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BURNING OF THE STEAMER
"BERKSHIRE."
THE new and handsome steamer
Berkshire, of the New York and Hudson line, took fire on her passage down the
river on Wednesday night, 8th instant, when a short distance above Poughkeepsie,
and was almost totally destroyed. She had on board nearly 150 passengers, some
live-stock, and a large quantity of freight. As soon as it was ascertained that
she was on fire, the pilot immediately headed her for shore, the engine at the
time working at full speed ; but before she struck the mud all the wood-work was
one vast sheet of flame. The scene that followed beggars description. Men
frantic with fear; children crying (and it is said that there were quite a
number of little ones on board); men shouting, the flames crackling, and the
passengers jumping overboard, formed a sight terrible to behold. Furniture of
every description was floating in the water, some of the pieces upholding a few
of the unfortunate beings.
One little boy, with his
grandmother, was in a stateroom, and when he heard the alarm he endeavored to
open the door of his room, but could not. He then managed to get out of the
window, and tried to save his relative ; but so close were the flames that he
had to jump overboard to save his own life. The lady was probably suffocated.
One of the most heart-rending
scenes in this terrible disaster was the case of Mrs. HANFORD. On ascertaining
her danger she seized her babe and her daughter, and jumped overboard, leaving
her little son standing on the stern of the vessel. After she got in the water
she was compelled to relinquish her hold on her little ones, and they both went
down. A man with his child in his arms, who was in the water close by her,
seeing that the mother was in the act of sinking, seized hold of her and buoyed
her up ; but, alas ! in doing so he lost his own child.
In all some forty persons
perished. The pilot and engineer remained at their posts until the boat struck
the shore. Nineteen bodies have been recovered from the wreck. There is not a
vestige of the wood-work of the Berkshire above water-mark that has not been
destroyed, with the exception of a portion of the starboard wheel-house. Both
smoke-stacks have fallen. The walking-beam and other portions of the machinery
are still standing. The after-part of the boat, from the paddles to the stern,
is entirely submerged. Twenty bodies are supposed to be there.
The fire originated in the
lamp-room, and was caused by the explosion of a lamp. The violence of the fire
was caused by the large quantity of hay on board becoming ignited as soon as the
fire burst from the lamp-room, and which might have just as well been so much
alcohol as regards combustion.
The Berkshire was a first-class
steamer, and was built at Athens last season. She made one or two trips to New
York last fall to test her machinery ; but she was not permanently placed on the
river until this spring. Her engine was taken out of the hull of the South
America, but it was enlarged and made more powerful.
Our sketch on the first page
gives a vivid view of the steamer at the time of the calamity.
GENERAL GRANT'S GREAT
CAMPAIGN.
WE continue this week our
sketches illustrative of scenes and events in
General GRANT'S great campaign in
Virginia.
On page 412 we give a view of the
position near Cold Harbor, June 2. Our artist, A. R. WAUD, furnishes the
following explanation of this sketch :
" At this point the Second and
Sixth Corps join. One of GIBBONS'S brigades (M'KEAN'S, Second Division, Second
Corps) appears on the left of the picture, massed under a crest. In this brigade
are the Nineteenth and Twentieth Massachusetts, etc. To the right of the house
is the old Jersey brigade of the Sixth Corps. Their term of service expires June
3, and they leave the army with an unsurpassed reputation. The lines these
troops hold have been taken from the enemy, and are not more than a hundred
yards from the rebel front. The smoke on the extreme left marks the position of
a section of STEVENS'S battery, while MOTT'S battery occupies the fore-ground.
These and other batteries at this point soon silenced the enemy's artillery,
while musket-balls in reckless profusion swept the rifle-pits, among which the
dead and wounded lay thickly."
THE LAST FIGHT OF THE
PENNSYLVANIA RESERVES is illustrated on page 412. The Reserves were attacked by EARLY'S corps, which came out of the woods, covered by artillery, and in line of
battle swept down upon CRAWFORD'S command. At first some of the regiments gave
way, but were rallied, and the brigade seen in the fore-ground stood with
conspicuous gallantry under their commander, Colonel FISHER. The rebels were
repulsed, and retreated in disorder. General CRAWFORD and staff were close to
the house during the fight. A rebel shell set it on fire, and it was consumed
during the engagement.
On
page 405 are sketches showing
the troops of General BARLOW in front of the rebel works, and the passage of the Pamunkey at Hanover by the army in its advance from the
North Anna. General BARLOW's position on the front, where this sketch was taken, was twelve miles
from Richmond. Mr. WAUD says :
"The sketch was taken from the
Sheldon House, a mansion nearly two hundred years old, built of imported glazed
brick, and occupied by a lot of women and children, who refused to leave,
although fifty or sixty rebel cannon-shot passed through the building. They
sought refuge in the cellar. The works seen from this point consist of a double
row of rifle-pits on the crest above the stream called Tolopatamoy, with
epaulements for guns, not more than 600 yards away. The guns, flags, and men are
distinctly visible from this mansion."
The crossing of the Pamunkey has
been fully
described in accounts of the
forward movement. The river is deep, muddy, and thickly fringed with wood. The
ferry-master at Hanover sunk his boat on the approach of our forces.
In reference to the sketch of the
Fourteenth New York Heavy Artillery Crossing the North Anna, given on page 404,
our artist writes : " After
HANCOCK had crossed the North Anna,
BURNSIDE was
ordered over to connect the line of battle. To do this he had to cross the river
by the Chesterfield bridge on the Telegraph road to Richmond. The rebels had a
fine range on this bridge, and a 4-gun battery played upon it all day, whenever
troops appeared upon it. As the columns double-quicked it over shell would burst
right about them, covering the men with dust when they struck the ground, and
wounding a few of the soldiers. The crest from which our batteries are
represented replying to the fire was captured the day previous by General
BERRY'S old brigade, to which the Ninety-third New York Volunteers have been
assigned. The assault and capture of this point is considered one of the most
dashing incidents of the campaign. The rebels were so severely handled that they
had not time to burn the bridge. Many were captured and some drowned at this
place."
In the battle at Cold Harbor,
June 1, STEVENS'S battery, belonging to the Sixth Corps, was so near the rebel
lines that the soldiers nicknamed it " Battery Insult." It stirred up the rebels
in a most aggravating manner, and was an excessively dangerous spot to be seen
in. After a discharge of the pieces hundreds of bullets would zip through the
embrasures and around the earth-work; occasionally round shot would batter down
portions of the work, but the artillerists stuck to it and did good execution.
It will be noticed, in our sketch on
page 404, that the limber chests have been
taken off the carriages, and placed in trenches dug for their security.
The picture on
pages 408 and 409
illustrates one of the grandest charges of the war—that of BARLOW'S Division in
the Battle of Cold Harbor, June 1. General BARLOW held the extreme left of the
army. A correspondent of the Times thus describes the charge :
BARLOW had directed that his
attacking brigades should, previously to the assault, be moved out, and formed
just in rear of the picket line. From this point they advanced for half a mile,
through woods and over open intervals, under a severe fire, square up to the
enemy's works. That portion of his front where the right of MILES'S brigade
joined with the left of BROOKS'S—the same brigades that so brilliantly carried
the famous salient in the lines of Spottsylvania—succeeded in a similar splendid
coup here; they got over and into the enemy's parapet, capturing his guns (four
light 12-pounders), his colors, and five or six hundred prisoners, about three
hundred of whom were secured by promptly passing them to the rear. The storming
column, in fact, was just turning the enemy's guns on the retreating rebels when
powerful reinforcements from the second rebel line appeared advancing. BARLOW'S
brigades—stout hearts, not used to pale before the greatest odds—could have held
their own under conditions the least short of desperation, but the situation in
which they now found themselves o'erleaped its limits. It was not merely the
overwhelming front that came pressing down upon them—of that they had no
fear—but the position they had gained placed them in advance of the whole line
of battle, and gave the rebel artillery the opportunity for a deadly enfilading
fire. Besides this, they had lost the directing heads of two of the chief
commanders. BROOKS and BYRNES, "souls of courage all compact," fell seriously
wounded, and all the organizations had suffered fearfully from an unparalleled
loss of officers. In this state of facts they fell back, bringing with them the
prisoners they had taken and a captured color, but not the guns. They fell back,
but not to their original position; to a position far in advance of that they
had held, and at different points not more than fifty yards from the enemy.
In reference to our picture our
artist writes : " This sketch represents a portion of the line at the time when
they had captured the first line of rifle-pits, and were about to advance upon
the second. The regiment is the New York Seventh Heavy Artillery. Some of the
men are seen over the embankment endeavoring to turn the enemy's captured guns
upon them, under the direction of Lieutenant-Colonel MORRIS, Colonel PORTER
having been killed in the charge. In the fore-ground the prisoners are seen
rapidly divesting themselves of their accoutrements, the first thing being
always the disarming of the captured. Near them some soldiers are moving the
Colonel in a blanket ; and above a captured flag, with the Virginia State arms
emblazoned upon it, is carried in by one of our soldiers."
QUITE ALONE
By GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.
CHAPTER XXIX.
LILY IS ACTUALLY AT HOME,
ONCE more Lily traversed the
up-hill pavement, and marveled at the great rolling turbulent gutters in the
roadways : gutters which in those days often bore on their inky bosoms the
carcasses of defunct cats and dogs, that rolled past, swift and supine, toward
the Infinite re-served for the beasts.
Once more she saw the clumsy
oil-lamps slung on ropes across the streets, and smelled the faint odor of the
melons and peaches, and the quicker aroma of the grapes from the fruiterers'
shops. The way was by back streets, where there were few brilliant shops, full
of gold, and silver, and jewels, and rich dresses, and beautiful pictures. But
to the timid little hermit just escaped from her thralldom, the narrow, dirty
streets of old Paris were ineffably charming. The great dishes full of wet
partly-cooked spinach, like green mortar, in the green-grocers' shops; the giant
pumps kins at the doors, some cleft in twain, and disclosing a voluptuous mine
of golden squash and seedfulness within, that looked like the heads of grim
Paynim warriors stricken off by the two-handed swords of doughty Crusaders ; the
eggs boiled in cochineal (as Madame Prudence explained) to make their shells red
: " c'est pour distraire l'oeil, mon enfant;" the long strings of dumpy little
sausages ; the shapely pigs' feet cunningly truffled, as though they had corns
defiant of the skillfulest chiropodist ; the other wonder
ful preparations of pork at the
charcutiers' ; the butchers' shops, with their marble dressers and gilt iron
railings, and their scraggy but lively-colored show of meat ; the glaring
sign-boards; the dazzling show of pewter pitchers in the wine-shops ; the
ticket-porters dozing on their trucks, with their shirt-collars open, disclosing
their shaggy, vein-corrugated necks; the throng of little boy-soldiers with
vacant faces and red legs; of priests in shovel- hats; of policemen with swords
and cocked-hats ; of mustached old women, very like the two Fates who came to
card wool at the Pension, trolling monstrous barrows full of fruit or vegetables
; the water-carriers with their pails; the alert little work-women, with their
trim white caps, whisking along with their skirts thrown over one arm ; the
wonderful poodle - dogs with tufted tails and curling manes, like pacific lions
of a smaller growth; the liquorice-water seller with his pagoda at his back hung
with bells and banners, and his clean napkin and arsenal of bright tin mugs ;
the woman. who sold the jumbles, and the man who sold metal taps; the wandering
glazier with his cry of 64 Vitrier-e-e-e-er !" the old clothesman, no Jew he,
but a stout Christian, who looked as though he had spent a good many years
traveling in Galilee, and had begun to waver in his faith somewhat, crying, "
Vieux habits, vieux galons!" the very beggars and blackguard little boys in torn
blue blouses, who splashed in the gutters, or made faces behind the backs of the
cocked-hatted policemen ; all had charms for Lily. She could not help observing
that most of the surrounding objects—animate as well as inanimate-were
exceedingly dirty, and that the atmosphere was heavily laden with tobacco smoke;
but the entire spectacle was charming to her, nevertheless.
By-and-by, in the wane of the
afternoon (for they had walked leisurely, and Madame Prudence had met several
acquaintances, the majority bearing large baskets from which the stalks of
vegetables protruded, or the heads of fowls dangled, and who were manifestly of
the culinary calling), they crossed the great roaring Boulevard —which the
housekeeper told Lily was an ocean of wickedness, and to be avoided, save on
feast-days, when the good people came out as well as the bad—and entered a maze
of streets much wider and cleaner, but much quieter. There were few shops, but
many white walls, seeming to stretch onward for miles, and relieved only by
jalousied windows and heavy pontes cocheres. Lily's- heart sank within her. All
looked older ; but then all was as still and as gloomy as the stark and
sepulchral suburb of Saint Philippe du Roule.
"Does the good lady—does Madame
de Kergolay—keep a Pension ?" she asked, nervously. Madame Prudence could feel
the little arm quivering within her own, and patted it again, reassuringly.
" Courage, my child!" she said,
with a merry laugh. "Why, we have not the boldness of a guinea-pig. We have done
with Pensions for good. No more classes, no more haricots, no more tasks and
penances, no more Marcassins! A Pension, my faith ! Madame la Baronne de
Kergolay —a baroness, mind you, of the old stock, and not one of the day before
yesterday--is a lady of ancient extraction, high rank, and ascertained position
in society. She has had misfortunes, cruel and bitter misfortunes ; but sooner
than keep a Pension, and suck the blood of young children, she would stand and
sell matches at the corner of the Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin. Yes, my child ;
suck their blood ! That is what the Marcassin does. She is a real Count Ugolino."
A considerable period had
apparently elapsed since Madame Prudence had perused the works of Dante. Lily,
however, knew quite as little about Count Ugolino as the housekeeper did ; and
the assurance that Madame de Kergolay did not keep a school was quite sufficient
for her.
The baroness lived in the Marais,
in one of the tallest and oldest houses of that tall old quarter. It was a red
brick house, too—almost as great a rarity in Paris as a stone house is in
Lon-don. The entire mansion, Madame Prudence took care to inform Lily, belonged
to the baroness ; but she let it out in flats to respectable ten-ants, and
reserved only one floor, the third, for her own use.
CHAPTER XXX . IN THE MARAIS.
IF Madame de Kergolay had lived
on a third floor in London, the altitude of her dwelling-place would have been
accepted as prima facially conclusive evidence of her impoverished
circumstances. But indigence, in Paris, does not necessarily correspond with the
number of stairs you have to mount to your abode ; and, al-though the baroness's
apartment was an troisieme, it was spacious, comfortable, and even elegant.
Madame Prudence was short-winded,
and, as she toiled up the staircase, uttered sundry invectives against a certain
"Satane" asthma which troubled her. The Abbe Chatain would not have failed to
reprove her for using so naughty an adjective; and of this eventuality Madame
Prudence seemed herself aware ; for on the second landing she objurgated the
asthma with bated breath, and apostrophized it only as a "Cosaque." But she was
very glad to rest a while on this penultimate flight, while Lily gazed with
admiration through an oeil-de-boeuf casement on the vast panorama of slated
roofs and chimney-stacks which stretched around and beneath her. The
sweetly-savored smoke from the wood fires curled in delicate violet hue against
the clear blue sky ; and the distant melody of a piano—played not as a school
task, but for pleasure, for the instrumentalist caroled a lively ditty as he
sang—came and smote her very sweetly on the
ear. It was a simple matter to be
pleased with, yet Lily felt as though she could have clapped her hands, and sung
back again. Poor little creature ! she had seen so little, as yet, of the only
city in the world worth living in !
"I should like," she said, in
airy prattle to her new-found friend, " always to live here, and look through
that window. See, there is a. woman hanging out linen on a roof. Oh, if there
were only some birds ! There used to be birds at Miss Bunnycastle's."
"Bird yourself," rejoined the
good-humored housekeeper. " Silly little chatterer, you'd soon get tired of your
bird's-eye view, I'll warrant. Yes, yes, there are better things to be seen
with-in. Come ! my respiration is a little restored. We will ring at the good
lady's bell."
A lively piece of sculpture, in
the likeness of a horse's fore-foot, hung at the end of a silken cord by the
side of a door whose central panel exhibited a brass plate, and thereon, in very
spiky and attenuated black letters, the words, "Madame la Baronne de Kergolay."
Lily felt a slight tremor when she read " baroness." The remembrance of a former
"countess" was rather conducive to a conviction on her part that she had had
enough to do with titles of nobility for the term of her natural Iife.
A withered old man, very
diminutive, hut with a very large head, and perhaps the thinnest pair of
spindle-shanks ever seen out of a museum of anatomical preparations, opened the
door, and grinned in a hospitable manner at the new-comers,
"This is my brother Thomas," said
Madame Prudence, introducing the little old man, "al-though you will oftener
hear him addressed by his little name of Vieux Sablons. Ile is twenty years
older than I, but in his youth was furious gaillard. Even now il fait des
farces. He is as upright as a dart, as strong as Hercules, and sain comme mon
oeil."
Thomas, otherwise Vieux Sablons,
grinned so extensively while these praises were being be-stowed on him that, in
the mind of the timid, some fear might have arisen respecting the permanent
cohesion ()This superior and inferior jaws. This time, however, no divorce
between the up-per and lower portions of his head took place. The grin subsiding
into a smirk, he shut the outer door behind the visitors, and ushered them into
the interior of the premises.
Lily remarked that Thomas's Iarge
head, though quite bald on the summit, and very scantily furnished with thin
locks about the ears, was plentifully powdered. He wore, moreover, ear-rings :
at which, I take it, an English Jeames would have been astounded, if not
scandalized. He was habited in a green livery coat, short in the waist, and
shorter in the tails, shortest of all from a proportional point of view in the
cuffs, and ornamented with a shoulder-knot of tarnished silver bullion. It was a
coat worn to the very shabbiest, and scrupulously neat; and the large plated
buttons had been so often polished that the armorial cognizance on them, as on a
Louis the Fifteenth franc, was well-nigh de-faced. Thomas's waistcoat had fallen
likewise into the sere and yellow leaf—or rather the leaf that is sere without
being yellow ; for the original hue of the nankeen which formed its texture had,
through repeated ablutions, vanished. His green velvet nether garments likewise
suggested to the observant spirit that they had originally formed the covering
of a Utrecht sofa of the time of the First Empire, which had been very liberally
sat upon by the beaux and belles of that epoch, Ile wore silk stockings of no
particular color, and, where they were not cobweb, his hose, like the late Sir
John Cutler's, were one darn. Still, any little shortcomings that might have
been notice-able in his apparel were amply compensated by a prodigious pair of
cut steel buckles in his ,shoes, and by a protruding shirt-frill or jabot : so
white, so starched, and so stiff that it gave him the appearance of a piece of
Palissy-ware, cleaving wit h distended fin its way through life, like one of
poor Bernard's perch through a dish.
"He wore that coat before the
assembly of notables met," whispered Madame Prudence. "He was a running footman
at Vieux Sablons. He has worn l'epee an cote--the sword by his side. Ah, the
glad days!"
Anon they had passed through a
cheerful dining-room with the usual floor of inlaid wood, light chintz hangings
and furniture, and plenty of mirrors. At each of the three windows there was a
glittering cage, and in each cage a canary was singing.
"Hao! it is better than the
staircase," quoth Madame Prudence, slyly.
Lily- thought so, indeed, when
they came to the next room, the saloon, where the mirrors had richer frames—all
tarnished, though--and where there were more birds, as many as four in a cage,
and a beautiful globe full of gold and silver fish, and some stately pictures of
ladies in hoops, and gentlemen with wigs and swords, and some older portraits of
cavaliers in slouched hats end curled mustaches, and dames in ringlets and point
lace. Here the furniture was of dark carved wood, with elaborate cushions and
backs in needle-work.
"All Madame's doing," whispered
the house-keeper. " She is an angel at her needle, but they were put together by
the tapissier of the quarter. The old furniture was broken to pieces the mirrors
and the pictures my brother saved but there's not a portrait without a
bullet-hole or the gash of a knife in it, carefully mended not a looking-glass
frame but the glass itself has been smashed. What you see is nearly all that is
left of the chiiteau of Vieux Sablons."
Again they went on, until Thomas,
lifting up a heavy drapery of old tapestry veiling a door, tapped discreetly at
it. His large head disappeared in the hangings, but he speedily withdrew it, and
turned it toward the visitors with a reassuring grin.
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