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Plundered Cargo/Chapter 11

HE stranded steamer presented every aspect of death to Spike Horn as the yawl from the Lonney Lee crossed flat water headed for her side. There was about the craft an indefinable air of slackness and decay which even a landsman's unpracticed eye could note. Captain Judah saw much more. He observed, for example, that the four boat davits, two on each side, were swung outward and with the falls hanging where boats had been cut away. As they drew nearer the craft his practiced eye caught the hint of a bulge in the iron plates along what had been normal water-line when the steamer floated free—a swelling outward of the vessel's skin like a giant blister abeam of where the main cargo hold should be. Captain Judah saw this out-thrust of the plates and smiled inwardly as might one who checked up on a job well done.

The obvious aspect of a death ship was emphasized just before the yawl's prow raked along the side where pendant falls of a davit offered a way aboard. A nauseous odor of decay was wafted from the hulk; a gagging smell of decomposition calculated to set the most callous gorge to twittering.

“Wauf!” Spike snorted across the backs of the Chinese rowers. “What're we up against, Cap: a slaughter house?”

“Hides,” Captain Judah answered with a monosyllable, and he swarmed up the falls to disappear overside. Horn, encumbered by his rifle, followed more slowly. He poised himself atop the rail to survey the scene of desolation below him. Storrs already was climbing the ladder to the high bridge for'ard.

The maindeck Horn looked down upon was cluttered with evidence of a hasty abandonment; lengths of rope uncoiled and trailing nowhere; empty biscuit tins; a champagne case with straw jackets sticking out of the top. He saw up by the foremast a ragged hole in the deck boards, all fringed about the edges with splintered wood. Such a hole as could have been made only by some interior explosion.

Horn strode over to the rent and looked down. He almost swooned under the odor which assailed his nostrils—the smell of decomposition which had greeted their approach. All that he saw in the instant before a reflex of outraged nerves pulled his head away was a filthy mass of something dun and white floating on water, a most unwholesome mess.

Storrs, descending from the bridge, had come to peer through the hole in the deck. He appeared to find satisfaction in what he saw. At least, crinkles of something like humor splayed out from his eyes.

“Nice job—a very tidy job, I'd say.” The man spoke more to himself than for Spike's ears.

“Looks like somebody'd tried to blow up the ship, Cap.” Horn felt the situation called for some explanation, even though from a man who hated him. Captain Judah rewarded the remark by a searching glance. He might have been sounding Horn's demeanor for masked innocence.

“You know what cotton packed tight and green hides atop that will do to a ship if enough water is allowed to get into the hold.” Here was challenge for Horn to come out from behind subterfuge. A shake of his head was Spike's genuine assurance of ignorance. The Lonney Lee's master favored him with a long unwinking scrutiny.

“Horn, what's the use of playing this child's game with me?” he snapped. “As if you didn't know Cap'n Lofgren of this ship, the Sierra Park, had his orders from your gang to wreck her—wreck her neatly so's not to invalidate the insurance. Barratry, Horn: ever hear that word?”

“Sounds like somethin' in metallurgy—a new kind of rock.”

Captain Judah assumed the bored air of a schoolmaster with a dunce: “Barratry, young fellow, is wrecking a ship so that the underwriters can't come down on you for fraud. Here's a ship which cleared from Mazatlan with baled Sinaloa cotton packed tight with a jack, then called at La Paz for green hides to be stowed on top of the cotton—stowed snug right up to the deck beams. First night out of La Paz somebody aboard this ship—mind you, I name no names—somebody, I say, let about five hundred gallons of water, say, run in the main hold, then bolted down the hatch”

“I get you!” Spike interrupted. “Like dried apples in soak—everything swelled.”

“Swelled enough to push out the plates at the waterline,” the skipped added dryly. “Your Cap'n Lofgren—pious soul!—had to make a run for Sabina Island here and beach his ship to keep from sinking. Record all tidy and shipshape in case he's called before the inspectors in San Francisco.”

Spike pointed to the hole in the deck with an inquiring finger.

“Gas, of course,” Storrs grunted. “Decaying hide would account for that even if the cotton didn't. This godly Cap'n Lofgren doubtless figured on combustion and a fire which would burn the ship after he quit it.”

The Lonney Lee's master suddenly checked himself and scowled. His saturnine eyes launched shafts of hate at the rag-tag Horn.

“Here you are, Horn, making a monkey of me again,” he grated. “Getting me to tell you what you damn' well know already.”

Horn's clown mouth widened to show the gap which the smash of Storrs' fist had made in his dentition that first day out from Abalone Cove.

“Cap, cross my heart an' hope to choke if this ain't all news to me.”

For a long minute Captain Judah's eyes bored into him. Almost was there conviction of the truth of Spike's confession in their moveless irises, then doubt filmed over them. The master's fetter of whisker stirred in a sneer.

“Horn, you're the cleverest scoundrel of the lot, and I give you fair warning: I'm going to get out of this wreck what I came to get. If there's any interference from you I'll kill you, rifle or no rifle. So”

The man's jaw hung open on the unspoken words. His eyes, shunting over Horn's shoulder, widened so that their whites flickered eerily. Spike whirled to follow the direction of the set gaze. What he saw staggered him.

The figure of a woman sat carelessly on the lee rail opposite where they stood and just beneath one of the outswung davits. She wore the blue trousers and woolen shirt of a steamship under-officer. Heavy braids of hair, thick and black, fell over her shoulders from the brim of a vizored cap. Her right hand was advanced slightly away from her body and toward them. At first Spike thought she was pointing at them with a long finger; strangely silvered; then he saw at that finger's end the small black bore of a revolver.

“Which one of you is named Storrs—Cap'n Judah Storrs?' The challenge came in a firm throaty voice. Captain Judah mastered his bewilderment sufficiently to speak.

“I am Captain”

A jet of smoke from the silvery pointing finger, and Captain Judah's tight mariner's cap lifted and turned askew on his head.

title: Plundered Cargo/Chapter 11


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Plundered Cargo/Chapter 12

PIKE HORN, on the very split-second of that shot which turned Captain Judah's cap on his head, in two bounds was at the rail where sat the mystery woman come from nowhere. Her forefinger was pressing the trigger for a second shot at Storrs when Spike's rifle barrel made a swift upward sweep toward the girls wrist. A bullet went singing toward the masthead as the revolver spun an arc and dropped far forward near the ragged hole in the deckboards.

Perhaps Spike saved Storrs' life. If he did, that was, however, no great concern of his.

What followed upon that swift diverting of a bullet was decidedly Spike's concern. A body launched itself from the rail full at him. A stinging blow from a fist rocked his head backward. As he stumbled back he had an eye-filling vision of a face contorted by fury; eyes blazing like a black panther's; black braids of hair whipping about like striking serpents.

Surprisingly strong hands were laid on the rifle to wrench it from him. He felt hot breath against his face as the girl cried, “Give me that! Give me! I'll kill both of you!”

Spike's backward shuffling feet struck against the edge of a box and he went down. His breath was knocked from him as the girl fell upon him. Once they rolled over together on the deck, then Spike got a leverage for one foot against the butt of the mast and broke the hold she had upon him. Swiftly he rolled out of reach and scrambled to his feet, grinning delightedly. The rifle still was his.

The fighting lady remained in a sitting position on the deck, fists doubled, furious eyes jumping from Horn to Storrs. But for the incongruous shirt and trousers, she could have been easily a model for some sculptor wishing to imprison in bronze the figure of a perfectly formed modern outdoor girl. She was of good height for a woman, and her neck, which rose full and round from the opened flap of the shirt, carried her head imperiously.

Spike Horn was sure he never had seen a woman with a face like hers. It was more the face of a boy, and flushed with the vitality of youth. Very oval in contour, with narrow, pointed chin and broad forehead under the heavy V marking of the blue-black hair. The eyes had a slight Mongolian up-turn made more exotic by the slant of black brows tilted like the brows of a lady on a mandarin fan. The scowl she wore gathered the broader ends of those brows into a knot where her lustrous black eyes burned in rage.

Spike saw those eyes give a sideways slant toward where the revolver lay many feet away on the deck. He anticipated her intent on the instant, strode over, picked up the weapon, broke it and dropped the unexploded cartridges into his pocket. He clamped the barrel shut again and advanced the butt toward the girl.

“Lady, you dropped something,” he snickered with a low bow. With no abatement of her furious frown the girl took the weapon, stuck it in the waistband of her trousers and came up standing.

Storrs, who had been a little shaken by the flight of a bullet across his hair-line, made a quick recovery during the brief hand-to-hand go between the strange girl and his roughneck captor. Now, smiling broadly, he received the full battery fire from her eyes.

“So, Cap'n Judah Storrs, you've come to get the loot from the Sierra Park!” Again that huskiness in the timbre of her voice, a little like the low wood notes from an oboe. Storrs bowed his head for answer.

“But you didn't expect to find me aboard, eh?” This with a challenging out-thrust of the pointed chin.

“Madam, I could hardly expect that since I never saw or heard of you before.”

“Never heard of me?” She took a quick step which brought her so close to the Lonney Lee's skipper that her breath stirred his beard. “Never heard of Karelia Lofgren? Then why did you give orders that when your man Hoskin beached this ship here Cap'n Lofgren was to be killed and I left behind on the wreck to die?”

The girl who called herself Karelia was all the picture of a Greek Nemesis this instant. Her features, almost on a level with the skipper's, were drawn into a hard mask of devilishness, the strangely oblique brows giving it a satanic cast. Her fists were held rigidly across her breast.

Storrs fell back at her accusation of murder and marooning. His face, usually so well controlled, betrayed genuine surprise.

“I order Cap'n Lofgren's death? No!” he stoutly denied. “I fully believed he was alive, and”

“You lie! You lie!” She whirled, took a few hurried steps away and then almost ran back to bring her bared teeth, narrow and gleaming, close to Captain Judah's face. Every inch of her lithe body was consumed by fury as by a winding sheet of flame.

“There, om that bridge—” she pointed—“he shot my father, your man Hoskin did. Then he held me to the rail, your man Hoskin, to see what happened when my father's body was dropped overboard—to see the black fins come rushing—the foam which their tails lashed. Ah-h Look at me, Cap'n Judah Storrs. See these eyes of mine! I tell you these eyes of Karelia Lofgren will again see that rush of black fins—that bloody foam. But you will be down there this next time—yours the body the sharks will tear!”

For a frozen minute they stood with stares locked, Storrs' saturnine face inches away from the flushed and passionate features of Karelia Lofgren. The man's voice came low and measured.

“Young woman, Hoskin is not 'my man' as you call him. If he murdered Skipper Lofgren and left you marooned here it was without my knowledge. I give you my word until this minute I thought your father had sold me out; thought that I would have to fight him and the men he'd sold out to for what lies under this deck here.”

A sudden gleam of inspiration lighted the skipper's cold eye. He turned to indicate Spike Horn.

“Here's the man you can settle with. Ask him what he knows about Hoskin. You'll notice he carries a rifle when he's with me. He's no friend of mine.”

Storrs' deft attempt to turn the girl's berserker wrath onto the innocent Spike Horn was made an instant too late. For the throes of her rage were unsupportable for long and the mood was passing from her. She turned smoldering eyes to meet a most engaging smile set in a comedian's face.

“After that chummy trick let me pull one o' my own, Miss Ka—Karelia.” Spike jammed a fist into one pants pocket and brought out four cartridges he'd taken from the girl's revolver. He offered them om his spread palm with a clumsy attempt at a bow.

“Horn, you goat!” Sharp alarm sounded in Captain Judah's exclamation.

“Y' aren't worried, are yow Cap?” He made a clown's face at Storrs.

The girl slowly put out a hand for the cartridges. Storrs took a sudden step forward, but Spike's rifle waved him back with an authoritative command. The master stood tight-lipped and with eyes narrowed for the least flicker of action.

Karelia Lofgren broke the breech of her weapon and slipped the cartridges into the chambers one by one. The forward sag of her head and slow movements of her hand betokened a lassitude following nerve storm. She clicked the breech shut, spun the chamber until a load was under the hammer.

Then her eyes slowly traveled along a seam of the deck to where Captain Judah's feet were planted, up the legs of his trousers to his waistband, to his face. It was held immovable as of carved wood. She searched his eyes while Storrs battled to match her gaze.

She tucked the revolver behind the belt about her waist.

“Cap'n Storrs, you'd better go away from the Sierra Park,” was the admonition given in a husky voice. “You'd better go away, because if you stay here I'll surely kill you—and the sharks will pull you to pieces.”

The extraordinary Karelia Lofgren turned abruptly and strode to the lee rail where they first had seen her. She mounted the rail, her bare toes curling over the edge, then swung out on one of the davit ropes and disappeared.

Spike made a run for the rail to look down. He saw the girl seat herself om a box athwart some bound spars making a crazy raft and take up a paddle. Slowly the rude craft headed for the shore line a hundred yards away.

And from three directions, came hurrying the grim black triangles which mark the sea-tigers. They came cutting the water in lines of white to form a wary convoy into shoal water.

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 where there are—in the regions under the Calabar and Mpongwe schools, for example, where the father of the house is the true priest to the family, where what looks like a priesthood, but which is a law god-cult only—the secret society—is the dominant social thing. Now this law god-cult affair, Purroh, Oru, Egbo, Ukukiwe, etc., etc., call it what you please, it's all the same thing, is not the organisation that makes war on witchcraft in West Africa. It deals with it now and then, if it is brought under its official notice; but it is not necessary that this should be done; summary methods are used with witches. It just appeals at once to ordeal, any one can claim it. You can claim it, and administer it yourself to yourself, if you are the accused party and in a hurry. A. says to you, "You're a witch." "I'm not," you ejaculate. I take the bean; down it goes; you're sick or dead long before the elaborate mechanism of the law society has heard of the affair. Of course, if you want to make a big palaver and run yourself and your accuser into a lot of expense you can call in the society; but you needn't. From this and divers things like it I do not think the hatred of witchcraft in West Africa at large has anything originally to do with the priesthood. You will say, but there is the hatred of witchcraft in West Africa. You have only to shout "Ifot" at a man or woman in Calabar, or "Ndo tchi" in Fjort-land, and the whole population, so good-tempered the moment before, is turned bloodthirsty. Witches are torn to bits, destroyed in every savage way, when the ordeal has conclusively proved their guilt—mind you, never before. Granted; but I believe this to be just a surging up of that form of terror called hate.

I am old enough to remember the dynamite scares up here, and the Jack the Ripper incidents; then it was only

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Rh sensibility hardy in misusing this noble Creation, that has the Stamp and Voice of a Deity every where, and in every Thing to the Observing.

15. It is pity therefore that Books have not been composed for Youth, by some curious and careful Naturalists, and also Mechanicks, in the Latin Tongue, to be used in Schools, that they might learn Things with Words: Things obvious and familiar to them, and which would make the Tongue easier to be obtained by them.

16. Many able Gardiners and Husbandmen are yet Ignorant of the Reason of their Calling; as most Artificers are of the Reason of their own Rules that govern their excellent Workmanship. But a Naturalist and Mechanick of this sort is Master of the Reason of both, and might be of the Practice too, if his Industry kept pace with his Speculation; which were very commendable; and without which he cannot be said to be a complete Naturalist or Mechanick.

17. Finally, if Man be the Index or Epitomy of the World, as Philosophers tell us, we have only to read our selves well to be learned in it. But because there is nothing we less regard than the Characters of the Power that made us, which are so clearly written upon us and the World he has given us, and can best tell us what we are and should be, we are even Strangers to our own Genius: The Glass in which we should see that true instructing and agreeable Variety, which is to be observed in Nature, to the Adm.iration of that Wisdom and Adoration of that Power which made us all.

18. And yet we are very apt to be full of our selves, instead of Him that made what we so much value; and, but for whom we can have no Reason to value our selves. For we have nothing that we can call our own; no, not our selves: For we are all but Tenants, and at Will too, of the great Lord of our selves, and the rest of this great Farm, the World that we live upon.

19. But methinks we cannot answer it to our Strives as well as our Maker, that we should live and die ignorant of our


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 necessary for some one to call out, "Dynamiter" or "Jack the Ripper" at a fellow-citizen, and up surged our own people, all same for one with those Africans, only our people, not being so law-governed, would have shredded the accused without ordeal, had we not possessed that great factor in the formation of public virtue, the police, who intervened, carried away the accused to the ordeal—the police court—where the affair was gone into with judicial calm. Honestly, I don't believe there is the slightest mystic revulsion against witchcraft in West Africa; public feeling is always at bursting-point on witches, their goings-on are a constant danger to every peaceful citizen's life, family, property, and so on, and when the general public thinks it's got hold of one of the vermin it goes off with a bang; but it does not think for one moment that the witch is per se in himself a thing apart; he is just a bad man too much, who has gone and taken up with spirits for illegitimate purposes. The mere keeping of a familiar power, which under Christendom is held so vile a thing, is not so held in West Africa. Everyone does it; there is not a man, woman, or child who has not several attached spirits for help and preservation from danger and disease. It is keeping a spirit for bad purposes only that is hateful. It is one thing to have dynamite in the hand of the government or a mining company for reasonable reasons, quite another to have it in the hands of enemies to society; and such an enemy is a witch who trains the spirits over which he has got control to destroy his fellow human beings' lives and properties.

The calling in of ordeal to try the witch before destroying him has many interesting points. The African, be it granted, is tremendously under the dominion of law, and it is the law that such trials should take place before execution; but

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340 Selves, and thereby of Him and the Obligations we are under to Him for our Selves.

20. If the worth of a Gift sets the Obligation, and directs the return of the Party that receives it; he that is ignorant of it, will be at a loss to value it and the Giver, for it.

21. Here is Man in his Ignorance of himself. He knows not how to estimate his Creator, because he knows not how to value his Creation. If we consider his Make, and lovely Compositure; the several Stories of his lovely Structure. His divers Members, their Order, Function and Dependency: The Instruments of Food, the Vessels of Digestion, the several Transmutations it passes. And how Nourishment is carried and diffused throughout the whole Body, by most innate and imperceptible Passages. How the Animal Spirit is thereby refreshed, and with an unspeakable Dexterity and Motion sets all Parts at work to feed themselves. And last of all, how the Rational Soul is seated in the Animal, as its proper House, as is the Animal in the Body: I say if this rare Fabrick alone were but considered by us, with all the rest by which it is fed and comforted, surely Man would have a more reverent Sense of the Power, Wisdom and Goodness of God, and of that Duty he owes to Him for it. But if he would be acquainted with his own Soul, its noble Faculties, its Union with the Body, its Nature and End, and the Providences by which the whole Frame of Humanity is preserved, he would Admire and Adore his Good and Great God. But Man is become a strange Contradiction to himiself; but it is of himself; Not being by Constitution, but Corruption, such.

22. He would have others obey him, even his own kind; but he will not obey God, that is so much above him, and who made him.

23. He will lose none of his Authority; no, not bate an Ace of it: He is humorous to his Wife, he beats his Children, is angry with his Servants, strict with his Neighbors, revenges all Affronts to Extremity; but, alas, forgets ail the while that he is the Man; and is more in Arrear to God, that is so very patient with him, than they are to him with whom he is so strict and impatient.


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 "As it appears you are perfectly well informed, Sir," said the Count, addressing Ferdinand, "of every step that revengeful monster took to gratify his malice, I shall not trouble you with a repetition, and as to our feelings and sufferings, they will not admit of a description, for the horrors of our situation were beyond all conception or credibility. I shall only observe, that whilst our dear child existed, we endeavoured to support our own strength for her sake; nor indeed did we imagine our persecutor would long submit to a situation so painful to himself merely to punish us. The cruel death of Agnes was a severe stroke; but when we saw our dear infant began to droop, a slow fever consuming her, from the close and humid air, which we received only through a few iron bars on the top of our prison, from whence fell all the inclemencies of the winter season, and so small a quantity of air and light, as only rendered our abode the more terrible. When we saw our beauteous babe in danger of sinking a victim to the malice


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 of our cruel gaoler; we then forgot our wrongs and our pride. What supplications, what entreaties, did we not use! but all was vain, not a drop of water to wet its parched lips in the hour of death.

"O, my God! never, never shall I forget that hour, and the calamity which followed! Its wretched mother lost her reason for years, yet at times seemed sensible of our miserable fate, and always knew me when she heard my voice. In this situation she never refused her poor pittance of bread and water, but rather took it eagerly; and I, Sir, I strove to repress my feelings, strove to live for her sake, for to die and leave her was a distracting thought that harrowed up my soul. Thus the monster had found the means to prolong our misery, and make me dread that death which otherwise I should have devoutly prayed for.

"Such a refinement of cruelty could only have been practised by himself, who, far from being tired out, or satiated, appeared to receive fresh gratification every day. It was


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 very remarkable, that from the hour in which Eugenia's intellects were deranged, and even after the accident which I mentioned to you had restored her, from the night of the child's death, she never saw him enter without screaming, until silenced by fear. Often have I dreaded that the villain would have been provoked to strike her; many times has he threatened it, but yet never could subdue the terror that vented itself in shrieks whenever he appeared. Thus, Sir, I have related to you this strange story, which almost exceeds probability; for never, I believe, was the diabolical passion of revenge carried to such extremes before, for a man to resign every comfort in life, and be a wretch himself to punish others."

Just as the Count had concluded his relation, and before Ferdinand could make any observations, Francis came in, and said the Lady was awake, and wished to see the Count. Ferdinand assisted him to ascend the stairs (his legs being too stiff to accomplish it alone) and then returned to enjoy his own


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 Anno Quinto

An Act for Settling upon JOHN Duke of MARLBOROUGH and his Posterity, a Pension of Five thousand Pounds PER ANNUM for the more Honourable Support of their Dignities in like manner as his Honours and Dignities, and the Honour and Manor of WOODSTOCK and House of BLENHEIM are already Limited and Settled

[...]


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 reflections on the extraordinary occurrences of the day, and the story he had heard.—The Count and Eugenia being now restored to life and liberty by the death of their tormentor, the Castle their own, and free to enjoy their fortune in whatever situation they liked, were now likely to feel the happiness that awaited them to a much greater extent than if they had known more tranquil days, and had been exempt from their former sufferings.

In this perfect content, thought Ferdinand, I shall leave them, for their felicity will throw a comparative wretchedness upon me, by reminding me of what I have enjoyed, and what I have for ever lost. Overwhelmed by a retrospection on his misfortunes, he sat for some time lost in thought, until the return of the Count and Francis; the latter withdrew.

"I have seen Eugenia in such a state of comfort," said the former, 'that it has given transports to my heart, long, very long, a stranger there. I have persuaded her to con-


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 tinue in bed, the warmth of which must be of service to her limbs, and I trust by to-morrow she will be a new creature. O, Sir! next to Heaven, you are entitled to our warmest gratitude. May you never know sorrow, or, if such an exemption is not the lot of mortals, may you always meet with minds good and sympathetic like your own, ready to communicate happiness, and restore you to peace!"

"I thank you, Sir," replied Ferdinand, "for your good wishes, which, in my case, must, I fear, prove fruitless; however, let me not sadden his hour of pleasure: I rejoice to hear your Lady is so much recovered, and we must endeavour to procure for her some refreshment."

"Wine and toast," said the Count, "will be sufficient this night, and to-morrow we shall have assistance."—After taking proper refreshments, the Count was helped to his apartment, and Francis having made good fires in two other rooms, and aired some


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Rh oppressing neighbors; these, without carrying the reformation further, have, I believe, found acceptance with the Lord. Such was the beginning; and those who succeeded them, and who faithfully attended to the nature and spirit of the reformation, have seen the necessity of proceeding forward, and have not only to instruct others by their own example in governing well, but have also to use means to prevent their successors from having so much power to oppress others.

Here I was renewedly confirmed in my mind that the Lord (whose tender mercies are over all his works, and whose ear is open to the cries and groans of the oppressed) is graciously moving in the hearts of people to draw them off from the desire of wealth and to bring them into such an humble, lowly way of living that they may see their way clearly to repair to the standard of true righteousness, and may not only break the yoke of oppression, but may know him to be their strength and support in times of outward affliction.

We crossed Chester River, had a meeting there, and also at Cecil and Sassafras. My bodily weakness, joined with a heavy exercise of mind, was to me an humbling dispensation, and I had a very lively feeling of the state of the oppressed; yet I often thought that what I suffered was little compared with the sufferings of the blessed Jesus and many of his faithful followers; and I may say with thankfulness that I was made content. From Sassafras we went pretty directly home, where we found our families well. For several weeks after our return I had often to look over our journey; and though to me it appeared as a small service, and that some faithful messengers will yet have more bitter cups to drink in those southern provinces for Christ's sake than we have had, yet I found peace in that I had been helped to walk in sincerity according to the understanding and strength given to me.

Thirteenth of eleventh month.—With the unity of Friends at our monthly meeting, and in company with my beloved friend Benjamin Jones, I set out on a visit to Friends in the upper part of this province, having had drawings of love in my heart that way for a considerable time. We travelled as far as Hardwick, and I had inward peace in my labors 10


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 necessaries, he and his master, as he called Ferdinand, retired to rest, after the fatigues of this eventful day.

CHAP. V.VI. [sic]

next morning the farmer arrived with a young woman, and necessary people to attend the dead: The Count was with Ferdinand, and appeared as the heir of the deceased, who from a long and habitual melancholy had secluded himself, until finding his end approaching he had sent for his relations, who on their arrival found he had expired that very morning. This account was given and believed, because Francis had been previously prepared to corroborate it. The


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 Lady's weakness was accounted for from fatigue, and a very violent rheumatic cold; the young woman was to attend her, and another was ordered to officiate as a cook.—In short, in the course of the morning, every proper arrangement was made. Francis was informed that the Count was the owner of the Castle from the late Baron's memoirs, and he heartily rejoiced that he had made such a desirable change in the person he was to serve.

At noon the Lady Eugenia, assisted by her female attendant, made her appearance below: She appeared like a fine statue that had long been exposed to the injuries of time, and lost the beautiful polish that first adorned it; a most elegant form reduced to that delicate thinness which the slightest blast of air might dissolve;—a face, the contour of which was inexpressibly beautiful; but the roses and lilies that once adorned it were all fled; the eyes hollow and sunk in the head, a sickly hue over the countenance, and a solemnity in every feature, altogether gave her whole


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 appearance such an image of a woe-worn mind, that it was impossible to behold her without being deeply affected.

She returned the civilities which Ferdinand involuntarily paid her with some hesitation, but much sweetness. "Pardon me, Sir," said she, "if I am deficient in expressing my obligations to you for liberty and life; I have almost forgotten the use of language, but to utter words of misery and despair."

"Words," cried the Count, kissing her hand, "words which, I trust, my dear Eugenia, will never have cause to utter again: We have no longer cause for sorrow, no longer an enemy to fear, we may emerge into the world, return to our country like long-absent friends, and elude curiosity by saying we have resided in a foreign state."—"But your estate," said she, "by this time may have passed into other hands, your steward may be dead, and much trouble and perplexity may still await you to prove, and to enjoy your rights."


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 "Fear nothing, my dear Eugenia," replied the Count, "all my friends cannot be dead; I shall find no difficulty in proving my identity, and in being acknowledged."—She sighed, but made no reply.

Ferdinand then mentioned having seen in the cabinet the will and papers relative to the estate of the late Count Zimchaw, which, said he, "I was surprised to find there."

"It is rather singular," answered the Count; "but I suppose he had them with him when he set off on his travels; with those, however, we have nothing to do. If he has any heirs, they may have possessed themselves of his fortune by this time, and in justice to them and ourselves I think a paper should be drawn up, briefly mentioning his residence here, your arrival, and his sudden death, which, with the testimony of Francis, will be sufficient, and preclude any necessity for our names being mentioned at all."

"I agree with you," said Ferdinand, 'that such a paper is absolutely proper; it


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An Act for the Settling of the Honours and Dignities of JOHN Duke of MARLBOROUGH upon his Posterity, and Annexing the Honour and Manor of WOODSTOCK and House of BLENHEIM, to go along with the said Honours.

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 awkward affair, and I think an express should be sent to the Baron's estate immediately of his demise."

In this opinion Eugenia coincided, and it was a matter concluded upon: Ferdinand resolved also to procure a messenger on his own account, to carry letters from him to his brother and his faithful Ernest. He was anxious to know what had passed in the Castle since his departure, and to hear of his little son; but how great was his surprise when questioning the farmer (who was now their oracle) of the distance to Baden on horseback, he was informed that it was five days journey.—"Five days!" repeated he, "impossible! Why, I came here in two days over the hills and through the woods."

"It may be so," replied the farmer;—"but I believe, Sir, no man but yourself would have made the attempt: I am sure I have never heard of any body that has penetrated the woods, or crossed those rugged hills, nor indeed did I think it could be done; but horses, Sir, can go no such places, and


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 the road is a very troublesome one, because great part of the way, by the skirts of the Forest, has never yet been levelled."

"Well," cried Ferdinand, "be the distance what it may, I must have a messenger." This was promised him the next morning, and as he conceived the Count and his Lady would gladly be alone together, he retired into another apartment to write. Having given Ernest a brief recital of his travels through the woods and valleys until his arrival at the Castle, he mentioned nothing of his adventures there, though he confessed his visit to the convent, and the strange and unsatisfactory answer he had received from Claudina. He besought Ernest to be unreserved, to develop the mystery that hung over him, let the consequence be what it would, for that the most painful truths could not give him greater misery than the suspense he now endured. He recommended the old shepherd and his daughter to his care, and desired he would, if possible, procure for them a safer habitation than among those impending


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 rocks, which seemed to threaten them with hourly destruction.

Having finished his letters he returned to the other apartment, and was surprised at his entrance to mark an increased air of trouble about the Count, and deep sorrow trembling in the eyes of Eugenia; he was too delicate to make any observations; they sat down to a slight repast, of which the others partook but very sparingly, and exchanged but a very few words.

Some time after, when they were alone, the Count addressing Ferdinand, "Your penetrating eye, my good friend, must observe the gloom that pervades my countenance, it is a transcript of my mind; from you I ought not to have any reserve, you are impartial, you shall judge fairly between us:—Now, when the heavy cloud that has so long involved us in night and wretchedness, seems to be withdrawn, and the prospects brighten to our view. Will you believe it possible that Eugenia, she who has a thousand times told me that I was dearer to her than life,


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 who in a horrid prison felt her own woes but lightly, when she considered what her husband suffered—can you, will you believe, that this wife ever adored, and a million times dearer to me than ever from her unparallel'd sufferings, can, now that happiness is in our power, tell me, 'that on the most mature deliberation this past day and night, she has determined to retire to a convent for the remainder of her days; beseeches me to make no opposition to her choice, but rather strengthen a resolution founded on the purest principles of religion and virtue."

"I will not tell you what were my feelings, nor repeat to you the arguments I have used; as a husband I can command, and I can prevent the accomplishment of her strange unkind intention; but I disclaim all power, if her heart no longer acknowledges me, if the years of misery we have suffered together has worn out all traces of her former affection, I submit to be the victim; but let an unprejudiced person judge between us, and


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 say whether I have deserved to lose the affection of my wife."

"Oh! Count," cried Eugenia, the tears no longer restrained from dropping on her face, "ever beloved of my heart, spare the unkind reproach: Hear me, Sir," added she to Ferdinand, "you have candour, you will judge me fairly. You know our story, you know I had vowed never to marry the Count without my father's consent: I did more, at his command I accompanied the Baron to the altar. Ah! was I not guilty of sacrilege, of profanation, when I uttered with my lips vows I rejected in my heart? Say they were compelled, could that excuse my subsequent conduct? Passion blinded me to the impropriety of my intentions; I ought never to have approached the altar, or when I had done so, I should have fulfilled my vows; my father's prejudice, or cruelty, could be no excuse for my depravity:—Heaven approved not of my broken vows, and Heaven was pleased to punish me; but


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200 but repose ourselves in the munition of that rock which all these shakings shall not move, even in the knowledge and feeling of the eternal power of God, keeping us subjectly given up to his heavenly will, and feeling it daily to mortify that which remains in any of us which is of this world; for the worldly part in any is the changeable part, and that is up and down, full and empty, joyful and sorrowful, as things go well or ill in this world. For as the truth is but one, and many are made partakers of its spirit, so the world is but one, and many are made partakers of the spirit of it; and so many as do partake of it, so many will be straitened and perplexed with it. But they who are single to the truth, waiting daily to feel the life and virtue of it in their hearts, shall rejoice in the midst of adversity, and have to experience with the prophet, that, "although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls; yet will they rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of their salvation." (Hab. iii. 17, 18.)

If, contrary to this, we profess the truth, and, not living under the power and influence of it, are producing fruits disagreeable to the purity thereof, and trust to the strength of man to support ourselves, our confidence therein will be vain. For he who removed the hedge from his vineyard, and gave it to be trodden under foot by reason of the wild grapes it produced (Isa. v. 6), remains unchangeable; and if; for the chastisement of wickedness and the further promoting of his own glory, he doth arise, even to shake terribly the earth, who then may oppose him, and prosper?

We remain, in the love of the gospel, your friends and brethren.

(Signed by fourteen Friends.)

Scrupling to do writings relative to keeping slaves has been a means of sundry small trials to me, in which I have so evidently felt my own will set aside that I think it good to mention a few of them. Tradesmen and retailers of goods, who depend on their business for a living, are naturally inclined to keep the good-will of their customers; nor is it


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 was I the only sufferer? O, no! When I look back, how many innocent victims bled for my crimes! Arnulph, the faithful Agnes, Peter, and, O misery, my child! my dear innocent babe! let me not dwell on that;—even the wretch who was ordained to be my punisher, he lived, he died, miserable! And can I return to the world, can I talk of happiness, and trample on the memory of those unfortunates who suffered for me? No, it is impossible: Great have been my miseries, but great have been my faults; let me then expiate them as I ought; let me retire to peace, penitence and prayer; let me pray for the souls of those who fell by an untimely death on my account, and let me make my peace with Heaven by devoting my future days to retirement. You, who are, who ever will be dear to my heart, who will be a principal object in my orisons, you must strengthen my resolutions; you must approve of my conduct, and though the heart murmurs, the reason must be convinced. And now, Sir,"


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 concluded she, addressing Ferdinand, "now I have explained my motives, speak with candour; tell me, does not your judgment approve my determination? Do you not see that in the world my life would be embittered, by painful retrospections that must preclude happiness, and that in devoting myself to retirement, I pursue the only path that points to peace and tranquillity?"

Ferdinand was for a few moments silent, astonished at such a revolution, so little expected, from that plan of felicity he had so lately thought them possessed of, and which to him seemed an enviable situation. He paused a little, but seeing they both impatiently expected his reply:—"Forgive me, my dear Sir," said he to the Count, "if thus called upon, I confess that my esteem, my admiration for the Lady Eugenia, rises in equal proportion with my compassion for you; for the more I approve her exalted resolution, and admire her virtues, the more I feel must be your distress at the idea of being separated from an object so truly de-


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 serving your esteem; but I must be free to confess, that this Lady's reasons are unanswerable, and that however innocent she may be of any actual guilt, yet as the death of so many persons was in consequence of her flight from the Baron, a feeling mind like her's would constantly revert to the primary cause, and never cease to accuse herself;—therefore under such circumstances, her intention of retiring from a busy deceitful world, to devote her days to the duties of religion, is surely praise-worthy, and commands our approbation."

"It is well, Eugenia," said the Count, in a mournful tone, "you have found a champion to support your opinions, and I have no more to do than to acquiesce; but since you have chosen your path towards happiness, I may be allowed to chalk out one for myself. I shall take this night to consider of it, and to-morrow will acquaint you with my final resolution." "May Heaven, who knows the fervency of my affection, inspire you to choose that which may


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 entirely lost the use of his speech. When we visited him the next morning, we found him quite restored, and he informed us that he had fallen asleep at chapel, and had a terrible dream."

Here the Count concluded his tale, which we had listened to with the greatest pleasure, though most of us had heard it already, and knew very well who the person was whom he had introduced under the name of Antonio. The Baron was covered with shame, and had lost the power of utterance, yet was prudent enough to suppress his wrath.

What rendered the whole tale most entertaining, was the presence of Don Romero L******, a man of known courage, honesty, and of an excellent temper, who made no secret of his defects; and, at the close of the history, exclaimed, "By holy Peter! I was terribly frightened."

"Then you also was present on that occasion?" one of the company asked, laughing.

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 conduce both to your present and future happiness." Ending these words Eugenia desired to retire, for the weakness of her body, and the agitations of her mind, overpowered her fragile form, which could hardly support the transitions she had experienced, and was unequal to the sight of that melancholy, but too visible, in the Count's pale face, that seemed silently to reproach her of cruelty.

When she had left the room, Ferdinand observing the sorrow that seemed fixed in the features of the Count, strove to change the current of his thoughts by speaking more freely of his own affairs than he had yet done, and at length, encouraged by the interest the Count appeared to take in his concerns, he made an unreserved communication of his whole story.

"Indeed, my young friend," observed the Count, when Ferdinand had concluded his relation, "indeed, there are some very extraordinary and unaccountable circumstances in your story, that one cannot elucidate by


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 any conjectures on the subject. I do not blame you for seeking to amuse your mind by travelling, but you are wrong in choosing this mode of doing it; wandering through woods, and over almost impassable hills, may be attended with more danger than you are aware of, and in an evil moment you may fall a sacrifice to some concealed ruffian, or a troop of banditti; besides the natural inconvenience of suffering both cold and hunger."

"What you observe is very just doubtless," answered the other; "but you should remember I am not a man of fortune, an independent man, and that it behoves me to avoid all unnecessary expenses in my rambles, for travelling, in the general sense of the word, is beyond my abilities to undertake; I wish to forget myself at present, and when the campaign opens, may possibly resume my station in the army, yet, that must depend upon circumstances.—With your leave I will remain here until my mes-


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 senger returns, and then the world will be once more before me."

"This conversation," said the Count, "has given a different turn to my thoughts from what I entertained an hour ago; I already feel that interest and affection for you, that it shall not be my fault if we are separated; but more of that to-morrow."—Having sent off their different expresses, one to Baron S's estate, another to Count M, and a third to Count Rhodophil's Castle, it was thought most advisable to delay the funeral of the Baron until the return of the messenger.

The following day, when they all assembled at table, the Lady Eugenia appeared less feeble, and with a more placid countenance, than on the preceding day. When the servants were withdrawn Ferdinand congratulated her on the visible amendment.

"I do indeed feel better both in mind and body," said she, 'the one is generally dependent on the other. Since I have determined on my plan, and my dear Count has


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 given up his objections to it, I find a composure in my soul to which it has very long been a stranger. The dreadful malady which I laboured under for years, has certainly weakened my intellects, as I frequently experience a confusion in my ideas, and very odd sensations in my head; the world therefore would be a very unfit place for me, and the sooner I can find a retirement, such as I wish for, the better; the pang of separation must be felt, and I am anxious to have it over."

It instantly darted into Ferdinand's mind, that if Eugenia entered the Convent where Claudina resided, it might afford them mutual consolation, and possibly might, by mutual confidence, put it in the power of the former to develop to him that mystery so carefully and cruelly concealed from him by Ernest and Claudina. He hastily mentioned the adjoining Convent, as having been well spoken of by Father Joseph, and offered his services to make all the necessary inquiries. This offer was joyfully accepted by Eugenia,


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 there is also involved in it another curious fact, and that is that the spirit of the ordeal is held to be able to manage and suppress the bad spirits trained by the witch to destruction. Human beings alone can collar the witch and destroy him in an exemplary manner, but spiritual aid is required to collar the witch's devil, or it would get adrift and carry on after its owner's death. Regarding ordeal affairs I will speak when dealing with legal procedure.

Such being the West African view of witchcraft, I venture to think there are in this world divers reasons for hating witchcraft. There is the fetish one, that he is an enemy to society; there is the priesthood one, that he is a sort of quack or rival practitioner under—this head of priesthood aversion for witchcraft I think we may class the witchcraft that is merely a hovering about of the old religion which the priesthood of an imported religion are anxious to stamp out; and there is that aversion to witchcraft one might call the Protestant aversion, which arises from the feeling that it is a direct sin against God Himself. This latter feeling has been the cause of as violent a persecution of witches, witness the action of King James I. and that of the Quakers in America, as any West African has ever presented to the world. Throughout all these things the fact remains, that whether black, white, or yellow, the witch is a bad man, a murderer in the eyes of Allah as well as those of humanity.

That all witches act by means of poison alone would be too hasty a thing to say, because I think we need hardly doubt that the African is almost as liable to die from a poisonous idea put into his mind as a poisonous herb put into his food; indeed, I do not know that in West Africa we need confine ourselves to saying natives alone do this, for white men sink and die under an idea that breaks their

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 nor opposed by the Count. She said, 'that, to avoid impertinent questions, it was her intention to pass for a widow, who wished to retire into the bosom of the church for the remainder of her days. I must be a boarder, (said she) but I shall conform to all their rules, and subject myself to all their severities and self-denials. In calling myself a widow I am guilty of no deception, for from the moment I enter the gates of the Convent I am parted from the object of my affections for ever!"

The Count rose greatly agitated—"Eugenia," cried he, "you either deceive yourself when you talk of your affection for me, or you have more than female fortitude."

"Neither the one nor the other," answered she: "I know my own heart, and I feel that, in this separation, it must endure pangs worse than the stroke of death; but conscience, that all-powerful monitor, has spoken incontrovertible truths; her voice has taught me my duty, and pointed out the only


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168 the joys of a sensual paradise. Rather hold with Plato that the soul is an eternal principle of life, which has neither beginning nor end of existence; for if it were not so, heaven and earth would be overset, and all nature would stand at gaze. "Men say they cannot conceive or comprehend what the soul can be, distinct from the body. As if, forsooth, they could comprehend what it is, when it is in the body,—its conformation, its magnitude, or its position there. To me, when I consider the nature of the soul, there is far more difficulty and obscurity in forming a conception of what the soul is while in the body,—in a dwelling where it seems so little at home,—than of what it will be when it has escaped into the free atmosphere of heaven, which seems its natural abode." And as the poet seems to us inspired, as the gifts of memory and eloquence seem divine, so is the soul itself, in its simple essence, a god dwelling in the breast of each of us. What else can be this power which enables us to recollect the past, to foresee the future, to understand the present?

There follows a passage on the argument from design which anticipates that fine saying of Voltaire—"Si Dieu n'existait pas, il faudrait l'inventer; mais toute la nature crie qu'il existe." "The heavens," says even the heathen philosopher, "declare the glory of God." Look on the sun and the stars; look on the alternation of the seasons, and the changes of day and night; look again at the earth bringing forth her fruits for the use of men; the multitude of cattle; and man himself,

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 "Yes! yes!" he resumed; "and the Baron yonder, too, was not far off."

The laughter encreased. However, the Baron thought it proper to bridle his passions, and not to reply a syllable, but to wait for a more favourable opportunity to revenge himself upon the Count, which he very nearly had found that very night.

We now conversed a little longer on different subjects, and then parted, as it seemed, entirely reconciled to one another. The Count saw Caroline to her carriage, and soon after went home with me, to all appearance completely happy.

He was used to sit every night half an hour with me on my sofa, and to converse on the occurrences of the day; but that time his mind was so much occupied with the past events, that he forgot it, and went directly to his apartment, which occasioned one of the drollest scenes of my life.

To make myself perfectly understood, I must premise a brief description of the

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Rh made as it were to contemplate and adore the heavens and the gods. Look on all these things, and doubt not that there is some Being, though you see him not, who has created and presides over the world.

"Imitate, therefore, the end of Socrates; who, with the fatal cup in his hands, spoke with the serenity of one not forced to die, but, as it were, ascending into heaven; for he thought that the souls of men, when they left the body, went by different roads; those polluted by vice and unclean living took a road wide of that which led to the assembly of the gods; while those who had kept themselves pure, and on earth had taken a divine life as their model, found it easy to return to those beings from whence they came." Or learn a lesson from the swans, who, with a prophetic instinct, leave this world with joy and singing. Yet do not anticipate the time of death, "for the Deity forbids us to depart hence without his summons; but, on just cause given (as to Socrates and Cato), gladly should we exchange our darkness for that light, and, like men not breaking prison but released by the law, leave our chains with joy, as having been discharged by God."

The feeling of these ancients with regard to suicide, we must here remember, was very different from our own. There was no distinct idea of the sanctity of life; no social stigma and consequent suffering were brought on the family of the suicide. Stoic and Epicurean philosophers alike upheld it as a lawful remedy against the pangs of disease, the dotage of old age, or the caprices of a tyrant. Every man might, they contended, choose

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 way by which I can atone for my errors, and procure pardon for the death of those innocent persons that were sacrificed for me."

"I have no more to urge," replied the Count; "it is fit that I also should be a victim."

"By no means," exclaimed Eugenia;—"you have nothing to blame yourself for, you have committed no errors but pardonable ones, and I trust, my dear Count, that many, very many, happy years are in store for you: My tranquillity must, in some degree, be dependent on your's; return to the world, and to society, they have claims upon you: I hope you have here acquired a friend that may succeed in composing your mind; forget Eugenia, or if you remember her, think only that she is set off on a long, long journey, where you may at some distant period arrive also, and remember, that it is only her duty to Heaven, that she prefers to you."

Overpowered with her emotions, she rose, and with feeble steps she retired to another room.


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 "Exalted creature!" cried the Count,—"from this hour I will no more add to thy distress by my reflections, nor wound thee even by my looks; I will try to assume a composure, though my heart is torn with anguish." Ferdinand then mentioned his intention of going the following day to the Monastery adjoining to the Convent, and through Father Joseph get the Lady proposed as a boarder, desirous of conforming to all the rules of the house. This being agreeable to all parties, early on the next morning he went to visit Father Joseph; the Count pressed him to take a man with him through the gloomy and solitary road he had to pass; but Ferdinand chose to go alone, and after more than four hours tedious travel over the hills, and through the deep and woody valleys, he arrived in view of the Monastery. Having pulled the bell, and inquired for Father Joseph, the good man soon appeared. He uttered an exclamation of joy on seeing Ferdinand: "Heaven bless you, my young friend, this is an unexpected pleasure."


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assistant chief of the powerful Lovo gang came in with an air of genial assurance that somehow seemed forced. His ugly face bore a smile but his eyes were narrowed and searching, as if he were anxious to know what sort of reception he was to receive.

"Sorry to hear about your accident, boss," he said. "The cops phoned that your car had been found out on the North Side somewhere. There's been a lot of reporters out here this morning, too; they say there's bullet-holes in the tires. But I told 'em you wasn't around—"

"Yeah," growled Tony sourly, "you're a big help to me." He stiffened and leaned across the desk, his mouth twisted in an ugly snarl. "What the hell did you miss Bruno for?" he demanded.

Libati shrugged. "Just a rotten break."

"What do you mean—a rotten break?" demanded Tony savagely. "Bullets go where they're aimed How'd you try to pull the job, anyway?"

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 "It is a pleasure to me, my good Father, to see you in health; I have undertaken business of consequence to serve another, chiefly that I might once more behold you."

"Enter freely, my son, I will conduct you to Father Ambrose; he only is privileged to talk of worldly concerns, or transact business."

With hasty step he led the way to a private room: "Rest here," said the good Father, "and I will acquaint Father Ambrose of your visit to him; he is before this apprised of your entrance." He withdrew in a quick way, that reminded Ferdinand of his former observation relative to the envy and jealousy which pervaded through a Monastery. The Superior soon appeared, with a look so gracious, and so unbending from the natural haughtiness of his demeanour, that Ferdinand, whose soul knew no disguise, advanced to salute him with equal complacency.—"You are welcome, my son, I rejoice to see you; I trust that Heaven has


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 directed you here as to the mansion of peace."

Ferdinand, without entering into any particular discussions, opened the business which brought him there: "A widow Lady, of family and independence, having lost all the ties which had bound her to the world, was desirous of retiring to the neighbouring Convent for the remainder of her days; but a stranger to the modes necessary to procure admittance, he had waited on Father Ambrose as the Confessor of the Convent, to acquire information on that head."

"Is the Lady related to you?" asked the Father..

"No," replied Ferdinand; "but she is nearly related to a dear friend of mine, and at their joint request I undertook this commission."

"Well, son," said the Father, with a more reserved air, "if the Lady is a woman of character, she need not fear admission: I will speak to the Abbess on the subject, and


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 if she wishes it, and will apply to me, I will introduce her. She has no doubt sufficient to pay handsomely; the Convent admits none but such, as the expenses of the house are great, so many poor, sick and disabled, to maintain, their charity consumes a large revenue."

"The Lady will have no cause to fear a rejection on that head," answered the other; "she will readily contribute her share to enlarge their charitable beneficence."—"And you, my good son, what is your plan of life? May we hope for your society?"

"Not at present," replied Ferdinand; "I have yet some duties to perform which call me into the world; I know not how long indeed, but my mind is not now disposed to enjoy that monastic tranquillity that appears to reign here."

"I am sorry for it," returned Father Ambrose; "but believe me, son, if your mind is disturbed, this retirement is most suited to restore your peace: However, I


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 hope you intend to pass this night here. From what distance did you come?"—Ferdinand named the village, and as he had previously disposed the Count not to be uneasy if he should be absent for the night, he very readily accepted the Father's invitation; for the walk being no small fatigue from the difficulties that impeded his passage, he was not sorry to have a place of rest.

The conversations that took place in the course of the day is not necessary to be related. Nothing was left unsaid that could give Ferdinand a favourable opinion of their society, or hold out inducements to fix a wavering mind in a situation so replete with tranquillity and comfort. He heard them with attention and complaisance, but longed earnestly for bed-time, in the hope of holding some converse with Father Joseph, to whom he had found an opportunity of conveying his wishes, which had been answered by a significant nod: Nor was this hope disappointed, in less than an hour after he had


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 arrangement of our house. The ground floor was occupied by our landlady, a mantua-maker; the first floor was inhabited by the Count and myself; and my servants lodged in the second floor. Our landlady was a young, gay woman, who understood her profession excellently, and made the utmost of every little advantage. She not only let the remaining apartments of the ground floor to compassionate ladies, but her charitable disposition was so great, that she also admitted some young gentlemen by day and night to her own room. The Count and myself being very much displeased with her conduct, we had taken a resolution to quit her house the subsequent week.

The Baron had visited us sometimes, and taken a liking to our little gay landlady. He was not used to slip an opportunity of ingratiating himself with the ladies; yet our hostess did not think proper to be kind to the Baron; and some weeks elapsed before he could make any consi-

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 retired, the good Father softly opened the door, and appeared before him. Ferdinand took his hand with reverence: "My worthy friend, this is kind indeed!"—"My dear son, I thank your kindness in remembering me, and am glad my business has procured us the pleasure of seeing you."

"Ah!" said the former, "strange events have happened since I saw you last; but I feel too much interest for you to be prolix on other matters. Tell me, my good Father, have you connexions in the world, attachments of any kind in which I can serve you?"

"None," replied the other, "I stand a solitary being, not more cut off from the world than from connexions. I will tell you my story in a few words:

"My father was a man of family; my mother expired two years after my birth: I was, until six years of age, the darling of my surviving parent, and his chief amusement. About that time he conceived a strong


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 affection for a haughty, dissipated woman, of high birth, but no fortune; this Lady he married: I was sent to a Jesuit's College for education; twice a year I came to see my father, but, alas! how changed, how cold the reception I experienced from the tender endearments I had been accustomed to!—Young as I was, I soon perceived the marked alteration. His Lady looked on me with an invidious eye, and the short periods I was permitted to spend at home, soon became irksome and disagreeable. When I was about fourteen, my tutor one day gave me to understand that it was my father's will that I should dedicate myself to the church.

"I was thunderstruck at this intelligence, for I had other views; my mind was active, my body strong and robust, for my age; I had long entertained a wish to be instructed in military exercises; I wished to go into the army; my father was a man of fortune; he had no children by his Lady; why then was I to be condemned to an unsocial sedentary


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170 his own route on the last great journey, and sleep well, when he grew wearied out with life's fitful fever. The door was always open (said Epictetus) when the play palled on the senses. You should quit the stage with dignity, nor drain the flask to the dregs. Some philosophers, it is true, protested against it as a mere device of cowardice to avoid pain, and as a failure in our duties as good citizens. Cicero, in one of his latest works, again quotes with approval the opinion of Pythagoras, that "no man should abandon his post in life without the orders of the Great Commander." But at Rome suicide had been glorified by a long roll of illustrious names, and the protest was made in vain.

But why, continues Cicero, why add to the miseries of life by brooding over death? Is life to any of us such unmixed pleasure even while it lasts? Which of us can tell whether he be taken away from good or from evil? As our birth is but "a sleep and a forgetting," so our death may be but a second sleep, as lasting as Endymion's. Why then call it wretched, even if we die before our natural time? Nature has lent us life, without fixing the day of payment; and uncertainty is one of the conditions of its tenure. Compare our longest life with eternity, and it is as short-lived as that of those ephemeral insects whose life is measured by a summer day; and "who, when the sun sets, have reached old age."

Let us, then, base our happiness on strength of mind, on a contempt of earthly pleasures, and on the strict observance of virtue. Let us recall the last noble words of Socrates to his judges. "The death," said

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Rh he, "to which you condemn me, I count a gain rather than a loss. Either it is a dreamless sleep that knows no waking, or it carries me where I may converse with the spirits of the illustrious dead. I go to death, you to life; but which of us is going the better way, God only knows."

No man, then, dies too soon who has run a course of perfect virtue; for glory follows like a shadow in the wake of such a life. Welcome death, therefore, as a blessed deliverance from evil, sent by the special favour of the gods, who thus bring us safely across a sea of troubles to an eternal haven.

The second topic which Cicero and his friends discuss is, the endurance of pain. Is it an unmixed evil? Can anything console the sufferer? Cicero at once condemns the sophistry of Epicurus. The wise man cannot pretend indifference to pain; it is enough that he endure it with courage, since, beyond all question, it is sharp, bitter, and hard to bear. And what is this courage? Partly excitement, partly the impulse of honour or of shame, partly the habituation which steels the endurance of the gladiator. Keep, therefore—this is the conclusion—stern restraint over the feminine elements of your soul, and learn not only to despise the attacks of pain, but also

From physical, the discussion naturally passes to mental, suffering. For grief, as well as for pain, he prescribes the remedy of the Stoics—æquanimitas—"a calm serenity of mind." The wise man, ever serene

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 life I had no propensities to? I reasoned with my tutor; he bid me talk to my father on the subject, and the first time, after this conversation, that I saw him, he soon afforded me the opportunity, by a communication that I little expected. My mother-in-law, after being married nine years, without having any children, was now pregnant. I was not then enough acquainted with the world to practise hypocrisy, or affect a pleasure I could not feel. He observed my silence and my countenance: 'This news does not please you, young man (said he) and you are selfish enough I see to grieve at an event likely to be productive of so much joy to me: I am glad I understand your disposition so well.'

"}Do not, Sir," I replied, "form a conclusion so unfavourable to me, Heaven knows I shall share in every joy of your's; but pardon me, my dear father (added I) if, when I reflect on the coldness which I have ever experienced from my Lady, and the information I have lately received from my tutor,


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 pardon me if I fear the affection you once honoured me with is already greatly weakened, and that the event you allude to will, perhaps, entirely drive me from your heart; that consideration alone, not sordid interest, affects me.'

"Boy (cried he, interrupting me) 'you have at least learned to talk well; but you cannot command your features, those speak an unequivocal language, which I perfectly comprehend: however, you know my pleasure, I design you for the church, it is the proper situation for young men like you." He left me almost petrified with astonishment, there was a something altogether so strange and inexplicable in his words and looks, that I retired to my chamber overcome by a variety of painful emotions: I saw plainly that I had lost a father, and young as I was, I foresaw the consequences to myself. The few hours that I remained buried in reflection gave me months of understanding, but I resolved to make one effort more. I


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 wrote a letter to my father in the most respectful terms, tending to remove every prejudice he had conceived against me, at the same time acknowledging my predilection for the army, and besought his permission to attend in future to military exercises."

The answer I received was short.—"Return to the College, attend to your duties there, and I shall hereafter consider on the propriety of your request."—I obeyed without hesitation; and to please my father paid the strictest attention to my tutor, not without observing, that all his lessons were calculated to inspire a dislike of the world, and to display the superior happiness of a monastic life. In due time my mother-in-law was brought to bed of a son, which was announced to me with great exultation: I heard it with a palpitating heart, as the downfall of all my hopes from parental affection.

"I continued two years longer at the College, during which time I saw my father only thrice, and had but little cause to value


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 spirit. All the vital powers are required there to resist the depressing climate. If they are weakened seriously in any way, death is liable to ensue. The profound belief in the power of a witch causes a man who knows, say, that either a nail has been driven into an Nkiss down on the South-West coast, or the Fangaree drum beaten on him up in the Sierra Leone region, to collapse under the terror of it, and I own I can see no moral difference between the guilt of the man or woman who does these things with the intent to slay a fellow-citizen and that of one who puts bush into his chop—both mean to kill and do kill, but both methods are good West African witchcraft. The latter may seem to be an incipient form of natural science, but it seems to me—I say it humbly—that the West African incipient scientist is not the local witch, but that highly respectable gentleman or lady, the village apothecary, the Nganga bilongo or the Abiabok. The means of killing in vogue in West African witchcraft without the direct employment of poison are highly interesting, but I think it would serve no good purpose for me to give even the few I know in detail. There is one interesting point in this connection. I have said that in order to make a charm efficacious against a particular person you must have preferably some of his blood in your possession, or, failing that, some hair or nail clipping; failing these, some articles belonging intimately to him—a piece of his loin-cloth, or, under the school of Nkissi, a bit of his iron. This I believe to hold good for all true fetish charms; but we have in the Bight of Benin charms which are under the influence of a certain amount of Mohammedan ideas—for example, the deadly charms of the Kufong society. This class of charm does not require absolutely a bit of something nearly connected with the

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 myself on his tenderness. I was now in my eighteenth year when I received a summons to attend him: I flew with eager expectation, his looks chilled me. "Tis high time, Louis (said he) that you should enter upon your professional duties; I have before now told you I intend you for the Church, my resolution still holds."

"Ah! Sir (I exclaimed) why must I be the sacrifice?"

"Stop (cried he) and learn who you are, and that you have no claims to sacrifice. I never was married to your mother: She was a Bourgeoise, I could not marry her, yet I loved and respected her; whilst she lived I resided in the country, to avoid disagreeable circumstances to her. This truth I was obliged to acknowledge to my wife before she would accept of my hand, having an idea that I had degraded myself; you cannot wonder therefore that she did not treat you with respect, although she has always behaved civilly. I have now a son who must


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 derable advances in her favour, notwithstanding the great pains he took to make her favourably disposed to him. But learning, at length, that two floors in her house soon would be evacuated, he paid for that which the Count inhabited beforehand, and, in return, put himself in possession of the happiness he had been hunting after for some time. He paid, that very night, a visit to his future landlady; and was safely housed in her bed when the adventure occurred which I now am going to relate.

reader will recollect that the Count, on our return from the card-party, went immediately into his own apartment, instead of sitting half an hour with me as he was used to do. Having undressed himself, he observed that it was too early to go to bed: he, therefore, flung himself upon his sofa, to reflect on

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 inherit my fortunes. To spare you painful reflections, I wish you to choose the Church, all circumstances may then remain known only to ourselves, and you shall find I will not forget that you are the son of a woman I once loved. It becomes you to preserve her reputation by submitting to my orders." I heard this long development in a kind of stupid distraction. I replied not a word. He mistook the nature of my feelings for sullenness.

"Sir! (said he, raising his voice) I see my kindness is thrown away; hear then my commands, and my fixed determination: If you comply, and return to the Church, I will endeavour to get you a proper situation; if you refuse, and chalk out a path for yourself, I will give you five hundred Louis-d'ors; leave France, and see me no more." These last words roused me in an instant; pride, grief and indignation, took possession of my soul.—"Since I no longer have claims upon your affection, Sir, since I am to live


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 an alien from you, I may at least be permitted to choose for myself; I will therefore accept of the money you offer me, and learn to forget that I have a father, since he disdains to acknowledge me; but have I no connexions in a humbler line of life? Had my unhappy mother no relations? Or was she too reprobated by all?"

"Your mother (answered my father) was an orphan when I first knew her; she resided with a brother, a shopkeeper; he died a short time before her, and I know not that you have any relations in the world. Had you chosen the Church, in me you would have found a parent; but as neither my wishes or commands are attended to, in giving you a sum sufficient, with prudence and economy, to settle you in a line of your own choice. I conceive I have done my duty as to every claim you can have upon me.

"There, Sir (added he, rising, and opening his cabinet) there are drafts for £500, Louis-d'ors, may they be successfully em-


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 victim, but nevertheless it cannot act at a great distance, or without the element of personal connection. Take the Fangaree charm, for example, to be found among the Mendi people, and all the neighbouring peoples who are liable to go in for Kufong.

Fangaree is the name of a small drum that is beaten by a hammer made of bamboo. The uses of this drum are wide and various, but it also gives its name to the charm, because the charm, like the drum, is beaten with a similar stick. The charm stuff itself is made of a dead man's bone, of different herbs smoked over a fire and powdered the same day, ants'-hill earth, and charcoal. This precious mixture is made into a parcel; that parcel is placed on a frame made of bamboo sticks. On the top of the charm a small live animal—an insect, I am informed, will do—is secured by a string passing over it, and the charm is fixed with wooden forks into the ground on either side. This affair is placed by the murderer close to a path the victim will pass along, and the murderer sits over it, waiting for him to come. When he comes, he is allowed to pass just by, and then his enemy breaks a dry bamboo stick; the noise causes the victim to turn and look in the direction of the noise—i.e. on to the charm—and then the murderer hits the live animal on it, calling his victim's name, and the charm is on him. If the animal is struck on the head, the victim's head is affected, and he has violent fits until "he dies from breaking his neck" in one of them; if the animal is struck to tailwards, the victim gets extremely ill, but in this latter case he can buy off the charm and be cured by a Fangaree man. A similar arrangement is in working order under some South-West coast murder societies I am acquainted with. The interesting point, however, is the necessity of establish-

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172 and composed, is moved neither by pain or sorrow, by fear or desire. He is equally undisturbed by the malice of enemies or the inconstancy of fortune. But what consolation can we bring to ease the pain of the Epicurean? "Put a nosegay to his nostrils—burn perfumes before him—crown him with roses and woodbine!" But perfumes and garlands can do little in such case; pleasures may divert, but they can scarcely console.

Again, the Cyrenaics bring at the best but Job's comfort. No man will bear his misfortunes the more lightly by bethinking himself that they are unavoidable—that others have suffered before him—that pain is part and parcel of the ills which flesh is heir to. Why grieve at all? Why feed your misfortune by dwelling on it? Plunge rather into active life and forget it, remembering that excessive lamentation over the trivial accidents of humanity is alike unmanly and unnecessary. And as it is with grief, so it is with envy, lust, anger, and those other "perturbations of the mind" which the Stoic Zeno rightly declares to be "repugnant to reason and nature." From such disquietudes it is the wise man who is free.

The fifth and last book discusses the great question, Is virtue of itself sufficient to make life happy? The bold conclusion is, that it is sufficient. Cicero is not content with the timid qualifications adopted by the school of the Peripatetics, who say one moment that external advantages and worldly prosperity are nothing, and then again admit that, though man may be happy without them, he is happier with them,—which is

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 ployed, and gratify your own expectations." I received the papers with such emotions of mingled pride, indignation and love, that I was incapable of speaking. At the door I turned to take a last look, tears gushed from my eyes: "Heaven's bless you!" was all I uttered, and I saw him turn with his handkerchief to his face.

"Thus was I thrown upon the world without any friends or connexions, a degraded, solitary being. I retired to an auberge in the skirts of the town, and began to consider on my situation. Without rank, fortune, or even a name, how could I think of entering into the army? My pride suggested a thousand insupportable slights I might encounter in a public line of life, and those very circumstances attending the late discovery, so humiliating, served only to render my temper more irritable and haughty.—Without being able to fix on any plan, I resolved immediately to quit France, which I did the following day, and travelled through Germany.


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Rh making the real happiness imperfect after all. Men differ in their views of life. As in the great Olympic games, the throng are attracted, some by desire of gain, some by the crown of wild olive, some merely by the spectacle; so, in the race of life, we are all slaves to some ruling idea, it may be glory, or money, or wisdom. But they alone can be pronounced happy whose minds are like some tranquil sea—"alarmed by no fears, wasted by no griefs, inflamed by no lusts, enervated by no relaxing pleasures,—and such serenity virtue alone can produce."

These 'Disputations' have always been highly admired. But their popularity was greater in times when Cicero's Greek originals were less read or understood. Erasmus carried his admiration of this treatise to enthusiasm. "I cannot doubt," he says, "but that the mind from which such teaching flowed was inspired in some sort by divinity."

The treatise 'De Officiis,' known as Cicero's 'Offices,' to which we pass next, is addressed by the author to his son, while studying at Athens under Cratippus; possibly in imitation of Aristotle, who inscribed his Ethics to his son Nicomachus. It is a treatise on the duties of a gentleman—"the noblest present," says a modern writer, "ever made by parent to a child." Written in a far higher tone than Lord Chesterfield's letters, though treating of the same sub-

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 "Strange to say, in one so young as I was at that time, I grew morose and splenetic; I thought every man happier than myself, and I envied and hated all mankind! In this disposition I came into this neighbourhood; its wild romantic hills and valleys charmed me; in the adjacent village I resided some time, and spent my days in rambling in the woods. At length I met with a solitary hut, which seemed to have been not long uninhabited, on the side of a hill. In this spot I fixed my residence for near two years. It has been observed, 'That a person must be either a God, or a brute, who can be able to live alone.' Providence certainly designed us for a social state, and a misanthrope lives a burden to himself, and dead to every pleasure in life.

"A very severe cold, which I caught in one of my rambles, and which produced a fever that confined me near a week, and precluded me from getting even the necessaries to preserve my existence, first brought me


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 ing the personal connection between the victim and the charm by means of making him look on the charm and calling his name. Without his looking it's no good. Hence it comes that it is held unwise to look behind when you hear a noise o'night in the bush; indeed, no cautious person, with sense in his head and strength in his legs, would dream of doing this unless caught off guard. In connection also with this turning the face being necessary to the working of the Fangaree charm, there is another charm that is worked under Kufong, according to several natives from its region—the hinterland of Sierra Leone, Liberia, and Ivory Coast with whom I have associated when we have both been far from our respective homes away in South-West Africa. It is a charm I have never met with as indigenous in the South-West or Oil Rivers Fetish, and I think it has a heavier trace of Mohammedan influence in it than the Fangaree charm. The way it works is this. A man wants to kill you without showing blood. Only leopard society men do that, and your enemy, we will presume, is not a leopard. So he throws his face on you by a process I need not enter into. You hardly know anything is wrong at first; by-and-by you notice that every scene that you look on, night or day, has got that face in it, not a filmy vision of a thing, but quite material in appearance, only it's in abnormal places for a face to be, and it is a face only. It may be on the wall, or amongst the roof poles, or away in a corner of the hut floor; outdoors it is the same—the face is first always, there just where you can see it. Some of my informants hold that it keeps coming closer to you as time goes on; but others say no; it keeps at one distance all the time. This, however, is a minor point; it is its being there that gets to matter. It is

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 to a sense of my extreme folly in living thus unknowing and unknown. Had my illness continued a few days longer I must have perished from actual want; but it pleased Heaven to restore me to some degree of strength; with difficulty I crawled to this Monastery, as it was much nearer than the village. A worthy Friar, long since dead, relieved my necessities, and by his kindness unlocked my heart. He sympathized with me when he heard my tale, and that sympathy gave an energy to every office of humanity that endeared him to me, and rendered his conversation a balm to heal those wounds long rankling within, and which had been productive of the most hateful passions.

"In a very short time I felt no happiness but in his society, and mistaking the nature of my emotions, I conceived that in this retirement, to which I had once such an insuperable aversion, I should find that peace and comfort the world had denied to me.—I made application here, and was soon ad-


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 mitted, for I had still upwards of three hundred Louis-d'ors, which spoke volumes in my favour in the most persuasive language that can be addressed to Monasteries. The novelty of every thing about me (for there is no judging of the interior management in those places by exterior appearances, even if educated in Convents) the kindness and attention I received from the Fathers, and the pomp and solemnity which accompanied our religious duties, for a time afforded me real transport, and I hourly condemned myself for resisting my father's will. In this frame of mind I wrote to him, but received no answer, and whether it reached his hands, or whether he was living or dead, I know not.

"Within six months after my entrance here my good friend died; we had a new Superieure, and things wore a different aspect. I had lost my friend and comforter, that loss could not be supplied. I had acquired a relish for society, and my heart felt a vacuity which I looked round in vain to have filled


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 up; no one appeared interested for me, and I was permitted to wander about unheeded with the rest of the brethren. It was now that I felt how mistaken I had been in the nature of my emotions; without the converse of my friend, the performance of my duties grew cold, languid, and tiresome: I regretted my seclusion from the world, and languished to be at liberty, that I might again enjoy the blessings of society which I had so rashly renounced. In this frame of mind I continued some months, and the agitations I endured produced a long and tedious nervous fever. On the verge of the grave I was brought to a sense of my duty; a revolution took place in my heart; I soon recovered, and from that period have, with humble submission, conformed to my situation.

"Thus, my son, I have run over my short history, and from thence you may learn this important truth, 'Man was not intended for a solitary being,' and be warned never to let the disappointments of life prey upon your


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 mind, so as to produce a temporary disgust to the world, that may, in a fit of despair, throw you into situations productive of repentance and unavailing regret."

CHAP. VI.VII. [sic]

, having concluded his story, was informed by Ferdinand of the motives which had brought him to the Monastery, and that having been successful in his commission he might possibly accompany the Lady, if within a short time she was capable of the undertaking: "After what I have said to you," returned the good Father, "I hope you will inform yourself


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 in amongst the bushes at the side of the path, or in the water of the river, or at the end of your canoe, or in the oil in the pots, or in the Manchester cottons in the factory shop. Wherever you look, there it is. In a way it's unobtrusive, it does not spread itself out, or make a noise, or change, yet, sooner or later, in every place, you cannot miss seeing it. At first you think, by changing your environment—going outdoors, coming in, going on a journey, mixing with your fellow-men, or avoiding them—you can get rid of the thing; but you find, when you look round,—a thing you are certain to do when the charm has got its grip,—for sure that face is there as usual. Now this sort of thing tells on the toughest in time, and you get sick of life when it has always got that face mixed up in it, so sick that you try the other thing—death. This is an ill-advised course, but you do not know in time that, when you kill yourself, you will find that on the other side, in the other thing, you will see nothing but that face, that unchanging silent face you are so sick of. The Kufong man who has thrown his face at you knows, and when he hears of your suicide he laughs. Naturally you cannot know, because you are not a Kufong man, or the charm could not be put on you. What you "can do in this here most awful go," as Mr. Squeers would say, I am unfortunately not able to tell you. I made many inquiries from men who know "the face," who had had it happen on people in their families, and so on, but in answer to my inquiries as to why the afflicted did not buy it off, what charms there were against it, and so forth, I was always told it was a big charm, that the man who put it on lost something of himself by so doing, so it was never put on except in cases of great hatred that would stick at nothing and would kill; also that it was of no real use for the

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 thoroughly of the Lady's motives for secluding herself from the world, and advise her to commune with her own heart deliberately and seriously, and not from a temporary disgust seek to find peace and happiness in a Convent; the mind should have shaken off worldly considerations, and have no objects to regret before it is fitted to devote all its faculties to religious duties. For yourself, you have dear connexions, you are a father, you have no right to quit the station in which Providence has placed you, and I hope are determined by active duties to deserve, if you cannot obtain, happiness. The one is in your own power, and if you are disappointed in your wishes and expectations, be assured it is for wise and good reasons calculated for your real benefit, though short-sighted mortals judging only of the present, ungratefully repine in those moments when they ought to be most thankful."

"My good Father," said Ferdinand, with a sigh, "I bow to the justice of your observations; but the human heart is refractory,


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 and often errs against reason and conviction: I promise you, however, that I will no longer indulge my wishes for retirement, and that if I ramble a short time in search of novelty to amuse my thoughts, I will endeavour so far to profit by your advice as to determine on reassuming my station in the army when the campaign opens; and in that field for action I may either obtain a comparative degree of peace, or lose the remembrance of my sorrows altogether."—He added, that the Father might depend upon his observance of the kind cautions he had given respecting the Lady.—They now parted with mutual blessings and good wishes, as they had no hope of holding any farther conversation in the morning.

At a very early hour Ferdinand arose, and appeared in the room where the Friars were assembled after their first matins. Father Ambrose received him with much complacency, and again renewed his promise of introducing the Lady to the neighbouring sisterhood, who he was certain "would make


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 no objections, as she had sufficient property to answer the necessary expenses her admission would draw upon the house." Ferdinand took leave, and though he cast a longing, lingering look towards the Convent, yet, convinced that of himself he could obtain no satisfactory information, and that all his hopes must rest upon Eugenia, he vented a few anxious sighs, and proceeded with all haste to the Castle.

His arrival was welcomed with much pleasure by all parties, for the intermediate time of his absence had been spent in fruitless endeavours by the Count and Eugenia to suppress their own feelings, and to reconcile and console each other; but each saw the painful emotions neither could disguise, and Eugenia had occasion for abundant resolution and fortitude to withstand the silent grief of the Count, the tenderness of her own heart, and to exert that apparent firmness in her determination as might effectually annihilate every hope, that they could be weakened by affection or arguments; their situation was