His poverty, unlike with most men, has been his friend--and a very good
friend, too. Contributions have been dropped in the same poor-box for his
relief, until the old gentleman has grown comparatively quite a dandy;
one of Noble's black satin aprons has found him in stocks for months,
and Blight is always knitting comfortable muffetees, slippers, and
chest-protectors for him in the winter. We picture to ourselves the old
man emptying his pockets when he gets home, and his surprise at finding
the little gifts (and cake sometimes) they contain. We are happy in the
pleasure we know we give him. He never says a word, but merely looks his
thanks. We feel his gratitude in the increased kindness we receive from
him. He calls us his "angels," and we know directly what he means; if he
said more, O Lord! how we should all cry, and he, perhaps, more than any
of us.
He is here, Nelly, mostly all day long; but doesn't dine with us. The
Lady Principal sends him out a plateful, heaped up with almost insulting
profusion, as if she were sending it out to a beggar. Perhaps she isn't
wrong, however, for it is all eaten. He carries down the tray himself,
that none may see how clean his plate has been polished.
I need not tell you, Nell, dear, that we all are fond of poor Penn. He
is so kind, so gentlemanly, so patient, acting to us more like a parent
than a teacher. Besides, he sets us the strangest copies, the oddest
problems--things never heard of in a school before--but reconciling us to
our tasks by making us laugh, and interesting the dullest pupil. You won't
credit it; but that conceited thing Twigg fancies him in love with her.
She dresses out her ringlets as long as spaniel's ears, and puts on cherry
neck-ribbons when he comes. All day long is she pestering him to mend her
pen, and to explain away difficulties about _x_ in algebra; just as if a
man could be bothered into love! Penn takes it all very good-temperedly;
but I imagine it would bring his wig prematurely to the grave, if he was
told that he was going to marry Twigg.
None of us can tell what pittance the Princesses' College gives for
the life-service of such a man. Not a tenth, I dare say, of what they
give to Herr Hullabullützer. Such fuss, dear, as is made for the Herr's
reception! The room is heated to a certain degree of nicety, the light
is subdued, sherry and biscuits are ready for his refreshment, tea and
cake (_our cake_) brought in afterwards, and the young ladies kept
waiting in succession every quarter of an hour, so as not to lose a
moment of his valuable time. And you should only see him lounging in the
arm-chair; his little fourpenny-piece of a watch placed before him, as
if the object of his visit was to follow its hands, and not our fingers.
Why, he looks, dear, the handsomest personification of contentment,
hair-oil, and conceit, that a foreigner ever _bamboozled_ people with in
this country. His shirt is light pink, and perforated like an open-work
jam tart. His wristbands are turned back nearly as much as the sheet on
the pillow of a bed. His head would make a beautiful block for a French
hair-dresser's window; and he has sufficient chains and miniature pistols,
donkeys, cannons, and dogs dangling round his neck to start in business
a Jew peddler. He dozes one-half the time; but then it is a reverie--the
meditation of genius. The other half he plays with his glossy curls or
his whitey-brown moustache, so he may well be excused if he doesn't know
exactly to a minute what air his pupil is playing. It's true, he scarcely
gives himself the trouble to correct us when we are wrong; but then he
teaches the young princesses! and so we should not expect him to be over
patient with little chits of school-girls. _He_ is an artist: poor Penn
is only a man of intellect. _He_ goes to the palace three times a week;
poor Penn has only been to college; so the two are not to be compared.
Once, however, when your dearest Kitty was making more noise over the
"Battle of Prague" than has ever been made over the battle of Waterloo,
the ringleted Herr caught up her hand, and said, in a voice that melted
with the sweetness of barley sugar, "I can-not perr-mit such soft litt-tle
fin-gerrs to murr-derr har-mo-nie;" and--and, dearest, I think Kitty's
hand felt the smallest possible baby's-touch of a squeeze.
I had on your pretty turquoise ring at the time, and since then every girl
has wished me to lend it her for her music lesson. Just as if it was the
ring that!!!----
Fraulein Pinchinhertz is quite sentimental over the handsome Herr. She
sits in the room during the lessons, looking and listening with all her
soul in her eyes, and talking German in the _softest_ manner. But the Herr
admires his boots infinitely more than he does her.
But, bother take it, there's the bell for tea. Good-bye, my darling Nelly,
and do not forget the toffee you promised to send to--
Your fondest KITTY CLOVER.
P. S. I will show you the valentine when I come home. Tell me, have you
had any? Pray, how many?
P. S. It is very strange--some one sang under our windows last night,
"Wilt thou love me then as now?" I wonder if it was _him_?
P. S. I have had this more than three weeks in my pocket, waiting for an
opportunity to post it.
[Illustration]
A SONG.
BY CHARLES STEWART.
As fancy breathes her gentlest gale
O'er memory's shallop, bright with flowers,
And up the stream of Time you sail
To visit childhood's fairy bowers--
As early scenes bring to your mind
The day gone by of youthful greeting--
The joys and pleasures left behind,
As bright, as transient, and as fleeting
As sunshine on a summer's day--
One moment bright, but ere the hour
Hath passed, the landscape wears a frown,
And then 'tis darkened by a shower:
Oh, cherish, as in other days,
One passing thought, one precious tear,
When o'er the past thy vision strays,
For him who writes this tribute here!
And may thy dreams, so glad in youth,
As Time with tireless pinions fly,
Unfold in happiness and truth,
And sit amid a cloudless sky!
GODEY'S COURSE OF LESSONS IN DRAWING.
LESSON VI.
FIGURE AND OBJECT DRAWING.
[Illustration: Fig. 1.]
[Illustration: Fig. 2.]
[Illustration: Fig. 3.]
[Illustration: Fig. 4.]
[Illustration: Fig. 5.]
IN executing the copies here given, and, indeed, in all other drawings
which are to be shaded, the outlines must first be put in before any
attempt to shade is made. The pupil should endeavor to produce the proper
degree of shade at one operation, without having occasion to go over or
darken it afterwards. This retouching spoils the effect of clearness
and spirit which shading at one operation is calculated to give, and
which all drawings should have. The drawings in Figs. 1 and 2 will be
very easily put in. The outline of Fig. 3 should be drawn in the manner
heretofore explained, the shading put in by bold strokes from top to
bottom, because if done at two operations a shadow would result, by
which the effect would be spoiled; a few cross-strokes may be next put
in, which will give a little roundness to the sketch. In Fig. 4, the
nearest part of the oval is to be drawn considerably stronger, so as
to bring it forward. Figs. 5 and 6 are examples in which the ellipse is
distinguishable. In copying Fig. 7, a nice broken outline should first
be obtained; the shading being simple needs no explanation. The outline
of Fig. 8 is to be drawn as formerly; the indented parts of the leaf to
be put in slightly, and afterwards the stronger shadow, which throws
forward the curled edge of the leaf. In copying the annexed sketch of a
grindstone, to get the outline correctly the framework should be drawn
first, carefully observing the relative proportions of the parts, in order
to give an idea of perspective.[4] Having done this, an ellipse may be
drawn to represent the stone, part of this to be rubbed out afterwards;
in shading the drawing, the nearer parts should be made darker than those
distant; this causes the latter to recede, having the appearance of
distance. In Fig. 10, we give the representation of an old gate; it is so
simple that it needs no explanation. Fig. 11, which is the representation
of a familiar object, is treated under a very simple effect of light and
shade, the shaded parts bringing forward the light ones; this effect is
called _relief_. It is of the utmost importance that the pupil should
have a clear knowledge of the mode of producing this effect. We would
recommend her to try the experiment of placing simple objects so as to
relieve each other, and to sketch them in this manner; this will enable
her very speedily to understand the method of attaining the effect. In
Fig. 12, the same effect is displayed, only reversed; a mixture of light
and shade throwing back the other end, which is in half tint. In Fig. 13,
which is the representation of a fuchsia-leaf, the outline must be put
in in the manner heretofore explained; the shading is similar to that in
Fig. 8. After copying this, we would recommend the pupil to get a similar
leaf, and place it in various positions, so that the light and shade will
be variously disposed. This will afford excellent practice, and will
accustom the pupil to draw or sketch from nature. In Fig. 14, which is
the representation of a rural stile, the pupil will find the principle of
relief shown in Figs. 11 and 12 again displayed; the shading behind the
stumps throwing the light parts forward, and the shaded sides of these
causing the back part to recede.
[Illustration: Fig. 6.]
[Illustration: Fig. 7.]
[Illustration: Fig. 8.]
[Illustration: Fig. 9.]
[Illustration: Fig. 10.]
[Illustration: Fig. 11.]
[Illustration: Fig. 12.]
[Illustration: Fig. 13.]
[Illustration: Fig. 14.]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 4: Hereafter the subject of Perspective will be fully treated
of; before Perspective can be mastered, it is absolutely necessary that
the pupil should be able to sketch by the assistance of the eye.]
CELESTIAL PHENOMENA.--JUNE.
BY D. W. BELISLE.
BOOTES.--This constellation is situated west of Asterion Et Chara, and
contains fifty-four stars. It comes to the meridian the 9th of June.
Bootes may be readily distinguished by the position and splendor of
its principal star Arcturus, which shines with a reddish lustre, much
resembling the planet Mars. This star is supposed to be nearer the earth
than any other star in the northern hemisphere. Arcturus is referred to in
Young's "Paraphrase," where the Almighty answers Job out of the whirlwind--
"Canst thou the skies' benevolence restrain,
And cause the Pleiades to shine in vain?
Or, when Orion sparkles from his sphere,
Thaw the cold season, and unbind the year?
Bid Mazzaroth his destined station know,
And teach the bright ARCTURUS where to glow?"
Arcturus is a star of the first magnitude, situated in the left knee, and
is twenty-six degrees south-east of Cor-Coroli. Three small bright stars
curve down to the left foot, while three of the same size, about nine
degrees east, curve in the same manner, and form the right leg. Three
stars curve upwards, forming the left arm, which he holds aloft, while
three still more minute ones mark the neud of the leash which he holds in
his left hand, while his right one is marked by four stars; three very
minute ones mark the club with which he urges on the hounds.
The ancient Greeks called this group Lycaon, which signifies a wolf,
asserting that it is Calisto who was changed into a wolf by Juno.
"But now her son had fifteen summers told,
Fierce at the chase, and in the forest bold,
When, as he beat the woods in quest of prey,
He chanced to rouse his mother where she lay.
She knew her son, and kept him in her sight,
And fondly gazed; the boy was in a fright,
And aimed a pointed arrow at her breast,
And would have slain his mother in the beast;
But Jove forbade, and snatched her through the air
In whirlwinds up to heaven, and fixed her there."
The Egyptians claimed the origin of it likewise, as also did the Hebrews.
Its origin is probably too ancient to be traced.
* * * * *
CENTAURUS.--This fabulous monster is represented as having the head and
shoulders of a man, terminating in the body of a horse. It occupies a
considerable space in the southern hemisphere, yet it is so low down that
but little of it can be traced in our latitude. It is situated south
of Spica Virginis, and contains thirty-five stars, two of which are of
the first magnitude. Agena and Bengula are stars of rare brilliancy,
and mark the fore-feet of the monster. These stars are never visible in
our latitude, but shine with greater lustre than any that gild our own
hemisphere.
It is supposed this constellation took its rise from the simplicity of
the shepherds of the earlier ages, who, on seeing men on horses, supposed
them part of the animals they rode; so the Spanish cavalry seemed to the
Mexicans as late as the year 1500.
The Centaurs were, in reality, a tribe of Lapithæ, who resided near Mount
Pelion, and first invented the art of breaking horses. Virgil says--
"The Lapithæ to chariots add the state
Of bits and bridles; taught the steed to bound,
To turn the ring, and trace the mazy ground,
To stop, to fly, the rules of war to know,
To obey the rider, and to dare the foe."
* * * * *
LUPUS.--This constellation is situated south of Libra and east of the
Centaur, and is so low down that it cannot be traced in our latitude. It
contains twenty-four stars of a small magnitude.
This constellation, according to mythology, is Lycaon, King of Arcadia,
who lived 3,600 years ago, and was changed into a wolf by Jupiter for
sacrificing human victims at the altar of Pan.
* * * * *
LIBRA.--When the sun enters the sign Libra, the days and nights are of
equal duration, and seem to observe an equilibrium like a balance. Libra
contains fifty-one stars, and comes to the meridian the 22d of June. It
may be known by its four principal stars forming a quadrilateral figure,
lying north-east and south-west, and having its upper and lower indices
nearly in a straight line running north and south. The two stars which
form the south-west side of the square are situated about six degrees
apart, and distinguish the southern scale. The two which form the
north-east side are seven degrees apart, and mark the northern scale.
The Libra of the Zodiac is found upon all the hieroglyphics of Egypt,
which is proof of its great antiquity. In the Zodiacs of Estne and
Dendera, Virgo is represented as holding the balance in her hand as an
emblem of equal justice to all.
The Greeks assert that the balance was placed among the stars to
perpetuate the memory of Mochus, the inventor of weights and measures.
It is known, however, to have existed prior to the Greek nation, and
therefore the assumption must be erroneous.
* * * * *
SERPENS.--This constellation is situated chiefly between Libra and Corona
Borealis. Those stars that lie scattered along for about twenty-five
degrees, in a serpentine direction between Libra and the Crown, mark the
body and head of the serpent; five of these, standing in a cluster, form
the head. They are about ten degrees south of the crown.
"Vast as the starry serpent that, on high,
Tracks the clear ether and divides the sky,
And southward winding from the northern Wain,
Shoots to remoter spheres its glittering train."
Many nations have worshipped the Serpent, among which are the Hivites and
aborigines of South America. Job says: "By his spirit He hath garnished
the heaven; his hand hath formed the crooked Serpent."
* * * * *
CORONA BOREALIS.--Among the starry hosts that deck the summer sky, there
is no group more beautiful than the northern Crown. It is situated north
of the Serpent, and may be readily distinguished by its six principal
stars curving round into a wreath or crown. Alphacca, its brightest star,
is eleven degrees east of Mirac in Bootes, and comes to the meridian
the 30th of June. This group contains twenty-one stars, of which those
that compose the wreath are alone conspicuous. This beautiful cluster of
stars is said to have been placed in the heavens to commemorate the crown
presented to Ariadne, Princess of Crete, by Bacchus.
We cannot discard the history connected with the traditionary gods of the
ancients as entirely fabulous, for undoubtedly, in the fables of heathen
mythology, are transmitted to us records of early times so far enveloped
in the impenetrable darkness that separates us from the earliest records
of the human species, that they alone are all that remain to us of the
habits and pursuits of the patriarchs of the world. It remains with us to
sift these relics of the past from the mystic web that a barbarous age
threw around them, and thus be enabled to transmit to future ages glimpses
of the habits and pursuits of patriarchs of our race in all the purity of
unadorned truth.
[Illustration]
LEGEND OF LONG-POND; OR, LAKE OF THE GOLDEN CROSS.
BY FANNY FALES.
THE summer moon hung in the sky,
And sleeping in its sheen;
Long-Pond, watched by the angel stars,
Lay in its cradle green.
The little zephyrs gliding by,
Rocked it upon their way;
And saw the dimples come and go,
As of a child at play.
The beautiful white lilies bowed,
With folded hands, at rest;
As if they stole away to pray
Beneath the water's crest.
From the dim woods beyond, the doe
Came down her thirst to slake;
Her wild brown eyes, and graceful form,
Reflected from the lake.
What! does she list the huntsman's horn,
That thus she bounds away?
Turns she, with head erect and proud,
The noisy hounds to bay?
Nay, nay! 'tis but a swift canoe
Shoots from the coppice near;
Its light oars leave a silvery track
Upon the waters clear.
A pale, fair youth, one arm flung round
A maiden's form, is there;
The Saxon in his deep blue eyes,
And light-brown waving hair.
The full-orbed moon floods in its wanes,
The Indian maiden's face;
The rich blood tints her olive cheek,
Her form is full of grace.
Her black eyes, softer than the night,
Are turned to meet his own;
Her heart drinks in each loving word,
And deep impassioned tone.
"Listen, Lueka--little fawn,"
(His voice is sad and low;)
"Chide not with that imploring gaze;
To-morrow I must go!"
Her head drops slowly on her breast,
Veiled with her long black hair;
Love in that simple act confest,
Love, and almost--despair.
"Anoonk,[5] Lueka's heart will bleed,
The arrow 'neath its wing;
'Twill sit and mourn, 'twill droop and die,
It never more will sing.
"To-morrow is a little word,
But, oh, how big with woe!
Did poor Lueka hear or dream,
'To-morrow I must go?'
"Lueka, list, my bird, my fawn,
I will return again
Before the harvest moon looks down
Upon the golden grain.
"I swear, Lueka, by the stars,
And by this cross of gold,
'Ere red the berries of the thorn
My Indian bride I'll fold.
"In token, chain and cross of gold
I hang upon thy breast;
And let it whisper, 'He will come
When summer's in the west.'"
'Twere vain Lueka's fears to paint,
'Twere vain her woe to tell;
When came the morrow's long embrace,
And quivering, low farewell.
* * * * *
Popmonet's daughter was the maid,
A princess' rank she bore;
And many a rival chieftain laid
His offering at her door.
But all in vain--for she had seen
The stranger as he lay
With fever in his throbbing veins--
And nursed him day by day.
Health came, and love--but woe if he
Who sought her for his own,
The Marshpee chief, her secret know,
By word, or look, or tone.
* * * * *
The night is dark, the storm is fierce,
But darker, fiercer still
The whirlwind passions in the soul
Of scorned Auketauquil.
For sad, apart, Lueka sits,
Her heart's-eyes gaze afar;
The young chief's words, his very smiles
Upon her spirits jar.
The golden cross, but half concealed,
To him her secret told;
The while she murmurs, "he will come
Before this moon is old.
"The corn is golden in the sheaf,
With silken tassels drest;
I've seen the shining summer rise,
And now 'tis in the west."
But summer set, and winter came,
And spring, with blossoms gay;
Then hope died in Lueka's heart,
For he was still away.
She drooped and faded day by day,
And when the autumn hours
Came round again with yellow leaves,
She'd perished with the flowers.
Popmonet bowed his aged head
In sorrow--with a moan;
"The leaves from the lone tree are swept,
I stand alone--alone!"
Auketauquil approaches near,
With brow and footstep grave;
The hated cross gleams on her breast,
He hurls it in the wave.
"Curses," he cried, "upon the lips
That lured away my bird!
Curse him! would of his hated race
Lueka'd never heard!
"Great Spirit, curse him! for he stole
The ring-dove from my breast;
Poor wounded thing--how cold it lies;
I would have been its nest!"
A lovely island in the lake
Popmonet's child received;
Her people bore her gently there,
And e'en the sternest grieved.
Anear her placed they food and drink,
And trinkets that she wore,
To cheer her on the lonely voyage
Unto the spirit shore.
They laid her where the sweet-fern grew,
With lilies in her hand;
Then loosed a bird above her grave,[6]
And sang thus by the strand.--
Speed on to the beautiful land afar,
Where the soul of our sister's a new made star;
With kisses, embraces, thy wings are laden,
Soar high to the home of the absent maiden,
Away! away!
Tell her, winged blossom, that over her grave,
The kindred who mourn her, thy freedom gave;
We ope thy cage, captive; we bid thee farewell;
Soar away to the clime where the blessed dwell,
Away! away!
Tell her we'll look when the north is aglow,[7]
With the souls of our people, moving slow;
For the beams of her spirit 'mid those we see,
For we know in glory she brightest will be,
Away! away!
She will come no more when the morn is fair,
To look in the wave while she braids her hair;
But her face like a star on Auketauquil's soul,
Dawns bright from the gloom where its deep waters roll,
Away! away!
Soar on--soar away to the spirit-land,
Thy wings with the breath of affection fanned;
The soul of our sister's a new made star,
Bear our blessing, O bird, to her home afar;
Away! away!
* * * * *
Years fled--the council fires went out;
The red men, one by one,
Died, or were driven from their haunts,
Toward the setting sun.
No more a moccasin is seen
On Succannesset[8] lands;
Where once arose the wigwam's smoke,
The white man's dwelling stands.
Save one old brave with locks of snow,
No tree stands where it grew;
No longer on the wave is launched
The graceful bark canoe.
* * * * *
A poor lone woman, gathering
Fuel Long-Pond around,
Drew forth a dead branch from the wave,
And lo! a cross was found!
'Twas asked the aged brave, if he
Its history could tell;
'Twas the same cross Lueka wore,
Ah, yes! he knew it well.
I gathered from his lips ere long
The tale here given thee;
'Tis common love, and woe, and death,
From man's inconstancy.
And evermore that woodland pond,
Where oaks their shadows toss,
We'll call for poor Lueka's sake,
Lake of the Golden Cross.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 5: _Anoonk_, a star.]
[Footnote 6: The Indians of some tribes loose a bird over the grave of
a friend, laden with caresses, which they believe will be borne to the
departed one.]
[Footnote 7: The moving rays of the northern lights are supposed by them
to be the souls of their people in glory.]
[Footnote 8: _Succannesset_, Indian name of Falmouth.]
MRS. CLARK'S EXPERIENCE AS A SERVANT.
BY BELL.
"WHY is it, Mrs. Clark, that you always take the part of servants? You
speak as if you thought them possessed of sensibilities as refined as
ours."
"Why should they not have such feelings?" inquired Mrs. Clark.
"Their education is so different."
"Does education always give sensibility? Do you not think it possible for
those that must work for a living to be possessed of it?"
"I should suppose they might do something that would not expose them to
the contempt that is shown to such as are 'girls in the kitchen.' Why,
even the higher servants despise them."
"Would it not be better if all were considerate enough not to contemn any
one? Then there would be no danger of wounding sensibilities that are none
the less acute because they are found in the breast of a servant." Mrs.
Clark said this softly, and with a slight quiver, perceptible only when
you looked at her.
I was sitting by the window for the sake of the light. Sarah Marshall,
who was spending a week with Isabel Clark, was chatting as usual when
Mrs. Clark came in with a neighbor, who was telling of the impudence of a
servant who, when she was accused of falsehood, replied, "There is none of
my father's family that can lie."
"Did she lie?" innocently inquired Sarah.
"No, it was found she told the truth; but then, it was her independent
manner that was so offensive."