University of Virginia Library

20. CHAPTER XX.

The Americans are called great travellers.
They early imbibe the taste in their own country;
whose extent and innumerable beauties may well
lure mutual visiters from her remotest parts. At
present, too, the facilities for travel are so extraordinary,
that it would be madness to stay at home.
If the country is gigantic, so are its curiosities,
and the means of viewing them. The springs, the
falls, the lakes, the rivers, the mountains, Quebec
and her fortifications (a tour to the Canadas, by-the-way,
in the abrupt transition of manners and
customs, is, to an American, very like a tour to
Europe), the stupendous mountain scenery in New-York
and New-England, where nature may be
viewed in all her sublime and awful grandeur.
European scenery is different from that of America,
but not more strikingly magnificent; and the tourist
of the Western Continent—let itinerant scribblers
say what they will—finds accommodations,
ease, honesty, and comfort infinitely superior to

that met with on the great continental routes of
Europe. In the commercial cities they may command
luxuries and refinements equal to those of
Paris and London. Rail-roads, canals, and steamboats
convey them in every direction. During the
months of August and September these temptations
are found irresistible by the fashionable world,
who take wing from the dusty town, and sweep in
gay flocks through scenery splendid beyond description.
Less than twelve hours suffice to land
the passengers at Albany from New-york, a distance
of one hundred and sixty miles; thence, a
succession of dazzling views attracts each votary
of health and pleasure: and when he has been
drenched by the terrible Niagara, floated on the
St. Lawrence, wandered by Lake George, mused
in the natural amphitheatre of Trenton Falls,
soared to the Pine Mountain House on the Cats-kill—where,
from the edge of a precipice three
thousand feet perpendicular, he looks down upon
the lower earth, hills and vales, towns and forests,
and the broad and glorious Hudson meandering on
its course of light like a silver snake;—when these
excursions are over, the beau ton and the beaux
esprits rest their pinions a few weeks at the Saratoga
Springs, about thirty-six miles above Albany.
Perhaps there is no spot which gathers a greater
focus of beauty, fashion, wealth, and genius, than
Congress Hall.

After all, the greatest amusement of those who
abandon a city is to watch for and devour every
item of intelligence from their deserted homes.

A party of ladies and gentlemen were seated on
the long portico one day, when Judge Howard received
a package of papers.

“Well,” said Mrs. Hamilton, “we shall hear
from town again, at last. They say Americans

are fond of news; I do not think it peculiar to
them, but to human nature. I never received a private
letter from a distance in my life without trembling;
and a newspaper, when far from home, is
really an agitation.”

“Let us share the benefit of your courier, judge,”
said a wealthy southern planter, as the judge unfolded
one of the sheets.

“Oh dear, yes; a newspaper is as good as a
play!” exclaimed Miss Morton.

“Well, then, let us see, let us see,” said the judge,
passing his finger over his lip as he ran through
the contents; “we must select for the ladies.
Here is a long report from the Secretary of the
Navy.”

“Oh, never mind the navy,” cried Miss Morton.

“Well, then, we have an inquiry into the effects
of the late rise of cotton.”

“Worse and worse!”

“Fire, and lives lost; a fireman killed.”

“Oh, poor fellow! Where was it?” asked a fop,
yawning.

“Nothing about the theatres?” demanded Morton.

“Read the marriages,” said his sister.

“And the deaths,” mumbled an old gentleman,
who took the waters for his health.

“Bless me! bless my soul!” said the judge, in a
tone of sudden and extreme interest.

“Oh, now we shall have it!” said several, laughing;
“out with it, judge.”

“Good Heaven!” exclaimed the kind old gentleman,
with real distress.

“Oh, judge, how can you keep us all in the
dark, in this way!” said Mrs. Hamilton.

The judge read,—

“ `Most mysterious and terrible incident.' ”

“Dear me!” cried one, laughing; “that promises
well, indeed.”

“I was fearful the colonel was going to be stupid
to-day,” said another.

“ `Our readers are perhaps aware,' ” continued the
judge, reading, “ `that a most mysterious circumstance
has, within three days, occurred in this city.
The daughter of one of our most wealthy and respectable
townsmen, whose name will probably be
too soon before the public, has suddenly disappeared,
under circumstances of the most incredible
and inexplicable mystery, leading to the conjecture
that death has closed her career on earth. She
was young, of most excelling beauty, and distinguished
in the higher circles as one of the most
remarkable and charming ladies of the day. We
cannot add more at present.' ”

“Well, that is extraordinary and mysterious
enough,” said one; “what can it mean?”

“Who can it be?” added another.

“There is a postscript,” said the judge; and the
extremest interest was now exhibited to learn if it
conveyed more information upon the affair.

“Yes, here is a second paragraph,” and he read
the following:—

“ `Since the above was in type, it has become
our painful duty to state, that the name of the young
lady alluded to above as having so mysteriously
disappeared, is Miss Rosalie Romain. A committee
of investigation, immediately formed, have fully
sanctioned the general opinion that she must have
been murdered. The liveliest, nay, the deepest
sensation prevails through all circles upon this subject;
which, perhaps, for intense interest, is without
a parallel in the history of our country or age.
Dark suspicions are entertained respecting an individual
attached to a most distinguished family.

We withhold the name, partly because, however
loud and deep may be the public suspicions, no tribunal
of justice has as yet taken any step to warrant
them. Nothing has been spoken of to-day
but this most singular and terrible event. The
police are on the track, and, it is said, have made
discoveries of a most appalling description; tending
to confirm the worst conjectures, and to fix the
odium on one wealthy, high, and hitherto unsuspected.
This is an event of peculiar interest. Its
awful mystery—the agonizing circumstances by
which it has been marked—the extreme youth,
beauty, and innocence of the guileless victim—the
anguish of the bereaved and broken-hearted parent—the
rank of him to whom the public finger
points as the murderer—the great respect in which
his family have been held—all tend to create violent
excitement. We never saw the public mind in a
greater ferment. From the lofty political standing
of the father of the accused (at least accused by the
general voice), in any other country he would possess
power among those before whom this question
will be probably tried; and if the criminal were
guilty beyond a doubt, yet, with his influence, he
would find means to escape. Let the admiring
world now look on the administration of justice in
a republic. Let them see the laws enforced with
equal severity and promptitude against the rich
and poor—the strong and weak—the high and low.
We would not forestall the opinions of those who
are yet undecided what to think; nor do we take
it upon ourselves to say that he who has been selected
as the perpetrator is really guilty; but if he
be guilty, there is no possibility of his escape. Let
every apprehension be quelled. If he were the
head of our nation, on this proof he would be tried
—an impartial jury would decide upon his innocence;
and if a verdict be pronounced against him,
he must die the death of a felon.' ”

The utmost contrariety of opinion prevailed as to
the person against whom these terrible innuendoes
were directed; but an arrival from the city brought
the fearful intelligence in all its blistering and naked
details. It struck the gay circle with a feeling of
dismay and horror.