{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2990", "width": "1842", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "^oV\\n.0*\\nV^\\nV .^j.\\n.0\\n^f^\\n,0 V^,yr-\u00c2\u00ab j.l o_\\nrv S\\ny si:\\nV-^\\n.s^-.^.\\n-t.\\n-^^0^\\n^\u00c2\u00b0-n^.\\n5 c-o-^ o,\\ncy", "height": "2831", "width": "1747", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "G\u00c2\u00b0\\n.-J^\\nA\\nJ e o 1^\\noK\\n\u00c2\u00ab0 j^\\no *0 _", "height": "2831", "width": "1747", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2831", "width": "1610", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "^g tl)c ^ame ^rttl)or.\\nOUT-DOOR PAPERS.\\nI vol. i6mo. Price, ISO-\\nMALBONE AN OLDPORT ROMANCE.\\nI vol. i6mo. Price, $1.50.\\nARMY LIFE IN A BLACK REGIMENT.\\nI vol. i6mo. Price, $1.50.\\nATLANTIC ESSAYS.\\nI vol. 161110. Price, $2.00.\\nFor sale by Booksellers. Sent, post-paid, on receipt\\nof price by the Publishers,\\nJAMES R. OSGOOD CO., Boston.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2831", "width": "1610", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT DAYS.\\nTHOMAS WENTWOETH HIGGINSON.\\nWITH TEN HELIOTYPE ILLUSTEATI0N8,\\nFrom Views taken in Newport, R. expressly for this work.\\nJ\\nBOSTON:\\nJAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY,\\nLatb Ticxnor Fields and Fields, Osgood, Co.\\n1873.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0011.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year ISTS,\\nBY JAMES R. OSGOOD CO.,\\nin the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.\\nU.Niv-ERsiTY Press: Welch, Biceudw, Co.,\\nCambridge.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0012.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "OOJ^TENTS.\\nPage\\nOldport in Winter 11\\nOldport Wharves 35\\nThe Haunted Window 59\\nA Dkift-wood Fire 88\\nAn Artist s Creation 114\\nIn A Wherry 142\\nMadam Delia s Expectations 162\\nSunshine and Petrarch 198\\nA Shadow 216\\nFootpaths 241", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0013.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0014.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\\nOld Stone Mill frontispiece.\\nOld Houses by the Bay Page 35\\nBlue Rocks 39\\nWreck at Brenton s Cove 88\\nJewish Cemetekv 114\\nHakbos 142\\nState House 1^^\\nBathing Beach 1^8\\nFort Greene 216\\nCliffs, from Forty Footsteps 241", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0015.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0016.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT DAYS.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0017.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0018.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "Oldport Days.\\nOLDPOET IN WINTER..\\nOUR August life rushes by, in Oldport, as if\\nwe were all shot from the mouth of a can-\\nnon, and were endeavoring to exchange visiting-\\ncards on the way. But in September, when the\\ngreat hotels are closed, and the bronze dogs that\\nguarded the portals of the Ocean House are col-\\nlected sadly in the music pavilion, nose to nose\\nwhen the last four-in-hand has departed, and a\\nman may drive a solitary horse on the avenue\\nwithout a pang, then we know that the sea-\\nson is over. -Winter is yet several months away,\\nmonths of the most delicious autumn weather\\nthat the American climate holds. Rut to the\\nhuman bird of passage all that is not summer is\\nwinter and those who seek Oldport most eagerly", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0019.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "12 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nfor two months are often those who regard it as\\nuninhabitable for the otlier ten.\\nThe Persian poet Saadi says that in a certain\\nregion of Armenia, wliere he travelled, people\\nnever died the natural death. But once a year\\nthey met on a certain plain, and occupied them-\\nselves with recreation, in the midst of which indi-\\nviduals of every rank and age would suddenly\\nstop, make a reverence to the west, and, setting\\nout at full speed toward that part of the desert, be\\nseen no more. It is quite in this fashion that\\nguests disappear from Oldport wlien the season\\nends. They also are apt to go toward the west,\\nbut by steamboat. It is pathetic, on occasion of\\neach annual bereavement, to observe the wonted\\nlooks and language of despair among those wlio\\nlinger behind and it needs some fortitude to\\nthink of spending the winter near such a Wharf\\nof Sighs.\\nBut we console ourselves. Each season brings\\nits own attractions. In summer one may relish\\nwhat is new in Oldport, as the liveries, the in-\\ncomes, the mannei-s. There is often a delicious\\nfreshness about these exhibitions it is a pleasure", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0020.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT IN WINTER. 13\\nto see some opulent citizen in his first kid gloves.\\nHis new-born splendor stands in sucli brilliant\\nrelief against the confirmed respectability of the\\nOld Stone ]\\\\Iill, the only thing on the Atlantic\\nshore which has had time to forget its birthday\\nBut in winter the Old Mill gives the tone to the\\nsociety around it we then bethink ourselves of\\nthe crown upon our Trinity Church steeple, and\\nresolve that the courtesies of a bygone age shall\\nyet linger here. Is there any other place in\\nAmerica where gentlemen still take off their hats\\nto one another on the public promenade The\\nliat is here what it still is in Southern Europe,\\nthe lineal successor of the sword as the mark of\\na gentleman. It is noticed that, in going from\\nOldport to New York or Boston, one is liable to\\nbe betrayed by an over-flourish of the hat, as is\\nan Arkansas man by a display of the bowie-knife.\\nWinter also imparts to these spacious estates a\\ndignity that is sometimes wanting in summer.\\nI like to stroll over them during this epoch of de-\\nsertion, just as once, when I happened to hold the\\nkeys of a church, it seemed pleasant to sit, on a\\nweek-day, among its empty pews. The silent", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0021.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "14 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nwalls appeared to hold the pure essence of the\\nprayers of a generation, \u00e2\u0096\u00a0while the routine and the\\nennui had vanished all away. One may here do the\\nsame with fashion as there with devotion, extractins?\\nits finer flavors, if such there be, unalloyed by vul-\\ngarity or sin. In the winter I can fancy these fine\\nhouses tenanted by a true nobility all the sons\\nare brave, and all the daughters virtuous. Tliese\\nbalconies have heard the sighs of passion without\\nselfishness those cedarn alleys have admitted only\\nvows that were never broken. If the occupant of\\nthe house be unknown, even by name, so much the\\nbetter. And fi om homes more familiar, what\\nlovely childish faces seem still to gaze from the\\ndoorways, what graceful Absences (to borrow a\\ncertain poet s phrase) are haunting those windows\\nThere is a sense of winter quiet that makes a\\nstranger soon feel at home in Oldport, while the\\nprospective stir of next summer precludes all feel-\\ning of stagnation. Commonly, in quiet places, one\\nsuffers from the knowledge that everybody would\\nprefer to be unquiet but nobody has any such\\nlonging here. Doubtless there are aged persons\\nwho deplore the good old times when the Oldport", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0022.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT IN WINTER. 15\\nmail-bags were larger than those arriving at New\\nYork. But if it were so now, what memories\\nwould there be to talk about If you wish for\\nSyrian peace, immortal leisure, a place where\\nno grown person ever walks rapidly along the\\nstreet, and where few care enough for rain to\\nopen an umbrella or walk faster, come here.\\nMy abode is on a broad, sunny street, with a\\nfew great elms overhead, and with large old houses\\nand grass-banks opposite. There is so little snow\\nthat the outlook in the depth of winter is often\\nmerely that of a paler and leafless summer, and a\\nsoft, springlike sky almost always spreads above.\\nPast the window streams an endless sunny pano-\\nrama (for the house fronts the chief thoroughfare\\nbetween country and town), relics of summer\\nequipages in faded grandeur great, fragrant hay-\\ncarts vast moving mounds of golden straw\\nloads of crimson onions heaps of pale green\\ncabbages piles of gray tree-prunings, looking as\\nif the patrician trees were sending their super-\\nfluous wealth of branches to enrich the impov-\\nerished orchards of the Poor Farm wagons of\\nsea-weed just from the beach, with bright, moist", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0023.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "16 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nhues, and dripping with sea-water and sea-mem-\\nories, each Aveed an argosy, bearing its own wild\\nhistories. At tliis season, the very houses move,\\nand roll slowly by, looking round for more lucra-\\ntive quarters next season. Never have I seen real\\nestate made so transportable as in Oldport. The\\npurchaser, after finishing and furnishing to his\\nfancy, puts his name on the door, and on the fence\\na large white placard inscribed For sale. Then\\nhis household arrangements are complete, and he\\ncan sit down to enjoy himself.\\nBy a side-glance from our window, one may\\nlook down an ancient street, which in some early\\nepoch of the world s freshness received the name\\nof Spring Street. A certain lively lady, addicted\\nto daring Scriptural interpretations, thinks that\\nthere is some mistake in the current versions of\\nGenesis, and that it was Spring Street which\\nwas created in the beginning, and the heavens\\nand earth at some subsequent period. There are\\nhouses in Spring Street, and there is a confec-\\ntioner s shop; but it is not often that a sound\\ncomes across its rugged pavements, save perchance\\n(in summer) the drone of an ancient hand-organ,", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0024.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT IN WINTER. 17\\nsuch as might have been devised by Adam to con-\\nsole his Eve when Paradise was lost. Yet of late\\nthe desecrating hammer and the ear-piercing saw\\nhave entered that haunt of ancient peace. May it\\nbe long ere any such invasion reaches those strange\\nlittle wharves in the lower town, full of small, black,\\ngambrel-roofed houses, witli projecting eaves that\\nmight almost serve for piazzas. It is possible for\\nan nnpainted wooden building to assume, in this\\nclimate, a more time-woru aspect than that of any\\nstone and on these wharves everything is so old,\\nand yet so stunted, you might fancy that the\\nhouses had been sent down there to play during\\ntheir childhood, and that nobody had ever remem-\\nbered to fetch them back.\\nThe ancient aspect of things around us, joined\\nwith the softening influences of the Gulf Stream,\\nimparts an air of chronic languor to the special\\ntypes of society which here prevail in winter,\\nas, for instance, people of leisure, trades-people\\nliving on their summer s gains, and, finally, fisher-\\nmen. Those who pursue this last laborious call-\\ning are always lazy to the eye, for they are on\\nshore only in lazy moments. They work by night", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0025.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "18 OLDPOET DAYS.\\nor at early dawn, and by day they perhaps lie\\nabout on the rocks, or sit upon one heel beside a\\nfish-house door. I knew a missionary who resigned\\nhis post at the Isles of Shoals because it was im-\\npossible to keep the Sunday worshippers from ly-\\ning at full length on the seats. Our boatmen have\\nthe same habit, and there is a certain dreaminess\\nabout them, in whatever posture. Indeed, they\\nremind one quite closely of the German boatman\\nin Uhland, who carried his reveries so far as to\\naccept three fees from one passenger.\\nBut the truth is, that in Oldport we all incline to\\nthe attitude of repose. Now and then a man comes\\nhere, from farther east, with the Xew England fever\\nin his blood, and with a pestilent desire to do some-\\nthing. You hear of him, presently, proposing that\\nthe Town Hall should be repainted. Opposition\\nwould require too much effort, and the thing is\\ndone. But the Gulf Stream soon takes its revenge\\non the intruder, and gradually repaints him also,\\nwith its own soft and mellow tints. In a few\\nyears he would no more bestir himself to fight for\\na change than to fight against it.\\nIt makes us smile a little, therefore, to observe", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0026.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT IN WINTER. 19\\nthat universal delusion among the summer visitors,\\nthat we spend all winter in active preparations for\\nnext season. Xot so we all devote it solely to\\nmeditations on the season past. I observe that\\nnobody in Oldport ever believes in any coming\\nsummer. Perhaps the tide is turned, we think,\\nand people will go somewhere else. You do not\\nfind us altering our houses in December, or build-\\ning out new piazzas even in March. We wait till\\nthe people have actually come to occupy them.\\nThe preparation for visitors is made after the\\nvisitors have arrived. This may not be the way\\nin which things are done in what are called\\nsmart business places. But it is our way in\\nOldport.\\nIt is another delusion to suppose that we are\\nbored by this long epoch of inactivity. Not at\\nall we enjoy it. If you enter a shop in winter,\\nyou will find everybody rejoiced to see you as a\\nfriend but if it turns out that you have come as\\na customer, people will look a little disappointed.\\nIt is rather inconsiderate of you to make such\\ndemands out of season. Winter is not exactly\\nthe time for that sort of thing. It seems rather to", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0027.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "20 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nviolate the conditions of the truce. Could you\\nnot postpone the affair till next July Every\\ncountry has its customs I observe that in some\\nplaces, New York for instance, the shopkeepers\\nseem rather to enjoy a field-day when the sun\\nand the customers are out. In Oldport, on the\\ncontrary, men s spirits droop at such times, and\\nthey go through their business sadly. They force\\nthemselves to it during the summer, perhaps,\\nfor one must make some sacrifices, but in win-\\nter it is inappropriate as strawberries and cream.\\nThe same spirit of repose pervades the streets.\\nNobody ever looks in a hurry, or as if an hour s\\ndelay would affect the thing in hand. The near-\\nest approach to a mob is when some stranger,\\nthinking himself late for the train (as if the thing\\nwere possible), is tempted to run a few steps along\\nthe sidewalk. On such an occasion I have seen\\ndoors open, and heads thrust out. But ordinarily\\neven the physicians drive slowly, as if they\\nwished to disguise tlieir profession, or to soothe\\nthe nerves of some patient who may be gazing\\nfrom a window.\\nYet they are not to be censured, since Death,", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0028.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT IX WINTER. 21\\ntheir antagonist, here drives slowly too. The\\nnumber of the aged among us is surprising, and\\nexplains some phenomena otherwise strange. You\\nwill notice, for instance, that there are no posts\\nbefore the houses in Oldport to which hoi-ses may-\\nbe tied. Fashionable visitors might infer that\\nevery horse is supposed to be attended by a groom.\\nYet the tradition is, that there were once as many\\nposts here as elsewhere, but that they were re-\\nmoved to get rid of the multitude of old men\\nwho leaned all day against them. It obstructed\\nthe passing. And these aged citizens, while per-\\nmitted to linger at their posts, were gossiping\\nabout men still older, in earthly or heavenly habi-\\ntations, and the sensation of longevity went on\\naccumulating indefinitely in their talk. Their\\nvery disputes had a flavor of antiquity, and in-\\nvolved the reputation of female relatives to the\\nthird or fourth generation. An old fisherman tes-\\ntified in our Police Court, the other day, in nar-\\nrating the progress of a street quarrel: Then I\\ncalled him Polly Carter, that s his grand-\\nmother and he called me Susy Picynolds,\\nthat s my aunt that s dead and gone.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0029.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "22 OLDrOUT DAYS.\\nIn towns like this, from which the young men\\nmostly migrate, the work of life devolves upon\\nthe venerable and the very young. When I first\\ncame to Oldport, it appeared to me that every in-\\nstitution was conducted by a boy and his grand-\\nfatlier. Tliis seemed the case, for instance, with\\nthe bank that consented to assume the slender\\nresponsibility of my deposits. It was further to\\nbe observed, that, if the elder oflicial was absent\\nfor a day, tlie boy carried on the proceedings un-\\naided while if the boy also wished to amuse him-\\nself elsewhere, a worthy neighbor from across the\\nway came in to fill the places of both. Seeing this,\\nI retained my small hold upon the concern with\\nfresh tenacity for who knew but some day, when\\nthe directors also had gone on a picnic, the senior\\ndepositor might take his turn at the helm It\\nmay savor of self-confidence, but it has always\\nseemed to me, that, with one day s control of a\\nbank, even in tliese degenerate times, something\\nmight be done which would quite astonish tlie\\nstockholders.\\nLonger acquaintance has, however, revealed the\\nfact, that these Oldport institutions stand out as", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0030.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT IN WINTER. 23\\nmodels of strict discipline beside their suhurban\\ncomi5eers. A friend of mine declares that he\\nwent lately into a country bank, near by, and\\nfound no one on duty. Being of opinion that\\nthere should always be some one behind tlie coun-\\nter of a bank, he went there himself Wishing\\nto be informed as to the resources of liis establish-\\nment, he explored desks and vaults, found a good\\ndeal of paper of different kinds, and some rich\\nveins of copper, but no cashier. Going to the\\ndoor again in some anxiety, he encountered a cas-\\nual school-boy, who kindly told him that he did\\nnot know wliere the financial officer might be at\\nthe precise moment of inquiry, but that half an\\nliour before he was on the wharf, fishiny;.\\nDeath comes to the aged at last, however, even\\nin Oldport. We have lately lost, for instance,\\nthat patient old postman, serenest among our hu-\\nman antiquities, wliose deliberate tread might\\nhave imparted a tone of repose to Broadway, could\\nany imagination have transferred him thither.\\nThrougli him the correspondence of other days\\ncame softened of all immediate solicitude. Ere\\nit reached you, friends had died or recovered,", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0031.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "24 OLDPOET DAYS.\\ndebtors had repented, creditors grown Icind, or\\nyour children had paid your debts. Perils had\\npassed, hopes were chastened, and the most eager\\nexpectant took calmly the missive from that tran-\\nquillizing hand. JNIeeting his friends and clients\\nwith a step so slow that it did not even stop\\nrapidly, he, like Tennyson s Mariana, slowly\\nFrom his bosom drew\\nOld letters.\\nBut a summons came at last, not to be postponed\\neven by him. One day he delivered his mail as\\nusual, with no undue precipitation on the next,\\ntlie blameless soul was himself taken and for-\\nwarded on some celestial route.\\nIrreparable woidd have seemed his loss, did\\nthere not still linger among us certain types of\\nhuman antiquity that might seem to disprove the\\nfabled youth of America. One veteran I daily\\nmeet, of uncertain age, perhaps, but with at least\\nthat air of brevet antiquity which long years of\\nunruffled indolence can give. He looks as if he\\nhad spent at least half a lifetime on the sunny\\nslope of some beach, and the other half in leaning\\nupon his elbows at the window of some sailor", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0032.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT IN WINTER. 25\\nboarding-house. He is hale and broad, with a\\nhead sunk between two strong shoulders; his\\nbeard falls like snow upon his breast, longer and\\nlonger each year, \\\\vhile his slumberous thoughts\\nseem to move slowly enough to watch it as it\\ngroM s. I always fancy that these meditations\\nhave drifted far astern of the times, but are fol-\\nlowing after, in patient hopelessness, as a dog\\nswims behind a boat. What knows he of the Pres-\\nident s ^lessage He has just overtaken some\\nremarkable catch of mackerel in the year thirty-\\neight. His hands lie buried fathom-deep in his\\npockets, as if part of his brain lay there to be\\nrummaged and he sucks at his old pipe as if his\\nhead, like other venerable hulks, must be smoked\\nout at intervals. His walk is that of a sloth,\\none foot dragging heavily behind the other, I\\nmeet him as I go to the post-office, and on return-\\ning, twenty minutes later, I pass him again, a\\nlittle farther advanced. All the children accost\\nhim, and I have seen him stop no great retarda-\\ntion indeed to fondle in his arms a puppy or\\na kitten. Yet he is liable to excitement, in his\\nway for once, in some high debate, wherein he\\n2", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0033.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "26 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nassisted as listener, when one old man on a wharf\\nwas doubting the assertion of another old man\\nabout a certain equinoctial gale, I saw my friend\\ndraw his right hand slowly and painfully from his\\npocket, and let it fall hy his side. It Mas really\\none of the most emphatic gesticulations I ever saw,\\nand tended obviously to quell the rising discord.\\nIt was as if the herald at a tournament had\\ndropped his truncheon, and the fray must end.\\nWomen s faces are apt to take from old age a\\nfiner touch than those of men, and poverty does\\nnot interfere with this, where there is no actual\\nexposure to the elements. From the windoAvs of\\nthese old houses there often look forth delicate,\\nfaded countenances, to which belongs an air of\\nunmistakable refinement. Xowhere in America,\\nI fancy, does one see such counterparts of the re-\\nduced gentlewoman of England, as described,\\nfor instance, in Cranford, quiet maiden ladies\\nof seventy, Avith perhaps a tradition of beauty and\\nbellehood, and still Avearing always a bit of blue\\nribbon on their once golden curls, this head-\\ndress being still carefully arranged, each day, by\\nsome handmaiden of sixty, so long a house-mate", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0034.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "OLDPOHT IN WINTER. 27\\nas to seem a sister, though some faint suggestion\\nof wages and subordination may be still preserved.\\nAmong these ladies, as in Cranford, there is a\\ndignified reticence in respect to money-matters,\\nand a courteous blindness to the small economies\\npractised by each other. It is not held good-\\nbreeding, when they meet in a shop of a morning,\\nfor one to seem to notice what another buys.\\nThese ancient ladies have coats of arms upon\\ntheir walls, hereditary damasks among their scanty\\nwardrobes, store of domestic traditions in their\\nbrains, and a whole Court Guide of high-sounding\\nnames at their fingers ends. They can tell you\\nof the supposed sister of an English queen, who\\nmarried an American officer and dwelt in Oldport\\nof the Scotch Lady Janet, who eloped with her\\ntutor, and here lived in poverty, paying her wash-\\nerwoman with costly lace from her trunks of the\\nOldport dame who escaped from France at the\\nopening of the Eevolution, was captured by pi-\\nrates on her voyage to America, then retaken by a\\nprivateer and carried into Boston, where she took\\nrefuge in John Hancock s house. They can describe\\nto you the Malbone Gardens, and, as the night", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0035.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "28 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nwanes and the embers fade, can give the tale of the\\nPhantom of Eough Point. Gliding farther and\\nfarther into the past, they revert to the brilliant\\nhistoric period of Oldport, the successive English\\nand French occupations during our Eevolution,\\nand show you gallant inscriptions in honor of their\\ngrandmothers, written on the window-panes by the\\ndiamond rings of the foreign officers.\\nThe newer strata of Oldport society are formed\\nchiefly by importation, and have the one advan-\\ntage of a variety of origin AA hich puts provincial-\\nism out of the question. The mild winter climate\\nand the supposed cheapness of living draw scat-\\ntered families from the various Atlantic cities\\nand, coming from such different sources, these vis-\\nitors leave some exclusiveness behind. The boast\\nof heraldry, the pomp of power, are doubtless good\\nthings to have in one s house, but are cumbrous to\\ntravel with. Meeting here on central ground, par-\\ntial aristocracies tend to neutralize each other.\\nA Boston family comes, bristling with genealogies,\\nand making the most of its little all of two centu-\\nries. Another arrives from Philadelphia, equally\\nfortified in local heraldries unknown in Boston.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0036.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "OLDPOET IN WINTER. 29\\nA third from New York brings a briefer pedigi-ee,\\nbut more gilded. Their claims are incompatible\\nbut there is no common standard, and so neither\\ncan have precedence. Since no human memory-\\ncan retain the great-grandmothers of three cities,\\nwe are practically as M ell off as if we had no\\ngreat-grandmothers at all.\\nBut in Oldport, as elsewhere, tlie spice of con-\\nversation is apt to be in inverse ratio to family-\\ntree and income-tax, and one can hear better\\nrepartees among the boat-builders shops on Long\\nWharf than among those who have made the\\ngrand tour. All the world over, one is occasionally\\nreminded of the French officer s verdict on the\\ngarrison town wliere he was quartered, that the\\ngood society was no better than the good society\\nanywhere else, but the bad society was capital. I\\nlike, for instance, to watch the shoals of fishermen\\ntliat throng our streets in the early spring, inap-\\npropriate as porpoises on land, or as Scott s pirates\\nin peaceful Kirkwall, unwieldy, bearded crea-\\ntures in oil-skin suits, men who have never\\nbefore seen a basket-wagon or a liveried groom,\\nand whose first comments on the daintinesses of", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0037.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "30 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nfashion are far more racy than anything which\\nfashion can say for itself\\nThe life of our own fishermen and pilots remains\\nactive, in its way, all Avinter and coasting vessels\\ncome and go in the open harbor every day. The\\nonly schooner that is not so employed is, to my\\neye, more attractive than any of them it is our\\nsole winter guest, this year, of all the graceful\\nflotilla of yachts that helped to make our summer\\nmoonlights so charming. While Europe seems in\\nsuch ecstasy over the ocean yacht-race, there lies\\nat anchor, stripped and dismantled, a vessel which\\nwas excluded from the match, it is said, simply\\nbecause neither of the three competitors would\\nhave had a chance against her. I like to look\\nacross the harbor at the graceful proportions of\\nthis uncroM ned victor in the race she never ran\\nand to my eye her laurels are the most attractive.\\nShe seems a fit emblem of the genius that waits,\\nwhile talent merely wins. Let me know, said\\nthat fine, but unappreciated thinker, Brownlee\\nBrown, let me know what chances a man has\\npassed in contempt not what he has made, but\\nwhat he has refused to make, reserving himself for\\nhiirher ends.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0038.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "OLDPOHT IN WINTKR. 31\\nAll out-door \\\\voi k in winter has a cheerful look,\\nfrom the triumph of caloric it implies but I know\\nnone in which man seems to revert more to the\\nlower modes of being than in searching for sea-\\nclams. One may sometimes observe a dozen men\\nemployed in this way, on one of our beaches,\\nwhile the cold wind blows keenly off shore, and\\nthe spray drifts back like snow over the green and\\nsluggish surge. The men pace in and out with the\\nwave, going steadily to and fro like a pendulum,\\nankle-deep in the chilly brine, their steps quick-\\nened by hope or slackening with despair. Where\\nthe maidens and children sport and shout in sum-\\nmer, there in winter these heavy figures succeed.\\nTo them the lovely crest of the emerald billow is\\nbut a chariot for clams, and is valueless if it comes\\nin empty. Really, the position of the clam is the\\nmore dignified, since he moves only with the wave,\\nand the immortal being in fish-boots wades for\\nhim.\\nThe harbor and the beach are thus occupied in\\nwinter but one may walk for many a mile along\\nthe cliffs, and see nothing human but a few gar-\\ndeners, spreading green and white sea-weed as", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0039.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "32 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nmanure upon the lawns. The mercury rarely drops\\nto zero here, and there is little snow but a new-\\nfallen drift has just the same virgin beauty as\\nfarther inland, and when one suddenly comes in\\nview of the sea beyond it, there is a sensation of\\nsummer softness. The water is not then deep\\nblue, but pale, with opaline reflections. Vessels\\nin the far horizon have the same delicate tint, as\\nif woven of the same liquid material. A single\\nwave lifts itself languidly above a reef, a white-\\nbreasted loon floats near the shore, the sea\\nbreaks in long, indolent curves, the distant\\nislands swim in a vague mirage. Along the cliffs\\nhang great organ-pipes of ice, distilling showers\\nof drops that glitter in the noonday sun, while the\\nbarer rocks send up a perpetual steam, giving to\\nthe eye a sense of armth, and suggesting the\\ncomforts of fire. Beneath, the low tide reveals\\nlong stretches of golden-brown sea-weed, caressed\\nby the lapping wave.\\nHigh winds bring a different scene. Sometimes\\nI fancy that in winter, with less visible life upon\\nthe surface of the water, and less of unseen\\nanimal life below it, there is yet more that seems", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0040.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT IN WINTER. 33\\nlike vital force in the individual particles of waves.\\nEach separate drop appears more charged with\\ndesperate and determined life. The lines of surf\\nrun into each other more brokenly, and with less\\nsteady roll. The low sun, too, lends a weird and\\njagged shadow to gallop in before the crest of each\\nadvancing wave, and sometimes there is a second\\ncrest on the shoulders of the first, as if there were\\nmore than could be contained in a single curve.\\nGreens and purples are called forth to replace the\\nprevailing blue. Far out at sea great, separate\\nmounds of water rear themselves, as if to overlook\\nthe tossing plain. Sometimes these move onward\\nand subside with their green hue still unbroken,\\nand again they curve into detached hillocks of\\nfoam, white, multitudinous, side by side, not ridged,\\nbut moving on like a mob of white horses, neck\\noverarching neck, breast crowded against breast.\\nAcross those tumultuous waves I like to watch,\\nafter sunset, the revolving light there is some-\\nthing about it so delicate and human. It seems to\\nbud or bubble out of the low, dark horizon a\\nmoment, and it is not, and then another moment,\\nand it is. With one throb the tremulous licfht is\\n2* c", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0041.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "34 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nborn with another throb it has reached its full\\nsize, and looks at you, coy and defiant and almost\\nin that instant it is utterly gone. You cannot\\nconceive yourself to be watching something which\\nmerely turns on an axis but it seems suddenly to\\nexpand, a ilower of light, or to close, as if soft\\npetals of darkness clasped it in. During its mo-\\nments of absence, the eye cannot quite keep the\\nmemory of its precise position, and it often ap-\\npears a hair-breadth to the right or left of tlie\\nexpected spot. This enhances the elfish and fan-\\ntastic look, and so the pretty game goes on, with\\nflickering surprises, every night and all night long.\\nBut the illusion of the seasons is just as coquettish\\nand when next summer comes to us, with its\\nblossoms and its joys, it will dawn as softly out\\nof the darkness and as softly give place to winter\\nonce more.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0042.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0043.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "l^", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0044.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES.\\nTTIYERY one who comes to a wharf feels an\\nimpulse to follow it clown, and look from\\nthe end. There is a fascination about it. It is\\nthe point of contact between land and sea. A\\nbridge evades the water, and unites land with\\nland, as if there were no obstacle. But a wharf\\nseeks the water, and grasps it with a solid hand.\\nIt is the sign of a lasting friendship once ex-\\ntended, there it remains the water embraces it,\\ntakes it into its tumultuous bosom at high tide,\\nleaves it in peace at ebb, rushes back to it eagerly\\nagain, plays with it in sunshine, surges round it in\\nstorm, almost crushing the massive thing. But\\nthe pledge once given is never withdrawn. Build-\\nings may rise and fall, but a solid wharf is almost\\nindestructible. Even if it seems destroyed, its\\nmaterials are all there. This shore might be\\nswept away, these piers be submerged or dashed", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0047.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "36 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nasunder, still every brick and stone would remain.\\nHalf the wharves of Oldport were ruined in the\\ngreat storm of 1815. Yet not one of them has\\nstirred from the place where it lay its founda-\\ntions have only spread more widely and firmly\\nthey are a part of the very pavement of the har-\\nbor, submarine mountain ranges, on one of which\\nyonder schooner now lies aground. Thus the wild\\nocean only punished itself, and has been embar-\\nrassed for half a century, like many another mad\\nprofligate, by the ^vrecks of what it ruined.\\nYet the surges are wont to deal very tenderly\\nwith these wharves. In summer the sea decks\\nthem with floating weeds, and studs them with an\\narmor of shells. In the winter it surrounds them\\nwith a smoother mail of ice, and the detached\\npiles stand white and gleaming, like the out-door\\npalace of a Eussian queen. How softly and\\neagerly this coming tide swirls round them All\\nday the fishes haunt their shadows all night the\\nphosphorescent water glimmers by them, and\\nwashes with long, refluent waves along their sides,\\ndecking their blackness with a spray of stars.\\nWater seems the natural outlet and discharge", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0048.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 37\\nfor every landscape, and when we have followed\\ndown this artificial promontory, a wharf, and have\\nseen the waves on three sides of us, we have taken\\nthe first step toward circumnavigating the globe.\\nThis is our last terra Jirma. One step farther, and\\nthere is no possible foothold but a deck, which tilts\\nand totters beneath our feet. A wharf, therefore, is\\nproperly neutral ground for all. It is a silent hos-\\npitality, understood by all nations. It is in some\\nsort a thing of universal ownership. Having once\\nbuilt it, you must grant its use to every one it is\\nno trespass to land upon any man s wharf.\\nThe sea, like other beautiful savage creatures,\\nderives most of its charm from its reserves of un-\\ntamed power. When a wild animal is subdued to\\nabjectness, all its interest is gone. The ocean is\\nnever thus humiliated. So slight an advance of\\nits waves would overwhelm us, if only the re-\\nstraining power once should fail, and the water\\nkeep on rising Even here, in these safe haunts\\nof commerce, we deal with the same salt tide\\nwhich I myself have seen ascend above these\\npiers, and which within half a century drowned a\\nwhole family in their home upon our Long Wharf", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0049.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "38 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nIt is still the same ungoverned ocean vvliicli, twice\\nill every twenty-four hours, reasserts its right of\\nway, and stops only where it will. At Monckton,\\non the Bay of Fundy, the wharves are built forty\\nfeet high, and at ebb-tide you may look down on\\nthe schooners lying aground upon the mud below.\\nIn six hours they will be floating at your side.\\nBut the motions of the tide are as resistless\\nwhether its rise be six feet or forty; as in the\\nlazy stretching of the caged lion s paw you can\\nsee all the terrors of his spring.\\nOur principal wharf, the oldest in the town, has\\nlately been doubled in size, and quite transformed\\nin shape, by an importation of broad acres from\\nthe country. It is now what is called made\\nland, a manufacture which has grown so easy\\nthat I daily expect to see some enterprising con-\\ntractor set up endwise a bar of railroad iron, and\\nconstruct a new planet at its summit, which sliall\\npresently go spinning off into space and be called\\nan asteroid. There are some people whom it\\nwould be pleasant to colonize in that way; but\\nmeanwhile the unchanged southern side of the pier\\nseems j)leasanter, with its boat-builders shops.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0050.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 39\\nall facing sunward, a clieerful haunt upon a\\nwinter s day. On the early maps this wharf ap-\\npears as Queen-Hitlie, a name more graceful\\nthan its present cognomen. Hithe or Hythe\\nsignifies a small harbor, and is the final syllable\\nof many English names, as of Lambeth. Hythe\\nis also one of those Cinque-Ports of which the\\nDuke of Wellington was warden. This wharf was\\nO\\nprobably still familiarly called Queen-Hithe in\\n1781, when Washington and Rochambeau walked\\nits length bareheaded between the ranks of French\\nsoldiers and it doubtless bore that name when\\nDean Berkele} arrived in 1729, and the Eev. Mr.\\nHonyman and all his flock closed hastily their\\nprayer-books, and hastened to the landing to\\nreceive their guest. But it had lost this name ere\\nthe days, yet remembered by aged men, when the\\nLong Wharf became a market. Beeves were then\\ndriven thither and tethered, while each hungry\\napplicant marked with a piece of chalk upon the\\ncreature s side the desired cut; when a sufficient\\nportion had been thus secured, the sentence of\\ndeath was issued. Fancy the chalk a live coal, or\\nthe beast endowed with human consciousness, and", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0051.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "40 OLDrORT DAYS.\\nno Indian or Inquisitorial tortures could have been\\nmore fearful.\\nIt is like visiting the houses at Pompeii, to\\nenter the strange little black warehouses which\\ncover some of our smaller wharves. They are so\\nold and so small it seems as if some race of pyg-\\nmies nnist have built them. Thougli they are\\ntwo or three stories high, with steep gambrel-roofs,\\nand heavily timbered, their rooms are yet so low\\nthat a man six feet high can hardly stand upright\\nbeneath the great cross-beams. There is a row of\\nthese structures, for instance, described on a map\\nof 1762 as the old buildings on Lopez Wharf,\\nand to these another century has probably brought\\nvery little change. Lopez was a Portuguese Jew,\\nwho came to this place, witli several hundred\\nothers, after the Lisbon earthquake of 1755. He is\\nsaid to have owned eighty square-rigged vessels in\\nthis port, from which not one such craft now sails.\\nHis little counting-room is in the second story of\\nthe building its M all-timbers are of oak, and are\\nstill sound the few remaining planks are grained\\nto resemble rosewood and mahogany the fragments\\nof wall-paper are of English make. In the cross-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0052.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 41\\nbeam, just above your head, are the pigeon-holes\\nonce devoted to difterent vessels, whose names are\\nstill recorded above them on faded paper, Ship\\nCleopatra, Brig Juno, and the like. ]Many of\\nthese vessels measured less than two hundred tons,\\nand it seems as if their owner had built his ships\\nto match the size of his counting-room.\\nA sterner tradition clings around an old build-\\ning on a remoter wharf; for men have but lately\\ndied who had seen slaves pass within its doors for\\nconfinement. The wharf in those days appertained\\nto a distillery, an establishment then constantly\\nconnected with the slave-trade, rum being sent to\\nAfrica, and human beings brought back. Occa-\\nsionally a cargo was landed here, instead of being\\nsent to the West Indies or to South Carolina, and\\nthis building was fitted up for their temporary\\nquarters. It is but some twenty-five feet square,\\nand must be less than thirty feet in height, yet it\\nis divided into three stories, of which the lowest\\nwas used for other purposes, and the two upper\\nwere reserved for slaves. There are still to be\\nseen the barred partitions and latticed door, mak-\\ning half the second floor into a sort of cage, while", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0053.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "42 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nthe agent s room appears to have occupied the\\nother half. A similar latticed door just such as\\nI have seen in Southern slave-pens secures the\\nfoot of the upper stairway. The whole small attic\\nconstitutes a single room, with a couple of windows,\\nand two additional breathing-holes, two feet square,\\nopening on the yard. It makes one sick to think\\nof the poor creatures who may once have griped\\nthose bars with their hands, or have glared with\\neager eyes between them and it makes me recall\\nwith delight the day when I once wrenched away\\nthe stocks and chains from the floor of a pen like\\nthis, on the St. ]\\\\Iary s Eiver in Florida. It is al-\\nmost forty years since this distillery became a mill,\\nand sixty since the slave-trade was abolished. The\\ndate 1803 is scrawled upon the door of the cage,\\nthe very year when the port of Charleston was\\nreopened for slaves, just before the traffic ceased.\\nA few years more, and such horrors will seem as\\nremote a memory in South Carolina, thank God\\nas in Ehode Island.\\nOther wharves are occupied by mast-yards, places\\nthat seem like play-rooms for grown men, crammed\\nfuller than any old garret with those odds and ends", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0054.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 43\\nin wliieli the youtlit ul soul delights. Tliere are\\nplanks and spars and timber, broken rudders, rusty\\nanchors, coils of rope, bales of sail-cloth, heaps of\\nblocks, piles of chain-cable, great iron tar-kettles\\nlike antique helmets, strange machines for steam-\\ning planks, inexplicable little chimneys, engines\\nthat seem like dwarf-locomotives, windlasses that\\napparently turn nothing, and incipient canals that\\nlead nowhere. For in these yards there seems no\\nparticular difference between land and water the\\ntide comes and goes anywhere, and nobody minds\\nit boats are drawn up among burdocks and am-\\nbrosia, and the platform on which you stand sud-\\ndenly proves to be something afloat. Vessels are\\nhauled upon the ways, each side of the wharf, their\\npoor ribs pitiably unclothed, ready for a cumbrous\\nmantua-making of oak and iron. On one side,\\nwithin a floating boom, lies a fleet of masts and\\nunhewn logs, tethered uneasily, like a herd of cap-\\ntive sea-monsters, rocking in the ripples. A vast\\nshed, that has doubtless looked ready to fall for\\nthese dozen years, spreads over half tlie entrance\\nto the wharf, and is filled with spars, knee-timber,\\nand planks of fragrant wood its uprights are", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0055.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "44 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nfestooned with all manner of great hawsers and\\nsmaller ropes, and its dim loft is piled with empty\\ncasks and idle sails. The sun always seems to\\nshine in a ship-yard there are apt to be more\\nloungers than laborers, and this gives a pleasant\\nair of repose the neighboring water softens all\\nharsher sounds, the foot treads upon an elastic\\ncarpet of embedded chips, and pleasant resinous\\nodors are in the air.\\nThen there are wharves quite abandoned by\\ncommerce, and given over to small tenements,\\nfilled with families so abundant that they might\\ndispel the fears of those alarmists who suspect\\nthat children are ceasing to be born. Shrill voices\\nresound there American or Irish, as the case\\nmay be through the summer noontides and\\nthe domestic clothes-line forever stretches across\\nthe paths where imported slaves once trod, or\\nrich merchandise lay piled. Some of these\\nabodes are nestled in the corners of houses once\\nstately, with large windows and carven doorways.\\nOthers occupy separate buildings, almost always of\\nblack, unpainted ^\\\\ood, sometimes with the long,\\nslojiing roof of Massachusetts, oftcner with the", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0056.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 45\\nquaint garabrel of Pihode Island. From the\\nbusiest point of our main street, I can show you a\\nsingle cottage, with low gables, projecting eaves,\\nand sheltering sweetbrier, that seems as if it must\\nhave strayed hither, a century or two ago, out of\\nsome English lane.\\nSome of the more secluded wharves appear\\nwholly deserted by men and women, and are ten-\\nanted alone by rats and boys, two amphibious\\nraces eitlier can swim anywhere, or scramble and\\npenetrate everywhere. The boys launch some\\nabandoned skiff, and, with an oar for a sail and\\nanother for a rudder, pass from wharf to wharf\\nnor would it be surprising if the bright-eyed rats\\nwere to take similar passage on a shingle. Yet,\\nafter all, the human juveniles are the more saga-\\ncious brood. It is strange that people should go\\nto Europe, and seek the society of potentates less\\nimposing, when home can endow them with the\\noccasional privilege of a nod from an American\\nboy. In these sequestered haunts, I frequently\\nmeet some urchin three feet high who carries\\nwith him an air of consummate worldly expe-\\nrience that completely overpowers me, and I seem", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0057.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "46 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nto shrink to the dimensions of Tom Tlnimb. Be-\\nfore his calm and terrible glance all disguises fail.\\nYou may put on a bold and careless air, and affect\\nto overlook him as you pass but it is like assum-\\ning to ignore the existence of the Pope of Eome,\\nor of the London Times. He knows better. Grown\\nmen are never very formidable they are shy and\\nshamefaced themselves, usually preoccupied, and\\nnot very observing. If they see a man loitering\\nabout, without visible aim, they class him as a\\nmild imbecile, and let him go but boys are\\nnature s detectives, and one does not so easily\\nevade their scrutinizing eyes. I know full well\\nthat, while I study their ways, they are noting\\nmine through a clearer lens, and are probably tak-\\ning my measure far better than I take theirs. One\\ninstinctively shrinks from making a sketch or\\nmemorandum w^hile they are by and if caught in\\nthe act, one fondly hopes to pass for some harmless\\nspeculator in real estate, whose pencillings may\\nbe only a matter of habit, like those casual sums\\nin compound interest which are usually to be found\\nscrawled on the margins of the daily papers in\\nBoston reading-rooms.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0058.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "OLDrORT WHARVES. 47\\nOur wharves are almost all connected liy intri-\\ncate by-ways among the buildings and one almost\\nwishes to be a pirate or a smuggler, for the pleasure\\nof eluding the officers of justice through such se-\\nductive paths. It is, perhaps, to counteract this\\nperilous fascination that our new police-office has\\nbeen established on a wharf You will see its\\nbrick tower rising not ungracefully, as you enter\\nthe inner harbor it looks the better for being al-\\nmost windowless, though beauty was not the aim\\nof the omission. A curious stranger is said to\\nhave asked one of our city fathers the reason of\\nthis peculiarity. No use in windows, said the\\nexperienced official sadly the boys would only\\nbreak em. It seems very unjust to assert that\\nthere is ilo subordination in our American society\\nthe citizens sliow deference to the police, and the\\npolice to the boys.\\nThe ancient aspect of these wharves extends\\nitself sometimes to the vessels which lie moored\\nbeside tliem. At yonder pier, for instance, has\\nlain for thirteen years a decaying bark, whicli was\\nsuspected of being engaged in the slave-trade.\\nShe was run ashore and abandoned on Block", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0059.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "48 OLDPOET DAYS.\\nIsland, in the winter of 1854, and was afterwards\\nbrought in here. Her purchaser was offered eight\\nthousand dollars for his bargain, but refused it\\nand here the vessel has remained, paying annual\\nwharf dues and charges, till she is worthless. She\\nlies chained at the wharf, and the tide rises and\\nfalls witliin lier, thus furnishing a convenient\\nbathing-house for the children, who also find a\\nperpetual gymnasium in the broken shrouds that\\ndangle from her masts. Turner, when he painted\\nhis slave-ship, could have asked no better model.\\nThere is no name upon the stern, and it exhibits\\nmerely a carved eagle, with the wings clipped and\\nthe head knocked off. Only the lower masts re-\\nmain, which are of a dismal black, as are the tops\\nand mizzen cross-trees. Within the bulwarks, on\\neach side, stand rows of bUick blocks, to which\\nthe shrouds were once attached these blocks are\\ncalled by sailors dead-eyes, and each stands in\\nweird mockery, with its three ominous holes, like\\nso many human skulls before some palace in Da-\\nhomey. Other blocks like these swing more omi-\\nnously yet at the ends of the shrouds, that still\\nhang suspended, waving and creaking and jostling", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0060.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 49\\nill the wind. Each year tlie ropes decay, and soon\\nthe repulsive pendants will be gone. Not so with\\nthe iron belaying-pins, a few of which still stand\\naround the mast, so rusted into the iron fife-rail\\nthat even the persevering industry of the children\\ncannot svrench them out. It seems as if some\\nguilty stain must cling to their sides, and hold\\nthem in. By one of those fitnesses which fortune\\noften adjusts, but which seem incredible in art,\\nthe wharf is now used on one side for the storage\\nof slate, and the hulk is approached through an\\navenue of gravestones. I never find myself in\\nthat neighborhood but my steps instinctively seek\\nthat condemned vessel, whether by day, when she\\nmakes a dark foreground for the white yaclits and\\nthe summer waves, or by night, when the storm\\nbreaks over her desolate deck.\\nIf we follow northward from Queen-Hithe\\nalong the shore, we pass into a region w^here the\\nancient wharves of commerce, ruined in 1815,\\nhave never been rebuilt and only slender path-\\nways for pleasure voyagers now stretcli above the\\nsubmerged foundations. Once the court end of\\nthe town, then its commercial centre, it is now\\n3 D", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0061.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "50 OLDPORT DAYS.\\ndivided between the tenemerxts of fishermen and\\nthe summer homes of city households. Still the\\ngreat old houses remain, with mahogany stairways,\\ncarved wainscoting, and painted tiles the sea has\\nencroached upon their gardens, and only boats like\\nmine approach where English dukes and French\\ncourtiers once landed. At the head of yonder\\nprivate wharf, in that spacious and still cheerful\\nabode, dwelt the beautiful Robinson sisterhood,\\nthe three Quaker belles of Eevolutionary days,\\nthe memory of whose loves might lend romance\\nto this neighborhood forever. One of these\\nmaidens was asked in marriage by a captain in\\nthe English army, and was banished by her family\\nto the Narragansett shore, under a flag of truce, to\\navoid him her lover w^as afterward killed by a\\ncannon-ball, in liis tent, and she died unwedded.\\nAnother was souglit by two aspirants, who came\\nin the same sliip to woo her, the one from Phila-\\ndelphia, the other from New York. She refused\\nthem both, and they sailed soutliward together\\nbut, the wind. proving adverse, they returned, and\\none lingered till he won her hand. Still another\\nlover was forced into a vessel by his friends, to", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0062.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 51\\ntear him from the enchanted neighborhood while\\nsailing past the house, he suddenly threw himself\\ninto the water, it must have been about where\\nthe end of the wharf now rests, that he might\\nbe rescued, and carried, a passive Leander, into\\nyonder door. The house was first the head-quar-\\nters of the English commander, then of the French\\nand the sentinels of De Noailles once trod where\\nnow croquet-balls form the heaviest ordnance.\\nPeaceful and untitled guests now throng in sum-\\nmer where St. Vincents and North umberlands\\nonce rustled and glittered and there is nothing to\\nrecall those brilliant days except the painted tiles\\non the chimney, where there is a choice society of\\ncoquettes and beaux, priests and conjurers, beggars\\nand dancers, and every wig and hoop dates back\\nto the days of Queen Anne.\\nSometimes when I stand upon this pier by night,\\nand look across the calm black water, so still, per-\\nhaps, that the starry reflections seem to drop\\nthrough it in prolonged javelins of light instead\\nof resting on the surface, and the opposite light-\\nhouse spreads its cloth of gold across the bay,\\nI can imagine that I discern the French and Eng-", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0063.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "52 OLDPOllT DAYS.\\nlisli vessels just weighing anchor; I see De\\nLauziin and De Noailles embarking, and catch\\nthe last sheen upon their lace, the last glitter of\\ntlieir swords. It vanishes, and I see only the\\nlighthouse gleam, and the dark masts of a sunken\\nship across the neighboring island. Those motion-\\nless spars have, after all, a nearer interest, and, as\\nI saw them sink, I will tell their tale.\\nThat vessel came in here one day last August,\\na stately, full-sailed bark nor was it known, till\\nshe had anchored, that she was a mass of im-\\nprisoned fire below. She was the Trajan, from\\nRockland, bound to J^ew Orleans with a cargo of\\nlime, which took fire in a gale of wind, being wet\\nwith sea-water as the vessel rolled. The captain\\nand crew retreated to the deck, and made the\\nhatches fast, leaving even their clothing and pro-\\nvisions below. They remained on deck, after\\nreaching this harbor, till the planks grew too hot\\nbeneatli their feet, and the water came boiling\\nfrom the pumps. Then the vessel was towed into\\na depth of five fathoms, to be scuttled and sunk.\\nI watched her go down. Early impressions from\\nPeter Parley had portrayed the sinking of a", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0064.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 53\\nvessel as a frightful plunge, endangering all around,\\nlike a maelstrom. The actual process was merely\\na subsidence so calm and gentle that a child might\\nhave stood upon the deck till it sank beneath him,\\nand then might have floated away. Instead of a\\nconvulsion, it was something stately and very pa-\\nthetic to the imagination. The bark remained al-\\nmost level, the bows a little higher than the stern\\nand her breath appeared to be surrendered in a\\nseries of pulsations, as if every gasp of the lungs\\nadmitted more of the suffocating wave. After each\\nlong heave, she went visibly a few inches deeper,\\nand then paused. The face of the benign Em-\\nperor, her namesake, was on the stern first sank\\nthe carven beard, then the rather mutilated nose,\\nthen the white and staring eyes, that gazed blank-\\nly over the engulfing waves. The figure-head was\\nTrajan again, at full length, with the costume of an\\nIndian hunter, and the face of a Roman sage this\\nimage lingered longer, and then vanished, like\\nVictor Hugo s Gilliatt, by cruel gradations. Mean-\\nwhile the gilded name upon the taffrail had slowly\\ndisappeared also but even when the ripples began\\nto meet across her deck, still her descent was", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0065.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "54 OLDPORT DxVYS.\\ncalm. As the water gained, the hidden fire was\\nextingiiishxed, and the smoke, at first densely rising,\\ngrew rapidly less. Yet when it had stopped alto-\\ngether, and all but the top of the cabin had dis-\\nappeared, there came a new ebullition of steam,\\nlike a hot spring, throwing itself several feet in\\nail and then ceasing.\\nAs the vessel went down, several beams and\\nplanks came springing endwise up the hatchway,\\nlike liberated men. But nothing had a stranger\\nlook to me than some great black casks which had\\nbeen left on deck. These, as the water floated\\nthem, seemed to stir and wake, and to become\\ngifted with life, and then got into motion and wal-\\nlowed heavily about, like hippopotami or any un-\\nwieldy and bewildered beasts. At last the most\\nenterprising of them slid somehow to the bulwark,\\nand, after several clumsy efforts, shouldered itself\\nover then others bounced out, eagerly following,\\nas sheep leap a wall, and then they all went iDob-\\nbing away, over the dancing waves. For the wind\\nblew fresh meanwhile, and there were some twenty\\nsail-boats lying-to with reefed sails by the wreck,\\nlike so many sea-birds and when the loose stuft", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0066.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 55\\nbegan to be washed from the deck, they all took\\nwing at once, to save whatever could be picked up,\\nsince at such times, as at a conflagration on land,\\nevery little thing seems to assume a value, and\\nat last one young fellow steered boldly up to\\nthe sinking ship itself, sprang upon the vanishing\\ntaffrail for one instant, as if resolved to be the last\\non board, and then pushed off again. I never\\nsaw anything seem so extinguislied out of the\\nuniverse as that great vessel, which had towered\\nso colossal above my little boat it was impossible\\nto imagine that she was all there yet, beneath the\\nfoaming and indifferent weaves. No effort has yet\\nbeen made fo raise her and a dead eagle seems to\\nhave more in common with the living bird than\\nhas now this submerged and decaying hulk with\\nthe white and winged creature that came sailing\\ninto our harbor on that summer day.\\nIt shows what conversational resources are\\nalways at hand in a seaport town, that the boat-\\nman with whom I first happened to visit this\\nburning vessel had been thrice at sea on ships\\nsimilarly destroyed, and could give all the particu-\\nlars of their fate. I know no class of uneducated", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0067.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "66 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nmen A\\\\hose talk is so apt to be worth hearing as\\ntliat of sailors. Even apart from their personal\\nadventures and their glimpses at foreign lands,\\nthey have made observations of nature which are\\nfar more careful and minute than those of farmers,\\nbecause the very lives of sailors are always at risk.\\nTheir voyages have also made them sociable and\\nfond of talk, while the pursuits of most men\\ntend to make them silent and their constant\\nchanges of scene, though not touching them very\\ndeeply, have really given a certain enlargement to\\ntheir minds. A quiet demeanor in a seaport town\\nproves nothing the most inconspicuous man may\\nhave the most thrilling career to look back upon.\\nAVith what a superb familiarity do these men treat\\nthis habitable globe Cape Horn and the Cape\\nof Good Hope are in their phrase but the West\\nCape and the East Cape, merely two familiar\\nportals of their wonted home. With what undis-\\nguised contempt they speak of the enthusiasm\\ndisplayed over the ocean yacht-race That any\\nman should boast of crossing the Atlantic in a\\nschooner of two hundred tons, in presence of\\nthose who have more than once reached the In-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0068.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "OLDPORT WHARVES. 57\\ndiaii Ocean in a fishing-smack of fifty, and have\\nbeaten in the homeward race tlie ships in whose\\ncompany they sailed It is not many years since\\nthere was here a fishing-skipper, whose surname\\nM as Daredevil, and who sailed from this port to\\nall parts of the world, on sealing voyages, in a\\nsloop so small that she was popularly said to go\\nunder water when she got outside the lights, and\\nnever to reappear until she reached her port.\\nAnd not only those who sail on long voyages,\\nbut even our local pilots and fishermen, still lead\\nan adventurous and untamed life, less softened\\ntlian any other by the appliances of modern days.\\nIn their undecked boats they hover day and night\\nalong these stormy coasts, and at any hour the\\nbeating of the long-roll upon the beach may call\\ntheir full manhood into action. Cowardice is\\nsifted and crushed out from among them by a\\npressure so constant and they are withal truthful\\nand steady in their ways, with few vices and many\\nvirtues. They are born poor, and remain poor, for\\ntheir work is hard, with more blanks than prizes\\nbut their life is a life for a man, and though it\\nmakes them prematurely old, yet their old age", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0069.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "58 OLDPORT DAYS.\\ncomes peacefully and well. In almost all pursuits\\nthe advance of years brings something forlorn.\\nIt is not merely that the body decays, but that\\nmen grow isolated and are pushed aside; there is\\nno common interest between age and youtli. The\\nold farmer leads a lonely existence, and ceases to\\nmeet his compeers except on Sunday nobody\\nconsults him his experience has been monot-\\nonous, and his age is apt to grow unsocial. The\\nold mechanic finds his tools and his methods su-\\nperseded by those of younger men. But the\\nsuperannuated fisherman graduates into an oracle\\nthe longer he lives, the greater the dignity of his\\nexperience he remembers the great storm, the\\ngreat tide, the great catch, the great shipwreck;\\nand on all emergencies his counsel has weight.\\nHe still busies himself about the boats too, and\\nstill sails on sunny days to show the youngsters\\nthe best fishing-ground. When too infirm for\\neven this, he can at least sun himself beside the\\nlanding, and, dreaming over inexhaustible memo-\\nries, watch the bark of his own life go down.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0070.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0071.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0072.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW.\\nIT was always a mystery to me where Severance\\ngot precisely liis combination of qualities. His\\nfather was simply what is called a handsome\\nman, with stately figure and curly black hair, not\\nwithout a certain dignity of manner, but witli a\\nface so shallow that it did not even seem to ripple,\\nand with a voice so prosy that, when he spoke of\\nthe sky, you wished there were no such thing.\\nHis mother was a fair, little, pallid creature,\\nwash-blond, as tliey say of lace, patient, meek,\\nand .always fatigued and fatiguing. But Sever-\\nance, as I first knew him, was the soul of activity.\\nHe had dark eyes, that had a great deal of light\\nin them, without corresponding depth; his hair\\nwas dark, straight, and very soft his mouth ex-\\npressed sweetness, without much strength; he\\ntalked well and though lie was apt to have a\\nwandering look, as if his thoughts were laying a", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0075.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "60 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nsubmarine cable to another continent, yet the\\nyoung girls were always glad to have the sem-\\nblance of conversation with him in this. To me\\nhe was in tlie last degree lovable. He had just\\nenough of that subtile quality called genius, per-\\nhaps, to spoil first his companions, and then him-\\nself. His words had weight with you, though you\\nmight know yourself wiser and if you went to\\ngive him the most reasonable advice, you were\\nsuddenly seized w^ith a slight paralysis of the\\ntongue. Thus it was, at any rate, with me. We\\nwere cemented therefore by the firmest ties, a\\nnominal seniority on my part, and a substantial\\nsupremacy on his.\\nWe lodged one summer at an old house in\\nthat odd suburb of Oldport called The Point.\\nIt is a sort of Artists Quarter of the town, fre-\\nquented by a class of summer visitors more ad-\\ndicted to sailiniT and sketchin j than to driving\\no o o\\nand bowing, persons who do not object to sim-\\nple fare, and can live, as one of them said, on\\npotatoes and Point. Here Severance and I made\\nour summer home, basking in the delicious sun-\\nshine of the lovely bay. The bare outlines", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0076.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW. 61\\naround Oldport sometimes dismay the stranger,\\nbut soon fascinate. Nowhere does one feel bare-\\nness so little, because there is no sharpness of\\nperspective everything shimmers in the moist\\natmosphere the islands are all glamour and mi-\\nrage and the undulating hills of tlie liorizon\\nseem each like the soft, arched back of some pet\\nanimal, and you long to caress tliem with your\\nliand. At last your thoughts begin to swim\\nalso, and pass into vague fancies, which you also\\nlove to caress Severance and I were constantly\\nafloat, body and mind. He was a perfect sailor,\\nand had that dreaminess in his nature which\\nmatches with nothing but the ripple of the waves.\\nStill, I could not hide from myself that he was a\\nchanged man since that voyage in search of health\\nfrom which he had just returned. His mother\\ntalked in her humdrum way about heart disease\\nand liis father, taking up the strain, bored us about\\norganic lesions, till we almost wished he had a\\nlesion himself. Severance ridiculed all this but\\nhe grew more and more moody, and his eyes\\nseemed to be laying more submarine cables than\\never.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0077.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "62 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nWhen we were not on the water, we both liked\\nto mouse about the queer streets and quaint old\\nhouses of that region, and to chat with the\\nfishermen and their grandmothers. There was\\none house, however, which was very attractive to\\nme, perhaps because nobody lived in it, and\\nwhich, for that or some other reason, he never\\nwould approach. It was a great square building of\\nrough gray stone, looking like those sombre houses\\nwhich every one remembers in Montreal, but\\nwhich are rare in the States. It had been built\\nmany years before by some millionnaire from New\\nOrleans, and was left unfinished, nobody knew\\nwhy, till the garden was a wilderness of bloom,\\nand the windows of ivy. Oldport is the only\\nplace in New England where either ivy or tra-\\nditions will grow there were, to be sure, no\\nlegends about this house that I could hear of, for\\nthe ghosts in those parts were feeble-minded and\\nretrospective by reason of age,. and perhaps scorned\\na mansion where nobody had ever lived but the\\nivy clustered round the projecting windows as\\ndensely as if it had the sins of a dozen generations\\nto hide.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0078.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "THR HAUNTED WINDOW. G3\\nThe house stood just above wliat were com-\\nluonly called (from their slaty color) the Blue\\nEocks it seemed the topmost pebble left by some\\ntide that had receded, wliich perhaps it M as.\\nXurses and children thronged daily to these rocks,\\nduring the visitors season, and the fishermen\\nfound there a favorite lounging-place but nobody\\nscaled the wall of the house save myself, and I\\nwent there very often. The gate was sometimes\\nopened by Paul, the silent Bavarian gardener, who\\nwas master of the keys and there were also\\ncertain great cats .that were always sunning them-\\nselves on the steps, and seemed to have grown old\\nand gray in waiting for mice that had never come.\\nThey looked as if they knew the past and the\\nfuture. If the owl is the bird of Minerva, the\\ncat should be her beast they have the same\\nsleepy air of unfathomable wisdom. There was\\nsuch a quiet and potent spell about the place that\\none could almost fancy these constant animals to\\nbe the transformed bodies of human visitors who\\nhad stayed too long. Who knew what tales might\\nbe told by these tall, slender birches, clustering so\\nclosely by the sombre walls birches which", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0079.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "64 OLDPOirr days.\\nwere but wliispering shrubs when the first gray\\nstones were laid, and whicli now reared above the\\nea\\\\ es tlieir white stems and dark bouuhs, still\\nwhispering and waiting till a few more years\\nshould show them, across tlie roof, the topmost\\nblossoms of other birches on the other side.\\nBefore the great western doorway spread the\\nouter harbor, whither the coasting vessels came to\\ndrop anchor at any approach of storm. These\\nsilent visitors, which arrived at dusk and went at\\ndawn, and from wliich no boat landed, seemed lit-\\nting guests before the portals of tlie silent house.\\nI was never tired of watching them from the\\npiazza; but Severance always stayed outside the\\nwall. It was a whim of his, he said and once\\nonly I got out of him something about the resem-\\nblance of the house to some Portuguese mansion,\\nat Madeira, perhaps, or at Eio Janeiro, but he\\ndid not say, with which he had no pleasant as-\\nsociations. Yet he afterwards seemed to wish to\\ndeny this remark, or to confuse my impressions of\\nit, which naturally fixed it the better in my mind.\\nI remember well the morning when lie was at\\nlast coaxed into approaching the house. It was", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0080.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "THK ILVUNTED WINDOW. G5\\nlate in September, and a day of perfect calm. As\\nAve looked from the broad piazza, there was a\\nglassy smoothness over all tlie bay, and the hills\\nwere coated with a film, or rather a mere varnisli,\\ninconceivably thin, of haze more delicate than any\\nother climate in America can show. Over the\\nwater there were white gulls flying, lazy and low\\nschools of young mackerel displayed their white\\nsides above the surface and it seemed as if even\\na butterfly might be seen for miles over that calm\\nexpanse. The bay was covered with mackerel-\\nboats, and one man sculled indolently across the\\nforeground a scarlet skiff. It was so still that\\nevery white sail-boat rested where its sail was first\\nspread and though the tide was at half-ebb, the\\nanchored boats swung idly different Avays from\\ntheir moorings. Yet there was a continuous rip-\\nple in the broad sail of some almost motionless\\nschooner, and there was a constant melodious\\nplash along the shore. From the mouth of the\\nbay came up slowly the premonitory line of bluer\\nwater, and we knew that a breeze was near.\\nSeverance seemed to rise in spirits as we ap-\\nproached the house, and I noticed no sign of", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0081.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "66 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nshrinking, except an occasional lowering of tlie\\nvoice. Seeing this, I ventured to joke him a little\\non his previous reluctance, and he replied in the\\nsame strain. I seated myself at the corner, and\\nbegan sketching old Fort Louis, while he strolled\\nalong the piazza, looking in at the large, vacant\\nwindows. As lie approached the fartlier end, I\\nsuddenly heard him give a little cry of anlazement\\nor dismay, and, looking up, saw him leaning against\\nthe wall, witli pale face and hands clenched,\\nA minute sometimes appears a long while and\\nthough I sprang to him instantly, yet I remember\\nthat it seemed as if, during that instant, the whole\\nface of things had changed. The breeze had come,\\nthe bay was rippled, the sail-boats careened to the\\nwind, fishes and birds were gone, and a dark gray\\ncloud had come between us and the sun. Such\\nsudden changes are not, however, uncommon after\\nan interval of calm and my only conscious\\nthought at the time was of wonder at the strange\\naspect of my companion.\\nWhat was that asked Severance in a be-\\nwildered tone.\\nI looked about n e, equally puzzled.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0082.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "THE IIAUXTED WINDOW. G7\\nNot there, he said. In the window.\\nI looked in at the window, saw nothing, and\\nsaid so. There was the great empty drawing-\\nroom, across which one could see the opposite\\nwindow, and through this the eastern piazza and\\nthe. garden beyond. Nothing more was there.\\nWith some persuasion. Severance was induced to\\nlook in. He admitted that he saw nothing pecu-\\nliar but he refused all explanation, and we went\\nhome.\\nNever let me go to that house again, he said\\nabruptly, as we entered our own door.\\nI pointed out to him the absurdity of thus yield-\\ning to a nervous delusion, which was already in\\npart conquered, and he finally promised to revisit\\nthe scene with me the next day. To clear all pos-\\nsible misgivings from my own mind, I got the key\\nof the house from Paul, explored it thoroughly, and\\nwas satisfied that no improper visitor had recently\\nentered the drawing-room at least, as the windows\\nwere strongly bolted on the inside, and a large\\ncobweb, heavy with dust, liung across the doorway.\\nThis did no great credit to Paul s stewardship, but\\nwas, perhaps, a slight relief to me. Nor could I", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0083.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "68 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nsee a trace of anything nncanny outside the house.\\nWhen Severance went with me, next day, the\\ncoast was equally clear, and I was glad to have\\ncured him so easily.\\nUnfortunately, it did not last. A few days\\nafter, there was a brilliant sunset, after a storm,\\nwith goi^eous yellow light slanting everywhere,\\nand the sun looking at us between bars of dark\\npurple cloud, edged with gold where they touched\\nthe pale blue sky all this fading at last into a\\ngreat whirl of gray to the northward, with a cold\\npurple ground. At the height of the show, I\\nclimbed the wall to my favorite piazza, and was\\nsurprised to find Severance already there.\\nHe sat facing the sunset, but with his head\\nsunk between his hands. At my approach, he\\nlooked up, and rose to his feet. Do not deceive\\nme any more, he said, almost savagely, and pointed\\nto the window.\\nI looked in, and must confess that, for a mo-\\nment, I too was startled. There was a perceptible\\nmoment of time during which it seemed as if no\\npossible philosophy could explain what appeared\\nin sight. Not that any object showed itself with-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0084.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW, 69\\nin the great drawing-room^ but I distinctly saw\\nacross the apartment, and through the opposite\\nwindow the dark figure of a man about liiy\\nown size, Avho leaned against the long window,\\nand gazed intently on me. Above him spread the\\nyellow sunset light, around him the birch-boughs\\nhung and the ivy-tendrils swayed, while behind\\nhim there appeared a glimmering water-surface,\\nacross which slowly drifted the tall masts of a\\nschooner. It looked strangely like a view I had\\nseen of some foreign harbor, Amalfi, perhaps,\\nwith a vine-clad balcony and a single human\\nfigure in the foreground. So real and startling\\nwas the sight that at first it was not easy to re-\\nsolve the whole scene into its component parts.\\nYet it was simply such a confused mixture of real\\nand reflected images as one often sees from the\\nwindow of a railway carriage, where the mirrored\\ninterior seems to glide beside the train, with the\\nnatural landscape for a background. In this case,\\nalso, the frame and foliage of the picture were\\nreal, and all else was reflected the sunlit bay be-\\nhind us was reproduced as in a camera, and the\\ndark figure was but the full-length image of\\nmyself.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0085.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "70 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nIt was easy to explain all this to Severance, but\\nhe shook his head. So cool a philosopher as\\nyourself, he said, should remember that this\\nimage is not always visible. At our last visit, we\\nlooked for it in vain. Wlien we first saw it, it\\nappeared and disappeared within ten minutes.\\nOn your mechanical theory it should be other-\\nwise.\\nThis staggered me for a moment. Tlien the\\nready solution occurred, that the reflection de-\\npended on the strength and direction of the light\\nand I proved to him that, in our case, it had ap-\\npeared and disappeared with the sunshine. He\\nwas silenced, but evidently not convinced yet\\ntime and common-sense, it seemed, would take\\ncare of that.\\nSoon after all this, I was called out of town for\\na week or two. If Severance would go wdth me,\\nit would doubtless complete the cure, I thought\\nbut this he obstinately declined. After my de-\\nparture, my sister w rote, he seemed absolutely to\\nhaunt the empty house by the Blue Eocks. He\\nundoubtedly went here to sketch, she thought.\\nThe house was in charge of a real-estate agent,", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0086.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW. 71\\na retired landscape-painter, whose pictures did not\\nsell so profitably as their originals and her the-\\nory was, that this agent hoped to make our friend\\nbuy the place, and so allured him there under pre-\\ntence of sketching. ]\\\\Ioreover, she surmised, he\\nwas studying some effect of shadow, because, un-\\nlike most men, he appeared in decent spirits only\\non cloudy days. It is always so easy to fit a man\\nout with a set of ready-made motives But I\\ndrew my own conclusions, and was not surprised\\nto hear, soon after, that Severance was seriously\\nill.\\nThis brought me back at once, sailing down\\nfrom Providence in an open boat, I remember, one\\nlovely moonlight night. Next day I saw Sev-\\nerance, who declared that he had suffered from\\nnothing worse than a prolonged sick-headache. I\\nsoon got out of him all that had happened. He\\nhad seen the figure in the window every sunny\\nday, he said. Of course he had, if he chose to\\nlook for it, and I could only smile, though it\\nperhaps seemed unkind. But I stojjped smiling\\nwhen he went on to tell that, not satisfied with\\nthese observations, he had visited the house by", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0087.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "72 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nmoonlight also, and had then seen, as he averred,\\na second figure standing beside the first.\\nOf course, there was no defence against such a\\ntheory as this, except simply to laugh it down\\nbut it made me very anxious, for it showed that he\\nwas growing thoroughly morbid. Either it was\\npure fancy, I said, or it was Paul the gardener.\\nBut here he was prepared for me. It seemed\\nthat, on seeing the two figures. Severance had at\\nonce left the piazza, and, with an instinct of com-\\nmon-sense that was surprising, had crossed the\\ngarden, scaled the wall, and looked in at the win-\\ndow of Paul s little cottage, where the man and\\nhis wife were quietly seated at supper, probably\\nafter a late fishing-trip. There was another rea-\\nson, he said but here he stopped, and would\\ngive no description of the second figure, which he\\nhad, however, seen twice again, always by moon-\\nlight. He consented to let me accompany him the\\nfollowing night.\\nWe accordingly went. It was a calm, clear\\nnight, and the moon lay brightly on the bay. Tlie\\ndistant shores looked low and filmy a naVal\\nvessel was in the harbor, and there was a ball on", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0088.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW. 73\\nboard, with music and fire-works some fishermen\\nwere singing in their boats, late as was the hour.\\nSeverance was absorbed in his own gloomy rever-\\nies and when we had crossed the wall, the world\\nseemed left outside, and the glamour of the place\\nbegan to creep over me also. I seemed to see my\\ncompanion relapsing into some phantom realm,\\nbeyond power of withdrawal. I talked, sang, whis-\\ntled but it was all a rather hollow effort, and\\nsoon ceased. The great house looked gloomy and\\nimpenetrable, the moonlight appeared sick and\\nsad, the birch-boughs rustled in a dreary way.\\nWe went up the steps in no jubilant mood.\\nI crossed the piazza at once, looked in at the\\nfarthest window, and saw there my own image,\\nthough far more faintly than in the sunlight.\\nSeverance then joined me, and liis reflected shape\\nstood by mine. Something of the first ghostly\\nimpression was renewed, 1 must confess, by this\\nmeeting of the two shadows there was something\\nrather awful in the way the bodiless things nodded\\nand gesticulated at each other in silence. Still,\\nthere was nothing more than this, as Severance\\nwas compelled to own and I was trying to turn", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0089.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "74 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nthe whole affair into ridicule, whea suddenly,\\nwithout sound or warning, I saw as distinctly\\nas I perceive the words I now write yet another\\nfigure stand at the window, gaze steadfastly at us\\nfor a moment, and then disappear. It was, as I\\nfancied, that of a woman, but was totally enveloped\\nin a very full cloak, reaching to the ground, with\\na peculiarly cut hood, that stood erect and seemed\\nhalf as long as the body of the garment. I had a\\nvague recollection of having seen some such cos-\\ntume in a picture.\\nOf course, I daslied round the corner of the\\nhouse, threaded the birch-trees, and stood on the\\neastern piazza. No one was there Without\\nlosing an instant, I ran to the garden wall and\\nclimbed it, as Severance had done, to look into\\nPaul s cottage. That worthy was just getting into\\nbed, in a state of complicated deshahille, his black-\\nbearded head wrapped in an old scarlet hand-\\nkerchief that made him look like a retired pirate\\nin reduced circumstances. He being accounted\\nfor, I vainly traversed the shrubberies, returned to\\nthe western piazza, watched awhile uselessly, and\\nwent home with Severance, a good deal puzzled.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0090.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW. 75\\nBy daylight the whole thing seemed different.\\nThat I had seen the figure there was no doubt. It\\nwas not a reflected image, for we had no compan-\\nion. It was, then, human. After all, thought I, it\\nis a commonplace thing enougli, this mastxuerading\\nin a cloak and hood. Some one has oljserved\\nSeverance s nocturnal visits, and is amusing him-\\nself at his expense. The peculiarity was, that the\\nthing was so well done, and the figure had such an\\nair of dignity, that somehow it was not so easy to\\nmake light of it in talking with him.\\nI went into his room,* next day. His sick-\\nheadache, or whatever it was, had come on again,\\nand he was lying on his bed. Rutherford s strange\\nold book on the Second Sight lay open before him.\\nLook there, he said and I read the motto of a\\nchapter\\nIn sunliglit one,\\nIn shadow none,\\nIn moonlight two,\\nIn thnndcr two,\\nThen comes Death.\\nI threw the book indignantly from me, and\\nbegan to invent doggerel, parodying this precious\\nincantation. But Severance did not seem to enjoy", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0091.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "76 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nthe joke, and it grows tiresome to enact one s own\\nfarce and do one s own applauding.\\nFor several days after lie was laid up in earnest\\nbut instead of getting any mental rest from this,\\nhe lay poring over that preposterous book, and it\\nreally seemed as if his brain were a little disturbed.\\nMeanwhile I watched the great house, day and\\nnight, sought for footsteps, and, by some odd\\nfancy, took frequent observations on the gardener\\nand his wife. Failing to get any clew, I waited\\none day for Paul s absence, and made a call upon\\nthe wife, under pretence of hunting up a missing\\nhandkerchief, for she had been my laundress.\\nI found the handsome, swarthy creature, with her\\nsix bronzed children around her, training up the\\nMadeira vine that made a bower of the whole side\\nof her little, black, gambrel-roofed cottage. On\\nlearning my errand, she became full of sympathy,\\nand was soon emptying her bureau-drawers in\\npursuit of the lost handkerchief As she opened\\nthe lowest drawer, I saw within it something\\nwhich sent all the blood to my face for a moment.\\nIt was a black cloth cloak, with a stiff hood two\\nfeet long, of precisely the pattern worn by the", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0092.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW. 77\\nunaccountable visitant at the window. I turned\\nalmost fiercely upon her but she looked so inno-\\ncent as she stood there, caressing and dusting with\\nher fingers what was evidently a pet garment, that\\nit was really impossible to denounce her.\\nIs that a Bavarian cloak said I, trying to\\nbe cool and judicial.\\nHere broke in the eldest boy, named John, aged\\nten, a native American, and a sailor already, whom\\nI liad twice fished up from a capsized punt.\\nMother ain t a Bavarian, quoth the young salt.\\nFather s a Bavarian mother s a Portegee.\\nPortegees wear them hoods.\\nI am a Portuguese, sir, from Fayal, said the\\nwoman, prolonging with sweet intonation the soft\\nname of her birthplace. This is my capote she\\nadded, taking up with pride the uncouth costume,\\nwhile the children gathered round, as if its vast\\nfolds came rarely into sight.\\nIt has not been unfolded for a year, she said.\\nAs she spoke, she dropped it with a cry, and a\\nlittle mouse sprang from the skirts, and whisked\\naway into some corner. We found that the little\\nanimal had made its abode in the heavy woollen,", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0093.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "78 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nof which three or four thicknesses had been eaten\\nthrough, and then matted together into the softest\\nof nests. This contained, moreover, a small fam-\\nily of mouselets, who certainly had not taken part\\nin any midnight masquerade. The secret seemed\\nmore remote than ever, for I knew that there was\\nno other Portuguese family in the town, and there\\nwas no confounding this peculiar local costume\\nwith any other.\\nEeturning to Severance s chamber, I said noth-\\ning of all this. He was, by an odd coincidence,\\nlooking over a portfolio of Fayal sketches made\\nby himself during his late voyage. Among them\\nwere a dozen studies of just such cetjjotes as I had\\nseen, some in profile, completely screening the\\nwearer, others disclosing M-omen s faces, old or\\nyoung. He seemed to wish to put them away,\\nhowever, when I came in. IJeally, the plot seemed\\nto thicken and it was a little provoking to under-\\nstand it no better, when all the materials seemed\\nclose to one s hands.\\nA day or two later, I was summoned to Boston.\\nEeturning thence by the stage-coach, we drove\\nfrom Tiverton, the whole length of the island, un-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0094.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW. 79\\ncler one of tliose wild and wonderful skies which\\ngive, better tlian anytliing in nature, the effect of\\na field of battle. The heavens were filled with\\nten thousand separate masses of cloud, varying in\\nshade from palest gray to iron-black, borne rapidly\\nto and fro by upper and lower currents of oppos-\\ning wind. They seemed to be charging, retreat-\\ning, breaking, recorabining, with puffs of what\\nseemed smoke, and a few wan sunbeams some-\\ntimes striking through for fire. Wherever the eye\\nturned, there appeared some flying fragment not\\nseen before and yet in an hour this noiseless\\nAntietam grew still, and a settled leaden film\\noverspread the sky, yielding only to some level\\nlines of light where the sun went down. Perhaps\\nour driver was looking toward the sky more than\\nto his own affairs, for, just as all this ended\\na wheel gave out, and we had to stop in Ports-\\nmoutli for repairs. By the time we were again\\nin motion, the changing wind had brought up\\na final thunder-storm, which broke upon us ere\\nwe reached our homes. It was rather an uncom-\\nmon thing, so late in the season for the light-\\nning, like other brilliant visitors, usually appears", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0095.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "80 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nin Oldport during only a month or two of every\\nyear.\\nThe coach set me down at my own door, so\\nsoaked that I might have floated in. I peeped\\ninto Severance s room, however, on the way to\\nmy own. Strange to say, no one was there yet\\nsome one had evidently been lying on the bed,\\nand on the pillow lay the old book on the Second\\nSight, open at the very page which had so be-\\nwitched him and vexed me. I glanced at it me-\\nchanically, and when I came to the meaningless\\njumble, In thunder two, a flash flooded tlie\\nchamber, and a sudden fear struck into my mind.\\nWho knew what insane experiment might have\\ncome into that boy s head\\nWith sudden impulse, I went down stairs, and\\nfound the whole house empty, until a stupid old\\nwoman, coming in from the wood-house with her\\napron full of turnips, told me that Severance had\\nbeen missing since nightfall, after being for a\\nweek in bed, dangerously ill, and sometimes slight-\\nly delirious. The family had become alarmed,\\nand were out with lanterns, in search of him.\\nIt was safe to say that none of them had more", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0096.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW. 81\\nreason to be alarmed than I. It was something,\\nliowever, to know where to seek him. Meeting\\ntwo neighboring fishermen, I took them with me.\\nAs we approached the well-known wall, the blast\\nblew out our lights, and we could scarcely speak.\\nThe lightning had grown less frequent, yet sheets\\nof flame seemed occasionally to break over the\\ndark, square sides of the house, and to send a\\nflickering flame along the ridge-pole and eaves,\\nlike a surf of light. A surf of water broke also\\nbehind us on the Blue Eocks, sounding as if it\\npursued our very footsteps and one of the men\\nwhispered hoarsely to me, that a Nantucket brig\\nliad parted her cable, and was drifting in shore.\\nAs we entered the garden, lights gleamed in the\\nshrubbery. To my surprise, it was Paul and his\\nwife, with their two oldest children, these last\\nbeing quite delighted with the stir, and showing\\nso much illumination, in the lee of the house, that\\nit was quite a Feast of Lanterns. They seemed a\\nlittle surprised at meeting us, too but we might\\nas well have talked from Point Judith to Beaver\\nTail as to have attempted conversation there. I\\nwalked round the building but a flash of light-\\n4* F", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0097.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "82 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nniug showed nothing on the western piazza save a\\nbirch-tree, which lay across, blown down by the\\nstorm. I therefore Avent inside, with Paul s house-\\nhold, leaving the fishermen without.\\nNever shall I forget that search. As we went\\nfrom empty room to room, the thunder seemed\\nrolling on the very roof, and the sharp flashes of\\nlightning appeared to put out our lamps and then\\nkindle them again. We traversed the upper re-\\ngions, mounting by a ladder to the attic then\\ndescended into the cellar and the wine-vault. The\\nthorough bareness of the house, the fact that no\\nbright-eyed mice peeped at us from their holes, no\\nuncouth insects glided on the walls, no flies buzzed\\nin the unwonted lamplight, scarcely a spider slid\\ndown his damp and trailing web, all this seemed\\nto enhance the mystery. The vacancy was more\\ndreary than desertion: it was something old which\\nhad never been young. We found ourselves\\nspeaking in whispers the children kept close to\\ntheir parents we seemed to be chasing some\\nawful Silence from room to room and the last\\napartment, the great draAving-room, we really\\nseemed loath to enter. The less the rest of the", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0098.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "THE H.\\\\U^ TED WINDOW. 83\\nhouse had to show, the more, it seemed, must be\\nconcentrated there. Even as we entered, a blast\\nof air from a broken pane extinguished our last\\nlight, and it seemed to take many minutes to re-\\nkindle it.\\nAs it shone once more, a brilliant lightning-\\nflash also swept through the window, and flick-\\nered and flickered, as if it would never have done.\\nThe eldest child suddenly screamed, and pointed\\nwith her finger, first to one great window and then\\nto its opposite. My eyes instinctively followed\\nthe successive directions and the double glance\\ngave me all I came to seek, and more than all.\\nOutside the western window lay Severance, his\\nwhite face against the pane, his eyes gazing across\\nand past us, struck down doubtless by the fallen\\ntree, which lay across the piazza, and hid him from\\nexternal view. Opposite him, and seen through\\nthe eastern window, stood, statue-like, the hooded\\nfigure, but with the great capote thrown back,\\nshowing a sad, eager, girlish face, with dark eyes,\\nand a good deal of black hair, one of those faces\\nof peasant beauty such as America never shows,\\nfaces M here ignorance is almost raised into re-", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0099.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "84 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nfinement by its childlike look. Contrasted with\\nSeverance s wild gaze, the countenance wore an\\nexpression of pitying forgiveness, almost of calm\\nyet it told of wasting sorrow and the wreck of a\\nlife. Gleaming lustrous beneath the lightning, it\\nhad a more mystic look when the long flash had\\nceased, and the single lantern burned beneath it,\\nlike an altar-lamp before a shrine.\\nIt is Aunt Emilia, exclaimed the little girl\\nand as she spoke, the father, turning angrily upon\\nher, dashed the light to the ground, and groped\\nhis way out without a word of answer. I A\\\\as\\ntoo much alarmed about Severance to care for\\naught else, and quickly made my way to the A\\\\ est-\\nern piazza, M-here I found him stunned by the\\nfallen tree, injured, I feared, internally, still\\nconscious, but unable to speak.\\nWith the aid of my two companions I got him\\nhome, and he was ill for several weeks before he\\ndied. During his illness he told me all he had\\nto tell; and though Paul and his family disap-\\npeared next day, perhaps going on board the\\nNantucket brig, which had narrowly escaped ship-\\nwreck, I afterwards learned all the remaining", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0100.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW, 85\\nfacts from the only neighbor in whom they had\\nplaced confidence. Severance, while convalescing\\nat a country-house in Fayal, had fallen passionately\\nin love with a young peasant-girl, who had broken\\noff her intended marriage for love of him, and had\\nsunk into a half-imbecile melancholy when de-\\nserted. She had afterwards come to this country,\\nand joined her sister, Paul s wife. Paul had re-\\nceived her reluctantly, and only on condition that\\nher existence should be concealed. This was the\\neasier, as it was one of her whims to go out only by\\nnight, when she had haunted the great house,\\nwliich, she said, reminded her of her own island,\\nso that she liked to wear thither the ccqjote which\\nhad been the pride of her heart at home. On the\\nfew occasions when she had caught a glimpse of\\nSeverance, he had seemed to her, no doubt, as\\nmuch a phantom as she seemed to him. On tlie\\nnight of the storm, they had both sought their\\nfavorite haunt, unconscious of each other, and\\nthe friends of each had followed in alarm.\\nI got traces of the family afterwards at Nan-\\ntucket, and later at Narragansett, and had reason to\\nthink that Paid was employed, one summer, by a", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0101.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "86 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nfarmer on Conaniciit; but I -was always just too\\nlate for them and the money whicli Severance left,\\nas his only reparation for poor Emilia, never was\\npaid. The affair was hushed up, and very few,\\neven among the neighbors, knew the tragedy that\\nhad passed by them with the storm.\\nAfter Severance died, I had that temporary feel-\\ning of weakened life which remains after tlie first\\nfriend or the first love passes, and the heart seems\\nto lose its sense of infinity. His father came, and\\nprosed, and measured the windows of the empty\\nhouse, and calculated angles of reflection, and\\npoured even death and despair into his crucible of\\ncommonplace the mother whined in lier feebler\\nway at liome while the only brother, a talkative\\nmedical student, tried to pooh-pooh it all, and sent\\nme a letter demonstrating that Emilia was never\\nin America, and that the whole was an liallucina-\\ntion. I cared nothing for his theory; it all seemed\\nlike a dream to me, and, as all the actors but my-\\nself are gone, it seems so still. The great house is\\nyet unoccupied, and likely to remain so and he\\nwho looks througli its western window may still\\nbe startled by the weird image of himself. As I", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0102.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "THE HAUNTED WINDOW. 87\\nlingered round it, to-day, beneath the winter sun-\\nlight, the snow drifted pitilessly past its ivied\\nwindows, and so hushed my footsteps that I scarce\\nknew which was the phantom, myself or my re-\\nflection, and wondered if the medical student\\nwould not argue me out of existence next.\\nThis is the end of my story. If I sought for a\\nmoral, it would be hard to attach one to a thing\\nso slight. It could only be this, that shadow and\\nsubstance are always ready to link themselves, in\\nunexpected ways, against the diseased imagination\\nand that remorse can make the most transparent\\ncrystal into a mirror for its sin.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0103.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "A DEIFT-WOOD FIEE.\\nThis ae iiighte, this ae nighte,\\nEvery nighte and alle,\\nFire and salt and candle-lighte,\\nAnd Christe receive thy saule.\\nA Lykc- Wake Dirge.\\nrriHE October days grow mpidly shorter, and\\nbrighten with more concentrated lidit. It is\\nbut half past five, yet the sun dips redly behind\\nConanicut, the sunset-gun booms from our neigh-\\nbor s yacht, the flag glides down from his mainmast,\\nand the slender pennant, running swiftly up the\\nopposite halyards, dances and flickers like a flame,\\nand at last perches, with dainty hesitation, at the\\nmast-head. A tint of salmon-color, burnished into\\nlong undulations of lustre, overspreads the shal-\\nlower waves but a sober gray begins to steal in\\nbeneath the sunset rays, and will soon claim even\\nthe brilliant foreground for its own. Pile a few\\nmore fragments of drift-wood upon the fire in the", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0104.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0107.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0108.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 89\\ngreat chimney, little maiden, and then couch\\nyourself before it, that I may have your glowing\\ncliildhood as a foreground for those heaped relics\\nof shipwreck and despair. You seem, in your\\nscarlet boating-dress, Annie, like some bright\\ntropic bird, alit for a moment beside that other\\nbird of the tropics, flame.\\nThoreau thought that his temperament dated\\nfrom an earlier period than the agricultural,\\nbecause he preferred woodcraft to gardening and\\nit is also pleasant to revert to the period when men\\nhad invented neither saws nor axes, but simply\\npicked up their fuel in forests or on ocean-shores.\\nFire is a thing which comes so near us, and combines\\nitself so closely with our life, that we enjoy it best\\nwhen we work for it in some way, so that our fuel\\nshall warm us twice, as the country people say,\\nonce in the getting, and again in the burning.\\nYet no work seems to have more of the flavor of\\nplay in it than that of collecting drift-wood on\\nsome convenient beach, or than this boat-service\\nof ours, Annie, when we go wandering from island\\nto island in the harbor, and glide over sea-weed\\ngroves and the habitations of crabs, or to the", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0109.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "90 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nflowery and ruined bastions of Eose Island, or\\nto those caves at Coaster s Harbor where we played\\nVictor Hugo, and were eaten up in fancy by a\\ncuttle-fish. Then we voyaged, you remember, to\\nthat further cave, in the solid rock, just above low-\\nwater-mark, a cell unapproachable by land, and\\nhigh enough for you to stand erect. There you\\nwished to play Constance in Marmion, and to be\\nwalled up alive, if convenient but as it proved\\nimpracticable on that day, you helped me to secure\\nsome bits of drift-wood instead. Longer voyages\\nbrought waifs from remoter islands, whose very\\nnames tell, perchance, the changing story of\\nmariners long since wrecked, isles baptized\\nPatience and Prudence, Hope and Desjjair. And\\nother relics bear witness of more distant beaches,\\nand of those wrecks which still lie, sentinels of\\nruin, along Brentou s Point and Castle Hill.\\nTo collect drift-wood is like botanizing, and one\\nsoon learns to recognize the prevailing species,\\nand to look with pleased eagerness for new. It is\\na tragic botany indeed, where, as in enchanted\\ngardens, every specimen has a voice, and, as you take\\neach from the ground, you expect from it a cry", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0110.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 91\\nlike the mandrake s. And from what a garden it\\ncomes I As one walks round Brenton s Point after\\nan autumnal storm, it seems as if tlie passionate\\nheaving of the waves had brought wJiolly new tints\\nto the surface, hues unseen even in dreams before,\\ngreens and purples impossible in serener days.\\nThese match the prevailing green and purple of\\nthe slate-cliffs and Nature in truth carries such\\nfine fitnesses yet further. For, as we tread the deli-\\ncate seaside turf, which makes the farthest point\\nseem merely the land s last bequest of emerald to\\nthe ocean, we suddenly come upon curved lines of\\nlustrous purple amid the grass, rows on rows of\\nbright muscle-shells, regularly traced as if a child\\nhad played there, the graceful high- water-mark\\nof the ten-ible storm.\\nIt is the crowning fascination of the sea, the\\nconsummation of such might in such infantine\\ndelicacy. You may notice it again in the summer,\\nwhen our bay is thronged for miles on miles witli\\ninch-long jelly-fishes, lovely creatures, in shape\\nlike disembodied gooseberries, and shot through\\nand through in the sunlight with all manner of\\nblue and golden glisten ings, and bearing tiny rows", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0111.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "92 OLDPOUT DAYS.\\nof fringing oars that tremble like a baby s eyelids.\\nThere is less of gross substance in them than in any\\nother created thing, mere water and outline,\\ndestined to perish at a touch, but seemingly never\\ntouching, for they float secure, finding no conceiv-\\nable cradle so soft as this awful sea. They are\\nlike melodies amid Beethoven s Symphonies, or\\nlike the songs that wander through Shakespeare,\\nand that seem things too fragile to risk near\\nCleopatra s passion and Hamlet s woe. Thus\\ntender is the touch of ocean and look, how around\\nthis piece of oaken timber, twisted and torn and\\nfurrowed, its iron bolts snapped across as if\\nbitten,. there is yet twined a gay garland of\\nribbon-w^eed, bearing on its trailinfj stem a cluster\\nof bright shells, like a mermaid s chatelaine.\\nThus adorned, we place it on the blaze. As\\nnight gathers without, the gale rises. It is a\\nseason of uneasy winds, and of strange, rainless\\nstorms, which perplex the fishermen, and indicate\\nrough weather out at sea. As the house trembles\\nand the windows rattle, we turn towards the fire\\nwith a feeling of safety. Representing the fiercest\\nof all dangers, it yet expresses security and comfort.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0112.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 93\\nShould a gale tear the roof from over our heads and\\nshow the black sky alone above us, we should not\\nfeel utterly homeless while this fire burned, at\\nleast I can recall such a feeling of protection when\\nonce left suddenly roofless by night in one of the\\nwild gorges of ^Mount Katahdiu. There is a\\npositive demonstrative force in an open fire, which\\nmakes it your fit ally in a storm. Settled and\\nobdurate cold may well be encountered by the\\nquiet heat of an invisible furnace. But this liowl-\\ning wind might depress one s spirits, were it not\\nmet by a force as palpable, the warm blast\\nwithin answering to the cold blast without. The\\nwide chimney then becomes the scene of contest\\nwind meets wind, sparks encounter rain-drops, they\\nfight in the air like the visioned soldiers of Attila\\nsometimes a daring drop penetrates, and dies,\\nhissing, on the hearth and sometimes a troop of\\nsparks may make a sortie from the chimney-top.\\nI know not how else we can meet the elements by\\na defiance so magnificent as that from this open\\nhearth and in burning drift-wood, especially, we\\nturn against the enemy liis own ammunition. For\\non these fragments three elements have already", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0113.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "94 OLDPORT DAYS.\\ndone their work. Water racked and strained the\\nhapless ships, air liunted them, and they were\\nthrown at last npon earth, the sternest of all.\\nNow fire takes the shattered remnants, and makes\\nthem a means of comfort and defence.\\nIt has been pointed out by botanists, as one of\\nNature s most graceful retributions, that, in the\\nbuilding of the ship, the apparent balance of vege-\\ntable forces is reversed, and the herb becomes\\nmaster of the tree, when the delicate, blue-eyed\\nflax, taking the stately pine under its protection,\\nstretches over it in cordage, or spreads in sails.\\nBut more graceful still is this further contest be-\\ntween the great natural elements, Avhen this most\\nfantastic and vanishing thing, this delicate and\\ndancing flame, subdues all these huge vassals to\\nits will, and, after earth and air and water have\\ndone their utmost, comes in to complete the task,\\nand to be crowned as monarch. The sea drinks\\nthe air, said Anacreou, and the sun the sea.\\nMy fire is the child of the sun.\\nI come back from every evening stroll to this\\ngleaming blaze it is a domastic lamp, and shines\\nfor me everywhere. To my imagination it burns", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0114.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "A PRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 95\\nas a central flame among these dark houses, and\\nlights up the Avhole of this little fishing hamlet,\\nhumble suburb of the fashionable watering-place.\\nI fancy that others too perceive the light, and that\\ncertain huge visitors are attracted, even when the\\nstorm keeps neighbors and friends at home. For\\nthe slightest presage of foul weather is sure to bring\\nto yonder anchorage a dozen silent vessels, that\\nglide up the harbor for refuge, and are heard but\\nonce, when tlie chain-cable rattles as it runs out,\\nand the iron hand of the anchor grasps the rock.\\nIt always seems to me that these unwieldy crea-\\ntures are gathered, not about the neighboring light-\\nhouse only, but around our ingle-side. Welcome,\\nye great winged strangers, whose very names are\\nunknown This hearth is comprehensive in its\\nhospitalities it will accept from you either its fuel\\nor its guests your mariners may warm themselves\\nbeside it, or your scattered timbers may warm me.\\nStrange instincts might be supposed to tlirill and\\nshudder in the ribs of ships that sail toward the\\nbeacon of a drift-wood fire. Morituri salutant.\\nA single shock, and all tliat magnificent fabric\\nmay become mere fuel to prolong the flame.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0115.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "06 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nHere, beside the roaring ocean, this blaze repre-\\nsents the only receptacle more vast than ocean.\\nWe say, unstable as water. But there is noth-\\ning unstable about the flickering flame it is per-\\nsistent and desperate, relentless in following its\\nends. It is the most tremendous physical force\\nthat man can use. If drugs fail, said Hippoc-\\nrates, use the knife should the knife fail, use fire.\\nConquered countries were anciently given over to\\nfire and sword the latter could only kill, but the\\nother could annihilate. See how thoroughly it does\\nits work, even when domesticated it takes up\\neverything upon the hearth and leaves all clean.\\nThe Greek proverb says, that the sea drinks up\\nall the sins of the world. Save fire only, the\\nsea is the most capacious of all things. But\\nits task is left incomplete it only hides its\\nrecords, while fire destroys them. In the ISTorse\\nEdda, when the gods try their games, they find\\nthemselves able to out-drink the ocean, but not\\nto eat like the flame. Logi, or fire, licks up food\\nand trencher and all. This chimney is more vora-\\ncious than the sea. Give time enough, and all\\nwhich yonder depths contain might pass through", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0116.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 97\\nthis insatiable throat, leaving only a few ashes and\\nthe memory of a flickering shade, pulvis et\\nmnhra. We recognize this when we have any-\\nthing to conceal Deep crimes are buried in earth,\\ndeeper are sunk in water, but the deepest of all\\nare confided by trembling men to the profounder\\nsecrecy of flame. If every old chimney could nar-\\nrate the fearful deeds whose last records it has\\ncancelled, what sighs of undying passion would\\nbreathe from its dark summit, what groans of\\nguilt I Those lurid sparks that whirl over yonder\\nhouse-top, tossed aloft as if fire itself could not\\ncontain them, may be the last embers of some\\nwritten scroll, one rescued word of which might\\no\\nsuffice for the ruin of a household, and the crush-\\ning of many hearts.\\nBut this domestic hearth of ours holds only,\\nbesides its drift-wood, the peaceful records of the\\nday, its shreds and fragments and fallen leaves.\\nAs the ancients poured wine upon their flames, so I\\npour rose-leaves in libation and each morning con-\\ntributes the faded petals of yesterday s wreaths.\\nAll our roses of this season have passed up this\\nchimney in the blaze. Their delicate veins were", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0117.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "98 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nfilled with all the summer s fire, and they returned\\nto fire once more, ashes to ashes, flame to flame.\\nFor holding, with Bettina, that every flower which\\nis broken becomes immortal in the sacrifice, I\\ndeem it more fitting that their earthly part should\\ndie by a concentration of that burning element\\nwhich would at any rate be in some form their\\nending; so they have their altar on this bright\\nhearth.\\nLet us pile up the fire anew with drift-wood,\\nAnnie. We can choose at random for our logs\\ncame from no single forest. It is considered an\\nimportant branch of skill in the country to know\\nthe varieties of firewood, and to choose among\\nthem well. But to-night we ha^ e the whole\\nAtlantic shore for our wood-pile, and the Gulf\\nStream for a teamster. Every foreign tree of\\nrarest name may, for aught we know, send its\\ntreasures to our hearth. Logwood and satinwood\\nmay mingle with cedar and maple the old cellar-\\nfloors of this once princely town are of mahogany,\\nand why not our fire I have a very indistinct\\nimpression what teak is but if it means some-\\nthing black and impenetrable and nearly in-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0118.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "A DIUFT-WOOD FIRE. 99\\ndestructible, then there is a piece of it, Annie,\\non the hearth at this moment.\\nIt must be owned, indeed, that timbers soaked\\nlong enough in salt-water seem almost to lose\\ntheir capacity of being burnt. Perhaps it was for\\nthis reason that, in the ancient lyke-wakes of\\nthe North of England, a pinch of salt was placed\\nupon the dead body, as a safeguard against purga-\\ntorial flames. Yet salt melts ice, and so represents\\nheat, one would think and one can fancy that\\nthese fragments should be doubly inflammable, by\\ntheir saline quality, and by the unmerciful rubbing\\nwhicli the waves have given them. I have noticed\\nwhat warmth this churning process communicates\\nto the clotted foam that lies in tremulous masses\\namong the rocks, holding all the blue of ocean in\\nits bubbles. After one s hands are chilled with\\nthe water, one can warm them in the foam. These\\ndrift-wood fragments are but the larger foam of\\nshipwrecks.\\nWhat strange comrades this flame brings to-\\ngether As foreign sailors from remotest seas may\\nsit and chat side by side, before some boarding-\\nhouse fire in this seaport town, so these shapeless", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0119.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "100 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nsticks, perhaps gathered from far wider wander-\\nings, now nestle together against the backlog, and\\nconverse in strange dialects as they burn. It is\\nwritten in the Heetopades of Veeshnoo Sarma,\\nthat, as two planks, floating on the surface of the\\nmighty receptacle of tlie waters, meet, and having\\nmet are separated forever, so do beings in this life\\ncome together and presently are parted. Per-\\nchance this chimney reunites the planks, at the\\nlast moment, as death must reunite friends.\\nAnd with what wondrous voices these strayed\\nwanderers talk to one another on the hearth They\\nbewitch us by the mere fascination of tlieir lan-\\nguage. Such a delicacy of intonation, yet such a\\nvolume of sound. The murmur of the surf is not\\nso soft or so solemn. There are the merest hints\\nand traceries of tones, phantom voices, more re-\\nmote from noise than anything which is noise\\nand yet there is an undertone of roar, as from a\\nthousand cities, the cities whence these wild voy-\\nagers came. Watch the decreasing sounds of a\\nfire as it dies, for it seems cruel to leave it, as\\nwe do, to die alone. I watched beside this hearth\\nlast night. As the fire sank down, the little voices", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0120.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 101\\ncrrew stiller and more still, and at last there came\\nonly irregular beats, at varying intervals, as if\\nfrom a heart tliat acted spasmodically, or as if it\\nwere measuring off by ticks the little remnant of\\ntime. Then it said, Hush two or three times,\\nand there came something so like a sob that it\\nseemed human and then all was still.\\nIf these dying voices are so sweet and subtile,\\nwhat legends must be held untold by yonder frag-\\nments that lie unconsumed Photography has\\nfamiliarized us with the thought that every visible\\nact, since the beginning of the world, has stamped\\nitself upon surrounding surfaces, even if we have\\nnot yet skill to discern and hold the image. And\\nespecially, in looking on a liquid expanse, such as\\nthe ocean in calm, one is haunted with these fan-\\ncies. I gaze into its depths, and wonder if no\\nstray reflection has been imprisoned there, still ac-\\ncessible to human eyes, of some scene of passion\\nor despair it has witnessed as some maiden visitor\\nat Holyrood Palace, looking in the ancient metallic\\nmirror, might start at the thought that perchance\\nsome lineament of Mary Stuart may suddenly look\\nout, in desolate and forgotten beauty, mingled with", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0121.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "102 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nher own. And if the mere waters of the ocean, sa-\\ntiate and wearied with tragedy as they must be, still\\nkeep for our fancy such records, how much more\\nmight we attribute a human consciousness to these\\nshattered fragments, each seared by its own special\\ngrief.\\nYet while they are silent, I like to trace back for\\nthese component parts of my fire such brief histories\\nas I share. This block, for instance, came from the\\nlarge schooner which now lies at the end of Castle\\nHill Beach, bearing still aloft its broken masts and\\nshattered rigging, and with its keel yet stanch,\\nexcept that the stern-post is gone, so that each\\ntide sweeps in its green harvest of glossy kelp, and\\ntlien tosses it in the hold like hay, desolately\\ntenanting the place Avliich once sheltered men.\\nThe floating weed, so graceful in its own place,\\nlooks but dreary when thus confined. On that fear-\\nfully cold ]\\\\Ionday of last winter (January 8, 1866)\\nwhen the mercury stood at -10\u00c2\u00b0, even in this mild-\\nest corner of New England, this vessel was\\ncaught helplessly amid the ice that drifted out of\\nthe west passage of Narragausett Bay, before the\\nfierce north-wind. They tried to beat into the", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0122.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 103\\neastern entrance, but the scliooner seemed in sink-\\ning condition, the sails and helm were clogged with\\nice, and every rope, as an eye-witness told me, was\\nas large as a man s body with frozen sleet. Twice\\nthey tacked across, making no progress and then,\\nto save their lives, ran the vessel on the rocks and\\ngot ashore. After they had left her, a higher wave\\nswept her oft*, and drifted her into a little cove,\\nwhere she has ever since remained.\\nThere were twelve wrecks along this shore last\\nwinter, more than during any season for a\\nquarter of a century. I remember when the first\\nof these lay in great fragments on Gra\\\\es Point, a\\nschooner having been stranded on Cormorant\\nRocks outside, and there broken in pieces by the\\nsurf. She had been split lengthwise, and one great\\nside was leaning up against the sloping rock, bows\\non, like some wild sea-creature never before beheld\\nof men, and come there but to die. So strong was\\nthis impression that when I afterwards saw men at\\nwork upon the wreck, tearing out the iron bolts and\\nchains, it seemed like torturing the last moments\\nof a living thing. At my next visit there was no\\nperson in sight another companion fragment had", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0123.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "104 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nfloated ashore, and the two lay peacefully beside\\nthe sailors graves (which give the name to the\\npoint), as if they found comfort there. A little\\nfarther on there was a brig ashore and deserted.\\nA fog came in from the sea and, as I sat by the\\ngraves, some unseen passing vessel struck eight\\nbells for noon. For a moment I fancied that it\\ncame from the empty brig, a ghostly call, to sum-\\nmon phantom sailors.\\nThat smouldering brand, which has alternately\\ngleamed and darkened for so many minutes,\\nI brought from Price s Neck last winter, when\\nthe Brenton s Eeef Light-ship went ashore. Yon-\\nder the oddly shaped vessel rides at anchor now,\\ntwo miles from land, bearing her lanterns aloft\\nat fore and main top. She parted her moor-\\nings by night, in the fearful storm of October\\n19, 1865 and I well remember, that, as I\\nwalked through the streets that wild evening, it\\nseemed dangerous to be out of doors, and I tried\\nto imagine wliat was going on at sea, while at that\\nvery moment the light-ship was driving on toward\\nme in the darkness. It was thus that it hap-\\npened", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0124.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 105\\nThere had been a lieavy gale from the southeast,\\nwhich, after a few hours of lull, suddenly changed\\nin the afternoon to the southwest, which is, on this\\ncoast, the prevailing direction. Beginning about\\nthree o ch)ck, this new wind had risen almost to a\\nhurricane by six, and held with equal fury till mid-\\nnight, after which it greatly diminished, though,\\nwhen I visited the wreck next morning, it was hard\\nto walk against the blast. The light-ship went adrift\\nat eight in the evening the men let go another\\nanchor, with forty fathoms of cable this parted\\nalso, but the cable dragged, as she drifted in,\\nkeeping the vessel s head to the wind, which was\\ngreatly to her advantage. The great waves took\\nher over five lines of reef, on each of wliich her\\nkeel grazed or held for a time. She came ashore\\non Price s Neck at last, about eleven.\\nIt was utterly dark the sea broke high over\\nthe ship, even over her lanterns, and the crew\\ncould only guess that they were near tlie land by\\nthe sound of the surf. The captain was not on\\nboard, and the mate was in command, though his\\nleg had been broken while holding the tiller.\\nThey could not hear each other s voices, and could\\n5*", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0125.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "106 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nscarcely cling to the deck. There seemed every\\nchance that the ship would go to pieces before\\ndaylight. At last one of the crew, named William\\nMartin, a Scotchman, thinking, as he afterwards\\ntold me, of his wife and three children, and of the\\nothers on board wlio had families. and that\\nsomething must be done, and he might as well do\\nit as anybody, got a rope bound around his\\nwaist, and sprang overboard. I asked the mate\\nnext day whether he ordered Martin to do this,\\nand he said, No, he volunteered it. I would not\\nhave ordered him, for I would not have done it\\nmyself. What made the thing most remarkable\\nwas, that the man actually could not swim, and\\ndid not know how far off the shore was, but\\ntrusted to the waves to take him thither, per-\\nhaps two hundred yards. His trust was repaid.\\nStruggling in the mighty surf, he sometimes felt\\nthe rocks beneath his feet, sometimes bruised\\nhis hands against them. At any rate he got on\\nshore alive, and, securing his rope, made his way\\nover the moors to the town, and summoned his\\ncaptain, who was asleep in his own house. They\\nreturned at once to the spot, found the line still", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0126.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 107\\nfast, and the rest of tlie crew, four in number,\\nlowered the -whaleboat, and were pulled to shore\\nby tlie rope, landing safely before daybreak.\\nWhen I saw the vessel next morning, she lay in\\na little cove, stern on, not wholly out of water,\\nsteady and upright as in a dry-dock, with no sign\\nof serious injury, except that the rudder was gone.\\nShe did not seem like a wreck the men were the\\nwrecks. As they lay among the rocks, bare or\\ntattered, scarcely able to move, waiting for low\\ntide to go on board the vessel, it was like a\\nscene after a battle. They appeared too inert,\\npoor fellows, to do anything but yearn toward the\\nsun. When they changed j)osition for shelter,\\nfrom time to time, they crept along the rocks,\\ninstead of walking. They were like the little\\nfloating sprays of sea-weed, when you take\\nthem from the water and they become a mere\\nmass of pulp in your hand. Martin shared\\nin the general exhaustion, and no wonder but\\nhe told his story very simply, and showed\\nme where he had landed. The feat seemed\\nto me then, and has always seemed, almost in-\\ncredible; even for an expert swimmer. He thus", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0127.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "108 OLDPOIIT DAYS.\\nsummed up the motives for his action I thought\\nthat God was first, and I was next, and if I\\ndid the best I could, no man could do more\\nthan that so I jumped overboard. It is pleas-\\nant to add, that, though a poor man, he utterly\\ndeclined one of those small donations of money\\nby which we Anglo-Saxons are wont clumsily to\\nexpress our personal enthusiasms and I think I\\nappreciated his whole action the more for its com-\\ning just at the close of a war during which so\\nmany had readily accepted their award of praise\\nor pay for acts of less intrinsic daring than his.\\nStir the fire, Annie, with yonder broken frag-\\nment of a flag-staff; its truck is still remaining,\\nthough the flag is gone, and every nation might\\nclaim it. As you stir, the burning brands evince\\na remembrance of their sea-tost life, the sparks\\ndrift away like foam-flakes, the flames wave and\\nflap like sails, and the wail of the chimney sings\\na second shipwreck. As the tiny scintillations\\ngleam and scatter and vanish in the soot of the\\nchimney- wall, instead of There goes the parson,\\nand there goes the clerk, it must be the captain\\nand the crew we watch. A drift-wood fire should", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0128.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. 100\\nalways have children to tend it for there is some-\\nthing childlike about it, unlike the steadier glow\\nof walnut logs. It has a coaxing, infantine way\\nof playing with the oddly shaped bits of wood we\\ngive it, and of deserting one to caress with flicker-\\ning impulse another and at night, when it needs\\nto be extinguished, it is as hard to put to rest as a\\nnursery of children, for some bright little head is\\nconstantly springing up anew, from its pillow of\\nashes. And, in turn, what endless delight chil-\\ndren find in the manipulation of a fire\\nWhat a variety of playthings, too, in this fuel\\nof ours such inexplicable pieces, treenails and\\ntholepins, trucks and sheaves, the lid of a locker,\\nand a broken handspike. These larger fragments\\nare from spars and planks and knees. Some were\\ndropped overboard in this quiet harbor others\\nmay have floated from Fayal or Hispaniola, Mo-\\nzambique or Zanzibar. This eagle figure-head,\\nchipped and battered, but still possessing highly\\naquiline features and a single eye, may have\\ntangled its curved beak in the vast weed-beds of\\nthe Sargasso Sea, or dipped it in the Sea of ]\\\\Iilk.\\nTell us your story, heroic but dilapidated", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0129.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "110 OLDPORT DAYS,\\nbird and perhaps song or legend may find in it\\nthemes that shall be immortal.\\nThe eagle is silent, and I suspect, Annie, tliat\\nlie is but a plain, home-bred fowl after all. But\\nwhat shall we say to this piece of plank, hung\\nwith barnacles that look large enough for the\\nfabled barnacle-goose to emerge from Observe\\nthis fragment a little. Another piece is secured\\nto it, not neatly, as with proper tools, but clumsily,\\nwith many nails of different sizes, driven unevenly\\nand witli their heads battered awry. Wedged\\nclumsily in between these pieces, and secured by\\na supplementary nail, is a bit of broken rope.\\nLet us touch that rope tenderly for who knows\\nwhat despairing hands may last have clutched it\\nwhen this rude raft was made It may, indeed,\\nhave been the handiwork of children, on the Pe-\\nnobscot or the St. Mjiry s Eiver. But its condition\\nbetokens voyages yet longer; and it may just as\\nwell have come from the stranded Golden Rule\\non Pioncador Reef, that picturesque shipwreck\\nwhere (as a rescued woman told me) the eyes of\\nthe people in their despair seemed full of sublime\\nresignation, so that there was no confusion or out-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0130.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE. Ill\\ncry, and even gamblers and harlots looked death\\nin the face as nobly, for all that could be seen, as\\nthe saintly and the pure. Or who knows but it\\nfloated round Cape Horn, from that other wreck,\\non the Pacific shore, of the Central America,\\nwhere the rough miners found that there was room\\nin the boats only for their wives and their gold\\nand where, pushing the women off, with a few\\nmen to row them, the doomed husbands gave a\\ncheer of courage as the ship went down.\\nHere again is a piece of pine wood, cut in\\nnotches as for a tally, and with every seventh\\nnotch the longest these notches having been cut\\ndeeply at the beginning, and feebly afterwards,\\nstopping abruptly before the end was reached.\\nWiio could have carved it Not a school-boy\\nawaiting vacation, or a soldier expecting his dis-\\ncharge for then each tally would have been cut\\noff, instead of added. iSTor could it be the squad\\nof two soldiers who garrison Kose Island for\\ntheir tour of duty lasts but a week. There are\\nsmall barnacles and sea-weed too, which give the\\nmysterious stick a sort of brevet antiquity. It\\nhas been long adrift, and these little barnacles,", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0131.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "112 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nopening and closing daily their minute valves,\\nhave kept meanwhile their own register, and with\\ntheir busy fringed fingers have gathered from the\\nwhole Atlantic that small share of its edible treas-\\nures which sufficed for them. Plainly this waif\\nhas had its experiences. It was Robinson Cru-\\nsoe s, Annie, depend upon it. We will save it\\nfrom the flames, and wlien we establish our ma-\\nrine museum, nothing save a veritable piece of the\\nNorth Pole shall be held so valuable as tliis\\nundoubted relic from Juan Fernandez.\\nBut the niglit deepens, and its reveries must\\nend. With the winter will pass away the winter-\\nstorms, and summer will bring its own more insid-\\nious perils. Tlien the drowsy old seaport will\\nblaze into splendor, through saloon and avenue,\\namidst which many a bright career will end sud-\\ndenly and leave no sign. The ocean tries feebly\\nto emulate the profounder tragedies of the shore.\\nIn the crowded halls of gay hotels, I see wrecks\\ndrifting hopelessly, dismasted and rudderless, to\\nbe stranded on hearts harder and more cruel than\\nBrenton s Reef, yet hid in smiles falser than its\\nfleecy foam. What is a mere forsaken ship, com-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0132.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE/ 113\\npared with stately houses from which those whom\\nI first knew in their youth and beauty have since\\nfled into midnight and despair\\nBut one last gleam upon our hearth lights up\\nyour innocent eyes, little Annie, and dispels the\\ngathering shade. The flame dies down again, and\\nyou draw closer to my side. The pure moon looks\\nin at the southern window, replacing the ruddier\\nglow while tlie fading embers lisp and prattle to\\none another, like drowsy children, more and more\\nfaintly, till they fall asleep.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0133.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "AN AETIST S CREATION.\\nTT~rHEN I reached Keumure s house, one Au-\\ngust evening, it was rather a disappoint-\\nment to find that he and his charming Laura had\\nabsented themselves for twenty-four hours. I had\\nnot seen them together since their marriage my\\nadmiration for his varied genius and her unvarying\\ngrace was at its height, and I was really annoyed at\\nthe delay. My fair cousin, with her usual exact\\nhousekeeping, had prepared everything for her\\nguest, and then bequeathed me, as she wrote, to\\nJanet and baby Marian. It Avas a pleasant ar-\\nrangement, for between baby Marian and me there\\nexisted a species of passion, I might almost say\\nof betrothal, ever since that little three-year-old\\nsunbeam had blessed my mother s house by linger-\\ning awhile in it, six months before. Still I went\\nto bed disappointed, though the delightful windows\\nof the chamber looked out upon the glimmering", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0134.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "v.^*-", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0137.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0138.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "AN arttist s creation. 115\\nbay, and tlie swinging lanterns at the yard-arms\\nof the frigates shone like some softer constellation\\nbeneath the brilliant sky. The house was so close\\nupon the water that the cool waves seemed to\\nplash deliciously against its very basement and it\\nwas a comfort to think that, if there were no ade-\\nquate human greetings that night, there would be\\nplenty in the morning, since Marian would inevi-\\ntably be pulling my eyelids apart before sunrise.\\nIt was scarcely dawn when I was roused by\\na little arm round my neck, and waked to think I\\nhad one of Eaphael s cherubs by my side. Fin-\\ngers of waxen softness were ruthlessly at work\\nupon my eyes, and the little form that met my\\ntouch felt lithe and elastic, like a Tcitten s limbs.\\nThere was just light enough to see the child,\\nperched on the edge of the bed, her soft blue\\ndressing-gown trailing over the white night-dress,\\nwhile her black and long-fringed eyes shone\\nthrough the dimness of morning. She yielded\\ngladly to my grasp, and I could fondle again the\\nsilken hair, the velvety brunette cheek, the plump,\\ncliildish shoulders. Yet sleep still half held me,\\nand when ray cherub appeared to hold it a cheru-", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0139.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "116 OLDPOBT DATS.\\nbic pxaddce to b^in the daj with a demand for\\nIhrety aneedole, I was iain drowsilv to suggest\\nthat gbe mi^A fiist teQ some stories to her doll\\nWith the siumj readiness that w^s a part of her\\nn^nre, she stia^htwaj tamed to that yonng lady,\\nplain Susan HaBiday, with both cheeks patched,\\nand eyes of different colors, and soon discoursed\\nboth her and me into repose.\\nWhen I waked again, it was to find the child\\nconrerni^ with the morning star, which still\\ndiODe tinon^ the window, scarcely so lacent as\\nher eye8,aiid bidding it go home to its mother, the\\nson. An thet lapse into dreams, and then a more\\nrhid awakening, and she had my ear at last, and\\nwon sbory after story, requiting them with legends\\nof her own yonth, almost a year ago, how she\\nwas periloasly lost, for instance, in the small front\\nyard, with a little playmate, early in the afternoon,\\nand how they came and peeped into the window,\\nand though aQ the world had forgotten them.\\nThen the sweet Toice, distinct in its articnlaticMi\\nas Laora s, went strayii^ off into wilder fancies, a\\nchaos of antobiograpfay and conjectore, like the\\nkttas o( a war eorrespoadenl Yon would have", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0140.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "AX ARTISTS CKEATIOX. 117\\nthought her little life had j-ielded more pangs and\\nfeare than might have sufficed for the diseoverr of\\nthe Xorth Pole but breakfast-time drevr near at\\nlasU and Janet s honest voice \\\\ras heard outside\\nthe door. I rather envied the good Sootoh\\\\roman\\nthe pleasant task of polishing the smooth cheeks\\nand combing the dishevelled silk; but when, a\\nlittle later, the small maiden was riding down\\nstairs in my arms, I en\\\\ied no one.\\nAt sight of the bread and milk, my chenib was\\ntransformed into a hungry human child, chiefly\\nanxious to reach the lx ttom of her porringer. I\\nwas with her a great deal that day. She gaw no\\nmanner of trouble it was like having the charge\\nof a floating butterfly, endowed with warm arms\\nto clasp, and a silvery voice to prattle. I sent\\nJanet out to sail, with the other sen-ants, by way\\nof frolic, and Marian s perfect t ?mperament \\\\\\\\-as\\nshov^^l in the way she watched the departing.\\nThere they go, she said, as she stood and\\ndanced at the window. Xow they are out of\\nsight.\\nWliat I s;ud, are you pleased to ha\\\\-e your\\nfriends i^\u00c2\u00bb", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0141.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "118 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nYes, she answered but I shall be pleased-er\\nto see them come back.\\nLife to her was no alternation between joy and\\ngrief, but only between joy and delight.\\nTwilight brought us to an improvised concert.\\nClimbing the piano -stool, she went over the notes\\nwith her little taper fingers, touching the keys in\\na light, knowing way, that proved her a musician s\\nchild. Then I must play for her, and let the dance\\nbegin. This was a wondrous performance on her\\npart, and consisted at first in hopping up and down\\non one spot, with no change of motion but in her\\nhands. She resembled a minute and irrepressible\\nShaker, or a live and beautiful marionnette. Then\\nshe placed Janet in the middle of the floor, and\\nperrormed the dance round her, after the manner\\nof Vivien and IMerlin. Then came her supper,\\nwhich, like its predecessors, was a solid and ab-\\nsorbing meal then one more fairy story, to mag-\\nnetize her off, and she danced and sang herself up\\nstairs. And if she first came to me in the morn-\\ning with a halo round her head, she seemed still to\\nretain it when I at last watched her kneeling in\\nthe little bed perfectly motionless, with her", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0142.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "AN artist s creation. 119\\nhands placed together, and her long lashes sweep-\\ning her cheeks to repeat two verses of a hymn\\nwhich Janet had taught her. My nerves quivered\\na little when I saw that Susan Halliday had also\\nbeen duly prepared for the night, and had ])een\\nput in the same attitude, so far as her jointless\\nanatomy permitted. This being ended, the doll\\nand her mistress reposed together, and only an oc-\\ncasional toss of the vigorous limbs, or a stifled\\nbaby murnmr, would thenceforth prove, through\\nthe darkened hours, that the one figure had in it\\nmore of life than the other.\\nOn the next morning Kenmure and Laura came\\nback to us, and I walked down to receive them at\\nthe boat. I had forgotten how striking was their\\nappearance, as they stood together. His broad,\\nstrong, Saxon look, his manly bearing and clear\\nblue eyes, enhanced the fascination of her darker\\nbeauty.\\nAmerica is full of the short-lived bloom and\\nfreshness of girlhood but it is a rare thing in\\none s life to see a beauty that really controls with\\na permanent charm. One must remember such\\npersonal loveliness, as one recalls some particular", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0143.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "120 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nmoonlight or sunset, with a special and concentrat-\\ned joy, which the multiplicity of fainter impressions\\ncannot disturb. WTien in those days we used to\\nread, in Petrarch s one hundred and twenty -third\\nsonnet, that he had once beheld on earth angelic\\nmanners and cel stial charms, whose very remem-\\nbrance was a delight and an affliction, since it made\\naU else appear but dream and shadow, we could\\neasily fancy that nature had certain permanent at-\\ntributes which accompanied the name of Laura.\\nOur Laura had that rich brunette beauty before\\nwhich the mere snow and roses of the blonde must\\nalways seem wan and unimpassioned. In the\\nsuperb suffusions of her cheek there seemed to flow\\na tide of passions and powers that might have\\nbeen tumultuous in a meaner woman, but over\\nwhich, in her, the clear and brilliant eyes and the\\nsweet, proud mouth presided in unbroken calm.\\nThese superb tints imphed resources only, not a\\nstruggle. With tliis torrent from the tropics in her\\nveins, she was the most equable person I ever saw,\\nand had a supreme and delicate good-sense, which,\\nif not supplying the place of genius, at least com-\\nprehended its work. Not intellectually gifted her-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0144.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "AN artist s creation. 121\\nself, perhaps, she seemed the cause of gifts in\\nothers, and furnished the atmosphere in which all\\nshowed their best. With the steady and thought-\\nful enthusiasm of her Puritan ancestors, she com-\\nbined that charm which is so rare among their de-\\nscendants, a grace which fascinated the humblest,\\nwhile it would have been just the same in the so-\\nciety of kings. Her person had the equipoise\\nand symmetry of her mind. SVhile it had its\\nseparate points of beauty, each a source of distinct\\nand peculiar pleasure, as, the outline of her\\ntemples, the white line that parted her night-\\nblack hair, the bend of her wrists, the moulding of\\nher finger-tips, yet these details were lost in\\nthe overwhelming sweetness of her presence, and\\nthe serene atmosphere that she diffused ever all\\nhuman life.\\nA few days passed rapidly by us. We walked\\nand rode and boated and read. Little ^larian\\ncame and went, a living sunbeam, a self-sufficing\\nthing. It was soon obvious that she was far less\\ndemonstrative toward her parents than toward\\nme while her mother, gracious to her as to all,\\nyet rarely caressed her, and Kenmure, though hab-\\n6", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0145.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "122 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nitually kind, was inclined to ignore her existence,\\nand could scarcely tolerate that she should for one\\ninstant preoccupy his wife. For Laura he lived,\\nand she must live for him. He had a studio, which\\nI rarely entered and ^larian never, though Laura\\nwas almost constantly there and afterthe tirst cor-\\ndiality was past, I observed that their daily expedi-\\ntions were always arranged for only two. The\\nweather was beautiful, and they led the wildest\\noutdoor life, cruising all day or all night among\\nthe islands, regardless of hours, and almost of\\nhealth. No matter Kenmure liked it, and\\nwhat he liked she loved. When at home, they\\nwere chiefly in the studio, he painting, modelling,\\npoetizing perhaps, and she inseparably united with\\nhim in all. It was very beautiful, this unworldly\\nand passionate love, and I could have borne to be\\nomitted in their daily plans, since little Marian\\nwas left to me, save that it seemed so strange to\\nomit her also. Besides, there grew to be some-\\nthing a little oppressive in this peculiar atmos-\\nphere it was like living in a greenhouse.\\nYet they always spoke in the simplest way of\\nthis absorbing passion, as of something about which", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0146.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "AN artist s creation, 123\\nno reticence was needed it was too sacred not to\\nbe mentioned it would be wrong not to utter\\nfreely to all the world what was doubtless the best\\nthing the world possessed. Thus Kenmure made\\nLaura his model in all his art not to coin her into\\nwealth or fame, he would have scorned it he\\nwould have valued fame and wealth only as in-\\nstruments for proclaiming her. Looking simply at\\nthese two lovers, then, it was plain that no human\\nunion could be more noble or stainless. Yet so\\nfar as others were concerned, it sometimes seemed\\nto me a kind of duplex selfishness, so profound\\nand so undisguised as to make one shudder. Is\\nit, I asked myself at such moments, a great\\nconsecration, or a great crime But something\\nmust be allowed, perhaps, for my own private dis-\\nsatisfactions in jNIarian s behalf.\\nI had easily persuaded Janet to let me have a\\npeep ever} night at my darling, as she slept and\\nonce I was surprised to find Laura sitting by the\\nsmall white bed. Graceful and beautiful as she\\nalways was, she never before had seemed to me so\\nlovely, for she never had seemed quite like a\\nmother. But I could not demand a sweeter look", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0147.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "124 OLDPOPvI DAYS.\\nof tenderness than that with which she now gazed\\nupon her child.\\nLittle ^Marian lay with one brown, plump hand\\nvisible from its full white sleeve, while the other\\nnestled half hid beneath the sheet, grasping a pair\\nof blue morocco shoes, the last acquisition of her\\nfavorite doll. Drooping from beneath the pillow\\nhung a handful of scarlet poppies, which the child\\nhad wished to place under her head, in the very-\\nsuperfluous project of putting herself to sleep there-\\nby. Her soft brown hair was scattered on the\\nsheet, her black lashes lay motionless upon the\\nolive cheeks. Laura wished to move her, that I\\nmight see her the better.\\nYou will wake her, exclaimed I, in alarm.\\nWake this little dormouse Laura lightly an-\\nswered. Impossible.\\nAnd, twining her arms about her, the young\\nmother lifted the child from the bed, three or four\\ntimes in succession, while the healthy little crea-\\nture remained utterly undisturbed, breathing the\\nsame quiet breath. I watched Laura with amaze-\\nment she seemed transformed.\\nShe gayly returned my eager look, and then,", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0148.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "AN artist s creation. 125\\nseeming suddenly to penetrate its meaning, cast\\ndown her eyes, while the color mounted into her\\ncheeks. You tliought, she said, almost sternly,\\nthat I did not love my child.\\nNo, I said half untruthfully.\\nI can hardly wonder, she continued, more sad-\\nly, for it is only what I have said to myself a\\nthousand times. Sometimes I think that I have\\nlived in a dream, and one that few share with me.\\nI have questioned others, and -never yet found a\\nwoman who did not admit tliat her child was more\\nto her, in her secret soul, than her husband. AVhat\\ncan they mean Such a thought is foreign to my\\nvery nature.\\nWhy separate the two I asked.\\nI must separate them in thought, she answered,\\nwitli the air of one driven to bay by her own self-\\nreproaching. I had, like other young girls, my\\ndream of love and marriage. Unlike all tlie rest, I\\nbelieve, I found my visions fulfilled. The reality\\nwas more than tlie imagination and I thought it\\nwould be so with my love for my cliild. The\\nfirst cry of that baby told the difference to my\\near. I knew it all from that moment the bliss", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0149.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "126 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nM hich had been mine as a wife would never be\\nmine as a mother. If I had not known what it\\nwas to adore my husband, I miglit have been con-\\ntent with my love for Marian. But look at that\\nexquisite creature as she lies there asleep, and\\nthen tliink that I, her mother, should desert her\\nif she were dying, for aught I know, at one word\\nfrom him\\nYour feeling does not seem natural, I said,\\nhardly knowing what to answer.\\nWhat good does it serve to know that she\\nsaid, defiantly. I say it to myself every day.\\nOnce when she was ill, and was given back to me\\nin all the precious helplessness of babyhood, there\\nwas such a strange sweetness in it, I thought the\\ncharm might remain but it vanished when she\\ncould run about once more. And she is such a\\nhealthy, self-reliant little thing, added Laura,\\nglancing toward the bed with a momentary look\\nof motherly pride that seemed strangely out of\\nplace amid these self-denunciations. I wish her\\nto be so, she added. The best service I can do\\nfor her is to teach her to stand alone. And at\\nsome day, continued the beautiful woman, her", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0150.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "AN artist s creation. 127\\nwhole face lighting up with happiness, she may\\nlove as I have loved.\\nAnd your husband, I said, after a pause,\\ndoes your feeling represent his\\nMy husband, she said, lives for his genius, as\\nhe should. You that know him, why do you ask\\nAnd his heart I said, half frightened at ray\\nown temerity.\\nHeart she answered. He loves me.\\nHer color mounted higher yet she had a look\\nof pride, almost of hauglitiness. AU else seemed\\nforgotten she had turned away from the child s\\nlittle bed, as if it had no existence. It flashed\\nupon me that something of the poison of her arti-\\nficial atmosphere was reaching her already.\\nKennmre s step was heard in the hall, and, with\\nfire in her eyes, she hastened to meet him. I\\nfound myself actually breathing more freely after\\nthe departure of that enchanting woman, in danger\\nof perishing inwardly, I said to myself, in an air too\\nlavishly perfumed. Bending over Marian, I won-\\ndered if it were indeed possible that a perfectly\\nhealthy life had sprung from that union too in-\\ntense and too absorbed. Yet I had often noticed", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0151.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "128 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nthat the chikl seemed to wear the temperaments\\nof both lier parents as a kind of phiyful disguise,\\nand to peep at you, now out of the one, now\\nfrom the other, showino- that she had her own\\nindividual life behind.\\nAs if by some infantine instinct, the darling\\nturned in her sleep, and came unconsciously nearer\\nme. With a half-feeling of self-reproach, I drew\\naround my neck, inch by inch, the little arms that\\ntightened with a delicious thrill and so I half re-\\nclined there till I myself dozed, and the watchful\\nJanet, looking in, warned me away. Crossing the\\nentry to my own chamber, I heard Kenmure and\\nLaura down stairs, but I knew that I sliould be\\nsuperfluous, and felt that I was sleepy.\\nI had now, indeed, become always superfluous\\nwhen they were together, though never when they\\nwere apart. Even they must be separated some-\\ntimes, and then each sought me, in order to dis-\\ncourse about the other. Kenmure showed me\\nevery sketch he had ever made of Laura. There\\nshe was, through all the range of her beauty,\\nthere she was in clay, in cameo, in pencil, in water-\\ncolor, in oils. He showed me also his poems.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0152.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "AN artist s creation. 129\\nand, at last, a longer one, for which pencil and\\ngraver had alike been laid aside. All these he\\nkept in a great cabinet she had brouglit with her\\nto their housekeeping and it seemed to me that\\nhe also treasured every flower she had dropped,\\nevery slender glove she had worn, every ribbon\\nfrom her hair. I could not wonder, seeing his\\npassion as it was. Who would not thrill at the\\ntouch of some such slight memorial of Mary of\\nScotland, or of Heloise and what was all the re-\\ngal beauty of the past to him He found every\\nroom adorned when she w%as in it, empty when\\nshe had gone, save that the trace of her was\\nstill left on everything, and all appeared but\\nas a garment she had worn. It seemed that\\neven her great mirror must retain, film over film,\\neach reflection of her least movement, the turning\\nof her head, the ungloving of her hand. Strange\\nthat, with all this intoxicating presence, she yet\\nled a life so free from self, so simple, so absorbed,\\nthat all trace of consciousness was excluded, and\\nshe was as free from vanity as her own child.\\nAs we were once thus employed in the studio,\\nI asked Keumure, abruptly, if he never shrank", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0153.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "130 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nfi-om the publicity he was thus giving Laura.\\nMadame lioeainier was not quite pleased, I said,\\nthat Cauova liad modelled her Inist, even from\\nimagination. Po you never shrink from permit-\\nting irreverent eyes to hiok on Laura s beauty\\nThink of men as you know them. Would you\\ngive each of them her miniature, perhaps to go\\nwith them into scenes of riot and shame\\nWould to Heaven I could I said he, passion-\\nately. NMiat else could save them, if that did\\nnot God lets his sun shine on the evil and on\\nthe good, but the evil need it most\\nThere was a pause and then I ventured to ask\\nhim a question that had been many times upon\\nmy lips unspoken.\\nDoes it never occur to you. I said, that\\nLaura cannot live on earth forever\\nYou cannot disturb me about that, he an-\\nswered, not sadly, but with a set, stern look, as if\\nfencing for the hundredth time against an antago-\\nnist who was foredoomed to be his master in the\\nend. Laura will outlive me she must outlive\\nme. I am so sure of it that, every time I come\\nnear her, I pray that I may not be paralyzed, and", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0154.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "AN artist s creation. 131\\n(lie outside her arms. Yet, in any event, what can\\nI do Lilt what I am doing, devote my whole\\nsoul to the perpetuation of her beauty It is my\\nonly dream, to re-create her through art. What\\nelse is worth doing It is for this I have tried\\nthrough sculpture, through painting, through verse\\nto depict her as she is. Thus far I have failed.\\nWhy have I failed Is it because I have not\\nlived a life sufficiently absorbed in her or is it\\nthat there is no permitted way by which, after\\nGod has reclaimed her, the tradition of her perfect\\nloveliness may be retained on earth\\nThe blinds of the piazza doorway opened, the\\nsweet sea-air came in, the low and level rays of\\nyellow sunset entered as softly as if the breeze\\nwere their chariot; and softer and stiller and\\nsweeter than light or air, little Marian stood on\\nthe threshold. She had been in the fields with\\nJanet, who had woven for her breeze-blown hair a\\nwreath of the wild gerardia blossoms, whose pur-\\nple beauty had reminded the good Scotchwoman\\nof her own native heather. In her arms the child\\nbore, like a little gleaner, a great sheaf of graceful\\ngolden-rod, as large as her grasp could bear. In", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0155.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "132 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nall the artist s visions he liad seen nothinfj so\\naerial, so lovely in all his passionate portraitures\\nof his idol, he had delineated nothing so like to\\nlier. Marian s cheeks mantled with rich and wine-\\nlike tints, her hair took a halo from the sunbeams,\\nher lips parted over the little, milk-white teetli\\nshe looked at us with her mother s eyes. I turned\\nto Kenmure to see if he could resist the influence.\\nHe scarcely gave her a glance. Go, Marian,\\nhe said, not impatiently, for he was too thor-\\noughly courteous ever to be ungracious, even to a\\nchild, but with a steady indifference that cut\\nme with more pain than if he had struck her.\\nThe sun dropped behind the horizon, the halo\\nfaded from the shining hair and ev ery ray of light\\nfrom the childish face. There came in its place\\nthat deep, wondering sadness which is more touch-\\ning than any maturer sorrow, just as a child s\\nillness melts our hearts more than that of man\\nor woman, it seems so premature and so plaintive.\\nShe turned away it was the very first time I had\\never seen the little face drawn down, or the tears\\ngathering in the eyes. By some kind providence,\\nthe mother, coming in flushed and beautiful with", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0156.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "AX artist s creation. 133\\nwalking, met ]\\\\Iarian on the piazza, and caught the\\nlittle thing in her arms with unwonted tenderness.\\nIt was enough for the elastic child. After one mo-\\nment of such bliss she could go to Janet, go any-\\nwhere and when the same graceful presence came\\nin to us in the studio, we also could ask no more.\\nVVe had music and moonlight, and were happy.\\nThe atmosphere seemed more human, less unreal.\\nGoing up stairs at last, I looked in at the nur-\\nsery, and found my pet rather flushed, and I fan-\\ncied that she stirred uneasily. It passed, what-\\never it was for next morning she came in to\\nwake me, looking, as usual, as if a new heaven and\\nearth had been coined purposely for her since she\\nwent to sleep. We had our usual long and impor-\\ntant discourse, this time tending to protracted\\nnarrative, of the Mother-Goose description, un-\\ntil, if it had been possible for any human being to\\nbe late for breakfast in that house, we should have\\nbeen the offenders. But she ultimately M^ent\\ndown stairs on my shoulder, and, as Kenmure and\\nLaura were already out rowing, the baby put me in\\nher own place, sat in her mother s chair, and r^^led\\nme witli a rod of iron. How wonderful was the", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0157.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "134 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\ninstinct by which this little creature, who so sel-\\ndom heard one word of parental severity or pa-\\nrental fondness, knew so thoroughly the language of\\nboth Had I been the most depraved of children,\\nor the most angelic, I could not have been more\\nsternly excluded from the sugar-bowl, or more\\noverwhelmed with compensating kisses.\\nLater on that day, while little Marian was tak-\\ning the very profoundest nap that ever a baby was\\nblessed with, (she had a pretty way of dropping\\nasleep in unexpected corners of the house, like a\\nkitten,) I somehow strayed into a confidential talk\\nwith Janet about her mistress. I was rather\\ntroubled to find that all her loyalty was for Lau-\\nra, with nothing left for Kenraure, whom, indeed,\\nshe seemed to regard as a sort of objectionable al-\\ntar, on which her darlings were being sacrificed.\\nWhen she came to particulars, certain stray fears\\nof my own were confirmed. It seemed that\\nLaura s constitution was not fit, Janet averred, to\\nbear these irregular hours, early and late and she\\nplaintively dwelt on the untasted oatmeal in the\\nmorning, the insufficient luncheon, the precarious\\ndinner, the excessive walking and boating, the", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0158.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "AX artist s CREATION 135\\nevening damps. There was coming to be a look\\nabout Laura such as her mother had, who died at\\nthirty. As for Marian, but here the compkiint\\nsuddenly stopped it would have required far\\nstronger provocation to extract from the faithful\\nsoul one word that might seem to reflect on Mari-\\nan s mother.\\nAnother year, and her forebodings had come\\ntrue. It is needless to dwell on the interval.\\nSince then I have sometimes felt a resi^ret almost\\ninsatiable in the thought that I should have been\\nabsent while all that gracious loveliness was\\nfading and dissolving like a cloud and yet at\\nofher times it has appeared a relief to think that\\nLaura w-ould ever remain to me in the fulness of\\nher beauty, not a tint faded, not a lineament\\nchanged. With all my efforts, I arrived only in\\ntime to accompany Kenraure home at night, after\\nthe funeral service. We paused at the door of the\\nempty house, how empty! I hesitated, but\\nKenmure motioned to me to follow him in.\\nWe passed through the hall and went up stairs.\\nJanet met us at the head of the stairway, and\\nasked me if I. would go in to look at little Marian,", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0159.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "136 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nAvho was sleeping. I begged Kenmure to go also\\nbut he refused, almost savagely, and went on with\\nheavy step into Laura s deserted room.\\nAlmost the moment I entered the child s cham-\\nber, she waked up suddenly, looked at me, and\\nsaid, I know you, you are ray friend. She never\\nwould call me her cousin, I was always her friend.\\nThen she sat up in bed, with her eyes wide open,\\nand said, as if stating a problem which had been\\nput by for my solution, I should like to see my\\nmother.\\nHow our hearts are rent by the unquestioning\\nfaith of children, when they come to test the love\\nthat has so often worked what seemed to chem\\nmiracles, and ask of it miracles indeed I\\ntried to explain to her the continued existence of\\nher mother, and she listened to it as if her eyes\\ndrank in all that I could say, and more. But the\\napparent distance between earth and heaven baf-\\nfled her baby mind, as it so often and so sadly\\nbaffles the thoughts of us elders. I wondered\\nwhat precise change seemed to her to have taken\\nplace. This all-fascinating Laura, whom she\\nadored, and who had yet never been to her what", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0160.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "AN artist s creation. 137\\nother women are to their darlings, did heaven\\nseem to put her farther off, or bring her more near\\nI could never know. The healthy child had no\\nmorbid questionings and as she had come into the\\nworld to be a sunbeam, she must not fail of that\\nmission. She was kicking about the bed, by this\\ntime, in her nightgown, and holding her pink lit-\\ntle toes in all sorts of difficult attitudes, when she\\nsuddenly said, looking me full in the face: If\\nmy mother was so high up that she had her feet\\nupon a star, do you think that I could see her\\nThis astronomical apotheosis startled me for a\\nmoment, but I said unhesitatingly, Yes, feeling\\nsure that the lustrous eyes that looked in mine\\ncould certainly see as far as Dante s, when Bea-\\ntrice was transferred from his side to the highest\\nrealm of Paradise. I put my head beside hers\\nupon the pillow, and stayed till I thought she was\\nasleep.\\nI then followed Kenmure into Laura s chamber.\\nIt was dusk, but the after-sunset glow still bathed\\nthe room with imperfect light, and he lay upon the\\nbed, his hands clenched over his eyes.\\nThere was a deep bow-window where Laura", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0161.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "138 OLDPOET DAYS.\\nused to sit and watch us, sometimes, when we put\\noff in the boat. Her seolian harp was in the case-\\nment, breaking its heart in music. A delicate\\nhandkerchief was lodged between the cushions of\\nthe window-seat, the very handkerchief she used\\nto wave, in summer days long gone. The white\\nboats went sailing beneatli the evening light, chil-\\ndren shouted and splashed in the water, a song came\\nfrom a yacht, a steam-whistle shrilled from the\\nreceding steamer but she for whom alone those\\nlittle signs of life had been dear and precious would\\nhenceforth be as invisible to our eyes as if time\\nand space had never held her and the young moon\\nand the evening star seemed but empty things un-\\nless they could pilot us to some world where the\\nsplendor of her loveliness could match their own.\\nTwilight faded, evening darkened, and still Ken-\\nmure lay motionless, until his strong form grew in\\nmy moody fancy to be like some carving of INIi-\\nchel Angelo s, more than like a living man. And\\nwhen he at last startled me by speaking, it was\\nwith a voice so far off and so strange, it might\\nalmost have come wandering down from the cen-\\ntury when Michel Angelo lived.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0162.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "AX artist s creation. 139\\nYou are right, he said I have been living\\nin a Iruitless dream. It has all vanished. The\\nabsurdity of speaking of creative art With all\\nmy life-long devotion, I have created nothing. I\\nhave kept no memorial of her presence, nothing to\\nperpetuate the most beautiful of lives.\\nBefore I could answer, tlie door came softly\\nopen, and there stood in the doorway a small white\\nfigure, holding aloft a lighted taper of pure alabas-\\nter. It was ^Marian in her little night-dress, with\\nthe loose blue wrapper trailing behind her, let go\\nin the effort to hold carefully the doll, Susan Hal-\\nliday, robed also for the night.\\nMay I come in said the child.\\nKenmure was motionless at first then, looking\\nover his shoulder, said merely, What\\nJanet said, continued Marian, in her clear\\nand methodical way, that my mother was up in\\nheaven, and would help God hear my prayers at\\nany rate but if I pleased, I could come and say\\nthem by you.\\nA shudder passed over Kenmure then he turned\\naway, and put his hands over his eyes. She waited\\nfor no answer, but, putting down the candlestick.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0163.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "140 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nin her wonted careful manner, upon a chair, she\\nbegan to climb upon the bed, lifting laboriously\\none little rosy foot, then another, still dragging\\nafter her, with great effort, the doll. Nestling at\\nher father s breast, I saw her kneel.\\nOnce my mother put her arm round me, when\\nI said my prayers. She made this remark, under\\nher breath, less as a suggestion, it seemed, than as\\nthe simple statement of a fact.\\nInstantly I saw Kenmure s arm move; and grasp\\nher with that strong and gentle touch of his which\\nI had so often noticed in the studio, a toucli\\nthat seemed quiet as the approach of fate, and\\nequally resistless. I knew him well enough to\\nunderstand that iron adoption.\\nHe drew her toward him, her soft hair was on\\nhis breast, she looked fearlessly into his eyes, and I\\ncould hear the little prayer proceeding, yet in so\\nlow a whisper that I could not catch one word.\\nShe was infinitely solemn at such times, the dar-\\nling and there was always something in her low,\\nclear tone, tlirough all her prayings and philoso-\\nphizings, wliich was strangely like her mother s\\nvoice. Sometimes she paused, as if to ask a", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0164.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "AN artist s creation. 141\\nquestion, and at every answer I could see lier\\nfather s arm tighten.\\nThe moments passed, the voices grew lower yet,\\nthe candle flickered and went out, the doll slid\\nto the ground. ]\\\\Iarian had drifted away upon\\na vaster ocean than that whose music lulled her\\nfrom without, upon that sea whose waves are\\ndreams. The night was wearing on, the lights\\ngleamed from the anchored vessels, tlie water\\nrippled serenely against the low sea-wall, the\\nbreeze blew gently in. IMarian s baby breathing\\ngrew deeper and more tranquil and as all the\\nsorrows of the weary earth might be imagined\\nto exhale themselves in spring tlirough the\\nbreath of violets, so I prayed that it might be\\nwith Kenmure s burdened heart, through hers.\\nBy degrees the strong man s deeper respirations\\nmingled witli those of the child, and their two\\nseparate beings seemed merged and solved into\\nidentity, as they slumbered, breast to breast, be-\\nneath the golden and quiet stars. I passed by\\nwithout awaking them, and I knew that the artist\\nhad attained his dream.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0165.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "IN A WHEERY.\\nTTTE have a phrase in Oldport, AVhat New-\\nYorkers call poverty to be reduced to a\\npony phaeton. In consequence of a November\\ngale, I am reduced to a similar state of destitution,\\nfrom a sail-boat to a wherry and, like others of\\nthe deserving poor, I have found many compensa-\\ntions in my humbler condition. Which is the\\nmore enjoyable, rowing or sailing If you sail\\nbefore the wind, there is the glorious vigor of the\\nbreeze that fills your sails you get all of it you\\nhave room for, and a ship of the line could do no\\nmore indeed, your very nearness to the water\\nincreases the excitement, since the water swirls\\nand boils up, as it unites in your wake, and seems\\nto clutch at the low stern of your sail-boat, and\\nto menace the hand that guides the helm. Or\\nif you beat to windward, it is as if your boat\\nclimbed a liquid liill, but did it with bounding and", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0166.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "Mtm,-", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0169.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0170.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "IX A WHERRY. 143\\ndancing, like a child there is the plash of the\\nlighter ripples against the bow, and tlie thud of\\nthe heavier waves, while the same blue water is\\nnow transformed to a cool jet of white foam over\\nyour face, and now to a dark whirlpool in your lee.\\nSailing gives a sense of prompt command, since\\nby a single movement of the tiller you effect so\\ngreat a change of direction or transform motion\\ninto rest there is, therefore, a certain magic in it\\nbut, on the other hand, there is in rowing a more\\ndirect appeal to your physical powers you do not\\nevade or cajole the elements by a cunning device\\nof keel and canvas, you meet them man-fashion\\nand subdue them. The motion of the oars is like\\nthe strong motion of a bird s wings to sail a boat\\nis to ride upon an eagle, but to row is to be an\\neagle. I prefer rowing, at least till I can afford\\nanother sail-boat.\\nWhat is a good day for rowing Almost any\\nday that is good for living. Living is not quite\\nagreeable in the midst of a tornado or an equinoc-\\ntial storm, neither is rowing. There are days\\nwhen rowing is as toilsome and exhausting a pro-\\ncess as is Bunyan s idea of virtue while there are", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0171.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "144 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nother days, like the present, when it seems a\\nmere Oriental passiveness and the forsaking of\\nworks, just an excuse to Nature for being out\\namong her busy things. For even at this stillest\\nof liours there is far less repose in Nature than we\\nimagine. What created thing can seem more\\npatient than yonder kingfisher on the sea-wall\\nYet, as we glide near him, we shall see that no\\ncreature can be more full of concentrated life all\\nhis nervous system seems on edge, every instant\\nhe is rising or lowering on his feet, the tail vibrates,\\nthe neck protrudes or shrinks again, the feathers\\nruffle, the crest dilates he talks to himself with\\nan impatient chirr, then presently hovers and dives\\nfor a fish, then flies back disappointed. We sa}\\nfree as birds, but their lives are given over to\\narduous labors. And so, wlien our condition seems\\nmost dreamy, our observing faculties are sometimes\\ndesperately on the alert, and we find afterwards,\\nto our surprise, that we have missed nothing. The\\nbest observer in the end is not he wlio works at\\nthe microscope or telescope most unceasingly, but\\nhe whose whole nature becomes sensitive and re-\\nceptive, drinking in everything, like a sponge that", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0172.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "IN A WHERRY. 145\\nsaturates itself with all floating vapors and odors,\\nthough it seems inert and unsuspicious until you\\npress it and it tells the tale.\\nMost men do their work out of doors and their\\ndreaming at home and those whose work is done\\nat home need something like a wherry in which\\nto dream out of doors. On a squally day, with\\nthe wind northwest, it is a dream of action, and\\nto round yonder point against an ebbing tide\\nmakes you feel as if you were Grant before Eich-\\nmond when you put about, you gallop like Sheri-\\ndan, and the winds and waves become a cavalry\\nescort. On otlier days all elements are hushed\\ninto a dream of peace, and you look out upon\\nthose once stormy distances as Landseer s sheep\\nlook into the mouth of the empty cannon on a\\ndismantled fort. These are the days for revery,\\nand your thoughts fly forth, gliding without fric-\\ntion over this smooth expanse or, rather, they are\\nlike yonder pair of white butterflies that will flut-\\nter for an hour just above the glassy surface,\\ntraversing miles of distance before they alight\\nagain.\\nBy a happy trait of our midsummer, these\\n7 J", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0173.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "146 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nvarious pliases of wind and water may often be\\nincluded in a single day. On three mornings out\\nof four the wind blows northwest down our bay,\\nthen dies to a calm before noon. After an hour\\nor two of perfect stillness, you see the line of blue\\nripple coming up from the ocean till it conquers\\nall the paler water, and the southwest breeze\\nsets in. This middle zone of calm is like the\\nnoonday of the Eomans, when they feared to\\nspeak, lest the great god Pan should be awakened.\\nWhile it lasts, a thin, aerial veil drops over the\\ndistant hills of Conanicut, then draws nearer and\\nnearer till it seems to touch your boat, the very\\nnearest section of space being filled with a faint\\ndisembodied blueness, like that which fills on\\nwinter days, in colder regions, the hollows of\\nthe snow. vSky and sea show but gradations of the\\nsame color, and afford but modifications of tlie\\nsame element. In this quietness, yonder schooner\\nseems not so much to lie at anchor in the water\\nas to anchor the water, so that both cease to move\\nand though faint ripples may come and go else-\\nwhere on the surface, the vessel rests in this liquid\\nisland of absolute calm. For there certainlv is else-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0174.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "IX A WHERRY. 147\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0where a sort of motionless movement, as Keats\\nspeaks of a little noiseless noise among the leaves,\\nor as the supimer clouds form and disappear with-\\nout, apparent wind and without prejudice to the\\nstillness. A man may lie in the profoundest\\ntrance and still be breathing, and the very pulsa-\\ntions of the life of nature, in these calm hours, are\\nto be read in these changing tints and shadows\\nand ripples, and in the mirage-bewildered outlines\\nof the islands in the bay. It is this incessant shift-\\ning of relations, this perpetual substitution of\\nfantastic for real values, this inability to trust\\nyour own eye or ear unless the mind makes its\\nown corrections, that gives such an inexhausti-\\nble attraction to life beside the ocean. The sea-\\nchange comes to you without your waiting to be\\ndrowned. You must recognize the working of\\nyour own imagination and allow for it. When,\\nfor instance, the sea-fog settles down around us at\\nnightfall, it sometimes grows denser and denser till\\nit apparently becomes more solid than the pave-\\nments of the town, or than the great globe\\nitself; and when the fog- whistles go wailing on\\nthrough all the darkened hours, they seem to be", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0175.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "148 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nsignalling not ,so much for a lost ship as for a lost\\nisland.\\nHow unlike are those weird and gloomy nights\\nto this sunny noon, Avhen I rest my oars in this\\nsheltered bay, where a small lagoon makes in he-\\nhind Coaster s Harbor Island, and the very last\\nbreath and murmur of the ocean are left outside\\nThe coming tide steals to the shore in waves so\\nlight they are a mere shade upon the surface till\\nthey break, and ten die speechless for one that has a\\nvoice. And even those rare voices are the very\\nmost confidential and silvery whispers in which\\nNature ever spoke to man the faintest summer\\ninsect seems resolute and assured beside them\\nand yet it needs but an indefinite multiplication\\nof these sounds to make up the thunder of the surf.\\nIt is so still that I can let the wherry drift idly\\nalong the shore, and can watch the life beneath\\nthe water. The small fry cluster and evade be-\\ntween me and the brink the half-translucent\\nsin-imp glides gracefully undisturbed, or glances\\naway like a flash if you but touch the surface;\\nthe crabs Avaddle or burrow, the smaller species\\nmimicking unconsciously the hue of the soft green", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0176.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "IN A WIIERllY. 149\\nsea-weed, and the larger looking like motionless\\nstones, covered with barnacles and decked with\\nfringing weeds. I am acquainted with no better\\nDarwinian than the crab and however clumsy he\\nmay be when taken from his own element, he lias\\na free and floating motion which is almost grace-\\nful in his own yielding and buoyant home. It is\\nso with all wild creatures, but especially with\\nthose of water and air. A gull is not reckoned an\\nespecially graceful bird, but yonder I see one,\\nsnowy white, that has come to fish in this safe\\nlagoon, and it dips and rises on its errands as\\nlightly as a butterfly or a swallow. Beneath that\\nneighboring causeway the water-rats run over tlie\\nstones, lithe and eager and alert, the body carried\\nlow, the head raised now and then like a hound s,\\nthe tail curving gracefully and aiding the poise\\nnow they are running to the water as if to drink,\\nnow racing for dear life along the edge, now fairly\\nswimming, then devoting an interval to reflection,\\nlike squirrels, then again searching over a pile of\\nsea-weed and selecting some especial tuft, which\\nis carried, with long, sinuous leaps, to the unseen\\nnest. Indeed, man himself is graceful in his un-", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0177.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "150 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nconscious and direct employments the poise of a\\nfisherman, for instance, the play of his arm, the\\ncast of his line or net, these take the eye as do\\nthe stealthy movements of the hunter, the fine\\nattitudes of the wood-chopper, the grasp of the\\nsailor on the helm. A haystack and a boat are\\nalways picturesque objects, and so are the men\\nwho are at work to build or use tliem. So is yon-\\nder stake-net, glistening in the noonday light,\\nthe innumerable meslies drooping in soft arches\\nfrom the high stakes, and the line of floats stretch-\\ning shoreward, like tiny stepping-stones two or\\nthree row-boats are gathered round it, with fisher-\\nmen in red or blue shirts, while one white sail-\\nboat hovers near. And I have looked down on\\nour beach in spring, at sunset, and watched tliem\\ndrawing nets for the young liening, when the\\nrough men looked as graceful as the nets they\\ndrew, and the horseman who directed miglit have\\nbeen Redgauntlet on the Solway Sands.\\nI suppose it is from this look of natural fitness\\ntliat a windmill is always such an appropriate ob-\\nject by the sea-shore. It is simply a four-masted\\nschooner, stranded on a hill-top, and adapting itself", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0178.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "IN A WHKUUY. 151\\nto a new sphere of duty. It can have needed\\nbut a slight stretch of invention in some seaman to\\ncombine these lofty vans, and throw over them a\\nfew remodelled sails. The principle of their mo-\\ntion is that by which a vessel beats to windward\\nthe miller spreads or reefs his sails, like a sailor,\\nreducing them in a high wind to a mere pigeon-\\nwing as it is called, two or three feet in length,\\nor in some cases even scudding under bare poles.\\nThe whole structure vibrates and creaks under\\nrapid motion, like a mast and the angry vans,\\ndisappointed of progress, are ready to grind to\\npowder all that comes within their grasp, as they\\nrevolve hopelessly in this sea of air.\\nWhen the sun grows hot, I like to take refuge\\nin a sheltered nook beside Goat Island Light-\\nhouse, where the wharf shades me, and the reso-\\nnant plash of waters multiplies itself among the\\ndark piles, increasing the delicious sense of cool-\\nness. While the noonday bells ring twelve, I\\ntake my rest. Eound the corner of the pier the\\nfishing-boats come gliding in, generally with a boy\\nasleep forward, and a weary man at the helm one\\ncan almost fancy that the boat itself looks weary,", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0179.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "152 OLDPORT DAYS,\\nhaving been out since the early summer sunrise.\\nIn contrast to this expression of labor ended, the\\nwhite pleasure-boats seem but to be taking a care-\\nless stroll by v;ater while a skiff full of girls drifts\\nidly along the shore, amid laughter and screaming\\nand much aimless splash. More resolute and\\nbusiness-like, the boys row their boat far up the\\nbay then I see a sudden gleam of white bodies,\\nand then the boat is empty, and the surrounding\\nwater is sprinkled with black and bobbing heajls.\\nThe steamboats look busier yet, as they go puffing\\nby at short intervals, and send long waves up to\\nmy retreat and then some schooner sails in, full\\nof life, with a white ripple round her bows, till she\\nsuddenly rounds to, drops anchor, and is still.\\nOpposite me, on the landward side of the bay, tlie\\ngreen banks slope to the water on yonder cool\\npiazza there is a young mother who swings her\\nbaby in tlie hammock, or a white-robed figure\\npacing beneath the trailing vines. Peace and\\nlotus-eating on shore on the water, even in the\\nstillest noon, there are life and sparkle and con-\\ntinual change.\\nOne of tliose fishermen whose boats have just", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0180.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "IN A WHEKKY. 153\\nglided to their moorings is to me a far more in-\\nteresting person than any of his mates, though he\\nis perhaps the only one among them with whom I\\nhave never yet exchanged a word. There is good\\nreason for it he has been deaf and dumb since\\nboyhood. He is reported to be the boldest sailor\\namong all these daring men he is the last to re-\\ntreat before the coming storm the first after the\\nstorm to venture through the white and whirling\\nchannels, between dangerous ledges, to which\\nothers give a wider berth. I do not wonder at\\nthis, for think how much of the awe and terror of\\nthe tempest must vanish if the ears he closed\\nThe ominous undertone of the waves on the beach\\nand the muttering thunder pass harndess by him.\\nHow infinitely strange it must be to have the sight\\nof danger, but not the sound Fancy such a dep-\\nrivation in war, for instance, where it is the\\nsounds, after all, that haunt tlie memory the long-\\nest the rifle s crack, the irregular shots of skir-\\nmishers, the long roll of alarm, the roar of great\\nguns. This man would have missed them all.\\nWere a broadside from an enemy s gimboat to be\\ndischarged above liis head, he would not hear it;\\n7*", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0181.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "154 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nhe would only recognize, by some jarring of his\\nother senses, the fierce concussion of the air.\\nHow much deeper seems his solitude than that\\nof any other lone fisher on the lonely sea Yet\\nall such things are comparative and while the\\nothers contrast that wave-tossed isolation with\\nthe cheeriness of home, his home is silent too. He\\nhas a wife and children they all speak, but he\\nhears not their prattle or their complaints. He\\nsummons them with his fingers, as he summons\\nthe fislies, and tliey are equally dumb to him. Has\\nhe a special sympathy with those submerged and\\nvoiceless things Dunfish, in the old newspapers,\\nwere often called dumb d fish and they per-\\nchance come to him as to one of their kindred.\\nThey may have learned, like other innocent things,\\nto accept this defect of utterance, and even imitate\\nit. I knew a deaf-and-dumb woman whose chil-\\ndren spoke and heard but while yet too young for\\nwords, they had learned that their mother was not\\nto be reached in that way; they never cried or\\ncomplained before her, and Avhen most e.xcited\\nwould only whisper. Her baby ten months old,\\nif disturbed in the night, would creep to her and", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0182.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "IX A WIIEIJKY. 155\\ntouch her lips, to awaken her, but would make no\\nnoise.\\nOne might fancy that all men who have an ago-\\nnizing sorrow or a fearful secret would he drawn by\\nirresistible attraction into the society of the deaf\\nand dumb. What awful jiassions might not be\\nwhispered, what terror safely spoken, in the\\ncharmed circle round yonder silent boat, a circle\\nwhose centre is a human life which has not all the\\nsusceptibilities of life, a confessional where even\\nthe priest cannot hear Would it not relieve sor-\\nrow to express itself, even if unheeded What\\nmore could one ask than a dumb confidant and if\\ndeaf also, so much the safer. To be sure, he w ould\\ngive you neither absolution nor guidance he could\\nrender nothijig in return, save a look or a clasp\\nof the hand nor can the most gifted or eloquent\\nfriendship do much more. Ah but suddenly the\\nthought occurs, suppose that the defect of hearing,\\nas of tongue, were liable to be loosed by an over-\\nmastering emotion, and that by startling him with\\nyour hoarded confidence you were to break the\\nspell The hint is too perilous let us row away.\\nA few strokes take us to the half-submeroed", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0183.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "156 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nwreck of a lime-schooner that was cut to the\\nwater s edge, by a collision in a gale, twelve months\\nago. The water kindled the lime, the cable was\\ncut, the vessel drifted ashore and sunk, still blaz-\\ning, at this little beach. When I saw lier, at sun-\\nset, the masts had been cut away, and the flames\\nheld possession on board. Fire was working away\\nin the cabin, like a live thing, and sometimes\\nglared out of the hatchway anon it clambered\\nalong the gunwale, like a school-boy playing, and\\nthe waves chased it as in play just a flicker of\\nflame, then a wave would reach up to overtake it\\nthen the flames would be, or seem to be, where\\nthe water had been and finally, as the vessel lay\\ncareened, the waves took undisturbed possession\\nof the lower gunwale, and the flames of the upper\\nSo it burned that day and night part red with\\nfire, part black with soaking and now twelve\\nmonths have made all its visible parts look dry\\nand white, till it is hard to believe that either\\nfire or water lias ever touched it. It lies over on\\nits bare knees, and a single knee, torn from the\\nothers, rests imploringly on the shore, as if\\nthat had worked its way to land, and perished", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0184.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "IX A WHEKUy. 157\\nill act of thanksgiving At low tide, one half the\\nframe is lifted high in air, like a dead tree in the\\nforest.\\nPerhaps all other elements are tenderer in their\\ndealings with what is intrusted to them tlian is\\nthe air. Fire, at least, destroys what it lias rained;\\nearth is warm and loving, and it moreover con-\\nceals water is at least caressing, it laps the great-\\ner part of this wreck with protecting waves, covers\\nM ith sea-weeds all tliat it can reach, and protects\\nwith incrusting shells. Even beyond its grasp it\\ntosses soft pendants of moss that twine like vine-\\ntendrils, or sway in the wind. It mellows harsh\\ncolors into beauty, and Euskin grows eloquent\\nover the wave- washed tint of some tarry, weather-\\nbeaten boat. But air is pitiless it dries and stiffens\\nall outline, and bleaches all color away, so that you\\ncan hardly tell whether these ribs belonged to a\\nship or an elephant and yet there is a certain cold\\npurity in the shapes it leaves, and the birds it\\nsends to perch upon these timbers are a more\\ngraceful company than lobsters or fishes. After\\nall, there is something sublime in that sepulture\\nof the Parsees, who erect near every village a", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0185.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "158 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nclokJrma, or Tower of Silence, upon whose summit\\nthey may bury tlieir dead in air.\\nThus widely ma}- one s thoughts wander from a\\nsummer boat. But the season for rowing is a long\\none, and far outlasts in Oldport the stay of our\\nannual guests. Sometimes in autumnal morning?\\nI glide forth over water so still, it seems as if satu-\\nrated by the Indian-summer with its own indefina-\\nble calm. The distant islands lift themselves on\\nwhite pedestals of mirage the cloud-shadows rest\\nsoftly on Conanicut and ^^Jlat seems a similar\\nshadow on the nearer slopes of Fort Adams is in\\ntruth but a mounted battery, drilling, which soon\\nmoves and slides across the hazy hill like a cloud.\\nI hear across nearly a mile of water the faint, sharp\\norders and the sonorous blare of the trumpet that\\nfollows each command the horsemen gallop and\\nwheel suddenly the band within the fort strikes\\nup for guard-mounting, and I have but to shut my\\neyes to be carried back to warlike days that passed\\nby, was it centuries ago Meantime, I float\\ngradually towards Brenton s Cove the lawns that\\nreach to the water s edge were never so gorgeously\\ngreen in any summer, and the departure of the", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0186.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "IN A WHEKRY. 159\\ntransient guests gives to these lovely places an air\\nof cool seclusion when fashion quits them, the\\nimagination is ready to move in. An agreeable\\nsense of universal ownership comes over the win-\\nter-staying mind in Oldport. I like to keep up\\nthis little semblance of habitation on the part of\\nour human birds of passage it is very pleasant to\\nme, and perhaps even pleasanter to them, that they\\nshould call these emerald slopes their own for a\\nmonth or two but when they lock the doors in\\nautumn, the ideal key reverts into my hands, and\\nit is evident that they have only been tenants by\\nthe courtesy, in the fine legal phrase. Provided\\nthey stay here long enough to attend to their lawns\\nand pay their taxes, I am better satisfied than if\\nthese estates were left to me the whole year\\nround.\\nThe tide takes the boat nearer to the fort the\\nhorsemen ride more conspicuously, with swords\\nand trappings that glisten in the sunlight, while\\nthe white fetlocks of the horses twinkle in unison\\nas they move. One troop-horse without a rider\\nwheels and gallops with the rest, and seems to\\nrevel in the free motion. Here also the tide", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0187.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "160 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nreaches or seems to reach the very edge of the\\nturf and when the light battery gallops this way,\\nit is as if it were charging on my floating fortress.\\nUpon the other side is a scene of peace and a\\nfisherman sings in his boat as he examines the\\nfloats of his stake-net, hand over hand. A white\\ngull hovers close above him, and a dark one above\\nthe horsemen, fit emblems of peace and war. The\\nslightest sounds, the rattle of an oar, the striking\\nof a hoof against a stone, are borne over the water\\nto an amazing distance, as if the calm bay, amid\\nits seeming quiet, were watchful of the slightest\\nnoise. But look in a moment the surface is rip-\\npled, the sky is clouded, a swift change comes over\\nthe fitful mood of the season the water looks colder\\nand deeper, the greensward assumes a chilly dark-\\nness, the troopers gallop away to their stables, and\\nthe fisherman rows home. That indefinable ex-\\npression which separates autumn from summer\\ncreeps almost in an instant over all. Soon, even\\nupon this Isle of Peace, it will be winter.\\nEach season, as winter returns, I try in vain to\\ncomprehend this wonderful shifting of expres-\\nsion that touches even a thing so essentially un-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0188.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "IN A WHERRY, 161\\nchanging as the sea. How delicious to all the\\nsenses is the summer foam above yonder rock iu\\nwinter the foam is the same, the sparkle as radi-\\nant, the hue of the water scarcely altered and yet\\nthe effect is, by comparison, cold, heavy, and leaden.\\nIt is like that mysterious variation which chiefly\\nmakes the difference between one human face and\\nanother we call it by vague names, and cannot\\ntell in what it lies we only know that when ex-\\npression changes, all is gone. No warmth of color,\\nno perfection of outline can supersede those subtile\\ninfluences which make one face so winning that all\\nhuman affection gravitates to its spell, and another\\nso cold or repellent that it dwells forever in loneli-\\nness, and no passionate heart draws near. I can\\nfancy the ocean beating in vague despair against\\nits shores in winter, and moaning, I am as beau-\\ntiful, as restless, as untamable as ever why are my\\ncliffs left desolate why am I not loved as I was\\nloved in summer", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0189.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "MADA^r DELIA S EXPECTATIONS.\\nA /TAD AM DELIA Scat at the door of her\\nshow-tent, which, as slie discovered too\\nlate, had been pitched on the wrong side of the\\nParade. It was Election day in Oldport, and\\nthere must have been a thousand people in the\\npublic square there were really more than the\\nfour policemen on duty could properly attend to,\\nso that half of them had leisure to step into ^lad-\\nam Delia s tent, and see little Gerty and the rat-\\ntlesnakes. It was past the appointed hour but\\nthe exhibition had never yet been known to open\\nfor less than ten spectators, and even the addition\\nof the policemen only made eight. So the mistress\\nof the show sat in resolute e.xpectation, a little de-\\nfiant of the human race. It was her thirteenth\\nannual tour, and she knew mankind.\\nSurely there were people enough surely they\\nhad money enough surely they were easily pleased.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0190.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0193.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0194.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "jiADAM Delia s expectations. 163\\nThey gathered in crowds to hear crazy ]\\\\Irs. Green\\ndenouncing the city government for sending her\\nto the poorhouse in a wagon instead of a carriage.\\nThey thronged to inspect the load of hay that was\\ndrawn by the two horses whose harness had been\\ncut to pieces, and then repaired by Denison s Eu-\\nreka Cement. They all bought whips with that\\nunfailing readiness which marks a rural crowd;\\nthey bought packages of lead-pencils with a dollar\\nso skilfully distributed through every six parcels\\nthat the oldest purchaser had never found more\\nthan ten cents in his. They let the man who\\ncured neuralgia rub his magic curative on their\\nforeheads, and allowed the man who cleaned\\nwatch-chains to dip theirs in the purifying powder.\\nThey twirled the magic arrow, which never by any\\nchance rested at the corner compartments where\\nthe gold watches and the heavy bracelets were\\npiled, but perpetually recurred to the side stations,\\nand indicated only a beggarly prize of india-rubber\\nsleeve-buttons. They bought ten cents worth of\\njewelry, obtaining a mingled treasure of two breast-\\npins, a plain gold ring, an enamelled ring, and a\\npiece of California gold. But still no added prizes", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0195.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "164 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nin the human lottery fell to the show-tent of\\nMadam Delia.\\nAs time went on and the day grew warmer,\\nthe crowd grew visibly less enterprising, and busi-\\nness flagged. The man with the lifting-machine\\npulled at the handles himself, a gratuitous exhibi-\\ntion before a circle of boys now penniless. The\\nman with the metallic polish dipped and redipped\\nhis own watch-chain. The men at the booths sat\\ndown to lunch upon the least presentable of their\\nown pies. The proprietor of the magic arrow, who\\nhad already two large breastpins on his dirty shirt,\\nselected from his own board another to grace his\\ncoat-collar, as if thereby to summon back the wan-\\ning fortunes of the day. But Madam Delia still\\nsat at her post, undaunted. Slie kept her eye on\\ntwo sauntering militia-men in uniform, but they\\nonly read her sign and seated themselves on the\\ncurbstone, to smoke. Then a stout black soldier\\ncame in sight but he turned and sat down at a\\ntable to eat oysters, served by a vast and smiling\\nmatron of his own race. But even this, though\\nperhaps the most wholly cheerful exhibition that\\nthe day yielded, had no charms for Madam Delia.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0196.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "MADAM Delia s expectations. 165\\nHer own dinner was ordered at the tavern after\\nthe morning show and where is the human being\\nwho does not resent the spectacle of another human\\nbeing who dines earlier than himself\\nIt grew warmer, so warm that the canvas walls\\nof the tent seemed to grasp a certain armful of\\nheat and keep it inexorably in so warm that the\\nout-of-door man was dozing as he leaned against\\nthe tent-stake, and only recovered himself at the\\nsound of Madam Delia s penetrating voice, and\\nagain began to summon people in, though there\\nwas nobody within hearing. It was so warm that\\nMv. De Marsan, born Bangs, the w^edded husband\\nof Madam Delia, dozed as he walked up and down\\nthe sidewalk, and had hardly voice enough to tes-\\ntify, as an unconcerned spectator, to the value of\\nthe show. Only the unwearied zeal of the show-\\nwoman defied alike thermometer and neglect.\\nShe kept her eye on everything, on Old Bill as\\nhe fed the monkeys within, on Monsieur Comstock\\nas he hung tlie trapeze for the performance, on the\\nlittle girls as they tried to peddle their songs, on\\nthe sleepy out-of-door man, and on the people wlio\\ndid not draw near. If she could, she would have", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0197.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "166 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nplayed all the parts in her own small company,\\nand would have put tlie inexhaustible nervous en-\\nergies of her own Xew England nature (she was\\nborn at Meddibemps, State of Maine) into all.\\nApart from this potent stimulus, not a soul in the\\nestablishment, save little Gerty, possessed any en-\\nergy w^hatever. Old Bill had unfortunately never\\nlearned total abstinence from the wild animals\\namong which he had passed his life jSIousieur\\nComstock s brains had cliiefly run into his arms\\nand legs and Mr. De Marsan, the nominal head\\nof the establishment, was a peaceful Pennsylva-\\nnian, who was wont to move as slowly as if he\\nwere one of those processions that take a certain\\nnumber of hours to pass a given point. This\\nMadam Delia understood and expected he was\\nan innocent who was to be fed, clothed, and di-\\nrected but his languor was no excuse for the\\nmanifest feebleness of the out-of-door man.\\nThat man don t know how to talk no more n\\nnothin at all, said Madam Delia reproachfully, to\\nthe large policeman who stood by her. He never\\nspeaks up bold to nobod} ^Miy don t he tell em\\nwhat s inside the tent 1 don t want him to say", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0198.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "MADAM DELIA S EXPECTATIONS. 167\\nno more ii the trutli, but he might tell that. Tell\\nem about Gerty, you nincum Tell em about\\nthe snakes. Tell era what Com.stock is. T ain t\\nthe real original Comstock (this to the policeman),\\nit s only another that used to perform with hira\\nin Comstock Brothers. This one can t swaller, so\\nwe leave out the knives.\\nWhere s t other said the sententious police-\\nman, whose ears were always open for suspicious\\ndisappearances.\\nDid n t you hear cried the incredulous lady.\\nScattered I Gone Went off one day with a box\\nof snakes and two monkeys. Come, now, you\\nmust have heard We had a sight of trouble pay-\\nin detectives.\\nWhat for a looking fellow was he said the\\npoliceman.\\nDark complected, was the reply. Black\\nmustache. He understood his business, I tell you\\nnow. Swallered five or six knives to onst, and\\ngive good satisfaction to any audience. It was\\nhim that brought us Gerty and Anne, that s\\nthe other little girl. I did n t know as they was\\nhis children, and didn t know as they was, but", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0199.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "168 OLDPORT DAYS.\\none clay he said he got em from an old woman in\\nNew York, and that was all he knew.\\nThey re smart, said the man, whom Gerty\\nhad just coaxed into paying three cents instead of\\ntwo for Number Six of the Singer s Journal,\\na dingy little sheet, containing a song about a fat\\npoliceman, which she had brought to his notice.\\nYou d better believe it, said ]\\\\Iadam Delia,\\nproudly. At least Gerty is Anrie ain t. I tell\\nem, Gerty knows enough for both. Anne don t\\nknow nothiu and what she does know she don t\\nknow sartin. All she can do is just to hang on\\nshe s the strongest and she does the heavy busi-\\nness on the trapeze and parallel bars.\\nIs Gerty good on that said the public guar-\\ndian.\\nI tell you said the head of the establishment.\\nGo and dress, children Five minutes\\nAll this time Madam Delia had been taking oc-\\ncasional fees from the tardy audience, had been\\nmaking change, detecting counterfeit currency, and\\ndiscerning at a glance the impostures of one deceit-\\nful boy who claimed to have gone out on a check\\nand lost it. At last Stephen Blake and his little", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0200.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "MADAM Delia s expectations. 169\\nsister entered, and the house was regarded as full.\\nThese two revellers had drained deep the cup of\\nElection-day excitement. They had twirled all\\nthe arrows, bought all the jewelry, inspected all\\nthe colored eggs, blown at all the spirometers, and\\ntasted all the egg-pop which the festal day re-\\nquired. These delights exhausted, they looked\\nround for other worlds to conquer, saw Madam\\nDelia at her tent-door, and were conquered by her.\\nShe did, indeed, look energetic and comely as\\nshe sat at the receipt of custom, her smooth black\\nhair relieved by gold ear-rings, her cotton velvet\\nsack by a white collar, and her dark gingham dress\\nby a cheap breastpin and by linen cuffs not very\\nmuch soiled. The black leather bag at her side had\\na well-to-do look but all else in the establislmient\\nlooked a little poverty-stricken. The tent was\\nmade of very worn and soiled canvas, and was but\\nsome twenty-five feet square. There were no\\nseats, and the spectators sat on the grass. There\\nwas a very small stage raised some six feet this\\nwas covered with some strips of old carpet, and\\nsurrounded by a few old and tattered curtains.\\nThrough their holes you could easily see the lithe\\n8", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0201.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "170 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nbrown shoulders of the little girls as they put on\\ntheir professional suits and, on the other side,\\nMonsieur Comstock, scarcely hidden by the dra-\\npery, leaned against a cross-bar, and rested his chin\\nupon his tattooed arms as he counted the specta-\\ntors. Among these, Mr, De Marsan, pacing slowly,\\ndistributed copies of this programme\\nTHIRTEENTH ANNUAL TOUR.\\nMADAM DELIA S\\nMuseum and Variety Combination will exhibit.\\nPROCLAMATION TO THE PUBLIC The Propne-\\ntors would say that they have abandoned the old and\\n2)layed-out lyractice of decoratmg the outer ivalls of all jmnci-\\npal streets with flaming Posters and Handbills, and have\\nadopted the congenial, and they trust successful, plan of adver-\\ntising with Programmes, giving a full and accurate description\\nas now organized, which ivill be distributed in Hotels, Saloons,\\nFactories, Workshops, and all jyi ivate du ellings, by their Spe-\\ncial Agents, three days before the exhibition takes place.\\nMadam Delia with her\\nPET SNAKES.\\nMiss Gerty,\\nTHE CHILD WONDER,\\nDANSEUSE AND CONTORTIONIST,\\nwill appear in her wonderful feats at each performance.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0202.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "MADAM Delia s expp:ctations. 171\\nMOXS. COMSTOCK,\\nTHE champion SWORD-SWALLOWER,\\nivill also exhibit his wonderful power of swallowing Five\\nSwords, measuring from 14 to 22 inches in length.\\nIt is not so much the beauty of tins feat\\nthat makes it so remark-\\nable, as its seeming\\nimpossibility.\\nMaster Bobby,\\nTHE BANJO SOLOIST AND BURLESQUE.\\nCOMIC ACROBAT,\\nBy Miss Gerty and Mons. Comstock.\\nMadam Delia,\\nTHE WONDERFUL AND ORIGINAL SNAKE-TAMER,\\nwith her Pets, measuring 12 feet in length and weighing 50 lbs.\\nA pet Rattlesnake, 15 years of age, captured\\non the Prairies of Illinois,\\noldest on exhibition.\\nIn connection with this Exhibition there are\\nANT-EATERS, AFRICAN MONKEYS, C.\\nCosmoramic Stereoscopic Scenes\\nin the United States and other Countries, including a view of\\nthe Funeral Procession of President Taylor,\\nwhich is alone worth the price\\nof admission.\\nExhibition every half-hour, during day and evening.\\nSecure your seats early\\nADMISSION 20 CENTS.\\n1^ Particular care u-ill be taken and nothing shall occur\\nto offend tlie most fastidious.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0203.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "172 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nSteplien and his little sister strolled about the\\ntent meanwhile. The final preparations went\\nslowly on. The few spectators teased the ant-\\neater in one corner, or the first violin in another.\\nOne or two young farmers boys were a little up-\\nroarious with egg-pop, and danced awkward break-\\ndowns at the end of the tent. Then a cracked\\nbell sounded and the curtain rose, showing hardly\\nmore of the stage than was plainly visible before.\\nLittle G-erty, aged ten, came in first, all rumpled\\ngauze and tarnished spangles, to sing. In a poor\\nlittle voice, feebler and shriller than the chattering\\nof the monkeys, she sang a song about the Grecian\\nBend, and enacted the same, walking round and\\nround the stage whirling her tawdry finery. Then\\nAnne, aged twelve, came in as a boy and joined\\nher. Both the girls had rather pretty features,\\nblue eyes, and tightly curling hair both had\\npleasing faces but Anne was solid and phlegmatic,\\nwhile Gerty was keen and flexible as a weasel, and\\nalmost as thin. Presently Anne went out and re-\\nappeared as Master Bobby of the bills, making\\nlove to Gerty in that capacity, through song and\\ndance. Then Gerty was transformed by the addi-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0204.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "MADAM delta s EXPECTATIONS. 173\\ntion of a single scarf into a Highland Maid, and\\ndanced a fling this quite gracefully, to the music\\nof two violins. Exeunt the children and enter\\nMadam Delia and her pets.\\nThe show-woman had laid aside her velvet sack\\nand appeared with bare neck and arms. Over her\\nshoulders hung a rattlesnake fifteen feet long, while\\na smaller specimen curled from each hand. The\\nreptiles put tlieir cold, triangular faces against\\nhers, they touched her lips, they squirmed around\\nher she tied their tails together in elastic knots\\nthat soon undid they reared their heads above her\\nblack locks till she looked like a stage Medusa,\\nthen laid themselves lovingly on her shoulder, and\\nhissed at the audience. Then she lay down on the\\nstage and pillowed her head on the writhing mass.\\nShe opened her black bag and took out a tiny\\nbrown snake which she placidly transferred to her\\nbosom then turned to a barrel into which she\\nplunged her arm and drew out a black, hissing coil\\nof mingled heads and tails. Her keen, good-\\nnatured face looked cheerfully at the audience\\nthrough it all, and took away the feeling of disgust,\\nand something of the excitement of fear.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0205.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "174 OLDPOllT DAYS.\\nThe lady and the pets retiring, Gerty s hour of\\nglory came. She hated singing and only half en-\\njoyed character dancing, but in posturing she was\\nin her glory. Dressed in soiled tights that showed\\nevery movement of her little body, she threw her-\\nself upon the stage with a hand-spring, then kissed\\nher hand to the audience, and followed this by a\\nback-somerset. Then she touched her head by a\\nslow effort to her heels then turned away, put\\nher palms to the ground, raised her heels gradually\\nin the air, and in tliis inverted position kissed first\\none hand, tlien the other, to the spectators. Then\\nshe crossed the stage in a series of somersets, then\\nrolled back like a wheel then held a hoop in her\\ntwo hands and put her whole slender body through\\nit, limb after limb. Then appeared Monsieur\\nComstock. He threw a hand-spring and gave her\\nhis feet to stand upon she grasped them with her\\nhands and inverted herself, her feet pointing sky-\\nward. Then he resumed the ordinary attitude of\\nrational beings and she lay on her back across\\nhis uplifted palms, which supported her neck and\\nfeet then she curled herself backward around his\\nwaist, almost touching head and heels. Indeed,", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0206.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "MADAM Delia s expectations. 175\\nwhatever the snakes had done to Madam Delia,\\nGerty seemed possessed with a wish to do to ]\\\\Ion-\\nsieur Comstock, all but the kissing. Then that\\neminent foreigner vanished, and tlie odors of his\\npipe came faintly through the tattered curtain,\\nwhile Anne entered to help Gerty in the higher\\nbranches.\\nA double trapeze just two horizontal bars sus-\\npended at different heights by ropes and straps\\nhad been swung from the tent-roof Gerty\\nascended to the upper bar, hung from it by her\\nhand, then by her knees, then by her feet, then sat\\nupon it, leaned slowly backward, suddenly dropped,\\nand as some children in the audience shrieked in\\nterror, she caught by her feet in the side-ropes and\\ncame up smiling. It was a part of the play. Then\\nanother trapeze was hung, and was set swinging\\ntoward the first, and Gerty flung herself in tri-\\numph, with varied somersets, from one to the\\nother, while Anne rattled the banjo below and\\nsang,\\nI fly through the air with the greatest of ease,\\nA daring young man on the flying trapeze.\\nThen the child stopped to rest, while all hands", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0207.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "176 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nwere clapped and only the imreverberating turf\\nkept the feet from echoing also. People flocked in\\nfrom outside, and Madam Delia was kept busy at\\nthe door. Then Gerty came down to the lower\\nbar, while Anne ascended the upper, and hung to\\nit solidly by her knees. Thus suspended, she put\\nout her hands to Gerty, who put her feet into\\nthem, and hung head-downward. There was a\\nshuddering pause, while the two children clung\\nthus dizzily, but the audience had seen enough of\\nperil to lose all fear.\\nThose straps are safe asked Stephen of Mr.\\nDe Marsan.\\nLaw bless you, yes, replied that pleasant func-\\ntionary. Comstock s been on em.\\nPrecisely as he spoke one of the straps gave\\ndownward a little, and then rested firm it was not\\na half-inch, but it jarred the performers.\\nGerty, I m slipping, cried Anne. We shall\\nfall\\nNo, we sha n t, silly, said the other, quickly.\\nHold on. Comstock, swing me the rope.\\nStephen Blake sprang to the stage and swung\\nher the rope by which they had climbed to the", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0208.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "MADAM Delia s expectations. 177\\nupper bar. It fell short and Gerty missed it. Anne\\nscreamed, and slipped visibly.\\nYou can t hold, said Gerty. Let go my feet.\\nLet me drop.\\nYou 11 be killed, called Anne, slipping still\\nmore.\\nDrop me, I say shouted the resolute Gerty,\\nwhile the whole audience rose in excitement. In-\\nstantly the hands of the elder girl opened and\\ndown fell Gerty, lieadforemost, full twelve feet,\\nstriking lieavily on her shoulder, while Anne, re-\\nlieved of the weight, recovered easily her position\\nand slipped down into Stephen s arms. She threw\\nherself down beside the little comrade whose pres-\\nence of mind had saved at least one of them.\\nGerty, are you killed she said.\\nI want Delia, gasped the child.\\nIMadam Delia was at her side already, having\\nrushed from the door, where a surging host of boys\\nhad already swept in gratis. Gerty writhed in\\npain. Stephen felt her collar-bone and found it\\nbent like a horseshoe and she fainted before she\\ncould be taken from the stage.\\nWhen restored, she was quite exhausted, and", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0209.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "ITS OLDPORT PAYS.\\nlay for days perfectly subdued aud gentle, sleep-\\ning most of the time. During these days she had\\nmany visitors, and ^Ir. Pe IMai-sau had ample op-\\nportunity for the simple enjoyments of his life,\\ntobacco and conversation. Stephen Blake and his\\nsister came often, and while she brought her small\\ntreasures to amuse Gerty, he freely pumped the\\nproprietor. ^ladam Delia liad been in the snake\\nbusiness, it appeared, since early youth, thirteen\\nyears ago. She had been in De Mai^san s employ\\nfor eight years before her marriage, and his equal\\nand lawful partner for five years since. At first\\nthey had travelled as side-show to a circus, but\\nthat was not so good.\\nThe way is, you see, said Mr. De ^Marsan, to\\ntake a place like Providence, that s a good show-\\ntown, right along, and pitch your tent and live\\nthere. Keep-still pays, they say. You d have to\\nhire a piece of ground anywhere, for five or six\\ndollars a day, and it don t cost much more by the\\nMeek. You can board for four or five dollars a\\nweek, but if you board by the day it s a dollar\\nand a half. To which words of practical wisdom\\nStephen listened with pleased interest. It was", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0210.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "JLA.DAM Delia s expectations. IVO\\nnot so very many years since he had been young\\nenough to wish to run away with a circus and\\nby encouraging these simple confidences, he brought\\nround the conversation to the children.\\nBut here he was met by a sheer absence of all\\ninformation as to their antecedents. The orijjinal\\nand deceitful Comstock had brought them and left\\nthem two years before. Madam Delia had re-\\nceived flattering offers to take her snakes and\\nGerty into circuses and large museums, but she\\nhad refused for the child s own sake. Did Gerty\\nlike it Yes, she would like to be posturing all\\nday she could do anything she saw done she\\nnever needed to be taught nothin as Mr. De\\nMarsan asserted with vigorous accumulation of\\nnegatives. He thought her father or mother must\\nhave been in the business, she took to it so easily\\nbut she was just as smart at school in the winter,\\nand at everything else. NVas the life good for\\nher Yes, why not Rough company and bad\\nlanguage They could hear worse talk every day\\nin the street. Sometimes a feller would come in\\nwith too much liquor aboard, the showman ad-\\nmitted, and would begin to talk his nonsense", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0211.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "180 OLDPOllT DAYS.\\nbut Comstock would n t ask nothin better than to\\npitch such a feller out, especially if he should\\nsarce the little gals. They were good little gals,\\nand Delia set store by em.\\nWhen Stephen and his sister went back that\\nnight to their kind hostesses. Miss Martha and\\nMiss Amy, the soft hearts of those dear old ladies\\nwere melted in an instant by the story of Gerty s\\ncourage and self-sacrifice. They had lived peace-\\nfully all their lives in that motherly old house by\\nthe bay-side, where successive generations had\\nlived before them. The painted tiles around the\\nopen fire looked as if their fops and fine ladies\\nhad stepped out of the Spectator and the Tatler\\nthe great maliogany chairs looked as hospitable as\\nwhen the French otficers were quartered in the\\nhouse during the Revolution, and its Quaker owner.\\nMiss Martha s grand-uncle, had carried out a seat\\nthat the weary sentinel might sit down. De-\\nscended from one of those families of Quaker\\nbeauties whom De Lauzun celebrated, they bore\\nthe memory of those romantic lives, as something\\nvery sacred, in hearts which perhaps held as\\ngenuine romances of their own. Miss Martha s", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0212.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "MADAM delta s EXPECTATIONS. 181\\nsweet face was softened by advancing deafness\\nand by that gentle, appealing look which comes\\nwhen mind and memory grow a little dimmer,\\nthough the loving nature knows no change. Sis-\\nter Amy says, she meekly confessed, that I am\\nlosing my memory. But I do not care very much.\\nThere are so few things worth remembering\\nThey kept house together in sweet accord, and\\nwere indeed trained in the neat Quaker ways so\\nthoroughly, that they always worked by the same\\nmethods. In opinion and emotion they were al-\\nmost duplicates. Yet the world holds no absolute\\nand perfect correspondence, and it is useless to\\naffect to conceal what was apparent to any in-\\ntimate guest that there was one domestic ques-\\ntion on which perfect sympathy was wanting.\\nDuring their whole lives they had never been\\nable to take precisely the same view of the best\\nmethod of grinding Indian meal. Miss Martha\\npreferred to have it from a wind-mill while\\nMiss Amy was too conscientious* to deny that\\nshe thought it better when prepared by a Ava-\\nter-mill. She said firmly, though gently, that\\nit seemed to her less gritty.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0213.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "182 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nLiving their whole lives in this scarcely broken\\nharmony by the margin of the bay, they had long\\nbuilt together one castle in the air. They had\\ntalked of it for many an hour by their evening iire,\\nand they had looked from their chamber windows\\ntoward the Eed Light upon Eose Island to see if\\nit were coming true. This vision was, that they\\nwere to awake some morning after an autumnal\\nstorm, and to find an unknown vessel ashore be-\\nhind the house, without name or crew or passen-\\ngers only there was to be one sleeping child, with\\naristocratic features and a few yards of exquisite\\nembroidery. Years had passed, and their lives\\nwere waning, without a glimpse of that precious\\nwaif of gentle blood. Once in an October night\\nMiss Martha had been awakened by a crash, and\\nlooking out had seen that their pier had been\\ncarried away, and that a dark vessel lay stranded\\nwith her bowsprit in the kitchen window. But\\ndaylight revealed the schooner Polly Lawton, with\\na cargo of coal, and the dream remained unful-\\nfilled. They had never revealed it, except to each\\nother.\\nMoved by a natural sympathy, Miss IMartha", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0214.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "MADAM DEUAS EXPECTATIONS. 183\\nwent with Stephen to see the injured child. Ger-\\nty lay asleep on a rather dingy little mattress,\\nwith Mr. Couistock s overcoat rolled beneath her\\nhead. A day s illness will commonly make even\\nthe coarsest child look refined and interesting\\nand Gerty s physical organization was anything\\nbut coarse. Her pretty hair curled softly round\\nher head her delicate profile was relieved against\\nthe rough, dark pillow and the tips of her little\\npink ears could not have been improved by art,\\nthough they might have been by soap and water.\\nWarm tears came into Miss Martha s eyes, which\\nwere quickly followed from corresponding foun-\\ntains in Madam Delia s.\\nThy own child said or rather signalled Miss\\nMartha, forming the letters softly with her lips.\\nStephen had his own reasons for leaving her to ask\\nthis question in all ignorance.\\nNo, ma am, said the show-woman. Not\\nmuch. Adopted.\\nDoes thee know her parents This was\\nsimilarly signalled.\\nNo, said ]\\\\Iadani Delia, rather coldly.\\nDoes thee suppose that they were And", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0215.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "1S4 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nliere Miss Martha stopped, and the color came as\\nsuddenly and warmly to her cheeks as if Monsieur\\nComstock had otiered to marry her, and to settle\\nupon her the snakes as exclusive property. Mad-\\nam Delia diWned the question she had so often\\nfound herself trying to guess the social position of\\nGerty s parents.\\nI don t know as I know, said she, slowly,\\nwhether you ought to know anythin about it.\\nBut I 11 teU you what I know. That child s folks,\\nshe added, mysteriously, lived on Quality HilL\\nLived where said Miss Martha, breathless.\\nUpper crust, said the other, defining her sym-\\nbol still further. Xo middlins to em. Genteel\\nas anybody. Just look here I\\nMadam Delia unclasped her leather bag, brought\\nforth from it a mass of checks and tickets, some\\nbird-seed, a small whip, a dog-collar, and a dingy\\nmorocco box. This held a piece of an old-fash-\\nioned enamelled ring, and a fragment of embrai-\\ndered muslin marked A.\\nShe d lived with me six months before she\\nbrought em, said the show-woman, whispering.\\nThe bit of handkerchief was enough. Was it a", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0216.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "MADAM DELIA S EXPECTATIONS, 185\\ndream thought tlie dear old lady. What the\\nocean had refused, was this sprite who had lived\\nbetween earth and air to fulfil Miss Martha\\nbent softly over the bedside, resting her clean\\nglove on the only dirty mattress it had ever\\ntouched, and quietly kissed the child. Then she\\nlooked up with a radiant face of perfect resolution.\\nMrs. De Marsan, said she, with dignity that\\nwas almost solenmity, I wish to adopt this child.\\nNo one can doubt thy kindness of heart, but thee\\nmust see that thee is in no condition to give her\\nsuitable care and Christian nurture.\\nThat s a fact, interposed Madam Delia with a\\npang.\\nThen thee will give her to me asked Miss\\nMartha, firmly.\\nMadam Delia threw her apron over her face,\\nand choked and sobbed beneath it for several min-\\nutes. Then reappearing, It s what I ve always\\nexpected, said she. Then, with a tinge of sus-\\npicion, Would you have taken her without the\\nring and handkerchief\\nPerhaps I should, said tlie other, gently.\\nBut that seems to make it a clearer call.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0217.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "186 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nFair enough, said Madam Delia, submitting.\\nI ain t denyin of it. Then she reflected and\\nrecommenced. There never was such a smart\\nperformin child as that since the world began. She\\ncan do just any thin and just as easy Time and\\nagain I might have hired her out to a circus, and\\nshe glad of the chance, mind you but no, I would\\nkeep her safe to home. Then when she showed\\nme the ring and the other things, all my expecta-\\ntions altered very sudden I knowed we could n t\\nkeep her, and I began to mistrust that she would\\nsomehow find her folks. I guess my rathers was\\nthat she should, considerin but I did wish it had\\nbeen Anne, for she ain t got nothin better in her\\nthan just to live genteel.\\nBut Anne seems a nice child, too, said Miss\\nMartha, consolingly.\\nWell, that s just what she is, replied Madam\\nDelia, with some contempt. But what is she for\\na contortionist Ask Comstock what she s got in\\nher And how to run the show without Gerty,\\nthat s what beats me. Why, folks begin to com-\\nplain already that we advertise swallerin and yet\\ndon t swaller. But never you mind, ma am, you", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0218.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "MADAM DELIA S EXPECTATIONS. 187\\nshall have Gerty. You shall have her, she added,\\nwith a gulp, if I have to sell out Go ahead\\nAnd again the apron went over her face.\\nAt this point, Gerty Avaked up with a little\\nmurmur, looked up at Miss Martha s kind face,\\nand smiled a sweet, childish smile. Half asleep\\n.still, she put out one thin, muscular little hand,\\nand went to sleep as the old lady took it in hers.\\nA kiss awaked her.\\nWhat has thee been dreaming about, my little\\ngirl said jNIiss Martha.\\nAngels and things, I guess, said the cliild,\\nsomewhat roused,\\nWill thee go home W ith me and live said\\nthe lady.\\nYes m, replied Gerty, and went to sleep\\nagain.\\nTwo days later she was well enough to ride to\\nMiss Martha s in a carriage, escorted by Madam\\nDelia and by Anne, that dull, uninteresting\\nchild, as Miss Amy had reluctantly described her,\\nso different from this graceful Adelaide. This\\nromantic name was a rapid assumption of the soft-\\nhearted Miss Amy s, but, once suggested, it was as", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0219.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "188 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nthoroughly fixed as if a dozen baptismal fonts had\\nwritten it in water.\\nMadam Delia was sustained, up to the time of\\nGerty s going, by a sense of self-sacrifice. But\\nthis emotion, like other strong stimulants, has its\\nreactions. That remorse for a crime committed in\\nvain, which Dr. Johnson thought the acutest of\\nhuman emotions, is hardly more depressing than\\nto discover that we have got beyond our depth in\\nvirtue, and are in water where we really cannot\\nquite swim, and this was the good woman s\\nposition. During her whole wandering though\\nblameless life, in her girlish days, when she\\ncharmed snakes at Meddibemps, or through her\\nbrief time of service as plain Car line Prouty at\\nthe Biddeford mills, or when she ran away from\\nher step-mother and took refuge among the Indians\\nat Orono, or later, since she had joined her fate\\nwith that of De Marsan, she had never been so\\nseverely tried.\\nThat child was so smart, she said, beneath\\nthe evening canvas, to her sympathetic spouse,\\nI always expected when we got old we d kinder\\nretire on a farm or suthin and let her and her", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0220.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "MADAM Delia s expectations. 189\\nhusband say Comstock, if he was young enough\\nrun the business. And even after she showed\\nus the ring and things, I thought likely she d just\\ncome into her property somewheres and take care\\nof us. I don t know as I ever thought she d leave\\nus, either way, and there slie s gone.\\nShe won t forget us, said the peaceful pro-\\nprietor.\\nNo, said the wife, but it s lonesome. If it\\nhad only been Anne I shall miss Gerty the\\nworst kind. And it 11 kill the show\\nAnd to tell the truth, the show languished.\\nNothing but the happy acquisition of a Chinese\\ngiant nearly eight feet high, with slanting eyes\\nand a long pigtaU, a man who did penance in\\nhis height for the undue brevity of his undersized\\nnation, would have saved the museum.\\nMeantime the neat proprieties of orderly life\\nfound but a poor disciple in Gerty. Her warm heart\\nopened to the dear old ladies but she found noth-\\ning familiar in this phantom of herself, this well-\\ndressed little girl who, after a rapid convalescence,\\nwas introduced at school and meeting under the\\nname of Adelaide. The school studies did not", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0221.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "190 OLDPORT DAYS.\\ndismay her, but she played the jew s-harp at recess,\\nand danced the clog-dance in india-rubbers, to the\\ndismay of the little Misses Grundy, her compan-\\nions. In the calisthenic exercises she threw bean-\\nbags with an untamed vigor that soon ripped the\\nstitche.\u00c2\u00ab! of the bags, and sowed those vegetables\\nin every crack of the school-room floor. There\\nwas a ladder in the garden, and it was some com-\\nfort to ascend it hand over hand upon the under\\nside, or to hang by her toes from the upper rung,\\nto the terror of her schoolmates. But she be-\\ncame ashamed of the hardness of her palms, and\\nshe grew in general weary of her life. Her clothes\\npinched her, so did her new boots Madam Delia\\nhad gone to Providence with the show, and Gerty\\nhad not so much as seen the new Chinese giant.\\nOf all days Sunday was the most objectionable,\\nwhen she had to sit still in Friends Meeting and\\nthink how pleasant it would be to hang by the knees,\\nhead downward, from the parapet of the gallery.\\nShe liked better the Seamen s Bethel, near by,\\nwhere there was an aroma of tar and tarpaulin\\nthat suggested the odors of the show-tent, and\\nwhere, when the Methodist exhorter gave out the", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0222.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "MAUAM Delia s expectations. 191\\nhymn, Howl, howl, ye winds of night, the choir\\nrendered it with such vigor that it was like being\\nat sea in a northeaster. But each week made her\\nnew life harder, until, having cried herself asleep\\none Saturday evening, she rose early the next\\nmorning for her orisons, which, I regret to say,\\nwere as follows\\nI must get out of this, quoth Gerty, I must\\ncut and run. I 11 make it all right for the old\\nladies, for I 11 send em Anne. She 11 like it here\\nfirst rate.\\nShe hunted up such remnants of her original\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0wardrobe as had been thought worth washing and\\npreserving, and having put them on, together with\\na hat whose trimmings had been vehemently\\nburned by IMiss Martha, she set out to seek her\\nfortune. Of all her new possessions, she took\\nonly a pair of boots, and those she carried in her\\nband as she crept softly down stairs.\\nSave us exclaimed Biddy, who had been to\\na Mission Mass of incredible length, and was\\nalready sweeping the doorsteps. Christmas!\\nshe added, as a still more pious ejaculation, when\\nthe child said, Good by, Biddy, I m off now.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0223.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "192 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nWhere to, thin exclaimed Biddy.\\nTo Providence, said Gerty. But don t you\\nteU.\\nBut ye can t go the morn s mornin said\\nBiddy. It s Sunday and there s no cars.\\nThere s legs, replied the child, briefly, as she\\nclosed the door.\\nIt s much as iver, said the stumpy Hiber-\\nnian, to herself, as she watched the twinkling\\nretreat of those slim, but vigorous little mem-\\nbers.\\nThey had been Gerty s support too long, in body\\nand estate, for her to shrink from trusting them in\\na walk of a dozen or a score of miles. But tlie\\nlocomotion of Stephen s horse was quicker, and\\nshe did not get seriously tired before being over-\\ntaken, and not without difficulty and some hot\\ntears coaxed back. Fortunately, Madam Delia\\ncame down from Providence that evening, on a\\nvery unexpected visit, and at the confidential hour\\nof bedtime the child s heart was opened and made\\na revelation.\\nWon t you be mad, if I tell you something\\nshe said to JNIadam Delia, abruptly.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0224.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "MADAM Delia s expectations. 193\\nNo, said the show-woman, with surjDrise.\\nWon t you let Comstock box my ears\\nI 11 box his if lie does, was the iudicrnant an-\\nswer. The gravest contest that had ever arisen in\\nthe museimi was when Monsieur Comstock, teased\\nbeyond endurance, had thus taken the law into his\\nown hands.\\nWell, said Gerty, after a pause, I ain t a\\ngreat lady, no more n nothin Them things I\\nbrought to you was Anne s.\\nAnne s things gasped Madam Delia, the\\nring and the piece of a handkerchief.\\nYes, m, said Gerty, and I ve got the rest.\\nAnd exploring her little trunk, she produced from\\na slit in the lining the other half of the ring, with\\nthe name Anne Deering.\\nYou naughty, naughty girl said Madam De-\\nlia. How did you get em away from Anne\\nCoaxed her, said the child.\\nWell, how did you make her hush up about\\nit?\\nTold her I d kill her if she said a single word,\\nsaid Gerty, undauntedly. I showed her Pa De\\nMarsan s old dirk-knife and told her I d stick it", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0225.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "194 OLDPORT DAYS.\\ninto her if she did n t hush. She was just such\\na fraid-cat slie believed me. She might have\\nknown I did n t mean nothin Now slie can have\\nem and be a lady. She was always talkin about\\nbein a lady, and that put it into my head.\\nWhat did she want to be a lady for asked\\nMadam Delia, indignantly.\\nSaid she wanted to have a parlor and dress\\ntight. I don t want to be one of her old ladies. I\\nwant to stay M ith you, Delia, and learn the clog-\\ndance. And she threw her arms round the show-\\nwoman s neck and cried herself to sleep.\\nNever did the energetic proprietress of a Museum\\nand Variety Combination feel a greater exultation\\nthan did Madam Delia that night. The child s\\noffence was all forgotten in the delight of the dis-\\ncovery to which it led. If there had been expec-\\ntations of social glories to accrue to the house of\\nDe ]\\\\Iarsan through Gerty s social promotion, they\\nmelted away and the more substantial delight of\\nstill having some one to love and to be proud of,\\nsome object of tenderness warmer than snakes and\\nwithin nearer reach than a Chinese giant, this\\ncame in its stead. The show, too, was in a man-", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0226.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "MADAM DELIA S EXPECTATIONS. 195\\nner on its feet again. De Marsan said that he\\nwould rather have Gerty than a hundred-dollar\\nbill. Madam Delia looked forward and saw her-\\nself sinking into the vale of years without a sigh,\\nreaching a period when a serpent fifteen feet\\nlong would cease to charm, or she to charm it,\\nand still having a source of pride and prosperity\\nin this triumphant girl.\\nThe tent was in its glory on the day of Gerty s\\nreturn to be sure, nothing in particular had been\\nwashed except the face of Old Bill, but that alone\\nwas a marvel compared with which all Election\\nDay was feeble, and when you add a paper collar,\\nwords can say no more. Monsieur Comstock also\\nhad that ten times barbered look which Sliake-\\nspeare ascribes to Mark Antony, and which has\\nbelonged to that hero s successor in the histrionic\\nprofession ever since. His chin was unnaturally\\nsmooth, his mustache obtrusively perfumed, and\\nnothing but the unchanged dirtiness of his hands\\nstill linked him, like Antseus, with the earth. De\\nMarsan had intended some personal preparation,\\nbut had been, as usual, in no hurry, and the ap-\\npointed moment found him, as usual, in his shirt-", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0227.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "19G OLDPORT DAYS.\\nsleeves. Madam Delia, however, wore a new\\nbreastpin and gave Gerty another. And the great\\nnew attraction, the Chinese giant, had put on a\\nblack broadcloth coat across his bony shoulders,\\nin her honor, and made a vigorous effort to sit\\nup straight, and appear at his ease when off duty.\\nHe habitually stooped a good deal in private life,\\nas if there were no object in being eight feet\\nhigh, except before spectators.\\nAnne, the placid and imperturbable, was pro-\\nmoted to take the place that Gerty had rejected, in\\nthe gentle home of the good sisters. The secret\\nof her birth, whatever it was, never came to light,\\nbut she took kindly, as Madam Delia had pre-\\ndicted, to living genteel, and grew up into a\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0well-behaved mediocrity, unregretful of the show-\\ntent. Yet probably no one reared M ithin the smell\\nof sawdust ever quite outgrew all taste for the\\nprofession, and Anne, even when promoted to\\ngood society, never missed seeing a performance\\nwhen her wandering friends came by. If I told\\nyou under what name Gerty became a star in the\\nlow-comedy line, after her marriage, you would all\\nrecognize it and if you had seen her in Queen", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0228.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "MADAM DELIA S EXPECTATION. 197\\nPippin or the Shooting-Star pantomime, you\\nwould wish to see her again. Her first child was\\nnamed after Madam Delia, and proved to be a\\nplacid little thing, demure enough to have been\\nborn in a Quaker family, and exhibiting no con-\\ntortions or gymnastics but those common to its\\nyears. And you may be sure that the retired\\nshow-woman found in the duties of brevet-grand-\\nmother a glory that quite surpassed her expecta-\\ntions.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0229.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "SUNSHIKE AKD PETEARCH.\\nXTEAE my summer home there is a little cove\\nor landing by the bay, where nothing larger\\nthan a boat can ever anchor. I sit above it now,\\nupon the steep bank, knee-deep in buttercups, and\\namid grass so lush and green that it seems to rip-\\nple and flow instead of waving. Below lies a tiny\\nbeach, strewn with a few bits of drift-wood and\\nsome purple shells, and so sheltered by projecting\\nwalls that its wavelets plash but lightly. A little\\nfarther out the sea breaks more roughly over sub-\\nmerged rocks, and the waves lift themselves, before\\nbreaking, in an indescribable way, as if each gave\\na glimpse through a translucent window, beyond\\nwhich all ocean s depths might be clearly seen, could\\none but hit the proper angle of vision. On the right\\nside of my retreat a high wall limits the view,\\nwhile close upon the left the crumbling parapet of\\nFort Greene stands out into the foreground, its\\nverdant scarp so relieved against the blue water", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0230.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0233.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0234.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH. 199\\nthat each inward-bound schooner seems to sail into\\na cave of grass. In the middle distance is a white\\nlighthouse, and beyond lie the round tower of ojd\\nFort Louis and the soft low hills of Conanicut.\\nBehind me an oriole chirrups in triumph amid\\nthe birch-trees which wave around the house of\\nthe haunted window before me a kingfisher\\npauses and waits, and a darting blackbird shows\\nthe scarlet on his wings. Sloops and schooners con-\\nstantly come and go, careening in the wind, their\\nwhite sails taking, if remote enough, a vague blue\\nmantle from the delicate air. Sail-boats glide in\\nthe distance, each a mere white wing of canvas,\\nor coming nearer, and glancing suddenly into\\nthe cove, are put as suddenly on the other tack,\\nand almost in an instant seem far away. There is\\nto-day such a live sparkle on the water, such a\\nluminous freshness on the grass, that it seems, as\\nis so often the case in early June, as if all history\\nwere a dream, and the whole earth were but the\\ncreation of a summer s day.\\nIf Petrarch still knows and feeLs the consum-\\nmate beauty of these earthly things, it may seem\\nto Mm some repayment for the sorrows of a life-", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0235.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "200 OLDPORT DAYS.\\ntime that one reader, after all this lapse of years,\\nshould choose his somiets to match this grass,\\nthese blossoms, ami the soft lapse of these blue\\nwaves. Yet any longer or more continuous poem\\nwould be out of place to-day. I fancy that this\\nnarrow cove prescribes the proper limits of a son-\\nnet and when I count the lines of ripple within\\nyonder projecting wall, there proves to be room\\nfor just fourteen. Xature meets our whims with\\nsuch little fitnesses. The words which build these\\ndelicate structures of Petrarch s are as soft and\\nfine and close-textured as the sands upon this tiny\\nbeach, and their monotone, if such it be, is the\\nmonotone of the neighboring ocean. Is it not\\npossible, by bringing such a book into the open\\nair, to separate it from the grimness of commen-\\ntators, and bring it back to life and light and Italy\\nThe beautiful earth is the same as when this\\npoetry and passion were new there is the same\\nsunlight, the same blue water and green grass\\nyonder pleasure-boat might bear, for aught we\\nknow, the friends and lovei^ of five centuries ago\\nPetrarch and Laura might be there, with Boccaccio\\nand Fiammetta as comrades, and with Chaucer \u00c2\u00a3is", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0236.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH. 201\\ntheir stranger guest. It bears, at any rate, if I\\nknow its voyagers, eyes as lustrous, voices as\\nsweet. With the world thus young, beauty eter-\\nnal, fancy free, why should these delicious Italian\\npages exist but to be tortured into grammatical\\nexamples Is tliere no reward to be imagined for\\na delightful book that can match Browning s fan-\\ntastic burial of a tedious one When it has suf-\\nficiently basked in sunshine, and been cooled in\\npure salt air, wlien it has bathed in heaped clover,\\nand been scented, page by page, with melilot,\\ncannot its beauty once more blossom, and its\\nburied loves revive\\nEmboldened by such influences, at least let me\\ntranslate a sonnet, and see if anything is left after\\nthe sweet Italian syllables are gone. Before this\\ncontinent was discovered, before English literature\\nexisted, when Chaucer was a child, these words\\nwere written. Yet tliey are to-day as fresh and\\nperfect as these laburnum-blossoms that droop\\nabove my head. And as the variable and uncer-\\ntain air comes freighted with clover-scent from\\nyonder field, so floats tlirough these long centuries\\na breath of fragrance, the memory of Laura.\\n9\u00c2\u00bb", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0237.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "202 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nSONNET 129.\\nLieti fiori efelici.\\njoyous, blossoming, ever-blessed flowers\\nMid which my queen her gracious footstep sets\\nplain, that keep st her words for amulets\\nAnd hold st her memory in thy leafy bowers\\ntrees, with earliest green of spring-time hours.\\nAnd spring-time s pale and tender violets\\ngrove, so dark the proud sun only lets\\nHis blithe rays gild the outskirts of your towers\\npleasant country-side purest stream.\\nThat mirrorest her sweet face, her eyes so clear.\\nAnd of their living light can catch the beam\\n1 envy you her haunts so close and dear.\\nThere is no rock so senseless but I deem\\nIt burns with passion that to mine is near.\\nGoethe compared translators to carriers, who\\nconvey good wine to market, though it gets unac-\\ncountably watered by the way. The more one\\npraises a poem, the more absurd becomes one s\\nposition, perhaps, in trying to translate it. If it\\nis so admirable is the natural inquiry, why not\\nlet it alone It is a doubtful blessing to the\\nhuman race, that the instinct of translation still\\nprevails, stronger than reason and after one has\\nonce yielded to it, then each untranslated favorite", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0238.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH. 203\\nis like the trees rouud a backwoodsman s clearing,\\neach of which stands, a silent defiance, until he\\nhas cut it down. Let us try the axe again. This\\nis to Laura singing.\\nSONNET 134.\\nQuando Amnr i begli occhi a terra inchina.\\nWhen Love doth those sweet eyes to earth incline,\\nAnd weaves those wandering notes into a sigh\\nSoft as his touch, and leads a minstrelsy\\nClear-voiced and pure, angelic and divine,\\nHe makes sweet havoc in this heart of mine,\\nAnd to my thoughts brings transformation high,\\nSo that I say, My time has come to die.\\nIf fate so blest a death for me design.\\nBut to my soul thus steeped in joy the sound\\nBrings such a wish to keep that present heaven,\\nIt holds my spirit back to earth as well.\\nAnd thus I live and thus is loosed and wound\\nThe thread of life which unto me was given\\nBy this sole Siren who with us doth dwell.\\nAs I look across the bay, there is seen resting\\nover all the hills, and even upon every distant sail,\\nan enchanted veil of palest blue, that seems\\nwoven out of the very souls of happy days, a\\nbridal veil, with which the sunshine weds this", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0239.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "204 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nsoft landscape in summer. Such and so inde-\\nscribable is the atmospheric film that hangs over\\nthese poems of Petrarch s there is a delicate haze\\nabout the words, that vanishes when you touch\\nthem, and reappears as you recede. How it clings,\\nfor instance, around tliis sonnet\\nSONNET 191.\\nAura che quelle chrome.\\nSweet air, that circlest round those radiant tresses,\\nAnd floatest, mingled with them, fold on fold,\\nDeliciously, and scatterest that fine gold,\\nThen twinest it again, my heart s dear jesses,\\nThou lingerest on those eyes, whose beauty presses\\nStings in my heart that all its life exhaust,\\nTill I go wandering round my treasure lost.\\nLike .some scared creature whom the night distresses,\\nI seem to find her now, and now perceive\\nHow far away she is now rise, now fall\\nNow what I wish, now what is true, believe.\\nhappy air since joys enrich thee all.\\nRest thee and thou, stream too bright to grieve\\nWhy can I not float with thee at thy call\\nThe airiest and most fugitive among Petrarcli s\\nlove-poems, so far as I know, showing least\\nof that air of earnestness which he has contrived", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0240.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH. 205\\nto impart to almost all, is this little ode or\\nmadrigal. It is interesting to see, from this, that\\nhe could be almost conventional and courtly in\\nmoments when he held Laura farthest aloof;\\nand when it is compared with the depths of sol-\\nemn emotion in his later sonnets, it seems like the\\nsoft glistening of young birch-leaves against a\\nbackground of pines.\\nCANZONE XXIII.\\nNova angeletta sovra I ale accorta.\\nA new-born angel, with her wings extended,\\nCame floating from the skies to this foir shore,\\nWhere, fate-controlled, I wandered with my sorrows.\\nShe saw me there, alone and unbefriended.\\nShe wove a silken net, and threw it o er\\nThe turf, whose greenness all the pathway borrows.\\nThen was I captured nor could fears arise,\\nSuch sweet seduction glimmered from her eyes.\\nTurn from these light compliments to the pure\\nand reverential tenderness of a sonnet like this\\nSONNET 223.\\nQual donna attende a gloriosa fama.\\nDoth any maiden seek the glorious fame\\nOf chastity, of strength, of courtesy", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0241.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "206 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nGaze in the eyes of that sweet enemy\\nWhom all the world doth as my lady name\\nHow honor grows, and pnre devotion s flame,\\nHow truth is joined with gi-aceful dignity,\\nThere thou mayst learn, and what the path may he\\nTo that high heaven which doth her spirit claim\\nThere learn soft speech, beyond all poet s skill,\\nAnd softer silence, and those holy ways\\nUnutterable, iintold by human heart.\\nBut the infinite beauty that all eyes doth fill.\\nThis none can copy since its lovely rays\\nAre given by God s pure grace, and not by art.\\nThe following, on the other hand, seems to me\\none of the Shakespearian sonnets the successive\\nphrases set sail, one by one, like a yacht squadron\\neach spreads its graceful wings and glides away.\\nIt is hard to handle this white canvas without\\nsoiling. Macgregor, in the only version of this\\nsonnet which I have seen, abandons all attempt at\\nrhyme but to follow the strict order of the original\\nin this respect is a part of the pleasant problem\\nwhich one cannot bear to forego. And there\\nseems a kind of deity who presides over this\\nunion of languages, and who sometimes silently\\nlays the words in order, after all one s own poor\\nattempts have failed.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0242.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH. 207\\nSONNET 128.\\npassi sparsi o pensier vaghi e pronti.\\nwandering steps vague and busy dreams\\nchangeless memory fierce desire\\npassion strong heart weak with its own fire\\neyes of mine not eyes, but living streams\\nlaurel boughs whose lovely garland seems\\nThe sole reward that glory s deeds require\\nhaunted life delusion sweet and dire,\\nThat all my days from slothful rest redeems\\nbeauteous face where Love has treasured well\\nHis whip and spur, the sluggish heart to move\\nAt his least will nor can it find relief.\\nsouls of love and passion if ye dwell\\nYet on this earth, and ye, great Shades of Love\\nLinger, and see my passion and my grief.\\nYonder flies a kingfisher, and pauses, fluttering\\nlike a butterfly in the air, then dives toward a\\nfish, and, failing, perches on the projecting wall.\\nDoves from neighboring dove-cotes alight on the\\nparapet of the fort, fearless of the quiet cattle\\nwho find there a breezy pasture. These doves, in\\ntaking flight, do not rise from the ground at once,\\nbut, edging themselves closer to the brink, with a\\ncaution almost ludicrous in such airy things, trust\\nthemselves upon the breeze with a shy little hop.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0243.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "1^18 OLDrOUT DAYS.\\nand at the next moment are securely on the wing.\\nHow the abundant sunlight inundates every-\\nthing The great clumps of grass and clover are\\nimbedded in it to the roots it flows in among\\ntheir stalks, like water the lilac-bushes bask in\\nit eagerly the topmost leaves of the birches are\\nburnished. A vessel sails by with plash and roar,\\nand all the white spray along her side is sparkling\\nwith sunlight. Yet there is sorrow in the world,\\nand it reached Petrarch even before Laura died,\\nwhen it reached her. This exquisite sonnet shows\\nit\\nSONNET 123.\\nI vidi in terra angclici costumi.\\nI once belield ou earth celestial graces.\\nAnd heavenly beauties scarce to mortals known,\\nWliose memory lends nor joy nor grief alone,\\nBut all things else bewilders and effaces.\\nI saw how tears had left their weary traces\\nWithin those eyes that once like sunbeams shone,\\nI heard those lips breathe low and plaintive moan,\\nWhose spell might once have taught the hills their places.\\nLove, wisdom, courage, tenderness, and truth,\\nMade in their mourning strains more high and dear\\nThan ever wove sweet sounds for mortal ear\\nAnd heaven seemed listening in such saddest ruth", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0244.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH. 209\\nThe very leaves upon the boughs to soothe,\\nSuch passionate sweetness filled the atmosphere.\\nTlie.se sonnet.s are in Petrarch s earlier manner\\nbut the death of Laura brought a change. Look\\nat yonder schooner coming down the bay, straight\\ntoward us she is hauled close to the wind, her\\njib is white in the sunliglit, her larger sails are\\ntouched with the same snowy lustre, and all the\\nswelling canvas is rounded into such lines of\\nbeauty as scarcely anything else in the world\\nhardly even the perfect outlines of the human fonn\\ncan give. Xow she comes up into the wind, and\\ngoes about with a strong flapping of the sails, smit-\\ning on the ear at a half-mile s distance then she\\nglides off on the other tack, showing the shadowed\\nside of her sails, until she reaches the distant zone\\nof haze. So change the sonnets after Laura s death,\\ngrowing shadowy as they recede, until the very\\nlast seems to merge itself in the blue distance.\\nSONNET 251.\\nGli occhi di ch io parlai.\\nThose eyes, neath which my passionate rapture rose,\\nThe arms, hands, feet, the beauty that erewhile\\nCould my own soul from its own self beguile,\\nN", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0245.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "210 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nAnd in a separate Avoild of dreams enclose,\\nThe hair s bright tresses, full of golden glows,\\nAnd the soft lightning of the angelic smile\\nThat changed tliis eartli to some celestial isle,\\nAre now but dust, poor dust, that nothing knows.\\nAnd yet I live Jlyself I grieve and scorn.\\nLeft dark without the light I loved in vain.\\nAdrift in tempest on a bark forlorn\\nDead is the source of all my amorous strain,\\nDry is the channel of my thoughts outworn.\\nAnd my sad harp can sound but notes of pain.\\nAnd yet I live What a pause is implied\\nbefore these words the drawing of a long breath,\\nimmeasurably long like tliat vast interval of\\nheart-beats that precedes Shakespeare s Since\\nCleopatra died. I can think of no other passage\\nin literature that has in it the same wide spaces\\nof emotion.\\nThe following sonnet seems to me the most\\nstately and concentrated in the whole volume. It\\nis the sublimity of a despair not to be relieved by\\nutterance.\\nSONNET 253.\\nSoleasi nel mio cor.\\nShe ruled in beauty o er this heart of mine,\\nA noble lady in a humble home,", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0246.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH. 211\\nAnd now her time for heavenly bliss has come,\\nT is I am mortal proved, and she divine.\\nThe soul that all its blessings must resign,\\nAnd love whose light no more on earth finds room\\nMight rend the rocks with pity for their doom,\\nYet none their sorrows can in Avords enshrine\\nThey weep within my heart and ears are deaf\\nSave mine alone, and 1 am crushed with care.\\nAnd naught remains to me save mournful breath.\\nAssuredly but dust and shade we are,\\nAssuredly desire is blind and brief,\\nAssuredl}- its hope but ends in death.\\nIn a later strain lie rises to that dream which is\\nmore than earth s realities.\\nSONNET 261.\\nLevommi il rnio pensicro.\\nDreams bore my fancy to that region where\\nShe dwells wliom here I seek, but cannot see.\\n3rid those who in the loftiest heaven be\\nI looked on her, less haughty and more fair.\\nSlie touched my hand, she said, Within this sphere,\\nIf hope deceive not, thou shalt dwell with me\\nI filled thy life with war s wild agony\\nMine own day closed ere evening could appear.\\nIkly bliss no human brain can understand\\nI wait for thee alone, and that fair veil\\nOf beauty thou dost love shall wear again.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0247.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "212 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nWTiT was she silent then, why dropped my hand\\nEre those delicious tones could quite avail\\nTo bid my mortal soul in heaven remain\\nIt ^^ndicates the emphatic reality and per-\\nsonality of Petrarch s love, after all, that when\\nfrom these heights of vision he surveys and re-\\nsurveys his life s long dream, it becomes to him\\nmore and more definite, as well as more poetic,\\nand is farther and farther from a merely vague\\nsentimentalism. In his later sonnets, Laura grows\\nmore distinctly indiA-idual to us her traits show\\nthemselves as more characteristic, her tempera-\\nment more intelligible, her precise influence upon\\nPetrarch clearer. What delicate accuracy of de-\\nlineation is seen, for instance, in this sonnet\\nSOXXET 314.\\nDoiei durt=\u00c2\u00bb e placide repvlst.\\nGentle severity, repulses mild,\\nFull of chaste love and pity sorrowing\\nGraceful rebukes, that had the power to bring\\nBack to itself a heart by dreams beguiled\\nA soft-toned voice, whose accents Tindefiled\\nHeld sweet restraints, all duty honoring\\nThe bloom of virtue puritj- s clear spring\\nTo cleanse away base thoughts and passions wild", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0248.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH. 213\\nDivinest eyes to make a lover s bliss,\\nWhether to hriJle in the waj ward mind\\nLest its wild wanderings should the pathway miss.\\nOr else its griefs to soothe, its wounds to bind\\nThis sweet completeness of thy life it is\\nThat saved my soul no other peace I find.\\nIn the following sonnet visions multiply upon\\nvisions. Would that one could transfer into\\nEnglish the delicious way in which the sweet\\nItalian rhymes recur and surround and seem to\\nembrace each other, and are woven and unwoven\\nand interwoven, like the heavenly hosts that\\ngathered around Laura.\\nSONNET 302.\\nGli angeli eletti.\\nThe holy angels and the spirits blest.\\nCelestial bands, upon that day serene\\nWhen first my love went by in heavenly mien.\\nCame thronging, wondeiing at the gracious guest.\\nWhat light is here, in what new beauty drest\\nThey said among themselves for none has seen\\nWithin this age come wandering such a queen\\nFrom darkened earth into immortal rest.\\nAnd she, contented witli her new-found bliss.\\nRanks with the purest in that upper sphere.\\nYet ever and anon looks back on this.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0249.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "214 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nTo watch for me, as if for me she stayed.\\nSo strive my thoughts, lest that high path I miss.\\nI hear her call, and must not be delayed.\\nThese odes and sonnets are all but parts of\\none symphony, leading us through a passion\\nstrengthened by years and only purified l)y death,\\nuntil at last the graceful lay becomes an anthem\\nand a Nunc dimittis. In the closing sonnets Pe-\\ntrarch withdraws from the world, and they seem\\nlike voices from a cloister, growing more and more\\nsolemn till the door is closed. This is one of the\\nlast\\nSONNET 309.\\nDicemi spesso il iniofidato spcrjUo.\\nOft by my faithful mirror I am told.\\nAnd by my mind outworn and altered brow.\\nMy earthly powers impaired and weakened now,\\nDeceive thyself no more, for thou art old\\nWho strives with Nature s laws is over-bold.\\nAnd Time to his commandments bids us bow.\\nLike iire that waves have quenclied, I calmly vow\\nIn life s long dream no more my sense to fold.\\nAnd while I think, our swift existence flies,\\nAnd none can live again earth s brief career,\\nThen in my deepest heart the voice replies\\nOf one who now has left this mortal sphere.\\nBut walked alone through earthly destinies.\\nAnd of all women is to fame most dear.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0250.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH. 215\\nHow true is this concluding line Who can won-\\nder that women prize beauty, and are intoxicated\\nby their own fascinations, when these fragile gifts\\nare yet strong enough to outlast all the memories\\nof statesmanship and war Xext to the immor-\\ntality of genius is that which genius may confer\\nupon the object of its love. Laura, while she\\nlived, was simply one of a hundred or a thousand\\nbeautiful and gracious Italian women; she had\\nher loves and aversions, joys and griefs she\\ncared dutifully for her household, and embroidered\\nthe veil which Petrarch loved her memory ap-\\npeared as fleeting and unsubstantial as that woven\\ntissue. After five centuries we find that no armor\\nof that iron age was so enduring. The kings\\nwhom she honored, the popes whom she revered\\nare dust, and their memory is dust, but literature\\nis still fragrant with her name. An impression\\nwhich has endured so long is ineffaceable it is an\\nearthly immortality.\\nTime is the chariot of all ages to carry men\\naway, and beauty cannot bribe this charioteer.\\nThus wrote Petrarch in his Latin essays but his\\nlove had wealth that proved resistless and for\\nLaura the chariot stayed.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0251.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW.\\n~Y SHALL always remember oue winter evening, a\\nlittle before Christmas-time, when I took a long,\\nsolitary walk in tlie outskirts of the town. The\\ncold sunset had left a trail of orange light along\\nthe horizon, the dry snow tinkled beneath my feet,\\nand the early stars had a keen, clear lustre that\\nmatched well with the sharp sound and the frosty\\nsensation. For some time I had walked toward\\ntlie gleam of a distant window, and as I ap-\\nproached, the light showed more and more clearly\\nthrough the white curtains of a little cottage by\\nthe road. I stopped, on reaching it, to enjoy tlie\\nsuggestion of domestic cheerfulness in contrast\\nwith the dark outside. I could not see the in-\\nmates, nor they me but something of human\\nsympathy came from thdt steadfast ray.\\nAs I looked, a film of shade kept appearing\\nand disappearing with rhythmic regularity in a", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0252.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0255.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0256.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW. 217\\ncorner of the window, as if some one might be\\nsitting in a low rocking-chair close by. Presently\\nthe motion ceased, and suddenly across the curtain\\ncame the shadow of a woman. She raised in her\\narms the shadow of a baby, and kissed it then\\nboth disappeared, and I walked on.\\nWhat are Raphael s Madonnas but the shadow\\nof a mother s love, so traced as to endure for-\\never In this picture of mine, the group actu-\\nally moved upon the canvas. The curtains that\\nhid it revealed it. The ecstasy of human love\\npassed in brief, intangible panorama before rae. It\\nwas something seen, yet unseen airy, yet solid a\\ntype, yet a reality fugitive, yet destined to last\\nin my memory while I live. It said more to me\\nthan would any Madonna of Raphael s, for his\\nmother never kisses her child. I believe I have\\nnever passed over that road since then, never seen\\nthe house, never heard the names of its occupants.\\nTheir character, their history, tlieir fate, are all un-\\nknown. But these two will always stand for me\\nas disembodied types of humanity, the ^Mother\\nand the Child they seem nearer to me than my\\nimmediate neighbors, yet they are as ideal and\\n10", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0257.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "218 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nimpersonal as the goddesses of Greece or as Plato s\\narchetypal man.\\nI know not the parentage of that child, whether\\nblack or white, native or foreign, rich or poor. It\\nmakes no difference. The presence of a baby\\nequalizes all social conditions. On the floor of\\nsome Southern hut, scarcely so comfortable as a\\ndog-kennel, I have seen a dusky woman look down\\nupon her infant with such an expression of delight\\nas painter never drew. No social culture can make\\na mother s face more than a mother s, as no wealth\\ncan make a nursery more than a place wliere chil-\\ndren dwell. Lavish thousands of dollars on your\\nbaby-clothes, and after all the child is prettiest\\nwhen every garment is laid aside. That becoming\\nnakedness, at least, may adorn the chubby darling\\nof the 2 oorest home.\\nI know not what triumph or despair may have\\ncome and gone through that wayside house since\\nthen, what jubilant guests may have entered, what\\nlifeless form passed out. What anguish or what\\nsin may have come between that woman and that\\nchild through what worlds they now wander, and\\nwhether separate or in each other s arms, this is", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0258.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "A SILU)OW. 219\\nall unknown. Fancy can picture other joys to\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0which the first happiness was but the prelude,\\nand, on the other hand, how easy to imagine some\\nspecial heritage of human woe and call it theirs\\nI thouglit of times when Pain might be thy guest,\\nLord of tliy house and liospitality\\nAnd Grief, uneasy lover, might not rest\\nSave when he sat within the touch of thee.\\nXay, the foretaste of that changed fortune may\\nhave been present, even in the kiss. Who knows\\nwhat absorbing emotion, besides love s immediate\\nimpulse, may have been uttered in that shadowy\\nembrace There may have been some contrition\\nfor ill-temper or neglect, or some triumph over\\nruinous temptation, or some pledge of immortal\\npatience, or some heart-breaking prophecy of be-\\nreavement. It may have been simply an act of\\nhabitual tenderness, or it may have been the wild\\nreaction toward a neglected duty; the renewed\\nself-consecration of the saint, or the joy of the\\nsinner that repenteth. No matter. She kissed\\nthe baby. The feeling of its soft flesh, the busy\\nstruggle of its little arms between her hands, the\\nimpatient pressure of its little feet against her", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0259.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "220 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nknees, these were the same, whatever the mood\\nor circumstance beside. They did something to\\nequalize joy and sorrow, honor and shame. Ma-\\nternal love is love, whether a woman be a wife or\\nonly a mother. Only a mother\\nThe happiness beneath that roof may, perhaps,\\nhave never reached so high a point as at that pre-\\ncise moment of my passing. In the coarsest house-\\nhold, the mother of a young child is placed on a\\nsort of pedestal of care and tenderness, at least for\\na time. She resumes something of the sacredness\\nand dignitv of the maiden. Coleridge ranks as\\nthe purest of human emotions that of a husbaod\\ntowards a wife who has a baby at her breast, a\\nfeeling how free from sensual desire, yet how dif-\\nferent from friendsliip And to the true mother\\nhowever cultivated, or however ignorant, this period\\nof early parentage is happier than all else, in spite\\nof its exhausting cares. In that delightful book,\\nthe Letters of Mrs. Richard Trench (mother of\\nthe well-known English writer), the most agreeable\\npassage is perhaps that in which, after looking\\nback upon a life spent in the most brilliant so-\\nciety of Europe, she gives the palm of happiness", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0260.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "A SILU)OW. 221\\nto the time when she was a young mother. She\\nwrites to her god-daughter I believe it is the\\nhappiest time of any woman s life, who has affec-\\ntionate feelings, and is blessed with healthy and\\nwell-disposed children. I know at least that\\nneither the gayeties and boundless hopes of early\\nlife, nor the more grave pursuits and deeper affec-\\ntions of later years, are by any means comparable\\nin my recollection with the serene, yet lively\\npleasure of seeing my children playing on the\\ngrass, enjoying their little temperate supper, or\\nrepeating with holy look their simple prayers,\\nand undressing for bed, growing prettier for every\\npart of their dress they took off, and at last lying\\ndown, all freshness and love, in complete happi-\\nness, and an amiable contest for mamma s last\\nkiss.\\nThat kiss welcomed the child into a world where\\njoy predominates. The vast multitude of human\\nbeings enjoy existence and wish to live. They all\\nhave their earthly life under their own control.\\nSome religions sanction suicide the Christian\\nScriptures nowhere explicitly forbid it; and yet\\nit is a rare thing. Many persons sigh for death", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0261.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "222 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nwhen it seems far off, but tlie desire vauislies\\nwlien tlie boat upsets, or the locomotive runs off\\nthe track, or the measles set in. A wise physician\\nonce said to me I observe that every one wishes\\nto go to heaven, but I observe that most people\\nare willing to take a great deal of very disagree-\\nable medicine first. The lives that one least\\nenvies as of the Digger Indian or the outcast\\nboy in the city are yet sweet to the living.\\nThey have only a pleasure like that of the\\nbrutes, we say with scorn. But what a racy and\\nsubstantial pleasure is that The flashing speed of\\nthe swallow in the air, the cool play of the min-\\nnow in tlie water, the dance of twin butterflies\\nround a thistle-blossom, the thundering gallop of\\nthe buffalo across the prairie, nay, the clumsy walk\\nof the grizzly bear it were doubtless enough to\\nreward existence, could we liave joy like such as\\nthese, and ask no more. This is the hearty physi-\\ncal basis of animated life, and as step by step the\\nsavage creeps up to the possession of intellectual\\nmanhood, each advance brings. with it new sorrow\\nand new joy, with the joy always in excess.\\nThere are many who will utterly disavow this", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0262.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW. 223\\ncreed that life is desirable in itself. A fair woman\\nin a ball-room, exquisitely dressed, and possessed\\nof all that wealth could give, once declared to me\\nher belief and I tliink honestly that no per-\\nson over thirty was consciously happy, or would\\nwish to live, but for the fear of death. There could\\nnot even be pleasure in contemplating one s chil-\\ndren, slie asserted, since they were living in such a\\nworld of sorrow. Asking the opinion, within half\\nan hour, of another woman as fair and as favored\\nby fortune, I found directly the opposite verdict.\\nFor my part I can truly say, she answered, that\\nI enjoy every moment I live. The varieties of\\ntemperament and of physical condition will al-\\nways afford us these extremes but the truth lies\\nbetween them, and most persons will endure many\\nsorrows and still find life sweet.\\nAnd the mother s kiss welcomes the child into\\na world where good predominates as well as joy.\\nWliat recreants must we be, in an age that has\\nabolished slavery in America and popularized the\\ngovernments of all Europe, if we doubt that the\\ntendency of man is upward How mucli that\\nthe world calls selfishness is only generosity with", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0263.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "224 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nnarrow walls, a too exclusive solicitude to inain-\\ntaiu a wife in luxury or make one s children rich\\nIn an audience of rough people a generous senti-\\nment always brings down the house. In the\\ntumult of war both sides applaud an heroic deed.\\nA courageous woman, who had traversed alone, on\\nbenevolent errands, the worst parts of Xew York\\ntold me that she never felt afraid except in the\\nsolitudes of the country wherever there was a\\ncrowd, she found a protector. A policeman of\\ngreat experience once spoke to me with admiration\\nof the fidelity of professional thieves to each other,\\nand the risks they would run for the women whom\\nthey loved when Bristol Bill was arrested, he\\nsaid, there was found upon the burglar a set of\\nfalse keys, not quite finished, by which he would\\ncertainly, within twenty-four hours, have had his\\nmistress out of jail. Parent-Duchatelet found al-\\nways the remains of modesty among the fallen\\nwomen of Paris hospitals and Mayhew, amid the\\nLondon outcasts, says that he thinks better of\\nhuman nature everyday. Even among politicians,\\nwhom it is our American fashion to revile as the\\nchief of sinners, there is less of evil than of good.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0264.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW. 225\\nIn Wilberforce s Memoirs there is an account\\nof his having once asked Mr. Pitt whether his long\\nexperience as Prime Minister had made him think\\nwell or ill of his fellow-men. ^Ir. Pitt answered,\\nWell and his successor, Lord Melbourne, being\\nasked the same question, answered, after a little\\nreflection, My opinion is the same as that of Mr.\\nPitt.\\nLet us have faith. It was a part of the vigor\\nof the old Hebrew tradition to rejoice when a man-\\nchild was born into the world and the maturer\\nstrength of nobler ages should rejoice over a\\nwoman-child as well. Nothing human is wholly\\nsad, until it is effete and dying out. AMiere there\\nis life there is promise. Vitality is always hope-\\nful, was the verdict of the most refined and clear-\\nsighted woman who has yet explored the rough\\nmining villages of the Eocky Mountains. There\\nis apt to be a certain coarse virtue in rude health\\nas the Germanic races were purest when least civ-\\nilized, and our American Indians did not unlearn\\nchastity till they began to decay. But even where\\nvigor and vice are found together, they still may\\nhold a promise for the next generation. Out of\\n10\u00c2\u00bb", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0265.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "226 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nthe strong cometh forth sweetness. Parisian wick-\\nedness is not so discouraging merely because it is\\nwicked, as from a suspicion that it is draining\\nthe life-blood of the nation. A mob of miners or\\nof New York bullies may be uncomfortable neigh-\\nbors, and may make a man of refinement hesitate\\nwhether to stop his ears or to feel for his revolver\\nbut they hold more promise for the coming gener-\\nations than the line which ends in Madame Bovary\\nor the Yicomte de Camors.\\nBut behind that cottage curtain, at any rate, a\\nnew and prophetic life had begun. I cannot fore-\\ntell that child s future, but I know something of\\nits past. The boy may grow up into a criminal,\\nthe woman into an outcast, yet the baby was\\nbeloved. It came not in utter nakedness. It\\nfound itself heir of the two prime essentials of\\nexistence, life and love. Its first possession was\\na woman s kiss and in that heritage the most\\nimportant need of its career was guaranteed. An\\nounce of mother, says the Spanish proverb, is\\nworth a pound of clergy. Jean Paul says that in\\nlife every successive influence affects us less and\\nless, so that the circumnavigator of the globe is", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0266.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW, 227\\nless influenced by all the nations he has seen than\\nby his nurse. Well may the child imbibe that\\ni-everence for motherhood which is the first need\\nof man. Where woman is most a slave, she is at\\nleast sacred to her son. The Turkish Sultan must\\nprostrate himself at the door of his mother s apart-\\nments, and were he known to have insulted her,\\nit would make his throne tremble. Among the\\nsavage African Touaricks, if two parents disagree,\\nit is to the mother that the child s obedience\\nbelongs. Over the greater part of the earth s\\nsurface, the foremost figures in all temples are the\\nMother and Child. Christian and Buddhist\\nnations, numbering together two thirds of the\\nworld s population, unite in this worship. Into\\nthe secrets of the ritual that baby in the window\\nhad already received initiation.\\nAnd how much spiritual influence may in turn\\nhave gone forth from that little one The coarsest\\nfather gains a new impulse to labor from the mo-\\nment of his baby s birth he scarcely sees it when\\nawake, and yet it is with him all the time. Every\\nstroke he strikes is for his child. New social aims,\\nnew moral motives, come vaguely up to him. The", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0267.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "228 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nLondon costermonger told May hew that he thought\\nevery man would like his son or daughter to have a\\nbetter start in the world than his own. After all,\\nthere is no tonic like the affections. Philosophers\\nexpress wonder that the divine laws should give to\\nsome young girl, almost a child, the custody of an\\nimmortal soul. But what instruction the baby\\nbrings to the mother She learns patience, self-\\ncontrol, endurance her very arm grows strong, so\\nthat she can hold the dear burden longer than the\\nfather can. She learns to understand character,\\ntoo, by dealing with it. In training my first\\nchildren, said a wise mother to me, I thought\\nthat all were born just the same, and that I was\\nwholly responsible for what they should become.\\nI learned by degrees that each had a temperament\\nof its own, which I must study before I could\\nteach it. And thus, as the little ones grow older,\\ntheir dawning instincts guide those of the parents\\ntheir questions suggest new answers, and to have\\nloved them is a liberal education.\\nFor the height of heights is love. The philoso-\\npher dries into a skeleton like that he investigates,\\nunless love teaches him. He is blind among his", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0268.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW. 229\\nmicroscopes, unless he sees in the humblest human\\nsoul a revelation that dwarfs all the world beside.\\nWhile he grows gray in ignorance among his\\ncrucibles, every girlish mother is being illuminated\\nby every kiss of her child. That house is so far\\nsacred, which holds within its walls this new-born\\nheir of eternity. But to dwell on these high\\nmysteries would take us into depths beyond the\\npresent needs of mother or of infant, and it is\\nbetter that the greater part of the baby-life should\\nbe that of an animated toy.\\nPerhaps it is well for all of us that we should\\nlive mostly on the surfaces of things and should\\nplay with life, to avoid taking it too hard. In a\\nnursery the youngest child is a little more than a\\ndoll, and the doll is a little less than a child.\\nWhat spell does fancy weave on earth like that\\nwhich the one of these small beings performs for\\nthe other This battered and tattered doll, this\\nshapeless, featureless, possibly legless creature,\\nwhose mission it is to be dragged by one arm, or\\nstood upon its head in the bathing-tub, until it\\nfinally reverts to tlie rag-bag whence it came,\\nwhat an affluence of breathing; life is thrown around", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0269.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "230 OLDPOET DAYS.\\nit by one touch of dawning imagination I Its\\nlittle mistress will find all joy unavailing without\\nits sympathetic presence, will confide every emo-\\ntion to its pen-and-ink ears, and will weep passion-\\nate tears if its extremely soiled person is pricked\\nwhen its clothes are mended. What psychologist,\\nwhat student of the human heart, has ever applied\\nhis subtile analysis to the emotions of a child\\ntoward her doll\\nI read lately the charming autobiography of a\\nlittle gill of eight years, written literally from her\\nown dictation. Since Pet Marjorie I have seen\\nno such actual self-revelation on the part of a\\nchild. In the course of her narration she describes,\\nwith great precision and correctness, the travels of\\ntlie family through Europe in the preceding year,\\nassigning usually the place of importance to her\\ndoll, who appears simply as My Baby. Nothing\\ncan be more grave, more accurate, more serious\\nthan the whole history, but notliing in it seems\\nquite so real and alive as the doll. When we\\ngot to Nice, I was sick. The next morning the\\ndoctor came, and he said I had something that Avas\\nvery much like scarlet fever. Then I had Annie", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0270.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW. 231\\ntake care of baby, and keep her away, for I was\\nafraid she would get the fever. She used to cry\\nto come to me, but I knew it would n t be good\\nfor her.\\nWhat firm judgment is here, what tenderness\\nwithout weakness, what discreet motherhood\\nWhen Christmas came, it appears that baby hung\\nup her stocking with the rest. Her devoted parent\\nhad bought for her a slate with a real pencil.\\nOthers provided thimble and scissors and bodkin\\nand a spool of thread, and a travelling-shawl with\\na strap, and a cap with tarletan ruffles. I found\\nbaby with the cap on, early in the morning, and\\nshe was so pleased she almost jumped out of my\\narms. Thus in the midst of visits to the Coliseuna\\nand St. Peter s, the drama of early affection goes\\nalways on. I used to take her to hear the band,\\nin tlie carriage, and she went everywhere I did.\\nBut the love of all dolls, as of other pets, must\\nend with a tragedy, and here it comes. The\\nnext place we went to was Lucerne. There was a\\nlovely lake there, but I had a very sad time. One\\nday I thought I d take baby down to breakfast,\\nand, as I was going up stairs, my foot slipped and", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0271.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "232 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nbaby broke her head. And 0, I felt so bad and\\nI cried out, and I ran up stairs to Annie, and\\nmamma came, and 0, we were all so sorry And\\nmamma said she thoudit I could cjet another\\nhead, but I said, It won t be tlie same baby.\\nAnd mamma said, maybe we could make it\\nseem so.\\nAt this crisis the elder brother and sister de-\\nparted for Mount Righi. They were going to\\nstay all niglit, and mamma and I stayed at home\\nto take care of each other. I felt very bad about\\nbaby and about their going, too. After they went,\\nmamma and I thought we would go to the little\\ntown and see what we could find. After many\\ndifficulties, a waxen head was discovered. Mam-\\nma bought it, and we took it liome and put it on\\nbaby but I said it was n t like my real baby,\\nonly it was better than having no child at all\\nThis crushing bereavement, this reluctant ac-\\nceptance of a child by adoption, to fill the vacant\\nheart, how real and formidable is all this re-\\nhearsal of the tragedies of maturer years I knew\\nan instance in which the last impulse of ebbing\\nlife was such a gush of imaginary motherhood.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0272.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW. 233\\nA dear friend of mine, whose sweet charities\\nprolong into a tliird generation the unbounded\\nbenevolence of old Isaac Hopper, used to go at\\nChristmas-time with dolls and other gifts to tlie\\npoor children on Eandall s Island. Passing the\\nbed of a little girl whom the physician pronounced\\nto be unconscious and dying, the kind visitor\\ninsisted on putting a doll into her arms. Instantly\\nthe eyes of the little invalid opened, and she\\npressed the gift eagerly to her heart, murmuring\\nover it and caressing it. The matron afterwards\\nwrote that the child died within two hours, wear-\\ning a happy face, and still clinging to her new-\\nfound treasure.\\nAnd beginning with this transfer of all human\\nassociations to a doll, the child s life interfuses\\nitself readily among all the affairs of the elders.\\nIn its presence, formality vanishes the most\\noppressive ceremonial is a little relieved when\\nchildren enter. Their inlluence is pervasive and\\nirresistible, like that of water, which adapts itself\\nto any landscape, always takes its place, welcome\\nor unwelcome, keeps its own level and seems\\nalways to have its natural and proper margin.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0273.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "234 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nOut of doors how children mingle with nature, and\\nseem to begin just where birds and butterflies\\nleave off! Leigh Hunt, with his delicate percep-\\ntions, paints this well The voices of children\\nseem as natural to the early morning as the voice\\nof the birds. The suddenness, the lightness, the\\nloudness, the sweet confusion, the sparkling gayety,\\nseem alike in both. The sudden little jangle is\\nnow here and now there and now a single voice\\ncalls to another, and the boy is off like the bird.\\nSo Heine, with deeper thoughtfulness, noticed the\\nintimacy with the trees of the little wood-\\ngatherer in the Hartz Mountains soon the child\\nwhistled like a linnet, and the other birds all\\nanswered him then he disappeared in the thicket\\nwith his bare feet and his bundle of brushwood.\\nChildren, thought Heine, are younger than we,\\nand can still remember the time when they were\\ntrees or birds, and can therefore understand and\\nspeak their language but we are grown old, and\\nhave too many cares, and too much jurisprudence\\nand bad poetry in our heads.\\nBut why go to literature for a recognition of\\nwhat one may see by opening one s eyes Before", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0274.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW. 235\\nmy window tliere is a pool, two rods square, that\\nis haunted all winter by children, clearing away\\nthe snow of many a storm, if need be, and mining\\ndownward till they strike the ice. I look this\\nmorning from the window, and the pond is bare.\\nIn a moment I happen to look again, and it is\\ncovered with a swarm of boys a great migrating\\nflock has settled upon it, as if swooping down\\nfrom parts unknown to scream and sport them-\\nselves here. The air is full of their voices they\\nhave all tugged on their skates instantaneously, as\\nit were by magic. Now they are in a confused\\ncluster, now they sweep round and round in a\\ncircle, now it is broken into fragments and as\\nquickly formed again games are improvised and\\nabandoned there seems to be no plan or leader,\\nbut all do as they please, and yet somehow act in\\nconcert, and all chatter all the time. Now they\\nhave alighted, every one, upon the bank of snow\\nthat edges the pond, each scraping a little hollow\\nin which to perch. Now every perch is vacant\\nagain, for they are all in motion each moment\\nincreases the jangle of shrill voices, since a\\nboy s outdoor whisper to his nearest crony is as if", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0275.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "236 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nhe was hailing a ship in the offing, and what\\nthey are all saying can no more be made out than\\nif tliey were a flock of gulls or blackbirds. I look\\naway from the window once more, and when I\\nglance out again there is not a boy in sight. They\\nhave whirled away like snowbirds, and the little\\npool sleeps motionless beneath the cheerful wintry\\nsun. Who but must see how gradually the joyous\\nlife of the animal rises through childhood into\\nman, since the soaring gnats, the glancing\\nfishes, the sliding seals are all represented in\\nthis mob of half-grown boyhood just released\\nfrom school.\\nIf I were to choose among all gifts and qualities\\nthat which, on the whole, makes life pleasantest,\\nI should select the love of children. No circum-\\nstance can render this world wliolly a solitude to\\none who has that possession. It is a freemasonry.\\nWherever one goes, there are the little brethren\\nand sisters of the mystic tie. No diversity of race\\nor tongue makes much difference. A smile speaks\\nthe universal language. If I value myself on\\nanything, said the lonely Hawthorne, it is on\\nhaving a smile that children love. They are", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0276.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW. 237\\nsuch prompt little beings they require so little\\nprelude hearts are won in two minutes, at that\\nfrank period, and so long as you are true to them\\nthey will be true to you. They need no argu-\\nment, no bribery. They have a hearty appetite\\nfor gifts, no doubt, but it is not for these that\\nthey love the giver. Take the wealth of the\\nworld and lavish it with counterfeited affection\\nI will win all the children s hearts away from\\nyou by empty-handed love. The gorgeous toys\\nwill dazzle them for an hour then their instincts\\nM ill revert to their natural friends. In visiting a\\nhouse where there are children I do not like to\\ntake them presents it is better to forego the\\npleasure of the giving than to divide the welcome\\nbetween yourself and the gift. Let that follow\\nafter you are gone.\\nIt is an exaggerated compliment to women when\\nwe ascribe to them alone this natural sympathy\\nwith childhood. It is an individual, not a sexual\\ntrait, and is stronger in many men than in many\\nwomen. It is nowhere better exliibited in litera-\\nture than where the happy Wilhelm Meister takes\\nhis boy by the hand, to lead him into the free", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0277.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "238 OLDPORT DAYS,\\nand lordly world. Such love is not universal\\namong the other sex, though men, in that humility\\nwhich so adorns their natures, keep up the pleasing\\nfiction that it is. As a general rule any little girl\\nfeels some glimmerings of emotion towards any-\\nthing that can pass for a doll, but it does not follow\\nthat, when grown older,. she will feel as ready an\\ninstinct toward every child. Try it. Point out to\\na woman some bundle of blue-and-white or white-\\nand-scarlet in some one s arms at the next street\\ncorner. Ask her, Do you love that baby\\nNot one woman in three will say promptly, Yes.\\nThe others will hesitate, will bid you wait till they\\nare nearer, till they can personally inspect the\\nlittle thing and take an inventory of its traits it\\nmay be dirty, too it may be diseased. Ah but\\nthis is not to love children, and you might as well\\nbe a man. To love children is to love childhood,\\ninstinctively, at whatever distance, the first im-\\npulse being one of attraction, though it may be\\nchecked by later discoveries. Unless your heart\\ncommands at least as long a range as your eye, it\\nis not worth much. The dearest saint in my cal-\\nendar never entered a railway car that she did not", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0278.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "A SHADOW. 239\\nlook round for a baby, which, when discovered,\\nmust always be won at once into her arras. If it\\nwas dirty, she would have been glad to bathe it\\nif ill, to heal it. It would not have seemed to her\\nanything worthy the name of love, to seek only\\nthose who were wholesome and clean. Like the\\nyoung girl in Holmes s most touching poem, she\\nwould have claimed as her own the outcast child\\nwhom nurses and physicians had abandoned.\\nTake her, dread Angel Break in love\\nThis bruised reed and make it thine\\nNo voice descended from above,\\nBut Avis answered, She is mine\\nWhen I think of the self-devotion which the\\nhuman heart can contain of those saintly souls\\nthat are in love with sorrow, and that yearn to\\nshelter all weakness and all grief it inspires an\\nunspeakable confidence that there must also be an\\ninstinct of parentage beyond this human race, a\\nheart of hearts, cor cordium. As we all crave\\nsomething to protect, so we long to feel ourselves\\nprotected. We are all infants before the Infinite\\nand as I turned from that cottage window to the\\nresplendent sky, it was easy to fancy that mute", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0279.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "240 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nembrace, that shadowy symbol of affection, expand-\\ning from the narrow lattice till it touched the\\nstars, gathering every created soul into the arms\\nof Immortal Love.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0280.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0281.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0282.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS.\\nA LL round the shores of the island where I\\ndwell there runs a winding path. It is prob-\\nably as old as the settlement of the country, and\\nhas been kept open with pertinacious fidelity by\\nthe fishermen whose right of way it represents.\\nIn some places, as between Fort Adams and Castle\\nHill, it exists in its primitive form, an irregular\\ntrack above rough cliffs, whence you look down\\nupon the entrance to the harbor and watch the\\nwhite-sailed schooners that glide beneath. Else-\\nwhere the high-road has usurped its place, and\\nyou have the privilege of the path without its\\ncharm. Along our eastern cliffs it runs for some\\nmiles in the rear of beautiful estates, whose owners\\nhave seized on it, and graded it, and gravelled it,\\nand made stiles for it, and done for it everything\\nthat landscape-gardening could do, wliile leaving\\nit a footpath still. You walk there with croquet\\n11 r", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0285.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "242 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nand roses on the one side, and M ith floating loons\\nand wild ducks on the other. In remoter places the\\npath grows wilder, and has ramifications striking\\nboldly across the peninsula through rough moor-\\nland and among great ledges of rock, where you\\nmay ramble for hours, out of sight of all but some\\nsportsman with his gun, or some truant-boy with\\ndripping water-lilies. There is always a charm to\\nme in the inexplicable windings of these wayward\\ntracks yet I like the path best where it is nearest\\nthe ocean. There, while looking upon blue sea and\\nsnowy sails and floating gulls, you may yet hear\\non the landward side the melodious and plaintive\\ndrawl of the meadow-lark, most patient of summer\\nvisitors, and, indeed, lingering on this island al-\\nmost the whole j^ear round.\\nBut who cares whither a footpath leads The\\ncharm is in the path itself, its promise of some-\\nthing that the high-road cannot yield. Away from\\nhabitations, you know that the fisherman, the geolo-\\ngist, the botanist may have been there, or that the\\ncows have been driven home and that somewhere\\nthere are bars and a milk-pail. Even in the midst\\nof houses, the path suggests school-children with", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0286.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "footpaths. 243\\ntheir luncheon-baskets, or workmen seeking eagerly\\nthe noonday interval or the twilight rest. A foot-\\npath cannot be quite spoiled, so long as it remains\\nsuch you can make a road a mere avenue for fast\\nhorses or showy women, but this humbler track\\nkeeps its simplicity, and if a queen comes walking\\nthrough it, she comes but as a village maid. On\\nSunday, when it is not etiquette for our fashion-\\nables to drive, but only to walk along the cliffs,\\nthey seem to wear a more innocent and wholesome\\naspect in that novel .position I have seen a fine\\nlady pause under such circumstances and pick a\\nwild-flower she knew how to do it. A footpath\\nhas its own character, while that of the high-road\\nis imposed upon it by those who dwell beside it\\nor pass over it indeed, roads become picturesque\\nonly when they are called lanes and make believe\\nthat they are but paths.\\nThe very irregularity of a footpath makes half\\nits charm. So much of loitering and indolence\\nand impulse have gone to its formation, that all\\nwhich is stiff and military has been left out. I\\nobserved that the very dikes of the Southern rice\\nplantations did not succeed in being rectilinear.", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0287.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "244 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nthough the general effect was that of Tennyson s\\nflowery squares. Even the country road, which\\nis but an enlarged footpath, is never quite straight,\\nas Thoreau long since observed, noting it with his\\nsurveyor s eye. I read in his unpublished diary\\nThe law that plants the rushes in waving lines\\nalong the edge of a pond, and that curves the pond\\nshore itself, incessantly beats against the straight\\nfences and highways of men, and makes them con-\\nform to the line of beauty at last. It is this un-\\nintentional adaptation that makes a footpath so\\nindestructible. Instead of striking across the nat-\\nural lines, it conforms to them, nestles into the\\nhollow, skirts the precipice, avoids the morass. An\\nunconscious landscape-gardener, it seeks the most\\nconvenient course, never doubting that grace will\\nfollow. Mitchell, at his Edgewood farm, wish-\\ning to decide on the most picturesque avenue to\\nhis front door, ordered a heavy load of stone to be\\nhauled across the field, and bade the driver seek\\nthe easiest grades, at whatever cost of curvature.\\nTlie avenue followed the path so made.\\nWhen a footpath falls thus unobtrusively into\\nits place, all natural forces seem to sympathize", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0288.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 245\\nwith it, and help it to fulfil its destiny. Once\\nmake a well-defined track through a wood, and\\npresently the overflowing brooks seak it for a chan-\\nnel, the obstructed winds draw through it, the fox\\nand woodchuck travel by it, the catbird and robin\\nbuild near it, the bee and swallow make a high-\\nroad of its convenient thoroughfare. In winter the\\nfirst snows mark it with a white line as you wan-\\nder through you hear the blue-jay s cry, and see\\nthe hurrying flight of the sparrow the graceful\\noutlines of the leafless bushes are revealed, and the\\nclinging bird s-nests, leaves that do not fall, give\\nhappy memories of summer homes. Thus Xature\\nmeets man half-way. The paths of the wild forest\\nand of the rural neighborhood are not at all the\\nsame thing indeed, a spotted trail, marked only\\nby the woodman s axe-marks on the trees, is not a\\nfootpath. Thoreau, wlio is sometimes foolishly\\naccused of having sought to be a mere savage, un-\\nderstood this distinction well. A man changes\\nby his presence, he says in his unpublished diary,\\nthe very nature of the trees. The poet s is not a\\nlogger s path, but a woodman s, the logger and\\npioneer have preceded him, and banished decaying", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0289.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "246 OLDPOET DAYS.\\nwood and the spongy mosses which feed on it, and\\nbuilt hearths and humanized nature for him. For\\na permanent residence, there can be no comparison\\nbetween this and the wilderness. Our woods are\\nsylvan, and their inhabitants woodsmen and rus-\\ntics that is, a sdvarjgia and its inhabitants sal-\\nvages. What Thoreau loved, like all men of\\nhealthy minds, was the occasional experience of\\nuntamed wildness. I love to see occasionally,\\nhe adds, a man from whom the usnca (lichen)\\nhangs as gracefully as from a spruce.\\nFootpaths bring us nearer both to nature and\\nto man. No high-road, not even a lane, conducts\\nto the deeper recesses of the wood, where you hear\\nthe wood-thrush. There are a thousand concealed\\nfitnesses in nature, rhymed correspondences of bird\\nand blossom, for which you must seek through\\nhidden paths as when you come upon some\\nblack brook so palisaded with cardinal-flowers\\nas to seem a stream of sunsets or trace its\\nshadowy course till it spreads into some forest-\\npool, above which that rare and patrician in-\\nsect, the Agrion dragon-fly, flits and hovers per-\\npetually, as if the darkness and the cool had", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0290.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 247\\ntaken wings. The dark brown pellucid water\\nsleeps between banks of softest moss white stars\\nof twin-flowers creep close to the brink, delicate\\nsprays of dewberry trail over it, and the emerald\\ntips of drooping leaves forever tantalize the still\\nsurface. Above these the slender, dark-blue insect\\nwaves his dusky wings, like a liberated ripple of\\nthe brook, and takes the few stray sunbeams on\\nhis lustrous form. Whence came the correspond-\\nence between this beautiful shy creature and the\\nmoist, dark nooks, shot through with stray and\\ntransitory sunlight, where it dwells The anal-\\nogy is as unmistakable as that between the scorch-\\ning heats of summer and the shrill cry of the\\ncicada. They suggest questions that no savant\\ncan answer, mysteries that wait, like Goethe s\\nsecret of morphology, till a sufficient poet can\\nbe born. And we, meanwhile, stand helpless in\\ntheir presence, as one waits beside the telegrapliic\\nwire, while it hums and vibrates, charged with\\nall fascinating secrets, above the heads of a\\nwondering world.\\nIt is by the presence of pathways on the earth\\nthat we know it to be the habitation of man in", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0291.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "248 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nthe barest desert, they open to us a common\\nhumanity. It is the absence of these that rend-\\ners us so lonely on the ocean, and makes us glad\\nto watch even the track of our own vessel. But\\non the mountain-top, how eagerly we trace out the\\nroad that brings places together, as Schiller says.\\nIt is the first thing we look for till we have found\\nit, each scattered village has an isolated and churl-\\nish look, but the glimpse of a furlong of road puts\\nthem all in friendly relations. The narrower the\\npath, the more domestic and familiar it seems.\\nThe railroad may represent the capitalist or the\\ngovernment; the high-road indicates wliat the\\nsurveyor or the county commissioners thought\\nbest but the footpath shows what the people\\nneeded. Its associations are with beauty and\\nhumble life, the boy with his dog, the little\\ngirl with her fagots, the pedler with his pack;\\ncheery companions they are or ought to be.\\nJog on, jog on the footpath way,\\nAnd merrily hent the stile-a\\nA merry heart goes all the day,\\nYour sad one tires in a mile-a.\\nThe footpath takes you across the farms and", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0292.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 249\\nbehind the houses you are admitted to the family-\\nsecrets and form a personal acquaintance. Even\\nif you take the wrong path, it only leads you\\nacross-lots to some man ploughing, or some old\\nwoman picking berries, perhaps a very spicy\\nacquaintance, whom the road would never have\\nbrought to light. If you are led astray in the\\nwoods, that only teaches you to observe landmarks\\nmore closely, or to leave straws and stakes for\\ntokens, like a gypsy s patteran, to show the ways\\nalready traversed. There is a healthy vigor in\\nthe mind of the boy who would like of all things\\nto be lost in the woods, to build a fire out of doors,\\nand sleep under a tree or in a haystack. Civiliza-\\ntion is tiresome and enfeebling, unless we occa-\\nsionally give it the relish of a little outlawry, and\\napproach, in imagination at least, the zest of a\\ngypsy life. The records of pedestrian journeys,\\nthe Wanderjahre and memoirs of good-for-noth-\\nings, and all the delightful German forest litera-\\nture, these belong to the footpath side of our\\nnature. The passage I best remember in all\\nBayard Taylor s travels is the ecstasy of his\\nThiiringian forester, who said I recall the time\\n11*", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0293.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "250 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nwhen just a sunny morning made me so happy\\nthat I did not know what to do with myself. One\\nday in spring, as I went through the woods and\\nsaw the shadows of the young leaves upon the\\nmoss, and smelt the buds of the firs and larches,\\nand thought to myself, All thy life is to be spent\\nin the splendid forest, I actually threw myself\\ndown and rolled in the grass like a dog, over and\\nover, crazy with joy.\\nIt is the charm of pedestrian journeys that they\\nconvert the grandest avenues to footpaths. Through\\nthem alone we gain intimate knowledge of the\\npeople, and of nature, and indeed of ourselves.\\nIt is easy to hurry too fast for our best reflections,\\nwhich, as the old monk said of perfection, must\\nbe sought not by flying, but by walking, Pcrfec-\\ntionis via non j^ volanda scd pe? \u00c2\u00abm M/\u00c2\u00ab7i fa.\\nThe thoughts tliat the railway affords us are dusty\\nthoughts we ask the news, read tlie journals,\\nquestion our neighbor, and wish to know what is\\ngoing on because we are a part of it. It is only\\nin the footpath that our minds, like our bodies,\\nmove slowly, and we traverse thought, like space,\\nwith a patient thoroughness. Rousseau said that", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0294.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 251\\nhe had never experienced so mucli, lived so truly,\\nand been so wholly himself, as during his travels\\non foot.\\nWhat can Hawthorne mean by saying in his\\nEnglish diary that an American would never\\nunderstand the passage in Bunyan about Christian\\nand Hopeful going astray along a by-path into tbe\\ngrounds of Giant Despair, from there being no\\nstiles and by-paths in our country So much\\nof the charm of American pedestrianism lies in\\nthe by-patlis For instance, the wliole interior of\\nCape Ann, beyond Gloucester, is a continuous\\nwoodland, with granite ledges everywhere cropping\\nout, around which the liigh-road winds, following\\nthe curving and indented line of the sea, and dot-\\nted here and there with fishing hamlets. This\\nwhole interior is traversed by a network of foot-\\npaths, rarely passable for a wagon, and not always\\nfor a horse, but enabling the pedestrian to go\\nfrom any one of these villages to any other, in\\na line almost direct, and always under an agree-\\nable shade. By the longest of these hidden ways,\\none may go from Pigeon Cove to Gloucester, ten\\nmiles, without seeing a public road. In the little", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0295.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "252 OLDPORT DAYS.\\ninn at the former village there used to hang an\\nold map of this whole forest region, giving a\\nchart of some of these paths, which were said\\nto date back to the first settlement of the\\ncountry. One of them, for instance, was called\\non the map Old Eoad from Sandy Bay to Squam\\nMeeting-house through the Woods but the road\\nis now scarcely even a bridle-path, and the most\\nfaithful worshipper could not seek Scpiam Meet-\\ning-house in the family chaise. Those woods\\nhave been lately devastated but when I first\\nknew that region, it was as good as any Ger-\\nman forest. Often we stepped almost from the\\nedge of the sea into some gap in the woods there\\nseemed hardly more than a rabbit-track, yet pres-\\nently we met some wayfarer who had crossed the\\nCape by it. A piny dell gave some vista of the\\nbroad sea we were leaving, and an opening in the\\nwoods displayed another blue sea-line before the\\nencountering breezes interchanged odor of berry-\\nbush and scent of brine penetrating farther\\namong oaks and chestnuts, we come uj^on some\\nlittle cottage, quaint and sheltered as any Spenser\\ndrew; it was built on no liigh-road, and turned", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0296.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 253\\nits vine-clad gable away from even the footpath.\\nThen the ground rose and we were surprised by a\\nbreeze from a new quarter perhaps we climbed\\ntrees to look for landmarks, and saw only, still\\nfarther in the woods, some great cliff of gmnite\\nor the derrick of an unseen quarry. Three miles\\ninland, as I remember, we found the hearthstones\\nof a vanished settlement then we passed a swamp\\nwith cardinal-flowers then a cathedral of noble\\npines, topped with crow s-nests. If we had not\\ngone astray by this time, we presently emerged on\\nDogtown Common, an elevated table-land, over-\\nspread with great boulders as with houses, and\\nencircled with a girdle of green woods and an\\nouter girdle of blue sea. I know of nothing more\\nwild than that gray waste of boulders it is a\\nnatural Salisbury Plain, of which icebergs and\\nocean-currents were the Druidic builders in\\nthat multitude of couchant monsters there seems\\na sense of suspended life you feel as if they must\\nspeak and answer to each other in the silent nights,\\nbut by day only the wandering sea-birds seek\\nthem, on their way across the Cape, and the\\nsweet-bay and green fern imbed them in a softer", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0297.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "254 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nand deeper setting as the years go by. This is\\nthe height of ground of that wild footpath\\nbut as you recede farther from the outer ocean\\nand approach Gloucester, you come among still\\nwilder ledges, unsafe without a guide, and you\\nfind in one place a cluster of deserted houses,\\ntoo difficult of access to remove even their ma-\\nterials, so that they are left to moulder alone.\\nI used to wander in those woods, summer after\\nsummer, till I had made my own chart of their\\ndevious tracks, and now when I close my eyes\\nin this Oldport midsummer, the soft Italian air\\ntakes on something of a Scandinavian vigor for\\nthe incessant roll of carriages I hear the tinkle\\nof the quarryman s hammer and the veery s song\\nand I long for those perfumed and breezy pastures,\\nand for those promontories of granite where the\\nfresh water is nectar and the salt sea has a regal\\nblue.\\nI recall another footpath near Worcester, IMassa-\\nchusetts it leads up from the low meadows into\\nthe wildest region of all that vicinity, Tatesset\\nHill. Leaving behind you the open pastures where\\nthe cattle lie beneath the chestnut-trees or drink", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0298.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 255\\nfrom the shallow brook, you pass among the\\nl)irches and maples, where the woodsman s shanty\\nstands in the clearing, and the raspberry-fields are\\nmerry with children s voices. The familiar birds\\nand butterflies linger below with them, and in the\\nupper and more sacred depths the wood-thrush\\nchants his litany and the brown mountain butter-\\nflies hover among the scented vines. Higher yet\\nrises the Rattlesnake Ledge, spreading over one\\nside of the summit a black avalanche of broken\\nrock, now overgrown with reindeer-moss and filled\\nwith tufts of the smaller wild geranium. Just\\nbelow this ledge, amid a dark, dense track\\nof second-growth forest, masked here and there\\nwith grape-vines, studded with rare orchises,\\nand pierced by a brook that vanishes suddenly\\nwhere the ground sinks away and lets the blue\\ndistance in, there is a little monument to which\\nthe footpath leads, and which always seemed\\nto me as wild a memorial of forgotten supersti-\\ntion as the traveller can find amid the forests of\\nJapan.\\nIt was erected by a man called Solomon Pearson\\n(not to give liis name too closely), a quiet, thought-", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0299.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "256 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nfill farmer, long-bearded, low-voiced, and with that\\naspect of refinement whicli an ideal life brings\\nforth even in quite uninstructed men. At the\\nheight of the Second Advent excitement this\\nman resolved to build for himself upon these re-\\nmote rocks a house which should escape the wratli\\nto come, and should endure even amid a burning\\nand transformed earth. Thinking, as he had once\\nsaid to me, that, if the First Dispensation had\\nbeen strong enough to endure, there would have\\nbeen no need of a Second, he resolved to build\\nfor his part something which should possess per-\\nmanence at least. And there still remains on\\nthat high hillside the small beginning that he\\nmade.\\nThere are four low stone walls, three feet thick,\\nbuilt solidly together without cement, and M ithout\\nthe trace of tools. The end-walls are nine feet\\nhigh (the sides being lower) and are firmly united\\nby a strong iron ridge-pole, perhaps fifteen feet\\nlong, which is imbedded at each end in the stone.\\nOther masses of iron lie around unused, in sheets,\\nbars, and coils, brought with slow labor by the\\nbuilder from far below. The whole buildins: was", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0300.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 257\\ndesigned to be made of stone and iron. It is now\\ncovered with creeping vines and the debris of the\\nhillside but though its construction had been\\nlong discontinued when I saw it, the interior was\\nstill kept scrupulously clean through the care\\nof this modern Solomon, who often visited his\\nshrine.\\nAn arch in the terminal wall admits the visitor\\nto the small roofless temple, and he sees before\\nhim, imbedded in the centre of the floor, a large\\nsmooth block of white marble, where the deed of\\nthis spot of land was to be recorded, in the hope\\nto preserve it even after the globe should have\\nbeen burned and renewed. But not a stroke of\\nthis inscription was ever cut, and now the young\\nchestnut bouglis droop into the uncovered interior,\\nand shy forest-birds sing fearlessly among them,\\nhaving learned that this house belongs to God, not\\nman. As if to reassure them, and perhaps in allu-\\nsion to his own vegetarian habits, the architect has\\nspread some rough plaster at the liead of the apart-\\nment and marked on it in bold characters, Thou\\nshalt not kill. Two slabs outside, a little way\\nfrom the walls, bear these inscriptions, Peace on\\nQ", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0301.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "258 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nEarth, Good-Will to Men. When I visited it,\\nthe path was rough and so obstructed with bushes\\nthat it was hard to comprehend how it had afforded\\npassage for these various materials it seemed more\\nas if some strange architectural boulder had drifted\\nfrom some Eunic period and been stranded there.\\nIt was as apt a confessional as any of Wordsworth s\\nnooks among the Trossachs and when one thinks\\nhow many men are wearing out their souls in try-\\ning to conform to the traditional mythologies of\\nothers, it seems nobler in this man to have reared\\nupon that lonely hill the unfinished menjorial of\\nhis own.\\nI recall another path which leads from the Lower\\nSaranac Lake, near Martin s, to what the guides\\ncall, or used to call, The Philosopher s Camp at\\nAmperzand. On this oddly named lake, in the\\nAdirondack region, a tract of land was bouglit by\\nProfessor Agassiz and his friends, who made there\\na summer camping-ground, and with one comrade\\nI once sought the spot. I remember with what\\njoy we left the boat, so delightful at first, so\\nfatiguing at last for I cannot, with Mr. Murray,\\ncall it a merit in the Adirondacks that you never", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0302.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 259\\nhave to walk, and stepped away into the free\\nforest. We passed tangled swamps, so dense with\\nupturned trees and trailing mosses that they\\nseemed to give no opening for any living thing to\\npass, unless it might be the soft and silent owl\\nthat turned its head almost to dislocation in\\nwatching us, ere it flitted vaguely away. Farther\\non, the deep, cool forest was luxurious with plumy\\nferns we trod on moss-covered roots, finding the\\nemerald steps so soft we scarcely knew that we\\nwere ascending every breath was aromatic there\\nseemed infinite healing in every fragrant drop that\\nfell upon our necks from the cedar boughs. We\\nhad what I think the pleasantest guide for a day-\\nlight tramp, one who has never before passed\\nover that particular route, and can only pilot you\\non general principles till he gladly, at last, allows\\nyou to pilot him. Wlien we once got the lead,\\nwe took him jubilantly on, and beginning to look\\nfor The Philosopher s Camp, found ourselves\\nconfronted by a large cedar-tree on the margin\\nof a wooded lake. This was plainly the end\\nof the path. Was the camp then afloat Our\\nescort was in that state of hopeless ignorance of", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0303.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "260 OLDPOET DAYS.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2which only lost guides are capable. We scanned\\nthe green horizon and the level water, without\\nglimpse of human abode. It seemed an enchant-\\ned lake, and we looked about the tree-trunk for\\nsome fairy horn, that we might blow it. That\\nfailing, we tried three rifle-shots, and out from\\nthe shadow of an island, on the instant, there\\nglided a boat, which bore no lady of the lake,\\nbut a red-shirted woodsman. The artist whom\\nwe sought was on that very island, it seemed,\\nsketching patiently while his guides were driving\\nthe deer.\\nThis artist was he whose Procession of the\\nPines had identified his fame with that delight-\\nful forest region. He it was who had laid out\\nwith artistic taste The Philosopher s Camp,\\nand who was that season still awaiting philoso-\\nphers as well as deer. He had been there for a\\nmonth, alone with the guides, and declared that\\nNature was pressing upon him to an extent that\\nalmost drove him wild. His eyes had a certain\\nremote and questioning look that belongs to im-\\naginative men who dwell alone. It seemed an\\nimpertinence to ask him to come out of his", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0304.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 261\\ndream and offer us dinner but his instincts of\\nhospitality failed not, and the red-shirted guide\\nwas sent to the camp, which was, it seemed, on\\nthe other side of the lake, to prepare our meal,\\nwhile we bathed. I am thus particular in speak-\\ning of the dinner, not only because such is the\\ncustom of travellers, but also because it was the\\noccasion of an interlude which I shall never for-\\nget. As we were undressing for our bath upon\\nthe lonely island, where the soft, pale water almost\\nlapped our feet, and the deep, wooded hills made\\na great amphitheatre for the lake, our host be-\\nthought himself of something neglected in his\\ninstructions.\\nBen vociferated he to the guide, now rapidly\\nreceding. Ben paused on Kis oars.\\nEemember to bo-o-oil the venison, Ben\\nshouted the pensive artist, while all the slumber-\\ning echoes arose to applaud this culinary confi-\\ndence.\\nAnd, Ben! he added, imploringly, don t\\nforget the dumplings Upon this, the loons, all\\ndown the lake, who had hitherto been silent, took\\nup the strain with vehemence, hurling their wild", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0305.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "262 OLDPOET DAYS.\\nlaughter at the presumptuous mortal who thus\\ndared to invade their solitudes with details as\\ntrivial as Mr. Pickwick s tomato-sauce. They re-\\npeated it over and over to each other, till ten\\nsquare miles of loons must have lieard the news,\\nand all laughed together never was there such\\nan audience they could not get over it, and\\ntwo hours after, when we had rowed over to the\\ncamp and dinner had been served, this irreverent\\nand invisible chorus kept bursting out, at all\\npoints of the compass, with scattered chuckles\\nof delight over this extraordinary bill of fare.\\nJustice compels me to add that the dumplings\\nwere made of Indian-meal, upon a recipe devised\\nby our artist; the guests preferred the venison,\\nbut the host showed a fidelity to his invention\\nthat proved him to be indeed a dweller in an\\nideal world.\\nAnother path that comes back to memory is\\nthe bare trail that we followed over the prairies of\\nNebraska, in 1856, when the Missouri River was\\nheld by roving bands from the Slave States, and\\nFreedom had to seek an overland route into\\nKansas. All day and aU night we rode between", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0306.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 263\\ndistant prairie-fires, pillars of evening light and\\nof morning cloud, while sometimes the low grass\\nwould burn to the very edge of the trail, so that\\nwe had to hold our breath as we galloped through.\\nParties of armed Missourians were sometimes seen\\nover the prairie swells, so that we had to mount\\nguard at nightfall; Free-State emigrants, fleeing\\nfrom persecution, continually met us and we\\nsometimes saw parties of wandering Sioux, or\\npassed their great irregular huts and houses of\\nworship. I remember one desolate prairie summit\\non which an Indian boy sat motionless on horse-\\nback his bare red legs clung closely to the white\\nsides of his horse a gorgeous sunset was unrolled\\nbehind him, and he might have seemed the last\\nof his race, just departing for the hunting-grounds\\nof the blest. More often the horizon showed no\\nhuman outline, and the sun set cloudless, and\\nelongated into pear-shaped outlines, as behind\\nocean-waves. But I remember best the excite-\\nment that filled our breasts when we approached\\nspots where the contest for a free soil had already\\nbeen sealed with blood. In those days, as one\\nwent to Pennsylvania to study coal formations,", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0307.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "264 OLDPORT DAYS.\\nor to Lake Superior for copper, so one went to\\nKansas for men. Every footpath on this planet,\\nsaid a rare thinker, may lead to the door of a\\nhero, and that trail into Kansas ended rightly at\\nthe tent-door of John Brown.\\nAnd later, who that knew them can forget the\\npicket-paths that were worn throughout the Sea\\nIslands of South Carolina, paths that wound\\nalong the shores of creeks or through the depths\\nof woods, where the great wild roses tossed their\\nairy festoons above your head, and the brilliant\\nlizards glanced across your track, and your horse s\\nears suddenly pointed forward and his pace grew\\nuneasy as he snuffed the presence of something\\nyou could not see. At night you had often to ride\\nfrom picket to picket in dense darkness, trusting\\nto the horse to find his way, or sometimes dis-\\nmounting to feel with your hands for the track,\\nwhile the great Southern fire-flies offered their\\nfloating lanterns for guidance, and the hoarse\\nChuck- will s- widow croaked ominously from\\nthe trees, and the great guns of the siege of\\nCharleston throbbed more faintly than the drum-\\nming of a partridge, far away. Those islands", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0308.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 265\\nare everywhere so intersected by dikes and ledges\\nand winding creeks as to form a natural military\\nregion, like La Vendee and yet two plantations\\nthat are twenty miles asunder by the road will\\nsometimes be united by a footpath which a negro\\ncan traverse in two hours. These tracks are lim-\\nited in distance by the island formation, but they\\nassume a greater importance as you penetrate the\\nmainland they then join great States instead of\\nmere plantations, and if you ask whither one\\nof them leads, you are told To Alabama, or To\\nTennessee.\\nTime would fail to tell of that wandering path\\nwhich leads to the Mine Mountain near Brattle-\\nborough, where you climb the high peak at last,\\nand perhaps see the showers come up the Connect-\\nicut till they patter on the leaves beneath you,\\nand then, swerving, pass up the black ravine and\\nleave you unwet. Or of those among the White\\nMountains, gorgeous with great red lilies which\\npresently seem to take flight in a cloud of butter-\\nflies that match their tints, paths where the\\nbalsamic air caresses you in light breezes, and\\nmasses of alder-berries rise above the waving\\n12", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0309.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "266 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nferns. Or of tlie paths that lead beside many a\\nlittle New England stream, w^hose bank is lost\\nto sight in a smooth green slope of grape-vine\\nthe lower shoots rest upon the quiet water, but\\nthe upper masses are crowned by a white wreatli\\nof alder-blooms beside them grow great masses\\nof wild-roses, and the simultaneous blossoms and\\nberries of the gaudy nightshade. Or of those\\nwinding tracks that lead here and there among\\nthe flat stones of peaceful old graveyards, so\\nentwined with grass and flowers that every\\nspray of sweetbrier seems to tell more of life\\nthan all the accumulated epitaphs can tell of\\ndeath.\\nAnd when the paths that one has personally\\ntraversed are exhausted, memory holds almost as\\nclearly those which the poets have trodden for us,\\nthose innumerable by-ways of Shakespeare,\\neach more real than any high-road in England or\\nChaucer s\\nLittle path I found\\nOf mintes full and fennell greene\\nor Spenser s\\nPathes and alleies wide\\nWith footing wonie", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0310.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "FOOTPATHS. 267\\nor the path of Browning s Pippa\\nDown the hillside, \\\\ip the glen,\\nLove me as I love\\nor the weary tracks by which Little Nell wan-\\ndered or the haunted way in Sydney Dobell s\\nballad,\\nIlavelstone, Ravelstone,\\nThe merry path that leads\\nDown the golden morning hills,\\nAnd through the silver meads\\nor the few American paths that genius has yet\\nidealized that where Hawthorne s David Swan\\nslept, or that which Thoreau found upon the banks\\nof Walden Pond, or where Whittier parted with\\nhis childhood s playmate on Ramoth HilL It is\\nnot heights, or depths, or spaces that make the\\nworld worth living in for the fairest landscape\\nneeds still to be garlanded by the imagination,\\nto become classic with noble deeds and romantic\\nwith dreams.\\nGo where we please in nature, we receive in\\nproportion as we give. Ivo, the old Bishop of\\nChartres, wrote, that neither the secret depth\\nof woods nor the tops of mountains make man", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0311.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "268 OLDPOKT DAYS.\\nblessed, if lie has not with him solitude of mind,\\nthe sabbath of the heart, and tranquillity of con-\\nscience. There are many roads, but one termina-\\ntion and Plato says, in his Eepublic, that the\\npoint where all paths meet is the soul s true rest-\\ning-place and the journey s end.\\nTHE END.\\nH 46 78\\nCambridge Electrotj-ped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, Co.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0312.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0313.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0314.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0315.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0316.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0317.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "v^ *!/:oL\\nO. *oVo ^^O\\n1^\\n\u00c2\u00b0o\\n^-S^\\nvP\\ny^fm\\n1 v\\n^^\u00e2\u0080\u00a2n^.", "height": "2821", "width": "1663", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0318.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "A\\no V\\nV%-/\\no.\\no\\n-*v\\no\\nr\\\\\\n.sp-\\no\\nit.\\n-^o\\n-J\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2^v.\\n.V\\n.r\\n.-i^\\nJAN ^8\\n^y^hi N. MANCHESTER,\\ni ^SW INDIANA\\n1^\\n*1\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2^--o^", "height": "2841", "width": "1673", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0319.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS\\n!l||i|IIM infill 111 1]!||ll||lli\\n014 075 682 9", "height": "2926", "width": "1632", "jp2-path": "oldportdays01higg_0320.jp2"}}