Kitabı oku: «The White Rose of Memphis», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XI

“Suppose you and I don’t go down to luncheon,” said Scottie to Ivanhoe; “I am not a bit hungry, and would very much prefer remaining up here; how is it with you?”

“That’s my fix, exactly; I’m glad you mentioned it. Take my arm, and let us have a walk and a talk both.”

“Agreed; now what did your spy report, a moment ago, about the two detectives?”

“I shall find out everything that is going on. It is such rare sport, too, to be tracking detectives who imagine themselves to be so clever!”

“Oh, bother the clever detectives! tell me what you know.”

“Now, Scottie, don’t you begin to lose your temper; you know I have made a confidante of you.”

“I think you and I ought to be very good friends.”

“So do I.”

“I think we ought to know more about each other.”

“So do I.”

“When do you intend to tell me who you are, Scottie?”

“As soon as the queen gives her consent.”

“What has the queen got to do with it, I should like to know?”

“No doubt you would; but I have given my solemn promise not to reveal her name nor my own to any person without her permission; and she has promised that as soon as Ingomar’s story is finished all secrecy may be discarded. But now I want to hear what you have discovered about the two seedy men.”

“They are going to arrest Ingomar, and take him off at Vicksburg; he is charged with a bloody murder (so the seedy men say). They state that he committed the crime somewhere in Mississippi, and while in jail awaiting trial managed to make his escape. The friends of the murdered man offered a large reward for the capture of the perpetrator, and then the State added another large sum to that offered by the friends of the deceased, and those two seedy men are officers from Mississippi who have got Ingomar spotted.”

“Does Ingomar know they are watching him?”

“No, I think not.”

“Then why not warn him of the danger?”

“That would be wrong, because if he is guilty he ought to suffer; if he is innocent he is in no danger.”

“Do you believe he is guilty?”

“I can’t say that I do, for I know nothing about it. I shall therefore accept the legal theory, which regards every man innocent until the contrary is established by competent proof.”

“It would require a pile of evidence as high as Pike’s Peak to make me believe that Ingomar is a murderer.”

“So it would to convince me.”

“What have you discovered about the mysterious lady in the black domino?”

“Ah, my spy has met her match there! With all her cleverness, the black domino is too much for her. One circumstance, however, has been brought to the surface; the black domino is shadowing Ingomar too, and the strangest thing about it is, that she is not in any manner working with the seedy men – it’s a separate game.”

“Goodness gracious! what on earth can it all mean?”

“I’m sure I don’t know; I wish I did.”

“Perhaps she is the wife of the murdered man; or she may be his sister, or his sweetheart, who is watching him.”

“Can’t say as to that; but it is certain that she is shadowing him. One circumstance connected with her, however, tends to prove your theory about it. The lady in the black domino seems to be unusually melancholy all the time – has often been seen weeping, and never speaks to any one. That goes to prove that she has lost a dear friend or relative; and it may be, as you say, that she was related to the man who was murdered.”

“The truth is, I can’t stand this suspense much longer; I shall die of mere curiosity if things don’t change soon.”

“I beg you not to make a die of it, Scottie, before I get a look at your face.”

“And pray why should you wish to see my face?”

“I am sure I should like it.”

“Suppose you did like it – what would that signify?”

“It might bring about a coincidence, you know.”

“Look, look! there comes the black domino; see how she follows Ingomar! I saw her pointing at him just now, and whispering something in her uncle’s ear. The whirlwind is going to burst on us ere long; don’t you think so?”

“Indeed I do! There is a strange game being played on this boat – it may end in a tragedy.”

“Pray don’t talk that way – you frighten me. I think I had better mention the matter to the queen, and have this nonsense ended at once.”

“No, no! don’t do that, by any means, I beseech you. Our best plan is to remain silent and wait for the denouement.”

“Be it so, then, sir knight. You shall be my champion when the war begins.”

“I shall be proud of the honor – I’ll emblazon my banner with the name of Scottie, in letters of gold, and fight the world in arms in defense of my lady-love. Then I’ll imitate the brave Spanish king, when he met Sir Roderick Dhu on Clanalpine’s lofty height. You know he threw himself against a rock – which I’ll do when the fight opens.”

“But there are no rocks here, you see.”

“Oh, never mind that; I’ll make the pilot-house answer for the rock. I’ll just throw myself against it while you can hide inside, and then hear me cry:

“‘Come one, come all! this rock shall fly

From its firm base as soon as I.’”

“Brave, bravo! my gallant knight. I’ll swap my domino for a laurel crown, to deck the brow of my brave champion.”

“There, there, Scottie, I cry enough! Come, let us join our friends – they are waiting for us yonder. Don’t you see the queen is beckoning to you?”

“When I received Lottie’s note requesting me to come to her immediately, you may guess how my heart fluttered – for I thought something serious had surely occurred, and but very few moments elapsed before I was at the gate in front of Mr. Rockland’s residence. It was a considerable walk from the drug-store to his residence, and I was compelled to halt in order to rest a moment before entering, as I wished to appear composed. While I was leaning against a tree wiping the perspiration from my face and panting with fatigue, I saw Lottie coming rapidly toward me. She had been watching for me.

“‘Oh, Eddie, it’s all settled!’ she exclaimed, as she caught both my hands in hers. I made a move as if I were going to take her in my arms. She gently pushed me back. ‘Don’t be quite so familiar, Eddie – can’t you see papa looking at us? Oh, such a storm as we have had here to-day! Papa ordered me to go away from his home because I wouldn’t let him tell you that I wanted our engagement broken off.”

“‘Well, why didn’t you take him at his word? you knew where you could find another home.’

“‘I did, but the good, dear old darling relented before I could pack my things, and fell to hugging and kissing me, and wouldn’t let me go.’

“‘Lottie, Mr. Rockland is really a good man, and I respect him very much – mainly because he loves you.’

“‘Indeed he is! and my heart was most broken when he ordered me to go away; but did you wish to have our engagement broken off?’

“‘No, you know I did not! What could have put such an idea as that into your mind? Mr. Rockland did not tell you I wished it ended, did he?’

“‘He didn’t say that you said so, but he said you were willing to cancel it if I would consent to it.’

“‘Ah, I see now how it is: Mr. Rockland put the case very strong in favor of his side. That was a good stroke of policy, you see, Lottie; you didn’t believe for a moment that I wanted to have the engagement canceled?’

“‘No, I did not.’

“‘I declare, Lottie, I never saw you look so pretty before.’

“‘I am truly glad that you think so; it makes me very happy to please you.’

“‘Ah! how could I be otherwise than well pleased when I know Lottie loves me? I feel like a new man since I found it out. Will my Lottie always love me?’

“‘Yes, of course I will; I am so very, very happy when you are with me, and so miserable when you are away from me. What shall become of poor me when my Eddie goes away to Philadelphia?’

“‘Let us look forward to the happy day that brings me back to my love. Let us keep our minds on the bright future, when we shall be always together.’

“‘I wish I could do that, but I cannot; I shall all the time be thinking you are ill, or that something has gone wrong with you. I should die if you were to fall ill among strangers!’

“‘I’ll take good care of myself for your sake; I’ll be prudent in all things, and let you know if anything goes wrong; but you must do the same.’

“‘Let us go in; I see Mr. Rockland waiting for you – he is going to talk to you about our engagement, and you must be careful not to offend him.’

“‘Fear nothing on that score; I think we will now come to an understanding entirely satisfactory to all parties concerned.’

“Mr. Rockland met me on the portico with his cold, placid smile, and directed me to follow him into the library. He also asked Lottie to go with us. Pointing to a seat, he requested me to take it; Lottie stood calmly by my chair, while Mr. Rockland took his usual seat on the opposite side of the table.

“‘Mr. Demar,’ he began, with his austere tone of voice, ‘I have had an interview with Lottie on the subject about which we were speaking a short while ago.’

“‘So Lottie told me, Mr. Rockland.’

“‘Her views and mine differed somewhat; but we have managed to reconcile them to some extent; and we may therefore reasonably hope to have all things amicably settled.’

“‘I am truly glad to hear it, Mr. Rockland.’

“‘Thank you, Edward; are you willing to promise me that the marriage shall be deferred until the end of two years from this date?’

“‘Indeed, Mr. Rockland, I should like very much to be able to comply with your request, but why not let the marriage be solemnized when I return from Philadelphia in the spring?’

“‘Lottie would be too young to marry then.’

“‘Grant papa’s request, Eddie,’ said Lottie; ‘I am very willing to put it off indefinitely, if you can be with me often.’

“That settled the question; so it was agreed that Lottie should be my wife at the end of two years.

“‘Come,’ said Lottie, as she took my arm, and looking up at me, her sweet little mouth puckered up in a comical shape; ‘we’ll go to the study now, as everything has been settled between you and papa; I want to show you some new flowers that I have secured; oh, they are such nice ones! They flourish better in the fall season than they do in the spring.’

“She led me through her flower garden, stopping occasionally to point out the different plants, giving a graphic description of their nature and the manner of their culture; and when we came near the summer-house the old parrot began to chatter:

“‘Ah, ha! Lottie! here we come – here we come!’

“‘Can’t he say anything but that, Lottie?’ I inquired.

“‘Oh, yes, he can talk a great deal when he takes a notion. Did you know I had a letter from Viola, Eddie?’

“‘No, have you?’

“‘Yes; let me read it to you; she writes such a nice, smooth hand, and her letter is so friendly; but here it is:

“‘New York, Aug. 16.

“‘DEAR LOTTIE – I must first offer an apology to you for neglecting to answer your last letter. You must not for a moment think that the delay was caused by a lack of love for you on my part. When your letter came I had not returned from my boarding school, but as soon as I came home and found your darling letter I lost no time in answering it. Oh, Lottie, I am so happy just now that I cannot find words to tell you as I should like to do. Papa has consented to let me spend the winter in Memphis, and you may look for me by the last of September. Oh, isn’t that delightful? Won’t we have lots of fun? I often think of you and your heroic little brother – but I ought not to speak of him as your little brother now, I suppose, because he must be a man by this time. I have his picture, you know, Lottie, and oh, how much I do think of it! I keep it next to my heart all the time. All the gold in California could not buy it from me. I expect Harry has changed very much since we parted – you know I was only a little child then, but now I am a great, overgrown mushroom – and as green as a half-grown gourd. Dear papa says I am pretty, but you know evidence of that kind is unreliable; still I confess I should like to know it was true. You may tell Harry – I suppose I ought to say Mr. Wallingford – that I have not forgotten him, and I don’t think I ever shall. I was so glad to hear that he was going to make a great lawyer of himself. Mr. Rockland says, in his letters to papa, that Mr. Wallingford possesses great talent, and will be sure to distinguish himself some day. Would you believe it, I shed lots of joyful tears when papa read the letter to me? I envy you; how happy you must be! how proud of such a brave, heroic, talented brother! You see, I am well posted in everything that concerns you and your noble brother. I often wonder if he ever thinks of the little foolish girl he kept from being crushed to death by the engine? I wonder if he has forgotten how he and I went rolling and tumbling down the embankment together! I was so much delighted at your description of your flower garden; I know I shall enjoy it very much. You people of the dear sunny South have great advantages over us in that respect. I think I should like to live in the South all the time. I suppose you knew I had a darling little brother – yes, I know you did, because I remember now that I told you of it in my other letters. Poor little fellow, he is not a healthy child at all; he is now nearly five years old, and looks like a mere baby, though papa says he will come out all right after a while. Did I ever tell you what his name was? I don’t think I did. Well, you see mamma and papa couldn’t agree on a name for him, and, to keep peace in the family, it was agreed that I should have the honor of selecting his name. What do you think I did? I named him after your heroic brother. We call him Wallie. That, you know, is an abbreviation of Wallingford. He was baptized as “Harry Wallingford Bramlett,” and papa and mamma were both delighted with the good selection I made. But I must close now, because I fear I have made this letter too long, anyway. Present my highest regards to your brother, and accept my best, truest love for yourself, and write soon to

“‘Your true friend,

“‘VIOLA.’

“‘That’s a splendid letter, Lottie, for a girl of sixteen to write,’ said I, when it was read through.

“‘She is not quite sixteen yet, either,’ said Lottie.

“‘That document conveys the best news, my darling, that I have heard since you told me you would be mine.’

“‘To what part of it do you refer?’

“‘That wherein she says she is going to spend the winter with you. It will be a great consolation for me to know, when I am so far from you, that you will have such a sweet friend for a companion. I was thinking of the long, dreary winter days and nights that you would be compelled to pass through all alone, but now how could you be lonely with such a lively little cricket as Viola?’

“‘I dare say she will prove a great comfort to me, yet she cannot fill the aching void that will be caused by your absence.’

“As she said this her large dreamy eyes were glancing up at me, while a tear trembled in each, and I drew her head against my breast, too happy to speak. I led her to a seat, letting her fair cheek remain resting on my heart, while my mind went straying into the future. A thousand thoughts of various kinds intruded on me – some pleasant, others very different. What if Mr. Rockland should resort to strategy, during my absence, to entrap my Lottie into a marriage with Heartsell? What if he should throw his great intellect, with his vast wealth and influence into the balance against me? Would my Lottie be able to withstand it? Would she be able to do battle successfully against such odds? These unwelcome questions forced themselves upon me, causing a shudder to dart through my body. Lottie felt the shock, and exclaimed:

“‘What’s the matter? why do you tremble so? I declare, your heart made a violent jump just now, then began to flutter and knock against your breast; what does it mean?’

“‘I was thinking how I should feel if you were to cease loving me, when I went away, and should marry Mr. Heartsell!’

“She started up, looking at me reproachfully: ‘How can you talk so; didn’t you know I had rejected Mr. Heartsell’s offer?’

“‘Indeed I did not; I was not aware of the fact that he had made it, though I knew he intended to do so.’

“‘Well, he has done it, and you may be easy now.’

“‘Tell me what he said, and what you said.’

“‘Mr. Heartsell, I think, is a very nice, good man, and worthy of a true woman’s love; but I had no heart for him, because you, like a good old thief, went and stole it. I felt highly honored by Mr. Heartsell’s partiality, and told him so; but I thought it my duty to tell him the truth at once, which I did. I told him my hand and heart belonged to another. Poor fellow! he wept when I told him I loved another, and could not love him. He said he would not give me up, but would wait until I should think better of him; and he seemed to think that I would change my mind and love him after all; but don’t you know that I can never change?’

“‘I can’t express my admiration, Lottie, for your extraordinary prudence; not one girl in a hundred would have taken the proper view in such an emergency. Of course you did right to tell Mr. Heartsell the whole truth; most girls under similar circumstances would have evaded the truth, and left the man a reasonable hope.’

“‘By the by, have you ever mentioned our engagement to brother Harry?’

“‘Oh, yes, I named it to him before I did to any one else.’

“‘And what did he think of it?’

“‘He was glad of it – said it was just what he expected and desired – congratulated me heartily – said I was a lucky fellow to be the winner of such a heart – said he knew you loved me, all the time – told me that if ever I caused you trouble he would kill me – and, to tell you the truth, Lottie, I believe he would kill any one who would bring trouble on you.’

“‘Oh, he is such a noble, generous, heroic brother! Viola loves him, and I hope they will make a match of it.’

“‘Ah, Lottie, that will never happen.’

“‘May I know the reason why you think so?’

“‘Viola is a great heiress, and you know how proud Harry is; no matter how much he might love her, he would never tell her of it. Do you know that I think the only fault Harry has is his unprecedented pride? I have been acquainted with many proud men, but there is something in Harry’s pride that places it beyond anything I ever have witnessed in other people. No, Lottie, let me advise you not to build your pyramid of hopes on a foundation of that sort.’

“‘Is Mr. Bramlett very wealthy?’

“‘Mr. Rockland tells me that he is a millionaire, and you know he has only two children.’

“‘Then I must confess that I don’t think Harry would be doing exactly right were he to seek Viola’s hand in marriage. If that’s what you refer to when you speak of his pride, I am fully prepared to indorse it.’

“The dreadful day for my departure had come at last; the awful moment in which I was to part from Lottie had come and gone. The parting words had been uttered – the bitter tears had been shed, the farewell kiss given; the long, loving embrace was over. I had handed dear Lottie, fainting, into Mrs. Rockland’s arms, and was on my way to Philadelphia.”

CHAPTER XII

“I arrived in New York City in due time, and set about the work which Doctor Dodson had charged me with. When I reached Philadelphia I found a long letter from Lottie. Here it is:

“‘DEAR EDDIE – Your letter was received yesterday, and if you knew how happy it made me you would write me one every day. I have read it through at least a dozen times, and every dear expression is engraved on my heart. I beseech you to take good care of yourself, and you must be sure to tell me if you ever feel the least ill. But lest I should bore you with so much talk about love matters, I will tell you something about Viola. She has been with me nearly three weeks, and is the sweetest, prettiest little cricket that any one ever looked upon – not so little, however, as you might think, for she is as tall as I am. She has a most charming disposition – as gentle as a dove – and can sing, oh, so sweetly! It would make you weep to hear her play on the guitar, while singing one of her plaintive songs. She is complete mistress of the piano and guitar. I had been flattering myself that I was a pretty good musician, but when I heard Viola play my conceit oozed out. She is in love with Harry, but just as I expected, he is too proud to let her know how he loves her. He maintains a dignified stiffness of manner, when with her, that chills me to the heart and frightens her. I wonder if this hateful money of Mr. Bramlett’s is going to break these two young, loving hearts? Viola has Harry’s picture – wears it in her bosom all the time; I saw her kissing it the other day and crying over it, when she thought no one was near. What a darling little wife she would make for Harry, if he would only ask her! I wish I had a gold mine, so I could give it to him, and make his fortune equal to hers. I believe he loves her fervently, and would tell her so, but for the hateful gulf that Mr. Bramlett’s gold has placed between them. I fear that much sorrow is in store for both of them; but let us hope for the best. Viola and I are rooming together; poor old Bob dozes on the hearth in my room all the time since the weather got too cold for him to stay in his house. He has quit quarreling with old Roderick, and they have become very good friends now. The parrot comes up to my room every night, and takes his snooze in the closet. He has learned to speak several new words since you went away. It would amuse you to hear him try to say Philadelphia; but he can’t do it – the word is too big for him. I was trying to teach him to tell where you were living, and when he failed to say Philadelphia we compromised on New York, because he can say that as plainly as I can.

“‘Mr. Heartsell has called on me several times since you left. Poor fellow, he looks so sad! He treats me with such tender consideration – never mentions the subject; I suppose he has given up all hope in that direction. I can’t help having the very highest respect for him; but do not become jealous, for I don’t love him the least bit. How could I love any one else when my Eddie has taken my heart away with him?

“‘I think poor old Bob will die before you come home – he is very old, you know; I never let him want for anything – how could I, as I think of the time when we were poor homeless tramps? Do you ever let your mind wander back to those old days when we were all tramps? Have you forgotten the cloth shoes you made for me while you were convalescing at Mrs. Holly’s farmhouse? I have got those old shoes yet; I am preserving them as relics of the happy days of old.

“‘Papa says that he will have to mortgage his estate to buy postage stamps if I don’t quit writing so many long letters to you. I don’t care if he does – I mean to write a long letter every day.

“‘The autumn weather has been delightful, and you may guess Viola and I have made good use of it. She is the liveliest girl I ever saw – always mirthful and happy, except when Harry gets on his high horse of pride; then a shade of melancholy chases away the jolly look. Alas! what misery will ensue if Harry does not conquer this strange, mysterious passion called pride. Poor girl! she does not know that it is the hateful money that keeps Harry and her so far apart. Harry is not happy, as he was before Viola came, and I begin to see a cloud of sorrow rising in the distance which is sure to burst over their heads, unless something intervenes to prevent it. Oh, love, love, love! what a wonderful thing thou art! How much happiness canst thou give when circumstances are favorable, and what misery when unfavorable! When I think of what exquisite delight your love has given me I can’t realize the fact that the same kind of passion has caused so much misery to others. I am so selfish in my love, yet so happy; but then, when I think of the many long, dreary days that must elapse before I shall see you, I am in despair. I sometimes imagine that I should like to fall into a trance, and not wake up till you return. The old clock on the mantel goes on ticking away deliberately, while an age seems to intervene between the strokes. Oh, how can I wait so long before I shall look again in those dear eyes? Your eyes always looked so tenderly down into mine; I could read your thoughts when gazing in your eyes. You were always so tender and gentle with me, in the good old days; when my feet were bleeding from their many wounds, I remember you lifted me in your arms – when I was unable to walk – and carried me to the banks of the little brook and bathed my feet so tenderly! Do you never let your mind recall those happy days? I call them happy days, though they were not unmixed with sadness – but those were the days in which you won my heart. Do you remember the evening when old Bob came to our camp looking so poor and miserable? What a lucky thing it was he happened to take it into his head to follow me! But you will be laughing at me when you read this nonsense. Well, do you know, darling, I don’t care how much you laugh at me? I rather like it, when I know you love me so well. Viola is looking over my shoulder just now, telling me to give you her highest regards; and I imagine it makes her sad to know that my love is returned, while she thinks hers for Harry is not. Harry says he wishes to be kindly remembered by you; he thinks you are the best fellow in the world – shows his good sense, don’t it, darling? Well, I suppose when you read this long letter you will be tired; but I could write all day to you and never tire. I could write a volume about love, and then not have space sufficient to describe all I feel for my darling; but I reckon I had better halt here. Good-by, and don’t forget the kisses I have sent in this letter. Your faithful, loving

“‘LOTTIE.’

“I often think that men who never loved are not capable of understanding the wonderful mystery, because they are often heard to speak of it as simple nonsense – a foolish weakness, only known to weak minds. I have been told that many a man has lived a long life, and died without ever having felt the charming influence of true love; if they did, they died in ignorance of what real happiness was. To say that I read Lottie’s sweet letter a thousand times would, perhaps, be an exaggeration – to say I only read it once would be short of the mark; I read it a great many times. But I must hasten on, and not consume your time with too much talk about my dear Lottie, as I shall have many thrilling events to describe – events that occurred after I had finished my attendance at the lectures. I will, however, ask permission to read one of my letters to Lottie, after which I promise to hasten on to the stirring events which really constitute the gist of this story.

“‘DEAR LOTTIE – Your highly appreciated letter was here when I arrived, and were I to exhaust Webster’s unabridged, I am sure I could find no words adequate to describe the pleasure I felt while perusing it. You inquired if I ever let my mind wander back to the old days, when we were homeless tramps. Ah, yes, Lottie! my mind has traveled a thousand times over every path where your dear feet have trod. I can call to mind every little trifling circumstance that was in any manner connected with you. I have seen nothing in the shape of a woman that can begin to compare with my Lottie.

“‘I am stopping at the Girard House, on Chestnut street – have comfortable quarters on the second floor, fronting the street. That is one of the most beautiful streets in the city. Every evening it is crowded with splendid equipages and handsome ladies, but none so beautiful as my Lottie. Independence Hall is situated on this street; I spent one whole day looking at the quaint old relics that are to be seen there. The old bell, whose brazen tongue proclaimed the birth of a new nation nearly a hundred years ago, is there still. The heavy old carved chairs that were used by the members of the Continental Congress may be seen in the very places where they stood when occupied by those heroic old patriots. A life-size portrait of George III. hangs on the wall. His youthful features have no expression that would indicate the tyrant. The old flint-lock pistols used by Lafayette during the war of independence are great curiosities in themselves. Washington’s camp-chest may be seen, with the cooking utensils used while commanding the American army; all put together would scarcely weigh fifty pounds. A common lieutenant of the present day would tender his resignation, if he were required to reduce the bulk of his camp equipage to that used by the Commander-in-Chief in 1776. This is a fast age, you know, and ideas have changed since the honest days of old. Strange reflections crowded on my mind as I gazed on those dear old relics. Where are all those brave old soldiers now? Where are all the heroic men and beautiful women who inhabited this continent then? All dead, all gone; perhaps not a living soul can now be found on the earth who heard the old bell proclaim the notes of liberty to the people in 1776.

“‘Philadelphia is a beautiful city – so clean, so quiet, so charming; everything so systematic. I think I should like to live here, but for the severely cold winters. I visited Girard College the other day, and would you believe it, Lottie, a man at the gate asked me if I was a preacher. Now, don’t I look like a preacher? Have you ever imagined that I, in any manner, resembled one? Of course not, yet he did ask me the strange question. I, of course, answered promptly, No! and then he allowed me to go in. My curiosity was roused, and I didn’t stop till I learned the reasons why the question was put to me. Mr. Girard inserted a clause in his will that no minister of the gospel should ever be permitted to enter the inclosure.

“There are many things to amuse and instruct one in this sober old city, and I mean to give you a more elaborate history of them in my next letter. I don’t think I ever shall make a very great surgeon, because the dissecting room is a very unpleasant place to me. When engaged in it I can’t for the life of me keep my mind on the business before me, but, in spite of me, it will go straying off into the realms of philosophy. The first time I entered the dissecting room I felt unusually sad; the subject was a young man of powerful frame, well-shaped limbs, brawny chest and handsome face, whom I supposed to be about my own age. A feeling of horror thrilled through my whole frame as I saw the sharp, glittering steel inserted in his white flesh. I then and there became convinced that I never should master the science of surgery, if that was the only way it could be done. When the dead man’s brain and heart were taken out, I took the heart in my left hand and the brain in the other, seated myself as far away as I could without leaving the room, and began to philosophize in a most singular manner. What is this little dark red lump of flesh that I hold in my left hand? Answer – The human heart, the supposed seat of life, the little governor that regulates the quantity of blood that each tiny vein is entitled to as its share. This little lump of flesh puts all the small pumps in motion that move the red life through the human body. This little insignificant thing is the great throne where love holds his court; where all the passions assemble round to pay homage to the king of love. In what corner of this little ball does love hold his court? Where is the identical spot? How is it we can feel it, and not see it? How can so much delicious joy find room in this little bulk? How can it produce such heavenly joys, such ecstatic bliss, as I feel in my love for my Lottie? Then again, how can so small a bulk suffer such untold, indescribable torture as we endure when we love some beautiful object who returns scorn for true love? As I held the heart in my hand, I thought of Shakespeare’s wonderful creations of beauty, and asked myself the question, Was his great heart like this? How could a man possessing a little heart like this, compose such soul-inspiring poetry? Then I thought perhaps it was the brain where all those beautiful things originated, and I turned my attention to it. What was it? Nothing but a few ounces of soft, fatty substance. Is this the great spring from whence such brilliant ideas flow? Was the great Bard of Avon’s brain like this? How could such an insignificant mess of fat give life to such soul-stirring sentiment, such heaven-born inspiration? Was this little gob of fat all that Napoleon had to depend on to enable him to overturn kingdoms and to make kings out of peasants? Did Alexander and Cæsar have brains like this? Did Byron’s base of thought depend on such a slender foundation as this? The more questions I propounded to myself on the subject the more I became bewildered. Scientists assert that the brain is the dome of thought; but if it is so, I must say that the dome of thought is a very insignificant dome. No, it is the soul that dwells in the head, sitting back on its throne, that directs and moves everything. It is not dependent on this little lump of fat for its existence, nor is it in any manner indebted to it for the thoughts that man produces. The soul sits on a throne in a man’s hand, and issues orders, like a king from his earthly throne; all parts of the body are moved by orders from the soul; just as great armies are moved by orders of the king. When the body falls into decay the soul steps out uninjured, and reports to its Creator for duty. Who made this incomprehensible thing called a soul? God. Who made – ? Stop right here and seek to know no more; trust everything to that mysterious Power who created this admirable machine called man.