the aperture, the door of the sacred tomb was thrown open, and the venerable firebishop emerged, holding in his hand a bundle of lighted tapers, and made his way toward the Greek altar as fast as zealous priests could push the people out of his way, and at length disappeared behind the screen of the Holy of Holies. The mass of pilgrims rushed around the rotunda, lighting each other's tapers, and some burned themselves on the neck, arms, and face. After this glare of flame had burned for about ten minutes, they began to put out the tapers, to carry them home as sacred relics. None blew them out, some extinguished them with cloths, others with the naked hand, without evincing any sign of pain. The scars left by these burns were ever after the signs of their pilgrimage and holiness.

Among sects given to nervous disorders are the Jerkers, Barkers, Jumpers, and Shakers. The Barkers, as their name indicates, bark like a dog in the practice of their religion. The names of the others sufficiently explain the character of their religious exercises.

In New Haven, a sect of fanatics called Wakemanites submitted to and followed in all her vagaries a prophetess called Rhoda Wakeman, who was believed to be insane. According to her account, she had been raised from the dead, in accordance with a prediction which she had previously made. She removed evil spirits out of the body by exorcism, and even instigated her followers to murder in the cause of religion.

There is, or was, a small body of people in the United States who took the scriptural injunction to be as little children literally, and they gave themselves over to jumping the rope, leap-frog, playing hoop, tumbling about the floor, speaking in an infantile manner, nursing dolls, and other occupations and traits of childhood, with the firm belief that in so doing they were working out their salvation.

What is usually called the "great American revival" began simultaneously in New Haven and New York in 1832, and does not seem to have been set in motion by any particular individual or individuals, but to have been, in a full sense, a popular expression. It was in men's minds and in the atmosphere. It broke out and raged like a fire over a certain portion of the country known by the old inhabitants as the "burnt district." It was especially felt along the shore of Lake Ontario, and in the counties of Madison and Oneida.

The host that marched in this revival movement had many banners, but were without known chieftains. They averred that they did not need a commander, for they had one on high. The corporals and sergeants who marched with the uprising, but did not lead it, were men of mediocrity, and comparatively unknown. These did not make the revival, but it made them, for, as they were a little more conspicuous than the rank and file, their names were noted and their actions talked of. They were of various religious colors, and formed a motley group, gathered from the Wesleyan Methodists, Episcopal Methodists, Evangelicals, Independents, Con

gregationalists, and Presbyterians. Most of them chafed under the discipline, however lax, that existed in the ranks here named.

The characteristic signs attended this spiritual tempest. Ballrooms were turned into places of prayer, and theatres into

en who sought hither and thither in search of something necessary to their happiness, with an expression of longing depicted in their faces. The men hunted for women to complete their happiness, as women did for men. The spirit of yearning for an incom

The new preaching presented a strange attraction to some. It was a Dead Sea fruit, beautiful to look upon, containing ashes and bitterness within, as a number of them afterward discovered.

The apple of Sodom which grew out of this religious mania was the Pauline Church, founded on new visions and signs, and what was called the internal movements of the spirit. Its members became like the fanatical and ignorant Greek pilgrims, who, having received the holy fire, and bathed in the Jordan, were assured of heaven. They went a step further than the men of the East-they became incapable of sin!

This was the starting-point of wild vagaries, developing into saints, perfectionists, and other eccentric sects, most of whom, as one of the first signs of their independence and revolutionizing spirit, attacked the institution of marriage. A much-quoted dictum of one of their first spiritual corporals was that, "when a man becomes conscious that his soul is saved, the first thing that he sets about is to find his paradise and his Eve." The leaders of the saints, to whom this doctrine was most agreeable, could not find paradise in their own homes, nor Eves in their own wives, and sought their "affinities" elsewhere. Old ties were given up; the kingdom of heaven was at hand; old rules were no longer binding; and old obligations were set aside. In the prayers and love-feasts it was taught that heaven was so near that the changes that were to take place there might be permitted on earth. Men and women, regardless of marital ties entered into previous to their new professions, selected their celestial companions. At first, such unions were to be of a purely spiritual character, but of course in the end became sexual, for, however much men and women may change, the laws of Nature remain unalterable.

In the beginning they were to be brothers and sisters in the Lord, to whom gentle endearments and holy caresses were permitted in the exercise of spiritual functions. Probably most of them were sincere in the idea of such relations, and their origin seems to have been founded on a vision which appeared to one of their leaders, who saw an immense throng of men and women in heav

hosts. The seer gave as an interpretation to his vision that men and women were wrongly yoked in marriage on earth, and that this might be remedied by a proper and spiritual union in the terrestial sphere before the departure for the celestial one. This interpretation of a spiritual affinity between man and woman was received with favor and even enthusiasm. The man who saw the vision set the example by putting his legitimate wife aside and taking to his bosom the comely wife of one of his brethren. Others quickly followed the example, and a number of husbands and wives separated to join their affinities. The union was popularly designated among them as spiritual wedlock.

Before long the spiritual union was found to be incomplete, and it assumed the ordinary character of that which exists between man and woman who live together in close intimacy. Men who lived with the wives of others, and women who lived with the husbands of others, produced a strange confusion, which was attended with heart-burning and litigation. Children were abandoned by their natural protectors.

It resulted in evils still worse. Men and women discovered that they had made a mistake in these spiritual unions, and, after having lived for a certain period together, they separated to make new selections. It soon came to pass that they made new selections in comparatively short periods of time, and the doctrine of spiritual affinity thus inevitably merged into gross licentiousness.

If the facts were not before us, some of these unions would appear incredible. These were what the French would call ménages à trois. The lawful husband and the spiritual one lived under the same roof, in some cases, with the one wife, who denied all conjugal rights to the husband in law and accorded them freely to the husband in spirit, and remarkable instances are furnished of the husband submitting to such a state of things as being in accordance with the Divine will. And such examples of degradation, according to the annals of the time, do not appear to have been rare.

This eccentric sect, and several others as eccentric and irregular in their way, were among the results which this revival left behind in the "burnt district." The converts of good judgment and honesty of purpose, it may be presumed, attached themselves to orderly denominations, but all who were possessed of tendencies toward mysticism, or what they called spiritual nature, underwent social revolution, and got lawful rights and duties mixed up with their religious vagaries to a confusion inextricable.

Such was the revival in its moral aspects. It had still a physical and mental side which was worse to contemplate, in the number of deluded people who were placed in the hos pitals and insane asylums.

ALBERT S. RHODES.

46

Well, since you insist upon it, I think I did buy three. One needs three bonnets, you know. There is the common black felt, for a hack; and then there is a nice and a grave one for church and high-toned amusements; and then the gay and bright one for weddingreceptions and-"

"And such low-toned amusements. Now, don't you know that by this bonnet-buying of yours you have exposed the reasons for the national debt, the present unhappy state of our financial affairs, and the cause of all the failures and monetary distresses; all because you women buy three bonnets instead of one. Why not buy one-a sort of a purple, or a green, or a red bonnetthat would do for all occasions, and save you fifty or a hundred dollars? I am sure you could not look so badly in one bonnet as you contrive to look in three. We might get used to one bonnet; but the horrors of three bonnets-each, I dare say, more eccentric than the last-is too much. I sat behind a lady at the theatre recently, and I never caught a sight of Miss Fanny Davenport, whom I very much admire, because of my neighbor's bonnet. I longed to arrange her with my cane, and say: 'My dear madam, keep your head there, or, if you please, here; but do not put that mass of plumage, foliage, and gauze veil, between me and Miss Fanny forever! I have paid for my seat, madam, why am I to be docked of my view?' But, no, politeness demands that I should sit still, a humble martyr to a woman's bonnet!"

"All of which is an argument for a number of bonnets. Might not your offending lady, if she had had three bonnets, perhaps have selected one that you would have liked let us say the red one (which is a probable bonnet), that would have been so quiet and nice, you know!

"No, there is no such thing as a bonnet that pleases me. I bave liked no bonnets since the cottage-straw which my mother used to wear, which shaded her dear face, and which I used to peep round and look under in church when I was a little boy."

"Not even the picturesque Rubens hat, which recalls Helen Froment?"

Well, that is a slight improvement, and yet a woman must be very beautiful and picturesque and modest-looking to bear that exquisite head-dress."

"I grant you," said I, " that bonnets are constructed on the supposition that the face is to be beautiful, youthful, and modest, and, as all faces are not that (the more's the pity !), the effect is to make the face less beautiful, less youthful, and less modest."

"Yes, say brazen at once. I declare to you the effect of the modern bonnet has been

hair in the street has had a very pernicious effect on womanly manners."

"Why don't you, Orestes, at once announce yourself as an advocate of an Eastern veil, which covers all but one eye?"

"Ah, there you go again-womanly exaggeration! There was once a perfect medium in the bonnet-worn, say, in 1840. Look back through the fashion-plates, and come to that modest thing which women tied under their chin and then dropped down over their faces-a lace veil; that is my idea of a bonnet."

"And mine of a coal-scuttle," said I. Why, you could not see that loveliest view of the face-a woman's profile. What did you lovers of 1840 do for a view of the face you loved-say, in church or at the theatre? You only saw a profile of straw."

"Ah! we caught glimpses-all the sweeter that we had to watch for one chance to see the flushing face; and then what a protection for the face that was no longer young or pretty-not, as now, exposed to all the adverse criticism of the-"

"Of all the Oresteses of society!" "However, I do not stop at bonnets. I say that the extravagance of women has brought about all the financial distress of this nation."

"I thought I had heard something about the late war, Western railroads, and overtrading in other things besides silks and satins?"

"All bosh, I assure you. If, after our late war, which was an expensive calamity, no doubt-"

Yes, I should think so!"

"—all women had economized, had declared that they would wear simple, inexpensive garments, that they would dress on a hundred dollars a year-"

"Hear him! hear him!" said I

"-would put all their golden ornaments into the treasury, as the German women did, who, after Napoleon's wars, put their gold wedding-rings into the treasury, and received iron ones, with the inscription, 'For our love of country, we gave gold for iron,' then we should have been better off than we are now!"

"When you collect so much duty on our silks and satins, and thus are enabled to pay your interest and keep the government going? I have heard that every lady who bought a French dress and paid the duty on it was a patriot, and helping to pay the national debt."

"Yes; what a noble army of patriots we have, indeed! She is nobler than the lady who buys a French dress, and does not pay the duty, that is all!"

"Now, how much more do French dresses cost the nation than brandy and cigars?" "Oh! brandy and cigars are necessaries of life. Men will have them. They are all proper enough; but French dresses make women simply walking fashion-plates, exaggerations always of the real French dresses, which are modest, simple, unpretending. Have you not been in a shop in Paris, and been taken round to a distant counter to see the fashions pour les Américaines?' "

"A feminine prejudice, I think. How. ever, you women have long since ceased to dress for men. You dress now entirely for each other."

"So I have heard men say, and I deny it, Men feel the effect of beautiful dressing as much as women do, although they could not describe it so well. I walked up Fifth Ave. nue with a gentleman the other day, and every really well-dressed woman attracted his attention, and every one whom he especially admired had on a French dress."

"Oh, you had given him a hint; you had said, 'There goes a well-dressed woman,' and he had weakly yielded. Now, how much do men know about camel's-hair shawls, real lace, or the chic of a Worth dress?"

They know chic-that is exactly what they do know, and real camel's hair and real lace produce chic."

"I am sorry I used one of your miserable slang words, for it has given you a temporary advantage." "No. You fall into the common error of supposing that all dress, to be pleasing to women, must necessarily be expensive. Wom en regret the expensiveness of dress as much as men do; for even those who have a great deal of money would like to spend it on jewelry, or pictures, or even books-if you will forgive us for being so frivolous-rather than on the perishable dresses which we are forced to buy by the exigencies of fashion. The trouble it gives a woman to dress her. self becomingly is another great drawback to the pleasure; for, of course, a love of dress was implanted by Nature in women just as all her other instincts by which she makes herself attractive are. So that a woman of moderate means goes forth in spring and fall to meet the terrible future of dress with any thing but a cheerful heart. The tyranny of dress-makers, who change the fashions per petually, and that greater tyranny which Es génie introduced, of a profusion of trimmings, make this a very serious business, and if our American women dress tastelessly sometimes it is because in attempting to rival the art of the French masters of costume with inexperienced hands they break down. It is the old story of the Irish cook trying to make a vol au vent de volaille. Now, the real French is not showy, it is simply elegant and fit."

"You mean 'fit' in the best sense-that is, adapted to the occasion?"

"Yes. You remember the old story of the anger of the politicians when Mr. Webster said that the nomination of General Scott was one 'not fit to be made?' They thought he meant something very bad, as they say in New England not fit for any thing,' when they wish to be utterly condemnatory. We get the true sense of some Eng lish words only when a master uses them. However, to return to our dresses. I think

American women would gladly dress more simply, and with less expense and trouble, if they could."

"Who in the vast universe prevents them?" said Orestes, with a pounding emphasis. Certainly not the men."

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66

Yes, the men. No man would admire a woman in a past fashion; every man desires, in his heart, to see his wife, daughter, his lady-love, or his sister, in the best, prettiest, most elegant dress in the room."

"Yes, but he and she would never agree as to which was the best, prettiest, and most elegant. I like a plain dress, with no trimmings, one color and one material, no tie-back (that horror of horrors !), no immense and grotesque protuberance behind, and no high color."

"Don't you think that would be a little skimpy?" said I.

"Well, skimpy is a good word, and I accept it. I must say I do object to the idea and the thing, but a woman of good figure is never skimpy."

"There, you have reached the core at last. A woman of good figure.' Yes, she looks well in the dress you describe, but not one woman in fifty has a good figure. Dress is made measurably to conceal defects and heighten beauties, as moonlight is said to do; so those who are too thin, and those who are too stout, must be made to look well by judicious trimmings. It is really a concession to defects which brings about extraordinary fashions."

"And so the really beautiful figures have no chance, have they?" said Orestes.

"Oh, yes, they have their chance, and assert themselves, if only by grace of movement, but the inferior Venuses come up by the gracious interposition of fashion."

"Gracious interposition of fiddlesticks!" said Orestes, politely. "I hate fashion and all its works. I think it makes our women hideous. I think they have made it a Juggernaut, which they fall down and worship. They let it run over them, and crush them. Instead of being beautiful creatures, in a white muslin, with a rose in the hair, they are masses of silk, gauze, passementerie, frills, conflicting colors, and general confusion."

"You remind me of the negro minstrel's joke, who called passementerie 'pass 'em on to me.' It seemed to me at the races the other day that you found the best-dressed young ladies very charming, although they were very much dressed, and in those very objectionable articles you have named."

"Yes, I was trying to see if there really was an agreeable young woman among those disguised creatures. I felt for their martyrdom, too, poor things!-mounted on high heels, which tortured them, and laced out of all freedom of action; tied back' to that degree that they could not go up or down stairs except by extraordinary efforts. I said to myself, How are all these gentle hearts able to beat under such distressing circumstances? Why don't they stop? Why don't these poor things die?' That was what I was concerned in conjecturing."

“They have a great deal of vitality; they live even through more severe trials than those you have described," said I.

"I think the French Empire had a great deal to do with it. There was a beautiful woman on the throne; she had a number of rich and idle ladies in waiting, and Paris had nothing to do but to dance, flirt, and spend money, for several years. A good dresser, on a throne, can realize her dreams. Eugénie developed Worth and Pinchon, who soon learned how to make money out of female folly, and the stage caught it up. You know the pièces des robes became so fashionable and so expensive that the French actresses finally declared that they would not play in them if their salaries were not raised proportionately. They said, as Fanny Davenport said, very admirably, to a reporter the other day, that for dress to be confounded with true art was an insult to art, and that actresses did not wish to be remarked for the splendor of their dresses, but by the grace and fidelity with which they portrayed the passions. Still, no woman can have a success on the modern stage unless she is well dressed."

"I wish you would not use the term welldressed-say expensively, showily, gaudily dressed."

"I will compromise, and say' fashionably dressed and that includes also, unhappily, 'expensively' dressed. You see we have a powerful party against us, even if we should be strong-minded, and try to return to simplicity. We have the French dress-makers, whose interest it is to increase the sale of the silks and velvets of Lyons; and the thousand and one manufactures of Paris; then we have you men, who secretly like to see us fashionably dressed; then we have the deceitfulness and vanity of our own hearts."

"Yes, quite the latter, but leave out 'us men;' we like you better in one bonnet, a very quiet one, and one black silk or white muslin, than in all the paraphernalia of Worth."

"Did you know that Worth had a large aviary, and studied the colors of birds to teach him the mysteries of colors?"

"Yes, I think I remember one or two years ago, women looked like parrots, in two shades of yellow green. I wish I could say that the resemblance stopped with the dress."

"Well, birds know how to dress, if anybody does," said I. "Worth is now introducing a black dress with scarlet linings. I know the bird he gets that from; I had him in my garden this summer, the dear, shining, graceful, brilliant creature! I thought he was one of the best-dressed persons I had seen all summer."

"Yes, black and scarlet will do for some brunette, with rather a yellow skin, and white teeth, a delicate figure, such as your bird had, no doubt."

"It is true, my bird had a delicate figure -there was a gray bird, too, with a crimson throat; and also a Baltimore oriole, all flashing with orange and black, a feathered gem; and there were some humming-birds, gotten up in green and bronze. I do not think we could do better than to copy them."

"If judiciously, I should say yes, but some milk-white blonde will choose the Baltimore oriole, and some pale brunette the gray with the crimson throat, while some woman whose naturally sallow tints have been increased by eating hot bread will put on the humming-bird."

'Oh, no, hope for better things, Orestes! There were some distracting bluebirds for the blondes, and some tender doves, all purple, and drab, and brown, for those who have the apple-blossom complexion, for which you must acknowledge your country women are famous."

Yes, my countrywomen have good complexions, my countrywomen are beautiful, but they have not good taste in dress, they are exaggerated, they are too voyantes. You see I have to return to French when I express your faults and foibles. The French proverbs are all of dress, and vanity, and the shop. 'Adieu la voiture! adieu la boutique!' is their way of saying that the affair is over,' you know."

"Yes, but they also had Rochefoucauld."

A Latin, born a thousand years after his time-but we will come back to your three bonnets. This is the text of my discourse you might have done with one bonnet. Your grandmother did with one, and it lasted her, doubtless, three years."

"My grandmother lived in a different age from mine; she had a much better brocade than I ever shall have."

"Yes, she had that advantage over you. What she bought was better woven, better made, it lasted better, but she also had better sense: she knew too much to be the tool of a French dress-maker."

"She wrote out to France, three years before she wanted it, for a 'lute-string slip of pale rose-color, and lace lappets.""

66

And you have the lace lappets yet? "Yes, and French slippers with high heels, à la Marie Antoinette, and long gloves, and a white hat with enormous plumes, and no end of gimp going round and round in endless circles. That was one of her bonnets, and another is still extant with an artificial peony standing straight up from her pretty face. I rather think grandma was a daughter of Eve, and liked French fashions as well as we do."

"Perhaps! but she did not spend half so much money."

"I do not know; she had good solid gold and silver to spend, while we have only greenbacks. I think gold and silver must have been a check on the imagination."

"Yes, paper money has made us all wondrous extravagant, it is so easy to carry about. But since we are on the subject, do you see any diminution of extravagance? is the hardness of the times affecting the prices or the splendor of woman's attire?"

"No, dresses are just as expensive, the modistes are run down with custom, the women are as gloriously arrayed as the king's daughter. I see no signs of retrenchment anywhere."

"Are all the ladies of fifty going to dress as if they were fifteen?"

"Not all-some of them will."
"That," said Orestes, solemnly, "is the

and when I say that, I have exhausted myself of my richest Jeremiad. A woman should dress always a little ahead of time; it is the wisest coquetry. But when she dresses behind time, old Father Time takes a most ungentlemanly revenge. He makes her look ten years older than she is."

"You might as well tell the country to resume specie payments; you might as well issue an order that it should snow to-morrow; you might as well try to turn the course of the Mississippi, as to try to influence the fashions, or to make women (most women) confess even to themselves that they have got to the period when they should dress according to their age."

Orestes was appeased by this confession, so he became very good-natured and rather dull.

"I think," said he, " that American women have one delicious charm-they are very neat, the neatest women in the world; that covers a multitude of sins."

"Yes, you have only to travel in foreign countries to find out that our American wommen have learned that supreme secret of beauty and attractiveness, cleanliness, freshness, good boots, good gloves, and plenty of soapand water. Those fresh complexions and clear eyes speak of cold baths and long walks."

"Yes," said Orestes, rather snappishly, recovering his ill-humor, "if they would wear plain gray woolen gowns, instead of flounced, furbelowed, tied-back silks, I should adore them."

"But tobacco and brandy cost more than silks, and are not half so ornamental."

"Just listen, will you?" said the fiend: Wine, spirits, and cordials, imported into the United States at the port of New York, ten months ending April, 1875, six million four hundred and sixty-three thousand six hundred and fifty-two dollars; tobacco, five million seven hundred and seventy-three thousand five hundred and sixty-five dollars; silks, twenty-one million eight hundred and sixty-one thousand one hundred and six dollars; jewelry and precious stones, about three million; shawls, about two million; dressgoods of wool, eighteen million. Now, these are from the published statements of the New York custom-house, and you see nearly twenty-two million dollars for silks alone; all unnecessary, and all for you women."

"What is your coat lined with, Orestes?" Alpaca, I suppose-no, it is silk-I did not know."

"Then we women do not use all the silk; it is used for hangings and furniture-coverings, all the brocatelle things, and for lining the coats of you, the superior sex- - don't charge us with all the twenty-two million dollars!"

"A very unfair, womanish argument." Besides," said I, "silk dresses are a ne

useful, so neat, as a silk dress? The worms were invented, the mulberry-tree was planted, for woman; it is one of the few alleviations of her hard destiny that she can wear a silk dress. Why, see what an ungallant attack there is upon us in the Galaxy: A woman's wrath is of no consequence; a woman is of no importance except as she is the wife or mother of some man!' Did you ever hear of such preposterous assumption? You must have written that article, Orestes!"

Yes, particularly the figure of woman!" "Now, Orestes, would you like to have Mrs. Orestes badly dressed, out of the fashion, in an unbecoming or inelegant dress?" "No; but I do not mean to give her three bonnets of a winter."

"I have an idea that Mrs. Orestes will have as many bonnets as she wishes, and will get you to agree that every one of them is necessary, fit, and becoming!"

"No doubt, no doubt, you remember Thackeray's lines:

And when a woman smiled,

Old Adam was beguiled,' etc.

So we have no hope except in that good sense of the women themselves, and that generosity to which we never appeal in vain. Look at the women in our late war-we did not have to ask them then to drop their fancywork and take up the knitting of stockings; we did not have to ask them to wear plain dresses, and go nurse in the hospitals. No! they were at the work before we thought of asking them. Now, when the nation is crippled and in debt, and the men staggering under a load of financial embarrassment, will they, can they dress so magnificently? Can they be willing to pay out such sums for silks and velvets when men love them better in simpler attire, and when they are really putting on another and another and another load for us to stagger under, by their indulgence in fine clothes? The more I talk with you, the more I see that the reform has got to come from woman herself. Nothing that man can say will ever influence her."

"I declare, Orestes, it is the worst sign of the hard times I have seen yet-you are getting pathetic!"

M. E. W. S.

The wagons, in fact, were positively queer, but the appearance of the above-mentioned fourteen, as they awaited the arrival of the horses, was more than queer. For these fourteen, who had come away from the hot city to indulge in the pleasures of fishing and hunting, and all the joys of a wild, camping out life in the woods, very properly decided to leave their good clothes behind them.

So the people of those regions, believing that "dress"

"Makes the man, and want of it the fellow," stared at this party in organized squads, and raised their wonder to the Nth power. There stood three men, who can be seen any day on Third Street near Chestnut, where brokers most do congregate, and are known as per fect Turveydrops of deportment, men who could tell you all you would want to know about the changes in the gold-market, in knit-jackets and army-shirts, like so many small boys in an orphan asylum. And there, in an old suit of butternut gray that would have done credit to any of the sons of Southern chiral ry, grasping a double-barreled shot-gun with one hand and a Wesson rifle with the other, while innumerable small boys and attachés held fishing rods and flies, stood one who, though he walks quietly down the principal street of the Centennial City every afternoon about five o'clock, was here calling out wildly, like Sempronius, for war to the very knife with all the tribes of deer, fish, and fowl, for miles around, and trusted, like Behemoth, that he could "draw up Jordan," or, in other words, that he would fish the streams all dry. And there was an M. D., whom we have fre quently seen driving his two black ponies fu riously, like the driving of Jehu, and could tel you every thing from the earliest recorded clinic to the questionable merits of the lates autopsy. He, too, looked as if he meant te enjoy himself as a very Mudjekewis in this Indian life.

Then there were six clergymen and three embryo ones, who all believed in the impe

tion of hands-at least as far as the mustard pot and milk-pitcher were concerned-and equally agreed that man was "very far geze from original righteousness" when the de kept well out of sight, and the sun, too; a when the seventh day of perpetual rain tered the fried pork and soaked the seats and beds, and provoked even these saintly me to use expressions savoring rather of strength than of righteousness. Then there were the guides, ten of them. "Human and various" best describes the entire lot.

That night, after a long ride, these same fourteen heroes, sitting side by side, migh have been seen vacantly staring into futur from the back-piazza of Martin's Hotel Saranac Lake, justly styled by eminent geog raphers "the jumping-off place." Here comfortably quartered Mr. Headley, the bis torian, and first writer of Adirondack adver Here we saw returning parties laden with trophies of their sport in the wildernes full of strange tales of good luck; partie whose joys were those of retrospect, as o were joys of anticipation; parties who looked as if they had been through a campaign, and

ures.

were candidates for some antibilious tres

ment. Then, too, we felt that we were through with hotels; that we took our own destiny in our hands, when, like Sherman cutting loose from all base of supplies, we should have to be dependent upon our own exertions. Already our appetites were something fearful. That very noon, while resting at a half-way hotel at Franklin Falls, we had partaken of a good dinner for fifty cents, where the following indication of shrewdness and hunger on the part of guest and feminine intuition on the part of waitress occurred. It happened that I did not eat my triangular allowance of blueberry-pie, whereupon the mild-mannered doctor, who sat next to me, observed:

"Don't you want any pie?"

But, on the principle Emerson mentions in one of his essays, where he says that a murder is no sooner committed than Nature sends a snow-storm to track the murderer's flying feet, the fatal blue, smeary daub upon the mouth betrayed the hidden deceit, and the girl, faithful to the best interests of her employer, spoke out:

"I rather guess you've had all the pie you'll get to-day. If that there young man wants his'n, he can have it; but we don't go it here dead-head on pie!"

But we were through with hotels now, and were to feed, and cook, and wait upon ourselves.

Let me describe our party as we sat on the back-piazza of Martin's, with the rain pouring down in torrents, with the barometer "set" rain for a week, with the guides and the boats ready and paid for, and "bitterly thought of the morrow."

First came the delegation from Massachusetts, which was known as the party of Job and his three friends. We called Rev. Dr.

Job, because he bore so patiently the upbraiding presence of his tormenting guide "Dirty Mart," and because his young theological friends were like Eliphaz the Temanite, and Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite, in their sympathetic consolations.

This Dirty Mart used to break in upon his reverend frien l's meditations, as they were rowing along the lake with stories and personal reminiscences which were very far from the environment of their lovely surroundings. His highest boast was that he never washed himself. His hat, he said, he had worn for the last eight years, and that in all probability it would last for eight years more. Thus, whenever Job was lifted up to heaven by the beauty and loveliness of the scenery, he was immediately cast down again to the lower earth by this unmoved son of the wilderness.

Then there was a reverend brother from the West. His feet and pantaloons were wet and muddy, and were hardly like the "beautiful feet of those who preach the gospel of peace," of whom the apostle speaks. He

was grievously afflicted with that malady little Miss Pankey had-" the sniffles"-which disease, she was informed, would exclude her from the blessed society of heaven because it was not of such sniffling ones that the kingdom of heaven was composed. This brother was near-sighted, and ate immoderately of maple - molasses, and so he was called the Rev. Wackford Squeers.

Next to Squeers sat a Third Street broker. He was a good fellow, superintendent of a large Sunday-school, and generally the soul of good-humor-but this night he was suffering from the effects of undigested huckleberry-pie, and things went wrong with him. Dave, his guide, said he was a fellow that didn't care nothin' for nobody," and, though this statement was too general for his daily walk and conversation, it described his condition exactly when in a state of physical ail

ment.

of "Whewell's History of the Inductive Sciences," of which, in our six weeks' camping out, he read about thirty pages in volume number one. He was very good at prayers, which we had daily, but bad beyond measure in eating fried pork and hard-tack, and sitting on moist boards around the festal table during the wet, wet days of the August storm. Satan daily tempted him with saying, with unadvised lips, "Confound this weather!" Sometimes, when the other five ministerial brethren were within hearing, he got over this temptation, but if he was alone with the guides, Satan generally had his own way. He was very intense in every thing he did: intense in hating wet hemlock - boughs to sleep on; intense in thinking "what a pity it was we didn't come earlier;" intense in blowing up the guides because they were late with meals. But he used to leave bags and bundles at the last stopping-place all through the lakes, and then would have to go back for them-which made his guide very mad. He wore corduroy trousers, a military hat, with cross-cannons on it, like General Sherman's, and a red shirt. He used to hum a great many airs, sacred and secular. Among these, his favorite air, which he sang like the trained goldfinches in cages, always up to a certain point and never beyond it, was "Garibaldi's Hymn." And so we called him "Garibaldi."

Then there was another business-man who had never seen a deer before, save at menageries and in the pictures of his natural-history books. But he had a murderous-looking pistol in his belt, and a rifle by his side; his trousers were tucked in his boots, and he had a quantity of straps and buckles over his shoulders. He looked like campaign pictures of John C. Fremont, the path-finder, and he sat by the hour on Martin's piazza, whistling. Some men whistle when they are ashamed, as when they pass by importunate mendicants; and some men whistle when they are afraid, as when they pass by graveyards at night. But this young man was neither ashamed nor afraid. He had just eaten a hearty supper at the time we are describing him, and consequently he was happy. In fact, if his head was as full as his stomach, he was wise as well as happy. How ever this may be, our young friend was ready for the morrow. His name was Oliver Twist, because, like Dickens's little hero from the "Workus," he was forever asking at mealtime for "more!" And then, too, his round-rollicking, "wild-frenzy-rolling" effect. He about peajacket reminded us all of little Oliver. Besides, he was good, but green-with reference to deer-slaughtering.

After Oliver came the Divinity-Student. He was dressed in an old uniform of the University Light Artillery of Philadelphia. In the good old war times, in the famous division of Philadelphia "home-guards "—a set of men of whom it was erroneously reported that they guarded their houses until the Confederates invaded Pennsylvania, and then marched North - this uniform might have been proudly seen in many a brilliant parade. But time, and the moth and rust of disuse, had made of it only the shabby remains of gentility. It was tight for this theological student, and it was tawdry as well as tight, and it was hot, and the blue dye came off, and it smelt of camphor and tobacco-ends, and the gold-lace on it had become very dim, but still this young man, like Asher on the sea-coast, "abode in his bree(a)ches."

Next to this theolog ("heavy-log") sat a reverend gentleman, who didn't expect to do much shooting, but had come for the "delights of camp - life," the "pure air, you know," and the "reinvigorating sleep on the hemlock branches." He had three large volumes

"The Ancient Mariner " was the next hero-a doctor of divinity, and rector of a large city church. He was the author of sev eral books, and was never known to be idle for a moment. His letters and envelopes were all covered over with notes of lectures and addresses. He used to sit by the camp-fire and write, and used to get up with the sun to keep on writing. He had a wicked-looking pistol in his sash, which I believe was never loaded. He wore a gray shirt, which was too tight to be buttoned round the neck. He left it open, therefore, and it had a very loose,

looked as Byron would have looked had he lived to be fifty-five years old.

Then there was the medical doctor, who had to be good with so much divinity around. He had a long, blue, army overcoat, which he used as a night-gown. He also had a shotgun, which he loaded three times consecutively, forgetting on each occasion that he had loaded it before, and that it had never been discharged. So, as it was shotted down to the muzzle, he never fired it off, but simply carried it about for the "feel and the look of it." We called him the MedicineMan.

The Merchant-Man and the Fireman sat beyond the Medicine-Man, talking about the prospects of their journey. The Divinity-Student and the Merchant-Man were in love with the same young lady. Consequently, they were a little jealous of each other. The Fireman was the "middle - man" of the affair, "the mutual friend" and "go-between," and so he was first thick with one of these gentlemen and then thick with the other. His advice was consulted daily as to what was to be done, and as to how far the other was "in." Being himself the veteran of a hundred love-affairs, his advice was the more