to my own support by teaching a school. I left Kimballton this morning to spend the vacation of commencement week with a friend, about five miles from Parker's Falls. My generous uncle, when he heard me on the stairs, called me to his bedside, and gave me two dollars and fifty cents, to pay my stage fare, and another dollar for my extra expenses. He then laid his pocketbook under his pillow, shook hands with me, and advised me to take some biscuit in my bag, instead of breakfasting on the road. I feel confident, therefore, that I left my beloved relative alive, and trust that I shall find him so on my return.' The young lady courtesied at the close of her speech, which was so sensible, and well worded, and delivered with such grace and propriety, that everybody thought her fit to be preceptress of the best academy in the State. But a stranger would have supposed that Mr. Higginbotham was an object of abhorrence at Parker's Falls, and that a thanksgiving had been proclaimed for his murder, so excessive was the wrath of the inhabitants, on learning their mistake. The millmen resolved to bestow public honors on Dominicus Pike, only hesitating whether to tar and feather him, ride him on a rail, or refresh him with an ablution at the town pump, on the top of which he had declared himself the bearer of the news. The selectmen, by advice of the lawyer, spoke of prosecuting him for a misdemeanor, in circulating unfounded reports, to the great disturbance of the peace of the commonwealth. Nothing saved Dominicus, either from mob law or a court of justice, but an eloquent appeal made by the young lady in his behalf. Addressing a few words of heartfelt gratitude to his benefactress, he mounted the green cart and rode out of town, under a discharge of artillery from the school-boys, who found plenty of ammunition in the neighboring clay pits and mud holes. As he turned his head, to exchange a farewell glance with Mr. Higginbotham's niece, a ball, of the consistence of hasty pudding, hit him slap in the mouth, giving him a most grim aspect. His whole person was so bespattered with the like filthy missiles, that he had almost a mind to ride back and supplicate for the threatened ablution at the town pump; for, though not meant in kindness, it would now have been a deed of charity. However, the sun shone oright on poor Dominicus, and the mud, an emblem of all stains of undeserved opprobrium, was easily brushed off when dry. Being a funny rogue, his heart soon cheered up; nor could he refrain from a hearty laugh at the uproar which his story had excited. The handbills of the selectmen would cause the commitment of all the vagabonds in the State; the paragraph in the Parker's Falls Gazette would be reprinted from Maine to Florida, and perhaps form an item in the London newspapers; and many a miser would tremble for his money bags and life, on learning the catastrophe of Mr. Higginbotham. The peddler meditated with much fervor on the charms of the young schoolmistress, and swore that Daniel Webster never spoke nor looked so like an angel as Miss Higginbotham, while defending him from the wrathful populace at Parker's Falls. Dominicus was now on the Kimballton turnpike, having all along determined to visit that place, though business had drawn him out of the most direct road from Morristown. As he approached the scene of the supposed murder, he continued to revolve the circumstances in his mind, and was astonished at the aspect which the whole case assumed. Had nothing occurred to corroborate the story of the first traveller, it might now have been considered as a hoax; but the yellow man was evidently acquainted either with the report or the fact; and there was a mystery in his dismayed and guilty look on being abruptly questioned. When, to this singular combination of incidents, it was added that the rumor tallied exactly with Mr. Higginbotham's character and habits of life, and that he had an orchard and a St. Michael's pear-tree, near which he always passed at nightfall, the circumstantial evidence appeared so strong that Dominicus doubted whether the autograph produced by the lawyer, or even the niece's direct testimony, ought to be equivalent. Making cautious inquiries along the road, the peddler further learned that Mr. Higginbotham had in his service an Irishman of doubtful character, whom he had hired without a recommendation, on the score of economy, "May I be hanged myself," exclaimed Dominicus Pike aloud, on reaching the top of a lonely hill, "if I'll believe old Higginbotham is unhanged till I see him with my own eyes, and hear it from his own mouth! And, as he's a real shaver, I'll have the minister, or some other responsible man, for an indorser." It was growing dusk when he reached the toll-house on Kimballton turnpike, about a quarter of a mile from the village of this name. His little mare was fast bringing him up with a man on horseback, who trotted through the gate a few rods in advance of him, nodded to the toll-gatherer, and kept on towards the village. Dominicus was acquainted with the tollman, and, while making change, the usual reinarks on the weather passed between them. "I suppose," said the peddler, throwing back his whiplash, to bring it down like a feather on the mare's flank, "you have not seen anything of old Mr. Higginbotham within a day or two?" แ "Yes," answered the toll-gatherer. "He passed the gate just before you drove up, and yonder he rides now, if you can see him through the dusk. He's been to Woodfield this afternoon attending a sheriff's sale there. The old man generally shakes hands and has a little chat with me; but to-night he nodded as if to say, 'charge my toll'-and jogged on; for, wherever he goes, he must always be at home by eight o'clock.' "So they tell me," said Dominicus. 66 I never saw a man look so yellow and thin as the squire does," continued the toll-gatherer. Says I to myself, to-night, he's more like a ghost or an old mummy than good flesh and blood.' The peddler strained his eyes through the twilight, and could just discern the horseman now far ahead on the village road. He seemed to recognize the rear of Mr. Higginbotham; but through the evening shadows, and amid the dust from the horse's feet, the figure appeared dim and unsubstantial; as if the shape of the mysterious old man were faintly moulded of darkness and gray light. Dominicus shivered. "Mr. Higginbotham has come back from the other world, by way of the Kimballton turnpike," thought he. He shook the reins and rode forward, keeping about the same distance in the rear of the gray old shadow, till the latter was concealed by a bend of the road. On reaching this point, the peddler no longer saw the man on horseback, but found himself at the head of the village street, not far from a number of stores and two taverns, clustered round the meetinghouse steeple. On his left were a stone wall and a gate, the boundary of a wood lot, beyond which lay an orchard, farther still, a mowing field, and, last of all, a house. These were the premises of Mr. Higginbotham, whose dwelling stood beside the old highway, but had been left in the background by the Kimballton turnpike. Dominicus knew the place; and the little mare stopped short by instinct; for he was not conscious of tightening the reins. For the soul of me I cannot get by this gate!" said he, trembling. "I never shall be my own man again till I see whether Mr. Higginbotham is hanging on the St. Michael's pear-tree!" 66 He leaped from the cart, gave the rein a turn round the gate-post, and ran along the green path of the wood lot as if Old Nick were chasing behind. Just then the village clock tolled eight, and, as each deep stroke fell, Dominicus gave a fresh bound and flew faster than before, till, dim in the solitary centre of the orchard, he saw the fated pear-tree. One great branch stretched from the old contorted trunk across the path, and threw the darkest shadow on that one spot. But something seemed to struggle beneath the branch! Cer The peddler had never pretended to more courage than befits a man of peaceable occupation, nor could he account for his valor on this awful emergency. tain it is, however, that he rushed forward, prostrated a sturdy Irishman with the butt end of his whip, and found-not indeed hanging on the St. Michael's peartree, but trembling beneath it, with a halter round his neck-the old identical Mr. Higginbotham! "Mr. Higginbotham," said Dominicus, tremulously, "you're an honest man, and I'll take your word for it. Have you been hanged or not?" If the riddle be not already guessed, a few words will explain the simple machinery by which this "coming event was made to cast its shadow before." Three men had plotted the robbery and murder of Mr. Higginbotham; two of them, successively, lost courage and fled, each delaying the crime one night by their disappearance; the third was in the act of perpetration, when a champion, blindly obeying the call of fate, like the heroes of old romance, appeared in the person of Dominicus Pike. It only remains to say that Mr. Higginbotham took the pedler into high favor, sanctioned his addresses to the pretty schoolmistress, and settled his whole property on their children, allowing themselves the interest. In due time the old gentleman capped the climax of his favors by dying a Christian death, in bed, since which melancholy event Dominicus Pike has removed from Kimballton and established a large tobacco manufactory in my native village. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. THE THREE WARNINGS. [MRS. THRALE (afterwards MRS. PIOZZI). Born at Bodville, Carmarthen, in 1740. A great friend of Dr. Johnson. Died at Clifton, 1822.] The tree of deepest root is found Least willing still to quit the ground; 'Twas therefore said by ancient sages, That love of life increased with years When sports went round, and all were gay, And looking grave-"You must,” says he, His hour-glass trembled while he spoke- Three several warnings you shall have, Before you're summoned to the grave; Willing for once I'll quit my prey, And grant a kind reprieve; In hopes you'll have no more to say; But, when I call again this way, Well pleased the world will leave." Nor thought of Death as near: He passed his hours in peace. But while he viewed his wealth increase, Brought on his eightieth year. And now, one night, in musing mood, The unwelcome messenger of Fate ings: But for that loss of time and ease I can re cover damages." "I know," cries Death, "that at the best But don't be captious, friend, at least: "Hold!" says the farmer, "not so fast! "Christopher North," and by the Noctes Ambrosianæ, which first appeared in Blackwood's Magazine (1822-1835), and were subsequently collected and published in three volumes. Humor, satire, and incisive criticism of men and books render the Noctes one of the most notable literary productions of the century. Wilson resigned his professorship in 1852, and about the same time his name was placed on the civil list for an annuity of £300. A bronze statue of him by Steel was erected in the Princes Street Gardens in 1865.] NORTH. Let us have some sensible con versation, Timothy. At our time of life such colloquy is becoming. TICKLER. Why the devil would you not come to Dalnacardoch?* Glorious guffawing all night, and immeasurable murder all day. Twenty-seven brace of birds, nine hares, three roes, and a red deer stained the heather on the Twelfth, beneath my single-barrelled Joe-not to mention a pair of patriarchal ravens, and the Loch-Ericht eagle, whose leg was broken by the Prince when hiding in the moor of Rannoch. NORTH. Why kill the royal bird? IN WHICH TICKLER NARRATES HIS EX- down upon Sancho like a sunbeam from PERIENCES AT DALNACARDOCH. died [JOHN WILSON, born in Paisley, 18th May, 1785; in Edinburgh, 3d April, 1854. Poet, novelist, miscellaneous writer, and professor of moral philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. Amongst the contemporaries of Scott, none hold a more enduring position than "Christopher North." He was educated at Glasgow and at Magdalen College, Oxford, where he gained the Newdigate prize of fifty guineas by a poem on Painting, Poetry, and Architecture. Having succeeded to a considerable fortune on the death of his father, he purchased, in 1808, Elleray, a small estate in Cumberland, where he settled for a time, with Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey for his neighbors and friends. In 1814 he became a member of the Edinburgh bar. Meanwhile he had been making some reputation as a poet; and in his lines called The Magic Mirror, published in the Annual Register for 1812, he was the first to hail Scott as "the great Magician." In the same year his poem the Isle of Palms appeared, and Jeffrey predicted that the author would "rise to high honors in the corps of Lake poets." The City of the Plague was issued four years after, and Allan Cunningham characterized it as a noble and deeply pathetic poem." In 1820 he succeeded Dr. Thomas Brown in the chair of moral philosophy. Two years later appeared his first essay as a novelist, The Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life, "a selection from the papers of the late Arthur Austin," comprising twenty-four tales and sketches, one of which we quote here. The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay and the Foresters followed, and obtained extensive favor. Wilson's greatest popularity, however, was earned as its eyrie on the cliff of Snows, and it would have broken his back with one stroke of its wing, had I not sent a ball right through its heart. It went up with a yell, a hundred fathom into the clear blue air; and then, striking a green knoll in the midst of the heather, bounded down the rocky hill-side, and went shivering and whizzing along the black surface of a tarn, till it lay motionless in a huge heap among the water lilies. NORTH. Lost? TICKLER. I stripped instanter-six feet four and three-quarters in puris naturalibus-and out-Byroning Byron, shot in twenty seconds, a furlong across the Fresh. Grasping the bird of Jove in my right, with my left I rowed my airy state towards the spot where I had left my breeches and other habiliments. Espying a trimmer, I seized it in my mouth, and on relanding on a small natural pier, as I hope to be shaved, lo! a pike of twenty-pounds standing, with a jaw like an alligator, and reaching from my hip to my instep, smote the heather, like a flail, into a shower of blos TICKLER. To be sure there was. A hundred stills beheld me from the mountain-sides. Shepherd and smuggler cheered me like voices in the sky; and the old genius of the solitary place rustled applause through the reeds and rushes, and birch-trees among the rocks-paced up and down the shore in triumph NORTH. What a subject for the painter! Oh, that Sir Thomas Lawrence* or our own John Watson, † had been there to put you on canvas! Or, shall I rather say, would that Chantrey had been by to study you for immortal marble! TICKLER. Braced by the liquid plunge, I circled the tarn at ten miles an hour. Unconsciously I had taken my Manton into my hand-and unconsciously reloaded -when, just as I was clearing the feederstream, not less than five yards across, up springs a red deer, who, at the death of the eagle, had cowered down in the brake, and wafted away his antlers in the direction of Benvoirlich. We were both going at the top of our speed when I fired, and the ball piercing his spine the magnificent creature sunk down, and died almost without a convulsion. NORTH. Red deer, eagle and pike, all 'dead as mutton! TICKLER. I sat down upon the forehead, resting an arm on each antler-Sancho sitting with victorious eyes on the carcass. I sent him off to the tarn-side for my pocket-pistol, charged with Glenlivet, No. 5. In a few minutes he returned, and crouched down with an air of mortification at my feet. NORTH. Ho! ho! the fairies have spirited away your nether integuments! TICKLER. Not an article to be seen!save and except my shoes!-jacket, waistcoat, flannel shirt, breeches, all melted away with the mountain dew! There was I like Adam in Paradise, or dangling over her shoulders. I neared upon the chase, but saw that Malvina was making for a morass. Whiz went a ball within a stride of her petticoats, and she deflected her course towards a wood on the right. She dropped our breeches. I literally leaped into them, and, like Apollo in pursuit of Daphne, pursued my impetuous career. NORTH. To Diana !-to Diana ascends the virgin's prayer! TICKLER. Down went-one after the other jacket, waistcoat, flannel shirtwould you believe it? her own blue linseywoolsey petticoat! Thus lightened, she bounded over the little knolls like a barque over Sicilian seas; in ten minutes she had fairly run away from me hull-down; and her long yellow hair, streaming like a pen dant, disappeared in the forest. NORTH. What have you done with the puir lassie's petticoat? TICKLER. I sent it to my friend, Dr. McCulloch, to lie among his other relics of Highland greed. NORTH. If idle folks will wander over the Highlands, and get the natives to show them how to follow their noses through the wildernesses, ought they not to pay handsomely for being saved from perdition, in bogs, quagmires, mosses, shelving lake-shores, fords and chasms? TICKLER. Undoubtedly; and if the orphan son of some old Celt, who, perhaps, fought under Abercromby, and lost his eyes in ophthalmia, leave his ordinary work beside his shieling, be it what it may, or give up a day's sport on the hill or river to accompany a Sassenach* some thirty miles over the moors, with his big nag, too, loaded with mineralogy and botany, and all other matter of trash, are five shillings, or twice five, a sufficient remuneration? Not they, indeed. Pay him like a post-chaise, fifteen pence a mile, and send him to his hut rejoicing through a whole winter. NORTH. Spoken like a gentleman. So, with boats, a couple of poor fellows live, and that is all-by rowing waif and stray Sassenachs over lochs or arms of the sea. No regular ferry, mind you. Perhaps days and weeks pass by without their boat being called for and yet grumble and growl is the go as soon as they hold out a hand for silver or gold. Recollect, old or * Sassenach-a Lowlander or Englishman. |