Threads of Grey and Gold Part 10

And indeed this was true, and the lovers again considered the time of marriage.

There is a story by Herndon to the effect that a wedding was arranged for the first day of January, 1841, and then when the hour came Lincoln did not appear, and was found wandering alone in the woods plunged in the deepest melancholy--a melancholy bordering upon insanity.

This story, however, has no foundation; in fact, most competent witnesses agree that no such marriage date was fixed, although some date may have been considered.

It is certain, however, that the relations between Lincoln and Miss Todd were broken off for a time. He did go to Kentucky for a while, but this trip certainly was not due to insanity. Lincoln was never so mindless as some of his biographers would have us believe, and the breaking of the engagement was due to perfectly natural causes--the difference in temperament of the lovers, and Lincoln's inclination to procrastinate. After a time the strained relations gradually improved.

They met occasionally in the parlor of a friend, Mrs. Francis, and it was through Miss Todd that the duel with s.h.i.+elds came about.

She wielded a ready and a sarcastic pen, and safely hidden behind a pseudonym and the promise of the editor, she wrote a series of satirical articles for the local paper, ent.i.tled: "Letters from Lost Towns.h.i.+ps." In one of these she touched up Mr. s.h.i.+elds, the Auditor of State, to such good purpose that believing that Lincoln had written the article, he challenged him to a duel. Lincoln accepted the challenge and chose "cavalry broadswords" as the weapons, but the intervention of friends prevented any fighting, although he always spoke of the affair as his "duel."

As a result of this altercation with s.h.i.+elds, Miss Todd and the future President came again into close friends.h.i.+p, and a marriage was decided upon.

The license was secured, the minister sent for, and on November 4, 1842, they became man and wife.

It is not surprising that more or less unhappiness obtained in their married life, for Mrs. Lincoln was a woman of strong character, proud, fiery, and determined. Her husband was subject to strange moods and impulses, and the great task which G.o.d had committed to him made him less amenable to family cares.

That married life which began at the Globe Tavern was destined to end at the White House, after years of vicissitude and serious national trouble. Children were born unto them, and all but the eldest died.

Great responsibilities were laid upon Lincoln and even though he met them bravely it was inevitable that his family should also suffer.

Upon the face of the Commander-in-chief rested nearly always a mighty sadness, except when it was occasionally illumined by his wonderful smile, or when the light of his sublime faith banished the clouds.

Storm and stress, suffering and heartache, reverses and defeat were the portion of the Leader, and when Victory at last perched upon the National standard, her beautiful feet were all drabbled in blood, and the most terrible war on the world's records pa.s.sed down into history.

In the hour of triumph, with his great purpose n.o.bly fulfilled, death came to the great Captain.

The United Republic is his monument, and that rugged, yet gracious figure, hallowed by martyrdom, stands before the eyes of his countrymen forever serene and calm, while his memory lingers like a benediction in the hearts of both friend and foe.

Silent Thanksgiving

She is standing alone by the window-- A woman, faded and old, But the wrinkled face was lovely once, And the silvered hair was gold.

As out in the darkness, the snow-flakes Are falling so softly and slow, Her thoughts fly back to the summer of life, And the scenes of long ago.

Before the dim eyes, a picture comes, She has seen it again and again; The tears steal over the faded cheeks, And the lips that quiver with pain, For she hears once more the trumpet call And sees the battle array As they march to the hills with gleaming swords-- Can she ever forget that day?

She has given her boy to the land she loves, How hard it had been to part!

And to-night she stands at the window alone, With a new-made grave in her heart.

And yet, it's the day of Thanksgiving-- But her child, her darling was slain By the shot and sh.e.l.l of the rebel guns-- Can she ever be thankful again?

She thinks once more of his fair young face, And the cannon's murderous roll, While hatred springs in her pa.s.sionate heart, And bitterness into her soul.

Then out of the death-like stillness There comes a battle-cry-- The song that led those marching feet To conquer, or to die.

"Yes, rally round the flag, boys!"

With tears she hears the song, And her thoughts go back to the boys in blue, That army, brave and strong-- Then Peace creeps in amid the pain.

The dead are as dear as the living, And back of the song is the silence, And back of the silence--Thanksgiving.

In the Flash of a Jewel

Certain barbaric instincts in the human race seem to be ineradicable.

It is but a step from the painted savage, gorgeous in his beads and wampum, to my lady of fas.h.i.+on, who wears a tiara upon her stately head, chains and collars of precious stones at her throat, bracelets on her white arms, and innumerable rings upon her dainty fingers. Wise men may decry the baleful fascination of jewels, but, none the less, the jeweller's window continues to draw the crowd.

Like brilliant moths that appear only at night, jewels are tabooed in the day hours. Dame Fas.h.i.+on sternly condemns gems in the day time as evidence of hopelessly bad taste. No jewels are permitted in any ostentatious way, and yet a woman may, even in good society, wear a few thousand dollars' worth of precious stones, without seeming to be overdressed, provided the occasion is appropriate, as in the case of functions held in darkened rooms.

In the evening when shoulders are bared and light feet tread fantastic measures in a ball room, which is literally a bower of roses, there seems to be no limit as regards jewels. In such an a.s.sembly a woman may, without appearing overdressed, adorn herself with diamonds amounting to a small fortune.

During a season of grand opera in Chicago, a beautiful white-haired woman sat in the same box night after night without attracting particular attention, except as a woman of acknowledged beauty. At a glance it might be thought that her dress, although elegant, was rather simple, but an enterprising reporter discovered that her gown of rare old lace, with the pattern picked out here and there with chip diamonds, had cost over fifty-five thousand dollars. The tiara, collar, and few rings she wore, swelled the grand total to more than three hundred thousand dollars.

Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, pearls, and opals--these precious stones have played a tremendous part in the world's history.

Empires have been bartered for jewels, and for a string of pearls many a woman has sold her soul. It is said that pearls mean tears, yet they are favourite gifts for brides, and no maiden fears to wear them on her way up the aisle where her bridegroom waits.

A French writer claims that if it be true that the oyster can be forced to make as many pearls as may be required of it, the jewel will become so common that my lady will no longer care to decorate herself with its pale splendour. Whether or not this will ever be the case, it is certain that few gems have played a more conspicuous part in history than this.

Not only have we Cleopatra's reckless draught, but there is also a story of a n.o.ble Roman who dissolved in vinegar and drank a pearl worth a million sesterces, which had adorned the ear of the woman he loved. But the cold-hearted chemist declares that an acid which could dissolve a pearl would also dissolve the person who swallowed it, so those two legends must vanish with many others that have shrivelled up under the searching gaze of science.

There is another interesting story about the destruction of a pearl.

During the reign of Elizabeth, a haughty Spanish amba.s.sador was boasting at the Court of England of the great riches of his king. Sir Thomas Gresham, wis.h.i.+ng to get even with the bragging Castilian, replied that some of Elizabeth's subjects would spend as much at one meal as Philip's whole kingdom could produce in a day! To prove this statement, Sir Thomas invited the Spaniard to dine with him, and having ground up a costly Eastern pearl the Englishman coolly swallowed it.

Going back to the dimness of early times, we find that many of the ancients preferred green gems to all other stones. The emerald was thought to have many virtues. It kept evil spirits at a distance, it restored failing sight, it could unearth mysteries, and when it turned yellow its owner knew to a certainty that the woman he loved was false to him.

The ruby flashes through all Oriental romances. This stone banished sadness and sin. A serpent with a ruby in its mouth was considered an appropriate betrothal ring.

The most interesting ruby of history is set in the royal diadem of England. It is called the Black Prince's ruby. In the days when the Moors ruled Granada, when both the men and the women of that race sparkled with gems, and even the ivory covers of their books were sometimes set with precious stones, the Spanish king, Don Pedro the Cruel, obtained this stone from a Moorish prince whom he had caused to be murdered.

It was given by Don Pedro to the Black Prince, and half a century later it glowed on the helmet of that most picturesque of England's kings, Henry V, at the battle of Agincourt.

The Scotchman, Sir James Melville, saw this jewel during his famous visit to the Court of Elizabeth, when the Queen showed him some of the treasures in her cabinet, the most valued of these being the portrait of Leicester.

"She showed me a fair ruby like a great racket ball," he says. "I desired she would send to my queen either this or the Earl of Leicester's picture." But Elizabeth cherished both the ruby and the portrait, so she sent Marie Stuart a diamond instead.

Poets have lavished their fancies upon the origin of the opal, but no one seems to know why it is considered unlucky. Women who laugh at superst.i.tions of all kinds are afraid to wear an opal, and a certain jeweller at the head of one of the largest establishments in a great city has carried his fear to such a length that he will not keep one in his establishment--not only this, but it is said that he has even been known to throw an opal ring out of the window. The offending stone had been presented to his daughter, but this fact was not allowed to weigh against his superst.i.tion. It is understood when he entertains that none of his guests will wear opals, and this wish is faithfully respected.

The story goes that the opal was discovered at the same time that kissing was invented. A young shepherd on the hills of Greece found a pretty pebble one day, and wis.h.i.+ng to give it to a beautiful shepherdess who stood near him, he let her take it from his lips with hers, as the hands of neither of them were clean.

Many a battle royal has been waged for the possession of a diamond, and several famous diamonds are known by name throughout the world.

Among these are the Orloff, the Koh-i-noor, the Regent, the Real Paragon, and the Sanci, besides the enormous stone which was sent to King Edward from South Africa. This has been cut but not yet named.

The Orloff is perhaps the most brilliant of all the famous group.

Tradition says that it was once one of the eyes of an Indian idol and was supposed to have been the origin of all light. A French grenadier of Pondicherry deserted his regiment, adopted the religion and manners of the Brahmans, wors.h.i.+pped at the shrine of the idol whose eyes were light itself, stole the brightest one, and escaped.

A sea captain bought it from him for ten thousand dollars and sold it to a Jew for sixty thousand dollars. An Armenian named Shafras bought it from the Jew, and after a time Count Orloff paid $382,500 for this and a t.i.tle of Russian n.o.bility.

He presented the wonderful refractor of light to the Empress Catherine who complimented Orloff by naming it after him. This magnificent stone, which weighs one hundred and ninety-five carats, now forms the apex of the Russian crown.