The Bay State Monthly, Volume 3, No. 3

As she was speaking she moved away and in another moment was in the drawing-room with Archdale.

"You have brought me word," she said, as soon as her greeting was over. "You have good news; I see it in your eyes."

"Yes," he answered. "I suppose you will call it good news. You are free; you are still Mistress Royal."

She clasped her hands impulsively, and retreated a few steps. It seemed to him as he watched her that her first emotion was a thankfulness as deep as a prayer. He saw that she could not speak. Then she came up to him holding out both her hands.

"Never was any one so welcome to me as you with your words this morning," she said. "I have not spoiled your life and Katie's."

"And you are free," he said again.

"Yes," she repeated, "I am free." And as she drew away her hands she made a movement almost imperceptible and instantly checked, as if she had thrown off some heavy weight. He read it, however, as he stood there with his eyes upon her face, which was bright with a thankfulness and a beauty that, although he had seen something of her possibilities of expression, he had never dreamed of. How glad she was! A pang went through him. He understood it afterward. It had meant that he was asking himself if Katie's face, when he told her the news, would look so happy at having gained him as this girl did at having lost him; and he had not been sure of it. All the autumn there had been strange fancies in his head about Katie. He had had no right, under the circumstances, to send Lord Bulchester away; but it had seemed strange to him that any girl's love of power should be carried so far if it were mere love of power that moved her. But no shadow on Elizabeth's face showed him that she dreamed of change in Katie, and Stephen felt rebuked that friendship could find its object more perfect than love did.

"Will the wedding be on the anniversary of the other one?" asked Elizabeth. "I suppose it will," she added; "Katie ought to have it so. That will come in three weeks. It will be a little time before you sail, if you go." And she smiled rather sadly, then glanced about her to make sure that the last remark had not been overheard.

"Ah!" he said, "I see you know all about the scheme on foot. But it is safe to trust you. You are very much interested," he added, watching her.

"Very much. My father does trust me a good deal. But I hope I shall not make him sorry for it."

Archdale kept on looking at her, and smiling.

"You prefer making people glad," he answered.

"But perhaps you will not go—now?" she said.

"Oh, yes. I promised my services to Colonel Pepperell last summer; that holds me, you see. Besides, I want to do my part."

"I could not imagine you standing idle by while others were striking the blows for our country," said Elizabeth. "Katie has told me a good deal about you at one time and another. Dear Katie!" she added in an undertone, with an exquisite gentleness in her face. Then, looking back from the window where her eyes had wandered, she turned off her emotion by some gay speech.

Very soon afterward the young man left her. For he was on his way to carry the news to Katie who was then in Boston visiting her aunt. But to go to her he passed Mr. Royal's door, and his wishes, as well as his promise, made him delay his own happiness for a moment to see Elizabeth rejoice. He saw her rejoice to his heart's content; and then he took leave of her for his happy meeting with his betrothed.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

EDITOR'S TABLE

Evidences are constantly multiplying that American history is a subject which has not lost its interest to investigators or to readers. During the past month four distinct works, namely, the fifth volume of Von Holst's Constitutional History of the United States, the third of Schouler's History of the United States, the second of McMaster's History of the People of the United States, and also a new volume of Hubert Howe Bancroft's History of the Pacific States, have been published, and are destined, no doubt, to take their places as "standards." This diligence on the part of their respective writers, and the interest in them manifested by the great public is commendable, and in a measure dispels the oft-repeated saying that Americans are a nation of novel-readers.

It is gratifying, also, to record another fact. During the third week in July the Old South lectures for young people, illustrative of "The War for the Union," were inaugurated in Boston. The ancient "meeting-house" was crowded with earnest students to hear the first lecture on slavery, delivered by William Lloyd Garrison, Jr. The speaker gave a vivid sketch of the chief events of the anti-slavery movement, and of the part taken by George Thompson, Garrison, Phillips, Whittier, and Harriet Martineau.

Students of the anti-slavery struggle should not forget, however, how much the success of that struggle was due to Mrs. Maria Weston Chapman, whose death occurred at Weymouth, Mass., on July 12. She was not only a magna pars of the struggle, but one of the most remarkable women of our time. Mrs. Maria Child used to relate how Mrs. Chapman, clad in the height of fashion of that day, came into the first anti-slavery fair, an entire stranger to every one present. "She looked around over the few tables, scantily supplied, and stopped by some faded artificial flowers. The poor commodity only indicated the utter poverty of means to carry on the work. We thought her a spy, or maybe she was a slave-holder." From that time she entered heartily into the work. She became the life of the Female Anti-slavery Society in Boston, she spoke often in public; her pen was never idle when it could advance the cause of equal rights and freedom.

Mr. Lowell, in his rhymed letter, descriptive of an anti-slavery bazaar at Faneuil Hall, and the celebrities of the cause there assembled, drew the portrait of this gifted woman with his usual felicitous touch:—

"There was Maria Chapman, too,
With her swift eyes of clear steel-blue,
The coiled up mainspring of the Fair,
Originating everywhere
The expansive force, without a sound,
That whirls a hundred wheels around;
Herself meanwhile as calm and still
As the bare crown of Prospect Hill;
A noble woman, brave and apt,
Cumæa's sybil not more rapt,
Who might, with those fair tresses shorn,
'The Maid of Orlean' casque have worn;
Herself the Joan of our Arc,
For every shaft a shining mark."

It is one thing to be a good ship-builder for the government, and quite another thing to be in favor with the Secretary of the Navy, at Washington. This is the lesson, and the only lesson, which can be deduced from the two dispatches which have been transmitted over the country, namely: that the "Dolphin" has been rejected, and that John Roach, her builder, has failed.

The case has its value as a warning to American ship-builders. They are given to understand that the closest compliance with the requisitions of the department in the process of constructing a vessel, and that under the direction of experts, perfectly competent to determine what is good work and what is bad, will avail them nothing unless they are in favor with the Secretary when the vessel is offered for acceptance. And they are warned that the Department of Justice holds it perfectly legal for the Navy Department to lay upon them such conditions as to construction as must determine the capacity of the vessel for speed, and yet reject the vessel as not fast enough. They may be fined heavily for not having used their discretion, and yet may have been denied discretion as to the plans used.

It will be remembered by all who have watched the case, that the "Dolphin" was found satisfactory and in full accordance with the terms of the contract by one naval board, and that it was then condemned by another board of no greater weight or capacity. If this fact be remembered, it should be weighed with the full understanding that naval officers, chosen by Mr. Whitney for this service, are just as much dependents of the new Secretary as their predecessors were of Mr. Chandler. The last set of officials, as experts, were not superior to those which constituted the first; and yet Mr. Whitney bases his refusal to accept the vessel upon the contradiction of the first report to the second. If the first report was worthless, why not the second, in the light of all the facts?

What is needed to-day is a board of examiners fully competent to pronounce on the merits, of not only the "Dolphin" but of any and every other ship that shall be built, and fully sundered from, and independent of, political and official relations with the Navy Department. The nearest approach to this is the report of the body of experts—ship-builders, and ship-captains, experts in ship's materials, and the like—whom Mr. Roach invited to examine the "Dolphin." The report of these gentlemen flatly contradicts Mr. Whitney's board on points which are matters of fact, and not of opinion, and therefore throws the burden of proof upon Mr. Whitney himself. Until some equally unpolitical and unofficial body refutes it, the treatment Mr. Roach has received will be set down to other motives than the best.

The republic at last bows its head in sorrow at the death of its greatest citizen. In awe and admiration it honors the character which, heroic to the last, has never been more conspicuously shown than during the months of that depressing illness, the end of which must have been to him a welcome entering into rest.

The same unquailing courage, and the same calm, grim fortitude which shed their fadeless lustre upon his whole extraordinary career were evinced by General Grant at the last moments of his life. For months the nation has hung over his bedside, awaiting the silent foot-fall of the unseen conqueror of all that is mortal.

The nation's loss is not measured by the vacant place. For nearly a decade General Grant had been only a private citizen, wielding no sceptre of authority, and exercising no sway in the public councils. And yet his going is a loss; for he was everywhere felt, not merely by what he had done, but by what he was,—one of the great reserve forces of our national commonwealth.

"Great men," said Burke, "are the guideposts and landmarks of the State." General Grant was the guidepost of a victorious war, and a landmark of a magnanimous peace. A pillar of strength has fallen; and yet a broken shaft is not the fit emblem of his life. It is a finished and splendid column, crowned with its full glory.

The chieftain is dead. The American people themselves will now judge him, after the calm evening and the serene repose of retirement, more justly than in the stress and storm of struggle. The asperities of angry contentions have passed; the flaws have faded, and the blemishes are dimmed, while the splendor of General Grant's achievements and the simple grandeur of his character have gained a brighter halo as the years have rolled by. The clouds and the smoke of battle have long since lifted; the fragments and the scenes are swallowed in the majestic drama; and to-day we see the hero elevated on his true pedestal of fame through the just perspective of history.

It is given to few men to bear suffering with the fortitude displayed by the departed hero; it is given to fewer still to await in patience and without complaint the certain issue of suffering in death. But it is neither his fortitude, nor his patience, nor his touching solicitude, nor his unselfish industry which distinguished him in an almost unique degree. It was rather, in one word, his simplicity, his strong but unpretentious character, and his firm but magnanimous nature.

Of such, plainly, is the kingdom of Heaven, and it is a national glory that of such, too, in the instance of General Grant, the American people was never neglectful.

If every person who is inclined to attribute to Socialism all the discontent now prevalent among the laboring classes of this country, would carefully read Mr. Laurence Gronlund's remarkable book, entitled, The Coöperative Commonwealth,—an exposition of modern Socialism,—he would perhaps awaken to a comprehension of the fact that true Socialism is neither communism, nor lawlessness, nor anarchy. We wish this book could be scattered, by millions, among the intelligent people of this land, if for no other purpose than to root out many of the false ideas which are current, as well as to inculcate a logical explanation of much that is transpiring at the present moment.

We are told that at least 30,000 laborers are out of work in Cincinnati, and that full as many are unemployed in Chicago. The same state of affairs prevails in other large cities. These people, we are also told by the newspapers, are "exposed to the designs of socialistic leaders, and liable to embrace their dangerous schemes." Hence, it is to be inferred, of course, that timely measures should be instituted to "guard the unreflecting against socialistic theories and measures."

Despair sometimes calls for a desperate remedy. When men are in physical or financial distress they are apt to lose their heads, so to speak, and to be subject to the wildest delusions and hallucinations. A great many of the unfortunates now out of employment have been already reduced to misery and want; but it is a mistake to suppose that the philosophy of Socialism can afford them any relief or consolation, or that it can incite them to mad deeds of violence. There are certain demagogues in this country who, assuming to be Socialists, are ready to stir up the popular mind, even to the shedding of blood; but such men are few in numbers, and wield only a limited influence.

Now, Socialism holds that the impending reconstruction of society, which Huxley predicts, will be brought about by the logic of events, and teaches that the coming revolution, which every intelligent mind must foresee, is strictly an evolution. Socialists of this school reason from no assumed first principle, like the French, who start from "social equality," or like Herbert Spencer, who lays it down as an axiom that "every man has freedom to do all that he wills, provided he infringes not the like freedom of every other man;" but basing themselves squarely on experience,—not individual but universal experience,—they can, and do present clear-cut, definite solutions.

It is this true German Socialism which Mr. Gronlund, in the work previously alluded to, very clearly presents, and which should be more generally understood than it is.

Apropos of the subject, it will not be amiss to recall a statement made by Frederic Harrison, namely:—

"The working-class is the only class which is not a class. It is the nation. It represents, so to speak, the body as a whole, of which the other classes only represent special organs. These organs, no doubt, have great and indispensable functions, but for most purposes of government the state consists of the vast laboring majority. Its welfare depends on what their lives are like."

And this from Carlyle:—

"It is not to die, or even to die of hunger that makes a man wretched; many men have died; all men must die. But it is to live miserable, we know not why: to work sore and yet gain nothing; to be heartworn, weary, yet isolated, unrelated, girt in with a cold universal Laissez-faire."