neighborliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my house. No man was ever more honored in the character of his raisers than I. They are destined, I trust, to assist at the raising of loftier structures one day.

as much the preacher, and the merchant, and the farmer. Where is this division of labor to end? and what object does it finally serve? No doubt another may also think for me; but it is not therefore desirable that he should do so to the exclusion of my thinking for myself.

Before winter I built a chimney, and shingled the sides of my house, which were already impervious to rain, with imperfect and sappy shingles made of the first slice of the log, whose edges I was obliged to straighten with a plane.

I began to occupy my house on the 4th of July, as soon as it was boarded and roofed, for the boards were carefully feather-edged and lapped, so that it was perfectly impervious to rain; but before boarding I laid the foundation of a chimney at one end, bringing two cartloads of stones up the hill from the pond in my arms. I built the chimney I have thus a tight shingled and plastered after my hoeing in the fall, before a fire be- house, ten feet wide by fifteen long, and came necessary for warmth, doing my cook- eight feet posts, with a garret and a closet, ing in the mean while out of doors on the a large window on each side, two trap doors, ground, early in the morning: which mode one door at the end, and a brick fireplace I still think is in some respects more con- opposite. The exact cost of my house, payvenient and agreeable than the usual one. ing the usual price for such materials as I When it stormed before my bread was used, but not counting the work, all of which baked, I fixed a few boards over the fire, was done by myself, was as follows; and I and sat under them to watch my loaf, and give the details because very few are able to passed some pleasant hours in that way. tell exactly what their houses cost, and In those days, when my hands were much fewer still, if any, the separate cost of the employed, I read but little, but the least various materials which compose them :— scraps of paper which lay on the ground, my holder, or tablecloth, afforded me as much entertainment, in fact answered the same purpose as the Iliad.

It would be worth the while to build still more deliberately than I did, considering, for instance, what foundation a door, a window, a cellar, a garret, have in the nature of man, and perchance never raising any superstructure until we found a better reason for it than our temporal necessities even. There is some of the same fitness in a man's building his own house that there is in a bird's building its own nest. Who knows but if men constructed their dwellings with their own hands, and provided food for themselves and families simply and honestly enough, the poetic faculty would be universally developed, as birds universally sing when they are so engaged? But alas! we do like cowbirds and cuckoos, which lay their eggs in nests which other birds have built, and cheer no traveller with their chattering and unmusical notes. Shall we forever resign the pleasure of construction to the carpenter? What does architecture amount to in the experience of the mass of men? I never in all my walks came across a man engaged in so simple and natural an occupation as building his house. We belong to the community. It is not the tailor alone who is the ninth part of a man; it is

Boards,

$8.032, mostly shanty boards.

4.00

1.25

Refuse shingles for
roof and sides, .
Laths, .
Two second-hand win-
One thousand old brick 4.00

dows with glass, 2.43

Two casks of lime,

Hair,
Mantle-tree iron,"
Nails,
Hinges and screws,
Latch,
Chalk,
Transportation

In all,

2.40 0.31

. 0.15

1.40

These are all the materials excepting the timber, stones and sand, which I claimed by squatter's right. I have also a small wood-shed adjoining, made chiefly of the stuff which was left after building the house.

H.D. THOREAU.

HAPPY AT LAST.

FROM REVERIES OF A BACHELOR.

[DONALD GRANT MITCHELL, "Ik Marvel," born at Norwich, Conn., April 1822, graduated at Yale in 1841: passed three years on a farm; travelled in Europe: be gan to study law in 1846 in New York; published

Fresh Gleanings (1847), The Battle Summer (1849), a re- | the pen. I have written hundreds of let cord of his observations in 1848 in Paris; The Lorgnette ters; it is easy to write letters. But now, it (1850), Reveries of a Bachelor (1850), Dream Life (1851); is not easy. was U. S. Consul at Venice 1853-55; Fudge Doings was

published in 1854; in 1855 he settled upon his farm near New Haven, Conn. Published (1863) My Farm of

Edgewood; Wet Days at Edgewood (1864), Seven Stories

(1865), Doctor Johns (1867), Rural Studies (1867). He is one of the most graceful and pleasing of American authors.]

I begin, and cross it out. I begin again, and get on a little farther;-then cross it out. I try again, but can write nothing. I the sheet, and go to my library for some fling down my pen in despair, and burn old sour treatise of Shaftesbury, or Lyttleton; and say, talking to myself all the while; let her go !-She is beautiful, but I am strong; the world is short; we-I and my dog, and my books, and my pen, will battle it through bravely, and leave enough for a tomb-stone.

She does not mistake my feelings, surely: -ah, no,-trust a woman for that! But what have I, or what am I, to ask a return? She is pure, and gentle as an angel; and I -alas-only a poor soldier in our world- But even as I say it, the tears start;—it fight against the Devil! Sometimes in is all false saying! And I throw Shaftes moods of vanity, I call up what I fondly bury across the room and take up my pen reckon my excellencies or deserts-a sorry, again. It glides on and on, as my hope pitiful array, that makes me shameful when glows, and I tell her of our first meeting, I meet her. And in an instant, I banish and of our hours in the ocean twilight, and them all. And, I think, that if I were of our unsteady stepping on the heaving called upon in some court of justice, to deck, and of that parting in the noise of say why I should claim her indulgence, or London, and of my joy at seeing her in her love-I would say nothing of my sturdy the pleasant country, and of my grief effort to beat down the roughnesses of toil- afterward. And then I mention Bella, nothing of such manliness as wears a calm her friend and mine-and the tears flow front amid the frowns of the world-nothing of little triumphs, in the every-day fight of life; but only, I would enter the simple plea

-this heart is hers!

She leaves; and I have said nothing of what was seething within me ;-how I curse my folly! She is gone, and never perhaps will return. I recal in despair her last kind glance. The world seems blank to me. She does not know; perhaps she does not care, if I love her. Well, I will bear it, -I say. But I cannot bear it. Business is broken; books are blurred; something remains undone, that fate declares must be done. Not a place can I find, but her sweet smile gives to it, either a tinge of gladness, or a black shade of desolation.

I sit down at my table with pleasant looks; the fire is burning cheerfully; my dog looks up earnestly when I speak to him; but it will never do!

and then I speak of our last meeting, and of my doubts, and of this very evening,and how I could not write, and abandoned it, and then felt something within me that made me write, and tell her-all! That my heart was not my own, but was wholly hers; and that if she would be mine,- -I would cherish her, and love her always."

Then, I feel a kind of happiness,-a strange, tumultuous happiness, into which doubt is creeping from time to time, bringing with it a cold shudder. I seal the letter, and carry it-a great weight-for the mail. It seems as if there could be no other letter that day; and as if all the coaches and horses, and cars, and boats were specially detailed to bear that single sheet. It is a great letter for me; my destiny lies in it.

I do not sleep well that night;-it is a Her image sweeps away all these com- tossing sleep; one time joy-sweet and holy forts in a flood. I fling down my book; Ijoy comes to my dreams, and an angel is turn my back upon my dog; the fire hisses by me ;-another time, the angel fadesand sparkles in mockery of me. the brightness fades, and I wake, struggling Suddenly a thought flashes on my brain; with fear. For many nights it is so, until -I will write to her-I say. And a smile the day comes, on which I am looking for a floats over my face,-a smile of hope, end-reply.

ing in doubt. I catch up my pen-my The postman has little suspicion that the trusty pen; and the clean sheet lies before letter which he gives me-although it conThe paper could not be better, nor tains no promissory notes, nor moneys, nor

me.

deeds, nor articles of trade-is yet to have | Paul; for when I was still a girl, we had a greater influence upon my life and upon promised, that we would one day be man my future, than all the letters he has ever and wife. Laurence has been much in brought to me before. But I do not show him this; nor do I let him see the clutch with which I grasp it. I bear it, as if it were a great and fearful burden, to my room. I lock the door, and having broken the seal with a quivering hand,-read :

with strength indeed, but with no cheer. fear may sometime make her regret that Courage is high, as I meet the shocks, and she gave herself to your love and charity? trials of the world; but it is a brute, care- And those friends who watch over her, as less courage, that glories in opposition. I the apple of their eye, can you always laugh at any dangers, or any insidious pit- meet their tenderness and approval, for your falls; what are they to me? What do I guardianship of their treasure? Is it not a possess, which it will be hard to lose? My treasure that makes you fearful, as well as dog keeps by me; my toils are present; my joyful? food is ready; my limbs are strong; what need for more?

The months slip by; and the cloud that floated over my evening sun, passes.

Laurence wandering abroad, and writing to Caroline, as to a sister,-writes more than his father could have wished. He has met new faces, very sweet faces; and one which shows through the ink of his later letters, very gorgeously. The old gentleman does not like to lose thus his little Carry; and he writes back rebuke. But Laurence, with the letters of Caroline before him for data, throws himself upon his sister's kindness, and charity. It astonishes not a little the old gentleman, to find his daughter pleading in such strange way, for the son. "And what will you do then, my Carry ?" -the old man says.

"Wear weeds, if you wish, sir; and love you and Laurence more than ever."

And he takes her to his bosom, and says Carry-Carry, you are too good for that wild fellow Laurence !"

Now, the letters are different! Now they are full of hope-dawning all over the future sky. Business, and care, and toil, glide, as if a spirit animated them all; it is no longer cold machine work, but intelligent, and hopeful activity. The sky hangs upon you lovingly, and the birds make music, that startles you with its fineness. Men wear cheerful faces; the storms have a kind pity, gleaming through all their

wrath.

The days approach, when you can call her yours. For she has said it, and her mother has said it; and the kind old gentleman, who says he will still be her father, has said it too; and they have all welcomed you-won by her story-with a cordiality, that has made your cup full, to running over. Only one thought comes up to obscure your joy;-is it real? or if real, are you worthy to enjoy? Will you cherish and love always, as you have promised, that angel who accepts your word, and rests her happiness on your faith? Are there not harsh qualities in your nature, which you

VOL. VI.

But you forget this in her smile: her kindness, her goodness, her modesty, will not let you remember it. She forbids such thoughts; and you yield such obedience, as you never yielded even to the commands of a mother. And if your business, and your labor slip by, partially neglected - what matters it? What is interest, or what is reputation, compared with that fullness of your heart, which is now ripe with joy?

The day for your marriage comes; and you live as if you were in a dream. You think well, and hope well for all the world. A flood of charity seems to radiate from all around you. And as you sit beside her in the twilight, on the evening before the day, when you will call her yours, and talk of the coming hopes, and of the soft shadows of the past; and whisper of Bella's love, and of that sweet sister's death, and of Laurence, a new brother, coming home joyful with his bride,-and lay your cheek to hers-life seems as if it were all day, and as if there could be no night! The marriage passes; and she is yoursyours forever.

DONALD GRANT MITCHELL

LIGHTED WITH A COAL.

FROM THE SAME.

That first taste of the new smoke, and of the fragrant leaf is very grateful; it has a bloom about it, that you wish might last. It is like your first love,-fresh, genial, and rapturous. Like that, it fills up all the craving of your soul; and the light, blue wreaths of smoke, like the roseate clouds that hang around the morning of your heart life, cut you off from the chill atmos phere of mere worldly companionship, and make a gorgeous firmament for your fancy to riot in.

I do not speak now of those later, and manlier passions, into which judgment must be thrusting its cold tones, and when all the sweet tumult of your heart has mel

135

You can hardly think of anything more

lowed into the sober ripeness of affection. I think how delightful it would be to peril But I mean that boyish burning, which be- your life, either by flood, or fire-to cut off longs to every poor mortal's lifetime, and your arm, or your head, or any such trifle, which bewilders him with the thought that -for your dear Louise. he has reached the highest point of human joy, before he has tasted any of that bitter-joyous in life, than to live with her in some ness, from which alone our highest human old castle, very fai away from steamboats, joys have sprung. I mean the time, when and post-offices, and pick wild geraniums you cut initials with your jack-knife on the for her hair, and read poetry with her, under smooth bark of beech trees; and went mop- the shade of very dark ivy vines. And ing under the long shadows at sunset; and you would have such a charming boudoir thought Louise the prettiest name in the in some corner of the old ruin, with a harp wide world; and picked flowers to leave at in it, and books bound in gilt, with cupids her door; and stole out at night to watch on the cover, and such a fairy couch, with the light in her window; and read such the curtains hung-as you have seen them novels as those about Helen Mar, or Char- hung in some illustrated Arabian storieslotte, to give some adequate expression to upon a pair of carved doves! your agonized feelings.

At such a stage, you are quite certain that you are deeply, and madly in love; you persist in the face of heaven, and earth.

DONALD G. MITCHELL.

You would like to meet the individual who CIVILIZATION OF THE ASSYRIANS. dared to doubt it.

You think she has got the tidiest, and jauntiest little figure that ever was seen. You think back upon some time when in your games of forfeit, you gained a kiss from those lips; and it seems as if the kiss was hanging on you yet, and warming you

all over.

80

And then again, it seems strange that your lips did really touch hers! You half question if it could have been actually so, and how could you have dared; and you wonder if you would have courage to do the same thing again?and upon second thought, are quite sure you would, and snap your fingers at the thought of it.

What sweet little hats she does wear; and in the school room, when the hat is hung up-what_curls-golden curls, worth a hundred Golcondas! How bravely you study the top lines of the spelling bookthat your eyes may run over the edge of the cover, without the schoolmaster's

notice, and feast upon her!

You half wish that somebody would run away with her, as they did with Amanda, in the Children of the Abbey;-and then you might ride up on a splendid black horse, and draw a pistol, or blunderbuss, and shake the villains, and carry her back, all in tears, fainting, and languishing upon your shoulder-and have her father (who is Judge of the County Court) take your hand in both of his, and make some eloquent remarks. A great many such recaptures you run over in your mind, and

[GEORGE RAWLINSON, one of the most eminent of Oriental scholars, was born in Oxfordshire, England, in

1815, and studied for the church at Trinity College, Oxford. In 1861 he was elected Professor of Ancient History at Oxford, and in 1841 he became Canon of Canterbury Cathedral.

His translation of Herodotus (4 vols., 1858-60), annotated also by his brother, Sir Henry

Rawlinson, and Sir G. Wilkinson, is valuable, if not always accurate. Canon Rawlinson contributed to the "Speaker's Commentary," wrote "Historical Evidences of the Truth of the Scripture Records" (1860)," Contrasts of Christianity with the Heathen and Jewish Systems" (1861), "A Manual of Ancient History" (1869), and "Historical Illustrations of the Old Testament" (1871.) Iis most important work is The Five Great Monarchies of the Ancient Eastern World," 4 vols., (1862-67,) to which he has since added "The Sixth Great Oriental Monarchy, Parthia" (1873), and “ The Seventh Great Oriental Monarchy, the Sassanian or New Persian Empire" (1876.) His latest work is a new “History of Egypt” in 2 vols., (1881.)

66

The civilization of the Assyrians is a large subject, upon which only a very few remarks will be here offered by way of recapitulation. Deriving originally letters and the elements of learning from Babylonia, the Assyrians appear to have been content with the knowledge thus obtained, and neither in literature nor in science to have progressed much beyond their instruc tors. The heavy incubus of a dead language lay upon all those who desired to devote themselves to scientific pursuits, and owing to this, knowledge tended to become the exclusive possession of a learned, or perhaps a priest class, which did not aim at