wishing to lose any precious time in seeking | Having gone with Susan a little way into the food while on the trail. The brandy still re- forest her guide left her. For nearly four hours maining in their flasks they preserved for the she lay there half-dead with cold and terror, not use of their captive. The evening of the follow- daring to move from her place of concealment. ung day they reached the trapper's hut, where She saw the flames of the dwelling where so they were not a little surprised to find Susan. many lonely hours had been passed rising above She told them that although John Wilton had the trees, and heard the shrill "whoops" of the begged her to live with them, she could not bear retiring Indians. Nero, who was lying by her to leave the spot where every thing reminded side, suddenly rose and gave a low growl. Siher of one to think of whom was now her only lently a dark figure came gliding among the consolation, and that while she had Nero, trces directly to the spot where she lay. She she feared nothing. They needed not to tell gave herself up for lost; but it was the Indian their mournful tale-Susan already understood woman who came to her, and dropped at her it but too clearly. She begged them to leave feet a bag of money, the remains of her late husthe Indian woman with her. "You have no band's savings. The grateful creature knew one," she said, "to tend and watch her as I can where it was kept; and while the Indians were do; besides, it is not right that I should lay such busied examining the rifles and other objects a burden on you." Although unwilling to im- more interesting to them, had carried it off unpose on her the painful task of nursing her hus- observed. Waving her arm around to show that band's murderess, they could not but allow that all was now quiet, she pointed in the direction she was right; and seeing how earnestly she of Wilton's house, and was again lost among the desired it, at last consented to leave the Indian trees. woman with her. For many long weeks Susan nursed her charge as tenderly as if she had been her sister. At first she lay almost motionless, and rarely spoke; then she grew delirious, and raved wildly. Susan fortunately could not understand what she said, but often turned shudderingly away when the Indian woman would strive to rise from her bed, and move her arms as if drawing a bow; or yell wildly, and cower in terror beneath the clothes, reacting in her delirium the fearful scenes through which she had passed. By degrees reason returned; she gradually got better, but seemed restless and unhappy, and could not bear the sight of Nero. The first proof of returning reason she had shown was to shriek in Day was just breaking when Susan reached the squatter's cabin. Having heard the sad story, Wilton and two of his sons started immediately for the spot. Nothing was to be seen save a heap of ashes. The party had apparently consisted of only three or four Indians; but a powerful tribe being in the neighborhood, they saw it would be too hazardous to follow them. From this time Susan lived with the Wiltons. She was as a daughter to the old man, and a sister to his sons, who often said: "That as far as they were concerned, the Indians had never done a kindlier action than in burning down Susan Cooper's hut." THE WARNINGS OF THE PAST. terror when he once accidentally followed his FAINT dream-like voices of the spectral Past mistress into the room where she lay. One morning Susan missed her; she searched around the hut, but she was gone, without having taken farewell of her kind benefactress. A few years after Susan Cooper (no longer "pretty Susan," for time and grief had done their work) heard late one night a hurried knock, which was repeated several times before she could unfasten the door, each time more loudly than before. She called to ask who it was at that hour of the night. A few hurried words in Iroquois were the reply, and Susan congratulated herself on having spoken before unbarring the door. But on listening again, she distinctly heard the same voice say, "Quick-quick!" and recognized it as the Indian woman's whom she had nursed. The door was instantly opened, when the squaw rushed into the hut, seized Susan by the arm, and made signs to her to come away. She was too much excited to remember then the few words of English she had picked up when living with the white woman. Expressing her meaning by gestures with a clearness peculiar to the Indians she dragged rather than led Susan from the hut. They had just reached the edge of the forest when the wild yells of the Indians sounded in their ears. Whisper the lessons of departed ages; bers; When restless Thought unceasing vigil keeps, Of nations perish'd and embalm'd in story ; For Faction rent the seamless robe of Peace, And, parting children of a common mother, Bade fealty and loving concord cease To link the hearts he sever'd from each other. Such is the burden of those solemn notes That issue from the haunted graves of nations; Where, spread by Time, a vailing shadow floats O'er spirits preaching from their ruin'd stations. THE PIE SHOPS OF LONDON. FROM fixed cost in the chief ingredient used, than up sprung almost simultaneously in every district of the metropolis a new description of pie-shops, which rushed at once into popularity and prosperity. Capital had recognized the leading want of the age, and brought the appliances of wealth and energy to supply it. Avoiding, on the one hand, the glitter and pretension of the confectioner, and on the other the employment of adulterated or inferior materials, they produced an article which the populace devoured with universal commendation, to the gradual but certair. profit of the projectors. The peripatetic merchant was pretty generally driven out of the field by the superiority of the article with which he had to compete. He could not manufacture on a small scale in a style to rival his new antagonists, and he could not purchase of them to sell again, because they would not allow him a living margin-boasting, as it would appear with perfect truth, that they sold at a small and infinitesimal profit, which would not bear division. ROM time immemorial the wandering pieman was a prominent character in the highways and byways of London. He was generally a merry dog, and was always found where merriment was going on. Furnished with a tray about a yard square, either carried upon his head or suspended by a strap in front of his breast, he scrupled not to force his way through the thickest crowd, knowing that the very centre of action was the best market for his wares. He was a gambler, both from inclination and principle, and would toss with his customers, either by the dallying shilli-shally process of "best five in nine," the tricksy manœuvre of "best two in three," or the desperate dash of "sudden death!" in which latter case the first toss was destiny-a pie for a halfpenny, or your halfpenny gone for nothing; but he invariably declined the mysterious process of "the odd man;" not being altogether free from suspicion on the subject of collusion between a couple of hungry customers. We meet with him fre- These penny-pie shops now form one of the quently in old prints; and in Hogarth's "March characteristic features of the London trade in to Finchley," there he stands in the very centre comestibles. That they are an immense conof the crowd, grinning with delight at the adroit-venience as well as a luxury to a very large ness of one robbery, while he is himself the vic-section of the population, there can be no doubt. tim of another. We learn from this admirable It might be imagined, at first view, that they figure by the greatest painter of English life, that the pieman of the last century perambulated the streets in professional costume; and we gather further, from the burly dimensions of his wares, that he kept his trade alive by the laudable practice of giving "a good pennyworth for a penny." Justice compels us to observe, that his successors of a later generation have not been very conscientious observers of this maxim. The varying price of flour, alternating with a slidingscale, probably drove some of them to their wit's end; and perhaps this cause more than any other operated in imparting that complexion to their productions which made them resemble the dead body of a penny pie, and which in due time lost them favor with the discerning portion of their customers. Certain it is that the perambulating pie business in London fell very much into disrepute and contempt for several years before the abolition of the corn-laws and the advent of free trade. Opprobrious epithets were hurled at the wandering merchant as he paraded the streets and alleys-epithets which were in no small degree justified by the clammy and clay-like appearance of his goods. By degrees the profession got into disfavor, and the pieman either altogether disappeared, or merged-take the confession for what it is worth-pars in a dealer in foreign nuts, fruits, and other edibles which barred the suspicion of sophistication. Still the relish for pies survived in the public taste, and the willing penny was as ready as ever to guerdon the man who, on fair grounds, would meet the general desire. No sooner, therefore, was the sliding-scale gone to the dogs, and a fair prospect of permanence offered to the speculator, in the guarantee of something like a would naturally seek a cheap locality and a low rental. This, however, is by no means the universal practice. In some of the chief lines of route they are to be found in full operation; and it is rare indeed, unless at seasons when the weather is very unfavorable, that they are not seen well filled with customers. They abound especially in the immediate neighborhood of omnibus and cab stations, and very much in the thoroughfares and short-cuts most frequented by the middle and lower classes. But though the window may be of plate-glass, behind which piles of the finest fruit, joints and quarters of the best meat, a large dish of silver eels, and a portly china bowl charged with a liberal heap of minced-meat, with here and there a few pies, lie temptingly arranged upon napkins of snowy whiteness, yet there is not a chair, stool, or seat of any kind to be found within. No dallying is looked for, nor would it probably be allowed. 66 Pay for your pie, and go," seems the order of the day. True, you may eat it there, as thousands do; but you must eat it standing, and clear of the counter. We have more than once witnessed this interesting operation with mingled mirth and satisfaction; nay, what do we care? ipsi fuimus-we have eaten our pies (and paid for them too, no credit being given)—in loco, and are therefore in a condition to guarantee the truth of what we record. With few exceptions (we include ourselves among the number), there are no theoretical philosophers among the frequenters of the penny-pie shop. The philosophy of bun-eating may be very profound, and may present, as we think it does, some difficult points; but the philosophy of penny-pie eating is abso lutely next to nil. The customer of the pie-shop | swallow-“snatch a fearful joy." The trades is a man (if he is not a boy) with whom a penny man, too, in the immediate vicinity, soon learns is a penny, and a pie is a pie, who, when he has to appreciate the propinquity of the pie-shop, in the former to spend or the latter to eat, goes the addition it furnishes to a cold dinner, and through the ceremony like one impressed with for half the sum it would have cost him if pre the settled conviction that he has business in pared in his own kitchen. Many a time and oft hand which it behoves him to attend to. Look have we dropped in, upon the strength of a genat him as he stands in the centre of the floor, eral invitation, at the dinner-table of an indulgent erect as a grenadier, turning his busy mouth full bibliopole, and recognized the undeniable patés upon the living tide that rushes along Holborn! of "over the way" following upon the heels of Of shame or confusion of face in connection the cold sirloin. With artisans out of work, and with the enviable position in which he stands he with town-travelers of small trade, the pie-shop has not the remotest conception, and could as is a halting-place, its productions presenting a soon be brought to comprehend the differential cheap substitute for a dinner. Few purchases calculus as to entertain a thought of it. What, are made before twelve o'clock in the day; in we ask, would philosophy do for him? Still fact the shutters are barely pulled down much every customer is not so happily organized, and before eleven; yet even then business is carried so blissfully insensible to the attacks of false on for nearly twenty hours out of the twentyshame; and for such as are unprepared for the four. About noon the current of custom sets in, public gaze, or constitutionally averse from it, a and all hands are busy till four or five o'clock; benevolent provision is made by a score of old after which there is a pause, or rather a relaxaplay-bills stuck against the adverse wall, or tion, until evening, when the various bands of swathing the sacks of flour which stand ready operatives, as they are successively released from for use, and which they may peruse, or affect to work, again renew the tide. As these disappear, peruse, in silence, munching their pennyworths the numberless nightly exhibitions, lecture-rooms, the while. The main body of the pie-eaters are, mechanics' institutes, concerts, theatres, and cahowever, perfectly at their ease, and pass the sinos, pour forth their motley hordes, of whom a very few minutes necessary for the discussion large and hungry section find their way to the of their purchases in bandying compliments with pie-house as the only available resource-the three or four good-looking lasses, the very in-public-houses being shut up for the night, and the carnations of good-temper and cleanly tidiness, who from morn to night are as busy as bees in extricating the pies from their metallic moulds, as they are demanded by the customers. These assistants lead no lazy life, but they are without exception plump and healthy-looking, and would seem (if we are to believe the report of an employer) to have an astonishing tendency to the parish church of the district in which they officiate, our informant having been bereaved of three by marriage in the short space of six months. Relays are necessary in most establishments on the main routes, as the shops are open all night long, seldom closing much before three in the morning when situated in the neighborhood of a theatre or a cab-stand. Of the amount of business done in the course of a year it is not easy to form an estimate. Some piehouses are known to consume as much flour as a neighboring baker standing in the same track. The baker makes ninety quartern loaves from the sack of flour, and could hardly make a living upon less than a dozen sacks a week; but as the proportion borne by the crust of a penny-pie to a quartern loaf is a mystery which we have not yet succeeded in penetrating, we are wanting in the elements of an exact calculation. lobster-rooms, oyster saloons, "shades," "coalholes," and "cider-cellars," too expensive for the multitude. After these come the cab-drivers who, having conveyed to their homes the more moneyed classes of sight-seers and play-goers, return to their stands in the vicinity of the shop, and now consider that they may conscientiously indulge in a refreshment of eel-pies, winding up with a couple of "fruiters," to the amount at least of the sum of which they may have been able to cheat their fares. Throughout the summer months the pie trade flourishes with unabated vigor. Each successive fruit, as it ripens and comes to market, adds a fresh impetus to the traffic. As autumn waxes every week supplies a new attraction and a delicious variety; as it wanes into winter, a good store of apples are laid up for future use; and so soon as Jack Frost sets his cold toes upon the pavement, the delicate odor of mince-meat assails the passer-by, and reminds him that Christmas is coming, and that the pieman is ready for him. It is only in the early spring that the pie-shop is under a temporary cloud. The apples of the past year are well-nigh gone, and the few that remain have lost their succulence, and are dry and flavorless. This is the precise season when, as the pieman in "Pickwick" too candidly ob The establishment of these shops has by degrees prodigiously increased the number of pie-served, "fruits is out, and cats is in." Now eaters and the consumption of pies. Thousands and tens of thousands who would decline the handling of a scalding hot morsel in the public street, will yet steal to the corner of a shop, and in front of an old play-bill, delicately dandling the tit-bit on their finger-tips till it cools to the precise temperature at which it is so delicious to VOL. III-No. 15.-C c there is an unaccountable prejudice against cats among the pie-devouring population of the metropolis: we are superior to it ourselves, and can therefore afford to mention it dispassionately, and to express our regret that any species of commerce, much more one so grateful to the palate, and so convenient to the purse, should spirit-shop at the corner of the street experienced an unusually large demand for "gccs" of brandy, and interjectional ejaculations not purely grammatical were not merely audible, but visible, too, in the district. It is averred that the ingenious expedient of the widow's friend, founded as it was upon a profound knowledge of human prejudices, had the desired effect of restoring "the balance of trade." The widow recovered her commerce; the resentful baker was done as brown as if he had been shut up in his owr oven; and the friend who brought about this measure of justice received the hand of the lady as a reward for his interference. periodically suffer declension through the preva- | of every variety of segments of a circle. The lence of an unfounded prejudice. Certain it is that penny-pie eating does materially decline about the early spring season; and it is certain too, that of late years, about the same season, a succession of fine Tabbies of our own have mysteriously disappeared. Attempts are made with rhubarb to combat the depression of business; but success in this matter is very partial-the generality of consumers being impressed with the popular notion that rhubarb is physic, and that physic is not fruit. But relief is at hand; the showers and sunshine of May bring the gooseberry to market; pies resume their importance; and the pieman backed by an inexhaustible store of a fruit grateful to every English palate, commences the campaign with renewed energy, and bids defiance for the rest of the year to the mutations of fortune. We shall close this sketch with a legend of " the day, for the truth of which, however, we do not personally vouch. It was related and received with much gusto at an annual supper lately given by a large pie proprietor to his assembled hands. MY NOVEL; OR, VARIETIES IN EN- Book VI.-INITIAL CHAPTER. which may be regarded in two ways-1st, as life Integral; 2d, as life Fractional. Life integral is that complete whole, expressive of a certain value, large or small, which each man Some time since, so runs the current narra- possesses in himself. Life fractional is that tive, the owner of a thriving mutton-pie concern, same whole seized upon and invaded by other which, after much difficulty, he had succeeded people, and subdivided among them. They who in establishing with borrowed capital, died before get a large slice of it say, 'a very valuable life he had well extricated himself from the responsi- this!' those who get but a small handful say, bilities of debt. The widow carried on the busi-so, so, nothing very great!' those who get ness after his decease, and throve so well, that none of it in the scramble exclaim, 'Good for a speculating baker on the opposite side of the nothing!' way made her the offer of his hand. The lady refused, and the enraged suitor, determined on revenge, immediately converted his baking into an opposition pie-shop; and acting on the principle universal among London bakers, of doing business for the first month or two at a loss, made his pies twice as big as he could honestly afford to make them. The consequence was "I don't understand a word you are saying," growled Captain Roland. My father surveyed his brother with compassion-"I will make it all clear even to your understanding. When I sit down by myself in my study, having carefully locked the door on all of you, alone with my books and thoughts, I am in full possession of my integral life. Í am totus, teres, atque rotundus-a whole human being-equivalent in value we will say, for the sake of illustration, to a fixed round sum-£100, for example. But when I come forth into the common apartment, each of those to whom I am of any worth whatsoever, puts his fingers into the bag that contains me, and takes out of me what he wants. Kitty requires me to pay a bill; Pisistratus to save him the time and trouble of looking into a score or two of books; the children to tell them stories, or play at hide and seek; the carp for bread-crumbs; and so on throughout the circle to which I have incautiously given myself up for plunder and subdivision. The £100 which I represented in my study is now parceled out; I am worth £40 or £50 to Kitty, £20 to Pisistratus, and perhaps 30s. to the carp. This is life fractional. And I cease to be an integral till once more returning to my study, and again closing the door on all existence but my own. Meanwhile, it is perfectly clear that, to those who, whether I am in the study, or whether I am in the commor *Continued from the July Number. sitting-room, get nothing at all out of me, I am | his discoveries to the world, and that from monot worth a farthing. It must be wholly indifferent to a native of Kamtschatka whether Austin Caxton be or be not rased out of the great account-book of human beings. Hence," continued my father-"hence, it follows that the more fractional a life be-id est, the greater the number of persons among whom can be subdivided-why, the more there are say, 'a very valuable life that!' Thus, the euder of a political party, a conqueror, a king, in author who is amusing hundreds or thousands, or millions, has a greater number of persons whom his worth interests and affects than a Saint Simon Stylites could have when he perched himself at the top of a column; although, regarded each in himself, Saint Simon, in his grand mortification of flesh, in the idea that he thereby pleased his Divine Benefactor, might represent a larger sum of moral value per se than Bonaparte or Voltaire." PISISTRATUS.-"Perfectly clear, sir, but I don't see what it has to do with My Novel." tives very little differing in their quality from the motives that make Dr. Squills communicate articles to the Phrenological Journal upon the skulls of Bushmen and wombats. For it is the property of light to travel. When a man has light in him, forth it must go. But the first passage of Genius from its integral state (in which it has been reposing on its own wealth) into the fractional, is usually through a hard and vulgar pathway. It leaves behind it the reveries of solitude, that self-contemplating rest which may be called the Visionary, and enters suddenly into the state that may be called the Positive and Actual. There, it sees the operations of money on the outer life-sees all the ruder and commoner springs of action-sees ambition without nobleness-love without romance—is bustled about, and ordered, and trampled, and cowed-in short, it passes an apprenticeship with some Richard Avenel, and does not yet detect what good and what grandeur, what addition even to the true poetry of the Mr. Caxton.—“Every thing. Your novel, social universe, fractional existences like Richif it is to be a full and comprehensive survey of ard Avenel's bestow; for the pillars that support the 'quicquid agunt homines' (which it ought to society are like those of the Court of the Hebrew be, considering the length and breadth to which Tabernacle-they are of brass it is true, but I foresee, from the slow development of your they are filleted with silver. From such interstory, you meditate extending and expanding mediate state Genius is expelled and driven on i), will embrace the two views of existence, in its way, and would have been so in this case the integral and the fractional. You have shown had Mrs. Fairfield (who is but the representaus the former in Leonard, when he is sitting in tive of the homely natural affections, strongest his mother's cottage, or resting from his work ever in true genius-for light is warm) never by the little fount in Riccabocca's garden. And crushed Mr. Avenel's moss-rose on her sisterly in harmony with that view of his life, you have bosom. Now, forth from this passage and desurrounded him with comparative integrals, only file of transition into the larger world, must subdivided by the tender hands of their immedi- Genius go on, working out its natural destiny ate families and neighbors-your Squires and amidst things and forms the most artificial. Parsons, your Italian Exile and his Jemima. Passions that move and influence the world are With all these, life is more or less the life Nat- at work around it. Often lost sight of itself, ural, and this is always more or less the life its very absence is a silent contrast to the integral. Then comes the life Artificial, which agencies present. Merged and vanished for a is always more or less the life fractional. In while amidst the Practical World, yet we ourthe life Natural wherein we are swayed but by selves feel all the while that it is there; is at our own native impulses and desires, subservient work amidst the workings around it. This only to the great silent law of virtue (which has practical world that effaces it, rose out of some pervaded the universe since it swung out of genius that has gone before; and so each man chaos), a man is of worth from what he is in of genius, though we never come across him, himself Newton was as worthy before the ap- as his operations proceed in places remote from ple fell from the tree as when all Europe ap- our thoroughfares, is yet influencing the practiplauded the discoverer of the Principle of Grav-cal world that ignores him, forever and ever. ity. But in the life Artificial we are only of worth inasmuch as we affect others. And, relative to that life, Newton rose in value more than a million per cent. when down fell the apple from which ultimately sprang up his discovery. In order to keep civilization going, and spread over the world the light of human intellect, we have certain desires within us, ever swelling beyond the ease and independence which belong to us as integrals. Cold man as Newton might be (he once took a lady's hand in his own, Kitty, and used her fore-finger for his tobacco-stopper; great philosopher!)-cold as he might be, he was yet moved into giving That is GENIUS! We can't describe it in books -we can only hint and suggest it, by the accessaries which we artfully heap about it. The entrance of a true Probationer into the terrible ordeal of Practical Life is like that into the miraculous cavern by which, legend informs us, St. Patrick converted Ireland." BLANCHE.-"What is that legend? I never heard of it." MR. CAXTON." My dear, you will find it in a thin folio at the right on entering my study, written by Thomas Messingham, and called 'Florilegium Insula Sanctorum,' &c. The ac count therein is confirmed by the relation of an |