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Awakening, The, Marion Couthouy Smith 71 Flute, The, J. Russell Taylor
57 Humming-Bird, The, Ėdnah Procior Clarke 743
Elegy, An, Louise Imogen Guiney
301 Tear Bottle, A, Frank Dempster Sherman 186
140 Jonas and Matilda .
718 Master in Arts, The
574 National Hymn, The .
855 One View of the New Woman
Dumas Lineage, The :
427 Renan's Birthplace
Figliuolo Learns to Read
575 Shorthand and Typewriting
716 Singular Horseback Journey, A
Lowell, James Russell, Last Poems of 267
Revocation of the Edict of Nantes 414 People of the United States, Volume IV. 840
Bruce, Philip Alexander: Economic His- ern Reader's Bible,
Crane, Stephen: The Black Riders, and Schouler, James : History of the United
271 States under the Constitution, New and
Furtwängler, Adolf: Masterpieces of Greek Smith, F. Hopkinson: A Gentleman Vag-
abond and Some Others
Stevenson, Robert Louis, The Writings of 274
119 Stoddard, Elizabeth : Poems
Longfellow, William P. P. (Editor): A Cy- White, Eliza Orne : The Coming of Theo-
129, 274, 422, 569, 707, 849
A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.
Vol. LXXVII. - JANUARY, 1896. — No. CCCCLIX.
ONE OF HAWTHORNE'S UNPRINTED NOTE-BOOKS.
[The following fragment of a diary dust. There were two or three tiers of is contained in a small leather-bound berths; and the blankets, etc. are not to memorandum book, marked on the cover be thought of. A cooking stove, wherein "Scrap-Book, 1839." The period cov- was burning some of the coal — excelered is a brief portion of Hawthorne's lent fuel, burning as freely as wood, and service as weigher and gauger in the Bos- without the bituminous melting of Newton Custom House, a position to which castle coal. The cook of the vessel, a he was appointed by George Bancroft, at grimy, unshaven, middle-aged man, trimthat time collector of the port.]
ming the fire at need, and sometimes February7th, 1839. Yesterday and day washing his dishes in water that seemed before, measuring a load of coal from the to have cleansed the whole world beforeschooner Thomas Lowder, of St. John's, hand—the draining of gutters, or caught N. B. A little, black, dirty vessel. The at sink-spouts. In the cessations of labor, coal stowed in the hold, so as to fill the the Irishmen in the hold would poke schooner full, and make her a solid mass
their heads through the open space into of black mineral. The master, Best, a the cabin and call “ Cook !”. likely young man ; his mate a fellow jab- drink of water or a pipe — whereupon
1; bering in some strange gibberish, Eng- Cook would fill a short black pipe, put a lish I believe or nearer that than any- coal into it, and stick it into the Irishthing else — but gushing out all together man's mouth. Here sat I on a bench - whole sentences confounded into one before the fire, the other guests of the long, unintelligible word. Irishmen shov- cabin being the Stevedore, who takes elling the coal into the two Custom House the job of getting the coal ashore, and tubs, to be craned out of the hold, and the owner of the horse that raised the others wheeling it away in barrows, to tackle - the horse being driven by a be laden into wagons. The first day, I boy. The cabin was lined with slabs walked the wharf, suffering not a little the rudest and dirtiest hole imaginable, from cold ; yesterday, I sat in the cabin yet the passengers had been accommowhence I could look through the inter- dated here in the trip from New Brunsstices of the bulkhead, or whatever they wick. The bitter zero atmosphere came call it
, into the hold. My eyes, what down the companion-way, and threw its a cabin! Three paces would more than chill over me sometimes, but I was pretmeasure it in any direction, and it was ty comfortable - though, on reaching
, filled with barrels, not clean and new, home, I found that I had swaggered but black, and containing probably the through several thronged streets with provender of the vessel ; jugs, firkins, coal streaks on my visage. the cook's utensils and kitchen furniture The wharfinger's office is a general - everything grimy and sable with coal resort and refuge for people who have
business to do on the wharf, in the spaces ter two or three years, it was found before work is commenced, between the that the Captain had grown rich; but he hours of one and two, etc. A salamander squandered his money in dissipated habstove a table of the signals, wharves, its, died poor and there are now none and agent of packets plying to and from left of the race. Many years afterwards, Boston a snuff-box
- a few chairs - digging near his habitation, the worketc. constituting the furniture.
A news- men found a human skull; and it was paper.
supposed to be that of the young FrenchFeby. 11th. Talk at the Custom-House man, who was all along supposed to have on Temperance. Gibson gives an ac- been murdered by the Captain. They count of his brother's sore leg, which did not seek for the rest of the skelewas amputated. Major Grafton talks of ton; and no more was seen of it till ancestors settling early in Salem Mr. Pike happened to be present at the 1632. Of a swallow's nest, which he ob- discovery. The bone first found was served, year after year, on revisiting his
, on revisiting his that of the leg. He described it as lyboyhood's residence in Salem, for thir. ing along horizontally, so that the head ty years. It was so situated under the was under the corner of the house; and eaves of the house, that he could put his now I recollect that they were digging hand in and feel the young ones.
At a post-hole when the last discovery was last, he found the nest gone, and was made, and at that of the head they grieved thereby. Query, whether the de- were digging the foundation of the scendants of the original builders of the house. The bones did not adhere tonest inhabited it during the whole thirty gether, though the shape of a man was years. If so, the family might vie for plainly discernible. There were no remduration with the majority of human nants of clothing families.
Mr. Pike told furthermore how a lady Feby. 15th. At the Custom - House, of truth and respectability - a church Mr. Pike told a story of a human skele- member — averred to him that she had ton without a head being discovered in seen a ghost. She was sitting with an High Street, Salem, about eight years old gentleman, who was engaged in readago- I think in digging the foundations ing the newspaper; and she saw the of a building. It was about four feet be- figure of a woman advance behind him low the surface. He sought information and look over his shoulder. The narraabout the mystery of an old traditionary tor then called to the old gentleman to woman of eighty, resident in the neigh- look around. He did so rather pettishly, borhood. She, coming to the spot where and said, “ Well, what do you want me the bones were, lifted up her hands and to look round for?” The figure either cried out, “So! they ’ve found the rest vanished or went out of the room, and of the poor Frenchman's bones at last!” he resumed the reading of his newspaThen, with great excitement, she told per. Again the narrator saw the same the bystanders how, some seventy-five figure of a woman come in and look years before, a young Frenchman had over his shoulder, bending forward her come from over-seas with a Captain head. This time she did not speak, but Tanent, and had resided with him in hemmed so as to attract the old genSalem. He was said to be very wealthy, tleman's attention ; and again the apand was gaily apparelled in the fash- parition vanished. But a third time it ion of those times. After a while the entered the room, and glided behind the Frenchman disappeared and Captain Ta- old gentleman's chair, as before, appearnent gave out that he had gone to some ing, I suppose, to glance at the newsother place, and been killed there. Af- paper; and this time, if I mistake not,
she nodded, or made some sort of sign These two afflictions might seem enough to the woman. How the ghost vanished, to make one man miserable, yet he apI do not recollect; but the old gentleman, pears in pretty fair spirits. when told of the matter, answered very He is a Methodist, has occasionally scornfully. Nevertheless, it turned out preached, and believes that he has that his wife had died precisely, allowing assurance of salvation immediate from for the difference of time caused by dis- the Deity. Last Sunday, he says, he tance of place, at the time when this ap- gave religious instruction to a class in parition had made its threefold visit. the State's Prison.
Mr. Pike is not an utter disbeliever Speaking of his political hostilities, he in ghosts, and has had some singular said that he never could feel ill will experiences himself: — for instance, he against a person when he personally met saw, one night, a boy's face, as plainly him, that he was not capable of hatred, as ever he saw anytlıing in his life, gaz- but of strong affection, — that he always ing at him.
Another time — or, as I remembered that “every man once had a think, two or three other times — he saw mother, and she loved him.” A strong, the figure of a man standing motionless stubborn, kindly nature this. for half an hour in Norman street, where the headless ghost is said to walki
The City-Crier, talking in a familiar Feby. 19th. Mr. Pike is a shortish style to his auditors — delivering various man, very stoutly built, with a short neck messages to them, intermixed with his - an apoplectic frame. His forehead is own remarks. He then runs over his marked, but not expansive, though large memory to see whether he has omitted
- I mean, it has not a broad, smooth anything, and recollects a lost child quietude. His face dark and sallow “ We've lost a child,” says he ; as if, ugly, but with a pleasant, kindly, as well in his universal sympathy for all who as strong and thoughtful expression. Stiff, have wants, and seek the gratification of black hair, which starts bushy and almost them through his medium, he were one erect from his forehead a heavy, yet with the parents of the child. He then very intelligent countenance. He is sub- tells the people, whenever they find lost ject to the asthma, and moreover to a sort children, not to keep them overnight, of apoplectic fit, which compels [him] to but to bring them to his office. “ For it sleep almost as erect as he sits; and if he is a cruel thing” – to keep them; and were to lie down horizontally in bed, he at the conclusion of his lecture, he tells would feel almost sure of, one of these fits. them that he has already worn out his When they seize him, he awakes feeling lungs, talking to them of these things. as if [his] head were swelled to enor- He completely personifies the public, and mous size, and on the point of bursting - considers it as an individual with whom with great pain. He has his perfect con- he holds converse, - he being as imporsciousness, but is unable to call for as- tant on his side, as they on theirs. sistance, or make any noise except by blowing forcibly with his mouth, and un- An old man fishing on Long Wharf less this brings help, he must die. When with a pole three or four feet long shaken violently, and lifted to a sitting just long enough to clear the edge of posture, he recovers. After a fit, he the wharf. Patched clothes, old, black feels a great horror of going to bed again. coat — does not look as if he fished for If one were to seize him at his boarding- what he might catch, but as a pastime, house, his chance would be bad, because yet quite poor and needy looking. Fishif any heard his snortings, they would ing all the afternoon, and takes nothing not probably know what was the matter. but a plaice or two, which get quite
sun-dried. Sometimes he hauls up his namesakes of the owner's wife, daughter, line, with as much briskness as he can, or sweet-heart. They are a sort of doand finds a sculpin on the hook. The mestic concern, in which all the family boys come around him, and eye his mo- take an interest. Not a cold, stately, tions, and make pitying or impertinent unpersonified thing, like a merchant's remarks at his ill-luck — the old man tall ship, perhaps one of half a dozen, in answers not, but fishes on imperturbably. which he takes pride, but wbich he does Anon, he gathers up his clams or worms, not love, nor has a family feeling for. and his one sun-baked flounder you Now Betsey, or Sarah-Ann, seems like think he is going home — but no, he is one of the family - something like a cow. merely going to another corner of the Long flat-boats, taking in salt to carry wharf, where he throws his line under a it
up the Merrimack canal, to Concord, vessel's counter, and fishes on with the in New Hampshire. Contrast and simsame deathlike patience as before. He ilarities between a stout, likely country seems not quiet so much as torpid, — not fellow, aboard one of these, to whom the kindly nor unkindly feeling — but not to scenes of a sea-port are entirely new, have anything to do with the rest of the but who is brisk, ready, and shrewd in world. He has no business, no amuse- his own way, and the mate of a ship, who ment, but just to crawl to the end of Long has sailed to every port.
They talk toWharf, and throw his line over. He has gether, and take to each other. no sort of skill in fishing, but a peculiar The brig Tiberius, from an English clumsiness.
port, with seventy or thereabouts facObjects on a wharf — a huge pile of tory girls, imported to work in our faccotton bales, from a New Orleans ship, tories. Some pale and delicate-looking; twenty or thirty feet high, as high as a others rugged and coarse.
The scene house. Barrels of molasses, in regular of landing them in boats, at the wharfranges ; casks of linseed oil. Iron in bars stairs, to the considerable display of their landing from a vessel, and the weigher's legs ; — whence they are carried off to scales standing conveniently. To stand the Worcester railroad in hacks and omon the elevated deck or rail of a ship, nibuses. Their farewells to the men and look
up the wharf, you see the whole Good-bye, John, etc. with wavings of space of it thronged with trucks and handkerchiefs as long as they were in carts, removing the cargoes of vessels, or sight. taking commodities to and from stores. A pert, petulant young clerk, continuLong Wharf is devoted to ponderous, ally fooling with the mate, swearing at evil-smelling, inelegant necessaries of life the stevedores and laboring men, who - - such as salt, salt-fish, oil, iron, mo- regard him not. Somewhat dissipated, lasses, etc.
probably Near the head of Long Wharf there The mate of a coal-vessel a leathern is an old sloop, which has been convert- belt round his waist, sustaining a knife ed into a store for the sale of wooden in a leathern sheath. Probably he uses ware, made at Hingham. It is afloat, it to eat his dinner with ; perhaps also and is sometimes moored close to the as a weapon. wharf; — or, when another vessel wishes A
young sailor, with an anchor handto take its place, midway in the dock. somely traced on the back of his hand It has been there many years. The a foul anchor and perhaps other storekeeper lives and sleeps on board. naval insignia on his wrists and breast.
Schooners more than any other vessels He wears a sky-blue silk short jacket, seem to have such names as Betsey, with velvet collar- a bosom-pin, etc. Emma-Jane, Sarah, Alice, — being the An old seaman, seventy years of age