What should she say to her?
She had decided in the brief period of reflection before entering the
room.
Amputation, sudden and quick--then treatment, as a surgeon would express
it.
'Emma, it is all over with us. Mr. Meeker has been here and has broken
off his engagement with you. The reason is, because your father has lost
his property. I shall never regret our misfortunes, since it has saved
you from becoming the wife of a selfish, heartless wretch.'
Emma did not faint, or scream, or burst into tears; but she turned very
pale indeed, and sat without speaking, as if expecting her mother to say
something more.
Mrs. Tenant looked at her anxiously. She would have much preferred a
demonstration of some sort to silence--silence and pallor. She
continued:
'Emma, you are our only child, our all. We think of your happiness more
than of anything else in this world. Your mother is with you now; she
will help you and sustain you until you have recovered, as you soon
will, from the effect of this sudden shock.'
'And he said it was because papa had failed?' inquired Emma, without
appearing to notice what her mother was saying.
'Exactly.'
'Then it was because he thought I was rich that he wanted to marry me?'
'For nothing else in the world,' replied Mrs. Tenant, impatiently.
Emma was again silent, but she was no longer pale; on the contrary, the
color was fast filling her cheeks, and she blushed as she said, in a low
tone, 'I shall feel so mortified to go into church.'
Mrs. Tenant was delighted. A great point was gained. Emma was already
brought back to ordinary considerations; her pride would rally now.
'Never mind, my darling, never mind; for once it may be a little
awkward, but, after all, what do we care?'
Very commonplace, to be sure, but it was all she could say.
'Everybody knows that the wedding day was fixed. Then, you know, I had
to explain why it was put off to Ellen Stanley and Julia Petit, for they
were to be my bridesmaids. This morning I met Ellen, and she asked me
when it was to be, and I told her Hi--Mr. Meeker had not yet returned.
She declared she saw him on the corner of Bond street and Broadway day
before yesterday morning. She said she could not be mistaken. I told her
she _was_ mistaken. Now I dare say she _did_ see him. What _shall_ I do?
Everybody will have the story, and how they will laugh at me!'
'We will see about that, we will see,' said Mrs. Tenant.
The fact is, she did not know exactly what to reply.
'I shall be ashamed to show myself in the street.'
'Nonsense, my darling.'
Kissing her daughter cheerfully, Mrs. Tenant went down stairs to meet
her husband, whom she heard at the door.
The moment her mother left, Emma's heart sank, and she began to cry.
Mrs. Tenant was not long in putting her husband in possession of the
situation of things. He was astonished, of course. He asked a great
many questions, and at last seemed to comprehend how matters stood. He
appeared to be very deeply affected, though he said but little. He did
not speak on the subject to Emma, but soon after dinner took his hat and
walked out.
In a short time he was standing on the steps of Dr. Chellis's house, and
had rung the bell. He was presently seated in the Doctor's 'study' (he
declined to go into the drawing room), waiting for him to come in.
Now it so happened that Dr. Chellis and Mr. Tenant were schoolmates at
Exeter Academy, and afterward classmates at Yale. More than this, for
two years they roomed together. Young Tenant did not have much taste for
study, but his father, a man of competence, desired his son to be
'educated,' even if it should afterward be decided to make a merchant of
him. It was perhaps because the young men were so unlike that they took
to each other from the first and became intimate. There was something in
Tenant's honest, genuine, and amiable nature, which was exceedingly
attractive to the hardy, earnest, uncompromising Chellis. Their intimacy
was a matter of surprise and marvel to all, yet I think is easily
accounted for on the hypothesis just mentioned. That Tenant maintained a
respectable standing in his class he owed to Chellis, for it was their
habit to go over their lessons together after Chellis had 'dug out' his,
and thus fortified, Tenant's recitations were very fair.
The young men never lost sight of each other. With them it continued
always to be 'Aleck' and 'Harry.' Whenever the young clergyman came to
New York he was received at the house of the young merchant with open
arms. After some years, opportunity was presented for 'Harry,' to wit,
Mr. Henry Tenant, of the leading house of Allwise, Tenant & Co., to use
his influence in his church, where the pulpit had become vacant, to have
'Aleck,' to wit, the Rev. Alexander Chellis, called to fill it. The
latter received the invitation with pleasure, for it opened a field to
him he longed to enter. There was one drawback. He had not sufficient
means to properly furnish a city house, where matters are on a scale so
much more expensive than in the country. But he came down to consult his
friend. After a full discussion they retired, the clergyman still not
persuaded he could accept, and really most unwilling to decline. The
next morning the merchant was up very early, and bolting into his
friend's room, he woke him from a sound slumber, exclaiming, 'Aleck, I
have got to be absent to-day--shall not be in till evening; but I have
thought your affair all over, and decided that you must come, and that
forthwith. As to the little objection which troubles you, here is what
will obviate it; and mind you, Aleck, if you ever allude to this
circumstance, either to me or to any living being, I swear, by Jupiter
Ammon, your favorite old heathen, that I will never again recognize you
as friend.'
Thus delivering himself, he thrust a check for a thousand dollars into
the hands of the astonished clergyman, who lay listening to his
harangue, fully convinced his friend was actually out of his wits. The
next instant the door was closed; and rubbing his eyes to satisfy
himself he was not dreaming, he examined the piece of paper in his hand,
and read it forward and backward, upside down, and right side up, until
he actually began to comprehend what it meant. More than this, he fully
appreciated the act, and accepted it; and further, he never did allude
to the circumstance, not even so much as to thank his friend. It is
true, when the latter came back that evening and the two shook hands,
that Harry felt a peculiar pressure, and observed a peculiar expression
in Aleck's eyes, which he fancied for the moment were moist.
So Mr. Chellis was ordained over the church in New York. Years ran
away. He became a famous divine, justly celebrated through town and
country. We know the position Mr. Tenant enjoyed. The two always
maintained their old intimacy. When alone together, it was still 'Aleck'
and 'Harry.' College jokes were repeated, college days lived over, and,
while together, it would seem that neither was a day the older for the
years that had rolled over them. It is not to be wondered at then that
on receiving the unlooked-for intelligence of Hiram Meeker's conduct he
should desire to consult his old friend and lay the case before him.
Apologizing for keeping the reader so long on the threshold of Dr.
Chellis's study, we will now enter with him, and report the conference.
'Aleck, I am in trouble.' That was the first remark after the greeting.
Never before had Mr. Tenant made such an observation to his friend. The
old merchant had borne his failure like a man, accepting it as a part of
the 'fortune of war.' He neither whimpered nor made wry faces. So, when
Dr. Chellis heard the words, 'Aleck, I am in trouble,' he knew they
meant a great deal. He took his seat, not in his accustomed place, but
on the sofa close to his friend, and turning on him an anxious,
sympathizing look, he said, in a tone gentler than a woman's, 'What is
it, Harry?'
'Harry' told him the whole. The burden of all his thoughts was his
daughter, and his lip quivered when he spoke of her love for the man who
had proved to be so base, and of the effect the disappointment might
have on her.
When he had concluded, Dr. Chellis started to his feet and began to pace
up and down the room with great energy, exclaiming, 'God be praised! God
be praised! God be praised!'
'For what, Aleck, for what?' inquired Mr. Tenant, rising anxiously from
his seat and attempting to place himself before his friend, and thus
intercept a response; 'do tell me for what?'
This time they met in the middle of the room; the Doctor no longer
avoided his companion, but responded, with emphasis, 'For the escape! I
tell you, Harry, it should be the happiest day of your life! yes, the
happiest day of your life! Do you hear me?'
For Mr. Tenant did not appear to comprehend what the other was saying.
'I tell you,' continued the Doctor, 'Emma's engagement has been a
perpetual source of sorrow to me. Yet I had nothing definite to urge
against it, nothing, in fact, but what might be called a prejudice,
which it would have been unjust to speak of--and--but--the fact is, I
knew,' burst forth the now fairly enraged Doctor, interrupting himself
and marching off again at double quick, 'I knew the fellow was a scamp,
ever since he came whimpering to me about his conviction and God's
providence, wonderful conversion, and so on. Conversion! I'll convert
him!'
The Doctor's right hand opened and shut as if enclosing in its grasp the
collar of Hiram's coat.
Mr. Tenant meantime kept standing in the middle of the room, trying in
vain to bring the Doctor again to a halt. Whether he would have
succeeded will not be known, for a knock at the door served to effect
the purpose, while his sharp, angry 'Come in' so terrified the servant
girl that she opened it barely wide enough to enable her to announce, in
a faint tone, Mr. Meeker.'
'Ask him into the parlor,' said the Doctor, in his natural voice, 'I
will see him presently.'
Then he turned, and in his usual manner bade his friend sit. Both
resumed their places on the sofa, and the Doctor proceeded:
'Harry, it is all settled. The whole thing is clear. It comes just in
the right time. You know Maria is to sail for Europe next week. You know
how fond she is of Emma. It was but yesterday she was saying how
pleasant it would be if Emma could go with her. Then she supposed it
impossible. Now it is all right. The young people are to be absent six
or eight months. This will put Emma quite right. Now, then, we have
decided this, you must let me have my session with that knave yonder.'
'But Aleck! Aleck!' exclaimed Mr. Tenant, making an effort to stop his
friend, who was about to leave the room, 'you forget--you forget my
altered circumstances. Much as I like the plan, the thing is
impossible--really quite impossible.'
The Doctor turned on his companion impatiently.
'That's my affair,' he said. 'Mind that Emma is ready.'
'No, no, Aleck--no, no, that must not be. No, no.'
The Doctor looked as if about to make an assault on his friend, and then
raising his finger in a menacing manner, 'Who was it,' he exclaimed
fiercely, 'that with rude force burst into my room one morning,
disturbing my slumbers, and committing various acts of violence, while I
was in a defenceless state unable to resist--who was it?'
The Doctor's eyes actually glared with such a genuine expression of
rage, that Mr. Tenant lost his self-possession, and, as if afraid to
admit the charge, answered faintly:
'I don't know.'
'You lie, you dog--you know you do,' said the Doctor, relaxing his angry
tone. 'Ah, Harry, I did not think it of you.'
This last remark was uttered in the old familiar, gentle tone, and was
accompanied by a look--just such a look as he had given him on the
evening of the memorable affair of the thousand-dollar check.
Tears came into Mr. Tenant's eyes.
'Come, come,' said the Doctor, 'don't be foolish; away with you, and let
me attend to my business.'
They shook hands silently, and the Doctor, closing the door after his
friend, went back to his study, rang the bell, and directed Hiram to be
summoned.
* * * * *
Mrs. Tenant received the account which her husband brought her of his
visit to Dr. Chellis, and what had been decided on, with the liveliest
satisfaction. She went at once to her daughter's apartment (she had
thought best to leave her to herself for the evening), and exclaimed:
'Emma, my child, what do you think your papa has done? He has arranged
for you to go with the Chaunceys to Europe next week. You know Maria was
telling you Monday that if you were not going to be married, she should
insist on your accompanying her. Now tell me, Emma, are you not
delighted?'
Emma _was_ delighted, or rather she was greatly relieved. She had more
sensitiveness and more pride than one would suppose, judging from her
amiable disposition. Her position had always been so well assured, her
society so much sought for, and she so much courted, that never, until
this occasion, had she experienced any important trial of her temper or
emotions.
To appear in society, the daughter of a bankrupt, jilted, and jilted
because she was no longer an heiress, exposed to the various remarks and
busy gossip so rife on such occasions, was it not trying? And do you
wonder that it was a great relief for her to know she was to be freed
from this ordeal; that she was to experience not only a complete change
of scene, but the change was to be every way agreeable, and what she
would, under ordinary circumstances, have most desired?
To visit Europe! In those days the affair was not one of such common
occurrence as at present, and of course the trip was the more valued.
Bravo, Emma! Next Thursday you will be on the ocean, away from every
disagreeable association. Much as we shall miss you, we must bid you
good-by for the present.
Emma did not close her eyes in sleep that night, and if her heart beat
with excitement at the thought of the sudden change in her destinies,
immediate as well as remote, there were moments when its pulses were
deadened, and a thick, brooding, unhappy melancholy took possession of
it, as she thought of what she had lost. A pang--it was that of
_disappointed love_--from time to time made itself felt with keenness,
and the morning found her restless and ill at ease. Could it be
otherwise?
* * * * *
When Hiram received the summons to attend Dr. Chellis in his study, he
was in the midst of a calculation as to the profit and loss of a certain
operation, which I do not propose to explain to the reader. He had
intended to call on the Doctor immediately on his return from Hampton,
but was too much occupied. When, however, he came to a sudden break with
Mrs. Tenant (_he_ did not intend it should be sudden), he felt the
necessity of fortifying himself in the church, for he was well aware of
the deservedly high character Mr. Tenant enjoyed in it. He did not know
the intimate relations which existed between him and the Doctor.
Although the weather was exceedingly warm, Hiram wore his complete suit
of black cloth, and as he came with downcast eyes and mincing steps into
the Doctor's room, the latter, who had taken his accustomed seat before
his table, looked at him as he would at some strange, extraordinary
apparition. He returned Hiram's salutation so gravely that it checked
any further advance toward shaking hands. He proceeded, however, to take
a seat without waiting to be asked.
'Something wrong,' he said to himself. 'It can't be he has heard of it
so soon--only this very afternoon; impossible. Perhaps he is at work on
his sermon. I must apologize.'
Thereupon Hiram took courage, and said, in a bland tone:
'I fear I am interrupting you in your valuable labors; shall I not call
another time?'
'No; I am quite at liberty;' and the Doctor looked as if he would ask,
'What do you want?'
'You have without doubt heard of my affliction,' groaned Hiram,
producing his pocket handkerchief.
'Your mother died lately, I understand.'
Hiram's answer was inaudible; his face was buried in his handkerchief.
The Doctor was becoming impatient.
'What is the object of your visit?' he asked.
The handkerchief was instantly removed from Hiram's face. He cast his
eyes reproachfully on the Doctor, and exclaimed, quite in a natural
tone:
'Object! are you not my pastor; am I not suffering? Have I not been
watching for weeks at my mother's dying bed? And now she has gone, I
feel unhappy, very unhappy. I want your advice and sympathy, and
spiritual direction.'
The Doctor was staggered--I say staggered, not convinced, not persuaded,
not in any sense inclined to change his opinion of the young man before
him. But a blow had been well put in, and he felt it.
For Hiram, not imagining the Doctor could have heard of the affair with
Miss Tenant, thought his treatment owing to some sort of caprice, and he
seized the opportunity to act on the offensive, and dealt so genuine a
retort that the former was taken by surprise. For a moment he seemed to
be in a revery.
'You have lost your mother,' he said dreamily, while his large features
worked with an involuntary movement, betraying strong inward
emotion--'your mother; an irreparable loss. Tell me, Meeker,' he
continued, after a pause, while he turned his large, searching gray
eyes on the young man, 'tell me, did you really love your mother?'
It would have been, one would suppose, the easiest thing in the world
for the glib-tongued Hiram to reply to such an interrogatory; but there
was something awful in that gaze--not severe, nor stern, nor
condemnatory, but awful in its earnest, truthful, not to be escaped
penetration.
He hesitated, he stammered, he changed color. Still those eyes regarded
him--still Hiram continued to hesitate, and stammer, till some sort of
response came out, by piecemeal, incoherently.
Meantime the Doctor had recovered from his revery.
'You have been very unhappy?' he asked, in a dry tone.
'Oh yes, very.'
'What have you to say about your relations with Miss Tenant?'
'He has heard all about it,' thought Hiram, 'and I must do the best I
can.' 'Why, sir, in my present afflicted state, how could I form so
important a tie as that of matrimony? So it was thought best by Mrs.
Tenant that the engagement should be considered at an end, at least for
the present. This was her own suggestion, I assure you.'
'Look you, Meeker,' said Dr. Chellis, endeavoring to restrain his anger,
'I have heard the other side of this story, and had you not called on
me, I should have sent for you. I cannot permit such a course as you are
charged with to go without the action of the church.'
'By what right does the church undertake to supervise my domestic
affairs?' retorted Hiram, now fully roused, and at bay.
'The church will always take official notice of misconduct on the part
of any of its members.'
'With what am I charged?' demanded Hiram, defiantly.
'With violation of the most sacred of promises, with prevarication,
dissimulation, and moral fraud.'
'Since it is determined to prejudge me, I shall ask for a letter of
dismission, and worship elsewhere.'
'I cannot grant you a letter while you are under charges.'
'And do you call it fair to persecute, in this way, at the instigation
of a proud aristocrat (he had already learned this slang sophistry), a
young man, who is almost a stranger among you?'
'Meeker,' said the Doctor, once more relaxing into a meditative tone,
'Meeker, you have asked for my advice and spiritual direction: Answer
me, answer me truly; have you really no idea, at least to some extent,
what sort of person you are?'
'Dr. Chellis, I will no longer sit here to be insulted by you, sir. I
have borne quite too much already. I will endure it no longer. Good
evening, sir.'
Hiram flung himself out of the room. He was not at all angry, though he
affected to be. Things were working heavily against him, and he saw no
way to retreat except to fly in a passion or appear to do so. Once out
of the house, he breathed more freely, and hastening home, he without
delay set about the labor of reconstruction. He had uphill work, but
difficulties brought out his resources.
His first step was to make a written request for a letter of dismissal,
on the ground that he was about to remove to the church of the Rev.
Dr.----.
The request for a letter was refused, and Hiram's course thereon is of a
character so important that it deserves to be treated of in a separate
chapter.
* * * * *
Meanwhile Emma Tenant is safely across the Atlantic, and, amid new and
interesting and romantic scenes, which she is already beginning to
enjoy, she tries to forget her heart's first grief.
She will succeed. To aid her, she has her woman's pride against her
woman's weakness; a constant succession of fresh and novel incidents,
agreeable society, absence from old associations, the natural buoyancy
of youth, and a hopeful nature.
Over this host of fortunate circumstances presides that unconquered and
always successful leader--TIME.
JEFFERSON DAVIS AND REPUDIATION.
This article, published in our August issue, has awakened so wide
an interest in the community, that the Editor of THE CONTINENTAL
deems it expedient to place before its readers the additional
matter contained in a _later_ edition published in England, where
it has circulated by thousands. We regret that this edition did not
arrive in time to appear at large in our August number; but as it
did not, we herewith offer the additional matter so arranged that
our readers will have but little difficulty in fitting it in its
appropriate place.
Addition 1st.--August CONTINENTAL, page 219, after line 23 from the
top, viz.: 'and the countrywomen of the Mother of the Lord,' read:
Mississippi was the _first_ repudiating State; A.G. McNutt, the _first_
repudiating Governor; and Jefferson Davis, the _first_ repudiating
Senator. As another evidence of the incredible extent to which the
public sentiment of that day was debased, I quote the following passage
from Governor McNutt's message of 1840, proposing to repeal the bank
charters, and to _legalize_ the _forgery_ of their notes--'The issuing
of paper money, in contravention of the repealing act, could be
effectually checked by the abrogation of all laws making it penal to
forge such paper.' (Sen. Jour. p. 53.) Surely, nothing, but the fell
spirit of slavery, could have dictated such a sentiment.
Proceed as before.
Page 220 CONTINENTAL, after line 45 from the top, viz.: 'is a
constitutional act,' insert:
The supplemental act, we have seen, was not, in the language of the
Constitution, a law '_to raise a loan of money on the credit of the
State_;' that act had already passed two successive Legislatures, and
was unchanged by the supplemental, which merely modified some of the
details of the bank charter; such was the fact, and such the decree of
the inferior court, such was the unanimous decision of the highest
judicial tribunal of the State, to which _the final adjudication_ had
been assigned, by a mandatory provision of the Constitution.
Surely this decision should have settled the question. But it did not.
Jefferson Davis, notwithstanding his professed desire to submit this
question to the final decree of the courts of the State, persisted, as
we have seen, in 1849, in repudiating these bonds, at a period more than
seven years after this decision of 1842, and still persevered, after the
second similar adjudication of 1853.
Omitting 'Surely this decision should have settled the question.
But it did not,' proceed as before.
Page 23. On last line of the page, 'after this wide domain,'
insert:
Who conspired to assassinate the American President on his way to
Washington? Who murdered in Baltimore the men of Massachusetts on their
way to the defence of the capitol of the Union? Who commenced the
conflict by firing upon the starving garrison of Sumter, and striking
down the banner of the Union which floated over its walls? Who,
immediately thereafter, announced their resolution to capture
Washington, seized the national arms, and forts, and dockyards, and
vessels, and arsenals, and mints, and treasure, and opened the war upon
the Federal Government?
Returning to last line, page 27, proceed as before.
Page 224, fifth line from the bottom find: 'broad basis of the will
of the people.' After which insert:
But, let me resume the debate. When the ministry had closed, the earnest
opponents of slavery, and true friends of England and America, discussed
the question. Seldom have such great speeches been heard on any
occasion, and the impression was most profound.
What is it England is asked to recognize? It is a confederacy, claiming
to be a _league of sovereign and independent States_, like the old
American Confederacy of 1778, abandoned when we formed a nation in 1787.
When England, in 1783, recognized the old Confederacy, the recognition
was of _each of the several States by name_, as sovereign and
independent. Now, applying those principles on the present occasion, to
the several seceded States by name, Is Virginia independent? Why, all
her coasts and seaports are held by us, so is Norfolk, her commercial
capital, more than half her area and white population, and nearly half
her territory has been organized as a new State of the Union, and, by
the almost unanimous vote of her people, has abolished slavery. Are
North and South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, and Texas
independent? Why, their whole coast and large portions of the interior
are held by our army and navy. Is Tennessee independent? Two thirds of
her territory, as well as her political and commercial capitals,
Nashville and Memphis, are held by us. The same thing is true, to a
great extent, as to Arkansas. As to Mississippi--her whole sea coast,
and her whole river coast, for 500 miles, with the exception of a single
point, are held by us, and more than half her territory. As to
Louisiana, we hold three fourths of her territory, all her sea coast,
all her river front on both banks of the Mississippi, except one point,
and her great city, New Orleans, the commercial capital of the State and
of the South, with four times the population of any other Southern city,
and with nearly half the free population of the State. More than three
fourths of the population as well as area of Louisiana is held by us,
with her political and commercial capital, and yet it is proposed to
acknowledge Louisiana as one of these _sovereign and independent
States_. How can the so-called Confederacy, claiming to be a league of
sovereign and independent States, be recognized as independent, when the
States composing that league are not independent? How is Richmond to be
reached by an English envoy, or is the blockade to be broken, which is
war? How as to slavery! The 331,000 slaves of Louisiana, the three
millions of slaves of the seceded States, are emancipated by the
proclamation of the President, under the war power uniformly recognized
as constitutional by the Supreme Court of the United States. If these
are States of our Union, or are retained by us, slavery has ceased, and
the _three millions of slaves are free_. But, if you acknowledge the
confederate independence, then, these three millions of slaves, so far
as England is concerned, are slaves still, and will remain so forever.
To refuse recognition, is to admit the freedom of these slaves--to
recognize, is to remand them to bondage, so far as England can
accomplish that purpose. Nor is this all--it is to spread slavery over
an almost boundless territory, claimed by the South. It is impossible
then to escape the conclusion, that, in recognizing this confederacy,
England ranges herself on the side of slavery, and does all she can to
maintain and perpetuate it in America. Nor is this all. She violates a
great moral rule, and a well settled principle of international law, to
maintain and perpetuate slavery in the South. By the law of nations, the
recognition of national independence is the acknowledgment of the fact
of independence. But, we have seen, that the States composing this
so-called league, are not independent, but are held, to a vast extent,
by our army and navy, including two thirds of their area. Never was
independence acknowledged under such circumstances, except as an act of
war. The acknowledgment then of the confederate independence, in the
present posture of affairs, is, in fact, _a declaration of war by
England against the United States, without cause or justification_. It
would be so universally regarded in the United States, and would
instantly _close all dissensions in the North_. If any suppose that
England, without any just cause, should thus strike us with the
iron-gauntleted hand, and that we will not resist, let the history of
the past answer the question. Nor would the union of France, in such an
act, change the result, except that nearly all the loss and sacrifice
would fall upon England. Including the slaves and free blacks, there is
not a single seceded State, in which an overwhelming majority of the
people are not for the Union. Now, by the Federal Constitution, slaves
are mentioned only three times, and then not as slaves, but as
'_persons_,' and the Supreme Court of the United States have expressly
decided that slaves, so far as regards the United States, _are persons,
and not property_. (Groves _vs._ Slaughter, 15 Peters, 392.) _All
persons_, in every State, owe a paramount allegiance to the United
States, the rebel masters, as well as their slaves--the Government has a
right to their services to suppress the rebellion; and to acknowledge
the independence of the South, is to ignore the existence of the slaves,
or to treat them, as the South do, as chattels, and not persons. In
acknowledging, then, Southern independence, the independence of the
_masters_, England expressly recognizes the doctrine of _property in
man_. Such a war, proclaimed by England and France against the United
States on such grounds, would be a war of their _Governments_--not of
their _peoples_, and could have but one termination. As to our
recognition of the independence of Texas, it was long after the decisive
battle of San Jacinto,--when the Mexican army was destroyed or captured,
together with the President, when he acknowledged their independence,
the Mexican Government, by accepting the advantages stipulated by him,
in fact, and in law, ratified the recognition. It was after all this,
when the contest was over, not a Mexican vessel on the coast of Texas,
nor a Mexican soldier upon her soil, that we recognized the independence
of Texas. The case, therefore, is widely different from the present. Let
it be remembered, that we hold, not only the mouth of the Mississippi,
its great city, the whole of the west bank of that imperial river, but
all the east bank, except two points, thus dissevering Texas, Louisiana,
and Arkansas from the rest of the South. Now the area of these three
States is 373,000 square miles, and that of all the remaining seceded
States, 396,000 square miles. In holding then the west bank of the
Mississippi, we have severed the great artery of the South, which is
death.
With these additions, easily supplied, our readers have before them
the whole of Governor Walker's letter,--ED. CONTINENTAL.
EDITOR'S TABLE
READERS: It were much to be wished, for your benefit, that the stalwart
form which has so long presided at our Table, should take the accustomed
place at our Banquet, again to serve you with the invigorating fare fit
for men; the dainties of delicious flavor suited to the taste of the
young and lovely; or once more to pour the accustomed draughts of old
Falernian, sunned by a warm heart and matured by a vigorous intellect,
into the goblets you are now holding for our September festival. For
aught we know, he may even now be treading the old fields of former
glory in far Kansas--but his voice will soon again greet you from this
social spot, and again spread before you the ripe fruits of a manly
experience.
Our other Honorable Editor is also afar, striving in other climes to
serve our country, yet constantly giving us reason to know, from his
frequent and loyal contributions, that he is gathering honey for THE
CONTINENTAL, and has not deserted his arduous post in spending and being
spent for the land he loves. May our two Honorables soon return to
dispense, as they alone can, the hospitalities of our Editor's Table!
But we should not complain, when we can offer you, in this month of hot
suns and motionless airs, such invigorating breaths of fresh, salty
wind, directly from the bosom of the surging sea, as we are about to do
in the following essay from the pen of A. J. S. He is the author of the
vigorous sketch of 'The Southern Colonel' given in our July issue. He
has now dipped his pen in the tints of the rainbow and the freshness of
the salty wave, and given us:
'FROM THE SEA SHORE.'
Where the land enchants, the sea intoxicates--its sparkle, its mobility,
its translucence excite the fancy, as wine does the blood--it combines
those elements which produce at once awe and ecstasy in the soul--the
unknown, the resistless, the beautiful. One may be melancholy by the
sea, but never morbid or supine. Between it and the land there are no
gradations; you do not come imperceptibly under its influence, as, in
ascending a mountain, you come into the cooler atmosphere; as you
approach, you are suddenly enveloped and animated by a crystalline,
vivifying element: this is the sea air; those saline qualities, so harsh
to the taste, prove a delicious stimulant in the lungs. The sea is
incommunicable--neither words, or canvas prepare you for it, as they may
often for landscapes; like Livingston's untutored savage, you are always
startled and overwhelmed at first sight of it; you feel, like him, an
impulse to leap into its waves. If you want to surrender yourself wholly
to the sea influence--to study it and assimilate your mind to all its
phases--you should choose, as was my fortune, a little fishing town, on
the shore, with a sheltered bay to the south and west and the ocean
eastward. Here you will find life stripped of care and conventionality;
idealized, seductive, and illusive, the days swinging from charm to
charm, like bubbles in the sunlight. On such a coast, Nature never
confuses her effects--no lively verdure or picturesque landscape
intrudes upon the majesty of the sea--only damp mosses and stout
creepers veil the harsh outlines of the rocks, and, in the distance,
masses of pine trees relieve the gray monotony of the shore--for the
rest, everything is left to the sun and the sea. There are a dozen
beaches, each distinct in its charm. Some firm, smooth, and white, as a
marble walk--others mere waves of sand, which the lightest breeze
whirls--and, others, where nature seems to have exhausted her wildest
caprice, piled with rocks, black, perilous, defiant, overlooking waters
whose solitude is never broken by a sail. It is these deep waters which
have that green tint so lustrous and subtle, and as unlike the heavy
green seen in most sea pictures as it is unlike grass; it is in more
sheltered nooks that the sea assumes that sapphire sheen more ineffable
than the sky which imparts it. As the color of the sea depends greatly
upon the disposition of the surrounding lands and the prevailing
condition of the atmosphere, each little inlet has some tint or effect
of light peculiar to itself. I have seen coloring as remarkable--I had
almost said as unnatural--as that indigo blue which we connect with the
Ægean sea. Indeed, one comes to believe anything possible in the way of
sea coloring, however brilliant, or however blank, after intimate and
close observation of even a small part of the ocean. I have often
fancied that these local features may have given rise to the idea of
nymphs and mermaids, especially at night, when, in the setting sun, the
colors fade in vapory exhalations, and the waters seem haunted by the
spirits of their own beauty--pale, tremulous, waiting the vitalizing ray
of the morning light. But it is in winter that the effects of the sun on
the sea are most marvellous; this arises, in part, from the clearness of
the air, and the dazzling setting of snow, which expresses more vividly
the glow of the sea; then, too, that part of the water not exposed to
the sun has an ashen, gray tint, which intensifies, by contrast, the
more gorgeous hues. I remember many who saw Church's 'Icebergs' thought
the coloring too brilliant, while, to those familiar with the sea, it
seemed entirely natural. Thus, critics will find that it is by the study
of nature we are educated up to high art; and artists, that their great
danger is not in being more brilliant, but less delicate than nature. It
is on the sea shore that we find the purest democracy--any man who is
respectable and desirous of enjoying life may fraternize with the whole
population. He who lives in the struggle to acquire or maintain a
position can appreciate this social luxury. The sea exercises a
delightful influence over the character--its perils induce self-reliance
and fearlessness, which are redeemed from conceit by a child-like
simplicity arising naturally from the contemplation of an element
menacing, invincible, and symbolical of eternity. Then, too, the legends
of the sea invest the mind with a sensitive, poetic passion as
delightful as it is unworldly, as reverent as it is credulous. No one
would deride these superstitions who has watched, as I have, the various
phases of the sea--its motions, its intonations--its mists, its foam,
its vapors--its sunlit splendors--its phosphorescent marvels--its
moonlit and starlit mysteries; but would feel, with something of the awe
of the ancients, that the sea is the place of magic, and that only a
film separates between the material and the spirit land.
A. J. S.
READERS: You with ourselves have looked upon a very ugly thing since we
last met in the pages of THE CONTINENTAL. A Briareus-handed,
multiple-formed, Proteus-faced monster, of huge dimensions, wickedly
scheming brain, myriad fanged, and every fang imbued with virulent
copperhead poison, stormed through our streets in the light of day and
in the gloom of night, during many ghastly hours, knowing no law save
its own wicked will, while Treason, Cruelty, House-breaking and
House-burning, Robbery, Assassination, Torture, Hanging, Murder, stalked
on in its wild train of horror. But we know its face now, and it will be
our own fault if anything so foul shall e'er be seen again in our midst.
We must be on the alert to act when called upon--not to suspect the
innocent, but to guard against the guilty.
'Thus do all traitors:
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself.'
'There is no fear of God in a riot.' We must confess ourselves to have
been strangely startled when we found of what nation the rioters were
mainly composed. The race whom we had received with the most generous
hospitality, rescuing them from starvation and oppression at home--men
whom we were hourly teaching to be freemen; women whom we were patiently
and painfully instructing in the domestic arts of civilized life, took
up arms against our Government, our laws, and ruthlessly pursued the
innocent with fire and sword! The race of the old faith of the true St.
Patrick, fresh from the 'Isle of Saints,' from which he had himself
exiled all copperheads and venomous reptiles, blessed with good and true
Priests of the old Religion, with the sweet face of the Blessed Virgin
Mary to smile down upon them in their chapels, teaching them reverence
for womanhood, and feeding as they firmly believe upon the glorified
Body which is hourly broken to exalt and purify humanity, fell in fierce
assault upon us. Men from the land of Burke, Curran, Emmet, Moore,
Meagher, rose to pillage, burn, and assassinate! Irishmen, afraid to
fight for the country which had adopted them as sons! massacring their
benefactors! trailing Old Erin's loyal harp for the _first time_ in the
dust! bringing shame on the glorious Emerald Isle, and sorrow to the
struggling country which had given them a home! Irishmen, taking the
laws in their own hands, trampling our Stars beneath their feet--that
flag which had first assured them they were men, citizens, with a
_right_ to home and happiness! What wonder that we fail to recognize the
strong, sturdy, brave, heady, helpful, generous, and impulsive children
of the 'Gem of the Sea?' And what shall we say of the venerated
Archbishop?
'By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly,
That fill his ears with traitorous, murderous rumors.'
Alas! the worst is not yet told. Irishmen and Irishwomen, with the sad
face of the Mother of the Lord for ever teaching them pity from their
altars, fell like fiends from hell upon the unfortunate negro, driving
him, a child of Christ, from the poor home he had won with so much toil;
robbing him of all he possessed; burning his miserable refuge;
frightening into madness his patient wife; braining his children;
hounding the panic-stricken unfortunate from street to street, and
torturing, mutilating, drowning, and assassinating him! For what, in the
name of Heaven? Because he breathed the air of his native land, and
dared to pray to the God that made him; because he wanted work for his
black and brawny arm, to support his cheerful black wife, and his jolly,
woolly-headed children!
'Go back; the _virtue of your name_
Is not here passable!' 'A thousand knees
Six thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wouldst.'
It has been said the negro was lazy, and would not work without the
lash; that he was incompetent, and could not work; that he was a coward,
and would not fight: when it is found that he will work, he is to be
deprived of labor; found that he can work, deprived of employment; that
he is loyal, and will fight for the country, although she has often been
but a stepmother to him; he is driven from his home; his goods plundered
and fired; himself mutilated and hung. Alas! alas! 'mine eyes are a
fountain of tears for the iniquities of my people!'
'Ireland knows no martyrs,' nobly says the Archbishop. Alas! that she
should have martyred the negro upon our own _holy_ soil--the soil of his
nativity!
God curses no race, for Christ died for _all_ who will accept him. Even
were this plea of cursing true, it is our simple duty to try to lift the
curse. To do unto others as we would be done by, is the sublime but
simple law of Christianity.
Readers and fellow citizens, let us resolve that all this must cease; we
must be ready to put down rebellion _North_ as well as South; to resist
all violence and aggression; to support the Government; to fill with
enthusiasm the glorious ranks of our brave army, because it is the army
of freedom and human progress; we must all aid in carrying our flag
without a star undimmed through this fierce crisis, and unfurl it in
that fair field of universal liberty and happiness which we must win for
the sweet sake of humanity. All hell is armed against us; but God and
His angels are on our side! This is the _manifest destiny_ of our
country, and to this unveiled glory are we marching on. We proudly offer
a home and freedom to men of all climes and regions; in which hospitable
offer itself we declare that no dictation, no oppression, no cruelty
shall legally exist throughout the length and breadth of this our Holy
Land. We have aims before us, and we must accomplish them. The Irishman
must be civilized, his better feelings must be cultivated; he must be
taught to respect law and order; the American copperhead must be robbed
of his power to harm; he has shown his deadly venom, and his fangs must
be extracted; to do this effectively, the rebellion, already crushed,
must be utterly subdued; the negro must be protected, educated, and
elevated; slavery in every form must be driven from the earth; the law
of love, which is the law of God, must rule; that so our Heaven-Stars
may again cluster in ever-growing brilliancy and lustre over a land of
equality, progress, law, order, unity, and happiness. Men and brethren,
this is our allotted task, and we must all work in our allotted spheres.
Men, women, and children, there is enough to do, and that which will
task us all to our utmost strength and capacity. We must be brave,
strong, helpful, and unselfish; we must shirk no duty on the score of
sex or weakness; we must find excuse for no idleness on the ground of
incapacity. We are all capable! We must feel and make others feel that
there is no true hope for ourselves or them save in the triumph of our
sacred cause. Our stars alone form canopy wide enough to shelter the
ever-accumulating ranks of humanity. We must, every one of us, learn the
lesson of self-abnegation--it is the sublime lesson of the cross,
learned by St. Paul, lived by St. John, worshipped by the Magdalene, and
incarnated through the Virgin Mary--thus proving it is for all classes,
characters, and sexes. He who will not learn it, is neither hero nor
Christian, be he general or bishop.
We shall first (because it is necessary for the progress of the race)
conquer our enemies; and then, true to ourselves and our principles,
forgive, aid, and love them. Many of them have learned, many more are
learning, the misery and shame of slavery. That truth once acknowledged
and digested, their hearts will grow glad in the peace of the just, and
their desolated land blossom like the rose.
We will all learn to bear with the negro, because he has qualities
necessary to fill up the harmony of life. As a general thing, the Irish
servants are perhaps more honest, and dull as they seem, have more head;
but the negro has more heart. His nature is irrepressible and joyous; he
is full of comicality and drollery, of fun, jeers, jokes, yah-yas, and
merriment; and this element will be needed in our midst to temper our
puritan and national seriousness. He loves music whether sad, burlesque,
or gay; is devoted to those who treat him worthily, his affections being
easily won; and there is something touching, soothing, and delightful in
his inherent respect for gentleman and lady. His aptitude for domestic
service; his love for and his power of amusing children and winning
their fickle heart, their attachment to him being one of the most
delightful traits of Southern life; his impressible, religious and
devout nature, mark him as a wonderful element of variety in the
domestic texture of our life such as it shall be when he is free,
educated in accordance with his nature, and happy. He is not ambitious,
he likes to serve those who treat him kindly, and seeks no _social_
equality, as do the Irish, whatever position they may hold. I do not
deny that this is a good strong trait in a race, but it does not make an
_agreeable_ servant. Our Biddys and Pollys flaunt and flounce to
convince us they are as good as we; the negro acknowledges superior
deportment, and is ever submissive and respectful to those who know how
to treat him. I think when this 'tyranny is overpast' that it will be
hard to induce us to part with the negro. He is embodied humor; fun and
naive pathos alternate with the most startling rapidity in his wild but
loving soul, in which the feminine element of passion generally
predominates over sustained virile strength; he is spontaneity
itself--and the reflective Anglo-Saxon race will learn to appreciate
such promptings of our basic nature. He is happy in serving, and as a
servant, is invaluable.
Stern duties are then before us in this world of the mighty West; let us
accept them with a willing heart. Our women can do much, for men are
widely severed in opinion; and the social element, woman's true and
noble sphere, must be made available to bring about a better feeling.
Let her so arrange that we shall see more of each other socially, not in
grand _fêtes_, tiresome dinners, idle pomposities, but in simple and
hospitable greetings, in frequent, unrestrained, and easy commune. She
must learn to take a conversational part in the great questions of the
day, soothing asperities, and bringing hearts together as she alone can;
for women possess _naturally_ the secret of society. Let us not ask in
what rank men and women move, but rather what they are, and if noble,
let us take them to our hearts. Let us struggle individually to the
height of our aspirations, assured that if we so do, this glorious Union
is destined to be perpetuated in ever-increasing glory.
AMOR PATRIÆ VINCIT.
Red: White: Blue.
Love: Peace: Heaven.
God of justice, smile upon us!
Justice yet will rule our land;
Equal rights bless native, alien,
High or low, from every strand;
Pledged within our Constitution,
They will bless a woe-worn world:
God, 'tis Justice makes it holy--
_Freedom's Charter_ wide unfurled!
_Chorus:_
Float, O Flag, reflecting Heaven! where God plants the clustering stars,
In the blue depths of thy infinite--so vast that nothing jars!
God of mercy, smile upon us!
Mercy yet shall rule our land;
Thought be free, all creeds untrammelled,
Honor follow labor's hand;
All be equal; men be brothers;
They must work who fain would soar,
Work in earnest for the _Human_,--
Pride and scorn be known no more.
_Chorus:_
Float, O Flag of mystic colors; red with love; star-gemmed thy Blue;
Peace blends in white thy Rainbow light, and waves her snow-wings
through!
God of love, O smile upon us!
Love shall shine through all our laws;
Love shall link each State in Union;
Love which knows nor rest, nor pause.
Love is central Heart of nations;
Love will draw all wandering stars
To our field of boundless azure,
Held by God from all that mars!
Chorus:
Wildly pours our hearts' blood on thee--crimson current warm and true,
Each dead hero links us closer--float on Flag, Red, White, and Blue!
God of Union, smile upon us!
Flag of Union, greet the skies!
On thy stars and _chording_ colors
Every hope for mortals lies!
Blasted be the hand would strike thee!
Blighted heart and palsied brain!
Float till earth knows no oppression,
Falsehood, bondage, slavery, pain!
Chorus:
Float, Flag of love; fused States and lives! shine stars on God's own
Blue!
Love's crimson current gird them close! white-winged Peace wind through!
M. W. C.
THE GOOD GODDESS OF POVERTY.
[_A Prose Ballad, translated from the French_.]
We think the following beautiful Chant, in honor of the good goddess
whose favors we are too apt to scorn, and whom we persist in treating
with dire ingratitude, cannot fail to prove acceptable to the readers of
the Editor's Table.
M. W. C.
I.
Desert paths strewed with golden sands, rich and undulating
prairies, ravines loved by the bounding deer and agile chamois,
mountains wreathed with clouds or crowned with glittering
coronets of stars, wandering and leaping torrents,
impenetrable and gloomy forests,--let her pass, let her pass:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
II.
Since the creation of the world, since man was spoken into being,
she has travelled over the earth, she has dwelt among men, she
sings as she journeys, and works as she sings:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
III.
Men gathered together to curse her. They found her too gay, too
active, too strong, and too beautiful. They said: 'Let us tear
off her wings, let us load her with chains, let us lay her low
with blows, let her suffer, let her die:
The Goddess--the strong Goddess of Poverty!'
IV.
They chained the good Goddess, they bruised and persecuted her, but
they could not degrade her, for she sought refuge in the souls
of poets, in the souls of peasants, in the souls of women, in
the souls of artists, in the souls of saints:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
V.
She has travelled longer than the Wandering Jew; she has journeyed
farther than the swallow; she is older than the cathedral of
Prague, yet younger than the little egg of the golden-crested
wren; she has multiplied more upon the earth than the crimson
strawberry in the green woods of Bohemia:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
VI.
She is the mother of many children, and has taught them all the
secrets of God; she spoke to the heart of Jesus upon the mount;
to the eyes of Queen Libussa when she loved a peasant; to the
spirit of John and Jerome on the pyre of Constance; she has
more knowledge than all the doctors and all the bishops:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
VII.
She makes all the grand and beautiful things that are to be seen
upon the earth; it is she who cultivates the fields and prunes
the trees; it is she who leads the flocks, breathing songs from
her heart; it is she who catches the first crimsoning of the
dawn, who receives the first smile of the rising sun:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
VIII.
It is she who twines the green branches to make a little cabin for
the woodman; who gives the piercing glance of the eagle to the
poacher; it is she who brings up the prettiest and strongest
little urchins; and who makes the spade and plough light for
the hands of the old man, whose silver locks gleam like a halo
round the wrinkled brow:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
IX.
It is she who inspires the poet; who makes the flute, guitar, and
violin eloquent under the fingers of the wandering and homeless
artist: it is she who bears him upon her light wing from the
source of the Moldau to that of the Danube; it is she who
crowns his dark locks with the glittering dewdrops, who makes
the sparkling stars shine so large and clear upon his uncertain
path:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
X.
It is she who instructs the ingenious artisan, who teaches him to
hew the stone, to chisel the marble, to mould gold, silver,
copper, and iron; it is she who, under the fingers of the aged
mother and the rose-cheeked daughter, makes the flax fine and
elastic as the golden tresses of the maiden:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
XI.
It is she who supports the tottering hut when shaken by the winter
storms; it is she who saves the resin of the torch and the oil
of the lamp; it is she who kneads the bread of the family, who
weaves the winter wool and summer flax; it is she who nourishes
and feeds the world: The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
XII.
It is she who builds the mighty castles and the vast cathedrals,
who bears the sword and handles the musket; it is she who
fights our battles and gains our victories; it is she who
buries the dead, who takes care of the wounded, and who
conceals the vanquished:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
XIII.
Thou art all patience, all sweetness, all strength, and all pity, O
thou good Goddess! It is thou who linkest all thy children in
the ties of a holy love, and who givest to them Faith, Hope,
and Charity:
O Goddess--thou good Goddess of Poverty!
XIV.
The time is coming when thy children shall no longer be crushed
with the weight of the world, when they shall be rewarded for
their pain and labor. The time is approaching when there shall
be no longer rich and poor, when all men shall together consume
the fruits of the earth, and equally enjoy the gifts of God;
but thou shalt never be forgotten in their hymns:
O Goddess--thou good Goddess of Poverty!
XV.
They will always remember that thou wert their faithful mother,
their robust nurse, and their church militant. They will spread
balm upon thy bleeding wounds, they will make the fertile and
perfumed at last repose:
O Goddess--thou good Goddess of Poverty!
XVI.
While patiently awaiting the promised day of the Lord, torrents and
forests, mountains and valleys, lands teeming with wild flowers
and filled with little singing birds, desert paths which have
no masters though sanded with gold, let her pass--let her pass:
The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty!
THE
Continental Monthly
The readers of the CONTINENTAL are aware of the important position it
has assumed, of the influence which it exerts, and of the brilliant
array of political and literary talent of the highest order which
supports it. No publication of the kind has, in this country, so
successfully combined the energy and freedom of the daily newspaper with
the higher literary tone of the first-class monthly; and it is very
certain that no magazine has given wider range to its contributors, or
preserved itself so completely from the narrow influences of party or of
faction. In times like the present, such a journal is either a power in
the land or it is nothing. That the CONTINENTAL is not the latter is
abundantly evidenced _by what it has done_--by the reflection of its
counsels in many important public events, and in the character and power
of those who are its staunchest supporters.
Though but little more than a year has elapsed since the CONTINENTAL was
first established, it has during that time acquired a strength and a
political significance elevating it to a position far above that
previously occupied by any publication of the kind in America. In proof
of which assertion we call attention to the following facts:
1. Of its POLITICAL articles republished in pamphlet form, a single one
has had, thus far, a circulation of _one hundred and six thousand
copies_.
2. From its LITERARY department, a single serial novel, "Among the
Pines," has, within a very few months, sold nearly _thirty-five
thousand_ copies. Two other series of its literary articles have also
been republished in book form, while the first portion of a third is
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No more conclusive facts need be alleged to prove the excellence of the
contributions to the CONTINENTAL, or their _extraordinary popularity_;
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Preserving all "the boldness, vigor, and ability" which a thousand
journals have attributed to it, it will greatly enlarge its circle of
action, and discuss, fearlessly and frankly, every principle involved in
the great questions of the day. The first minds of the country,
embracing the men most familiar with its diplomacy and most
distinguished for ability, are among its contributors; and it is no mere
"flattering promise of a prospectus" to say that this "magazine for the
times" will employ the first intellect in America, under auspices which
no publication ever enjoyed before in this country.
While the CONTINENTAL will express decided opinions on the great
questions of the day, it will not be a mere political journal: much the
larger portion of its columns will be enlivened, as heretofore, by
tales, poetry, and humour. In a word, the CONTINENTAL will be found,
under its new staff of Editors, occupying a position and presenting
attractions never before found in a magazine.
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[Illustration]
EQUAL TO ANY IN THE WORLD!!!
MAY BE PROCURED
At FROM $8 to $12 PER ACRE,
Near Markets, Schools, Railroads, Churches, and all the blessings of
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1,200,000 Acres, in Farms of 40, 80, 120, 160 Acres and upwards, in
ILLINOIS, the Garden State of America.
The Illinois Central Railroad Company offer, ON LONG CREDIT, the
beautiful and, fertile PRAIRIE LANDS lying along the whole line of
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they can call THEIR OWN, as will appear from the following
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Is about equal in extent to England, with a population of 1,722,666, and
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Mississippi offers so great an inducement to the settler as the State of
Illinois. There is no part of the world where all the conditions of
climate and soil so admirable combine to produce those two great
staples, CORN and WHEAT.
CLIMATE.
Nowhere can the industrious farmer secure such immediate results from
his labor as on these deep, rich, loamy soils, cultivated with so much
ease. The climate from the extreme southern part of the State to the
Terre Haute, Alton and St. Louis Railroad, a distance of nearly 200
miles, is well adapted to Winter.
WHEAT, CORN, COTTON, TOBACCO.
Peaches, Pears, Tomatoes, and every variety of fruit and vegetables is
grown in great abundance, from which Chicago and other Northern markets
are furnished from four to six weeks earlier than their immediate
vicinity. Between the Terre Haute, Allen & St. Louis Railway and the
Kankakee and Illinois Rivers, (a distance of 115 miles on the Branch and
136 miles on the Main Trunk,) lies the great Corn and Stock raising
portion of the State.
THE ORDINARY YIELD
of Corn is from 60 to 80 bushels per acre. Cattle, Horses, Mules, Sheep
and Hogs are raised here at a small cost, and yield large profits. It is
believed that no section of country presents greater inducements for
Dairy Farming than the Prairies of Illinois, a branch of farming to
which but little attention had been paid, and which must yield sure
profitable results. Between the Kankakee and Illinois Rivers, and
Chicago and Dunleith, (a distance of 56 miles on the Branch and 147
miles by the Main Trunk,) Timothy Hay, Spring Wheat, Corn, &c., are
produced in great abundance.
AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTS.
The Agricultural products of Illinois are greater than those of any
other State. The Wheat crop of 1861 was estimated at 85,000,000 bushels,
while the Corn crop yields not less than 140,000,000 bushels besides the
crop of Oats, Barley, Rye, Buckwheat, Potatoes, Sweet Potatoes,
Pumpkins, Squashes, Flax, Hemp, Peas, Clover, Cabbage, Beets, Tobacco,
Sorgheim, Grapes, Peaches, Apples, &c., which go to swell the vast
aggregate of production in this fertile region. Over Four Million tons
of produce were sent out the State of Illinois during the past year.
STOCK RAISING.
In Central and Southern Illinois uncommon advantages are presented for
the extension of Stock raising. All kinds of Cattle, Horses, Mules,
Sheep, Hogs, &c. of the best breeds, yield handsome profits; large
fortunes have already been made, and the field is open for others to
enter with the fairest prospects of like results. DAIRY FARMING also
presents its inducements to many.
CULTIVATION OF COTTON.
_The experiments in Cotton culture are of very great promise. Commencing
in latitude 39 deg. 30 min. (see Mattoon on the Branch, and Assumption
on the Main Line), the Company owns thousands of acres well adapted to
the perfection of this fibre. A settler having a family of young
children, can turn their youthful labor to a most profitable account in
the growth and perfection of this plant._
THE ILLINOIS CENTRAL RAILROAD
Traverses the whole length of the State, from the banks of the
Mississippi and Lake Michigan to the Ohio. As its name imports, the
Railroad runs through the centre of the State, and on either side of the
road along its whole length lie the lands offered for sale.
CITIES, TOWNS, MARKETS, DEPOTS,
There are Ninety-eight Depots on the Company's Railway, giving about one
every seven miles. Cities, Towns, and Villages are situated at
convenient distances throughout the whole route, where every desirable
commodity may be found as readily as in the oldest cities of the Union,
and where buyers are to be met for all kinds of farm produce.
EDUCATION.
Mechanics and working-men will find the free school system encouraged by
the State, and endowed with a large revenue for the support of the
schools. Children can live in sight of the school, the college, the
church, and grow up with the prosperity of the leading State in the
Great Western Empire.
PRICES AND TERMS OF PAYMENT--ON LONG CREDIT.
80 acres at $10 per acre, with interest at 6 per ct. annually on the
following terms:
Cash payment $48 00
Payment in one year 48 00
" in two years 48 00
" in three years 48 00
" in four years 236 00
" in five years 224 00
" in six years 212 00
" in seven years 200 00
40 acres at $10 00 per acre;
Cash payment $24 00
Payment in one year 24 00
" in two years 24 00
" in three years 24 00
" in four years 118 00
" in five years 112 00
" in six years 106 00
" in seven years 100 00
Number 22. 25 Cents.
THE
CONTINENTAL
MONTHLY.
DEVOTED TO
Literature and National Policy.
OCTOBER, 1863.
NEW YORK:
JOHN F. TROW 50 GREENE STREET
(FOR THE PROPRIETORS).
HENRY DEXTER AND SINCLAIR TOUSEY.
WASHINGTON, D.C.: FRANCK TAYLOR.
CONTENTS.--No. XXII
The Freedom of the Press. By Edward B. Freeland, 361
The Brothers. An Allegory, 367
Unuttered. By Kate Putnam, 377
William Lilly, Astrologer. By Henry Willson, 379
Jefferson Davis--Repudiation, Recognition, and Slavery. By Hon.
Robert J. Walker, 390
Diary of Frances Krasinska, 394
Maiden's Dreaming. By E. W. C., 403
Thirty Days with the Seventy-First Regiment, 404
Reason, Rhyme, and Rhythm. By Mrs. Martha W. Cook, 412
Currency and the National Finances. By J. Smith Homans, 419
October Afternoon in the Highlands, 433
The Isle of Springs. By Rev. Mr. Starbuck, 433
The Restoration of the Union. By Hon. F.P. Stanton, 444
Was He Successful? By Richard B. Kimball, 452
American Finances and Resources. By Hon. Robt. J. Walker, 463
Voiceless Singers, 473
A Detective's Story, 474
Literary Notices, 478
'EDMUND KIRKE,' author of 'Among the Pines,' &c., and until recently one
of the Editors of this Magazine, is prepared to accept a limited number
of invitations to Lecture before Literary Associations, during the
coming fall and winter, on 'The Southern Whites: Their Social and
Political Characteristics.' He can be addressed 'care of Continental
Monthly, New York.'
All communications, whether concerning MSS. or on business, should be
addressed to
JOHN F. TROW, Publisher, 50 GREENE STREET, NEW YORK.
ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by JOHN F.
TROW, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
JOHN F. TROW, PRINTER.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note
The following changes have been made to the text:
Page 253: "wronged so remorsely" changed to "wronged so remorselessly".
Page 270: "After entering, Lake Ponchartrain" changed to "After
entering, Lake Pontchartrain".
Page 276: "has betwoed upon thee" changed to "has bestowed upon thee".
Page 282: "situations so vividy" changed to "situations so vividly".
Page 315" "fence into the door-yard" changed to "fence into the
dooryard".
Page 318: "I thought picnicers always" changed to "I thought picnickers
always".
Page 323: "gay sorrel" changed to "gray sorrel"
Page 329: "I could't bear" changed to "I couldn't bear".
Page 344: "Kagozima" changed to "Kagosima".
Page 354: "Govenor Walker's" changed to "Governor Walker's".