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a place they delighted to be persecuted, and are er relig like to gain more adherents by the cond, no fa ceit of their patient sufferings than by s; and consent to their pernicious sayings." mentier But these judicious reflections had no id, not weight with those to whom they were it there addressed. The Quaker persecution, as tolerate is well known, was pushed, in Massaereits chusetts, even to the extremity of capieither tal punishment. The restoration of ution:

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Charles II. checked the violence of these proceedings, and, at the same time, it put Rhode Island in a position to set at defiance the threats and intimidations of her sister colonies.

When Williams last returned from England, he had left Clarke behind him, as a sort of agent, to watch after the interests of the colony, and to be on the spot to counteract any machinations that might be attempted against it. After the restoration, Clarke continued to act in the same capacity; and, by dint of much solicitation, he succeeded at last, Tess: by the favor of Clarendon, in obtaining from Charles II. a new charter, in which the principle, not of toleration, merely, but of religious freedom and equality, was distinctly embodied. This charter, which bears date the 8th of July, 1663, provides, in one of its clauses, "that no person within the said colony shall be molested, punished, disquieted, or called in question, for any differences of opinion in matters of religion, who does not actually disturb the public peace"-a clause inserted, as the charter recites, at the express request of the inhabitants, who had declared, in their humble address to the king, "that it was much in their hearts (if they might be permitted) to hold forth a lively experi ment, that a most flourishing civil state may stand and best be maintained, and that among English subjects, with a full liberty of religious concernments." This charter of Charles II., thus granted at the special request of the colonists, and confirming their original policy, remained the fundamental law of Rhode Island, till the adoption of a state constitution in 1843; which constitution embodies and repeats the provisions of the charter on the subject of religious liberty.

Bat, although Rhode Island, by the adoption, as one of its earliest fundamental laws, of the doctrine of soul-liberty, and by its adherence to that law, from that day to this, becomes entitled to a degree of merit far beyond anything to which Maryland can lay claim,

yet even the northern commonwealth--so much easier is it to promulgate great principles than to carry them thoroughly into practice-has not wholly escaped the charge of religious persecution.

The laws of that colony, as first printed, subsequent to the commencement of the eighteenth century, excluded, from the privileges of freemen, Roman Catholics and all persons not professing Christianity-Jews, of course, included. When this exclusion was first introduced, it is impossible to tell. It was repealed during the revolutionary war, shortly after the landing at Newport of the French auxiliary army. Its inconsistency with the charter is palpable enough; but whatever speculative falling away it may evince from the original doctrine of soul-liberty, it never could have had any practical operation, except as to a very limited number of individuals.

Such is a brief but comprehensive statement of the parts taken, respectively by the colonies of Maryland and Rhode Island, in the inauguration and practical carrying out of the great American idea of freedom of religious opinion.

With these facts before him, the reader will be able to decide on the justice and truth of some of the assertions, by the recent Maryland work, referred to at the commencement of this article -a book, by the way, which, though very profuse and even superfluous in range of speculation and displays of antiquarian knowledge, going back even to Mahomet, as a man greatly to be admired, makes not the slightest reference to the existence of such a person as Roger Williams, or of such a colony as Providence Plantations and Rhode Island. Of the assertions to which we refer, we cite the following as a speci

men:

"To the legislators of 1649 (meaning the Maryland Assembly of that year) was it given to discharge a much higher task-to execute a much nobler mission-to inaugurate a much greater idea (i. c., the idea of religious freedom)."-p. 52.

"The earliest policy of Maryland was in striking contrast with that of every other colony. The toleration, which prevailed from the first, and fifteen years later was formally ratified by the voice of the people, must, therefore, be regarded as the living embodiment of a great idea; the introduction of a new element into the civilization of Anglo-American humanity; the beginning of another movement in the progress of the human mind."-p. 64.

"Let not the Protestant historian of Ameri

ca give grudgingly. (The author whom we quote boasts himself, by the way, as inheriting a pure Protestant blood-an unbroken Protestant faith, throught eight generations, from the age of Elizabeth,' p. 208.) Let him testify with a warm heart, and pay, with gladness, the tribute so richly due to the memory of our early forefathers. Let their deeds be enshrined in our hearts, and their names be repeated in our households. Let them be canonized in the grateful regards of the American, and handed down, through the lips of a living tradition, to his most remote posterity. In an age of cruelty, like true men with heroic hearts, they fought the first great battle of religious liberty, and their fame, without reference to

their faith, is now the inheritance, not only of Maryland, but also of America."

We desire to do all justice to Cecilius Lord Baltimore, and to the Catholics of Maryland; but we demand also equal justice for Roger Williams and the men of Rhode Island. A sectional spirit in politics is bad enough, but the attempt to carry it into literature and historyand that, too, under cover of sentimental liberality and a special regard for justice-deserves to be at once exposed and rebuked.

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Thou art not a son of thunder,
But thou bringest rest to all;
Soon again I sink in slumber-
Fainter still thy accents fall.
To the weary, heavy-laden,

Fall thy words like drops of balm-
Sleepy youth and nodding maiden
Bless thy accents soft and calm.

Upper church! I dearly love thee,
Though uncushioned is my seat-

Holy quiet hovers o'er thee,

Shall I e'er thy equal meet!
Chasing pleasure's glittering bubble,
Turns to thee my aching breast-
Here the wicked cease to trouble.

Here the weary are at rest.

I.

HOW I COURTED LULU.

IN SEVEN TABLEAUX.

I ARRIVE AT BELLEAIR.

WHEN I went to see aunt Wimple

not Lulu-at Belleair, in the good year eighteen hundred and blank, I was nineteen, had my pockets full of money, and was called Tom. I am Thomas Esquire, now; but, looking back through the mists of many years, and making due allowance for the partiality of the judge, I think the fine young fellow I was then, a far more enviable personage than my eminently respectable self, now. But I am not much changed; my mustache contains but two or three white hairs, as yet-and those who know me, say I'm a gay young fellow still, in which opinion I agree with them.

Lulu, aunt Wimple's only daughter, had staid in town with us, the winter before, and I had met the fate of nearly every one who had the temerity to encounter the bright light of her dazzling eyes. I was not long in pleading for leave of absence from old Borem & Company-in whose commission house I lived-and in following this permission up, by graciously accepting my invitation to Belleair. I arrived at the old hall, one evening, when all the birds of August were singing; and when the beautiful stream, at the foot of the hill, was dancing in the red sunset, which it threw back from its broad expanse magnificently. I was warmly welcomed, of course, by kind old aunt Wimple, and, more enthusiastically still by Jack, Lulu's brother, and, consequently, my most intimate friend. As for Lulu, she came forward, rather demurely, and quietly extended her hand, struggling to suppress her laughter-of which commodity this fascinating young lady always seemed to have an unlimited supply.

"By your leave, mistress!" I observed; and, before the damsel could defend herself, I had impressed upon two of the reddest lips in the world a "salute"-as said our honest ancestors -far warmer than our relationship made necessary. You see, I was nineteen then, and the heart of nineteen beats warmly in the bosom.

66

Jack laughed heartily; aunt Wimpie's countenance relaxed; and even Lulu, muttering Impudence!" burst into laughter; and so we entered the old antler-decorated hall, and the great sitting-room, where all the portraits of my venerable forefathers, in pearls and powder, ruffled breasts and laces, seemed to extend to me a serene and courteously smiling welcome.

There were two visitors at Belleair, who soon made their appearance-Rose Walton, a demure little, quiet friend of Lulu, also a hopeless flame of Jack; and Mr. Fitzarthur, “from town.” Did you know Fitzarthur, in those days? To make a negative reply, will argue that you yourself were wholly unknown. How shall I describe the serene effulgence of the noble knight-what do I say, the king, the emperor-of fashion! He wore the tightest kid gloves, the smallest boots, the most elegant and recherché coats and waistcoats; and his watch-chain, with its bundle of seals and "charms," then coming into fashion, was the admiration of every beholder. To know Fitzarthur was, if not to love, at least to admire and wonder at him. Fitzarthur patronized everybody in the most good-natured way-aunt Wimple, Jack, Rose, the Honorable Josiah Muggins, M.C., who sometimes came to Belleair-even Lulu herself, whom he had met at the Springs that year, and to whom he was paying his addresses.

As I look back on you now, my dear Fitzarthur, and recollect how you shone, and how I feared you would not recognize me in the country, and how you went through life at Belleair and in town, with changeless smiles and nevershaken self-esteem and admiration, I bow to you, as the prince of dandies, erect an imaginary tablet to record your graces, and declare that you were more than mortal almost-almost the paragon of fops.

As I have intimated, Fitzarthur accorded me a serene recognition, giving me, for that purpose, the end of his kid glove; and so, with Jack's arm round me -I wished it had been Lulu's-we were ushered into the great supper-room,

where a thousand merry jests went round, and where was eaten, perhaps, the merriest supper of the century. Afterwards, we had the pleasantest lounge upon the portico, looking out upon the noble chase, with its century oaks, and the broad stream, glittering, through the dipping foliage, with the last red fires of sunset; and, in good time, I threw myself joyously into one of those old, honest, tall-posted, leaguewide country-beds, which are scarcely ever seen now, in our miserable generation. Jack was with me, of course, and we talked for hours-you see, I liked him, and he was the brother of somebody and then I dropped asleep, and all the scene slipped from me in Elysian dreams Elysian! for I dreamed that I was married to Lulu, and that Fitzarthur was my first groom's man.

I have dedicated these paragraphs to the evening of my arrival at Belleair, because the beautiful sunshine of that August evening shines in my memory still, and ever will live there for me, fair and dreamy, and instinct with the radiance of romance and youth.

The month of August flew by like a dream, and I find no difficulty in recalling—as I could relate in detail, were it necessary every incident of that glorious time, when my heart beat warm and free, with the blood of nineteen. The rides; the games; the fishing parties, in the boat on the stream; the rambles in the woods; the apple-gathering in the orchard, when the "bell-flowers" were ripe, and all the thousand scenes, and jests, and merry utterances-all these are as real in my memory, to-day, as in my real life then.

I need scarcely say that my love for Lulu did not diminish, thus thrown with her, as I was, day after day, and week after week. I found, every hour almost, something new in her character, which, more and more, deprived me of the small quantity of free will which I possessed. The loving circle, of which she was the life and pride, at that time, will bear me out, when I say, that there are few such natures in this prosy world, to-day. She was literally the life and joy of every scene-she had the rarest and most singular combination of maidenly delicacy and extravagant mirthfulness. Her dark, brilliant eyes had a "charming archness" in them, and her quick movements and ever-changing attitudes, were the perfection of wild

What a

grace and daring abandon. poor thing language is! I try to trace some outline of Lulu at seventeen, and I am reduced to the most unhappy plight by my inability: I don't think any one would be more successful. I had seen many girls, of all styles of beauty, at town parties; and, while I had employed much of my spare time in the genteel and satisfactory occupation of flirting, I never so much as thought of loving any of them. After being ten days at Belleair, I was past praying for. Truth to say, I think my dreadful rival, Fitzarthur, was as nearly in the same condition as was possible for one who had so absorbing an admiration and regard for himself. He loved Lulu, however, I have no doubt-rightly supposing that, to receive such a wife, would be the crowning feather in his cap; to secure aunt Wimple's broad acres, or a portion of them, to be Lulu's some day, not a disagreeable plum in his pocket. As for myself, I can honestly say, upon my honor, that I seldom or ever thought of Lulu, in connection with such things; for I never knew the want of money, and my father was wealthy, and had no other child but myself. I own such reckless imprudence and disregard of "material affairs" was shocking; but I was very much in love, you see, and only nineteen. Now, at nineteen, the heart rules the intellect a disgraceful despotism, shaken off in after life.

The month of September, like that of August, fled along on downy pinions, and the Belleair circle was the same. Fitzarthur had paid one or two visits to friends of his in the neighborhood; but he always so arranged these visits that they should not take him out of “hitting distance," so to speak, of Lulu. At last he returned to aunt's, where Rose Walton still was staying, avowing his design to tarry only a few days, and then return to town, from which, it was a wonder to the whole family, how any consideration could have kept this star of fashion absent so long.

I mention these little incidents of the summer months, you see, to afford, as it were, some frame and coloring to the deeply-absorbing and highly-interesting adventures of the real period of my courtship, which occurred in the bright month of October. To say that every day I had grown more and more hopelessly a captive, would be only repeti

tion. I had long since come to the "desperate" point; and had vainly cudgeled my unfortunate brains for a means of impressing on Lulu, orally, the fact, that I was her slave. I revolved the propriety of requesting a private interview in the sitting-room; but the idea of solemnly entering that great apartment with Lulu following me wonderingly, and, in the presence of my grave old ancestors, proposing for her hand and heart-the very thought disarmed me, made me a coward, and I relinquished the idea instantly, like the poor poltroon I was. Then I thought of asking Lulu to ride with me-to take a stroll in the woods-to ramble through the grove. From all these propositions my cowardly heart recoiled, and retreated ignominiously. I never got any further than taking her hand, and holding it lingeringly, one evening at twilight, as we returned toward the hall, and striving in vain to speak. Lulu was an intelligent girl, and she, no doubt, perfectly understood my meaning; for she quickly withdrew her hand, and, blushing slightly, said, with a laugh, and somewhat hurriedly," Come, cousin, let us go in, the dew is falling!" -and so she flitted up the broad staircase and disappeared.

When Lulu came down that evening she was in brilliant spirits, as usual; and, with her arm leaning on Miss Rose's shoulder, presented the most joyous and entrancing vision I had ever looked upon; Fitzarthur made her the most elegant compliment imaginable, and, of course, I had not the least desire to cut his throat, and so make an end of him.

But we'll get on to October. It was on a beautiful morning of that fine month that the first scene of real dramatic interest occurred between myself and Lulu, and the purpose of this little introduction has been, to convey, as rapidly and clearly as possible, some idea of the relative position of the par

ties.

Fitzarthur, you see, was in love with Lulu, and I was in love with Lulu: and the mutual desire of myself and Fitz. was, to reduce into possession the heart of this young lady. I saw that my rival was going to propose very soon, and I intended to frustrate him, having, at last, conceived a brilliant and encouraging idea, of which I shall proceed, at once, to speak.

II.

LULU AND MYSELF FALL OUT.

It was the brightest day of the whole month of October, and never have I seen the forest present a more gorgeous picture of splendid and imperial beauty.

We were all out upon the portico, and had been conversing for some time, my friend Fitzarthur "leading" the company, and making everybody laugh with his amusing stories. Fitzarthur, you see, was an admirable general; and, a long experience in the ways of women had led him to the conclusion, that these charming creatures like an entertaining fellow. But Fitz. had another axiom equally impressed upon his mindnamely, that a gentleman who wishes to produce the best effect upon a young lady, should never make his presence stale. I think he was right, and more than once have I known a fine young fellow to be ruined by a too exclusive devotion to the presence of his mistress.

In consequence of Fitz.'s views upon this subject, he rose at the end of a most entertaining story, and, gently caressing his "imperial," observed that he had too long neglected a fair friend of his, whose three last letters remained unanswered. He must positively write to her by the mail that evening-announcing his immediate return. Having made this communication with the most odious and graceful elegance, he kissed his hand, and retired into the hall.

Lulu pouted beautifully. Then there was somebody whose society Mr. Fitzarthur preferred to their own; even communication with her by mail. Well, Mr. Fitzarthur was the best judge of his own affairs: and, having clearly indicated these reflections in her eyes, Miss Lulu proceeded to pout again. As she did so, her eyes fell upon myselfI was smiling. Lulu looked at me for a moment, saw that I was watching her expression, and burst out laughing.

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Well, sir," she said, "why are you staring me out of countenance?"

"A cat may look at a king," I replied, "aud, doubtless, the same applies to a queen."

"A queen! so you are laughing at me! Well, sir, laugh on!"

And Miss Lulu set me the example, by herself bursting into the merriest fit imaginable. She then heaved a mock sigh, and said:

"How in the world shall we pass our

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