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[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
WHICH P
BY ETTA ETON.
(Concluded from, last week.)
CHAPTER 11.
We were all sitting round the dinner table.
Nena was discussing the merits of a pink silk
she had just received from her dress-maker, and
which she was to wear that evening. Isabel
would appear in a white glace silk ; Miss
Jane in an “ashes of roses,” just finished. I was
not thought of by them, but —for the first time in
my life—had thought of myself, so I said, —
“ And I shall wear my light blue.”
A somewhat prolonged stare of surprise from
three pairs of eyes, but I being of no conse
quence, no comment was offered. Jude, how
ever, from behind my chair, said, in disgnst,
“ That old day dress I Miss Mildred, folks
are a gwine to talk about your a-dressin’ so—
Sou’ll look downright shabby by the others in
leir satins and laces and flowers.”
“No, Jude, I shall have laces, too. I’m go
ing down to Thomson’s now, to buy some tulle,
and wish you to run up the skirt and run the
edging on the bottom and on the sleeves ; you
can easily do it by the time I am ready to
dress.”
Such a stare, as went round the trio, at these
words from me 1 Nena forgot the sleeve she
was describing, Isabel put down the spoon of
custard she was raising to her lips, and Miss
Jane was astounded out of the lecture on pro
crastinating she would else have given me.—
Jude “blessed her soul a-body” several times,
and little Astraea’s big eyes expanded to the
dimensions of saucers. I went off to get my
bonnet.
The things were purchased. Jude set to work
in delighted astonishment,and I went off ostensi
bly to take a nap; but really not to sleep, but lio
a-wondering, which ?
Evening came on. Nena and Isabel had been
dressing an hour, Jude came up with my just
completed sleeveß and skirt, and her soul was
be-blessed sundry times, more in her astonish
ment at finding me in my day dress, hair un
touched, face guiltless of powder or pomatum,
not even a slipper or glove laid out. I bade her
“ put out my things,” and betook myself to braid
the long masses of hair hitherto worn in plain
bands. With her assistant, I succeeded in
finishing them, twining them around the back of
my small head, donning silk and tulle, drawing
on my gloves, finding my handkerchief, and
stood waiting ten minutes for Nena to turn
around the rose-colored image, reflected from
her mirror, so that she might see it from every
possible point of view, and in every possible
light after the “ finishing touches ” had been
given; and that Isabel might scan the appari
tion, dressed, sentimentally all in white, she
saw in her mirror. How beautiful they were;
how justly entitled to occupy their positions as
belles! At last they were ready, and, as usual,
not noticing me; and Nena, on going out, was
about passing by me, and her eye accidentally
falling on my dress, she stopped short, and was
about to utter an ejaculation of surprise or ad
miration, but then thinking it was of “no con
sequence how I was dressed, didn’t even mat
ter if my toilette was almost as pretty as hers,”
she passed on, quite unintentionally showing
these thoughts in her manner.
We entered the scacious hall. Miss Jane in
irum, contracteaoy one or tne nnr*np—
two, Nena, Isabel, and I, directly in their rear.
We had not proceeded a third of the way across
the hall when the band struck “ Three cheers
for the red, white, and blue.” The manager
was looking around at us smilingly. The gen
tlemen in the room were bowing and smiling;
the ladies, for the most part, were trying, to
smile, too, but only succeeded in looking very
foolish. Miss Jane seemed to have grown two
inches taller, a sure sign she was pleased and
proud of something—but what? I looked up
and saw, reflected in a large mirror just in front
of us, Nena and Isabel in their rose-color and
white, courtesing very gracefully, whilst a con
scious blush suffused their faces.
“ What could it all mean ?” Just then, “You
are the blue,” was whispered in my ear. James
Cameron had reached my side. “ Sure enough!”
and with my fondness for mixtries I made a
half bow, half courtesy in the direction of the
band, which I know was anything but graceful.
Two swans and a goose ” was the comfortable
reflection with which I gained a place near a
window. At a little distance from us, and as
they thought, beyond our hearing, stood a
group of, I don't know how many, as they were
behind me; the first sentence that reached me
was in a lady’s tone:
“ How obtuse not to have noticed what the
‘red, white, and blue’ was intended for.”
Then a rich voice that made my heart leap—
“ Say, rather, how modest.”
Then a cold, cynical tone—
“ Or how artful.”
The speaker was a man. James Cameron
turned quickly, almost fiercely towards him. I
placed my hand on his arm and quietly walked
off with him.
“.What did you do that for?” asked he.
“Oh! he has a right to his opinion.”
We had been there but a short time when I
saw Mr. Granville join Vena. How she bright
ened, until she sparkled and flashed and glitter
ed as if a shower of diamonds had been rained
down on hqp! . I felt queer, just as if somebody
had taken away my heart and placed in its
stead about a ten-pound weight of lead. After
a wVile Nena took her companion’s arm and
they began walking slowly around the room;
many eyes were' on them, minute after minute
slipped away, still they walked. At length
quadrilles began to be formed; they seated them
selves, and “my problem,” thought 5, “is solv
ed.” Some one approached Nena to s«t>k her
hand for the dance; he resigned his seat « n <]
walked away. Presently I saw him with Isa
bel, to her he seemed just as attentive, was with
her just as long and remained, too, until she
was claimed for a waltz. He stepped back and
seemed to be looking for some one, at length I
saw his eye fall on me. I averted mine. After
rwhile I glanced casually in that direction; he
had disappeared,—again that queer feeling.—
“ What a ninny I am making of myself,” and I
began, resolutely, to talk to my be-whiskered,
be-perfumed companion—ten—fifteen minutes
passed. Again I was revolving in my mind the
ever-recurring question, when James Cameron’s
voice sounded at my Bide.
“ Miss Mildred, my friend Mr. Granville fears
you will not recognize him after the brief en
counter of last evening.”
I looked up to receive a bow from the tall
form by my side, and again those eyes looked
down into mine, seeming to read my thought;
for they were the next instant turned towards
the waltzers, among whom were Nena and Isa
bel. In my confusion, I had an indistinct idea
of the propriety of encasing both heart and
mind in mahogany or some other equally opaque
xk£ somraesxst vxxx.ii ibi vxexbxsx.
substance, if he meant to go on reading me
in that manner. But his first remark explained
the glance and relieved me.
“ You do not participate in the dance to-night
Are you not a Terpsichorean devotee ?”
“ I never dance,” and this closed the subject.
James stood by, joining in the conversation. Af
ter a while the waltz ceased and a brief respite
took place.
“That is a superb boquette Sydner has,” Re
marked some one near us.
We all looked in tho direction of that gentle
man,. and saw him in the act of presenting it to
Nena. He was one of her most devoted and
silly adorers, who always rendered himself con
spicuous, and had the faculty of obtruding him
self just when his presence was most unaccep
table to her. To-night he had been exercising
this faculty to its full extent. She was pleased
to have the flowers presented so, but at the same
time disgusted with the donor, so she received
them in quite a regal manner, as if she teok
them because she considered them her due. In
looking away,my eyes met James Cameron’s; he
was smiling, we had the same thought, he gave
utterance to it as follows:
“ ‘ I take this garland not as given by yon,
Bat as my merits and my beauties due.'
“Poor Montezuma,” shrugging his should
ers.
“Say, rather, poor Almeria,” I said.
“ And why poor Almeria ?” asked Mr. Gran
ville, with a searching glance at my face. He
thought me envious, or, perhaps, fancied he had
caught a sight of the green eyes of Jealousy
peering over the top of my soul. I knew he
was thinking that I pretended to pity, while,
really, I was envying her. I was satisfied of
my opacity, and replied, in a tone that had the
least bit of hauteur in it—
“ Because, as a heroine, she is liable to have
tilings attributed to her, which she, never said
and Dryden, probably, put those words in her
mouth just as Mr. Cameron did into ”
I stopped, not a word had been said about
Nena directly,and here I was making the appli
cation. James Cameron finished the sentence
for me:
“ Into Miss Nena’s eyes ? Mr. Dryden and I
stand corrected. But I have an engagement to
dance that set, and must away.”
Mr. Granville did not beg my pardon for at
tributing wrong motives to me, but his manner
showed he regretted it.
“It is excessively warm here!” He offered
me his arm for a walk on the verandah.
“ It is only natural that he should wish to be
with me when he cannot be with them,” was
ihe thought with which I accepted it.
But I soon forgot them and everything else
in the talk that followed. We had been walk
ing, I don’t know how long, when we met one
of the managers, who asked—
“ Are you not going in?—-do you not hear
the ‘ five ibinutes to supper ’ being played ?”
“ I had not observed it,” coolly replied my
companion.
As we advanced towards the entrance, he be
gan saying something of his “ visit last night,”
and something else of which I hea 1 only the
word “hope," as the doors had been thrown
open and the crash from the band drowned the
rest. We entered—l found Miss Jane, present
ed Mr. Granville, and were presently joined by
Nena, Isabel, and their respective escorts; to
gether we proceeded to the dining room, where,
although he attended to mv wants, he talked
chiefly to them and Miss Jane. As he stood
there talking to and looking at now one, then
the other, the forgotten question again arose—
tfus pomt, that I had been revolving in
my mind for twenty-four hours, came in two or
three weeks to be the question of the house
hold. The question, in fact,between themselves.
And now that there was a point at issue between
them, there began to be something of the “ car
actere malin ” mixed with the “L’Allegro" and
“ Peuseroso ” of their dispositions.
His visits were frequent, and “ which't" was
soon tho question of the village and vicinity.
Four or five months passed, and still it re
mained a mooted, anr undecided question, un
til envious tongues bfgan to whisper that, per
haps, it was a problem which would never be
solved, one which he did net intend to solve
himself. Nena and Isabel generally received
him alone, —occasionally Miss Jane and I were
present, and sometimes when James Cameron
had called immediately after tea and asked for
me alone, Mr. Granville would come some min
utes later, Nena and Isabel joining us soon af
ter. I had, therefore, but few opportunities to
take notes that would assist me in my solution,
particularly on the last named occasions. The
conversation usually continued general. His
manner betrayed nothing, yet, without doubt, he
was interested in one of them, for besides his
regular and frequent visits there were other and
though slight, yet convincing evidences of that
fact I remember, for instance, on one occasion
when he and James Cameron had happened
there four or five times in succession on the
same evening—the latter always coming first
and asking for only me—he remarked to Mr.
Granville, jestingly, as the latter entered the
room that be “ hoped we were not intruding, if
so, he would withdraw with me to the sitting
room.”
“ No intrusion," he replied, in a voice that I
was sure was not wholly free from tremor, and
looking up, I saw a deep tenderness in the eyes
he was just averting, which too plainly evinced
his feeling. “ How very, very much he loves
one of them, that he cannot even hear it alluded
to without emotion!” I felt cold and numb—it
was about the middle of November—the fire in
the grate needed replenishing and instead of
ringing for more coal, I went myself to call
Jude.
These visits of James Cameron, so frequent,
and so pointedly to me, would have excited sus
picion and subjected me to raillery, had I been
of any consequence, but as it was, it elicited no
remark. As for me, I was in no danger of mis
interpreting them, inasmuch as I knew that his
affections had long since been bestowed upon
vr,d accepted by the only cousin I had.
Oi« cold, blustering night in December, when
Nena bae. <jr o ne to stay with a friend in the vil
lage, and Isarw>l had accepted an invitation from
Mrs. Emerson, tn aunt of Mr. Granville’s, to
spend the evening and night with her, Miss
Jane had retired earl}, having 'been up all the
previous evening with a sick girl, and Astnca
too had gone to roost, I was left alone in the
library by 6 warm fire. As 1 sat there, luxu
riously ensconed in my crimson-cushioned arm
chair, reading some, thinking some, and dream
ing a great deal, the noise of the wind reached
me, even there, and pitying any one who was
compelled to be out such a night as this, I invo
luntarily knocked Tit the fire with the poker
just then my door was opened, Jude’s head ap
peared, and announced in rather a surly manner
that “ Mr. Granville is a waitin’ in the parlor, a
wantin’ to see you.” I started to my feet—
“ What! such a night as this?” And then it
flashed through my mind that his aunt’s invita
tion to Isabel was written at bis request so that
he might then have an opportunity of seeing
Nena alone, without the embarrassment of a
special call to her. “ Hew disappointed he must
be! —and this odd night—and in that cold par
lor.” I glanced around my cosy room. It would
be impossible, under the circumstances, for me
to entertain him—“yes, I would have him in
vited in here, perhaps my books, statuary and
paintings would divert his mind partly from his
disappointment; and I directed Jude to “ show
him to the library.” “ The long-sought answer
has been found proof positive obtained,”
thought I, and advanced to meet him. I was
far more self-possessed than he.
I said nothing to him in reference to his dis
appointment, nor did he allude to it, but that he
was so was quite evident. He was strangely
unlike himself. I attempted to divert his
thoughts by directing his attention to an exqui
site engraving on the mantle. “ Yes, it was
beautiful,” but scarcely looking at it. I was
surprised. I knew he was passionately fond of
paintings and engravings, and this was superior
both in design and execution. I spoke of a new
book lying on my table. He “ had not read it.
Ah! he begged my pardon, he believed he had.”
I' looked at him acutely. „ “ How very much dis
appointed he is;” and I felt a sharp pang at
heart “ Truly, I was growing very sympathet
ic, thus to feel another’s disappointment” I
became si'ent. After a while, he looked at me
a minute, and then drawing near me, said, in a
low voice:
“ I was at my aunt’s on yesterday, and there
learned that Rumor had for some time past
been busily discussing for which of the ladies
of this house my attentions had been intended.
I was not previously aware that my visits here,
though frequent, had excited observation. This
determined me at once to make known to the
lady herself that which, for weeks past, I had
only waited an opportunity to declare. I have
had very painful doubts as to whether my deep
love was reciprocated. I came here to-night,
but—” he stoppedr-my eyes seemed glued to
the floor. I was listening to a recital of his
love for another—a love of which he could not
speak without a thrilling tremulousness—how I
wished he would speak less tenderly—he was
disappointed by Nena’s absence, and wished to
extract from me whether there was any hope for
him—but it would be very wrong in me to com
promise her; so, with my eyes still on the floor,
I replied, in a sort of desperate calmness:
“ Indeed, sir. I grieve to add to your disap
pointment really, it would be wrong, even if I
knew, to compromise Nena either way—but she
will be at home to-morrow morning, and you
can then ascertain from herself whether she
loves you.”
“Nena! Mddred?”
I started up, and looked into the eyes that
were filled with unfathomable tenderness—my
heart stopped its beating.
“It is you whom I love—your love I would
ask. Will you give it to me, Mildred ?—and this
little hand?”
Reader, how time glided noiselessly and all
unnoticed away; how he talked; how he told
me of the love he had borne me always, from
the night of the party; how he had sought an
opportunity to tell me of it; bow he had almost
despaired, at my absenting myself from the
room when he came; how James Cameron had
assisted him without ever a wonthaving passed
between them on the subject; how beautiful I
felt, with my plain face, because his eyes dwelt
so continuallyjupon it; how the fire in the grate
crackled and blazed in sympathy with my joy;
how he started when the clock struck twelve;
how lingering was thelast leave-taking: how I
■ set ivi ronout owl a* U 5, uuei ry UiiauTC To le
alize so great a joy; how I moved about as in a
dream, arranging ihe room and extingushing the
fire—l can scarcely tell you; but 1 can tell you
how, in my unconscious mood, I walked to the
window, raised the sash and threw open the
blinds, wanting to see if the stars were not re
joicing with me. I can tell you how a gust of
wind blew in, extinguishing my lamp, and leav
ing me in utter darkness; even this but partly
restored me to my senses. “ The winds, too,
are shouting for joy,” was the thought with
which I closed the shutters; and then, as I
turned round —“light and darkness are alike
to me, the light of love henceforth illumes my
path.” But I was mistaken; this doesn’t always
answer as a substitute for lamp light, as in
groping my way up to my room proved. I stum
bled twice, and came near falling, which wouldn’t
have happened. I suppose, if I had not felt so
ethereal—so like I could walk on air. It was
hard to sleep that night—my heart was so
brimming with happiness. But the next morn
ing when I awoke there was a dull, heavy feel
ing about me I could not understand. “ What,
could it be—rthe reaction ? no, I have it; I shall
have to tell them to-day which it is!" I break
fasted alone with Astrcea —Miss Jane not yet up
—the little owl’s knowledge-gatherers were em
ployed in gazing into a bunch of bright red and
golden crysanthemums laid by her plate; she
was now laying them down, then taking them
up and gazing into them as if she expected to
see the guardian sprite of the flower step out
from among their bright-hued leaves, then again
holding them to her little dilated nostrils, for all
the world as !f she were inhaling their odor as
food. It was well she was so employed. I
couldn’t have borne to have those eyes of hers
scanning my countenance —I really believed
-my secret would reveal itself without any aid
from my tongue. I went off to my room. Just
before dinner Nena returned—a short while
after, Isabel. The bell rang—the blood all left
my heart—the time had come—his visit would
be mentioned —questions asked—the truth must
out. I went down, feeling when I entered the
dining room as if I had been guilty of theft.—
After a while Miss Jane spoke of the visit. “ I
am sorry I was not here," .said Nena, with a
strange exultation in her tone —then, after a
pause _:“ Mary Stuart* said she thought, Isabel,
that he was to be at his aunt’s to see you last
night, as she was there, yesterday morning,
when Mrs. Emerson received a note from Mr.
Granville requesting her to invite you to spend
the night with her. She laid down the note,
and went out of the room, and Mary thoughtless
ly read it.” Miss Jane looked perplexedly at
Nena a minute or so, and then —“Aba! ha! I
see- so he then thought to have an opportunity
of seeing *>u alone here, Nena. Jt is a pity you
were absent.” “You are mistaken, said Isabel,
• “ I told him night before last, and then again at
his aunt’s gate, where I met him yesterday even
ing, that you had gone to spend the night with
Mary Stuart." She spoke triumphantly. “I don’t
believe it,” angrily retorted Nena. “It is very
strange,” said Miss Jane. ‘‘Jude, for whooff did
Mr.
dancing a jig; the plates and dishes—all the ob
jects in the room, partook of the rotary motion;
the half-carved duck in the dish before me
seemed to have recovered life- aQ d swam as
swiftly off before my purblind eyes, as if in his
favorite pond, and as gracefully as if he hadn’t
left one of his limbs in one of Astroea’s fingers,
a wing on Nena’s plate, and a portion or two of
breast on the others. My heart was beating so
as almost to stifle me—l was dumb.
“ For Miss Mildred Moulton, ina’m.”
“ For Miss—Mildred—Moulton ?” I looked
fixedly at my plate, as I felt a battery of eyes
leveled at me. A silence of dumb wonderment
ensued—only a short while, though, then Miss
j ane —“Ah! I have it; he wished to ascertain
from Mildred whether he should be successful
before committing himself to either of you.”—
Dear, dear, why didn't she let it be ? I thought
the explanation nearly over. “ You know which
it is, Mildred?” and “ which is it, Mildred?” ask
ed two eager pairs of eyes. Just then, the door
bell sounded —the blood rushed in torrents to
my face. “Come, Mildred, it is useless to feign
ignorance; your face tells on you. You know
which!” Mr. Granville’s voice was now heard
asking for Miss Jane. I sprang up—“ Yes, I
know, and you will soon know, also, Miss Jane;"
ran to my room, locked and bolted my door, sat
down and buried my face in my hands —five —
ten minutes passed away—a step was approach
ing—Jude’s voice telling me I am “ wanted in
the parlor.” I rise, and pressing my hands on
my heart to still its tumultuous beating, go down.
I pass the dining room door, where Nena and
Isabel sat stupified with wonder—l pause before
reaching the parlor to regain my self-possession,
and, after losing the last particle of it, entered—
Miss Jane looking all dumbfoundered with
astonishment. Mr. Granville, advancing to meet
me, took my hand, telling me that “ Miss Jane
had consented to bestow it on him; that she
was surprised, but did not censure me, inas
much as I did not know it myself until last night
—that it shall be his first and chief endeavor to
render me happy—that he must again thank
Miss Jane for yielding her consent so readily."
That lady hardly knowing, in her surprise,
whether to laugh or cry—whether to be glad or
sorry, finally departs and leaves us together.
There was some embarrassment when I again
met Nena and Isabel, but they passed it over as
rsidily as possible. Each preferred me to the
other, and Nena even jested with me on one or
two occasions, about stealing so sly a march up
on them. -
When Spring came we were married; Nena at
the same time giving her hand to Mr. Sydner—
the Montezuma of the boquet, who had recently
had an immense fortune left him; Isabel, looking
over, or passing by the more brilliant attractions
of her other suitors, bestowed her hand, and
Miranda-like, her heart with it, I believe, on the
bachelor brother, who, though a nonentity, had
dared to look upon and love/lisr in secret a long
while. At my own and Mr.> &ranville’s request,
Miss Jane gave to her the fifteen thousand in
tended for me, which, added to her own fifteen,
and about as many tliousand of his, gave them
the luxuries of life. Littje Astroea lives with
me. Miss Jane divides her time around.
surta..
The production, monot ization, and currency of
silver have excited the interest of all ages of the
world. Silver, as well as gold, has been mostly
found in nearly a pure state, which has rendered
it available at every period, withost any diffi
culty of separation from its ore by processes in
volving great skill
Silver has-beet* iu use as money ever since the
Deluge; no mention having been made of it be
fore. It was used-in Abraham’s time as money,
in the form of ; bullion—bar, or ingots, which
had to be weighed, coins being then unknown.
Those who em acquainted with ancient history
know how abundant silver has been in Asia.—
The quantity of silver which existed there,
even as early as the times of the Persian mon
archy, (says Heeren), was prodigious. Tho
tribute was, collected in silver, while gold was
»**d for oriflßHb. — —
Silver mines seem to jiavo been of much rarer
occurrence In Asia than in Europe, Silver oc
curs in the mines of Siberia, in China, in South
ern Asia, but in all in comparatively small quan
tities. The large quantities of silver possessed
by the Asiatics must have been imported; and
thus it appears that, from the beginning of the
historic period, the East has always drained the
West of its precious metals—mostly silver.
The East was the birth-place of the arts
and manufactures, by which she drew her sup
plies of silver from the West
Heeren, in his historical researches, tells us
that “ the richest land in silver known to the an
cients was the south of Spain, at that time work
ed by the Phoenicians. The latter derived no
less an abundance of this metal from their Span
ish colonies, than the Spaniards have done from
their South American possessions; and by moans
of their traffic in the interior of Asia, it was dis
seminated through all that continent. The ex
tent of their land-traffic would, therefore, be suf
ficently proved by the vast abundance of this
precious metal in the Persian Empire; even if
there were no express testimony of the fact.”
Heeren considers the Tarshish of the old Scrip
tures to be Spain.
'We quote from his book on the Phoenicians
(chap. 3): .
“Spain, who in modern days has peen compel
led to fetch her treasures from the otLer side of
the Atlantic, was herself the Peru of antiquity.
She was the richest country in the world for
silver. • The most productive mines of silver
were found iu the districts which have been de
scribed above, and which were comprised by the
Phoenicians under the general name of Tartes
sus or Tarshish. The prodigious quantity of
the precious metals which they found here upon
their first arrival, so excited their astonishment,
and the representation they made was. strongly
impressed upon the mind of the nation, that the
traditions preserved respecting them seem very
remarkably to suit the pictures given by the
Spanish discoveries of Peru.
“ When the first Phoenicians visited Spain it
is said they found silver there in such abundance
that they not only freighted their ships with it
to the water’s edge, but made their common
utensils, anchors not excepted, of this metal.—
Thus laden, they returned back to their native
country, which lost no time in taking posses
sion of this ancient Peru, and founding colonies
there. When the Phoenicians first settled there,
artificial mine-works were quite unnecessary.—
The silver ore lay exposed to view, and they
had only to make a slight incision to obtain it in
abundance.”
We may incidentally remark that the story of
the Phoenician colonization of old Spain resem
bled imanother point of view, that of the Span
ish colonization of new America, by leading to
the reduction of the inhabitants to forced labor.
The poor native Iberians were treated like the
poor native Indians. The Spanish mines were
worked for Phoenicia by slaves; and the Phoe
nicians were great slave-dealers.
In the days of the Roman empire, it was a
standing grievance, discussed ad nauseum in the
Roman Senate, that the wealth of the State,
which they seemed to consider to concentrate in
the precious metals, was given away to foreign
nations.
STlverwas the only instrument, or at all events,
says Gibbon, the principal instrument of com
merce. Their standard coins were all silver.—
The sestertius in which they kept accounts was
a silver coin, and the original of the Spanish
and American dollar. The very dollar mark
which we use ($), owes its origin to the Romans,
and is the same as the IIS, or shortened into $.
The' Roman sestertius was equal to two asses
and a half, written with the characters IT, and
and S, for semis or halt The sesteritus, it will
be recollected, was the ordinary coin ot the Ro
mans, by which the largest’sums were reckoned.
The Lydians were, it is said, the first to coin
silver for currency.
The discovery of the continent of America
led to that of the great silver mines of Mexico
and Peru, which threw into shade all the Euro
pean silver mines, and supplied the world with
silver to such an extent as to diminish its relative
value more than one-half.
Mexico is still the chief source of supply of
silver for the world’s use; but the discoveries
of gold in'Caliiornia and Australia have led to
the substitution of gold for silver in the curren
cy of many countries, including our own. Prance
has, in addition to England and the United
States, practically demonetized silver, using it
only in payment of very small sums, so that the
decrease in the production of late years has
been in some degree compensated by the de
crease in the demand, owing to the preference
given to gold for currency.
There is, however, one important exception—
the East; still the East has, from time imme
morial, used silver only as money in all ordinary
payments. The process still goes on. -India
and China receive silver in large proportion for
their productions, giving back none. What has
the East done with all the silver it has received
from Europe and America? There must be
hoards of it somewhere. The British Govern
ment in India used silver as currency exclu
sively, the revenues of the State being all pay
able in silver. Holland alone, of the European
countries, makes use of silver In the same way.
The well known absence of security for proper
ty in the East accounts for the disappearance
of silver in India, in those parts not subject to
British rule, and in all China. It was concealed
for safe keeping; and what was concealed was
often lost. The shipments to India and China
are on the increase. Years ago when the tea
imported in this country was entered at Boston,
whence ships were sent to China, silver dollars
were collected and exported to exchange for
tea direct Now, it is more economical to settlo
by exchange on London for our tea imports,
mostly received at New York; but the same
result obtains, for still China requires dollars
for her tea 3 and silks, and only a few cottons
comparatively; and the silver so wanted and
shipped is obtained In London, where it is chiefly
sent from Mexico and partly from the continent
of Europe, in exchange for gold.
The production of silver is likely to receive
considerable stimulus; first, from the increased
production of quicksilver, which had become
scarce, and for want of which many of the old
mines of South America had ceased to be work
ed, and secondly from the new discovery of silver
mines. Our new territory of Arizonia will soon
be sending its silver treasures eastward; and
new mines of silver have been discovered in
California. The quicksilver mines of the latter
State are yielding abundantly, and add greatly
to the product of silver from the old mines, by
facilitating the extraction of the pure metal from
its native ore.
If the product of silver in a few years resumes
its ancient abundance, as compared with gold,
we shall return to the use of it, in circulation in
preference to gold; for where silver and gold are
alike legal currency, the actual currency will be
in that metal which will pay debts with the
least cost. It is, at present, cheaper to pay in
-fnlr? Ihnn in flilxfixv; -»«■*
countries where either by law, as in Holland, or
by custom, which is a greater force than law, as
in India and China, that silver is used and pre
ferred to gold. At some period of/ the future
history of Asia, wo should not be surprised of
reading of discoveries of lost treasures of silver,
stowed away for safe keeping till its owners died,
leaving its whereabouts unrevealed. It is only
in this way that we can account for the loss of
silver from the world’s currency. Its production
in one hemisphere seems to be made up by its
loss or concealment in another. What is ex
tracted in one part of the earth, after undergo
ing many exchanges, has been returned into the
bowels of the earth from fear. The troubles in
China and in the East generally, must have
confirmed this tendency.— [lnsurance Journal.
Miners in California have left the gold dig
gings by thousands for the newly discovered
silver mines in. the Washoe valley, at the head
of Carson river. These are situated on the
eastern slope of the Sierra Nevada, near the
thirty-ninth parallel, where the line separating
California from Utah bends from the south to the
south-east. A bill is now before the California
legislature to annex that valley to its own terri
tory, of course with the consent of Congress.
The migration in that direction is represent
ed as exceeding anything experienced on the
Pacific coast since the pioneer days of California
mining. It has already surpassed that witness
ed two years ago, when the Frazer river dis
coveries astonished the country.
of miners on their way to the mountains, or
about to go, was estimated as high as 25,000.
There is every reason to believe that raining
for silver in those valleys may become as im
portant and profitable as that for gold has proved
on the opposite slope. They are part of the
same formation which extends through Mexico
and South America, whose treasures after en
riching the world for three centuries and a half
are still yielding abundantly. The comparative
scarcity of silver, which became a question of
some importance lately, is likely to be done away,
and the proportion between that metal and gold
satisfactorily maintained.
In Mexico, the extensive silver mines of Don
Ignacio Aoriola, at Sententrion in Chihuahua,
have been purchased by a company of New
York and Boston Capitalists, and agents have
been sent forward to take the management of
the Company’s interest. A large amount of the
moat approved machinery has been forwarded to
the mines, by the aid of which it is estimated
that more siiver will he furnished before Christ
mas, than has ever been produced in any one
year before, from all other sources. The lo
cality has been known as the Silver Mountains,
and the Company’s right, which extends about
sixty miles in length, embraces the richest part
of the Mexican mines.
mi
Precocity. —Douglas Jerrold was considered
a dull boy, at nine years of age he could scarcely
read. Goldsmith was a very unpromising boy;
Dryden, Swift, and Gibbon, in their earliest
pieces did not show any talent. The mother
of Sheridan, herself a literay woman, pronounced
him to be the dullest and most hopeless of her
sons. The father of Barrow is said to have
exclaimed, “If it please Go* to take away any
of my children, I hope it will be Isaac.” The
injudicious parent reg»fded the lad as a miracle
of stupidity, but h® afterwards proved tho glory
of his family.
—
A Rou-wto stone gathers no moss. •
Ask thy purse what thou shouldst buy.