voices and sing, “Home, blessed home! rest of | placed thee is that where thou shouldest be the weary comfort of the afflicted-dwelling found. Return to thy chamber, and be faithful of our Father and our King! Home! we shall and vigilant to the end, even if thy crown be go home! and our journey shall be over; and like thy Master's, wreathed of thorns." we shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on us, nor any heat. For there the lamb that is in the midst of the throne shall feed us, and lead us to living fountains of waters, and the King shall wipe away all tears from our eyes.".

My vision now became rather indistinct of what was going on in the building; but as the storm subsided, I again perceived the apartments of the Cloth of Gold, and that the throne was still vacant. In the faces of the glittering throng was much of consternation and dismay; and by their terrified glances at the doors, and the noise that kept increasing without, it was evident they were expecting an enemy. In fact, the travelers in the common hall, excited by their hardships, and urged on by Agorastes and others for their own covetous ends, had risen in great numbers, and declaring the Inn was their's, and every room in it as much their right as any body's, were rushing up the great staircase to seize on it by force. And the hearts of the gay and proud were like water, and all faces gathered blackness, and a murmur arose among them, "Where is Eugenia, our head, our leader? She ordered every thing among us: she must bear the blame. Come and let us seat her on her throne, and see if she will deliver us from the hands of those that hate us." So they sent a deputation in search of her, and they found her at the Board of Reckoning.

And then came up her former friends, and they said, "Return thou, and thou shalt be our head. Come, and be thou our ruler, and let this ruin be under thy hand."

And the Voice said, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might for there is neither work, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, nor device in the journey whither thou art going." So Eugenia went with her people, and the Shadow followed after.

And as soon as the malcontents in the passages saw her face, they remembered how it had shone upon them in their dark lodgings; they recognized their pearls on her dress, and their axes and mattocks dropped from their hands. They said to her, "Return thou, and all thy servants, for not a hair of thine head shall fall to the ground. Blessed is she that considereth the poor and needy: the King shall deliver her in the time of trouble."

Then Eugenia called her friends together, and said, "The day is far spent, and much has to be done. We have wasted the King's substance and neglected His commands. Come, and let us return to His service, and bring all our gold and our silver, and our purple and fine linen, and every thing that we can not carry away with us over the sea; and let us repair the breaches of our Master's house, that we may leave it better than we found it, according to the example of His Son."

Then arose Aristos, Philadelphos, and others like them, and said, "The King and His Son approve and help us, and we their servants will arise and build."

:

A heavy task it had been for her to reckon up the expenses of her bright morning; and a heavy account had the King's Treasurer brought in against her. Rank, power, influence, authority, example, ability-all had to be accounted for: Then all who wore the Prince's robe hastenduties neglected, opportunities missed, time mis-ed to bring their rich mantles, and their jewels, employed or trifled with; the more stately the lodging, the heavier the price-the higher the position, the deeper the liability. And as the accounts had been so many hours neglected, they were the more difficult to reckon up and calculate many a page of the book of repentance was turned over in sorrow; and often did Eugenia's heart feel ready to burst with its burden. The shadow of the Messenger was ever about her, gathering round her beauty like a robe, and darkening the lustre of her eyes, like a mountain mist over a deep clear lake. Her cheek was pale with suffering, and her bloom was faded like a flower. But her garments were assuming a traveler's appearance: she had laid aside her weeds for the Prince's robe; and one by one the ashes were dropping from her dark hair. And I heard the King's Treasurer say to her, "Thy Reckoning is well-nigh paid, though it is heavy--for thou lovest much: but one thing yet is unaccounted for. Where is the flock that was given thec—thy beautiful flock?”

And she blushed and answered, "Lo, I have left all, and followed thee."

Then he said, "The room where the King

and the ornaments, and vessels of their banquets, and they made curtains, and pillars, and bars, and repaired the ruin that the storm had made. They prepared bandages for the wounded, and couches for the weary, and medicine for the sick and they cleared the way to the Board of Reckoning, and set the Book of Regulations on high among the people, that every one might read it. They lightened the hand of the King's Stewards, and refreshed them with their love and sympathy: and they exhorted one another to diligence and to perseverance in every good work. And Eugenia sent heralds into every apartment to say, "Come, and let us go up to the treasury of our Lord, and let all our debts be transferred to His Name:" and many were stirred up by this summons, and came from all parts of the house, saying, "We were glad when ye said unto us, We will go up to the treasury of the King."

Notwithstanding, it was but too evident how much time had been wasted, and that it would be impossible for the present caravan to finish all that had to be done, before the night came, when none could work. Besides, there were

A NIGHT AMONG THE WOLVES.*

W

collar, starched as stiff as Dinah could starch it. He allowed the younger niggers to leave before him, because, though he liked punctuality, he would never demean himself by unbecoming | haste, and, when ready—fiddle under his arm— he sallied forth alone.

It had been a severe winter. The cold bright stars were burning deeply in the clear sky. The snow was crisp and crackled under his feet. His way lay, for the most part, along a narrow path through a forest, where there was not a wagonroad for miles, and where at intervals a broad glade opened to the eye, half-full of light from the moon, half-full of shadows from the trees. It was a silent and dismal solitude-such a sol

THEN a settlement was first made in South Kentucky, one of the great dangers of the colony was the universal presence of the wolf among those prairies and woods. The large, gray, gaunt brute inhabited every solitude of the plains, every recess of the mountain. Around the "Green River" lay heavy forests, into which no one ventured to go unless armed with a gun, and ready to meet the savage animal at every turn. Still, as the soil was fruitful, the climate pleasant, healthy, and equal, the country rich in productions, and every reward offered to industry, no one cared for these perils, and a settlement rose and prospered in that shady wilder-itude that the very silence seemed full of echoes, Farms were scattered over the plain, and the barn-yards were robbed of calves and pigs; belated wayfarers were attacked, and sometimes even a child was carried away.

ness.

the very loneliness full of beings. But Dick went on regarding nothing but the visions that played before his eyes, of a warm, cheering room, crowded with happy people, of every face beaming with satisfaction as he appeared, of homage yielded to him by old and young, of universal allegiance to his sway, as the viceroy of King Etiquette. Still, dignity and all things considered, he could not but hasten his steps. Perhaps he had lingered too long over the pol

Gradually there was a population in South Kentucky. There was a town here and there, and there were many plantations, especially a little way below the mouth of the Green River, which pours its waters into the "rolling Ohio." Henderson was one of the most prosperous of these, but it was grievously haunted by wolves.ishing of those brass buttons. Perhaps the setHenderson took its name-which extended to a whole county from a family of wealthy planters located there. Now, they had an old black slave called Dick, who was a skillful fiddler, but good for little else. Nothing did he know, and nothing did he like, but the art of charming music from an old violin. Yet he was an important man the most important "gemman of color" in all that country. Nothing, for forty miles around, could go on without his presence. Who could dance in the Juba ring; who could fly round in the festal circle on "cornshuckingday;" who could bless the merry nuptials of the slaves; who could trip it to the moon at "breakdown" feasts, unless Dick the fiddler were there? None of these things could be enacted without him; so he was in continual request. His master was wealthy and good-natured, and allowed him to have very much his own way. He called him, indeed, a “necessary nuisance," because he kept the blacks in good-humor by the magic of his old violin.

ting and trimming of that splendid collar had delayed him beyond his time. Perhaps, too, he was anxious to get as quickly as possible out of the wood. And well he might wish as quickly as possible to get out of the wood. There was a rout of wolves at a distance on every side. They were yelling behind him: the dismal howl was echoed far in front; and right and left they were rushing with uncouth clamor through the forest in pursuit of their prey. Gradually the sounds came nearer. They seemed to be closing round him. He hurried as he heard them amid the crackling bushes. He began to run He heard them tearing along the faster for his running. He leaped forward mad with horror, for the wood seemed alive with devils, and a pack of hungry wolves appeared charging upon him from every side.

But he soon stopped running. He knew the nature of the wolf: it is very cautious of attacking a human being, and never does so without following him first for a considerable time. If It is said that all fiddlers have two character- you walk steadily, without seeming afraid, it is istics-punctiliousness and punctuality. These, still more hesitating. This the old fiddler underin the case of Black Dick, filled up, as it were, a stood. He kept on at a regular pace, afraid to sort of supplemental moral code. He would in- run, lest the whole rout should be on him at dulge you on other points, but unless you kept once. But the danger continued to increase. your appointment, and unless you behaved with Every moment Dick shuddered as a black form propriety, Dick was not only severe, but impla- rushed by, and he expected to be seized, for as cable. It happened once that a grand marriage each brute approached him he heard its jaws festival took place among the "colored people" snapping with a ring like that of a steel-trap. at a plantation about six miles from Henderson. The pack was evidently gathering. But he knew Old Dick, of course, was summoned to act as that a little way on there was an old clearing musician and master of the ceremonies. He with a deserted hut in the middle, and this he dressed himself. He put on his blue coat, with hoped to reach before the wolves began their its long tails and flaming gilt buttons. He rolled attack. a brilliant cravat round an immensely high shirt

* This adventure actually happened, and is noticed by Webber, the hunter-naturalist.

They were, however, becoming each instant more audacious. He could see their wide green eyes sparkling through the thickets around. At

dragged down and made the prey of these ravenous brutes, he once more smote his bow upon the fiddle, and began playing with desperate energy "Yankee Doodle." The loud, animating, inspiring notes, caused instantaneous silence among the hungry rout below. Orpheus piping to the brutes, was no unmeaning fable. Dick won a kindred triumph. With astonishment he saw the result of his music. Around him was

length, some of them swept by close to his legs, snapping at him as they passed. He struck out with his fiddle. The strings jarred loudly, and, oh! what relief came to his shivering soul when he perceived that the sound made the brutes stand off. He immediately struck his hand violently across the chords. A wolf that was within two yards of him leaped aside in terror. He smote his violin vehemently again and again, and so proceeded, walking rapidly forward, rais-the most attentive audience that ever listened to ing that strange music in the woods to terrify the creatures that beset him.

moon.

his fiddling. But whenever there was the slightest pause the wolves sprang forward and commenced their howl again. Thus the black was forced to labor away, flinging his feet into the air, redoubling his vigor, and filling the whole clearing with this extraordinary harmony. A feeling of professional pride gradually stole over him in spite of his alarm. Now and then a thought of the wedding, of the warm lights, of the sweetened whisky, of the whirling dance, of the homage and admiration of the colored people, came regretful into his mind; but he knew that he was safe so long as he continued to play; so on he went, from Yankee Doodle to Hail Columbia, searching his memory for every lively strain, to charm away the ferocity of the strange auditors that couched around.

Soon he reached the clearing. It was a broad space, covered with snow, which shone like a pavement of pearl in the watery light of the All round the clear sky appeared like a silver trellis through the lace-like branches of the trees; and in the centre of the field stood an object, which Dick at once recognized to be the hut of which he was in search. He bounded hastily upon the white surface, scraping the strings with his hand until they shrieked harshly; and the wolves roared again with horror. They paused at the edge of the clearing, with tails between their legs, looking after the singular being whom they desired, but feared to attack. It was but for a moment, however. The savage instinct was instantly renewed, and again they gave chase, yelling along, their black shadows hurrying like phantoms over the snow. Still Dick continued striking his fiddle; but even this would not have saved him had he not reached the hut just as the whole pack was at his heels. In he rushed, slammed the rickety door, clambered up a beam, emerged through a hole upon the roof, and there remained perched on the gable, with the frail tenement literally shaking beneath his weight. Lucky it was for him that he had secured this position. The door of the cabin did not for a moment withstand the attack of the wolves who clambered against it, and immediately thronged the interior. They were now wild with rage. They leaped up, they gnashed their teeth, they closed their jaws with that sharp snap, so horrible to the ears of the fiddler, and he almost fell from his roost in despair: but he re-colored people Dick was the very minute-hand membered the effect of his violin. He had not yet drawn the bow from its case, but now did so, and struck it shrieking across the strings, forced all the while to keep his legs kicking high in the air to avoid the trap-like fangs that were only a few inches below. In an instant the yells ceased, and the nigger went on, drawing forth the most wild, hysterical, and grating sounds from his friendly violin.

It was singular to observe, however, that this barbarous noise had no other effect upon the creatures than to astonish them. Even wolves can not be charmed by bad music. When the first surprise was over they renewed their attack. Presently a great gaunt head, lit by two eyes like globes of green fire, was thrust up through the roof!

"Who's dar?" shrieked the negro, mad with horror. An instinct saved him. Just as there seemed no thread of fate to hold him from being

But pleasure, and pride, as well as patience, come to an end. It was a cold night; Dick had walked far and fasted long; his arms were weary of their exercise; he began to feel benumbed, hungry, and exhausted. Nothing, however, could be done but play on, for at every pause those fearful growls began again. There was no contenting that shaggy troop of connoisseurs, fidgeting as they sat, with lolling tongues and perched ears, through several hours of the wildest night that Dick had ever known. The moon went down low in the sky. A deeper shadow crept from under the arches of the forest. The stars seemed more pale, the forms of the trees more bare and gaunt, and the troop of wolves to multiply instead of diminishing.

At last, however, the negroes at the wedding feast became alarmed. They knew that of all the

of punctuality; when he failed, it was invariably because something or somebody had failed him. Now therefore, that he was hours beyond his time, a serious accident must have occurred. They were all as much concerned by this fear as by the dread of losing the pleasurable excitement of a dance. So they took lanterns and staves, and went out through the plantations to look for him; and when they found him, he was still perched on the roof of the old hut, sawing upon his fiddle, running over all his tunes again, but ready to drop with weariness and cold. The wolves were driven off, and they reluctantly quitted the spot. Their forms might be seen lingering on the skirts of the wood; and as the negroes passed on with their old friend, a howl, rising at intervals, and an occasional rustling among the bushes, showed that the pack was still in wary and determined, but useless, pursuit.

It was long past midnight when Dick arrived

with his fiddle. There was no help for it, however. All that could be done was to go on all next day instead of breaking up in the morning. The doors were wide with welcome. The fires blazed high, and their light danced in ruddy streams over the floor. The corn-cakes were hot and the sweet whisky was abundant, so Dick was cheered after his adventures; and for many, many hours he went on playing to a happy crowd of revelers those airs of merriness which, to save his life, he had been playing all night to a pack of wolves.

IT

BLEAK HOUSE.*

BY CHARLES DICKENS.

CHAPTER XLIII.-ESTHER'S NARRATIVE.

would say to her. "Well, well! we have all been mistaken over and over again. We must trust to you and time to set him right.”

We knew afterward what we suspected then; that he did not trust to time until he had often That he had writtried to open Richard's eyes. ten to him, gone to him, talked with him, tried every gentle and persuasive art his kindness could devise. Our poor devoted Richard was deaf and blind to all. If he were wrong, he would make If he amends when the chancery suit was over. were groping in the dark, he could not do better than do his utmost to clear away those clouds in which so much was confused and obscured. Suspicion and misunderstanding were the fault of the suit? Then let him work the suit out, and come through it to his right mind. This matters little now, how much I thought of was his unvarying reply. Jarndyce and Jarnmy living mother who had told me evermore dyce had obtained such possession of his whole to consider her dead. I could not venture to ap- nature, that it was impossible to place any conproach her, or to communicate with her in writ-sideration before him which he did not-with a ing, for my sense of the peril in which her life was passed was only to be equaled by my fears of increasing it. Knowing that my mere existence as a living creature was an unforeseen danger in her way, I could not always conquer that terror of myself which had seized me when I first knew the secret. At no time did I dare to utter I felt as if I did not even dare to hear it. If the conversation any where, when I was present, took that direction, as it sometimes naturally did, I tried not to hear-I mentally counted, repeated something that I knew, or went out of the room. I am conscious now, that I often did these things when there could have been no danger of her being spoken of; but I did them in the dread I had of hearing any thing that might lead to her betrayal, and to her betrayal through me.

her name.

It matters little now how often I recalled the tones of my mother's voice, wondered whether I should ever hear it again as I so longed to do, and thought how strange and desolate it was that it should be so new to me. It matters little that I watched for every public mention of my mother's name; that I passed and repassed the door of her house in town, loving it, but afraid to look at it; that I once sat in the theatre when my mother was there and saw me, and when we were so wide asunder, before the great company of all degrees, that any link or confidence between us seemed a dream. It is all, all over.

My lot

distorted kind of reason-make a new argument in favor of his doing what he did. "So that it is even more mischievous," said my Guardian once to me, "to remonstrate with the poor dear fellow, than to leave him alone."

I took one of these opportunities of mentioning my doubts of Mr. Skimpole as a good adviser for Richard.

"Adviser ?" returned my Guardian, laughing. My dear, who would advise with Skimpole?" Encourager would perhaps have been a better word," said I.

66

'Encourager!" returned my Guardian again. "Who could be encouraged by Skimpole?" "Not Richard ?" said I.

"No," he replied. "Such an unworldly, uncalculating, gossamer creature, is a relief to him, and an amusement. But as to advising, or encouraging, or occupying a serious station toward any body or any thing, it is simply not to be thought of in such a child as Skimpole."

"Pray, Cousin John," said Ada, who had just joined us, and now looked over my shoulder, "what made him such a child ?"

"What made him such a child?" inquired my Guardian, rubbing his head, a little at a loss. "Yes, Cousin John."

"Why," he slowly replied, roughening his head more and more, "he is all sentiment, and and susceptibility, and-and sensibility-and and imagination. And these qualities are not

has been so blest that I can relate little of my-regulated in him, somehow. I suppose the peo

self which is not a story of goodness and generosity ple who admired him for them in his youth, atin others. I may well pass that little, and go on. tached too much importance to them, and too When we were settled at home again, Ada little to any training that would have balanced and I had many conversations with my Guardian, and adjusted them; and so he became what he of which Richard was the theme. My dear girl is. "Hey ?" said my Guardian, stopping short, was deeply grieved that he should do their kind and looking at us hopefully. "What do you cousin so much wrong; but she was so faithful think, you two?" to Richard, that she could not bear to blame him, even for that. My Guardian was assured of it, and never coupled his name with a word of reproof. "Dick is mistaken, my dear," he * Continued from the April Number.

Ada, glancing at me, said she thought it was a pity he should be an expense to Richard. "So it is, so it is," returned my Guardian, hur"That must not be. We must arrange riedly. that. I must prevent it. That will never do."