sion; it stimulated labor, and carried out the Divine Gospel of the rights of man, since these rights are the direct results of industrial progress. But as these two gain strength, sorrow should be laid aside, were it only that they may progress more rapidly. This century witnessed the turning-point, and Right has at length virtually triumphed. In every country of Europe, it is only a question of time. Henceforth Christianity need be no longer preeminently the Gospel of Sorrow.'

In the next chapter I shall speak of labor as stimulated by suffering.

FANNY

AND I.

FANNY and I wanted to see the sea the sea. ·per se, not per New-York and Boston, at Newport and Nahant ! With discriminating M. Michelet: ‘We love the people, but we hate a mob!' September had arrived, and the 'mob' had left, so we bade good-by to the mountains - those ground-and-lofty tumblings of the earth's surface, called by the natives in New-Hampshire 'risings!'

With regret did we say 'A Dieu,' for in leaving them, it almost seemed that we left there le Dieu. Certainly in the awful grandeur of the Notch, one hears a voice which speaks not elsewhere. Without the aid of the King of the Mountains, I think we fully appreciated their exhaustless splendors, without exhausting ourselves in consulting his valuable treatise on the subject. We ‘had heard them highly spoken of,' as the young woman said of Niagara Falls; and after our introduction, we could find no fault with them, unless it were the George Curtis one-that they 'bullied' us! Yet, though the White Mountains gave 'entire satisfaction' to the young women, (a part of whose last summer life I here am about to record, as tightly as possible ;) yet, being women, whom relatives had perched on a mountain, they chose not to be 'unwomanly,' and therefore flapped their wings and flew to the sea-side.

WHERE shall we perch in our downward flight? 'That is the question,' as that morbid and disingenuous gentleman Mr. Hamlet inquired when he thought of changing his apartments.* Newport, even without its mob, was not to be thought of; we had estimable relatives still there, and there still, and very slow. Fanny and I are, alas! not estimable, nor yet very slow. Nahant and Swampscott were too near Boston. People in town would over-hear and overlook us, and yet not over-look us. They would take a deep and tender interest in our hours of retiring and of uprising; in all probability, they would object to them. They would know what we had for dinner, and we might shock them by not taking chowder twice! Only of one thing could we be quite sure, they would not know what church we attended.t

*THERE is a Dead-Ham-let some ten miles from Boston.-RED-PENCIL NOTE BY AN INTRUDER IN THE EDITORIAL SANCTUM.

+ Probably not. - FREDA.

Now, as Fanny and I fondly hoped and intended to 'kick up our heels' during this our short vacation, we required a large pasture to pass it in, far from the busy 'aunts of men, cousins, [or any other sins] sisters, brothers, and other 'enemies of the human race,' as some one has styled relatives.*

'Fanny,' I asked, dost thou know a bank where the wild-time grows? Only tell me where, and we will go and grow with it, until it be past-time, and where no one shall catch us.'

'Perhaps no one will care to,' quoth Fanny.

'In my mind's eye,' chere amie, I see a Relative entering our pasture for that express purpose, holding out to us 'cut feed,' alias advice, [the only kind of vice that has nothing agreeable in it,] and having the proud but utterly futile hope of winning us back to Virtue and to Boston Common !

We at last decided that 'wild time' grew most luxuriantly in New-Hampshire. Entre nous, (which being translated for country members, means 'under the dahlia,') an angel whispered to me: 'Oats — I mean Oatland ! '†

The name found its echo in my heart of hearts, not on account of its 'intrinsic value,' perhaps, but for its 'associations!' When a child, (goodness! what ages ago,) ‘a horrid school-girl,' I had passed one glowing summer at Oatland; the couleur de pink of that bright, happy time had never quite ‘faded into common day,' with most of the bright tints of that 'wedding Madeira' colored morning hour.

W. W. [a cautious man] once stated that,

"The child is father of the man.'

The woman might perchance find a joy or two left, dropped by the horrid school-girl, who had such lots of 'em!'

'Wilt thou gang to the Oatland wi me, Fanny? wilt thou,' as the Sun said to the Lily, and Fanny, à la Lily, 'wilted.'

ONCE on a Saturday, in the year of our LORD sixty-two, at '4:20 P.M.,' (railway time,) two maidens might have been seen (if any one had taken the trouble to look) taking a hasty, hilarious and triumphant farewell of their respective and respectable families, leaving them in a bewildered frame of mind as to what their 'intentions' really were; but as they had received but a day's notice,' neither family, at '4.20 P.M.,' had reached the 'propriety' view of the 2.30 arrangement; and at or about that hour, the maidens had reached the station, bought their tickets, checked their baggage, and were still themselves unchecked, and allowed to wander, at the rate of thirty miles per hour, at their own sweet and very strong wills! It was well,' for all parties concerned, that the 'propriety' question was not discussed, as Fanny and I have been known to differ with our relatives on this knotty point.

+ WILD Oats would be your paradise, most lively of fillies! Had you been a gentleman, Old RYE would probably have found favor in your eyes. - NOTE BY A SECOND INTRUDER.

'Old Rye.' Buchanonized by St. JAMES of Wheatland, Lancaster Co., Pa.-NOTE BY THIRD INTRUDER.

We wanted to see the sea, we intended to see the sea, malgre all earthly and domestic obstacles-and we See Sea Did.

[English Paterfamilies, who is reading this number of the KNICKERBOCKER in a state of condensed night-mare: God bless my soul! this is very odd, to be sure! Very singular creatures are those American young ladies! Go tearing round the country in express contradiction to the wishes of their relatives. Alice Maud Victoria, my dear, how thankful you and your sisters should be for your education in a Christian land, and not in that dreadful America. Have you read this awful and unnatural article?'

ALICE M. V.: 'Yes, dearest papa. But I presume that it was written by a female Aboriginal or a Squall, as I think the Indianesses are termed.'

BROTHER TOM, interrupting: 'This one seems to have been a White Squall.'

PATERFAMILIAS: 'Very likely. It is evident that the whites in America have by contact with the natives acquired the manners and customs of the latter. I des-say the creature who wrote that piece was a Potto-wot-you-call'em ?-otomy - very likely with a copper-ring in her nose..

TOM: And a wedding-ring in her eye!'

ALICE M. V. sighs: 'A·

·h!']

Reader, [with a dissatisfied, not to say intensely bored expression of face] don't you wish to see a portrait of 'Fanny,' 'my guide, what-you-may-call-her and friend?' You do n't care particularly. Bien! I will, a l'instant, hand you her carte de visite.

Fanny is then of—just the right height. Her hair grows where it ought to grow; in that, as in some other points, she is very unlike in her personale to 'Old Uncle Ned.' He, you may remember, was a darky; she is a fairie ;* one of the wicked kind, I regret to add. The aforesaid hair is of the colorthe most lovely in this world, or 'in any other.' She hath two eyes. 'Beware! beware!'

'An angel's head on a Rhine-wine-gold ground.'

Her nose is purely faultless. Her mouth a Protean-rose-bud, if you know what that is — [I am certain that I do n't.] Her tout ensemble is, to quote herself in speaking of herself, 'a demon with a rose in her hair.'t Sullen reader, you will now be able to recognize my 'Familiar' when you meet her, as you can every day in the week (for she is not fond of plain sewing) in your walk 'round the Common,' that rather monotonous but very orthodox pastime; or in the Boston Sunday noon-service- the 'Mill-dam' it promenade.

'And I shall be by her side,' I hope and trust, for I am happier there than any where else, except at the dinner-table.

It does not require a Starr King to point out Fanny's charms, any more than those of the White Mountains. But why do you not beg and pray for my

* ' Harfagra,' Light-headed. — NOTE BY FANNY.

+ Or'a rose with pepper on it.'

photograph? 'Hand it over?' Not at all; very much engaged, Sir. gave my 'volatile liniments' but to one of my friends, and he was blind!

The narrator of this modest tale is not beautiful, even in her own partial eyes, while to her enem-eyes she is plain enough to act duenna to the fairest of maidens. I was then to be the protector of my friend. De Quincey describes a man, ‘so handsome, that he was forced to carry a club to keep the women off.' I was Fanny's club, to keep the men from dropping on their knees every five minutes and swearing eternal love, devotion, and all that tiresome stuff. Fanny was worn out already with scenes of that nature during the winter; this summer she must have a respite. Even if all the Earth-men had left Oatland, I had secret fears that the mer-men would rise from the sea at some unguarded moment, and finding us sitting on the beach as if waiting for them to 'happen in,' would doubtless make love to Fanny, with her fair hair-no! 'fair' is not the word; I cannot describe its hue or her 'wonder-fair-hood.' 'Earth has no name for it!' and I do n't care to go below the earth to find But she was 'just the style' to fascinate sum-mer-men; and green is so becoming to her! Fanny being of an explosive nature, I was really fearful that if some [handsome, gentlemanly] mer-man should say, or sing:

one.

'Come down, come down in the deeps with me!'

she would answer: 'With pleasure, Sir'—particularly if it was a very warm day.*

Did you mutter, O enraged reader! something to the effect that it would be as well to have a little more of Con-cen-tra-tive-ness?

Pardon! pardon! it most certainly would. Unfortunately, my parents poor and alas! honest people—did not leave me a fortune, or any of that very long word you mention, or wherewith to make one. Au contraire, I have a concentration of the Centrifugal in my constitution.

Retournez à nos moutons,' à notre railway-station, à nos trunks, shawls, water-proofs, novels, small-bags, sun-umbrellas, and 'that small parcel,' for to all these properties were we attached, in every sense of the word, and mirabile dictu! we arrived at the Oatland station, without being from them de-tached!

Not in my praise be this recorded. I being the 'ugly Duck,' the 'strongminded-looking sister,' one would naturally infer that I would be the business member of the firm; but no! Fanny, the peerless, the belle, the genius, the delicate pense rose japonica of private life, was the practical, go-ahead, ‘wideawake' partner of the firm in which I slept. She took the checks, [and gave them sometimes,] bought the tickets, counted the regiment of bags and bundles, marshaled them in and out of the cars; and when we arrived at our destination [which we have not as yet!] she inspected apartments, drove the bargains and the horses, scolded the chamber-maid, bullied the landlady, told the landlord how to cure his lame horse, and thereby won his heart for evermore. Last, though not the least of her achievements, she kept me in order-I Fosco!

*Such as went to the heart

Of the martyr to Art,

PAULINE BONAPARTE, -NOTE BY FREDA,

Yes, I, the strong-minded, looking as though intended by nature for a missionary, (the kind that do n't die, à la Judson,) or an M.D., the head of a normalschool, a reviewing editress, a collectress of subscriptions; any thing, in fact, unholy; why, I should never have reached Wild-Oatland without Fanny. It would have been a doubtful case, at all events, and even though the casket in which my precious soul is enshrined, had been safely dropped at the right stopping-place, it would have been sans luggage, sans checks, sans water-proofs; but no, they always stick to a Boston woman, I believe, like her little red cashmere neck-scarf. O friendly Jenkins! forgive my proposed calumny. I was about to say that I should have been cheated by my landlady. Bless her soul and body! she weighs at the least, three hundred; and never cheated me or any other human being unless indeed herself. And if I had arrived at her house in as pitiable a state as he who fell among aldermen, she would have 'taken me in,' to be sure, but only to play the part of the good Samaritana. She would have fed and clothed me, giving me the best room and bed in her house, namely, corn-husks, with a 'comforter' surtout. Heavenly-minded, though not angel-bodied woman! Not even, in jest, would I impeach thy sterling goodness. I can say of thee with but the alteration of one word, what has been said of a gifted woman: 'Her heart, which few knew, was greater than her mind, which all knew,' (for mind, read body !) and what more can I say in the praise of La Jenkins?

WHEN shall we reach Oatland? In this paragraph or the next, O furious reader! Let us be poetical; we'll try.

'T was the sun-set hour or thereabouts, when 'two beings in the hues of youth' (but both looking a little the worse for a long ride in the cars) might have been seen (by G. G. B. himself, had he not been in― heaven!) alighting from said cars, and about to exchange steam for horse-power. The station stood upon a hill

'A gentle hill,

Green and of mild declivity!'

The horses, too, though not by any means green, but in their 'sere and yellow leaf' were also of a 'mild declivity.' When the two beings, with all their luggage, had been fairly landed at Greenland, which was two or three miles from Oatland, the Being not beautiful, rushed wildly forth to count the trunks and to harangue the baggage-master, coachman, and in fact, the assembled crowd of natives; but Fanny called her back, held aloft the checks, and in her sweet orange-ice cold voice, rebuked her thus: 'It is quite unnecessary for you to engage in a way-side station and brawl with a baggage-master. One would fancy your travelling-experience had extended from Boston to Roxbury, via the horse-cars; your luggage being an embroidered handkerchief and a card-case. When the coach is ready, the driver will come to me for our checks: all you have to do is, to get into the coach and look after your hoops.'

The drive was really lovely; occasional glimpses of the ocean and all the way-side country, most unsea-like in its richness and high cultivation; cheery