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though his own should die for want of success, and happy to have contributed fuel; cares for his horse, arranges bis fur- to his honor or advancement. When an niture; if any delicacy in the way of food order comes directly from him, be sure it can be procured, he brings it to the chief. will be religiously obeyed. “When papa Convinced of the desire of their master says anything,' they repeat, one to anthat the soldiers shall be well fed, the other, it must be done. Papa knows it Zouaves often insist that a part of their is already done ; he wants us to be the pay be expended for procuring the pro- best children possible.' In critical movisions of the tribe.* The colonel is the

ments, the colonel can use the severest man most venerated by these soldiers, Draconian code, without having anything who look upon him as the father of the to fear from the disapprobation of his family. They are proud of the colonel's men."


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Nor freshness of the flowers of May

Blow through the Autumn morn ;

Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look

Through fringed lids to heaven, And the pale aster in the brook

Shall see its image given ;

The woods shall wear their robes of praise,

The south wind softly sigh,
And sweet, calm days in golden haze

Melt down the amber sky.

Not less shall manly deed and word

Rebuke an age of wrong; The graven flowers that wreathe the sword

Make not the blade less strong.

But smiting hands shall learn to heal,

To build as to destroy ;
Nor less my heart for others feel

That I the more enjoy.

All as God wills, who wisely heeds

To give or to withhold,
And knoweth more of all my needs

Than all my prayers have told !

Enough that blessings undeserved

Have marked my erring track,That, wheresoe'er my feet have swerved,

His chastening turned me back,

That more and more a Providence

Of love is understood,
Making the springs of time and sense

Sweet with eternal good, —

That death seems but a covered way

Which opens into light, Wherein no blinded child can stray

Beyond the Father's sight, —

That care and trial seem at last,

Through Memory's sunset air, Like mountain-ranges overpast,

In purple distance fair, — That all the jarring notes of life

Seem blending in a psalm, And all the angles of its strife

Slow rounding into calm.

And so the shadows fall apart,

And so the west winds play;
And all the windows of my heart

I open to the day!




There has been a sort of stillness in the atmosphere of our boarding-house since my last record, as if something or other were going on.

There is no particular change that I can think of in the aspect of things; yet I have a feeling as if some game of life were quietly playing and strange forces were at work, underneath this smooth surface of every-day boarding-house life, which would show themselves some fine morning or other in events, if not in catastrophes. I have been watchful, as I said I should be, but have little to tell as yet. You may laugh at me, and very likely think me foolishly fanciful to trouble myself about what is going on in a middling-class household like ours.

Do as you like. But here is that terrible fact to begin with, - a beautiful young girl, with the blood and the nerve-fibre that belong to Nature's women, turned loose among live men.

-Terrible fact ? Very terrible. Nothing more so. Do you forget the angels who lost heaven for the daughters of men ? Do you forget Helen, and the fair women who made mischief and set nations by the ears before Helen was born ? If jealousies that gnaw men's hearts out of their bodies, – if pangs that waste men to shadows and drive them into raving madness or moping melancholy,— if assassination and suicide are dreadful possibilities, then there is always something frightful about a lovely young woman. - I love to look at this “Rainbow,” as her father used sometimes to call her, of ours. Handsome crea

ture that she is in forms and colors, – the very picture, as it seems to me, of that golden blonde" my friend whose book you read last year fell in love with when he was a boy, (as you remember, no doubt,) -- handsome as she is, fit for a sea-king's bride, it is not her beauty alone that holds my eyes upon her. Let me tell you one of my fancies, and then you will understand the strange sort of fascination she has for me.

It is in the hearts of many men and women - let me add children that there is a Great Secret waiting for them, -a secret of which they get bints now and then, perhaps oftener in early than in later years. These hints come sometimes in dreams, sometimes in sudden startling flashes, — second wakings, as it were, — a waking out of the waking state, which last is very apt to be a half-sleep. I have many times stopped short and held my breath, and felt the blood leaving my cheeks, in one of these sudden clairvoyant flashes. Of course I cannot tell what kind of a secret this is; but I think of it as a disclosure of certain relations of our personal being to time and space, to other intelligences, to the procession of events, and to their First Great Cause. This secret seems to be broken up, as it were, into fragments, so that we find here a word and there a syllable, and then again only a letter of it; but it never is written out for most of us as a complete sentence, in this life. I do not think it could be ; for I am disposed to consider our beliefs about such a possible disclos


ure rather as a kind of premonition of ing along over a rocky road, suddenly the an enlargement of our faculties in some slow monotonous grinding of the crushfuture state than as an expectation to be ing gravel changes to a deep heavy rumfulfilled for most of us in this life. Per- ble. There is a great hollow under your sons, however, have fallen into trances, feet, - a huge unsunned cavern. Deep, - as did the Reverend William Tennent, deep beneath you, in the core of the livamong many others, - and learned some ing rock, it arches its awful vault, and things which they could not tell in our far away it stretches its winding galleries, human words.

their roofs dripping into streams where Now among the visible objects which fishes have been swimming and spawnhint to us fragments of this infinite secret ing in the dark until their scales are for which our souls are waiting, the faces white as milk and their eyes have withof women are those that carry the most ered out, obsolete and useless. legible hieroglyphics of the great mystery. So it is in life. We jog quietly along, There are women's faces, some real, some meeting the same faces, grinding over the ideal, which contain something in them same thoughts, — the gravel of the soul's that becomes a positive element in our highway, — now and then jarred against creed, so direct and palpable a revelation an obstacle we cannot crush, but must is it of the infinite purity and love. I re- ride over or round as we best may, somemember two faces of women with wings, times bringing short up against a disapsuch as they call angels, of Fra Angelico, pointment, but still working along with - and I just now came across a print of the creaking and rattling and grating Raphael's Santa Apollina, with something and jerking that belong to the journey of the same quality, — which I was sure of life, even in the smoothest-rolling vehihad their prototypes in the world above cle. Suddenly we hear the deep underours. No wonder the Catholics pay their ground reverberation that reveals the unvows to the Queen of Heaven! The un- suspected depth of some abyss of thought poetical side of Protestantism is, that it or passion beneath us.has no women to be worshipped.

I wish the girl would go. I don't like But mind you, it is not every beautiful to look at her so much, and yet I cannot face that hints the Great Secret to us, help it. Always that same expression of nor is it only in beautiful faces that we something that I ought to know, — somefind traces of it. Sometimes it looks out thing that she was made to tell and I to from a sweet sad eye, the only beauty of hear, - lying there ready to fall off from a plain countenance ; sometimes there is her lips, ready to leap out of her eyes and so much meaning in the lips of a woman, make a saint of me, or a devil or a lunot otherwise fascinating, that we know natic, or perhaps a prophet to tell the they have a message for us, and wait al- truth and be hated of men, or a poet most with awe to hear their accents. But whose words shall flash upon the dry this young girl has at once the beauty of stubble-field of worn-out thoughts and feature and the unspoken mystery of ex- burn over an age of lies in an hour of pression. Can she tell me anything? Is passion. her life a complement of mine, with the It suddenly occurs to me that I may missing element in it which I have been have put you on the wrong track. The groping after through so many friend- Great Secret that I refer to has nothing ships that I have tired of, and through to do with the Three Words. Set your

Hush! Is the door fast ? Talking mind at ease about that, - there are realoud is a bad trick in these curious board. sons I could give you which settle all that ing-houses.

matter. I don't wonder, however, that You must have sometimes noted this you confounded the Great Secret with fact that I am going to remind you of the Three Words. and to use for a special illustration. Rid- I LOVE YOU is all the secret that many, VOL. IV.


part of it.

nay, most women have to tell. When that impertinences into our waste-baskets, to is said, they are like China-crackers on the the gravest utterance which comes from morning of the fifth of July. And just as our throats in our moments of deepest that little patriotic implement is made with need, is only a space of some three or a slender train which leads to the maga- four inches. Words, which are a set of zine in its interior, so a sharp eye can al- clickings, hissings, lispings, and so on, most always see the train leading from a mean very little, compared to tones and young girl's eye or lip to the “I love you” expression of the features. I give it up; in her heart. But the Three Words are I thought I could shadow forth in some not the Great Secret I mean. No, wom- feeble way, by their aid, the effect this en's faces are only one of the tablets on young girl's face produces on my imagiwhich that is written in its partial, frag- nation; but it is of no use. No doubt your mentary symbols. It. lies deeper than head aches, trying to make something of Love, though very probably Love is a my description. If there is here and

Some, I think,— Wordsworth there one that can make anything intelmight be one of them,--spell out a por- ligible out of my talk about the Great tion of it from certain beautiful natural Secret, and who has spelt out a syllable objects, landscapes, flowers, and others. or two of it on some woman's face, dead I can mention several poems of his that or living, that is all I can expect. One have shadowy bints which seem to me to should see the person with whom he concome near the region where I think it verses about such matters. There are lies. I have known two persons who dreamy-eyed people to whom I should pursued it with the passion of the old al- say all these things with a certainty of chemists,- all wrong evidently, but in- being understood ;fatuated, and never giving up the daily

That moment that his face I see, search for it until they got tremulous and

I know the man that must hear me: feeble, and their dreams changed to vis

To him my tale I teach. ions of things that ran and crawled about their floor and ceilings, and so they died. -I am afraid some of them have The vulgar called them drunkards. not got a spare quarter for this August

I told you that I would let you know number, so that they will never see it. the mystery of the effect this young girl's Let us start again, just as if we face produces on me.

It is akin to those had not made this ambitious attempt, influences a friend of mine has described, which may go for nothing, and you can you may remember, as coming from cer- have your money refunded, if you will tain voices. I cannot translate it into make the change. words,- only into feelings; and these I This young girl, about whom I have have attempted to shadow by showing talked so unintelligibly, is the unconscious that her face hinted that revelation of centre of attraction to the whole solar something we are close to knowing, which system of our breakfast-table. The little all imaginative persons are looking for gentleman leans towards her, and she either in this world or on the very thresh- again seems to be swayed as by some inold of the next.

visible gentle force towards him. That You shake your head at the vagueness slight inclination of two persons with a and fanciful incomprehensibleness of my strong affinity towards each other, throwdescription of the expression in a young ing them a little out of plumb when they girl's face. You forget what a miserable sit side by side, is a physical fact I have surface-matter this language is in which we often noticed. Then there is a tendency try to reproduce our interior state of be- in all the men's eyes to converge on her; ing. Articulation is a shallow trick. From and I do firmly believe, that, if all their the light Poh! which we toss off from our chairs were examined, they would be lips as we fling a nameless scribbler's found a little obliquely placed, so as to





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