off the pickpockets. Howsomever, I shan't take ennything in my pocket to-day but an old red silk handkercher that's seen some sarvice; and if any young feller takes that, he must be dredfully in want of suthin' to wipe his nose

on !"

cloth festered from oue house to another, sez I to Mister Wetherell, "I should think all Bostin was puttin' her winter flannells on!" and that tickled him amazin’ly; seems as if he never'd git done laffin' about it. I hain't got leesure now to tell you abont our visit to the old gentleman, shall have to let that go till some other time; but Mister Wetherell and 'Bijah, they talked with him, and got his picter on a piece of white paper-potygraff, they called it-to bring home with us; you'll find it in the family Bible on that light stand, Miss Pettengil! Arter that, it began to grow dark, and we al went home. Georgyanny, she went up stairs to dress for the ball rite arter supper; and sakes alive! Miss Pettengill, I wish you could a-seen that gal when she come down all dressed! She looked jest like picters of Cinderrilly in the old story books; and I told Ruthy she orter to have glass slippers on. Her young manMister Hunt's his name-he looked proper proud of her when he wrapped her shawl round her when the kerridge driv' up.

The next mornin', bright and airly, we had breakfast-Mr. and Miss Wetherell, and 'Bijah and I, for Ruthy's husband is a rale biznes hand, and allers goes to his store airly; and 'Bijah he'd concluded he must go home in the fust train. Ruthy, she'd hung on for me stay the week out and over Sunday, so I told 'Bijah I'd walk a piece with him on his down to the depôt. Ruthy said she'd bet should git lost.

So that forenoon we started out-Mister Wetherell aud his wife, and 'Bijah and me. Georgyanny, she'd gone off airly with her young man: a proper gentleman too he was! Well, arter ridin' down town in one of them street railroads, Mister Wetherell, he sed we'd all better go to oue of the houses in Bacon street that fronted the Common, where one of his friends lived; and Ruthy and I could set at the winder, and see the whole, while he and 'Bijah could wait for us outside. So, arter a good deal of pushin' and crowdin' we got into the house, and were fortinit enough to be airly and be dre'dful welcome. And there we had a grand sight, and sot for four mortal hours; though it did'nt seem so long. Fust, the percession come out of the State-House, where the Governor had treated the Prince and his folks rale nice; and then they marched onto the Common, the millintary and all, the perlice clearin' the track and drivin' folks this way and t'other. The Prince he rid on the splendidest black hoss, that stepped off as grand as if he was king of all the Boston hosses-and he had on a red coat and hat, and sojer fixin's-the Prince I mean, not the hoss. And then the Common was crowded; and the millintary had the greatest show you ever did see. I thought the great muster up to But," sez I, "I guess not! I've larned Nashua beat all, and wouldn't a-believed that way purty well onto Washington-street, any troopers could a-gone ahead of the I'll jest keep my eye on the Old South steep Governor's Horse Guards; but, my stars! the and hev that for a kind of landmark." So muster wa'n't a sarcumstance to this! Such a sot out. Arter we'd got quite a piece down host of trainers, all on horseback, in red regi-'Bijah, he sez, "Now mother, you'd better mentals-dragooners and lancets they called 'em; and then the malicious companies, all a-walkin' afoot in solemn phalanx-why, 'twas enough to make you think the Revolution was comin' rite over agin! And then the bands a-playin', and the cannons a-firin'; la, suz Miss Pettengill, if I'd a been a young man I'd a got rite up and sung Yankee Doodle in the midst of it all, though I s'pose it would a kind of grated on the ears of this young sprig of a king, 'coz, you know, that was a tune his ancestors couldn't seem to bear ennyhow.

Wall, bymeby, arter all the prancin' and firin', and paradin' on the Common was through, they formed into a percession ag'in; and the Prince he got into a baroosh with the Governor, and the Mare, and some of his English folks who'd come over with him; and the sojers j'ined in afore and behind, and the bands a-playin'; and they toted him all over the city ag'in, up one street and down another, till I should a-thought they'd all got clean tuckered out together. 'Twas dre'dful tejus like! Where they kerried him to, arter that, I disremember, to hear the school children sing, I believe; but Ruthy and our folks we come away then, to go and see the old Revolutioner. As we come along the streets, and I see the red and white flags and strips of

66

back. Walk straight up this street, and that turn off to the right into another street." Te forgot it now, but he giv' me the directions. S I bid him good-by, and telled him I should b to hum by Tuesday, and he must go over look arter Arty and the hired man, and then! set out back alone. You see, it was about ball arter eight then, and I jest thought I'd do whe I meant to all along-go and hev my little visi to see the Prince. I hadn't sedennything about it to 'Bijah and the rest, but I had'nt gi it up. I tell you, Miss Pettengill, I'd gone al the way to Boston a-purpose to see Queen Vic tory's son, and I didn't mean to come back to Bosc'wine without hevin' a talk with him. So I jest inquired of the folks I met the way to the Revere House-I'd heard Ruthy tell the name of the tavern where he stopped-and straight ahead, through thick and thin-and there was a master-crowd-and at last I gotta the door. 'Twas a powerful handsome great stone-house, much as six or seven stories high -a good deal bigger 'n the State House over to Concord ever begun to be.

wenti

Wall, mebbe the folks on the steps thought I belonged there was a boarder, or the landlord's wife, or something-for they jest made way for me, and nobody sed a word till I got

66

chied, and sez I, "Mister Wales, I didn't want to go back to Bosc'wine, up in New Ham'shire, without hevin' it to tell of that I'd spoke to Queen Victory's boy, for I've great respeck for the mother that's brought up sech a family of children so well as your'n has. I hope I don't intrude, Mr. Wales?"

inside the great front entry, and went up-stairs. As I was goin' along the long gallery, a-lookin' at the beautiful flowers they'd been and put there to make it look like a great flower-garden, there stepped up a man dressed in a handsome dark-blue suit with bright buttons, and a star on the left lappel of his coat, and white gloves on, and sez he, “Madam, this is the way to the I kinder thought the young man was touched Prince's rooms, and probably you've mistook by my speakin' so about his marm; for though it." Sez I back, "It's an accident a-purpose, the big man with red whiskers sort of stared mister. Be you the landlord ?". "No, ma'am," ," and pussed up his lips, Albert Ed'ard, he jest answered he; "I'm the perlice ossifer on duty smiled, and sed he, "Oh, no intrusion, ma'am ! here. Would you like to see Mr. Stevens?" Won't you walk in? So in I follered him inter "La, I thought most likely you was him your- his room, and it was rale splendid, Miss Pettenself," sez I-for he was a proper handsome, gill-jest as you used to read about in the large man, with great black whiskers and a rale Arabian Nights' and then he bowed, and pleasant look to his eye. "Wall, yes, you may asked me to set down, the big red-whiskered speak to him if you're a mind ter, for I come a man a-lookin' on all the time, and the others puppose to ask him to show me the way to the a-starin'. I didn't like his looking at me so, Prince's room." Hev you any message, arrant, anny too well; and I guess the Prince knowed ma'am?" asked he. Nothin', Mister Perlice, it, for sez he, kinder low, "Oh, never mind only I come to hev a little spell of talk with him! I never do. He's only the Juke, and let's him. If he hain't got up, I ken wait, for I me do purty much as I'm a mind ter. I told s'pose the young man is kinder gin out, up our folks to hum, that I wouldn't come on this a-dancin' all night. Our folks that went to the long visit at all if I couldn't have a good time ball wa'n't up neither when I come out. P'r'aps of it, and purty much my own way!" "Well, I'm too airly?" Upon that the perliceman you her had a good time, I s'pose, Albert be looked kinder sorry, as if he didn't want to Ed'ard?" sez I. ""Tain't every young man of disapp'int me, and he sed, rale perlite, sez he, your age as has sech a to-do made over him. I'm railly sorry, ma'am, but I'm afeared it'll Now, if my Arty-he's my youngest son, and be impossible for you to hev audience with the kerries on the old place to hum-(my name's Prince. He's now at breakfast, and-" -" "I Ward, Miss Sophrony Ward; I forgot to menken wait," sez I, breakin' in upon him; "and tion it!) if my son Arty should go to England, fyou'll jest tell me which is his sittin'-room, I shouldn't expect ennything of the kind. And I'll go in and set a spell till he's done eatin'." all the odds between you two is, you happened "The best way would be to go into the ladies' to be born Victory's son, and Arty didn't. parlor, and send up your keard," sez he, arter Otherways, you look a deal alike: the shape of thinkin' a minnit and lookin' kinder puzzled. your nose and his'n is just about the same, only Ring the bell, and when the servant comes his is kinder hooked at the end. 'Bout the give him your keard, and he'll kerry it to same age, too, I guess. Lemme see; Albert his highness. That's etiquet!" La, suz, Miss Ed'ard, how old be you?" "Nineteen, ma'am," Pettengill, that seemed queer enough to me, sed he, and he sort of smiled rale purty, and and I up and told him. Sez I, "Du tell, Mis- showed his teeth, and then he asked, "May I ter Perlice, if they use keards down here to inquire, ma'am, if it was your son, Artemas Bostin? I hadn't the faintest idee on't or I'd Ward, I had the honour of a talk with in gone up into the garret, and hunted mine up, and Canady when I was there? He was a showbrought 'em along. I hain't used 'em this man Mister Ward was." "No, I guess it must fifteen year or more-sence they got the factories a-been some other of the name," sed I. "My to spinnin' and weavin' so fast over to Manches- son never was in Canady; besides, his name ter. It seems sort of slow work, keardin' by ain't 'Artemas,' it's Artaxerxes; his father hand now." Upon that the handsome perlice- liked the name better'n I, though it allers man kinder smiled wider, and sez he, "Oh, seemed kinder nateral like. It's in the Catemaʼam, you mistook me. I meant a little piece chism, you knowof white pasteboard with your name writ or printed on it. But I'm really afeard, ma'am, that waitin' here will do no good. Hadn't you better step inter the ladies' parlor, ma'am?" I don't know, Miss Pettengil, but I should a-gone, but jest then a long file of folks come along the gallery, and rite in the middle of e'm I see the Prince; so I jest stood my ground, and stepped a leetle forrard to be ready to speak to him when he come by. There was a big man with red whiskers a-walkin' alongside of him, and a dozen or more English folks: but I didn't mind 'em no more 'n nothin' at all; and when the young man was rite off against me I cur.

"Xerxes the Great did die,

And so must you and I." And so I s'pose that's where husband took it from, Arter Xerxes,' you see! But, as I was a-sayin', it couldn't a-been my son, you see, though Arty allers sez, Sho, now!' when he's kinder surprised, and he'd be jest as likely's not to say it to you as to ennybody. But Arty, he's to work on the old place; and it's to tell him about it that I wanted to hev a little talk with you, and ask about your folks to hum. Your marm, she's well, I s'pose, and all the rest ?"

mind.

ag'in !" An' if you'll believe it, Miss Pettengill, site handsomer'n red ones, enny day, to my he up and took a beautiful ring rite off of his own finger and gin to me. I'll git it and But I'm gettin' kinder out of breath myself, show it to you! I keep it in a little box, on a-tellin' about my visit to see the Prince of cotton wool in my upper drawer. There! ain't Wales, and you must be shorter tired settin' it a rale beauty? La, you'd orter seen how there so long and harkenin', Miss Pettengill. If supprised they ware to Ruthy Ann's when II could stop now, I'd tell you about the rest of showed it to 'em arter I got hum! They sed my visit to Ruthy Ann's-how she and I went they wouldn't a-believed I'd had a talk with the out a-shoppin' together, and then we went to Prince if 'twa'n't for that evvydence; and it Mount Orburn, the most butiful graveyard you turned out, arter all, that Georgyanny hadn't ever see, with the handsomest moniments for danced with Albert Ed'ard, only touched his tombstones, and a meetin'-'us in the middle of hand in the same set; and her father he sed her the yard, with three or four marble figuresold Aunt Sophrony'd got ahead of her time, "statoots," she called 'em-cut out to remember complete. some great men by; and then, Monday, we went over to Charleston, to the Bunker Hill Moniment; and Tuesday, though they all kept urgia' me to stop longer, I had to come home, for I felt kinder anxious about Arty and things up here on the old place, and sez I to Ruthy: "I should admire to; but my fall work's comin' on, apples to string, and presarves to make, and everything to see ter.' .." So I started off. As I was sayin', I should like to tell you all, but there ain't time this mornin'; but ef you'll stop ter dinner, Miss Pettengill-do, now! I guess them apple dumplin's'll be done to a charm!—and arter dinner I'll set down and tell you the rest; though I must say, Miss Pettengill, amongst all the great sights I see down in Bostin, the best and greatest was my visit to see the Prince!

Wall, I thanked the Prince as well as I knowed how, and made a low curchy, and told him I was shore I wished the Bald'in apple was a berrill on 'em inste'd of one, to kerry home to Victory, and then I bid him good-by and come away. The Juke and the rest, they all bowed rale perlite when I was a-comin' out, for they'd seen what a good talk Albert Ed'ard and I'd had together. You never see a man so clever as that perlice ossifer was when I passed by him in the entry. He was rale likely lookin', I ken tell you, Miss Pettengill, and handsome enough to be a Juke or a Lord hisself. 'Tain't all the good looks that is gi'n to "Lords, Dukes, and Earls, and folks of high renown,' as the old song used to say; and black whiskers are 'nuff'

دو

BRAZIL AND BRAZILIAN SOCIETY.

Translated from the "Revue des Deux Mondes,"

THE FESTIVAL.

BY ASHER HALL.

-strange sounds, in which there was nothing human, and which would defy analysis by the The next day the senhor's festival took place. most skilful ear. The negroes took up the reI should be more exact, perhaps, to say the fes-frain at the end of each strophe, and completed tival of the negroes. In the morning punishments were revoked, and the prisons thrown open. A padre of the neighbourhood came and celebrated mass in a large storehouse, which had been temporarily transformed into a chapel. A table, covered with a cloth, served as an altar. Outside were crouched several hundred slaves of both sexes, of all ages, and of every complexion. I was watching the little half-naked negroes, whining like young wild-cats upon their mother's knees, the tame monkeys gravely foraging on the heads of the young negresses, the parrots screeching Quer cafe? (want some coffee?) and the dogs running hither and thither among the groups, when, at a signal given by the sacristan, the choir of negresses commenced a religious hymn. It was a mixture of wild exclamations-an indescribable clucking

the tumult. Things were carried to such a point, that the dog of my guide, which had hitherto been content to play with the monkeys, suddenly got excited at the noise, and began barking at the negroes. His example was soon followed by all his kindred of the estate, and the din shortly became unbearable. Fortunately, the padre went earnestly to work, and mass was soon said. When the crowd had dispersed, I approached the priest and asked him to what language those strange utterances belonged. He confessed that he did not know, and that he had never taken the trouble to inform himself— "E costume" (it is the custom)-he added in conclusion.

After mass the slaves ranged themselves in line in the court-yard to be reviewed. They formed in double rank, parallel to the mansion

The first, composed exclusively of men, presented a fine appearance. The second, composed of women, children, and infants at the breast, did not present so good an aspect, however, as would be desirable on such an occasion. A feitor first called the roll, and then the inspection began. The fazendeiro silently passed along the lines, stopping before each slave with the grave and scrutinizing gaze of an old sergeant inspecting his company. The negro, with bare head, his gaze bent downward, and his arms crossed upon his breast, stretched out his right hand for the benças as soon as his master arrived before him, instantly replacing it in its former position, and waiting with the greatest anxiety for the inquisitive gaze that was fixed upon him to be removed to his neighbour. The only reproofs I saw were administered to those negresses who had neglected to extract the bichos (the jigger, or pulex penetrans) from the feet of their little ones.

DISTRIBUTING MERCHANDISE.

On holidays he kills a hog, which is stuffed and served up whole. His most habitual food, and that of which he is most fond, consists of a sort of cake which he extemporizes on his plate by covering his beans with a thick layer of manioc flour, and mixing the whole. Bread and wine are alike unknown to him. His knife serves him instead of a fork, and a large glass circulating around quenches the thirst of all the guests as in the days of the heroes of Homer.

Such are the customs still practised in the interior of Brazil; but among the rich planters who have been received at the court of the Emperor, Don Pedro II., or who have travelled in Europe, silver plate is found upon the table, and the best wines of France, Spain, and Portugal are freely circulated. Rice, feijão, and manioc are placed at the foot of the table, as if to satisfy the national custom, while cutlets of fresh pork, quarters of mutton, splendid fish, luscious fowl, excellent bread and cheese, and all the legumes of Europe are served up. Two black cooks, who have served their apprenticeship in the French hotels of the large towns upon the coast, take their turn each week, the better to resist the heat of the furnaces, which becomes insupportable under the tropical sun. A crowd of little negroes, especially remarkable for their untidiness, dance like imps around the furnaces, scouring the warming-pans, stirring the fire, strangling the fowls, paring the legumes, and stopping from time to time to extract a bicho or a carrapato (acarus americanus) from their naked feet; then again taking up the food without washing either hands or knives, for time presses, and the chief does not wish to be late. I must nevertheless confess that the black cooks appeared to me quite as skilful as the white ones; yet beneath these fiery skies, and in this hot and moist climate, meats and vege

After the review, my cicerone re-conducted me to the room where mass had been performed. A new metamorphosis had taken place. The chapel had become a store-room, and the altar served as a counter. "All these goods that you see," said he, pointing to the stuff's-woollen caps, shirts, pipes, foulards, calicoes of all kinds, &c.--" are for my slaves. Like most planters in Brazil, I give my slaves their Sundays to work on their little fields, and devote the product to their wardrobe. But the negro left to himself, buys nothing but cacheça, and always goes in rags. I therefore undertake to buy their crops, and pay for them in such articles as they need. That explains why I am every Sunday a merchant. I have thus the double advantage of assuring myself of their morality, and of look-tables are much inferior to those of Europe. ing after their personal neatness. Besides, I let them have everything at cost, as you may convince yourself by examining the accounts. A feitor keeps the register while I distribute the required articles myself. The goods most in demand are pipes and red foulards. Notwithstanding all the attention of myself and my secretary, there seldom passes a Sunday without my missing some articles, so much does theft seem to be the element of those rogues."

THE BRAZILIAN CUISINE.

At length the breakfast hour arrived. It was difficult to find places around the long table arranged in the immense hall, for all the numerous guests who had come to congratulate the senhor. The service, which presented at once the most luxurious comfort and the greatest simplicity, permitted me to study at leisure the culinary resources of the country, and the taste of the inhabitants.

Like all his congeners of the torrid zone, the South-American is temperate in eating. Rice boiled in water, beans cooked with lard and manioc flour, compose his food the year round.

The rapid development of plants renders them ligneous, and therefore very tough. If eaten before they are sufficiently matured, they are watery and insipid. It is the same with animals, which, nourished by herbage that is juiceless, so to speak, furnish a meat flat and without savor. The only exception is the flesh of the pig and the lamb. The same may also be said of fruit. That which constitutes the delicacy of the peaches, prunes, figs, raisins, &c., of Provence, and the two neighbouring Peninsulas, is the slight predominance of an acid savor in a sweet pulp. A dry climate is necessary for the development of this aroma, and to prevent the excess of sugar from overpowering it. Unfor tunately, this is not the case in the tropics. The enormous quantity of water conveyed in the sap, and which vegetables absorb through every pore, in an atmosphere constantly loaded with vapors, swells the fruit, neutralizes its acidity, and changes the pulp into a sweet paste (mélasse). In justice, however, it must be ob served that the creoles appreciate the sweet juice of the pulp better than ourselves, and with them, therefore, their fruit has the advantage. The doces (sweetmeats) which they form from