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a little man, puffing, elbowing, and dragging | waska, for the features of the landscape throughthrough the crowd, as a tug-boat draws a ship, out the settlement are much the same. At ina tall lass, with features and gown like an army tervals a huge wind-mill threw out its long arms nurse's, and places her in position. Two more to the breeze, and turned slowly around. Here couples follow, and the set is complete. Now was another chapel. Anon a sparkling stream all is hushed save an occasional whisper. No crossed the road and tumbled into the St. John. one smiles. It is as solemn as a Quaker meet- But all was quiet, profoundly quiet. Would the ing. The dance commences with a preliminary denizen of the busy metropolis obtain some idea shuffle, the partners facing each other, and so of perfect tranquillity, let him visit the ancient, close that a hoop might be slipped over the two. peaceful settlement of Madawaska. Then heel and toe begin to tap, slowly at first, but soon faster and faster, and louder and louder, until they rattle on like a frightened locomotive, or a watch with a broken mainspringnever ceasing, scarcely moving from the spot, but bobbing up and down with distressing perseverance, until the breath comes short. Then they shift positions and repeat, cross over and repeat, back to place and repeat. The music flags, tired nature demands a pause, the watch runs down, and they give place to others. During a lull conversation revives, and frequent resort is had to a cupboard in the adjoining room. The maître de danse approaches, and addresses the strangers with a smile:

"If you wish some rum, here it is. Help yourselves. Or if you wish to dance I will get you partners. We desire that you should enjoy yourselves. Don't go away dissatisfied."

The travelers did not tarry long among this peculiar people, for Cliquot, though interested at first, soon found the country "too dooced slow," and buckwheat bread and garlic did not agree with Penman's digestion. One fine morning found them seated upon the top of an H. B. M. mail-coach, rattling over the hard and level road that runs beside the St. John to Woodstock and Frederickton.

At Tobique they watched the Micmacs spearing salmon by torchlight, and would fain have lingered there a while. That they did not, was doubtless for good and sufficient reasons best known to themselves. Upon the deck of the steamer that runs to the city of St. John they often recalled the little incidents of their journey, and they will ever remember with pleasure their visit to the wild Aroostook and the peaceful Madawaska.

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TABLEAUX VIVANS. HEN the war began we began. We met at the Hall and worked for the soldiers. We laid on the altar of our country every old towel, sheet, and table-cloth that we could spare, and some that we could not. We rolled bandages, we folded compresses. 'Capable" ones among us stood scissors in hand the livelong afternoon, and cut out drawers and shirts of that Brobdignagian pattern which the hospital directions called for. Matron and maid and sewing-machines worked vigorously in the makingup. And round the tables sat the younger army, their bright hair tucked away in nets, their arms and shoulders protected by gay sacks, each group a pretty bit of color that an artist might have joyed to study. (Unluckily we have no artists but "Daguerreian" ones, to whom color does not

Anon the dancing is resumed, and the warbling and fiddling in the corner begins again. Another half hour of patient, laborious gayety succeeds. Meanwhile Penman sits restless and fidgeting. Unconciously his feet begin to tap to the music, for the jig is really a lively one. He watches each motion of the dancers, and chafes like a steed under the curb. Presently the dancing ceases, but the music still goes on. The arena is clear. Penman makes a bound into the middle of the ring, bows, and commences a lively "walk around." The fiddle at once catches the inspiration, and scrapes with redoubled vigor. The crowd presses nearer. Now he wheels to place, shuffles, and warms up to his work with every limb and muscle in motion. Down go his feet with a clatter like a threshing machine. He twists, thumps, twirls, and pirouettes through jig, hornpipe, reel, and the whole alphabet of fancy steps, executed in double-shuffle and pigeon-wing, and finally winds up with an inimit-matter much.) Scrape, scrape went their knives, able pas seul amidst the acclamations of the ad- fast as the chatter of their youthful tongues, and miring throng. Never was there such a "break- higher and higher rose the fleecy snow of lint. down" in Madawaska. Now he wipes his brow All was activity, good-humor, and achievement. and retires, the crowd opening a passage for this As summer went on domestic wines flowed new star in the Arcadian firmament. Present-in; dozens of pairs of neat hospital slippers ly the master of ceremonies looks for him in his accustomed seat, but he has vanished like a meteor from the heavens. Cliquot has gone

too.

All night long the fiddle fiddles, the dancers dance, and when the morning dawns upon the few who still linger, moving feebly and wellnigh exhausted, the two strangers are far on their way up the smoothly-flowing river.

Little of incident occurred to vary their somewhat monotonous journey through the Mada

walked up the hall-stairs into our boxes. Jellies, a sparkling mass of tremulous garnet; dried fruits, that held in their shriveled plumpness gallons of refreshment for the sick and weary, arrived from every quarter of the compass. With winter storms came on the gray yarn socks and mittens, the votive tributes of pillow and comforter, that were to make our soldiers' hardships a little more endurable.

Our society was unlike all societies known to past ages. A strife for office is traditional in

such bodies, but here were three venerable ladies, each declaring she would not be the President. You have heard of gossip at such meetings; but very poor fun did they realize who went to our gatherings hungry for a bit of piquant scandal. Solid work was the order of the day, varied with news of "our boys," and the like congenial themes. And I suppose every little village of a thousand souls held similar conclaves. Such, my friends, is the golden bond of patriotism. We look back on our record with the proud consciousness that if Secretaries in the Cabinet and Generals in the field had wrought toward their object with the same harmony and enthusiasm that we gave to ours, the "ninety days" would be very nearly over. I trust there is nothing in that sentence to call for a suspension of habeas corpus!

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had; and yet we must have something, or the
whole affair will fall through."
"Desperate cases require desperate remedies,"
said Frank. "I don't see but I must write you
one myself."

"Perhaps not," returned Emma, "but we do not wish to make too great demands upon their charity. When the entertainment is just as good as ever we can get it, then they must make allowances for any failure. As for this particular matter, I've looked through all the old School Dialogues and Orators, and written to every girl I know that ever was concerned in an academy But financial difficulties arose. Mr. Chase exhibition, and can get no help at all. They was troubled for the sinews of war, and so were have forgotten what pieces they used, or don't Gold went up to 170, and Canton flannel know where to find them, and the few I can get to three shillings. Our subscriptions, paid in ev-are either trashy or worn out. Nothing is to be ery fortnight, did not meet the exigency. There were full meetings and scanty work; three ladies to every shirt, four hands ready to pounce on every button-hole or knitting-needle that showed itself. In this strait we paused. There was no Congress to give us a hundred millions or so, but a fairer ally came to our aid. No factious House or tiresome Senate, but a graceful representation from the youthful patriotism of the town. The girls said they would get up an entertainment-tableaux vivans, charades, and Frank Hall was a young man whom Fate what not-and give the proceeds to the soci- brought to our village about this time. Woundety. Admirable idea! Swift imagination be-ed at Fair Oaks, he had a tedious recovery, and held the Hall lit up and crowded, chairs in the alleys, twenty on every settee designed for twelve, and a stream of people and dollars still pouring, pouring steadily in.

"Oh, Frank, if you would!" said his cousin Marian.

"And oh, Mr. Hall, how good of you!" chorused the girls. Emma alone said nothing.

was even now unfit to be about, though very anxious to consider himself ready to rejoin the regiment. His aunt and cousin Marian petted him to the last degree; with the girls he was of course a hero. Women delight in a military

"Well, girls, what shall we have ?" said coat, and Frank's uniform of captain became Emma Morris, despondently.

Emma Morris is as pretty a maiden as we own. To describe her by alliteratives, she is straight, slender, and seventeen; she is blonde, blooming, and benevolent-in this instance at any rate. She worked, figuratively speaking, "like a Trojan" for our soldiers.

The course of events had not run quite as smooth for our young friends as their zeal deserved. It was desirable to vary the tableaux and charades by some spirited colloquy. I do not know whether the world at large understands the nature of a colloquy as we understand it up here in the country. It is a compromise between a dialogue and a drama, offending not the strictest anti-theatric virtue. Deacons can be present at it; nay, it is frequently enacted on temporary "boards" within a church itself, though that is a mingling of things sacred and profane which I, for one, should never countenance. It affords some little scope for the display of talent, and as good a field as any for the display of dress. On this particular occasion, unfortunately, an acceptable one was nowhere to be found.

his tall form exceedingly. His paleness, too, was very interesting, especially when you remembered what had caused it. It is a good deal to his credit, I think, that, amidst all the feting of which he was the object, he still longed to get back to camp-to hard-tack and hemlock brush.

"So that is settled!" said Helen Vesey, with an air of satisfaction. "Such a load off my mind! I lay awake half the night wondering what we could possibly do."

"You must not be too sanguine," responded Frank. "Perhaps I shall not be able to get up any thing to please you."

"There's no danger about that," said Helen, contentedly. And Marian advised her cousin not to put on airs of false modesty.

"You do not express any opinion, Miss Morris," observed Frank. "I'm afraid you haven't the confidence in my powers which the other young ladies are good enough to feel."

"You are mistaken," said Emma, coloring a little.

"That is a very feeble disclaimer. Confess, now, that you are suspicious of amateur play

wrights, and dread that my work will bring | idea of the trouble it required—and then supcontempt on your performance."

"On the contrary I have entire faith in your abilities. If I did not speak it was because so many voices rendered mine unnecessary. I am sure we are all very much obliged to you," she added, after a slight pause.

posing we should fail!"

"We mustn't," said Emma, decidedly. "We have promised the Society, and it is too late now to talk of giving up. I know there is a great deal of labor involved, and it all seems confused now, but we shall arrange it by-and-by. Peoac-ple have done such things before, and why can they not again? And why not we as well as others?"

Frank was not quite pleased with this knowledgment, which he considered rather tardy and formal. Especially as the little service had been offered entirely with a view of pleasing

her.

"I don't think you ought to call yourself an amateur, Frank," observed his cousin. "I am sure I've read very nice things of yours in print."

"Bravo!" said Frank. "Go on, Miss Morris. I will aid you to the best of my ability."

"Thank you." She replied so cordially that the young captain forgave her previous indiffer ence.

Work now began in earnest. Old maga "Nonsense, Marian; be quiet!" he exclaim-zines and volumes of engravings were ransacked ed: while the girls were delightedly curious to for striking pictures: one after another was proknow what these "nice things" were.

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"Oh, the merest stuff. 'Lines to my Shoulder-straps;' Rhapsody on a view of Drill at Sunrise.""

"How can you be so absurd, Frank? know it was not in the least like that."

posed and attempted; difficulties arose and were put down; something like terra firma began to appear in the sea of uncertainty. The musical portion took sweet counsel together over solo, You duet, quartette, and trio; violin, piano, guitar, were canvassed with reference to their availabilities. Every one was willing to be useful, nobody anxious for display: so things promised

"No, it wasn't. It was very profound, very brilliant, very striking altogether. I am like somebody's hero, Miss Vesey-I can't now re-to arrange themselves in time. member whose; he wrote articles that had been refused by our very best Magazines."

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"And accepted, too, I fancy," said Helen. Frank was disposed to drop the subject; at the same time he was rather piqued that Emma manifested no interest whatever. "I suppose she considers my poetasting quite beneath her notice," he thought, with a dignified consciousness that any such feeling on her part was tolerably arrogant. Frank wrote very well. great flights of genius, nothing that was likely to set the river on fire; but he could turn you out as neat and graceful specimens of verse as most artificers now going. His stanzas were copied from the metropolitan journals where they first appeared into all the leading papers; afterward they shone in the corners of county weeklies, and were apt to turn up months later in the columns of some "Pioneer" far away on the borders of civilization. Sometimes they even strayed so far as an English journal, whence they would be tenderly transplanted by Mr. Littell into the Living Age. It was rather hard, with all this, to have them despised by a little country girl.

"Oh!" said Nellie Snow, suddenly, "we must certainly have a statue."

"A statue?" asked every body. "How is that?"

"Why, when I was in Fulton last winter they got up an entertainment to cushion the church, and my cousin Julia represented Hope. It's very easy and has a beautiful effect."

"But we don't know any thing about it." "It's not the least trouble; all you want is a sheet-no, a couple of sheets-there must be a place for the arms to go through. You run a string through the top hem, and gather it up around the neck; it's drawn into a girdle at the waist, and then arranged in very ample folds about the feet. Simplest thing in the world!"

"But I don't think any one of us girls would look very handsome standing up on the stage with a sheet around her!" said Emma Morris.

"That is because you haven't seen it. I tell you it's beautiful; looks just like marble. There must be a pedestal, of course, and Hope's anchor painted white, and the statue must be powdered an inch thick. No matter if it is in streaks it won't show in that light. There Emma Morris! it'll have to be you! You'll cost us less for powder than any other girl, and in these times we're bound to study economy!"

The colloquy was to be forthcoming in a day or two; this matter once decided, the council of war devoted itself to further business. There must be an abundance of tableaux, and here was Emma objected, but the motion was carried exhaustless ground for taste and combination: over her head. "All for the good of the solthere must be charades; there must be music, diers!" was the cry, and she had to yield. Then both of voice and instrument, not only for vari-Helen Vesey must be the Queen of Sheba, beety but to amuse the audience while other entertainment was preparing. The difficulty of selection, the amount of practicing, rather intimidated the performers.

"Suppose we give it up after all," said Helen. "Oh, that will never do," urged Marian Hall. "But when can we get ready? I had no

cause she had such magnificent dark hair and eyes. The question arose whether the Queen of Sheba's complexion also ought not to be magnificently dark, but this was voted of no consequence. Othello, it was argued, is sometimes played as a negro, sometimes the color of ham-rind; if professional actors could thus vary

from a given standard, surely a little band of and a coral bracelet; while my sister contributed amateurs need not keep close to the letter.

Then there must be a gipsy fortune-teller, and Nellie Snow was fixed upon for the lovely maiden who was seeking to know her destiny. About the soothsayer herself there was more difficulty, but Marian Hall finally accepted the part. She had once seen Miss Cushman in that "musical and romantic" drama wherein she has produced some of her most admired effects, and trusted that the memory would render her own impersonation sufficiently weird and striking.

After a vast deal of consulting and planning the party broke up, to meet next day for further practice. Marian proceeded to take an inventory of her laces, muslins, and ribbons, with regard to their value in a theatrical point of view. Frank went off to his own room, and plunged at once into the labors of composition.

"Ah! well," he said, with a half sigh, as he dipped his pen in the ink-stand, "I am glad to help our cause along even with a trifle like this." As he wrote a pair of hazel eyes looked at him from the page. Poor young captain! He had found in our secluded village a foe more fearless in raid than Stuart's cavalry, more adroit than even the famous Stonewall.

Just as he was getting well warmed to his work there came a wee tap at the door. He rose, rather annoyed by the interruption.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Frank," said his cousin; "but can you tell me what has become of those numbers of the Press and Harper's Weekly?"

an antediluvian Swiss muslin, a velvet waist, and an ostrich plume. The stronger sex, too, was pressed into the service. One obliging cavalier journeyed N.N.E. for a frame to the tableaux; another went S. S. W. for scenery which some accommodating company had of fered; all the boys were busy in the Cedar Swamp, and the Hall, when you passed by it of afternoons, exhaled a fragrance as of a dozen Christmas-trees. Frank's play was in time completed, and the girls thought it wonderful. It was some sort of convent affair, with plenty of candles and ceremonies. There were Sister Ignacia, and Sister Ippolyta, Sister Josepha, and Sister Annunciata, and hosts of other sisters, all with cognomens deliciously out-of-the-way. Mrs. Sherwood's "Nun" was consulted for proprieties of dress, and every Irish maid in the village lent her beads for the occasion.

The important night at last arrived. All the stars and wreaths and mottoes of evergreen device were in their places; the Hall was decorated with flags of every size; while above the stage the national fowl flung from his beak the consecrating Stars and Stripes. The audience assembled numerous as the performers could desire. A favorable conjunction of the planets had given us a moonlight night and excellent sleighing; besides, the admittance had been fixed at that golden mean which was tempting to the public yet remunerative to the cause. The seats were crowded as had been hoped, and tramp, tramp up the stairs still came the march of many

"They are here on my table. I thought you feet. The footlights burned along the stage, the had read them all."

curtain waved a little now and then, the scrape

"Yes, long ago; but I want to lend them to and wailing of violins rose in the air as our vola friend."

"Now, Marian, you are a little too bad! Do have mercy on your friends. Don't force them to read my lucubrations just out of politeness."

"There was no forcing about the matter, I assure you. She spoke to me about it the last thing before she left, and charged me by no means to forget it. I shall send them over at

once."

"Very well," said Frank, complyingly, "here they are. Give my compliments to Miss Vesey, and say I wish they were better worth her reading."

"Oh, it wasn't Helen," returned his unsuspicious cousin. "I want them for Emma Morris." "All the same," said Frank, indifferently, as if this were not the very information he had been fishing for; "the message will do just as well for her." And he went gayly back to the half-covered page of foolscap.

The next few days were given to activity, research, and rehearsal. All the girls were flying about in the intervals of practice to hunt up the accessories of the occasion; we elders, excused from a part in the performance, were privileged to contribute to the "properties." For myself, I lent my bridal wreath and veil, a silver comb, VOL. XXVII.-No. 161.-Yr

unteer orchestra tuned their instruments. Byand-by the bell rung, the curtain went up, and the first tableau appeared.

"Beautiful!” cried every body with enthusiasm; and the picture was repeated. Another succeeded it and another, to the general satisfaction.

But if the audience were content, the dressing-room meanwhile was distraught. Oh that scene! worse than the cabin of a North River steamboat in September. The room was ten feet by twelve, and twenty or thirty of us were busy in it. The floor was piled ankle-deep with brushes and combs, bandboxes, powder-boxes, and various other auxiliaries to beauty, while the nymphs stood around in different stages of preparation. And evil forces were at work; the most needful articles, the most carefully bestowed, were mysteriously spirited away. And the minutes flew, the time of appearing would soon arrive.

Miss Seymour had kindly offered to assist the girls in dressing. I too was present, chiefly on my own invitation, but endeavoring to be useful. There is a gracious calm in Miss Seymour's presence that makes itself felt at all ordinary times, but here it was almost powerless.

"Where, where is my little handkerchief?"

cried Sister Ippolyta, in distress. "I put it Miss Seymour's dextrous hand, with her veil just here, and now it is gone!" arranged in true conventual style.

Five or six nuns in various stages of dress and undress paused from their toils to aid the unhappy sister. Skurry, skurry went half a dozen pairs of hands among the thousand-andone articles strewed around; the substratum of bandbox, powder-box, and so on, was turned over and over but without result.

At last she came to Sister Constantine. This worthy sister wears her hair in curls "all round." Very pretty curls they are, and vastly becoming to her, but offering no secure foundation wherein to fix a pin.

"Look about and see if there isn't a bit of tape somewhere," said Miss Seymour, "or a strip "What shall I do?" said poor Sister Ippolyta, of selvedge left over from the Society." But none in despair. could be found.

"Here is my pocket-handkerchief," said Miss Seymour, with sudden inspiration. "Turn in

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the embroidery as well as you can and I think it will answer. And Sister Ippolyta's beclouded countenance grew radiant with delight.

An interval of silent labor. Sister Ignacia wanted me to hook her waist. As she was tall and I was short, I mounted for the purpose on the bottom of an old pail happily present. The fair nun was extremely well developed; the person who had lent her dress much less so; it cost a Herculean effort to unite the separate divisions.

"Well, Sister Ignacia," said I, struggling for breath, "I hope you will be able to stay in this dress as long as it has taken me to get you into it."

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Just then came up the unhappy Lady Superior. My bandbox is gone!" said she, in a tone whose acuteness of anguish no italics can convey; "I've looked every where for it, and it is gone; and I haven't a thing to put on!"

A pause of consternation. The play could not go on without Lady Superior, and she could not go on without conventual gear. For one direful moment all seemed lost. Then Sister Constantine upspoke. She is one of the people that keep this world of ours moving. She understands herself and others. Some things she suggested, some she contributed. She captured a small boy and dispatched him homeward in quest of sundry matters; the others caught inspiration from her, and presently the venerable mother stood arrayed in all the gloomy proprieties of her order.

"Almost ready, girls?" said a voice at the door. "You must come on in a few minutes." And "Hurry, hurry!" was the watchword.

"Now for your veils," said Miss Seymour. "I suppose they're all ready." Oh yes, they were ready and immediately produced. But lo! every mortal girl had drawn her veil up on a string as if to wear it with a bonnet.

This will never do!" said Miss Seymour, with determination. "Out with these strings, and bring me a paper of pins, somebody."

Easier said than done. Five or six papers had been provided, but none were forthcoming now. Fortunately Sister Ignacia remembered putting a row in the pocket of her dress-not her present dress, but the one she wore to the Hall. The favored garment was sought, and found beneath a superincumbent Alp of hoods, clouds, starlights, twilights, blanket-shawls, and India rubbers. Nun after nun went from under

What was to be done? Clearly it was impossible that Sister Constantine should go on the stage with her hair in ringlets.

In this emergency a bright thought struck me. I am not commonly fertile in expedients; but cleverness is contagious. I went into retirement for a brief space.

"How will this do?" I asked, demurely, presenting Miss Seymour with a circlet of elastic. She regarded it with a curious smile.

"It isn't as large as her head," she answered. "But one blessed quality of India rubber is that it will stretch."

A tap at the door.

"All ready?" asks the manager.

"In one minute. Do you want us?" says Miss Seymour.

"The violins are in the last strain of the 'Carnival of Venice.'

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"Tell them to repeat it, then. Now, girls, let me look at you." As they defiled past her hands arose in horror. "What are you thinking of!" she exclaimed. "Every one of you has on her hoop!!"

There was a flutter of doubt and deprecation among the convent bevy.

"It will make our dresses so long to take them off," urged Sister Angelica. "We shall tread on them. It will be so awkward!"

The stony calm of Nemesis overspread Miss Seymour's handsome face.

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Very well," she said. "Only I never in my life saw a nun with a hoop."

Miss Seymour was our autocrat of taste and propriety. The next instant a pile of skeletons lay in the corner, and a very subdued-looking band of females marched out upon the stage.

There were a few delicious moments of repose in the dressing-room. Miss Seymour picked up two or three salient articles from the under-foot conglomerate. I laid out the Queen of Sheba's toilet on six inches of the deal table.

"I wish you would let me make up a tableau for you, Margaret," said I. "You should be a Madonna."

"Thank you;

but I think that some one with a broader forehead and larger eyes and more regular features would answer your purpose better." "Perhaps so," I replied, smiling, "if such a person could be found."

Some degree of order being evoked from the chaos, we adjourned to a side-door which commanded a partial view of the stage. There was a cloud of white muslin, a murmur of voices, and a sort of general impression of youth and

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