FEINBERG/WHITMAN LITERARY FILE POETRY FILE "Of That Blithe Throat of Thine"(1884). Printed copy Box 27 Folder 55[*70*] HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE NO. 416. JANUARY, 1885. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS. LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTONVOLUME 70.} HARPER'S MAGAZINE. {NEW YORK NUMBER 416.} JANUARY, 1885. Illustration for "She Stoops to Conquer." Drawn by E. A. ABBEY.}.......Frontispiece. Engraved by WELLINGTON. Wiclif......A. W. WARD 175 Illustrations. Drawn by H. M. PAGET, and from old Prints. Engraved by BUTLER, BERNSTROM, HAYMAN, GRIMLEY, and PUTNAM. Head-piece. - Wycliffe-on-Tees and the Village Church.-John Wiclif.-John of Gaunt.- Wiclif Writing.-Death of Edward III.-Wiclif arraigned before the Archbishop of Canterbury. - Wiclif stricken by Paralysis in his Church at Lutterworth. Farmer Finch, A Story.......SARAH ORNE JEWETT 198 Illustration. Drawn by FREDERIC DIELMAN. Engraved by WHITNEY. "He and Polly made enthusiastic Plans in the Summer Evenings." The Rune of the "Vega's" Rudder, A Poem......ZADEL B. GUSTAFSON 211 With Three Illustrations. Engraved by KING, HOSKIN, and WELLINGTON. The Cruise of "The Wallowy".......BARNET PHILLIPS 216 Illustrations. Drawn by R. S. GIFFORD, C. GRAHAM, and W. P. SNYDER. Engraved by GRIMLEY, SHARP, VARLEY, SMITH, PETTIT, and REDDING. Our Yacht.-The Everglades.-Catching a Tarpon with Grains.-A Florida Homestead.- The Children's Pet.-Punta Rassa. - Cocoa-nut Grove.-Curlew Island.-Bringing Home the Deer. The Monument commonly called Long Meg and her Daughters. A Poem.........WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 230 Illustrations. Drawn by ALFRED PARSONS. Engraved by HOSKIN. On the Revival of Mezzotint as a Painter's Art.........SEYMOUR HADEN 231 Illustrations. Drawn by SEYMOUR HADEN. Street in Corfe, Isle of Purbeck,-St. Alban's Head, Isle of Purbeck.-Bridge, Corfe Castle, Isle of Purbeck.-Old Water-wheel, Isle of Purbek.-Disused Chalf-pit, Isle of Purbeck.- Kitchen of Ship's Inn, Isle of Purbeck (Plate). The Isle of Purbeck.......MISS J. E. PANTON 238 East Angels. A Novel. Part I. .....CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON 246 Of that blithe Throat of Thine, A Poem.......WALT WHITMAN 264 The Town-meeting........JOHN FISKE 265 A Pair of Shoes......HOWARD MUDGE NEWHALL 273 Illustrations. Drawn by WALTER SHIRLAW, F. DIELMAN, and C. Graham. Engraved by MISS POWELL, TIETZE, PETTIT, HARLEY, HAYMAN, and FABER. The old-time Shoemaker.-The Tannery.-Beaming.-The Sewing-room.-The Laster.-The McKay Shoe-sewing Mahine.-Pieces of a Shoe.-The completed Shoe. The Snow Angel. A Poem.......WALLACE BRUCE 291 Illustration. From Statue by LARKIN G. MEADE. Engraved by BERNSTROM. She Stoops to Conquer. Part II.............OLIVER GOLDSMITH 291 With Six Illustrations. Drawn by E. A. ABBEY. At the Red Glove, A Story, Part I...............298 Illustrations. Drawn by C. S. REINHART. Engraved by FRENCH. Head-piece.-" 'Good-morning, Mademoiselle,' said Loigerot." - "She put one Hand on her Bosom." Editor's Easy Chair............317 The New Year.-Sir Moses Montefiore.-The Quaker Poet.-Recent Biographia Literaria.- Now and Then. Editor's Literary Record...........322 Holiday Books.-Atlas of the Cesnola Collection.-Reid's Life and Times of Sydney Smith. -McCabe's Brigham's Latin Grammar. Editor's Historical Record....................331 Political Intelligence.-Disasters.-Obituary. Editor's Drawer......................332 The Scottish Game of Curling.-Orlando's Christmas Adventure (eight Illustrations by C. G. BUSH).-The Japanese Customs Service.-A Table "in the Presence of mine Enemies."-Florida Humors.-The Pickerel not to blame. EAST ANGELS. 263 you could never have felt the feeling I was trying to describe, you know-the intoxication. It needs a certain sort of temperament, I think; I have it, but you have it not." "I see you are an observer," said her companion, inwardly laughing, but maintaining a grave face. "I am," answered Garda, serenely. "I observe a great deal. It helps to pass away the time." "You have good opportunities for exercising the talent?" "Oh yes, many." "The four persons about here?" "Garda's laugh rippled forth again. "My poor four-how you make sport of them! But I should have said five, because there is the crane, and he is the wisest of all. He is wiser than any one I know, and more systematic. He is more systematic even than you are, which is saying a great deal. His name is Carlos Mateo, and you must be careful not to laugh at him when he dances, for a laugh hurts his feelings dreadfully. His feelings are very deep. You might not think so from a first glance. But that will be because you have not looked deep into his eyes, taken him round the neck and peered in. He has a great deal of expression in his eyes. You have none at all - what has become of it? Did you never have any, or have you worn it all out? Perhaps you keep it for great occasions. There will be no great occasions here." "No; great occasions are at the North, where they are engaged in climbing mountains, walking on frozen lakes, breaking icicles, and attending the halls of Congress," Winthrop answered. Dr. Kirby was waiting for them on the bank; he had not stained his brightly polished little boots with the damp earth of the lower leve. He had surveyed with inward disfavor the thick-soled walking shoes of the Northerner, and the rough material of his gray clothes. The Northerner's gloves were carelessly rolled together in his pocket ; but the doctor's old pair were on. Garda led the way westward along the bank. After they had proceeded some distance, in single file, owing to the narrowness of the path, she suddenly left her place and passing the doctor took Winthrop's hand in hers. "Close your eyes," she commanded ; "I am going to lead you to a heavenly wall." Winthrop obeyed, but retarded his steps. "How slow you are!" she said, giving his hand a little pull. "It's a wild country for a blind man," answered Winthrop, continuing to advance with caution. "Please take both hands." "Let me lead him, Garda," said the doctor, preferring to join in this child's play rather than have her continue it alone. But the child's play was over ; the bend in the path had been but a short one, and they were now before her "heavenly wall." Winthrop, upon being told to open his eyes-he had perhaps kept them closed longer than was absolutely necessary -found himself standing before a wall of verdure, fifteen feet high, composed of a mass of shining little leaves set closely together in an almost even expanse, that sloped backward slightly as it rose. This surface of lustrous green was spangled with white flowers widely open, the five petals laid flatly back like a star ; it was bossed with the white cups of those but half unfolded, and it was fretted by the innumerable points of the closed buds, conspicuous against the darker leaves by the pale penetrating hue of their immature green. "The Cherokee rose," said Dr. Kirby. He had been greatly vexed by Garda's freak of taking Winthrop's hands, and as he added, explanatorily, "the wold white rose of the South," he glanced at him to see how he, as a Northerner and stranger, regarded it. But the stranger and Northerner was gazing at the Southern flowers with an interest which did not appear to depend at all upon the Southern girl who had brought him thither. Garda remained but a moment ; while they were looking at the roses she walked slowly on, following her heavenly wall. "She is but a child," said the doctor, looking after her. "We have perhaps kept her one too long." "On the contrary, that is her charm," replied Winthrop. "How old is she?" "Barely sixteen. If her father had lived, it would perhaps have been better for her. She would have had in that case, probably, more seriousness - a little more. Mistress Thorne's ideas concerning the training of children are admirable, most admirable. But they presup-264 Harper's New Monthly Magazine. pose a certain kind of child, and Garda wasn't that kind at all. I may say, in- deed, the contrary. Mistress Thorne has therefore found herself at fault now and then ; her precedents have failed her. She has been met by perplexities ; sometimes I have even thought her submerged in them, and floundering, if I may use such an expression of the attitude of a cultured lady. The truth is, her perceptions have been to blame." "But I have thought her perceptions remarkably keen," said Winthrop. "So they are. But they all advance between certain lines; they are narrow. Understand me, however--I would not have them wider. I was not wishing them wider; I was only wishing that poor Edgar Thorne, the father, could have lived awhile longer. Too wide a percep- tion, sir, in a woman, a perception of things in general, general views, in short, I regard as distinctly immoral; women so endowed are sure to go wrong -- as witness Aspasia. It was a beautiful provision of nature that made the feminine percep- tions, as a general rule, so limited, so con- fined to details, to the opinions and beliefs of their own families and neighborhoods; in this restricted view lies all their safety." "And ours?" suggested Winthrop. "Ah, you belong to the new school of thought, I perceive," answered the doctor, stroking his smoothly shaven chin with his plump gloved hand. The two men had begun to walk on- ward again, following their guide, who was now at the end of the rose wall. Here she disappeared. When they reached the spot they found that she had taken a path which turned northward along a little ridge -- a path bordered on each side by Spanish-bayonets. "Garda's education, however, has been, on the whole, good," said the doctor, as they [second column] turned into this stiff aisle. "Mistress Thorne, who has herself an instructress of youth before her marriage, has been her teacher in English branches; Spanish, of course, she learned from the Old Madam; my sister Pamela (whom I had the great misfortune to lost a little over a year ago) gave her lessons in embroidery, general deportment, and the rudiments of French. As regards any knowledge of the world, however, the child has lived in complete ignorance; we have thought it better so, while things remain as they are. My own advice has decidedly been that until she could enter the right society, the cultivated and dignified society to which she proper- ly belongs -- that of the city of Charles- ton, South Carolina, for instance -- it was better that she should see none at all. She has therefore lived, and still continues to live the life, as I may well call it, of a lit- tle novice or nun." "The young gentleman who has just joined her is probably, then, a monk?" ob- served Winthrop. The doctor was near-sighted, and not at all fond of his spectacles. With his bright eyes and quickly turning glance, it humiliated him to be obliged to take out and put on those cumbrous aids to vision. On this occasion, however, he did it with more alacrity than was usual with him. "Ah," he said, when he had made out the two figures in front," it is only young De Torrez, a boy from the next plantation." "A well-grown boy," commented the Northerner. "A mere stripling -- a mere stripling of nineteen. He has but lately come out from Spain (a Cuban by birth, but was sent over there to be educated), and he can not speak one word of English, sir -- not one word." "I believe Miss Thorne speaks Spanish, doesn't she?" remarked Winthrop. [bottom of page] Of That Blithe Throat of Thine (More than 83[degree symbol] north -- about a good day's steaming distance to the Pole by one of our fast oceaners in clear water -- Greely heard the song of a single bird merrily sounding over the desolation.) Of that blithe throat of thine, from arctic bleak and blank, I'll mind the lesson, solitary bird: let me too welcome chilling drifts, E'en the profoundest chill, as now -- a torpid pulse, a brain unnerv'd, Old age land-lock'd within its Winter bay -- (cold, cold, O cold!) -- These snowy hairs, my feeble arm, my frozen feet; For them they faith, thy rule I take, and grave it to the last. Not Summer's zones alone, not chants of youth, or south's warm tides alone, But held by sluggish floes, pack'd in the Northern ice, the cumulus of years -- These with gay heart I also sing. Jan. 1885 Harper's Bazar. A repository of fashion, pleasure, and instruction. "No family should be without it." Harper's Bazar for 1885. Harper's Bazar is the only paper in the world that combines the choicest literature and the finest art illustrations with the latest fashions, methods of household adornment, and all the minor useful arts that are dear to the model house-keeper, and that make the home attractive. Harper's Bazar is the acknowledged arbiter of taste and fashion. Its weekly illustrations and descriptions of the newest Paris and New York styles, with its useful pattern- sheet supplements and cut patterns, spread the news of the changes of fashion all over the land, and, by enabling ladies to be their own dress-makers, save many times the cost of subscription. 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