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OUR CORRESPONDENT'S ADVENTURES
simplify our explanations as much as possible, we AT THE SEAT OF WAR.
now, therefore, refer to Diagram No. 1, which is a
faithful representation of the Chess-Board, with the NHE time, place, and people, when, where, and due order for the beginning of play: THE
entire forces of the contending parties marshalled in with whom the game of Chess originated In placing the Board it must be observed, as an have been for several years a subject of warm argu-invariable rule, that the white corner square should ment and fruitless research. Prior to the thir- be at the right hand side of the player. teenth century, indeed, there is scarcely an' age the first rank are occupied by the King and Queen ;
In setting up the pieces, the two centre squares of from which, according to some writers, Chess does the latter piece being always placed on a square, not take its date ; there is hardly, again, a country similar in color to her own. On either side of the which does not lay claim to be the land of its nativ- two centre squares is placed a Bishop ; next to each ity, nor a people who do not claim kindred with the Bishop a Knight ; and in each corner, in close prox
imity to the last named piece, a Rook or Castle. author of its existence.
On the second rank are placed eight pieces of With the antecedents of Chess, however, it is not precisely similar construction, function, and capacity, PORTRAIT OF OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.
our present business to deal ; but rather to treat of called “Pawns;" distinguished from one another (From a Photograph.)
it as taught and practised by the Professors and solely by the titles of King's Pawn, Queen's Pawn, players of our own time.
King's Bishop's Pawn, Queen's Knight's Pawn, King's Rook's Pawn, &c., &c., according to tho denomination of the particular piece before which it ma“ have been first stationed.
ARRANGEMENT OF THE PIECES ON THE BOARD FOR
THE COMMENCEMENT OF PLAY.
OUR CORRESPONDENT'S AFFECTING PARTING WITH HIS
GRANDMAMMA AND SISTERS.
Some of the most interesting discoveries of modern
of the entire number of these manuscripts, some
seven or eight, that most important and practically 会
interesting to the amateur, is an original Treatise, dated A. D., 1621, dedicated by the celebrated Greco to the King of Naples, magnificently ornamented
and decorated with the royal arms. White.
Signor Fantacci, by whom thesc relics of bygone days were disentombed from their dusty resting.
place, has, with the permission of the Grand Duke A game of Chess, it may perhaps be as well to of Florence, placed all of them in the hands of Mr. premise, is a contest for victory between two Staunton, the great English amateur and well-known players, to each of whom is assigned either by chess author, through whose instrumentality, we choice or lot, the White or Black pieces; consisting doubt not, they will become a source of much inseverally, of sixteen each ; namely,
struction and amusement to the chess world.
TWO CASTLES, OR ROOKS.
NEW YORK JOURNAL.
NO. 61. VOL. III.]
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1854.
[PRICE 4 CENTS.
MONUMENT TO THOMAS HOOD.
Mad from life's history,
MY COUSIN WILLIAM.
Swist to be hurled-
WAS as sure as one human heart could be of an
Out of the world! to Hood has recently been erected, a view of
other, that my cousin William loved me. Not which we present to our readers in this number.
that we ever spoke of such a thing, being more childThe subscriptions for this monument-amounting
Take her up tenderly-
ren, I seventeen, he eighteen, keeping June holidays to some two thousand dollars---were mainly obtained
Fashioned so slenderly,
at our grandmother's house. It was an understood by the efforts of Eliza Cook, editress of “ Eliza
Young and so fair!
thing in our family that no cousins were allowed to Cook's Journal." The money contributed was chiefly in small sums
The artist has shown a complete sympathy with fall in love or marry, so our fondness was of course from all classes of the British public. the touching description of the poct, and has embo- mere brother and sister liking. I thought it so till
one evening coming home from the rectory, my
The unfortunate We notice that Messrs. Putnam & Co., the well died the story with much success. known publishers of this city, forwarded £10 to the and beautiful girl is represented as being indeed grandmother and the rector being a long way be
hind, we stood looking up at Orion, and there, in the fund for its erection.
taken up “tenderly" by two compassionate men, At the inauguration of the memorial, on the 18th while a youth stands wondering by, and struck starlight, under the yew-hedge, William kissed of July, a large gathering of the literati of London with emotion at the wreck of so much loveli
William kissed me. I smile as I write it nowand vicinity, as well as a crowd of all classes, took ness.
In the second medallion there is a terrible moral when I parted from him and went up to my own
but then, though I said not a word, nor he either, place. An address suitable to the occasion, was made by conveyed; the observer is made to feel, by the
room, I lay awake half the night weeping. Of course Mr. Monckion Milnes. whole character and bearing of the principal figure,
we could never be married-in fact, the notion of The memorial is an appropriate and tasteful com- that “ Woe, woe, unutterable woe,” is the sure fate
marriage scarcely crossed my thoughts ; but Wilposition. It consists of a large bronze bust of the of those who spill “ life's sacred stream.” The hag- tiam loved me-William had kissed me. poet, elevated on a pedestal of polished red granite ; gard countenance and the shuddering aspect of
We had only been at The Ivies three weeks--the the whole twelve feet high. In front of the bust Eugeno Aram powerfully portray the dread work
two families of which he and I were the eldest chil(which has been pronounced an excellent likeness, ings of a guilty conscience : and has been modelled from authentic portraits) are
dren-yet for a fortnight I had known quite well The crimson clouds before his eyes,
that William liked me, and for the last few days I placed three wreaths (in bronze), formed of the
The flames about his brain; laurel, the myrtle, and the immortelle. On a slab
had begun dimly to feel that I liked William. Not
For blood has left upon his soul beneath the bust appears Hood's simple self-in
Its everlasting stain.
that we were ever foolish as young people of our scribed epitaph :
age willl be; he was too manly to “pay attention" In striking contrast to the mental agony depicted -I was too frank to play the young lady in love. He sang. the “ Song of the Shirt."
in this figure, are the studious boy lying near, and Besides, what couple could do the sentimental with Upon the projecting front of the pedestal is carved the happy children released from school, playing in a parcel of children ever at their heels? I think we
the distance. the following inscription :
were hardly alone together a minute all day long.
But somehow, in that quaint country-house, our lives
grew together day by day-from the early morning
when I woke to hear his step on the gravel-walk and Born, 23rd May, 1798 ; died, 3rd May, 1845.
As only boyhood can;
his whistle along the garden below my windowErected by Public Subscription,
But the usher sat remote from all,
through field-rambles, and rides, and afternoon A melancholy man!
saunters up and down the yew-tree walk-until the Beneath, at the base of the pedestal, a lyre and
last quiet half-hour, when his merry face grew sericomic mask, of bronze, are flung together, suggest
ous, and his careless boy's voice low, manly, and ing the mingled pathos and humor in every page of
sweet, as he read the evening chapter for grandHood's writings.
In connection with our Illustration of the Hood mamma. Then we used to bid good-night on the The most attractive portions of the memorial, and Monument, we have great pleasure in inserting an staircase, and my heart sank back into its grave those in which the sculptor's ability has been most Engraving from a recent picture, embodying in a self, till his whistle came in with the birds' mornfully developed, are the medallions inserted in the very forcible manner the sentiment of the famous ing songs at my window, and I woke up again to sides of the pedestal. These are oval in form, and “Song of a Shirt.” The poor seamstress is another happy day. illustrate Hood's fine poems, “ The Bridge of seated at a garret window, and, looking out dis- Thus I had lived, thinking only of each hour as it Sighs,” and “The Dream of Eugene Aram.” In consolately upon the roofs of the crowded city, her passed-each morning, evening, noon, and night, the first-named composition, the poor victim of de- hands clasped, as she sings the following doleful until—William kissed me. luded hope and love is seen just raised from the lines :
I woke up at dawn, feeling sad and strange. My watery grave, into which she had rushed headlong
head ached—it was not used to weeping and wake
For only one short hour, to escape from the pangs of cureless remorse and
To feel as I used to feel,
fulness. Why had I been so foolish? And all for shame, and the consequent “burning insanity"
Before I knew the woes of want,
nothing! For in the broad sunshine at first it which had rendered life insupportable :--
seemed like nothing. And little Ada crept into my
IK MEMORY OF
A. D. 1854.
And the walk that costs a meal.
again on the continent, as not grave or ancient in the least ; she hantly looked a governess, so she said, so old as I. I did not notice whether she was pretty, and wrote to grandmama, until William called me asi le, and asked it : lid 2 who rather unwillingly think her so ? I said, “Yes," of cɔurse, as indeed invited her here, which we anybody. She had a skin like a rose-leaf-delicate were all very sorry for, features—laughing eyes. In fact, her facu had tur as none of us knew the one fault, though William looked astonished when I least in the world about her mentioned it, ,--a certain opacity of expression, like except that her name was a beautifully shaped lantern with th: light taken Melanie Blackquiere. out. For ali else, though rather Frenchified, she
William pulled many was very agreeable indeed. The chiidren liked her comical, wry faces at hav- -grandmamma liked her-William-yes, William ing to drive to the coach evidently liked her. Into such an abundance there to meet her, and seemed was no need for me to throw my mite, so I hesitated quite determined not to a little, to see and judge first, being always rather like Miss Blacquiero at stingy in the small coin of love, all.
Melanie-everybody called her Melanic after she Oh, Mary, Mary," he had been here a week and a half-had now been said, as he put me and with us a week, joining in all our amusements, play. Ada and James out of the ing with the children, though not quite so much as phaeton, to walk home ; she did at first, saying they tired her; and she
we are so happy, just seemed very soon to grow tired of things and people. you and I and the child. She had bestowed an immensity of friendship and ren. When shall we have confidence on me when she first came ; but graduone of our old drives and ally it faded out. It might be my fault-I do not walks again ?"
know. But, I may as well tell the truth, I did not Ah, when, indeed! I like Melanie Blacquiere. could see his fond, kind It was not out of selfishness or wicked jealousy, look, as he leaned over the God knows. Because as sure was I ofthings carriage--the look which which no one else saw or guessed--that it never er
enonly came into his eyes tered my mind to be jealous. William might talk
when they turned towards with her, or walk with her, and she seemed to like (HOOD MEMORIAL RELIEF.--." THE BRIDGE OF BIGHS "]
William, William! hanging on his arm, and patronizing him as a wo
all change, - little Iman of twenty-one will patronise a boy of eighteen. bed, and piz her sleepy lips to mine. She aid not blame to us for it ; but your know—ay, it must have meant that, he would not eyes spoke true that day. have done it else, for he was of a shy earnest nature, We gathered at the hall though so merry-William loved me.
door, in great curiosity, Still I felt strange—happy, but strange.
to see William come back William was not in the room when I came down with Miss Blacquiere, to breakfast, but there was the little white rose that who to us was quite an I always found on my plate. I took it up-it looked awful personage. A go different to all the many roses he had given me. verness, too. We hoped But when he came in with Ada in his hand, and one she would always sit in of his own little brothers riding on his back, we the parlor, and pay visits said, “Good morning, William," Good morning, with grandmamma to the Mary," in our usual way. He was so merry, and rectory and elsewhere, and looked such a mere boy, it seemed impossible that take no notice of us. We we were in truth such children. It was absolutely piticd William, and wonridiculous in me to have had such serious, even sad, dered whatever he would thoughts as I had had the few hours before. find to talk to her ụpon,
So all the morning we became children again, during the long drive William and I among our two sets of young folks, home. and except for an occasional grave look beyond his But he seemed to have years, or a sweet, fond, quiet smile turned down- got through it pretty well wards on me when we walked together, I should at least, to judge by have thought it all a mistake of mine that he was, the way they both were or wished to be, anything besides what everybody laughing as they drove up knew he was-my loying cousin William.
the garden, and William I do not think he would tell—or any one—from handed her down with the any word or manner of mine—that I had ever for a
grace and self-possession single hour felt as aught but his cousin Mary.
of a grown-up cavalier. We made the most of that day-for it was the I ought to have said, that last when we two should be sole agents of the little though but eighteen, he flock at The Ivies. Another guest was coming—a was very manly-looking, grown-up young lady, twenty-one years old, an strong and tall. orphan, and her own mistress. She had been edu- Miss Blacquiere was (HOOD MEMORIAL TELIEF.-.-" THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.") cated abroad, and now was going, or wishing to go quite a little person, and