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the old serpent, when he would disguise him
self as an angel of light, retains his slough.
The pride of the well-gloved exquisite who
scowls at the weather-chapped hands of hu
manity in rags, is a becoming pride, if he may
he catechum<MO his own conceit. The law
yer’s endured Bob’s naked feet
through half the frosty season, when sudden
’ ly his becoming pride suggested that a naked
footed urchin was not a tilting Mercury.
“Robert Racket!” said the lawyer, one
morning, coming into the office fresh from his
private dwelling, with extremities that the
frost had sharply bitten through well-season
ed Wellingtons; “Robert Racket, where are
your boots ?”
“Boots, Sir?” echoed Bob, tremblingly.—
As if he, who had no shoes, could be guilty
of boots.
“Boots or shoes?” thundered the lawyer, j
Shoes, if you will.”
“Or slippers?” suggested a clerk mildly.
“Shoes, Sir? I ain’t got any,” answered
Bob, shaking at the confession of so great a j
turpitude.
“No?” said the lawyer, retreating a step
backwards. “Not got any? Sparrow (to a
clerk) this hoy has a mother, a woman, Spar
row, who is bound by the laws of nature to
have a heart, and she lets this boy go about
pi this Russian weather without shoes.”
The clerk addressed as Sparrow looked at
the offending feet, and the other clerks looked
at them. Poor feet they were, blotched with
chilblains, red with the incessant torture of
the cold. Very poor, very offending, abso
lutely wicked feet.
“You may go, Sir,” said the law r yer. “You
may go. Pay him his threepence, Sparrow.
He hasn’t earned it, to be sure ; but w r e will
not stop it. He wishes to earn it, no doubt,
and we will take the will for the deed. When
you have got shoes, Racket, you may come
again. Good bye.
And the quotidian threepence was cut off.
And still the heavens sent forth a fiercer frost.
Fiercer and fiercer. God be with the poor.
Longer days, shorter nights. February month.
The sun, speeding towards the Spring sols
tice. And still frost, frost, frost, biting at the
very core of life in thinly clad humanity.—
Heaven, in its mercy, send few such Febru
aries in a century.
Blessings be upon thy head, kind lady.
Seraph peace everlastingly dwell in thy breast,
for looking out of thy window on that hitter
February morning, and giving shoes to that
poor child, not half the age of Bob Racket,
which drew thy attention to its unshod feet,
and heels so deeply kibed.
And the benediction of saints make thy
white locks shine sunbright in the Eternities,
thou aged minister of the word, who, meeting
the poor barefooted girl in the street, went
with her to a shoe-shop, and saw her feet en
cased in warm, serviceable boots, paying for
them out of thy own purse.
But Bob Racket got no shoes.
Come, mother, tell us that story again, about
uncle Taddy,” said Bob one evening to his
mother. The frost v r as not broken up, but
was more severe than ever. “That story
about uncle Jim, brave uncle Jim.”
“ Story, Bob, it ain’t a story,” replied the
mother. a IVs true.”
“ Yes, I know r it is—all’s one —it’s as good
as a story, I’m sure.”
“Bless the boy, you’ve heard it so often.”
“Do tell it, mother,” said Bob’s sister
Kitty.
“Do mother,” said little Charley.
“ Please, mother,” urged lesser Tommy.
“ Oh, do, mother,” said Alary, least of all
except Harry and the baby, who were too
little to express any wish upon the subject.
“ This is it, then,” said the good woman,
pleased herself to please her children. “It
was where the great whales are.”
“ But are there great whales ?” asked Kit
.
“Ain’t there just?” cried Bob. “Y'ou don’t
know, how should you ?”
“It was where the great whales are; and
your uncle was—
But we must relate the story, a poor sort of
story, in our own way. The uncle was a
brother to Bob's mother, and went to sea in
his sixteenth year. Allured by a narrative
of a whaling expedition, he subsequently
joined a crew, destined for that fishery off the
coast of Greenland. Jim Taddy, brave Jim.
Whose heart warmed not as he read in the
newspapers of the dive Jim had down into
the deep, half frozen sea, where iceberg jos
tled with iceberg, and the polar air burnt so
frore that the sailors became mutinous? Fa
thoms deep—Bob’s mother exaggerated a lit
tle in her enthusiasm—among the ice he went,
plunging and bubbling down, to bring up a
gentleman who had joined the expedition
Irom the love of adventure, and had fallen
overboard while contemplating the lustrous
hues which the setting suu reflected fro® the
§ ® ©lf SIS IB i£l iL 11 V H®A IS ¥
sky palaces of those extreme latitudes upon
the thousand peaks and pinnacles of ice.—
Brave Jim Taddy, brave uncle Jim!
Avery poor story. But Bob forgot his
frozen feet, as he imagined the gurgling wa
ters closing around his uncle, cleaving the sea
where the great whales are.
“Uncle Jim’s rich, ain’t he, mother?” ask
ed Bob.
“If he’s alive, dear; the gentleman made
him rich.”
“I wonder, if he knew that I had no shoes,
whether he w r ould give me any?”
Bob’s mother said she didn’t know, for
money didn’t soften hearts; and people who
had it, w ere loth to part with it. But, she
added, the heart of James Taddy must be
greatly changed—greatly changed, indeed, if
he wasn’t the kindest mortal breathing. —
Brother of lier’s he was, and she had a right
to speak what was in her mind.
“I’m bound,” she concluded, “he would
give you a pair of shoes, Bob, and many of
’em.”
Though why it was, he had never found
her out —had never written to her, she couldn’t
tell. He didn’t know her name, she was
aware of that, nor where she lived, and had
never seen her since she was married. Per
haps supposed her dead; but he could use his
pen like a schoolmaster, and he might have
written. Kitty suggested that there might be
a letter lying at the post-office; but the good
mother shook her head, and said the postman
would have delivered it, “ for he knows where
I live,” she remarked, “If uncle Jim don’t.”
Bob couldn't keep away from the office,
though he was no longer connected with it.
Anew boy had taken his place, and dusted,
and swept, and went on menial errands. Well
shod was the new boy in bran new Bluchers.
Very lank he was; Bob wondered whether
he was tall enough to reach the cobwebs.
One day—the frost wasn’t broken up ; the
Thames, above the bridge, presented one field
of ice—as Bob was lingering about the office
door, Sparrow, the clerk, emerged from the
lugubrious threshold. Intent upon procuring
a chop was Sparrow, and a pint bottle of
Guinness’s stout. Sparrow rejoiced in Guin
ness. But, encountering Bob, who was stand
ing with the old shoeless, offending feet, up
on the curbstone of the pavement, ne became
oblivious of chop and porter, and, pouncing
upon the discarded Mercury, bore him bodily
into the lawyer’s presence.
“Here he is, Sir,” said Sparrow,'out of
, breath. “ Here is young Racket.”
Young Racket was within a small trifle of
swooning; for he remembered a stray pen,
worn to the stump, which, instead of sweeping
into the dust hole, he had, upon one occasion,
picked up and carried home, with fell intent
of teaching himself to write therewith.
“Oh, here he is,” said the lawyer. “’Pon
my word, Sparrow, I’m greatly obliged to
you. How do you do, Racket? I’m glad to
see you. Have you procured any shoes yet?
I see you have not. Sparrow, do me a fur
ther service. Here are three half-crowns. —
Take him to the nearest shoe-shop, and fit
him.”
“ Certainly, Sir.—With Bluchers, Sir ?”
said Sparrow.
“ Yes, with Bluchers—warm and comfort
ing to the ankles, Sparrow. See that the
leather is seasoned and mollient. Will you
have the goodness?”
“ And bring him back, Sir, ?” asked the
clerk.
“Os course. Are you hungry, Racket?”
i Yes—ah, I thought so. Take him to an eat
ing-house, Sparrow, here is a fourth half
crown. Make him as plump as you can. I
j should suggest roast beef—but let him have
what he fancies. He may finish with plum
j pudding.”
And the bewildered Bob —his mystification
i momently increasing—was hurried away to
be shod with Bluchers, and to eat what he
fancied—terminating with plum-pudding.
“ I dare say now you are preciously aston
ished, ain’t you youngster ?” asked Air. Spar
row, w hen the Bluchers had been secured to
Bob’s feet (as if they w T ere never to come off
again,) and the second plate of roast beef w T as
in rapid course of evanishment.
“Yes, please, Sir. It is ”
“It is, what?”
i “Funny, Sir; ain’t it?”
“ Funny, by Jove ! I should think it funny
to have an uncle come home from sea, and
get a lawyer to find me out, and give me ten
thousand pounds,” said Mr. Sparrow, wink
ing with great pleasantry. “I should just
think it was funny. How do the Bluchers
! feel, Racket?”
I “ Comfortable, Sir—uncommon—please, Sir,
they pinches a little,” replied Bob, “ I have
: an uncle, Sir, as is gone to sea.”
“ Didn’t I say so? —and come home again,
wuth instructions to our governor—bless my
soul! here he is—How do you do, Mr. Tad-
dy? Your nephew, Sir; —Racket, my boy,
your uncle.”
None other. Brave Jim Taddy, who came
into the eating-house, as any stranger might.
When they got home (and Air. Sparrow,
after first returning to apprise the lawyer,
went home with them, to introduce, as he
said, the brother to the sister,) and when the
first greetings were over, Brave Jim told how
though he had oftQn intended it, he never
could get to England before, but was buised
in making money, that his sister, —or, if she
were married, as was most likely, her child
ren, as well as herself, should inherit little
fortunes. —How, on arriving in London, he
had sought out a lawyer to set inquiry on
foot, and, after weeks had passed, the lawyer
having gained the necessary clue, had told
him only on that morning, that he believed,
before the dusk, sister, and nieces, and neph
ews, would all be found. To see the tears
and embraces. Air. Sparrow was not an ef
feminate man, but he fairly owned that he
couldn’t stand it, and bade them, if they would
not burst his heart, to desist.
“It's very kind of you —very kind, indeed,
Jim,” said Bob’s mother, “ to come home from
catching those great whales, and give me and
my dear fatherless children so much money.”
“ Ten thousand pounds,” interrupted Mr.
Sparrow.
“But why—didn’t you write me a letter—
only one—to tell me all about you, this long
while ?”
“My dear sister,” replied Brave Jim, “how
could I? I didn’t know your name, if you
were married, or where you were to be found
—How could I write then ?”
. “Oh, you might have written,” persisted
the good woman; “If you didn,t know what
my name was, and where I lived, the postman
did, and he would have brought the letter.”
Mr. Sparrow laughed, and brave Jim laugh
ed, and Bob’s mother, not knowing the rea
son of their mirth, laughed also.
Our story ends here.
Shoes—shoes for Bob Racket, and for Bob’s
brothers and sisters, all their lives.
Still, why are there not Shoe Charities ?
jSjoine (Eorresponkme.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
NEW-YORK LETTERS.—NO. 12.
Rathbun’s Hotel, New-York, )
July 19th, 1848. J
My Dear Sir , —One of my friends who
claims to be a funny man, was relating to
me the other day, a little piece of drollery
which he perpetrated at the late Commence
ment of our University. It was the anniver
sary of one of the Societies. The audience
had assembled, and among them a venerable
gentleman armed with an ear-trumpet, whom
my waggish friend very courteously informed,
seeing him take a seat in the body of the
chapel, that “ the music sat up stairs .” And
“pray,” I asked, “what response did the gen
tleman make to your polite suggestion ?”
“Oh!” returned the humorist, “simply that
it was no matter, since he only played by ear!”
The same dreadful individual, (the wag, I
mean.) opposed the nomination as member of
a society to which he belonged, of a gentle
man named Officer, although the candidate
was not only an exceedingly desirable per
son, but one of the wag’s most highly es
teemed friends. When called upon for an ex
planation of his singular opposition, he spoke
of the extreme painfulness of the task which
his duty imperatively demanded of him to
perform; of the intense satisfaction it would
give him to welcome the nominee as a fellow
of the body, etc., but that it was constitution
ally impossible.” “ And pray, how so ?” was
the general and anxious query. “Because,
gentlemen,” replied he, “our constitution pro
vides for only four officers—the President and
so on, with which we are already duly sup
plied !” But I will repeat no more of his fa
cetia, lest I should seem to be encouraging
him in his wickedness.
While I was penning my last sheet, some
deeply interesting scenes were passing around
me, of which a want of time then prevented
my speaking. First, the impressive funeral
services of the deceased officers of the New
York regiment of Volunteers in Mexico.—
Lieut. Col. Baxter and others, and Mr. Forbes,
the messenger despatched to New Orleans by
our city authorities, to convey the remains of
the deceased to New York, but who died of
the yellow fever in the discharge of his du
ties, and accompanied the unfortunate victims
hither, like them only in shroud and pall.
During the day the flags were hung at half
mast,where they drooped in the air most mourn
fully. Minute guns were fired and church
bells were tolled, while the long and imposing
procession of troops and citizens, in carriages
and on foot, moved slowly to the sad strains
of funeral music. When the cortege reached
the Park, the bodies of the patriot dead were
placed, each coffin (which had been borne up
on a separate hearse,) on different platforms,
in front of the City Hall. One of the Rever
end Clergy present, then offered up an im
pressive prayer, after which Air. John Van
Buren delivered an eloquent oration upon the
lives and characters of the deceased, and the
circumstances of their fall. The Sacred Mu
sic Society then sung an ode written for the
occasion, by the poet of the day, General
George P. Alorris. After the benediction, the
remains were delivered over to the respective
families and friends. The whole scene was
deeply impressive and affecting. Each heart
was “ in the coffin there with Caesar!” Some
thirty thousand persons were prebent; among
them the surviving members of the company,
who had returned to the city. They bore
their flag, which they had carried unsoiled to
Alexico, but had brought back tattered and
worn upon the bloody field. On the follow
ing day the sad scene closed, with the inter
ment of the bodies on the Greenwood Ceme
tary. In the very midst of the ceremonies of
Wednesday, the city was astounded with the
terrible intelligence of the blpody insurrection
in Paris. Men read the story with a shudder,
and grieved for the dire necessity of such aw
ful deeds, while they confessed, when consid
ering the ends attained, that it w T as well. —
What a price to pay for order and peace ?
and yet, if needed, it must be doubled and
trebled, until those reckless and mad men are
subdued, and the mob of Paris annihilated.
Is not the event of this great and terrible scene
one of the happiest which could have trans
pired for the true inteiests of the new Repub
lic ? Alany thousands of lives, to be sure,
have been sacrificed, but who can say how
much larger a number the immolation has not
saved ?
I believe that I have not yet supplied you
with a single “ horrible accident,” which must
be quite a slight to a certain portion of the
readers of any journal. Three months passed
in my correspondence, and not the smallest
thing murdered! Mille pardons! my dear
sir. Allow me only the benefit of the prov
erb, “better late than never,” and I will “har
row up your soul,” with the bare mention of
the assassination, last week, of a young man
named Bremond, of a firm of jewellers in Nas
sau street, where the deed transpired.
The second of the two errant leopards, (not
tigers, as I baptized them in my last,) has
been found and killed. The circumstances of
the discovery of the nervous animal, who was
bent, despite the proverb upon changing his
spots, are somewhat amusing. He had
gained the roof of a house in the upper part
of the city, and the patting of his feet attract
ted the attention of the family. One of the
members passed through the trap-door, to in
quire into the matter, and was rather sur
prised at the glaring eyes wffiich met his gaze;
and very considerably astonished when the
creature made a spring at him, from which he
saved himself only by a wise and speedy re
treat. The leopard then proceeded down the
chimney, and took quiet possession of a neigh
boring and tenantless building. This adven
ture gave rise among the police, to the report
that robbers had entered the house. It was
enquired into, the character of the intruder as
certained, assistance gained, and the poor leo
pard demolished. The “Express” consents
that the canine and porcine classes of the
community shall have the enjoyment of the