Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

"Perhaps," cried little Anna Pinkerton, "he cannot find a girl, and then he will never come back."

Just then, however, a step was heard in the hall, and the next moment the parlor door was darkened by his tall form. There he stood, but alone.

"Where is your girl?" asked Mrs. Harding, anxiously.

"I left her to come in the cars. She will be here in three days."

"Oh, did you get one, then?" asked his wife and two or three others, in a breath.

"To be sure I did; but I had hard enough work to find her. My experience was almost as romantic as yours, wife."

"Do give us your history," said Mrs. Pinkerton, after Mr. Harding was settled, and quietly sipping his tea.

"Well," said Mr. Harding, with a self-satisfied air, for he had actually engaged a girl, "one experiences wonderful alternations of hope and fear in this business, I can assure you. I have made as many as fifty calls, and inquiries without number. I rode over frightful hills and almost impassable roads, and met with many discouraging receptions; but I was determined to succeed, and I did."

Mr. Harding's history of his "girl hunt" kept his family chatting, laughing, and wondering till a late hour. But we spare the reader the details of his ride.

The day that the new girl was expected was damp and cloudy. The sun scarcely showed itself all the morning, and, now and then, a heavy mist or slow drizzling rain added to the discomfort and gloom. Late in the morning, a lumbering old stage-coach came rattling up to Mr. Harding's door, and from it alighted a girl, evidently somewhat over twenty years of age, with a very dark, sallow complexion and large coal-black eyes, which seemed made on purpose to look everything through. Notwithstanding the dull, uncomfortable morning, she was dressed in a flounced lawn with a white ground. A gold pencil dangled at her side, and she flaunted the largest of gold hoops in her ears, and an enormous piece of red glass in her breast-pin.

"Can that be the new girl?" asked Mrs. Pinkerton, as the stranger whisked up the gravel-walk and pulled the bell.

"The very one," answered Mr. Harding, who caught a glimpse of her figure at the door.

Zilpah Ann Swain, for such was her euphonious appellative, was soon ushered into the kitchen, where Mrs. Harding was busy with the dinner, and quietly seating herself at the window, without offering her aid, she fixed her staring black eyes upon Mrs. Harding's red, weary face, and followed her through all the evolutions of getting up dinner.

"I am very glad you have come to-day," said Mrs. Harding, attempting to be a little social. "I have friends with me, and need very much some one to take care of the kitchen."

"Well, I thought I'd come a spell, jest to accommodate; but I told Mr. Harding I wouldn't be boun' to stay. I ain't obleeged to work out, if I ain't a mind teu," replied Zilpah Ann, her black eyes flashing with independence.

It was soon evident that Zilpah Ann came simply as "help." She had not the slightest idea of taking charge of the kitchen, or of relieving her mistress by going on independently in any department of the work. The morning after her arrival, Mrs. Harding gave her special directions about sweeping the front stairs and hall, and the brick walk which led to the gate. She was to go through a certain process every morning. But her work was so badly done that Mrs. Harding determined to speak to her about it.

"Zilpah Ann," she said, as she passed through the hall one morning, about one week after her arrival, "I wish you to be particular to sweep the corners of the stairs clean. You will find the small brush better for that purpose."

"I guess I know how to sweep, Miss Harding," exclaimed the surprised Zilpah Ann, starting up from her work and throwing the full fire of her eyes upon Mrs. Harding's calm face. "I don't want nobody to tell me how to sweep out corners. I knows some things, if I hain't got so much l'arnin' as some folks."

"Oh, yes, I presume you do know how. I only wished to remind you of the corners; I am very particular about having them swept clean, and the walk, too. You will remember that, Zilpah Ann."

"I didn't come here to be a nigger nor a sarvent, Miss Harding, I'll let you know," exclaimed Zilpah Ann, dropping her broom in a passion and bolting to her room. Half an hour afterwards, she appeared at the parlor door with her bonnet on, and her bandbox in her hand, and demanded to be carried to the depot. The Hardings let her go without a word of remonstrance. They had had "help" enough for one week, and Mrs. Harding went about her work alone again, with a feeling of positive relief.

"What do you think of girl-hunting now, brother Harding?" asked Mrs. Pinkerton, as they sat round the tea-table, making themselves merry with the trials and helps of the week.

"Oh, I call it an unprofitable business," exclaimed Mr. Harding, with a hearty laugh. "I rode three days in a broiling sun after Zilpah Ann, paid her fare fifty miles, bore with her help for a week, and received nothing for my pains. It is just like chasing your own shadow, or '_hunting a needle in a haymow_.'"

NIAGARA.

A RECENT tour to Niagara, in affording welcome recreation, gave me opportunity to look upon this stupendous curiosity. I had had years ago a faint foresight in observing, at a favorable season, Passaic Falls. The river at these falls is forty yards wide, and one entire sheet of water descends seventy feet. The cascade presented a unique scene of beauty, and has been regarded as the greatest curiosity in "the State of the Broad Seal." But the Falls of Niagara far outreach all comparison. They are really stupendous, and challenge the world to outvie them in grandeur. On first witnessing them, your sensations are peculiar. Your nature becomes suffused with a sublimity of feeling. A fulmination of "the great and glorious" strikes one to silent amazement. With a "pleasing terror," akin to grandeur, you approach the precipice, and gaze unweariedly upon the wonderful cataract.

I proceeded without refreshing my memory with any account of the wonder. Conversation touching the falls, with all fulsome descriptions, I had avoided. I beheld them from many points of observation, at evening, in the morning, and during the sunny day. I was sensible that the great natural curiosity of the New World had presented itself to my view. The sense of grandeur augmented with repeated observations. No description can adequately convey an idea of their true sublimity.

Niagara has had many admirers. Some, in their descriptions, have been borne very far by fancy; others have given occasional circumstances as the general. The precipice which produces the cataract was said to be not less than six hundred feet. This was an account of an early tourist. It does not, in reality, exceed one hundred and sixty feet. "The noise is such," says Father Hennepin, "that people distant from it several miles cannot hear each other speak." At some seasons, and at particular times, the roar of the cataract is very loud, and is heard for many miles; but it would be exceeding strange if found so deafening as indicated by the above account. "As the traveller advances," says _Howison_, "he is frightfully stunned by the appalling noise, clouds of spray sometimes envelop him, and suddenly check his faltering steps; rattlesnakes start from the cavities of the rocks; and the scream of eagles soaring among the whirlwinds of the cataract, at intervals, announce that the raging waters have hurled some bewildered animal over the precipice." These intervals, at present, are very long.

When the red man gazed exclusively upon the cataract, it is supposed it was of greater height than now. Not only, indeed, of greater height, but that it was differently located. The intelligent geologist maintains that the falls were once at Lewiston, and that they must eventually recede to Lake Erie. Thus, any poetical apostrophe to Niagara which sings, "As creation's dawn beholdst," &c., loses its verity. As years wind on, the falls must gradually become less grand as their height decreases; and, "Lake Erie being drained, they will sink to the wild beauty and hoarse roar of the rapids." Accurate observation proves that the falls wear backward a trifle over a foot each year, having receded forty-two feet in the last forty years. Many thousands of years have gone by since the falls were on the borders of the Ontario, and over another hundred thousand years must pass ere they retire to the sister lake.

At the efflux from Lake Erie, Niagara River is three-quarters of a mile wide, and from forty to sixty feet deep. Its current flows at the rate of seven miles an hour. As it proceeds, the river widens and imbosoms Grand and Navy Islands, which terminate in points a mile and a half above the falls.

Below these islands are rapids which extend a mile to the precipice, in which space the river descends fifty-seven feet. Down these rapids the stream rushes, foaming and dashing, giving to the beholder a wild scene of novel interest. Goat Island divides the river into two courses. A small island but a few yards from Goat Island divides the channel on the American side. Between the two is a beautiful cascade; and, from the small island to the American side, the sheet is broad, with a greater descent, though less quantity of water, than at the other fall on the Canada side. Much the greater body of water passes through the course between Goat Island and the Canada shore. This fall, from its shape, has been named the Horse-shoe Fall.

The waters, as they wend their way over the edge and downward, assume a white appearance, save a streak eastward in the Horse-shoe Fall, which streak is of a green color, like the water of the river where it is deep and undisturbed. In one spot, near "the Cave of the Winds," on the American side, I saw a narrow cascade with so thin a sheet that it assumed a pearl color, and descended in congregated globules, or beads, sparkling in their beauty, and altogether variable from the heavier masses rolling over the more central parts. Farther centreward, the bounding waters assume a snowy appearance; and, in gazing upon them, they seem large volumes, or rather avalanches of foam, rolling down into the trembling depths of the lower river. A gentleman skilled in science, who has measured the water above, below, and on the brink of the falls, reports that three millions of tons of water fall over the precipice every second. The moving water below the falls creates one vast mass of "liquid foam," which, like pressed down, floats upon the surface of the river. Here, amid the roar of the rumbling and rushing waters, the spray rolls up in clouds, like ascending smoke. Rainbows dawn amid the dull-appearing mist, and we have, as a whole, Niagara presented to us as she is, and as no language can describe her. The grand view remains fixed upon the mind, and a halo of happy fancies takes hold of the conceptions.

The scenery around the falls is not without its interest. Nature retains her roughest aspect, and looks pleasingly rugged and wild. There is, indeed, much that is romantic around Niagara. Along the river, below the falls, there are trees of many kinds and an abundance of uncultured shrubbery. The impending cliffs seem to vibrate with the rolling murmurs and echoes of the cataract. Table Rock, a portion of which fell some years since, and the remainder recently, was on a level with the edge of the cataract on the Canada side. It projected beyond the cliffs that supported it, resembling the leaf of a table, which circumstance caused its name. Under this projecting rock I passed, after descending a flight of stairs, and approached the sheet of rolling water. The spray here danced on the eddying currents of the air, and ascended in clouds. The waters plash and foam, the cataract sounds with a winnowing roar, echo resounds amid the rocky hills, and the beholder is thrilled with emotions of awe.

A little way below the falls, where the river loses its excessive agitation, and resumes an unexcited course, a small "row-boat" plies to and fro. In going over this ferry, your boat is swayed with a turning motion by the force of the current. While visited lightly by the fleeting spray, the traveller looks towards the wonderful fall. The cliffs on each side of the river are lofty. The tides glide down in a rapid current towards the distant whirlpool. Passing the eye upward, and gazing upon the falls, they are now presented in all their stupendous grandeur. The waters roll over in huge bodies, never ceasing--rolling, rolling, rolling. You see it, and linger to see it. Echoes reverberate, and the constant murmur and rumble, like a hundred mill-races in a freshet, send a feeling which you cannot forget. No one has inclination to speak while viewing the falls. The luxury is to look in silence at the picture here presented in lively colors by Nature. 'Tis a pleasure to stand and contemplate. You must; your soul ponders upon the novelty and grandeur before the eye. The memory has garnered a clear impression. It will hold it forever.

Surrounding rugged and fossil exhibitions lead the mind to the convulsions and changes through which Nature has gone since the Creation. Fancy retains Niagara long after it ceases to be visible. The falls appear in both their pleasing terror and dancing beauty. Nature, ceasing to be unanimated, has exhibited at once her heavy artillery and rainbow beauties. The soul recognizes and does involuntary homage to the Grand Master of the universe.

THE WILD FLOWERS OF THE MONTH.

BY HARLAND COULTAS, PROFESSOR OF BOTANY IN PENN MEDICAL UNIVERSITY, PHILADELPHIA.

THE early spring flowers, whose lovely forms were nurtured amidst the falling snows of February and the rude cold winds of March, have disappeared from the wild parterre of nature. Flora's first offering, how welcome to the botanist! The vernal sun now pours forth on the cold damp earth floods of warm, life-giving radiance. Vegetation is in full activity, and by the forces of nature the earth and atmosphere are being woven into green leaves and beautiful flowers. Behold the rich feast which is provided for the support of every living thing. There is not an insect wantoning in the sunbeam, or a bird singing sweetly amongst the branches, or a poor worm crawling at your feet, for which ample provision has not been fully made.

To those who are interested in botanical pursuits, the country now possesses an especial attraction. June is pre-eminently the month of flowers. To describe them all would fill a volume. We will, however, mention the following, which are both abundant and beautiful, and may be very easily procured:--

AQUILEGIA CANADENSIS (_Wild Columbine_).--This beautiful plant may now be found growing out of the crevices of the rocks on the west bank of the Schuylkill, between Manayunk and Columbia Bridge. It has biternate leaves, or leaves which are twice three parted and deeply toothed at their margin. Fig. 1 shows the foliage and flower of the Columbine. The sepals of the calyx and petals of the corolla are of the same color, and so intermingled as to be not easily distinguished from each other. The corolla is composed of five horn-shaped petals, one of which is shown detached at _a_. The petals are curved at the upper end and form a sort of coronet, terminating below in spurs or horns which contain honey. The five oval and colored sepals of the calyx alternate with them. The stamens and styles are exerted, or hang below the mouth of the corolla. The corolla and calyx are of a beautiful scarlet or rather coral color, and the whole plant, together with its drooping, pendulous flowers, is really an ornament to the barren rocks from which it springs. How wonderful that so much beauty should thus flourish in so unpromising a situation! _b_ Represents the appearance of the fruit after the flowers have faded and fallen, which consists of five carpels or follicles, many seeded and acuneinated by the persistent style. _c_, A separate follicle.

HOUSTONIA CŒRULEA (or _Quaker Lady_).--The fresh green grass on every hill-side is now adorned with the tufts of this beautiful wild plant. It grows, however, most luxuriantly in moist, shady situations. This plant is easily recognized by its profusion of handsome bright blue blossoms, fading to white, with a yellow eye. Fig. 2 shows the form of its leaves and flowers. Each little plant, when examined apart from the rest, presents a few forked branches an inch or two in length. The radical leaves are spatulate, the corolla monopetalous and salverform. It has four stamens and one pistil. _a_, One of the anthers opening longitudinally. _b_, Cross-section of that anther magnified. _c_, The capsule enveloped by the persistent calyx. _d_, _e_, Views of the dehiscence of the capsule.

MITCHELLA REPENS (_Partridge-berry_).--This pretty little evergreen is now in flower in moist, shady woods, about the roots of trees. Its stem and branches trail along the ground, bearing opposite ovate leaves, and pairs of white, monopetalous, four cleft, and singularly villous or downy-looking flowers. After flowering, a bright scarlet berry is produced by the coalescence or engraftment of the drupes or fruit of each pair of flowers, which is crowned with the calyx teeth of each of them. This plant commemorates Dr. John Mitchell, an early correspondent of Linnæus and an excellent botanist. The berries remain over winter.

EPIGŒA REPENS (_Trailing Arbutus_).--This is a favorite spring flower, especially with ladies. It is very abundant in the woods on the banks of the Wissahicon. It may be readily distinguished by its prostrate stems, which bear evergreen, reticulated, rounded, alternate leaves, and axillary clusters of rose-colored flowers, which are most delightfully fragrant. The stem and stalks of the leaves are bristly with rusty hairs. Name derived from [Greek: epi], upon, and [Greek: gê], the earth. Ten stamens and one pistil will be found within the floral envelops.

CLAYTONIA VIRGINICA (_Spring Beauty_).--This plant is common in moist woods on the banks of the Schuylkill. It is named in honor of John Clayton, one of the earliest botanists of this country. It sends up in early spring from a small, deeply buried tuber, a simple stem bearing two linear lanceolate, opposite leaves, and a simple raceme of pale, rose-colored flowers. Fig. 3 is a representation of this ornament of the vernal woods. Sepals of the calyx, two, ovate, free, green, and persistent; that is, they remain after the corolla has faded as a protecting envelop to the fruit. Stamens, five, adhering to the claws of the petals. Style, three-lobed. Capsule, three-valved, three to five-seeded. _a_ Shows the persistent two-leaved calyx enveloping the capsule. _b_, A section of the dehiscing or opening capsule, with the seeds in its interior.

VIOLA PEDATA (_Bird's-Foot Violet_).--This is the largest and handsomest of the wild violets, and is exceedingly abundant in the sandy soil of the pine-barrens in the neighborhood of Camden, New Jersey. It is called bird's-foot violet, from a fancied resemblance between its leaves and the feet of birds. Its flowers are large, pale-blue, and exceedingly showy. The beautiful Phlox subulata, or moss pink, grows in the same pine-barrens in company with this violet, and cannot fail to be recognized.

The earth at this season is adorned with the utmost profusion of flowers. Now is the time to secure good specimens. We shall introduce a few more of these beautiful strangers to your notice in another article.

PHYSICAL TRAINING.