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We are informed that she was tried, found innocent, and and stout of limb! Fair faces filled the windows; the is at liberty, “To act a worthy part," and the song concludes : house tops were lined. Urchins from long frocks to ambi
tious pantaloons crowded the stoops and the doorways. The “The part she carried out was grand,
assemblage was vast, dense--and patriotic to the tune of an We'll give her three times three."
incessant feu de joie from squibs and pocket-cannon. The
appointed hour drew near. Which tragical, touching story we hope will be a warning up on the statue. They began to tug at the canvas.
Workmen appeared and went
It to all who wish to avoid carving-knives in the hands of san
was wet and clung fast. The workmen crawled in and out guinary Margarets — and immortality in poetry like the among the horse's feet, thrust their heads between his legs, above.
and peered out between the openings of the canvas. More - A SUGGESTION! People will not economize their nega. ladders were brought. More workmen ascended, and tives. They insist upon doubling them upon every oppor- sacrilegiously clambered over the statue. The canvas tunity, at the slighest provocation and with an utter disre. began to lift. Ten thousand eyes stared with an impatient gard of sense or grammar. Inasmuch, therefore, as con. eagerness. Washington's foot thrust itself through an enversation can't be got up to the level of grammar, we vious rent. The huge haunches of the horse became exposed. propose that grammar be brought down to the level of con- A part of Washington's boot rewarded the up-stretching versation. Let that law be expunged which makes a double necks--then his knee—then his thigh. They ripped the negative equivalent to an affirmative, and messieurs and mes- canvas, and his arm and hand stretched out. His head and dames the people, can amplify on “It didn't made no differ shoulders alone remained encased. By this time the sun ence;" “ There ain't no house there," and the like, with the was out brilliantly, and lit up the whole scene gaily and perfect concurrence of the schools. If laws cannot be gloriously. Ropes were adjusted—the canvas remained observed, they had better be removed from the statute book, suspended by a single point. The work stopped. Officers and the one we speak of is almost a dead letter.
galloped to their places. The soldiery presented arms. -A French gentleman highly amused us a few days since The musicians took up their instruments. The commander by the relation of one of his contretemps in the early period lifted his sword. It waved through the air-down rushed of his residence in this country when his knowledge of the canvas—the sun flashed upon the brow and head of the English was but glimmering and uncertain. He chanced figure for the first time—then drum and trumpet and the to break the key of his room door, and going to his land. loud shout rose up, sound on sound, shout on shout! It lady, attempted to explain the accident by declaring that was a splendid scene. We never saw the equal of its kind. her“ look was bad !” The lady in question had only one
The soldiery far as the eye could reach, with Aashing bayoeye, and lacked also other elements of beauty. She colored, nets, gay plumes and banners, the dense crowd, the mass her eye flashed, and her lip trembled. It was an infamous of green in the park, through which flashed the crystal upinsult, and her rage could scarcely be controlled. “What leaping water of the fountain, the statue so nobly looming do you mean, sir ?" said she. “Your look is bad,” reiterated up in the midst of the scene, the rich and splendid contrasts the Frenchman, a little staggered at the evident commotion of color, presented as a whole a picture really superb. Our his remark had caused. The lady started up, her arms party applauded it, exhaysted their vocabulary of praise and akimbo. You insult me, sir. What do you mean by this delight. language ? “I know not vat I say, but I know vat I
An oration followed. We could not hear it. Aggravamean," replied the Frenchman, beginning to suspect that ting and annoying fact! Why do not our out-of-door he had been guilty of some atrocious blunder; “I mean speakers adopt the ancient accoustic mask? What is the your look is bad—see " (rushing to the door and pointing use of addressing remarks to an assemblage which not one to the lock), your look, madame, is bad !" “ Lock, lock, out of ten can bear? In the present instance we presume sir,” exclaimed the lady, her indignation suddenly vanish the oration was eloquent. There was much cheering—at ing, and beginning to smile. The Frenchman, scrupu
which signal we waved our bandkerchiefs and cheered too-at lously polite and gallant, saw his blunder, and was over.
what we do not know to this day. There was a good deal whelmed with confusion. “Oh, madame, pardon! ze lock! of emphasis and gesture—so much was evident, and nothing stupid ! Pardon, madame !"
more. After the speech the troops marched around the
statue and saluted it. When all was over we departed, glad, -Ox the Fourth of July we went to see the inauguration happy, patriotic, and delighted. We have room to add only of the Equestrian Statue of Washington. We took our
one word more—the statue is a noble one. place in a third story window. It rained. A congregation of umbrellas was below us ; umbrellas to the right; um- -A TOUCHING incident occurred at Randall's Island on brellas to the left. It was a pity to see the éclat of the the Fourth. Among the children who exhibited remarkable occasion so endangered by the unfortunate weather. But talent in the speeches and dialogues presented during an (auspiciously) before the hour for the ceremony arrived exhibition of the city orphans, was a pretty, fair-haired boy, the clouds withheld their water, broke apart, and the sun with soft blue eyes and a natural grace that won general struggled with them. Umbrellas declined, and the crowd grew sympathy and admiration. After the celebration was over denser. Drum and fife ushered the gay troops upon the this child became a subject of conversation in a group of
In the middle of the square loomed up the statue, visitors, and a lady present insisted that a little fellow like which mortal public had not yet beheld, a huge canvas cloth that ought to be taken out and educated by some one rich ignobly shrouding it from sight. A hollow square was enough to afford the luxury of a benevolence so exquisite. formed by the troops, with the statue in the centre. Far Scarcely had the words left her mouth when Governor down Fourteenth street plume and banner flaunted in the Anderson, who had overheard the observation, stepped for. light. People stood on tip-toe and stretched their necks ward and offered to put the boy to a good school at his own over the shoulders of the military. Blessed were the tall cost, till he was sixteen. This proposal was scarcely made
when Dr. S. R. Childs of this city-a great hearted man as asm by the guests, who all agreed that after this the little this act will prove-seconded the noble offer by a promise fellow should have two birthdays—that which gave him to assume the expenses of a collegiate education for the what seemed a miserable birthright of life, and bright beauboy after he had benefited by the kindness of his first bene- tiful fourth of July, 1856. Generous acts like these are factor. These generous proposals were received with enthusi- 'actions worthy of the day and worthy of the men.
Paul Ferroll is an English reprint, and a novel of more admirable manner in which he has performed his task. He decided character and talent than any we have read in a has given us a truly superior work. There is, perhaps, å long time. Its interest is positively intense, and its power little straining, an overdoing in most of his scenes, a piling quite remarkable. The story is of a murder. Paul Ferroll, up of the horrors,—while his villains are too unmitigatedly disappointed in love, marries a woman whose unfortunate fiendish, and his heroes too saintish, but the effect as a whole temper soon threatens his married life with misery. Not is fine. Some of his descriptive passages are absolutely long after the marriage, the cause of separation between him grand. (Harper & Brother.) and his first love is removed. Paul is a man of powerful will—a will that masters all, conscience, feeling, sensibility.
-Clara; or Slave Life in Europe, a translation from a He possesses, moreover, a cool, audacious, unscrupulous German author, comes to us with preface from the pen of
Mr. Hoklander is the Gerinan novel. philosophy. He appears, therefore, to reason much like Alison, the historian. this: I am miserable as I am, the woman I truly love is ist's name, of whom Alison says, “ In graphic description lost to me forever, unless by my own hand I remove the bar of character in all grades of society, and occasional pathetic between us. If my wife is murdered I may be discovered power, he recalls Dickens; in the evolving of the story, and die for the crime—that would not be worse, better when to all appearance hopelessly involved, he resembles even, than life with her; if not discovered I shall be happy Bulwer.” Sir Archibald Alison, Baronet, is authority so with the woman of my heart. I'll take the risk. It is to high that it becomes presumption for us to dispute his mangain everything—or lose nothing more than what is lost dates. And yet we would rather have Sir Archibaid Alison, already--for happiness is simply life. The deed is done, Baronet, write histories for us than choose novels for us. without regret, hesitation, shrinking, but so well arranged We really do not much like Clara—but one cause may be in that suspicion in no wise rests on him. He marries, and the translation. The story is very Sue like, and the simlives for twenty years with his new wife, happily, without plicity of the style descends fairly into childishness. The remorse, unconscious of a pang for his crime, with a won. plan of the story is an attempt to prove " that all classes derful philosophy, condensating into every hour sensations have their own fetters, that the conventional chains of civi. of happiness, a very miser of his time and his wife's lized life are even more galling than the rude fetters of the society, calmly conscious that any moment in bringing his African, and that many a white slave would have something crime to light would terminate his life and happiness. At to envy in the lot of Uncle Tom.” (Harpers.) the end of twenty years an old domestic is arrested, tried, and condemned for the crime. With perfect coolness Ferroll,
-Ticknor & Fields, of Boston, have published the Life, to save the innocent, a course always from the first quietly in a neat volume, copiously illustrated, and written in a
Explorations and Public Services of John Charles Fremont, resolved upon in case of any such contingency, reveals himself as the murderer. His wife dies from the shock. He is peculiarly charming style. Aside from political or partisan tried and condemned, but succeeds in escaping by his considerations the life of Fremont cannot fail to interest daughter's aid, to America—and the story does not leave every American reader. His career has been crowded with duim until his career is ended. This material is very simple, the annals of fiction can produce.
incident and adventure, and affords as perfect a romance as but the story is worked up with a metaphysical subtlety and philosophical skill positively wonderful. The moral we consider a fearful one. It is murder almost justified. It is a nicer lover of incredible adventure and startling incident, an abun.
-The White Chief, By Captain Mayne Reid, will afford the and even more curious phase of the crime than De Quintey de- dant feast of marvels. No difficulties daunt the gallant capscribes, and aptly should have a place in that reviewer's next tain in his conduct of a story. Impossibilities fade before “Murder considered as a Fine Art.” (Redfield.)
him. There is no extravagance which he cannot be guilty of, The Huguenot Exiles is a novel by an American author, and if the exploits of his heroes fall short of Munchausen's, the scene being laid at the period of the sufferings of the we are inclined to set it down to the captain's lack of invention French Huguenots under the Revocation of the Edict of rather than to any doubt on his part of the credulity of his Nantes. This period of history has always seemed to us readers. Notwithstanding all this, his books are very read. as affording fine scope and material for the historical novelist, able ones—if it is only to see the extent of the absurdities and we have frequently expressed our surprise that so good he will introduce. The illustrations to this volume are suffi. a period should remain untouched. We are glad to be able ciently suggestive of the horrible to satisfy the appetite of the to give the author of this volume high praise for the most decided lover of sanguinary fiction. (R. M. De Witt.)
“ Is there no house, no living soul near to give us trembled around the cold form they half supported, help?” said James Harrington, lifting his white face to half embraced. “If there is a spark of life left it will that of Ben Benson, while his voice shook, and his arms go out in this cold—if she is dead—”
Entered, recording Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by Mrs. Ann S. STEPHens, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the U.S., for the Southern District of New York.
"Don't! oh, Mister James, don't !" cried Ben wring- | reel like a craft that has lost her helm! Steady, siring his hands with fresh violence, “them's cruel words steady, or she'll be hurt!" to stun a poor fellow's heart with—she ain't dead, God James Harrington stopped suddenly, as if a war don't take his angels up to glory in that 'ere way!” trumpet had checked his progress. His face changed in
James laid Mabel reverently from his arms, and stood the burning light. His arms relaxed around the form up casting anxious glances through the storm.
they had clasped so firmly a moment before. “There is a light, yonder upon the hill-side, you “Take her!” he said, with an imploring look. “Take can just see it through the drifting clouds—go, Ben, her! I am very weak. You see how I falter-Take her, climb for your life and bring us help!"
Benson. She is not heavy, it is only I that have lost “ Ben stooped down, clapped a hand on each knee and all strength ?” took an observation.
Ben reached forth his brawny arms, as we some" There is a light, that's sartin,” he said joyfully, set-times see a great school-boy receive a baby sister, and tling himself in his wet clothes and making a start for folded them reverently around the form which Harringthe hill; but directly he turned back again.
ton relinquished with a sigh of unutterable humilia“If she's so near gone as you speak on, Mister James, tion. it wouldn't be of no use for me to go up there for help Ben moved forward with a quick firm tread, follow--she'd be chilled through and through, till there was ing Harrington, who went before trampling down the no bringing her back, long afore I could half-way climb undergrowth, and putting aside the dropping branches the hill !"
from his path. “I fear it, I fear it!" said Harrington, looking mourn- The cedar tree stood on a slope of the bank, and had fully down on the white face at his feet, “God help cast its fiery rain over the herbage and brushwood for her!”
yards around, leaving them crisped and dry. “See,” said Ben stretching forth bis hand toward the Harrington gathered up a quantity of the. sered burning cedar, “God Almighty has gin us light and fire grass, and heaped a dry couch upon which Ben Jaid his close by—the grass is crisped and dried up all around charge within the genial heat that came from the cedar that tree. What if we carry the madam there? I'll go tree. Then they gathered up all the combustible matter ap the hill with a heart in it arter that !”
within reach, and began to kindle a fire so near to the Ben stooped as if about to take the cold form of his place where she lay that its heat must help to drive mistress in his arms, but as his hands touched her gar- back the chill of death if there was a spark of life yet ments some inward restraint fell upon him, and he drew vital in her bosom. back, looking wistfully from Harrington to the prostrate Harrington knelt beside Mabel. He chafed her hands woman he dared not raise from the earth even in her between his own, manipulated her forehead, and wrung extremity.
the water from her long hair. But it all seemed in As he stooped a strange light had flashed into James vain. No color came to those blue fingers. The purple Harrington's eyes, and he made a motion as if to push tinge still lay like the shadow of violets under the closed the poor boatman aside.
eyes,-10 motion of the chest—no stir of the limbs. Ben did not see this, and, as we have said, his retreat At last drops of water came oozing through the white was a voluntary impulse. He saw James Harrington lips, and a scarcely perceptible shiver ran through the take up the form he dared not touch, with a feeling of limbs. deep humiliation, submitting to the abrupt and stern “It is life!” said Harrington lifting his radiant face to manner which accompanied the action, as a well de- the boatman. served rebuke for his boldness.
"Are you sartin it ain't the wind a stirring her gown ?" A small ravine separated the point of land occupied asked Ben trembling between anxiety and delight. by the little party from the burning cedar, and toward “No, no—her chest heaves, -she struggles. It is life, this Harrington bore his silent burden. His cheeks precious, holy life; God has given her back to us, grew deadly pale from a feeling deeper than fear or Ben!" cold, and his eyes flashed back the gleams of light that
“I don't know, I ain't quite sartin yet, if she'd only reached him from the burning tree with a wild splendor open her eyes, or lift her hand !” exclaimed the poor that no mortal man had ever seen in them before.
fellow. He held Mabel closer and closer to his heart, which Here a faint groan broke from the object of his solicirose and heaved beneath its burden ; his breath came tude, and she began to struggle upon the ground. in broken volumes from his chest, and an insane belief “Go,” said Harrington, "search out the light we saw seized upon him, that though dead he could arouse her -she will need rest and shelter more than anything from that icy sleep, by forcing the breath of his own abundant existence through her lips.
“I will, in course I will only let me be sartin she's Fired by this wild thought ho bowed his head nearer coming to.” and nearer to the pallid face upon his shoulder. But The good fellow knelt down by Mabel as he spoke, the voice of Ben Benson brought him back to sanity and lifting her hand in his, laid it to his rough again.
check. “Be careful, sir! The hollow is full of ruts and “It's alive-it moves like a drenched bird put back broken stones! She is too heavy-You stagger and in its nest-I'll go now, Mister James, but d'ye seo I
felt like thanking the great Admiral up aloft there, and “Mrs. Harrington," muttered Mabel in a troubled didn't want no mistake about it."
tone, “how came that name here! It is of earth, “Yes, we may well thank God: she lives,” said Har- earthy." rington, looking down upon Mabel with tears in his “We are all of earth," answered James, strong in eyes.
self command. “You have been ill, Mrs. Harrington, “Then I do thank God, soul and body, I thanks him," drenched through, and almost drowned—but, thank answered Ben, throwing his clasped hands aloft, "and God, your life is saved." if I was commander of the stoutest man-of-war as ever “My life is saved, and am I yet of earth? Then floated, I'd thank him all the same.
what is this light so heavenly, and yet so false !" With these words Ben disappeared in the undergrowth The storm which overwhelmed your boat struck this and proceeded in search of help.
light. It is from a tree smitten with fire.” Admonished by the throes and struggles which pro- "And you ?" questioned Mabel, but very mournfully. claimed a painful return of life, Harrington lifted Mabel “You are General Harrington's son, and I am his to a sitting posture and supported her there. His heart wife?" was wrung by every spasın of anguish that swept over “Even so, dear lady!" her; yet at each one, he sent up a brief thanksgiving, Mabel turned her head and tears stole softly from befor it was a proof of returning consciousness. Still she neath her closed lashes. How could she reconcile herlooked very deathly, and the sighs that broke through self to life again? To be thus torn back from a sweet her pale lips seemed like an echo of some struggling delusion, was more painful than all pangs she had suffered. pang within.
They were silent now. For one moment they had “Mabel,” said Harrington catching his breath as the met, soul to soul, but the old barriers were fast springname escaped his lips, “Mabel, do you understand ?-are ing up between them, barriers that made the hearts of you better, Mabel ?"
both heavy as death, yet neither would have lifted a The name once spoken it seemed as if he could not hand to tear them away. repeat it often enough, it fell so like music upon his Mabel at last quietly wiped the tears from her eyes soul.
and sat up. She still shivered and her face was pale, She struggled faintly—a thrill ran through her frame, but she smiled yet, only the smile was so touchingly and both lips and eyelids began to quiver.
sad. “Who calls me?" she said, in a whisper. “Who calls "I must have been quite gone,-why did you bring and where am I ?"
me back ?" she said. Her eyes were open now, and the refulgence falling “Why did we bring you back," repeated Harrington around her from the burning cedar, seemed like the with a sudden outburst of passion, “why did we bring glory of heaven. In that light she saw only James you back!” He checked himself and went on more Harrington bending over her. A smile bright and pure, calmly. “It is the duty of every one to save life, Mrs. as if she had been in truth an angel, stole over her face. Harrington, and to receive it gratefully when, by God's
“Yes,” she whispered with a sigh of ineffable happi- mercy it is saved. Dess," he may call me Mabel here."
“I know, I know," she answered, attempting to He could not distinguish her words, but knew from gather up the tresses of her hair, “I shall be grateful the light upon her face, that she was very happy. His for this gift of life to-morrow; but now-indeed I am, own features grew luminous.
very thankful that you saved me." “Mabel, have you ceased to suffer?" he said.
“It was Ben more than myself—but for him you Her eyes were closed in gentle weariness now, but would have been lost,” answered Harrington, rejecting the smile came fresh upon her features, and she mur- her sweet gratitude with stoicism. “He followed you in mured dreamily:
his boat through all the storm, and was nearly lost with “There is no suffering here-nothing but heaven and you !" our two selves.”
"Poor Ben !” she said, “faithful always, I had not Oh, James Harrington, be careful now! You have thought of him, thongh he saved my life.” heard those soft words-you have drank in the glory of Harrington had claimed all her gratitude for Ben with that smile. In all your life what temptation has equalled resolute self-restraint; but when she acknowledged it so this?
kindly, he could not help feeling somewhat wronged. For one delirious moment the strong man gave him. But against such impulses he had long armed himself, self up to the joy of those words: for one moment his and directly cast them aside. hands were uplifted in thanksgiving—then they were “How strange everything looks,” she said, “are those clasped and fell heavily to the earth, and a flood of bit- stars breaking through between the clouds? They ter, bitter self-reproach flowed silently from his heart. seem very pale and sad, after the light that dazzled me Mabel moved restlessly, like a child that had been lulled when I first awoke: then there is a mournful sound to rest by the music of a dear voice. She thirsted for coming through the trees—the waters, I suppose. After the sound again.
all, this earth does seem very dark and sorrowful, to “Did not some one here call me Mabel ?” she asked. which you have brought me back." Harrington was firm now, and he answered calmly: “ You are ill yet—you suffer, perhaps ?" “Yes, Mrs. Harrington, it was I.”
“No, I am only sad ?”