running it round the rim, she finally gave it a pound on the side that made the whole apartment ring again, and almost stunned one to deafness. I now understood the reason of her caution, and was glad to depart without suffering deafness by the operation. From our allusion to the ancient family of the Earl of Warwick we would not have the reader suppose that he is a descendant of the redoubtable Guy. The castle and estates have escheated to the crown since his day more than once, and have been conferred on various parties. The first Earl of Warwick of the present line was Sir Fulke Greville, afterward created Lord Brook, on whom the title of Earl of Warwick with the castle and estates was conferred by King James I. Neither is the present castle to be confounded with the original structure. At first it was merely a rough fortification, spacious and strong, but without any pretension to elegance or grandeur. It has been repeatedly enlarged and beautified till the grandfather of the present Earl brought it to its high state of perfection and splendor, combining the elegance and comfort of a modern mansion with the outer aspect and characteristics of an ancient castle. picture be doubted? Was it not a vineyardMartha's own vineyard-and honored with the name of its fair and lovely mistress? There certainly was no room for mistake. She, happy soul, was ever reveling in the luxuries of her native islet, and while envying none was envied of the world. These treasures were by undisputed title all her own, and, "From the center all round to the sea, Her right there was none to dispute." Thus we grew up to maturer years with no further knowledge of this isolated spot than was furnished by its peculiar locality and its name. In all our reading we found no other key to its character or history. We met none who had landed on its shores or mingled with its citizens. Our experience with the world, however, had caused these ideal sketches to grow somewhat dim, till at length the pictures themselves had almost faded from memory. Amid the scenes of active life the miniature queen and her seagirt abode were well-nigh forgotten. For a few years past, she who has chosen to accompany us in the journey of life has been in declining health, and it was thought that a change from the interior to the sea-board might invigorate a wasting constitution, and, perhaps, A SUMMER AT MARTHA'S VINEYARD. reclaim its wonted energy. Such a change was A BY REV. L. D. DAVIS. MONG the first objects that attracted our attention in the study of geography was the appearance on the map of a little island off the southern coast of Massachusetts bearing the suggestive name of Martha's Vineyard. Without any specific information as to the nature of its soil or the character of its inhabitants, we concluded in our childhood meditations that it was a land abounding in grapes, and distinguished alike for its fertility and beauty. Many times while sitting at our accustomed place in a country school-house have we allowed the eye to rest on this little spot amid the waste of waters, while the imagination roamed through the forest, whose lofty trees were bearing up the heavyladen vines, and vying with Italy itself in the riches of the vintage. Fancy thus aroused assured us that all along the path of the traveler the purple clusters met his eye, and at convenient distances hung low within his reach. He had but to put forth his hand, and, with scarce a pause in his journey, it was filled with most delicious fruits. As in the charms which the nursery ascribed to "Fairy-Land," beauty and gladness seemed here combined without those fatal admixtures that every-where else appear. And why should the correctness of such a accordingly determined upon, and, in the order of Providence, Martha's Vineyard was selected as the place of temporary abode. Here, it was said all the winds came fresh from the sea, freighted with those qualities that are best calculated to strengthen the invalid and enliven the weary. It must be confessed, also, that the influence of early impressions, however vague and indistinct they may have been, was not altogether lost in giving this the preference to other localities similarly situated. Early in the spring of 1859 we set out from our home in central New York to thus establish ourselves in proximity to the sea. There were in our company, including the little ones of the household, six persons, to most of whom the route was entirely new. We were soon passing down the noble Hudson with its splendid scenery on either hand, and thence through Long Island Sound, scarcely less than its equal for beauty, till we came to New Bedford, the place of embarkation for what was already looked upon as our island home. Here we took the steamer "Eagle's Wing," which was in a few hours to land us at the Vineyard. As the boat pushed out into Buzzard's Bay, the sea proved somewhat rugged, but not so much so as to render the voyage especially unpleasant. It is true Neptune in his usual way demanded tribute of many on board, though for some reason our little company was allowed to escape. Whether this was because it was our first intrusion on his dominions, or because we were more willing to render homage to the vastness of his empire and the supremacy of his reign, he did not deign to inform us. Certain it is we were left free to watch the varying scene and enjoy the sail. And, under the circumstances, this was no small privilege. Before coming to the Vineyard there is a group of some half dozen in number known as the Elizabeth Islands. They are small in size, and to the passer-by look barren and uninviting, and yet are not without interest. One of them, Cuttyhunk by name, was the first white settlement in New England. Here, seventeen years before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, was a building erected and used as a human habitation. It is a little singular that the fact is not made more prominent in our allusions to the past. On another we were pointed to a large mansion, said to have been built as a summer residence by a wealthy gentleman from Boston, who was the owner of the island. It must certainly be a fine retreat from the noise and heat of the city, worth a thousand times as much as a visit to Saratoga or Newport. Passing these islands through a narrow and rocky channel that requires most skillful pilotage, we were soon in sight of the Vineyard itself, that looked for all the world as if it might have borne a less pretentious name. The steamer first stopped at Holmes's Hole, a beautiful village as seen from the water, and having a harbor much used by vessels engaged in the coasting trade between New England and the south. On leaving this port we caught sight of Edgartown, eight miles distant, in which, as it was the place of our destination, we felt a more especial interest. Already we had begun to call it home, and it is impossible to be indifferent to the character of the spot bearing that endearing name. It is not as fully in view from the deck of the steamer as the town just left behind, and seemed at this distance to be sitting on the very borders of the sea with an air of calm and quiet beauty. We were informed by one of our traveling companions, a resident of the place, that it was the county seat of Dukes county, and the principal town of the island. Arrived at our journey's end, and stepping upon the warf, the first appearance of things around us was not especially inviting. Huge casks of whale oil lined the passage from the landing to the hotel, and emitted an odor to which we were altogether unaccustomed. The streets, too, were narrow and crooked, with neither pavement nor flagging. Instead of these ordinary appendages of village life, there was an abundance of dry sand, which, as the wind blew through the open spaces, paid but little respect to the passers-by, unless it was by rudely throwing itself in their faces, and thus claiming a familiarity altogether too intimate. It remained for a further acquaintance to reveal the fact that other parts of the town were much more inviting, and that the village really possessed unusual attractions as a pleasant and desirable place of residence. It is not strange that one who all through life has been accustomed to an unlimited view of broad acres should be the subject of peculiar reflections on taking up his residence in a small island. He feels himself for the first time literally "out at sea," and in a measure exposed to the perils of the deep. As the roar of the surf is heard at nightfall, while the waters of the Atlantic are rolling themselves up into big waves and dashing furiously against the beach, the question as to the security of his anchorage instinctively presents itself to the mind. It is only when he feels assured that this warfare between land and sea has been going on for ages, and that the results are before him, that his fears are altogether dismissed. Now that we were here surrounded by the deep blue waters that stretch across to the old world, how otherwise could we be satisfied with our moorings? how know but the billows, as "Each wave behind impels the wave before," maddened at length by the resistance, should rise higher still, and in the fury of the storm sweep across the plain? But as the past is ever a premonition of the future, the conclusion was reached that He who hath appointed the bounds of the ocean, had here at our very feet bid its proud waves pause and return to the depths whence they came. Martha's Vineyard is about twenty miles long, and from five to ten miles wide. It possesses a sandy soil, much of which is poor and worthless. These sections are covered with a growth of low, stunted oaks, standing so thickly together that it is almost impossible to pass among them. Other parts of the island are rich and valuable, and contain cultivated farms that will compare favorably with any in New England. Wild grapes of a large size and good flavor are found in different localities, but scarcely in sufficient abundance to give it the name of a vineyard. How this name originated we have been unable to learn. Dame Martha is yet as much of a myth as in our school-boy days. Nobody here can tell who she was or when she lived. A recent writer in the "Atlantic Monthly" has given a tradition, but it is neither satisfactory nor reliable. Indeed, the entire article is more of a caricature than a representation of facts. The writer was a passing visitor, and has taken up and repeated the language of several porters and loungers at the steamboat landing as specimens of the manners and customs of the island. It is well known that no community can be correctly judged by such a standard. A residence of six months and a somewhat extended intercourse with the people has led us to the conclusion that they will not suffer, intellectually or morally, by comparison with any other section of the country. Though isolated in a measure, there are probably more persons among the Vineyarders that have circumnavigated the globe, and looked upon all phases of human society, than can be found any where else in the same amount of population. In churches and schools they are also fully up to the reputation of New England at large. The Vineyard, with some small islands in the immediate vicinity, formerly belonged to New York, but is now attached to the state of Massachusetts. It embraces three townships; namely, Edgartown, Tisbury, and Chilmark, which together constitute Dukes county, with a population of from five to six thousand. A large proportion of these depend on the sea for a livelihood, though agriculture and the mechanic arts are by no means neglected. There is on the western portion of the island an Indian reservation of eleven hundred acres, still owned and occupied by the original "lords of the manor." The natives, however, are now few in number, and are rapidly melting away. Their existence as a tribe is already more nominal than real, and the indications are clear that before the resistless tread of the white man's civilization they will soon wholly disappear. Their lands include many rich cranberry meadows, and are reckoned of considerable value. This section is much visited by strangers, who are attracted thither by the natural wonders connected with the "Gay Head" cliffs. We had not been many days on the island before we met visitors on their way to this locality, and all whom we saw returned eloquent in the description of what they had seen. Among the number were several distinguished geologists and agents of scientific institutions from distant parts of the country. Having a desire to see for ourselves, we at length set out by land conveyance for a tour of the island. The distance from Edgartown is about twenty miles. It was a beautiful summer's morning, with a fresh breeze from the open sea, when we struck into the forest of low bushes, with which much of the island is covered. Passing through Tisbury into Chilmark, we crossed a range of high hills, and went to the heart of the reservation without seeing a single native. The roads were far from being good, and it was not till the journey grew wearisome that we reached the point of destination. The keeper of the light-house received our company, and entertained us with the utmost cordiality, at the same time directing our attention to the points of principal interest, and assisting us in the search for fossils, which are here found in great abundance. We were soon convinced that the "Gay Head" cliffs are to be reckoned among the wonders of nature. They form a bold promontory about one hundred and fifty feet high, pushing out into the sea as if in defiance of the waters that wage unceasing warfare against the intrusion. Their construction is altogether peculiar. They are composed chiefly of ocher of almost every conceivable color and hue, in irregular but distinct layers. Seen at a little distance from the shore, with the rays of the setting sun upon them, this coloring stands out with more distinctness than that of the rainbow, and, stretching along with its lofty attitude for nearly a mile, is truly magnificent. Excursion parties not unfrequently visit the place, and lie off in their boats at sunset, that they may witness the display. As it is difficult landing, such companies do not usually go on shore. The cliffs also contain masses of rock, seapebbles, and sand that have evidently been fused by intense heat, and are now as firmly bound together as the component parts of granite itself. And then, too, there are layers or ledges of gravel that contain great quantities of fossils. Here, more than a hundred feet above the level of the sea, we found sharks' teeth in a most perfect state of preservation, together with petrified bones of the body, as also clams, and a variety of specimens not easily classified. We were also shown the vertebræ of the whale and other monsters that it is generally thought have no business on dry land. How they came in this position it is of course impossible to tell; but they are so numerous and so easily secured that with a few moments' labor every visitor can obtain a supply. Could some of those overhanging crags but speak and tell us their history, we should doubtless listen to a wondrous tale of internal and outbursting fires, and upheaving masses, and hissing waters when their foundations were laid. But they speak not. secrets of the past are securely locked up, and the visitor is left to his own reflections. While gazing on the billows as they come in from a heavy sea and leap high against the rocks, it The requires no great stretch of fancy to suppose that here is a perpetual war. Some time in the remote past the crags have won a signal victory, and have made prisoners of multitudes of the denizens of the deep. And now as the elemental battle rages, when the ocean is stirred to its depths and rises up in its fury from the open side of the cliffs, these petrified remains are laughingly held out to view as trophies of victory. The recoiling billows, maddened at the sight, renew the attack, and, while the winds and the tides remain their allies, will not cease the strife. And thus from year to year and age to age the contest continues, and shall continue to the end of time. From the brow of the precipice there is a prospect of indescribable beauty. Standing thus high above the waters we could look in every direction as far as the eye can reach. Away to the right the main land was dimly seen stretching along the border of the horizon, while with the help of the glass the white spires of several populous towns were brought within the range of vision. Between us and the continent were several small islands like specks on the bosom of the ocean, high above which the sea-birds were circling in the air, ever and anon bending to the water in search of prey. To the left was "No Man's Land," an island whose character and history is suggested by its peculiar name. All else seemed a world of restless, moving waters, and we could but exclaim, "The sea! the sea! the open sea! It runneth the earth's wide regions round; Near by us stood the lofty tower from whose top the light is flashed far out upon the deep, marking the course of the mariner, and guiding his way amid the perils of storm and darkness. The channel around "Gay Head" is rocky and dangerous, and yet the official records assure us that more than seventy thousand sail annually pass this point. It is not strange, therefore, that the United States Government maintains here one of the best lights on American shores. The present lantern has more than one thousand lenses and prisms, so arranged as once in thirty seconds to give out a flash that can be seen in favorable weather a distance of sixty miles. It is the famous Fresnel light, that was on exhibition at the World's Fair at Paris, and afterward removed to this place. A few miles off shore there is also a light carried at the mast-head of a boat securely anchored, that marks a ledge of concealed rocks, and thus aids in giving direc tion to the commerce of the nation. Having occupied two days in the visit to Gay Head, and having procured as many specimens as we could wish, our party returned to Edgartown, well repaid for the trouble and fatigue of the journey. With the exception of Niagara, we have never seen its equal for magnificence and beauty. We doubt not that all who have looked upon it will agree with us in saying that it is well worthy a visit from afar. Other parts of Martha's Vineyard possess features of more than ordinary interest. But we will not detain the reader's attention by the continuance of this article. It is possible that at some future time we may resume the sketch by calling attention to the extended whale fisheries carried on from this and the neighboring ports. Connected with this business these islanders are able to furnish many facts and incidents of a most thrilling character. But we will leave them for the present. THE PAST. BY ANNIE M. BEACH. THE scenes of the past-they are ours, all ours, The eyes that are now in the death-sleep closed, We sit again by the bright home-blaze We walk again in the path well trod And scenes over which a gloom we throw, THE IRISH PEDDLER. BY MRS. H. C. GARDNER. "THERE is that good-for-nothing, lazy Irish man again. I believe he thinks he was created on purpose to enjoy himself. His wife is off to her work bright and early, and it is nearly dark when she comes back. I declare I've watched them till I am thoroughly disgusted with him." "Well then, Mary," said my father, as I handed him his fourth cup of Mocha at the breakfast table, “I will give you a word of advice. Suppose you try to confine your energies to the supervision of your own affairs." "I can't, father. To think of that little spirited woman slaving all day over the wash-tub to feed and clothe such a great lazy lout! And he minds the baby!" I added quickly, for I saw my father was ready to interrupt me. My nose fairly twitched with contempt. "I have inquired about the man, Mary," said my father, calmly, "and I find that the stopping of the mills has thrown him and many others out of work. I hear that he has worked at gardening in the north of England, and as we shall need some one as soon as Peter leaves for Kansas, perhaps you had better go over there after breakfast and find out something about him." "O, father!" I remonstrated. "You do n't think of hiring such a shiftless, lazy person! The grounds and garden will go to ruin, and you will have it all to pay for." "Why, Mary!" exclaimed my father, turning toward me with some surprise, "you seem to have lost all your charitable feelings." "I have none for him, that it is certain." I was really indignant with the big goodnatured Irishman, who spent half of his time in the sun before his door, whistling and singing and talking to the baby or carrying it about in his arms while it slept. Long years of illness had made me a little querulous and uncertain in regard to the doings of those around me, and I had very little patience with want of thrift or shiftlessness in any form. I had watched him day after day for a fortnight, hoping that such a spectacle of lazy enjoyment would vanish, and every succeeding day feeling more and more as if I had a right to meddle with the matter. And now, as I stood at the dining-room window after breakfast and impatiently listened to the merry tune he was whistling, I felt that I could endure it no longer, so I resolutely put on my bonnet and went over to give him a piece of my mind. He received me with the greatest respect and deference, and invited me to sit down on a rough bench in the shade of the house. Then he sat down again on the door-step and began to make faces at the baby, which sat on the ground and was luxuriously digging its bare toes into the warm, loose sand. "So you are not at work, Phelim," I began without any preface, for I was outraged by his evident content. "No, ma'am. Work is all down now. Eh, Teddy? Have a care, lad. Sit sthraighter an' ye would not bury yer purty nose in the gravel." The baby righted itself, and with a little help from its father gained its feet and stood up holding by some twigs and grass that grew out between the steps. "Your wife seems to get work without any trouble," said I. "Thrue for ye! Nelly has plinty to do, bless her! An' she had ten hands, it's busy and profitable would be the whole o' the lot. She's a rare one, is Nelly. There! Kape on yer feet, Teddy, acushla, or ye'll be afther splittin' yer swate countenance on the door-sill. Steady, boy!" Have tried to get work?" I asked. look well and strong." "You It's thrue as a Sthrong!" He "Sthrong! That's the word. praste's oath. Ivery word o' it. stretched up his great brawny arm to confirm his words. "There's timber for ye. None o' yer pine splinters, but rigelar heart o' oak. An' it plaze ye, miss, I was called the sthrongest man in all the counthree at home. An' we've no dilicate well paple there, barrin' the sick. Sthrong! It's enough to make a hin howl wi' pure rapture, to hear yer American native brag o' his mighty backbone. An' little Teddy here has a fist o' his own that they might pattern afther wi' profit. Teddy knows it is so." The baby laughed merrily as if he understood it all. His face dimpled all over, and his little short curls blowing in the breeze made him a very attractive picture. But I was not out on a tour of admiration, so I stifled the impulse I felt to pat the round chubby cheek. "But why don't you work, Phelim?" I asked again. "It's a shame for such a great stout man to sit idle." "It's the mill, miss, as is gin out intirely, an' no wonder at all. The jarring and straining and thumpin' were enough to wear out a mountain. It's bad luck, miss, but ye see, grumblin' won't mend the broken ould wheels or pay us the wages. Whist! Teddy, darlin'. Ye'll trip yeself, may be, if ye reach for the leddy's mantle." "But why," I persisted, "do n't you try something else? If the mills have stopped it is no reason for letting your family starve." "Starve!" No words can describe the con |