Dow, we caught several of that species, when the noise ceased for a time. Nature, in her varied arrangement, seems to have felt a partiality toward this portion of our country. As the traveller ascends or descends the Ohio, he cannot help remarking that, alternately, nearly the whole length of the river, the margin on one side is bounded by lofty hills and a rolling surface; while on the other, extensive plains of the richest alluvial land are seen as far as the eye can command the view. Islands of varied size and form rise here and there from the bosom of the water; and the winding course of the stream frequently brings you to places where the idea of being on a river of great length changes to that of floating on a lake of moderate extent. Some of these islands are of considerable extent and value; while others, small and insignificant, seem as if intended for contrast, and as serving to enhance the general interest of the scenery. These little islands are frequently overflowed during great freshets or floods, and receive at their heads prodigious heaps of drifted timber. We foresaw with great concern the alteration that cultivation would soon produce along these delightful banks. As night came, sinking in darkness the broader portions of the river, our minds became affected by strong emotions, and wandered far beyond the present moments. The tinkling of bells told us that the cattle which bore them were gently roving from valley to valley in search of food, or returning to their distant homes. The hooting of the great-owl, and the muffled noise of its wings as it sailed smoothly over the stream, were matters of interest to us. So was the sound of the boatman's horn, as it came winding more and more softly from afar. When daylight returned, many songsters burst forth with echoing notes, more and more mellow to the listening ear. Here and there the lonely cabin of a squatter struck the eye, giving note of commencing civilization. The crossing of a stream by a deer foretold how soon the hills would be covered by snow. Many sluggish flatboats we overtook and passed; some laden with produce from the different head-waters of the small rivers that pour their tributary streams into the Ohio; others, of less dimensions, crowded with emigrants from distant. parts, in search of a new home. . . . ... When I think of the times, and call back the grandeur and beauty of those almost uninhabited shores; when I picture to myself the dense and lofty summits of the forest that every where spread along the hills, and overhung the margins of the stream, unmolested by the axe of the settler; when I know how dearly purchased the safe navigation of that river has been by the blood of many worthy Virginians; when I see that no longer any aborigines are to be found there, and that the vast herds of elks, deer, and buffaloes, which once pastured on these hills and in these valleys, making for themselves great roads to the several salt-springs, have ceased to exist; when I reflect that all this grand portion of our Union, instead of being in a state of nature, is now more or less covered with villages, farms, and towns, where the din of hammers and machinery is constantly heard; that the woods are fast disappearing under the axe by day and the fire by night; that hundreds of steamboats are gliding to and fro over the whole length of the majestic river, forcing commerce to take root and to prosper in every spot; when I see the surplus population of Europe coming to assist in the destruction of the forest, and transporting civilization into its darkest recesses: when I remember that these extraordinary changes have all taken place in the short period of twenty years [1810-30] I pause, wonder, and although I know all to be a fact can scarcely believe its reality. 647 BERTHOLD AUERBACH. AUERBACH, BERTHOLD, a celebrated German novelist, poet, and author, of Jewish parentage, was born in Nordstetten, Würtemberg, Black Forest, February 28, 1812; died at Cannes, France, February 8, 1882. His parents were of the common people, and too poor to educate him, but they were not slow to perceive his unusual intelligence, and wished him educated for the synagogue. He was sent to the Talmud school at Hechingen, to Carlsruhe, and to the gymnasium at Stuttgart, completing his studies at the universities of Tübingen, Munich, and Heidelberg. But while at these universities he began to neglect Hebrew theology for history, philosophy, and literature, and later wholly abandoned it for literature. His first published work, "Judaism and Recent Literature," appeared in 1836; a biographical romance founded on the life of Spinoza, in 1837; a translation of Spinoza's works, 5 vols., in 1841; and the first series of "Village Stories of the Black Forest" in 1843; then followed "The Professor's Wife" (1847); "Baarfüssele" (1856); "Joseph in the Snow" (1860); "Edelweiss" (1861); “ The Villa on the Rhine" (1869); "On the Heights" (1871); "Waldfried " (1874); "Brigitta" (1880). Many of his stories have been translated into English and several European languages. IRMA'S REMORSE. (From "On the Heights.") He who destroys his life does not destroy his own life alone. The child who afflicts a father assists in preparing his grave. Upon my brow there stands an inextinguishable print, a Cain mark from the hand of my father. I can never again look at my own face, nor can I ever let the eye of another look on it. me. Can I flee from myself? Everywhere myself must follow I am a castaway, lost, and ruined Such was the dreary monotone that rang through Irma's soul again and again. She lay in the darkened room, where not a sunbeam was allowed to penetrate, nor a ray of light to enter; she was alone with herself and darkness. Her thoughts called to her like voices, on the right, on the left, from above, and from below, everywhere and it often seemed to her as if her father's hand hovered through the gloom with an outstretched finger of flame. She heard without the voices of Bruno and the physician; Bruno wanted to ask her many things, Gunther wished to return to the capital. Irma answered that she could see no one; she commissioned Gunther with a thousand greetings to all who cared for her. Gunther charged the family doctor and the maid to watch. carefully over Irma; he sent a messenger to Emmy in the convent. Irma remained in darkness and in solitude. The tempter came to her, and said: "Why dost thou pine away thy young life? the whole world lies before thee with its splendor and beauty. Where is a trace Rise upon thy brow? the hand that left it is stiff and decayed. up! the world is thine! why languish away? why mortify thyself? everything lives for itself, everything lives its time. Thy father has consummated his life, consummate thou thine own! What is sin?-death has no right to life, life alone has right" Hither and thither the struggle tormented her, and suddenly in the gloom she seemed to have before her the New Testament scene, in which Satan and the Archangel dispute about the body of Moses. "I am no dead body," she burst forth, "and there are no angels and there are no devils! All is a lie! from generation to generation they sing to us all sorts of tales as they do to children in the darkness. "The day is here. I can pull aside my curtain and the world of light is mine. Have not thousands erred like me, and still live happy?" She rushed to the window. It seemed to her as if she lay buried alive in the earth, her imagination transported her to that one grave "I must have light, light!" She raised the curtain. A broad ray of light came in. She sprung back; the curtain fell again and she lay in darkness. Presently she heard a voice which went deep to her heart. Colonel Bronnen had come from the capital to show the last token of respect to Eberhardt; he begged Irma - and his strong voice was half stifled to do him the favor and let him mourn with her for the dead. Irma's blood seemed to congeal in her heart. She opened the door and held out her hand to her friend in the dark; he pressed it, and she heard him, strong man as he was, weeping loudly. As if storm-driven, the thoughts passed through her mind: there stands a man who could rescue thee, and thou couldst serve him, and be subject to him- but how wouldst thou dare? "I thank you," she said at last; "may you ever feel the happiness of having acted kindly to the departed one and me" Her voice faltered; she could not say more. Bronnen went: he left her in the darkness. The last hold which she had left in life was broken. Could she have imagined what lines, from a torn letter picked up on the public way, Bronnen had in his pocket, she would have screamed aloud. What was One thought alone was ever awake within her. it to her to see the sun rise so many thousand times more, and every sunbeam and every eye would make writing the glare, and words would be an everlasting terror to her. Father daughter who would efface those words from language, that she might never hear them again, never read them again? She felt a sort of unfathomable void in her mind. The one and only thought was ever returning, it was never to be exhausted, and yet every side of it had been weighed, and brooding reflection had turned it over and over, with crushing power, indefatigably and yet wearyingly, in a thousand different aspects. Then there came on that stupor of mind which is utter thoughtlessness. Nothing to think, nothing to desire, nothing to do. Chaos had fallen over the individual man, and beyond it hovered intangible objects. Let them come; be still as a beast for sacrifice, upon whose head the axe of the officiating priest is to be uplifted. The destiny must be accomplished; |