"dang it," "confound it," called them "one-sides of the Atlantic, and to put' English horse oaths." "Liverpool," said a newly-writers who desire to preserve the purity of arrived New-Yorker, a poor one-horse the language on their guard against the kind of a place." contradistinction to fascinating vulgarisms which have too much one-horse, some wag of the West invented charm for the "fast" people of this age. the phrase "a whole team," to signify a quite as fast in England as they are in man of wealth or importance, or a good fel- America, though the Americans, to use low generally. "I like the Judge; he's their own hideous phrase, may think themnone of your one-horse lawyers, but a whole selves far more go-aheadative than we are. team. The phrase took the popular fancy, It must not be understood, however, from and received successive additions from the any remarks that we may have made, that rough humourists of the day- - such as "he's we desire to restrict the legitimate expana whole team, and a horse to spare;" or the sion of modern English, whether the exne plus ultra of commendation, "Grant's pansion come from the new or the old home the man for next President; he's a whole of the race. A language that has ceased team, a horse extra, and a big dog under to grow has already begun to perish. But the wagon!" - Letter in New York He- while allowing and even encouraging its rald.' Another common Americanism, de- growth, those who employ that rich and rived from rural life, though not so racy as abundant vehicle of spoken and written the foregoing, is, to "hitch horses," or more thought should take especial care not to tersely "to hitch," to agree or consort with corrupt and vulgarise it, and should avoid a person. "After he poked his fist in my words that are neither consistent with its face at the election, we never hitched horses genius nor its structure. The English at together. M'Clintock's Tales. I have home do more than enough of mischief in been teaming (driving a wagon) for old this respect. an additional reason, if one Pendleton, but I guess we shan't hitch long." were wanted, why we should not 'suffer -Mrs. Clavers's Forest Life.' Among the American English to aid in the evil agricultural phrases that are useful and not vulgar, and commonly heard in America, are," to draw a straight furrow," to walk in the paths of rectitude, to live uprightly. "Governor B is a sensible man, He stays to his home, and looks arter his folks; od He draws his furrow as straight as he can." And " process. If we require new words, we have an immense mine of treasure in the English of the days of Piers Ploughman, from which we can advantageously borrow "Ancient words That come from the poetic quarry As sharp as swords,' Biglow Papers." as William Hamilton well expresses it, in an epistle to Allan Ramsay. Into this treasure, the Americans are dipping more deeply than we; and so far the influence of their example upon the mother-tongue must be recognised as both legitimate and beneficial. hard row to hoe," a difficult matter to accomplish; "I never opposed Andrew Jackson for the sake of popularity; I knew it was a hard row to hoe." Crockett. Among the variations of old English phrases current in America, may be mentioned," there are no two ways about it," for "there's no mistake about it;" rings his own bell," for "he blows his own trumpet; ""the longest pole knocks down the persimmons (nuts), for" the early bird The belief entertained by some naturalists, gathers the worm:"" every man skin his own that living specimens of the gigantic Epiornis skunk," for "wash your dirty linen at exist in Madagascar, has deen disproved, achome;" acknowledge the corn," for "al-cording to M Grandidier, who has lately commit the soft impeachment; 66 to bark municated a paper on the subject to the the wrong tree," and "wake up the wrong the enormous eggs of this bird with fragments Academy of Sciences. Although several of passenger," for "to be in the wrong box." But we need cite no more; the subject is of its bones have been found, showing that it was much more common than was generally large, and would require a dictionary to supposed, no evidence during recent extensive exhaust it. We have quoted enough to explorations in Madagascar has been gathered show that there are action and re-action be- to at all admit of a hope that the bird will be tween the English literatures of the two ever found alive on the island. Living Age Office, October, 1807. TURKISH BATHS. SOME months ago, coming through New York, I enjoyed the luxury of one of these baths, which I have coveted for half a century. When they were introduced into London I looked for them on this side; and they have appeared, and at last in Boston. After several experiences at the establishment of Dr. Adams & Co., Essex Street, I desire to offer to the public an unasked testimony to their good management. You go into a dressing-room, and come out with a clean cloth round you. Going into a room heated to 110°, a clean sheet is spread for you over a comfortable lounge. Here you recline 15 minutes; and, when the perspiration has started, you are led into a room of higher temperature, where you remain about the same time. The next room, much cooler, is furnished with a white marble slab, on which you stretch yourself without clothing; and the shampooer (imported for the purpose) rubs your limbs and body with his hands, using considerable, but not painful pressure. This is continued a considerable time; and it is a very pleasant change when he begins with a handful of hemp, or something like it, and plenty of soap, to give you a general and most thorough polishing. Lifted into a sitting posture, the shampooer asks if you will have your head soaped. I always say yes. Then you shut your eyes and enjoy it; after which he leads you to another part of the room, where he directs jets of water, warm at first, and gradually cooler, upon every part of the body and limbs. This water comes through a large "rose," pierced by, many holes, so small that the streams are very thin; but they come with sufficient force to create a tingling sensation, which draws the blood to the surface, as indeed all the operations do. A large plunging-bath is ready for you, if you desire it 1 Then the operator takes several clean towels, with which you are well rubbed and dried; and then, with a sheet about you, you walk up the carpeted stairs, into the cooling apartment, where a clean blanket is spaead on a lounge, having a horsehair pillow at the head. You recline, and the blanket is folded round you, and you are offered a cup of coffee or a segar; and, in 15 or 20 minutes, you find yourself dry, and go to your dressing-room. As you leave it, a hair-dresser seats you comfortably, and gives your hair and beard some finishing touches. The time is about an hour and a quarter. Perfect cleanliness reigns throughout' and the ventilation is such that the air seems to be entirely free. Since my last visit, I see that there is another establishment of this kind in Boston, and that it advertises itself as better than Dr. Adams's. So much the better if so, and, at all events, the competition is in the interest of the public. And there are people enough in Boston to fill all the establishments! Dr. Adams & Co. have baths for ladies in Washington Street, at the South end. In Laight Street, New York, and on Brooklyn Heights, are similar establishments. The introduction of these Turkish baths into Boston is worthy of record. re A volume of Critical and Social Essays * printed from the New York Nation would do and magazines. They are lively without flipcredit to some of the best of our own journals pancy, quiet and moderate in tone, and deal with some of the peculiarities and absurdities of Yankee taste and habits in the best possible spirit; neither defending them nor speaking of them with unworthy self-abasement, but generally endeavouring to trace them to their origin in the social and economical condition of the people. The fondness of Americans for traveldistaste for horsmanship and preference for driving, their alleged habits of extravagance, their ing, their eccentricities of pronunciation, their partiality for black broadcloth, are one and all treated in a manner suitable to the subject, not making too much of trivial things, but finding in them reasonable traces of some deeper national characteristic. Much of the difference between American and English society is as cribed to the fact that in the former there are very few hereditary fortunes, and consequently few men are brought up in the habits, wholewhile fortunes are so much more easily made some or the reverse, which presuppose wealth; than here that many self-made men become rich before middle life, and consequently while their taste for enjoyment is more vivid and their power of actively gratifying it greater than with Englishmen in similar circumstances, who rarely achieve riches before they reach the confines of age. One reason given for the absence of hereditary fortunes is, we think, new namely, the great difficulty of finding secure permanent investments which, till the creation of the debt, arose from the fluctuation in value of nearly all property, owing to the migratory habits of the people, extending even to trade and manufactures. Saturday Review. the New York Nation. New York: Leypoldt & Critical and Social Essays. Reprinted from Holt. London: Trübner & Co. 1867. www 3 It byzan sve! I did ad wondo From Blackwood's Magazine. dadades one is LINDA TRESSEL. THE PERSONS OF THE STORY. PETER STEINMARC, -Town-Clerk to the City Magistrates. LUDOVIC VALCARM, - A Young Man of Nuremberg, cousin to Steinmarc. FANNY HEISSE, - His Daughter-afterwards married to Max Bogen. cibo STOBE, dog food an nideron CHAPTER I. THE troubles and sorrows of Linda Tressel, who is the heroine of the little story now about to be told, arose from the too rigid virtue of her nearest and most loving friend, as troubles will sometimes come from rigid virtue, when rigid virtue is not accompanied by sound sense, and especially when it knows little or nothing of the softness of mercy. Tue nearest and dearest friend of Linda Tressel was her aunt, the widow Staubach, Madame Charlotte Staubach, as she had come to be called in the little town of Nuremberg where she lived. In Nuremberg, all houses are picturesque; but you shall go through the entire city, and find no more picturesque abode than the small red house with the three gables close down by the river-side in the Schütt Island, the little island made by the River Pegnitz in the middle of the town. They who have seen the widow Staubach's house will have remembered it, not only because of its bright colour and its sharp gables, but also because of the garden which runs between the house and the water's edge. And yet the garden was no bigger than may often nowadays be seen in the balconies of the mansions of Paris and of London. Here Linda Tressel lived with her aunt, and here also Linda had been born. Linda was the orphan of Herr Tressel, who had for many years been what we may call town-clerk to the magistrates of Nuremberg. Chance in middle life had taken him to Cologne, a German city indeed, as was his own, but a city so far away from Nuremberg, that its people and its manners were as 'strange to him as though he had gone beyond the reach of his own mothertongue. But here he had married, and from Cologne had brought home his bride to the picturesque, red, gabled house by the water's side in his own city. His wife's only sister had also married in her own town; and that sister was the virtuous but rigid Aunt Charlotte, to live with whom had been the fate in life of Linda Tressel. It need not be more than told in the fewest words that the town-clerk and the townclerk's wife both died when Linda was but an infant, and that the husband of her aunt Charlotte died also. In Nuremberg there is no possession so much coveted and so dearly loved as that of the house in which the family lives. Herr Tressel had owned the house with the three gables, and so had his father before him, and to the father it had come from an uncle whose name had been different, and to him from some other relative. But it was an old family property, and, like other houses in Nuremberg, was to be kept in the hands of the family while the family might remain, unless some terrible ruin should supervene.les When Linda was but six years old, her aunt, the widow, came to Nuremberg to inhabit the house which the Tressels had left as an only legacy to their daughter; but it was understood when she did so that a right of living in the house for the remainder of her days was to belong to Madame Staubach, because of the surrender she thus made of whatever of a home was then left to her in Cologne. There was probably no deed executed to this effect; nor would it have been thought that any deed was necessary. Should Linda Tressel, when years had rolled on, be taken as a wife, and should the husband live in the red house, there would still be room for Linda's aunt. And by no husband in Nuremberg who should be told that such an arrangement had been anticipated would such an arrangement be opposed. Mothers-in-law, aunts, maiden sisters, and dependent female relatives, in all degrees, are endured with greater patience, and treated with a gentler hand, in patient Bavaria than in some lands farther west, where life is faster, and in which men's shoulders are more easily galled by slight burdens. And as poor little Linda Tressel had no other possession but the house, as all other income, slight as it might be, was to be brought with her by Aunt Charlotte, Aunt Charlotte had at least a right to the free use of the roof over her head. It is necessary that so much should be told; but Linda's troubles did not come from the divided right which she had in her father's house. Linda's troubles, as has before been said, sprang, not from her aunt's covetousness, but from her aunt's virtue, perhaps we might more truly say from her aunt's religion. Nuremberg is one of those German cities in which a stranger finds it difficult to understand the religious idiosyncrasies of the people. It is in Bavaria; and Bavaria, as he knows, is Roman Catholic. But Nuremberg is Protestant; and the stranger, when he visits the two cathedrals, those of St. Sebald and St. Lawrence, finds it hard to believe that they should not be made to resound with masses, so like are they in all respects to other Romanist cathedrals which he has seen. But he is told that they are Lutheran and Protestant, and he is obliged to make himself aware that the prevailing religion of Nuremberg is Lutheran, in spite of what to him are the Catholic appearances of the churches. Now the widow Staubach was among Protestants the most Protestant, of does going far beyond the ordinary amenities o Lutheran teaching, as at present taught, her religious observances, her religious loves, and her religious antipathies. The ordinary Lutheran of the German not wear his religion very conspicuously. It is not a trouble to him in his daily life, causing him to live in terror as to the life to come. That it is a comfort to him let us not doubt. But it has not on him generally that outward, ever palpable, unmistakable effect, making its own of his gait, his countenance, his garb, his voice, his words, his eyes, his thoughts, his clothes, his very sneeze, his cough, his sighs, his groans, which is the result of Calvinistic impressions thoroughly brought home to the mind and lovingly entertained in the heart. Madame Staubach was in truth a German Anabaptist; but it will be enough for us to say that her manners and gait were the manners and gait of a Calvinist. While Linda Tressel was a child, she hardly knew that her aunt was peculiar in her religious ideas. That mode of life which comes to a child comes naturally; and Linda, though she was probably not allowed to play as freely as did the other bairns around her, though she was taken more frequently to the house of worship which her aunt frequented, and targed more strictly in the reading of godly books, did not know, till she was a child no longer, that she was subjected to harder usage than others endured. But, when Linda was eleven, the widow was persuaded by a friend that it was her duty to send her niece to school; and when Linda, at sixteen, ceased to be a school girl, she had learned to think that the religion of her aunt's neighbours was a more comfortable religion than that practised by her aunt; and, when she was eighteen, she had further learned to think that the life of certain neighbour girls was a pleasanter life than her own. When she was twenty, she had studied the subject more deeply, and had told herself, that though her spirit was prone to rebel against her aunt, that though she would fain have been allowed to do as did other girls of twenty, yet she knew her aunt to be a good woman, and knew that it behooved her to obey. Had not her aunt come all the way from Cologne, from the distant city of Rhenish Prussia, to live in Nuremberg for her sake, and should she be unfaithful and rebellious? Now Madame Staubach understood and appreciated the proneness to rebellion in her niece's heart, but did not quite understand, and perhaps could not appreciate, the attempt to put down that rebellion which the niece was ever making from day to day. mare, the clerk of the magistrates in Nuremberg, had for his use as pleasant an abode as the city could furnish him. Now it came to pass that during the many years of their residence beneath the same roof, there grew up a strong feeling of friendship between Peter Steinmare and the widow Staubach, so strong, that in most worldly matters the widow would be content to follow her friend Peter's counsels without hesitation. And this was the case, although Peter by no means lived in accordance with the widow's tenets as to matters of religion. It is not to be understood that Peter was a godless man, - not so especially, or that he lived a life in any way scandalous, or open to special animadversion from the converted; but he was a man of the world, very fond of money, very fond of business, doing no more in the matter of worship than is done ordinarily bys men of the world, one who would not scruple to earn a few gulden on the Sunday if such earning came in his way, who liked his beer and his pipe, and, above all things, liked the fees and perquisites of office on which he lived and made his little wealth. But, though thus worldly, he was esteemed much by Madame Staubach, who rarely, on his behalf, put forth that voice of warning which was so frequently heard by her niece. I have said that the widow Staubach had brought with her to Nuremberg some income upon which to live in the red house with the three gables. Some small means of her own she possessed, some few hundred florins a year, which were remitted to her punctually from Cologne; but this would not have sufficed even for the moderate wants of herself, her niece, and of the old maid Tetchen, who lived with them, and who had lived with Linda's mother. But there was a source of income very ready to the widow's hand, and of which it was a matter of course that she should in her circumstances avail herself. She and her niece could not fill the family home, and a portion of it was let to a lodger. This lodger was Herr Steinmarc, Peter Steinmarc, who had been clerk to Linda's father when Linda's father had been clerk to the city magistrates, and who was now clerk to the city magistrates himself. Peter Steinmarc in the old days had inhabited a garret in the house, and had taken his meals at his master's table; but now the first floor of the house was his own, the big airy pleasant chamber looking out from under one gable on to the clear water, and the broad passage under the middle gable, and the square large bedroom - the room in which Linda had been born under the Madame Staubach belonged who think third gable. The windows from these apart- that the acerbities of religion are intended ments all looked out on to the slow-flowing altogether for their own sex. That men but clear stream, which ran so close below ought to be grateful to them who will deny? them, that the town-clerk might have sat Such women seem to think that Heaven will and fished from his windows, had he been so pardon that hardness of heart which it has minded; for there was no road there only created in man, and which the affairs of the narrow slip of a garden no broader than the world seem almost to require; but that T: a balcony. And opposite, beyond the it will extend no such forgiveness to the river where the road ran, there was a broad feminine creation. It may be necessary place, the Ruden Platz; and every house that a man should be stiff-necked, self-willed, surrounding this was picturesque with dif- eager on the world, perhaps even covetous, ferent colours, and with many gables; and and given to worldly lusts. But for a wothe points of the houses rose up in sharp man, it behooves her to crush herself, so pyramids, of which every brick and every that she may be at all points submissive, tile was in its place, sharp, clear, well self-denying, and much-suffering. formed, and appropriate, in those very should be used to thorns in the flesh, and to inches of space which each was called upon thorns in the spirit too. Whatever may be to fill. For in Nuremberg it is the religion the thing she wants, that thing she should of the community that no house shall fall not have. And if it be so that, in her femiinto decay, that no form of city beauty shall nine weakness, she be not able to deny herbe allowed to vanish, that nothing of pic- self, there should be those around her to do turesque antiquity shall be changed. From the denial for her. Let her crush herself as age to age, though stones and bricks are it becomes a poor female to do, or let there changed, the buildings are the same, and be some other female to crush her if she the medieval forms remain, delighting the lack the strength, the purity, and the relitaste of the traveller as they do the pride of gious fervour which such self-crushing rethe burgher. Thus it was that Herr Stein- quires. Poor Linda Tressel had not much 5 -1 But there are women of the class to which She |