But I must away to find the "Dark Ladie." One more chapter, and I shall be done! Ten minutes after, to a second by the clock, I threw "Hyperion" down with a shock that I can never forget. The book fell to the floor with a crash, and I turned to meet two laughing brown eyes, regarding me with a strange mixture of mirth and gravity in their depths. My hero stood before me, laughing at the great surprise written so plainly on my face. He broke the silence by asking: "Is that the way you use borrowed books?'' "Such a book as it is!" I exclaimed. "I wish to goodness I had never seen it. I am so disappointed, so surprised at the ending." "And who is not?" he asked, picking the volume from the floor, and turning the leaves caressingly. That is one of its charms, and I love it. Whenever I feel particularly blue, and can steal an hour from my office; I like to throw myself down where I can hear the winds sigh, the raindrops-if there be any-patter against the window panes, and read Hyperion.'" "And the blue ribbon-the book-mark-is a love token from some 'Dark Ladie,'" I hazarded, and the next moment I wished that I hadn't. A fierce expression crossed his face, as he laid the book on the table, and his laughing eyes grew stern as he said: "Your hand, if you please, madam. My time is limited this morning." He had chilled all at once into the professional man, and I made no apology for the casual remark, because I knew that he was too generous to be unjust, and left it to time to withdraw the pointed but unintentionally aimed shaft. Yet, as I saw him drive away from the door, his face shrouded in a mantle of reserve, I felt more and more convinced that I had read his secret-that, instead of an ambitious Frau Kranich, a noble Mary Ashburton had impressed her image on his heart, the more indelibly because he could not turn on the angry waters of contempt to sweep her features from a too faithful memory. Turning away from the window-away from the equinoctial blast moaning and sighing without sometimes lifting its voice in louder strife-I sat down by the fire, and dreamed it all over again. I may be right in this, my first attempt at character reading by such a novel method, and I may be wrong; perhaps some day in the near or far off future I shall find out, and then, reader, in the strictest confidence of course, I'll tell you too all about it. LIFE WITH A KISS-A HISTORICAL INCIDENT. A RUDE Wooden house on the Neva, in old Petersburg, is still shown to travellers as the abode of Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia, when he was building the city. His wooden arm-chair, the rude stool by which he knelt to pray, and the boat he made with his own hands, are exhibited in careful preservation. An incident related of the Czar has been as carefully preserved in the French chronicles. In August, 1710, Peter was in this modest house with two of his officers. The elder, Captain Stopaus, was old and stupid, and very jealous of the merit of younger men. He hated particularly young Wladimir, who had risen rapidly in the Czar's favor, on account of his courage and rare qualities. Though but twenty-five, he was major of the regiment of Preobajinski, of which Peter was colonel. The Czar stood by a narrow window, and was gazing at a medallion he had taken from the pocket of his uniform. In this medallion was framed the miniature of a beautiful young girl. Her long blonde curls fell on a neck white as alabaster; her blue eyes and perfect mouth seemed formed only for love, and their expression was exquisite. The name of this lovely creature was Ludmilla, and she was the orphan daughter of a wealthy merchant. The Emperor had seen her but once, when he had become desperately enam ored of her. He was sure of her favor; but he wished to owe it to his personal merit; and when he visited her, he sunk the monarch in the lover. She was far from discouraging his passion; indeed he had little doubt that she returned it. After looking rapturously at the charming tai iature, Peter suddenly called Wladimir to hi and showed it, asking what he thought of his and false vows. He asked if the accusation were beautiful inamorata. In a few moments the Emperor, lifting the wooden chair in front of him, dashed it on the floor with such violence it was broken to pieces. It was his only sign of emotion. Then, fastening his belt and caftan, he quitted the hut. Wladimir had worshipped his beautiful betrothed, and they were soon to be married. His anguish at seeing her miniature in the Czar's hands was intense. How could he doubt her unworthiness? She must have given the picture to Peter, thus encouraging his fancy for her. Was such a coquette a wife for an honorable man? He crossed the bridge of Tolstoi, leaving the muddy site where the cathedral of Isaac rose in later days, passed along what was afterwards the Promenade de la Perspective, and arrived at the Fontanks. The house where Ludmilla dwelt was an elegant one, built in Tartar style. At a whistle from the young man, a maid in red tunic and coif opened the door. He entered the presence of Ludmilla, his features expressing his profound misery, his deadly despair. The young girl stood speechless at the sight of him, and pale as death. Wladimir sat down, but repelled all the tender advances of Ludmilla. In a voice faltering and full of bitterness, he reminded her that he had proffered to her the truest, most passionate love. He had laid his life, his fortune, his name, at her feet. She had repaid him with treachery and infidelity. She had given him deceitful caresses not true? She Ludmilla's crimson cheeks and a flood of tears, confessed that the charge was deserved. sobbed unrestrainedly, while the young officer regarded her in gloomy silence. At length she lifted her head, pushed back the ringlets from her cheeks still burning with her shame, and asked to be heard in her own defence. She owned that she had deceived her lover, that she had given her picture to the Emperor, when he came to woo her. But she had not encouraged his passion from coquetry. When she saw how ardently he loved her, when he continually met her in the street, when he came to visit her and declared his love, she was afraid of him. The least suspicion that she might have given her heart to another, filled him with ungovernable rage. The wrath of a monarch was so terrible! In his flashing eyes she read a sentence of death for any rival. How could she own her love for Wladimir! She dissembled, in her terror for him! She allowed the royal suitor to think he had gained her affections. She gave him the miniature. "But I have been true to you, Wladimir," she sobbed. The young officer felt her arms clasped around his neck, her tear-wet cheek pressed to his; and her lips uttered broken and passionate words of love. He forgave her; while she protested that she would never have stooped to dissimulation to save her own life. While the reconciled lovers talked, another man had silently entered the dwelling. The old servant had tried to stop him; but when he threw off hat and caftan, she saw it was the Emperor, and dared not oppose him. He strode on to the apartment where Ludmilla sat clasped in Wladimir's arms. At sight of the Czar, she started up with a terrified shriek, and fell upon her knees. The officer half drew his sword; but, recognizing his sovereign and superior officer, stood with his head bent, his eyes on the ground. Peter's flashing eyes gleamed from one to the other, muttering, "a double treachery!" The young girl implored pardon in piteous entreaty. But the monarch could not pardon such a crime. After a struggle with violent emotion, he became calm and cold, as he ordered the Major Wladimir to go and surrender himself a prisoner at the fortress. He was soon restored to liberty, as the Emperor could not imprison for such a cause one of his bravest and best officers. But he gave orders that he should preside at the head of his regiment, at the public punishment of Ludmilla, who was accused of having betrayed certain political secrets to the Swedish agents, and was condemned by the Senate to receive twenty blows with the knout at the Place de la Moika. Peter himself had preferred the false accusation. The regiment of Preobajinski, ranged in two lines, extended along the banks of the Moika canal to the bridge terminating at the Opera house. That termination was the place appointed for executions. The executioners were armed with the long plaited leather strap called the knout, a few blows of which had sometimes caused the death of culprits. The officers were in uniform, and Major Wladimir was pale and haggard, but full of inflexible resolution. He had spent hours in prayer by his father's grave in the cemetery of Smolank, and was determined to meet his betrothed, and save her from shame and torture by plunging his dagger in her breast. Then he would immolate himself! The Emperor had spent the night in anguish, remorse, and alternations of fierce passion. He had traversed his chamber foaming like a chafed lion, beating his breast, and dashing the furniture to pieces. At dawn he called his attendants, and dressed himself in his uniform as Colonel of the Preobajinski, passing around his neck the band of the Chevaliers of the Order of St. Andre. He went to the house of Menzikoff, overlooking the Moika canal. There he could see from a window all that passed. But his imagination drew a picture that drove him well-nigh to frenzy. He seemed to see the beautiful, timid young creature he had loved, dragged as a spectacle before the curious, insulting crowd; her bare feet covered with blood, her white shoulders torn by the hateful lash of the executioner ! Unable to remain still, the Czar descended, entered a boat and convoyed to the opposite shore of the canal, where he stood with the surging, tumultuous crowd. The horrible procession advanced. Ludmilla walked with a firm step, leaning on the arm of a sergeant of the regiment. Her blue eyes were distended with terror, and wandered wildly ove the crowd; her white lips moved with inarticulate sounds. Her long golden curls floated over a neck of marble whiteness. The sight of such beauty and youth exposed to insult and degradation, was enough to move the hardest heart. She passed slowly across the bridge towards the fatal spot. Her lover waited to receive her anu♦ deal the mortal blow. Just at that moment, when she was about to step from the Bridge de la Moika, the Emperor burst through the crowd into the open space before her, threw off his mantle, and advancing alone towards the young girl, placed his hands on both sides of her head, drew her towards him, and impressed a kiss upon her forehead. Ludmila was saved! It was the privilege of the Chevaliers of S: Andre to save the condemned by a kiss, from the hand of the executioner. The young girl sank backward in a swoon. When consciousness returned she found hersea folded in the arms of her faithful lover, and both were looking thankfully upwards. FOOTSTEPS AT THE DOOR. BY MRS. E. M. CONKLIN. THE day is done, and swift draws nigh And well known footsteps at the door. Some list for feet that still and cold No more the paths of life will tread, And miss the strong arms' loving foldThe tender words so often said. Alas for such! the desolate, For living lost ones, mourning sore, And listening fear, an waiting weep, And dread their footsteps at the door. NOTES AND QUERIES. The Ancient Order of Rechabites.-Will the Editor of POTTER'S AMERICAN MONTHLY favor a number of readers, and with them the undersigned, with something concorning the "Order of Rechabites ?" concerning which they have failed to obtain anything satisfactory. The "Order" was founded upon the broadest basis of pure philanthropy and Christian charity; and the writer believes a brief history of it would prove highly interesting to the general public-most certainly, to many inquiring minds outside of those more immediately represented in soliciting the information. GEO. W. OAKLEY. In response to the foregoing request we take pleasure in giving the following facts and conjectures relating to the "Order": referred to: The history of the Ancient Rechabites of Scripture is involved in much obscurity; as far, however, as their as was proved by Wolff, the noted traveller, who met with the tribe, and describes them as still obeying in all things the commands of their father; and although their former allies are scattered about over the whole earth, yet do they remain in the neighborhood of their ancient homes, enjoying all ARAB FAMILIES HALTING ON A JOURNEY. genealogy has been ascertained, it is very interesting. From the Scriptures we learn that they were the descendants of Hobab, the son of Reul or Reguel, Moses's father-in-law, and were called Kenites. They appear to have been much respected, even at that early period, by the Israelites, and were invited by them to come and dwell among them; and it is pretty certain that they never afterwards deserted each other until the scattering of the Jewish nation. Indeed, many of the tribe seem to have held high stations among the Jews. Balaam speaks of them, in his prophecy, as "a strong people, who built their nest upon a rock." In Chronicles, they are mentioned as being "Scribes," and are called the "Kenites" who came of Hemath, the father of the house of Rechab. Jonadab, the son of Rechab, also, it would appear, was a companion of the kings and princes of the land, and was with Jehu at the slaying of the whole house of the wicked Ahab, in Samaria. It was he who gave his sons that memorable command, "Drink no Wine," the obeying of which afterwards procured for them a peculiar blessing from Goda blessing which remains to their posterity even to this day, VOL. VIII.-25 their ancient privileges, and worshipping their true God; and are now, according to the same authority, about the finest men in the world. From this peculiar, favored people, the name of the "Ancient Order of Rechabites" was taken, because, like them, the members of the Order abstain from all that can intoxicate. This Order spread over the whole kingdom of Great Britain, and it was necessary, for its better government, to divide the country into several parts, or districts, each consisting of an indefinite number of Societies, technically called Tents, each having the entire management of its financial affairs; yet each acknowledging the superior authority of the District Council, the Executive Council, and Annual Movable Committee of the Order, in all cases of disputes or differences, and explanations of the laws; and, in short, regulating their general conduct as Members of the Order. At this day there is a tribe of Arabs who claim to be the direct descendants of the Rechabites. In our illustrations are shown this peculiar people in their roving and tent-life character. give birth to the practice of invoking His blessing; and is this peculiar and happy custom of proffering a benediction traceable to other sources than those named? When Themistocles was offering sacrifice, it happened that three beautiful captives were brought him, and at the same time the fire burnt clear and bright, and a sneeze happened on the right hand. Thereupon Euphrantides, the soothsayer, embracing him, predicted the memorable victory which was afterwards obtained by him. AN ARAB FAMILY ON A JOURNEY. Prophecies on Sneezing.-Curious and interesting are the sayings and prophecies concerning the significance of sneezing. Though everybody is personally familiar with the practical details of the subject, it may please the readers of the MONTHLY to become more fully acquainted with the theory, art, physiological and mental laws upon which it is based and by which it is governed. While as a custom it dates back to the origin of man, and hence is a very ancient custom, and one that has been continually and universally observed, and according to Blackstone in his learned "Commentaries on Law," it must be "a good custom," and as a sequence, sound law whether in the Written Statutes or not. Aristotle, in the Problems (XXXIII: 7), inquires why sneezing is considered as emanating from God; to which he suggests, "because it comes from the head, the most divine part of man." "Athenæus," says Potter, in his "Archæological Græca," "proves that the head was esteemed holy, because it was customary to swear by it, and adore as holy the sneezes that proceeded from it." [Gauged by this latter standard, it would hardly be accepted in our day of false registrations and "bogus returns," though under the sacred seal of an oath.] The same writer also says: "Persons having the inclination but not the power to sneeze, should look at the sun, for reasons he assigns in Problems (XXXIII.: 4)." Plutarch, on the "Damon" of Socrates (II.), states the opinion that some persons had formed, "that Socrates' damon was nothing else than the sneezing either of himself or others." Thus: "If any one sneezed at his right hand, either before or behind him, he pursued any step he had begun; but sneezing at his left hand caused him to desist from his formed purpose." To this he added a remark about the several kinds of sneezing. For instance, "to sneeze From the above observations and extracts, it must not be inferred that sneezing was always a prophecy of good; as on the signs of the constellations, it was considered as under the influence and control of circumstances. The hour of the day or night, and the season of the year, regulated the good or evil that was to come from a sneeze. Some sneezes foretold good luck; others indicated misfortune. A sneeze between midnight and the following noontide was fortunate; but from noontide till midnight a sneeze was an omen of misfortune. If a man sneezed at the table while the cloth was being removed, or if another happened to sneeze on his left, it was un MARBLE STATUETTE OF PATHENOS, ATHENA, OR MINERVA. |