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"Let me go home with you," said I. "I am a doctor; if your father is ill, I may be of use to him."
She hesitated, and then, with a sudden resolution, took my hand, and led me on. It was a turning not far from the Cursaal, down a lane, and into a yard, where there was a stand of donkeys at one end, and a washerwoman at the other. The door of a mean house stood open, and my little guide asked me to stop at the bottom of the stairs, •while she first went up to her father. I •watched her light step, and saw her open a door very cautiously; then a shriek of alarm and horror rang through the house, and I waited no further summons to rush to the room.
The sight that presented itself was indeed appalling: on the bed lay a man apparently lifeless, the pillow and the sheets covered •with blood. I immediately raised his head, and found the bleeding proceeded from the mouth and nose—he nad broken a bloodvessel. The shrieks of the child had brought more assistants than enough, and by dismissing some, and making use of others, I succeeded at last in restoring consciousness to the invalid, and calmness to his poor little daughter.
While applying remedies, I was obliged to stop every attempt to speak on the part of the patient; but he smiled at Alice, whose every faculty seemed absorbed in watching him, and turned his eves towards the table by the side of the bed. On the table were a pack of cards and a pair of much-used dice, a note-book to prick the numbers, and another with a pencil by its side, and filled with calculations. The man's face was haggard and emaciated, evidently in the last stages of consumption, but of finely chiselled
features; his hands also were delicately formed. He was making efforts to speak, and tried to point still to the table, when Alice's quick eye fell on a letter which he must have received in her absence. She held it out to him. I saw the hectic mount to his cheek; and with a flash of the eye and a violent effort to raise himself and to seize it, he exclaimed: "Thank God! I have not ruined my little Alice. It's all her luck, and she deserves it all." The effort brought on a return of the bleeding; he fell back exhausted, and never spoke again.
The letter, whose perusal had so strongly affected him, proved to be the announcement of a considerable fortune, which had been long in litigation, having been adjudged to him, and at his death, to his daughter Alice. His name and family were discovered by this and other papers.
The rest we could only_ guess; his fatal propensity to gambling, his illness, and his sending liis child, when unable to go to the table himself—living thus, by what he had called her wonderful luck, sometimes in ease, sometimes on the verge of starvation; and the end of the feverish, fitful life coming as I have said.
Poor, desolate little Alice did not now want friends; aunts and cousins who had ignored her existence, and avoided her gambling father, now disputed with each other so violently her bringing up, that she stood a chance of being torn up by the roots altogether.
I did not lose sight of her; and when, many years after, I met the graceful, somewhat pensive girl—for she always retained a shade of melancholy—she had never forgotten her friend the doctor of Bad-Schlossenbourg.
Cheap Meat.—A foreign provision broker at Liverpool writes to the Times as follows: "In reference to the high prices of fresh meat, which hare called forth the combined resistance of the consumers at Bristol, it fortunately happens that the United States of America have supplied us this year with a double quantity of really excellent salt beef at prices which, when fairly known by the British public, will be most
acceptable. Really good salt beef of last season's cure can be purchased wholesale at from two and a half pence to lire penco per pound, with a largo proportion of prime joints. This might be sold in retail at threepence to sixpence, and confer a great boon on the community. The meat is considered quite good enough for oar soldiers and sailors, and only requires a fair trial to become an article of regular homo consumption."
From The Literary Gazette. AN ARCTIC BOAT JOURNEY.* The modern story of arctic enterprise equals in variety, and perhaps surpasses in interest, any tale of heroic adventure of which the world has yet heard. It is spiritstirring, in these days of luxurious habits
voyage of nine hundred miles in open boats, •was proposed to his companions by Dr. Kane. For himself, he said, it was a simple duty of honor to remain by the brig; come what might, he would share her fortunes. Twenty-four hours were allowed for deliberation, and at the close of that time eight
and of smooth, easy living, to know that men resolved to remain with their commandthere are men yet among us of the grand er and nine agreed to incur the desperate old stamp—men who are ready to face any risk of a voyage to Upernavik (one of these danger, to undergo any fatigue, to forsake men, however, soon returned to the ship). friends, and home, and country, in order to In cither case, the chances of life were ex
enlarge the boundaries of knowledge, to increase the stores of science, and to satisfy that thirst for enterprise which seems so peculiarly a feature of the Saxon race.
The sickly and timid counsel of utilitarians, who, a^ter Manchester fashion, deprecate any risk which is incurred without the prospect of an immediate and obvious advantage, will never weigh with men of the class to which wo are alluding. And it is well that this is the case; for the love of knowledge for its own sake, the capability of enduring hardships and the readiness to
tremely small. For the whole company to have remained in the brig, would have been to convert the vessel into an hospital, if not j into a grave. In attempting the southward j voyage, there was at least the possibility of success, while those remaining with Dr. Kane would have augmented means of health and comfort.
The story of this expedition, and of its ultimate failure, is related by Mr. Hayes in a simple and unaffected style, without the slightest attempt at fine writing. But a book of this kind would gain nothing whatever by
submit to them, the'generous ardor which is j the craft of the litterateur. The interest is unacquainted with fear, and can calmly look too intense, the incidents too varied, to re
death in the face, the belief in the ultimate gain which will compensate for all present Buffering, form the main elements of a noble
quire any heightening of the effect. Mr. Hayes has succeeded in bringing the scenes of arctic life before us in all their terrible
character and the basis of all that is truly reality, and his minute but not wearisome illustrious in national history. The narra- details enable his readers to form a lifelike tives of arctic adventure, like the enterprises picture of the arctic world. And a marvelthemselves, are now extremely numerous,! lous picture it is—gloomy enough in the and, with the exception of mere compila- j background to have afforded fresh images tions, there is not one of them which will of horror to Dante or Milton: while the not repay perusal. How curious it is, by light and warmth surrounding the " figure the aid of a good map, to follow out the dif- pieces " bring out in exquisite relief the huferent lines of discovery; and even the map j man interest of the landscape.
itself, apart from any other record, has a strange tale of its own to tell. Look at the names which have been given to the bays, capes, and islands discovered in that ultima limit. Almost every one of them has a touching significance and meaning. Some recall the history of past adventures, and the names of arctic sea-kings, which are dear to Englishmen; others land one on some pleasant spot of the home country, and betray by no dubious token the heim-tech of their discoverers; while others, again, like Fury Beach, Point Anxiety, Cape Desolation, and Cape Farewell, seem at once to reveal a tale of endurance and of suffering.
The " Boat Journey" now before us is a record of hardships and of dangers incurred by eight brave men who formed a portion of Dr. Kane's party on the second Gnnnell expedition. In the autumn of 1854, the alternative of being ice-bound for a second winter in Rensselacr Harbor, or of risking a
* An Arctic Boat Journey in the Autumn of 1864. By Isaac J. Hayes. Richard Bcntley.
We shall not attempt to track the steps of Mr. Hayes and his party through the devious windings of their course, and to describe the difficulties with which they had to contend; but we shall endeavor to give our readers some idea of the life led py these brave men during a portion of the time that they were absent from the "Advance." The hope of reaching an open sea, and thus of escaping to Upernavik, stimulated them for a while, and sustained them through almost incredible hardships. Sometimes a storm threatened to engulph them, sometimes the masses of floating ice appearing likely to crush the boats, they were compelled to haul them up upon the doc; anon, a crack in the ice divided the cargo from its masters; or blankets, bread-bags, and buffalo robes became soaked in the water. On they went, sometimes almost starved, often drenched with rain and spray, with the thermometer at twenty-one degrees, and their clothes "stiffening on them like pasteboard:" still on—now hauling their boats on the rocks; now dodging through the packs; now fearing that they should be frozen up and perish; now hoping against hope that they would yet gain the open sea.
"That wo should feel despondent under the circumstances was, perhaps, quite natural; but now, as on other occasions, there was exhibited in the party a courage which triumphed over the distressing fortunes of tho day. Stories, such as sailors alone can tell, followed tho coffee, and interrupted tho monotonous chattering of teeth; and Godfrey, who had a penchant for negro melodies, broke out from time to time with scraps from ' Uncle Ned,' in all its variations, ' Susannah,' and ' I'm off to Charlestown, a little while to stay.' Peterson recited some i f chapters from his boy-life in Copenhagen and
I Iceland ; John gave us some insight into a ' run
ner's ' life in San Francisco and Macao; Whippie told some horrors of the forecastle of a Liverpool packet; but Bonsall drew the chief applause, by ' Who, wouldn't sell a farm and go to sea ?'"
There were greater perils in store for them. At length they found that they could go no further; to retreat was as impossible as to advance. The shore on which they were cast was more barren than any they had yet seen. "The hills were covered with snow; the valleys were filled with drift; the streams •were all dried up; the sea was shrouded in its gloomy mantle. Night—the long arctic night—was setting in; already the sun was below the horizon during the greater part of each twenty-four hours, and in a short time he would sink to rise no more." With food enough to last them for one fortnight, and with only fuel sufficient to cook their food and melt water, they commenced a desperate struggle for existence. The first thing to be done was to build a hut. Fortunately, they had an ice-chisel with which they could loosen the frozen stones, which they carried on their shoulders. These were cemented •with sand, shovelled up with a tin dinnerplate into a a discarded bread-bag. Their oars served for rafters, over which the boat's sails were stretched out and secured by heavy •tones. To thatch the canvas they were compelled to search beneath the snow for moss. All this consumed a weary time, and the prospect of starvation was upon them. Fox-traps were set, but the animals refused to be caught; they tried to eat the rocklichen, but though it kept off the sensation of hunger, it made them ill. Their condition is " fast approaching the horrible." A visit from the Esquimaux affords some immediate relief; they bring with them frozen meat and blubber. In connection with this visit, Mr. Hayes has a tale to relate which we must let him do in his own words :—
"Leaving the hunters to look after their
teams, I returned to the hut. The blinding snow which battered my face, made me insensible to every thing except the- idea of getting out of it; and thinking of no danger, I was in the act of stooping to enter the doorway, when a sudden noise behind mo caused me to look around, and there, close at my heels, was tho wholo pack of thirteen hungry dogs, snarling, snapping, and showing their sharp teeth like a drove of ravenous wolves. It was fortunate that I had not got down npon my knees, or they would have been upon my back. In fact, so impetuous was their attack, that one of them had already sprung when I faced round. I caught him on my arm and kicked him down the hill. The others were for tho moment intimidated by the suddenness of my movement, and at seeing the summary manner in which their leader had been dealt with; and they were in tho act of sneaking away, when they perceived that I was powerless to do them nny harm, having nothing in my hand. Again they assumed the offensive; they were all around mo; an instant more and I should be torn to pieces. I had faced death in several shapes before, but never had I felt as then; my blood fairly curdled in my veins. Death down the red throats of a pack of wolfish dogs had something about it peculiarly unpleasant, Conscious of my weakness, they were preparing for a spring; I had not time even to halloo for help —to run would bo tho readiest means of bringing the wretches upon me. My cyo swept round the group, and caught something lying hnlfburicd in tho snow, about ten feet distant. Quick as a flash I sprang, as I never sprang liefore or since, over the back of a hugo fellow who stood before mo; nnd tho next instant I was whirling about me the lash of a long whip, cutting to the right and left. The dogs retreated before my blows anil tho fury of my onset, and then sullenly skulked behind the rocks. The whip had clearly saved my life; there was nothing else within my reach; and it had been dropped there quite accidentally by Kalutunah as he went down to the sledges.
Their main hope now is in the savages, but the supply of food from them is very uncertain. Often the verge of starvation is reached—a few days more, nnd all will be overj but again food is brought them — juicy bear's meat, puppy chops, and birds. Their spirits revive; and the perusal of Waiter Scott's "Fair Maid of Perth," or " Ivanhoe," coupled, spite of l)ean Close's anathema, with a genuine "Havana," infuse a genial warmth iu that ^now-imbedded hut.
One of the visitors to the hut is deserving of mention. She was a widow lady, and her husband's soul having passed for a time into the body of a walrus, she was, of course, prohibited from dining off that animal. But as the walrus happened to be the only food then in season, she was compelled to satisfy herself with frozen birds, which had been killed the previous summer. However neither grief nor hard fare appear to have affected the widow's appetite, since she would manage to eat six birds for supper, each as large as a young pullet.
Starvation from cold and hunger was not the only enemy to be feared in this desolate region. The Esquimaux, like all savages, •were treacherous; and had it not been for fear of the strangers' guns, they would doubtless have destroyed the whole party. One or two hair-breadth escapes are recorded; but these risks were viewed very calmly by men whose chance of life was lessening every day. How they made a desperate effort to escape from their icy tomb; now they were driven back again in despair;
how once again they sallied forth on the sledges of the Esquimaux—having left the owners asleep under the effects of opium j how they were overtaken by the savages j and how, with the courage tfiat desperation alone can give, they compelled them to drive onward to the brig; is all described by Mr. Hayes with great vividness and power. A narrative so interesting as this "Arctic BoatJourney " does not often fall into the hands of a reviewer. Mr. Hayes is about to start on another expedition. He will assuredly carry with him the good wishes of all bis friends and readers.
THE CONVEYANCER'S PUPIL'S LAMENT.
When hands with writing deeds are slinking,
From many a sharp attorney's den;
And breathing once fresh air again.
The time draws on to'ards half-past four;
As gentle evening falls:
And Gray's monastic halls.
The briefless here, a sturdy band,
And miss the court's applause,
To aid their country's cause.
But ah ! no bugle's sound that frays
We close our list of American books with "The Cottages of the Alps, or Life and Manners in Switzerland," "by a Lady," of whom we shall only say that, if we had the option, we should most respectfully decline to travel through Switzerland or any other part of the world in her company.
"THE Sand-Hills of Jutland," by Hans Christian Andersen, is a small volume comprising eighteen tales, most of which owe their existence to that faculty which their author is known to possess, of interpreting the language spoken by birds, beasts, trees, winds, waters, and even of tilings commonly supposed to be inanimate, such as an inkstand or the neck of a bottle.
The third volume of M. Guizot's " Memoirs to Illustrate the History of My Time" comprehends the interval between the opening of the session of 1832, M. Guizoc being Minister of Public Instruction, and the dissolution of the cabinet on the 22d of February, 1836, when it was succeeded by that of which M. Thiers was president.
"The Glaciers of the Alps," a work comprising the results of three years' personal observation, by Professor Tyndale, is announced as forthcoming by Mr. Murray.
An "Account of the chief fibre-yielding products of India," by Dr. Forbes Watson, is about to bo published by Messrs. Bell and Dnldy. Portions of this work were read by the author before the Society of Arts during the past month.
The well-known German author and traveller, J. Gcrstaccker, has brought out two fresh volumes, descriptive of his voyages in the Pacific and Polynesia, and entitled, "Die Inselwelt" (The Island World).
1. Sicily as it was and is, West minster Review, 195
2. Trench's Sermons at Westminster Abbey, . Press, 220
3. The First Picture, Chambers'* Journal, 223
4. Gentlemen Saturday Review, 232
5. The Hunting Grounds of the Old World, . "" 236
6. Baron Gros' Embassy to China and Japan, . Spectator, 238
7. Johnson's Lives of the Poets, .... Saturday Review, 240
8. A Trip in the Himalayahs, .... United Service Magazine, 244
Poetry.—The Roses of the Philippine Islands, 194. Com-Flowers, 194. Musa, 194. My Fiftieth Birthday, 234. Trans Mare, 235. The Returned Letters, 235.
SHORT Articles.—M. Guizot of Himself, 222. Atlantic Cable, 222. Circulating Libraries, 222. Cars in the Desert, 231. Last Hours of La Fayette, 239. Making Gas from Prairie Stones, 243. William the Silent, 243. A New Hippopotamus, 256.
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