THE WOOD-CHOPPER. under difficulties, and desirous of learning if the fuel be dry and fit for his purpose, bawls out, "How long has it been cut ?" "Four feet," is the prompt response. The captain, exceedingly vexed, next inquires, "What do you sell it for?" mation. words: and." Here he "prospected" a wood-yard, and soon after, exchanged some of his "dry goods" for whisky and tin cups; and then, for the accommodation of travelers, he connected "a grocery" to his other occupation. His early life had been "divarsified," and he gave some of the principal incidents with great zest. Having served for a long time as first mate on a raft, he grew ambitious for higher distinction. By one of those magical elevations so peculiar to a new country, he got possession of a "starn-wheeler," and entered the "pine-knot business," the pursuit of which took him so high up Red River, that he says "he got sometimes clean out of the way of taxes." His pride was to be called "captain;" his ambition, to run a Circumstances oc race. curred that brought about the wished-for consum We give the particulars in his own "I was coming down 'Little Crooked' with a full head of steam on, when I overtuck the Squatter Belle, loaded, like myself, with pineknots, and bound for the Massissipp. The race "Cash," returns the chopper, replacing the was excitin', a parfect scrouger-the steam yellcorn-cob pipe in his mouth, and smiling benign-ed and the hands swore; you'd a-thought all the ly "on his pile." univarse was poundin' sheet-iron. "Twas no Wood-yards are apparently infested with use-I was always a misfortunate man: the mosquitoes-we say apparently infest ed. Such is the impression of all accidental sojourners; but it is a strange delusion, for though one may think that they fill the air, inflame the face and hands, and if of the Arkansas species, penetrate the flesh through the thickest boots, still upon inquiring of any permanent resident if mosquitoes are numerous, the invariable answer is, "Mosquitoes-no! not about here; but a little way down the river they are awful-thar they torment alligators to death, and sting mules right through their hoofs." Squire Blaze was a model woodchopper. He settled at "low water" at a place so infested with "snags" that the flat-boatmen christened it the "Devil's Promenade." It lies at the mouth of "Dead Man's Bend," just at the foot of "Gouge-your-eye-out Isl Fairy Queen's ingin (that was my boat) had light weights on the safety-valve, and the furnaces got choked with rosin. The Squatter Belle was getting ahead; twice I raised my rifle to shoot her pilot-for you see I didn't like to be beat, when I smelt something warm, and the next I knew I was lodged in the limbs of a dead cypress, thirty-two feet six inches from the ground. This was the proudest moment of my life, I arterward got a limner to draw the scene, and when the picter was finished, I chopped out a frame for it myself. What grieves me," continued Squire Blaze, with unusual feeling, "what grieves me is, that my title of 'captain' didn't stick, and I've been called 'squire' ever since." Sadness overspread Squire Blaze's countenance for a moment, as he referred to the unpleasant circumstance of losing his well-earned title of "Captain," but lighting his pipe, with resignation visible upon his intelligent features, he concluded: "But the wood-choppin' business ain't so bad though; and if it wasn't for the 'freshes' overflowing the 'dryest location' and the 'best landing on the river,' and the low water keeping the steamboats off, I'd have nothing, bless God, to complain of, so long as hog meat is plentiful, and whisky keeps at a price whar a poor man has a chance." DISINTERESTED FRIENDSHIP. IT is the fashion to marry. It is the fashion to abuse those who do not. It is the fashion with many who do, to regret that they ever did what can not be undone. But this fashion belongs to the occult mysteries of an institution which was the first of the "Know Nothing" order ever established. Those of the uninitiated are the wiser who mitigate their curiosity, and choose rather "To bear the ills they have, Than fly to others which they know not of." I am a bachelor, and, of course, am not in the fashion. I am an old bachelor, and my habits are fixed-fixed as fate, for, of course, I shall never marry now. Since I did not marry when such an act could be carried to the credit of juvenile indiscretion, I shall not verify the coarse proverb, that "There is no fool like an old fool." My experience has been ample and various enough. I am too old to turn over a new leaf. The common destiny of the race seems to sweep all, or nearly all, into the hymeneal vortex. If I have escaped, is it the wrong I did in escaping that encourages bitterness and calumny against me? Or is it envy that incites the married multitude to speak with affected pity of the unmarried? Do they really despise my loneliness, or, under assumed contempt, do they conceal covetousness of my negative felicity? It is commanded, "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife." I don't. But do not they covet my no wife? They talk of the delights of mutual confidence. But can there be no mutual confidence unless one of the parties wears flowing drapery, and the other is encased in bifurcated continuations? Can not there be friendship-can not there be even love under broadcloth-love of a man for a man, I mean? To deny it is preposterous. There is my old friend James Hayden. I am sure he loves me. I am sure I love him. I am sure he is disinterested, I am disinterested, we are disinterested. There is none of the poundsshillings-and-pence selfishness of housekeeping between us. There is none of the selfish management and jealousy of the loves of the sexes. We were schooled together. When I was puzzled he telegraphed relief. When he was pauled I signaled the word that unlocked him. We transacted business together. If I lost, his winHe never benings made it up, and vice versa. trayed or took any advantage or preference of me. He never deceived me, and he never will. What husband can say that of his wife? What wife can say it of her husband? There is only one venture in which we have not shared. took a wife. Here could be no joint-stock interest; and I wanted none. I pitied his weakness, and resolved to make allowance for it, though with some misgivings. It is safer to trust one than two. Yet never has my confidence been betrayed; and I am not jealous of James's wife, though she is of me. My friend's misfortune has put his virtues in a stronger light. He can be true to friendship in spite He of matrimony. My house has always offered him a daily refuge from the storms, which, though they clear the atmosphere of the household, demand a shelter; even as the most welcome "growing rains" are best appreciated under an umbrella. I am an uncle. All bachelors are uncles. It is their destiny and vocation. Perhaps-I say perhaps-for with my friend James's mel ancholy experience before me, I can not say | than one cashier for doing paper in his own bewhat might have been my weakness-perhaps half? The cases are parallel. had I not been an uncle, I might have been a The little rogues have wound themselves husband. Here is an old letter-tear-stained, round me. They could not be more my own and worn in the folds from frequent opening. if they wore my name. But all love in this It was written by an early love-a true love-world is troublesome comfort. Such perils as an unselfish love-my sister. Read it: they have exposed me to! Yes, perils; but I have survived them. I am myself still, and will keep so. Such an upsetting of my bachelor ménage! Such encounters with teachers, and governesses, and housekeepers! Such mistakes as tradespeople are constantly making! I am continually "fathered" in spite of myself; but that I care nothing about. There is one thing I can not stand. I have sent away six housekeepers, because each was mistaken for the mother of the children, and cach was nothing loth, for they all understood what that implied. And so did I. There was but one guess where such mistakes could end-if not corrected. That end I have guarded against by installing Madame Pickle in the housekeeper's room. Nobody could mistake her for the wife of any thing except the kitchen range. "MY DEAR BROTHER-I think there is more than a half reproach in the tone in which you answer my invitation. If you only knew what a struggle it cost me to write it! But I would not suffer you to be invited to my wedding with the polite formality in which gilt-edged notes were sent to mere acquaintances. I can not endure that you should think, as you seem to think, that there can be no room in a sister's heart for an only brother, because she has opened it to receive a husband. We are orphans. We have been lonely. Why should we persist in keeping ourselves apart from all the rest of the world? I am sure that when you will permit yourself to know the gentleman for whom you seem to have now no feeling but suspicious distrust, you will love him as a brother should; for, will you not be brothers ?” . . . . There is more of it. But though I can not read it without tears, it is not to be expected that others will feel the same interest in it. So I spare the rest. My sister was half grieved, half angry, because I would not be pleased when she was about to surrender her whole life, hopes, happiness to a stranger. How could I be pleased? I had never thought of marrying; why should she? But she did. I submitted. I witnessed the ceremony. I even gave away the bride. And I felt, while I did so, that I was giving away-losing-my only sister. And so it proved. Her husband was no better or worse than most men. He died, and left her no wealth save five children. She was not endued with physical strength to manage such a bequest. The sister whom I had given away I took home again. Heaven forgive me! But I thought less of his death and of her sorrow than of my gain; for my sister was once more under the same roof with me. But my sad pleasure was brief. She followed her husband, and her children became mine entirely. James Hayden said they were well provided for. So they are. "But," he said, "if I had only a wife, now, to be their mother." I came as near quarreling with him as I could for saying such a thing. With such a charge on my hands, what time have I to think of marrying? And how can I be sure that my wife would be their mother? The fact seems to be, that some of us must keep our senses to repair the damage done by the loss of their wits in others. I am determined to be a father to my sister's little ones, now my own; and not to risk the distraction of being husband to somebody who might cause me to become recreant to my trust, by making me a father on my own account. I am too old a business man for that, and James Hayden knows it. Haven't we discharged more But such a housekeeper is no companion for the children. I asked James Hayden what I should do. He said, engage a governess, and I did. She came highly recommended, and has not belied her good character. The children have improved under her instruction and example. Their manners are subdued and polite. Their progress in the branches they have studied is notable. Their respectful attention to me is most remarkable. Come, now, thought I, after a few months' experience, this being at the head of a family is not so bad a thing after all! Such pleasant thrice-daily meetings as were our repasts! There was no keeping the children away in the nursery, to feed them like little pensioners, and let their manners form as it pleased fate and the cook. They were brought square to the table, and taught how to demean themselves. And after tea they had always something so pleasant to say to Uncle-pa, as they called me, that their stay was protracted till I gave certain understood signals that I had had enough of them. When I unfolded the paper, or looked at my watch, or put away my tooth-pick, with the air of one who has trifled long enough, and now intends to do something to the purpose, our governess took the hand of the youngest. The rest followed-not without some little rehearsal of Romeo. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that they would have continued it till midnight at least "Still signing to go, and still loth to depart." Miss Amity was sometimes obliged to return for some little matter which the children had forgotten in their prolonged hurry of departure. Politeness would not suffer me to see her enter and depart without a word. The dear children were a never-tiring topic for me; and Miss Amity, while as sensible as I was to their remarkable perfection, never failed to remember to whom they owed it-their kind and paternal uncle. What she said upon this head-rather by implication and innuendo than in direct words | obtrusive. And I had to thank James Hayden -I could not but feel the justice of. I feebly for it all. Poor fellow-it's a pity he's married! parried her praises, and thus gave a pleasant| We might make a joint establishment of it; for little piquancy and prolongation to the door- I have satisfied myself that entire happiness can knob-in-hand conversation. be secured without matrimonial chains. The children sallied out for their daily walks or rides so delightfully happy that I once caught And it came to pass that these conversations -at first held occasionally with Miss Amity as a standing interlocutor-became of daily repeti-myself wishing that they were mine indeed, and tion. And then, at my request, Miss Amity that I were father instead of uncle. But I ventured to sit a moment, though always in the checked my foolish thought at once. Were chair nearest the door. And then, being at- they not mine? And was not I myself mine, tracted by something over the fire-place, she my own, besides, with nobody to claim proadvanced to that point to continue her remarks. prietorship in me, or assert over me any right And then it became natural to her always to to domination on the plea of being the mother stand, with some waif belonging to the dismissed of my children? Had I not all the comforts children (it was wonderful how invariably some- of home without any of its disadvantages? thing was left behind when they went out), di- I put the question one day to my old friend rectly opposite my chair, on the other side of James Hayden, who had dined with me. Miss the grate. And then she would unconsciously Amity and the children had left us, and we rest in unrest on the outer edge of a chair, like were taking the second cigar. There might one ready to flit from a forbidden perch. And have been something of triumph in my tone, then she learned to sit a few moments, grace- for his wife is a little acid, and the subject is a fully and at ease, as if there were no harm in tender one. it. And then One night the nurse asked, peeping in at the door, "Please, Miss Amity, mayn't I put the children to bed before you come up? I should like to go out, if you please, miss." "Oh, yes-no matter-I'll go up now." But the nurse went, and Miss Amity did not make haste to follow. And so, by nice degrees, the nurse was taught to come to the parlor and take away the children herself, and Miss Amity waited till her own hour for retiring-except when the door-bell rang, when she disappeared before the caller was ushered in. And at length some particular friends, like James Hayden, for instance, calling very often, Miss Amity became familiar with their approach, and lost her terror of it. By-and-by another advance was made. Miss Amity paused to bid her patron's friends good-evening before she withdrew. The next amelioration in her condition was to wait and talk with them a moment about education in general and the dear children in particular. When this topic became exhausted we found others, which took up more time; and Miss Amity certainly made a very pleasant impression on all my friends-on James Hayden in particular. He would even inquire for her if she happened not to be present-which inquiry would be a very great liberty in any one else; but he is my most intimate friend, and stands not on conventional etiquette. Every thing went on delightfully. Never was a better ordered and more quiet house and family. Never had I been so placidly content with bachelorhood; so fixed in my determination that nothing should ever induce me to forego my independence and change my state. Here was perfect comfort. The presence of Miss ⚫ Amity was sunshine in the house. A perfect being in her manners-delicacy and refinement in her thoughts-virtue incarnate-the best possible guardian for the dear orphans-and so charmingly unsophisticated, childlike, and un "You are very comfortable, my dear fellow," he said; and pausing to puff, added, "of course you will soon make permanent arrangements." "Per-ma-nent ar-range-ments!" "Don't repeat after me, nor look so wonderstruck. Don't deny to an old friend that you intend to marry Carry-ah-Miss Amity!" "I never dreamed of such a thing!" "Then your sleep must be very sound indeed," said my friend, laughing. "Every body is full of it, and we only wonder that you have waited so long. It is a very embarrassing. situation to keep the young lady in." "Embarrassing! Why she is only the children's governess. She was educated precisely to that expectation, and I venture to say entertains no other." My friend whistled, and took his hat. What plague was in it? What had I done? What should I do? After tea came the old comedy. Children dismissed. Me with evening newspaper. Miss Amity opposite. And now behold a new thing under the gas-light! I, so calm the night before, nay, at dinner that day, so free from care or vexation, now perturbed, and with nobody to tell it to. There was no speaking to Miss Amity on that subject, for there was no telling where to begin it, or where it would end. And I could talk of nothing else. And I must speak—or burst. The silent tête-à-tête was very awkward-to me. Miss Amity worked away at embroidery or crochet, as unconscious and unconcerned as the spoiled cat on the hearth-rug. As I peeped over my paper at her, I could not help regretting that such a fine vis-à-vis as we presented must soon, in all human probability, be spoiled forever. A caller relieved my perplexity. It was my pertinacious friend, James Hayden. I was always glad to see him-never more so than this very evening. Miss Amity had seemed unusually disposed to stay, and there is no knowing what folly I might have been guilty of. I trem Ubiquitous James Hayden! Why did he drop in just then? Simply to walk down in the city with me, as he has done daily for-no matter how many years. It is well he is not a woman. Had he been female, one of the best old bachelors who ever lived-your humble servant, to wit-would have been nipped in his twenties, if not in his teens. "Now, James," said I, handing him the note, "what's to be done next?" ble now when I think of it; but, thank fortune! | fill her place in a house which she must leave the danger is over. I breathe freer and deeper! with the deepest regret, and should ever reMiss Amity soon withdrew after Hayden member with pleasure, etc., etc., etc. entered. Though, as I said just now, there was only one thing of which I could think, I was determined not to talk of that. I tried Sebastopol. It was stale. I said it never would be taken. James said "He didn't know. Quite as obstinate resistance had been conquered by regular approaches." What did the man mean? I would not see any equivoque, and turned the theme to Kansas. But it was of no use. We gabbled commonplaces for a while, till at last our heads drew nearer together, and we talked long and earnestly in an undertone. What we talked of may be inferred from Hayden's parting remarks: "If it is really as you say, and you have no intention of proposing; or if it is not really as you say, though you think it is, but don't know that you do really mean-" I rose, for I was becoming excited. James Hayden abruptly concluded, "In any case, it will not answer for Miss Amity to retain her present position." "But what is to become of the children ?" "That is a difficulty. But there are abundance of good schools in which you can place them, and your house will resume its old comfort and quiet." Old comfort and quiet! Why did he not tell me to dows, and shut out the day? good for without children? "What's to be done? Why, it is done! The very thing you were punishing your foolish head about last night is completed to your hand. It's only to inclose her salary, with a remembrance from the children in a tangible form, regret, etc., and there's an end of it. But after dinner will do. Come; we're late." As we walked through the hall I heard a doleful noise up stairs. The change had been announced, and the children were howling over it. Perhaps they will be best at school. Now, Mr. Harper, I know you don't advertise; but can't you let me say here, that if any lady-fit for nobody's wife, and above the suspicion of fitness—but still fit to teach any body's children, as well in manners and morals as in I winced under it. mind—an attractive piece of feminine repulsiveboard up the win-ness, and a repulsive specimen of female loveliWhat is a house ness-if such an one wants a situation, in the family of a single gentleman of large familyshe may address "Charles," at your office. "Grant all you say," I replied at length, "grant all you say, and how am I to manage it? How shall I tell that contented and unsuspecting young woman that she must go? What reason shall I give for dismissing her? It will not do to put it upon the ground you state." "Oh! well," said my friend, "trust to fortune, and wait. You will not need to wait long, I fancy, for female delicacy and tact will get you out of the difficulty, and that soon, or I am mistaken." "Out of the difficulty!" thought I, as the door closed after him. A plague of these disinterested advisers, who can prescribe with such perfect composure when the blister does not touch their own epidermis! The first disturbed rest which I had endured for years was mine that night. The more I studied my quandary, the more of a quandary it seemed to me, and the less appearance of solution presented itself. Even the mirth of the children at breakfast did not relieve or inspirit me. They were in delightful spirits-tip-top! Philosophic little rogues-they can enjoy the present, undisturbed either by gloomy retrospections or melancholy forebodings. But Miss Amity: there was an air of constraint over her manner which I had never observed before. It quite spoiled my breakfast. Her charming naïveté was gone entirely. [NOTE BY THE EDITOR.-After the foregoing was in type. we received the following. But it is absurd to think our "forms" can be delayed by any whim of our correspondent's. He must settle matters with his disinterested friend in the best manner that he can. Instead of sup pressing his first communication we print both.] Please don't print my nonsense about our late governess, now the recognized head of the household. Marriage is not so very dreadful, after all: "A ring's put on, a prayer or two is said, And nothing more.' My friend, James Hayden, gave away the bride, and I received her. The children could not do without her, and I married merely to please them. It would not do for her to hear that, I suppose; but I am new to matrimonial etiquette.> and bachelors are proverbially free-spoken. 1 suppose I must say, with Benedick: "When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live to be married!" Our late governess and present lady is of good family. She is James Hayden's niece. It's very remarkable that he never mentioned it while she was a dependent. I did not think so noble a fellow had among his weak points so much foolish pride. Heigho! The vis-à-vis is resumed. I can't discharge her now, if I would. When she rose to leave the table she put in | Well, I suppose it's destiny, and we must all my hands a note. I read the superscription- submit. Perhaps it is better to yield while you looked up and she was gone, children and all. are young, with a good grace, than to fight fate It was a politely-couched notice, advising me till you can't any longer. I am now in the that she found herself obliged to desire me to fashion! |