MAYBE LAND.
Beyond where the marshes are dank and wida
la a tavdrtor of rod and gold,
"Where the son has sank in the shifting tide '
Of the olouds that the night elves mold,
"at leada to the portals of Maybe Land,
Whose castles and KTovea wo see,
'Ob a vapor bank e'er the misLS expand.
To darken the wind swept sea.
Tto there that our wishes are all made true.
Where frowns may not mar the brow.
"Where storms never matter the whole yea!
through.
Where Then is transformed to Now.
nil only the dreamer who idly halts '
With a pencil and brash in hand
Can travel the path to the mystic vaults '
And the treasures of Maybe Land.
Philander Johnson in Washington Post.
LOVE AND RAPIERS.
, Tbe village vof Bay St. Louis wag a
favorite dueling ground in the days when
ma appeal to swords or to pistols was
thought by southern gentlemen to be the
aly honorable way of settling: personal
grievances. Those days are past, and now
there is not a more peaceful and certain
ly not a more beautiful town in all the
jnctoxewque coast country.
If ever yon shall be going: to New Or
leans by way of the railroad from Mo
tile yon will find it well worth while to
top and spend few days at this lovely
ssunmer resort.
If yon will take a carriage and a driver
who knows the place yon may spend a
day or two delightfully in exploring the
ins and outs, by highway and byway, of
settlement that dates back to the time
when the Spaniards and the French were
ylaying battledore and shuttlecock with
all our rich and salubrious gulf-coast
country. Even now in the streets and
picturesque little shops of Bay St. Louis
yon bear the soft accents of Spain and the
polite intonations of Paris.
The people have toft voices and gentle
manners, and it is hard to imagine, much
harder to believe, that it was ever true
of them that they stood ready, on the
strength of the slightest insult, to fight
to the death as a matter of honor; but
it was. There are men living now
who saw many duels in the days of the
"Hsode. One charming old gentleman
informed the present writer that he had
witnessed twenty hostile meetings with
sjword or pistol.
Before the days of the railroad which
sow makes Bay St. Louis bnt one
hour and thirty minutes from New Or
leans, the only approach was by water,
save from the interior of Mississippi.
This rendered the place one of the most
secluded nooks in America, and, as a
matter of course, a considerable number
of refugees from justice or from mis
fortune or tyranny fled thither; but the
larger part of the population was highly
respectable: some of it was made np,
specially in summer, of the wealthiest
and best French families of New Or
leans, who came by steamboat to spend
the hot season in elegant cottages on the
breezy bluffs.
Nearly all the duels ever fought at
Bay St. Louis took place in one or an
other secluded spot in the lonely woods
behind the town. These woods are now
dotted with creole and negro cottages,
the homes of poor people, who find an
may if not luxurious life where the fish
in the bayous and the fruits on the trees
are to be had with bnt the smallest out
lay of labor. Ever since the place was
. tret settled, and even before, these
woods have been a maze of crossed and
tangled roads, paths and trails first
anade by the Indians. Yon can ride or
drive everywhere and in every direction.
and yet the growth is thick, often ob
structing the sight on all sides. Now
and again yon come upon little natural
glades or openings set in wild grass and
aarronnded with a wall of trees. These
ace the spots that were chosen for the
dreadful work of the duelists.
About the year 1824 two young men
of New Orleans were lovers of a beauti
ful girl by the name of Marie de Noyant,
whose father had a summer place at
Bay St. Louis. Of course, Marie could
not accept the attentions of both if she
loved either, and as Honore Chanvin
had captured her heart, there was noth
ing for Pierre Maton to do bnt to chal
lange his successful rival to mortal com-
The three families Noyanta, Chan
wine and Matons were of the best in
New Orleans, and had always been on
the most intimate terms socially. Honore
and Pierre had known Marie from her
childhood up; they had been her play-
- -ntatest her friends, and now they were
her lovers. Both were handsome, rich
and honorable, as honor was understood
at the time and place. If Marie hesi
tated to choose' between them it was not
- because of any doubt in her heart. She
knew that she loved Honore, and quite
as well she was aware that under no cir
cumstances could she ever love Pierre.
Still it was very hard for her, when
. Pierre came to her home on the bay and
-asked her to be his wife it was hard to
break in on his passionate appeal with
the truth that must crush him. She
begged for time to consider, and thus
put on? the unpleasant, nay, the tortur
ing, duty that she owed to herself tnd
ao ner lovers. JtJut the moment came
when she could no longer procrastinate,
Honore, doubtless aware that his rival
was besieging the citadel of his lady's
Iteart, came also to Bay Si. Louis and
aged his suit. "
Gently, kindly, sweetly as she could,
- JLarie pnt an end to Pierre's hopes; but
- it was not liftiS-' power to blunt in the
least the terrible point of her refusal,
Love is not to be set- aside with polite
ness, nor can it be assuaged by generous
friendship and tender kindness. Any
tiling short of love is a stab to love.
' "Then it is Honore Chauvin that you
re for, Marie?", said .Pierre, rising
to go.
Marie arose also, and they stood look
ing at each other. They had been sit
- ting on a vine covered veranda, with the
waves of the bay tumbling in against
the beach in full view.
"Yes, Pierre," she said presently,
will not deceive yon or evade your ques
tion. I do love Honore, and I promised
him today that I would be bis wife.
Pierre stood dumb for a while. There
was nothing for him to say; words were
not made that could in any way serve
his turn in this moment of utter defeat.
"On, I am so sorry, so grieved, Pierre,
to Bee yon feel like this!" cried Marie.
"Ypu know I love you as a brother is
loved, very, very much, and"
"Aa a brother!'' muttered Pierre, with
bitter, desperate emphasis "aa a broth
err And he turned and left the girl's
presence without another word.
She made a ' movement as if to follow
him, but he had passed down the steps
and out . of the gate with long strides.
like some actor in a melodrama.
Her first thought was of danger to
Honore Chanvin; for in those days the
hot French blood rarely cooled without
first having boiled over in deadly fight.
What Pierre Maton did was to go
straight to his friend Honore Chauviu
and slap him in the lace.
That for Mane de Noyantr he ex
claimed, still choking with the desperate
choler excited by his sense of defeat.
"That for youP he went on, repeating
the insulting blow. Then he turned and
left Honore, well knowing what would
follow.
The challenge was promptly sent and
as promptly accepted.
The following morning at a little past
sunrise the combatants, with their sec
onds and surgeons, met in a small open
space where two or three little wildwood
roads, dim and straggling, crossed each
other in the forest part of what was then
known as the Tonline plantation. They
were to fight with swords.
The weapons were measured, positions
chosen, the word given, and the fight to
the death was begun by a thin, keen.
far reaching clink of steel crossing Bteel.
Many a time had these young men,
now eager for each other's blood, fenced
in manly play, and well did both kii-i.-how
equally were they matched, and
how doubtful was the outcome of the
struggle they were beginning. -Both
were pale, but cool and wary; m their
eyes burned the hateful fire of unforgiv
ing anger. The seconds stood aside, si
lently but intently gazing on; the sur
geons, a little farther away, held their
bandages and instruments ready.
Honore Chauvin, to do him justice, did
not wish to kill Pierre Maton, but
meant, if he could, to disable him. This,
however, was not so easy, for Pierre,
eager to slay, and burning with rage of
disappointed passion, was fighting like a
mad tiger, and yet with supreme vigi
lance and art.
Their swords cut the air with hissing
swiftness and filled the space with a
clangor and shower of spiteful sparks
that might well have stalled all the wild
songs of the birds in the woods round
about. Once the keen point of Pierre's
rapier barely touched Honore s throat,
letting the least show of blood. In turn
Pierre felt a tingling scratch on his own
breast, but this exchange of touches
only shot into the fight a new access of
energy. As the exercise began to steady
their existed nerves and lend suppleness
to their leaping muscles they redoubled
their efforts, and Honore forgot his re
solve to only wound Pierre, while Pierre
felt his desire to kill swell into a steady.
deadly tempest of passion.
Again and again each of the combat
ants received slight wounds, mere
scratches; but neither appeared able to
break the other's guard or to find an un
defended point, such touches as they
had given and received being more the
result of close fighting than of advantage
either way. Bnt no matter how young
and strong they were, or how expert,
this could not last very long. The tre
mendous strain was sure to telL Who
would fail first and permit the other to
make the fatal pass?
Thev were panting now, and the white
foam was gathering on their purple lips.
Their eyes, starting and glaring with
concentrated fury, were fixed and ter
rible in their animal expression. It was
as if these two men, so lately friends
and almost brothers, were ready to man
gle and devour each other like savage
wild beasts.
Happily the time when such things
could be has gone by, but it is by keep
ing record of those strange acts that we
are able to understand: the growtn ot
our present civilization. The duel lin
gered longer in the south than in the
north, and especially in the low country
did it last without much sign of passing
away till some time after the close of
our great war. Looking back now we
can scarcely realize that only half a
century ago it was a common occurrence
for two men to do what we are witness
ing between Honore Chauvin and Pierre
Maton.
So much was dueling a part of the life
of the people in the early years of the
present century that in some parts of our
country to refuse a challenge was to in
vste social ostracism, and not to give and
not to give gne on fit occasion was sure
to attract contempt.
The seconds and the surgeons stood by
so wrapped in contemplation of the even
handed tight, so engrossed in watching
the leaping blades, and so forgetful of
everything save this play of death, that
they did not hear the sound of wheels
and the rapid beating of a flying horse's
feet. As for the principals, they would
not have heard if a thunderbolt had
fallen at their feet. They were now
fighting in the last spurt of strength be
fore one or the other must fail. Each
felt that if his antagonist held np a few
minutes longer all would be over. The
reflection of this thought set a terrible
tight in their drawn and haggard faces.
The muffled sound of wheels in the
Band and of the furious flight of a horse
came nearer and nearer. The sweonds
leaned forward as the intensity of their
sympathy with their principals seemed
to shrivel them, as if with beat; the sur
geons unconsciously drew closer to the
panting, laboring duelists.
Honore Chanvin at this moment made
a lunge; Pierre avoid! it by a supreme
effort; the movement caused them to ex
change positions, ana as they did so
Pierre shot out a quick thrust that
pierced Hanaro's sleeve without touch
ing the flesh; his point hang a half sec
and, and Honore was just in the act of
running him through when he tripped on
a small root and staggered back. ,. Now
they both rallied and renewed the con
test with a momentary show of return
ing string? h; but Honore was failing.,
Pierre saw this and rushed upon him"
with feeble bnt furious energy, striving 1
to beat down his guard. He had suc
ceeded, and Honore was at his mercy.
The next breath there was a sharp cry
of terror, the voice of a woman in utter
distress, and a strange, dull rushing
sound followed by a crash. ' '
The duelists were swept from their
feet and dashed - headlong, a horse
tumbled over them and the fragments of
a small vehicle were scattered around.
In the midst of this wreck thus hurled
upon the contestants a young woman
rose to her feet and stood, beautiful, dis
heveled, frightened almost to madness.
but unhurt. It was Marie de Noyant.
The horse, after falling and rolling
over, struggled to its leet, ana, with
parts of its harness still clinging to it
and trailing and whirling about, ran
frantically away through the woods in
the direction of the town.
Overcome for a moment, the seconds
and surgeons stood staring and motion-
, but they were men of nerve, and
needed but time to take a breath and
pull themselves together before spring
ing forward to the assistance of Honore
and Pierre, who lay as if dead on the
ground where the shock of the collision
had flung them.
Marie de Noyant had arisen early that
morning to keep a promise she had made
to visit a sick and extremely aged Creole
woman who lived in a small house back
in the woods . on the road' to Jordon
river.. Feeling oppressed with what had
occurred between her and Pierre, she or- I
dered her servant to fetch her pony and J
and cart and drove away alone before
the rest of the household were np. She
left the servant behind, wishing to be j
entirely free to commune with her heart
and to devise if possible some means of
softening Pierre's disappointment. While
she feared that something dreadful
might come of the terrible passion of the
young man, she did not dream that,
even while she drove slowly along the
dim road under the trees, a duel was in
progress between him and Honore
Chanvin. Her pony, a stout, gentle ani
mal, jogged quietly f orward in the sand
between the tufts of Spanish bayonet
and thickets of bay bushes; overhead
the pine trees moaned and the grand
magnolias rustled their stiff, gloss;
foliage.
Suddenly three or four goats, part of a
herd that had been turned out to graze
and browse in the woods, leaped out of a
little tangle of tall wild grass hard by
and dashed across the road close in front
of the pony. Marie at tho time was ab
sorbed in thought and held the lines with
a slack hand. The pony took fright, as
the gentlest horse sometimes will, and
whirled about and, almost upsetting the
cart, ran away through the forest as fast
as his legs eould carry him. The move
ment whisked the tines out of Marie's
grap. and so she lost control. Discover
ing his freedom, and crazed with fright,
the hitherto gentle little animal now be
came a savage and terrible beast, reck
less of everything, giving no attention to
road or direction.
The reader will understand at once
how the catastrophe came about at the
dueling ground, for the pony, accident
ally heading itself that way, ran madly
and blindly upon the combatants. It
was found dead a half mile from the spot,
with Pierre's rapier sheathed to the hilt
in its breast. It had struck the weapon's
point just as it was about to dart into the
heart of Honore Chauvin.
The strangest part of the whole adven
ture was that Marie escaped without
even the slightest hurt.
The young men were borne to the
nearest house, where for many hours
they lay side by side insensible. Honore's
hurts were nearly fatal, and Pierre was
crippled for life. In the course of their
convalescence they both received the
gentle and untiring care of Marie, and
before they were able to leave the horse
their friendship had been restored.
Aunt Clothilda,, a very old colored
woman, who speaxs notmog out tne
French patois of the Creole country, is
the only survivor of the slaves owned by
Marie de Noyant's father at the time of
the duel. You may, if yon will visit
her in her little house on Hospital street
in New Orleans, have the story, that I
have here sketched, told to you in the
most picturesque way, and it always
ends with a minute description of how
beautiful Marie looked in her white
wedding gown when she and Honore
Chanvin were married.
In the course of frequent and long
sojourns in the old French region of the
south I have made note of many roman
tic, odd or otherwise interesting stories
of dueling, but none of them seems to
me more strange than this told me by
Aunt Clothilde.
Last winter I visited the spot where
the duel was fought, and while I tried
to imagine the scene as it was sixty-six
years ago a mocking bird quavered its
incomparable flute score from a wax
myrtle bush on the edge of a flowery
thicket hard by. -What a peaceful spot
it was! Maurice Thompson in New
York Ledger.
- Effect of Pride.
Ah ancient and distinguished indi vid
ua! writes:
"I owe my wealth and elevation to
the neglect with which I ucsd to be
treated by the proud. It was a real
benefit, though not so intended. It
awakened a zeal which did its duty,
and was crowned with success. I de
termined, if this neglect was owing to
lay want of learning, I would be studi
ous and acquire it. : I determined, if it
was owing to " my poverty, I would ac
cumulate property; if extreme vigilance,
industry, prudence and . self denial
would do it (which will not always). I
determined, if it was owing to my man
ners, I would be more circumspect.
was anxious, also, to show those who
had so treated me that I was undeserv
ing such coldness. I was also warmed
by a desire that the proud should see me
on a level with, or elevated above, them
selves. ' And I was resolved, above all
things, never to lose the consolation of
being conscious of not deserving the
hauteur which they displayed to me.
"New York Ledger.
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