vided that locations already made "in lieu of lots and out-lots in and adjacent to the villages of New Madrid and Little Prairie, and not exceeding six hundred and forty acres" (that is, a square mile or "section" of survey) "to any one sufferer, might be perfected into grants" under the act of 1815, " 'any construction of" that act "to the contrary notwithstanding." Nor was this the last or the worst phenomenon produced in Congress by the New Madrid convulsion; for after a lapse of sixteen years came another more terrible vibration, exhibiting itself in the act of March 1, 1843.* Certain parties, in violation of law and of treaty, had located New Madrid claims on lands belonging to Indian tribes south of the Arkansas River—lands the Indian title to which had not been extinguished, and the quiet possession of which had been guaranteed to those tribes by the United States. When the Indian title had been extinguished the land became the property of the United States, was surveyed and offered for sale, and some of it which had been thus lawlessly located by dishonest claimants was sold to honest purchasers. The titles thus honestly acquired were, of course, disputed by the fraudulent claimants. These malefactors could not reasonably expect much aid or comfort from courts of law. They might, however, apply to Congress, and perhaps obtain legislative relief from the consequences of their wrong-doing, or, possibly, procure a bounty therefor. Had they not the act of 1827 to encourage them? Three times, at least, has that dignified tribunal been shaken, and not in every instance very creditably, by New Madrid agitations. There may have been other cases the record of which has escaped me. The first that I have found is that of Bagnell v. Broderick, in January, 1839, twentyeight years after the great convulsion of nature in which it originated.* The details of the case might be easily wrought into a sensational romance; but I must content myself with a meagre summary of the facts in the note below, and with the remark that the court was actually led to decide that a New Madrid landwarrant, obtained by fraud, shall inure to the benefit of the swindler and those holding under him as assignees of the warrant, and that the court will not go behind such patent to give relief to the defrauded party.† The court was not, I am glad to say, unanimous in this lamentable decision. Justices M‘Lean and M'Kinley dissented, and did their best to keep the judicial ermine unsoiled. But the honest man was stripped of his estate, and it was judicially given to the scoundrel who defrauded him. It is gratifying to know that in the very next New Madrid case, which came before the court in January, 1844, the honest doctrine of the dissenting judges of 1839 had become the doctrine of the entire court,§ which declared unanimously that "it would be a most dangerous *The curious student will find it reported in vol. iii. of Peters's Reports of the Supreme Court. †The outline of the facts may be given as follows: On the 20th of May, 1809, more than two years and a half before the earthquake, John Robertson, being the They did apply to Congress. They did obtain relief. They did receive a bounty for their misconduct. The act of 1843 met their wishes · exactly and entirely. It declared that loca-owner of New Madrid land, sold and conveyed it to tions already made of warrants issued under the earthquake, by which the land was materially inEdward Robertson, who held the title at the time of the law of 1815 on the south side of the Arkan- jured. In October, 1813, Edward Robertson sold and sas River, if made pursuant to that act in other conveyed a part of the damaged land to Edward R. respects, should be perfected into grants "in Byrne, and he and Byrne were the sole owners when like manner as if the Indian title to the lands claim under that act. In 1817 the entire title was vestthe act of relief was passed, and they alone had any on the south side of said river had been comed in Byrne, who, in October, 1818, located his six hunpletely extinguished at the time of the passage dred and forty acres, as the legal representative of John of said act," and that if the lands thus wrong-ent for that claim; but John Robertson obtained it Robertson. Byrne alone could honestly obtain a patfully located had subsequently been appropri- dishonestly, and the court sustained the patent as too ated by the United States, the owner of the sacred for judicial disturbance, and so Byrne was fraudulent or illegal warrants might, without stripped of his entire estate. payment, enter the like quantity of any unappropriated and unimproved public lands in the State of Arkansas, in tracts corresponding with the legal sectional divisions and lines of survey. Fortunately this is the last act of Congress relating to New Madrid sufferers. What new and further legislative step in the direction of land frauds and trespasses might next have been taken it is difficult to imagine. After a quiet of seven-and-twenty years no further Congressional convulsion is now probable. Let us now follow the earthquake into the solemn precincts of the Supreme Court of the United States, and see what are its effects upon the judicial mind. * Statutes at Large, vol. v. p. 603. these high-minded judges. John Robertson's "pat- to look behind the patent could hesitate to pronounce p. 217. principle to hold that a patent should carry the legal title, though obtained fraudulently or against law." This decision was pronounced by Judge M'Lean, who must have smiled with more than satisfaction as he thus announced that a rumination of five years had converted all the judges to his and Judge M'Kinley's opinion. He doubtless felt very much as an inhabitant of New Madrid would have felt, five years after the submersion of his lands, if a second earthquake had suddenly raised them to their former level. The court also decided, in this second case, that a New Madrid claim could be located only on such public lands as had been offered for sale. This was merely repeating the declaration of the Earthquake Act, which authorizes docations" on lands the sale of which is authorized by law." It would seem that no legal proposition could be plainer or truer than this. And yet a majority of the court-six out of the nine judges -denied and abandoned it, in the case of Barry v. Gamble, before the year was at an end,* and declared that such a claim might be located on lands not offered for sale. One feels inclined, on this occasion, to inquire of the court, as it is said Jeremiah Mason, under similar circumstances, asked of a New Hampshire court, "And now, let me inquire, are your Honors a-going to stick ?" Three of the judges adhered consistently to the January opinion; and we commend the record of their dissent to those who enjoy clear and convincing expositions by the minority of the erroneous judgments and feeble reasoning of the majority. We have not room for even the briefest synopsis of the facts and arguments; and so we leave this last of the earthquake cases to the tender mercies of the critical student. It is well that the judicial aspect of our subject has no new phases, and its history no new cases. How can we account for such contradiction of opinion? for such disturbances of the judicial mind? Here ends our review of the legislative, executive, and judicial history of that earthquake. The physical shocks and shakes began in 1811, and were repeated at various intervals in 1812 and 1813. The metaphysical agitations commenced in 1814, and continued up to December, 1844. Three years was the limit of the one class of convulsions, and thirty years of the other. Let us rejoice that neither of them threatens to return, to vex either the soil of the West or the soul of our government. A SUMMER'S AMUSEMENT. "LAURENCE will be here this evening to say good-by," the squire (as he was always called in the village) said, opening the drawing-room door, and looking in upon his wife and daughters. "He leaves us to-morrow, he tells me," he added, waiting for an answer; and the answer burst from three pairs of lips at once. "Leaves us to-morrow!" Mrs. Grey and two of her daughters exclaimed; but a third daughter was silent, and Mrs. Grey glanced quickly at her pet child as she added, "What a dear, changeable boy Laurence is! he never knows his own mind.' "Well, he'll tell you about it presently, when he comes," the squire said, walking off to dress for dinner. Then the ladies hurried away to their several rooms for the same purpose, and there was no more said about Laurence just then. But half an hour after, the eldest and the youngest Miss Grey, happening to be down stairs before the others, spoke of him again. "Did you see how red and then how white Violet got when papa said Laurence was going?" Marion, the youngest sister, asked. "Yes, I did; I felt myself tingling in the cheeks at the suddenness of it. I suppose he will speak to papa to-night," Bessie, the eldest of the three, answered. "Poor dear Violet! I So might it be asked, who can determine the know she is nervous by her being so long." causes of the New Madrid earthquake? Violet was nervous, intensely nervous; but it It is easy to say, in regard to both, that the was with the greatest happiness she had ever convulsion was caused by unseen and mysteri-known in her young life that she was fluttering. ous forces. It is impossible, in regard to either, to say what set those forces in motion. The announcement that Laurence was going away to-morrow had been a shock to her for a minute or two; but after that minute she told herself that he would be sure to claim her open The upheaval of the river-bed below New Madrid drove back its waters, and compelled them for many miles and many hours to actu-ly before he left, and give her the right to exally run up stream, and the old banks and landmarks were washed away. So in this strange spasm of judicial inconsistency not only did the true meaning and intent of the New Madrid law disappear, but longestablished principles of justice were overwhelmed as completely as were the banks of "the Father of Waters" in the earthquake of December, 1811. press some of the passionate love he had taught her to feel for him. It was late summer now, and ever since the early spring Mr. Laurence Waldron-a young man who was going to carve out a career for himself at the bar, and who claimed cousinship in some rather remote degree with the Greys-had been loitering about in the neighborhood. Mr. Grey had asked him to be their guest at the Priory, but Mr. Waldron had pre* Howard's Reports, vol. iii. p. 52. December, 1844. ferred his independence. So sometimes he had staid at a sea-side place half a mile off, and | between Mr. Waldron and his mother," Violet sometimes he had taken lodgings at a farm- said, hesitatingly. "Since her second marhouse on the hill. The manner of life and the riage she has been cold to him, and he has felt lovely girls at the Priory were pleasant to him, her neglect very much." but dearer still was the delight of being absolutely unfettered. Nevertheless, though he had not lived under the same roof with her, he had rarely been apart from Violet Grey. He had ridden with her, sketched with her, danced with her-flirted with her, in fact-until their names were very freely coupled together. He seldom took her hand without making her heart beat and her color rise by the way in which he pressed it. He poured out all his sanguine, ambitious hopes. He took for granted that she was interested in all that interested him. He said as much to her, he often told her, as he would say to a sister; and, withal, he had not yet asked her to be his wife. "Oh, he's told you that, has he?" Mr. Grey said, laughing; and then Mrs. Grey nodded her head significantly, and said she only hoped Laurence would have a wife by-and-by who would make up to him for his mother's want of affection. And to this unexceptionably friendly remark no one seemed to think further answer than a glance at Violet necessary. Violet Grey was just the sort of girl who seemed to deserve a floral name. Pretty, fair, fragile, and refined, with dark blue eyes, that had a power of looking a thousand deep feelings which Violet never felt, and soft, hazelnut-colored hair, and a wavering expression, half smile, half frown, on her brow. She was just the sort of girl to ascend at once into a Perhaps the girl had been too ready to be man's heart and enthrone herself there, and won? People are very apt to make this char-reign there unquestioned. itable suggestion when a man has got a girl's So had she ascended and enthroned herself, heart in his possession, and makes no sign that and so did she reign, in Laurence Waldron's he wishes her hand to accompany it. Violet heart. He had committed himself to loving was very fond of him-loved him very dearly, her, and betraying to her that he loved her, bein fact, and never for an instant doubted that fore the thought of his possibly opposing mothhe loved her equally well. Yet, for all this re- er did arise. But when that thought was borne liance on this reciprocity of sentiment, she went in upon him by an eloquent epistle from herthrough many a period of mortification and mis-self, he felt as if no amount of suffering on his ery even during these bright late summer days, part could expiate the sin of which he had the contemplated closing in of which caused been guilty toward the girl. such consternation at the Priory. Twenty-three years ago, while he was a lit"I suppose he will speak to papa to-night," tle boy of three, his mother, then the beautiful Bessie had said, in answer to her youngest sis- widow, Mrs. Waldron, became acquainted with ter's remarks about Violet's pallor when Lau- a man who had but one merit even in her inrence's departure was mentioned; and, some-fatuated eyes. This one merit was that he was how or other, this supposition, which she alone a scion of a noble house: he was the Hon. Mr. had openly expressed, was in all their minds Burgoyne, fourth son of the Earl of Baddingwhen they sat down to dinner that day. Mrs. ton. He wooed the widow earnestly, actuated, Grey had half expected him to come in and take people said, by the knowledge he had of the what the squire would persist in calling pot- handsome dowry she enjoyed under her late luck. She had half expected him, and was husband's will. However that may be, his wholly disappointed when he did not come; for wooing ended in his wedding her. And as soon the excellent lady, in spite of the prudence as she became the Hon. Mrs. Burgoyne she which she avowed to be her most prominent reaped the fruits of her own imprudence, and characteristic, was carried away as utterly and found them a plenteous crop. entirely as her daughter Violet by the free, open, winning ways of the semi-relation, semi-stranger, Laurence Waldron. In the first place, little Laurence was protested against as an interloper and an incumbrance, and so his mother (whose money kept Mr. Burgoyne's ménage going) had to put him out to board with one of those convenient old friends and poor relations who do crop up to At last silence on the subject that was occupying the minds of all became too painful for further endurance, and Mrs. Grey said, "Where is Laurence going? Did he tell the relief of harassed women. The poor little you ?" banished boy was kindly enough treated in his new home; but he grew up under the adverse conviction that he was banished, and this conviction was not at all favorable to a fine mental development. Then, as years went on, and he was admitted into the Burgoyne circle, he found his existence always deprecated, as it were, among them by his mother. cepted him as a fact, truly, but as a very painful fact. He was the living evidence that she had been loving to and loved by some other "I believe there is a—a painful estrangement | man before she had married this present hus "No. He said something about his mother wanting to see him," the squire replied. "Bythe-way, it's the first time I ever heard him mention his mother. Has he spoken about her to any of you?" he added, casting an inquiring glance round the table. "I have heard him speak of his half-brother, Ernest," Marion said. "Yes, and so have I," Bessie put in; "but never of his mother." She ac Of Ernest he had frequently spoken to Violet Grey, telling the girl, in many a circumlocutionary phrase, that he craved from her a sisterly regard for this brother of his. And Violet had, half frankly, half shyly, suffered the expression of some such feeling to be wrung out of her, qualifying it by a statement of there being a possibility of her never knowing Ernest, and of Ernest never hearing of her. In reply to this Laurence Waldron was apt to observe that the laws of sympathy must eventually bring two people who were so dear to him together. And Violet̃ believed him. band of hers, whom she had grown to both | cision which her husband deemed desirable. dread and idolize. Indeed, it seemed to poor The boys grew up seeing much of one another, young Laurence Waldron, during those grow-loving each other well; and when Laurence ing-up years, that he was dear to no human be-flung free of the trammels the poor relations ing save to his half-brother, Ernest Burgoyne. had cast about him, and went forth to make Between these two there existed a hearty, his own way in the world, the memory of his boyish, frank regard and sympathy, that was brother Ernest was the softest, sweetest one he born partly of their natural good feeling, and had. partly of their mutual contempt for and dislike of the maudlin terms in which they were recommended to regard each other. Laurence was just four years the senior of his brother Ernest, and this four years' seniority became an appalling thing in the mouths of the matron and virgin who managed and mismanaged the respective nurseries. "Master Laurence mustn't want to have every thing his own way, though he is four years older than his poor little brother, must he, my lamb?" the special attendant of little Ernest Burgoyne would say, pathetically, to her charge; and "Come to your poor old nurse, dear, who loves you still, though your Violet believed him; and yet her heart connose is put out of joint by the fine young gen-tracted with the sharpest pain she had ever felt tleman who thinks he's to carry all things be- when he came to her side late that night and fore him," the indiscreet old harridan who min-wished her a hearty, friendly "good-by." He istered to the wants of the poor little Esau would had been singularly blithe and unembarrassed say. The effect of these speeches was to en- and charming during this last visit of his-so gender bitter bad feeling and cruel heart-burn-unembarrassed and so charming that Mrs. Grey ings between the nurses. But the nurslings and Bessie and Marion forgot what they had were uninfluenced by them, or, rather, were in- heard relative to his departure on the morrow. fluenced by them in a way that was entirely | But Violet never forgot it once-not even when contrary to the wishes of the speakers. The she was listening to some of his brightest salbrothers loved each other, in fact-loved each other with a love surpassing that which is very often felt by those who are born and nurtured together in amity. Of course it will be understood from the statement of the way in which the fraternal feeling was engendered that the little brothers met frequently, though they did not dwell in the same tent. Mrs. Burgoyne was capable of conceding much, but not of conceding every thing. She was, in truth, one of those most aggravating of all God's creatures, who always adopt half measures. She did in this instance consent to wring her own heart and wound her son Laurence by turning him visibly out of her house, and apparently out of her heart; and this she did to please her husband. But she nullified her graciousness toward her ungracious spouse by perpetually having the little boy "to spend the day with Ernest.' Mr. Burgoyne knew himself to be liable to a sight of his predecessor's offspring at odd hours, and what he considered unseemly times. "The brat is about the house like a tame cat! I do wish, Helen, that you would do one thing or the other: keep him altogether if you must; get rid of him altogether if you can. Only let it be one thing or the other." To this awful request Mrs. Burgoyne could only say, "Woe is me," in her heart, and "What shall I do?" with her pleading, infirm-of-purpose tongue; and as Mr. Burgoyne returned her no definitely guiding answer, she went on her way without doing " one thing or the other" with the de lies. She sat dumb with the agony of impatience that no efforts of her own could allay. Her heart was his, to take to himself or to cast aside as he willed. He was strong--she prayed vehemently that he would be merciful. "Well, I'm off to-morrow," he said at last, gayly, introducing the subject himself. "You will soon be back with us, I hope?" Mrs. Grey said. "Not very soon, Mrs. Grey. My brother Ernest has got into some trifling difficulty, and my mother wants me to see him and use my influence to induce him to do as she pleases." He laughed as he spoke, as if the idea of his siding with his mother and opposing Ernest was comical-and contemptible. For the first time there was something jarring to Violet in his laugh. It sounded as if he could be both crafty and cruel. Still she believed him-even when he was leaving her for an indefinite period, with just a few sweet-toned, indefinite words. He was the sort of man in whom girls like to believe: a well-grown, well-set-up, fair, rather florid young Englishman, with bright blue eyes, and bright, wavy, chestnut hair, and a dulcet-toned voice. "He will come back and say what he has taught me to long to hear," the girl thought, as she met his parting loving glance. And then he was gone; and she had nothing but this faith in him to fortify her, and to enable her to bear the brunt of the family remarks. "I suppose he whispered something we didn't hear," Bessie said to Marion. "Violet looks "I wish he had spoken to papa: people will ask so many questions," Marion replied; and then the sisters diverged into other topics, and Violet's prospects ebbed out of the conversation. quite satisfied, and she wouldn't look that if he | letter, and I have destroyed my proof that it had left her in the uncertainty in which he has was not," she cried, in an agony of vexation, as left us." she saw them all viewing her with the sort of mournful tenderness with which the universally benevolent are apt to regard a moth perversely bent upon its own destruction. "He has written me a little commonplace letter that he might have written to papa or any one-a letter that doesn't give me a grain of comfort, and yet I can't tell you what its contents are, though they are nothing to me." But Violet had not even the poor comfort of a few whispered words to dwell upon during the first few days after Laurence had left them. At the end of that time she had somethingsomething tangible, but hardly to be considered satisfactory. The something she had was a letter from Laurence, and it ran as follows: "MY DEAR VIOLET,-I left the Priory in such haste the other night that I forgot to ask you if you had done with Browning's poems. A friend of mine wants to read his 'Last Duchess.' I am staying here with Ernest, who has set up an atelier and commenced a career as a portrait painter. He has got wrong with his father and mother, and they are not going the way to get him right. The 'little difficulty' I so cursorily alluded to before your people when I made my adieus to you all was about a lady with whom he has fallen in love. This is his secret; therefore I must ask you to keep it. I hope all will end well. The rich autumn tints must glorify the Priory exceedingly just now: when shall I see it again! This letter was received by Violet in full family conclave, and it was very much a habit in the Grey family to show their letters to one another. This mutual confidence system has its advantages; it likewise has its drawbacks. Violet experienced some of these latter now, as her mother asked her, "Who is your letter from, Violet ?" "Mr. Waldron," Violet answered, blushing furiously. There was nothing in the letter that might not have been shown to the whole world, as far as she was concerned; but that one little sentence concerning his brother sealed her lips-that one little unimportant sentence which he had been far wiser to have left unwritten. "And are we not to hear what he says?" Mrs. Grey said, smiling hopefully, while her sisters gave Violet sympathetic glances that she felt to be quite superfluous. "He wants his Browning that he lent me," Violet stammered. "That is why he has written to me." Then she looked up bravely, and added, "Don't ask me to read the rest; I am not free to do it, and-oh dear! how can I make you understand!" "We will not try to force your confidence, my girl," her father said, gravely. "Oh, papa, don't! don't! don't misjudge me. He tells me something that he doesn't wish to have known to any body yet. I wish he hadn't told me, with all my heart," the girl wound up, suddenly; and then, with a petulant air that was a new thing in Violet, she tore the letter into tiny bits, and crumpled them up in her hand. "Do you need comfort, my child?" her mother asked, tenderly, while Mr. Grey got up and stalked out of the room. And then Violet knew that her love was known and watched, and that speculations were rife about what return was made for it. His letter might have been addressed to the most commonplace acquaintance; it had not satisfied one of her strong yearnings for one loving word; and yet, in the eyes of her own family, she was put in the position of being secretly and ardently wooed. They judged according to their lights, and their lights misled them. It grew very hard to bear, the home life of the girl, soon after this. They scorned to suspect Violet of any thing clandestine, but it was terrible to her to know and feel that they suspected him. "He has tried to lure her into a secret engagement, and she's breaking her heart because she's too noble to agree to it," the mother would say, with sighs of sympathy; and Mr. Grey would mutter stray words of wrath against all wandering and fair-spoken strangers in a suspicious way that was foreign to him. So, life being wearisome at the Priory, Violet hailed with delight a letter from an old school-fellow, who was auxious, as behooves a bride, to show her new house and husband to her friend Violet Grey. "We have a sweet cottage in that delectable debatable ground which lies between Bayswater and Kensington," she wrote. "Come and stay with us, and see how admirably I manage to control a set of the besttrained, and consequently the most difficult to deal with, domestics in London. Mr. Taylor longs to know you, and I can introduce you to two of the most delightful young men in England. One of them is threatening to defy Mrs. Grundy at present, but that only makes him the more delightful. If you can come at all, join me at the Pier Hotel, Brighton, one day of next week, and write there to say which day it shall be. We will then go home together. "Your affectionate friend, "GERTRUDE TAYLOR." "I shall go if you will let me," Violet said to her mother when this letter came under discussion. "The change will do you good," Mrs. Grey assented. "Mamma, don't put it in that way. I don't want change-at least, I don't need change; only I should like to go." From which speech they all drew the deduction that Violet had some secret cause of anxiety connected with Laurence Waldron. The day came for Violet to join her friend "Now you will go on thinking it was a love- Mrs. Taylor at Brighton, and the young, happy |