animadversions, gasping for breath, and tearing off, with a desperate
exertion, the bandage around his jaws--"how _can_ you, Mr.
Lacko'breath, be so infernally cruel as to pinch me in that manner by
the nose? Did you not see how they had fastened up my mouth--and you
_must_ know--if you know any thing--what a vast superfluity of breath
I have to dispose of! If you do _not_ know, however, sit down and you
shall see. In my situation it is really a great relief to be able to
open one's mouth--to be able to expatiate--to be able to communicate
with a person like yourself who do not think yourself called upon at
every period to interrupt the thread of a gentleman's discourse.
Interruptions are annoying and should undoubtedly be abolished--don't
you think so?--no reply, I beg you,--one person is enough to be
speaking at a time. I shall be done, by and bye, and then you may
begin. How the devil, sir, did you get into this place?--not a word I
beseech you--been here some time myself--terrible accident!--heard of
it I suppose--awful calamity!--walking under your windows--some short
while ago--about the time you were stage-struck--horrible occurrence!
heard of 'catching one's breath,' eh?--hold your tongue I tell you!--I
caught somebody else's!--had always too much of my own--met Blab at
the corner of the street--would'nt give me a chance for a
word--could'nt get in a syllable edgeways--attacked, consequently,
with Epilepsis--Blab made his escape--damn all fools!--they took me up
for dead, and put me in this place--pretty doings all of them!--heard
all you said about me--every word a
lie--horrible!--wonderful!--outrageous!--hideous!--incomprehensible!--et
cetera--et cetera--et cetera--et cetera"----
It is impossible to conceive my astonishment at so unexpected a
discourse; or the extravagant joy with which I became gradually
convinced that the breath so fortunately caught by the gentleman--whom
I soon recognized as my neighbor Windenough--was, in fact, the
identical expiration mislaid by myself in the conversation with my
wife. Time--place--and incidental circumstances rendered it a matter
beyond question. I did not however, immediately release my hold upon
Mr. W.'s proboscis--not at least during the long period in which the
inventor of lombardy poplars continued to favor me with his
explanations. In this respect I was actuated by that habitual prudence
which has ever been my predominating trait.
I reflected that many difficulties might still lie in the path of my
preservation which extreme exertion on my part would be alone able to
surmount. Many persons, I considered, are prone to estimate
commodities in their possession--however valueless to the then
proprietor--however troublesome, or distressing--in precise ratio with
the advantages to be derived by others from their attainment--or by
themselves from their abandonment. Might not this be the case with Mr.
Windenough? In displaying anxiety for the breath of which he was at
present so willing to get rid, might I not lay myself open to the
exactions of his avarice? There are scoundrels in this world--I
remembered with a sigh--who will not scruple to take unfair
opportunities with even a next door neighbor--and (this remark is from
Epictetus) it is precisely at that time when men are most anxious to
throw off the burden of their own calamities that they feel the least
desirous of relieving them in others.
Upon considerations similar to these, and still retaining my grasp
upon the nose of Mr. W., I accordingly thought proper to model my
reply.
"Monster!"--I began in a tone of the deepest indignation--"monster!
and double-winded idiot!--Dost _thou_ whom, for thine iniquities, it
has pleased Heaven to accurse with a two-fold respiration--dost
_thou_, I say, presume to address me in the familiar language of an
old acquaintance?--'I lie,' forsooth!--and 'hold my tongue,' to be
sure--pretty conversation, indeed, to a gentleman with a single
breath!--all this, too, when I have it in my power to relieve the
calamity under which thou dost so justly suffer--to curtail the
superfluities of thine unhappy respiration." Like Brutus I paused for
a reply--with which, like a tornado, Mr. Windenough immediately
overwhelmed me. Protestation followed upon protestation, and apology
upon apology. There were no terms with which he was unwilling to
comply, and there were none of which I failed to take the fullest
advantage.
Preliminaries being at length arranged, my acquaintance delivered me
the respiration--for which--having carefully examined it--I gave him
afterwards a receipt.
I am aware that by many I shall be held to blame for speaking in a
manner so cursory of a transaction so impalpable. It will be thought
that I should have entered more minutely into the details of an
occurrence by which--and all this is very true--much new light might
be thrown upon a highly interesting branch of physical philosophy.
To all this, I am sorry, that I cannot reply. A hint is the only
answer which I am permitted to make. There were circumstances--but I
think it much safer upon consideration to say as little as possible
about an affair so delicate--so _delicate_, I repeat, and at the same
time involving the interests of a third party whose resentment I have
not the least desire, at this moment, of incurring.
We were not long after this necessary arrangement in effecting an
escape from the dungeons of the sepulchre. The united strength of our
resuscitated voices was soon efficiently apparent. Scissors, the Whig
Editor, republished a treatise upon "the nature and origin of
subterranean noises." A reply--rejoinder--confutation--and
justification followed in the columns of an ultra Gazette. It was not
until the opening of the vault to decide the controversy, that the
appearance of Mr. Windenough and myself proved both parties to have
been decidedly in the wrong.
I cannot conclude these details of some very singular passages in a
life at all times sufficiently eventful, without again recalling to
the attention of the reader the merits of that indiscriminate
philosophy which is a sure and ready shield against those shafts of
calamity which can be neither seen, felt, nor fully understood. It was
in the spirit of this wisdom that, among the ancient Hebrews, it was
believed the gates of Heaven would be inevitably opened to that
sinner, or saint, who with good lungs and implicit confidence, should
vociferate the word "_Amen!_" It was in the spirit of this wisdom that
when a great plague raged at Athens, and every means had been in vain
attempted for its removal, Epimenides--as Laertius relates in his
second book of the life of that philosopher--advised the erection of a
shrine and temple _to prostekonti Theo_--"to the proper God."
The "Acajou et Zirphile" of Du Clos is a whimsical and amusing Fairy
Tale, ingeniously composed in illustration of a series of grotesque,
and extravagant engravings, whose figures, rats, apes, butterflies,
and men, have no earthly meaning or connection but that given by the
pen of the writer.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
CUPID'S SPORT.
"And is this Cupid's realm?--if so, good by!
Cupid, and Cupid's votaries I fly:
No offering to his altar do I bring--
No bleeding heart, nor hymeneal ring."
In the third number of the Messenger, my good reader, you and I were
engaged in taking a peep at Cupid's Sport. Unless you have fallen out
with me, (as I certainly have not with you,) we will again travel
together, in a half merry, half serious mood, through some three or
four pages. We shall perhaps be forced to scramble over hedges matted
with brambles, or amble along some grassy mead or velvet lawn; it may
be we
"Must pore where babbling waters flow,
And watch unfolding roses blow."
You no doubt remember in what a sad plight we left our young friend
Timothy Wilberforce; how he had been gradually led on by Cupid, buoyed
up and transported, till he attained within a step of the pinnacle of
bliss--and then, how the mischief-making God had precipitated him to
the very brink of despair; how, like Sisyphus,
"Up the high hill he heav'd the huge round stone;"
and how
"The huge round stone resulting with a bound,
Thunder'd impetuous down, and smoked along the ground."
In fine, he had been caught and caged, manacled, cuffed, and then
_kicked_, (that's the word,) by our good little, sweet little Molly,
to his heart's content. Alas! this truly is one of the miseries of
human life. Had Tim received a kick from a man fashioned like himself,
he might at least have returned the blow. Had it been bestowed by one
fashioned after the manner of the Houyhnims, with hock and hoof, or
had it been driven full in his face by an ass, shod with a double set
of irons, he might have consoled himself with the reflection that some
skilful surgeon would replace the mangled elements, or kind nature
reproduce a healthy action. But the impress of a damsel's foot upon a
generous heart was far more difficult to efface. The wound it
inflicted, had baffled through all ages the skill of anatomists,
phrenologists, and philosophers. Tim then, could only bewail the
hopelessness of his situation in the mournful strains of the gentle
Corydon:
"She is faithless, and I am undone.
Ye that witness the woes I endure,
Let reason instruct you to shun
What it cannot instruct you to cure."
These were the first sensations of his softened soul, but as time
moved on with his unslackened wing, other thoughts unbidden sprung
upon his mind. Memory indeed, for awhile continued to brood over "the
ills that flesh is heir to," but the good Tim, at last, came to the
same conclusion with the wise McPherson, that
"To cut his throat, a brave man scorns,
So, instead of his throat, he cut--his corns."
Tim, like all honest bachelors, swore most roundly, that he would
never more be caught by woman's wiles; that she was heartless,
faithless, deceitful, "and desperately wicked." Alas! poor Tim knew
not the susceptibility of his own heart; and Cupid but smiled to think
how easily he could hold our hero in magic thraldom. Tim indeed could
cry out in the agony of woe,
"Have I not had my brain sear'd, heart riven,
Hopes sapp'd, name blighted, life's life lied away?"
but still, blindfold and unconscious, he would find himself worse than
ever entangled and ensnared. A ringlet tastefully displayed, a soft
melting eye, it might be a keen piercing one, it mattered not to him,
a dimpled cheek, a laughter making mouth, were to him more attractive,
than a diamond to a miser, a ship with her canvass swelling to the
breeze to the jolly tar, or a well fed steed to a Dutchman's fancy.
The very hopes he once cherished, now nipped and blighted; his former
fondness for society which he now shunned and despised, served by the
contrast to make him doubly gloomy and alone,
"Lone--as the corse within its shroud,
Lone--as a solitary cloud,
A single cloud on a sunny day,
While all the rest of heaven is clear,
A frown upon the atmosphere,
That hath no business to appear
When skies are blue, and earth is gay."
Feeling so doubly lone, Tim would again seek a partner to sympathize
in his sorrows, and to whom could he go? to man--cold calculating man?
What is man worth in sorrow? Has he the tender sensibility, the warm
hearted sympathy that is ever alive in a female's bosom? If you tell
him your love sick tale, he will laugh you to scorn, he will frown you
down for a puling blockhead; but woman will listen to your griefs,
will alleviate your pain, assuage your sorrow, and if she but smiles,
Tim would exclaim,
"How she smiled, and I could not but love."
With feelings such as these, Tim _accidentally_ became acquainted with
"the lass with the auburn curls." These accidents occur sometimes, so
happily and apropos, that we are tempted to believe them not merely
the result of casualty; my own opinion is, that they are all devised,
planned and executed by that wily urchin cupid, to bring those
together, upon whom to sport his strange fantastic freaks.
One autumn's eve, when the sun was low, Catherine and her Cousin Tony
issued forth, to ramble along the winding banks of the James River
Canal. They were admiring the beauty of the scenery, and occasionally
turning to view the dazzling brilliancy of many of the windows in the
city, caused by the reflection of the setting sun, producing the
effect of an illumination shifting from house to house as they changed
their position.
They had progressed along the canal as far as the first water-fall,
the situation of which, many of my readers will no doubt remember; not
as it is at present, but as it existed a few years ago, before the
polishing hand of art had shorn it of half its beauties. There is an
arch turned there, spanning the ravine, over which the canal passes at
its usual level, and is thus raised, some thirty feet perhaps, above
the base of the ravine. Under this arch a pellucid rivulet gently
ripples, till reaching the brink of the acclivity below, it leaps and
bounds towards the river. Above the sides of this arch, the waste
water from the canal rushed headlong, mingling with the clear waters
of the rivulet, and dashing foamingly along, or eddying and bubbling
among a rugged bed of granite. On the east side of this fall, there
was once a rock, raised high above the rest, by the side of which a
little cedar grew, over and around whose boughs the wild grape and
sweet brier intertwined their branches until they hung a verdant
canopy above. This place, adorned as it was with its native drapery,
had obtained the name of "Cupid's Cavern,"--for here, many a loving
couple, after an evening's walk, would rest, feasting upon the
beauties of the surrounding scenery. And here, many a tale of love had
been told, which the roar of the water-fall deafened to all, but the
ears into which they had been whispered. On the rock just mentioned,
by the side of the cavern, Tony and Kate at length seated themselves,
and will you believe it, Tony was actually endeavoring to persuade his
_cousin_ to permit him, to call her, by a more endearing title.
Tim too, had been attracted by the delicious softness of the evening,
to gaze upon the same beauties; he was a little behind them during the
walk, but had been so absorbed with his own reflections, that he had
scarcely noticed that any one was before him. Here, he had often
walked with his once sweet Molly in the days of his happiness, and
although he now boasted that his heart was free as air, association
necessarily brought to his mind, her whom he wished to banish, and
spite of himself, he more than once repeated,
"Alas! where with her I have stray'd,
I could wander with pleasure alone."
A few yards above the fall I have vainly endeavored to describe, there
was a little bridge across the canal, then formed of two logs, each
about a foot wide, but without railing or safeguard of any kind. From
its proximity to "Cupid's Cavern," it might well have been termed the
"Bridge of Sighs." These logs had been so long exposed to the weather,
and were so much used and worn, as to have become very much decayed
and absolutely dangerous. Still, through mere habit, they were daily
crossed by many, and their dilapidated condition was scarcely noticed.
One had evidently, already, partially given way near the middle, while
the other was not in a much more sound condition.
Upon the end of this bridge, Tim determined to rest, and while
thoughtfully musing, his eyes fell upon the cousins I have just
described, seated on the rock below.
Reader, I cannot tell you all that Tony or Kate said; I wish I could.
A word or two must suffice. It is not what they said I care about. I
desire you to look at Kate, and then tell me if you can blame Tim for
looking too.
"Cousin Kate," said Tony, "Did you ever feel as if you would choke
when you attempted to speak?" This was a plain, common place question,
and Catherine might have answered straight forward, "Yes, cousin Tony,
I have,"--or "No, Tony, I have not;" or "I do not know cuz;"--but,
some how or other, girls are strange beings. Catherine said not one
word, but began to blush. "I have called you _cousin_," said Tony,
"long enough, Kate." Here the perspiration stood upon Tony's brow, and
Kate blushed crimson. "Cousin Tony," said Kate, "It is time for us to
be returning home." "Ah Kate," said Tony, "you know how long and how
ardently I have loved you; may I not, one day, drop that epithet of
Cousin?" Tony looked at Kate for some reply. "Cousin Tony," said
Catherine, summoning up all her courage, "we can never be more than
friends and cousins." Then Kate's brow began to cool, but whenever
Tony would press the matter, all he saw was new blown blushes, for
Kate had seen that Tim's eyes were fastened upon her, and from Tony's
eager gaze and manner, she well knew a stranger's suspicions must be
roused.
Gentle reader, I have told you thus much of Tony's courtship, that
you, as well as Tim, might see a few of Katy's blushes. She was as
delicately refined in thought and sentiment as you can possibly
conceive. Her's was
"A beautiful transparent skin,
Which never hides the blood, yet holds it in;"
so soft, and thin, and white, that you might perceive each pulse as it
ebbed and flowed; indeed, whenever her heart was excited by any sudden
emotion, the delicate ruby would come and go, till the consciousness
of blushing would make her doubly crimson. She would endeavor to
conceal her emotions,
"But o'er her bright brow flashed a tumult strange,
And into her clear cheek the blood was brought,
Blood red, as sunset summer clouds, which range
The verge of heaven."
Good reader, I hate formal introductions, and therefore I have not
introduced you formally to my heroine, but since I have let you into
the secret that Kate's foible was blushing, I must go a little
further; when she did blush, she had a habit, as if to cool her brow,
of parting her ringlets, and then, carelessly, throwing them back,
there wantonly hung
"Down her white neck, long floating auburn curls,
The least of which, would set ten poets raving."
You are not to consider this a description of Katy's person; when I
attempt such a delineation, it will be with a flourish of trumpets,
louder and longer than Joshua made, when he encompassed the walls of
Jericho and blew them into fragments. At present, you see our
Catherine in a simple, neat, white dress, which
"Like fleecy clouds about the moon, play'd 'round her."
All this time, Tim, that most notorious contemner of beauty, and the
man of all others who could most manfully resist loveliness, "in any
shape, in any mood," sat drinking in these unconscious exhibitions of
Katy's character and mind. He saw not Tony, much less did he hear or
imagine what he said. All he perceived was Catherine's face, and those
rich, floating curls. It was indeed cruel in Cupid to place him there.
At every succeeding blush, a poisoned arrow flew from his silver bow,
and Tim's poor heart fluttered in his bosom. Determining for once,
however, to out general Cupid, Tim gallantly resolved upon a hasty
flight; accordingly, he took himself across the little bridge, and
began sauntering away on the opposite hill.
About the same time, Catherine again insisted upon returning, and Tony
finding all effort at persuasion perfectly hopeless, began to put upon
the matter the best face he could muster. Taking his cousin's arm he
insisted she should vary the walk, by crossing to the other side of
the canal, and return to the city in that direction. Kate expressed
her uneasiness at crossing this insecure bridge, but as Tony was
importunate, she reluctantly consented, not desiring farther to add to
his mortification by a positive refusal. Tony, as a man of gallantry
naturally would do, placed Catherine upon the soundest of the logs, he
himself walking by her side on the weaker of the two, not reflecting
that the weaker log would much more easily bear her weight than his.
As fate would have it, Catherine became alarmed by the trembling of
the bridge, and leaned the more heavily upon Tony for support, and as
he was not in a mood to care much whether he broke his own neck or
not, he insisted upon proving to his cousin, that the bridge was
perfectly secure, and that all her fears were totally groundless. So
taking her by the arm, in a careless way, and telling her gaily, "Now
mind what you are about," he raised himself upon his feet several
times, so as to produce an oscillating motion in the log. At this
moment, Tim had turned about to cast one lingering look, merely to
inquire with himself, what lassie that might be, when perceiving the
danger they were in, he shouted at the top of his voice, "Take
care!"--but it was too late,--down went the log with a terrible crash,
and poor Tony and sweet Kate were precipitated into the water below,
in the middle of the canal, at the deepest point. If ever you have
seen in the hand of some ruthless urchin, an innocent bird (which he
has just succeeded in securing from his trap,) flurried, gasping and
panting with fright, you will have a correct idea of Katy. She gave
one shriek as she fell, and then rose almost breathless, gasping and
panting in an agony of alarm. Luckily the water was not more than
waist deep. Tony went down feet foremost, following the decayed
timbers, (pity he had not fallen on his head,) but Catherine, clinging
to his arm at the time of the accident, and having her support
suddenly taken from her, was precipitated at full length into the
water. In an instant, Tim rushed to the spot. Into the canal he went,
and catching the terrified Kate in his arms, he brought her safely to
the shore. Tony did all he could, but poor fellow he was completely
involved among the broken fragments, and though he strove to rescue
Kate, it was as much as he could do to extricate himself. Tim knew
there was no danger of Tony's drowning, and so he left him to struggle
for himself, giving all his attention to Kate, who was truly an object
worthy of his care, and yet not the less of his admiration. She,
though thoroughly wet, withal looked so grateful, and her countenance
expressed so many thanks, and her pitiable situation, together with
the freshness of the water, heightened the bloom of her cheek to such
a degree, that Tim never once noticed her dress. Well might he have
imagined her the beauteous Goddess Thetis, with her silvery drapery,
as she issued from her watery mansion. But when she took off her
fragile bonnet, to adjust her dishevelled hair, and he viewed
"O'er her white forehead the gilt tresses flow,
Like the rays of the sun on a hillock of snow,"
who could have blamed him, if he had given way to his raptures, and
exclaimed,
"My heart for a slave to gay Venus I've sold,
And bartered my freedom for ringlets of gold."
As for Tony, if you could have seen him, as he crept out of the water,
with his "long tailed blue," tapering to a point, and dripping like an
old rooster under a cart, on a rainy day, with his head up and his
tail down, you really would have pitied him; he knew not which way to
look, nor what to say. I have seen a dog caught in the act of killing
sheep; have seen a wet rat creeping out of a tub; and I saw the gay
Tony sneaking out of the canal after having been turned off by his
sweetheart, and each of these animals, dog, rat, and Tony, had the
same identical sickly phiz. The dog slunk to his kennel, the rat crept
to his hole, but Tony was forced to his mistress, who with all
imaginable sweetness forgave him in an instant. He ought, if he could,
to have crept into an augur hole and hid himself there forever.
However, finding Tim was an old friend of his, he thanked him kindly
for his timely assistance, and introduced him to her, of all others,
with whom Tim most desired some farther acquaintance.
In a little time, our three friends began to laugh the matter over as
well as they could, and being thoroughly drenched, they endeavored to
keep each other in countenance, on their way homeward. Tim accompanied
Kate to her door, and then, wishing she might experience no farther
inconvenience from her accident, and having received a polite
invitation to visit the family, retired with Tony to procure a drier
suit.