Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

efforts to make men think alike. It is, to speak figuratively, the clashing which constitutes the music. The harmony of the whole movement is produced by the fusion into each other of an infinite variety of petty discords: as a glass of punch depends for its excellence upon the skilful commingling of opposing flavours, and antagonising materials. Were the passengers in a wherry to be found of one mind they would probably all sit upon the same side, and thence, naturally, pay a visit to the Davy Jones of the river; and if all the men of a nation thought alike, it is perfectly evident that the ship of state must lose her trim. The system of checks and balances pervades both the moral and physical world, and without it, affairs would soon hasten to their end. It is, therefore, clear that we must have all sorts of people some to prevent stagnation, and others to act as ballast to an excess of animation. The steam engines of humanity must have their breaks and their safety valves, and the dead weights of society require the whip and the spur.

Orson Dabbs certainly is entitled to a place among the stimulants of the world, and it is probable that in exercising his impulse, he produces beneficial effects. But it would puzzle a philosopher to designate the welcome results which follow from his turbulent movements, or to show, either by synthesis or analysis, wherein he is a good. At all events, Orson Dabbs has the reputation of being a troublesome fellow in the circle upon which he inflicts himself; and judging from all the evidence elicited upon the subject, there is little reason to doubt the fact. He is dogmatical, and to a certain extent fond of arguments, but when a few sharp words will not make converts, he abandons those windy weapons with contempt, and has recourse to more forcible persuaders-a pair of fists, each of which looks like a shoulder of mutton.

"If people are so obstinate that they won't, or so stupid that they can't understand you,"observed Dabbs, in one of his confidential moments

for Orson Dabbs will sometimes unbend, and suffer those abstruse maxims which govern his conduct to escape "If either for one reason or the other,"

continued he with that impressive iteration which at once gives time to collect and marshal one's thoughts, and lets the listener know that something of moment is coming; "if they won't be convinced-easily and genteelly convinced-you must knock it into 'em short hand; if they can't comprehend, neither by due course of mail, nor yet by express, you must make 'em understand by telegraph. That's the way I learnt ciphering at school, and manners and genteel behaviour at home. All I know was walloped into I took larnin' through the skin, and sometimes they made a good many holes to get it in."

me.

"And," timidly interjected a humble admirer of this great man, hazarding a joke with an insinuating smile; "and I s'pose you're so wise now, because the hide growed over it, and the larnin' couldn't get out, like Ingey ink in a sailor's arm."

"Jeames," replied Orson Dabbs, relaxing into a grim smile, like that of the griffin face of a knocker, and shaking his "bunch of fives" sportively, as one snaps an unloaded gun-Napoleon tweaked the ears of his courtiers-why should not Dabbs shake his fist at his satellites ?" Jeames, if you don't bequit poking fun at me, I'll break your mouth, Jeames, as sure as you sit there. But, to talk sensible, walloping is the only way-it's a panacea for differences of opinion.-You'll find it in history books, that one nation teaches another that didn't know before by walloping it; that's the method of civilising savages Romans put the whole world to rights that way, and what's right on the big figger, must be right on the small scale. In short, there's nothing like walloping for taking the conceit out of fellows that think they know more than their betters. Put it to 'em strong and make 'em see out of their eyes.'

[ocr errors]

the

Orson Dabbs acts up to these golden maxims. Seeing that, from disputes between dogs up to quarrels between nations, fighting is the grand umpire and regulator, he resolves all power into that of the fist-treating bribery, reason, and persuasion, as the means only of those unfortunate individuals to whom nature has denied the stronger attributes of humanity. Nay, he even

turns up his nose at betting, as a means of discovering truth. Instead of stumping an antagonist by launching out his cash, Dabbs shakes a portentous fist under his nose, and the affair is settled-the recusant must either knock under or be knocked down, which, according to our hero, is all the same in Dutch. In this way, when politics ran high, he used to decide who was to be elected to any specified office, and he has often boasted that he once, in less than five minutes, too, scared a man into giving the Dabbs candidate a large majority, when the stranger did not at first believe that the said candidate would be elected at all.

Some people believe that the fist is the poorest of all arguments, and that it therefore should be the last. Here they are completely at issue with Dabbs, and it is well that they do not fall in his way, or he would soon show them the difference. With him it is what action was to the ancient orator, the first, the middle, and the last. Being himself, in a great measure, first proof, he is very successful in the good work of proselytism, and has quite a reputation as a straight forward reasoner and a forcible dialectician.

Misfortunes, however, will sometimes happen to the most successful. The loftiest nose may be brought to the grindstone, and the most scornful dog may be obliged to lunch upon dirty pudding. Who can control his fate? One night Mr. Dabbs came home from his 'loafing' places-for he 'loafs' of an evening, like the generality of people; that being the most popular and one of the cheapest amusements extant-and from the way he blurted open the door of the Goose and Gridiron, where he resides, and from the more unequivocal manner in which he slammed it after him, no doubt existed in the minds of his fellow-boarders, that the well of his good spirits had been "riled;" or in more familiar phrase, that he was spotty on the back." His hat was pitched forward, with a blood-thirsty, piratical rakishness, and almost covered his eyes, which gleamed like ignited charcoal under a jeweller's blow-pipe. His cheeks were flushed with an angry spot, and his nose-always a quarrelsome pug-curled more fiercely up

66

ward, as if the demon of wrath had turned archer, and was using it for a bow to draw an arrow to its head. His mouth had sat in opposition to its nasal promontory, and savagely curved downward, like a half-moon battery. Dabbs was decidedly out of sorts: perhaps beery as well as wolfy-in short, in that unenviable state in which a man feels disposed to divide himself, and go to buffets-to kick himself with his own foot-to beat himself with his own fist, and to throw his own dinner out of the window.

The company were assembled around the fire, to discuss liquor and literature, men and things. Dabbs looked not at them, but, slinging Tommy Timid's bull terrier, Oseola, out of the armchair in the corner, by the small stump of a tail which fashion and the hatchet had left the animal, he sat himself moodily down, with a force that made the timbers creak. The conversation was turning upon the late brilliant display of the " aurora borealis" which the more philosophical of the party supposed to arise from the north pole's having become red hot for want of grease; while they all joined in deriding the popular fallacy that it was caused by the high price of flour.

66

Humph!" said Dabbs, with a grunt," any fool might know that it's a sign of war.

[ocr errors]

"War!" ejaculated the party; "oh, your granny!"

"Yes, war!" roared Dabbs, kicking the bull terrier, Oseola, in the ribs, and striking the table a tremendous blow with his fist, as with clenched teeth and out-poked head, he repeated, "War, War, War !"

Now the Goose and Gridiron fraternity set up for knowing geniuses, and will not publicly acknowledge faith in the doctrines on meteorology broached by their grandmothers, whatever they may think in private.

So they quietly remarked, confiding in their numbers against the Orson Dabbs' method of conversation, that the "aurora was not a sign of war, but an evidence of friction, and no grease on the axle of the world."

[blocks in formation]

believe it, in two cracks of a cow's thumb. Yes," added he, in reply to the looks bent upon him; "I'll not only wallop them that don't believe it, but I'll wallop you all, whether you do or not!"

This, however, was a stretch of benevolence to which the company were not prepared to submit. As Dabbs squared off to proceed secundum artem, according to the approved method of the schools, the watchful astrologer might have seen his star grow pale. He had reached his Waterloo-that winter night was his 18th of June. He fell, as many have fallen before him, by that implicit reliance on his own powers, which made him forgetful of the risk of encountering the long odds. The threat was too comprehensive, and the attempt at execution was a failure. The company cuffed him heartily, and in the affray the bull terrier, Oseola, vented his cherished wrath by biting a piece out of the fleshiest portion of his frame. Dabbs was ousted by a summary process, but his heart did not fail him. He thundered at the door, sometimes with his fists, and sometimes with whatever missiles were within his reach. The barking of the dog and the laughter from within, as was once remarked of certain military heroes, did not "intimate him in the least; it only estimated him."

The noise at last became so great that a watchman finally summoned up resolution enough to come near, and to take Dabbs by the arm.

"Let go watchy !-let go, my cauliflower! Your cocoa is very near to a sledge hammer-if it isn't hard, it may get cracked."

"Pooh! pooh! don't be onasy my darlint-my cocoa is a corporation cocoa-it belongs to the city, and they'll get me a new one.-Besides, my jewel, there's two cocoas standing here you know. Don't be onasy-it mayn't be mine that will get cracked."

"I an't onasy," said Dabbs, bitterly, as he turned fiercely round. "I an't onasy. I only want to caution you, or I'll upset your apple cart and spill your peaches.'

"I'm not in the wegetable way in winter, my own self, Mr. Horseradish. You must make less noise."

"Now look here-look at me well," said Dabbs, striking his fist hard upon his own bosom; "I'm a real nine feet breast of a fellow-stub-twisted and made of horse-shoe nails--the rest of me is cast iron with steel springs-I'll stave my fist right through you, and carry you on my elbow, as easily as if you were an empty market basket—I will-bile me up for soap if I don't."

"Ah, indeed! Why you must be a real Calcutta-from-Canting, warranted not to cut in the eye. Snakes is no touch to you-but I'm sorry to say you must knuckle down close. You must surrender: there's no help for it-none in the world."

"Square yourself, then, for I'm coming! Don't you hear the clockworks ?" exclaimed Dabbs, as he shook off the grip of the officer, and struck an attitude.

He stood beautifully; feet well set; guard well up; admirable science, yet fearful to look upon. Charley regarded him coolly for a moment, and whistled in contempt.

"'Taint no use, no how," replied the guardian of the night, breaking down his guard with a smart blow from a heavy mace: "you're all used up for bait."

"Ouch!" shrieked he ; 66 my eye, how it hurts. Don't hit me again. Ah, Charley, you're a bruiser. One, two, three from you would make a man believe any thing, even if he was sure it wasn't true."

"Very well. All I want of you is to behave pretty, and believe you're going to the watch'us-for it's true, and if you don't believe yet, why (shaking the mace) I shall be obligated to convince you again."

As this was arguing with him after his own method, and as Dabbs had distinct impressions of the force of the reasoning, he shrugged his shoulders, and then, rubbing his arms, muttered "Enough said."

He trotted off quietly for the first time in his life. Since the affair and its consequences have been over, he is somewhat chary of entering into the field of argument, and particularly careful not to drink too much cold water, for fear the bull terrier, Oseola, was rabid, and dreading hydrophobic convulsions.

[merged small][ocr errors]

It seems that Gibbon, while at Lausanne, had written a satire on something of Voltaire's composition, which provoked the latter to a tart reply, in which he was severe upon the historian's personal appearance; and all the world knows Gibbon was by no means an Apollo, but remark able for his diminutive stature. At this period Gibbon was not acquainted with Voltaire, indeed he had never seen him; but shortly after, having occasion to come up to Geneva, he wrote to Voltaire, expressing his desire that they might meet. Voltaire, fearing that the object of the designed interview and visit was to gratify the satirist's wit, and knowing that he was far more hideous than the man he had ridiculed, he wrote that his house was open to him-that he would be received by madame, but that he (Voltaire) could not see him. Gibbon accepted the invitation. The first day passed away, and the philosopher did not appear; another, with the same fate; another, and he was still hermetically sealed up in his study; but on the fourth morning, Voltaire, tired of this imprisonment in his own house by a guest, wrote him a characteristic billet, declining the honour of an invitation. The next day Gibbon left the château and took lodgings in the village; his curiosity had been piqued, and he pursued his victim with additional zest. After rusticating about a week, he went one morning over to the château, and bribed Voltaire's coachman to bring out one of his horses and let him loose under the study windows, while he should station himself in the adjoining shrubbery, screened from observation. The horse was brought, and away he bounded among the flowers and trees, neighing furiously. In a minute Voltaire was at his window, calling his servants, but no one came. Foaming with passion, he rushed out into the garden to catch the animal himself; "and," said the old gardener,

[blocks in formation]

he stood in his red-laced coat and satin cap, with his stockings halfway up to his thighs, leaning on his staff and swearing! Oh, monsieur, comme il a juré!" and the narrator rolled his eyes, as if some horrid recollection were

passing through his mind. "But," continued he, "Gibbon did not mind his rage; he put his arms akimbo, and walked round and round him, eyeing him from head to foot, laughing at his spindle shanks and monkey visage, and expressing himself thankful that he was not as lean as the philosopher, and glad that he had at least a companion in ugliness."

This cool, practical, English satire was too much for Voltaire's irascibility, and had he remained longer, he would have committed some personal indignity upon Gibbon; he rushed into his study and ordered his secretary to run after Mr. Gibbon and demand twelve sous for the sight of the beast. The secretary soon came up with our quiz and told him the object of his mission.

"Did he ask but twelve sous," said Gibbon; "take twenty-four, my friend, and tell Monsieur Voltaire that since I have paid double price, I think I am entitled to another sight."

This reply was faithfully delivered, and the result was an invitation, written by Voltaire himself, requesting the historian to dine with him next day; and at that feast all bittterness was forgotten for ever.

IDA OF ZURICH.

The sun is shining,

Where flowers are twining, But a rayless cloud is on Ida's heart; The birds are singing,

Their noon-tide peals ringing, But their notes can to her no glee impart.

A little maiden,

With grief though laden,
Is lonely Ida of Zurich's strand;
Ever she wanders,

And darkly ponders,
Unknown her story, unknown her land.

And maddening dreams, By those sunny streams, Flit o'er her blighted infant soul; She watches each wave, Yet she seeks not a grave In the glittering billows that onward roll.

When twilight is dying,

And breezes are sighing,

mere chance spectacle of infant helplessness was wont to excite his sympathy, this sentiment, by the natural workings of the human heart, became far more lively when so beautiful and perfect a creature as Elizabeth Raby was thrown upon his protection. No one could have regarded her unmoved; her silver-toned laugh went to the heart; her alternately serious or gay

She sings a sweet song, by none ever looks, each emanating from the spirit

[blocks in formation]

Ida is lonely,

The beautiful only,

of love; her caresses, her little words of endearment; the soft pressure of her tiny hand and warm rosy lips, were as charming as beauty and absence of guile could make them."

THE PURITY OF YOUTH.-"If a time is to be named when the human

Of feature and feeling her brows dis- heart is nearest moral perfection, most

play.

Sought by many,

She heeds not any

alive, and yet most innocent, aspiring to good, without a knowledge of evil, the period at which Elizabeth had

Where her young thoughts are, who arrived-from thirteen to sixteen-is

can say ?

CICINDELA.

NOTES OF A READER.

THE LOVE OF CHILDREN.

"We human beings are so unlike one to the other that it is often difficult to make one person understand that there is any force in an impulse which is omnipotent with another. Children, to some, are mere animals, unendued with instinct, troublesome, and unsightly-with others they possess a charm that reaches to the heart's core, and stirs the purest and most generous portions of our nature. Falkner had always loved children. In the Indian wilds, which for many years he had inhabited, the sight of a young native mother with her babe had moved him to envious tears. fair, fragile offspring of European women, with blooming faces and golden hair, had often attracted him to bestow kind offices on parents whom otherwise he would have disregarded; the fiery passions of his own heart caused him to feel a soothing repose while watching the innocent gambols of childhood, while his natural energy, which scarcely ever found sufficient scope for exercise, led him to delight n protecting the distressed. If the

The

it. Vague forebodings are awakened ; a sense of the opening drama of life, unaccompanied with any longing to enter on it-that feeling is reserved for the years that follow; but at fourteen and fifteen we only feel that we are emerging from childhood, and we rejoice, having yet a sense that as yet it is not fitting that we should make one of the real actors on the world's stage. A dreamy, delicious period, when all is unknown; and yet we feel that all is soon to be unveiled. The first pang has not been felt; for we consider childhood's woes, real and frightful as those sometimes are, as puerile, and no longer belonging to us. We look upon the menaced evils of life as a fiction. How can care touch the soul which places its desires beyond low-minded thought? Ingratitude, deceit, treason-these have not yet engendered distrust of others, nor have our own weaknesses and errors planted the thorn of self-disapprobation and regret. Solitude is no evil, for the thoughts are rife with busy visions; and the shadows that flit around and people our reveries have almost the substance and vitality of the actual world."

APOPHTHEGM.- "We all are apt to think that when we discard a motive we cure a fault, and foster the same error from a new cause with a safe conscience."

« ПредишнаНапред »