CHAPTER XI.

_The meeting.--Discussion.--A government adopted.--Conclusion for the present._

The time for the meeting of the people to take measures for the establishment of a government for the island of Fredonia, was fixed for the day which followed the events narrated in the last chapter. This meeting was looked forward to with intense interest, by all parties. The men, who knew that there could be no peace or safety in society, without government, regarded the event as likely to decide whether the inhabitants of the island were to be happy or miserable.

The women, who were perhaps not apt to reflect upon these things, had also learned from their experience that a government, establishing and enforcing laws, was indispensable to the quiet and security of society: they saw that their own lives, their freedom, their homes, were not secure, without the protection of law. Even the children had found that government was necessary, and these as well as the women, were now rejoicing at the prospect of having this great blessing bestowed upon the little community of Fredonia.

The day for the meeting arrived, and the men of the island assembled, agreeably to the appointment. First came the men of the tent party, and then, those from the Outcast’s cave. The latter were greeted by a shout of welcome, and mingling with the rest, a kind shaking of hands took place between those, who so lately were arrayed against each other in deadly conflict.

After a short time, Mr. Bonfils, being the oldest man of the company, called the assembly to order, and he being chosen chairman, went on to state the objects of the assembly, in the following words:

“My dear friends; it has been the will of Providence to cast us together upon this lonely, but beautiful island. It would seem that so small a community, regulated by mutual respect and mutual good will, might dwell together in peace and amity, without the restraints of law, or the requisitions of government. But history has told us, that in all lands, and in all ages, peace, order, justice, are only to be secured by established laws, and the means of carrying them into effect. There must be government, even in a family; there must be some power to check error, to punish crime, to command obedience to the rule of right. Where there is no government, there the violent, the unjust, the selfish, have sway, and become tyrants over the rest of the community. Our own unhappy experience teaches us this.

“Now we have met together, with a knowledge, a conviction of these truths. We know, we feel, we see that law is necessary, and that there must be a government to enforce it. Without this, there is no peace, no security, no quiet fireside, no happy home, no pleasant society. Without this, all is fear, anxiety, and anarchy.

“Let us then enter upon the duties of this occasion, with a proper sense of the obligation that rests upon us; of the serious duty which is imposed on every man present. We are about to decide questions which are of vital interest, not only to each actor in this scene, but to these wives and sisters and children, whom we see gathered at a little distance, watching our proceedings, as if their very lives were at stake.”

This speech was followed by a burst of applause; but soon a man by the name of Maurice arose--one who had been a leading supporter of Rogere--and addressed the assembly as follows:

“Mr. Chairman; it is well known that I am one of the persons who have followed the opinions of that leader who lost his life in the battle of the tents. I followed him from a conviction that his views were right. The fact is, that I have seen so much selfishness in the officers of the law, that I have learned to despise the law itself. Perhaps, however, I have been wrong. I wish to ask two questions--the first is this: _Is not liberty a good thing?_ You will answer that it is. It is admitted, all the world over, that liberty is one of the greatest enjoyments of life. My second question then is--_Why restrain liberty by laws?_ Every law is a cord put around the limbs of liberty. If you pass a law that I shall not steal, it is restraint of my freedom; it limits my liberty; it takes away a part of that, which all agree is one of the greatest benefits of life. And thus, as you proceed to pass one law after another, do you not at last bind every member of society by such a multiplied web of restraints, as to make him the slave of law? And is not a member of a society where you have a system of laws, like a fly in the hands of the spider, wound round and round by a bondage that he cannot burst, and which only renders him a slave of that power which has thus entangled him?”

When Maurice had done, Brusque arose, and spoke as follows:

“Mr. Chairman; I am happy that Mr. Maurice has thus stated a difficulty which has arisen in my own mind: he has stated it fairly, and it ought to be fairly answered. Liberty is certainly a good thing; without it, man cannot enjoy the highest happiness of which he is capable. All useless restraints of liberty are therefore wrong; all unnecessary restraints of liberty are wrong. But the true state of the case is this: we can enjoy no liberty, but by submitting to certain restraints. It is true that every law is an abridgment of liberty; but it is better to have some abridgment of it, than to lose it all.

“I wish to possess my life in safety; accordingly I submit to a law which forbids murder: I wish to possess my property in security; and therefore I submit to a law which forbids theft and violence: I wish to possess my house without intrusion; I therefore submit to a law which forbids one man to trespass upon the premises of another: I wish to go and come, without hindrance, and without fear; I therefore submit to a law which forbids highway robbery, and all interference with a man’s pursuit of his lawful business.

“Now, if we reflect a little, we shall readily see that by submitting to certain restraints, we do actually increase the amount of practical, available, useful liberty. By submitting to laws, therefore, we get more freedom than we lose. That this is the fact, may be easily tested by observation. Go to any civilized country, where there is a settled government and a complete system of laws, and you will find, in general, that a man enjoys his house, his home, his lands, his time, his thoughts, his property, without fear: whereas, if you go to a savage land, where there is no government and no law, there you will find your life, property, and liberty, exposed every moment to destruction. Who, then, can fail to see that the very laws which abridge liberty in some respects, actually increase the amount of liberty enjoyed by the community.”

Maurice professed himself satisfied with this solution of his difficulties; and the meeting proceeded to appoint a committee, to go out and prepare some plan, to be submitted to the meeting. This committee returned, and after a short space, brought in a resolution, that Mr. Bonfils be for one year placed at the head of the little community, with absolute power; and that, at the end of that period, such plan of government as the people might decree, should be established.

This resolution was adopted unanimously. The men threw up their hats in joy, and the air rang with acclamations. The women and children heard the cheerful sounds, and ran toward the men, who met them half way. It was a scene of unmixed joy. Brusque and Emilie met, and the tears of satisfaction fell down their cheeks. François went to his aged mother, and even her dimmed eye was lighted with pleasure at the joyful issue of the meeting.

We must now take leave of the island of Fredonia--at least for a time--and whether we ever return to it, must depend upon the wishes of our young readers. If they are anxious to see how the people flourished under the reign of their aged old chief, and how they proceeded in after years, perchance we may lift the curtain and show them the scene that lies behind it. But I hope that our readers have learnt, that not only men and women, but children, have an interest in government, and therefore that it is a thing they should try to understand.

[Illustration]

The Tanrec.

This creature resembles the hedgehog, but is larger than that animal, and is destitute of a tail. It does not roll itself into a ball, for defence, like the former animal. It passes three of the warmest months of the year in a state of torpor, differing in this respect from other animals, which become torpid from extreme cold. Its legs are very short, and it moves very slowly. It is fond of the water, and loves to wallow in the mud. It moves about only by night. There are three species, all found in the island of Madagascar.

Letter from a Correspondent.

_Little Readers of the Museum:_

I sometimes read Mr. Robert Merry’s Museum, and I like it very much, as I presume all his little “blue-eyed and black-eyed readers” do. He talks very much like good old Peter Parley. I should think he had heard him tell many a story while he rested his wooden leg on a chair, with a parcel of little laughing girls and boys around him. Oh, how many times I have longed to see him, and crawl up in his lap and hear his stories! But Mr. Merry says he is dead, and I never can see him. I am very--very sorry, for I hoped I should sometime visit him, for I loved him very much, and I guess he would have loved me some, for I like old people, and always mean to treat them with respect. How cruel it was for others to write books and pretend that Peter Parley wrote them!--for it seems that this shortened his life. I am glad, however, that Mr. Merry has his writings, for I think he loves his little friends so well that he will frequently publish some of them. I said that I loved Peter Parley, and I guess you will not think it strange that I should, when I tell you what a useful little book he once published, and how much pleasure I took in reading it. He wrote a great many interesting pieces which I read and studied, and they did me much good, I think. I hope that the little readers of the Museum will learn a good deal from what they read.

Peter Parley wrote a piece which told us how to make pens. I read it over, and over again, and, finally, I thought I would see if I could not make one. So I went to my little desk and took out a quill, got my aunt’s knife and laid the book before me and tried to do just as Peter Parley told me I must. I succeeded very well, and my friends were quite pleased. This encouraged me very much, and soon I made them so well that my teachers made me no more pens. By-and-by my little associates got me to make and mend theirs, and I loved the business very much.

Well, a few years since, I went to a beautiful village to attend school, where a splendid academy stands, around which, are large green trees, under whose shade my little readers would love to sit. There I staid two or three years. Often did I walk out with the teachers, whom I loved, to botanize, or ramble, with nimble step, over the beautiful hills of that sweet place, and listen to the constant murmur of its waterfalls, or gather the delicate flowers that grew so plentifully there. But to my story. My teachers saw that I made my own pens, and occasionally, when they were busy, would bring me one to make for them. The students soon found it out, and I had plenty of business. One day the principal of the school came to me and offered to compensate me by giving me my tuition one term, which was six dollars, if I would make and mend pens. I did not accept the money of course, though I cheerfully and gladly performed the small service.

So you see, Peter Parley’s instruction has done me a great deal of good, for how many persons there are who cannot make a good pen, because they never learned how.

My little readers, I am now almost twenty years old, but I still remember many other things which I read in Peter Parley’s books when I was a little girl. Mr. Robert Merry talks and writes just like him, almost, and I hope you will love to read and study attentively Merry’s Museum, for it is a good little work, and a pleasant one. Be assured, my young friends, you can learn a great deal from it, if you read it carefully. I should like to say much more to you, but I cannot now. I have been sitting by the fire, in a rocking-chair, writing this on a large book, with a pussy under it for a desk, but she has just jumped from my lap, and refuses to be made a table of any longer. So farewell.

Your young friend, LAURA. _Springfield, Jan. 6, 1842_

COOKERY BOOK.--“Has that cookery book any pictures?” said Miss C. to a bookseller. “No, miss, none,” was the answer. “Why,” exclaimed the witty young lady, “what is the use of telling us how to make a good dinner, if they give us no _plates_?”

[Illustration: Names of different kinds of Type.]

Names of different kinds of Type.

Great Primer I will now tell you something English about printing. It may be useful to Pica spend a few lines in giving you an idea of Small Pica the names which are applied to the different sorts Long Primer of type employed in the printing of books. This I shall Bourgeois do by putting against each line of the present paragraph the Brevier name of the type in which it is printed. I shall not attempt to Minion explain the origin of these odd terms, but content myself with giving Nonpareil you a notion of the proportion which one type bears to another; so as to enable Pearl you, when you become author, to give instruc- tions to your printer as to the type you wish him to use. Condensed And by way of enlarging your vocabulary of types, I will Full-face add a few examples of fancy letters, adapted to the title- Antique PAGES OF BOOKS, SHOW BILLS OF VARIOUS Gothic Condensed KINDS, BUSINESS CARDS, VISITING CARDS, AND MANY OTHER Black purposes. If you will go to Mr. Dickinson’s printing-office, Script No. 52 Washington Street, Boston, you will see a Extended GREAT VARIETY Gothic OF FANCY TYPE; AND YOU WILL Gothic Outline ALSO SEE HOW THEY ARE SET Tuscan Shade UP, AND HOW THEY ARE Full-face (Capitals) PRINTED, WITH WHAT HE CALLS A Phantom ROTARY PRESS. Condensed (Capitals) YOU WILL ALSO SEE PRESSES WORKED BY STEAM, AND EN- Full-face Italic _gaged in printing books, newspapers,_ Extra Condensed PAMPHLETS, MAGAZINES, AND MANY Shaded {OTHER THINGS. IF YOU WILL {GO TO NO. 66 CONGRESS STREET, Ornamented YOU WILL FIND WHERE Title Letter MERRY’S MUSEUM French Shade IS STEREOTYPED.

[Illustration]

PETER PARLEY’S NEW STORIES.

No. II.

About the Three Sisters.

There were once three little girls, who went to see a balloon. When they got to the place, they saw that it was a great bag of silk, with a netting put over it, and to this netting, a little car was attached.

There were a great many people around the place, anxious to see the balloon rise and sail away in the air. There were several persons very busy in filling the balloon with what is called _hydrogen gas_, which is a kind of air, and so light that it rises upward and carries the balloon with it.

Pretty soon there was considerable gas in the balloon, and it then began to ascend a little; in a short time it rose more, and, after a few minutes, it seemed in such a hurry to get away that several men were obliged to take hold of the net-work, and restrain it till all was ready.

Now a man by the name of Lauriat, who had made the balloon, was going up with it. When all was prepared, he got into the little car, holding in his lap a cat fastened in a cage, with a thing like an umbrella, attached to it. In a few moments Mr. Lauriat called out, “all right!”--and the men let go of the net-work, and up went the balloon, and up went Mr. Lauriat in the little car hanging beneath it!

It was a beautiful sight, and the people were so delighted, that the air rang with acclamations. The three little girls, whom we shall call History, Poetry, and Romance, were as much pleased as anybody, and shouted, with their little voices, as loud as they could. What made it all more pleasant, was that the people could see Mr. Lauriat, who waved a little flag, as he ascended; and though it was almost frightful to see a man so high in the air, yet he appeared quite at his ease and very much gratified.

When the balloon had risen to a great height, so as to look only about as large as my wig, Mr. Lauriat let the cat and the cage fall; but the thing like an umbrella, called a _parachute_, kept it from coming down very swiftly. It was a beautiful sight to see! At first the cage and parachute were hardly visible, but they grew more and more distinct, and at last they came nearer and nearer, and finally dropped down upon a distant hill. Some boys ran to the place, and behold, puss was in the cage, a good deal frightened, but as safe as ever. There are very few cats that have had such a ride as this!

At last the balloon looked no bigger than a fly, and then it entered a cloud and was seen no more. The company separated and went to their homes, all talking of the balloon, and Mr. Lauriat, and puss, and the parachute. Our three little girls also returned to their homes, and, rushing to their mother, they were each so anxious to tell the story, that neither could be understood. At last their mother said to them, “My dear children, I must hear you, one at a time. Let us all sit down, and History, who is the oldest; shall tell the story first. Then Poetry shall tell it, and then Romance shall tell it.”

To this they all agreed, and History began as follows: “We reached the place about four o’clock in the afternoon. There were already many people present, but as the time advanced, others came, and soon about two thousand people were there.

“The balloon was enclosed in a fence, made of boards, and none but the workmen and Mr. Lauriat were permitted to enter the enclosure. There were six large casks around, in which they made the hydrogen gas; this was conducted to the balloon by means of tubes.

“The balloon was a large bag of silk, about forty feet long and eighty feet in circumference. When full of gas, it was shaped like a bell-pear, the stem downwards. The silk was oiled, so as to retain the gas, which is lighter than the air, and floats upward in it, as a piece of wood does in water. The balloon was enclosed in a net-work, and beneath, a little car, or boat, was attached to it, and in this, Mr. Lauriat sat, when he ascended.

“As the gas was conducted to the balloon, the latter gradually swelled out, and when it was full, the men who held it down, let go; and it ascended with Mr. Lauriat, into the air. He was cheered by the voices of the people, and he waved a little flag back and forth, in return. It was a pleasing scene, in which fear for the airy sailor, and admiration of his skill and courage, were mingled.

“Mr. Lauriat had taken up with him a cat, enclosed in a cage, and to this cage a parachute was attached. When he had risen to the height of about a thousand feet, he let the cage go, and it came gently down like a snow-flake, falling at last on a distant hill. The cat was taken up unhurt. The balloon gradually grew less and less to the vision, and finally it disappeared in a thick cloud, upon which the rays of the evening sun were now falling.”

Such was the account given of the scene by History; and now Poetry began:

“Oh mother, it was beautiful! The balloon went up like a soap-bubble, and it sailed along on the air like a bird. I could hardly believe that it was not alive, it glided in the air so gently, and so gracefully! And Mr. Lauriat, he looked so happy! Oh it was wonderful to see a man so high in the air, and to see him so much at his ease! I felt afraid for him, and yet the scene pleased me the more. I wished to be with him, though I knew I should have been frightened. And yet it seemed so pleasing to go up in the air, and look down upon so many people, and to know that they were all looking at you, and that so many hearts were beating for you, and that so many were admiring you! It would be beautiful!

“And, mother, you know that the balloon glided up and away so softly, that it seemed like a dream, fading from the memory. And at last, when it was like a mere insect in the vast blue sky, it stole into a cloud, and hid itself, and then I had a feeling of sadness. Can you tell me why, mother?”

Here there was a pause, and the blue-eyed girl, stood for a moment, as if expecting an answer. But Romance was impatient to begin, and her dark eye, shaded by the long black lashes, seemed to grow larger and brighter as she spoke thus:

“History has told you, mother, all the events that occurred, and she has accurately described them. Poetry has painted the scene, and made it clear and bright by comparisons. But I must tell you of the thoughts and feelings it awakened in my breast, and of the fairy world in which I seemed to be, while I looked on the balloon.

“When the balloon went up, it seemed as if I went with it, into a new scene. I think I have dreamed something like it, in my sleep, when my thoughts seemed like wings, and all around was fair and heavenly. As the balloon ascended, I seemed to ascend also. I did not, at the moment, think how strange it was, but I went on fancying myself with the balloon, and riding upon the air, in that little boat. And I thought of the vast blue space around, and the earth beneath, and the heaven above, and I felt as if I was something like an angel, gifted with the power of rising upward, and seeing earth, and sky, and heaven, as others could not see them. And I felt a sort of happiness I cannot express.

“Well, as the balloon sailed farther and farther upon the airy sea, and as it grew less and less to the sight, like a ship that glides away upon the ocean--I began to think of the realms to which it seemed hastening. And at last, when it flew into the cloud, I did not dream that it had disappeared. My eye was still bent upon the spot, and I still fancied that I was with it, and that I was sailing on and on, upon the blue deep, and among regions where the happy and the lovely only dwell.”

When Romance had got to this point of her story, the mother smiled, and History tittered aloud. Poetry, however, drew nearer, and seemed entranced with the tale of the dark-eyed girl. But Romance was dashed at the ridicule she had excited, and was silent.

Now I suppose some of my waggish young readers, some of the roguish Paul Pries, will laugh at me, as History did at Romance; and think me not a little ridiculous, for telling such a rigmarole tale as this. But old Peter knows what he is about! He has an object in view; and now, as Mr. Lauriat let the cat out of the car, he will “let the cat out of the bag.”

My purpose is to teach the meaning of the three words, History, Poetry, and Romance. History is a true record of events; and, accordingly, the little girl whom we call History, tells the exact story of the balloon. Poetry is a display of fanciful thoughts, and deals much in comparison; and so, our little Poetry gives a fanciful description of the scene, embellishing her tale by many illustrations. Romance is a picture of fantastic and extraordinary scenes and feelings; and our dark-haired maiden, who deals in it, sets forth the fairy world of visions and sentiments that is reflected in her own breast.

I suppose all my readers have heard of the Nine Muses, goddesses of ancient Greece. One was called Clio, the muse of history; one was Erato, the muse of poetry. And I have sometimes fancied that the idea of these goddesses, might have originated among the fanciful Greeks, from perceiving the different ways in which different persons notice the same scenes; one being apt to remark things soberly and accurately, like our Miss History; another being apt to see them fancifully, like our Miss Poetry; and another apt to weave a world of fiction out of them, like our Miss Romance.

The Zephyr.

I must tell my young reader, in order to explain these lines, that in ancient times, the Greeks used to think that the light summer wind was a sort of goddess, whom they called _Zephyr_.

“Where have you been to-day?” said I To a zephyr, as it flew by; And thus it made reply.

“I have been upon the sea, Where the waves were full of glee, And they lov’d to dance with me.

“On the mountain I have strayed, And with its green leaves played, ’Mid the sunshine and shade.

“I have been in the dell, Where the wild flowers dwell, And oh, I loved them well!

“I have been with the brook, And its laughing ripples shook, As my kisses they took.

“I have been with the flowers, In their sweet-scented bowers, And forgot the flight of hours.

“I have played with the hair Of a girl, wild and fair-- And I loved to linger there!

“I have been with clouds on high, As with pinions they do fly, In many a glorious dye!”

To my Correspondents.

I am gratified to find, although it is now but about a year since I began to be known to the public, that already I have some thousands of black-eyed and blue-eyed acquaintances, in different parts of the country. I receive many letters from young persons, and they give me great pleasure, for they show that poor Bob Merry, though he has a “timber toe,” is not destitute of friends. I was much pleased with a bear story about his great-great-grandfather, sent me by J. W. L. Cheseborough, of New London. I intend to make something of it, one of these days. Two puzzles, received from other correspondents, are given below. I must beg those who are anxious to hear how I lost my leg--to wait a little while. It will all come out in due season. Perhaps the leg will turn out as interesting as Peter Parley’s great toe, that used to tickle the boys so! I have only one thing to add, which is, that I desire all my friends to address their letters to care of Bradbury & Soden.

Puzzles.

_Portsmouth, Feb. 4, 1842._

MR. MERRY,--Sir: if you think the following worthy a place in your valuable magazine, by inserting the same you will oblige a CONSTANT READER.

I am a word of 18 letters.

My 1, 12, 17, 13, 5, 18, is an article of ladies’ dress. My 18, 7, 6, 16, 5, is a number. My 6, 2, 15, has been the ruination of many. My 12, 3, 8, 12, 17, is a vegetable. My 11, 8, 10, 4, is an article of food. My 7, 12, 5, is much used by farmers. My 18, 6, 12, 14, 18, is a kind of fish. My 18, 8, 3, is a valuable ore. My 9, 8, 15, 5, is a foreign fruit. My whole is a great ornament to the country.

* * * * *

I am composed of 16 letters.

My 2, 1, 8, is a portion of water. My 2, 12, 4, 15, 16, 8, has been the ruin of thousands. My 16, 1, 15, 10, 8, is the most contemptible of all animals. My 6, 14, 4, 15, is the name of a once celebrated tragedian. My 3, 8, 15, 15, is the name of a town not far from Boston. My 11, 12, 1, 15, 5, 9, is the name of a great country. My 3, 4, 6, 7, is a sheet of water. My 11, 13, 12, 9, is one of the elements. My 1, 13, 12, is another. My 11, 3, 8, is an insect. My 15, 13, 3, 7, is the name of a river justly celebrated in ancient and modern history. C. B. F. _Boston, February 1, 1842._

MARCH--A SONG.

THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.

[Illustration: music]

March is like a child, Now gentle and now wild; March is like a child, Now gentle and now wild;

To-day, the soft winds blow, To-morrow it doth snow, To-day the soft winds blow, To-morrow it doth snow.

March is like a rill, Now roaring, and now still; Today the blast is stinging, To-morrow birds are singing.

March is like a cloud, Now bright, and now a shroud; To-day the warm rain falls, To-morrow we have squalls.

March is like a bear, With sharp claws and soft hair; To-day ’tis rough and wild, To-morrow, all is mild.

[Illustration: THE HARPY EAGLE.]

MERRY’S MUSEUM.

VOLUME III.--No. 4.

[Illustration: _Montezuma._]

Sketches of the Manners, Customs, &c., of the Indians of America.