"Yes, Bleetzer," says I, "I am."
"Made any purchase yet?" said he.
"Not yet," said I.

smiled as if he was telling me something I knew already.

Anthony, having only a few caps in his pouch, bought a fresh box in Williamsburg. I do not think that box of caps is broken open to this day. Talk of ducks, and "forests wide and long!"

"I know of the very thing for you," said Bleetzer, "a charming little place” (Miss Quigley pricked up her ears) "belonging to Mrs. Bleetzer's sister, only two hours from town-Were you ever behind Williamsburg? Sabine don't, for Heaven's sake, get more than two Farm indeed! hours from town-provided she would sell. impression is that she would."

"Where is it?" said Mrs. Quigley.

My

I had no previous notion of the flatness of the country in that neighborhood. It seemed very odd to me how a brook could run at all; there

"A little way back of Williamsburg," said certainly could be no fast running. There was Bleetzer, "fine country."

not the faintest "wood-note" of any game. Anthony thought it might be a snipe country in the season; but it was not the season, I suspect. There were two or three tame geese we saw upon the Sabine Farm, who took to the ditch

Indeed she has, she has a passion for any thing on our appearance. Anthony did not waste she likes.

"Any rocks or waterfalls?" said she.

his powder, though I am sorry to say he peppered the geese and the place generally with

"I think so;" said Bleetzer, "I'm quite sure oaths. there's a brook."

As for fever and ague, an old negro man who

"And then we shall have ducks," said Mary was in charge of the premises told us "it was a Jane; "that will be so pretty!"

"Is there good society in the neighborhood?” said Mrs. Quigley.

"Quiet but polished," said Bleetzer.

"Is there good shooting about there?" asked Anthony, (that is Master Quigley's name).

Mr. Bleetzer said he presumed there was, without a doubt. He had often observed, indeed, that wild fowl took to the low countries and neighborhood of brooks.

precious place for that."

66

66

'Pretty sickly then," said I, "is it?"

Oh, Lud, no, not a bit on't."

"How about the fever and ague ?"

"Bless your soul, we don't call that sickly; we has it rigilar 'bout here."

"Is it dangerous ?" said Anthony.

"Dangerous! Lud a massa, 'tsnot half so dangerous as that are gun o' yourn. There's them's had it these forty years gone, and prime old bucks yet."

What a cottage it was, to be sure! Blossom was right. There would be an ell and a wing to put on. How could Bleetzer ever recommend such a place as that? The "Sabine Farm" would never do.

I must say that I formed quite a favorable opinion of the place in the rear of Williamsburg; Mary Jane was quite sure she should be charmed with it. I do not pretend that I had at that time any definite notion of what the appearance of the place might be. I think Mary Jane had. Such is the force of that girl's imagination! If an up-town school can accomplish a woman, I think that young woman is accomplished. In anticipation of her pleasure behind Williamsburg (in case Bleetzer's wife's sister would sell the place), she read us in the evening this pas-country? Gas, you think, and pipes. Deuce sage, taken from a book of poetry:

"The lofty woods, the forests wide and long,

Adorned with leaves and branches fresh and green,
In whose cool bowers the birds, with many a song,
Do welcome with their quire the summer's queen;
The meadows fair, where Flora's gifts among
Are intermix'd with verdant grass between;
The silver scaled fish that softly swim

Within the sweet brook's crystal watery stream.'"
I determined to go over with Anthony, and
take a look at the place. Anthony said he would
put on his shooting-jacket, and take his gun, and
bring back a few ducks with him. Mary Jane
entreated him not to kill them all off.

The place, I learned from Bleetzer, was called "Sabine Farm," which my ladies thought a very humdrum name, but which a spruce gentleman whom I consulted on board the Williamsburg ferry-boat about the situation seemed to have a fancy for. He didn't know the place, he said, but it certainly had a ravishing name; and he

"Oh," said Bleetzer, when he came in that evening, "you've got high-falutin notions, Quigley. The country will be the country you know. It ain't like town; you can't make it like town; it never was like town. For instance, how the deuce are you going to light your house in the

a bit of it! You must live by candle-lightsixty cents a pound, Judd's best. There's water, again! what'll you do for water? Of course you think of Croton, and a stop-cock in the corNo such thing, Quigley. You must take the country as it is. If you get a creek on your own grounds, with a good dip for a tin pail, you are lucky."

ner.

"But the brook, Mr. Bleetzer," said Miss Quigley, "you said there was a brook."

"Creek is a brook, mam. Your poets make the difference. As for rocks and waterfalls and all that, Miss Quigley, they are only to be found in the wild parts, where I am free to say, you couldn't raise-not your own parsneps." I acquiesced in this.

Mr. Bleetzer went on to say, however, that his brother-in-law, Mrs. Bleetzer's sister's husband, had lived on the Sabine Farm for ten years, and "such beets and carrots as he raised! Rad

ishes every Easter Sunday! ishes, Miss Quigley ?"

Do you love rad

Miss Quigley doted on radishes. "I don't think," said Bleetzer, "there's such a productive soil for radishes within fifty miles of New York."

"Guy," said the boy, turning toward me,
"you must be a stranger in these parts, you
must."
"I am," said I.

"Never heard o' chills and fever?"
"Heard of it," said I, "but never saw a

Anthony's account, however, dampened what-case;" as indeed I never had.
ever expectations Mr. Bleetzer might have
raised.

Somebody, I think a friend of Mrs. Quigley, recommended a place up the river. Such society as there was up the river! What a place it must be for genteel people! I think Mary Jane blushed at the very thought of going to live up the river.

Behind Williamsburg was vulgar; Mrs. Quigley thought so from the first. "To tell the truth" (this is what she whispered to me privately), "I fancy Bleetzer's wife's relations are only so-so kind of people."

66

Mrs. Quigley went on further to say, that country residences and farms were common enough every where, but up the river people had seats." For instance, there was the seat of that fine old gentleman, Mr. Antique Moire, beautifully watered, and such a lawn-like surface! Was it not enrolled upon the river maps "Seat of Antique Moire, Esq. ?" Why should there not be a "Seat of Joseph Quigley, Esq.," in that neighborhood? What if Mrs. Quigley did not know Mrs. Moire! what if Mary Jane did not visit Miss Sophy Crinoline Moire! Could the association fail to be agreeable, under the same serene sky, enjoying the same water-view, employing, perhaps, a far superior gardener to the Moire gardener; and Mrs. Quigley would send an occasional bunch of flowers?

All this, under Mrs. Quigley's way of telling it, was very captivating; so I set off one day in April up the river in search of a seat."

66

"Jim's it is, then,' ," said the stable-man; "genl'm'n wants to see the 'seats' about, continued he to a thin-faced chap who just now made his appearance. ~

The nag was driven up presently; the stableman waved us away smilingly, and we dashed off up the hillside.

"Then ye sees it now," said the lad.

It was a good opportunity to gain some information about the disease. I can not say that I was favorably impressed by the account Jim gave of himself. I should say it must be a very unpleasant complaint.

"Do they have it much hereabout?" inquired I.

"Have it like pison," said the boy.
"And yet people say it's a healthy region?"

"Oh, we all says so, Sir; because why, ye see, it's like givin' a horse a bad name; and exceptin' the shakes, it's pooty middlin' healthy, Sir."

I asked about the gentlemen who came up to reside during the summer.

"Well, Sir, the gentlemens what's got 'seats,' keeps pooty close after dark, and don't catch it; or if they does, or finds all the servants goin' off on account of the chills, they ups and puts an advertisement in, sayin' its one of the healthiest towns on the river. We understands all that, Sir. Lookin' out for a 'scat,' Sir?" I was.

Jim thought he knew of a place that would be just the thing; "sightly, and middlin' free from fever."

I can not say I was greatly charmed with the place. I did not have a very flattering account to carry back to Mary Jane. North River "seats," in their natural condition, are exceedingly rough places. The quantity of stones about them is really quite imposing. I am told they can be worked up very tastefully into rustic fences and such like; but I am further told that it is one of the most expensive tastes a man can cultivate. I am inclined to believe this to be

true.

I was shown several gardens said to be immensely productive; and yet they had been erected (if I may employ a city word) upon the most uninviting localities. The rocks had been blasted, the hollows filled up, the slopes terraced, the walks graveled, and the result had been some parcels of most surprising beets and parsneps ever seen at a New York fair. The work had been expensive, it is true; a thousand dollars the acre at the very least; and the gardener's wages (who was a thorough fellow) about

I looked askance at Jim; he had a fearfully five hundred a year; but, bless my soul, what invalid look.

"Healthy about here?" said I.

“They calls it pooty healthy," said Jim. "You've been sick, haven't you?" said I. "Guy, Sir, you'd better ask," said Jim. "Well, now, I hope ?" continued I.

parsneps! what tomatoes! what satisfaction! what mention at the farmers' clubs by Mapes and others!

People talk about Axminster carpets and brocade curtains, and that sort of thing; but my own opinion is that prize vegetables, as grown

"You heard boss, didn't ye ?” said Jim; "it's by gentlemen farmers at their "seats,” and as

my well day to-day."

"Well day?" repeated I.

noticed by Mapes, Meigs, and others, are the most expensive luxuries known to the American

VOL. XV.-No. 86.-0

merchant life. It is my opinion that every to- | the photograph could be seen down town. mato of extra size grown at any of the "seats" I had the honor of visiting, must stand them in (that is, the proprietors) from eight to ten shillings apiece; and this I consider to be a tall price, even for prize vegetables.

was as pretty a little picture as one often sees.

In short, between the gardens and the chills, I gave up all notion of a "seat" upon the river. Mrs. Quigley, Miss Quigley, Master Quigley, and myself next consulted the advertisements. How charmingly they do read! "A snug little quiet country place, only two hours from town, well shaded, highly picturesque, and commanding one of the finest views in this or any country may be had for the trifle of seventy dollars an acre. The very place for a retired merchant." How we doted on that little farm! How Mary Jane dressed it up with a rose-bush (Baltimore belle) at the door, and honey-suckles, and a pony grazing on the lawn!

I went to see it; only over in New Jersey, on the Palisades. There was a fine view to be sure, but no house as yet-indeed, no house in the neighborhood. I think it was one of the quietest places I ever visited in my life. The cab-driver who took me there said it was "an uncommon sightly place." He had been there before to a picnic, and he and his friends had tried to set a flag-staff, but couldn't.

"I don't believe," said Jehu, "that a man could set a crow-bar into this ere farm, mor'n three inches, in any one spot."

And yet there were a few straggling trees there: I can't yet understand how they grow; for I prospected a little with my cane in the soil, and found that Jehu was right. My daughter's rose-bush and honey-suckle could never thrive there.

I must say I was a little indignant. I went again to the city office where the newspaper had referred me, and expressed myself to the people in attendance somewhat indignantly.

"Mr.

The agent drew me into a side-room. Quigley," said he (how he knew my name I can not say), "I suspect you are right. I am inclined to think the farm is mostly rock; but Sir (and here he put his forefinger in the top button-hole of my surtout), if it's rock, as you think, it's the greatest speculation a man can possibly make. Consider, Mr. Quigley, for a moment the price of building stone."

I did.

"Very well so much a square yard; how much have you then to the acre, measuring only to the surface of the river ?"

A great deal to be sure. "Your flats are there under the cliff; a blast loads them; the current takes them down; Sir, it's dirt cheap."

I talked the matter over at home. Mrs. Quigley didn't want a quarry; she wanted a country place.

So there was nothing to do but look again. I have not much faith in photography as applied to country places. We heard of the photograph of a country residence which was on sale;

It

Notwithstanding I nudged Miss Quigley to contain herself, she broke out with saying it was beautiful, and just the thing we wanted. Over and over again, that girl's imagination is a source of expense to me.

There was nothing to do, but we must go and see the Gothic cottage; Mrs. Quigley couldn't believe it was the same. The wild grass and the gravel waste about it were not fairly represented in the photograph. Besides which, Miss Quigley said it was new and painty, and stuck up.

If I ever have a house to sell, I shall have it photographed. It makes a twenty per cent. better thing of it at the very least. Moreover, a photograph doesn't give one a hint of any chills and fever. It doesn't take in the low grounds about a place, or the canal.

An old gentleman we met on our return told us, confidentially, it was as much as a man's life was worth to pass a summer in that neighborhood. We gave up all thought of the photograph. "Mrs. Quigley," said I, "suppose we try next the New Haven Road?"

"We shall have all our necks broken," said Mrs. Quigley.

"I don't think so," said I. "It's much too expensive breaking people's necks. It has cost the road some three hundred thousand dollars to balance that old Norwalk account, and it's an economic corporation. I don't think there's a company any where which pays out less for extra cars and dépôt room. You may be sure these people have learned to put a value on a sound neck since they have had them to pay for."

"But the pickpockets," said Mrs. Quigley; they say the New Haven station is a dreadful place for pickpockets."

So it is, indeed. It couldn't be contrived more nicely for them. And yet does any body suppose that the New Haven corporation is in league with the pickpockets? Does any body suppose that this judicious and provident company have actually secured and sustained their exceedingly dark, narrow station-house near the corner of Canal Street as an encouragement to men who go about filching pockets?

And yet, if this same company take a man's fare, and compel him to stand all the way down to Rye, not once only, but time and again, are they not turned filchers themselves, only in a genteel manner? Is there any excuse for it, except that people can't go in any other way, and so must submit?

Have the New Haven Company any bowels? I think not.

However, the Quigleys went down to Rye -Mr. and Master Quigley standing, and Mrs. and Miss Quigley having secured a seat. Rye is a pretty name; there is an English town of that name. Mr. Havor Morgage (a large and thriving real estate agent) had given us a list

of places thereabout for sale. What a splendid | ness, that there has been a well-authenticated list it was! The descriptions, written out as case of consumption originating here in the past they were in ink, seemed more truthful than in several years." print. For my part I have grown suspicious of printed matter.

And besides the descriptions written out in a clerkly hand, we recognized some remarks thrown into the margin by Mr. Morgage himself, such

as

66

'Really!" said Mrs. Quigley.

"How about the chills and fever?" said Anthony.

"Oh, you refer, perhaps, to-intermittent?" Mrs. Quigley said he did.

"There have been," said Mr. Flinn, "one or

-"Mr. Quigley will find this a charming two sporadic cases. Would madam like to look little retreat." over the house ?"

—“A very cheap place."

"A delightful establishment."

When we had left Mr. Flinn's, I said, "Mrs. Quigley, do you know the meaning of spo

-"One of the most desirable situations in radic?" this country."

Indeed I had no idea of the immense number of desirable situations for "seats" which this country affords until I came to be on the look out for a place. I rarely hear of any other. As a business man, I must say that I have been a little startled by the great number of them which are on sale, particularly about Rye. Why should any body wish to go away from Rye? It is a pretty place; on the New Haven Road, it is true; but still there is access by water, and a fairish turnpike, understood to be safe, and without drawbridges.

I don't think I ever visited a locality where the people speak so charitably of each other as in Rye. Mrs. Quigley was, of course, a little curious about the neighborhood. The invariable reply to Mrs. Quigley's inquiry at all the places we visited with a view to purchase, was, that the neighborhood was delightful.

I wondered more and more why people should wish to leave Rye. Can any body, not in the secret, tell me why a man should be willing to desert so charming a locality?

I ventured to ask the question of an old gentleman not long retired from the city, whose fine place was in the market. I will call him Mr. Flinn.

"Well, Sir," said he, "Mrs. Flinn doesn't altogether like the-er-retirement of the country, being accustomed to a large and gay society. You perceive, Sir, it's something-er-cramping to be down here in a small way. In short, Sir, you perceive Mrs. Flinn doesn't like the place." "Not ill here, I hope," Mrs. Quigley ventured to ask.

"Oh, bless you, no; Rye's a remarkably healthy place; I don't think there's a healthier situation-er-between here and New York." I really don't suppose there is.

"Any fever and ague, Mr. Flinn ?" "Oh, well, you perceive, Mr.

your pardon, Sir-"

I beg

"I don't," said she, "but I think it looks very suspicious, Mr. Quigley."

It did. I entertained the opinion at the time (though I did not name it to Mrs. Quigley) that it meant spasmodic.

The matter made us very particular in our inquiries. We certainly did hear of several cases of fever and ague about the localities we visited in Rye, "mild cases," and, very singularly, due in each instance to a drain or ditch which some Irish neighbor had been opening the past summer.

It is surprising how people will continue to dig drains, or cellars, summer after summer.

Another remarkable fact is, I find, observable in all the places along the Sound which are at all liable to any sporadic cases of intermittent; and that is that the particular locality occupied or offered for sale by your informant is remarkably free from any suspicion of fever. The sporadic cases invariably appear a little to the southward or westward.

If one must live in the same town with a troublesome disease (such as I judge the intermittent to be), it is of course pleasant to know your neighbor's place is more liable to it than your own. This may be stated in rather an unchristian way; but, I think, in a natural way.

I had far rather live out of reach of the affair altogether. Can any one be good enough to inform Mr. Quigley of a nice place, within thirty miles of New York, which is above all suspicion of fever and ague; where there are no sporadic cases of intermittent; where they have not recently been opening some drain which "acts as a local cause." If any one could, Mr. Quigley would be deeply grateful.

Having returned safely over the New Haven Road, with the money still in their pockets, the Quigleys continue to be looking out for a snug place in the country.

Mrs. Quigley is anxious to have a genteel neighborhood, and pleasant people about; Miss

"Quigley, Sir," said I; "my name is Quig- Quigley would like a soil adapted to the growth ley."

of honey-suckles and peaches, with a brook me

"Ah, Quigley-Quigley & Ellets, Maiden andering in the distance; Anthony, my son, is Lane, perhaps?"

I am I said I was.

"I regard," said Mr. Flinn, "the town of Rye as one of the healthiest upon the Eastern

not particular about the picturesque, but would like a good ducking "mash," and a fairish bit of turnpike for a 2 44.

As for myself, all I ask is a good vegetable end of Long Island Sound. I really do not sup-garden (already erected), and no intermittentpose, Mr. Quigley, now since you speak of sick- sporadic or otherwise-about the locality.

THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON THE

THIRD.

BIOGRAPHIES of the present Emperor of

the French are following each other with some rapidity in Europe. French Republicans, Bonapartists, British officers, thinkers, talkers, and scribblers, all seem to have fallen foul of Louis Napoleon with common accord. A list of recent Imperial biographies might be extended almost to any length.

As there is comparatively but little known of him in this hemisphere, we propose to condense into a few pages the salient features of his career, endeavoring to judge him from an independent point of view.

derstood him best, and deserved to be nearest his heart, was the high-souled Hortense.

It is recorded that Louis Napoleon began to influence the destinies of France when he was six years old. On that dreadful night, when the utter destruction of Napoleon's hopes and the proximate capture of Paris by the advancing allies burst upon the panic-stricken Parisians, and the Empress Marie Louise, obedient to Napoleon's mandate, "Rather let my son be at the bottom of the Seine than in the hands of the allies," fled with the King of Rome to the Provinces, Queen Hortense sank to sleep, overcome with weariness and excitement. She was roused by a letter from her husband-who troubled himself very little about her in general

refused. He demanded his children. She sent them to him. He changed his mind on receiving them, and sent them back before daybreak. Next morning she appeared in the streets with the two little boys, showed them to the soldiers

King of Rome-and swore to remain with them. The National Guard was roused to enthusiasm by her spirited conduct, and carried the two boys in triumph along the streets. Louis Napoleon was then just six years old.

History tells us that his father was Napoleon's brother Louis, who was made King of Hol-directing her to follow the Empress. She land against his will, was married to Hortense Beauharnais, also against his will, abdicated, and lived an obscure and uneventful life in Italy for a quarter of a century afterward. But these facts are by no means so clear as might be wished. The date of the marriage of Hor--who were exasperated at the departure of the tense and Louis is strangely uncertain. All that can be said positively is, that they were probably married in January, 1802. On referring to the historical registers, it appears that their eldest son-whose whole existence is clouded in mystery-died 5th May, 1807, at the age of seven. Napoleon had chosen him to be his heir, and loved him with the fondness of a father. It was only when he died that the idea of a divorce from Josephine entered the Emperor's mind. For the two other children of Hortense, Napoleon and Louis, the Emperor always evinced a like fatherly feeling. It was well understood that, in the event of the death of the King of Rome, they were to succeed to the Empire.

one.

A more striking contrast than Louis and his wife can not well be imagined. It has been usual with the assailants of Napoleon to laud Louis for certain philosophical virtues. The fact was, he was the most insignificant creature in the world-the imbecile of his family. He never knew his own mind for two days together. He never did or said a sensible thing. He never helped his brother, though he was content to profit by his greatness while carping at his policy. He had not soul enough to love any Hortense, on the contrary, had a virile spirit. In her were gathered some of the highest qualities of human nature-boldness, perseverance, constancy, self-reliance, energy. She despised her husband, and loved no one but the Emperor. Him she idolized. At his command she married Louis; by his consent she left him; at his invitation she went to live near the Tuileries; by his command she spent an hour every day of her life with him. First and last, her soul was his. We have all heard of the boundless confidence reposed in him by the soldiers of his guard. There was not a trooper who believed in him more firmly or cherished him more ardently than Hortense Beauharnais. Of all the women of his court, the one who un

Hortense did not keep her oath. Paris was past defense; with the consent of the officers she fled. At Rambouillet she overtook the exkings Jerome and Joseph eating a hasty supper, and with nerves much disturbed. Louis was with Marie Louise. The ex-kings coolly hoped that Hortense was well provided with money, as she would probably be taken by the Cossacks if she were not. They had secured all the horses at the place for themselves. deed, the only thing the Queen and her children had to eat that night was a crust of bread which one of her women contrived to purloin. Louis, at this juncture, wrote from Blois to his wife, ordering her to repair thither without delay. The heartlessness of the fellow roused her.

In

"I had intended to go to Blois," she said; "but now I won't."

It seems that the Emperor Alexander was smitten with a characteristic Platonic passion for Hortense. He insisted on her retaining an estate, with the title of Duchess, under the Bourbons. He spent most of his time with her while at Paris. A strange anecdote is told of his intercourse with little Louis Napoleon. The boys could not be made to understand that there were kings in Prussia and Russia who were not their uncles. All the kings they had ever known they had been in the habit of addressing as "uncle;" why not Alexander too? Was he no relation at all to the Emperor? inquired the unconscious juvenile satirists. They were given to understand that, though an enemy, he was a generous one, and that their mother owed him all she had in the world. The next time Alexander visited the family little Louis crept up to him, pushed a ring into his hand, and