortably before the fire. I 
 then related my story, told my name and business, and by 
 degrees established a mild flow of conversation. The 
 woman, as she washed the dishes and cleared up things for 
 the night, listened to us, and now and then made a remark 
 to the coffee-pot or frying-pan, evidently intended for our 
 ears. Some things which she said must have had a mean- 
 ing hidden from me, for I could see that the man winced, 
 and at last he ventured to say — 
 
 " Mary Ann, what's the use in talkin' about it ?" 
 
 " Do as you like," she snapped back ; " only I a'n't a-goin' 
 to be blamed for your doin's. The stranger '11 find out, 
 soon enough." 
 
 "You find this life rather lonely, I should think," I 
 remarked, with a view of giving the conversation a differ- 
 ent turn. 
 
 " Lonely '" she repeated, jerking out a fragment of mali- 
 cious laughter. " It's lonely enough in the daytime, Good- 
 
THE HAUNTBD SHAlfTY. 481 
 
 ness knows ; but you'll have your fill o' company afore 
 mornin'." 
 
 With that, she threw a defiant glance at her husband. 
 
 " Fact is," said he, shrinking from her eye, " we're sort 
 o' troubled with noises at night. P'raps you'U be skeered, 
 but it's no more 'n noise — onpleasant, but never hurts 
 nothin'." 
 
 " You don't mean to say this shanty is haunted ?" I asked. 
 
 " Well — yes : some folks 'd call it so. There is noises an' 
 things goin' on, but you can't see nobody." 
 
 " Oh, if that is all," said I, " you need not be concerned 
 on my account. Nothing is so strange, but the cause of it 
 can be discovered." 
 
 Again the man heaved a deep sigh. The woman said, in 
 rather a milder tone — 
 
 " What's the good o' knowin' what makes it, when you 
 can't stop it ?" 
 
 As I was neither sleepy nor fatigued, this information was 
 rather welcome than otherwise. I had full confidence in 
 my own courage ; and if anything should happen, it would 
 make a capital story for my first New York supper. I saw 
 there was but one bed, and a small straw mattress on the 
 floor beside it for the boy, and therefore declared that I 
 should sleep on the bench, wrapped in my cloak. Neither 
 objected to this, and they presently retired. I determined, 
 however, to keep awake as long as possible. I threw a 
 fresh log on the fire, lit another cigar, made a few entries 
 in my note-book, and finally took the "Iron Mask" of 
 Dumas from my valise, and tried to read by the wavering 
 
 flashes of the fire. 
 
 21 
 
482 AT HOMB A^V ABROAD. 
 
 In this manner anothei- hour passed away. The deep 
 breathing — not to say snoring — from the recess indicated 
 that my hosts were sound asleep, and the monotonous 
 whistle of the wind around the shanty began to exercise a 
 lulling influence on my own senses. "Wrapping myself in 
 my cloak, with my valise for a pillow, I stretched myself 
 out on the bench, and strove to keep my mind occupied 
 with conjectures concerning the sleeping family. Further- 
 more, I recalled all the stories of ghosts and haunted houses 
 which I had ever heard, constructed explanations for such 
 as were still unsolved, and, so far from feeling any alarm, 
 desired nothing so much as that the supernatural perform- 
 ances might commence. 
 
 My thoughts, however, became gradually less and less 
 coherent, and I was just sliding over the verge of slumber, 
 when a faint sound in the distance caught my ear. I 
 listened intently: certainly there loas a far-off, indistinct 
 sound, different from the dull, continuous sweep of the wind. 
 I rose on the bench, fully awake, yet not excited, for my 
 first thought was that other travellers might be lost or 
 belated. By this time the sound was quite distinct, and, 
 to my great surprise, appeared to proceed from a drum, 
 rapidly beaten. I looked at my watch : it was half-past ten. 
 Who could be out on the lonely prairie with a drum, at that 
 time of night ? There must have been some military festi- 
 val, some political caucus, some celebration of the Sons of 
 Malta, or jubilation of the Society of the Thousand and 
 One, and a few of the scattered members were enlivening 
 their dark ride homewards. While I was busy with these 
 conjectures, the sound advanced nearer and neai-er — and, 
 
THE HADNTBD SHAJITY. 483 
 
 what was very singular, without the least pause or varia- 
 tion — one steady, regular roll, ringing deep and clear 
 through the night. 
 
 The shanty stood at a point where the stream, leaving its 
 general southwestern course, bent at a sharp angle to the 
 southeast, and faced very nearly in the latter direction. As 
 the sound of the drum came from the east, it seemed the 
 more probable that it was caused by some person on the 
 road which crossed the creek a quarter of a mile below. 
 Yet, on approaching nearer, it niade directly for the shanty, 
 moving, evidently, much more rapidly than a person could 
 walk. It then flashed upon my mind that this was the 
 noise I was to hear, this the com.pany I was to expect ! 
 Louder and louder, deep, strong, and reverberating, roll- 
 ing as if for a battle-charge, it came on : it was now but a 
 hundred yards distant — now but fifty — ten — just outside 
 the rough clapboard-wall — ^but, while I had half risen to 
 open the door, it passed directly through the wall and 
 sounded at my very ears, inside the shanty. 
 
 The logs burned brightly on the hearth : every object in 
 the room could be seen more or less distinctly : nothing 
 was out of its place, nothing disturbed, yet the rafters 
 almost shook under the roll of an invisible drum, beaten by 
 invisible hands ! The sleepers tossed restlessly, and a deep 
 groan, as if in semi-dream, came fi-om the man. Utterly 
 confounded as I was, my sensations were not those of ter- 
 ror. Each moment I doubted my senses, and each moment 
 the terrific sound convinced me anew. I do not know how 
 long I sat thus in sheer, stupid amazement. It may have 
 been one minute, or fifteen, before the drum, passing over 
 
484 AT nOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 my head, through the boards again, commenced a slow 
 march around the shanty. When it had finished the first, 
 and was about commencing the second round, I shook off 
 my stupor, and determined to probe the mystery. Open- 
 ing the door, I advanced in an opposite direction to meet 
 it. Again the sound passed close beside my head, but I 
 could see nothing, touch nothing. Again it entered the 
 shanty, and I followed. I stirred up the fire, casting a 
 strong illumination into the darkest comers : I thrust my 
 hand into the very heart of the sound, I struck through it 
 in all directions with a stick — stiU I saw nothing, touched 
 nothing. 
 
 Of course, I do not expect to be believed by half my 
 readers — nor can I blame them for their incredulity. So 
 astounding is the circumstance, even yet, to myself, that I 
 should doubt its reality, were it not therefore necessary, for 
 the same reason, to doubt every event of my life. 
 
 At length the sound moved away in the direction whence 
 it came, becoming gradually fainter and fainter until it died 
 in the distance. But immediately afterwards, from the 
 same quarter, came a thin, sharp blast of wind — or what 
 seemed to be such. If one could imagine a swift, intense 
 stream of aii-, no thicker than a telegraph-wire, producing 
 a keen, whistling rush in its passage, he would understand 
 the impression made upon ray mind. This wind, or sound, 
 or whatever it was, seemed to strike an invisible target in 
 the centre of the room, and thereupon ensued a new and 
 worse confusion. Sounds as of huge planks lifted at one 
 end and then allowed to fall, slamming upon the floor, hard, 
 wooden claps, crashes, and noises of splitting and snapping. 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 485 
 
 filled the shanty. The rough hoards of the floor jarred and 
 trembled, and the table and chairs were jolted off their 
 feet. Instinctively, I jerked away my legs, whenever the 
 invisible planks fell too near them. 
 
 It never came into my mind to charge the family with 
 being the authors of these phenomena : their care and dis- 
 tress were too evident. There was certainly no other 
 human being but myself in or near the shanty. My senses 
 of sight and touch availed me nothing, and I confined my 
 attention, at last, to simply noting the manifestations, with- 
 out attempting to explain them. I began to experience a 
 feeling, not of terror, but of disturbing uncertainty. The 
 solid ground was taken from beneath my feet. 
 
 Still the man and his wife groaned and muttered, as if in 
 a nightmare sleep, and the boy tossed restlessly on his low 
 bed. I would not disturb them, since, by their own con- 
 fession, they were accustomed to the visitation. Besides, 
 it would not assist me, and, so long as there was no danger 
 of personal injury, I preferred to watch alone. I recalled, 
 however, the woman's remarks, remembering the myste- 
 rious blame she had thrown upon her husband, and felt cer- 
 tain that she had adopted some explanation of the noises, 
 at his expense. 
 
 As the confusion continued, with more or less violence, 
 sometimes pausing for a few minutes, to begin again with 
 renewed force, I felt an increasing impression of somebody 
 else being present. Outside the shanty this feeling ceased, 
 but every time I opened the door I fully expected to see 
 some one standing in the centre of the room. Yet, looking 
 through the little windows, when the noises were at their 
 
486 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 loudest, I could discover nothing. Two hours had passed 
 away since I first heard the drum-beat, and I found myself 
 at last completely wearied with my fruitless exertions and 
 the unusual excitement. By this time the disturbances had 
 become faint, with more frequent pauses. AU at once, I 
 heard a long, weary sigh, so near me that it could not have 
 proceeded from the sleepers. A weak moan, expressive of 
 utter wretchedness, followed, and then came the words, in 
 a woman's voice — came I know not whence, for they seemed 
 to be uttered close beside me, and yet far, far away — "How 
 great is my trouble ! How long shall I suffer ? I was 
 married, in the sight of God, to Eber Nicholson. Have 
 mercy, O Lord, and give him to me, or release me from 
 him !" 
 
 These were the words, not spoken, but rather moaned 
 forth in a slow, monotonous wail of utter helplessness and 
 broken-heartedness. I have heard human grief expressed 
 in many forms, but I never heard or imagined anything so 
 desolate, so surcharged with the despair of an eternal woe. 
 It was, indeed, too hopeless for sympathy. It was the 
 utterance of a sorrow which removed its possessor into 
 some dark, lonely world girdled with iron walls, against 
 which every throb of a helping or consoling heart would 
 beat in vain for admittance. So far from being moved or 
 softened, the words left upon me an impression of stolid 
 apathy. When they had ceased, I heard another sigh — and 
 some time afterwards, far-off, retreating forlornly through 
 the eastern darkness, the wailing repetition — " I was mar- 
 ried, in the sight of God, to Eber Nicholson. Have mercy, 
 O Lord !" 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 487 
 
 This was the last of those midnight marvels. Nothing 
 further disturbed the night except the steady sound of the 
 wind. The more I thought of what I had heard, the more 
 I was convinced that the phenomena were connected, in 
 some way, with the history of my host. I had heard his 
 wife call him " Ebe," and did not doubt that he was the 
 Eber Nicholson who, for some mysterious crime, was 
 haunted by the reproachful ghost. Could murder, or worse 
 than murder, lurk behind these visitations ? It was use- 
 less to conjecture ; yet, before giving myself up to sleep, I 
 determined to know everything that could be known, before 
 leaving the shanty. 
 
 My rest was disturbed : my hip-bones pressed unplea- 
 santly on the hard bench; and every now and then I 
 awoke with a start, hearing the same despairing voice in 
 my dreams. The place was always quiet, nevertheless, — 
 the disturbances having ceased, as nearly as I could judge, 
 about one o'clock in the morning. Finally, from sheer 
 weariness, I fell into a deep slumber, which lasted until 
 daylight. The sound of pans and kettles aroused me. 
 The woman, in her lank blue gown, was bending over the 
 fire ; the man and boy had already gone out. As I rose, rub- 
 bing my eyes and shaking myself, to find out exactly where 
 and who I was, the woman straightened herself and looked 
 at me with a keen, questioning gaze, but said nothing. 
 
 " I must have been very sound asleep," said I. 
 
 " There's no sound sleepin' here. Don't tell me that." 
 
 " Well," I answered, " your shanty is rather noisy ; but, 
 as I am neither scared nor hurt, there's no harm done. 
 But have you never found out what occasions the noise ?" 
 
488 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 Her reply was a toss of the head and a peculiar snorting 
 interjection, "Hngh!" (impossible to be represented by 
 letters,) " it's all her doin'." 
 
 " But who is she ?" 
 
 " You'd better ask Mm.'''' 
 
 Seeing there was nothing to be got out of her, I went 
 down to the stream, washed my face, dried it with my 
 pocket-handkerchief, and then looked after Peck. He 
 gave a shrill whinny of recognition, and, I thought, seemed 
 to be a little restless. A fresh feed of corn was in the old 
 basket, and presently the man came into the stable with a 
 bunch of hay, and commenced rubbing off the marks of 
 Peck's oozy couch which were left on his flanks. As we 
 went back to the shanty I noticed that he eyed me fur- 
 tively, without daring to look me full in the face. As I 
 was apparently none the worse for the night's experiences, 
 he rallied at last, and ventured to talk at, as well as to me. 
 
 By this time, breakfast, which was a repetition of sup- 
 per, was ready, and we sat down to the table. During the 
 meal, it occurred to me to make an experimental remark. 
 Turning suddenly to the man, I asked, — 
 
 " Is your name Eber Nicholson ?" 
 
 " There !" exclaimed the woman, " I knowed he'd heerd 
 it!" 
 
 He, however, flushing a moment, and then becoming 
 more sallow than ever, nodded first, and then — as if that 
 were not sufficient — added, " Yes, that's my name." 
 
 " Where did you move from ?" I continued, falling back 
 on the first plan I had formed in my mind. 
 
 " The Western Reserve, not fur from Hudson." 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 489 
 
 I turned the conversation on the comparative advantages 
 of Ohio and Illinois, on farming, the price of land, etc., 
 carefully avoiding the dangerous subject, and by the time 
 breakfast was over had arranged, that, for a consideration, 
 he should accompany me as far as the Bloomington road, 
 some five miles distant. 
 
 While he went out to catch an old horse, ranging loose 
 in the creek-bottom, I saddled Peck, strapped on my valise, 
 and made myself ready for the journey. The feeling of 
 two silver half-dollars in her hard palm melted down the 
 woman's aggressive mood, and she said, with a voice the 
 edge whereof was mightily blunted, — 
 
 " Thankee ! it's too much for sich as you had." 
 
 " It's the best you can give," I replied. 
 
 "That's so!'' said she, jerking my hand up and down 
 with a pumping movement, as I took leave. 
 
 I felt a sense of relief when we had climbed the rise and 
 had the open prairie again before us. The sky was ovei-- 
 cast and the wind strong, but some rain had fallen during 
 the night, and the clouds had lifted themselves again. The 
 air was fresh and damp, but not chill. "We rode slowly, 
 of necessity, for the mud was deeper than ever. 
 
 I deliberated what course I should take, in order to draw 
 from my guide the explanation of the nightly noises. His 
 evident shrinking, whenever his wife referred to the sub- 
 ject, convinced me that a gradual approach would render 
 him shy and uneasy; and, on the whole, it seemed best to 
 surprise him by a sudden assault. Let me strike to the 
 heart of the secret at once, — I thought, — and the details 
 will come of themselves. 
 
 21* 
 
490 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 While I was thus reflecting, he rode quietly by my side. 
 Half turning in the saddle, I looked steadily at his face, and 
 said, in an earnest voice, — 
 
 " Eber Nicholson, who was it to whom you were mar- 
 ried in the sight of God ?" 
 
 He started as if struck, looked at me imploringly, turned 
 away his eyes, then looked back, became very pale, and 
 finally said, in a broken, hesitating voice, as if the words 
 were forced from him against his will, — 
 
 " Her name is Rachel Emmons." 
 
 " Why did you murder her ?" I asked, in a still sterner 
 tone. 
 
 In an instant his face burned scarlet. He reined up his 
 horse with a violent pull, straightened his shoulders so that 
 he appeared six inches taller, looked steadily at me with a 
 strange, mixed expression of anger and astonishment, and 
 cried out, — 
 
 " Murder her? Why, she's livin' now!" 
 
 My surprise at the answer was scarcely less great than 
 his at the question. 
 
 " You don't mean to say she's not dead ?" I asked. 
 
 " Why, no I" said he, recovering from his sudden excite- 
 ment, " she's not dead, or she wouldn't keep on troublin' 
 me. She's been livin' in Toledo, these ten year." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my friend," said I ; " but I don't 
 know what to think of what I heard last night, and I 
 suppose I have the old notion in my head that all ghosts 
 are of persons who have been murdered." 
 
 " Oh, if I had killed her," he groaned, " I'd 'a' been hung 
 long ago, an' there 'd 'a' been an end of it." 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 491 
 
 " Tell me the whole story," said I. " It's hardly likely 
 that I can help you, but I can understand how you must 
 be troubled, and I'm sure I pity you from my heart." 
 
 I think he felt relieved at my proposal, — glad, perhaps, 
 after long silence, to confide to another man the secret of 
 his lonely, wretched life. 
 
 " After what you've heard," said he, " there's nothin' 
 that I don't care to tell. I've been sinful, no doubt, — but, 
 God knows, there never was a man worse punished. 
 
 " I told you," he continued, after a pause, " that I come 
 from the Western Reserve. My father was a middlin' well- 
 to-do farmer, — not rich, nor yit exactly poor. He's dead 
 now. He was always a savin' man, — looked after money 
 a leetle too sharp, I've often thought sence : howsever, 'tisn't 
 my place to judge him. Well, I was brought up on the 
 farm, to hard work, like the other boys. Rachel Emmons, 
 — she's the same woman that haunts me, you understand, 
 — she was the girl o' one of our neighbors, an' poor enough 
 he was. His wife was always sickly-like, — an' you know 
 it takes a woman as well as a man to git rich farmin'. So 
 they were always scrimped, but that didn't hinder Rachel 
 from bein' one o' the likeliest gals round. We went to the 
 same school in the winter, her an' me, ('tisn't much school- 
 in' I ever got, though,) an' I had a sort o' nateral hankerin' 
 after her, as fur back as I can remember. She was differ- 
 ent lookin' then from what she is now, — an' me, too, for 
 that matter. 
 
 "Well, you know how boys an' gals somehow git to 
 likin' each other afore they know it. Me an' Rachel was 
 more an' more together, the more we growed up, only more 
 
492 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 secret-like ; so by the time I was twenty an' she was nine- 
 teen, we was promised to one another as true as could be. 
 I didn't keep company with her, though — leastways, not 
 reg'lar : I was afeard my father 'd find it out, an' I knowed 
 what he 'd say to it. He kep' givin' me hints about Mary 
 Ann Jones — that was my wife's maiden name. Her father 
 had two hundred acres an' money out at interest, an' only 
 three children. He'd had ten, but seven of 'em died. I 
 had nothin' agin Mary Ann, but I never thought of her that 
 way, like I did towards Rachel. 
 
 " Well, things kep' runnin' on ; I was a good deal wor- 
 ried about it, but a young feller, you know, don't look fur 
 ahead, an' so I got along. One night, howsever — 't was 
 jist about as dark as last night was — I'd been to the store 
 at the Corners, for a jug o' molasses. Rachel was there, 
 gittin' a quarter of a pound o' tea, I think it was; an' some 
 sewin'-thread. I went out a little while after her, an' fol- 
 lered as fast as I could, for we had the same road nigh to 
 home. 
 
 " It weren't long afore I overtook her. 'Twas mighty 
 dark, as I was sayin', an' so I hooked her arm into mine, 
 an' we went on comfortable together, talkin' about how we 
 jist suited each other, like we was cut out o' purpose, an' 
 how long we'd have to wait, an' what folks 'd say. O 
 Lord ! don't I remember every word o' that night ? Well, 
 we got quite tender-like when we come t' Old Emmons's 
 gate, an' I up an' giv' her a hug and a lot o' kisses, to make 
 up for lost time. Then she went into the house, an' I 
 turned for home ; but I hadn't gone ten steps afore I come 
 agin somebody stan'in' in the middle o' the road. ' Hullo !' 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTT. 493 
 
 says I. The next thing he had a holt o' my coat-collar an' 
 shuck me like a tarrier-dog shakes a rat. I knowed who it 
 was afore he spoke ; an' I couldn't 'a' been more skeered, 
 if the life had all gone out o' me. He'd been down to the 
 tavern to see a drover, an' comin home he'd follered behind 
 us all the way, hearin' every word we said. 
 
 " I don't like to think o' the words he used that night. 
 He was a professin' member, an' yit he swore the awfuUest 
 I ever heard." — Here the man involuntarily raised his hands 
 to his ears, as if to stop them against even the memory of 
 his father's curses. — " I expected every minute he'd 'a' 
 struck me down. I've wished, sence, he had: I don't 
 think I could 'a' stood that. Howsever, he dragged me 
 home, never lettin' go my collar, till we got into the room 
 where mother was settin' up for us. Then he told Aer, only 
 makin' it ten times harder 'n it really was. Mother always 
 kind o' liked Rachel, 'cause she was mighty handy at sewin' 
 an' quiltin', but she 'd no more dared Stan' up agin father 
 than a sheep agin a bull-dog. She looked at me pityin'-like, 
 I must say, an' jist begun to cry — an' I couldn't help cryin' 
 nuther, when I saw how it hurt her. 
 
 " "Well, after that, 't wa'n't no use thinkin' o' Rachel any 
 more. I had to go t' Old Jones's, whether I wanted to or 
 no. I felt mighty mean when I thought o' Rachel, an' was 
 afeard no good 'd come of it ; but father jist managed things 
 his way, an' I couldn't help myself. Old Jones had nothin' 
 agin me, for I was a stiddy, hard-workin' feller as there was 
 
 round an' Mary Ann was always as pleasant as could be, 
 
 fj^f^n ■ well, I oughtn't to say nothin' agin her now ; she 's 
 
 had a hard life of it, 'long side o' me. Afore long we were 
 
49'i AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 bespoke, an' the day set. Father hurried things, when it 
 got that fur. I don't think Rachel knowed anything about 
 it till the day afore the weddin', or mebby the very day. 
 Old Mr. Larrabee was the minister, an' there was only the 
 two families at the house, an' Miss Plankerton — her that 
 sewed for Mary Ann. I never felt so oneasy in my life, 
 though I tried hard not to show it. 
 
 " Well, 'twas all jist over, an' the kissin' about to begin, 
 when I heerd the house-door bu'st open, suddent. I felt 
 my heart give one jump right up to the root o' my 
 tongue, an' then fell back ag'in, sick an' dead-like. 
 
 " The parlor-door flew open right away, an' in come 
 Rachel without a bunnet, an' her hair all frowzed by the 
 wind. She was as white as a sheet, an' her eyes like two 
 burnin' coals. She walked straight through 'em all an' 
 stood right afore me. They was all so taken aback that 
 they never thought o' stoppin' her. Then she kind o' 
 screeched out — ' Eber Nicholson, what are you doin' ?' 
 Her voice was strange an' onnatural-like, an' I'd never 
 'a' knowed it to be hern, if I hadn't 'a' seen her. I 
 couldn't take my eyes off of her, an' I couldn't speak: 
 I jist stood there. Then she said ag'in — ' Eber Nichol- 
 son, what are you doin' ? You are married to me, in 
 the sight of God. You belong to me an' I to you, for- 
 ever an' forever !" Then they begun cryin' out — ' Go 
 'way !' ' Take her away !' ' What d's she mean ?' an' 
 old Mr. Larrabee ketched hold of her arm. She begun 
 to jerk an' trirable all over ; she drawed in her breath 
 in a sort o' groanin' way, awful to hear, an' then drop- 
 ped down on the floor in a fit. I bu'st out in a terri- 
 
THE HA0NTED SHANTY. 495 
 
 ble spell o' cryin' ; — I couldn't 'a' helped it, to save my 
 life." 
 
 The man paused, drew his sleeve across his eyes, and 
 then timidly looked at me. Seeing nothing in my face, 
 doubtless, but an expression of the profoundest commisera- 
 tion, he remarked, with a more assured voice, as if in self- 
 justification — 
 
 " It was a pretty hard thing for a man to go through 
 with, now, wasn't it ?'' 
 
 " You may well say that," said I. " Your story is not 
 yet finished, however. This Rachel Emmons — you say she 
 is still living — in what way does she cause the disturb- 
 ances ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you all I know about it," said he — " an' if 
 you understand it then^ you're wiser 'n I am. After they 
 carried her home, she had a long spell o' sickness — come 
 near dyin', they said ; but they brought her through, at 
 last, an' she got about ag'in, lookin' ten year older. I kep' 
 out of her sight, though. I lived awhile at Old Jones's, 
 till I could find a good farm to rent, or a cheap un to buy. 
 I wanted to git out o' the neighborhood : I was oneasy all 
 the time, bein' so near Rachel. Her mother was wuss, an' 
 her father failin'-like, too. Mother seen 'em often : she was 
 as good a neighbor to 'em as she dared be. Well, I got 
 sort o' tired, an' went out to Wv^\gan an' bought a likely 
 farm. Old Jones giv' me a start. I t&ok Mary Ann out, 
 an' we got along well enough, a matter o' two year. We 
 heerd from home now an' then. Rachel's father and 
 mother both died, about the time we had our first boy 
 him that you seen — an' she went ofi" to Toledo, we 
 
496 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. 
 
 heerrl, an' hired out to do sewin'. She was always a 
 mighty good hand at it, an' could cut out as nice as a 
 born manty-maker. She'd had another fit after the fune- 
 rals, an' was older-lookin' an' more serious than ever, they 
 said. 
 
 " Well, Jimmy was six months old, or so, when we 
 begun to be woke up every night by his cryia'. Nothin' 
 seemed to be the matter with him : he was only fright- 
 ened-like, an' couldn't be quieted. I heerd noises some- 
 times — nothin' like what come afterwards — ^but sort o' 
 crackin' an' snappin', sich as you hear in new furnitur', 
 an' it seemed like somebody was in the room ; but I 
 couldn't find nothin'. It got wuss and wuss : Mary Ann 
 was sure the house was haunted, an' I had to let her 
 go home for a whole winter. When she was away, it 
 went on the same as ever — not every night — sometimes 
 not more 'n oust a week — but so loud as to wake me 
 up, reg'lar. I sent word to Mary Ann to come on, an' 
 I'd sell out an' go to Illinois. Good perairah land was 
 cheap then, an' I'd ruther go furder off, for the sake o' 
 quiet. 
 
 "So we pulled up stakes an' come out here : but it 
 Averen't long afore the noise foUered us, wuss 'n ever, an' 
 we found out at last what it was. One night I .woke 
 up, with my hair stan'in' on end, an' heerd Rachel Em- 
 mons's voice, jist as you heerd it last night. Mary Ann 
 heerd it too, an' it's little peace she's giv' me sence that 
 time. An' so it's been goin' on an' on, these eight or nine 
 year.'' 
 
 " But," I asked, " are you sure she is alive ? Have you 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTT. 497 
 
 seen her since ? Have you asked her to be merciful and 
 not disturb you ?" 
 
 " Yes," said he, with a bitterness of tone which seemed 
 quite to obliterate the softer memories of his love, "I've 
 seen her, an' I've begged her on my knees to let me alone ; 
 but it's no use. When it got to be so bad I couldn't stan' 
 it, I sent her a letter, but I never got no answer. 'Next 
 year, when our second boy died, frightened and worried to 
 death, I believe, though he was scrawny enough when he 
 was born, I took some money I'd saved to buy a yoke of 
 oxen, an' went to Toledo o' purpose to see Rachel. It cut 
 me awful to do it, but I was desprit. I found her Uvin' in 
 a little house, with a bit o' garden, she'd bought. I s'pose 
 she must 'a' had five or six hundred dollars when the farm 
 was sold, an' she made a good deal by sewin', besides. She 
 was settin' at her work when I went in, an' knowed me at 
 onst, though I don't believe I'd ever 'a' knowed her. She 
 was old, an' thin, an' hard-lookin' ; her mouth was pale an' 
 sot, like she was bitin' somethin' all the time ; an' her eyes, 
 though they was sunk into her head, seemed to look through 
 an' through an' away out th' other side o' you. 
 
 " It jist shut me up when she looked at me. She was so 
 corpse-like I was afraid she'd drop dead, then and there : 
 but I made out at last to say, ' Rachel, I've come all the 
 way from Illinois to see you.' She kep' lookin' straight at 
 me, never sayin' a word. ' Rachel,' says I, ' I know I've 
 acted bad towards you. God knows I didn't mean to do it. 
 I don't blame you for payin' it back to me the way you're 
 doin', but Mary Ann an' the boy never done you no harm. 
 I've come all the way o' purpose to ask your forgiveness. 
 
498 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 hopin' you'll be satisfied with what's been done, an' leave off 
 bearin' malice agin us.' She looked kind o' sorrowful-like, 
 but drawed a deep breath, an' shuck her head. ' Oh, 
 Rachel,' says I — an' afore I knowed it I was right down on 
 my knees at her feet^' Rachel, don't be so hard on me. 
 I'm the onhappiest man that lives. I can't stan' it no 
 longer. Rachel, you didn't use to be so cruel, when we 
 was boys an' girls together. Do forgive me, an' leave off 
 hauntin' me so.' 
 
 " Then she spoke up, at last, an' says she — 
 
 " ' Eber Nicholson, I was married to you, in the sight o' 
 God!' 
 
 " ' I know it,' says I ; ' you say it to me every night ; an' 
 it wasn't my doin's that you're not my wife now : but, 
 Rachel, if I'd 'a' betrayed you, an' ruined you, an' killed 
 you, God couldn't 'a' punished me worse than you're a-pun- 
 ishin' me.' 
 
 " She giv' a kind o' groan, an' two tears run down her 
 white face. ' Eber Nicholson,' says she, ' ask God to help 
 you, for I can't. There might 'a' been a time,' says she, 
 ' when I could 'a' done it, but it's too late now.' 
 
 " 'Don't say that, Rachel,' says I; 'it's never too late to 
 be merciful an' forgivin'.' 
 
 " ' It doesn't depend on myself,' says she ; ' I'm sent to 
 you. It's th' only comfort I have in life to be near you ; 
 but I'd give up that, if I could. Pray to God to let me 
 die, for then we shall both have rest.' 
 
 "An' that was all I could git out of her. 
 
 " I come home ag'in, knowin' I'd spent my money for 
 nothiii'. Sence then, it's been jist the same as before — not 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 499 
 
 reg'lar every night, but sort o' comes on by spells, an' then 
 stops three or four days, an' then comes on ag'in. Fact is, 
 what's the use o' livin' in this way ? We can't be neigh- 
 borly ; we're afeard to have anybody come to see us ; we've 
 get no peace, no comfort o' bein' together, an' no heart to 
 work an' git ahead, like other folks. It's jist killin' me, 
 body an' soul." 
 
 Here the poor wretch fairly broke down, bursting sud- 
 denly into an uncontrollable fit of weeping. I waited qui- 
 etly until the violence of his passion had subsided. A 
 misery so strange, so completely out of the range of human 
 experience, so hopeless apparently, was not to be reached 
 by the ordinary utterances of consolation. I had seen 
 enough to enable me fully to understand the fearful nature 
 of the retribution which had been visited upon him for what 
 was, at worst, a weakness to be pitied, rather than a sin 
 to be chastised. " Never was a man worse punished," he 
 had truly said. But I was as far as ever from comprehend- 
 ing the secret of those nightly visitations. The statement 
 of Rachel Emmons, that they were now produced without 
 her will, overturned^ — supposing it to be true — the con- 
 jecture which I might otherwise have adopted. However, 
 it was now plain that the unhappy victim sobbing at my 
 side could throw no further light on the mystery. He had 
 told me all he knew. 
 
 " My friend," said I, when he had become calmer, " I 
 do not wonder at your desperation. Such continual tor- 
 ment as you must have endured is enough to drive a man 
 to madness. It seems to me to spring from the malice of 
 some infernal power, rather than the righteous justice of 
 
500 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 God. Have you never tried to resist it ? Have you never 
 called aloud, in your heart, for Divine help, and gathered 
 up your strength to meet and defy it, as you would to meet 
 a man who threatened your life ?" 
 
 " Not in the right way, I'm afeard," said he. " Fact is, 
 I always tuck it as a judgment hangin' over me, an' never 
 thought o' nothin' else than jist to grin and bear it." 
 
 " Enough of that," I urged — for a hope of relief had sug- 
 gested itself to me ; " you have suifered enough, and more 
 than enough. Now stand up to meet it like a man. When 
 the noises come again, think of what you have endured, and 
 let it make you indignant and determined. Decide in your 
 heart that you will be free from it, and perhaps you may 
 be so. If not, build another shanty and sleep away from 
 your wife and boy, so that they may escape, at least. Give 
 yourself this claim to your wife's gi'atitude, and she will be 
 kind and forbearing." 
 
 " I don't know but you're more 'n half right, stranger," 
 he replied, in a more cheerful tone. "Fact is, I never 
 thought on it that way. It's lightened my heart a heap, 
 tellin' you ; an' if I'm not too broke an' used-up-like, I'll try 
 to foller your advice. I couldn't marry Rachel now, if 
 Mary Ann was dead, we've been druv so fur apart. I don't 
 know how it'll be when we're ail dead : I s'pose them '11 
 go together that belongs together ; leastways, 't ought to 
 be so." 
 
 Here we struck the Bloomington road, and I no longer 
 needed a guide. When we pulled our horses around, facing 
 each other, I noticed that the flush of excitement still burned 
 on the man's sallow cheek, and his eyes, washed by pro- 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 501 
 
 bably the first freshet of feeling which had moistened them 
 for years, shone with a faint histre of courage. 
 
 " No, no — none o' that !" said he, as I was taking out 
 my porte-monnaie ; " you've done me a mighty sight more 
 good than I've done you, let alone payin' me to boot. 
 Don't forgit the turn to the left, after crossin' Jackson's 
 Run. Good-bye, stranger ! Take good keer o' yourself!" 
 
 And with a strong, clinging, lingering grasp of the hand, 
 in which the poor fellow expressed the gratitude which he 
 was too shy and awkward to put into words, we parted. 
 He turned his horse's head, and slowly plodded back through 
 the mud towards the lonely shanty. 
 
 On my way to Bloomington, I went over and over the 
 man's story, in memory. The facts were tolerably clear 
 and coherent : his narrative was simple and credible enough, 
 after my own personal experience of the mysterious noises, 
 and the secret, whatever it was, must be sought for in 
 Rachel Emmons. She was still living in Toledo, Ohio, he 
 said, and earned her living as a seamstress ; it would, there- 
 fore, not be difiScult to find her. I confess, after his own 
 unsatisfactory interview, I had little hope of penetrating 
 her singular reserve ; but I felt the strongest desire to see 
 her, at least, and thus test the complete reality of a story 
 which surpassed the wildest fiction. After visiting Terre 
 Haute, the next point to which business called me, on the 
 homeAvard route, was Cleveland ; and by giving an addi- 
 tional day to the journey, I could easily take Toledo on my 
 wa}\ Between memory and expectation the time passed 
 rapidly, and a week later I registered my name at the 
 Island House, Toledo. 
 
502 AT HOME AlSriJ ABROAD. 
 
 After wandering about for an hour or two, the next 
 morning, I finally discovered the residence of Rachel Em- 
 mons. It was a small story-and-a-half frame building, on 
 the western edge of the town, with a locust-tree in front, 
 two lilacs inside the paling, and a wilderness of cabbage- 
 stalks and currant-bushes in the rear. After much cogita^ 
 tion, I had not been able to decide upon any plan of action, 
 and the interval between my knock and the opening of the 
 door was one of considerable embarrassment to me. A 
 small, plumpish woman of forty, with peaked nose, black 
 eyes, and but two upper teeth, confronted me. She, cer- 
 tainly, was not the one I sought. 
 
 " Is your name Rachel Emmons ?" I asked, nevertheless. 
 
 " No, I'm not her. This is her house, though." 
 
 " Will you tell her a gentleman wants to see her ?" said 
 I, putting my foot inside the door as I spoke. The room, 
 I saw, was plainly, but neatly furnished. A rag-carpet 
 covered the floor ; green rush-bottomed chairs, a settee 
 with chintz cover, and a straight-backed rocking-chair were 
 distributed around the walls ; and for ornament there was 
 an alphabetical sampler in a frame, over the low wooden 
 mantel-piece. 
 
 The woman, however, still held the door-knob in her 
 hand, saying, " Miss Emmons is busy. She can't well leave 
 her work. Did you want some sewia' done ?'' 
 
 " No," said I ; " I wish to speak with her. It's on pri- 
 vate and particular business." 
 
 " Well," she answered with some hesitation, " I'll tell her. 
 Take a cheer." 
 
 She disappeared through a door into a back room, and I 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 503 
 
 sat down. In another minute the door noiselessly reopened, 
 and Rachel Emmons came softly into the room. I believe 
 I should have known her anywhere. Though from Eber 
 Nicholson's narrative she could not have been much over 
 thirty, she appeared to be at least forty-five. Her hair was 
 streaked with gray, her face thin and of an unnatural waxy 
 pallor, her lips of a whitish-blue color and tightly pressed 
 together, and her eyes, seemingly sunken far back in their 
 orbits, burned with a strange, ghastly — I had almost said 
 phosijhoresoent — light. I remeniber thinking they must 
 shine like touch-wood in the dark. I have come in contact 
 with too many persons, passed through too wide a range 
 of experience, to lose my self-possession easily ; but I could 
 not meet the cold, steady gaze of those eyes without a 
 strong internal trejjidation. It virould have been the same, 
 if I had known nothing about her. 
 
 She was probably surprised at seeing a stranger, but I 
 could discern no trace of it in her face. She advanced but 
 a few steps into the room, and then stopped, waiting for me 
 to speak. 
 
 " You are Rachel Emmons ?" I asked, since a commence- 
 ment of some sort must be made. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I come from Eber Nicholson," said I, fixing my eyes on 
 her face. 
 
 Not a muscle moved, not a nerve quivered, but I fancied 
 that a faint purple flush played for an instant under the 
 white mask. If I were correct, it was but momentary. 
 She lifted her left hand slowly, pressed it on her heart, 
 and then let it fall. The motion was so calm that I should 
 
504 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 not have noticed it, if I had not been watching her so 
 steadily. 
 
 " Well ?" she said, after a pause. 
 
 "Rachel Emmons," said I, — and more than one cause 
 conspired to make my voice earnest and authoritative, — " I 
 know all. I come to you not to meddle with the sorrow — 
 let me say the sin — which has blighted your life ; not be- 
 cause Eber Nicholson sent me ; not to defend him or to 
 accuse you ; but from that solemn sense of duty which 
 makes every man responsible to God for what he does or 
 leaves undone. An equal pity for him and for you forces 
 me to speak. He cannot plead his cause ; you cannot un- 
 derstand his misery. I will not ask by what wonderful 
 power you continue to torment his life ; I will not even 
 doubt that you pity while you afflict him ; but I ask you to 
 reflect whether the selfishness of your sorrow may not have 
 hardened your heart, and blinded you to that consolation 
 which God offers to those who humbly seek it. Tou. say 
 that you are married to Eber Nicholson, in His sight. 
 Think, Rachel Emmons, think of that moment when you 
 will stand before His awful bar, and the poor, broken, suf- 
 fering soul, whom your forgiveness might still make yours 
 in the holy marriage of heaven, shrinks from you with fear 
 and pain, as in the remembered persecutions of earth !" 
 
 The words came hot from ray very heart, and the ice- 
 crust of years under which hers lay benumbed gave way 
 before them. Slie trembled slightly; and the same sad, 
 hopeless moan which I had heard at midnight in the Illinois 
 shanty came from hor lips. She sank into a chair, letting 
 her hands fall heavily at her side. There was no move- 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 505 
 
 ment of her features, yet I saw tbat her waxy cheeks were 
 moist, as with the slow ooze of tears so long unshed that 
 they had forgotten their natural flow. 
 
 " I do pity him," she murmured at last, " and I believe I 
 forgive him; but, oh ! I've become an instrument of wrath 
 for the punishment of both." 
 
 If any feeling of reproof still lingered in my mind, her 
 appearance disarmed me at once. I felt nothing but pity 
 for her forlorn, helpless state. It was the apathy of des- 
 pair, rather than the coldness of cherished malice, which 
 had so frozen her life. Still, the mystery of those nightly 
 persecutions ! 
 
 " Rachel Emmons," I said, " you certainly know that you 
 still continue to destroy the peace of Eber Nicholson and 
 his family. Do you mean to say that you cannot cease to 
 do so, if you would ?" 
 
 " It is too late," said she, shaking her head slowly, as she 
 clasped both hands hard against her breast. " Do you think 
 I would suffer, night after night, if I could help it ? Have- 
 n't I stayed awake for days, till my strength gave way, 
 rather than fall asleep, for his sake ? Wouldn't I give my 
 life to be free ? — and would have taken it, long ago, with 
 my own hands, but for the sin !" 
 
 She spoke in a low voice, but with a wild earnestness 
 which startled me. She, then, was equally a victim ! 
 
 "But," said I, "this thing had a beginning. Why did 
 you visit him in the first place, when, perhaps, you might 
 have prevented it ?" 
 
 " I am afraid that was my sin," she replied, " and this is 
 the punishment. When father and mother died, and I was 
 
 22 
 
506 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. 
 
 layin' sick and weak, with nothin' to do but think of Aim, 
 and me all alone in the world, and not knowin' how to live 
 without him, because I had nobody left, — that's when it 
 begun. When the deadly kind o' sleeps came on — ^they 
 used to think I was dead, or faintin', at first — and I could 
 go where my heart drawed me, and look at him away off 
 where he lived, 'twas consolin', and I didn't try to stop it. 
 I used to long for the night, so I could go and be near him 
 for an hour or two. I don't know how I went ; it seemed 
 to come of itself. After a while I felt I was troubUn' him 
 and doin' no good to myself, but the sleeps came just the 
 same as ever, and then I couldn't help myself. They're 
 only a sorrow to me now, but I s'pose I shall have 'em till 
 I'm laid in my grave." 
 
 This was all the explanation she could give. It was evi- 
 dently one of those mysterious cases of spiritual disease 
 which completely bafl3.e our reason. Although compelled 
 to accept her statement,- 1 felt incapable of suggesting any 
 remedy. I could only hope that the abnormal condition 
 into which she had fallen might speedily wear out her vital 
 energies, already seriously shattered. She informed me, 
 further, that each attack was succeeded by great exhaus- 
 - tion, and that she felt herself growing feebler, from year 
 to year. The immediate result, I suspected, was a disease 
 of the heart, which might give her the blessing of death 
 sooner than she hoped. Before taking leave of her, I suc- 
 ceeded in procui'ing from her a promise that she would 
 write to Eber Nicholson, giving him that free forgiveness 
 which would at least ease his conscience, and make his bur- 
 den somewhat lighter to bear. Then, feeling that it was not 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. BOl 
 
 in my power to do more, I rose to depart. Taking her 
 hand, which lay cold and passive in mine, — so much like a 
 dead hand that it required a strong effort in me to repress 
 a nervous shudder, — I said, " Farewell, Rachel Emmons, 
 and remember that they who seek peace in the right spirit 
 will always find it at last." 
 
 " It won't be many years before I find it," she replied, 
 calmly • and the weird, supernatural light of her eyes shone 
 upon me for the last time. 
 
 I reached New York in due time, and did not fail, sitting 
 around the broiled oysters and celery, with my partners, to 
 repeat the story of the Haunted Shanty. I knew, before- 
 hand, how they would receive it ; but the circumstances 
 had taken such hold of my mind, — so burned me, like a 
 boy's money, to keep buttoned up in the pocket, — that I 
 could no more help telling the tale than the man I remem- 
 ber reading about, a great while ago, in a poem called 
 " The Ancient Mariner." Beeson, who, I suspect, don't 
 believe much of anything, is always apt to carry his rail- 
 lery too far ; and thenceforth, whenever the drum of a tar- 
 get-company, marching down Broadway, passed the head 
 of our street, he would whisper to me, " There comes Ra- 
 chel Emmons !'' until I finally became angry, and insisted 
 that the subject should never again be mentioned. 
 
 But I none the less recalled it to my mind, from time to 
 time, with a singular interest. It was the one supernatural, 
 or, at least, inexplicable experience of my life, and I con- 
 tinued to feel a profound curiosity with regard to the two 
 principal characters. My slight endeavor to assist them by 
 such counsel as had suggested itself to me was actuated by 
 
508 AT HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 the purest human sympathy, and upon further reflection I 
 could discover no other means of help. A spiritual disease 
 could be cured only hy spiritual medicine, — unless, indeed, 
 the secret of Rachel Emmons's mysterious condition lay in 
 some permanent dislocation of the relation between soul and 
 body, which could terminate only with their final separation. 
 
 With the extension of our business, and the increasing 
 calls upon my time during my Western journeys, it was 
 three years before I again found myself in Toledo, with 
 suflScient leisure to repeat my visit. I had some difficulty in 
 finding the little frame house ; for, although it was unalter- 
 ed in every respect, a number of stately brick " villas" had 
 sprung up around it and quite disguised the locality. The 
 door was opened by the same little black-eyed woman, with 
 the addition of four artificial teeth, which were altogether 
 too large and loose. They were attached by plated hooks 
 to her eye-teeth, and moved up and down when she spoke. 
 
 " Is Rachel Emmons at home ?" I asked. 
 
 The woman stared at me in evident surprise. 
 
 "She's dead," said she, at last, and then added, — "let's 
 see, — a'n't you the gentleman that called here, some three 
 or four years ago ?" 
 
 " Yes," said I, entering the room ; " I should like to hear 
 about her death.'' 
 
 "Well, — Hwas rather queer. She was failin' when you 
 was liere. After that she got softer and weaker-like, an' 
 didn't have her deathlike woarin' sleeps so often, but she 
 went just as fast for all that. The doctor said 'twas heart- 
 disease, and the nerves was gone, too ; so he only giv' her 
 morphy, and sometimes pills, but he knowed she'd no 
 
THE HAUNTED SHANTY. 509 
 
 chance from the first. 'Twas a year ago last May when 
 she died. She'd been confined to her bed about a week, 
 but I'd no thought of her goin' so soon. I was settin' up 
 with her, and 'twas a little past midnight, maybe. She'd 
 been layin' like dead awhile, an' I was thinkin' I could 
 snatch a nap before she woke. All 't onst she riz right up 
 in bed, with her eyes wide open, an' her face lookin' real 
 happy, an' called out, loud and strong, — ' Farewell, Eber 
 Nicholson ! farewell ! I've come for the last time ! There's 
 peace for me in heaven, an' peace for you on earth' 
 Farewell ! farewell !' Then she dropped back on the piller, 
 stone-dead. She'd expected it, 't seems, and got the doc- 
 tor to write her will. She left me this house and lot, — I'm 
 her second cousin on the mother's side, — but all her money in 
 the Savin's Bank, six hundred and seventy-nine dollars and a 
 half, to Eber Nicholson. The doctor writ out to Illinois, an' 
 found he'd gone to Kansas, a year before. So the money's 
 in bank yit ; but I s'pose he'll git it, some time or other." 
 
 As I returned to the hotel, conscious of a melancholy 
 pleasure at the news of her death, I could not help wonder- 
 ing, — " Did he hear that last farewell, far away in his Kan- 
 sas cabin ? Did he hear it, and faU asleep with thanksgiv- 
 ing in his heart, and arise in the morning to a liberated 
 life ?" I have never visited Kansas, nor have I ever heard 
 from him since ; but I know that the living ghost which 
 haunted him is laid for ever. 
 
 Reader, you will not believe my story ; but it is teue. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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