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Artist's Dream, An T. IV. Higginson ioo
Autobiography of a Quack, The. I., II 466, 586
Borneo, A Native of 485
Bowery at Night, The Charles Dawson Shanly .... 602
By-Ways of Europe. From Pcrpignan to Montserrat. Bayard Taylor 495
"'* A Visit to the Balearic Islands. I. Bayard Taylor 660
Busy Brains Austin Abbott 570
Canadian Woods and Waters Charles Dawson Skanly . . . . 311
Cincinnati James Parion 229
Conspiracy at Washington, The 633
Cretan Days Win. J. Stillman 533
Dinner Speaking Edward Everett Hale .... 507
Doctor Molke Dr. I. I. Hayes 43
Edisto. Up the T. W. Higginson 157
Foster, Stephen C-, and Negro Minstrelsy . . . Robert P. Nevin 608
Fugitives from Labor F. Stteldon. . . . . . . 370
Grandmother's Story: The Great Snow 716
Gray Goth, In the Miss E. Stuart Phelps .... 559
Great Public Character, A James Russell Lowell 618'
Growth, Limitations, and Toleration of Shakespeare's Genius E. P. Whipple 178
Guardian Angel, The. VIL, VIIL, IX, X., XL, XII. Oliver Wendell Holmes 1,129• - 257, 385, 513, 641
Hospital Memories. I., II Miss Eudora Clark . . 144, 324
International Copyright James Parton 430
Jesuits in North America, The George E. Ellis 362
Jonson, Ben E. P. Whipple 403
Longfellow's Translation of Dante's Divina Commedia 188
Liliput Province, A W. Winwood Reade 147
Literature as an Art T. W. Higginson 745 *
Little Land of Appenzell, The Bayard Taylor 213
Minor Elizabethan Dramatists . . . . . . E. P. Whipple 69a
^ Minor Italian Travels W. D. Howells 337
Mysterious Personage, A John Heal 658
Opinions of the late Dr. Nott, respecting Books, Studies and Orators E. D. Sanborn . .527
Pacific Railroads, Our J. K. Medbery 704
Padua, At W. D. Howells 25
Passage from Hawthorne's English Note-Books, A 15
Piano in the United States, The James Par ton 8a
Poor Richard. II., Ill Henry James, Jr. 32,166
Prophetic Voices about America. A Monograph . Charles Sumner 275
Religions Side of the Italian Question, The Joseph Ma Mm ini 108
Rose Rollins The. L, II A lice Cary 420, 545
Sunshine and Petrarch T. W. Higginson 307
/Struggle for Life, A T. B. Aldrich 56
/ "The Lie" C. J. Spragne 398
Thrtioe of the Golden Foot, The J. W. Palmer 453
T. Adolphus Trolkjpe, Writings of H. T. Tuckerman 476
Tour in the Dark, A 670
."* tlacharttableness 415
Visit to Sybaris, My
Workers in Silver, Among the
Edward Everett Hale
. . . 63
C. J. Sprague 740
E. II. House . . , . . 350
James Parton 729
Are the Children at Home? Mrs. M. E. M. Sangster
Autumn Song, An Edgar Fawcett .
Blue and the Gray, The F. M. Finch
Chanson without Music Oliver Wendell Holmes
Dirge for a Sailor George H. Boker . ',
Ember-Picture, An James Russell Lowell
Feast of Harvest, The £. C. Stedman
Flight of the Goddess, The 71 B. Aldrich
Freedom in Drazil John G. Whit tier .
Lost Genius, The J. J. Piatt .
Mona's Mother Alice Cary
Mystery of Nature, The Theodore TUton .
Nightingale in tlic Study, The James Russell Lowell '.
Sonnet George H. Boker.
Themistocles William Everett
The Old Story Alice Cary .
Toujours Amour E. C. Stedman . .
Reviews And Literary Notices.
Browne's Land of Thor 256
Charlevoix's History of New France 125
Codman's Ten Months in Brazil 383
Cozzens's Sayings of Doctor Bushwhacker and other Learned Men 512
Critical and Social Essays, from the New York " Nation" 384
Dall's (Mrs.) The College, the Market, and the Court 255
Du Chailiu's Journey to Ahhango-Land 122
Emerson's May-Day and Other Pieces 376
Hoppin's Otd England •
Hymns by Harriet McEwen Kimball
Jean Ingclow's Story of Doom, and other Poems
Lea's Historical Sketch of Sacerdotal Celibacy in the Christian Church
Literary Life of James K. Paulding, The
Memoirs and Correspondence of Madame Recamier . . . .... .
Miss Ravene1's Conversion from Secession to Loyalty
Morris's Life and Death of Jason
Morse on the Poem "Roek me to Sleep, Mother"
Norton's Translation of The New Life of Dante O3
Parsons's Deus Homo
Parsons's Translation of the Inferno
Paulding's The Fulls and the Jonathans
PurnelP* Literature and its Professors . . • •
Richmond during the War • .. • •. •
Ritter's Comparative Geography of Palestine
Samuels's Ornirhology and Oology of New England
Thackeray's Early and-Late Papers
Tomes's Champagne Country . • . •
Webb': Liffith Lank, or Lunacy, and St. TwePmo
A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art,
SUSAN'S YOUNG MAN.
There seems no reasonable doubt that Myrtle Hazard might have made a safe thing of it with Gifted Hopkins, (if so inclined,) provided that she had only been secured against interference. But the constant habit of reading his verses to Susan Posey was not without its risk to so excitable a nature as that of the young poet. Poets always were capable of divided affections, and Cowley's "Chronicle " is a confession that would fit the whole tribe of them. It is true that Gifted had no right to regard Susan's heart as open to the wiles of any new-comer. He knew that she considered herself, and was considered by another, as pledged and plighted. Yet she was such a devoted listener, her sympathies were so easily roused, her blue eyes glistened so tenderly at the least poetical hint, such as " Never, O never," "My aching heart," "Go, let me weep," — any of those touching phrases out of the long catalogue which readily suggests itself, — that her influence was getting to be such that Myrtle (if really anxious to
secure him) might look upon it with apprehension, and the owner of Susan's heart (if of a jealous disposition) might have thought it worth while to make a visit to Oxbow Village to see after his property.
It may seem not impossible that some friend had suggested as much as this to the young lady's lover. The caution would have been unnecessary, or at least premature. Susan was loyal as ever to her absent friend. Gifted Hopkins had never yet presumed upon the familiar relations existing between them to attempt to shake her allegiance. It is quite as likely, after all, that the young gentleman about to make his appearance in Oxbow Village visited the place of his own accord, without a hint from anybody. But the fact concerns us more than the reason of it, just now.
"Who do you think is coming, Mr. Gridley? Who do you think is coming?" said Susan Posey, her face covered with a carnation such as the first season may see in a city belle, but not the second.
"Well, Susan Posey, I suppose I must guess, though I am rather slow at
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867. by Tickxok And Fields, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
that business. Perhaps the Governor. No, I don't think it can be the Governor, for you would n't look so happy if it was only his Excellency. It must be the President, Susan Posey, — President James Buchanan. Have n't I guessed right, now, tell me, my dear?"
"O Mr. Gridley, you are too bad, — what do I care for governors and presidents? I know somebody that's worth fifty million thousand presidents, — and he's coming, — my Clement is coming," said Susan, who had by this time learned to consider the awful Byles Gridley as her next friend and faithful counsellor.
Susan could not stay long in the house after she got her note informing her that her friend was soon to be with her. Everybody told everything to Olive Eveleth, and Susan must run over to the Parsonage to tell her that there was a young gentleman coming to Oxbow Village; upon which Olive asked who it was, exactly as if she did not know; whereupon Susan dropped her eyes and said, " Clement, — I mean Mr. Lindsay."
That was a fair piece of news now, and Olive had her bonnet on five minutes after Susan was gone, and was on her way to Bathsheba's, — it was too bad that the poor girl who lived so out of the world should n't know anything of what was going on in it. Bathsheba * had been in all the morning, and the Doctor had said she must take the air every day; so Bathsheba had on her bonnet a little after Olive had gone, and walked straight up to The Poplars to tell Myrtle Hazard that a certain young gentleman, Clement Lindsay, was coming to Oxbow Village.
It was perhaps fortunate that there was no special significance to Myrtle in the name of Clement Lindsay. Since the adventure which had brought these two young persons together, and, after coming so near a disaster, had ended in a mere humiliation and disappointment, and but for Master Gridley's discreet kindness might have led to foolish scandal, Myrtle had never referred to it in any way. Nobody really
knew what her plans had been except Olive and Cyprian, who had observed a very kind silence about the whole matter. The common version of the story was harmless, and near enough to the truth, — down the river, — boat upset, — pulled out, — taken care of by some women in a house farther down,
— sick, brain fever, — pretty near it, anyhow, — old Dr. Hurlbut called in,
— had her hair cut, — hystericky, etc., etc.
Myrtle was contented with this statement, and asked no questions, and it was a perfectly understood thing that nobody alluded to the subject in her presence. It followed from all this that the name of Clement Lindsay had no peculiar meaning for her. Nor was she like to recognize him as the youth in whose company she had gone through her mortal peril, for all her recollections were confused and dreamlike from the moment when she awoke and found herself in the foaming rapids just above the fall, until that when her senses returned, and she saw Master Byles Gridley standing over her with that look of tenderness in his square features which had lingered in her recollection, and made her feel towards him as if she were his daughter.
Now this had its advantage; for as Clement was Susan's young man, and had been so for two or three years, it would have been a great pity to have any such curious relations established between him and Myrtle Hazard as a consciousness on both sides of what had happened would naturally suggest .
"Who is this Clement Lindsay, Bathsheba?" Myrtle asked.
"Why, Myrtle, don't you remember about Susan Posey's is-to-be, — the young man that has been — well, I don't know, but I suppose engaged to her ever since they were children almost?"
"Yes, yes, I remember now. O dear! I have forgotten so many things I should think I had been dead and was coming back to life again. Do you know anything about him, Bathsheba? Did n't somebody say he was very handsome? I wonder if he is really in love with Susan Posey. Such a simple thing! I want to see him. I have seen so few young men."
As Myrtle said these words, she lifted the sleeve a little on her left arm, by a half-instinctive and half-voluntary movement. The glimmering gold of Judith Pride's bracelet flashed out the yellow gleam which has been the reddening of so many hands and the blackening of so many souls since that innocent sin-breeder was first picked up in the land of Havilah. There came a sudden light into her eye, such as Bathsheba had never seen there before. It looked to her as if Myrtle were saying unconsciously to herself that she had the power of beauty, and would like to try its influence on the handsome young man whom she was soon to meet, even at the risk of unseating poor little Susan in his affections. This pained the gentle and humble-minded girl, who, without having tasted the world's pleasures, had meekly consecrated herself to the lowly duties which lay nearest to her. For Bathsheba's phrasing of life was in the monosyllables of a rigid faith. Her conceptions of the human soul were all simplicity and purity, but elementary. She could not conceive the vast license the creative energy allows itself in mingling the instincts which, after long conflict, may come into harmonious adjustment . The flash which Myrtle's eye had caught from the gleam of the golden bracelet filled Bathsheba with a sudden fear that she was like to be led away by the vanities of that world lying in wickedness of which the minister's daughter had heard so much and seen so little.
Not that Bathsheba made any fine moral speeches to herself. She only felt a slight shock, such as a word or a look from one we love too often gives us, — such as a child's trivial gesture or movement makes a parent feel, — that impalpable something which in the slightest possible inflection of a syllable or gradation of a tone will sometimes leave a sting behind it, even in a trusting heart . This was all. But
it was true that what she saw meant a great deal . It meant the dawning in Myrtle Hazard of one of her as yet unlived secondary lives. Bathsheba's virgin perceptions had caught a faint early ray of its glimmering twilight.
She answered, after a very slight pause, which this explanation has made seem so long, that she had never seen the young gentleman, and that she did not know about Susan's sentiments. Only, as they had kept so long to each other, she supposed there must be love between them.
Myrtle fell into a revery, with certain tableaux glowing along its perspectives which poor little Susan Posey would have shivered to look upon, if they could have been transferred from the purple clouds of Myrtle's imagination to the pale silvery mists of Susan's pretty fancies. She sat in her day-dream long after Bathsheba had left her, her eyes fixed, not on the faded portrait of her beautiful ancestress, but on that other canvas where the dead Beauty seemed to live in all the splendors of her full-blown womanhood.
The young man whose name had set her thoughts roving was handsome, as the glance at him already given might have foreshadowed. But his features had a graver impress than his age seemed to account for, and the sober tone of his letter to Susan im* plied that something had given him a maturity beyond his years. The story was not an uncommon one. At sixteen he had dreamed — and told his dream. At eighteen he had awoke, and found, as he believed, that a young heart had grown to his so that its life was dependent on his own. Whether it would have perished if its filaments had been gently disentangled from the object to which they had attached themselves, experienced judges of such matters may perhaps question. To justify Clement in his estimate of the danger of such an experiment, we must remember that to young people in their teens a first passion is a portentous and unprecedented phenomenon. The