but in spite of this solace he was fast be- words of encouragement, blown off to the coming drowsy. Jones's situation mean- Virginia shore, and unheard even by ourtime was far worse than ours. His cloth-selves, who stood beside her. ing had been light, and now, saturated Again our crew lost heart. Again the with water, it became a mass of ice. The spirit of mutiny broke out in murmurs. rock on which he stood was barely large Cold and exhaustion were having their enough to keep him out of water, and its effect. They were becoming querulous. slippery surface made it dangerons to Some, too, like Grymes, were getting torpid, change his position. Most fortunately he and it required constant rousing to keep had brought a flask of brandy, intending to them from sinking into that dread sleep administer it to those he came to save. told of by arctic voyagers. The parson and Though he was not a hundred feet from I tried jokes to keep their spirits up, but our wrecked scow, communication with him we hardly provoked a smile. was impossible. Between us ran a torrent, with its bewildering roar. But every few minutes nothing could restrain Miss Parthie from standing up, fluttering her handkerchief, spreading out her arms, and uttering

I think the men were so absorbed in their own sufferings, and we were so occupied in rousing and encouraging them, that we might have forgotten the bold brave man who was perishing for our sakes with

in sight, but for one among us. Again and again I saw Miss Parthie on her knees, again and again I heard her ask the minister to help her pray for him. Through those long hours of endurance and suspense we all could see her heart was turning toward him. Grymes, if he watched her, must have seen his cause was lost, and wounded

THE RESCUE.

vanity and disappointed hope must have been added to his sufferings.

At last another cry-a cry of hope this time-broke from Miss Parthie's swollen lips, as we raised her to her post of observation. There was a stir at Bayne's, and soon came into view, far down below the rapids on the Maryland shore, a stout party of Virginians from the other side, carrying a small skiff, and led on by 'Lord Allen.

This revived hope. Poor Jones had some time before dropped down upon his rock, and I fancied he must have sunk into the fatal stupor. Miss Parthie, with her long hair blowing around her face, and lifted on the bulwark of the wreck, screamed hope to him. The men roared, yelled, and cheered. We even pelted him. At last, to our unspeakable relief, he stirred. He saw Miss Parthie as she stood up high above the rest, pointing toward the coming deliverance. He roused himself, sat up, and watched, with the rest of us, the new efforts that were being made to reach us.

When they touched land, Miss Parthie sprang into her father's arms. Eager hands lifted up Jones, and carried him away to be under charge of the doctor.

"How is it with you, daughter? What has happened? Are you married? I'll forgive him, for your sake," cried 'Lord Alleu to his daughter.

"Nothing has happened. I am very sorry-very thankful to God for saving all our lives, and for sending you to help us, dearest father. I will be a better girl to you henceforth than you have ever found me." "Are you married, child? Where's Grymes? I am ready to shake hands with

him."

"No, father, that is at an end. I will never marry any man, unless he be a man whom you admire and approve. And if such a man should never ask me, I will live and die as I still am-only 'Lord Allen's daughter."

"Bless me!" exclaimed her father, consigning her to the women of the farm, who clustered round, importunate about hot tea and a warmed bed and a dry change of clothing, "I must go and tell all this to Jones. He thought you were already mar

The skiff was carried up by eager hands to the spot whence Jones had started to our rescue. We learned afterward that she had been found by Mr. Allen eight miles down the river. The rope that had detached it-ried, when he set out to save you." self from Jones was made fast to her stern, and they launched her, with three men in her, on her voyage of peril. There was especial danger of her being swamped from the weight of the rope she towed behind; but she was managed by expert boatmen, and reached the flat rock occupied by Jones in safety. Here she paused. There was some difficulty in embarking him : his limbs seemed paralyzed. At last they got him in, and wrapping him in a blanket they had brought, laid him at the bottom of their little vessel. Our men cheered him vociferously. Then the light boat was guided to our wreck, the rope was made fast, and we were again united with the shore.

Three or four trips of the Virginia skiff took off the rest of us. It was dusk when the boat for the last time left the wreck, the parson, Blackman, myself, and Grymes being on board of her. Grymes was quite silent. He wrapped himself in a blanket offered him in the boat, and stalked ashore in it when we touched bottom.

"Now the lady and her husband-no one else. We'll come back for the rest of you." Miss Parthie in anxiety and haste sprang lightly into the skiff, assisted by our parson. A man caught her, wrapped her in a blanket, and seated her beside Jones, whose head she raised upon her lap immediately.

"That's all for the present!" cried our parson, with a magnanimity and delicacy that did him honor, while I called out to the men, as the skiff shoved off, "Give three cheers for Miss Allen, men! Three cheers for Mr. Jones and Miss Parthenia Allen!"

The men took the idea, and roared her maiden name. I saw Jones rouse himself and clasp the hands that were chating his cold temples.

The men were now passing their skiff with little trouble back to shore by means of a line with a slip-noose worked along the rope of communication.

"I must go home with him," said the parson, pressing my hand; "he will need care and watching now to keep him away from whiskey."

The blanket he carried off proved to me a heavy responsibility. He never sent it back again, but in the end it was paid for by the company.

A month later I was invited to Fair Park by a card tied up with white satin ribbon. Our twelve Irishmen were also bidden, and each had been provided with a wedding suit of "store clothes"-Miss Parthie Allen's gift-to which they added wedding favors as big as tay-kettles."

They appeared in the character of gallant men and jolly watermen, and were gloriously honored and admired by numerous retainers of their own class who shared the hospitalities of Fair Park on great family occasions.

Blackman, among the negroes, had all the glory to himself, and deserved his share.

On entering the great hall the first man whom I met was our brave minister, who had brushed a good deal of the professional parson out of his garb and hair.

"I am not to perform the marriage," he observed. "In the first place, I am not eli

gible, this being Virginia, and in the next | takes place without any self-denials, or replace, they have a preference for being mar-grets, or suppressed misgivings; and as I ried by a book, according to the Protestant have ever since visited them every year, Episcopal formulary. But Mr. Jones insists you may take my word for it that their that I must take a wedding fee. See here" married life has been a happy one. --and he produced a fresh crisp note of the Bank of the Valley of Virginia from his vest. "It is for the same amount as that to be given to the reverend doctor who will read the Episcopalian ceremony. See! they are ready. Let us go in."

I got promotion on the railroad and the approval of my employers, due, I suppose, to the fuss 'Lord Allen made over my share in the adventure.

Grymes lived to consider his discomfiture a joke, and it became the most brilliant We did so, and heard Miss Parthenia vow chapter in an amusing narrative he used to to love, honor, and obey Jonas Jefferson tell of his ventures and adventures in the Jones. 'Lord Allen, as he gave the bride paths that should have led him to the away, seemed the happiest father I have temple of matrimony. A great many years ever seen at any wedding, and all the la- later I heard he had been married to a dies said they never saw a bride so openly well-to-do widow, somewhere in the mountin love with her husband as Mrs. Jones. It ains, who smoked a clay pipe, and who kept was that rarest of all weddings, one that | him in good order.

BEN AZIM'S CREED.

In an old city under Eastern skies
There lived Ben Azim, whom men called the Wise.
And all sweet youths on noble deeds intent
For golden counsel to Ben Azim went.
Thus in the silver silence of the night
The sage beheld a Brahmin, strong and bright,
And young as Neptune when his lover-hand
Caught back the waves from the enamored land,
Standing within the tent. "Master," he said,
"The way is long to seek the wiser dead;
"Therefore I come to thee. Tell me, I pray,
What best sufficeth for life's fitful day?
"What dreams are whitest when the day is

spent,

And memory and moonlight fill the tent?"
Then rare Ben Azim, loving wider brow
And broader gaze than puny spirits know,

Made answer: "Come, O Prince; the moon is
high;

Beneath its shining thou shalt find reply."
He led him onward where a glistening pile
Of marble makes the solemn moonshine smile,
And willing winds may draw the curtain's fold,
And fair and ravishing the scene they hold.
Beneath a hundred prisoned moons swung low
In alabaster vases, glow on glow,

One lay in silken ease, and smiled to see
The happy dancers in their graceful glee,
And sighed a little with the sighing lyre,
Whose lulling seems diviner than desire;
And smiled again because his Nourmahal
Answered with lifted, lighted eyes his call.
"No tumult save the viol's enters here,
Where cyclamen and musk are atmosphere.
"No schemes make discord in that charmèd air,
Where to be careless is the only care.
"And age shall wither and the dead leaves fall,
And still some amorous, fawn-eyed Nourmahal

"Will feed his heart. Roses and maidens die,
But love and bloom and fragrance are for aye."
The Brahmin faced the teacher, with surprise
And swift reproaches in his eager eyes.
"If this be life, I comprehend," he said,
"The smile upon the faces of the dead."
Ben Azim's glance grew fond. "I do not say
Brahma hath left us no more royal way;

"But they who choose it walk with unshod
feet,

As one I know walks yonder stricken street,
"Where dying children, feeling his caress,
Take it for their dead mother's tenderness;
"And men the plague had crushed are men
again,

His courage being stronger than their pain.
"Poorer than lean pariahs, none may leave
A gift 'twould make him richer to receive,

IN

MOTLEY, THE HISTORIAN.

Holmes's views on some of the deepest subjects which can command the attention of N the satires of Dryden and Pope, the god thoughtful minds, nobody ever accused him or goddess of Dullness descends on some of being dull. The self-imposed reticences tenant of Grub Street, and after congratula- in this charming sketch of Motley's career ting him on his success in making stupidity do not prevent him from piquant disclosures popular, commonly ends with the injunc- which present the historian of liberty in his tion, "Be thou dull!" The meaning is that true character as a singularly brave, honest, he who has raised himself to notoriety by and noble gentleman. The man had the feeble thoughts embodied in bad verses usual infirmities of men; but that he was a should continue true to that power whose grand specimen of cultured American manaid has lifted him to a transient eminence. hood, as well as a notable example of AmeriIn this way Dryden and Pope wrought can intelligence, can not be doubted by any their revenges on what they called the body who enjoyed the pleasure of his acdunces on Flecknoe and Shadwell, on Cib-quaintance, or by any body who has studied ber and Theobald-in short, on all authors his works. Manhood, free, resolute, intrepwho were the enemies of Mr. Dryden and|id, and somewhat disdainful manhood, is the Mr. Pope. If we could conceive of some impression of Motley derived from the readmore benignant deity descending on the ing of his histories, and it was eminently cradle of Oliver Wendell Holmes, his in- the same impression which familiar knowljunction to the infant would undoubtedly edge of him stamped on the minds of his have been this: "Be thou bright!" It is friends. Dr. Holmes's biography reflects the certainly true that Holmes has never been feelings and judgments of all these friends, able to escape from the fate which doomed whether in the United States or in Europe. him to be brilliant. He has made desper- John Lothrop Motley was born in Dorchesate attempts to be dull, for he has written ter, Massachusetts, on April 15, 1814. His bia score of medical addresses, in which the ographer tell us that the historian's life was latest results of medical discovery have been saved a hundred years before he was born. stated with all due regard to those terrible One of his maternal ancestors, a child living Latin names of diseases which frighten half in Haverhill, Massachusetts, was hidden by to death the tenants of most sick-beds; a house-maid under a wash-tub in the cellar but into these addresses he has insinuated of her father's house when it was assailed strokes of wit and humor which force smiles by Indians in 1708. The savages missed or laughter from those healthy men who are their prey by this comical contrivance, and yet to know the awful significance of the Motley thus became a possible human being aches and pains which modern medicine is a hundred and six years before he entered exerting all its skill to alleviate. On the life. His father was a prosperous Boston philosophy of the mind, as connected with merchant who had Irish blood in his veins, physiology, he has shown himself one of the and his mother was a daughter of that race boldest and most original thinkers on facts of Lothrop which has given so many excelwhich the latest science has established. lent Protestant clergymen to New England The books in which these facts and the churches. Thomas Motley, the father, is logical inferences from them are stated at still remembered in Boston as one of the length are to the unprofessional reader finest of that old school of commercial men the dullest of all books, yet as Autocrat, who were prominent in society as well as in Poet, and Professor of the Breakfast Table commerce, and in whom the sagacity of the he has made them fascinating to thousands merchant was combined with the manners of readers whom the elaborate treatises of and the sentiments of the accomplished and Maudsley and Carpenter would disgust. His genial gentleman. The mother, by the teslittle octodecimo on the Mechanism of Morals timony of all who knew her, was remarkis a masterpiece of its kind, condensing the able for her somewhat regal beauty, for result of his laborious professional life in "the charm of her serene and noble presone of the most charming contributions ever ence," and for the admirable way in which made to practical ethics. As a serious poet she performed all the duties of a matron. the stream of his sentiment flows over gold- The son was one of those pre-eminently en sands, sparkling with pathos-if such a handsome boys who, as the world goes, phrase can be allowed; and in those verses in seem doomed to be ruined because fortune which he gives full play to the ludicrous ec- has saved them from laboring for a living, centricities of his fancy and imagination he is and nature has been prodigal in lavishing never a mere versifier of jokes, but always a upon them physical beauty. When Motley witty and humorous poet. In his last work, had grown to man's estate, Lady Byron dethe biography of his friend Motley, abounding clared that he more resembled her husband as it does in felicitous strokes of character- than any person she had ever met; but ization, as well as in calm, judicial estimates Wendell Phillips, his playmate and classof evidence, he never loses his old attractive-mate, objects to this opinion on the ground ness. Indeed, whatever may be said of Dr. that Motley was handsomer than Byron. VOL. LVIII.-No. 348.-57

And here it may be well to state that Mr. greatest of modern statesmen-Bismarck— Phillips, though the greatest iconoclast of and the acquaintance ripened into a personinstitutions and reputations that modern al friendship which continued until Motley's New England has ever seen, has always death. Dr. Holmes prints a letter from Bisbeen exceedingly tender to Motley, though marck's secretary, in which this friendship is Motley must have often offended him by the recorded in cordial terms. "The most strikcourse he took in political affairs. It may ing feature of his handsome and delicate apalso be said that Motley never said a harsh pearance," says Bismarck, "was uncommonly word of Phillips. The affection between large and beautiful eyes. He never entered them was so close that though they took a drawing-room without exciting the curiwidely divergent roads, which led eventu-osity and sympathy of the ladies." The ally, however, to the same goal, each in-biographer does not add that as university stinctively recognized the integrity of the students they were once arrested and lodged other, while they seemed diametrically op- in the same guard-house by a few superservposed in methods as well as aims. There iceable policemen of Berlin, on the charge can be no stronger evidence than this of of disturbing the peace of that city. The Motley's strong hold on the hearts of all his amount of the offense consisted in singing a classmates during the "ups and downs" of little too loudly as they were returning from his subsequent career. a students' festival. In the after meetings The beautiful boy was saved from being of Bismarck and Motley, when the former spoiled by a combination in his nature of an had become a disturber of the peace indeed, immense intellectual ambition with a cor- this occurrence probably was an enjoyable responding self-distrust. To the end of his topic of conversation. Being at the time life he was consumed with a desire to per-"fellow-lodgers in the house No. 161 Friedform great things, and to the end of his life rich Strasse," living in the closest hutimacy, he was painfully sensible that he had not "sharing meals and out-door exercise," they come up to his lofty ideal. Like many oth-doubtless contrived to endure that night's er young men of genius, he was desultory in confinement with philosophical composure. his studies, and in school and college never On his return to the United States in 1834, reached the standard of "the good boy" or Motley gave no extraordinary evidence of the diligent student. His intellect develop- the wisdom acquired by his German studies, ed by a process of intellectual irritation. A except his marriage, in 1837, to the beautiful certain swiftness of mind, catching quickly and intelligent Mary Benjamin-a lady beat the spirit of what he studied, but neglect- | loved by every body who knew her, and ing the orderly technicalities which denote whom he may be said to have won as his the progress of a student in his class, distin- wife against a score of brilliant competitors. guished his course through school and col- Dr. Holmes remarks of this admirable womlege. All his schoolmates and classmates an that those who remember her find it difhad immense confidence in the brilliancy of ficult to speak of her amiability, her sincerhis talents, but his "grade" did not corre-ity, her frankness, her sister-like feeling for spond to his reputation. His fellow-stu- the many young men who could never asdents were also sometimes offended by the pire to be her lovers, with "the common almost cynical haughtiness of his behavior. terms of praise they award to the good and Still his reserve would so often give way to the lovely." Certainly no wife of a man of a hilarious sympathy with their pursuits, letters was ever more warmly loved or more that he never lost popularity amid all the deeply mourned by her husband. While she eccentricities of seclusion in which he in-lived she was his companion in every respect dulged. His great distinction, in which he|—the companion of his intellect as well as excelled all his playmates and classmates, was his knowledge of foreign languages. His early familiarity with German impressed even George Bancroft while Motley was a boy in his school at Round Hill; and afterward, when Motley was a student in Har-only by a short period. The intellectual vard College, an address by him on Goethe in one of the college exhibitions was so good as to induce such a trained scholar as Joseph Cogswell to send it to Madame Goethe. Her reply was significant. "I wish," she said, "to see the first book that young man will write."

After leaving Harvard College he spent two years in Europe, studying in the universities both of Berlin and Göttingen. In the latter university he made the acquaintance of a young man who afterward became the

of his heart. Indeed, her whole life was blended with his, and it may be mentioned as one of the felicities of his career, as far as his happiness and not his fame was concerned, that her death anticipated his own

irritability of the husband, never satisfied with what he had done, yet feeling that there was no adequate appreciation in some of the social circles in which he moved of what his genius and toil had accomplished, was charmingly contrasted with the soft sweet manners of the wife, proud of the just glory of her husband, yet tolerant of the ignorant "fashionables" who knew him to be a celebrity, but were as blind to the patient labor as to the vivid genius on which the celebrity was founded. The good wife