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of his new life over their full-blown sum- word along the file that water is in sight. mer glories.
Though each little party that follows in No human being can rest for any time a foot-track of its own will have it that in a state of equilibrium, where the de- the water to which others think they are sire to live and that to depart just bal- hastening is a mirage, not the less has it ance each other. If one has a house, been true in all ages and for human bewhich he has lived and always means ings of every creed which recognized a to live in, he pleases himself with the future, that those who have fallen worn thought of all the conveniences it offers out by their march through the Desert him, and thinks little of its wants and have dreamed at least of a River of Life, imperfections. But once having made and thought they heard its murinurs as up bis mind to move to a better, every' they lay dying. incommodity starts out upon him until The change from the clinging to the the very ground-plan of it seems to have present to the welcoming of the future changed in his mind, and his thoughts comes very soon, for the most part, afand affections, each one of them packing ter all hope of life is extinguished, proup its little bundle of circumstances, have vided this be left in good degree to Naquitted their several chambers and nooks ture, and not insolently and cruelly forand migrated to the new home, long be- ced upon those who are attacked by illfore its apartments are ready to receive ness, on the strength of that odious foretheir bodily tenant. It is so with the knowledge often imparted by science, bebody. Most
have died before they fore the white fruit whose core is ashes, expire, - died to all earthly longings, so and which we call death, has set beneath that the last breath is only, as it were, the the pallid and drooping flower of sicklocking of the door of the already desert- ness. There is a singular sagacity very ed mansion. The fact of the tranquillity often shown in a patient's estimate of his with which the great majority of dying own vital force. His physician knows the persons await this locking of those gates state of his material frame well enough, of life through which its airy angels have perhaps,- that this or that organ is more been going and coming, from the moment or less impaired or disintegrated; but the of the first cry, is familiar to those who patient has a sense that he can hold out have been often called upon to witness so much longer,—sometimes that he must the last period of lite. Almost always and will live for a while, though by the there is a preparation made by Nature logic of disease he ought to die without for unearthing a soul, just as on the small
any delay. er scale there is for the removal of a milk- The Little Gentleman continued to fail, tooth. The roots which hold human lite until it became plain that his remaining to earth are absorbed before it is lifted days were few. I told the household from its place. Some of the dying are what to expect. There was a good deal weary and want rest, the idea of which is of kind feeling expressed among the almost inseparable in the universal inind boarders, in various modes, according to from death. Some are in pain, and want their characters and style of sympathy. to be rid of it, even though the anodyne The landlady was urgent that he should be dropped, as in the legend, from the try a certain nostrum which had saved sword of the Death-Angel.
somebody's life in jest sech a case. The stupid, mercifully narcotized that they Poor Relation wanted me to carry, as may go to sleep without long tossing from her, a copy of “ Allein's Alarm,” about. And some are strong in faith I objected to the title, reminding and hope, so that, as they draw near the her that it offended people of old, so that next world, they would fain hurry toward more than twice as many of the book it, as the caravan moves faster over the were sold when they changed the name sands when the foremost travellers send to “A Sure Guide to Heaven.” The
good old gentleman whom I have men- So the Koh-i-noor thought he would tioned before has come to the time of begin, as soon as they got into the yard, life when many old men cry easily, and by knocking his man down, and with this forget their tears as children do. - He intention swung his arm round afier the was a worthy gentleman, — he said, fashion of rustics and those unskilled in very worthy gentleman, but unfortunate, the noble art, expecting the young fellow - very unfortunate. Sadly deformed John to drop when his fist, having comabout the spine and the feet. Had an pleted a quarter of a circle, should come impression that the late Lord Byron had in contact with the side of that young some malformation of this kind. Had man's head. Unfortunately for this theheerd there was something the matter ory, it happens that a blow struck out with the ankle-j'ints of that nobleman, but straight is as much shorter, and therehe was a man of talents. This gentleman fore as much quicker than the rustic's seemed to be a man of talents. Could swinging blow, as the radius is shorter not always agree with his statements - than the quarter of a circle. The mathethought he was little over-partial to this matical and mechanical corollary was, city, and had some free opinions; but was that the Koh-i-noor felt something hard sorry to lose him, — and if -- there was bring up suddenly against bis right eye, anything-he-could
which something he could have sworn In the midst of these kind expressions, the was a paving-stone, judging by his sengentleman with the diamond, the Koh-i- sations; and as this threw his person noor, as we called him, asked, in a very
somewhat backwards, and the young man unpleasant sort of way, how the old boy John jerked his own head back a little, was likely to cut up, - meaning what the swinging blow had nothing to stop money our friend was going to leave be- it; and as the Jewel staggered between hind.
the hit he got and the blow he missed, The young fellow John spoke up, to he tripped and “ went to grass," so far the effect that this was a diabolish snob- as the back-yard of our boarding-house by question, when a man was dying and was provided with that vegetable. It not dead. - To this the Koh-i-noor re- was a signal illustration of that fatal misplied, by asking if the other meant to take, so frequent in young and ardent insult him.- Whereto the young man natures with inconspicuous calves and John rejoined that he had no particul'r negative pectorals, that they can settle intentions one way or t'other.— The Koh- most little quarrels on the spot by i-noor then suggested the young man's “knocking the man down.” stepping out into the yard, that he, the We are in the habit of handling our speaker, might “ slap his chops.” Let faces so carefully, that a heavy blow, 'em alone, said young Maryland, taking effect on that portion of the surit'll soon be over, and they won't hurt face, produces a most unpleasant surprise, each other much. — So they went out. which is accompanied with odd sensations,
The Koh-i-noor entertained the very as of seeing sparks, and a kind of electricommon idea, that, when one quarrels cal or ozone-like odor, half-sulphurous in with another, the siinple thing to do is character, and which has given rise to a to knock the man down, and there is the very vulgar and profane threat sometimes end of it. Now those who have watched heard from the lips of bullies. A person such encounters are aware of two things: not used to pugilistic gestures does not first, that it is not so easy to knock a instantly recover from this surprise. The man down as it is to talk about it; sec- Koh-i-noor, exasperated by his failure, ondly, that, if you do happen to knock and still a little confused by the smart a man down, there is a very good chance hit he had received, but furious, and conthat he will be angry, and get up and fident of victory over a young fellow a give you a thrashing.
good deal lighter than himself, made a
desperate rush to bear down all before the programme of her career I may herehim and finish the contest at once. That after allude to. is the way all angry greenhorns and in- I never thought he would come to good, competent persons attempt to settle mat- when I heard him attempting to sneer at ters. It doesn't do, if the other fellow is an unoffending city so respectable as only cool, moderately quick, and has a
After a man begins to attack very little science. It didn't do this time; the State-House, when he gets bitter for, as the assailant rushed in with his about the Frog-Pond, you may be sure arms flying everywhere, like the vans of there is not much left of him. Poor Eda windmill, he ran a prominent feature gar Poe died in the hospital soon after of his face against a fist which was travel- he got into this way of talking; and so ling in the other direction, and imme- sure as you find an unfortunate fellow diately after struck the knuckles of the reduced to this pass, you had better beyoung man's other fist a severe blow with gin praying for him, and stop lending the part of his person known as the epi- him money, for he is on his last legs. gastrium to one branch of science and
Remember poor Edgar! He is dead and the bread-basket to another. This second gone; but the State-House has its cupola round closed the battle. The Koh-i-noor fresh-gilded, and the Frog-Pond has got had got enough, which in such cases is a fountain that squirts up a hundred feet more than as good as a feast. The young into the air and glorities that humble fellow asked him if he was satisfied, and sheet with a fine display of provincial held out his hand. But the other sulked, rainbows. and muttered something about revenge.
· I cannot fulfil my promise in this -Jest as y’like,- said the young man number. I expected to gratify your cuJohn.-- Clap a slice o' raw beefsteak on riosity, if you have become at all interto that mouse o' yours ’n’ 't'll take down ested in these puzzles, doubts, fancies, the swellin'. (Mouse is a technical term whims, or whatever you choose to call for a bluish, oblong, rounded elevation them, of mine. Next month you shall occasioned by running one's forehead hear all about it. or eyebrow against another's knuckles.) The young fellow was particularly pleas- - It was evening, and I was going ed that he had had an opportunity of to the sick-chamber. As I paused at the trying his proficiency in the art of self- door before entering, I heard a sweet defence without the gloves. The Koh-i- voice singing. It was not the wild melnoor did not favor us with his company ody I had sometimes heard at midnight: for a day or two, being confined to his - no, this was the voice of Iris, and I chamber, it was said, by a slight feverish could distinguish every word. I had seen attack. He was chop-fallen always after the verses in her book; the melody was this, and got negligent in his person. new to me. Let me finish my page with The impression must have been a deep them. one; for it was observed, that, when he came down again, his moustache and whiskers had turned visibly white — about
HYMN OF TRUST. the roots. In short, it disgraced him, and rendered still more conspicuous a ten- O Love Divine, that stooped to share dency to drinking, of which he had been Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, for some time suspected. This, and the On Thee we cast each earthborn care, disgust which a young lady naturally
We smile at pain while Thou art near! feels at hearing that her lover has been
Though long the weary way we tread, “ licked by a fellah not half his size,” in
And sorrow crown each lingering year, duced the landlady's daughter to take that No path we shun, no darkness dread, decided step which produced a change in Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near! When drooping pleasure turns to grief,
And trembling faith is changed to fear, The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf
Shall softly tell us, Thou art near!
On Thee we fling our burdening woe,
O Love Divine, forever dear,
Living and dying, Thou art near!
PICTURES AT SEVILLE AND MADRID.
Seville, January, 1859. "Conception,” in many respects like the I do not know whether I ought not to usual picture which Murillo repeated so take you to the Museo on so bright a often; but the Virgin in this one is repmorning, although I should like better to resented as very young, - about twelve stroll with you on the Paseo by the pretty or fourteen years old, - and the whole efriver across which I look to the faintly fect is most silvery and delicate. seen hills of Ronda, with the rich palm- But the Saint Antonio in the Cathedral trees in the foreground, and a great stone is, I should say, his great picture. It is pine in the middle distance, which would very simple, and full of feeling. The Saint, recall to us the Campagna and Italy. Many half kneeling, stretches forward to the vis. people have said to me, “You cannot judge
ion of the Christ-Child, which descends in a of Murillo till you see him at Seville," glory of cherubim toward him. The great — they, of course, having been at Seville. mass of light falls directly upon the kneel. This is so far true, that his best picture is ing figure and the upturned face, and undoubtedly in the Cathedral here; but throws strong shadows on the ground. in all other ways, Murillo is perfectly to One is reminded, in some of the angelbe seen in other cities. You know, there. figures, of the brilliant light and shadow fore, just what the pictures and the Museo on the little flying cherubs in the “Ashave to say to you. They speak of a most sumption," at Venice. Here all is sil. clever artist, who evidently consulted Na- very, where in Titian all burns with the ture conscientiously, and who perceived glory of a Venetian sunset. But this picand understood very often many phases ture of Murillo seems to me what one must of her grace and beauty. The most mas- call an eminently “happy" picture. It terly of his fifteen or twenty pictures in gives one the idea that the painter enjoyed the gallery is the one of Saint Thomas of painting it, for the expressive movement Villanueva giving Alms to the Poor; and of the Saint is most admirably given, and it is, certainly, charmingly arranged, with the extreme simplicity of every part of the great breadth of effect and clever drawing, picture is most agreeable ; so that we are - on a cool scale of color throughout. The ready to give great praise to Murillo for Saint is in a black robe, relieved against what he did, and to say that he was earnest a light background of gray wall. The and tried to represent what he really felt. beggar who is receiving alms is capitally And when we say that, we say a great understood, and carries the light broadly deal; do we not? But we cannot, for a through the picture. A charming little moment, compare him to the great Veneboy leans against his mother in the left- tians. He did not attempt wbat they did, hand corner, in half shadow, and shows because he did not feel it at all; and, as her the coin in his hand. A few other a painter, he is not comparable to them. heads fill up the right-hand of the picture One sees that he executed with rapidity behind the Saint. A red drapery, of a dull and a sort of dash, as it were. The Venecolor, and a touch of brown-red here and tian concealed his execution, as Nature there, warm the agreeable grayness of the does, and attempted to render the most rest of the canvas. I like much, also, a subtile things which he knew his art alone
could give, in their full force and beauty. ing, clever, the triumph of chic, as shown As a painter, therefore, he cannot be com- by a master hand. The dog in the impared with men who wrought from so mediate foreground is capital, the page different a principle. And when we think pushing him playfully with his foot. The of the lovely elevation and noble thought dwarf stands next, full of a sort of quaint in the great Venetians, we must quietly truth, with her big head and heavy chin. rest grateful for those great blessings, – The mass of light falls on the Infanta, who grateful and happy that they exist, and takes a cup of something, chocolate, I supthat we, in some measure at least, under- pose, from one of the kneeling girls, while stand and appreciate their meaning. Is it the other makes a reverence on the other not delightful to think of them and know side. Beyond are a nun and a guardathem in their precious old corners and over damas, and in the mirror at the other end their dear old altars?
of the room are most cleverly indicated the portraits of Philip and his wife. Ve
lasquez stands on the left of the picture, Madrid, March, 1859. behind the Infanta, painting, with his canYou see that we have at last left Anda- vas turned back toward us as we look into lusia, and are here in what is like a bit of the room. The black figure of an attendant Paris, - shops, dress, carriages, and now
has passed out of the apartment and is goand then the smell of asphalt pavement ing up a stair against a clear white wall. being renewed. Still, mantillas are the The skilful way in which you are led into coverings for the female head, and peas- the picture is astonishing, and the whole ants in costumes drive mules and don- thing is quite by itself as a piece of paintkeys through the crowds in the busy ing. There is no attempt at anything streets, and one is still in Spain. We subtile or even delicate in the treatment, came, you know, for the gallery, and the speaking from the point of view of a result first glimpse of it showed us that we have achieved by paint on canvas,- no texture, enough to do to see that, during our pro- no difference of handling, no imitation; all posed stay of a month. I must tell you is paint, admirably put on, for the effect just a few things about the pictures, and across the room. I think we must set Vegive you a peep at Madrid through my lasquez quite by himself as a truthful and eyes, since you are not here to use your surely most gifted portrait-master. With
a peculiar gift, - genius, I think we might Murillo is here the same as everywhere say,— certainly he is like no one else, and else. I very much prefer his pictures in nobody else is like him. Then there is his Seville. Velasquez, however, is to be real- equestrian portrait of Philip IV., of which ly seen nowhere so well as here. I do not you may remember the sketch in the Pitti know how many pictures there are here Gallery, - also one of the Duke of Olivaby him, but a great quantity, it seems to rez, fresh, dashing, and spirited. But I me : Philips without number, in childhood, prefer the portrait of — some actor, I youth, and age; Dons with curled mous- am sure,— full of character, against a gray taches ; Queens with large hoops and dis- wall background, -- one of those faces one figured heads; an actor, full of life and is sure one has seen somewhere in Spain, character, one of his very best. But his and he is declaiming evidently with the greatest picture, and really a wonder, is most capital action. — So much for Velashis portrait of himself painting the little quez. Infanta, who is in the foreground of the But I hardly dare attempt to tell you of picture with two young girls, her court la- the glory of the great Titian, who seems dies, her dwarf, and a diminutive page. It almost newly revealed, in many perfect is quite like a photograph, in clear, broad works. Nothing can equal the superb effect of light and dark. From the other style of a portrait of Alfonso of Ferrara ; side of the room, full of truth and vigor,- it is like nothing but Nature, - a splendid, as you approach it, you find it is dashed in dark, manly face and figure, standing and with a surety of touch and a breadth truly looking thoughtfully at you, or rather, beextraordinary, — no details, no substance yond you, caressing in an absent way a liteven; painted with one huge brusli, it tle silky dog who puts his paw up to attract would almost seem, all is vigorous, dash- his master's notice. The glowing flesh,