A Cloud-Burst on the Desert [pp. 138-143]

A CLOUD-BURST ON THE DESERT.
said, the violent death of the Duke of
Orleans, heir - apparent to the throne,
which occurred a few years afterward.
Louis Philippe was the most accessible
of monarchs when he had no fear of assassination. He could not have been
ignorant of Towianski, and I have always believed if his request for audience
had been conveyed to the King it would
have been granted; but it was not, and,
after the malediction, the prophet was
sent out of France. The society he had
formed was gradually broken up, and
most of its members absorbed in the
great currents of life. My old Colonel
recovered from the hallucination that he
had ever chewed the cud, except of sweet
and bitter fancy. The spell upon the
faculties of Mickiewicz was stronger.
He intercalated brilliant lectures on
Sclavonic literature, with dissertations
on the'Worship of Napoleon,' (in the
reign of Louis Philippe!) the'Messiahship of Towianski,' and finally upon
'Rats.' He was permitted to retain the
nominal professorship for some years,
but without the privilege of lecturing.
After the accession to the throne of
Louis Napoleon, he was restored to
Court favor, and, in I855, was sent on a
diplomatic mission to the East. He died
in November of that year, of cholera, at
Constantinople.
"About three years after the banishment of the prophet, I visited Paris,
and even then I found some of my old
companions so deeply impressed and so
fixed in the faith that in some mysterious
way Towianski would prove the redeemer of our country, that I verily believe I
was only saved from sharing their infatuation by the fact that I had incurred
responsibilities and duties that divided
with Poland my thoughts, my cares, and
my love."
The Don seemed suddenly to bring us
within his field of vision, and said:
"After all, the world would be poorer
without enthusiasm and superstition."
"They are like the fire," replied the
Captain, lighting his cigar: "good servants, but bad masters."
A CLOUD-BURST ON THE DESERT.
THERE is an undefinable, inde scribable charm -a kind of weird
attraction —which becomes most powerful and absorbing in traversing the
burning deserts of the far South-west.
To the wearied dwellers in cities, the
silence and utter desolation of the red,
sun-scorched desert, the naked, rockribbed mountains, the long, tortuous
passes and canions, the wide, treeless
plains, strewn with volcanic ashes, and
the slag and cinders of a burned-up world
of the past, possess a charm which is
lacking in the crowded streets, the rush,
the roar and tumult of the town. Danger
passed is something to look back to with
a feeling of pleasure; danger yet to be
met comes in time to possess a charm
of itself, and throw around the journey
on the desert more of attraction than can
be found in any trip through civilized and
thickly peopled lands. Those who have
never felt and enjoyed this sensation
could gain no idea of it from a written
description; those who have felt it always look back to it with pleasure, and
experience at intervals an almost irresistible longing to return to the scene
and go through it all again.
The dangers of desert travel have
often been described, and recounted in a
thousand ways by as many pens and
tongues. Many a traveler has told us of
his conflicts with the Apache, the Co
[AUGUST,
I38