equal number objecting to him. The casting vote of the Mayor was to decide the election; but the Mayor made a mistake, and when intending to vote against him, voted for Dr. Cotton. He requested a second ballot, but again repeated his mistake. Demanding a third ballot, it was refused, and so, in 1612, Dr. Cotton became vicar of St. Botolph's. It seems that he could not "digest the ceremonies which were so pressed, nor conform to them." His Nonconformity gave him trouble in the court in Lincoln. Still for twenty years he labored in Boston. He had many secret enemies, but he maintained his position. "His heart and door were ever open to receive all that feared God, especially godly ministers, and ministers driven into England by the persecution then raging in Germany." He wrought a great reformation in Boston. Profaneness was extinguished, and superstition abandoned. He was, through the interference of a dissolute man, summoned before the High Court of Commissioners in London, and Dr. Cotton applied to the Earl of Dorset for his interIcession with the Government. The intercession was rendered unavailing through Archbishop Laud's opposition, and Lord Dorset informed Dr. Cotton "that if he had been born to him on the Atlantic, and named Seaborn. The vessel that carried him was only 300 tons burden, and she had 300 passengers. We can only imagine what sufle ings must have been endured during that seven weeks' voyage. Dr. Cotton settled down at a place called by the Indians Shawmut, but afterward changed to Boston. Instead of preaching beneath the broad roof of stately St. Botolph's and sending his voice reverberating among its Gothic THE HOME OF JEANNE D'ARC.-JEANNE D'ARC BEFORE CHARLES VII.-SEE PAGE 92. arches, he had to preach in a small, lowthatched meeting-house. But here he was enabled to leave such an impress on the civil and religious arrangements of the day that he has exercised a far mightier influence than if he had remained in England. When Cromwell was in power, some of the prin cipal men of both Houses of Parliament "wished to send a ship to convey Mr. Cotton and other leading colonists to England to aid in public affairs." Something bindered this design, and Cotton remained to carry on his work in New England. He caught cold when crossing a ferry, and died when nearly seventy years of age, and was carried on the shoulders of fellow-ministers to his resting-place. Said one: "Both Bostons have reason to honor his memory, and to him more than to any other person in the world." Among his descendants in the female line in New England are the Byles and Brookses, Cushings and Everetts, names household words over the Atlantic. guilty of drunkenness, uncleanness, or any such lesser | New England most of all, which oweth its name and being faults, he could have obtained his pardon; but as he was guilty of Puritanism and Nonconformity, the crime was unpardonable, and therefore he advised him to flee for his safety." In 1633 he resigned the vicarage, flew to London, and lay concealed there for some time. He then changed his dress and traveled under an assumed name, and eluded the officers of the High Commission, who had long sought for him. He managed to get on board a vessel in the Downs. His wife was with him, and a child was THOU dost not honor God by giving Him anything, but by rendering thyself worthy to receive from Him.Hierocles, A. D. 450. "INSTANTLY MOLLY CHANGED THE AIM OF HER WEAPON, AND THE BULLET WHICH SHE SENT INTO THE GROUP WAS EQUALLY EFFECTIVE, BRINGING A SECOND WARRIOR TO THE GROUND." A STRANGE INCIDENT. BY LIEUTENANT R. H. JAYNE. SOME years ago, when a party of Indians became so dissatisfied with their location in the Indian Territory that they revolted and started northward, they rode across the southwestern section of Kansas, spreading death and destruction right and left. It so happened that Hugh Darrah's home lay in the path taken by these dusky raiders, and, unfortunately, it so came about that the only visit he made during that year to Emporia took place at the very time the redskins galloped through the State. Darrah left home only the day before the visit of the Indians, and, as he knew of no call for haste, he expected to be absent three or four days, if not longer. He left at home Molly, his bright seventeen-year-old daughter, and his invalid wife. The family were quite poor, so that there was no hired man, and, consequently, during the absence of the father the main responsibility rested upon Molly. Mrs. Darrah had been a sufferer for years from paralysis, and could do little more than hobble about on her crutches. It will be seen, therefore, that the daughter had no light duty thrust upon her shoulders. But she acquitted herself so admirably as to win the commend VOL. XXV. No. 2.-7. ation of all who knew her; some of the admirers coming from a distance of twenty miles to pay court to pretty Molly, who could shoot a rifle, ride a horse, sing a hymn or song with wonderful sweetness, and do a score of other things better than most of the people who were double her years. The observant father and mother of Molly saw that, among the young gentlemen who occasionally drove to their house, Molly showed the most favor to Everett Wilson, a sturdy, industrious young man, living on a fertile farm a couple of miles distant. There was none who could have suited the parents better, and they did not discourage his visits, as he showed a willingness to wait until the lady became older before taking her from beneath the roof of her own home. One afternoon, as the day was drawing to a close, Molly Darrah was startled by a black column of vapor climbing into the sky. It was to the south, and in a direct line with the home of their nearest neighbor, Mr. Homan, about a mile and a half distant. "I wonder whether anything can have happened?" thought the girl, standing in front of her own house and looking intently in the direction. "I fear Mr. Homan's house has taken fire!" The intervening ground was too irregular for her to discern the building, and so, without saying anything to alarm her mother, she hurried to the upper part of her own house and climbed out upon the roof, where her view was more extended. The sight which met her gaze was enough to terrify any one. Mr. Homan's house was unquestionably burning, besides which, the black smoke in several parts of the horizon proved that other dwellings were sharing the same fate. Indeed, it looked as if half of the buildings to the south and southwest, for a distance of a dozen niles, were in flames. "What can it mean ?" whispered the frightened girl. "I can think of only one thing Even while the thought was in her mind, the suspicion was verified. While looking in the direction of the nearest structure, she observed a party of horsemen, numbering ten or fifteen, galloping rapidly toward her own home. A second glance showed they were Indians, who were swinging their arms, brandishing their weapons above their heads, and shouting like so many madmen. They were riding at a swift gait, and, beyond question, were aiming for Molly's house, with the intention of killing all within and laying the dwelling in ashes. For years there had been not the slightest fear of Indians in this portion of Kansas, which was so well settled that it was not believed that that peril was among the possibilities. If you had asked one of the pioneers what he held in the greatest dread, he would have answered, cyclones, tornadoes, hurricanes, grasshoppers, drought, and probably several other pests, but I am quite sure he would not have classed the noble red man among them. But, as I have intimated, a band of furious savages were riding northward and spreading death and desolation in their tracks, and it so happened that the home of Molly Darrah was directly in their path. The brave young lady did not pause to speculate as to why it was a party of redskins were engaged on such a wild raid; it was all-sufficient to know that they were aiming for her own home, where they were sure to arrive within the next few minutes. Down-stairs she went with a few bounds, calling to her mother, who was calmly knitting in her rocking-chair in the front room, and making known their dreadful danger. "You are as safe here as anywhere," she said, as the parent turned her white face helplessly toward her. "I will fasten the doors and windows, and do the best to keep them out." But, Molly, we have only one gun in the house, and you are the only person who can load and fire that." "I know it. They may not stay long. They must be a band hurrying northward from the Indian Territory," said Molly, reading the situation aright. "If we can keep them off for a little while they will leave us alone." While she was talking she was busy. The front and rear doors were secured by the heavy crossbars, against which a horse might have plunged at full speed without shaking them loose. The windows were provided with massive shutters, which were drawn to and fastened. They were not as strong as the door, but it would have required considerable effort to open them from the outside. When these were secured, the interior of the cabin was so dark that Molly decided it best to move her mother up-stairs. This was difficult, since, even with the aid of crutches and the strong arms of the daughter, it was a laborious effort to get her parent to the second story. During the terribly trying minutes thus occupied, the daughter listened intently, expecting to catch the shouts of the red men, hear the reports of their rifles and the patter of their bullets against the house; but the seemingly endless task was finished at last, and the exhausted mother sank into a chair in the better-lighted upper story, while Molly ran down to the lower floor, where she had left the rifle leaning in the corner, and hastily rejoined her mother. Looking cautiously forth, Molly saw that the Indians had arrived. There were thirteen of them, all well mounted, and they were circling around the house at the distance of a hundred yards or more, though now and then one or two ventured on a nearer approach. No doubt the red men were puzzled by the appearance of the dwelling. The closed shutters and doors showed that the inmates had discovered their peril in time to prepare against it, and the inmates might number one or a half-dozen. If the latter, they were abundantly strong to beat off all the savages that could assail them. Molly told her mother what she had discovered, and cautioned her to keep her chair, where none of the flying bullets could reach her. The old lady was anxious to take a peep out at the redskins, but she knew the advice of her daughter was good, and she obeyed it. After circling about the house several times, the redskins grouped themselves on the northern side, where, drawing up their animals with their heads toward the building, the riders seemed to be holding a consultation as to what was best to be done. It was evident that several warriors were opposed to pausing long enough to make a fight. The prime object of the party was to get beyond reach of the United States troops that were sure soon to be on their trail, and all these delays were dangerous. But the most tempting pleasure to an American Indian is that of burning down the house of a white man and tomahawking the white man himself. The majority were plainly in favor of a demonstration against the cabin that seemed to defy them. The group offered the best kind of a target, and Molly was quick-witted enough to understand that a shot at such a time was likely to be more effective than several later on. Accordingly, she cautiously thrust the muzzle of her rifle under the sash of the window, whose curtain hid her face from the sight of any Indians that might be looking that way, and then drew bead on the fellow who seemed to be chief. The distance was considerable, but when the finger of the maiden began pressing the trigger, she knew she would bring her man down. She had made many more difficult shots, and her nerves were as steady as if made of steel. A strange thing took place. Three seconds before Molly discharged her rifle another gun was fired, and the Indian at whom she was aiming flung up his arms with a wild screech and lunged headlong from his horse. Instantly Molly changed the aim of her weapon, and the bullet which she sent into the group was equally effective, bringing a second warrior to the ground. This demonstration was entirely unexpected to the Indians, and it produced for a minute something like consternation among them. They scattered as if a hissing bombshell had landed among them and was on the point of exploding, but speedily came together a hundred | yards further from the house, where they felt comparatively safe against a repetition of the shots that had laid two of their number low. Molly was elated at the success of her demonstration, though she knew the peril had not yet passed, and she believed that a thirst for revenge would lead the redskins to make at least one determined demonstration against the house before riding away. While the doubt existed among the marauders, the wisest thing to do was to fire into them again. The band was so small that they could not afford to lose any more; and if they were convinced that nothing could be accomplished against the defiant inmates of the structure without the loss of more warriors, they were not likely to take the risk, much as they might wish to even up matters with their hereditary foes. The rifle that had been fired was quickly reloaded, and the girl made ready to send another bullet among the group that was so rar off that she could not be sure of harming any of them. But the strange incident of a few minutes before was repeated. Before she could make her aim satisfactory, the crack of a rifle sounded from the other side of the house, seemingly fired from the very corner of the building. That the rifleman was a good marksman was proven by the result, for a third warrior flung his hands aloft, with a wild screech, and would have toppled to the earth had not one of his companions caught him in time to prevent his fall. The other two savages that had rolled to the ground were left where they were lying, but the third was sustained on the back of his pony. The Indians now let fly with a volley at the structure, their bullets burying themselves in the heavy logs without harm to any one, though a single ball went through the window before which the young lady was kneeling, shattering the glass and so startling her that she sprang back without discharging her weapon. When she ventured to peep forth again, the band were seen galloping to the northward, as if flying before a whole company of United States cavalry. They had lost so "Hark!" said the mother. "I hear knocking at the door." Sure enough, some one was hammering vigorously down-stairs. Molly was down there in an instant. 66 Who is there ?" she asked, bending her head close to the latch, and resolved not to open until she knew it was a friend who claimed admittance. "It is I, Everett," replied a well-known voice. "If you have no objection, I would be pleased to call and pay my respects." In a twinkling the heavy bar was removed from its place, and the next minute Molly was clasped in the arms of her happy lover, Everett Wilson. "They are gone," he said, alluding to the Indians. "You need have no further fear." When the flurry was over, young Wilson related how he was off on a hunt to the southward, when he learned of the raid of the Indians, and he at once set out to warn the settlers of their danger. The dwellings were so scattered and his own peril was so great that this proved a more difficult task than he had anticipated. Before he knew it, he saw them making for Molly's home, and he started for the same place, but took a different course, with a view of avoiding observation. Fortune favored him, so that he was able to ride into the deep. gully near the building without detection. Leaving his horse where he was not likely to be seen, he crept forward on his hands and knees until near enough to gain a shot, or, rather, two of them, which, being fired from a point so near the building, were supposed by the marauders to come from within the structure itself. These shots contributed not a little to save Molly and her mother, and, indeed, Everett's own home; for the chastisement of the Indians was so severe that they did not halt again, but continued on their ride northward, to be turned back again to the Indian nation, some weeks later, by the United States troops that followed them. WHAT IS KNOWN ABOUT SHAKESPEARE. APART from controversies and celebrations-in fact, we might almost say in spite of them-there has always existed a well-founded popular recognition of the claims of William Shakespeare, of Stratford-upon-Avon, as the greatest of English dramatists, and one of the greatest of English poets. Passages from his plays have grown into the English language-have become aphorisms "familiar in our mouths as household words." We use his apt, pungent phrases for illustration when we would be witty; his solemn, pathetic language when we would appear to be wise. His tender, beautiful metaphors, and strong sympathetic references to human hopes, fears and sentiments, come next to the words of sacred Scripture to our thoughts when we are stirred by strong emotion; and it frequently happens that words from a drama of the robust and reverent writer of "stage plays" are quoted even by devout people as those of Holy Writ, while it is not uncommon for a text of the poetical or epigrammatic portions of Scripture to be attributed to Shakespeare. When thinking of the wondrous genius of the poet we are most of us ready to say, as Milton said in speaking of Shakespeare: "Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? And yet we have, as it were, some sense of the living per- "How far thou did'st our Lyly outshine, Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line. THE ROOM IN WHICH SHAKESPEARE WAS BORN. There is something characteristic in big Ben's allusion to the small Latin and less Greek possessed by the friend whom he loved "only on this side idolatry," for Ben was a great classic scholar, and had brought from the university the list of names that appear in his lines; and he may well have found the opportunity of showing his own acquirements irresistible, and at the same time have thought but little of the amount of classical knowledge possessed by the man whose early instructions had been those of the Grammar School of Stratford-upon-Avon. While we know too little about the circumstances of Shakespeare's life, popular curiosity has been mostly contented to take upon trust the inventions or misrepresentations of gossipmongers, of whom there were some incorrigible samples at the period when the printed plays were more commonly read and discussed. Without going very deeply into the rather voluminous literature of Shakespearean researches, however, a considerable amount of information has been accumulated concerning him and his family, and of their unbroken association with the place of his birth and death. as When we desire to know with certainty what was the personal appearance of Shakespeare, we are confronted at first with a difficulty in assimilating the several portraits which have been brought forward authentic representations of him; but even here a little inquiry, aided by some references to his contemporaries, pretty well establishes his identity. To enter into a description of the six or seven portraits which are said to be those of the great dramatist would be tedious, as each of them has some sort of pedigree; but it may be recorded that the "Chandos" portrait, which belongs to the British nation, and is usually accepted as the likeness of "The Bard," and has a very complete pedigree, supported by documentary evidence, is in many respects less satisfactory than the engraving which was prefixed to the folio edition of Shakespeare's works published in 1623. This portrait, which was the work of Martin Droeshout, has, at all events, something in common with the bust of the poet in Stratford Church, making allowance for the necessary differences between a print and a colored bust, and considering, also, that Droeshout is Isaid to have taken the likeness when Shakespeare was "in character," or, at all events, in the dress in which he had played an old man. But the important authentication of this engraved portrait is to be seen in the verse which was written by Ben Jonson to be printed under it, as it stood in the First folio, in the place where we now place the frontispiece. The verse was signed "B. J.," and has been reprinted in Ben Jonson's works: "TO THE READER: "This figure that thou here see'st put, Oh! could he but have drawne his wit His face; the print would then surpasse The testimony of his admiring and loving friends followed him after he had left the stage, both of the drama and of the world; but it is not certain who wrote the THE SHAKESPEARE MEMORIAL THEATRE, STRATFORD-UPON-AVON, ENGLAND. |