used to do," hence it was concluded he was" hurt." | tered by his side." He left his friends and soldiers He had been "struck in the shoulder with two not at a time of victory, but in a moment of defeat; he left them to die, as was said by Sidney on a memorable occasion, for "THE OLD CAUSE." Slowly riding, "his head bending down and his hands resting on his horse's neck," his first impulse was to seek the village of Pyrton, the house in which, a high-hearted and hopeful man, he had AVERY.SE carabine balls, which, breaking the bone, entered his body, and his arm hung powerless and shat wedded the wife of his affections thirty years before; but the brilliant Rupert-the mirror of chivalry, according to the Cavaliers; the Prince-rob The carabine was a small gun slung at the back of a light horseman by a leathern belt which passed across the shoulders and had a hooked swivel at the end, sometimes fancifully ornamented, through which the barrel of the carabine passed, as shown in our cut; the men were armed with back and breast-plate, helmet and sword, and were named Carabineers from the principal weapon with which they were equipped. They are first mentioned in 1559; but be came an important portion of the army in the Civil Wars. miles from Chalgrove, and found shelter in the HOUSE OF ONE EZEKIEL BROWNE.* His wounds *This interesting building is still pointed out by village tradition, and is represented in our wood-cut as it now appears. It was formerly the Greyhound Inn, and is now divided into two shops, one a butcher's, the other an ironmonger's. The exigencies of modern residents, have, in a great degree, interfered with its original features; but its connection with one of England's purest patriots must ever invest its humble walls with interest. It is necessary to state, however, that the honor is claimed by other old houses in the village, although the balance of evidence is in favor of this. were dressed, but he knew they were mortal; and grace and dignity of the old Roman, but with the he addressed himself to die, not merely with the fortitude and trusting faith of the true Christian bellion." Strange if it were so! strange that he should, like the hunted stag, return to die where he was roused. contest was very doubtful, and when his generous in which his reputation was very great in this reand considerate councils were needed most. The 'best tributes to his character are not those of his friends, but of his personal opponents and political enemies. Charles himself, it is said, offered to send his own surgeon to the Patriot's bedside; and Cla- Had he lived to see the final issue of the contest rendon, in after years, bore testimony to his ge- for Liberty, there is little doubt that the one dismal nius, his courage, and his integrity. Many men act for which two centuries have vainly sought an observed," writes Clarendon," that Chalgrove field, excuse, would have been avoided. "He was, inon which he received his death wound, was the deed, a very wise man and of great parts: temsame place in which he had first executed the or- perate in diet, a supreme governor over all his dinance of the militia, and engaged that county, passions and affections ;" and it is clear that the king lost far more than he gained by the death of John Hampden. rans, and the young men, of his regiment bore across the Chilterns, the body of John Hampden to lay it under foot in this lonely village church! chaunting psalms as they marched; a sad funeral procession of true mourners; their arms reversed, their drums muffled, and their heads uncovered. It was no hard task upon imagination to recal this solemn scene; as we looked along the landscape towards Oxfordshire, and traced the route they must have taken; a band of steel-clad men with their boy comrades by their sides-branches and saplings of the old tree of British freedom. Weep Surely this village, this house and this church, are shrines which all Englishmen should visit as pilgrim-students. Great acts from high motives may be taught here; in the patriotism of this Patriot there was no atom of selfishness; no selfglory stirred him on; the "rare modesty" by which he was distinguished when" the business of shipmoney" made him "the argument of all tongues," marked him through his whole career; no thought had he of a monument to record his mighty services to his country-as little as his descendantsing aloud, and not ashamed of tears, they enter who have given him none! this church-fill it, as it was never filled before nor since; deposit there the body of their great Leader, and retire-again singing the words of the Psalmist, and wending their way to another battle The pilgrim to this shrine will, however, find memories of Hampden all about him-memories that cannot perish, for they exist with Nature. And what a holy scene it was when the vete- field. THE CHOLERA OF '49. I HAD just been reading the official announcement, that a sickness, resembling cholera, had broken out among the passengers of the ship New Nork, on her way from Havre to this port, and that several were then lying ill at the quarantine. I had read with great interest, for some time past, each foreign item relative to this fearful and mysterious disease, and had conjectured not a little concerning the probability of its arrival here. and pawing steeds were champing the bit of a tight drawn rein, and as yet only the faint rumbling of the wheels could be heard from afar. In that dream I saw sights which, awake, I could never see, for my mind roamed at will where my foot could never tread. I visited the lofty mansion and the lowly hovel, the crowded streets where the great heart of the city throbs, and the unfrequented lane where scarce the faintest ripple After I had returned to my room, having light- of the mighty tide of life is heard; the purlieus of ed a segar and seated myself in my rocking chair, vice, the dens of crime, the court rooms that were I could think, as I rocked leisurely back and forth, empty, because all thought fastened on another of nothing but the cholera: of the panic that would Bar and another Judge, where there is no jury spread like wildfire when we were certain it had summons, and everybody is a defendant; the jails come of the thousands that would flee its ap- which had become hospitals, and the hospitals that proach of the thousands more whose poverty were crammed; but everywhere, among rich and would compel them to remain of the desolation poor, the busy and idle, strong man and tender that would brood over a city deserted by the liv-woman, age and childhood, the bloom of beauty ing, because Death was Ruler over it: of the seeth- and humanity deformed, I had been preceded by ing waters of business, still and stagnant: of ships the fearful plague-the cholera of '49. lying idle: of traffic in coffins, and shrouds, and In the room above me was a sick friend, and mourning apparel: of weeping eyes, and wring-in my dream I thought of him. I went to his ing hands, and bereaved hearts. room to ask him if there was anything he wished On I smoked, and still on I thought, till at me to do, but oh, the change that had come upon length the objects in the room grew fainter and him since I had seen him last. His sickness was fainter, my lamp seemed to burn more and more now the cholera, and he was lying almost uncondimly, and I cannot now recall the precise mo-scious, breathing quick, his eyes half closed. His ment when my segar dropped from my mouth, sprinkling my dressing gown most plentifully with ashes. I don't know how long I slept, but it was a long and a troubled sleep, accompanied by a long and troubled dream. It was a dream of the cholera of '49, and when I awoke I was glad to know that now it was only December, '48, and that although the Storm Cloud which the Deity had freighted with Pestilence and made his chariot, had the Death Angel for its charioteer, the pale face was pale, and his jet black hair was matted upon it. He seemed in great pain, for every now and then he would start, like one who is grappling with a nightmare, and then a sound like a half sigh or suppressed moan escaped his lips. I felt of his forehead, but it was cold as marble, though it was a warm summer day, (so it seemed to me,) and there was very much clothing upon the bed. I stood and leaned over him, and thought of his aged mother and one sister,-the only relatives he had in the wide world, and he, their pride and hope, had come to New York that he might support himself while prosecuting his studies, and in future years be a staff to one and a right arm to the other. And there was a third besides, of whom he had spoken to me in confidence only a short time before, but often mentioned since. One who had been a pole star to his sinking hope when often and often discouragement, despondency and gloom had dashed their big black waters over him. All at once he seemed to grow brighter. "S——,” said he, and his eye kindled, and he asked the question with the energy of his whole soul, while yet his voice quivered as if afraid to ask it. "S-, I shan't die, shall I ?" the earth, nor the worm, nor the God who creates both the rich and poor. I walked thence into Broadway. It was eleven o'clock, but there was no rush and hurry, such as I had always seen before. There were fewer rattling omnibusses, fewer rumbling carriages, there was less smiling, shouting, talking, laughing. I noticed that very many of the private houses seemed deserted, that on the faces of most whom I met there was an anxious expression, and I thought I saw more in mourning than I had ever seen before. Many of the shops were closed, and in those that were open there were few buyers, but, passing several coffin warehouses, I heard within the sound of the hammer, and saw through the windows that these were full. I came opposite the Park, and, crossing over, went through it to the City Hall. I saw no one upon the steps, and when I went within my footsteps woke the only echoes, for I was there alone. I came out and saw the fountain playing. It was the gladdest thing I had seen, and I felt a thrill of pleasure as I caught the sound of its sweet music and a glimpse of its bended bow. While standing for a few moments at the railing, I saw there were no loungers upon the steps of the Astor, no flaming transparencies upon the Museum, I could hardly leave the place, although there seemed something almost wrong in the glad voice of the fountain, for it was like the dance and the sound of the viol at the funeral of one we love. As I tarried a little longer, I felt some one pulling at my coat. I looked down, and saw a little girl about nine years old. A sad face and a blue eye with a tear in it! Her dress was a dark material, very coarse, and on the old straw bonnet which she wore, there was a scanty supply of "Perhaps I am," and for a few moments he said nothing. Then all at once he spoke, "Isn't it very close here?" I opened the window and came back to the bed side. "I feel very cold, S-, but I can't have the window closed." Then he began to breathe quicker, and when he spoke again it was with greater effort. "I'm afraid I shan't get well, S. I wish-you-would accept my cane as a parting gift. I wish you would give all my other things to mother and Mary, ex-faded black ribbon. For, even poor as she was, cept that volume of Gray's poems. Give that, and whatever keepsake she wants besides, with a lock of my hair, to L- -, and tell them all how much I loved them." I promised him most fervently what he asked, and nothing was said for a few moments more. Then he began to breathe quicker and quicker yet. Oh, my God, I'm dying. Raise me, S-." I lifted him in the bed and arranged the pillows around him. Quicker and quicker still, and with more and more difficulty he breathed, and all at once he spoke, "Good bye! S. God have mercyand he fell back-dead. she must follow the world's usage, and hang out a sorry signboard for an aching heart. Please, sir, would you give me a little money? Father died last week, and mother's very sick." At another time, I could have passed on, and if my conscience had been disposed to be at all troublesome, could have stilled by the magic word " Imposter." But I couldn't do so now, for the cholera had come, and, giving her a piece of silver, thought the "God bless you sir" was a receipt in full, I left her and hurried on. I came to Wall-street. But as in Broadway, so there was no rush nor hurry in this place where the worshippers of mammon congregate. I remembered the crowd of men that assembled at I was standing upon the corner of a street lead- noon on the corner of Broad-street, I remembered ing into Broadway. A cart was passing filled the other crowds assembled at all business hours with coarse pine boxes. It was driven by a man, near upon the corner of Hanover, with heads towho looked mad to think he must wait until he gether, ears attentive, and faces eager, swayed was outside the city before he could whip the half-like wind-shaken trees by the breeze of speculastarved skeleton, that an unbounded charity might tion. But there were no crowds now. There call a horse, into full gallop, for it was only a load was no rush up and down the steps of banks, and of dead bodies bound to the Potter's Field. I wait-offices, and Insurance Companies. There was no ed a few moments more, and there came in sight a hearse of costly make and rich black drapery, drawn slowly by a sleek fat horse, and driven by a well dressed solemn-faced man. Behind followed a long array of carriages, for it was the rich man's funeral. And then I thought that Death was no respecter of persons, neither was throng of office clerks hurrying to make their deposits, of merchants going on 'change, of rich men walking leisurely up and down the street, because they liked the atmosphere of the place, and there was none where their money secured so much respect. The crowd was not there. There were a few who still clung to their busi ness, whom, even death pressing hot in the rear, could not frighten from the pursuit of the bright golden bubble, but they were few-very few. I came to the office of the Courier and Enquirer. Outside was a bullettin of Deaths. Seventy-nine cases yesterday, eighty the day before. Thank God for one less. So on I went through the city. The steamboats coming brought very few, but those leaving were full. There were few in the ship yards, in the shipping stores, and many of the ships were floating idle. I saw few familiar faces, and remembered that many had left the city to return again when the breath of the pestilence had passed, but remembered too that many more had gone in obedience to a summons dreaded by all, yet to be refused by none, to the long "narrow house and the long sleep." I found myself at length in the Five Points, that moral Golgotha of New York; that sink and sewer of Iniquity, where the vile of each sex and every color, drawn and knit together by a common interest in what is bad, herd like brutes and devils. It is not because they like the place, but because they are fit for, and will be received in no other. So there they live companions, intimates, not from choice but from necessity, for there is no fellowship that deserves the name, in vice, though there may be herding, kenelling. And there, where crime is ashamed to show its cloven foot, and skeleton head, to the reproving eye of day, but skulks like an unblessed spirit around the dwellings of honest men, and comes forth with the owl, and the vampire, and the bat, at night, to mock at virtue and blaspheme God, oh! there I saw the ravages of the cholera of '49. There the drunkard died. There women, who had once been beautiful, and pure, and good, till temptation overpowering, they had thrown away the signet ring of their innocence, and "lost the beauty of their morning and the image of their God," stretched themselves helpless upon rags and filth, and went into Eternity with despair on the wrinkled forehead and curses on the polluted lip. I saw, too, the man who had reddened his hand, and blackened his heart with crime, lying powerless, hopeless, sick. He had never feared man, he had mocked God; but, ah! he cowered before the long skinny finger of the one who holds the scythe and the glass. And there were children there the offspring of infamy. Every one of them-even the youngest-had a history, think of that, but a history written perhaps with tears and blood. Ever since they opened their eyes upon this world, vice had rested like a dead weight upon every thought, and feeling, and aspiration that was good. Its filth and slime had besmeared and stained the bright plumage and the buoyant wing of the young spirit, and it had walked and fluttered, perhaps like a young eagle caught in a slough, both wings broken. They died there by scores, like so many dogs. Over many a cur there has been more joy than was at their birth, yet, since it was possible their bodies had once held souls, a benevolent corporation gives them comfortable pine coffins, and a nice place above ground in the Potter's Field. Who could sorrow that such children die? In more senses than one, who could? Who would not rejoice rather, that they were in the hands of a merciful God? I saw in one humble room a mother sitting alone at midnight by a dying boy. Slowly the hours had rolled on, and when it had struck twelve," it seemed to her as if there were but two persons in the world and one of them was sick," and when it had struck two, that one was dead. Of one building the city had made a Cholera Hospital. In one of the rooms I saw ten dressed for the grave, and in the sick wards I observed several "Sisters of Charity," who had come to moisten the fevered lip, to catch the last long drawn sigh and muttered blessing. Thank God for the mild voice, the soft hand, and tender heart of woman. One last sight I will mention. And that was a rich man in a lofty mansion, in a richly furnished bed-room, lying sick upon a downy bed adorned with elaborate carvings and covered with the finest and whitest linen. An experienced nurse was with him, there were three physicians for money could procure them. Every remedy that the healing art could suggest was also there; money could buy it. The slightest wish could be answered, for money could gratify it. There was a half heart-broken wife by the bed side, there were weeping children in an adjoining room, but neither money, nor physicians, nor affection, nor tears, prevailed against the cholera of '49. I saw many more such scenes in that dream of mine. I have not time, nor space, to describe them, even though it be as briefly and faintly as those I have already mentioned. But when I awoke I felt grateful that as yet we have no just cause of alarm. Death may come by accident, by lingering or speedy disease, and we hardly notice his footfall, for it is but the missing of an accustomed face, the hushing of an accustomed voice, another grave, and a sign-board removed. But the forest, that hardly notices the fall of a single will bow and tremble when the hurricane shrieks through the long branches of the loftiest trees, and the lightning shows that twenty have fallen together. Death may stand at our very bed side, or follow us the live long day, and we can go smilling on if we only fall one after another. But when upon our right hand one is taken, and another on the left, another before us, another behind us, scores around us-is it my turn next? one, |