thus instantly crushing all foreign trade which the two great European contestants had left. It kindled all the fires of hos son of Virginia, and George Clinton of New York, the latter taking the place of Aaron Burr, the most brilliant and fascinating man of his time, who had now utter-tility between the Federalists and Republy fallen from all public respect by his way of life, had made himself odious by shooting Hamilton in a duel, and had narrowly escaped conviction for treason through his project of setting up a separate government at the Southwest. This having ignominiously failed, Burr was removed from the list of candidates, and Jefferson and Clinton were sworn into office March 4, 1805. They had behind them a strong majority in each House of Congress, and henceforth the Federalist party was only a minority, able and powerful, but destined to death. licans-who had now fairly accepted the name of Democrats, a name borrowed from France, and fairly forced on them by their opponents. It brought ruin to so many households that it might well be at least doubted whether it brought good to any. The very children of New England rose up against it, in the person of Bryant, who, when a boy of thirteen, wrote in opposition to it his first elaborate lay. It was believed by the Federalists to be aimed expressly at the New England States, yet John Quincy Adams, Senator from Massachusetts, supported it, and then resigned, his course being disapproved by his Legislature. He it was, however, who informed the President at last that the embargo could be endured no longer, and got it modified, in 1809, so as to apply only to England and France. Jefferson consented reluctantly even to this degree of pressure, but he wrote, looking back upon the affair in 1816, "I felt the foundations of the government shaken under my feet by the New England township"; and he always urged thenceforward that the town system organized the voice of the people in a way with which no unwieldy county organization, such as prevailed at the South, could compete. Yet all but the commercial States sustained the embargo, and the Federalist party was left a broken and hopeless minority. Jefferson, though pressed to be a third time a candidate for President, had wisely and patriotically declined. In the election of 1808, James Madison, of Virginia, had 122 votes, C. C. Pinckney 47, and George Clinton 6, Mr. Madison being therefore elected, while on the vote for Vice-President George Clinton had a smaller majority. The third Chief Magistrate of the United States thus retired to private life after a career which has influenced American institutions to this day more profoundly than that of any other President. Under the new administration the controlling effect of European strife was more and more felt in American affairs. Napoleon's "Decrees" and the British "Orders in Council" were equally disastrous to the commerce of the United | States; and both nations claimed the right to take seamen out of United States vessels. "England," said Jefferson, "seems to have become a den of pirates, and France a den of thieves." There was trouble with Spain also, at New Orleans, and there was a proposition to exchange a part of Louisiana for East and West Florida. There was renewed demand for a navy, but the President would only consent to the building of certain little gun-boats, much laughed at then and ever since. They were to cost less than ten thousand dollars apiece, were to be kept on land under cover, and to be, like the boats of our life-saving service, hauled down to the shore only in case of threatened attack; with these the fleets which had fought under Nelson were to be resisted. Yet a merely commercial retaliation was favored by Jefferson; and an act was passed retaliating on England by the prohibition of certain English goods. A treaty with that nation was made, but was rejected by the President, and all tended toward increased bitterness of feeling between the two nations. In June, 1807, the British frigate Leopard took four Jefferson was a man full of thoughts seamen by force from the United States and of studious purposes; trustful of the frigate Chesapeake. "Never since the bat-people, distrustful of the few; a generous tle of Lexington," said Jefferson, "have friend, but a malignant and unscrupulous I seen this country in such a state of ex-foe; not so much deliberately false as asperation as at present." Then came that great political convulsion, the Embargo Act, prohibiting all commerce with all foreign countries, and without a clear sense of truth; courageous for peace, but shrinking and vacillating in view of war; ignorant of his own limitations; as self-confident in financial and commercial matters, of which he knew little, as in respect to the principles of republican government, about which he showed more foresight than any man of his time. He may have underrated the dangers to which the nation might be exposed from ignorance and vice, but he never yielded, on the other hand, to the cowardice of culture; he never relaxed his faith in the permanence of popular government or in the high destiny of man. Meanwhile John Adams, on his farm in Quincy, had been superintending his haymakers with something as near to peace of mind as a deposed President can be expected to attain. He was not a person of eminent humility, nor is it usually agreeable to a public man when his correspondence ceases to be counted by the thousand, and his letters shrink to two a week. His high-minded wife, more cordially accepting the situation, wrote with sincere satisfaction of skimming milk in her dairy at five o'clock in the morning. Each had perhaps something to say, when Jefferson was mentioned, about "Cæsar with a Sen- | Adams saw in Jefferson, as time went on, ate at his heels," but it did not prevent the friend and even political adviser of his the old friendship with Cæsar from reviving in later life. Jefferson had written to Washington long before, that even Adams's "apostasy to hereditary monarchy and nobility" had not alienated them; son. Old antagonisms faded; old associations grew stronger; and the two aged men floated on, like two ships becalmed at night-fall, that drift together into port, and cast anchor side by side. DR1 I. LOVE IS NOT ENOUGH. R. CHARLES DINWIDDIE was speeding rapidly along the streets of St. Louis one October afternoon. To judge from his gait, the life of some one depended upon his haste. But there was no such patient in the perspective. Most heartily did this young practitioner wish there was. The fact is, the doctor was of the build of a greyhound, tall, slight, eager, one to whom it was much easier to go six miles an hour than it was to go one. The trouble is, that all the world fails to adjust itself to that grade of going; and, in turning a corner, Dr. Dinwiddie ran against a gentleman. "My dear fellow," said the one so smitten, amid the rapid apologies of the other, "you are too cordial in your welcome." The remark was made as quietly as if at the close of an after-dinner conversation, the speaker holding out his hand composedly as he did so. Evidently there was no drop of the greyhound blood in his case. To reason from the square solidity of his person, and of the lower part of his face, too, an English mastiff would have been nearer his type. "John Berrian!" the other made reply, as effusive in face and tone and grasp of the hand as the other was sedate. "When did you come? Where are you stopping? How long will you stay? Why did you not write?" And it was clear that his friend could not have helped sincerely liking a man whose soul flushed so entirely into his greeting. Now John Berrian was not merely a person of the Saxon squareness of bone and build, to which allusion has been already made: he was a lawyer also. That is, he had been born into the possession of the bodily structure even as, let us say, the babe of a Saxon baron was born inside the rocky ramparts of its father's fortress; but, in necessity of being a lawyer, the man had, all unconsciously to himself, strengthened himself in his natural bulwarks, adding to his walls, as it were, a stone here, and a spadeful of flint "I am glad to see you, Dinwiddie." It was on this account that the new-comer said so after the very first greeting. There was a feeling as of vacation even in yielding himself to the old liking. "You look as young and as fresh, old fellow,” he added, “as you did at college. Not a tone of your voice has altered, nor a hair of your head. How it brings back old days! I am glad to see you." And there was somehow the weight and estimate as of gold in the slow and deliberate way in which the word "glad" was spoken. "But where are we going?" he added; for Dr. Dinwiddie, his hand on his arm, had guided him through the crowds and across the streets for some distance, talking all the while. "Where should we be going but to my house?" replied his friend. "And so you are settling yourself down to the law here in St. Louis! You could not do a wiser thing than to come to a great centre, after your village practice. With your big head, and broad back, and solid speech, and grave way of walking, we men at college at least of our literary society, you know accustomed to the comparative darkness of the house, she saw and knew her guest while in the hall, and before she entered the parlor, whereas the lawyer was just from out of the brilliant sunshine. woman, too, is quicker in such cases than even a lawyer. A -always said you would be President. | sides a vast deal else, that her eyes being Do you remember that little Maginnis, Berrian? You were his model in your dark, set, stern sort of way. At least you were until every man he met got into the habit of asking him if he had the toothache. It is but a square or so further on: don't walk so slow. It is such a pleasure to have hold of you, and in this great city, too, where people care as much for one as if he was a gnat. Yonder is my house, and we will be just in time for our early tea. The trouble with me, Berrian, is insomnia-that is, I can not sleep-and we have tea as early as possible, so as to sleep better. That is one reason I walk as much and as fast as I can, trying, you see, to tire myself utterly down, so that I will have to sleep. This is the door: walk in." If Dr. Dinwiddie had exhibited to his friend the balance-sheet of his income and expenditure, the lawyer would not have understood better how things were with his old classmate. The region to which they had come, the four-story, twenty-foot-front brick house, the mute importunity of the very sign in the basement window, the eager something in Dr. Dinwiddie's manner, the very hunger of his greeting of and grasp upon his friend, told the whole story in language as pathetic as it was plain. The new-comer was conscious of setting each foot down more firmly as he walked, as if he was finding himself being marched by his companion upon the declivity of a glacier, down, and to the doom at the end of which he had not the least intention of sliding. A sense of his own superiority, too, became almost as conscious to him as does dinner to a full-fed man; so that, as he took his seat in the dark little front parlor, while all of the old friendship remained, the entire lawyer was also present, and as much so as if he was in court. But even lawyers do not know everything. They are good enough gladiators as to every conceivable foe below and around them. Their mistake lies in being defended not at all from attack overhead, the universe all about, and especially from beneath, being so much more interesting to them, seeing they are qualified exclusively for that. "This is my wife." Dr. Dinwiddie, as rapid in this as in all else, had hurried the lady in, and so introduced her. Now this advantage was to Mrs. Dinwiddie, beVOL. LXVHI.-No. 406.-35 "Mr. Berrian, I am happy to see you." Even at that moment the one spoken to was confounded at the smooth and perfect ease of the lady. 66 Why, Gertrude-Miss Osborne-I beg your pardon-Mrs. Dinwiddie-" was all the man could gasp. "I had no idea-" he began, as he rose, and sat down, and rose again. Never in his life had Mr. Berrian felt more like Napoleon than when, on first entering, he took his seat and looked dimly around upon the scantily furnished apartment, and never had any Napoleon come quite so suddenly upon Waterloo. "We have met before, my dear. I may say we are old acquaintances," the wife explained, in the quietest of ways, to her husband. "Mr. Berrian and myself were thrown together for some time when he was studying law. I had lost sight of him since he moved away and went into practice.-I am glad to see you, sir. I hope you have been well." No woman could have done more, and so naturally and unintrusively, too, to set her husband's friend at ease. But even Napoleon did not get over Waterloo all at once. What made it worse was that men of Dr. Dinwiddie's excessive sensibility are sure, by reason of a certain magnetic mistaking, to say in such cases precisely the things they ought not to say. "You are the same John Berrian," his host remarked, after his friend had acknowledged the previous acquaintance, and said how delighted he was to know that Dr. Dinwiddie had been so very fortunate, and all that, "exactly the same, with-now I look closely at you—with one exception. Pardon personalities, but your face, Berrian, was always like the bronze seal, medal, whatever it is, of the face of a Roman Emperor; but it looks as if somebody had fitted the stamp of the seal on again and hit it a tremendous blow: you are the same, only a great deal more so. The bronzing, too-it is as if somehow your very soul had got sunburned. How did it happen?" "You must excuse my husband," Mrs. Dinwiddie adroitly interposed, with her | ing-the lawyer noticed even that—to his 66 swift woman's wit. "I tell him he ought to be an artist of some sort, possibly a poet, he is so full of his sensitive fancies." And I would have been if I had inherited a fortune," the husband replied. "No, I wouldn't. If I was rich I doubt whether I would do anything in particular beyond travelling, reading, loving my family, and one or two old friends like Berrian here-enjoying myself, in fact. I am a physician solely and only for the money. "You must not believe him, Mr. Berrian," Mrs. Dinwiddie said, with a smile which was more earnest than merry; "you know him too well. Beyond necessary expenses, he cares nothing for money. And no man could be more devoted to his patients: the charity patients come miles out of their way to get him when he has once tended on them. It is that which exhausts him so-his sympathy is so ready." "And has such a steady drain on it. But," continued the husband, "it does become terribly monotonous. Besides, if one could only sleep soundly of nights-" "You ought to break the wire of his night bell, madam," said the visitor. mother's side, and not his father's, as if by instinct made into habit. Any inference as to that was neutralized, however, when, a moment after, a charming girl, a year older, and exceedingly like her mother, came modestly into the room and to the side of her father. So keen were the trained faculties of the visitor, quickened by his relation to the parties, that he observed this: while the mother took her son Charley by the hand and led him with her, it was Gerty, the daughter, who drew her father along. Very slowly and sorely against himself the guest was beginning to understand. To understand, and even the faint glimmer thereof deepened his interest and his observation to an almost painful degree. There was something in keeping with all this when Dr. Dinwiddie, after they were seated at the tea table down stairs, said, "Gerty, dear," and the child said blessing. After which Mr. Berrian, who had been steadily summoning all his energies to do so, slowly lifted his eyes to his hostess as she asked about his taste in reference to coffee or tea, and, fastening his gaze upon her face, began, as he looked, to comprehend her and to-curse; yes, at least, began the process, which was to last a long time, and to deepen in sincerity every day, of very thoroughly curs "Ah, it is not that, Berrian-" began the other; but, at a glance from his wife, he paused while she changed the conversa-ing himself. tion. The guest had so far become a lawyer again that he understood it all, and if all his thought, running under and parallel to the conversation, had been uttered, it would have been like this: "You poor, handsome, poetic-I do not know what to call you. You ought to have more body or less soul. It does look as if a man should learn by this time to know, yes, and to be, more sensible. Your whole heart lies on the surface, just as it did in college, and such a pure and noble, yes, and deep nature, too. It's a wonder the very weather hasn't toughened your hide. You are the fellow that used to bore me at college about the Greeks, I remember their splendid cli- | mate, their out-of-door life, their naked beauty, so supple and strong. It is a pity you do not, at least, wear thicker clothing; and that you, of all men, should have married her—” But at this moment the tea bell rang, and a beautiful boy of eight years old, the duplicate in miniature of his father, ran into the room to emphasize the fact, go It was the same Gertrude Osborne he had known of old: dark eyes, regular features, oval face, gentle tones, quiet manners, with that singular sweetness of the lips, the subtle power of which eludes the pen of the poet as much as it does the brush of the painter or the chisel of the sculptor. Form is an excellent thing in its way, and it may be completely in the compass of the plastic hand of genius to mould and to make, but then life is a certain something quite different. The scientists consider themselves decidedly the Christopher Columbuses of this era, and even they have not as yet discovered Life-so, at least, as to step ashore upon it and tell us all about it; no wonder, then, that it can no more be put upon this page, in the instance of Mrs. Dinwiddie, than it can be delineated by anybody else. In this case, the life lay not so much in the power of the woman, and in reserve of power, as in the sweetness thereof. Any fool in a street car, in the waiting-room of a railway depot, would recognize it," was the way in which the anath |