family herald may 19 1860

8/8/2019 Family Herald May 19 1860

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FAMILYa domestic J&agajuu of

IT IS NOT THE BURDEN, BUT THE OVER-BURDEN THAT

KILLS THE BEAST.

HERALD©seful Information an*r amusement

WORTH HAS BEEN UNDER-VALUED EVER SINCE WEALTH

WAS OVER-VALUED.

N o . 890.—YOL. X V I I I . ] F O E T H E W E E K E N D I N G M A Y 19, 18 60 . [PRICE ONE PENNY.

I HAD V O W E D T O L E A V E T H E E .

I had vo w' d to leave thee, Mary,

Whe n distracted was my brain—

That I would no longer tarryWhere my honest toils were vain ;

Where I met but Fortune's f rowning,

When J deem'd her favours nigh,

Al l m y dearest efforts crowning,

Bu t with hopes that gleam'd to die.

I had vow 'd to leave thee, Mary,

Ne'er to wo o her s miles again ;T o r m y heart had grow n aweary,

Hopi ng, toiling , all in vain.

I had vow'd to leave thee, Mary,

But thy love , l ike some sweet spel l ,

Seem'd to whis per " Ho pe and tarry,"Still the same, whate 'e r befe l l ;

Whe n my soul was bow 'd by so rrow,

'Twas thy voice that cheer 'd me on,

Speaking hopeful of the mo rrow ,

Till at last the goal was won.

I had vow 'd I wou ld not tar ry

Where to toi l and hope see m'd vain,But for thee, my gent le Mary,

I could brave i t o'er again. T. L.

T H E S T O R Y - T E L L E R .

L E W I S P E R C I V A L . — A LEGEND OF OXFORD.

" Y o u owe me an ovation for securing these rooms for y ou, Perci val, " said

young man of some twent y-tw o years of age, whose careless half-blase air

nd manner told the initiated that he had pretty well exhausted all that

ollege life has to offer, either of pleasure or experience ; and they would have

uessed aright, for Alfred Crofton was keeping his last term but one at Oriel

ollege, Oxford, and in a few weeks intended to go in for honours, despite the

rtune which seemed to render them of little value to him.

His companio n, who was loun ging on the other side of the fire-place on a

mall sofa, idly cracking walnuts, w hich seemed to giv e some relish to th e

ine standing near him, was younger , and evidently less compl etely at home ,

om the mingled interest and anxiety which his h andsome features expressed

he conversed with his companion.

In truth, Lewi s Perciva l was a freshman o f only a fortn ight's standing, and

home education had ill fitted him for the scenes in which he was s uddenly

unged, without any friend but the early companion of his boyhood, and, at

tervals, of his early yout h—the son of the nearest neighbour of the widowedrs. Percival.

To Alfred Croft on he lo oked for advice, example , informati on, in ever y

ing, and his enthusiastic temper and generous disinterested dispositi on made

m overrate the superiority over himself which his friend possessed, rather

om accidental circumstances than the actual mental and personal advantages

which they might have fairly contested the palm. But the young freshman

as not the only one who considered Alfred Crofton a model to be looked up

with little chance of imit ation ; an oracle , whose verdict was to be feared

prized by both sexes ali ke; and yet the si ngular powe r he possessed was

ardly to be accounted for even b y his talents and high breeding, undoubted

were his claims to both.

His observation did not remain so lon g unanswered as our digression mig ht

ake it appear, though Lewis did not at once reply to the simple remark.

"They are first-rate, certainl y," he said, " but "

" But what—hey! Percival ? " said Crofton, laug hing . " I woul d wage r

omething that Trevo r has been telling yo u some deuced rubbish or other.

e has taken you under his especial protection, I think."

The colour mounted to Lewi s Percival's cheek, in spite of the attempte d

arelessness of his reply. " I should trouble mysel f very little about what

ther T rev or or any one else said, unless I had good reason to attach any

mportance to it; and as as to * protection,' I am not fool enoug h to want it,

or submit to it."

" The n what is that ominous * bu t' tacked on like a rider to your verdict,

the best rooms in Oxfor d," said Crofton. " Come, never hesitate, man, I

now you have plenty of sense and courage too, and I promi se beforehand not

doubt either, whatever you may say."

Percival still hesitated; but he was accustomed so entirely to confide in,

nd yiel d to his friend, that he rather did so from dou bt h ow to frame his

onfession than whether he should make one at all.

" It is chiefly from my scout Jenkins that I have h eard what I confess has

welt on my mind more than it ought," he said, at last, "and his information

as been confirmed by Dickso n, the old porter, who has been here these fifty

ears, he tells me. The y say that every man who has had these r ooms for

any years past has met with an early, often a violent death, and that it is so

ommon a subject of remark in the college that the rooms are let cheaper than

any not half so good, to induce people to take them."

" It is not the first time I h ave heard of that nonsense," replied Crofton,more gravely than his compan ion expected ; " but even if it were true, w rhich

very much doubt, it is not worthy of a fellow of any sense or pluck to think

wice about it. The most you can make of it is that it is a strange coincidence.

o u cannot surely be idiot enough to connect it with the rooms themselves,

nd put them in quarantine like a ship with the plague on board."

" You are right, Alfred, I dare say," returned Percival; < { and very likely

yo u woul d feel just as indifferent about it as you think I ought to be ; but

yo u perhaps never heard of the strange fatality which has prevailed in our

family for generations past, or you woul d not wonder at my bei ng a little

impressed with Jenkins's wonderfu l tales. Fo r some hundred years or more

there has never been more than one livin g son to the possessor of Oakha m,

nor has the property descended in the direct line more than twice during that

period, from the succession of early deaths. Y ou kno w my father succeeded

his brother only one year before his acci dent, and I have a distinct remem

brance of hearin g my old nurse remark to some gossip of hers, wh en I was ill

once as a child— 1 Ah ! he has got the mark on h im, sure enou gh; he's safe

not to get over the year which is always so bad for his family. He 'l l go when

he's twenty-one, or before.' No w, you know I am past twen ty; and, like the

king's son in the Arabian Nights, I intended to cheat the Fates by taking

exempl ary care of myse lf; and—and in this, laugh as you may, Crofton, it is,

to say the least, a disagreeable chance which has plac ed me in rooms with a

fatality attached to them so strangely li ke that of my own family."It was seldom easy to read Alf red Crofton's face ; and at present the

expression was so mingled that it was impossible to say whether pity or

ridicu le or honest sympathy predom inated , as he listened to Percival 's

confession, or rather explan ation. He seemed to hesitate for a moment how

to reply to it, and d eliberatel y peeled another walnut, while Lew is eagerly

scanned his features, half fearing, half longing for him to speak.

" You despise my folly, Alfred ? " he said at last.

" No , Lewis , certainly not. I may be vexed that you should bestow a

second thought on old women' s croakings, and do n't think it unlikely that

yo u may bring about their fulfilment by such morbid fancies. I f I were not

going in for my great g o before the ' long,' I would willingly share my fate by

chang ing my den with yo ur chambers, thou gh you know I have the same

blood in me on my mothe r's side, and, failing your uncle's family, I am your

natural heir, most mighty squire."

Lewis loo ked up in some astonishment. " I never heard that before," he

said. " I knew there was some connection between the families, but not that

it was so close, or that you—you "

" Ha d the remotest cha nce of inheri ting the broad acres and comfort ablemansion of Oakham, you would say," replied Alfred, laughing. " No , my

dear fellow, I dare say y ou never did, and I am sure anyth ing so unlik ely is

not wort h speaking of. Consider ing I have a you ng fellow of twenty-one,

and a comfortable middle-aged gentl eman, with two stout boys between me

and the inheritance, I hardly think of marrying, or raising money on m y

prospects . Still it is true, owing I suppose to the strange mortality you speak

of, that my grandmother's descendants do stand next to Mr. Frank PercivaFs

in the lin e; and as poo r Geor ge's weakness of mind and body makes it next to

certain he cannot last many years, or even months, I suppose I may reckon

myself the heir to Oakha m in such an improba ble conti ngen cy as much as to

Crofton Ha ll . But it's har dly wort h a dozen wor ds. I only spoke of it to

show you my perfect disbelief of such nonsense."

" I may as wel l make a clean breast of it at once, Alfred," said Percival,

half smiling, though the anxious look in his eyes ill acc orded with the

attempt at gaiet y. " I have been kept awake many a nigh t by what sounded

like deep si ghs, almost g roans, whi ch seemed to come from all sides of the

room in turn, and which I can never trace t o any cause, search as I may. I

have hardly had a good night since I came."

Crofton d id now fairly indul ge the scornful laugh whi ch he had hitherto

laudably restrained. " My dear fellow," said he, " if you call the wind in as

a witness to the truth of Jenkins's prosy tale, I have do ne ; and as I have an

engagement with Trevor this evening, and the decanter is empty, I am off."

At the instant the door opened, and a singular ly ele gant and hi gh-b red

looking young man, of an age nearer perhaps to Crofton's than his young

cousin's, entered.

" Trevor, is it you ? " exclaim ed Crofton. " I thought yo u were goin g to

old Macfarlane's when I parted wit h you an hour ago, and came in to lookafter T erci val instead o f goin g to dress. I see you are ready for the Wil -

brahams already. Wh at time are we to be ther e? Wh y, the dessert will

hardly be on the table yet. Yo ur watch is fast perhaps this evening."

Trevor's cheek flushed, rather at the look and tone than at the words, which

were apparently innocent enough.

" I expect Percival's bright fire and good wine have had the effect of

stopping yours, Crofton," returned Trev or; " it is half-past eight already, and

the Wilbr aham s dine at six when they are alone . T hey will think us ridiculously

formal, to go at ball hours for a friendly evening."

"We l l , we ll ; do not be so indignant at my being rather more ignorant ortheir habits than you seem to be, " said Croft on. " Perhaps I have not such

good means of information as you have. How eve r, I will dress in as quick

time as you can expect of a disinterested person. Goodbye, Percival! "

Crofton left the room, while Trev or too k the chair he had vacated with an

ill-concealed air of vexation, which was not unnoticed by his young host.

" Crofton spares no on e," said Perci val; " but I believe it is rather from

89 0



9, I860.] U S E F U L I N F O R M A T I O N A N D A M U S E M E N T . 3 5

pity he is not poor enough to induce him to take a f ellowship ; it

be the very thing for him."

rhaps I should be in more real danger, Lewis, than if I were one, ' who

heart at every shrine,' like some persons I know . Wh at say you, Miss

ci."

nie blushed a little, but she was too light-hearted to feel muc h

assment, and she gail y answered, " ' Men have died from time to time,

orms have eaten them, but not for love.' I should not fear a broken

or coroner's inquest, fo r any one of your degenerate sex, in these

times."

" Many a word at random spoken,

May wound or heal a heart that's broken;"

Crofton significantly ; " quotation for quota tion ; Miss de Vesci. Thereeen unconscious prophets before now\"

s Percival, too, sighed; Minnie's words had wakened old feelings in

nd, but before she even noticed his change of expression Ella called her

to take part in a duet, and both the young men drew near to the

voices of the cousins blend ed well, and they were ac custome d to sing

er, from early girlh ood, and Crofton, who had a critical ear for music,

s now at leisure to listen, was sincere enough in the praise he bestowed

conclusion of the duet.

i l l you take the tenor of this trio, Mr. Crofton ? " asked Ella, cutting

ather abruptly the graceful compliment on her mode of accompan ying,

was concluding the comments on their mutual performance.

as the trio from " Don Giovanni" between the truant lover, Anna, and

and Crofton half smiled as he bent over it.

vor, I know you sing this," said Crofton ; " fo r I have seen the music

ng about your rooms. I am fairly hoarse with shouting to old Ritson,

deafer than ever, and should only ruin it."

did not expect such a young-ladyish excuse from you, Crofton, " saidsmi ling ; " I have sung nothing for weeks, but I will do my best if

Wilb rah am will give me as much h elp as she can, and forg ive my

ncies."

h, expression is everything, my dear fellow," said Crofton, " and I

in such a case yo u will sing con amore. I suppose you sang in

nd."

vor flushed, and Ella began the sympho ny so hastily that Crofton was

ly certain she had noticed both the words and their effect.

e was certainly no apol ogy needed for the performan ce. Sir Hug h' s

was rich and sympathique, and Minnie's Zerlina and her cousin's Donna

perfect for amateur singin g. The grave discussion of the elder

men and the quiet gossip of the matrons was suspended during the trio ;

e dignified " head " and his musical wife both pronounced it admirable.

d in good time, after such exertions, c omes the supp er tray," said Mrs.

ham . " I forbid any more singi ng at present. Minn ie, give us that

yo u were playing t o-day , and then we will have something still more

ing."

De Vesci took her cousin's place, and gave the "Wedding March " ind style, while Miss Wilbraham busied herself in arranging some of the

of music lying near, perhaps to avoid Crofton's evident intention of

ng her to a seat, had she move d to one. She did not altogether succeed,

er; for he began to assist her labours with such skilful zeal that she

ot refuse his services.

v e you ever heard ' Do n Giovanni,' strongly cast, Miss Wil br ah am ?"

, as he placed the music of that opera together.

t in Lo nd on ," she replied. " I did once, at Edinburgh, when we were

a tour in Scotland. I should think it absolutel y perfect, when

ghly well done ? "

s, the music is exquis ite," said Crof ton ; "b ut I am absurd enou gh io

en the subject of an opera to be rather less odious than this one. The

so unmitigatedly contem ptible , I co uld never get up an interest in

d yet the majority of your sex arc somewh at fickle, poets and novelists

emarked Ella, still bending over her task so as to half conceal her face.

Heed not what old rhymers say,' Miss Wilb rah am, " returned Crofton ;

h, indeed, I fear there is often too much foundation for their assertions.e worst sort of Do n Juan is not the volatile, open adorer at every

but the one who, by quiet unspoken devotion to one, lulls all suspicion

p."

gave a quick glance at Crofton's face as he uttered these words; but

uld read in it only its usual quiet, yet penetrating expression, and from

r eyes turned unconsciously to Trevo r, who was leaning against the

y-piece, at a little distance, listening to Minn ie's spirited playi ng. The

ords were, however, struck at that mome nt; and the little party were

ngaged in the discussion of creams and jellies, and w ine and water,

onversation became more general. A concert at the " Star," at the end

ember, and a ball on the last night of the old year were in petto, and

ere talked of, to be patroni sed by the who le party. Lewis Percival

ed co urage to enga ge Miss De Vesci for a quadr ille and waltz at the

hough she assured him it was very doubtful she should remember her

e so long.

ever remembered anything more than twenty-four hours, unless matters

and death, Mr. Percival, since I used to be put in the corn er for

ng the verb I had learnt the day before. So be warned in tim e, and

est your hopes of dancing on my gidd y self," she said, gaily ; but her

eart smote her when she saw him turn away with a disappointed look,

ut of keeping with her gay iest.

is was strangely morbid that evening; and for the second time the

of the fair gir l who had so attracted him had jarre d painfully on his

ensitive point. It seemed to him like an omen of evil.

departure of Mr. and Mrs. Macfarlane wras a signal for that of the

young men ; but during the genera l leave- taking s. Sir Hugh m anaged to say

to Miss Wilbr aham, " I have obtained your father's permission to send a

beautiful horse I have here for you to try, Miss Wil bra ham , and he is good

enough to say I m ay acco mpan y him and y ou in your ride. Will you be

inclined for it to-morrow."

" If papa wishes it, certainly, Sir Hugh," replied Ella.

Sir Hu gh was at a loss to k now whethe r the coldness of her manner was

intended to convey to him that she did not recognise any right on his part to

take interest in her arrangements, or to hide a feeling more propi tious to his

hopes. He only waited the completi on of his college career, till which time

he was under a promise to his guardians not to form any engagem ent, to tell

her openly what he thou ght she must have long percei ved—th at she was the

object of his deep and first attachment. He had often flattered himself alsothat she was not indifferent to him, if an evident pleasure in his society, and

deference to his tastes and opinions, A v e r e a proof of her feelings to himself;

bu t this night there was a change in her look and tone which, more than the

words, chilled and alarmed him.

Sir Hugh parted from his companions on the college staircase, and sought

his rooms in a vexed and uneasy state of mind, for whi ch he chid h imself in

vain, and which kept him long from sleeping, while Percival and his cousin

were equally wakeful, tho ugh from very different causes. Lewi s heard, more

plainly and loudly than ever, the strange noises which had so often chilled

his very blood; and more plainly and loudly than ever did they seem to say

to his excited imagination that the late of his predecessors wo uld be his .

An d Alfred Crofton, too, paced his room till a late hour ; but his usually well-

schooled features were exulti ng, and his keen eyes Hashed with cont end ing

feelings.

" Ye s, " he said, "t he shots told well, and I could see that both that quick

witted little cousin and Ella herself were alive to my meaning ; they looked

and spoke coldly to him, and were more cordial with me than usual. Fair

Jessie Macdonald will stand me in better stead than if I had pursued myboyish fancy for her, when I met her and Trev or in the High land s with her

father, his sober old guardian . Trev or, you have been my rival in every thing

as yet; my superior in rank and fo rtun e; at least my equal in talent, and it

may be in honours too, and worse than all, my rival in love. I hate you,

and if there is pow er in human will I will be y our superior, your successful,

envied, sup erio r; or I will be aven ged. Shou ld I fail—then . But I

will not dream o f such a possibi lity. I never yet was maste red; and now ,

when all that is dearest to me is at stake, I am har dly l ike ly to let. any

weak scruples come between, or difficulties daunt me in my stern, unchanging

resolve. Beauty, talent, fortune, Ella Wilbraham unites them all, and then

that charm of changeful, yet always fascinating mood and manner. She must

and shall be mine , thou gh at present she half fears, ha lf dislikes me ; but s*o

much the more glory and excitement in winning h er; and then, to sec? his

agony, for I kno w well his is no fleeting p assi on; he will suffer, as I wou ld

have him, if he loves her and sees her an other's , who m he hates, almost as I

do him. It will be glorio us."

He threw himse lf in a chair, and sat for some time with his face cove red,

as if weighing the chances of his deep-laid plan's success.While all these thoughts and emotions were occupy ing the y oung go wnsme n

of Oriel, the two fair girls they had just left were sitting over their dressing*

room fire, in no very gay mood, to jud ge from Ella's sad and Minni e's

anxious look.

" I am sure Mr. Crofton had s ome moti ve for telling me this, Elia,

darling," said Minnie, after relating to her cousin what Alfred had insinuated

about Sir Hug h Trevor 's supposed engagement. " I do not trust him, I

confess, but still I tho ugh t it ri ght to tell you what he sai d; for it is plain

enough Sir Hugh wishes you to think he is attached to you , and if he is not

he is base indeed."

" Oh ! Minnie, Minnie, do not talk so ! " said Ell a. " I am not so vain as

you wou ld make me . I confess I have fancied sometimes that lie—he ifkl

rather like me, and behaved differently to me from others, hut then—it might

be my own fault, and, if he is en gage d, he pe rhaps tho ugh t I knew it to o,

and could not misunderstand him. I "

Tears were too near Ella' s eyes, and her maiden ly pride was too strong for

her to allow even her pet c ousin to see ho w deeply she was suffering, and she

turned to reach some article for the toilette to conc eal her emotio n." My dearest Ella, do not talk nonsense, though it is very proper modest

nonsense," said Minnie, impatiently. "T he re is no doubt about the matter.

I was as certain till this evening that Sir Hugh Trevor was to be my cousin,

and my sweet Ella L ady Trevor, with all due accompa niment s of diamonds

and presentation at court, as that she is my own mother's sister's child, as old

nurse would say, and if it is true that ho is enga ged, why, he is a great deal

worse than Mr . Crofton, whom I have so often a bused ."

" I must act as if it were true, Min nie ," said Ella. " I shall dismiss all

idle silly dreams from this moment, and take care that Sir Hugh shall not

think I ever fancied he was anyth ing but a mere friend. He shall not believ e

that, whether his manner has been intende d or not. "

Ella' s cheek crimsoned at the very idea of such a suspicion on the part of

her faithless admirer.

" I fear it will not be as easy as you seem to think, Ella," said her cousin.

"N ot hi ng is more difficult in my opinion than to alter manner towards a

person w ith who m one has been as friendly and intimate as you and Sir Hu gh

Trevor have hitherto been, without going to an opposite extreme, which is

of course just as suspicious. An d thou gh I should particularly like him to bopunishe d by losin g your friendship and society, he would naturally think yo u

were piqued at hearing of his e ngagement ."

" Yo u shall see, Minn ie," said Ella. " H e shall certainly not think I regret

it, even if he does imagine that I have any suspicion of the truth, which 1 do

no t think he can. And n ow good night, for I am sleepy, and even you look

rather heavy-eyed."

Minnie was in truth not sorry to shut the usually brig ht eyes which her



8 6 T H E F A M I L Y H E R A L D — A D O M E S T I C M A G A Z I N E O F [May 10 , i860.

cousin thus stigmatised, having had a long ride with her uncle that day on a

spirited horse, which was rather beyon d Ella' s management. Miss de Vesci,

however, who was a native of hardy Cumberland, was a fearless hor sewoman ,

havin g ridden any horse in her father's stable since she was ten years ol d; and

Mr . Wil bra ham had promised her the reversion of the fiery Selim, as soon as

he had found a quieter one for Ella. The y oung girl was soon in the land of

dreams, if indee d such peaceful sleep as hers kno ws any interru ption from

those busy visitants ; but Ella, thoug h she had declared herse lf so tired, was

long before she went to bed, and longe r still before she slept. She unlocked

a small cabinet which stood on her table, and took from it a beautiful little

volume of Coleridge, which bore on the flyleaf the words, "Ella Wil

braham. Fro m her friend, Hu gh Tre vor ."

It was Sir Hug h who had introduce d that poet to her especial notice, and

asked Mrs. Wilbraham to allow him to select a volu me of his mos t beauti ful

pieces for her daughte r; and El la well remembered when she read the

words he wrote in it, that they had seemed to convey a deeper, warmer

feeling than they actually expressed. But now tears of mingled indignation

and sorrow filled her eyes as she looked on them, and a burnin g b lush was on

her cheek as she exclaimed, " A fri end! yes, perhaps he meant me to und er

stand that his feelings were only those of a friend, and I have been weak and

vain enough to misinterpret hi m; and yet Minnie seems certain that he

behaved as if he really cared for me. Well, well, he shall see it is over now,

and that I am indifferent to him ." But the look and the tone were anything

but those of indiffer ence; and Ella's pale cheeks and languid air next

mornin g required the usual excuse of " a heada che, " to satisfy the anxious

inquiries they attracted from her mother.

Alfred Crofton was announced almost before luncheon was concluded; but

he brought his excuse with him in the shape of some tickets for the coming

concert, which were scarce enough to make the procuring them rather a favour.

" I hope you will not think I infest your house, Mrs. Wil bra ham ; but I

heard Miss de Vesci expressing some anxiety about tickets for the con ce rt;

and as I know Trevor hates asking favours of the Dons, aid I can always

manage that ceremony for my friends if not for myself, I lost no time in

making myself agreeable to our respected dean."

H e took some cards from his pocket-book as he spoke and handed them to

Mrs. Wilbraham, with a momentary glance at Ella, which spoke plainly

enough the real object of the homage ; but he began in the next moment

some lively nonsense with Minni e de Vesci, whom he really admired enough to

have done so still mo re, had not her cousin stood in the w ay ; and woul d

scarcely listen to thanks for what he declared was a very selfish exertion.

" I must not stay longer, for your sake and my own, fair ladies," he said,

after a few minute s' spark ling e ncounter of wits ; " for I promised my cousin

Lewis to walk out with him this afte rnoon; and I believe you are going to

ride with Mr. Wilbr aham and Trevor at three."

" Wil l you be so kind as to tell Sir Hug h I shall not ride this afternoon,

Mr . Crofton ? " said Ellen. " A s the object of his coming was to see how my

ne w horse suited me, it would be a pity to give him useless trouble, even if

papa and my cousin go out."

" Ella is not at all well this morning, I am certain," observed Mrs. Wilbraham, " though she will not confess it."

" Nay, my dear aunt. W h y indulge these saucy cavaliers with g ivin g a

reason for a woman's caprice ? It is quite enough for them to know we have

changed our minds," said Minnie, laughingly.

" Do not be afraid, Miss De Vesci," said Crofton. " I will carefully uphold

the privile ge of your sex in my message to Trevor, and be especially jealous

of gratifying a vanity which has plenty of food already. A baronet with good

looks, good talents, and seven tho usand a year, meets with few mortificati ons

from your sex or his own."

A flush mounted to Ella's pale cheek, though the words and even looks of

the speaker were carefully directed to her cousin, and her farewell to Crofton

was more cordial than usual; and though she left the room immediately

afterwards, Minnie could pretty well guess the mingled pride and grief which

was swelling in her heart at this commence ment of her ne w line of conduct .

No r was Alfred Crofton more at a loss as to the effect of his skilful manoeuvres.

H e had promis ed Trevor to get the tickets, having a sort of connecti on

on his mother' s side with the dean, which gave hi m a greater facility

of doing so ; and eagerly availed himsel f of the oppor tunity of contrastinghimself with Sir Hugh's apparent supineness in the matter. And Ella's pale

looks and cold message were satisfactory proofs that his plans were going on

favourably; and that, could he but keep the lovers from an explanation,

estrangement woul d be in all probability complete. And then he hardly

formed any definite plan be yond. Hope s and wishes, and confidence in his

own powers to gratify them, were busy enough in his heart; but the great

desire which now engrosse d him was the disappointment of his hated rival's

affection ; and all his endeavours were directed to that object.

Minnie de Vesci was an excellent tho ugh unconscious auxiliary in these

plans, both as an ostensible object for his attentions, and a mediu m for

conveying insinuations as to Sir Hugh to her cousin, and she was quite

attractive e nough to make the task easy, of apparent devotion to her, while

the evident distrust and coldness displayed by the young girl gave a degree of

piquancy and zest to this flirtation with her. Al l these thoug hts passed rapidly

through his mind as he walked along the High Street, and he felt a hand laid

on his arm before he was aware that Manvers was beside him.

" W h y , Crofton, I nearly knocked you down ; you were in as prof ound a

dream as that romantic cousin of yours, who always seems in the other world

rather than this."

" Poor Lewis is rather transcendentally inclined, I confess," replied Crofton,

choosing to turn the raillery of his companion rather on his cousin than

himse lf; " but he has been brou ght up too much at home, and there are always

plenty of tutors and servants to enc ourage the fancies of an only son and heir.

But wh ere are you off to ? I want to see Trevo r for a momen t, and then I am

your man for a walk, this frosty day, if you like."

" A l l right," returned Manvers, " only don't be a month arranging your

business with Sir Bayard."

" Five minutes will be enou gh," said Crofton, " and you can come in with

me , if you like, to make matters more sure."

Th e you ng men walked rapidly on for the short distance which remained

before they reached Oriel College, at the very gates of which they encountered

Sir Hugh Trevor, hurrying along with an animated and joyous countenance,

" I can't stop just now ," he said, as Crofton tried to arrest his progress.

" I am late for my appointment already. "

" If it is at the Wilbraha ms you need be in no hurry," said Crofton. " I

bring you a message from Miss Wil bra ham , to say she has changed her mind

about riding to-day, and that she will not trouble you to go there."

" Did she give no reason for her ch angi ng her in tention? " asked Trevor,

trying to speak with unconcern, "nor fix any other day for the ride ? "

" Oh, the usual plea for a lady' s caprice, I think—a headache, or something

of the kin d; but she certainly made no other ap pointment. "

" Oh, it is of no conseque nce," remarked Trevor, with ill-affected care

lessness. " Only I am afraid Stokes will not wait much longe r for an answer

about Psych e. She is too great a bargain to be long on hand."

" Weil , as you are thrown over by the fair lady, you may as well come with

us, Trevor," said Manvers, who rather enjoyed the scene.

" No, thank you, I do not mean to be baulked of my ride. My horse will

be ready by this time; so—goodbye to you both ! "

Trevor turned hastily away, and walked as if Ella herself, instead of his

faithful horse, was waiting for him, and when fairly mounted and out of the

city, his speed was by no means disproportioned to his rate of walking.

Th e horse enjoyed the gallop, no doubt, with but small sympathy for his

master's state of mind, which procured him the race up Hcadington Hill, and

along the road to Abingdon.

Sir Hu gh Trevo r was indeed stung to the quick by Ella's apparent caprice

and the way in which it had been conveyed to him. It had been arranged theprevious night, and he had been asked cordially to luncheon by Mr. Wilbr a

ham, but an appointment with his private tutor prevented his accepting the

kindly invitation. An d now, it appeared that Alfred Crofton had not only

been admitte d on the friendly footin g of an early mornin g visitor, but com

missioned by Miss Wilbraham to convey her cold, even uncourteous dismissal

of his atten dance to himself, the mortificati on bein g thus made doubly bitter

by the witnesses to its infliction.

Sir Hu gh Tr evor knew full well that he had said, and looked, and done

everything to convey to Ella Wilbra ham the state of his feelings towards her

save actually speaking them, which nothing but a promise to his mother

prevented his having done long since. Lady Trevor , though a most excellent

and judicious woman, had the natural weakness of the mother of an only son

of brilliant talents and position; she thought that every woman would be

trying to secure him for a match for herself, or daughter, or niece, while hardly

any one was worthy of him. She had therefore exacted from him a promise,

when he went to Oxford, that he would not propose to any one till he had

taken his degree, and till she her self had seen and formed her judgme nt of

he r; and S ir H ug h was far too affectionate a son and too honoura ble todream of brea king his word on any temptation whatever. But he was so

convinced that Ell a was everythi ng in herself and her position which his

mother could desire, that he had not scrupled to show pretty plainly his devoted

attachment to her, and to rest tolerably assured that it was by no means

displeasing to the young girl or her parents. An d now that the time of his

probation was drawing to a close, and that a few weeks more would probably

put him at liberty to obta in the assurance o f what he fondly trusted was

already his, his beloved Ella's affection ; when his hopes were at the highest,

| came this unlooked-for , chilling bla nk, and he felt utterly stunned and per

plexed by the unaccountable change. He could not endure to believe Ella

capricious or a coqu ette , and ye t it was equally difficult to suppose her i gnorant

of the meani ng of his intentio ns, or to im agine that he had done anything to

offend or wound her feelings. He though t and thought, to no purpose,

during his long ride, and returned just in time for Hall, with a body and

mind little refreshed by the exercise he had been taking .

| Th e evening of the co ncer t arrived, and when the two cousins came into

the drawing-room, where Mr. and Mrs. Wilbraham were awaiting them, theyfound Alfred Crofton and Lewis Percival conversing with them, the former in

that tone of a valued friend wh ich he kn ew so well how to assume with out the

i slightes t presumpt ion or undue familia rity. The touch of chivalrous respect

; in his manner to Mrs. Wil bra ham , the easy and yet deferential tone of his

conversation with her husband, were perfect in their way, and appeared to

; have a happy effect on his cousin, who was gradually losing the shyness which

a naturally thoughtful temperament and secluded life had hitherto fostered.

! Both Ella and Minnie were struck with the unwonted animation which gave

all that was wanting to his handsome features ; and Minnie De Vesci perhaps

did not feel quite so saucily scornful as she had pretended to be that morning,

I when her uncle rallied her abou t her eviden t conquest of the yo ung freshman,

I as she acce pted his escort to the ca rriage whic h was announced,

j " Come, we can make room for one more in this roomy * ark ' of mine,"

said Mr. Wilbr aha m, " if one of you will jump up on the bo x, and then you!

can help me with the ladies. It is but five minutes' drive."

This was just what Alfred wished; nothing could seem more intimate than

! such a free and easy arrangement, and biddin g his cousin get in, he took his

I place by the steady old coach man, and in a fe w minutes the y wrere at the

| "Star." Percival at once secured Minnie, and Alfred offered his arm to

| Mrs. Wil br ah am ; but her husband good-natu redly pushed it aside, saying,

| laughingly, " N o , no ; I don't trust my wife to anyone; you take care of

I Ella."

| In that order they entered the conc ert- room, to the envy of many a

I gownsman, as they saw the prettiest girls in Oxford thus honouring their

j companions . But one among them w atched , with a far keener sensation of



ay 1800.] U S E F U L I N F O R M A T I O N A N D A M U S E M E N T . 8 7

y and disappointed love than these mere butterfly admirers of beaut y. Sir

g h Trevor had been standing near the door watching anxiously for the jrance of the Wilbraha ms, in whose party he had h oped and expe cted to i

inclu ded a few short days before. Indeed, Mrs. Wilbraham had told him

should reserve a seat for him in those secured for her party ; but in vain

d he sought even a look of invitation from El la. They had met but once

ce the evening in question, and her manner had been far m ore successful

its assumption of indifference than her cousin had predicted; but neither

vor or even Minnie herself guessed the secret tears and hard struggles

ich succeeded the careless gaiety by whi ch she repressed every appro ach to

ir former intimate exchange of thought and feeling. Wh at could Hugh

vor suppose but that she wished to repress any presum ptuous hopes on his

t, and determine, if once fully satisfied that it was so, to withdraw from aiety so dear and so dangerous. He fan cied that he could decide some

ng at this concer t, and had waited f or the hour Avhen it wou ld com men ce

h an anxiety far more intense than ever the greatest theatrical critic

for a new opera or unheard dram a. It was an evil om en to see her

the arm of Alfred Crofton, whom he distrusted without well knowing-

y, and when he obeyed Mrs. Wi lbraham' s smiling bow and look of

ita tion, it was with the feeli ngs of a man who anticipates the confirm a

n of half-indulged, half-resisted fears, that certainly are even worse than

more exciting suspense.

Th e place which remained vacant was one between Mr . Wil bra ham and Ella,

Crofton was on the other side of the latter; and, after a careless extension

the hand and a casual remark or two to Si r Hu gh , she turned again to

ume her conversation with his rival. Stung to the quic k, Trev or attempted

display equal indifference, and to conver se wit h Mr . Wi lb ra ham in his usual

nner ; but his remarks w ere not very much to the purpo se, and he was glad

en the commencem ent of the concert gave an excuse for silence. The

erture was scarcely over and the first trio beg un, when Croft on felt a hand

ntly laid on his shoulder, and, on turning round, he saw that the wife of hisative the dean was sitting o nly two seats behind him, and evidently anxious

him to join her, whi ch of course he had no alternative but to obey as soon

conclusion of the pi ece permitted.

" I am very sorry to take you from your friends, Alfred," said the lady, as

e shook hands with him; "but there has been some mistake about Mrs.

nley , wh o was to have jo ine d us here, as I tho ug ht ; but I am afraid she

ected us to call for her, and is waiting. Would you mind going for her ?

is only in Beaum ont St reet, yo u kno w, and the next piece is noth ing

ticular."

Alfred did not care for the piece, but he did very much care for leaving Sir

g h in possession of the field, even for a short ti me ; he had of course no

ernative but to obey, and left the room, inwardly consig ning Mrs. Stanley,

d even the dean's wife, to a fate by no means envi able for ladies fair.

anwhile, Sir H ug h had graduall y drawn nearer to Ella, as he ventured

me remark on the music, to whi ch she at first replie d in the tone she had

ely assumed to him ; but there was something in the expression of his face,

d the saddened tone of his voice, which touched the heart she was striving

strenuously to subdue, and she gradually fell into a more natural manner.T h a t trio brings back sad recollections to me," said Sir Hugh . " M y

or uncle, who, as I once told yo u, was a second father to me, was a perfect

rshipper of music, and that was his especial favouri te. He , and rny

usin Miss Macd onal d, and I, have sung it many a time , tho ugh seld om so

to satisfy his fastidious taste."

" There are few things bring bac k scenes and persons so viv idly as mus ic, "

d Ella, g ent ly; " but in this case there is less to sadden you than is

nerally the case when th inkin g of departed friends. Sir Francis lived and

d -so happil y, from what you have told m e, that there seems but little save

asant memories of him, and n ow your mother is at Craig ferml ine keepin g

your favourite haunts sacred for you till you take the management yourself.

seems to me you should only have a sweet pleasant mel ancho ly in thin king

past days."

Sir Hugh felt happier than he had done for many a day, it was so sweet to

soothed by Ella, but a sweet cradl e-son g at that moment forbade further

nversation, and he could only thank her by a look and a bow . " Yo u are

ht, as usual, and I " but an impat ient look from a zealous amateur

pped even that half-whispered sentence.When the song was at last over, without, perhaps, any very clear idea on

part of Sir Hugh and Ella whether it was German, Italian, or English,

former sai d: " I do n't kno w whether I ever spoke to y ou of my cousin

ara, Miss Wil br aha m; she is the daughter of my father's and uncle's only-

ter, who lived near Craigfermline after her widowhood. M y aunt died

out t wo years sinc e, and Clara went to my uncle, soon to lose another home,

or gir l! "

" And where is she n o w ? " asked Ella, with a slight choking in her throat.

" W i t h my mothe r. She will certainly remain with her till " he stopped

moment, then added, " till the usual termination of a you ng lad y's career —

rriage,"

Ella felt the heart-sickness of realised fears, and if Sir Hu gh h ad been less

-engrossed by one idea, he must have remarked the paleness which

ceeded the delicate bloom of a few minutes since. She dreaded lest the

xt wor d should tell her that the marr iage alluded t o was to her faithless

mirer, and cl aim her congrat ulatio ns, and yet could not forbear hazarding

more true woman's question, " Is Miss Macdon ald pretty? "

More than pretty ! " replied Sir Hu gh warmly . " There is a delicateellectual beauty about Clara, which gives her a peculiar interest; she seems

fragile, so dependent upon others, that it gives every one a sort of fostering

ting feeling toward s her, and yet she has born e her trials well and firmly"

hope some day to introduce her to you," he added in a low tone.

" As Lady Tre vor, " thought Ella. " He means to convey his prospects to

in that way. I am indebted to his kind precaut ion."

I :J 1shall be honoured by Miss Macdonald's acquaintance," she said in such

a cold, haughty tone, that Sir Hugh drew back, chilled and surprised, while

Ella began studying her programme most assiduously, finding that her cousin

was too much engaged in an animated conversation with Lewi s Percival, to

find refuge in talking to her.

In a few minutes Alfred Crofton returned from his unw elcome mission,

having successfully piloted Mrs. Stanley to his reverend relative. "P it y

me, Miss Wil bra ham ," he said; " I have really earned absolution for a

week's sins, since I left you . Fan cy m e rushin g, or rather skating over the

frosty pavements at the rate of twelve miles an hour, to save Mrs. Fe rnby 's

credit and Mrs. Stanley's taste for music, whic h consists in know ing a piano

from an organ; then finding she had just taken off bracelets and gloves, and

a dozen other etceteras, which after receiving due explanation and apol ogies

she put on again. An d then the flys were hopelessly engaged, and she m a d e

a desperate determination to w alk w ith the help of my arm, which, being

some twel ve stone in wei ght, as you kn ow, Avas pretty well tax ed, to keep her

from breaking legs or arms in her involuntar y slides. And now I hop e you

will do full justice to my amiability."

"V ir tu e is its own reward, Mr. Croft on," said Ella, striving to cover he r

sadness under unusual gaie ty. " Besides, I am afraid it is a most unc om mon

exercise of it, since you think it wor thy of such extraordinary notic e."

" Nay, Miss Wil brah am, do not discourage the b eginn ing of such praise

worthy self-denial; give me a geranium blossom from you r bouq uet as a

guerdon, as the ladies of old rewarded the good deeds of their knights."

Sir Hugh's ears were painfully strained to catch El la's r eply, while

listening to Mrs. Wilbraham's comments on a comic song just finished, and

he managed to distinguish the words.

" I fear bot h the sacrifice and the reward wou ld be equall y trif ling, " said

Ell a ; " so Av e will not caricature the good old times."

Ella was not a coquette, or she would have reveng ed herself on her

supposed faithless knight, b y compl ying with Crofton's request; and in truth,

I she felt a slight in clin ation t o do so, had no t her Avoman's dign ity come to her! aid. For the remainder of the evening, however , Corelli, Mozart, Rossini,

| and Handel A v e r e alike unheeded and undistinguished by the lovers; yet when

i the co ncer t Avas over , Ella rem arked, " A capi tal concer t it has been, has it

i not, Sir Hugh ? I never enjoyed one mor e."

J Sir Hugh 's bow and smile equalled Miss Wil bra ham 's in truth and

brilliancy, and the two A v e n t hom e, both to a sleepless—o ne to a tearful

pilloAv.

(To be concluded in our next.)

SA Y N O T T H E W O R L D I S V O I D OF L OVE .

Say not the world is void of love,

iiecause its smiles rest not on thee ;

There may be one wou ld die to p rove

Her lo ve, her truth, her cons tancy .

Then fo r that o ne still try to find

A germ of love—it soon will spread,I l lumine both thy heart a nd mind—

A n d brightness o'er thy pathway shed .

Go , seek for love , nor heed the

That o'er thee now the wor ld

T he sun ' s br igh t rays ar e b r i g h t

F ar brighte r when the c louds

Then seek for love ; for love w i l

The hope that now to thee se<

'Twill lend a charm to every t ' ih

A n d brightness o'er thy pa th

i r o w n

m a y c a s t ;

JV th rown,

have pas t .1 b r in g

em s d e a d ;

ly shed.0.

T H E L A D Y O F T H E F E L L H O U S E .

CHAPTER X .

| On the nig ht of Gue ndolen's visit to the Opera the house was crow ded.

In a large box on the grand tier was assembled a group that to a keen

observer would have offered an abundant field f o i r curious speculation.

A lady, whose age could no t exceed six-and-twenty, occupied the principal

seat; she Av a s very beautiful, but it Av a s that fragile and delicate love

liness Avhich seems almost to fade as it is gaze d upon. He r complexion

| Avas exce edi ngl y fair, her eyes of a lig ht blue , and her hair of a corre*

j sponding shade of broAvn; her features w ere exquisitely moulded , and

might have been pronounced faultless, except that her lips were rather to o

' thin, though A v m e n parted they displayed a set of teeth of almost transparent

j A v h i t e n c s s . He r figure, from the slender Avaist and limbs to the long straight

: fingers, Av a s in exact accordance A v i t h her features; fragility Avas stamped on1 every part. There Av a s no robustness, no energy, no vigour, either of mind

or body, to be traced in he r; her very teeth looked as though a hard biscuit

| wou ld be sufficient to break them. By her side sat a you ng girl , by no means

| her equal in beaut y, but far mo re healthy in appearance ; a brig ht, joyous,

happy young creature, A v i t h all life's pleasures in antici patio n before her, and

! its sorrows u n k n o A v n and undreamed of.

Th e background Av a s occupied by two figures. The one who stood beh ind

the elder lady's chair Av a s a handsome, dissipated-looking man of about

forty. His sunken eyes and deeply-lined face tol d of many a nigh t passed in

the gamb ling-h ouse, though the black hair which clustered round his high

and narrow forehead Av a s untouched by the hand of time. The fourth person

in the box Av a s a female, avI io by her extreme plainness of attire, and the

forced humility o f her demeanour, seemed anxious to announce herself to the

Avorld as a dependent.

In an opposite box on the third tier, concealed by the half-drawn curtains,

sat Guendolen, minutely observing through a strong opera-glass the appear

ance and movem ents of her husband and his Avife. Could Sir Frederick have

guessed whose eyes were watching him he w oul d not have been quite so muchat his ease. Wh en the opera was conclude d, and the ballet about to begi n,

Lady Elphinstone rose, evidently with the wish to retire. A demoniacal

expression passed over Sir Frederick's face as he said something in opposition

to her wishes. The poor lady raised her eyes with a look of entreaty. Her

husband Avas obstinate. She sat down agai n; but Guendolen could see that

her tears fell fast upon her bouquet, A v i t h A v h i c h she e ndeavo ured to seem

occupied. Sir Frederick placed his hand upon her shoulder, and stooped to



3 9

gaze. " I fear neither you nor aught that your malice can inflict. Yo u may

murder me, as you have so often attemp ted to do ; but the crim e woul d

instantly be followed up so acc urate ly by a person w ho has a lready in his

hands conclusive evidence of your p revious attempts, that death by the gallows

would not be long in overtaki ng you . Yo u cannot intimidate, you cannot

coerce me ; and therefore the wisest course will be to accept the conditions

which I offer. Do not fear that I shall require yo u to recogn ise me as you r

wife. I would not," she contin ued, looking full in his eyes with an expression

of mingled aversion and scorn, " I would not be your wife, even in name, for

all the wealth of the Ind ies. "

As she said this she looked so supremely handsome, that a sudden and

violent revulsion of feeling took place in Sir Frederick's breast. The sensa

tion he had experienced when he first entered the room returned with ten-fold

ardour, and he was in a moment fired by the most violent passion for the very

woman wh om he h ad for years tried to rid himself of by every means that

craft or violence could suggest.

" And yet, Guendolen, you are my wife," he said. " An d if I had sought

your affection when first we were marr ied, you wou ld have haile d the title

with delight,"

" Very possibly I m igh t have learned to endure it," she answer ed, " for I

was then a mere child, know ing nothin g of the worl d or of its ways. It

required all the cruel treatment that I experienced to make me as wise and as

suspicious as I soon became."

" I did indeed treat you cruelly ; but if the rest of my life devoted to your

service can compensate for the wrong , you ma y rely on being happy for the

future, sweet Guendolen."

" S i r !" said Guendolen, haughtily drawing back the hand which he

attempted to take, " this conduc t now is an insolence which I will not

endure."

"B ut Guendolen, from your husband? "

" The relation between us is so peculiar," she replied, " that even the title

of husband gives you no license."" Listen to me, Guendo len. I w ill make yo u the fullest restitution. All

the wrongs that I have inflicted on you shall be redressed, and you shall

assume your rightful place in society as my wife."

" Indeed, sir ! " said Guendo len, scornfully. " An d what becomes then of

the present L ad y Elphi nston e ? I am fully aware that you possess many

contrivances for destroying life, from poison to the dagger of the midni ght

assassin ; but it m igh t be less safe to tamper wi th the life of a lady who has

her family to protect her than with that of an obscure individual, whose

connexion with you , being unknown, could not bring a shadow of suspicion

upon you."

" Oh, Guendolen, forgive me !" exclaimed Sir Frederic k, throwi ng himself

on his knees at her feet. " I do not deny my crime s—I can but i mplore

pardon for th em ; and assure yo u that if you had been know n to me, they

would never have been attempted. Wh at a fool, what a madman I was to

undervalue the charms that migh t have been mine ! An d now I have placed

an obstacle between you and me which to a less resolute man might appear

insuperable. But everything shall yield to my love for you."

" Love !" repeated Guendolen in a tone of melanchol y contem pt. " Wha t

can you know of love, who have not even common pity in y our breast ?

Think of your treatment of me when I was frightened into marryin g you .

Ye t frighten ed as I was , had y ou show n me any kindnes s, I shou ld have

loved you."

" Then love me now, Guendolen," he said, starting up, and again trying to

possess himself of her hand.

" It is too late, Sir Frederick. Yo u seem to forget that you have a wife ;

and," she added, fixing her eye suspiciously upon him, " that I had a father."

" I d o no t understand yo u," he stammered out, while his white cheek belied

the assertion. " I onl y kno w that you are my wife. My marriage with the

lady who now bears my name is necessarily annulled when my previou s

marriage with you is proved."

" Do you suppose that I wo uld be so base as to cast unmerited disgrace upon

that poor lady for the sake of enjoying her title ? " said Guendolen.

" D o I understand you—can I understand you , Guen dolen ? " excl aimed

Sir Frederick , eagerly. " Do you mean that you will be contented to be my

wife in reality, and leave to he r the name and posi tion to whi ch she has no

right ? "

Guendolen answered by a look of withering scorn that needed no words toelucidate its meaning.

* Then I will proclaim our marriage in the face of day! " he exclaimed.

" Sophia is still young and handsome ; she will marry again, and all will be

right."

" And your son will be illegitimate," observed Guendolen.

" What of that ? " said Sir Frederick. " He is so already, in fact; he will

get on well enough in this world, and I will not sacrifice myself for him."

" Of course not," returned Guen dolen ; " it is not in y our nature to

sacrifice yoursel f or you r ow n selfish wishes for any bod y, and ye t you are

willing to make a great sacrifice to obtain me whom you formerly despised."

" I would sacrifice half my life to spend the remainder with yo u! " he

exclaimed passionately.

" And all your propert y?—yo u must not overlook that in your reckoning,"

said Guendolen, with pr ovok ing calmness. " Yo u appear to forget that yo u

will be called upon to refund Lad y Elphinstone's fortune, even to the utter

most farthing, besides incurring the cost of a lawsuit, and the possibility of

transportation."

Sir Frederick turned pale with rage. " It wou ld be a sacrifice, no dou bt,"he repli ed; " but the very extent of it will prove my unbounded love to you."

" It would be proof of love, indeed to become a beg gar and condemned

felon for my sake," said Gu endo len,— "for that is what you would be

reduced to. But a truce to this idle talk. It is from no consideration

for yo u that I am unwilling that you sh ould appear to the world the

beggar that you are, or the convicted felon that yo u ought to be. It is

wholly from regard to the poor lady who has the misfortune to be your wife,

and for the innocent child, on wh om I woul d not desire that your sins should

be visited. My wish is this. Tha t you should introduce me to Lad y Elphin

stone as the widow of a cousin or any distant relative, and then give me

apartments in your house; there is a suite at the back formerly occupied by

your uncle that will suit me ; let them be prepared for me. I do not ask it

as a favour, I simply demand it. But you must make the offer in Lady

Elphin stone's presence. Remem ber, I have been a widow for eight years",

and have been livin g in the neigh bourh ood of Tou lon, in such seclusion, that

you did not know whether I was alive or dead."

" Y o u seem strangely familiar with the interio r of my hous e," said Sir

Fre der ick ; " but, depend up on it, your wishes shall be carried out. I am

but t oo delighte d to have you under the same roof with me. Wh at may I

not hope from such a beginning ? "

" Y o u wou ld be wiser to hope not hing ," replied Guen dolen carelessly.

" I fear you as little as I love you . "

Sir Frederick looked at he r as though he wo uld have spoken, but con

sidering it wiser to await what changes time migh t bring, and trusting to

future opportunities to make a more favourable impression upon her, he with

drew to announce to Lady Elphinstone the arrival of his cousin's widow.

Sir Frede rick, choos ing to be his own messenger, went at once to his wife's

boudoir. It was more than a year since he had last entered it, and it would

be difficult to say whether his surprise or the lady's were the greater ; hers, at

his unexpe cted appe aranc e; his, at the chang e w ;hich had taken place in the

apartment. Th e bi rds, the gold -fish , the flowers that had formerly adorned

it, were all gone, and in their place were such decorations as made it look

rather like an oratory than a lady's boudoir. The window was filled with

stained glass whi ch threw a subdued ligh t over the apartment; the curtains

and carpet were of a sombre hue, the looking -glass was gone from the mantel

piece, the white marbl e of whic h had been replaced by elaborate Go thic

carvings in oak, surmounted by a cross; the pictures were changed, andinstead of brigh t landscapes and smiling faces, devotional subjects of the

gloomiest character hung about the walls. The doors of a kind of cabinet

stood open, disclosing an ela borately-ca rved crucifix, on each side of whic h

stood a silver candlestick with three branches, while several vessels of silver

were placed in the recess. By the side of this miniature altar a devotional

chair was placed, and behind that on a reading-desk a highly-ornamented

prayer-bo ok, heavily bo und in gilded brass, lay open. Beside the fireplace

stood another chair of antique appe arance, with a high straight back, and

arms ornamente d with exquisite carvings, and made comfortab le by cushions

of crimson velvet. Anot her cushion lying on the floor by the side of the

chair, gave the who le very much the appearance of a confessional. Lad y

Elphins tone was kneeling on the priedieu, reading the illuminated book, bu t

started up in fear and surprise on the appearance of her husband. He glanc ed

round the room, and rapidly noted all the details we have mentioned, and his

first exclamation, it must be owne d, was little in accordance with the devotional

character of the place.

" What the deuce! is this a nunnery, madam ? " he exclai med,

" I could not suppose, Sir Frederick, that you would object to my arranging

my boudoir according to my own taste," she replied timidly.

" N o t I, " said he, with a l au gh ; " it is perfectly indifferent to me what

road you take either to heaven or the other place. I on ly hope that you will

j not infect Sylvia with this nonsense. Come into the library with me. I want

| to introduc e you to a relation w ho m I have not seen for years. She is the

' widow of a fifth or sixth cousin of mine, Tom Elphinstone, who died in

! India, and bein g quite alone in the world , I should like to offer her a home

here. There are those rooms that my Uncle William used to occupy—I will1 give orders for them to be got ready for her; but the invitati on must of

course come from you ; therefore, mada m, do not forget it ."

Wh en Guendolen saw the slight girlish figure of Lad y Elphins tone standing

| before her, she felt incl ined to clasp her to h er heart and promise to protect

j her. The effect upon Lad y Elphinsto ne was very different; she was over-

j awed by the calm searching eyes of Guendo len, besicles feeling an instinctive

: dread of a person whom she was ordered by her tyrant husband to accept as

| an inmate. The invitation was howeve r given with a tolerably good grace and

accept ed; and it was agreed that Guendolen should take possession of her

apartments the following week, on her return home from a visit which she

said she was goi ng to pay in the country. She did this to avoid giving heraddress at Mrs. Mayfield's, which she wished to reserve as a place of retreat

in case of necessity.

Half-an-hour later Lad y Elphins tone was kneeling o n the cush ion beside

the confessional chair, in w hich sat a man about thirty years of age, whose

pale attenuated face and emac iated figure inspired an ide a of sanctity that

was belie d by the cove rt fire of his dark piercin g eyes. His features were

finely chiseled, with a prominent brow, and a nose slightly aquiline. His

complexion was clear a nd pale as marb le, and seemed mo re so from the

contrast with the straight black hair, which was parted with great nicety, and

carefully combed on either side of his face. The only fault that the severest

critic could find in his features was in the thinness of his lips, and that

probabl y arose from a habit of compressing them that had curtailed the fair

proportions wThich Nature had given them. His dress, of dee]) black, with a

small collar turned down like a band round his closely shaven face, gave

him the appearance of a Catholic priest, but such he was not. He was one

of those to who m in the solution of such a doubt the words of Hamlet

migh t be well applied, " The n I would you were as honest a man ." He was

in fact the Puseyite clergyman to whom the education of little Frank Elphinstone was" confided. Apparently this occupation did not afford

sufficient scope for his am biti on; and he had by degrees insinuated himself

into the post of "d ir ec to r" to his pupil's mother. Into his car, after

the ice of female modesty had been once broken, was poured the secret

of he r heart's sorrows. Her self-respect and ^;o man ly dign ity resisted for a



4 0 T H E F A M I L Y H E R A L D — A D O M E S T I C M A G A Z I N E O F [May 30, 1SC0.

long time the insidious attacks of the prie st; hut the ice once broken,

after t he first t imid confession the po wer of the monitor was f ully

established. Whate ver happened, he was immediately informed of it;

and she rarely took any step without his advice. Therefor e, as sopn as her

inte rvie w with Guend olen was over, she lost no time in confiding the whole

details to her ghost ly comfor ter. The dom inion that he had acq uired over

her was evidenced strongly by the apologies which she though t it requisite

to make for having acted upon her husband's orders witho ut consult ing her

confessor.

Mr . Lori mer held her small hand in his, and gracio usly explaine d that as

she acted under the compulsi on of her husband, she could not be responsible

for any fault, even if such had been commi tted . As she did not resent the

liberty he took in hold ing her hand, he became almost facetious, andlaughe d at her over-tenderness of conscience ; then raising her from her

knees, he pressed a kiss upon the little hand, saying with a sanctified look and

tone, which unfortunately compensat ed in her mind for the im pertine nce of

the act ion, " I wish, dear daughter, that we had n one of us mor e sins to

answer for than have been committed by this fair hand or its lovely owner."

H e then bowed himse lf out deferentially, before the lady could recover from

the astonishment into which his conduct had thrown her.

CHAPTER X I I .

As Mrs . Mart in's health contin ued to impr ove, Guend olen passed the

ensuing week by the seaside, calculat ing on the surprise and deligh t which

Harr y Greville would feel on meeting her at a ball which Lady Elphinstone

was to give the day after her arrival, and preferring to produc e a startling

effect by her unexpect ed appearance in full eveni ng costume, to seek ing a

more common-place meeting. The week passed by without any incident

worth recording.

On her arrival, Sir Freder ick r eceived her with -every demonstrat ion of

respectful attention, but she pleaded the fatigue whi ch she did not feel, as anexcuse for absenting herself from the dinner- tabl e; and retreating to her own

rooms, proceeded to make a close inspecti on of them. She first ascertained

that there was no communication with the rest of the house, except ing

throu gh the elegant little ante -room , and then proceeding to the last apart

ment o f the suite, wh ich opened into a small passage, she found that a door at

inc further end of it was locked, and the key taken away. This door she

was a '.are led into the stables, for the former occupant of the rooms had been

a gentleman " most lear ned in dogs and horse s." Al l these particulars she

had obtained through the medium of Mrs. Mayfield. Nodd ing her head with

quiet satisfaction as she made these observatio ns, she retraced her steps to

the sitting room, round whi ch she cast a careless glanc e, and curled her lip

slightly as she noti ced the many indications which it presented o f Sir

Frederick's studious desire to captivate her by an appeal to her taste.

" And he thinks to win me in this way," she said, half aloud, as she threw

herself into an easy chair. " He little know s my nature if he imagines that

any amount of adulation offered now , can make me forget his neglect and

cruelty when I was helpless, and needed protection, were there no blacker crime

to stand between me and him. That is a base nature that tramples on the

weak, and shows deference only to those who are strong enoug h to enforce it.I w onder what marks of his affectionate solicitud e could be discovered in L ady

Elphinstone's boudoir. Ho w differently Harry Greville will treat his wife! "

The though t was an int roduc tion to a day-dr eam, which was only inter

rupted by the entrance of the servants, who brou ght in a repast of the most

choice description, and served with the utmost elegance.

As Guendolen had intimated that she would have the pleasure of paying her

respects to La dy Elphi nstone in the evening, Sir Fre deri ck stayed at, hom e,

instead of going as usual to his club or some more questio nable pl ace of

amusement; while his poor wife sat timorously in the drawing-room,

prick ing her fingers in her nervous attempts at embr oider ing, instead of

spending her even ing, as she usually did, in reading or prayin g in her b oudoir.

Miss Lorimer sate in a retired corner working at some article of clothing

that was to be given to the poor, seldom raising her eyes, and never appearing

to notice anything that passed around her. Sylvi a was play ing on the piano

and si ng in g; and Sir F reder ick was walki ng restlessly up and dow n the

room when Guendol en presented herself. She was attired in black, which she

usually wore from choice, and her dress was perfectly free from ornament o f

any kind ; but the simple and severe outlines into whic h her drapery fell weretotall y different from the obtrusive and angular neatness of Mi ss' Lor im er 's

costume, who also dressed in black, and eschewed trim mings . Wh il e Sir

Fred eri ck eagerly greeted the new comer, and presented his d aughter Sylvi a

to her notice, Miss Lorimer's thick eyelids, that seemed to have grown heavy by

being habitually cast down, were half raised, and, from the corners of her

eyes, she took an accurate survey of Guendolen's face and person. Then, her

long upper lip settled more closely down, and she stood, with an air of humility,

waiting to be presented, i f any one thou ght her wo rth presenting, or, if not ,

till Lad y Elphin stone, resumi ng her seat, impl ied a permission to her to sit

down also.

Lady Elphinstone was too w rell bred to pass a sligh t upon an inferior, and

therefore Mis s Lori mer was duly presented to the "widow." Guendolen

shuddered as she looked at this woma n, as she woul d if she had suddenly

come in cont act wit h some cold and slimy reptile. He r aversion was

instinctive and intense, tho ugh her recepti on of the object of it was too polite

to permit it to be seen. Fo r Sylvia, on the contrary, Guendolen instantly

conceived a warm and almost maternal interest, and to avoid Sir Frede rick 's

importunat e attentions, as well as to draw off his scowling eyes from his unhappy

and terrified wife, who trembled under his gaze like a bird under that of a

basilisk, she devoted herself to Sylvia and the piano. Guendo len was an

excellent musician, and was soon singing and playing duets, to the delight of

her unwitting step-daughter.

" O h ! now we can manage these madrigals," exclaimed Sylvia. " Yo u ' l l

sing the tenor part, won't y o ^ papa ? And we'll send for Mr. Lorimer for

the bass. Yo u won 't refuse me, will you ? " she said, turning coaxingly to her

father.

" N o , my love, I will sing with the greatest pleasure, if Mrs. Elphinstone

will oblige us by taking a part, and playing the accompani ment. But, per

haps ," he said, stooping over her as if to examine the music, "perha ps you

will find it too difficult to sing at sight ? "

"Oh , no, papa," replied Sylvia, " this is not near so difficult as the duet

that Mrs. Elphinstone has just sung, and that was quite new to her ."

While Guendolen played over the accompani ment, the lively girl sprang to

the bell, exclaiming , " I'l l send for Mr Lor ime r at once! "

" Ho not trouble the servants, Miss Elph inst one, " said Miss Lori mer, rising.

" I will fetch my brother if you will permit me."

She left the room, and hastened to the apartment that was allotted to thestudies of the young heir of Elphi nstone, where she found her brother com

fortably sipping his coffee, while he glanced over the eveni ng paper. He looked,

up inquiri ngly as his sister entered.

" Y o u are w anted in the draw ing- roo m," she said; " they are singing, and.

want a bass."

" Is she there r " he asked, with an emphasis on the pr ono un.

" Y e s , " replied the sister.

" What sort of person is she ? "

" Detestably pro ud, " said Miss Lori mer. " I can see that through all her

politeness ; and, if we do not take care, she will be mistress here, for it is

easy to see that Sir Frederick is over head and ears in love with her. I never

disliked any one so much at first sight."

" B e particularly careful not to show that feeling," said the brother,.

" Rather overdo your attention to her than otherwise. Rememb er what I

have always to ld you : never show you r dislikes, but profess the greatest

friendship towards those for whom you feel the least. Ther e is no folly equal

to that ridicul ous candour which lets every simpleton read your thoughts and

feelings; it places you wholly in the power of others, and leaves you no longermaster of yourself, far less of them. W e are situated here as depend entsv

with no visible position or authority except what I exercise over a school-boy.

But we compensate for the want of v isible po wer by exercising the reality of

it. Shall we, either of us possessing more intellect than the whole family put

together, be the humble servants and lowly vassals of these purse-proud

upstarts ? "

Miss Lorimer fixed her eyes keenly upon her brother's face as she said,

" And yet, Henry, I am certain that there is one of these purse-proud upstarts

whom yo u love."

" Wha t do you mean, Anne ?" he replied, starting and turning pale. " Do-

you suppose that I aspire to renewi ng the old romantic story of the squire of

lo w degree who loved the king' s daughter of Hungary r "

" N o , " replied Miss Lor ime r; "n ot the daughter, but the wife."

"T ut , tut," he said, goin g towards the door. " Y o u must not talk such

nonsense, Ann e. Neve r again let me hear a hint upon such a subject."

Miss Lorimer smiled triumphantly as she followed her brother out of the

room. She had ascertained a fact which she had long desired to know. Her

brother mig ht rule the hou sehold, but she woul d rule him through the

weakness which was not the less apparent for his hasty disavowal.

When they reached the drawing-room, Mrs. Elphinstone was still seated at.

the piano. Miss Lor imer quietly subsided into her corner, and Sir F reder ick

carelessly introduced the tutor to the fair pianist. Fro m her position she

scarcely saw him, but received him with an inclination of the head, in which,

grace and reserve united to give a more haughty expression than her feelings

warranted, and then proceede d with the symphony of the madrigal they h ad

chosen.

Guendolen had often sung duets with Harry Greville; and the blending,

of his voice with hers had produ ced a harmony that echoed through her

very so ul ; but in singing with Sir Frede rick and the only half seen tutor,

the effect was very different. Sir Frederi ck she detested so heartily, that

she could find no melod y in his very fine ten or; and Mr . Lorim er' s voice,

thoug h rich -toned and well- cultivat ed, made her excessively but not agr eeably

curious to have a good view of his countenanc e. In the transient glimpse

she had had of him he had struck her as bein g very unlike his sister; but

in the voice she imagined that she traced a similarity of character. Wh en

the madriga l was conclu ded, she rose from the piano, and under the pretence

of talking to Lady Elphi nstone , she made the desired examination . " Snakesin the grass bot h," was the conclusion at which she arrived; "cra wli ng

reptiles, hiding their venom till the moment comes to inflict a blow with

certainty and safety. I was never more deceived in my life if these people do

not prove my determined enemies."

A few more songs succeeded, and as the ball was to take place on the

following evening the party retired early.

When Guendolen reached her own apartments she speedil y dismissed h er

maid and exami ned her bedroo m before retiring to rest. An expression in

Sir F reder ick's eye as he bade her good night had rather alarmed her, and

after completing her scrutiny she placed under her pillow a small revolver,

in the use of which she was tolera bly expert. Her apprehensions ho wever ,

speedily faded away befo re the more cheering ideas excited by a few words

j which had passed between Sylv ia and Lady Elphin stone. Sylvia had asked

| if Captain Grevil le were com ing to-m orro w, and Lad y Elphinstone replied in

I the affirmative. Fr om happy thoughts she passed impercept ibly into happy

j dreams, and in the morn ing her hopes were as brig ht as the sunbeams that

glanced through her curtains.

Guendolen breakfasted alone, and shortly after a message came from Sir

Freder ick, thoug h i n his lady's name, offering her the use o f a carriage.

She replied, wit h many thanks to L ady Elphinstone, that she had already

engaged a bro ugha m for the season, wdiich in fact c ame to the door while

she was speaking. After visiting her aunt, whom she found .somewhat better,

but as obstinate as heretofore, she proceeded to Mr. Fo wler 's chambers.

" I am come," she said, " for the box containing my jewels."



Ma y 19,1 SCO.] U S E F U L I N F O R M A T I O N A N D A M U S E M E N T . 4 1

" Wh at ! " said the old gentl eman, laughing, "t he jewe ls you were never

going to wear ? "

" Even so, my dear sir. I intend to exercise my preroga tive , one of the few

that you lords of the creation concede to us poor women, and cha nge my

mind, always reserving to myself the right of changi ng it again if I should

think proper,"

Th e box was placed in the carriage, and she drove home . A magnifi cent

ball-dress had arrived jus t before, and to her own astonishment she spent an

hour or two in studying the effect of various jew els upon the brill iant tissues

of her robe, and trying by their combinations to reproduce the effects which

Har ry Greville had admired in the sunset, or the purple of the distant hills,

or the hues of the rain bow. At last, arriving at the conclusion that it would

all be seen to more advantage by candl eligh t, she thre w the splen did o rnaments aside, and laughed at her own childishness.

When evening came, and the guest s began to arrive, Sir Freder ick was all

impatience, waiting near the bal lroom door, and constantly looking out for

Guendolen's arrival. At length overmas tered by his impati ence, he wen t

to her apartments and knocked at the door of the ante-r oom. He was

answered by her page, who said that he believed Mrs, Elphins tone was

dressing; and Sir Frederick sent in a respectful petition that he might

be permitted to conduct her to the ballroom. Whi le he was yet speaking the

door of the drawing- room opened, and Gue ndolen came forth radiant in

beauty and sparkling with diamonds that were hardly more bright than her

happy eyes. She coldly accepted his proffered escort, but when they were

out of reach of the servants' ears, she said almost sternly, " My apartments

must be sacred from intrusion, Sir Frederick, otherwise I leave your house at

once, and for ever."

" But, my dearest Guendole n! " said he, " So common an act of courtesy !

Surely you cannot find fault with me for this."

" I had forgotten to make the stipul ation at our first mee tin g," she

answered, "for indeed I could not suppose that it would be ne cessar y; butnow we understand one another . Nev er pass the door of my apartments;

nay, do not even approach it without my permission."

" Lovely tyrant! " he replied, pressing the hand whi ch rested on his arm ;

" y o u give your orders, but how can you expect them to be obeyed ? "

She only"answered by withdrawing her hand with a look of indignant but

calm surprise.

" Pray take my arm ag ain, " he said. " I will not offend any more ; at

least I will endeavour n ot to do so ; but love always struggles to show itself."

" Love ! " repeated Guendolen, contemptuously, and her thoughts glancin g

back to the time immediately following her wedding, with the very man who

now seemed disposed to persecute her with his addresses, she walked on, deaf

to his whispered flatteries.

When she was in the ballroo m standing by Lad y Elphinstone 's side, she

almost wished that she had dressed herse lf less splen didly , for the poor little

lady seemed quite eclipsed by her presence. But Lady Elphinstone 's dress

was as costly and her jewels almost as beaut iful; her figure, t houg h small,

was e xquisitely proportioned, and her face would by many be esteemed far

more lovely than Guen dolen's . The difference lay not in the dress, nor the

charms, nor even in a few inches of addition al height . It was the mind thatillumined them, and the dignified self-possession in whic h Lady Elphinsto ne

was so deficient. Sir Fre deri ck whispered the contrast to Guend olen, as he

led her out to the first dance.

" You arc the last man," she replied, " w ho should make such a remark.

Can y ou not see that the real contrast is between the mind crushed and

subdued by a tyrant, and another which that tyrant has been unable to crush ? "

" Yo u have ever something agreeable to say to me / ' said Sir Frederick,

biting his lip.

He tried by every means to win Guen dole n's favourable attention ; but his

adulation and flattery fell upon a heedless ear ; f»r , besides her utter detesta

tion of him, her thoughts were constantly dwell ing upon the expe cted arrival

of Harr y Greville . But hour after hour passed by ; her cheek became pale ;

her eye lost its fire, and her foot its elasticity. The guests were de partin g;

and through her brain wandered the plaintive lines of Eva ngeline , which she

had once read to her lover , as it now seemed to her with prop heti c pathos ,

each verse ending with the mournful refrain, " Ye t Gabriel came not. " The

last carriage drove off—the last guest departed, and yet he came not.

Though heartsick and desponding, and longing for solitude, Guendolenspent the following morning in La dy Elphinstone's reception -room, hopin g

that Har ry Gre ville would call to apologise for his non-ap peara nce at the ball,

or at all events that she migh t hear what was the cause of his abs ence. The

first information she obtained came in rather a startling manner.

" Have you heard that Mrs. Greville is dangerously ill ? " said Lady

Elphin stone to one of her visitors.

" No , I have heard nothing of it," said her visitor. " Wh at is amiss with

her ? "

" I do not know the nature of her complaint," said Lady Elphinstone .

"Cap tain Greville was to have been here last evening, but he sent a hurried

note to say that he had been summoned to Paris by telegraphic despatch,

which would of course prevent his coming."

" He has had a severe illness himself, has he not ? " inquired the visitor.

" Y e s , " replied La dy Elphinstone, " h e was laid up for some weeks in the

north, in consequence of falli ng into a river when he was overhe ated. How

ever he managed to reach a cottage, and was taken care o f by some count ry

people. He should have written home , though. Poor Mrs. Greville was

seriously alarmed at his long silence ."" Y o u are ill—you are as pale as death ! " whispered Sir Frederick , who

had not removed his eyes from Guendolen's face for a second during this

conversation. " Come to the window. They are looking at you."

He took her unresisting hand, drew it withi n his arm, and led her tottering-

steps to the farthest window, unnoticed by Lady Elphinstone or her visitors,

notwithstanding his assertion that they were looking at her.

! " My poor friend ! " he continued, pressing her hand tenderly, " this has

; been a severe shock to you."

I " Tell me the truth, Sir Frede ric k," she said, raising her eyes to his. " I

: can bear anything but suspense. Is he marri ed? "

This was the second time that Guendolen's eyes had poured their lustre

; full into his own. The first time, th oug h flashing only scorn and hatred, they

had enthralled him in the bonds of passion. And now, turned upon him in the

appealing helplessness of sorrow, they dr ove him almost mad. His brain

reeled as hers had done, though from a different cau se. One word, and he

migh t win her grati tude for ever, and restore the roses to that pallid cheek,

and joy to that sinking heart. But Sir Fr ede rick was not the man to win

friendship by the truth, where a falsehood migh t help him to the object of

his desires. Conscious how important a blow might now be struck, could he| but preserve his presence of mind, he, by an effort, disp elled the mists from

| his brain and senses, heaved a hypocritica l sigh, and answered, " Di d you not

hear them say so ? " She did not speak, but the working of her features and

I her convulsi ve gripe upon his arm told him ho w much she felt.

" Let me conduct you to your room, dearest Gue ndolen, " he whispered, in

i accents of tender condolence. That tone restored her.

" I can go alone," she answered, in a hollow but collected voice; and with

drawing from his support, she quitted the room with a firm step.

" Obstinate wom an ! " he muttered , as he watc hed her departure , " my turn

will come, and then we will see if you can go alone! "

Guendolen had heard enough , backed by the artful suggestions of Sir

Frederick, to convince her that her lover had duped her; and when she

reached her own room she bolted the door, and threw herself on a sofa in an

agony of tears.

" Mar rie d! " she exclaime d. " Cruel, cruel Har ry ! An d yet he looked so

truthful that wh o could have doubted h im ? I wish I had stopped and

listened a little longer , and yet I have heard enough. These tears will never

do," she added, starting up, and wiping them from her face. " I must goou t; the air here is stifling. Oh, that I could get a breath of the free

mountain breezes, and go back to my own quiet little cottage, where I was so

happy—so hap py! till he came. I shall never see it again, unless I go there

to die. But I am too strong. I cannot di e; grief cannot kill me, and it

shall not waste me ! I wil l meet him as a stranger. He has hitherto seen

me weak and fond. He shall now knowr

me haughty, proud, defiant of him,

and fate, and ins ult ! Oh ! for the free fresh breezes of the hi ll s! My very

heart is stifling ! "

" If you please, ma'am, your horses are at the door," said the page,

entering.

" True—I forgot that I had ordered them, " said Guendole n, instantly

restored to the outwa rd semblance of composure by the presence of a servant,

" Send my maid,"

" W h o s e horse is th at ?" said Sir Frede rick, stopping as he was leaving

the house to admire a magnificent iron grey that a mounted groom was

leading up and down.

" Mrs. Elphinstone's, sir," replied the man, touching his hat.

"S he must be a first-rate horsewoman to ride such an animal as that,"

thought Sir Frederick. "H av e you been long in her service?" he asked

aloud.

" Only just e ngaged, sir," was the reply .

" Do you know who purchased this horse for her ? "

" My lady bou ght them both herself, sir, of my old master, an d took me

at the same time because I wr

as used to them, and she said, sir, I had an

honest face—for a groom," he added, grinning.

" Has she ridden him y e t ? "

"On l y in the yard, sir, on the day she tried him."

At this moment Guendolen appeared, and seemed not too well pleased at

the sight of Sir Frederick.

" My dearest Guendolen," he exclaimed, advancing towards her.

"S ir ," said Guendol en haughtily, " I must request you not to address me

in such a familiar style."

" Your husband, Guendolen," he said reproachfully:

" Not so, sir," she replied. " W e have been strangers so long that a little

more ceremon y should be observed between us." Wi th a slight bow that

was intended to put a stop to the discuss ion, she descended the steps.

" You are not going to ride that animal, I hop e, " he said, following her," I am sure it is not safe. Tak e Sylvi a's po ny for to- day , and l et me ride

this prancing fellow ; for I ve ry much fear he is not to be relied up on. "

"T ha nk you ," she answered, " I prefer r iding my own hors e; I am not

fond of ponies, and I have perfect confidence in my courage and skill as a

horsewoman."

" A t least wait til l my horse is saddled, " said he, "a nd I will acc ompany

you."

" I am obliged for your politeness," she replied, " but I prefer going alone."

Th e groom stood ready to help her into the saddle, but Sir Freder ick

pressed forward to render this service, and she accepted it with an utter

I indifference that was more galling than the most absolute refusal could have

j been. He whispered one of the footmen to order his own horse to be bro ught

J round without a moment's delay, and then endeavoured to gain time by the

j pretext of examining the girths and bridle of Guendolen's horse, and

| arranging the folds of her habi t; but it was of no use. Whe the r it was that

I she divined his intentio n, or was simply impatie nt o f his presence, she was no

! sooner mounted than she "g av e her noble horse the rein ," who , curvet ting

and prancing in a way that would have alarmed most riders, proceeded acrossthe square. The last chance was to get some information from the groom.

" You are going to Hyde Park, I suppose," he suggested.

" I suppose so, sir," said the man, and touching his hat he started off after

his mistress.

Sir Frederick stormed and chafed, and swore that a horse had never before

| taken so lon g to saddle, and yet in a very short time he was in Hyd e Park,



4 2[May 10, I860.

exciting every body' s attention by the way in which he galloped about,

passing all his friends wit hou t seeing them , and staring in every direction for

Guendolen.

" Wh y , Elphinstone ! are you moonstruck ?" cried one horseman, at length

tappi ng hi m on the arm w ith his whip before he could fix his attention.

" What are you staring about so for—have you lost anything ? "

" Have you seen a lady on a grey horse ?" said Sir Frederick eagerly.

His friend laughed till he nearly fell from his saddle. " Yes," he said, " I

have seen one."

" Wh ere is she ?—which way has she gone ?"

" Are you really so anxious to know ?"

" Yes, yes. Leave off this foolery, and tell me where I shall find her."" She was cantering up and down Rotten R ow when I saw her ."

" A splendid creature," said Sir Frederick, " on an iron-grey charger ?"

" Oh, o h ! " laughed his friend again. " A splendid creature, on an iron-

grey charger!"

"Come, come, a truce to this folly," said Sir Freder ick. " I woul d give

the worl d to find her. "

" Le t us com par e notes first," said the other , " and see that we mean the

same person. The lady I saw was very thin."

" The one I want to see," said Sir Frederick, " is not fat, but plump."

" M y ia dy is at least fifty."

" Tut, t ut! The one I am in search of is six-and twenty, at the most ."

" T h e lady I am describing, " continued his tiresome friend, "we ar s a

man's hat like a Welshw oman , has a sharp nose, sharper eyes, and chin to

mat ch; and I'll be sworn, temper ditto. She also wears a standing-up collar,

and a riding-habit that seems to have been made in the year one; and she

rides a tremendously tall old horse, just as gaunt and bony as herself."

" Fancy the opposite of all you have described, then," said Sir Frederick,

"mo unt ed on a mad, half tamed devil of an iron-grey, and you have got herdescription."

" W h o s e description ? " said another gentleman, com ing up.

" A lady that Elphinst one has seen, and I should imagine, fallen suddenly

in love wi th ; for to my certain knowl edge he has been running about for the

last half hour in search of her."

" Ah , yo u should have seen such a creature as I saw half an hour ago on

the road to Wi mbl edo n. Such a magnificent woma n ! Such a horsewoman!

An d mou nted o n one of the finest gr eys that I ever saw in my lL c. "

" What was the colour of her hair ? "

" Bro wn. He r veil was thrown back—so I had a good view of her."

" On the road to Wi mbl edo n, did you sa y? " said Sir Frede rick.

The two friends exchanged a merry glance. " Y e s , " replied the last

comer. " And if yo u are goi ng in search of her I 'll show you the wa y. "

" An d I will go with y ou ," said the other, " i f you have no objection."

Sir Frederick would rather have dispensed with the com pany of both ; but

as he had no fair pretext for doin g so, they rode on toget her, and wh en near

Putney Bridge they met Guendolen's groom returning at an easy pace. Sir

Frederi ck recog nised him immedi ately, and, hastily pulling up, demandedwhere his mistress was.

" I followed my lady to Wimbledon Common, sir," said the man, "a nd

there she bade me return to town, and be at the stable at six o'clock ready to

take her horse when she came back."

" Is she alone ? " said Sir F rederi ck, while his two friends ex changed looks

of intelligence.

" Ye s , sir, qui te alo ne, " said the groom; adding cautiously, "s he was

quite alone when I left her, sir."

After a few more questions the trio proceed ed on their way. By making

inquiries they followed her for some miles beyo nd the common, and set last,

when the sun w ras setting , they came in sight of her. She was lean ing

forward with her elbow resting on her knee, pensively watching the descending

sun . He r horse seemed to be influenced by the calmness of the scene and the

sadness of his rider 's feeli ngs, and st ood still , as thou gh he too enjoye d the

beauties of the sunset. N ow and then Guendolen passed her handkerchief

over her eyes, which showed that she was weeping. The three horsemen,

bei ng to the eastward of her, w oul d not be easily detected if she turned round

from gazing on the glowing wes t; b ut they took the precaution to place

themselves behind a clump of trees, from which they continued to watch her

with even less chance of observation.

Thei r movements, however , were perceived by the horse, for he turned his

head and saluted his brethren w ith a loud neigh. In spite of his eudeavours

to keep him quiet, Sir Freder ick's horse answered the challenge. Guendolen

turned hastil y, but seeing no one, as they were by that time behind the

bushes, she concluded it was some horse that was grazing near, and turned

again to contemplate the sunset. As the glori ous orb disappeared wholly from

her sight, she waved a wild farewell to the last sun that was to shine upon her

happiness, and hastily turning, galloped desperately along her homew ard road.

Th e three gentlemen followed at a cautious distance until they entered the

town, when they ventured upon a nearer approach, and wa tched her to the

door of the stabl e, into wh ic h she entered, much to their surprise, and did

no t return.

" I say, Harl ey, " whispered one of Sir Frederic k's friends to the other, " I

suspect that Elphinstone's interest in this fair rider admits of an easy expl a

nati on. She is the wife or daught er of one of his stable-p eople , and he has

detected her in the act of sporting his horses without l eave."

" That cannot b e, " replied the person addressed. " Remem ber how he

spoke to the groom."

"T ru e enough ; my theory, I see, falls to the ground. Wh at the deuce is

it , then ? A lady of condition living in a stable !"

" I have it !" exclaime d Sir Frederick, who had been moodily watching

the door. " She has go t a key to the door leading from her rooms to the

stables. She is determined to be might ily independent, anyhow ."

[To de continued,)

T H E G O V E R N E S S .

Th e old story—I was a governess; a poor dependant in a noble house.

I had m any times seen the father o f my two little darlings. I knew he was

handsome, tho ugh I sel dom raised my eyes to his. I thou ght hi m unwont edly

gracious, but that was all. The y tol d me I was beautiful. Eve n the stately

old housekeep er, stately to all but me, used to part my long hair with her

slender fingers; and once she said, in a dreamy sort of way, " It's very fine

and glossy, chil d, it's v ery soft and silky. In all the wide world , chil d,

there is nothing like a beautiful face; and the Creator made man in his

image. Oh, be thankful, chil d, that you are lovely; but often, often think

that"through eyelids as white as yours, thr ough lips as ruby, on roseate cheeks,over lofty bro ws, thr ough lon g and gold en tresses, bet ween soft fingers, under

gleamy teeth, the worms, the worms have revelled, child !"

How I shudder ed at thi s! and once, when she spoke in her cold way, the

baronet came in, saying, " Don't frighten her, good Mrs. Hunt ." Even then,

I did not think upon his kind glances and tender interest, as some girls might.

The chil dren, fair-haired darlings, how they loved me ! The y were both

beautiful. So lovely! Grace was a fairy, sparkling- eyed c hild . Gertrude

had deep, dark, shinin g eyes. The y were well named. Gertru de was , calm

and reflective, given to strange sayings and dreamy, mysterious t hou ght s;

Grace was only happy when both dimpled hands were heaped with roses, and

kisses were sh owere d on her ro und cheeks ; she lived in an atmosphere o f love.

Gertrude, yes, even then, I think she had a being in Heaven.

I was only a governess, and I took no airs upon myself. I was very

humble- minded, for I had seen great trouble and pove rty; very grateful, for

my situation was a delight ful on e, and everyb ody was kind to me. Ther e was

a friend of the famil y wh o always affected me strangely. She was a nobl e

lady, proudl y handso me, rich and titled. She pr etended to be my friend, but

her cold, suspicious glances confused and made me unhappy. She gave memuch advice, was always telling me how poor and lowly I had been and

ho w humble I should be, cautioning me to beware of the baronet, and giving

dark, mysterious hints that invariably frightened me into a headache, and led

me to shun the good baronet.

One day whe n my brain was ho t and heavy , I carried little Grace over to

Lad y Isabel, as she had requested me. M y bro w beat and burned intoler ably,

so that I could not lift it with ease.

" Y o u are getting subject to these headaches," said Lady Isa bel ; " yo u

suffer much, don't you ?"

" More than I can tell," I answered, faintly.

" I can relieve you easily," she quietly remarked.

" H o w ? Tel l mc , for it is very painfu l," I cri ed.

He r look flashed thr ough my brain. She sat close beside me ; she g athered

up my heavy curls. " Y o u r hair, child," she muttered with almost closed

lips, " it will induce brain-fever—kill you, pe rhaps; let me cut it off," and

she reached her scissors, fastened in their silver sheath.

" N o — n o !" I cried, for I was proud of my hair, and like a flash came the

hideous thought that this grand, beaut iful wom an was jealo us of me—of m e!a poor little governess.

He r eyes flashed fire; she stood, her jewe lle d hand lifted, her eyes glea ming

with furious passion.

" Oh ! yo u think yourse lf a paragon of beauty, " said she, " I can see.

You wish to retain your long ringlets, that you may mesh them about the

baronet's heart. Yes, you think your bright eyes will enslave him. Yes,

you poor beg gar ; and so they may ; but mark me, minion, only to your

disgrace. He knows how well you love him—laughs at it—despises you for

it ; he—he told me so. "

A blan k came o ver my life. Oh, the weary time that passed ! I wou ld

no t look at nor speak to the baronet, till our little Gertru de died. I saw her

well at even ing ; I was roused at midni ght by the baronet himself. A deathly

chill crept over me, as I cried, seeing his white face, " Leave me, sir—how

dare •"

He had not heard me, I humbly hoped, for his words dispelled my terror.

" M y little Gertrude is dying," he said, " and calls for you."

Till she died, that dear head rested on my bosom ; in the morning, I laid

back her damp curls and kissed her cold lips. She was gone." I must go ," I whispered over her cl ay —" I cannot stay her e; it is

agony."

So not lo ng after I gathere d m y few clothes , and stole softly from the

house that envy and jeal ousy had made terrible to me. I shall never forget

that night. The hills were white with moonlight, and I wanted to pluck one

violet to take with me. In that quiet hou r I knelt sobbi ng over the little

mound, breathed one prayer, gathered my flower and turned to go—I knew

not whither. A tall form stood beside me ; I could not fear him now , nor

dislike him ; he was so pale, so sorrow ful, as he said, " Lilli an, what does

this mean ? Where are you going, my child ?"

Hi s voice trembled. I turned away, and the tears ran down my cheeks.

" D o we not treat yo u well, Lilli an ?" he asked, how mournfu lly!

" Yes, oh ! yes," I murmur ed, " y o u have been only too kind. "

" A n d my poor little motherless child ," said he ; "w ou ld you leave her,

Lillian ?"

At this I lost all my self-control. " I f you had not jested at me ," I

sobbed, " despised me, boasted that I—I "

" Stop , Lilli an, what do these words mean ?" he asked, in stern tones." Lady I sa be l! " I gasped. A s I grew calm, as far as my delicacy would let

me, I gave her cruel language, wore! for word.

" It is false, false—all false," he said, taking my hand ; " for so far from

boasting that I knew you loved me, Lillian, I did not dare believe that one

so young , so beautiful, so good and gentle, might feel other than sentiments

of friendship for a man so much older and graver than herself."

I Hi s voice had gro wn soft and musical. I was astonished—overwhelmed,

j My confidence deserted m e.



May 19, 1SG0.] U S E F U L I N F O R M A T I O N A N D A M U S E M E N T . 4 8

" Yes, Lillian, gladly would I make you my own dear wife," lie added,

drawing me to his side. " True, you have neither gold nor station, but the

wealth of a pure, glad young heart like yours, is all I ask. Say, will you

take the place of the sainted one who lies here with little Gertrude ? Lillian,

tell me—can you love me well enough to marry me ? "

Oh, heaven knows I had long, long loved him, not daring to whisper it to

myself in the darkest night; and over Gertrude' s grave I answered him

" Ye s . "

Poor Lady Isabel! She had trusted to her beauty, her gold, her power,

and they had failed her. Whe n she first saw me with my noble husband she

grew white wit h anger, disappointment, and terror, that her duplicity had

been discovered. Poor Lady Isabel!—she is unmarried to this clay ; and she

loved the baronet herself. 0 . C.

T H E D A F F O D I L .

S um m e r has flowers in many bowers ,In th e meadow and by the r i l l ;

Sh e strews them around o'er all the gro undWith a hand most bounteous s t i l l ;

Of every hue from scarlet to blue,And of every form are they,

Ho w sweet th e seent f rom the ir bosom sbent

In morning- hours or twil ight grey !Spring {lowers are f ew, but g ay is the ir hue,

An d their coming cheers us still,For a friend in need is a friend indeed,

And of such is the daffodil.

i It gives it s flowers 'mid Apri l showers,"l is th e cottager 's garden queen ;

, O'er th e olive ground it flingeth ai*oundI It s bel ls of yel low and leaves of green.

There ar e fairer flowers in the rich man'sbowers ,

| And even in spr ing ar e seen ;

| But the poor man know s bu t fe w of those,So the daffodil is his queen,

I Which bo ws to the rain, but lifteth again

| He r cu p to the sun's first gleam, j A nd passeth away w i th th e spring's decay,

I Nor kno wet h the summer 's beam. M. M .

T H E P A R T I N G T O N P A P E R S ;

BEING THE LIFE, LECTURES, AND LOVE MATTERS OF MRS. PRUDENCE

PARTINGTON, RELICT OF THE HEROIC CORPORAL, PAUL PARTINGTON.

M R S . P A R T I N G T O N ' S M E M O I R S .

The philology of the great Confuse-us points directly to marriage; this

is much more the case if the match be of that sort I call matter o' money

all; then indeed hafter the fust tinder passion the match will elucidate the

precincts of the Confugian philology!

Ah ! Mr . Herrauld, Confuse-us was a great philologer; but he did no t

rightly apprehend the female 'art. The 'arts of the sects is so steep, that

it is very difficult to reach the bottom. There is no knowin' where to

take 'e m ; but there is one thing which most women can't refuge, and that is

an imposition of matter o' money . Sum, indeed, like Queen Betts, determi

nates to die vergers; but then they are imperious monarchs, or else they do i t

like the Romish Carterlicks for the sake of the priest's religion, and they

shuts themselves up, takes the wail, and never walks outside of the walls to

save their poor soles ! An' they cuts of their heir, counts beecls, gets up in the

mornin' to their vespers ; pulls ver y sorriful phases, and beers the tollin' of

the sonambula, and shuns for ever the due-ties of a wife, and the joys and

sorrows of paternity. Such is the picter of a poor deluded excuse !Well , sir, when I druv away the geese, there was one old gander as I

couldn't drive away. Th e geese were driving their bills into the small

shootin verjuice of the garden, an' that ar' Elkanah B. Settle was a drivin'

his persinuatin' personifications into the widder's dissolute 'art. When I cum

back they was quite cunifortable, a sippin' rum and water out o' one tombola

like a couple of love birds.

" Have you exonerated them birds out o' the tater patch ?" ses my mother .

" Al l but won," ses I, lookin' spiteful at Elkanah—"I can't drive him

o u t ! "

" Take a bit o ' red cloth atop o' a long stick," ses my mother, "an d he'll

walk his chalks."

" I f he A v a s approbated with a touch of a red-hot poke r he migh t fly ," ses

I ; " but I 'm afraid he'll turn spiteful."

" Marm Podgers, " ses Elkanah, i s great hies a glowerin' like a tom-cat's

when he's 'lecturcfied. " Marm," ses he , " the gel's rite. Th e worm will

turn, and sometimes w rorms sting."

" Them's blind worms then," ses I . " They're called so in our country."

Elkanah didn't say nothin', but went on casting the contortions of hisship's eyes at my mother. " Minister Podgers," ses he, " was a careful man

—That's wh y he used these mettle spoons."

"Mettle , Mr . Helder ! " ses my mother, br idlin 'up. "Th ey air mettle,

satinly ; but that are mettle's silver mettle."

" O h ! " ses the elder, pleased like; and so he went on till he had wormed

all the secrets o' the prison house, as Hamblin calls them, out o' pore

mothe r—how many helps she 'ad, as they call domestic niggers, and ho w

many pillar-cases, and wot Avas paid for the screechin' shop, and e veryth in'.

Wall, I was so mad, that at last I couldn't maintain my feclins no longer.

" Oh my," ses I, breakin' out, " here's poott y poetry ! An d are yo u fond of

ubiquitous verse, 'cos I ' l l read you a potation, Elder ? " An d I read—

Governer B. is a sensible man,

He stays to his home, art looks arter his folks ;

He draws his furrer as straight ez he can,

An" into nobodys tater patch pokes.

" I wish some folks," ses I, " 'u d be as Avise and circumspicious as

Guvcrner B," and I bounded out o' the room.

Elkanah g u v an uncomfortible snigger I heerd, for I didn't absquatulatemyself further nor the keyhole.

"Marm Podgers," ses he, "expected reluck of our suspected pastor, that

little ge l is too sharp. She's hold enuff to be your sister, not your dorter;

but I must say that your prodigy doesn't do you justice."

As he said this, I seed him, the consummat in' erector, incircl e her waste Avith

his harm. At this site I pranced out of my paternal dwellin' and bust into tears

of contrition. Ah, I Avas dubi ousl y an orph an then. As I went out I heerd the

echer of a chaste solution on the Avidder's lips !

Wel l it taint no use for me to dwell on this melancholic proportion of my

true fiction. Elder Settle Avas like Seizer : he came, saw, and conkered ! H e

gave himself hairs, and portended that he a v o s the very squintessence of pie-

house satiety. Wh en she prey ed upon her husband's grave, he comfitted her.

Whe n she larfed, he sniggered, for he avcII knew the mollifications of our

'arts. Hall A ve women A v a n t is true symphony; and then, besides this, the

cunnin of pie-ho use men is beyon d honduras. My pore moth er Avas only too

Avilling to refrigerate his kind infection, and A v e n he imposed the fatal question

she answered "yes," an' wos u-nightcd in the A v h o l l y bands of matter

o' money. All the silver spoons, t h e tw o black niggers, and the littel farm

were maid over to the consignin' elder; he became my pa-in-law, and I hisdorter.

Here A v a s a change ! Yo u can have no consumption of my feelins. Life

I felt A v a s a veil of affection and university. My infectiou s pa ' regularly

hated me . My sight was pison to him, and Avon he had got the upper hand

of the widder, he treated her like an ignor ant Hanni bal. He used her A v o r s e

than a camelion! H e portended also to be pie-house, but I don't believe

there wos a syllabub of piety about him. If I Avas given to tale-bearing I

could dishcover some feAv secrets about mi pore ma'. But, poor eluded

creecher, I will preserve her in the silent cistern. I Avas very miser able, and

so A v a s ma, and that precocious Elkanah B. Settle had it haul his own Avhey.

W o t can two pore helpless A v o m e n do agin a man ? Ah me ! men are f ull of

prosody and dessert.

Well , I wo s standin' very miserable, like a desolated orphan, at the hedge

of the tater patch, when I heerd the drum's incordint sound—the mortial

hair of Yankee Doodle rose upon the evenin' Avind. I wTaited and waited

until I see marchin' up our street an immense body of men, persisting of four

Avith a fife and a drum, and a non-commissioned officer in d e m a n d . They

A v o r e the uniformity of the great Disunion. They A v e r e the hayrows as werenot vanished at Bunkey's ill. My 'art Avas stirred within me. I inconfidently

A v i s h e d that I Avas one of the mail sects, and could rite for my country. I Avas

but hayteen, and as full of'val uer as an inflammated ba lloo n is Avith glass.

Well , those mortial banns advantaged upon our eottige. "F or 'a r d! " ses

the corporeal, till he corned rite in oppersition to our 'umbel cot. "H ol t! "

he shouts, and they all stood like statutes.

" Pleese, miss," ses the corporeal—I could tell that the young file was of

some rank by the strips of his arm—•" pleese, miss ," ses he, " may I

confabulate Avith an A v h o l e comrade ? I A v a s but a drumming-boy A v h e n he

Avas a fool private, bu t I' ve g ot my gra de IIOAV, yo u see ; and if y ou tell the

Reverence Parsing Podgers as an old cumrade 'as marched out of his rout

to see him, he'll fall in Avith his left fut for'ards like a trump."

My i' s filled with the sweet solicitors of greef. " M y pore pa, " sed I,

" he'll no more march agin ! "

" W o t ? " ses he, struck all of a heep. " W o t ? Isn't he on the books of

the regi men any longe r ? Ain't there no number 187 ? Pore Pod gers ! Is

he ded ? Strike up, me lads," ses he, "strike up ' H e ' l l no more march

agin !' " and awayA v e n t

fife an' drum a play in' of that beautiful and solemnmarch in Sol.

" A n d to A A m o m b , " sed I, " 'e v I the pleasure o f speakin' ? "

" T o an o f i i s e r of the States," ses he ; " to Corporeal Paul Partington."

His manly tons quite threaded my 'art. He looked like a Nero. So bold,

so Avinnin', so confidential; my 'art went pat, and quite evaporated.

" A n d A v h o may I have the pleasure of redressin ? " ses he. I told him my

name Avas Prudence Podgers. "That ' s lucky," ses he, "becos ' if A v o t I A v a n t

'appins"—an he looked at me as soft as a piece of shot sil k—" if A v o t I want

'appins you'll have no cessation of clinging to your committals."

" My A v o t ? " ses I, all of a cons tellat ion.

" T h e letters of your nom de plum," ses he , for the corporeal could talk

forrin ; " yourn is Podgers, mine is Partington."

So saying he dismissed his army, gave his me n their bullet, and entered

the familiar roof.

From that day, as the poetic Homo says, " m y flint A v a s fixed."

(To be continued.J

TEMPLE SUN-DIAL MOTTO. —Ma ny hundr ed per sons IIOAV li ving must

| remember the vertical sun-dial Avith a very remarkable motto on the front of

| a building at the Temple in Lond on. But most of them probably never heard

j of the curious tradition—probably a true one—respecting the motto. When

I a fewr

years ago the building Avas taken doAvn and rebuilt, i t i s likely the

i benchers A v e r e either ignorant of the tradition, or had forgotten it, else they

| Avould probably have restored the sun-dial A v i t h its motto. Perhaps they may

\ even yet be induc ed to do so. The traditio n is this:—That A v h e n the sun-

I dial Avas put up the artist inquired Avhether h e should (as A v a s customary)

! paint a motto under it ? The benchers assented, and appointed him to call at

i the library a t a certain day and hour, at A v h i c h time they Avould have agreed

' upon the motto, It appears, howeArer, that they ha d totally forgotten this ;

and when the artist or his messenger called at the library at the time

appointed, he found no one but a cross-looking old gentleman poring over

some musty book. "Please, sir, I am come for the motto for the sun-dial."

— " W h a t ' d o yo u wa nt ?" Avas the pettish answer; " Avhy do you disturb

m e ? " — " P l e a s e , sir, the gentleman told me I Avas to call at this hour for a

motto for the sun-dial."—"Begone about your business!" was the testy

reply. The man, cither by design or mistake, chose to take this as the answerto his inquiry, and accordingly painted in large letters under the dial,

"BEGONE ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS." Th e bencher s Avhen they saw it decided

that it was very appropriate, and that they Avould let it stand; chance having

done their \vork for them as A v e l l as they could have done it for themselves.—

Notes and Queries.

http://vork/

http://vork/



[May 1!), 1800.

T O C O R R E S P O N D E N T S .

PHILOMATH is a foreigner, resident am ongs t us since the

yea r 1852, and is re iiiired to devot e fourte en hour s

dai ly to his dutie s. He is fond of reading, and is

des irou s of acq uiri ng a fluency o f spe ech in the lan

guage of his adopted cou ntry, but finds himself

ire [uen tly at a loss for word s, or blur ts out some

grand iloque nt wo rd in the wrong place. He is study

i n g Cobbett's English Grammar, and he cann ot have a

better master. To this he shoul d add a shilling

Webster'* Pocktt Dictionary, and learn by heart daily a !

certain num ber of wor ds. The key to the speaking of

any language is the implant ing of i ts wor ds upon the ;

memo ry. In a most interest ing volume of MissionaryTravels in Eastern Africa, just publish ed, Dr. Krapf,

th e au thor , the son of a small farmer in Ger many ,

bears out this remark, wh ich acquires further weight

from the fact that by i ts application during his mis-

sionary labours among st the heathen he acquired ma ny

of the African languages, hi ther to but oral , and reduc ed ;

them to form and writ ing, printing b o o k s in them for

the use of the nati ves and future missio nari es. In his

interest ing au tobiogr aphica l memoi r of his b o y h o o d he jsay s: —" Th e early morni ng a lways found m e on my j

read to T ubi nge n with satchel on my back, in which, \

besides my books , were a bott le of sweet must and a jgreat h unc h of bread, whi ch wer e to consti tute my

s imple mid-da y's meal, and which I quic kly con sum ed

b e t w een twelve and one o ' c lock , under the wil lows o n

the bank s of the Neckar , in order mor e leisurely to

devour my Latin Grammar an d SchdUr's Vocabulary,

which I soon learnt b y heart. In doing this I was

impelle d by a desire to imprin t as man y wor ds as

possible on m y m emo ry ; and in after t imes, whe n I

wished to acquire any ne w and hi ther to u n k n o w n

tongue, I found this by far the most desirable me thod

of proceeding ."

G E R T R U D E , four year s a go, rece ived the addresses of a ,

young gentlema n, but rejec ted them , as no corres pond- ;

ing feeling was kindled in her bosom. After the lapse jof some two years the love r ren ewe d his suit, and as he

had in the interval be en " con sta nt and t rue ," out of ,

pity she prom ised him her hand. No w she is tor- jmen ted wit h the impre ssion that she does not l ove him |

wel l enough to marry h im.— A c o m m o n occurrence

with caprici ous and fast idious you ng ladies, wh o ac- ;

cording to the familiar say ing, " do not kn ow the ir own ;

m i n d s f rom one minute to another." There is , however, some excuse for her. L o v e is a cur ious sensati on ;

its manifestati ons are as var ied as the chara cters of

indivi duals . In som e it is a temp est, in others a

soothing day drea m, and in innu mera ble instances a

series of exhau sting hysteric s. G E R T R U D E belongs to

th e latter class. She loves, and she does not ; yet wh en ,

the fit c o m e s on she longs to keep her word. Marriage

is the only cure for such a state of mind. It wil l |

rat ionalise her by render ing her temper amen t m or e jequable. There is a wide difference between compa s

sion and l ove ; but sincere pity well nursed gra dually Igrows into a warm er and mor e active se ntiment,

an d then th e heart glows with a fire which only ex- ;t remely unpropi t ious c i rcumstances can quench .

ELLEN ST. C L A I R . — I t is the old story , and reads l ike our

nove lett e of " Nelly G ay," in No. 8S8. Your friend fell

in love, as was very natural, and the gentl eman h ad

the discernment to fondly appreciate i t . He had to go

abroad, and the y corr espo nded for three years ; thencame a distracting si lence for two years. Your friend

fancied she had been j i l ted . But, lo and b ehold, the

first lover comes b ack t rue as steel to claim her for his jbride ! Alas for hope s so long cherished ! She was

already a wife ; and the gen tlem an' s friend s, fearful for I

his intel lect , advised him to marry and g o abroad, which ihe did. Before having , howev er , the husband al lowed

hi m to have an interview with his "first l ove . " Thus

aw k w ard l y situated the meet ing was necessary, but

the explana tion was satisfac tory; the letters of ea ch !

had miscarried. No w the course for ELLEN'S friend to I

pursue is clear and straightforward. She must not

nurse in se cret a pha nto m of the past. She married

precipitately, and must do her dut y to her wor thy

nusband, for such he appears to be. She had bette r

forget every memen to of the past , so that the story of

he r l ove may gradually fade into a poetical remi nis

cence, und imm ed by one trace of passion.

U N J E U N E H O M M E wants a wife with out the trouble of

a prel iminary cour t sh ip . His Turk i sh ideas of wom en

s h o w that inde ed he is a fast youth . He would obtain

a wife with as little cer emo ny as he would buy a piece

of che ese . Thi s flippant class of yo un g me n we are

aware mostly err f rom thoughtlessness ; but the ir l o w

opinion of yo un g wom en is an insult to the whole sex,

to their mothers and sisters in particula r ; for the y

m u s t only l ook upo n the m as house hold drudge s, sent

specially to minister t o the ir wants . Y o u n g men,

inflated by vanity and pr esum ption , t h in k they are

irresist ible at twenty -one, and acc ordin gly make fools

of themselv es, to the intense deli ght of the girls ; for

all you ng wo me n have a kee n sense of what is

supr emel y ridiculo us in beardless manh ood ; and they

invariably contr ive to punish " f o p s " s o m e h o w or

another. An d quite ri gh t; for al l wo me n should

ex ac t the utmo st part icle of the respect du e to them

f rom m en .

IGNORANT B L A N C H E . — T h e prefix yo u have chosen is the

ke y to you r chara cter; yo u are unobser vant, and lack

application. Make use of you r eyes and your ears,and yo u will find ple nty o f subj ect s to ta lk a b o u t ;

then read carefully what yo u do read, so that the sub

j ec t m ay b e c o m e impressed upo n your memory , and

those tw o faults of characte r wil l speedily disappear.

P O L L I E B.—Tr y and persuade he r that by your marr iage

she will not lose a daug hter , but gain a son. Bo not

bring her grey hairs with sorr ow to the gra ve.

CLARA has two lovers ; and her brother describes one as

" f a s t " an d t h e o t h e r " s l o w . " The fast one, having

to o muc h t ime on his hands, goes to theatres, casinos,

and conce rts ; the s low ma n goes to church, and is

very staid in his habits. He is not so w rell off as the

other, but seems to be more in earnest, for he has

declared, whic h the other has not. —We should not

cond emn a whol e class of you ng men for the follies of

a few. This is essent ially a fast age, and y ou th and

high animal spirits are carried along by the t ide. We

have fast c lerg ymen , wh o wande r far ft'om the prim

rose pa th of life, fast lawy ers , fast doctor s, fast legis

lators ; in fact, the re is terrible activity in every sphere jof life. B u t that idle fastness whic h runs into dissi

pati on is intolera ble—it is a vice ; on the othe r ha nd,

we have not mu ch faith in slow men— they arc apt tobe sly. But can a man be calle d " s l o w " when he

w o rk s hard, and leads an exemplary life? Looking at

al l the circ umstanc es, we sho uld say the ' ' slow " man

fo r CLARA, espec ially as he is her e qual in social position .

A near approach to equali t3 r in the married state is

on e of the best guarantees of future happiness.

EMMELINE a ttrac ts the notice of married m en and middle -

aged bachelo rs, but the yo ung men of her. acquainta nce

utte r ly ignore her existen ce. That is very ungallant

on their part, so that the ir elders out of pure sym path y

for her isolation pay her those d elicate at ten t ions du e

to every l ady f rom the opposi te sex. But EMMELINE

herself affords some explana tion of what othe rwise

w o u l d be an exc epti on to the general rule of English

life. She says she is ext re mel y fluent in spe ech, and

can talk on any subject . That explains the whol e

matte r . Engli shmen g enerally have a horror of wo me n

with an interminable flow of language. The y t h in k of

curtain lectures, " sc en es " not very bright, general un

t id iness throughout the house, dowdiness , goss ip , cant,

and tea, day after day. That is the reason wh y plai n,

shy, and r eseiwe d girls so often get married be fore

beautiful and acco mplis hed ones, but w ith a hu ndre dhorse-po wer of talking. The subject is wor thy the

at ten t ion of al l fine girls wh o delight in " sh ow in g off"

the ir qualifications.

C O N S T A N T C E L I B A C Y . — A youn g man wi th only £100 a

year wou ld not act wisely in ma rryin g a port ionless

girl , whose heal th was such that for the rest of her

life she woul d require unremitt i ng medi cal at tendan ce.

Such unio ns are objecti onable in every way, and are

cond emne d by the whol e medica l faculty. Neither

man nor woman should en ter into a matrimoni al

engageme nt wi th the cer ta in ty that it cou ld on ly

resu l t in misery to one or both of them. We regard

such marriages as moral suicides : they are a kind of

fraud upon nature, and we cannot too forcibly c o n d e m n

the con ceal ment by either par ty , before marr iage, of

his or her havin g incurable hereditary disease. But for

a youn g man or"w oman to en ter a house with the con

viction that it will be a hospi tal inste ad of a ho me , is

downrig ht lunacy . As our Correspondent made the

promise with his eyes wid e open , a ju ry wo uld award

small damage for the br each.

HOPELESS.—There is some truth and many grains of

sound sense in your remarks, but we cannot take sucha lugubrious view of the matter. It is t rue that in the

na ture of social arrang ements there are unfortunately

man y hindran ces to marriage, pecunia ry ones not being

the least acti ve. Our artificial hab its have also a good

deal to do with the que stion. But among which class

is marriage the least frequ ent? The poor and the rich

are each a marrying peop le . It is the m idd le class that

does not pay sufficient respe ct to a gra nd and be autiful

la w of nature. Absorb ed in money making , too many

of them only t h in k of a wife whe n they rnerety require

a nurse ; henc e an abundan t crop of old bachelors, a nd

an arm y of just ly dis conte nted old maids.

A R E F O R M E D D A N C E R write s very strangely. For years he

was a votary of Terpsic hore, and n ow he objects to the

healthful relaxation. Wh y ? Quee n Elizabeth danced,

so does our present gracious Soverei gn. Are the re to be

" no more cakes and ale " in the land, bec aus e a soli

ta ry individual has taken unto h imself a stringe ncy

w h i ch wou ld den y to the yo uthful of both sex es

on e of the mos t delightful an d invigorati ng of plea

sures ? There is , how eve r, some consolation for us al l

amids t this miserable mod ern asceticism. The days of

innoc ent mer rime nt are not yet over, and the dwell ings—homes they are not—in which j o y o u s song and

the inspiri t in g dance are tab ooed are " few and far

bet wee n." May they be less in num ber !—for what is

life without inno cent and invigorat ing en joyment ?

I N Q U I R E N D O . — A quiet dinner is a lux ury all men kn ow

ho w to apprec iate, and i ts great char m is the absence

of all fussy pre tenc e. Let the first cou rse hav e the sou p

at on e end and the fish at the other , unless yo u have a

nice water-so uchet, whic h at one and the same t ime

serve s for sou p and fish. T hen let the join t and pou ltr y

form the ne xt course, with any side-dishes, curry, fri

cassee, fricandeau, or the l ike. Sweet s to follow ; thenbutte r , chee se, salad ; an d last, the dessert. The plates

should be hot, and the wi ne i ced ; bu t ab ove all, as yo u

have two servants, on e of them should never leave the

room till the desse rt is on the table , and if poss ible

anticipate the want s of the guests by her w atchful

at ten t ion .

A P E Z Z L E D L O V E R . — I t is simply a matte r for you to

settle, and if you w rere to enfo rce the wish in the w ay

that yo u are priv .lege d to do, she woul d be sure to

respond to it. Yo u arc only to blam e, and it is not her

reticence, but your want of tact. In maki ng pre sentsto the affianced one, consult her tastes, w i t h o u t con

sult ing herself, and recoll ect that the gracefulness of

the gift is its t rues t value in her eyes.

C. M . — Y o u must emp loy a solici tor, and if the son will

not administer, take ou t letters of administrat ion

yourself. The prope rty must be d ivided amon gst al l

the children, share an d share alike.

CLAUDE O . — T h e co min g of age is a ver y fitting occasion

for a young man to entertain his friends in the way

ou r Corres ponde nt proposes, always taking for granted

that he has som e kin d relative or friend, w ho will takethe p lace o f hostess for the nonce, lest he finds eti

quette and female propriety step in, and kee p his

young lady friends from his quadrille par ty . T he

speech , of course—" there's the rub." If C L A U D E O .

Will be guided by what w e say, he will make no

a ttempt to stu dy beforehand what that shall be, but

leave it till the time comes , an d then simply say wha t

hi s heart an d good taste suggest .

E . B . W . R.—Smal l pieces of marble may be jo ined wi th

fresh plaster o f Paris. Lar ge piece s require a l ock or

dovetail joint cut into the marble, then filled in with

fluid lead, finally made g o o d with plaster.

A D A . — I t depend s upon the rate o f interest and the

terms agreed upon. At 5 per cent., roll ing interest, it

w o u l d dou ble itself in fourte en y ear s.

F. E . — T o gild glass, use gold s ize .—To paint on glass,

grind the colours in varnish.—To paint magi c lanternslides, see Nos. 251 and '285.

S. and F.— Quick silver can be purified b y either disti l la

t ion or by st ra in ing through chamois leather.

O T H E R C O M MU N I CA T I ON S R E C E I V E D . — E . A . A . — L I Z Z I E . —

S . K . — E . V . D . — M A U D B . — H . P . — S . E . — P E N N A . —

T I N Y . —M . E . — S . M . — G . W . J.— O. O. O. (read our

article on the Civil Service, in No. 8 8 0 ) . — M A R Y (tel l

your parents, and be guided by their counse l ; see No.

740) .—A. L. ( fancy wor k, such as may be obtained f rom

a ci ty warehou se).—F . A . (forward i t to us for him) .—

F O R E I G N E R (slightly) .—C. D. (passable for priva te dis

t r ibut ion).—MADGE W . (yo u did not act wisely, let the

matte r r e s t ) .— J . A . H . ( H o m e and Co., "Newgate

Street, E . C ) . — L I Z Z I E B . (duty always takes pre

c e d e n c e of pleasure) .—QU/ESITOR (present tense of the

passive verb, to be manifest ) .—EXCELSIOR (she is quite

fitted for a small t radesman 's wife ; but you are to oyoun g to ma ny , so l isten to your parents ' advice for

the pres ent). —A. M . Z. (the first and fifth collects as

app oin ted to be said after the Offer tory) .—E. D . B .

it must be lega lly dra wn and s tam ped ; of Mr. Good

man, bookseller, No. 407, Strand W . C . ) . — J O S E P H I NE D .

(il l-bred not to send an ans wer ; lout don 't m ak e

mounta ins out of molehi l l s) .—EMILY W . (very well for

a first a ttempt, but not for publicat ion).—SARAH B .

(yes ) . — D. E. S. (give your re asons ; no such l ines in

8 3 7 ) . — E D W A R D H . (tha nks; do so; they are acceptable) .

— E X C E L S I O R (st ick to your business, a roll ing stone

gathers no moss) .—J. F. J . (ask your mother ) .—B. B .

(his son ; n o ) . — V O L U N T E E R (apply to a member of the

corps ) .—J. II . S. M. R . (represent to your father that

your heal th is affec ted).— H. S. (yes, if not gui lty of an y

fault whi ch woul d sanction the dismissal ) .—G. M . (read

Lord Mahon's Life of Belisaries, or Gibbon's sketch in

th e Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire).—THOS. W .

(not suitable, first a ttempts seldom are ; send 2d. for

the extra postage we had to p a y ) . — E . S. R . (Claphara

is just like the rest of the world ; boys will be

boys ) . — CHAISE (see reply to S H A Y in No . SS9). —

R . D. R . (write to Mr. J . Hamm ond , 3, Beli Yard,

Doctor s ' Commons , E . C . ) . — A D A an d B E Z A (a year o rtw o ; the husba nd th e e l d e r ) . — F A N N Y (it may be o n l y

fanc y; ask ; yes, in confidence) . — 0. Y O R K S H I R E

(there is no success ion duty, as the copyho ld is to be

sold, and the pr oceed s distributed under the will) .—

T. B . M . (D r . A i m ' s system ma y be applied to any

s c i e n c e : it is the m ost na tura l yet in t roduced) .—

H E N R Y W . (yo u mistake our c a l l i n g ) . — A L E X A N D E R R .

(you ma y use the nam e as p r o p o sed ) .—R HYTHM (it is

a matte r of arrangement, and depends upon the na tureof th e d ep o s i t ) .—PEELI NG P O L L Y (in the metrop olis ;

yes). — F L O R E N C E A M Y (good ; pruden t). — F A N N Y

MAR THA (no t if he is ol d enou gh to mar ry ; else it is

t ime lost ) .—JUNIUS (see reply to W . T. in No. 889).—

C LA RA M C G . (to a type-fou nder as old metal , unless

yo u can meet with a printe r to purchase i t ) . — G E O . T .

(t o the Cour t of Divorce ; any respectable at torney).—

A N N I E an d L I L Y ( A N N I E ' S , auburn ; L I L Y ' S , flaxen).—

S N O W D R O P (i t is the sixth o f the forbidden degrees).—

L E L I A (protegee is a French word , and is applied to a

female depend ant). —E. H . (i t wil l not cease ; your

ow n name).—A. O. B . (on ly fo r rent or taxes).—

S. J. D. (the agr eeme nt seems to b ind the ma n and

not the mas t er ) .—M ATI LDA C. (the Numbe rs of the

Family Herald f rom the commen ceme nt are a lwaysin pr in t ; send 7d. for those requ ired, by pos t ) . — R. W.

(a pay ment m ust have been made within the first

twel vemo nth ; do not pay, but await the magistrate's

d e c i s i o n ) . — P A T R I C K T. (pr etty alb um verses, but not-

suited for public ation) .—J. L O N G (apply to a druggist).

P I E R E C A L K I N (see No. 835).—A P O O R S OF F ERER (o f

Mr. Bastick, chemist , Brook Street, London, W . ) . —

F L O R E N C E M A Y (pu t ox gall into the water).—ROSIE

(see N o . 5 2 6 ) . — A T A L A N T A (see Nos. S02 an d S83).—

NELLY F LORENCE (see No. S7^').—G. C. F. (see Nos . 249

an d 2 7 4 ) . — M A G D A L E N C. (see No. 074).—J. E D W A E D E S

(see N o . 3 6 3 ) . — M A N OF BUSINESS (see Nos. 359 and

304 ; yes, if otherwise qualified).—J C L I A M . ( to im

prove th e complex ion , see Nos. 527, 504, and 6 42 ; 4d.,

pos t f r e e ) . — L O V E LOCK (see Nos. 805 and 881).

N E W P UB L I C AT I ON.

Companion to Dr. Livingstone's Missionary Travels.

T R A V E L S , R E S E A R C H E S , A N D M I S S I O N A R Y

L A B O U R S , During an Eighteen Years' residence in the Ld<rlor, and

on the Coast of Eastern Africa ; together with Journeys to

Usambara, Ukombani, ami Khartum, and a Coasting

Voyage from Mombaz to Cape Dtlgado. By the Rev. Dr.

J . LEWIS KRAPF, late Missionary in the service of the

Church Missionary Society in Eastern and Equatorial

Africa. L o n d o n : T r i i b n e r k Co., 00, Paternoster Ro w.



V)AJ V.\ I860.] 4 5

F A M I LY H E R A L D .

T HE S CI E NCE OF LONG L I F E .

Th e civilisation of to-day is distinguished from that of past ages in nothing

more than in the respect it pays to human life. Barbarism is cruel, lavish,

and wasteful; semi-civilisation often equally so; but when true enlightenment

and Chr istianity step in, the respect paid to the perennial mirac le of life is

at once marked and established.

Life, of any sort, in the very highest or in the very lowest form, is a

standing m iracle. From the lowest polype, hardly to be distinguished

from a plant, or the vegetable hardl y to be separated fro m a stone, t he samemirac le is there, acting in high er or in low er degrees. Th e high er we ascend

the great er g rows the wronder, the more intense and c ompl icat ed the

marvel. Human life is itself a congeries of miracles. Fr om the bulb

of the hair, the brightness of the eye, and the redness of the lip , to t he

indura ted skin upon the sole of the foot, the body of man is indeed "fea r

fully and wonderfully made." Not onl y this, but his origin and his growt h, to

th e maturity of the man, is but an extensio n of the mirac ulous chain. The

pulsation of the heart, the extension of the finger, is each wonderf ul; what

then are the reception of outward nature upon the eye, the growth of thought •

in the brain, the el oquent langu age of the tong ue. Ful l of wonder s are the

Almighty's wor ks. Th e Caffre or the Earthman, the Caucasian or Mongo

lian, the crimi nal or the philan thropist , the i gnorant, or the phil osoph er, the

peasant or th e peer, equally exhi bit the m iracles we speak of. W e are far

and away above rank or pr ecedence in this matter; ours is an affair of

ganglions and nerves, muscles and bone, flesh and blood ; in fact of Life !

Life, being miraculous, is therefore precious. There is, humanly speaking,

nothing so shockingly wicked as taking life. Murder comprehends all kinds

of sin; and this, whether it be short murder or long murder, quick murder orslow murder, the murder wh ich is done wit h an oath, an angry word, and a

sudden blow, or the murder w hich is done by overwork in factories, in close

courts, by bad air, by foul feeding, and a thousand of those necessities which,

forced upon the hum an race by society , thin its ranks and shorten to every

indiv idual membe r the lengt h of its days. I f the sunshine be a glor ious thi ng,

and li ght and air, blue skies and fair winds, glor ious agents in produ cin g health

and life in that wonderful mater ial wh ich lies abou t us, he wh o, direct ly or

indirectly, deprives anything of these is guilty of murder. He may do this

ignorantly, he may do it without thought , he may totally overlook or utterly

deny his moral responsibility, but, nevertheless, he is guilty.

So much for the i mport ance of the subject. W e shall now endeavo ur to show

that more knowle dge would enable us to extend the sum of human life, because

such know ledg e as we have has enabled us t o d o so already to a great

extent. W e shall also try to prove that human life is not necessarily short;

that its exte nsion depends, under the wi ll of God, very muc h upon man himse lf; I

that if, as we believe it to be, it is good, it is a dut y to preserve and increase i t.

It is well to follow those scientific men u pon whose researches this essay [

has been built in the divisions into which they have marked o ut their subject— !Life. Naturally it divides itself into two parts, the first wherein the body j

increases in strength and size, infancy and you th ; the second wher ein it

decreases, manhood and old age; but these again maybe subdivided. The first

ten years constitute inf anc y; the second ten boyhood; the third ten youth,

from thirty to forty, second youth, in which all the illusions of the first too often

die ou t; the first manhood from forty to fifty-five; the second from fifty-five

to seventy ; then comes decay ; from seventy-five to eighty is the period of old

.age, and at eighty-f ive the second old age comm ences . These division s seem

to us very reasonable, and we predict that one who lives a life in all things

temperate and natural will find these not strongly marked indeed , but insen-

libly shading into one another. Shoul d any of our readers quote ag ainst

us the tenth verse of the 90th Psalm , " The days of our years are threescore

years and ten, " we can only say that in that "song of Moses," the royal

Psalmist took poetic licence. Many of the patriarchs doubled, nay quadrupled

the given peri od; nay at that time the sum of life on an average was longer

as now it is much shorter; and we wou ld further answer, that to make an

average fall below is equally false with making it fall above the truth. If we

fix the lim it of life at seventy, old age must begin very muc h earli er thanthe time at which we have fixed it.

But is there a necessity that human life should end at seventy ? His tor y

and expe rience say no. Ther e be many grave seniors as liv ely at sevent y

as others are at fifty; many there be stronger and better men. Is there any

comparison to be drawn between the lives of the inferior animals and of men

by which we may judge of the average length of our own ? Buffon has told

us that all the larger animals live about six or seven times the space in which

they continue to grow. Others, and those more scientific, following after him,

have reduced this to five times the leng th. But the true data are"here found

compared and arrange d by other writers who have followed Buffon and

Cuvier. The length of life is a multiple of the length of growth, thus : —

Man gr ows 20 years, lives 90 or 1 00 ; the ca mel grow s 8 years, lives 4 0 ;

the horse grows 5 years, lives 25 ; the lion grows 4 years, lives 15 to 20 ; the

ox grow s 4 years, lives 15 to 20 ; the dog grows 2 years, lives 10 to 12 ; the

cat gro ws 1J year, lives 9 or 1 0 ; the hare grow s 1 year, lives 8; and the

guine a-pig grow s 7 months and lives 6 or 7 years. The multipl e here is 5.

Thus, by physical analogy, we shall find that man gro ws for twent y years,

and his natural term of life should never be less than one hundred. Greatprudence in li ving, immense strength of constitution, and other circumstances,

should secure for men even a longer pe riod of existence. But then we

go to bed late and rise late; we strain our faculties, misspend our youth,

distress our minds, crib, cabin, and confine the body in the very narrowest

limits, and then expect the body to endure all this, and when it suddenl y

grows old, or succ umbs, we put d own the fault at the w ide door of Nature.

Was there ever so illog ical an anim al as man ? The re are those who dou bt

whether dogs canno t reason. Wh en they do reason t hey will certainly do it

better than we do.

The growth of man, or rather the termi nation of the grow th, is very easily

determined. XVe true sign of the term of animal g row th is to be found

in the reunion o f the bones to their epiphyses. So lon g as this union

does no t take place, the animal grows. As soon as the bones are united

to their epiphy ses the animal ceases to grow. An y person of an inquiring

spirit, when picking a chicken, can ascertain this truth. A certain substance

like gristle, of a very elastic nature, will be found at the end of each bone, and

in the very you ng is so far from bein g unit ed, that it comes away with the

greatest possible ease. Thi s is not tho roug hly un ited to the bones of any

animal till it has ceased to grow. In man this is when lie has reached

twe nty years o f age, and the l aw is therefore not very far wr ong w hen it

fixes the term of man attaining the rights and responsibilities of manhood at

twenty-one years of age.

Poets have told us that a man may have lived a very long life in a

very short space. The value of time is relative. Wi th our increased means

of speed, our method of thought , our manner of acquiring know ledge, there is

no doubt but that a man of thirty who has at school, college, and business,

well filled up his mome nts, has liv ed lon ger than the village patriarch wh o

has passed his bucolic existence quietly at home. "I t ma yb e, " cries one

hero of our modern writers, u by the c alendar of years, you are the older

man, but 'tis t^e sun of knowledge on the m ind's dial, shining bright and

chronicling thoughts and deeds, that makes true time." " A y , " says another,

" we should count time by heart beats; he lives longest who knows most,

thinks the wisest, acts the best."

Measured in this way, our poets and litterateurs have lived long ; but in

durat ion of tim e, as we shall see, they h ave found that an active, earnest, and

sad existence has not conduced to its length. Wh en Jacob was brou ght

before Pharaoh, that mona rch, no doubt struck by his appeara nce, said,

" How old art thou ? And Jacob said unto Pharoah, The days of the years of my pilgrimage are an hundred and thirty years \ few and evil have the days of

the years of my life been, and have not attained unto the days of the years of

the life of my fathers in the days of their pilgrim age." On looking back,

Jacob found one hundred and thirty years a short life; he lived seventeen

years after that. Compare with these years and with those attained by other

patriar chs, w ho m it wou ld be superfluous to quote, the short days of our gr eat

think ers. Spenser died aged 46 ; Shakspeare , 52 ; Kea t-, 24 ; Byron , aged

only 36. Thom son lived till he was 48 ; Milt on, till he was 66 ; Colerid ge,

till 62 ; and Pope attained, with his poor emaciated, crooked, little body, the

age of 56 ; whilst Gray lived just one year less ; and the medit ative , calm ,

and religious Wor dsw ort h lingered on till he was 80. Ye t he said—

Oh, but the good die first,

And we, whose hearts are dry as summer's dust,

Burn to the socket.

Wi th due deference, with every tender recollection for those gone before us,

we deny this. It is a poet 's thoug ht, and that only. The really good, the hard

working in brain and heart, often live till the end. Wor dswo rth , Colerid ge,and others will prove this. Oftentimes the tim id and tender- hearted turn to

the wall and die, as the Fre nchm en say, of chagri n, when they, could they

have lived on, would have been a blessin g to all around them .

Our la wyers live to a great age. Th e dry study of the law seems t o be a

preservative. The average age of lawyers above literary men is a l if et im e-

being 24 years. N ow the average age of the population of the Uni ted States

is only 22 years and 2 mont hs; that of England and Wa les 26 years and 7

months.

Gradually but surely the advance of science has im proved the chances of

life. The insurance offices of to-day can afford to insure at a lower premium

than they could when they were first established. In the aggr egat e, lire is

gettin g longer . In E nglan d also we find that life is longer than elsewhere.

Thus , in and since the year 1 821 , we have had one death in ev ery 58—b efor e

that per iod one in every 46 persons an nually. In Ger many , since 182 5, one

in every 4 5; in the Roman States, which in this and in many other instances

affords the lowest (and highest) number in statistical inquiry of the States of

Eur ope , we find one death in 28 ; turning to Asia, we have in Bom bay one

in every 20.But these inquiri es have made us to deviate slightly from our track. H o w

long ought we to live ? That is the great q uestion. Indiv idual instances,

those of Parr, Jenkins, Cornaro, and many others amongst the moderns and

the patriarchs—of the lower age only—amongst the ancients prove that a

greater age has in individual instances been constantly attained. Thomas

Parr, a Shrop shire labour er, live d till he was one hundr ed and fifty. H e was

an abstemious man, and of very strong make . He mar ried firstly at 80,

secondly at 120. Golou r M'Cr ain, of the Isle of Jura, who died in the reign

of Charles I. , is said to have kept 180 Christmases in his ow n hous e, and was

the oldest man o n record for upwards of 3000 years. Hen ry Jenkins, pro- 1

duced as a witness in a cour t o f law , swore to a hundre d and fifty years' i

memo ry; he died at a hundred and sixty-nine, or thereabouts. The old

Countess of Desmond was known by Sir Walter Raleigh, yet she had lived in

Edwar d the Fourt h's time. Lor d Bacon sums up her age to have been one

hundr ed and forty at the least. He adds, ter per vices dentisset —she had cut

three sets of teeth. Galen, the phys ician , liv ed till h e was one hundr ed and

forty. Platerus tells us that his grandfat her live d till he was one hundre d

and twenty. Wh en Sir Walt er llal eigh discovered Guiana he saw an oldking of Aromaia who was then one hund red and ten year s of age, and who

had come to see him, the same morning, fourteen miles on foot.

In our own modern times, we could—should we not tire our readers—quote

very many instances of centenarians, and of those of greater ages. Upo n

some one disputing the fact, one of our contemporaries was overwhelmed with

instances. Certai nly, at the very least, the " threescor e years and te n" spaa



4 0 T H E F A M I L Y H E K A L D — A D O M E S T I C M A G A Z I N E O F [May 19, 1800.

of life is conti nually exceeded. In the obituary of the Times, 8th December,

1859, there were nine deaths of an average of 85 years each. On the

19th of the same mon th, taking the paper hap-hazard, we find seven deaths,

giving an average of above 80 years each. The males in these predominat e

over the females. Of a score or so of the peers of En gla nd who d ied during

1859, the united ages of 16 amounted to 1,229 years, giving an average of 76

years to each. Our hereditary legislators generally live to a great a ge ; so

do our cler gy ; our artists are short-lived, our literary men still shorter.

Th e secret of long life appears to consist in temperance, sobriety, chastity

—three virtues stron gly inculcated by the Christian reli gion. Calmness and

evenness of temper ; f aith and its concomitants , cheerfulness and hope, are

great conducers to a long life, and also to a happy one. The old adage of a

short life and a merry one is very false. Accide nts excepted, the short livesare general ly the m ost misera ble; the shortest lives on the average being

those of the over-worked factory people. Neither drunkards nor gluttons,

nor the idle, dissolute, and lazy, can ho pe legit imately for length of days.

Cornaro, who was w ild i n his youth , lived to a great age by reform ing his

excess, and eatkig so little, that at last an egg per day sufficed him. The

rich man, says Temple, who wishes to live happily, must live like a poor one.

Considering that in our society since the inventi on of cooking each of us eats

annually fourteen hundred and sixty meals—not counting lunch eons—i n the

course of the year, it behoves us to eat little. Man y of us, too many, dig our

graves with our teeth, accordin g to the old saying. But did wre prize life as

we ought , did we use our time as we should, there is little doubt but that, as

we have showm, we should be able not only to render human life more worthy

of its all-wi se Creator, but also to extend the sum of our existence very

materially. And who will deny but that life in any state or class is a blessing

which we may all legitimately desire to prolong ?

THE A R I T H M E T I C O F L I F E .

Threescore and ten, by common calculation,

Th e years of man amount to—bu t we 'll say

He turns fourscore; yet, in my estimation,

In all those years he has not lived a da»y.

Out of the eigh ty you must first rememb er

The hours of night you pass asleep in bed;

And, counting from December to December,

Just half your life you'll find you have been dead.

To forty years at once by this reduction

We come ; and sure the first five of your birth,

While cutting teeth and living upon suction

You're not alive to what this life is worth!

From thirty-five, next take, for education,

Fifteen at least, at college and at school,

When, notwiths tanding all your application,

The chances are you may turn out a fool.

Still twenty we have left us to dispose of,

But during them your fortune you 've to ma ke;And granting , with the luc k of some one knows of,

'Tis made in ten, that's ten from life to take.

Out of the ten yet left, y ou must allo w for

Th e time for'shaving, tooth and other aches—

Say four, and that leaves six, too short, I vow , for

Regretting past and making fresh mistakes!

Meanwdiile each hour dispels some fond illusion,

Until at length, sans eyes, sans teeth, you may

Have scarcely sense to come to this conclusion—

You've reach'd fourscore, but ha ven't l ived a day ! PLANCHE.

F A M I L Y M A T T E R S .

It is a g o o d rule always to back your friends and face your enemies.

The only hate whi ch we all bear with Christian patience is the hate of

those who envy us.

A GOOD HIN T.— If in in structing a chil d you are vexed with it for wantof adroitness, try, if you have never tried before, to write with your left ha nd,

and remember that a child is all left h and.

IDLENESS AND POVERTY.—To be idle and to b e poor have always been

repr oach es; and therefore every man endeavours with the utmost care to hide

his poverty from others, and his idleness from himself.

THE VALUE OF ACCURACY.—It is the result of every day's experience?

that steady attention to matters of detail lies at the root of human pr ogress j

and that diligence, above all, is the mother of g o o d luck. Accuracy is

also of mu ch import ance, and an invariable mark of good training in a man.

Accuracy in observation, accurac y in speech, accuracy in the transaction of

affairs. Wh at is done in business must be well done : for it is better to

accomplish perfectly a small amount of wTork, than to half-do ten times as

much. A wise man used to say, " Stay a little, that we may make an end the

sooner." To o little attenti on, howev er, is paid to this highly important

quality o f accuracy. As a man eminent in practical science lately observed to

us, " It is astonishing h ow few people I have met in the course of m y

experience who can define a fact accurate ly." Yet , in business affairs, it is

the manner in which even small matters are transacted, that often decides menfor or against you. Wi th virtue, capacity, and g o o d conduct in other respects,

the person who is habitually inaccurate cannot be trusted; his work lias to be

gone over again ; and he thus causes endless annoyance, vexation, and tr ouble.

SOAP FOR THE TEETH.—Take cold cream soap a quarter of a pound;

precipitated chalk, flour of orris, and starch, of each one oun ce ; powde red

i borax , half an ounce ; sugar candy, a lump the size of a walnut ; rose water,

a wine-glassful. Mel t the candy and the borax in the wate r; then cut up the

! soap into shreds; when beat up in a marble mortar the powders, the liquid,

and the soap form one uniform paste. This done, put it into a covered jar

I for use. The tooth- brush being rubbed upo n the paste will take up enough

for cleaning the teeth, which it does in a remarkable manner. S. P .

How TO MAKE PRETTY UNDER SLEEVES. — Pro cur e some washi ng

( Brussels net and narrow black velvet, and make up a pair of sleeves very wide

and long. The n make up some small bows of black velvet, and pinch u p

your net in different places; that is, make a small pleat or two under the

velvet bow. Each sleeve will want about twenty-five or thirty bows; and the

bows must be small, with tw o little ends. Mak e cuffs of plain net, and put

bows on them (bows of coloured narrow ribbon look pretty, but velvet is

most worn). The collar to wear with this style of sleeve can be made of a

simple r ow o f lace, with bows to match the sleeves. It requires a little

industry to put o n the bows every time the sleeves are w ashe d; but the

dressy, elegant look of the sleeves will pay for the trouble. Plain linen

collars and cuffs to match for morni ng wear will still be used this summer.

Some of these are made o f colou red cambric, the same as used for ladies'

morn ing dresses; and these are much admired by French ladi es.

S C I E N T I F I C A N D U S E F U L .

To remo ve lead from water, put a little chalk or whiting into the water,

and let it settle.

One of the most uni que of rec ent Ameri can inventions is a cane, whic h is

also a lantern—a stout, elegant walkin g stick, and a brilliant, steady light.

The lantern is set in the body of the cane, about six inches from its top, and

so as not to disfigure its pro port ions or beaut y, and can be lit at pleasure by

pulling the cane apart, or bor ne alo ng dead, when the cane, without closeobservation, is undistinguishablc from an ordinary, large-sized walking stick.

CASTOR OIL SOAP.—Castor oil saponifies readil y with alkalies, and giv es

writh soda a solid white soap, whic h, in the form of pills, is a certain and

agreeable purgative.

To ASCERTAIN WHETHER A ROOM IS DAMP OR NOT.—Place a weigh ed

quantity of fresh lime in an open vessel in the room, and leave it there for

2 4 hours, carefully cl osing the wi ndows and cfcoors. At the end of the 24

hours re-weigh the lime, and if the increase exceeds 1 per cent, of the original

weight, it is not safe to live in the room.—Cosmos.

HEAT FROM THE STARS.—It is a startling fact, that if the earth were

dependent alone upon the sun for heat it woul d not ke ep existence in animal

and vegetable life upon its surface. It results from the researches of Pouillet

that the stars furnish heat enough in the course of the year to melt a crust of

ice seventy feet thick—a lmost as much as is supplied by the sun. This may

appear strange whe n we consider how immeasurably small must be the amount

of heat received from any of those distant bodi es. But the surprise vanishes

when we remember that the whol e firmament is thi ckly gemmed with stars.

HOOKS AND EYES.—These domestic appliances are only found in civilised

nations. Simple as they appear', the most ingenious inventions and machines

have been constructed for their manufactui?e. Mr. J. Fearon, of Birmin gham,

has recently made a considerable improvement in their form, and claims the

following as some of the advantages over the or dinary ki nd :— The hook,

having two extra needle-holes, can be sewn on more firmly. No friction on

the thread. Being flatter, the hooks admit of a closer and neater fit with

eyes, and still more so wit h flexible eyelet-h oles or loops. Raising the beaks

of the hooks does not break or damage them ; and they are not at all injured

by the mangle !

SAVE YOUR RAGS.—E ngland requires at least 1 2 0 , 0 0 0 tons of rags yearly,

of which she supplies but 4 0 , 0 0 0 . The question is, can that home supply be

enlarged ? The answer is, it can, and to an extent more than adequate to all

its demands. The collection of rags has hi therto been b y a small traffic in

the hands of petty dealer s; and the gener al carelessness of collection and the

lowness of pmce have equally diminished the quantity. It has been ascer

tained that in 5 0 houses out of every 1 0 0 , scarcely any collection is ever

made. This neglig ence arises partly from mistakes as to the nature, value,

and manner of the due collection. It is often erroneously supposed that white

rags alone are of use in pa per-making. But coloured rags generally are

useful, and waste paper is no less valuab ly emp loy ed in the manufacture.

Every housekeeper ought to have three bags—a white one for the white rags,

a green one for the coloured, and a blac k one for the waste paper, which would

prevent litter, waste, and the trouble of collect ing when the demand came.

A suitable agency formed in the towns and villages would settle all demands.

COVERING ZINC AVITH BRASS OR COPPER.—To give zinc a coat of copper

or brass for the purpose of a subsequ ent silve ring or gilding , the following

solutions are used: —for c opper alone, a solution o f sulphate of copper,

saturated at the common temperature, is mixed with a solution of cyanide of

potassium, adding as much of the latter as is necessary to dissolve the pre

cipitate thrown down at first. The hydrocy anic acid disengaged during this

operation must be carried off by a draught or flue. Wh en the mixture is clear

one-tenth or one-fifth of its volume of liquor ammonice is added, and diluted

with water to density of 8° Beaume. For brass, blue and white vitriol arous ed

in equal proportion, and prepared as before. Two parts of sulphate of zinc

and one of sulphate of copper give a bright brass coating. Previous to their

dipping, the articles o f zinc are rubbed thoro ughly wit h iiuely-po wdcredpumice-stone and rinsed in water, after whi ch manipulat ion they are placed in

the bath, and remain there for twenty-four hours. After that time they are

again rinsed in water, and simply wiped off. The cop per or brass coating has

a very bright look, as if polished, and adheres perfectly. The thickness of the

coat may be increased afterwards by the aid o f a battery.— Lc Tcchnologistc.



Ma y 19, 1860.1

S T A T I S T I C S . V A R I E T I E S .

Th e flea, grasshopper, and locust jump 200 times their own length, equal

to a quarter of a mile for a man.

Th e French military estimates for the year amount to £73,000,000. Th e

army is to be kept at 6*00,000 men.

A man is taller in the morning than at night to the extent o f half an inch,

owing to the relaxation of the cartilages.

Elephants live for 200, 300, and even 400 years. A healthy full -gro wn

elephant consumes 30 pounds of grain per day.

Ben Nevis, the highe st mountain in Great Br itain, rises 4,40G feet above

the mean level of the sea. Ben Lomond is 3,192 feet high.One pair of pigs will increase in six years to 119,160, taking the increase at

14 per annum. A pair of sheep in the same time would be but 64. A single

female horsefly produces in one season 20,080,320 eggs.

BIRTHS, DEATHS, AND MARRIAGES IN 1859.—The total number of

persons marri ed in Englan d in the year 1859 was 335,800; the births in the

year were 689,558 ; and the deaths' 441,249, being a majority of births over

deaths of 248,309. Of the bir ths, 352,61 6 were males, and 336,942 females;

of the deaths, 223,792 were males, and 217,4 50 females. Th e numbe r of

persons married in London withi n the year were 54,5 40 ; th e births, 92,97 1 ;

and the deaths 61,950, being a majority of births over deaths of 31,021.

STATISTICS OF POPULATION AND RELIGION.—The population of the whole

earth is estimated to be 1,288,000,000, viz.—Eur ope, 272,000,000; Asia,

755,000,000; Africa, 200,000,000; America, 59,000,000; and Australia,

2,000,000. In the several nations of the earth there are 335, 000,000 of

Christians (of whom 170,000,000 are Papists, 89,000,0 00 Protestants, and

76,000,000 followers of the Greek Churc h). The number of Jews amounts

to 5,000,000; of these 2,890,750 are in Europe, viz.—1,250,000 in Euro

pean Russia, 853,30 4 in Austria, 234,24 8 in Prussia, 192,1 76 in other parts of Germany, 62,470 in the Netherlands, 33,953 in Italy, 73,995 in Fra nce;

36,000 in Great Britain, and 70,0 00 in Turkey. The followers of various

Asiatic religions are estimated at 600,000,00.0 : Mahomedans at 160,000,000,

and "he at he ns " (the Gentiles proper) at 200,000,000.

SILK.—In 1856 our importation amounted to nearly 7,000,0001b. W e

have at this moment 300 silk manufactories with 2,000,000 of spindles going,

and steam machinery of 4,000 -hor sc power , indepen dently of the hand

wr

eaving of Spitalfields. W e have 15,000 men and 35,000 women employed

in the manufacture. The quantity of silk that we use is something pro

digious, and the entire quantity of the silk fibre is enorm ous. In Lyons the

manufacture has been carried on to a great extent, and a manufacturer of

1840 states that the silk consu med was 2,205, 000i t) and that it was pro

duced by four thousand millions of cocoons; the fibre of one cocoon

measuring 1526 feet in lengt h. So all the silk fibre used in one year in Lyons

would measure six billions five hundred thousand millions of feet; a quantity

sufficient to wind fifty-two thousand tim es round the circum ference of the

earth.

BREWERS AND BEER.—T he total number of licensed brewers in Engl andis 2,268; in Ireland , 109 ; and in Sco tland, 120. The numb er of licensed

victuallers in England is 63,909; in Ireland, 17,142; and in Scotland,

12,015—making the total number of licensed victuallers in the United Ki ng

dom 93,066, exclusive of 40,537 persons licensed to sell beer to be drunk on

the premises, and 2, 898 who are not so authorised. The number of licensed

victuallers in En gland who brew their own beer is 24,677, and in Scotland

126. The malt consu med by the brewers in the Unit ed Kingdom in the year

ended the 10th Octobe r, 1859, was 28,33 4,14 1 bushels, of whi ch 2,372, 911

were used in Ireland, and 1,344,835 in Scotland. The total quantity of beer

exported from the I nited Kingdom from the 1st of Octob er, 1858, to the 1st

of October, 1859, was 590,732 barrels, and the declared value £2,042,670.

Of this quantity 4 3,607 barrels were expor ted from Scotland, and 5,042 from

Ireland. The countr ies which consume the greatest quantity of British beer

are British India, Vict oria , New South Wales, the United States, Brazil, the

AVest Indies, South Australia, N ew Zealand, Tasmania, the Briti sh Nor th

American colonies, Hong Kong, Chili, and Peru.

THE COINAGE.—A return presented to Parliament shows that the total

value of the gold coinage issued from the Mint in the ten years, from 1850 to1859 .inclusive, was £54,490,265. 4s. Of this sum £47,7 57,92 0 was coined

in sovereigns, and £6,732,334. 7s. 7d. in half-so vereign s. The weight of the

sovereigns coined was 12,2 65,27 9,191 ounces, and of the half-sover eigns

1,729,010,435 ounces. The largest quantity of coin manufactured was in

1853, when the value rose to £11,952,391. 5s. lid., and the smallest in 1858,

to £1,231,023. The total issue of gold coin in 1859 amounted to

£2,649,509. 15s. 6d. Th e silver coinage issued within the ten years am ounted

to £1,101,973. 8s. 2d., viz.—crown-pieces, 467; half-crowns, 484,613;

florins, 14,997,792; shillings, 22,039,466; sixpences, 21,133,263; groats,

2,474,874 ; fourpences, 41,580 ; threepences, 11,149,901; twopences, 47,520 ;

pence, 78,908. The tot al v alue of t he silver so coined was £3,372,815, and

the real cost or value of the metal, £3,280,501. 10s. 5d. The total value of

the copper coinage issued in the ten y ears was £158,949. 16s. 7d., and of the

metal so coined, £82,477. 18s. 6d. Th e number of penny- pieces coined was

18,146,688; halfpenny-pieces, 29,109,021; farthings, 20,119,156; half-

1'arthings, 3,535,776. The worn silver coin purchased for recoi nage was of

the nominal value of £693,268, and the Mi nt value at 5s. 6d. per ounce,

£610,606. 19s. lOd. The loss by recoi nage was therefore £82,661. 0s. 2d.

The average price pai d per ounce for silver bull ion purchased in the market

for coinage, in the year 1859, was 61 fd. The Master of the Mint, who

supplies this information, omits to state what is the difference betwee n a

groat and a fou rpenny- piece ; neither does he tell what becomes of all the

half-farthings.

A foot bridge is to be carried across the Thames at Richmond.

Th e pleasure groun ds at Ke w Gardens are n ow open to the public daily

until the 31st of October, from one o'clock P.M. (two o'clock on Sundays) till

sunset.

He r Majest y has given £25 0 as the prize to be compete d for by volunteers

at the July meeting of the National Rifle Association, to be held on'Wimbledon

Common; and the Pri nce Consort £10 0, as a prize to be comp eted for by all

comers of all nations.

Th e Governors of the Bank of England have acceded to the new arrange

ment, already adopted by the Commit tee of Banker s, for closing banking

business at three o'clock on Saturdays, instead o f four o'clock, as hitherto.

It will come into force on Saturday, the 19th of May.

Captain John Vine Hal l, who has b een appoi nted by the directors to the

command of the Great Eastern, in the plac e of the late lamented Captain

Harrison, has entered upon the responsible duties of his office. The work o€

fitting ou t the big ship, and fully equipping her for sea, is progressing rapidly.

CLOSING LETTERS FOR THE TROPICS.—The Post-office has published a

notice to the effect that all letters registered, addressed to China or any

country in or beyond the torrid zone, should be sealed with gum or wafers, to

avoid the inconvenience occasioned by the melting of the wax.

NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN. —Uni vers al suffrage is as o ld as the

Saxons ; annual Parl iament s date nearly as far back . A rate -payi ng franchise

existed before the battle o f Agi nco urt ; and co unty court judg es sat and

dispensed cheap law when Alfred the Great was kin g. Th e elements of our

pet system of refor matories even may be traced a mongs t the crumbl ing dust

of ruined monasteries. Th e advance of civili sation has produ ced many novel

details for legislation; but in nearly every instance, when wre come to reform

the system of our gove rnment or law, we do not make a new model; wemerely scrape away the corr upti on of the middl e ages, wmich has defaced the

ol d one invented by our sturdy Saxon ancestry.

TURTLE AND TORTOISE-SHELL.—In the Gulf of Manaar turtle is frequently

found of such a size as to measure between four and five feet in len gth ; and

on one occasion, in riding along the sea-shore north of Putlam, I saw a man

in ch arge of some sheep, resting under t he shade of a turtle-shel l, w hich he

had erected on sticks to protect him from the sun—almost verifying the

statement of iElian , that in the seas off Ceylon there are tortoises so large

that several persons may find ample shelter beneath a single shell. Th e

hawksbill turtle, which supplies the tortoise-shell of commerce, was at former

times taken in great numbers in the vicinity of Hamban gtott e during the

season when they came to deposit their eggs, and there is still a considerable

trade in this article, which is manufactured into ornaments, boxes, and combs

by the Moormen resident at Galle. I f taken from the animal after death and

decomposition, the colour of the shell becomes clouded and milky, and hence

the cruel expe dient is resorted to of seizing the turtles as they repair to the

shore to deposit their eggs, and suspending them over fires till heat makes the

plates on the dorsal shields start from the bone of the carapace, after whi ch, the creature is permitted to escape to the water. In illustrati on of the

resistless influence of instinct at the per iod of breed ing, it may be menti oned

that the same tortoise is beli eved to return again and again to the same spot,

notwithstanding that at ea ch visit she hafi to under go a repetition of this

torture. In the year 1826 a hawksb ill turtle wras taken near Ha mbangt otte,

which bore a ring attached to one of its fins that had been place d there by a

Dutch officer thirty years before, with a view to establish the fact of these

recurring visits to the same beach.—Sir K Tennenfs Ceylon.

THE R I D D L E R .

TH E RI DD L E R ' S S OL UT I ON S OF No . 88 7.

E N I G M A : The letter E. C H A R A D E : Watch-man. R E B U S : Sherd; shred; herd; red.

The fol lowing answer all: Wint on—B . T . H. Enigma and Charade: E dm und . —

J. L. J .—Dora . Enigma and Rebus : Gui l l aume. Enigma: D. S. D.—Lemuel .—•

War dle. —Sad ler. — Grocers (w e do not recol lec t such an inquiry ).— Err ing ton .—

Fisherman .— Nell ie D. — Renaul t — Menal ia.—W. J. R.— Suck ot ty. — Ecke rsley.—Tootel l .

ARITHM ETICAL QUESTIONS.

1. Six hundred and forty-eight pounds of Bacon are worth four Horses.

2. The exact time would be 155'787C years, or 155 | years and about 1-1 days.

3. Let A B C E be a sec tion o f the cylin der, and A B C a secti on of the stro nges tt r iangula r be a m that can be cut out of it. Dr aw B E per pen dicu lar to , and b isec ting

A O in D . Let B E = 12 inch es = a, B D = x, then D E = a -.v ,

and by the pro perty of the circle B D , D E - A D - ' = C D2

=.ax-

& V . C D = AD = Jax-x* an d A C = 2 Jax-x- ;• but B D . A C-T-2

= x \/ax - x' l = tho area of sect ion A B C . Moreo ver, i f G be the

centre of gravi ty of the tr iangle A B C , th e lateral strength o f the beam wil l be as the area xB G, that is,

wh i c h m u s t be a maximum, or i ts s piare

Different iat ing -3 axi

— 6 = 0 .' . x = — = 10 ;

6

as - ' x Jaax ~x\

ax5

— xc

' — a m a x .

hence A C=4 % /:>

equired.=8.94427, and B 0 = 2-^30=10.95445, t he dimension

The fol lo wing agree with all: Veri tas.—Orgetorix.

With 1st and 2nd .—Edmmid. — Wardle.—Sadler.

With 1st. — Guil laume. —-Lemuel .—Steele.— Hind e.— Craven.— Bonny cast lc.— Gray.

—Buglass.— Ich Dien. —Ottaway .— Tootell .—W. J. R.

NOTE TO QUEST ION 3.—Edm und.—G uil laume.—W ardle, M'Caa, D. S. D., Craven,Hin de, Stee le, and Tootell, giv e 10*3922 inch es, the side of tr iangle required. Veri tas

and Orge torix alone agree with P ropo unde r 's solut ion, whi ch we consider corvee*.

E dm und a nd others assume that an equilateral pris m is the st rongest beam that ca n

be cut out of the cyl in der ; b ut this appears to us not to be correct. A prism, having

the base of i ts end-sect ion so mew hat shor ter than the sides, appears by the laws oi

gravitation to be the st rongest .



18

R A N D O M R E A D I N G S .

" I'll be with you in a crack," as the rifle-ball said to the target.

W h y are eyes so ill-treat ed ?—Be cause they are lashed all day, and ge t a

good hiding every night.

N o one, by merely conversing with a fish, ever succeeded in drawing him

out.

The re is a lady at Norwood so ignorant of all domestic work, that she

cannot even knit her brows.

T w o men underto ok to see whi ch woul d run the fastest. One was a sheri ffs

officer and the other was a debtor.

A young lady asks if we can throw any light upon kissing. W e don't want

it—the thing is done just as well in the dark.

W e have heard of but one old woman that " kissed her co w, " but there are

thousands of young ones that kiss great calves.

Mrs. Smarticity says that her husband is such a blunderer, that he can't

even try on a new boot without putting his foot in it.

Waiter (bawling to the cook) : One roast lamb and one potato. Old gentle

man : No , no ! No t so much lamb, and more potatoes.

A you ng lady seeing the reg iment of Six Feet Volunteers , said they put

her in mind of the god of marriage, because they we re high-men.

T he fellow who "broke loose" has gone into partnership with the one that

"broke the news," and they anticipate doing a smashing business.

Beware of the man who is continually asking for credit. His a nxiety about

•"running up a bill" is an indication that he is "running down hill."

"P ort er, " asked an old lady of an Irish railway porter, " when does the

nine o'clock train le av e? "— " Sixty minutes past eight, mum," was Mike's

reply.

An inn-keeper b eing asked what meaning he attached to the term " Aristo

crat," replied, " Any man that has more than me is in my estimation an

aristocrat.

A Yankee going through Windsor Park, was asked whether Queen Victoria

had reigned long. He replied, " She has stags that have rein-deer (reigned

here) much longer."

A n Irishman wh o had blistered his fingers b y endeavouring to draw on a

pair of boots, exclaimed, u I belie ve I shall never ge t them on until I have

worn them a day or two."

On e Joh n W . Jones, who has been sent to prison for ma rrying two wives,

excused himself by saying that when he had one she fought him, hwt when he

go t two they fought each other.

" If a naughty girl would hurt you, you would forgive her like a good girl,

woul dn't yo u r " asked a teacher of a little girl. " Ye s, ma' am," replied the

child, " if I could n't catch her ! "

" W h y do you walk, Bob , when you' ve got a donkey to r i d e ' " said a

gentleman to an Irish lad who was walkin g by the side of his donkey . " Sure,

then, I'm just walking to rest me legs," replied the boy.

" D o n ' t you think there is rather too much warmth about this picture?"

said an artist to a lady whose portrait he had painted " N o , indeed," said

she, " not half enough ; and so I'll throw the thing in the fire."

A clergyman, while engaged in catechising a number of boys, asked one of

them the definition of matrimony . The reply was, " A place of punishment,

where some folks suffer for a time before they can go to heaven."

A person asked another if the tolling of a bell didn't put hi m in mind of

his latter end. He replied (know ing that his interrogator was a man of more

than questionable morals), " No, sir; but the rope reminds me of yours."

Th e author of The Habits of Good Society quote s a remark of a late

eminent barrister, that literature in ladies should be what o nions ought to be

in cookery—you should perceive the flavour, but not detect the thing itself.

Aunt Esther was trying to persuade little Eddy to retire at sunset, using as

an argument that the little chickens went to roost at that time. " Y e s , " said

Eddy, "b ut the old hen always goes with them ." Aunt y tried no morearguments with him.

" I wish y ou woul d come to a pause in your talk, wife," said Blinks;

"s uc h an everlasting clacking is enough to drive me ma d. "— " Yo u had no

business to take me from my pa if you didn' t like to hear me talk," retorted

Mrs. Blinks; " there were other men as good as you who said there was

music in my voice ; " and, as usual, the wife had the last word.

Ol d To m Bates had a great story about feet. "T al k about feet," he used

to say, " why, I kn ew a nigg er dow n in Arkan saw that had inud-smashers

like young steamboats. Tha t feller's feet was a fortin' to him though, at last

—for when they started a railroad in his parts the locomotive fellers gin him

fifteen hund red dollars for his old mocassins . They made a depo t out o' one ,

and an ice-cream saloon out of t 'other."

X-TRAORDINARY X-EucisE.—An American contemporary has adopted a

practice, which is becoming quite common, of marking papers with an N on

the expiration of subscriptions. A subscriber recently responded in the fol

lowing X-ceedingly X-cellent X-cerp t :—Tha t your X-position is X-cusable

in the X - t r a X X-hib i ted on the X-ter io r of the last paper, you will allow

me to X-press my readiness to admit. Please X-amine the enclosed X-change,

and, if deemed an X-pia t ion for my remissness, it will be X-pccted that you

will X-tend to me an X-o ner ati on from your X-actions, by X-p urging or

X-scimiing the said X from my next paper." No t that your mode is by any

means X-ceptionable in X-ercising a right, but rather to be X-tolled, as a very

A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY.—"If there had been no ministerial side of

the Hou se and no op posit ion," says the Morning Herald, " we should have

had no Kcform Bill."

" Y o u DON'T, DON'T YOU ? " — " Mister, I say, I don't suppose you d on't

know of nobody what don't want to hire nobody to do nothing, don 't you ? "

Th e answer was, " Yes, I don't."

BACHELORS, BEWARE!—"Will you take my arm?" said a gallant to a

young lady after the dance was broken up. "L a, yes, and you too ," retorted

the fair one, " seeing it's Leap Year ! "

TH E WIFE'S HELPING H A N D . — A t no mom ent of difficulty does a husband ,

knowing his own utter helplessness, draw so closely to his wife's side for

comfort and assistance as w hen he wants a butto n to be sewn on his shirt-collar !—Funch.

CAUSE AND EFFECT.—An old lady who was a pt to be trouble d in her

dreams, and rather superstitious withal, informed the parson o f the parish that

on the nigh t previous she dreamed she saw her grandmoth er, who had b een

dead for ten years. The clergyman asked what she had been eating " Ob ,

only half a mince pie."—" AVell," said he, " i f you had devoured the other

half, you might probabl y have seen your grandfather too ."

AN EYE TO BUSINESS. — An Amer ican clergyman havin g with great

eloquence urged his congregation to abstain on Thanksg iving Day from all

labour and all business pursuits, and to attend church in the forenoon,

concluded with this touching appeal:—" If any brethren are at leisure in the

forenoon, I should be pleased to see them at my house, as I intend to take

that opportunity, should friends enough assemble, to move my barn."

Y o u KNOW.—Some persons in convers ation are for ever telling you that

" you kno w." At a party, one evenin g, a question arose betwee n ce rtain

individ uals as to whe ther a somewhat dashy person present had said " yes ,"

or " no ," to an interrogator y. One of his particular friends, who knew, thus

remarked to us : — " He knows, you know, that / know, you know, that you

know, you know, that he said ' no,' you kn ow. " A man who don't kn ow

better than " kn o w " so much, deserves to have his knows tweaked.

PUTTING A SHOOT IN IT .— Wh il e travell ing in Ireland, a gentlem an say3

he had the pleasure of witnes sing the following superstitious occurrence.

About noon, one day, he stopped at a house to refresh himself and his horse.

While eating his dinner, the son of " mi ne h os t" entered with some game in

his hand, and his gun over his shoulder. Lay ing his game on a side table, he

went to where his mother was sitting, and in a playful ma nner pointe d the

empt y gun at her. Wi th fear stamped on her counte nance, she arose from

her seat, and begged him to desist, at the same calling on the saints to protect

her, and crossing herself. " Why , mother, " e xclaimed the son, " why are ye

so fearful ? sure an' it isn't lo ad ed ." —" Oh, Jemmy, darlin," said she, " what

does that matter—sure an' couldn' t Old Nick 'av put a shoot in it ? "

A N INDIAN'S CHOICE.—The Ind ian sage Aurva, a great au thority in

matters matrimonial, gives minute directions for the choice of a wife. Th e

girl, he tells us, must be only a third of he r husband 's age, not very black ,

not yellow-complexioncd, not vicious, nor unhealthy, nor of low origin—but

on e who has been well brough t up and who speaks with propriety. She

must not inherit a family malady, nor possess a ma sculine appearance ; mus t

neither speak thick nor thin nor croak like a raven ; must not keep her eyes

shut, nor have them wide open ; must n ot have di mples in her cheeks , nor

goose skin, nor white nails, nor red eyes, nor fat hands, nor duck -like feet.

She must neither be short nor tall, nor fat, nor thin, but very middling. Her

teeth must be close set and her eyeb rows wide apart. Finally, and most

importa nt of all, her gait must resemble that of a youn g elephant!

PAYING FOR THEIR OWN CORDIAL.—Dr. Godfrey entertained a party of

officers at dinner, which passed off well ; the wine was in tine order and

circulated b riskly, and when they had all had enough, by way of a joke ,

it was proposed they should drink their host's health in his own " cordi al."

" Ag r e e d ! ag re ed !" In vain the doctor remonstrated, begged them to use

his cellar freely, and to order from it whatever they required, but to spare his

laboratory. The whim of the moment must be gratified—nothing but the

cordial would go down. It was reluctantly ordered, its appearance on table

loudly cheered , and bottle after bott le (for its taste is by no means unpleasant)

disappeared. Wh at was their astonishme nt the next morning to receive a

note from the doctor stating that as they had chosen to forget the characterin whic h they were invited to his house , and had descended from the rank of

guests into that of customers, he had no alternative but to treat them

accordingly, and therefore enclosed his b il l— " Thirteen bottles of cordial,

£ 1 3 . Lis."—wmich he compelled them to pay.

TH E TEST OF CHARACTER.—An umbrel la, it is said , can be taken as a

test of character. The man who always takes an umbrella out with him is a

cautious fellow, who abstains from all speculation, and is pretty sure to die

rich. The man wh o is always leaving his umbrella behind him is one

generally who makes no provi sion for the morrow. He is reckless, thoug ht

less, always late for the train, leaves the street-door open when he goes home

late at nigh t, and is ab sent to such a degree as to speak ill of a baby in the

presenc e of its mother. Th e man who is always losing his umbrell a is an

unlucky dog, whose bills are always protested, whose boots split, whose gloves

crack, whose buttons are al ways c oming off, whose chan ge is sure to have

some bad money in it. Be cautious how you lend a hundred po unds to such

a man. The man wh o is perpetually expressing a nervous anxiety about his

umbre lla, and wond eri ng if it is safe, is full of uneasiness and lo w suspic ion.

Let him be ever so rich, give not your daughter to him ; he will undoubtedlytake more care of his umbrella than of his wife,

Published by BENJAMIN BLAKE, 421, Strand, London, W . C , to whom all

Communications for the Editor must be addressed.

family herald may 19 1860

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