claim "the glorious Epicurean paradox" of one
of the seven wise men of Boston, "Give us the luxuries of life, and we
will dispense with its necessaries,"--M. de Voltaire, and M. de
Coulanges, a generation earlier. These "flashing moments" of the wise in
Boston, as in other great places, are often, like heat-lightning,
reflections of a previous flash.

JOHN BROWN'S RAID:

HOW I GOT INTO IT, AND HOW I GOT OUT OF IT.

It was a wet Monday in October, on my return from a journey, with a
large party of friends and acquaintances, as far north as Chicago and as
far south as St. Louis and the Iron Mountain. We were gradually nearing
home, and the fun and jollity grew apace as we got closer to the end of
our holiday and to the beginning of our every-day work. Our day's ride
was intended to be from Cumberland (on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad)
to Baltimore. The murky drizzle made our comfortable car all the more
cozy, and the picturesque glories of that part of Western Virginia,
through which we had come very leisurely and enjoyably, were heightened
by the contrast of the dull cloud that hung over the valley of the
Potomac. At Martinsburg the train was stopped for an unusually long
time; and in spite of close questioning, we were obliged to satisfy our
curiosity with a confused story of an outbreak and a strike among the
workmen at the armory, with a consequent detention of trains, at
Harper's Ferry. The train pushed on slowly, and at last came to a dead
halt at a station called The Old Furnace. There a squad of half a dozen
lazy Virginia farmers--we should call them a picket just now, in our day
of military experiences--told us half a dozen stories about the troubles
ahead, and finally the people in charge of our train determined to send
it back to wait for further news from below. A young engineer who was
employed on the railroad was directed to go along the track to examine
it, and see what, if any, damage had been done. As I had brushed up an
acquaintance with him, I volunteered to accompany him, and then was
joined by a young Englishman, a Guardsman on his travels, one of the
Welsh Wynns, just returning from a shooting-tour over the Prairies. We
started off in the rain and mud, and kept together till we came to a
bridle-path crossing the railroad and climbing up the hills. Here we met
a country doctor, who offered to guide us to Bolivar, whence we could
come down to the Ferry, and as the trains would be detained