Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

"None at all to him; it is to his profession. He wants me settled near him. He says I am not strong enough to bear the wandering life and hardships I shall have to encounter as an officer's wife. I hope, though, that he will give his consent, now that he sees by our constancy how much we really do like each other. Just think, dear, until to-day, I have hardly had five minutes' uninterrupted conversation with Philip since I was eleven, and our engagement was never alluded to; and yet I never thought of liking any one else, and I was sure his feelings were unchanged; though, of course, until he told me so, I could not speak of it even to my dearest friend."

Before Virginia had finished her little romance, my feelings of annoyance were all lost in sympathy, and we passed the greater part of the night discussing the manner in which Mr. Percy would receive Mr. Marshall's third communication. Virginia seemed to have but little doubt of her father's consent, and neither had I; for I had not yet met a Southern father who had seemed able to refuse any child of his whatever she had fixed her heart upon.

But in this case we were both disappointed. Mr. Percy, usually calm and indulgent, seemed irritated and displeased to an uncommon degree when Mr. Marshall urged his request. He reminded the young officer that he was entirely dependent on his pay, which Mr. Percy said he considered barely enough for one person; told him that, owing to an unfortunate speculation in buying a plantation in Arkansas, which had turned out badly, and to the failure of his cotton crop for the last two years, he had become very much embarrassed, so that he should not be able to assist his daughter, if she married, for some time. He ended by repeating his former decision that, accustomed as Virginia had been to the ease and indulgences of a settled home, he was sure she could never endure the discomforts of a roving life. When she was twenty-one, she might judge for herself; until that time, he wished never to hear the subject mentioned again.

Mr. Marshall was very indignant, and tried to persuade Virginia to renew her engagement with him without her father's knowledge; but to this she would not consent, and he was soon afterwards obliged to return to his post.

Virginia was almost heartbroken at this sudden rupture of a tie that had been formed in her earliest childhood, and strengthened with every subsequent year. I tried to persuade her that the three years which were to intervene before she could make her own decision would pass very quickly; but, hardly heeding my reasonings, she gave herself up to hopeless despair. She was sure, she said, her father never would consent to her union with Philip, and she would never marry without it. Besides, she did not expect to live to be twenty-one. Long before that time she should be in her grave.

At first, I paid no attention to these dismal forebodings, thinking them only the natural expressions of an affectionate heart suffering under such a great disappointment. But gradually I began to fear that they should be realized. She would not eat, and grew pale and pined, and her countenance began to wear an unearthly look of patient sorrow and resignation that I never observed without a pang. I knew that her parents had noticed the alteration in Virginia's health and spirits, for hardly a week passed that some pleasant little excursion or journey was not proposed to her. And thus the long warm summer wore away.

One afternoon, late in September, I received a note from her, saying that she had just returned from a visit to the Mammoth Cave, and would like to see me, to tell me about it. As I had not seen her for three weeks, I hastened to Mr. Percy's immediately, and running up to her room, entered without knocking at the half-open door.

Virginia was sitting in the full light of an afternoon sun, whose rays were streaming in unobstructed by shutters or curtain, seemingly as if the occupant of the room had lost all thought of bodily comfort. Her eyes were fixed on a white cloud floating in the distant sky, and as the wind lifted the heavy bands of hair from her pallid temples, she looked so spiritualized and incorporeal, that I should hardly have been surprised if she had floated out to mingle with the clouds on which she was gazing.

"Why, Virginia, have you been sick?" I asked, after our first hurried greetings.

"No, dear; do I look badly?"

"Very," was my reply, sincere, if impolitic.

"I am rather glad to hear it," said Virginia, "though of course it will be painful to me to leave my father and mother, brothers and sisters; still, I have so little to look forward to in this world, that I cannot care to live. I feel, myself, that I am growing weaker every day, and that is one reason that I hurried home; I wanted to see you and leave some messages with you for Philip."

And Virginia went on to impress upon me a variety of tender messages I was to remember for Mr. Marshall. I tried to listen, but I hardly heard what she said, for I was revolving in my mind a bold undertaking. I knew that Mr. Percy loved his daughter devotedly, and that if once aware of her danger he would consent to any means that seemed necessary for her recovery. If I only dared to speak to him about it--but I stood somewhat in awe of him, which feeling I shared with his children and most of his younger acquaintances. He had a certain grand magnificent way with him that I have never seen, excepting in Southern planters, and but seldom in them. I imagine a Roman patrician may have awed the populace, and impressed the rude Gauls by somewhat the same air and bearing.

However, the longer I listened to Virginia's plaintive words and looked at her sorrowful face, the more I felt that my reverence for her father was being gradually lost in anger at what I considered his cruel regardlessness of her feelings. At last I left Virginia as abruptly as I had entered. I had seen Mr. Percy as I passed, attending to the grafting of some trees in the fruit orchard, and there I bent my steps.

He greeted me with a pleasant smile, and offered me a large Indian peach he had just gathered from the tree. It almost seemed as if he wished to propitiate me, for if I have a weakness it is for peaches--and this particular kind, with its deep red juicy pulp, was an especial favorite. But I took it almost unconsciously, and, looking at him earnestly, I said--

"Mr. Percy, Virginia is very ill."

He looked anxiously upon me.

"She will die," I continued, shaking my head at him.

"Why, Pauline, do you really think so?" asked he; and I could see that the alarm that had been half roused for some time was now thoroughly awake, and producing its effect.

"Yes, I do not see how she can recover--unless--"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you send for Lieutenant Marshall immediately."

"Don't you think Dr. Parkinson might do as well?" asked he.

"No," I answered, shortly, looking upon that question as most unkind trifling with mortal need.

Every one knows the effect that decided impulsive natures have on calm meditative ones. An act Mr. Percy had been trying to make up his mind to perform for some time, but had been putting off, in hopes that secondary measures might avail, he now consented to at once.

"I believe I shall have to do it," he said; "you may tell Virginia so."

My work was but half done. Mr. Percy was a most inveterate dawdle, to use Fanny Kemble's expressive word. If left to himself, the letter might be written in a week, but more probably would be put off for a month. If we lived in antediluvian times, this dilatory way of managing matters might be of little consequence, but life is too short now to afford the loss of even a few weeks' happiness.

"Could you not write to Mr. Marshall now? There is plenty of time to send it to the post-office before dark."

Mr. Percy smiled, and yielded to my request so far as to turn his steps towards the little building dignified with the name of his office, though I do not know what business he had to transact there. He loitered by the way in a manner that tired my patience to its utmost, and once murmured something about having time to graft another tree; but, heedless of his evident desire to escape, I walked on with resolute purpose, and, as you may have seen some stately vessel, with furled sail, submissively yielding herself up to be dragged into port by an energetic little steamer, so did Mr. Perry resign himself to the fate that had for once overtaken him--of doing the right thing at the right time--and seated himself at his writing-desk.

"How am I to know that Mr. Marshall has not changed his mind?" asked Mr. Percy, before beginning to write.

"Virginia showed me a letter just now that she received from him a few hours ago, in which he said that, although she would not consent to any engagement without your approval, he still and always should, as long as she remained single, consider himself bound by his boyish promise."

"Desperately romantic!" said Mr. Percy, and then the movement of his pen told me that he had commenced the epistle that was to put an end to so much sorrow.

Unable to remain quiet, I leaned out of the window, and beckoned to a servant I saw loitering at a little distance.

"Jack," said I, as he came near, "your master is writing a letter, wait here until it is finished, for he will want you to take it directly to the post-office."

The order to wait was one too congenial to his nature not to be readily obeyed, and discovering at a glance the capabilities for enjoyment and repose afforded by an inviting bed of hot sand in which the afternoon sun was expending its last fierce blaze, Jack threw himself down in it, and I had soon the satisfaction of seeing that he was sound asleep, and therefore in no danger of being out of the way when he was wanted.

"Would you like to read the letter, Miss Pauline?" asked Mr. Percy, when he had finished it.

I was very glad to avail myself of this permission. I found that it contained a cordial, though dignified invitation to Mr. Marshall to return to Louden, with a full consent to the engagement between Virginia and himself.

Giving the letter to Jack with directions to put it in the post-office without delay, I hurried to Virginia with the joyful tidings. I expected a burst of tears and an infinitude of thanks. Instead of either, when I had finished my story, she said, in a slightly aggrieved tone--

"I am sorry, Pauline, you told father I should certainly die unless he sent for Philip. It will make him think me so weak."

"Why, Virginia," I exclaimed, taken quite by surprise, "what should I have said?"

"You might have said that I was not very well, or something of that kind."

"And then he would have sent for Dr. Parkinson, and the only result would have been a few doses of calomel or quinine. No, dear, I never once thought of your not being well. I felt sure you would die, and I said so. I am sorry it troubles you, but I think it was the best thing I could do."

Virginia blushed the next time she saw her father, as if he had been her lover instead; but, as he said nothing to her on the subject, she gradually recovered from her embarrassment, and by the time Mr. Marshall joined her she had so far recovered her health as to be able to enjoy without a drawback what some people consider the happiest part of one's life.

Mr. Percy did not relinquish his desire to have his daughter settled near him, and one or two successful years enabled him to effect his wishes. Lieutenant Marshall was induced to resign from the army, and with his wife and six children he is now living and prospering on a plantation; and in the substantial person of Mrs. Marshall, anxious and troubled about many things in her household and maternal concerns, I find it hard to discover the least trace of the shadowy and ethereal girl who had seemed to me at one time much more a part of the spirit world than of this material sphere.

GODEY'S COURSE OF LESSONS IN DRAWING.

LESSON II.

We now proceed to the drawing of curved lines, as in Fig. 11. And as these are the basis of innumerable forms, the pupil must not rest satisfied with a few attempts at forming them; she must try and try again, until she is able, with a single sweep, to draw them correctly. They must be done in one stroke, no piecing being allowed. Let the curved line _a_ be first produced; beginning at the top, bring the arm or wrist down, so that at one operation the form may be traced; do this repeatedly, until the correct outline is attained at every trial. The pupil may next proceed to the curved line _b_, which is merely the line _a_ in another position; then, after repeated trials, the lines _c_, _d_, _e_, _g_, and _h_ may be drawn. These curves should be attempted to be drawn in all manner of positions, beginning at the top, then at the bottom, and making the curve upwards, and so on, until the utmost facility is attained in drawing them, howsoever placed. The curved line, generally known as the "line of beauty," _f a b´_, must next be mastered; it is of the utmost importance to be able to do this easily and correctly. In all these and the future elementary lessons, the pupil must remember that when failing to draw a form correctly, she should at once rub it out or destroy it, and commence a new attempt.

Having, then, acquired a ready facility in drawing the simple elementary curved lines, the pupil may next proceed to the combination of these, as exemplified in simple figures, as circles and ellipses, or ovals. First attempt to draw the circle _a´ b_, Fig. 12; beginning at _a´_, sweep round by the right down to _b_, then from _b_ towards the left and up to _a´_, where the circle was first begun. The pupil may also try to draw it by going the reverse way to the above. We are quite aware that it will be found rather a difficult matter to draw a circle correctly at the first, or rather even after repeated attempts; but the pupil must not be discouraged; by dint of practice she will be able to draw circles of any size very correctly. We have seen circles drawn by hand so that the strictest test applied could scarcely point out an error in their outline, so correctly were they put in. Circles within circles may be drawn, as at _c´_; care should be taken to have the lines at the same distance from each other all round. The ellipse _a b_ must next be attempted; this is a form eminently useful in delineating a multiplicity of forms met with in practice. Ovals within ovals may also be drawn, as at _c d_.

At this stage, the pupil ought to be able to draw combinations of straight and curved lines, as met with in many forms which may be presented to her in after-practice. The examples we intend now to place before her are all in pure outline, having no reference to picturesque arrangement, but designed to aid the pupil in drawing outlines with facility; and to prove to her, by a progression of ideas, that the most complicated forms are but made up of lines of extreme simplicity; that although in the aggregate they may look complicated, in reality, when carefully analyzed, they are amazingly simple. Again, although the pupil may object to them as being simple and formal--in fact, not picturesque or decorative enough to please her hasty fancy--she ought to recollect that, before being able to delineate objects shown to her eye perspectively, she must have a thorough knowledge of the method of drawing the outlines of which the objects are composed, and a facility in making the hand follow aptly and readily the dictation of the eye. These can be alone attained by a steady application to elementary lessons.

Fig. 13 is the moulding, or form known in architecture as the "echinus," or quarter-round. First draw the line _a c_, then _b b_ at the proper distance; next mark with the eye the point _b_ on the line _b b_, to which the curve from _a_ joins; then put in the curve _a b_ with one sweep. The curved portion of the moulding in Fig. 14, known as the "ogee," must be put in at one stroke of the pencil or chalk, previously drawing the top and bottom lines.

Fig. 15 is the "scotia;" it is formed geometrically by two portions of a circle, but the pupil should draw the curve at once with the hand. It is rather a difficult one to draw correctly, but practice will soon overcome the difficulty.

Fig. 16 is termed the "cyma recta;" it affords an exemplification of the line of beauty given in Fig. 11.

Should the pupil ever extend the practice of the art beyond the simple lessons we have given her, she will find, in delineating the outlines of numerous subjects presented her, the vast utility of the "practice" which we have placed before her in the foregoing examples. In sketching ancient or modern architectural edifices, she will find the forms we have presented of frequent recurrence.

We shall now proceed to give examples of the combinations of the forms or outlines we have just noticed.

Fig. 17 is half of the base of an architectural order frequently met with, called the "Doric."

Fig. 18 affords an exemplification of the outline of part of a "cornice" belonging to the Tuscan order. Let us slightly analyze the supposed proceedings of the pupil in delineating this. Suppose Fig. 19 to be the rough sketch as first attempted. On examining the copy as given in Fig. 18, the pupil will at once perceive that the proportions are very incorrect; thus, the distance between the two upper lines, as at _d_, is too little, the fillet being too narrow; again, the point _c_, which regulates the extent of the curve from _a_, is too far from _a_, while the line _c c´_ is too near the line _d_; the space between _c c´_ and the line below it is too wide, and the line _f_ is not perpendicular, but slopes outwards towards _f_; the distance between the line _f g_ and the one immediately above it is also too narrow by at least one-third. Again, the point _h_, where the portion of the circle begins, is too near the point _f_; the line _i_ is also too near that of _f g_; the outline of the curve is not correct, it being too much bulged out near the point _k_; the line _n_ is not straight, and that marked _m_ is too far from the extreme end of the line. The pupil has here indicated a method of analyzing her proceedings, comparing them with the correct copy, which she would do well, in her earlier practice, to use pretty frequently, until she is perfectly at home in correct delineation of outlines. It may be objected that this analysis is hypercriticism utterly uncalled for, from the simplicity of the practice; but let it be noted that if the pupil is not able, or unwilling to take the necessary trouble to enable her to draw simple outlines correctly, how can she be prevented, when she proceeds to more complicated examples, from drawing difficult outlines incorrectly? We hold that if a thing is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well; and how can a pupil do a thing correctly, unless from correct models or rules? and how can she ascertain whether she is following them, unless by careful comparison and examination? How often are the works of painters and artists found fault with, from the incorrectness of outline, and the inconsistency of measurement observable, which might be obviated by a more careful attention to the minute details, but are too frequently spurned at by aspiring artists; but of which, after all, the most complicated picture is but a combination? Thus the outline in Fig. 19 presents all the lines and curves found in Fig. 18, but the whole forms a delineation by no means correct; and if a pupil is allowed to run from simple lessons without being able to master them, then the foundation of the art is sapped, and the superstructure certainly endangered. Correct outlining must be attained before the higher examples of art can be mastered.

Fig. 20 is an outline sketch of the ornament called a quatre-foil, frequently met with in architectural and artistic decoration. It will be a somewhat difficult example to execute at first, but it affords good and useful practice.

Fig. 21 is part of the arch and mullion of a window.

Fig. 22 is an outline sketch of a Gothic recess in a wall.

The reader will perceive that in all the foregoing designs, although consisting of pure outline, there exists a large amount of practice, which, if she has carefully mastered, will be of eminent service to her in the higher branches of the art.

* * * * *

CELESTIAL LOVE LETTERS.

In the Celestial Empire, love matters are managed by a confidant, and the _billets-doux_ written to one another by the papas. At Amoy, a marriage was recently concluded between the respectable houses of Tan and O; on which occasion the following epistles passed between the two old gentlemen:--

From Papa Tan: "The ashamed young brother, surnamed Tan, with
washed head makes obeisance, and writes this letter to the greatly
virtuous and honorable gentleman whose surname is O. I duly
reverence your lofty door. The marriage business will be conducted
according to the six rules of propriety, and I will reverently
announce the business to my ancestors with presents of gems and
silks. I will arrange the things received in your basket, so that
all who tread the threshold of my door may enjoy them. From this
time forward the two surnames will be united, and I trust the
union will be a felicitous one, and last for a hundred years, and
realize the delight experienced by the union. I hope that your
honorable benevolence and consideration will defend me unceasingly.
At present the dragon flies in Sin Hai term, the first month, lucky
day. I bow respectfully. Light before.

TAN."

From Papa O: "The younger brother, surnamed O, of the family to be related by marriage, washes his head clean, knocks his head and bows, and writes this marriage-letter in reply to the far-famed and virtuous gentleman surnamed Tan, the venerable teacher and great man who manages his business. 'Tis matter for congratulation the union of 100 years. I reverence your lofty gate. The prognostic is good, also the divination of the lucky bird. The stars are bright, and the dragons meet together. I, the foolish one, am ashamed of my diminutiveness. I for a long time have desired your dragon powers: now you have not looked down upon me with contempt, but have entertained the statements of the match-maker, and agree to give Kang to be united to my despicable daughter. We all wish the girl to have her hair dressed, and the young man to put on his cap of manhood. The peach-flowers just now look beautiful, the red plum also looks gay. I praise your son, who is like a fairy horse who can cross over through water, and is able to ride upon the wind and waves; but my tiny daughter is like a green window and a feeble plant, and is not worthy of becoming the subject of verse.

"Now, I reverently bow to your good words, and make use of them to display your good breeding. Now, I hope your honorable benevolence will always remember me without end. Now the dragon flies in the Sin Hai term, first month, lucky day. Obeisance! May the future be prosperous.

O."

THE TRIALS OF A NEEDLEWOMAN.

BY T. S. ARTHUR.