CHAPTER XXI
_Josephine and Mrs. Franklin receive two important Visits._
Josephine Franklin and her mother were languidly partaking of a latebreakfast, and indolently discussing the merits of the Italian opera, towhich they had both been on the preceding night.
It not being the hour for fashionable calls, both ladies were attiredwith an extreme negligence which indicated that they anticipated seeingno company. And yet, to the eyes of a true connoisseur in beauty, therewas something far more seductive in those voluptuous dishabilles, thanthere could have been in the most magnificent full dress. Theconversation in which they were engaged, was characteristic of themboth:--
'I think, mamma,' said Josephine--'that the most captivating fellow onthe stage last night, was the Signor Stopazzi, who played the peasant.Ah, what superb legs! what a fine chest! what graceful motions! I amdying to get him for a lover!'
'What, tired of the handsome Sinclair already?' asked Mrs. Franklin witha smile.
'Indeed, to confess the truth, mamma,' replied Josephine--'the Doctor isbecoming somewhat _de trop_--and then, again, those Italians make suchdelightful lovers; so full of fire, and passion, and poetry; and music,and charming romance--ah, I adore them!'
'Apropos of Italian lovers,' said her mother. 'I once had one; I wasthen in my sixteenth year, and superbly beautiful. My Angelo was adivine youth, and he loved me to distraction. Once, in a moment ofintoxicating bliss, he swore to do whatever I commanded him, to test thesincerity of his life; and I playfully and thoughtlessly bade him go andkill himself for my sake. The words were forgotten by me, almost as soonas uttered. Angelo supped with me that night, and when he took hisleave, he had never seemed gayer or happier. The next day, at noon, Ireceived a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a perfumed billet-doux;they were from Angelo. On opening the missive, I found that it containedthe most eloquent assurance of his sincere love--but, to my horror, ina postscript of two lines he expressed his intention of destroyinghimself ere his note could reach me, in obedience to my command. Almostdistracted, I flew to his hotel; my worst fears were confirmed. PoorAngelo was found with his throat cut, and quite dead, with my miniaturepressed to his heart.'[4]
'Delightfully romantic!' exclaimed Josephine--'how I should like to havea lover kill himself for my sake!'
But the brilliant eyes of her mother were suffused with tears. Just thena servant in livery entered and announced--
'Dr. Sinclair is below, and craves an audience with Mrs. Franklin andMiss Josephine.'
'Let him come up,' said Josephine, with a gesture of some impatience;for, in truth, she was beginning to be tired of the rector, and longedfor a new conquest.
Dr. Sinclair entered with a constrained and gloomy air.
'My dear Doc,' cried Josephine, with affected cordiality--'howopportunely that you called! I was just now wishing that you wouldcome.'
'Ladies,' said the Doctor, solemnly--'I have recently made a terrible, amost astonishing discovery.'
'Indeed! and pray what is it?' cried both mother and daughter.
'It is that Mr. Edgar Franklin, whose death was so sudden andunaccountable, was basely murdered!'
The mother and daughter turned pale, and losing all power of utterance,gazed at each other with looks of wild alarm.
'Yes,' resumed the Doctor--'I have in my possession evidence the mostconclusive, that he met his death by the hands of a murderess, who wasurged to commit the deed by two other devils in female shape.'
'Doctor--explain--what mean you?' gasped Josephine, while her motherseemed as if about to go into hysterics.
'In the first place I will ask you if you ever knew a woman named MaryWelch?' said the Doctor; then after a pause, he added--'your looksconvince me that you have known such a person; that woman recently diedin this city, and on her death-bed she made the following confession.'
The rector here produced and read a paper which he had drawn upembodying the statement and confession which the woman Welch had made tohim, just before her death. As the reader is acquainted with theparticulars of that confession it is unnecessary for us to repeat them.
Having finished the perusal of this document, the rector proceeded torelate an account of his visit to the tomb of Mr. Franklin, andconcluded his fearfully interesting narrative by producing the lump oflead which had been taken from the skull of the murdered man.
It is impossible to describe the horror and dismay of the two wretchedand guilty women, when they saw that their crime was discovered. Fallingon their knees before the rector, they implored him to have mercy onthem and not hand them over to justice.--They expressed their sincererepentance of the deed, and declared that sooner than suffer theignominy of an arrest, they would die by their own hands. Josephine inparticular did not fail to remind Dr. Sinclair of the many favors shehad granted him and hinted that her exposure would result in his ownruin, as his former connection with her would be disclosed, if herselfand mother were arrested and brought to trial.
'Were I inclined to bring you to justice, the dread of my own exposurewould not prevent me; for no personal consideration should ever restrainme from doing an act of justice, provided the public good would beprompted thereby. But I do not see the necessity of bringing you to thehorrors of a trial and execution; much rather would I see you allowed achance of repentance. Therefore, you need apprehend no danger from me;the secret of your crime shall not be revealed by me. But I warn youthat the secret is known to another, who will probably use his knowledgeto his own advantage; the matter lies between you and him. I shall nowleave this house, never again to cross its threshold; but ere I depart,let me urge you both before God to repent of your sins. Josephine, Ihave been very guilty in yielding to your temptations; but the Lord ismerciful, and will not refuse forgiveness to the chief of sinners.Farewell--we shall meet no more: for I design shortly to retire from aministerial life, of which I have proved myself unworthy; and shall takeup my abode in some other place, and lead a life of obscurity and humbleusefulness.'
With these words the Doctor took his departure, leaving the mother anddaughter in a state of mind easier to be imagined than described.Josephine was the first to break the silence which succeeded his exitfrom the house:--
'So our secret is discovered,' said she.--'Perdition! who would havethought that our crime could ever be found out in that manner? Mother,what are we to do?'
'I know not what to say,' replied Mrs. Franklin. 'One thing, however, iscertain; that whining parson will never betray us. He said that thedread of his own folly would not deter him from denouncing us, but helies--that dread of being exposed will alone keep his mouth shut. Yet,good Heavens! he assures us that the secret is known to another person,who will not scruple to use the knowledge to his advantage. Who can thatperson be? And what reward will he require of us, to ensure hissilence?'
'Mother,' said Josephine, in a decided tone--'We must quit this cityforever. We can dwell here no longer with safety. Let us go to Boston,and dwell there under an assumed name. I have heard that Boston is agreat city, where licentiousness and hypocrisy abound, in secret; wherethe artful dissimulator can cloak himself with sanctity, and violatewith impunity every command of God and man. Yes, Boston is the city forus.'
'I agree with you, my dear,' rejoined her mother--'it is the greatestlust market of the Union. You will be surprised to learn that several ofmy old schoolmates are now keeping fashionable boarding houses forcourtezans in that city and from the business derive a luxuriousmaintenance. There is my friend Louisa Atwill, whose history I haveoften narrated to you and there, too, is Lucy Bartlett, and RachelPierce, whose lover is the gay and celebrated Frank Hancock, whom I haveoften seen--nor must I omit to mention Julia Carr, whose establishmentis noted for privacy, and is almost exclusively supported by marriedmen. All these with whom I occasionally correspond testify to thevoluptuous temperament of the Bostonians, among whom you will be sure tomake many conquests.'
We merely detail this conversation for the purpose of showing ther
ecklessness and depravity of these two women. They had justacknowledged themselves guilty of the crime of murder; and could thuscalmly converse on indifferent and sinful topics, immediately after thedeparture of their accuser, and as soon as their first excitement offear had subsided.
While thus arranging their plans for the future, the servant in liveryagain entered, to announce another visitor.
'He is a strange looking man,' said the servant, 'and when I civillytold him that the ladies received no company before dinner, he gave mesuch a look as I shall never forget, and told me to hold my tongue andlead the way--good Lord, here he comes now!'
The terrified servant vanished from the room, as a tall figure stalkedin, wrapped in a cloak. The ladies could scarce repress a shriek, whenthrowing aside his hat and cloak, the stranger exhibited a face ofappalling hideousness; and a fearful misgiving took possession of theirminds, that this was the other person who was in the secret of theircrime.
'You are the two Franklin ladies I presume--mother and daughter--good!'and the stranger glanced from one to the other with a fiercesatisfaction.
'What is your business with us?' demanded Josephine, haughtily.
'Ha! young hussey, you are very saucy,' growled the strangersavagely--'but your pride will soon be humbled. In the first place, arewe alone, and secure from interruption?'
'We are--why do you ask?' said Mrs. Franklin.
'Because your own personal safety demands that our interview be notoverheard,' replied the man. 'As you are fashionable people, I willintroduce myself. Ladies, I am called the Dead Man, and have the honorto be your most obedient servant. Now to business.'
The Dead Man proceeded to relate those circumstances with which thereader is already acquainted, connected with his visit to the tomb ofMr. Franklin, and the manner in which he had come to the knowledge ofthat gentleman's murder. He omitted, however, to state that he had shutup the rector in the tomb, for he firmly believed in his own mind thatDr. Sinclair had perished.
'You perceive,' said he, when he had finished these details--'it is inmy power to have you hung up at any time. Now, to come to the point atonce--what consideration will you allow me if I keep silent in regard tothis affair?'
'Of course you require money,' remarked Josephine, who was disposed totreat the matter in as business-like a manner as possible.
'Why--yes; but not money alone,' replied the Dead Man, with a horribleleer;--'you are both devilish handsome, and I should prefer to take outa good portion of my reward in your soft embraces. You shudder ladies;yet would not my arms around those fair necks of yours be pleasanterthan an ugly rope, adjusted by the hands of the hangman? You will oneday admit the force of the argument; at present I will not press thematter, but content myself with a moderate demand on your purse. Obligeme with the loan--ha, ha!--of the small trifle of one thousand dollars.'
After a moment's consultation with her daughter, Mrs. Franklin left theroom to get the money from her _escritoire_. The door had scarcelyclosed upon her, when the Dead Man advanced to Josephine, caught her inhis arms, despite her resistance, imprinted numberless foul kisses uponher glowing cheeks, her ripe lips, and alabaster shoulders. It was arare scene; Beauty struggling in the arms of the Beast!
The lecherous monster did not release her until he heard her motherreturning. Mrs. Franklin handed to him a roll of bank-notes, and said--
'There is the amount you asked for and you must grant that you areliberally paid for your silence. I trust that you will consider thereward sufficient, and that we shall see you no more.'
'Bah!' exclaimed the ruffian, as he deposited the money in hispocket--'do you think I will let you off so cheaply? No, no, my prettymistress--you may expect to see me often; and at my next visit I musthave something besides money--a few little amative favors will thenprove acceptable, both from you and your fair daughter, whose lips, bySatan! are as sweet to my taste as human blood. I know very well youwill attempt to run away from me, by secretly removing from the city;but hark'ee--though you remove to hell, and assume the hardest name ofBeelzebub's family of fourth cousins--I'll find you out! Remember, Ihave said it. Adieu.'
And bowing with mock politeness, the miscreant took his departure fromthe house.
'Good heavens!' exclaimed Mrs. Franklin--'we are completely in the powerof that dreadful man. We must leave the city, without delay, for Boston;yet we will spread the report that we are going to Philadelphia, inorder to escape from that monster, if possible.'
'A monster indeed!' said Josephine shuddering--'during your absence fromthe room, he took the most insolent liberties with me, and besmeared mewith his loathsome kisses. How horrible it will be, if he ever finds usout, and compels us to yield our persons to his savage lust!'
'True,' said her mother--'and yet, for my own part, sooner than pay himanother thousand, I would yield to his desires; for the manner in whichwe have squandered money, during the last two years, has fearfullydiminished my fortune, and there is but a very small balance of cash inmy favor at the bank. This house must be sold, together with all ourfurniture, in order to replenish our funds. Now, my dear, we must makepreparations for our instant departure for Boston.'
Mrs. Franklin summoned her servants, paid them their wages, anddischarged them all, with the exception of her handsome footman, whomshe determined to leave in charge of the house, until it was sold, afterwhich he was privately requested to join his mistress in Boston; he wasparticularly directed to state, in answer to all inquiries, that thefamily had gone to Philadelphia. Simon, (for this was the footman'sname) promised implicit obedience to these orders; and was rewarded forhis fidelity by a private _tete-a-tete_ with his fair patron, duringwhich many kisses were exchanged, and other little tokens of affectionwere indulged in; after which she gave him the keys of the house,charging him not to visit the wine-cellar too often, and by all meansnot to admit a woman into the house, under pain of her eternaldispleasure.
That same afternoon, the two ladies took passage in a steamer forBoston. They were received on board by the handsome and gentlemanlyCaptain, who, being somewhat of a fashionable man, had some slightacquaintance with the aristocratic mother and her beauteous daughter. Hecourteously insisted that they should occupy his own state-room; andthey accordingly took possession of that elegant apartment, where theyordered tea be served; and, at their invitation, the Captain supped withthem. The repast over, he apologized to the ladies for his necessaryabsence; and sent the steward to them with a bottle of very choice wine.
The state-room was divided into two apartments by a curtain of silk; andin each of these apartments was a magnificent bed. The floor washandsomely carpeted, and the walls were adorned with superb mirrors andpictures. The Captain was a man of taste, and his cabin was a gem ofluxury and splendor.
As the stately steamer ploughed her way through the turbid waters of theSound, many were the scenes which took place on board of her, worthy tobe delineated by our pen. Though it is our peculiar province to write ofcity crimes, we nevertheless must not omit to depict some of thetransactions which occurred during the passage, and which may beappropriately classed under the head of steamboat crimes.
At the hour for retiring, the ladies' cabin was filled with the feminineportion of the passengers, who began to divest themselves of theirgarments in order to court the embraces of the drowsy god. There was thesimpering boarding-school miss of sixteen; the fat wife of a citizenwith a baby in her arms, and another in anticipation; the lady offashion, attended by her maid; the buxom widow, attended by a lap-dog,musical with silver bells, and there, too, was the elderly dame,attended by a host of grandchildren, to the horror of an old maid, whodeclares she 'can't BEAR young ones,' which is true enough, literally.
Now it is a fact beyond dispute, that ladies, among themselves, when nomales are present, act and converse with more freedom from restraint,than a company of men; and the fact was never more forcibly illustratedthan upon this occasion. The boarding-school miss, _en chemise_, rompedwith the buxom widow, who was her
self in similar costume. The citizen'sfat wife lent her baby to the old maid, who wanted to know how itseemed; and was rewarded for her kindness by a token of gratitude on thebaby's part, which caused the aforesaid old maid to drop the littleinnocent like a hot potato. The fashionable lady, who dressed for bed asfor a ball, was arrayed in a very costly and becoming night-dress,ornamented with a profusion of lace and ruffles; and standing before amirror, was admiring her own charms; yet she painted, and had falseteeth--defects which were atoned for by a fine bust and magnificentankle. Her maid, a stout, well-looking girl, was toying with a verypretty boy of eight or nine years of age, and when unobserved, embracedand kissed him with an ardor which betokened a good share of amativesensibility on her part.
'The men are such odious creatures, I positively cannot endure them,'remarked the old maid.
'And yet they are very _useful_, and sometimes agreeable,' said thebuxom widow, with an arch smile, (she was handsome, if she _was_ awidow,) and glancing significantly at the citizen's fat wife.
'Pooh!' exclaimed the old maid, climbing into her berth, and privatelytaking off her wig, (she was bald,)--'I can take my pick of ten thousandmen, yet I wouldn't have one of them.' (She had been pining for an offertwenty years!)
The buxom widow got into her berth, which she shared with her lapdog;and as the little animal dove under the bed-clothes and becameinvisible, it is difficult to conjecture in what precise locality hestowed himself! The fashionable lady 'turned in' after the most approvedmanner; and as the berths were somewhat scarce, her maid generouslyoffered to share her couch with little Charley, an offer which thatinteresting youth at first declined, saying he was afraid of her, she'squeezed him so,' but his scruples were overcome by her assurances thatthe offence should not be repeated, and Charley concluded to accept theoffer.
Those scenes did not pass unwitnessed for two men were standing outside,looking thro' one of the windows, from which the curtain had beenpartially drawn. Both these men were respectably dressed, and both wereover sixty years of age; yet they viewed the unconscious and undressedladies with lecherous delight.
'But, deacon,' said one--'do look at that one standing before the glass;what breasts--what legs--what a form--what--heavens! I shall go crazy ifI look much longer!'
'Now, in my way of thinking,' said the deacon--'that young thing ofsixteen is the most delicious little witch of the entire lot;--what afair skin--what elastic limbs--what wantonness in every look andmovement! There's a youthfulness and freshness about her, which renderher doubly attractive.'
'Ah, they are all going to retire, and we shall lose our sport.--By theway, deacon, what kind of a set are they that I'm going to preach to, inBoston?' asked the Rev. John Marrowfat--for it was that noted hero ofpulpit oratory, amours and matrimony!
'Oh, they're a set of soft-pated fools,' replied deacon Small, 'preachhell-fire and brimstone to 'em, they'll swallow everything you say, andgive you a devilish good salary into the bargain.'
A young man, small and thin, and well dressed, now approached, andgrasped the deacon by the hand.
'Why, this is an unexpected pleasure,' said the young man--'who wouldhave thought of seeing you here?'
'I am happy to meet you, brother,' said the deacon--'brother Marrowfat,allow me to introduce you to Samuel Cough, a distinguished advocate oftemperance.'
'What are you going to do in Boston, Sam?' asked deacon Small.
'Oh, going to astonish the natives a little, that's all,' replied Mr.Cough. 'That was a bad scrape I got into, in Albany; I got infernallydrunk, and slept in a brothel, which was all very well, you know, andnothing unusual--but people _found it out_! Well, I got up acock-and-bull story about drinking drugged soda, and some people believeit and some don't. Now, when I get _corned_, I keep out of sight.--Ah,temperance spouting is a great business! But come, gentlemen--it won'tdo for us to be seen drinking at the bar; I've got a bottle offourth-proof brandy in my pocket; let's take a swig all around.'
And producing the article in question, Mr. Cough took a very copiousswig, and passed the bottle to the others, who followed his example. Weshall now leave this worthy trio, with the remark that they all got verycomfortably drunk previous to retiring for the night. Mr. Cough turnedinto his berth with his boots on and a cigar in his mouth; Mr. Marrowfatsung obscene songs, and fell over a chair; and deacon Small rushed intothe gentleman's cabin, and offered to fight any individual present, fora trifling wager. He was finally carried to bed in the custody of thebootblack.
Among the passengers was a very handsome lad, twelve or fourteen yearsof age, whose prepossessing appearance seemed to attract the attentionof a tall gentleman, of distinguished bearing, enveloped in a cloak.--Hewore a heavy moustache, and his complexion was very dark. He paid themost incessant attention to the boy, making him liberal presents of cakeand fruit, and finally gave him a beautiful gold ring, from his ownfinger.
This man was a foreigner--one of those beasts in human shape whoseperverted appetites prompts them to the commission of a crime againstnature. Once before, in the tenth chapter of this narrative, we tookoccasion to introduce one of those fiends to the notice of the reader;it was at the masquerade ball, where the Spanish ambassador made adiabolical proposal to Josephine Franklin, whom he supposed to be a boy.It is an extremely delicate task for a writer to touch on a subject sorevolting; yet the crime actually exists, beyond the shadow of a doubt,and therefore we are compelled to give it place in our list of crimes.We are about to record a startling fact--in New York, there are boys who_prostitute_ themselves from motives of gain; and they are liberallypatronized by the tribe of genteel foreign vagabonds who infest thecity. It was well known that the principal promenade for such cattle wasin the Park, where they might be seen nightly; and the circumstance hadbeen more than once commented upon by the newspapers.--Any person whohas resided in New York for two or three years, knows that we arespeaking the truth. Nor is this all. There was formerly a house ofprostitution for that very purpose, kept by a foreigner, and splendidlyfurnished; here lads were taken as apprentices, and regularly trainedfor the business;--they were mostly boys who had been taken from thelowest classes of society, and were invariably of comely appearance.They were expensively dressed in a peculiar kind of costume; halfmasculine and half feminine; and were taught a certain style of speechand behaviour calculated to attract the beastly wretches who patronizethem. For a long time the existence of this infernal den was a secret;but it eventually leaked out, and the proprietor and his gang wereobliged to beat a hasty retreat from the city, to save themselves fromthe summary justice of Lynch law.
But to return to the steamboat. The foreigner called the lad aside, andthe following conversation ensued:--
'My pretty lad, this cabin is excessively close, and the bedinconvenient. I have a very nice state-room, and should be happy to haveyou share it with me.'
'Thank you, sir,' answered the boy--'if it would cause you noinconvenience--'
'None whatever; come with me at once,' said the other, and they ascendedto the deck, and entered his state room. It is proper to observe, thatthe youth was perfectly innocent, and suspected not the design of hisnew _friend_. Half an hour afterwards he dashed from the state room withevery appearance of indignation and affright; seeking one of theofficers of the boat he told his story, and the result was that theforeign gentleman and his baggage were set ashore at a place destituteof every thing but rocks, and over ten miles from any house; veryinconvenient for a traveller, especially at night, with a storm inprospect. The miserable sodomite should have been more harshly dealtwith.
To return to Josephine and her mother, whom we left in the Captain'selegant state room.
We must here remark that Sophia Franklin, the gentle, angelic sister ofthe depraved Josephine, had gone to spend a month or so with an aunt,(her father's sister,) in Newark, N.J., which circumstance will accountfor not accompanying her mother and sister in their flight from NewYork. It may be as well to add that she was in blissful ignorance of herfather hav
ing been murdered, and of course, knew nothing of thediscovery of that fact by Dr. Sinclair.
'Thank heaven,' cried Josephine, raising the wine glass to her vermilionlips--'we are at last clear of that odious New York! I feel as if justliberated from a prison.'
'The feeling is natural, my dear,' rejoined her mother--'you are nolonger in constant dread of that horrible fellow who is so savagelyamorous with regard to both of us. We have fairly given him the slip,and it will be difficult for him to find us.'
'Don't you think, mamma,' asked the young lady--'that the Captain, whoso politely surrendered this beautiful cabin for our accommodation, is asplendid fellow? Really, I am quite smitten with him.'
'So am I,' remarked her mother--'he is certainly very handsome, and itis hard that he should be turned out of his cabin on our account. Whycannot we all three sleep here? I am sure he needs but a hint to makehim joyfully agree to such an arrangement.'
'I understand you mamma,' said Josephine, her eyes sparking withpleasure--'you will see what a delicate invitation I'll give him; but Iwon't be selfish--you shall enjoy as much benefit from the arrangementas myself. Hark! somebody knocks--it must be the Captain.'
And so it was; he had come to inquire if the ladies were comfortable,and on receiving an affirmative answer, was about to bid them goodnight and depart, when Josephine invited him to sit down and have aglass of wine with them. It was not in the nature of the good Captain todecline an invitation when extended by a pretty woman. The mother anddaughter, tastefully attired in superb evening dresses, lookedirresistibly charming--the more so, perhaps, because their cheeks weresuffused with the rosy hues of wine and passion.
'I have been thinking, Captain,' said Josephine, casting her brillianteyes upon the carpet--'that it is unjust for us to drive you from yourcabin, and make you pass the night in some less comfortable place.Mother and I have been talking about it, and we both think you hadbetter sleep in here, as usual.'
'What--and drive you ladies out?' cried the Captain--'couldn't think ofit, upon my honor.'
'Oh, it doesn't necessarily follow that we must be driven out,' saidJosephine, raising her eyes to his face, and smiling archly--'you sillyman, don't you see that we want to be very kind to you?'
'Is it possible?' exclaimed the Captain, almost beside himself withjoy--'dear ladies, you cannot be jesting, and I accept your offer withgratitude and delight. Good heavens, what a lucky fellow I am!'
And clasping both ladies around the waists, he kissed them alternately,again and again. That night was one of guilty rapture to all theparties; but the particulars must be supplied by the reader's ownimagination.
* * * * *
And now, behold Mrs. Lucretia Franklin and her daughter Josephine, inthe great city of Boston! The same day of their arrival they hired ahandsome house, already furnished in Washington street: and the next daythey made their _debut_ in that fashionable thoroughfare, bypromenading, in dresses of such magnificence and costliness, that theycreated a tremendous excitement among the bucks and belles who throngthere every fine afternoon.
'Who can they be?' was asked by every one, and answered by no one. Thedandy clerks, in high dickies and incipient whiskers, rushed to thedoors and windows of their stores, to have a glimpse of the twobeautiful _unknowns_; the mustachioed exquisites raised theireye-glasses in admiration, and murmured, 'dem foine,' the charmingCountess, the graceful Cad, and the bewitching Jane B----t, were all onthe _qui vive_ to ascertain the names, quality and residence of the twofair strangers, who were likely to prove such formidable rivals in thehearts and purses of the lady-loving beaux of the city.
That evening they went to the opera, and while listening to the divinestrains of Biscaccianti, became the cynosure of a thousand admiringglances. And that night, beneath the windows of their residence, a partyof gallant amateurs, with voice and instrument, awoke sounds of suchcelestial harmony, that the winged spirits of the air paused in theiraerial flight to catch the choral symphony that floated on the softbreezes of the moon-lit night!
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 4: A fact, derived by the Author from the private history of afashionable courtezan.]
City Crimes; Or, Life in New York and Boston Page 21