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*B000444683* u/i-i?. THE LADIES'

EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.

JAX. TO DEC. 1877.

VOL. III. NEW SERIES.

THE EDINBURGH PUBLISHING COMPANY, 22 HOWE STREET.

donttnts.

Acrostics, Double, 33, 65, 98, 130,163, 193, 224, 258, 291,322, 352, 382 After the Rain, by Crocus Foster Leigh, .... 241 Alcestis : a Tale of Self-sacritice, by Oi-atia, .... 242 -^.Austen, Jane (Our Female Nuveli.sts), by A. Dundas, . . 261 Birthday Wishes, bv L-sdiii W. Melland, .... 55 Blue Eo'ses (Our Library Table), 225 -«Burney, Miss (Our Female Novelists), l)y Eiina, ... 69 Bv the Seaside, by Suburbana, ..... 46, 76, 111 " Carrots :" Just a Little Boy (Our Library Table), . . 35 Christinas in Christiania, by C. Ray, 1 "Commit thy way unto the Lord," by Crocus Foster Leigh, . Ill Contraband, by Mrs R. O. Leslie, . ' 127 Corresponding Students, Exiierieiices of, .... 347 Corsica, Try (Where shall we Go 0, by E. M. D., . . . 249 Dark Days, by .Joan Scott, ...... Debates of the Ladies'Edinburgh Ijiterary Society, . . 30 Domestic Art, by E. J. O., .' . . . '. . . 23 ' Drive to Fortobello, A, by S. M., 187 Edelraute ; or, Five and Twenty Years Ago at the Aclien See, bv Catherine Ray, . " . . ■■ . . 148, 182, 203 -—Edgeworth, Miss (Our Female No\elists), by Gratia, 325 Edinburgh Past and Present (Our Library Table), . 99 Edinburgh University Local Examinations, Notes on the, ty A. Dundas, 305 Experiences of Corresponding Students, 347 - Female Novelists, Our, 37, 69, 101,133,165, 197, 229, 261, 293, 325, 357 ;> Ferrier, Miss (Our Female Novelists), by L. Dundas, . . 293 Great St Beiiedictus, &c. (Our Library Tabile), . . . 194 Helvellyn (Where shall we Go ?), by L. Dundas, . . . 283 Higher Education of Women in Scotland, The (L & II.), by L. R., 7,56 „ „ „ (III.), by An Old Student, 87 Home, by Duma;, 215 Homely Words for Young Women and Girls (Our Library Table), 67 House-Hunting in London, by Estelle, 14 .—Inchbald, Mrs (Our Female Novelists), by Jane Meiizies,_ . 165 In Memoriam—E. H. M., ' . 69 Johnykin and the Goblins (Our Library Table), ... 6 Joshua Haggart's Daughter (Our Library Table), ... 35 Hjf^ngslev, Chailes (Our Library Table), 131 Library'Table, Our, . . 34, 67, 99, 131, 163. 194, 225, 258, 353 Log Letters from the " Challenger" (Our Library Table), . 226 Lucca, To, (Where shall we Go'/), by M. S., . . . . 378 Madcap Violet (Our Library Table), 67 Marquis of Lossie, The (Our Library Table), .... 353 IV Contents. I'AGk Mary Crudelius, by E. H., 319 Miss in the Kitclieii (Our Library Table), 259 j^Mitlord, Mary Russell (Our Female Novelists), by Elizabeth L. Seton, ...... 357 Monk's Vision, The, by Jessie P. Moncrieti', . 214 Month in Granada, A, by C. Ray, . 122 ——^lore, Mrs Hannah (Our Female Novelists), by L. Dundas, . 101 o—^Morgan, Lady (Our Female Novelists), by Jeanie Morison, . 229 Mrs Carrington Jones' jMagic '\\^atcli, by Nono, ... 16 Musical Notes, by Gail)each, 159 New Poem and an Old Story, A, bv E. J. 0., ... 139 Our Library Table, . 34, 67, 99, 131, 163, 194, 225, 258, 353, 382 Our Scotch Cousin, bv Crocus Foster Leigh, .... 277 Our Trip to Blnnderland (Our Librarv Table), . . . 382 —Porter, The Sisters (Our Fenude Novelists), by Martyn Hay, 197 r~Radcliffe, Mrs (Our Female Novelists), . " . " . " . 37 Records of tlie Coinage of Scotland (Our Library Table), . 34 Sermons for the Christian Year (Our Library Table), . . 258 Sir Arthur's Inheritance, by Annibal, . " . . 309, 340, 369 Skye ! Let us go to (Where shall we Go ?), by Jane F. Stuart, 331 Song, by Margaret Thomas, 305 S(jnnet—To * * *, by Estelle, 339 Stray Notes, 36, 68, 100, 132, 164, 195, 228, 259, 291, 322, 355, 383 Three Sculptors, The, bv Lvdia W. Melland, .... 220 Tripp's Buildings (Our Library Table), . . . . 163 Virginia (Our Library Table), 259 Western Islands, Among the, bv Charlotte Carmichael, . . 174 " What is a Word r'bv Annibal, 173 Where shall we Go ? ",.... 249,283,331,378 Work and Love, bv L. G. C, 277 AVorking and Selling (Our Liljrarv Table), .... 382 Young Girl, To a, by M. Reid, " 220 THE

LADIES' EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.

WHILE good people in England are celebrating Christmas with the usual concomitants of prize cattle, plum-pudding, mince-pies, Christmas cards, holly, mistletoe, Christmas trees, and Christmas boxes, and society is fermented through and through with an atmosphere of benevolence which finds expression in Christmas gifts, dinners to orphans, suppers to outcasts, and indulgences meted out even to the pauper and the criminal, it is pleasant to see how all this, and even more, is being done in a foreign land. In this modern offspring of ancient Oslo, this young northern capital—where education, science, art, commerce, and politics (in a mild, unrevolutionary form) have impulses almost as strong, if the competition is by no means so great, as in larger metropolitan cities—the offerings at the shrine of Old Father Christmas, and the festive wreaths that encircle the head of the New Year, as it arises from the cerements of its predecessor, are perhaps more numerous and more absorbing than with us in England. The influence of advancing civilization is levelling our enjoyments; as it levels classes, sexes, sects, and, to a certain degree, even intellect itself. In Norway, where luxury has crept only over the higher pinnacles of society, leaving the valleys and mid-heights as yet unenlightened by its artificial rays, these old- fashioned periods of high festival reign with the undisputed sway they held in Great Britain long years ago. For six or seven weeks before Yuletid,iai' back into November, in every well-to-do family busy fingers have been working according to their means, manufacturing gifts not only for No. 1.—JANUARY 1877. A 2 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

each individual member of the home circle, but for friends beyond it: a task entailing an amount of labour and indoor confinement that would be irksome in the extreme to such lovers of fresh air and outdoor exercise as the women of Great Britain are known to be. These presents have mostly to be executed by stealth, when the future recipient is out of the house or asleep. The greater the amount of finger-labour bestowed on them, the higher is their value in the eyes of both giver and receiver. What patterns for slippers, cushions, and chairs; what magnificence of design for braces, cloak-straps, otto- mans, and bags; what ingenious application of woolwork and beadwork, to every possible use and article, have streamed over here from the warehouses of Paris and Berlin! Dainty baskets witness how much beauty can be wormed out of straw; while delicate ruffs and cuffs move the hearts of the feminine portion of the community who stand round the drapers' windows of Karl Johann and Kirkegade with as sudden jog, and as torturing envy, as stir the morning promenaders of Eegent Street and Oxford Street. Here, too, the husbands, fathers, lovers, and brothers hurry along the pavement with a quickness of pace, and a directness of aim, that bespeak the same inward conviction of the gins and snai-es being laid for the contents of their trousers' j^ockets, and a determination to avoid them as long as possible, as characterises the long-suffering male population at home. Housewives and mothers have even deeper cares. All the mysteries of Ytdehager are pressing on their minds. "Fattigmand's-hakkelscr" literally, " poor man's bakeries;" "Goderaads," "good advice," of which one soon takes in enough to last a lifetime; " Fire species," "iouv species," meaning equal quantities of sugar, flour, butter, and almonds; " Peberkager" " gingerbread," with some real pepper in them; " Flodekager," " cream-cakes," and otlier varieties too numerous to mention, hang round them, in addition to other Christmas fare, and the necessities of ordinary eating. While Frdkemn'^ stitches away over muslin and canvas, Fruen ^ stands seething in the sweat of her brow, by the kitchen stove, upheld by the proud consciousness that the reward of her labours will be found in the approval of friends and neighbours. A savoury smell pervades every fiat, presses out into the passages, down the public staircases, and even into the streets, where odours of baking and browning meet one in whiffs, pleasant enough to 1 The young lady, Miss.. ^ Mrs, or the lady of the house. Christmas in Christimiia. 3 set the heart of an anchorite sinfully longing for the flesh-pots of Egypt. Alas, as days and' weeks roll on, and one becomes the daily and hourly beholder of Fattigmand's- lalikelser—the consumer, nolens volens, of Fattigmand's- baJJcelser, as Fattigmand presents himself in morning calls and afternoon visits, at lunch, dinner, and supper, at home and abroad, at the confectioners and the restaurants, on the stands at the street corners, and in the cellars beneath the pavement—it demands all the patriotism of a born Norwegian not to tire, thus sated, more than satisfied, with the charms of Fattigmand} Nothing equals it but our own enthusiasm for roast-beef and plum-pudding. As December moves on, and the 20th or 21st is come, one believes a second Birnam Wood has arrived at Dunsinane, viz., that a fir-grove has really moved bodily from the hills around into the streets of Christiania. It is a study to watch the countenances of the different buyers, as they stand among the fir-trees, each fitted into a stand of two cross-pieces of deal, and ranging at prices varying from twopence to a shilling. Here a tall bony coachman, with a handsome bear-skin cap and collar over his livery, from one of the villas in the environs, carries off a giant, ten or fourteen feet high, for the children of wealth and luxury. Tliere a poor widow or forsaken wife stands with her pale little boy, spending a portion of her hard-earned ready cash on the sapling, as tiny as the child himself It will have three or four wax-tapers, no gilded walnuts or painted effigy of Nissen,^ on the topmost bough a few apples and cheap goodies, with perhaps one solitary present underneath, from the mother, likewise; and that will sum up the Christmas wealth of the boy, pathetic in its poverty and the loneliness

^ Poor man. 2 Nissen is a sprite, generally represented as a very little old man, clothed in gray, mth a pointed red cap on his head—a cross between our fairies and the German Kohold. He plays all sorts of tricks in the house, if not propitiated by a portion of grod (porridge) being set in an outhouse for him on Christmas Eve.- This is a habit still regularly observed in the country, and an English lady was greatly scandalized at being asked by her servants for permission to carry out the practice, within three miles of Christiania. Another pretty custom, striking to the eye of a stranger, in the streets of a large town, is the sheaves of corn hung out from every window and balcony on Yideaften, so that the liirds may have their share of good living also. The raising of the Yuleneg (Christmas sheaf) outside a Bmulerhuus, has l)een the subject of pretty pictures both by Tiedemann and Dahl.—Holly is unknown as a decoration in Norway, and grows sparingly, if at all, as a native production of the country. 4 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. of its celebration. Yet his happiness is undoubtedly more thoroughly complete, more centred, more radiant, than that of richer children, bewildered amidst the multitude of objects, and quarrelling oyer their heaps of quickly-gotten treasure : doomed almost certainly to lie in bed next day, sick from overloaded digestion, and peevish and cross because tliey are unable to enjoy their playthings. The small pale boy has brought his own little sledge or koilke for his Christmas tree, and drags it home in triumph to the single room that is bright with his mother's love, and the tenderness that shines in her face, the embodiment of all earthly beauty to him. But elsewhere in the big toy bazaar there are buyers of all ages and classes: stout middle-aged merchants, busy well-to-do maiden-aunts, hard-handed artisans and slight girls, who go to make this purchase, while mother bakes the Yidekager at home. Very few out of the whole number forget to thread their way through the market to some stalls beyond; where evergreen wreaths, brightened with everlastings, or grey lichen, hang in endless profusion: not, as witli us, to deck the dwellings of the living, but to be laid tenderly on the resting-places of the dead ; of some, maybe, who last year moved among tlie busy throngs, but are now lying peacefully under the snow—their spirits so much wiser than ours in the far off-land we can only guess at here below. The trees are all bought at last, and now paterfamilias must go with mamma and buy presents to hang on it. It is only ten, and yet the bazaars are all full to overflowing, and have been so for days in succession,—a maze of toys, knickknacks, cheap jewellery, vases, every mortal thing child or woman could wish for, yet not one they can fix their minds on sufficiently to choose straight away, and spare the fond father the torture of being jostled backwards and forwards, and of wiping his heated forehead, as he audibly vows he will never go through the same thing again. His Hustru, as the Norwegian wife is called, looks up at him and smiles knowingly; he has said the same thing every Christmas for the last fifteen years, ever since pretty Ing'erda, his eldest daughter, first toddled thither between them; and he knows equally well he will be a victim for many years yet to come. Eh ! dear ! Good husband, and fond father! When Yulcaftcn is really come, and his youngest daughter puts the slippers on to his feet which she has worked at school; when the tapers, gleaming from CJiristiiias in Christiania. 5 the Christmas tree, light up her golden hair, and her blue eyes sparkle over her Hushed cheeks, he is far happier watching her pleasure, than all the old bachelors in creation put together, be they as rich as Crcesus. His youngest boy grows apoplectic over the trumpet, that in his hands at anyrate gives no uncertain sound. All have something given them they most wanted; and when the fun is at its zenith, the true wife comes up and lays her hand on her husband's shoulder, saying nothing very likely, but throwing a world of thankful love into her fond eyes, that makes him feel there is something worth working for in life,—worth any sacrifice, worth any trouble. There are homes in Norway as cosy and united as in happy England. The club, the theatre, and the billiard table, have at present few votaries among the married men of Christiania. They smoke their cigar, and drink a glass of grog with a friend, in one of the three or four sitting-rooms that open into each other in pleasant perspective ; and if a whiff' of the pernicious weed does reach the wife and daughters, they get compensation for it in the presence of the man they love; while he enjoys his chat none the less because of the picture of busy women-kind before him. His Christmas joy does not con- fine itself to home. Many a joint of pork (which is the favourite Christmas fare here instead of beef), with a good piece of cheese, and a packet or two of chocolate, may find their way to less plentifully supplied tables. Perhaps the pale, sickly little boy wonders why mother weeps when she gets just such a present; he cannot understand why she does not laugh and caper as he does; so he grows still at last, lays his cheek to her hand, and whispers, " Perhaps, mamma, God sent it." Yuleaftcn, our Christmas Eve, is the family reunion time 'po-'>' excellence here : then every member if possible is present; and no strangers, unless they are waifs and strays admitted out of cliarity. Christmas Day has its services, some as early as seven in the morning; but the day is largely devoted, like Sunday, to the exchange of friendly visitings, and receptions, dinners, or private balls in the evening. The 26th, called second Christmas Day, is that devoted to special religious observance; men and women go to church then who seldom appear there at other times, and partake of the Communion either on that day or New Year's morning, which is a time of exceeding solemnity among the Lutherans. The week between the two days is filled up by enjoyment and gaiety of every description. 6 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Sledging, skating, if there be ice, in the day ; evening parties, dinners, children's balls, theatres, and reunions of all sorts, at a day's notice at night, till New Year's Eve. Then comes high festival again. Parties assemble in more or less numbers, to watch the old year out and the new one in. The style of dress generally is simple in the extreme, low dresses and short sleeves being confined entirely to balls. The great object of care is the dressing of tlie hair; elaborate coiffures are indispensable, and their extent and variety must form a study and occupation for many hours a day. The result is best left alone. The friseur and the artiste have long had a standing bone of contention between them, and the first seems to enlist most female sympathy on his side. The general style of entertainment is simple enough. Tliere is a room for talking, a second for supper, a third for dancing, and a fourth entirely carpeted for general use and comfort. The stoves keep all one uniform heat, and there is no lack of light. Pretty bouquets of trained ivy, bowers of delicate plants brought in for the winter, stand in tlie place of costly furniture, as a rule. There are no invaluable bits of china, and the ladies' toilettes boast little expensive lace, but portraits hang on the walls that would be no disgrace to national collections, and the glorious natural features of the country are rendered in studies that are a pleasure to loolv at and recognise. And to crown aU, the Norwegian is not ashamed of being poor,—poor, that is, in comparison with the millionaires of other countries. There are luxuries of a certain sort,—wines, whicli here are cheap and good, green peas, French beans, and fruits of all sorts, preserved for winter use by the careful hands of housewives not afraid of trouble. The stranger finds a %velcome; and be he English, French, German, Italian, or Spanish, he will find not one, but very many anxious and able to speak to him in the accents of his mother tongue. All Norwegians who have the means delight in travellim:; and travellers. But this is New Year's Eve; supper has been taken standing, as it mostly is when there are many more than the family circle; it is nearing eleven. Toasts fill up the interval till twelve. Skaal (health) is drunli to friends present, to those absent, to each individual of mark or note at tlie table; glasses clink; and those wdio look on it in the light of a plain duty to empty them to each toast, will soon cease to see anything else clearly at all. But the magic hour approaches: the host comes forward, expresses the TJie Higher Education of Women in Scotland. 7 thanks of all present for the blessings of the past, and pours out hopes and good wishes for the year to come. They are old words, known far as the world is wide, but they never lose their importance or significance, and they bring on the solemnity of feeling which all decisive divisions of time must ever inspire. Thus we passed in Christiania out of 1873 into 1874, kindly kept from the knowledge of the evil that might come; hopeful, with the light-heartedness of children, of the good sure to be in store. C. EAY.

|lig^cr ^butution of ©lomtit iit Stotlaittr.

PART I. THE ST ANDREWS CERTIFICATE.

WHILE spending last winter in the south, I tried more than ever to find out the causes that keep Scotland lagging so much behind England in the advancement of the higher education of women. No doubt, in our own country, many women desire the highest education, and contrive to (jd it to a degree that could bear favourable comparison with any English results. Still we do not here find the same cordial desire to help on the cause in any or in every way; nor do we see the popularity, the fashionableness, so to speak, amongst the women themselves, of this higher education. Does it depend on the latent conservatism said to be inherent in every Scot, even the most liberal; or upon their &greater distance from the centre of impulse ? Is it that, accustomed to feel a recognised superiority in national education, the country forgets that all things comparative vary according to the relative positions of the objects compared ; or is it dependent on some of those subtle differences that still exist between the two nations ? There are certainly two sides to this advancement—the gaining of tlie education itself, and the gaining of the witness of this in the shape of a certificate. In regard to the latter, I asked the lady-principal of perhaps the first girl's school in England, if she could give any reason for the fact, that examinations were popular in England and were not so in Scotland, and she answered: " It has only been the growth of time. You can hardly imagine what hard and uphill work it has been to me and many others, the inducing of parents to allow their girls to 8 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

go forward for examinations." On talking to the girls on the same subject, some of them said: " We would never have thought of trying an examination; but the lady- principal wrote so urgently to our parents, that they said at last, we might do so." Another said : " Papa does not want me to go up for examination, neither do I; but you know we must do it for the good of the school!" That school-girl gave me one real reason for some of the favour shown to certificates: the school that passes the largest proportion of girls in a high class, gains as it were a certificate for itself at the same time. Another, it seems to me, lies in the fact, that the reformation in education in England occurred simultaneously with the awakened attention to the claims of women; so that the numerous new schools started all over the country for girls, were intrusted to the care of lady-teachers; and those likely to become competitors for the posts eagerly took advantage of every opportunity of preparing themselves for such duties. In Scotland, we have had such good schools for so long a time taught by men, that the reformation was less needed, and so for women the same necessity has not been felt for securing those advantages for professional purposes. And for the women who have no professional aims, it is just possible we may find a national distinction to account for a part of the difference. I think, as a rule, that Scotchwomen are a little ashamed of knowing more than their neighbours ; and if they happen to do so, they try to keep it quiet. They very much prefer to know, than to seem to know, or even than to be known to know. An English lady, on the other hand, supported by the feeling of her country, is rather pleased at the acknowledgment of her success; while among those weak types that always seek popularity, I have heard many say, " I do not care to know, but only to pass." It was impossible not to feel, that if more opportunities were offered to the women of our country, more would take advantage of them. Edinburgh is the only centre of anything systematic, but every one does not find it convenient to go to Edinburgh. It seemed to me that Scotland still wanted two things : a certificate attainable by private study, which would save Scotchwomen the trouble of seeking one in England, from Cambridge, Oxford, or London; and an institution which would virtually give women education of a standard identical with that of the Universities, such as Girton does in England. A preparatory system was also required to lead up directly to this higher education. Seeing that, in The Higher Education of Women in Scotland. 9 spite of the example set by Edinburgh, no one seemed to be doing anything elsewhere, I thought it could do no harm, at least, to try if I could by any means stir up an interest in the subject. In the beginning of May last, I wrote to the principals of the Universities of St Andrews and Glasgow, asking them to consider the question. My letter to Principal Tulloch was enclosed by Mrs Daniell, who, strangely enough, had just been urging the University of St Andrews to attend to the examination of the schools in Dundee, so that our schemes coincided.^ This letter was handed over to the convener of Senatus, Dr lioberts, who wrote to me very kindly, saying that, though much interested in the question, nothing could be done until the first meeting in November, when he would bring it before the notice of his colleagues. I received a similar answer from Principal Caird. But St Andrews seemed too small and inaccessible to support anything like Girton College; while Glasgow, influenced by greater numbers, wealth, and ambition, might be induced to do something for women worthy of the largest town in Scotland; accordingly, in my communica- tions with Professor Koberts, I chiefly laid stress upon the want of an open examination. I had heard of several teachers in the north of Scotland who would like to take certificates, but could not afford to give up a year's work or more, in order to be present at the Edinburgh classes. I had known many Scotch girls go to England, in order to be able to get through the Cambridge examination in one year; and it was only wise to attempt to supply the demand, especially as it is one that it needs no prophetic eye to see is likely to increase. Personally I have comparatively little liking for examinations, because a dread of cram and superficiality makes me often forget how much better superficiality is than blank ignorance. I never agreed with Pope : a little knowledge is a great deal better than none. But, if one only thinks of it, one sees how much they fail in being true tests, under existing and possible circumstances. An ideal

' This coincidence may be accounted for by the fact that the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association had, at a mjeeting held on January 7th, 1876, directed its Committee to take steps for the raising of Local Examination Bursaries in the provincial towns of Scotland. Tlie Sub-Committee on Bursaries had accordingly been for some time in correspondence with Mrs Daniell on the subject of Local Examina- tions.—EDS. No. 1.—JANUARY 1877. B lO The Ladies Edinbiirg-h Magazine.

examination ought to be impromptu. Professor Tait seems also to have felt this, as he once said he thouglit that, after a fellow had thorouglily got up a subject, he ought to be sent to sea six months before being examined in it. It Avould be much better if there were no specified time, but that the examiners should be entitled to pounce upon their victims when and where they pleased, because, with the exception of a little judgment, good taste, and legible handwriting, the thing that is really examined in a candidate is the state of his memory. What is stored up within his mind ; what materials has he acquired whereon and whereby to found judgments ? The other qualities are more permanent; but since memory is the power to be tried, how very imperfect a test is it to take a mind, immediately after the act of impression, in the very focus of concentrated attention, it may be aided by a whole battery of mnemonic arts, to hold, with a frantic grasp, facts known to be on the point of escaping. A deeper question forces itself on our consideration—What are the chief characteristics of a good memory ? Is it one that can hastily and temporarily acquire a vast number of unconnected facts; orisitone that,more slowly and more carefully acquiring, so fits these facts and arranges them in its storehouse, that they gain a permanent vitality from their associated ideas ? A well-known psychological law regulates the permanence of impressions. The impossibility of this ideal examination is of course apparent, and yet its desirability may be seen at once on considering, that it is only the part of our knowledge that we do not forget which remains our own possession. What we can do noiv, depends upon what we know now, and not on what we knew at the time of some long-past examination. If all the candidates that have been examined in any one year were to be re-examined unexpectedly on the same subject a few years later, it would be amusing to witness the relative changes of place. Very probably the brilliant first- class would fall to the foot, the second-class remain second- class, and some neglected third, or unlucky plucked victim, gain the highest number of marks amid much general haziness We are apt to smile at people wlio, under other circumstances, have a belief in the identity of " now " and " then;" and yet what greater right has a man to say, " I know all these arts, and I must have tlie credit of knowing them, because sometime in my youth I was assured by competent judges that I did so, and I still possess their certificate to that effect;" than a woman of eighty has to The Higher Education of Wot/ien in Scotland. 11 believe that she is still beautiful, graceful, and charming, because the homage of the ball-rooms of sixty years ago had given her certificates to that effect ? But since we cannot remedy this,—since we cannot put any one through an examination every time it ought to be done,—we can only for ourselves morally and conscientiously avoid what is the most dangerous element in the present system—haste, unreality, superficiality, and self-satisfaction; for, as Adam Bede says, " A good solid bit o' work lasts, if it's only laying a floor down; somebody's the better for it being done well, besides the man who did it." Leaving my ideal examination, I would consider theoreti- cally what, under existing circumstances, would be the best that could be framed for women in Scotland at present. The age is advancing, and it is as well to look forward a little, instead of looking back. The more a certificate is drawn up to suit the requirements of the future, the more permanent and valuable it will be. Now for this it is necessary to have— 1. A high standard. This is shown in three relations in each subject: 1st, in the amount of study required, i.e., the number of books prescribed for preparation; 2nd, in the kind of questions put from that reading; 3rd, in the number of marks required to give a pass. If each of these is high, then the standard is good in each subject. But the difficulty of the preparation depends also on the number of subjects taken up at the same time. This materially alters the standard of an examination. Tor instance, the London, as a whole, is popularly considered higher than the Cambridge ; but in each subject the Cam- bridge is genei'ally more difficult, so that the relative value of the London examination greatly depends upon the number of subjects taken at once. It is worthy of careful consideration—How much ought to be required at the same time ? The balance ought to be held duly between the avoiding the necessity of cramming and superficiality on the one hand, and the ensuring hard, earnest work, and superior ability on the other. For an examination that can be passed by anybody will be valued by nobody. That the field prescribed in each department ought to be well chosen, and the questions searching, every examiner knows; but I do not think they know equally well that it is no true kindness or justice to pass a candidate with too low marks. Some of the candidates that have " gone in " and " come out" of the Cambridge examinations, COM/C^ ?io

to deserve any reward. Their percentage must have been very low. It is extremely damaging to the value of an examination, in the eyes of real workers, if they see such students pass by at their side. It would be a most valuable guarantee for the standard, if it were announced that nothing short of 50 per cent, would pass, and that a first-class must be very high. 2. It ought to have a definite standard. Since the University of London has given the same examination to women as it requires for the matriculation of its male students, it has acquired a definiteness that has many times enhanced its value. Girton examinations are the same as those given to the Cambridge students, and that gives them pre-eminence, although their so-called " Degree Certificate " is not given under the seal of the university. The Cam- bridge Local Examinations have, to some extent, gained definiteness through the gradual effects of repetition and comparison; and the Oxford Examinations are further assisted by the fact, that they confer the title of A.A. Edinburgh, in some of its papers, gives " the same questions as have been presented for the M.A. pass ; but as it does not do so in all, and has not yet had time for the comparison of successive years of printed questions, the standard tliere is not definite. In drawing uj) any new form of examination, there should be a careful consideration of all the existing plans, to profit by their experience, and avoid their errors. I think it would be wise to group the subjects, as tliey do in Girton, into Tripos-work, or as in the Cambridge Local, into Groups. It tends to prevent the desultoriness that is apt to creep into a woman's work when she educates herself, and selects subjects at random. One fault in some of the present schemes is, that while limiting the examination to some particular sphere, say the period of a century in literature or history, the candidate may get up that alone, and remain in blank ignorance of anything beyond the prescribed bounds. If this had been a humorous paper, I could have cited some amusing illustrations. This might be remedied by letting it be known that the examiners reserved the right of putting some leading questions, to test general knowledge, even when special periods are set.

I have just lieard from headquarters that my season's correspondence with St Andrews has not been in vain. They have arranged, 1st, a system of lower and higher local The Higher Education of Wouien in Scotland. 13 examinations, very much like otlier Universities, in common subjects, taking up also French, German, Italian, Latin, Greek, Mathematics, and the elements of Natural Philosophy; Botany, Zoology, Physiology, Chemistry, Pliysical Geography, and Geology. This examination will take place in June, and the candidates will be arranged in order of merit, in honours, or in first and second class. In the second place, they have arranged a woman's higher University certificate, which will, I believe, be a specially good one, and I think I may now safely give a sketcli of it. This certificate is to be granted to those who have passed the lower examinations either in this or some other University, the only centre at present being St Andrews. The examination will take place on the 12th of June, and intending candidates must send in their names, with the subjects on which they wish to be examined, to the convener, on or before 31st March 1877. So much for the examination. The standard is intended to be the same as that required for the ]\I.A. both in pass and honours, in the subjects taught. at the University; and in other subjects, an analogous standard is to be aimed at. The subjects are to be chiefly those taught in the Uni- versity ; but Englisli History, French, German, and Italian languages are to be added, thus making a goodly array, which perhaps I ouglit to draw up in file : English Language and Literature ; Logic ; Psychology and Metaphysics; Moral Philosophy; Political Economy; Latin Language and Litera- ture; Greek Language and Literature; French Language and Literature ; German ; Italian; Comparative Philology; His- tory ; the Theory and History of Education ; Mathematics ; Chemistry; Botany; Zoology; Geology; Physical Geography and Palaiontology; Physiology; Hebrew; Biblical Criticism; Church History ; History of Doctrines. But our great hope is, tliat the professors may agree to certify the certificates hy granting a title. This, at present, is proposed to be the meed of those who pass high in four subjects, or take honours in one, passing in the otlier three. It cannot of course be M.A., seeing that the number of the subjects is so much smaller. They talk possibly of granting " Licentiate in Arts," thinking, not without reason, that this would be of great use to women proposing to become teachers, being to them a sort of diploma or licence to teach in the subjects in which they have passed. Whether or not this title be granted, it remains the fact that the examinations will take place in June, and we 14 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

should all bestir ourselves to let those know to whom it is likely to be acceptable, and induce candidates to come forward and support the University that has been so willing to assist them. I have no doubt that it will have a most happy effect in advancing the higher education of women, and will inspire private study and small classes in rustic districts with enthusiasm and hope. For this examination will be no uncertain honour, but of a definite standard, equivalent in each subject to those given to the other sex ; so that Scotland henceforth need not go to London to have its education weighed in the balance, and found equal or wanting. The rules and regulations will be printed in January, and may be had on application to Dr Roberts, St Andrews University. L. E.

■ If .. if -^a^. «f - «-

DIP you ever in December, Through the fog and smoke and rain. Drive about in London sadly Seeking for a house in vain ? Did your courage ooze out slowly, Till, despairing of your quest. Home you rattled, damp and weary. Longing for your tea and rest ?

If you did, you know the houses All dismantled, dark, and grim. And the lean untidy harpies Starving in some region dim. As they shuffled up the staircase, Threw the shutters open wide. And disclosed the dingy chintzes, I am sure you must have sighed !

All the carpets are so dirty. All the covers are so old. All the empty grates are rusty — Everything is bare and cold, Hoitse-Hu7iting in Londoti. 15

Save a cherished frame or mirror Veiled in yellow or in brown. Done up in a bag last summer When the world went out of town.

From the best front bedroom upwards. What a desert comes in view!— Eooms uncarpeted and dreary, Blankets of a doubtful hue ; All is scantier and blacker In proportion as you rise, Worst of all amongst the boxes In the attic next the skies.

But your troubles are not over; You must see the kitchen floor, Where the beetles live in clover. Multiplying more and more. So the harpy turns the gas on. That you may not break your nose Down the stony stair in darkness, More to complicate your woes !

Odours of departed dinners Seem to linger underground. But within the dirty saucepans Nothing now but dust is found; And the only ray of comfort Issues from a tiny grate In " Pug's Parlour," where the harpy Has been doomed to lie in wait.

When you've amply done your duty. Every hole and corner spied. There is always an objection Far too strong to be denied ; For the house is small or dirty. Or the situation bad ; If by any chance it suits you. Ten to one it can't be had.

Where am I to go ? you wonder; Must I leave Belgravia quite. Place myself in far Tyburnia Out of mind and out of sight ? 16 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Or inhabit gloomy Bromptou, Or be banished to the east, On to some suburban region That I do not know the least ?

So you get into your carriage, Seek the agents out once more, And repeat your tiresome story While they hunt their ledgers o'er. " Houses, ma'am, are getting scarcer, lients are rising every day; Jwst the very thing you wanted Has been let again till May."

Jones and Trollope, White and Gouldsmith, Are exhausted one by one. Till the winter day is closing— Nothing further can be done. Furnished with a dozen orders, You decide that it is well To resume your task to-moiTow, And return to your hotel. ESTELLE.

glrs Carringtan loius' Ulagit Wiviit\.

A CHRISTMAS STOKY.

I AM Mrs Carrington Jones. My husband was christened John Carrington; so you see I have an undeniable right to the title, for I do not consider John a name at all. Last Christmas Eve, I was formally engaged to Carrington, and next morning he brought me the most exquisite little watch and chain you ever saw in your life; each link of the latter is a monkey, and the former is positively encrusted with pearls and turquoises. Of course, I was delighted with such a nice Christmas present; and when not wearing it, I always kept it safely enclosed in its beautiful morocco case. A watch is so very useful, if you remember to wind it up; otherwise it is apt to mislead, as I found to my cost on several occasions. But as my brothers and sisters asked me at least every half-hour what o'clock it was by my watch, I soon found out and remedied the omission. Mrs Carrington Jones Magic Watch. 17

It was my first watch; for I was scarcely seventeen then, although Carrington was thirty-five. Unequal marriages in point of age have become quite fashionable, I am told; and of two extremes, I prefer being the least. That is to say, I consider it better for me to be seventeen, and Carrington thirty-five—I should hate being thirty-five. I got a very expensive trousseau, and a very superior maid, who said she was twenty-nine, but looked as old as mamma. I wondered the family, with whom she had been eleven years, Uked to part from such a treasure; but she wished a change, and they seemed very desirous to gratify her without considering their own loss, whicli I thought very nice of them; and 1 think I am a good mistress, for I never bother about trifles, and put on whatever is ]aid out for me. We were married in April, and went at once to the Con- tinent. Soon I began to find my watch rather troublesome. It was no longer necessary, as there was a pendule in every room; while, out of doors, it was easier to ask Carrington the time, than to pull out my own watch. Then the chain was always catching on something or other, and breaking the monkeys' tails ; so altogether I found it more convenient to leave it in its case. The first thing I remarked as very peculiar was, that it wound up itself. I forgot it one night, and next day I purposely did not do so, in order to see how long it would go, and it never stopped for a whole week. The next strange thing happened one oppressively warm evening, when I left the table d'hote early,and went to lie down in my own room. Before settling myself for a nap, T tliought for company's sake I would put my watch beside me; to my horror I found the case empty! I was wondering what Garrington would say, and if he would give me another, when 1 suppose I fell asleep. I was aroused by my maid's entrance. "0 Daly," I called to her, " my watch has been stolen." " Your watch, m'm ?" replied she, looking very queer. "Yes, my watch. If you look at the case, you will find it gone." She walked to the table where I had left it. " Your watch is here, ni'm." " Nonsense !" I exclaimed. Daly, in answer, brought to me both watch and case. " It is very odd, for it was not there when I came upstairs," I said. " Have you not been, dreaming, m'm ? I saw the watch on No. 1.—JANUARY 1877. C 18 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. the table as soon as I came into the room," suggested Daly, respectfully. Carrington said the same thing when I told him the mysterious occurrence, but I knew I was wide-awake when I missed the watch. Some weeks passed without further incident. We were in the habit of attending spiritual seances. One evening the meeting was deferred, but we were not aware of it till we reached the door. I did not care to go anywhere else, so we returned to our hotel. As I laid aside my hat I glanced at the table, and perceived my watch was gone again. I instantly seized the case, and ran into Carrington's dressing-room. "We are both awake; but the watch is away," I cried incoherently. He did look amazed. " It is very extraordinary," he said; "but I shall be still more astonished if you ever see it again. Don't say a word, and put back the case in its place." I did so; and at ten o'clock, when I went upstairs, the watch was ticking innocently in its usual position. I sent away Daly immediately, and said to my husband in jest, " I believe a spirit has a prior claim to this Avatch, and takes the use of it whenever it pleases." He turned pale, quite ghastly indeed, but tried to laugh. " Has any one else possessed it ?" I asked seriously. " No one but yourself has used it. I am going to tell you. Alberta, what I have meant to tell you ever since our marriage, and indeed before it, when I gave you the watch ; but you were so merry over it, I did not like to sadden you by my tale. I ordered it for a lady to whom I was engaged eleven years ago. She never lived to possess it; the very day of her death it was sent home." He paused. "Did you love her very much ?" I could not help asking. " I was sincerely attached to her, but it was a boyish affection; she was older than I was. The feelings you inspired, love, were quite different." He paused again. " I am glad you have told me," I said simply. " You understand now how painful even your innocent little jest was to me. I think it will be wiser, too, to wear your watch instead of leaving it lying about, for it will inevitably be stolen." At that moment I distinctly heard a footstep, and expected every instant to see a spirit-hand advance and grasp the chain. There followed the rustle of a wing, or of a dress, and a cold wind came under the door. " Oh! Carrington, what is that ?" I cried. Mrs Carriiigton Jones' Magic Watch. 19

" An eaves-dropper," he replied, and threw open the door; but, as might have been expected, no one was there. I did not take my husband's advice, for I did not wish to interfere with any spirit's amusement. From this date my watch became very erratic, and disappeared for hours, days, and even nights, and never required to be wound up at all! We returned to Carrington Park, my husband's new country place; and from the moment we landed in England, this wonderful watch gave up its bad habits, and was always to be found at home, and grateful for small attentions. This lasted till All Hallow's Eve. I was alone that evening, for my husband was presiding at an agricultural dinner. Daly and most of the servants were at a Halloween party, given by our Scotch gardener. Before she went she had been describing to me the various incantations to be performed on the occasion. I was made quite nervous by her stories, and did not look into the mirror without a shudder, although I had no intention of eating an apple before it. To add to my dismay, I found the drawing- room timepiece stopped, so I returned to my room for my watch. It had vanished. I resolved then and there, if it ever returned, to lock it into my wardrobe, and never look on its treacherous face again. I spent a wretched evening, and was recounting my troubles to my husband, when there came a tap at the door; and in answer to Carrington's invitation (I was so frightened I could not utter a word), Daly walked in with my watch in her hand, saying, " I found it on the hall-table, m'm, as we came in, and was afraid you had forgotten it." Carrington laughed, and looked meaningly at me, but it was no hand of mine which conveyed that watch out of my room. I locked it away in a box inside my wardrobe that very night. I find people living in the country have a great number of trials. I got a beautiful new winter bonnet in London, and found, after wearing it one Sunday, that the butcher's wife had one exactly the same, except in colour. I was much annoyed, especially as next market-day the hateful woman was parading the streets in a very bad imitation of my velvet jacket, trimmed with sable. I complained to Carrington. He only smiled. " These sort of people get the fashions immediately; it is probably a coincidence, and not an impertinence; but order a new bonnet, my dear, if it annoys you." 20 Tlie Ladies Edinburs'/i Mas:aziiie.

" But what am I to do with this one ; it is so • very becoming ? " I said regretfully. " Can't your maid change it somehow, put in new feathers, and tilt up the other side of the brim, and circumvent Mrs Lamb that way ?" he answered. It was an admirable suggestion, and I went straight to Daly's room to act upon it. She did not hear my first knock; but at my second she came to the door with a half- trimmed bonnet in her hand. " I am glad you know something of millinery, Daly, for I wish you to alter my bonnet," said I. " Certainly, m'm. I was just sorting some little things of my own at present; for you give me so little to do, m'm," said Daly apologetically, as I gazed in some wonder at the confusion around of ribbons, laces, wires, and feathers. " But surely you don't mean to wear this ?" I said, lifting up a very coquettish velvet hat, covered with flowers and feathers. "Oh! no, m'm," she answered smiling; "that is for my little sister. I hope you have no objection to my trimming her hat; she is motherless, and I have always been in the habit of helping her as much as I can." To these laudable sentiments, of course, I could say nothing, except meekly request her to do my bonnet as soon as she had finished her own. When I told Carrington of Daly's sisterly kindness, he said I ought to give her more to do for me, as idleness is the mother of mischief Accordingly, I procured a large quantity of velvet and cashmere to make a costume, and sent to Paris for a bonnet to match. I began to think the whole neighbourhood. bewitched; for no sooner had my bonnet arrived—actually before I had worn it—than the postmistress had a facsimile on her head, and the grocer's daughter smirked into church before me with a polonaise of the same stufl' as my dress. I could have cried with vexation. To appear to imitate these people I Avould not. So my old dress and bonnet appeared every Sunday, I hope to the disgust of my worthy imitators. As Christmas approached, we were very busy witli preparations for mirth and jollity. All my family were to spend the holidays with us, and we meant to give three Christmas trees, several dinner parties, and a dance. I Avished to be an example to our neighbours, whom I considered very shabby in their dealings with rich and poor alike. Speaking Mrs Carringtori Jones Magic Watcli. 2i for myself, after the first formal dinner no one paid me the slightest attention. But I resolved to gain the hearts of the common people, and show the county magnates that a little money well spent would gain more love in a year, than their parsimonious habits could win in a century. I literally had a whole ox roasted in pieces, to dispense as Christmas cheer, and gave away quantities of clothing. My cook, an old fellow-servant of Daly's, was a very pleasant person, and always willing to aid my benevolent schemes, by suggesting people who would be so grateful for a bottle of wine or a blanket. She knew every one in the village, and told me my generosity was the universal theme. Doing good at Christmas time is tlie very easiest, as well as pleasantest of pursuits. The only drawback to my happiness was that Carrington looked depressed, and received almost daily ill-written letters, which he never offered to show to me. I meant to give dresses to all the household: a silk one to Daly, a poplinette to the cook, and serges to the others. When I offered cook her choice of patterns, she hummed and hawed, and seemed almost disappointed. I asked her if there was anything else she would have preferred. She brightened up considerably, and said she had long been saving up her wages to buy a black silk. I gave her £2 to assist, instead of the other dress. She thanked me civilly, but looked as if I was doing her an injury instead of conferring a favour. I was thankful that the others looked pleased with their gifts. My people arrived, and we were all as happy as possible on Christmas Eve, when Norali asked for the loan of my watch, as she was going a long walk with the boys, in search of holly berries. I gave her the keys, and told her where to find it. She returned to say there was nothing in that box, nor in the jewel- case beside it, which ought to have contained my plain gold set. I was telling mamma about my magic watch, which appeared to have infected things it touched with its own vagrancy, when the second post came in, and brought a dirty, ill-written note to me, which ran, or rather crawled thus—

" HoNERED MADAM, i feels it my dooty espessialy at this festif seson to worn you of the vieper you cheris in your "buzzum, which weres your close and lalTs in her sieve at your innersense with respec- ful complemens.—Yours, etc. etc. WELL-WISHER." It took some time to read, and longer still to understand. 22 The Ladies Edmbiirgh Magazine.

I was still staring at it when Carrington came in. " You have received one of those precious epistles at last, Alberta ; and I think it is time now to act, for they have been coming to me for weeks. I see yours is on a different tack, however, and the first of its kind. Look at mine." He gave me a much better written and expressed note than the other, filled with abuse of the cook, and pointing out cupboards downstairs in which would be found the brandy, wine, and blankets of the poor, ready to be despatched with other stores to her own friends. " Can it be true ?" I said, and handed the notes to mamma. " She must have stolen your watch and ornaments also," replied she. " That unlucky watch, is it gone ?" asked Carrington. "Yes, and my gold set." " I am glad to hear it," he replied calmly. " Do nothing till my return, and only discuss the matter among yourselves." The consternation in the household may be imagined, when Carrington returned with a search-warrant and two policemen. Every one was anxious to exculpate himself and inculpate his neighbour. The very page-boy exclaimed, grinning, " I can point out the sperrit thot wears missus' Avatch. I saw it at Mr JMTarlane's, and the earrings and brooch too—blessed if I did not! " Oh! to think that Carrington's lost love should have been the jest of the servant's hall, and my credulity so great! I actually believed a spirit could need a watch ' The cook wept and confessed all; but said Daly had put her up to it, and told her that her friends were as poor as any to whom I gave charity. But the worst revelations were in Daly's room. My watch was on her table, and my clothing, worn and torn, in her drawers. Fancy her making gowns and hats for all the village after my models, and sometimes Avith my materials ! Her little sister was a milliner and dressmaker—certainly not a tall person,—but whose orphaned condition was not extraordinary, as she was on the verge of sixty. Daly was calm and injured; said she had only taken the loan of my watch, as I never used it, and brought up the other articles to mend. Both wretched women were sent out of the house at an hour's notice. I shall be very much astonished if I spend a merry Christmas after all this ; and how I am to manage without Domestic Art. 23 a cook at Christmas time I do not know. The kitchen- maid says she has often done all the cooking; so we must hope the best. XoNO.

IF the British public does not become artistic in taste, does not rejoice in properly decorated buildings and in correct ornaments, it is not for want of teachers, nor, indeed, for want of critics more or less withering. Amono; the most withering may be counted the Eev. W. Pattison, the rector of Lincoln CoUege, who, in a lecture delivered the other day at Oxford, declared that the middle classes were actually degener- ating in taste; and, worse still, were injuring the beauty of many foreign products, as Venetian glass and Eastern carpets, by their preference for vulgar forms and tints. Worst of all, he considered, is tlie self-satisfied conceit with which we are for ever boasting of our progress. Nor do we get much comfort from the Saturday Review, which agrees with much that he says, adds some severe remarks of its own, and winds up by hinting, that after all it does not signify: taste is fashion, and fashion is folly. The old designers, whose works some of us still presume to delight in, were probably inspired by mere convenience, use and wont; and would have been the first to have adopted the ugly patterns of the present day, had they been brought into a Birming- ham or Glasgow designing-room. People buy articles of virtu, not because they really admire them, but iDecause they wish to be thought artistic; the wiser sell them to advantage, not because their taste refines, but because they first scent a change in the public fancy. Nothing is intrinsically much better or worse than anything else; and the best that can be said for the hobby of "art in the dwelling-house" is, that it is not a vicious one. "Vanity of vanities—all is vanity"—including perhaps the Saturday Revievj itself. From this point of view, British Decorative Art might be represented as a female clad in the tight pillow-case garments of tlie day, crowned with the gigantic bows of the modern bonnet, bearing in her hand the last trumpery ornament out, say a twisted brass candlestick, seated on a pictorial coal-box, and trampling underfoot a shattered Etruscan vase. 24 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

If we venture to differ somewhat from the Eeviewer in his conclusions, we must, I fear, however, allow that many of his strictures are only too true. We must all have observed the way in which a fashion, or rather a lage for some special style in dress, decoration, or ornament arises, passes all bounds of moderation, and runs with heedless unrestraint into absurdity and ugliness. Take our present clinging skirts : popular art, instead of checking, exaggerates the extreme of the fashion. In the current number of Good Words, the artist illustrates a tale called, "What she came Through," by a heroine in draggled skirts, so gracelessly clinging, that the picture at once suggests that she "came through " a horse-pond. Again: a little while ago, pretty ornaments in brass came into vogue, old, or good imitations of the old. Now all the bric-a-bric shops are crammed with brass, pretty, ugly, and absurd, and fashionable purists must look out for something else. The chief causes of this are, no doubt, great wealth, which makes it easy to follow any caprice, and a great love of ornament, combined with a curious want of real artistic instinct. The Spectator newspaper, unlike the two before-mentioned critics, bids us rejoice that we are improving in taste, saying, that at anyrate good literary art was never more appreciated than now. This may be true, and yet not quite to the purpose; for if we measure our country by an outside standard, do we not find that we have always had the easy pre-eminence over other countries, in good diffused literature, that some of them have over us in art ? Our enjoyment of books may indeed have done much to distract us from the ugly rooms in which we read them. Our private libraries are the most numerous and the best in the world, and the chief ornament of many of those large houses, which have ]iot the doubtful advantages we express by the term "show-houses." And it should also be remembered that, owing to our pleasure in out-of-door life, our taste for the beautiful has, in the country at least, been chiefly gratified by our gardens. But so much attention has of late been given to indoor decoration, at least in towns, that it would be hard indeed if there were not true progress in it. Those of us who have been livintj in saste-oreen rooms enlivened with shades of grav, may surely console ourselves when in bad weather it looks just a little gloomy, by the confideiice that we are moving in the right direction. Better certainly is a harmonious gloom than violent ill-assorted colours; and the low half-tints may Domestic Art. 2$ train the eye towards something less timid and more absolutely beautiful. For in Italy, which is the home of mural and drapery decoration, we find, besides the half- tints, splendid effects produced by rich colours, but a happy instinct seems to know where to employ them. The Germans may not be naturally safer colourists than we are, but they carry out so thoroughly what they undertake, that if they attempt art decoration at all, the results are often beautiful, even as seen in small middle-class houses. For instance, the stray bits of Gothic furniture which are scattered about in our houses, are apt to look incongruous; but there are some houses in INIunich where it can be realized how beautiful such furniture is in its place. In one little house, built on a mediaeval plan, the rooms are wainscoted; the doors have massive outside hinges and locks; the drawing-room is charming, for the dark wooden background sets off aU the well-chosen bright ornaments; and the bay-window, with crimson velvet seats, and richly tinted draperies, gives both light and warmth of colour to the room. It is also as comfortable as it is pretty —a point which should l^e considered l)y the buyers of quaint furniture. For instance, at an entertainment given by a German artist in his studio, we sat round such a high ancient table, on such low carved chairs, that we looked like small children at dessert. All the guests had services of beautiful but different devices, so that they rather rivalled each other than helped any general effect; and we still remember the spasm of anxiety which crossed the face of the hostess, as the jovial host dashed tlie Mai-tranlc out of a heavy gr4s dc Flandre jug into our tall delicate Venetian glasses. The brass salvers too, and majolica dishes which held our food, belonged rather to the category of ornamental art, than of art decoration. This convenient distinction, which is sometimes over- looked, is of great use when we try to find principles to guide our taste in art at home. Ornamental art includes those things which are made for ornament, and which yet do not rise into creations of fine art. Art decoration refers to those jjrimarily useful things which may receive ornament. Thus a china vase belongs to ornamental art; a painted tea-cup is, or ought to be, a useful thing—the subject of art decoration. In art decoration, the art is subordinate to utUity—to appropriateness, to convenience. It does not exist for itself, and of course many useful things are not capable of receiving it; and nowhere is taste more No. 1.—JANUARY 1877. D 26 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. needed than to decide where it is admissible and where not. There is no use in trying to make some things pretty, for instance, a pair of tongs: it is enough that they should be useful. The coal-boxes, which are the especial detesta- tion of Mr Pattison, are fine examples of misplaced decoration; those squat japanned things with turned-up chins, bearing on their lids highly coloured versions of popular engravings. They violate a great rule of decorative art, which is, that it should never be actually pictorial, but that all painted ornaments should be more or less conventional. If we are to have a picture, let it hang on the wall; let it not appear in a concave form, near the floor and over the coals. Shall we then give up the coal-boxes, and content ourselves, if we must have coals in the room, with an ugly but convenient scuttle ? The word " box " shows the way out of the difficulty; a real box is never incapable of ornament; and those wooden coal-boxes, with a lid lilce the japanned ones, but ornamented simply with good metal mountings and hinges, are at once convenient in shape, and inoffensive, nay, really pleasing to the eye. But it is time to turn from our critics to our advisers in matters of taste. Among the very latest, are the authors of a set of dainty little lavender-coloured books, called the Art at Home Series. The first treats of Art in the House, chiefly ornamental art; and the second, by the Misses Garrett, is a Guide to House Decoration, or, according to our division of the subject. Decorative Art. May we venture to remind our readers, before taking up the most tasteful hand-books, that nothing is more dangerous to natural taste than endeavouring to admire what we really do not admire, because we are told we ought ? This is different from supposing that there is, in such a case, probably something admirable which we do not yet see, and suspending our judgment till further acquaintance or study may decide whether the thing in question really pleases us or not. The want of appreciation may be from our own dulness, but we should never affect a taste we have not got. Genuine- ness is a great guardian of good taste, and the best protection against fashionable mistakes. The little hand-books before us seem full of useful hints, and might well be consulted by people about to furnish. It is rather amusing to find, that the style of furniture most recommended is not the mediseval form which was extolled in former guide-books, but the plain shapes and somewhat spindle-legged fashions of the days of Queen Anne. The ideal dressing-table in Domestic Art. 27

House Decoration is a well-known shape in oldish country houses, where, as is the wont of old furniture, instead of descending, it has generally ascended to the attics, and is rather scorned by the maids. Probably, with other articles of the same date, it may still be picked up cheap at out-of- the-way broker's shops, and might prove a good investment while the fashion lasts. We doubt whether that wiU be long; it seems rather a reaction from badly applied ornament to no ornament at all, as far as regards chairs and tables. The fine wood-carving which is often found in houses of that date, and has real beauty both of form and execution, we generally see as a fixture on mantelpieces or architraves, and to our eye at least the contemporary- furniture, if simple, is uninteresting, and not very convenient. The mantelpieces are very pretty, with their double shelves and little reflecting mirrors, and would look charming sprinkled with some of the china which used to be the pride of the readers of the Spectator. It may be observed, that the great plate-glass mirror, which is the delight of the modern upholsterer, is so far from being considered handsome, that directions are given for dividing it into little squares. In wall-decoration, the fashion seems still to incline rather towards neutral colours intended for back- grounds, than towards the mural painting most in vogue a few years ago; but good remarks are made about both styles, and we are much recommended to stencil our walls with diaper patterns ourselves. Formerly, when an ordinary house needed painting and papering, the nearest house-painter used to put on the most fashionable papers, grain the wood of the best rooms, and give three coats of paint to the rest; so surely real progi'ess is marked by its being considered interesting amateur work. This progress dates probably from the time of the Exhibition of 1851; and the opening of Italy to the middle-classes by means of the railways has done much to further it. The first visit to Italy is a revelation in decorative art to those who have eyes to see. Not only are the halls of the great palaces splendid with frescoes and harmonious colours, but on the walls of the rooms, in common villas and roadside inns, we find free.-hand designs in distemper that, however rough, are full of character and grace. For the people there are surrounded by good models; they see the rich forms of their vegetation translated into noble conventional art, in paintings, metal, and stone, on every side ; any average Italian coun try town abounds in artistic work. 28 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. and the hand and eye of the workmen receive an unconscious education. You may buy designs for wall or ceiling ornament, cut in paper so that they may be easily filled in with paint, of quite remarkable quality in art. In France, on the contrary, though there is much taste and beauty of decoration in the best houses, the gaudy conventional patterns that content the lower orders, show that they have not by nature the artistic instinct of the Italians. May we not also congratulate ourselves on our progress in needlework? Contrast the monstrous renderino; of figures from popular prints of 30 years ago with our modern embroidery, full of the variety and vitality of design which marks good and thoughtful work. Here, and also in tile- painting, we find the revival of almost lost arts. Beautiful work is done by amateurs in ornamental tiles. It should be remembered always, though patterns drawn on walls, if the intervals are correct, need not have all the pi'ecision of wall papers, that the utmost purity of outline is necessary for tiles. Figures, therefore, where the form is all-important, had better be attempted only by correct draughtsmen. The difficulty is, that the same incorrectness of eye that is the cause of bad drawing, is also the cause of a want of perception of the painful results. And, especially in this country, where teaching is apt not to be thorough, a certain talent for landscape and flower drawing may go with a disastrous want of perception of figure drawing. In general, those who find that after some practice they can neither draw a beautiful nor a cliaracteristic face from life or memory, had better give up figure drawing; the root of the matter is not in them. Tiles combine beautifully with wood-work, or almost any wall decoration; but may we be allowed to protest against a kindred fashion, which we have always disliked, and to which we never get reconciled by custom, and that is, rows of plates hung upon the wall ? Plates were never meant thus to expose themselves, they should be seen in perspective,or handled and examined; the upright position is only really suitable to metal salvers in relief It should be remembered that, for those who are not special china fanciers, they are round, unadaptable discs, suggestive of food, and essentially ugly in form, as are cups and saucers. Their beauty, and it may be great, is not that of form, so it is not their form that should be chiefly shown off. And when they have only that subtle, or we may call it historical beauty, which is invisible to all but the expert in china. Domestic Art. 29 they are enough like targets for a sinister longing to shy something at them, to suggest itself to the ordinary beholder. Ill cabinets, or china closets, or on shelves, they look in their place, but we think that in the dairy only are they a suitable lining for the walls. An excellent idea is suggested in one of the hand-books, that boys should be taught carving, if they show any aptitude in handling tools. Then they might carve mantelpieces, frames, and furniture. What a valuable direction to give those restless, not to say mischievous energies that have troubled many of us on wet days, or long evenings in the holidays ! Let us not forget, however, that amateur decorative work ought to be really good—ought, indeed, to be judged by the same standard as professional work. It seems not always gracious or easy to criticise amateur productions ; and certainly, as regards the fine arts, a good painting or statue demands so much, that few can hope to produce either who do not follow art as a profession. But the subordinate decorative arts of tile-painting, ornamental carving, pattern drawing, with their far fewer requirements, needing far less time, power, and study, must be thoroughly well done. If we do not pay workmen, we must work well ourselves. However, as these books assure us, a pleasant and a lovely home need not be expensive; nor need even a taste for collecting, which some think must cost at least as much as six hunters. Collections may absolutely pay. You may buy cheap and sell dear, if you have taste and good luck, besides the pleasure, the cultivation, and the interest they bring. But it seems more than a pleasure : it is a duty for such of us as have means sufficient, and houses Avhich are a centre of family life, to make our homes attractive and beautiful. This is a " work for women," about wliich there can hardly be a difference of opinion, and we hope it may progress so well that Miss Garrett's melancholy criticism may soon be inappropriate. "Little is known, and still less is cared," she says, " about the principles of decorative art. If, therefore, we take an ordinary London drawing-room as a true index of the mind of its owner, we can only reflect with dismay how little artistic knowledge is yet to be found in our midst." And this among people who travel hundreds of miles " to see the treasures of art abroad." E. J. 0. 30 The Ladies Editiburgh Magazine.

THE debates of the past year have been distinguished by great vigour and interest. In January, the question, " Does the study of physical science tend to shake religious belief?" produced two able papers on each side. The projôser of the negative maintained that there could be no contradiction between true science and true religion ; that science did not pretend to solve the mystery of the beginning of all things, nor, in discovering the laws of nature, to disclose the maker of those laws ; that the wave of scejsticisiu at present passing over Christendom was really due to many and complex causes, and was not so universal as often supposed, but that many phenomena showed great increase in belief and earnestness in religion. The paper of the seconder well followed up tliis argument by numerous apt quotations from able scientific writers, showing that they maintained that there was nothing in their studies which tended to shake their belief. The attirniative was, however, forcibly maintained and illustrated l.iy quotations ; and it was also seconded, though the seconder dwelt rather too much on savage superstitions exploded by the light of science—a point undisputed by all. An animated discussion took pilace, and the voting showed a majority of eight for the negative, out of twenty-six votes. A very amusing debate occupied the February meeting : " If a woman wishes .to repair defects of early education, is it better for her first to prepare herself for the local examinations, than to pass at once to higher branches of study ?"—a topic particularly interesting to our Society, from the number of candidates who were prejâring for the local examinations here. Most excellent papers were read, those in the affirmative giving amusing instances of defects in knowledge of ordinary subjects, wliich must have come home with great force to all present. Those on the negative side took the groiind, that defects in early education must be put uji with, as the period for repairing tliem had passed away, and that the mind would be better employed on higher branches more suitaUe to its maturer growth. In the subsequent discussion each side was defended with such ability, that out of twenty-three votes the majority was only one for the negative ; but the affirmative may claim the best of all tests, namely, the jjractical one of the number of ladies who came forward and j)assed the local examinations here last Jvme. The question debated in March was, " Has belief in witchcraft, sorcery, apparitions, and spiritualism any foundation in truth ? " The affirmative was maintained in an interesting paper full of amusing illustrations, well authenticated, arguing that the number of stories of ajjparitions vouched for by people in noways credulous, or iinder any expectation of seeing such sights—in fact, in most cases ignorant of any story attached to the place where the api)arition appeared, and devoid of any anxiety regarding the person they said they saw—must be regarded as evidence of a substratum of truth in the reality of such apparitions. This paper was chiefly confined to this one branch of the subject, as was the very able and philosojdncal jxiper wliich followed on the negative side, which put out of court as indefensilile any Debates of tJie Ladies Literary Society. 31 belief in witchcraft, sorcery, &c., and said that the belief in ghosts was a lingering remnant of such superstitions, and ought to be relegated to the same category of untenable opiaiions. The seconder of the affirmative maintained not only that there was some ground for belief in apparitions, but that possession, as described in the New Testament, and perhaps some cases of witchcraft and sorcery could not be accounted for ^vithout recourse to the supernatural ; but this branch of the subject was not taken up ; and after a paper by tlie seconder of the negative, a keen and long discussion followed, and the votes showed a majority of one for the " ghosts," many members however declining to vote either for or against them. In April, the subject of animals having any moral responsibility gave a large audience a most interesting paper in the affinnative, full of anecdotes of the ways and habits of animals, many of them authenticated by the personal observation of the writer, evidently well versed in the subject, and specially bearing on the point in question. Arguments on the opposite side were ably advanced, and both sides found seconders, and also much support in the subsecjûent animated discussion ; but preconceived opinions may have had some influence on the voting, which showed a majority of six for the negative out of eighteen votes; while a large number of members declining to vote may be accounted for by the difficulty, to which attention was drawn by a speaker, that to argue out the subject properly, would first require a philosophical discussion on the origin and explanation of moral responsibility. The question," Is the mind conscious in sleep ?" which occupied the Society in May, produced the unusual result of all present voting in the affirmative, excepting the proposer and seconder of the negative, who declined to vote ; but this unanimity did not jtrevent both the papers, and the general discussion which followed, from being very iaiteresting and well illustrated. The meeting in June was large, and the subject debated was, " Has scepticism had a worse effect on society than superstition ?" The affirmative side was strongly supported in two papers of much alnlity, but partly owing to the vague wording of the (question, they were rather beside the point. One especially, full of learning, illustration, and quotation, was very interesting, but it dealt more with the baneful effects of scepticism in religion compared with hdief, than with superstition. One observation in this paper was very true, namely, that we have seen the harm of superstition, but that we have not yet seen the worst effects of scepticism ; but here again, the question being worded in the past tense, this point could scarcely be allowed its proper weight. The negative side was ably argued, antl history appealed to for evidence of the evils which have owed their origin to superstition. A member, who is not so often present at these Debates as is wished, then made a very able speech, pointing out the ambiguous wording of the question, as scepticism philosophically does not bear the po]^)ular meaHing attached to it, when the term is limited to matters of religion ; and she truly said that, in the jjapers she had heard, the large branch of the subject relating to philosophy had been entirely omitted, and consequently the consideration of the benefits owing to those who had revolutionized philosophic thought, by the great principle of taking nothing for grantecl till it had been proved. A good many members declined to vote, feeling that the subject had not been thoroughly argued out, and only thirteen votes were recorded, with a majority of three for the negative. 3^ Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

In accordance with an arrangement made in June, a pleasing variety was introduced in July, though only a small number assembled to take part in it. Each member present chose a favourite character in Shakespeare's plays. Cordelia, Hermoine, Imogen, Kent, and Shylock eacli found a supporter, while Henry V. was chosen by two members. A short analysis of each character, illustrated by passages read from the ]")lays, followed ; but no voting was required, and the Society adjourned ibr the summer, to meet again in October. " Are the works of Miss Terrier superior to those of Mrs Gaskell ? " was the question taken up on the Society re-assembling, when Miss Terrier's superiority was maintained in an excellent pajjer, which dwelt upon the living individuality of her various portraits, on her keen sense of the ridiculous, and admirable use of satire. The extracts, read with such a charm of thorough appreciation, made the audience wish them longer, and were happily chosen as specimens of the author's wit and humour, and appreciation of simple homely goodness as shown in the character of^ Molly Macarilay. A comparison between this author and Miss Austin was made on the common ground of their excellence in portraying the everyday life of the society in which they severally lived, and of their power in casting the charm of their own genius round commonplace characters and incidents, owing nothing to the adventitious aids of romantic scenes, perils, and adventures. Admitting all said in praise of Miss Terrier, it was argued on the other side that this might be said with equal truth" of Mrs Gaskell, and that more excellencies and powers were exhibited in her works, giving therefore to her the palm of superiority. In the humdrum life of Cranford, Mrs Gaskell meets Miss Terrier on her own ground, and holds her own, there and elsewhere, in the keen encounter of playful wit. Miss Matty and good old Alice are not out- shown in simple goodness by Molly Macaulay ; while in her larger works we dwell on characters and incidents wherein good and evil, sorrow and suffering, tragic interest, tender pathos, human weakness and strength, are portrayed with a power and beatity of style second to none in the English language. The audience in general shared this latter opinion, as out of seventeen votes, eleven awarded the palm to Mrs Gaskell ; four declining to vote. In November, the debate was upon the question, " Is German literature superior to English '?" and was lively and brilliant, the papers on both sides being excellent, and admitting of a good deal of anecdote and repartee. The seconders both spoke instead of reading, one of them being a newly admitted member, and therefore unprejjared. On the German side, it was forcibly argued that there were certain departments of mental culture, among them some of the most important to humanity, in which English thinkers and \raters had not attained to any very great degree of excellence ; and that, even in such branches as History and Biography, many of the standard English works were so dull as to be seldom thoroughly read. On the other side, the papers read displayed much acquaintance with the best works of both countries, and maintained that English literature covered a much larger area, and occuj)ied a greater place, in the general history of the world, than German had ever done. The seconder on the same side took up this statement, and enlarged it by saying that, judging by the two ^japers before the meeting, there was a slight confusion of ideas, neither side having given any definition of literature. Presuming that by national literature we mean the mind of a nation exjjressed in its books, it certainly would seem that the literature was superior which covered Double Acrostic. 33 most of the history of a great people, entering into every department, public or private, of its life and thoughts, and leaving no sphere of its life and activity unrepresented in its books. Another pleasant and interesting speech was made, by a new member on the German side specially defending German fiction, and giving anecdotes of German domestic manners from personal experience. But after hearing another short though striking paper on the English side read by a good German scholar, who had the merit of thoroughly entering into the beauty and nobleness of many German writers in their own lines, the votes of the meeting showed a decided superiority on the English side of the question, the members being three for the affirmative, and fourteen for the negative, eight members declining to vote. In December, the necessary business of the Society occupied so long a time that the debate was adjourned to the next meeting; and it only remains for us to repeat the hope expressed at the close of last year, that more members will take part in future debates. The list proposed is large and varied, and any new subject will be gladly received. It has been mentioned that some of the foregoing debates required a considerable amount of knowledge of philosophy ; and we are certainly greatly indebted to those members who have given us such able papers on subjects which could only be well handled by those whose talents and reading in that line enable them to speak on those subjects ; but variety is pleasing, and very lively and spirited papers and speeches have proceeded from members whose talents lie in other directions.

■ w ■• » '^ms^- » ■■ » •

DOUBLE ACKOSTIC, No. 1.

ROUND, brown, and steaming, Behold me now appear, With holly wreath and flaming crown. To welcome in the year. " This is a day, in days of yore, Our fathers never saw before : This is a day, 'tis one to ten. Our sons will never see again."

1. "With spectacles on nose and pouch on side ; His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again towards childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound." 2. " A mighty maze ! but not without a plan." 3. You, and your doubk, in union, you'U find Are two letters we see very seldom combined. 4. " Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword. The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one-half so good a grace "— No. 1.—JANUARY 1877. 34 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

5. It " rules the day, where reason rules the mind." 6. Trophy from a savage king Which our army home did bring. 7. " Gome, let me clutch thee." 8. —" traitors," Which " make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt." 9. He's another—ditto—the same. 10. " It would seem As if God poured thee from His ' hollow hand,' And hung His bow upon thine awful front, And spoke in that loud voice, which seemed to him Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour's sake, ' The sound of many waters.'" 11. " Go where " it " waits thee." F. M. A Prize is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. Solutions to be sent to the Editors, care of the Publishers, 22 Hmm Street, Edinburgh, not later than the 15th of each month, and to be written clearly on a sheet of paper containing only the solution, signature, and full name and addj-ess of the sender. Correct solutions will be acknowledged in the following number. The name and address of the winner only will be announced at the close of the competition.

• D - 9» -^iH^. » - J> ■

OUR LIBRAEY TABLE.

EECORDS OF THE COINAGE OP SCOTLAND, from the Earliest Period to the Union. Collected by R. W. Cochran Patrick, Esquire, of Woodside, LL.B. Cantab., F.S.A. Scot., etc., etc. 2 vols. Edinburgh : Edmonston & Douglas, 1876. THESE beautiful volumes, although perhaps not calculated to arouse the interest of the general reader, must attract the admiration of the most casual observer. The subject is one possessing for every educated Scotchman an interest of its own ; the book will form an addition to his library which the antiquary must highly appreciate, alike for the elaborate and exhaustive research evidenced by the Intro- duction, forming the bulk of the first volume, and for the historical and other records which are embraced in the remainder of the work. The 15 plates of engravings of Early Scottish Coins, placed at the end of vol. ii., are executed in a manner in the highest degi'ee artistic and admirable. The volimies have the honour of dedication to the Queen, " by special permission ;" this unusual favour being granted on a due representation to Her Majesty of the national character of their contents. Our Library Table. 35

JOSHUA HAGGART'S DAUGHTER. By Miss Braddon. London : Maxwell & Co., 1876.

IN Joshua Haggart's Daughter, Miss Braddon depends for the interest of the story more on the delineation of character, and less on the commission of crime and its detection, than in many of her previous works. The characters are more natural, and there is no incarnate fiend to whom murder comes as second nature, as an easy mode of disposing of inconvenient people. Joshua Haggart is a methodist preacher in Devonshire, who follows the example of the Apostles in labouring with his hands as well as preaching the Gospel ; in so far, at least, that he keeps the grocer's shop of the village, aided by his sister Judith. His shop is famed for the goodness of the articles sold there. He is a man so scrupulously true, that his wife, who, before marriage, worshipped him as a hero and saint, does not find her illusions dispelled. He is resolute and courageous. He is ascetic, thinking demonstrations of feeling wrong, but a man of strong passions ; and in that he finds his ruin. His daughter is formed after the mould of her father, but she is too cold and self-possessed to be a lovable heroine. Her father stands first in her heart. Her lover is a weak, dreamy youth, unworthy of her ; Aunt Judith and Jem are natural well-drawn characters, and so are the Miss Weblings, whose fronts and black velvet bands remind us of ladies of a certain age whom we met in the days of our youth. The stoiy is interesting, but unpleasant. Is it good to depict the failure of a man who might have made a Bunyan ? Is it not better, as it is more pleasant, to .study the characters of those who " Rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things ?" Nevertheless, if the secret of a good novel is to paint people as they are, so that they become real personages to the reader, we must admit that in this, in her last novel, Miss Braddon has been successful.

" CARROTS :" JUST A LITTLE BOY. By Ennis Graham. London : Macmillan & Co., 1876.

WE feel inclined to speak very enthusiastically of this little tale, written ostensibly for childien, but possessing a true charm for those who do not think it, as the motto suggests— " A great mistake That boys were ever made at all." The little hero, however, is not more interesting than his motherly little sister Floss ; and we think the character-painting of the other children, however slight it be, both life-like and clever. The story introduced of the " Two Funny Little Trots," is quite an idyll of child life. Do our little Mends sometimes reason a little too logically'! yet we must remember how startlingly clear the judgment of a child sometimes is. The solitary railway journey is perhaps a somewhat improb- able incident. The illustrations of the book are pretty and spirited ; and the aptly chosen quotations heading each chapter are admirable. We think " Carrots " would make a very good Christmas dinner for some little people ! 36 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

STEAYNOTES.

THE Council of the University College, London, have awarded the Joseph Hume Scholarship in Jurisprudence, of £20 a-year for three years, to Miss Eliza Orme, who has already taken the first place in all the classes that women are permitted to attend at this institution, and who is now making hcr way in conveyancing and such other active business at the law as is allowed to persons who are not called to the Bar. It may be a long time, the A thenmum remarks, before the Benchers of the Inns will grant the " caU " to women ; but if they prove themselves worthy of it, it can only be a c[uestion of time. We in Edinbiu-gh must feel a special interest and pride in this modem Portia, owing to her being the sister-in-law of one of our most learned professors. THE Edinburgh University Local Examinations seem to be making considerable stir this year among ladies in Scotland, and even in some parts of England as well. In addition to the usual preparations made in many of the public and in some of the private schools in Edinburgh, we hear there is a large class of ladies preparing, under the guidance of an able tutor, for these Examinations in June. Eather a novel and interesting feature of this class is, that, l)y a system of teaching by corresjjondence, ladies at a distance from Edinburgh are enabled to work in connection with it. We hear that upwards of thirty ladies have availed themselves of this privilege. AN ardent lover of certain departments of Natural History has just died at the advanced age of ninety years—Mrs Gray. To students of conchology Mrs Gray was a real benefactor, having compiled a Mono- graph on Molluscous Animals, which was published in five volumes, and having etched some thousands of plates. She has bequeathed her extensive set of algae to the Museum of the University of Cambridge. WE hear that the story of Helen's Babies, written in ten days by Mr John Habburton, to amuse an invalid wife, has already reached an edition of 40,000 copies. A JOURNAL, edited exclusively by women, has been brought out at Lyons ; it is called The Volcano. Has the name any special significance, we wonder ? ON Saturday, the 2nd December, the Bishop of London admitted two ladies to the office of Deaconess, who have passed through a year's training. IT is rumoured that a lady is about to be placed in the Vestry of one of our Scottish Episcopal Churches in this city. There certainly seems to be no reason against such an appointment, as the only legal qualifications consist in being in communion with the Church, and a regular seatholder. SIR JULIUS VOGEL, in his speech to his constituents at Wanganni, stated that he was in favour of extending the franchise to women. IT is stated that Herr Wagner was so delighted with the Life of Schopenhauer, lately published by an English lady, that he presented her with a ticket for the performances at BeyTeuth. THE Empress of Austria has forwarded to Mrs Burton a magnificent gold locket with Her Majesty's monogram and imperial crown in (liamonds, as a mark of her appreciation of Mrs Burton's work. The Inner Life of Syria. Our Female Novelists. 37

Our J;cm;ih |Iobc(ists.

MRS EADCLIFFE,

I. 17G4 ; il. 1823.

THE great poets have almost all been men, but many women may be coimted among the great novelists. In this department of literatiu'e they have always held their own. Naturally it is so. History and myth acknowledge it—women are the first, and often the l)est tellers of stories. It is tlie old nurse's tale which gives the children their first delicicjus taste of fiction. It was Sclielierazade who beguiled her Sultan night after night with those delicious entertainments, where stories lie within stories, like nests of scented easftern boxes. It was the Edda or great-grandmother who recomited the traditions and myths of the Nortli. And every modern European literature can show the name of some first-rate female novelist. When we think it over, what a curious thing is this almost universal taste for fiction, in ancient times and modern, among rude people and civilized! It might have seemed as if the craving for the ideal which belongs to humanity would find its satisfaction in poetry and romantic drama, in which ideal beauty expresses itself through language. But no : we have, besides these, the endless stories Avhich aim at being like real life and yet are not real, having sometimes every quality of truth except that of being true; crowds upon crowds of personages invented by some people, whose lives and fortunes are followed with the deepest interest by others who are quite aware all the time of their non-existence. We have the readers by the million, and the writers by the thousand, of imitated lives and untrue adventures. Fiction, thus considered, falls easily into two great divisions—one more or less poetical, aiming at the ideal and heroic ; the other seeking to please rather by its resemblance to real life. Mrs Radcliffe, the subject of our present paper, is not perhaps to be counted among the great novelists, but we would place her in the first or poetical division of writers of fiction. Her stories are thrilling, strange, and mysterious beyond all ordinary possibilities; they are the legitimate successors of the romances of chivalry, and her style also is choice and elevated. Sir Walter Scott calls her the " first poetess of romantic fiction, if actual rhythm lie not counted Xo. 2«.—FFBP,t;\r.Y 1S77. y 38 Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

necessary to poetry," saying that those who wrote in that style before her were decidedly prose writers. She was indeed much tliouglit of in her day: it is strange, almost pathetic, when we try to recall her memory from the misty past, to realize how she and her books seem all but forgotten now. Let us look back to the " nineties " of the last century, and we see a little figure, fctiU, gracefully formed, Mdth a rarely beautiful complexion, very pretty eyes, eye-brows, and mouth, strait-laced both as to gown and morals, amiable, and, above all, full of weird imaginations, held in check by a quaint primness that would never venture to violate any rule, however arbitrary, whether social or literary. She was born hi 1764, the only child of William and Ann Ward, who were in trade of some sort. Their birth and connections seem to have been rather above their calling, and we are told how they had a female descent from the De Witts of Holland, and also that Ann Ward, afterwards Mrs Radcliffe, lived much with her aunt ]\Irs Bentley, of the firm of Wedgwood & Bentley, meeting there good society, and certainly, as we would now observe, seeing plenty of good china, which may have refined her tastes for life. The family seem to have been what was then approvmgly called very genteel; they tliought the position of an authoress a little doubtful, and Mrs Radcliife herself was sensitive on the point, and shrank both from publicity and criticism. It is told of her with some complacency,that lier education was old-fashioned, and limited to strictly feminine accomplishments, wliich we feel inclined to regret when we hear that she delighted in good verbal sounds, and loved to hear passages from the Latin and Greek classics in the original, and then exact idiomatic translations. Evidently, she had not enough width of culture to see beyond the rules of taste of the day; she was emphatically what the French call de son si&cle, and her true genius was so hampered by it, that lier books seem hardly likely to live. In her twenty-third year she married Mr Radcliffe, an Oxford graduate, in good circumstances, and editor of a newspaper. She began to write during his long evening absences at his newspaper work; and after two or three unimportant youthful attempts, she published, in 1791, the Romcmce of the Forest, which made a considerable sensation. It was followed, in 1794, by The Mysteries of Udolpho, which was received with enthusiasm. Not less vigorous and successful was Tlie Italian, published in 1797, and then she stopped at the high tide of her reputation. The little lady Our Foiuilc Novelists. 39- seems to have had no motive for writing more : she did not need money, she rather disliked applause, and could not hear criticism. Very likely she was annoyed hy the crowd of inferior imitators who caricatured her style. She wrote another story, merely for her own and her husband's amusement, Gaston de Blondevillc, in which we think the influence of Scott may he traced. It was only pul)lished after her death, which took place in 1823. Her life seems to have been singularly pleasant and uneventful; she had a good husband, and no children. The Eadcliifes lived near London, and often made little tours in England, of which she has left very good descriptions. It is curious to observe in these the old-fashioned views of distances; the Isle of Wight had then the kind of remote interest that Ceylon has now. The gTeat event of her life seems to have been a tour in Holland and up the Eliine in 1793. No doubt, tlie old Rhenish castles aided her imagination in conceiving that unequalled ideal building, that abode of mystery and terror, the Castle of Udolpho. She was not a prolific author, but the three books v.diich survTve are all highly finished, and all in the same key. They belong to what has been called the Terrorist school, working tlie emotion of fear by means of mysterious (hmgers and artfully wrought descriptions. Probably Horace Walpole gave the impetus in that direction by liis wild tale of the Castle of Otranto. The plots of Mrs Eadcliffe's novels are exciting and artfully developed, and the word-painting of scenery, and above all of " interiors," is admirable. So few take up these old liooks now, that a slight sketch of the sort of materials of which they are all composed may be interesting to some of our readers. In the Romance of the Forest (period about 1650), Adeline, a lovely orphan whose uncle wishes to murder her, finds a refuge in the family of the second villain, who is outlawed. They take up their abode, without leave asked, in a half-ruined, deserted, enormous abbey in tlie depth of a French forest. They kill the surrounding game, and have terrible adventures among the endless passages of the abbey. They never can explore it all; but their wanderings there remind one of the delightful game of hi- sjvj, when you steal up every staircase and open every door with the nervous expectation of something jumping out upon you and giving cliase. The poor heroine is terribly over- matched ; many villains are against her, and no one is on her side but the hero, early conveyed to a dungeon, and a 40 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. comic servant not wholly reliable. It is knight and pawn against the board; however, white wins at last, virtue is trium^jhant, black is check-mated, and they all go to Chamonix! a hundred years before it was ever heard of, and live happy in the neighbourhood ever after. Nothing can be more prettily behaved and coy than the heroine. AVhen the worst villain has caused his valet to carry her off' l)y force, she speaks thus—" My first wish is to go hence. I entreat you, my lord, no longer to detain me; I am a friend- less and wretched orphan exposed to many evils, and I fear abandoned to misfortune: / do not ivish to he rude; hut alloiu me to say, that no misery can exceed that I shall feel in remaining here," &c. The italics are our own. The hero is. also a very proper young man. This is the way in which he makes an appointment with Adeline in the forest: '"l*romise, therefore, to meet me in some part of the forest at about this time to-morrow evening; you will then, I hope, be convinced that my conduct is directed neither by common circumstances nor common regard.' Adeline shuddered at the idea of making an appointment," &c. The abbey and forest are very well described, and what of human interest there is in the book belongs to the villains, who are drawn with some vigour. But after all, this story yields in interest to the Mi/steries of Udolijho. The description in it of the castle in the Apennines, whither the heroine is conveyed witli her aunt, who imprudently married the chief villain, and also the narrative of the gloom and remoteness of tlie life of the helpless women, who find some dreadful mystery closing roimd them more and more, are really masterly. Here is the description of their arrival at the castle:— " Towards the close of tlie day, the road woiind into a dee]) YaHey. Mountains, whose shaggy steeps appeared to be inaccessibk% almost (surrounded it. To the east, a vista opened, and exhibited the A])eiinine9 in their darkest horrors ; and the long jierspective of retiring summits rising over each other, their ridges clothed with jiines, exhibited a stronger image of grandeur than any that Emily had yet seen. The sun had just sunk below the top of the mountains she was descending, whose long shadow stretched athwart the valley ; but his sloping rays, shooting through an ojiening of the cliff, touched with a yellow gleam the summits of the forest that hung ujjon the opposite steeps, and streamed in full sjilendour upon the towers and battlements of a castle that sj)read its extensive ramparts along the brow of a precipice above. The splendour of these illumined objects was heightened by the contrasted shade which involved the valley below. " ' There,' said Montoni, sjieaking for the first time in several hours, 'isUdolpho.' "As she gay.ed, the light died away on it-; walls, leaving a n\elancholy Our Female Novelists. 41 purple tint, which spread deeper and deeper as the thin vapour crept up the mountains, while the battlements above were still tip])ed with splendour. From those, too, tlie rays soon faded, and the wliole edifice was invested with the solemn duskiness of eveinng. Silent, lonely, and sublime, it seemed to stand the sovereign of the scene, and to frown defiance on all who dared t(j invade its solitary reign. ... At length the carriages emei-ged upon a heathy rock, and soon after reached the castle gates, where the deep tone of the portal bell, which was struck upon to give notice of their arrival, increased the fearful emotions which had assailed Emily. While they waited till the servant within should come to open tlie gates, she anxiously surveyed the edifice ; but the gloom that overspread it allowed lier to distinguish little more than a i)art of its outline, with the many walls of tlie ramparts, and to know that it was vast, ancient, and dreary. The gateway before her, leading into the courts, was of gigantic size, and was defended by two round towers, crowned by overhanging turrets, embattled, where, instead of banners, now waved long grass and wild plants that had taken root among the mouldering stones, and which seemed to sigh as tlie breeze rolled past o^er the desolation around them. The towers were united by a curtain, pierced and embattled also, below which appeared the pointed arch of a huge portcullis ; I'rom these the walls of the ramparts extended to other towers, overlooking the precipice, whose shattered outline, appearing on a gleam that lingered in the west, told of the ravages of war. Bejond these, all was lost in the obscurity of evening." Xot inferior, except perhaps as a Llunder in the general composition of the story, is the other castle in the same book, the haunted robljers' nest in the Pyrenees; and we can rememl)er how travel both in the Pyrenees and the Apen- nines derived an extra interest and weird charm from the sort of expectation raised of coming upon one of those wonderful buildings. Sir Walter Scott considered it was no disad- A'antage to him not to have seen some of the scenes which he described ; that " any attempt to make such scenes more exact, injured the effect without conveying a clearer image to the mind of the reader—as the Utopian scenes and manners in j\Irs Radcliffe's novels captivated tlie imagination more than the most laboured descriptions or the greatest historical accuracy." No doubt, Mrs Radcliffe casts a halo over the Apennine passes, as Fouqu^ does over the Nor- wegian mountains v/hicli he never saw; Miss Yonge glori- fies the old city of Ulm in her story of The Dove in the IJar/les NeM, and many more such instances might be quoted. But our modern most fashionable novelists, in their eager pursuit of the real, positively take an edge off tlie charm of travel instead of enhancing it. Mr A. Trollope. for instance, often transports you to some famed place abroad, only to force you to remark the prosy details of travel, the amusing ,meaimess of the tourists, or the cuiminc; and greed of the 42 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

inhabitants ; and George Elliot, in her last book, brings you to a (Jenoa depri^'ed of all its charm. The spirit of beauty seems to have deserted those anxious copiers of things as they are, who have forgotten, apparently, that beauty is also a reality, but of a douljle nature, requiring not only an eye for the real, but a mind which responds to that large expression of loveliness which some places possess, and which some writers can rejnoduce so strongly and clearly. " Never drink coifee at Jerusalem," says one of Trollo])e's characters. " Jerusalem is an English place, and the English spoil the cotliee wherever they go." The remark is perfectly true, and the English tourist is apt to spoil more than the cofi'ee— romance and poetical associations are apt to be spoiled wherever he abounds. The Sicilian is probably the most powerful, certainly the most dramatic, of the three novels, but we think it has less charm than the others. It turns upon the adventures of a pair who are persecuted by the Tiupiisition in Sicily, and the dungeons of that society of villains need no ghost to heighten their mysterious horrors. The thrilling scenes are artfully interspersed with charming descriptions of scenery and idyllic peasants—it is the Italy, not of the guide books, but of Claude or Salvator Eosa's pictures ; as really Italy, though from a diflerent point of view, as one of Browning's most characteristic descriptions. We may well ask why, wdth so much that is vigorous and beautiful in them, ]\Irs Eadcliffe's novels seem destined to be soon forgotten. The answer, we think, is, that for various reasons few people would care to read them twice. She never ventured to transgress the conventional rules of her day, and she had the disadvantage of being a writer of romances at a most unromantic period. Not only was the supernatural treated with contemptuous incredulity, but it seemed just then to have lost the power of thrilling the nerves of even the incredulous, which it generally possesses when well introduced; it was considered merely ridiculous, of no interest unless to children, and a very improper notion for them. It is always the silly or wicked nurse who tells ghost stories in the books of the time; even children were expected to be enlightened little philosophers ; the old fairy tales were thrown into the fire; and the calm, if dullish reasonings of " Saudford and Merton," or the sober sense of " Tutor" in Uvenings at Home, were expected to supply the imaginative cravings of youth. So poor JNIrs Eadclift'e, who would no doubt ha^ e Our Female Novelists. 43 liked a real inexplicaLle mystery, and a possibility of haunting her castles and corridors with sc^mething uncanny, is obliged to explain naturally all her most thrilling mysteries. Adeline, in the Eomance of the Forest, is in a chaml)er hung with tattered tapestry, in the ruined abbey; it is night; she has just discovered a secret door leading to passages wandering on and on, who can tell how far, passing through rooms of which she has dreamt before she saw them, as scenes of murder. She fears to glance at the mirror lest she should see another face than her own in it; and then, as a terrible climax, a sound takes form as a whisper, some " airy nothing syllables her name;" and afterwards—0 miserable bathos ! it proves to be Peter, the comic servant, coming to speak to her! Again, in the Mysteries of Uclolpho—what is behind that curtain—what mystery to which we are led by every device, till we positively shudder at the mention of the gallery which leads to the room where liaiigs the terrific tapestry; every one faints who withdraws it; and at last, when our turn is come—no, we will not here tell what befalls us—but the spell is broken for ever. We believe the Mysteries of Udolpho would be one of the most effective romances ever invented, if only there were a real ghost in it. And, by all the Muses, why should there not be ? Would the ghost be a bit less natural than the hero, or the heroine, or all the dramatis persona. ? There never surely were people like any of them—they are like pictures certainly, and you know by their dress and deportment at once what they will hereafter do and say. The villain with compunctions, always has them just so as to tangle the plot; the villain without compunction is always up to his higher mark ; the hero is never other than perfect and sorely afflicted—his lute is always in tune. The heroine, although she has often to faint on dusty floors or damp earth, is always dressed in a clean white gown ; she is too coy and timid to go through the ordinary affairs of life with any equanimity, but is drawn by a strange curiosity mto the most appalling explorations. All the heroines might exchange tlieir lengthy, sentimental, pointless reflections with each other, and no one would detect the difference. And while the deficiencies of these novels were evident, their excellences were easily burlesqued. A clever little sarcastic novel, called The Heroine, played the part of Don Quixote to the Eadcliffe romance. This heroine aims at rivalling Mrs Eadcliffe's fascinating victims. " Finding," she says, " that in emergencies they either faint 44 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. or evince energies almost superhuman," she, l^eing unable to faint, accordingly "evinced energies almost superhuman." She, too, takes up her abode in a ruined castle, which is, naturally, some one else's property, liut she is not left in undisturbed possession, like the family in the " abbey." She finds a poet, and also a villain whom she implores not to leave the neighbourliood, as " the plot cannot be carried on without him." More delicately ironical is Miss Austin's Nortkangcr Alibcy, where the joke is wittily turned against the romantic young lady whose head was full of expectations of mystery and adventure, founded on her favourite romances. Very likely these sarcasms discouraged Mrs Eadcliffe from further writing; we know she was very sensitive to criticism, and quite took to heart a slighting remark made on her works in "Waverley," though the author was one of her great admirers. To conclude: the want of development of character, indeed of human nature at all, in her books, causes them to depend for their interest wholly on her line descriptions, and the mysterious plots she knew so well how to weave; and these last suffered from the often forced explanations she felt lioimd to give. Hence her short-lived popularity; and hence we feel, while readmg the Mysteries of Udolpho, that its author might have, and probably would have written something better, had her natural genius received a wider culture. She wrote well on every subject she touched, and has left many charming bits of description of her travels, showing a true enjoyment of natural beauty, music, and painting. We conclude this paper with a few short extracts from these, wdiich seem to make us more acquainted with the sweet and gifted little woman. Speaking of a picture by Claud, she says— " And here was the poet, as well as the painter, touching the imagination, and making you see more than the picture ciHitained. You saw the real light of the sun, you breathed the air of the country, you felt all the circumstances of a luxui'ious climate on the most serene and beautiful landscape ; and the mind being tlius softened, you almost fancied you heard Italian music on the air—the music of Paisiello ; and such, doubtless, were the scenes which inspired hiin." Again, at Bonchurch— " How sweet is the cadence of the distant surge ! Tt seemed, as we sat in our inn, as if a faint j^eal of far-otf bells mingled with the sounds on shore, sometimes lieard, sometimes lost : the first note of the beginning and last of the falling peal seeming always the most distant. . . . This chiming of the surge is when the tide is among the rocks, and the wind, blowing from tlie sea, Tuears and softens all the ditl'erent notes of the waves to a distance, Our Female Novelists. 45 in one harmonious cadence ; as, in a concert, your distance from the orchestra Llends the different instruments into a riclier and softer harmony." Here is a sunset at sea between Cowes and Southampton— " What peculiarly struck me in the passage was, not only the sun actually appearing to set in the sea, but the splendid amber light left upon that long perspective of water, and the vessels upon it at various distances, seeming dark on this side, and marking out its extent to the eye. The grace and majesty of an anchored ship, too, at a less distance, is indescribable, showing all her shrouds and yards lessening, like a pyramid, as they rise upon the light. How tranquil and giand the scene lay, beneath the gradually deepening shade ! How imjiressive the silence, and then how according the solemn strain that died ni>on the waves like unseen and distant bugles, like a song of peace to the departing day I Another of those measured portions that make uj) our span of life was gone; every one who gazed upon this scene, proud or humble, was a step nearer to the grave—yet none seemed conscious of it. The scene itself—great, benevolent, sublime—powerful, yet silent in its power—progressive and certain in its end, steadfast and full of a sublime repose : the scene itself spoke of its Creator." In the last paper she ever wrote, there is an excellent description of Rainsgate on a stormy day, from which we give an extract—

" Many vessels with sails set, making for the port ; pilot boats rowed out of the harbour to meet them ; the tide rolling in, leaving the foaming waves at its entrance, where vessels of all kinds, from ships to fishing-boats, appeared in succession, at short inteiTals, dashing down among the foam and rushing into the harbour. . . . This harbour was not now, as some hours since, Hooded with a silver light, but grey and dull, in quiet contrast with the foaming sea at its entrance. The horizon thickened, and the scene seemed to close in ; but the vessels, as they approach, though darker, became more visible and distinct, the sails half-set. They all kept away a little to the westward of the west pier, the wind south-west ; then changed their course, and dashed round the lighthouse pierhead, tossing the foam high about them, some pitching head foremost, as if going to the bottom, and then, rolling helplessly and reeling in, settled in still waters." The date is October 19, 1822 ; she was then in failing health; within fotir months she had passed from the rough waves of this world into the (|uiet of the unknown harbour. E. J. 0.

-S';.il-<^«f-

Xo. 26.-FEBncABY 1877. Cr 46 The Ladies EdiiiburglL Magazine.

lu tlj^ Sen sib c.

IT was a wild, stormy day. Tlie equinoctial gales seemed to have anticipated their proper season, and on the 1st of September the wind was blowing strongly from the south- west over the town of Whitclift'e, sweeping in fierce gusts along its streets and terraces, lashing the sea up into great foaming breakers, that dashed over the pier and on to the deserted parade, sending great black rain-clouds hurrying across the sky, from the far distance, where they lay piled up, purple-black against the yellow-green sea, as if waiting their turn to be driven on overhead, and pour a fresh deluge over the town. A dreary, melancholy day it was to look upon; such a day as makes us feel, for the moment, even in earliest autumn, as if summer was altogether gone; as if there woidd be no more out-of-door pleasures, no more basking in the sunshine, no more sitting on the grass, no more walks by moonlight, but as if fireside comforts were all we could now look forward to, for the rest of the year. Such days, inland, are inexjiressibly dreary; the more so, perhaps, for coming when we feel we have still a right to look for summer weather; but at the seaside there is a wild, melancholy grandeur aljout them, and we would hardly exchange those black storm clouds, and those foaming breakers, for the purest sky and calmest sea that ever slept in sunslime. Perhaps Bertha Stanhope thought so. Jf not, why did she sit in that bow-window, heedless of the merry laughing children that were dancing round her, her book lying on her lap, her hands resting idly upon it, with sad dreamy eyes gazing on the stormy sea ? If the picture without was grander in its gloom, that within was far prettier in its cheerfulness. It was a large, pleasant, bow-windowed drawing-room, somewhat barely furnished, as seaside lodging- houses usually ai'e; but its present occupiers had turned the furniture about, covered the bare tables with books and writing materials, filled the ugly vases that adorned the c'limneypiece with flowers, and given to the whole room a cheerful, habitable air. Moreover, on this rainy day, though it was by no means cold, a fire had been lighted, for they did not belong to that generation who adhere religiously to the duty of keeping the grate bright and full of shavings from April to October, who sit upright all day in" high-backed chairs, and keep their drawing-rooms in apple-pie order; but to the present self-indulgent generation, who love to lounge J>y the Seaside. 47 in easy-chairs, who litter their tables with magazines and photographic albums, who light fires whenever they feel cold, and drink tea at all hours of the day. In a word, they were young people, and there, at the piano, sat Mrs Stanhope, the mistress of the house, a pretty, elegant little woman, scarcely five-and-twenty, and looking far too young to be the mother of the fine well-grown children, boy and girl, who were \w\\ dancing round the room while she played to them. She thought, as she watched her children, that it was a pretty picture, though unconscious how much she added to its beauty, and wondered a little that Bertha, who usually took such interest in all the children's games, should now be so absorbed in looking out of the window, where there was nothing to be seen but wind and rain, as to have neither eyes nor ears for anything else. But Bertha was not really so occupied with the storm as she appeared to be. The scene was m harmony with her feelings, which at that time were full of gloom and sadness ; but her thoughts had travelled far away to smooth green lawns, and spreading elm trees—a pleasant place in Hertford- shire, that had Ijeen her home for nearly eight-and-twenty years. There are some ainiiversaries tliat can never be forgotten, however painful it may be to keep them; and this day, this 1st of September, had always been a great era in her old liome, associated with pleasant parties and all sorts of coimtry amusements. It had always been to her so much the liveliest part of the year, that the contrast with her present homeless and orphaned position was now more than usually painful. There was one day in particular, which she could not help now recalling, though she knew that to do so miglit affect her peace of mind for days to come. A brilliant, summer-like day, just eight years ago, when she and her sister-in-law, then a Itride, had set out late in the afternoon to meet the returning sportsmen ; they had a long, toiling walk in the heat, and then stood waiting their appearance, leaning over the gate at the entrance to Friar's Co])se. How well slie remembered the scene ! The clear, cloudless sky, tlie far away Ijlue liills, the heath, the waving birch trees on the little knoll in front of them, and the long shadows on the emerald grass of the fields beyond. And how pretty Sophy looked, as she leant over the gate in her shady hat, and tapped her little foot on the ground with impatience, because the sportsmen did not come, and she had not seen Ed\vard for so many hours, the longest separation she had known since their marriage ! At last tliey appeared, coming 48 Tlie Ladies Ediiiburgli Magazine.

across the heath, the three gentlemen and the keeper—four dark figures clearly defined against the sky, already glowing with the hues of sunset. She used always to think that her father never looked better than in his rough shootin" dress ; and at the end of the day he would walk home with as light a step as if he had not had many hours' tramp over turnip fields ; in those days she ne^•er thought of illness or death in connection with him, he seemed so safe from either. Edward, too, what a boy he was then, and how pleased he looked to see his little wife come out to meet him, and how he quickened his steps when he saw her hurried attempts to undo the gates and come towards him ! Some one else had also quickened his steps, but that was not to meet Sophy. Bertha's heart beat faster, even after all these years, when she thought of it; she remembered how her father had gone home to rest, and the younger men, who declared they had had nothing of a walk, had proposed a further stroll to the fir-trees at the other side of the heath, and she and Soi^hy were nothing loth ; so they went, Edward and Sophy walking together, as was natural, it being their honeymoon, and the two others following them at a little distance. What a beautiful walk it was' the heather still purjile, the gorse rich with yellow flowers, the brake fern just changing from green to gold ; and the ring of grand old firs that crowned the knoll at the end of the heath, their rough stems warmed to scarlet by the slanting rays, and their gnarled boughs and dark massy foliage standing out in clear relief against the gold and crimson clouds behind them, Avliile the soft wind sighed gently through their branches. How long they stayed there! The moon had risen before they came home, and Friar's Copse looked ghostly in the uncertain light. What a race they had to get dressed for dinner, and how huiTiedly Bertha had to arrange the hare-bells that had been gathered for her on the heath, and which she had promised to wear in lier hair that evening ; they would look so well, she had been told, in her fair hair, and with her white gown. There was no one now. Bertha thought, to gather hare-bells for her, and she was wearing a black gown, and not a white one. But she would not stop now to consider the contrast; once started in her train of pleasant memories, she must go on, and put off the evil hour when the reaction must come. What a delightful evening it was —the music and the conversation! and then the next day, wlien the gentlemen did not go out shooting, but they all wandered about togetlier, or rather in two coujiles. By the Seaside. 49 for Edward and Sophy were of course inseparahle ; and they gathered nuts and sat down to eat them, and talked nonsense, and laughed till they were tired. These were happy days, but now—how all was changed; the dear old place let to strangers, strangers taking the familiar walks, calling the rooms, the furniture, and the books their own ; laughing perhaps at the old-fashioned, shal)by furniture ; at the very miscellaneous collection of l)ooks ; at the faded old family portraits, and altering everything, and thinking what improvements they had made; when everything in the house, old-fashioned, shabby or inconvenient as it might 1 le, was so far dearer to her, so far more beautiful in her eyes, than the most perfect substitutes that could have been bought for money. She felt an almost savage exultation in the thought that the present proprietor could not have had a very pleasant day's shooting; how the rain must now be driving across the heath, and how the wind must be moan- ing through the fir-trees! The reaction was come now. The happy recollections were over, and Bertha sighed. A little hand was laid on her shoulder, and Sopliy's voice said, " My dear girl, what is the matter with you this afternoon ? " " Oh, nothing; only I have been indulging some recollections of old days, and it has brought on a fit of low spirits." " Then why do you think of such things, yoii stupid old thing ? But now I'll tell you what to do; just go up to your room and have a good crj', and then it will be over, and you will be cheerful again. Tliat's what 1 always do." " I'm afraid it would not do for me," said Bertha, smiling a little at the proposal. " In the first place, it is not my way to cry; and if I ever do such a thing, it is not all over directly, as I dare say it is with you, but I feel ill all day afterwards. I'll go out; that will be the best thing for me." '■ Go out in this weather 1 Impossible." " Oh, no, not at all impossible. I don't mind the wind, and it has done raining, I think; yes, look there," she said, as the heavy clouds parted for a moment, and shed fortli a ray of sunlight, making a path of glory across the distant sea. " I really believe it is going to clear up into a bright evening after all," she added, jumping up; and the event justified her expectations, for l)y the time slie came downstairs again, booted and cloaked, as if prepared to brave the worst of weathers, the dark veil of clouds was lifted up, and a flood of yellow light had poured fortli, changing the dreary aspect of the scene to one of life and sunshine. In 50 The Ladies Edinburgh Magar^iiie.

the drawing-room she found her brother, a good-humoured, pleasant-looking man of about thirty, tall and well-made, with blue eyes, and fair hair and whiskers, good-looking on the whole, though not handsome. " That's right. Bertha," he said ; " come along, we'll go down to the parade; there's the most splendid sea you ever saw. I want Sophy to come, but she seems to think she would be blown away." " Yes, I hate wind," said Sophy with a shiver, " and I should never be ready for dinner. Now mind, Bertha, that you don't keep Edward out too long; remember we must be at the Wallaces at seven." "All right, come along, Bertha; don't take your umbrella, it isn't gomg to rain any more; and you couldn't hold it up if it did/' After a sharp struggle with the wind, as they turned the corner of the house, a sudden gust taking Bertha nearly off her feet, and obliging her to hold on to the area railings for support, while Sophy from the window laughed at her discomfiture, they got safely on to the parade. It was jiist high tide, and in many places the wa^s^es were dashing quite on to the walk. Edward led his sister to a phxce where the ground seemed quite dry, and said, "This is a ogood place to stand, I think; you can see it all without the sea coming over you. Isn't it splendid ? Look at that great big wave,—it seems as if it was in a rage at not being able to break down the sea-wall, and it goes tumbling iip against the other one that's coming in, and then they have such a row together, just like the bears at the Zoological Gardens, that go backing against each other, and when they meet in the mitldle, turn round and growd." Edward's description was not very poetical, but perhaps he really enjoyed the scene quite as much as Bertha, who stood by him silent, watching, with a delighted expression, the waves that came rollingo in so grandly, and often expending their strength in vain ayainst the solid stone mass of the sea-wall, retreating with what sounded like a sullen roar of defiance into the arms of tlie next advancing wave, battling with it, and sending the white spray high up into the air, which glittered in the sunshine. And then the same process was repeated many times over, and Bertha stood watching, altogether forgetful of her own troubles, which had so absorbed her a few minutes before, and entirely fascinated by the waves; only called off occasionally by Edward, who, pulling her arm to save his luno-s, wdiich had to be exerted to tlie By tlic Seaside. 51 utmost, in order to make her hear amid the roar of the sea, pointed out to her an unfortunate lady, frantically struggling with her cloak, which the wind had blown over her head; or a wretched man chasing his hat, which skimmed lightly down the paraile before hiin, in detiance of his pursuit, and threatening every moment to blow over the edge into the sea; or an adventurous little boy, who hail run too near the edge, and had l)een caught by the waves. " Why, what a lull there is now !" said Bertlia, suddenly. " Yes, the wind is going down; it often do&s at sunset. Look at the sky, isn't it beautiful ?" The dark clouds, wliich had been slowly rising for some time, were now pushed away, as it were, in grey folds, each fold edged with crimson Ijy the rays of the setting sun, leaving an arch of clear sky of the most transparent blue, shading into delicate green towards tlie horizon, and forming a beautiful contrast with tlie black mass of waters, black again now as the sun had disappeared behind tlie clitis, except wliere they were crested with white breakers. " It isn't time to go in yet," said Edward ; " let us take a turn along tlie parade, now tliat the wind is no more than we can stand against. I like these sort of days tremendously; there's a mixture of the sublime and the comic about them that's very pleasant." " Yes," said Bertha ; " the effect of the wind on the people is certainly not so sublime as its effects on the sea." " No," said Edward, " but it's great fun to see. I wish Sopliy had been here, she would have laughed so heartily at that fellow running after his hat, he looking miserable, with his hair blowing about. I wish I could draw ; I would make a sketch of it for Punch:' " It is a better day to look at the waves than to shoot partridges," said Bertha. " Yes ; what an awful soaking that fellow Hall must have got, if he has been walking over our turnip fields to-day. I'm airaid old Wenham must have used some rather bad language this morning, he wouldn't take kindly to a new master ; and indeed, though it's very uiu'easonable to have any spite against poor Hall for living in my house, I think I'm rather glad he should have had such a bad day." " So am I," said Bertha. " No ; are you really ? I didn't think you would have felt tliat; though 1 think you care more for the old place than 1 do." " You see, I never left it till now," said Bertlia. " It hadn't been your home tlie last few years." 52 Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

" No; but I never missed being there for the 1st of September," said Edward. " M'ell, it certainly is an awful bore, having to let the place ; but I hope it won't be for long; seven years are soon gone, though they seem long to look forward to, and before then—there's Soplw's uncle, you know, he's sure to leave his fortune between her and her sisters." " It's ill waiting for dead men's shoon," said liertha. "So it is; but then I'm getting on very well with my profession. Last circuit I made double what I did the year before. In a few years more I shall be making a very good income, and shall be able to afford a country house for the summer, until I get rich enough to retire altogether. Oh, yes, Bertha ! we shall find ourselves back at Woodcote before we are many years older." Bertha smiled, but rather sadly. Woodcote could never again be the same to her that it had been in old times, when it was her own home; living there with Edward woidd be quite a difterent thing. She must always feel that she was only a visitor, or a sort of lodger in the house. Tliey walked up and down till a few stars appeared in tlie clear sunset sky; then the moon rose, and shed a path of rippling light over the dark sea, whose surface was growing calm as the wind went down. Then Edward said he must go in, or he should lie late; so they turned homewards, Itertha feeling herself a tlifterent person from what she had been when she came oiit, refreshed and invigorated by the salt breeze and the glorious sea, soothed and comforted by the clear sky and calm moonlight. Sophy was standing at the top of the stair with a candle in her hand as they came up, looking XQVJ pretty in her evening dress of black lace, with pearls upon her fair neck, and Avhite roses in her wavy brown hair. She scolded Edward playfully for being so late, and then called Bertha into the tlrawing-room. " I want you to look at me, Bertha," she said, setting down the candle, and dropping her shawl from her shoulders; " I want to know what you tliink of my dress ? " " It's very pretty," said Bertha, " and you look very nice." " Then you don't think it is too slight mourning ?" said Sophy. " You see it is the Wallaces' last ball before the regiment goes to Canada, so one must go to it, and one can't go to a ball in crape; and you know. Bertha, it's all very well for you to wear such deep mourning, and it becomes you very well, with your fair hair, but it doesn't suit me. Edward doesn't like me in it; and you know it's now five months since,—and so I thought I might make a change." By the Seaside. 53

" It makes no difference to me," said Bertha, interrupting her hastily, " what sort of mourning you Avear, Sophy. If you liked to leave it off to-morrow, I should not mind; so don't be afraid of hurting my feelings. I Avear deep mourning myself because it is the custom, not because I think it becoming. I don't feel my father's loss more because I Avear a black gown; nor should I be at all more likely to forget him if I Avore a rose-coloured one." She walked to the windoAV, and stood gazing out into the gathering darkness. The moon Avas half shrouded by thin clouds, and cast a faint, uncertain glimmer over the sea. Sophy stood by the fire, one little foot resting on the fender, and one round Avhite arm leaning on the chimney-piece, looking at herself from time to time in the glass, altering the arrangement of her hair Avitli her hand, and moving her little satm-shod foot restlessly up and doAvn on the bar of the fender, as the time Avent by and EdAvard Avas not ready. At last he appeared. " Come along, Sophy," he said. "Well, Bertha, Avhat are you going to do Avith yourself ? You don't mind dining alone, I hope ?" " I am not going to dine," said Bertha; " I am going to have some tea up here by the fire." "And no dinner?" said EdAA'ard. "AVhat creatures you Avomen are! I don't believe you Avould CA'er have any dinner at all, if it were not for the pleasure of keeping us company." " Well, don't stop to argue Avith Bertha now," cried Sophy ; " we shall be keeping them all Avaiting, if Ave don't go." The officers of the —tli Avere to give a ball that evening at the barracks, and Colonel Wallace, Avho Avas a friend of Edward's, had asked him and his Avife and sister to dine Avith them first, and go Avith them to the ball. Bertha had excused herself on account of her dee]) mourning; and she now prepared to spend a solitary evening, a thing she had not enjoyed for so long that it seemed quite a treat to her. In another half-hour she A\'as seated on an easy chair, near the fire, Avhich Avas stirred to a bright blaze, the shutters shut, all but one fold in the window, next the sea, left open by Bertha's orders, that she might not lose the moonlight. The tea-tray Avas set on a table in front of her; on a chair by her side stood a little oak box. She drank her tea slowly, reading a novel at the same time ; she Avished to spin out her meal as long as possible; there seemed a sort of companionship in the hissing tea-urn and all the other appendages, Avhich she Avas unwilling to lose ; for though she had wished for a quiet even- Xo. 26.—FtBRfARY 1377. H 54 TJie Ladies EdinbiirgJi Magazhie. ing, she felt rather lonely now that her brother and sister were gone, the children in bed, and every part of the house silent except the kitchen, where the servants seemed to be taking advantage of their master's absence to make unusually merry. But she was not allowed to enjoy this companionship long, for the servant, who was impatient to have done with his work, and get away to some friends who had been invited for the evening, looked in under pretence that he had thought she rang, and she was obliged to let hiur take away the tea. The book did not last her much longer; she flung it down on the table, with an expression of disgust at the stupidity of the (Unouement; and turning roxnid her chair, sat for some minutes moodily gazing at the glowing embers. All at once she roused herself, took a key from her pocket, and opened the little oak box that stood by her side. It was a roughly- made box, one of Edward's early attempts at carpenter- ing in his school-l)oy days, made from the wood of an old oak-tree that had been blown down in the park—oh ! how many years ago ! Bertha was very fond of it, both for the sake of Edward and of the oak-tree, and because it was the first box with a lock and key that she had ever possessed. It was full of old letters, the accumulation of years, and Bertha Avas determined that this evening she would look them all over, and burn what was not worth keeping. It is generally a sad task, looking over a collection of old letters; there is a sort of vividness of the present in them which often startles us with a painful sense of its being past for ever; perhaps the writer and all those mentioned in the letters are dead ; or great changes have taken jilace—changes which come so gradually that we were all hardly aware of them, till we read over an old letter, and so are reminded of what used to be. Bertha, however, was in the mood for such a task this evening; she wanted " to muse upon the old familiar faces,"—to return in fancy, for a few hours, to the old life that had once been so familiar to her, and now was gone for ever. She started a little as she opened the box; a letter Avas lying at the top which she had forgotten she had placed there; she took it up and examined the envelope; it was directed, in a man's handwriting, to "James Stanhope, Esq., Woodcote, Hertford." Siie turned it over, muttering to herself, " How strange that papa should have kept this note all these years, and that I should have happened to look over the drawer where it was, when Edward looked over all the other drawers, and would certainly have burnt it if he had come across it! And yet, Birthday Wishes. 55 what a fool I am to keep it! I've a great miud to burn it now." But even while she said this to herself, she took it out of the en\elope and read it. It contained merely these words:—

" DEAR MR STANHOPE.—It will give me great pleasure to try my skill upon your partridges on the 1st of September. I hope to be 'vvith you on the 31st, some time before your dinner-hour.—I remain, yours truly, JOHN LESLIE." Short and commonplace as this note was, Bertha sat gazing at it, as if she were learning it by heart; then, in a sudden fit of disgust with herself, she crumpled it up in her hand and threw it into the fire. It fell uj^on the liob, and did not catch fire; she picked it up again, smoothed it out, and put it back in the box. It might be foolish—she felt it was— but she could not bear to part with it. There seemed a sort of fate against her to-day tliat would not let her forget this subject, however much she tried to drive it from her thoughts. She made a great effort, and took out some more letters; the first she read were uninteresting, and slie burnt them; she was just going to burn one from Edward, which seemed an unimportant note, when a name caught her eye, and she read,—" Sophy and I hope to spend Christmas with you; and teU my father that I have asked John Leslie to come down with us, and he seems very anxious to come, if he can get away." " How well I remember giving papa that message," thought Bertha, " and he didn't seem quite pleased, and I was surprised, because he used to like Mr Leslie so much when he was at Woodcote in the autumn; how little I thought "— That note had roused a fresh train of memories. SUBURBANA. (To be continued.)

L-»—tf---

A BIRTHDAY wish for Health and Happiness And fair Prosperity, still granted you. And that these may a len gtliy future bless, Well may combine to form " good wishes " true. 56 TJie Ladies EdiiibitrgJi Magazine.

But what is Health, if sadness fills the heart ? And how stands Ha]i])iness aloof from cares ? What were Prosperity, if Health depart. And tidal ever creeps in unawares ?

For no such fleeting forms I give my voice. To-day they come, to-inorrow they may go; On what endures for ever stands my choice. Good, which all other loss doth brightly show.

A Health of soul, by nature sick to death, A Happiness, which purely springs from Heaven, Prosperity, whicli shrinks not at a breath ; Good gifts are these, whicli Earth hath never given.

But these are gifts we earn not, but receive. The Lord of Love, who died and rose again, Alone, with pierced hands, these things can give; For these a prayerful wish aspireth then.

That Christ Himself, in His redeeming love, May sanctify and keep, till Time shall end, And then increase with blessedness above; These are the Birthday Wishes of a Friend. LYDIA W. MELLAND.

%\t l^ig^cr drbutatioit 0f Ptcrntm hi Sirotlaiit)-.

PART II. THE MOVEMENT IN GLASGOW.

WHILE I was attacking St Andrews on the one side, I directed my efforts to Glasgow on the other. Nothing can be done without trying, and it is better to risk failure than to sit still; for the failure of one person is often the seed of the success of another. I therefore took counsel with Mrs Daniell, but neither of us knew anybody in Glasgow, except one person, whom we did not wish to trouble at first. We had considerable correspondence before we discovered any ladies likely to take an mterest in the subject. Strangely enougli,from several sources we received the names of four, but always of the same four ladies, as if these were all that could The Higher Education of Women in Scotland. 57 boast of local enthusiasm. But pleasantly as these ladies wrote, they discouraged us considerably,pointing out the general apathy in Glasgow, and the particular difficulty of doing anything at a season when everybody was out of town, and likely to remain absent for months. (We had unfortunately only begun operations in May.) Principal Caird was written to, and he answered kindly, but said that of course nothing could be done by the Senatus until its next meeting in November; so we resolved to use the interval to the best advantage. As was said last month, Scotland needs, 1st, a certificate attainable by private study; 2nd, a system of higher education of exactly the same standard as the University; and 3rd, a higli-class school or college, which should lead up future students directly to this, sparing them the difficulties that many of the j^resent generation have experienced in plunging, imperfectly prepared, into higher studies. Mrs William Grey, the secretary of the National Union for Promoting the Education of Women, in answer to a letter asking for suggestions, said she did not see how she could help us in the first two points; that as to a scliool, she had hitherto had no communication with any town in Scotland, Gateshead beiug the most northerly locality that was in connection wdth the Girls' Public Day-School Company; but that aid might be given whenever a strong requisition was made, backed by a due proportion of funds. She said, further, that she was willing to read a paper for us on the subject at the approaching meeting of the British Association in Glasgow. Though I strongly felt the need of a school such as I had planned, still it was the higher education that I had most at heart, feeling convinced that it would more surely work downwards, than tlie lower work upwards. This was then lier most important suggestion; and we saw that we also must go to Glasgow, if we wislied to form a Ladies' Educational Association liefore the meeting of Senatus in November. We procured a considerable number of introductions, but found that unfortunately very few of the inhabitants were to be present at the Association. The meeting began on Wednesday, September 14th, but for a day or two there was nothing but discouragement. The people we called on were mostly from home, or out; and those we did see were not encouraging. On Thursday, however, one lady whom we had missed the day before called on us with her daughter, and with her we had a most interesting conversation. She said she would ask some friends to tea on the following Monday afternoon, if we could 58 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

come and meet them, and she gave us several introductions to people Avho were likely to give their aid. An amusing but fortunate mistake took place in connection with one of these. Our friend had given us her card with a message written on it to the Secretary of Association, Dr Blackie, who, she said, had daughters interested in education. On Friday, we asked for him at the reception-room, and were ushered into the Secretary's office, where, seeing only one gentleman, we presented the card, and briefly stated our object. He said, l)leasantly, " It is a subject I am so much interested in, that I am sorry I am too busy this morning to talk of it. Can you meet me here on Monday morning, at 10 o'clock?" Coming out with us, he introduced us to Dr Dickson, the Professor of Theology, to whom Professor Charteris had kindly written on our behalf. He was much interested in what we had to say, and asked many questions about our work in Edinburgh, and what branches of Biblical Criticism Professor Charteris taught the ladies there. Our spirits began to rise. On Saturday, we went with the geological excursion to the Ballagan Beds, and the wonderful Fiunich Glen, so tmnatural in its grand ruddy colouring. The party was under tlie guidance of Mr Young, the curator of the Uni- versity Museum, and he assured us that he knew many ladies in Glasgow desirous to have fidler opportunities of extending their studies. Before starting, it had struck me that it would save a good deal of the kind secretary's time, and prepare him for meeting us on Monday, if I wrote him a sliort letter explaining our views. This I did ; but in the evening it was returned to me, with a line saying that there must have been some mistake, as Dr Blackie had never heard of us. We apostrophised the overworked man, but kept our appointment, and again asked for Dr Blackie. He was not in his office, and a clerk conducted us to him in the reception-room. He was a total stranger. We all stared, and then I attempted to apologise, saying," We must have made a mistake, as we had an appointment with another Dr Blackie." He said there was not another person of the same name on the books of the Association. " Then you must have written this note ?" said I, producing my unlucky epistle. He acknowledged it, and then we began to tell about the visit of our mutual friend, and how she had sent her card to him. He was much interested in the subject, and as we talked it over, there appeared the gentleman with whom we had made the appointment. It was Mr Grahame, the honorary secretary of the Association; thus we TJie Higher Education of IVomen in Scot/and. 59 had made two friends instead of one. He said he had been thinking the matter over, and had made up his mind that we ought to have a special meeting. We looked aghast, but dared not refuse the first practical offer of helj:), and he went on—" It would be best on Wednesday, at 10 o'clock, to secure as many people as we can at that free hour. I shall find a room,and advertise itwell. There is myfriend. Professor Crum Brown; I shall introduce you to him." " I know him well," said I, remembering his pleasant class in George Street. Tlie Professor was very kind, though he told me good- humouredly that he knew my face,but could not remendjer my name. I said I liad a better right to remember him than he to remember me, I having been one of his class two years behjre. "Then it is like the story of the old woman, who was astonished when her favourite clergyman did not know her, saying she had heard him preach every week for twenty years." " Ay, madam; and if I had heard you preach as often, I sliould have known you too." Seeing us in such good hands, Mr Grahame rushed off on his ceaseless round of duties, and Professor Crum Brown guided us to one Section-room after another, brought out the gentlemen likely to be able to help us, and introduced them to us. The last person he spoke to before the opening of the business was Sir William Thomson, who said that he was much interested in the movement, and promised to be at the meeting. One lady he also made us acquainted with, who proved to be a most valuable help. After the day's work at the sections was over, we went to see if Mr Grahame had succeeded in j^rocuring a chairman for the meeting. As he had not, Mrs Daniell waited to see if Principal Caird, or Sir William Thomson, would preside; and I huiTied off to keep the appointment at our tea-meeting. There I met about twenty ladies, all interested, in various degrees, in education, and willing to help in advancing it. But on some points there were feelings too strong for me to think of bringing forward our schemes in full, and in our conversation I could only urge the advisability of forming an Educational Association, and thereby seciiring that the occasional professional lectures should be made regular, as they are in Ediidmrgh. After waiting some time for Mrs Daniell's appearance, our hostess came up to me and said that those at the furtlier end of the room could not hear what I was saying, as well as they all wished to do. I thus found myself so suddenly plunged into my maiden-speech that I had not time to get confused, and so I gave a brief exposition of my experience 6o Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

of the matter. Just then Mrs Daniell appeared, having found Principal Caird from home, and Sir W. Thomson afraid that the charge of his Section mioht interfere with his taking the chair in another room. Slie fortunately took up the broken thread of my discourse; and then Miss Tod of Belfast told us how she and other ladies there had formed their Educational Association, and how kind the Professors had been about it. Altogether, I think, the ladies present agreed in the necessity of forming an Association, and most of them put down their names as members. One girl came up to me and said, " You do not know how we have been longing here to have all these things you have been talking about." " Then it depends on yourselves not to let them drop, if they are started," was my reply. " Ah, we won't let the thing go down now !" she rejoined, emphatically. After in^'iting all the ladies to come to the public meeting on Wednesday, and to bring their friends with them, we went home to meditate on our responsibilities, for the awful thought had just dawned upon us, that we should require to set the meeting agoing, although we had not even secured a chairman. We concocted a paper which would take exactly five minutes to read, feeling sure that there would be after discussion enough to keep people lively; and then we wrote to Professor T. M. Lindsay, asking him not to fail us, in order to make some remarks from his large experience of the Ladies' Edinburgh Association. We used the hours of IMonday night and Tuesday to the best possible advantage in trying to interest people in the subject, and bring them to the meeting; and on the eventful morning, trusting in Providence and Mr Grahame, we repaired to the room appointed in the University. Ten minutes before the hour the room was half-full, but no chairman and no Mr Grahame were there; and as all the sections had been advertised for 10 o'clock that day, we began to fear that our prospective supporters woidd be drafted off'. Just three minutes before 10 o'clock our friend appeared. " Let us vote somebody into the chair," said he ; and darting ofl", caught hold of the Eev. James Dodds, of St George's, Glasgow, who was just entering the room as a listener. Mrs Daniell and he urged this gentlejrian to preside. At first he declined, until my excitement and honesty got the better of my politeness, and I said, " Do, if you please, if only to save time, for it is 10 o'clock already." He yielded to our wishes, and IMr Grahame mai-shalled him in, proposing him as chairman, and the meeting commenced Tlie Higher Educaticm of Women in Scotland. 6r by his announcing its purport, and asking Mrs Daniell to read her paper. The room was nearly full, but there was such a continuous stream pouring in until every spare corner was filled, that I fear very few heard the whole of it. It was short, but very much to the point. She said : " Mrs Grey, the Secretary of the National Association for promoting the Higher Education of Women, promised to read a paper at the British Association, but ill-health has prevented her coming here. " In the great impetus given of late years to the higher education of women, Scotland has not fully shared. The solitary Association to promote it exists in Edinburgh, where there are classes to educate the students, with certificates and bursaries to encourage them. But as yet nothing national has Ijeen done with us, as in England. There is no Girton, no Newnham Hall; no London, Caml)ridge, or Oxford examinations, open to all. The most suitable centre of a national effort would seem to be Glasgow, the largest and richest of the Scottish cities that have the necessary element of a University and its professors. People have said that there is little interest in education to be found among Glasgow ladies, but we differ from them. Many have given a practical proof of it, in the eager way in which they have taken advantage of the desultory opportunities afforded them; while the taste of others may not be discovered until circumstances aid in developing it. To find means to place all these desultory and irregular efforts on a permanent and systematic footing, is the object of the present meeting. The hrst tiling to be done is to form an Educational Association to undertake the practical management. To this Association Ave would suggest, that a tlioroughly good understanding with the University must be striven after, so that it may be induced to provide a succession of lectures, up to University standard, and, if possible. University certificates of capability m connection with these. The need of the education every one must see. The advantages of the certificate we must carefully point out. Not only does the prospect of it guide and steady the studies, but it acts, first, as a test to the mdividual student herself; for a good examination, with a high ])e.rcentage required, besides lieing a practical exercise of the highest value, must give her a tolerable idea of her own state of advancement or need of revision; second, as a proof to others of her attainments. We see how thoroughly fashionable the higher education, as well as its certificate, Xii. 2fi.—Fr:mirAr,v 1877. I 62 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. has become in England. It seems almost about to become a mark of position, as the lighter accomplishments formerly were. But besides this, it has acquired a very definite money value. The great number of public day-schools M-liich have been opened in England require a large supply of capable teachers, and those who have University certificates are always preferred. The assistant-teachers in these schools have salaries from £100 to £200; the head-mistresses from £300 to £700. Nothing of the kind has as yet been started in Scotland, but these positions are open to Scotch- women, if they have the necessary qualifications; and the advantage of giving them an opportunity may be easily seen. There is, further, in process of signature for presentation to Parliament, a petition to the effect that no one be allowed to start a new school without a recognised certificate; that, in short, these matters be arranged in some sucli way as they are in France. In the event of such a petition taking effect, we may see the great disadvantage to Scotland, if it has only then to be awakened to the necessity of keeping up with the times. It is not long since we saw tlie (question gravely asked in the newspapers, if Scotchwomen were really mentally inferior to Englishwomen ? We think this may be answered by a strong negative; but we must remind them that, in the stream of time, they must not rest on their oars, content with past labour, and a relative position once attained. For relativity is a changeable element on both sides, and the country once famous for its thorough training and sound students may awake to find itself drifted down by its neglect from the place we cannot but think natural to it." By tlie time these remarks were concluded, the room was so crowded that no more could get in, and no one seemed inclined to go out, as is the too frequent habit of the peripatetic philosophers of the Britisli Association. A gentleniaii rose to say that it was quite true that women had spent too much time on accomplishments they did not accomi)lish, and that it Avould be better for society if tliey were taught to make tliemselves more practically useful. He was amusing enough; but I turned in alarm to Mr Grahame and whispered, "Tliis is not what we wanted to-day!" "Never mind," answered he; "he is putting them into good humour; the others will strike into the current," Mr Fitch went over thoroughly what had been done for women in England; and just at the right moment. Professor Lindsay appeared to speak of what advancement Scotland had made—as yet, however, only in Edinburgh. He explained the working of the Edinl)urg]i Association, Tlie Higher Education of ]Vo!iieu in Scotland. 62, and said he thought such another could easily be formed in Glasgow. Miss Flora Stevenson and some other ladies made some interesting remarks; then Mr Johnstone Stoney, of Queen's College, Duljlin, rose and said emjDhatically, that it was not the higher education for women he desired, but the highest. He could not allow that any pre-supposition could take the place of experience as to what they were adapted to, and what they ought to be taught. For instance, iu the arts of painting, sculpture, poetry and music, one might have been tempted to prophesy that from their educa^ tion and susceptibility, they would be most likely to excel in the last, whereas it is only in the history of music that there is no great female name as a composer. Fine expressers they have been, but not originators. Let everything then lie opened to them, and time would show what they are able to do or not to do. He would hope not only that they should get what had been proposed that day, but full University education and ordinary certificates. Professor Foster told what had been done for women at the London University; and then Dr IJickson arose, telling us that lie was a little startled at such revolutionary theories. However, he said that when the ladies were ready, he did not think that they would find his colleagues or himself backward in doing their sliare of the duty. He said this all the more cheerfully, as he did not think they would want, for some time, a full course of Dogmatic Theology. Nobody was too long, nobody was tired; and when, at the close, the chairman asked those to give in their names who were inclined to join such an Association, quite a crowd gathered around the papers. But we did not, at the time, know the full success of the meeting until the evening papers that day told us, " The meeting at 10 o'clock to form an Association for promoting the higher education of women completely cleared the reception-room and the quadrangle,, and until it was dismissed, little or nothing of the business proper of the Association Avas got througli. Ladies of all ages, and a good many gentlemen, filled the room at the fixed hour, and those who came late, found to their great disgust that they could not get admission. Those turned away from the doors could have filled two other rooms." Another paper called it, " The chief meeting of the Association ;" and some afterwards who had been present said, " We never saw such a well-conducted meeting ! " We were struck by the cordial interest and kindly ex- pressions of one gentleman who gave in his name after the 64 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. meeting, for it haid been arranged that the Association should admit gentlemen as well as ladies. I heard afterwards that he had said it was the best meeting he had gone to. He had never before heard a lady speak in public, but his admiration as well as his interest had been excited. The next day we joined the excursion that visited Paisley Abbey, Crookston Castle, and the neighbouring manufactories, and then lunched with Sir Peter and ]\Ir Thomas Coats. We found many there interested in our subject, and we only hoped they would not too soon forget everything about it. We paid a few more visits on Friday, and left Glasgow on Saturday, after returning special thanks to our kind Mr Grahame, who promised to do all he could to help us. " Don't let them forget all about it," said I; telling him that one of the ladies had said, " We will not let it go down." He answered, " It cannot go down now!" Our first difficulty was to find a secretary. Everybody seemed willing to help, until they were asked definitely to take office. At last a lady was found willing to take it temporarily, if no one else could be found, though she had neither time nor strength for permanent work. A gentleman also oflered to assist her. But many a letter has been written, and many a week has elapsed, and not as yet has Glasgow fulfilled the hopes then aroused. However, it may be about to do so. I had received so much encouragement from some of the Professors, that T spoke openly among the ladies I met, of having a regular meeting in the beginning of November, to arrange tlie Association formally, and to draw lip the plans that should be submitted to the University before the meeting of Senatus. The project was not completed at that date, the Association was not then formed, nor the Senatus memorialized. But some of the teachers whom we had met, and who had been present at the meeting, agToed among themselves to sign and present a petition to the Uni- versity for the granting of Local Examinations. This was presented by Professor Young, a committee was appointed to consider the question, and a resolution was passed forthwith for their institution. Not long since an assemblage, chiefly of teachers, met for the purpose of hearing these explained. They are to be on the same plan as Oxford, Cambridge, and Edinburgh, and, in the case of boys, are to be accepted as equivalent to the preliminary examination for medical registration. There are to be two grades, as in Edinburgh; and the age of the candidates is fixed at from 12 to 18 for boys, and 14 to 20 for girls. They are willuig to hold Double Acrostic. 65 examinations in any of the following counties—Ayr, Argyll, Bute, Dumbarton, Dumfries, Lanark, Kirkcudbright, llen- frew, and Wigtown; and candidates for this year must send in their names before April. The University Board consists of the following members:—Principal Caird, Professors W. P. Dickson, Blackburn, A. Thomson, Piamsay, Jebb, Yeitch, Berry, Nicol, E. Caird, Young, Ferguson, M'Kendrick, Stewart, and T. M. Lindsay. Some of the higher schools, too, have already started successfully advanced classes for ladies, in various branches, that would suit the preparation for the Local Examinations, though none of their students have yet thought of taking these up. Professor Young also, who has done so much in favour of the Local Examinations, has, on his own account, for this year, opened a class of Zoology for ladies. In the meantime the Association, still somewhat chaotic and undefined, is gathering strength and members, and we hear that it will be organized in a very few weeks, so as to have everything arranged by next session. There is a great deal of good-will towards it in the city; but the great difficulty, beyond doubt, is to find ladies who are at once able and wilhn" to take the lead. L. E.

DOUBLE ACKOSTIC. No. 2. Two titles, linked together, tlieir connection known by few My first an anxious vigil for the morrow's billet-doux ; I surely there have given for the whole too sure a clue. My last, a lovely denizen, whose beauty once was seen By dwellers in a Scottish town, whose glory now, I ween. Is but the shadow of the past—the vision of a dream.

1. Father of the stage in a clime at present agitated by graver interests. 2. One whom we would welcome here for her sweet sister's sake. 3. A proud crowned beauty, but supplanted. 4. Head of the fictitious " board." 5. A church dignitary whose power was opposed to the career of Wycliile. 6. 0 Queen ! for thy deeds they rightly changed thy name. 7. May the culinary efforts of to-day cause to none the tragic fate of this comic singer. 8. " A dexterous fellow," said Napoleon ; " he has seen through me." 9. The name given every Italian gives himself. 10. A lihenish painter, some of whose talent descended to his son. 66 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Alagaziiie.

11. Can we call so sombre a personage one of our " lights ?" 12. One of seven sisters, who show from the heavens the season most favourable to maiiners. 13. Surnamed " the Peaceable." 14. Garcia, musical and literary, drew this lawyer from his profession. 15. An ancient troubadour of Thuringia, who, like his fellows, won luore laurels by the lyre than by the sword. F. M.

ANSWER TO DOUBLE ACROSTIC, No. 1.

1. The age man reacheth all too soon, Of "lean and slippered Pantaloon." 2. Life is the maze. This gives a clue This ]3rol>lem's maze to guide us through. 3. Say the Alj^habet over, and missing out V, U and JV standing together will be. 4. Ah, gentle Mercy, doubly blessed be The man that gi\'es and he that taketh thee. 5. Peace, longed for in these troublous days ; Our %'oices all shall sing thy praise, 6. King Coflee now doth sad complain With no Umbrella in the rain. 7. The phantom Bagger that Macbeth Saw ere he did his King to death. 8. Let us have " Iiouhts " in solving this, Eor fear our sought for " good " we miss. 9. In Latin speech this meaning hid Is not another, only Id.^ 10. A roar and rushing far, its voice doth call, Niagc(ra, the mighty waterfall. 11. The end and aim of knightly story. When men would dare and die for Glory.

My first and last together say Plum-Pudding comes with Nerv Year's Bay. "B." 1 M. is accepted as alternative for Ibid.

Sixteen answers received ;—the following eight correct:—A 1, "B," Beta, Jane Brown, Lara, M. C. B., Message Girl, Nelly Bly. A Prize is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. Solutions to be addressed " Acrostic Editor," care of the Publishers, 22 Howe Street, Edinburgh ; to be sent not later than the 15th of the month, -WTitten clearly on a sheet of paper containing only the solution, pseudonym, and full name and address of the sender. Solutions acknowledged in the following number. The name and address of the winner only will be announced at the close of the competition. Our Library Table. Gj

OUR LIBRARY TABLE.

MADCAP VIOLET. By William Black. London : Macmillan & Co., 1877.

THOSE novel readers who do not olyect to a book with a sad ending, will find in Madcap Violet the history of a heroine who is as lovable as the Princess of Thule. Those who agree with Thackeray tliat no story should have a painful finish, had better not make the dark-haired Violet's acquaintance. They will be first introduced to her as the madcap ruler in a London schoolroom, and they soon fall in love with her fair face, handsome figure, and daring ways. The greater part of the scene is laid in ]\Ir Black's favourite highlands, where Atlantic breezes play amongst the giant mountains, and the whole forms a misty, dark background, with occasional gleams of sunshine to light up his exquisite pen-and-ink sketches of glimmering waves, and shrouded heathery hills. The " dark sea" that overwhelms poor Violet when the mists that have crej)t over lier life seem to be ready to melt away into sunshine, will make all readers close the book with a sigh of regret. They will be apt to feel angry with the author for not rolling away the shadowing clouds from his fair heroine's path, and saving her from the black tide of grief which overwhelms her, and carries her away to the " dark sea" she dreaded.

JoHNNTKix AND THE GoBLiNS. By Charles G. Leland. London : Macmillan &' Co., 1877.

THIS is a most ridiculous book ! There is certainly no paucity of ludicrous ideas in the mind of tlie author, and we confess to having laughed very heartily over them. The Spelling-Bee in goblin-land is a capital idea—the Finger-men will be realized by every child—and tlie " goblin committees on orange-peel and ti[icats " are hit off in a way that will much amuse their elders. The book may strike us as a leaf from the inimitable Alice in Wonder- land; yet many of the ideas are carried out in a vein of undeniable originality. Critically, we would say that, although confessedly a dream, the composition contains too many ideas too slightly carried out ; had tliis tendency been avoided, the impression received from the book would have been clearer and more defined. But we forget—it is a dream ! Tlie illustrations, by the author, are very comical—some extremely graceful. The verbal " quips and cranks " scattered through the book are as clever as they are amusing.

HOMELY WORDS FOR YOUNG WOMEN AND GIRLS. London : Partridge & Co., 1877.

SUCH is the modest title of a pleasing little magazine, wliich has with this New Year commenced its career in the world of literature —a career which we trust will be prosperous, and the source of much benefit to those for whose sake it has been begun. The need of a suitable periodical for young women of the humbler classes was felt, 68 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

and thanks are due to the editors of Homely Words, who have so admir- ably supplied that need. The first issue contains, besides papers of a religious character (including texts and scriptural questions), poetry, stories, news, and recipes for cookery. The poetry is excellent, part being some well-chosen verses from Tennyson's In Memoriam, and a serial tale which promises to be very interesting. It is to be hoped that heads of households will recommend it to their servants as wliole- sonie literature; the price, one penny, puts it within the reach of all.

STEAY NOTES.

THE Rules and Regulations of the St Andrew's Certificates for Women are now published, and may be had on application to Professor Roberts. Besides the fact of their giving a new encouragement to private study in our country, they offer the reassuring certitude of having the sccme standard as the M. A. degree. Thus, if a woman passes in seven subjects,- she knows that she has at least the e(£uivalent of a Degree Certificate. To us the weak jiart of the St Andrew's Certificate seems to be, that it is not guarded by any preliminary examinations, such as are furnished by Group A. of the Cambridge Local, or by the Local Examination attached as a condition to the Edinburgh Certificate. It is especially rinsafe to dispense with a test of secondary education, where choice of subjects for the Higher Certificate is left absolutely to the Candidate. ANOTHER of the grants in aid of Local Bursaries has been claimed for the Local Centre at Helensburgh, in aid of a bursary collected for the district by the pupils of Glenfruin House School. THE Edinburgh Ladies' Educational A ssociation has been recently reorganized, and now consists of gentlemen as well as of ladies. A Council, composed of eighteen ladies, four gentlemen, and thirteen professors of the University, elects its own Executive Committee and Office-bearers. By these bodies the afl'airs of the Association will be administered. THE Preparatory Class for the Edinburgh University Local Ex- aminations has been very prosperous during the session, and the new classes for Latin and Logic have also afi'orded very satisftictory results at recent examinations. The highest paper in Logic had the full number of marks awarded to it, and those which stood next were so good as to be virtually ec[ual in merit.

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PRIZE is ofi'ered for the best article received by the Editors (care of the Publishers, 22 Howe Street, Edinburgh), before March 31st, on any one of our British Female Novelists born in the 18th century. SUBJECT OP DEB.\TE for the next meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society, to be held on Saturday, 3rd February, at 2 St Colme Street, at eleven o'clock :—" Would it be beneficial to Euro2)e if the power of Russia wei'e extended over Turkey V' For all information, apjily to the Secretary, 11 Carlton Street, Edinburgh, /;/ Menioriam. 6g

|it Iflemorram. E. H. M. On, graceful, gracious, courtly, gentle, kind, Oh, warmly loved of all, and loving all In thy large-heartedness, that ever twined Around the lot of those whose t'was to call Thee all their own, as motlier—sister—friend— A restful joy that with their lives did blend.

Oh, deep soft eyes, now closed, alas, for aye ; Oh, sweet calm smile so winning and so bright; Oh, rich-toned voice, that still, or grave or gay, Spake gentlest words, or thoughts that flashed as light, Or, as each listener on its accents hung, Eead olden lore from dreams of genius sprung!

Oh, stately lady—woman all, and sweet, The graces of a rich historic past With freshness of to-day in thee did meet. And made thee what thou wast—one long to last In our deep thoughts—thoughts that the longing gave To lay this tribute song-wreath on thy grave. January 25, 1877.

— f> -^'Sk- >t : h •

(Bnx itmnU llobelists.

MISS B U E N E Y. b. 1752 ; d. 1840.

EXACTLY ninety-nine years ago, a young lady named Evelina made her first appearance in the world. This young lady belonged to the lealms of fiction; and nothing could be more unassuming than her introduction to this new sphere of existence. A nameless and imknown author, a publisher who valued the MS. at £20, no friends to take her by the hand in a preface, or to attract readers by a review; and yet in a very short time Evelina had No. 27.—MARCH 1877. K 70 2'lie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. taken the world by storm,—not merely the novel-reading public, but the grave and reverend fathers of literature, men whose verdict carries weight to this dav. Sir Joshua lieynolds vowed he would give £50 to know the author; Burke sat up all night to read it. " Why, madam, why," said I)r Johnson to Mrs Thrale, " what a charming book you lent ine !" He could not praise it enough; its characters were for ever on his lips. He thought it equal to Eichardson, and preferred it to Fielding. By degrees it was whispered that tliis wonderful book was the work of a young lady of six-and-tweiity, very sliy, very unassuming, very much alarmed at her own success. From the astonishment of everybody at tliis discovery, we are not led to ibrm a very high idea of the ordinary young ladies of the day; to take the pattern of a cap or apron, to utter little platitudes witli a sweet smile, seems to have been quite as much as was expected from them. But as we look at the pretty arch features of Fanny Burney, in the portrait prefixed to her memoirs, the bright eyes with their delicately-marked eye-brows, the mobile mouth, the charm and animation of the whole countenance, give us such an impression of " little Burney's quick discerning," that we do not wonder she should have l)eeii the delight and admiration of her contemporaries. Frances Burney, second daughter of I)r Burney, author of the Histoi'}! of Music, was born in 1752. As a child, she was shy and backward; at eight years old slie did not know her letters. I'robably her very talents kept her back; at all events, we find her, wlien a little older, spending all her spare time in writing ; and Evelina was begun as a sort of continuation of one of her more juvenile performances. She seems to have had all the gifts necessary to succeed as a novelist: rare powers of observation, a quick insight into character, and great cleverness in delineating it; besides an appreciation of humour wliich rather degenerates into low comedy in her imaginary scenes, but which sheds much brightness and playfulness over her accounts of real life. The first feeling of any one in taking up Evelina at the present day, is astonishinent that such a state of manners should have been possible. I do not speak now of the actual dangers of society—the licence that seems to have pre\'ailed everywhere, and as a matter of course ; but of the boisterous mirth, the coarse jests, the utter want of consideration tor others, wliich were to be found even within the charmed circle of " persons of quality," thinly veiled by Our Fcjiiale Xovclists. 7 r a superficial formality and strictness of etir|uette. Two gentlemen of position make a bet to drive their phaetons against each other for one thousand guineas. Their friends interfere, very unnecessarily, it may be thought, and object to the match as too dangerous. They cast about for some other means of deciding the bet; and after many queer proposals, it is settled that two old women, both of them upwards of eightv, shall run a race against each other ; and this brilliant idea is actually carried out. Captain Mirvan, a captain in the navy, son-in-law to a Lady Howard, exceeds in rudeness and violence all that we could have imagined possible. His practical jokes are wonderful. An old Frenchwoman, Madame Duval, is his butt; and it is thought an exquisite jest to push this poor old creature down in the gutter when coming from Eanelagh; or, another time, to feign an attack on her by highwaymen, and to leave her seated in a ditch with her feet tied together by a rope ! But assuming that the manners depicted were true to the age, we can easily see why the book became so great a favourite. Here was a description of every-day life, written in letters from a young lady, Avho descrilied her adventures with much liveliness and truth to nature (or to the caricature of nature which then prevailed). We must make allowance for much exaggerated 'feeling, for many anxieties and alarms which now would seem like affectation, but which then were carefully meted out in due proportions, to form that sensibility which properly accompanied a refined and virtuous nature. The book is thoroughly well-written, in pure and flowing English; the sentiments and reflections are such as would spring naturally from the events described ; the characters are well-conceived, well-contrasted, and, in spite of the rouge and the powder, they are full of life and movement; while the conversations cannot be accused of want of vigour, though the highest idea of wit formed by any of the company is a broad tu qiwqv.e. That tlie picture is fairly correct in all its parts, we may infer from the entire approbation with which it was received. Every one was charmed with the faithful descriptions of character ; and the greatest wits were fain to exclaim "Ma foi! " with Madame Duval, and to quote the vulgar cousin's speech, " Lord, Polly, only think ! JMiss has danced with a lord ! " Here is a little specimen of a conversation at the theatre, in which Captain Mirvan plays off an atfected fine gentleman with S(jrae point. " For my part," said Mr Lovel, " I confess I seldom listen to tlie players ; one has so miirh to do in looking; alioiit and finding ont one's 72 Tlie Ladies Edi/ibiirgk Magazin

acquaintance, that really one has no time to mind the stage. Pray," (most affectedly fixing his eyes upon a diamond ring upon his little finger), " pray, what was the play to-night ?" " Why, what the d—1," cried the cajotain, " do you come to the play without knowing what it is '\ " " Oh, yes, sir, yes, very frequently ; I have no time to read j^lay- hills ; one merely comes to meet one's friends, and show that one's alive." " Ha ! ha I ha !—and so," cried the captain, " it costs you five shillings a-niglit just to show you're alive ! well, faith, my friends should all think me dead and underground before I'd be at that expense for 'em. Howsomever—this here you may take from me—they'll find you out fast enpugh if you have anything to give 'em. And so you've been here all this time and don't know what the play was ?" " Why, really, sir, a play requires so much attention,—it is scarcely possible to keep awake if one listens ; for, indeed, by the time it is evening, one has been so fatigued with dining, or wine, or the house, or studying, that it is—it is perfectly an impossibility. ]3ut now I think of it, I believe I have a bill in my pocket ; oh, ay, here it is—' Love for Love,' ay, true; ha ! ha ! how could I be so stupid ! " " Oh, easily enough as to that, I warrant you," said the cajitain; " but, by my soul, this is one of the best jokes I ever heard ! come to a play, and not know what it is ! why, I suppose you wouldn't have found it out if they had fobbed you oft' with a scraping of fiddlers, or an opera ? Ha ! ha 1 ha I—Why, now I should have thought you might have taken some notice of one Mr Tattle that is in tliis play !" The sarcasm, which caused a general smile, made him colour ; but turning to the captain with a look of conceit, which implied that he had a retort ready, he said, " Pray, sir, give me leave to ask—what do you think of one Mr Ben, who is also in this play ? " The captain, regarding him with the utmost contempt, answered in a loud voice, " Think of him ! why, I think he is a man !" And then, staring full in his face, he struck his cane on the ground with a violence that made him start. In 1782 appeared Cecilia, which was looked on by the critics as superior to Evelina. To our judgment it is altogether more tedious, and wants that sort of spontaneous movement Avhich we find in the earlier work. The manners, though less boisterous, are more depraved; and we are painfully reminded of scenes in the Hake's Progress, and Mariage a la mode. Camilla followed, "in six volumes duodecimo" aftei' her marriage with M. D'Arblay; and there was a still later work. The Wanderer. But tliough both these were well received, tliey do not seem to have added much to her reputation. We cannot help thinking that she might have taken a high place as a \M'iter of comedies. She did attempt both tragedy and comedy, but only one of her pieces Avas performed on the stage ; and that, a tragedy called Edwy and Elgiva, was withdrawn after the first re- presentati m. Besides these works, Miss Burney has left us her Memoirs; Our Female Novelists. 73 and very attractive reading they are. She has a good deal of the power of, as it were, photographing the society in which she moved, that gives such a cliarm to French memoirs; and as throughout her life she mixed with all that was most illustrious both by birth and talent, her Memoirs give us a vivid picture of the life, courtly, political, and social, of the last five-and-twenty years of the 18th century. It is well-known wliat a favourite " little Burney" became with Dr Johnson ; and nowhere do M-e get a more agreeable picture of the Doctor, than in her accounts of her visits to Streatham. Many other celebrities we meet with in her pages: Mrs Montagu, Sheridan, IJurke, Sir Joshua Eeynolds, IVIadame de Stal'l—all speaking ibr themselves with most life-like vivacity. Here is one little scene, wliich is quite irresistible in its naJivcU. Miss Burney has been introduced to Lady Say and Sele; and by her, with many compliments, to her sister, Lady Hawke, " wlio has written a novel herself, so you are sister authoresses! " " Well," cried Lady Say, " hut do repeat that sweet part that I am so fond of. You know what I mean ; Miss Buriiey must hear it, out of your novel, you know." Lady Hawke.—"No, I can't ; I have forgot it." Lady Say.—" Oh no ! I am sure you have not ; I insist upon it." Lady Hawke.—"But I know you can repeat it yovirself; you have so fine a memory. I am sure you can repeat it" Lady Say.—" Oh, hut I should not do it justice—that's all, I should not do it justice ! " Lady Hawke then hent forward and repeated :—" If, when he made the declaration of his love, the sensibility that beamed in his eyes was felt in his heart, what pleasing sensations and soft alarms miglit not that tender avowal awaken ! " " And from what, ma'am," cried I, astonished, and imagining I had mistaken them, "is this taken V "From my sistei-'s novel!" answered the delighted Lady Say and Sele, expecting my raptures to be equal to her own. " It's hi the Mausoleum of Julia—did not you know that ? " It is amusing to find, some years after, tliat this touching romance, which an ungrateful world has suffered to die, is solemnly presented to the Queen. " It is all of a piece," says Miss Burney, " all love, love, love, unmixed and un- adulterated with any more worldly materials." Miss Burney's position in tlie household of Queen Char- lotte is well known. Her ostensible post was that of reader to the Queen ; but she was a great deal more than this. She was a sort of superior dresser, attending and assisting at the Queen's toilette three times a-day ; besides performing many other services of various kinds. It must have been a 74 TJie Ladies Ediiiburgli Alagaziiie. considerable slavery; during the five years for which she held the post, from '86 to '91, she seems to have been always on duty, and only as a favour, and on suiferance, did she ever see her own friends. She was singularly unfortunate in her coadjutor, a Madame Schwellenberg, one of the Queen's German attendants. The coarseness and brutality of this person exceed belief Nothing in the novels can seem exaggerated when we meet with such speeches as this from one in the position of a lady. They were travelling from London to "Windsor in winter, and ]\Iiss Burney suffered from tlie draught of the open window. " 0, poor ;Miss Burney might bear it the same ! Put it down, Mr de Luc ! Witliout, I will get out! Put it down wlien I tell you! It is my coach! I will have it selfs ! I might go alone in it, or with one, or with A^'hat you call nobody, when I please !" One cannot help admiring the straiglitforward good sense with which she steered through the intricacies of tliis difficult position; though she sometimes provokes one by her great self-consciousness, and the little vanities and affectations with which she tells her tale. Her admiration for the Queen, and indeed for all the royal family, was quite unbounded, and we get many pleasing glimpses of their domestic life. We also get very curious pictures of manners. One of Miss Burney's first occupations was to mix the Queen's snuff, and fill her snuff-box. When the court was on a visit at Nuneham, tlie hairdresser from Oxford came to dress her head at six in the morning, and she was barely ready by eight. Well might she say that tlie first syllable of the word toilette, was quite sufficient, without a needless diminutive ! And, again, it is curious to find a friend bringing her " a decanter of barley-water, and a bright tin sauce- pan, under her hoop!" After Miss Burney had given up lier appointment through ill-health, she was thrown much into the society of a party of French emigres; and this led, in 17.93, to her marriage with one of the number, tlie Chevalier D'Arblay. He had been on the staff of La Fayette, and seems to have been a fine character. It was a very hap]>y marriage, though imprudent enough in a worldly point of view, as tliey had no certain income but £100 a-year allowed to Miss Burney by the Queen. In her letters at this time we are continually reminded of her own heroines ; just so Avould tiiose charming young ladies have announced their marriage. There are all the fine sentiments, all the tours rle j^irase that the Our Fc7)iale Novelists. 75 situation demanded. M. D'Arbley is " lier mate," her "partner," never her husband; her little son figures as the " Bambino." For some years they lived quietly at a little cottage in Surrey, M-here M. D'Arbley literally turned his sword into a pruning-hook. The years" from 1802 to 1815 were spent in France; and Madame D'Arblay, wliose fate it was to be ever associated with great events, was in Paris when Xapoleon landed from Elba, and at Prussels when tlie Battle of Waterloo was fought. The closing years of lier life have the sadness inseparable from the liistmy of one whose life is prolonged far beyond the allotted span. She survived all that she most loved; she closed the eyes of both her husband and son, and died in 1840, at the great age of 88. Her long life bridges over in a remaikable way two periods so remote from each other as the reign of George II., when she was born, to the days of Queen Victoria, "whose marriage she lived to witness. Miss Burney has herself well summed up the conditions of lasting fame when she says : " Humour springing li'om meie dress, or habits, or phraseology, is quickly obsolete; when it sinks deeper, and dives into character,'it may live for ever." This is most true of her own writino-s. Her novels are probably the first which profess to depict life in its every-day aspect. Eichardson, with his tragic pen, and Fielding,^ from the vigorous strength of his own mind, had written fiction, which, tliough set in a contemporary frame- Avork, might have belonged to any age. But in Evelina and Cecilia we meet the men and women of the time, with all their fashionable follies, their extravagance, their masque- rades and tlieir duels, their affectations, and their " vapours." It is an unlovely picture to gaze upon ; and as the traits of character are too superficial, too melodramatic, to appeal deeply to our feelings, it is not surprising that it should now be forgotten. A very fair parallel might be drawn between our present writer and Miss Austin. Both took the subjects of their fiction from wliat they saw around tliem; both have all the merit of faithful and life-like portraiture, touching the little foibles they describe with a kindly hand; both are perhaps somewhat deficient in imagination. But Miss Austin is incomparably the superior in the delicacy and finish of her sketches. Miss Burney shows us, as it were, the types ; and it was reserved for later writers to give a more subtle insight into the varieties of character, and to refine upon her broad general lines. 'jQ The Ladies Edinburgh Magazi)ic.

We conclude with an extract wliicli cannot fail to give a high idea of her powers. It was written when she had attained the age of sixty-nine. I have lost now, just lost, my once most dear, intimate, and admired fiiend, Mrs Thrale Piozzi, who preserved her fine faculties, her imagination, her intelligence, her powers of allusion and citation, her extraordinary memory, and her almost unexampled vivacity, to the last of her existence. She was in her eighty-second year, and yet owed not her death to age nor to natural decay, but to the effects of a fall in a journey from Penzance to Clifton. On her eightieth birthday she gave a great ball, concert, and supper, in the public rooms at Bath, to uj)wards of 200 persons, and the ball she opened herself. She was, in truth, a most wonderful chai'acter for talents and eccentricity, for wit, genius, generosity, spirit, and jjowers of entertainment. She had a great deal both of good and not good, in common with Madame de Stael Holstein. They had the same sort of highly superior intellect, the same depth of learning, the same general ac([uaintance with science, the same ardent love of literature, the same thirst for universal knowledge, and the same buoyant animal spirits, such as neither sickness, sorrow, nor even terror, could subdue. Their conversation was equally luminous, from the sources of their own fertile minds, and from their sjjlendid acquisitions from the works and acquirements of others. Both were zealous to serve, liberal to bestow, and graceful to oblige ; and both were truly liighminded in i)rizing and praising whatever was admiral)le that came in their way. Neither of them was delicate nor polished, though each was flattering and caressing ; but both had a fund inexhaustible of good humour, and of sportive gaiety, that made their intercourse with those they wished to please attractive, instructive, and delightful; and though not either of them had the smallest real malevolence in their compositions, neither of them could ever with- stand the pleasure of uttering a repartee, let it wound whom it might, even tlioigh each would serve the very person they goaded with all the means in their power. Both were kind, charitable, and munificent, and therefore belo\'ed ; both were sarcastic, careless, and daring, and therefore feared. The morality of Madame de Stael was by far the most faulty, but so was the society to which she belonged ; so were the general manners of those by whom she was encircled." EXXA.

lirQi ii fbc Scasibt. BERTHA sat still, gazing at the fire, feeling as if she liad no strength to struggle against the recollections aroused by looking at the old note; and so she sat, not attempting to look over any more letters, but thinking of all the circumstances of that Christmas visit,—what a hard frost it M^as, how she and Sophy enjoyed the sledging, and how they learnt to By the Seaside. JJ skate. Then the prepai'ations for the theatricals they were to have on New Year's Day; liow she enjoyed it all, trying not to think of the day after, wlien lie must go hack to town; and then that evening, the last of the year, when they had sat up to see the old year out, and he had spoken to her while they were standing liy the window, listening to the church bells, and she had been so happy, and had thought that the New Year was dawning on her so brightly ! And then the next morning, what a change! when lier father was told and was so angry, saying it was an impossiljility— it was not to be thought of—a young man with only a hundred and fifty pounds a year! He must go away immediately. Aud he did go; and oh ! the wretchedness of that day ! the dreary thaw, the snow lying about in patches, the rain pouring dismally ; and worst of all, the thought of the theatricals and of the party that was to come in the evening. That she had got through that evening at all was a wonder to her noAv, in looking back, and remembering the di'eadful strain that it had been to try and seem in good spirits when her heart was breaking; how umiatural her own laugh had sounded ! And then the reaction, when she went to bed, and the restraint was over; the floods of tears, the agonized sobs of that night, she never could forget; and the desperate effort she had made in the morning to seem calm again, that her father might never know what it had cost her to submit to his will. And he never had known; she felt thankful for that now. During the remainder of his life she had devoted herself entirely to him, feeling that she had nothing else to live for. And now that duty was over, what was there further to live for ? An orphan of eight-and- twenty may not seem such an object of compassion as an orphaned child, or a young girl just entering upon life; 1 )ut perhaps there is no age at which a Avoman feels the breaking up of the home of her childhood, the removal of the barrier \vhich the generations above us seem to make between us and old age and the grave. It is an age when a woman is considered too young to set up an establishment of her own, and yet is too old to amalgamate herself easily with another family. Bertha had thought that as she was possessed of a little fortune of three hundred a year, left her by her god-mother a short time before her father's death, she might live by herself; but her brother would not hear of it; he was older than she was, and to him she seemed still a girl. He told her it would be the most unheard of proceeding; that the proper place for her to live was with him; that Sophy quite No. 27.—iURcnlS77 L 78 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. agreed with him, and that while he lived she should never want a home. Edward had always been very fond of Bertha, and she loved him as sisters do love an only brother; both he and Sophy had done their best to make her happy. The tears came into her eyes while she thought of all their kindness and affection, and doubtless they thought that they had succeeded in their intention. Truly the heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not. The fire had died down, and the moon, which was now in front of the window, streamed in through the open shutter and threw a line of cold light across the floor. Bertha sliivered; it was still early, and she made up the fire afresh, and resumed her meditations. " Should she ever see liim again?" It was a question she often asked herself, and always gave herself the same answer; biit, as she very soon asked it again, it may be doubted whether she Avas quite sincere in her hopelessness. She was thankful that he had never married; it seemed to her that she could not have borne it, though she often tried to say to herself, "Perhaps he has forgotten me." She said so now, but she did not think it; her heart rebelled against the suggestion, and soon her thoughts were engaged in building a bright castle for the future. She had a vision of his reappearing, meeting her somewhere in London, telling her that he had been faithful to her all these years, that he had been working for her, that he had got promotion and an increased income, and had saved money, so that, had her father been alive, he would not have objected to their miion. She had such trust in John Leslie that she believed that this was what he would do; but then, supposmg that he had tried, and failed; supposing that, in spite of all his efforts to work his way upwards in the world, he had advanced but little in these eight years. She knew that promotion in the Government offices was slow, and that it required years of toil to obtain anything like a competent income. And then supposing that while still cherishing her memory, he considered that all was for ever at an end between them; supposing that he thought himself ill-used, as indeed he might, and was angry with her for giving liim up so readily, for so implicitly obeying her father; supposing—Bertha was weary of conjecture, weary of reminiscences, weary of thinking. " I will go to bed," she said to herself; "perhaps a night's rest will do me good, and I shall wake up brighter to-morrow." She was right. There are few of the minor troubles of By the Seaside. 79

life that cannot be soothed by " care-charmer sleep," and when we can scarcely account to ourselves for our low spirits, they often will not sur\'ive the hoiu-s of darkness. Wlien Bertha rose the next morning, and looked out upon the calm sea, now sparkling in the sunshine, her first thought was that it would be a lovely morning for bathing, and life did not seem quite so dull and dreary as it had done the evening before. She found Sophy at the breakfast- table, bright and brisk in spite of her night's dissipation, fuU of the pleasures of the ball; the best, she said, that she had had for a long time; such a good room, such a first-rate band, and Col. Wallace had been so kind in introducing all the best partners in the room. " It's a pity you were not there, Bertha," said Edward, with an appearance of being entirely occupied with the things on his plate ; " there was an old friend of yours there." " Friend of mine ! " said Bertha, her heart beating in spite of herself. " Who was it ?" " Jack Leslie." " Bertlia had schooled herself now for many years to hear that name without showing any outward sign of agitation; , she neither blushed nor turned pale, but to speak was for the moment impossible. After glancing at her from under his eyelids, to see how she took it, Edward continued— " He is a cousin of Mrs Wallace in some distant degree, and came to see them on his way abroad, and, as there was to be this ball last night, they persuaded him to stay for it. I think he said he should cross by the mid-day boat, so perhaps he may look in this morning. He asked where you were." " Did he know about— " began Bertha, forcing herself to speak, but unable to finish her sentence. " He knew of my father's death, but he didn't know Woodcote was let, so he was very much surprised to see us here. Very much pleased though, I thought." Bertha spent the whole morning in her own room, in a state of feverish excitement that made it impossible to hei' to employ hersellj or to attend to conversation. She desired her maid to let her know if any visitors called; once she heard a knocking, followed by a man's step on the stairs, and sent her down to inquire, but it was only the doctor come to see one of the children who was poorly. " Hope deferred maketh the heart sick," said Bertha to herself, with an intense realization of the truth of that 8o The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

saying of the wisest of men. Just then, as slie stood by the window, she saw the train come puffing down on to the pier, bringing the passengers from London for the steamboat; and she knew that those who were already in Whitcliffe must have gone on board before. In a few minutes more the boat had ceased letting off its steam, the wheels began to move—it was out of the harbour. Bertha felt then that if suspense was heart-sickening, disappointment was crushing. For a few minutes she sat stiU, her face covered with her hands; then she went downstairs, and behaved so entirely as if nothing had happened, that Edward and Sophy, who watched her narrowly, came to the conclusion that she did not feel it much. " You see she has quite got over it," Edward said to his wife when they were quite alone ; " girls do forget very soon; you would have forgotten me by this time if your father had not let us marry." Sophy shook her little fist at him, and told him he knew nothing about women, though he ought to know them by this time, as he had been married eight years. " I am not much changed, am I, Ned ?" she said. " No," he answered, " but then you see I never gave you a chance of forgetting me. It's out of sight out of mind, with all you women." After luncheon, as Bertha was sitting alone in the drawing-room, Sophy • came in with a troubled face. " I don't know what to do, Bertha," she said;" Mabel is so poorly that I can't let nurse leave her, and Jane says she has got a bad toothache, and can't take the children out; would you let Emma take them for a walk ? " " Oh," said Bertha, jumping up, " I will take them myself with pleasure." " No, will you really ? How very good of you !" " No, it is not good of me," said Bertha, " because I like it so much. I like nothing better than a walk on the shore, and I always like having the children with me. I shall take my sketch-book and draw the shrimpers, or the rocks, or the boats, and they can play about as much as they like." The children were delighted with this arrangement, and they set off, jumping and dancing along by her side, to a lonely spot on the shore under the east cliff, where Bertha sat down on a rock with her sketch-book in her lap, leaving the children to pick up sea-weed and shells, and build a castle on the narrow strip of sand which the tide had made bare on the shingly shore. She was not in a mood for By the Seaside. 8i sketching, her energies seemed exhausted in the great effort she had made for self-control, and now she could only sit still waiting for her troubled spirit to be calmed Ijy the soothing influence of the peaceful, sunny day. The scene before her—tlie calm sea, the rocks, the sunshine, the accompanying sounds, the ripple of the waves, the happy voices of the children, the far off bugle call from the barracks —remained deeply impressed on Bertha's mind, as the place where any great event has happened to us often does ; for, as she turned her head, she saw a man's figure approaching, rounding the corner of the cliffs. She would liave known those broad shoulders, that light free step, at any distance, and among a thousand others. Her heart seemed for a moment to stand still, and then gave one great throb that turned her sick and faint; she sat still, for she had no power to move. Did he know she was there ? Was he come on purpose to seek her ? Did he see her? or would the shadow of the rock hide her as he came near ? These thoughts passed through her mind in one moment; the next, he was standing Ijefore her, holding her hand in that well-remembered grasp. Xeither of them spoke directly; at last Bertha said : " I thought you were gone abroad." " Did you think I should go away without seeing you ?" " I thought,—I didn't know," she said, confused ; then looking up in his face, met his eye. He was looking at her just as he used to look in old times; was it going to be the same thing again ? Was he indeed unchanged in all these years ? " I called at your house, and saw Mrs Stanhope, and she told me you had walked along the shore," said Mr Leslie; " so I came in search of you." "And you are going to cross this evening?" asked Bertha. " No, I think not. I have an old college friend who lives somewhere in this part of the world; I may perhaps go and look him up before I go abroad. Switzerland will keep.' "Will it?" said Bertha. "I should have thought it must be already rather late for Switzerland ? " " Well then, I'll go somewhere else; it makes no difference to me. T promised to meet my brother at Brussels, anrl he is staying out among the Belgian towns till I come; so I must go abroad sooner or later, and I ha\e only a month's leave." " Don't they give you any longer holidays than they used to do ?" said Bertha, remembering the difficulty that he 82 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

used to have in getting away for a few days to come down to Woodcote. "Not yet; but I hope to get a longer time next year. I have now got a very good situation in the Foreign Office, with better pay and longer holidays than I used to have at my old place in the Admiralty, and I have hopes of getting on to something better still, in time." " I am very glad to hear that," said Bertha;" you used to say that you had no hope of promotion." " N"o, I never should have got it by my own efforts, but I am fortunate in having a friend at court now, an old friend of my father, who has lent me a helping hand." There was a pause after this. Bertha was thinking what a difference it would have made in her life if ]\Ir Leslie had had any such prospect as this eight years ago, and wondering whether he had any particular reason for telling her of his improved fortunes. It seemed a strange realization of her dreams of the evening before; so exactly the retiirn she had planned in her own mind, that it was difficult to believe that it was really happening. She felt as if she were in a dream, iind his voice sounded to her as if it came from a long way off. She tried to rouse herself now, as he sat down by her side, and began to talk of old days—the days she had been thinldng of so sadly, of "VVoodcote, and of her father. " I had no idea," he said, "that Edward had let the place; 1 fancied him living there now, and I was wondering whether you were lining with him. I was so astonislied to meet him yesterday at the ball, and to hear that you were all staying down here. Is it only a temporary arrangement, your living with them ?" " I have nowhere else to live," she said in a low sad voice. " They are very kind, and do all they can to make it a home for me." " But, I dare say, you miss the independence of your own home ?" he said. She did not answer; and at that moment the pattering of little feet was heard upon the shingle, and the two children came running round the corner of the rock, and tumbled, both at once, into })ertha's lap. " Oh, Aunt P)ertlia, we had built such a beautiful castle, with ditches all round it, just like the castle here, and the waves came up and spoilt it quite, and we were trying to build it up again, and there came another wave and washed it all away, and wetted our feet, too, and now there isn't any more sand, nothing but nasty shingle; the sea has covered it all." By the Seaside. 83

" Well, my dears, I am very sorry for you; but it is the way with all the castles one builds, they always melt away." " Do you ever build castles with the sand, aunt Bertha ? " said the little girl, looking at her with large wondering eyes. " Sometimes of sand, sometimes of air," answered Bertha, " they are both alike." And yet at this moment she was building a castle for herself, as fair and sunlit as the clouds that were floating in the sky, and as easily dissolved by a breath of wind, which might perhaps send them falling in rain upon her head. " It makes one feel old to see these cliildren," said Mr Leslie, who have grown up since we met last. How old are you, young man ?" he added, seizing hold of the little boy who was still hanging on his aunt, looking up in her face as if trying to find out what she meant. " I shall be seven on the fourteenth of December," said the child. Well, you're a great boy," said Mr Leslie; " and what's your name ?" " Edward Stanhope." " But we always call him Teddy," said his sister. " And are you called I'ertha ? " said Mr Leslie, turning to her. " No ; my name is Edith Sophia Stanhope." " And which do they call you, Edith or Sophia ?" "Edith," answered the child; "I was called Sophia after mama, but I think it is a very ugly name." " I think you had much better have been called Bertha," said Mr Leslie; "you are exactly like your aunt; I have no doubt she had just such curls as these," pulling Edith's flaxen hair. "Yes, I believe I had," said Bertha smiling, "for I remember my greatest ambition was to have them cut off, that I might be more like Edward. But look," she said suddenly, " how fast the tide is coming in; we ought to be going." She rose from her seat as she spoke, and took hold of Edith's hand. "We shall not have such a nice walk back as we had in coming here," she said; " the sea has covered all the strip of sand that we came along; there is nothing left now but shingle." " Even the shingle will fail us soon," said Mr Leslie ; "we must keep as close to the cliffs as we can, in rounding this last point, and I am afraid walking on these rocks will be hard work for those little feet." 84 The Ladies EdinbiirgJi Magnrjiiie.

Just as he spoke, Edith's foot slipped upon the sea-weed covered rock, and she fell. She was beginning to cry, but ]\Ir Leslie lifted her up tenderly, and his promise to carry her all the way home consoled her, and stopped the fast falling tears. It was an uncomfortable walk for Bertha. Tt had seemed but a little way that they had come along the sand two hours before. Now, as they retraced their steps over rough shingle and slippery rocks, the distance seemed twice as great; the tide gaining upon them every minute, obliged tliem to keep closer and closer to the cliffs, where the walking was most difficult; in many places Bertha could scarcely keep her feet, and conversation was of course impossible. It was quite a relief to her when at last, just as it was growing dusk, they turned the corner of the terrace, and she found herself at her own door. "Good-bye," said Mr Leslie, when he had set the tired child down. " I am sorry I cannot come in and see Edward now, but I shall be late for the Wallace's dinner." " Are you staying there ?" asked Bertha. " No; I am at the hotel. Their house is all in confusion; they are going away to-morrow; the regiment is ordered out to Canada, and they sail on Satuixlay. That ball was their farewell to Whitcliffe." Bertha spent that evening in a sort of luxurious dream; too much absorbed in her new-found happiness to care to talk about other things. She sat silent thinking over the strangeness of the meeting, after the long separation, wondering, and half vexed with herself for having talked about such commonplace things; so different from what she would have imagined herself saymg, if she liad known beforehand that she was to meet him, and planned many things that she would say to him to-morrow, when she lioped tliat they might meet again. Slie lay awake almost all night, too excited to sleep; her maid was astonished to find her, when she came to call her in the morning, already dressed, and sitting by the open wmdow. She was afraid to leave the house, lest he sliould come while she was out; she made all sorts of excuses for not going to bathe, while Sophy, who knew her real motive quite well, biit was pleased to find an opportunity of teasing her staid sober sister, went on assuring her that it was the most delightful day possible, that the sea was as calm as a looking-glass, and that the water would be all the warmer because tliere was no sun. But the morning went by, and no Mr LesUe. Luncheon A Song for tlie Times. 85 time came; Bertha sat at the table eating nothing, only listening to every sound; still he did not come. They went back to the drawing-room, and she forced herself to try and work. She began to think he might liave gone to see the friend he had spoken of, and perhaps he might have been kept tliere. He might come to dinner; but meanwhile the disappointment was hard to bear. SUBURBAXA. {To be continued.)

tf •■ tc 'il'lt-^ti-

^ Song for tijc ^rmcs.

1. In these our davs when judgment passes On " Woman's Eights," and " AVoman's Classes," And what's her "proper sphere," When w^e are told we must not use Our minds, nor hold " peculiar views," Before the unthinking world accuse. In justice let it hear !

II. We are " inferior beings." Granted. It is not much to be so vaunted To be a man, Tf being so, he dare not meet His Aveaker sisters to compete, Xor yield the palm with grace when beat By silly woman.

HI. Granted our skulls are somewhat thicker. And men may be a trifle quicker At classical quotation ; Of languages yclept " the dead " The less, perhaps, the better said. If all be true that we have read Of school-boy education.

IV. One thhig, at Jcfii^t,, our lihx can try in, And win the prize, there's no denyin', If truth were wortli the telling ; 2;.-MAr.(H 1877. M 86 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

A branch which College life disdains, As if it were not worth the pains While Greek and Latin hold the reins, And that is—English spelling !

V. If God has given a woman mind Of average above her kind. It is her talent duly ; And hers the choice to lay it by. Or wear it with humility. All in a manner womanly. If she will wear it truly.

VI. If homely duties were neglected. That sciences might be perfected. Or human bodies be dissected. We scarce could take her part; But employing hours of leisure In Avisdom's paths of pleasure. And storing endless treasure From History and Art,

VII. What but censorious, jealous voice. And smaller nature, would rejoice Some fault to find ? In petty judgment sitting. And secret, cowardly hitting. That, sooth, is but befitting A little mind.

VIII. There needeth no aj^ology For studying any " ology," Except perhaps theology, Which lies not in her way; But if she have the patience To work out dull equations. And pass examinations, Wlio dares to say her nay ? TJie Higher Education of ]]'o!neH in Scotland. 87

IX. And should dark days arise at length. Calling out every power and strength. She'll arm her for the strife With all the varied talents given For use—not rust—by gracious heaven ; She by their exercise will leaven The hard won bread of life !

MAETYN HAY.

£.»--«-

e pig^tr ^bututioiv of Momett in Stothmi).

PART III. WHAT HAS BEEN DONE IN EDINBURGH. EVERYBODY knows how, in the winter of 1868, at the request of a newly formed Association, Professor Masson lectured on English literature, and how no fewer than 265 ladies went to hear him. It is also well known that, in succeeding winters, other professors followed his example, and that, although the class-rooms liaAClong since ceased to be a place of fashionable resort, yet they still continue to be the centre of attraction to a tolerably large and studious set, who work hard and attend examinations winter after winter. Something, too, is vaguely known' concerning a University certificate, said to be given to certain of these students; but society generally confuses it, on the one hand, with the parchment certificate given by each professor to his students along with their prizes, and, on the other, with the certificate of the University Local Examinations. Beyond this, we Ijelieve, very little of the past or present of the lecture system is known even in Edinburgh, and still less in the rest of Scot- land. A short sketch of its history may therefore not be uninteresting. Abundant materials for the task lie ready to our hand in the series of Annual Eeports from 1868 to 1876, in the class-registers, and in the note-books and reminiscences of old students. Administrative details are so tedious to all who are not directly concerned in their invention or in their conduct, that we shall say as little as possible about them, and keep strictly to what has taken place in the class-rooms. On the whole, this Association may be said to have done its work fairly well, if, perhaps, with less of sustained energy 88 The Ladies Edinbiivgh Magazine. than might have been looked for by those who remembered the zeal and enterprise of its first promoters. Yet, albeit it seems probable that the first decade of its existence will come to an end before their anticipations of success have been fully realized, this may possibly be due not so much to inaction on the part of the Society, as to the retarding influence of circumstances beyond its control. For the most serious charge brought against the Association is, that it did not begin at the beginning, but that its leaders were contented to assume that the secondary education of ladies was all that coidd be desired, instead of being, as it is now acknowledged to be, very imperfect indeed. Critics say that a wiser course was followed in England, where the University Local Examinations were not considered beneath the care of Ladies' Educational Associations. But in 1868 no one who had ventured to assert that the secondary education of Scottish young ladies needed reformation, would have been listened to with patience, and a deeply-rooted national self-satisfaction on the subject made the task of beginning at the beginning a far harder one here than in England, where things were so much worse that it was impossible to take anything for granted, except the general want of instruction in grammar and in arithmetic, in history and in geography, of the greater part of the young lady world. The opening course of 1868 was necessarily far more sketchy than those elaborate critical lectures on the history of English literature which now occupy Professor Massou and his class during two entire sessions. There was only one tentative written examination, conducted without marks, prizes, or division of the students into classes, in order of merit. Still, the results amply satisfied the examiners that the experiment of University instruction for women was ■worth trying, and that a majority of the class was sufiiciently prepared for the work to be done. But when Professor Masson's eight Annual Eeports are read one after the other as a series, we cannot help noticing how often he speaks of the " visible improvement, in the course of the session, of not a few students,"—a result to be looked for in the case rather of clever women who begin to study late in life, than of well- trained girls fresh from school. Moreover, in 1872-73, he plainly told his class that among them there was a deficiency of previous training, and we read that in 1875-76, " there was evidence in some cases of insufiicient early training and practice in English composition and pointing;" and that The Higher Education of Women in Scotland. 89 several students took lower rank on this account than they seemed to merit by natural ability. This would suggest that, like the other promoters of the scheme, Professor Masson had expected the influence of these lectures to re-act speedily and beneficially on the secondary education of those who, in 1868, were young girls in the schoolroom, and hence felt some disappointment, when, after eight years, there was still much room left for improvement in rudimentary instruction. Further proofs of defective early education will meet us as we go on. In 1868-69, we find an approach made to a fully-equipped University Faculty of Arts; for experimental physics, logic, and metaphysics, were added to English literature. No fewer than 335 ladies crowded to the class-rooms in this prosperous winter. Of these, it is important for us to notice, only 90 had been among Professor Masson's first company of hearers since the time this proportion of old to new students was said in the Eeport to afford "very satisfactory proof that a demand for higher culture really exists in Edinburgh." But now, after nine sessions, and taken in connection with the statistics furnished by the class-registers, it would rather be looked upon as an ominous sign of the contrary. In this one fact, indeed, lay foreshadowed the coming experiences of many j^ears—i.e., that at least one- half of those who throng a well-filled class-room, are dilettante visitors, attracted by love of novelty to a pleasant intellectual pastime. On their stability it is useless to reckon, and old members of the Association rarely expect more than this proportion of a very large class to return in the following year. Another rule, that you may count on those students who come up for examination as being likely to re-appear, is also curiously exemplified by the figures of this year; for in the first session 94 out of 265 had been the working proportion, and in the second, exactly 90 of these continued their studies. Llay we commend these facts and figures to the notice of the promoters of similar schemes elsewhere ? Professor Tait writes that he was greatly pleased to find that " the want of preliminary training did not, to any serious extent, interfere with the working of his class." The italics are ours, and the Report of Mr Kobertson Smith, then Examiner to the University, explains to what extent, and in what direction, defective training did affect the results of the examinations. He first tells us that " there were one or two very good students at the top of the class, who were in every respect equal to the Ijest Univer- QO TJie Ladies EdinbiirgJi Magazine.

sity men; but below them there was a rather rapid descent to painstaking mediocrity." Then follows the gist of his criticism. "To most of the class, not only physical facts, but all physical and mathematical ideas were perfectly new, and even a sound knowledge of arithmetic in its theory was very far from well diffused." We would fain ask whether in 1877 it can still be said, that girls leave the schoolroom ignorant of elementary physical and mathematical ideas, and without any sound knowledge of the rational principles of arithmetic ? All we know is that in 1874 there was no perceptible amendment, for in that year the Professor of Chemistry reported, that " the small number of marks obtained in the second examination is accounted for by the fact that 20 per cent, of the marks in that examination were assigned to questions involving the numerical solution of particular problems. These qiiestions were not, as a rule, well answered. Want of precision was the most notable fault." Professor Eraser, it is true, saw no reason to complain of want of previous training; but it is not unlikely that his class attracted studious women who had read a good deal of philosophy. Yet this very class furnished Miss Menzies with the following anecdote,^ which she gives as an instance of imperfect knowledge of English grammar and analysis, on the part of ladies who were able to learn metaphysics. "We have heard of a class of ladies, tauglit by a learned professor, having a paper set before them, full of profound questions on the fundamental laws of thought; on logical extent; on the analytic of Aristotle ; on the origin of knowledge. But among these was one unobtrusive, innocent- looking question:—' Give subject, and predicate, and copula of—It rains; I exist; A word to the unse' &c. Great was the surprise of the professor, greater still that of the examiner, at the depths of ignorance revealed by tlie answers to this question." From the note-book of an old student we learn that, in criticising tliis very paper. Professor Praser commended certain students for "originality and power," and regretted that "want of exactness and precision" in answering the easier questions deprived them of many marks; while his comment on the best paper of all was, " One of the best I ever received from 1 How we passed the Local Examination, p. 5. This paper was reprinted from this Magazine, because it is full of useful directions to ladies who wish to prepare for the Local Examinations. It may lie had on aiJi^lication to the Editor. The Higlier Education of Women in Scotland. 97 any student, scarcely one inaccuracy in it." The owner of this note-book, a well-read and not very young lady, added that her own paper was retiu-ned, with the famous question decorated with a wliole series of marks in the reddest of ink, betokening horror and surprise! We have been favoured with a sight of this rare illuminated MS., still treasured by its owner. In 1869-70 a class for mathematics was added, and mim- bered 35 students, of whom 26 were working ones. From some unexplained cause, its like has not been seen again. Are we wrong in attributing this practical failure to an ignorance of arithmetic, which makes algebra seem formidable ? In 1870-71 there was a total attendance of only 204 students. They were so equally distributed over four classes that many thought we had seen the last of the dilettante student, who is invariably gregarious in her habits. Need we say that her loss was bewailed, for, without her kindly presence, and when bereft of the income supplied by her class tickets, the Association had to face serious financial difficulties ? Into these matters, however, affecting as they do the managers of the Association rather tlian the students, Ave shall not enter. We may remark, however, the frec[uent coincidence of a diminished attendance with a season of commercial depression, Avitli calls for help to the sufferers in foreign wars, or with the higli price of coal and the increase in domestic expenses generally. In 1871-72 the students of physical science had dwindled from 129 to 43, while philosophy mustered 97 in its' two departments of ethics and logic. This is a simply inexplicable proportion between the two subjects, and we can only conjecture that it arose partly from a reluctance on the part of learners to enter a class in any but the first year of its existence, when, to use the words of a very energetic student, " One can start fair, you know." In this session moral philosophy had the attraction of novelty, and I*rofessor Fraser's class was a large one, because, at the request of some 30 of his old students, he selected tlie new subject of the "History of Philosophy from Bacon to Hume." Practically, he lectured to a class of senior students, with their numbers reinforced by a handful of new comers, who were assisted to do the work by a burst of esprit-dc-corps, which led those who had been four years in the class to act as volunteer tutors at a weekly meeting. Those Saturday forenoons are still among the pleasant memories of not a few old companions in study, who have 92 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. assisted us in the redaction of this notice. Not vmfrequently they ended in a debate so warm that the point at issue had to be referred to Professor Fraser. The^enms loci, too, of the house where Ave met was suggestive of wide and free discussion, and authorities on whatever point were not far to seek, whether a vellum-clad Spinoza, yellow and glossy with time, or a brown cditio princeps of Locke, or some miique tractate of Berkeley, too precious for use in the eyes of a book- hinrter, were the text referred to by the disputants. We rejoice to learn that the same plan of a " coaching Bee " is tarried on this session among Professor Laurie's students. Such meetings are quite invaluable, whether to those who learn or to those who teach, for they help fellow-students to become acquainted, and bind them together to help on the common cause, while supplying a want which must continue to be felt so long as it is impossible, from want of funds, to teach senior and junior students separately. The session of 1872-73 saw Latin and geology, two new and important classes, added to the programme. Professor Scllar was so " agreeably surprised by tlie goodness of the work done in the class " that he encouraged his students to aim at an examination equal to the standard for the M.A. -degree. Professor Geikie led a zealous band of geologists, not only through the work of the class-room, but out to tield lectures yet more enjoyable, and on various distant excursions, still well remembered by those who traced glacier phenomena on the steep hillsides around Loch Skene, and sought for marks of denudation in the glens of the southern uplands. There are those of his followers who remain to this day inconsolable, because a projected journey to the Isle of Skye never took place. In the following session, the Association was very prosperous, for not only did biblical criticism attract 141 students, but nearly 200 were distributed over the classes for English literature, ethics, geology, Latin, and chemistry. Except for the alisence of mathematics, no programme could have been better. But this success was followed in 1874-75 by a remarkable reverse of fortune. Professor Charteris was proved to have been quite right when he warned his students tliat academic lectures on " Biblical Criticism " were very unlike those prelections of a hortatory and expository sort wliich are frequently doliveit'd to thn ladies of a congi-egation by their pastor, and Jdiited that the history of codices and versions, and discussions concerning disputed authorship and doubtful canonicity, might not prove at all to the The Higher Education of Women in Scotland. 93 taste of the majority. The event verified his ])i'edic- tions, for barely one-half the number of his first A'ear's students returned in the second session, although the subject chosen was the " Fourth Gos])el, and the contro- versies, critical, exegetical, and historical, connected with it." Those who came worked with a will; "the results wei'e highly satisfactory, and, on one occasion, where the questions were identical with those in the University class, the percentage of marks in the best paper and the average percentage of all the papers were exactly the same as in the Univer- sity." Exclusive of the class of Inblical criticism, while there were 194 students in 1873-74, in 1874-75 there were only 154. This falling off may fairly be attributed to the failure of the connnittee to provide several attractive classes, such as physiology, music, &c. But there was consolation in the goodness of the work done throughout tliis session, especially in a class intended exclusively for advanced students in ethics, which was perhaps the ablest ever brought together in any year. " They studied the ethics of Plato, of Aristotle, and of Kant, and 10 students gained 90 per cent, of marks in at least one pa2:)er." There was much satisfaction, too, in the presence of 16 Latin, and of 17 mathematical students. Of the Latin students Professor Sellar again reports as favourably as possible. He says, " I have never had a class of students who seemed more thoroughly interested in their work. The best of them made as rapid and intelligent progress as the best students in the University. The same lectures were delivered as to the senior class in the Uni- versity, and the same examination paper was set on the subject. If the results of the two examinations had been combined, 4 at least,of the ladies would have ranked among the first 10 or 12 of the united classes ; and this notwithstanding the fact that the senior Latin in the University was an unusually good class." His concluding words are very important, and miist be transcribed, because they point the moral wliich we have endeavoured to keep steadily in view from the beginning to the end of this paper : " The experience of this year has convinced me more than ever, that this class can only be worked to advantage if a junior or preparatory class is taught each winter." It is impossible to say more plainly that, if women are to enter upon academic studies, they must begin, as men do, with sound elementary training. Reference to his assistant's Eeport in 1876, shows what Professor Sellar imderstands by the work of a junior class No. 27.—MAKCH 1877. N 94 riie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. of Latin. Mr Strathairn says : " I wish to combat the notion which seems to prevail, that a junior class necessarily implies mere elementary work.' This, of course, ■\\ould be the case ^^•ere students to come up without a thorough knowledge of grammar, for without this no real progress can be made." He adds that the work ought to be compared with that of the junior class in the University. The Report of 1875-76 repeats an oft-told tale of fluctuation and changefulness. The new class, physiology, was a great success, for, although only 97 students were inscribed on the class-registers, yet, if we include two or three lady-nurses from the Eoyal Infirmary, who were welcomed as honorary members, this class numbered over 100. The working proportion also was very remarkable for so large a class. Eight students gained from 86 to 94 per cent, of marks, and were, in fact, practically equal, when the chances of examination and accidents of attendance are taken into account in a subject where to miss one lecture may be fatal to the full tale of marks. This class met thrice a-week—an extra day being devoted to the physiology of the senses; and Dr M'Kendrick gave six additional lectures at the end of the session. The class of Greek made a good beginning with 18 ; but mathematics died a natural death, and there were only 5 Latin students. Biblical criticism disappeared entirely from the progi'amme, because Dr Charteris could not lecture, although a knot of students professed themselves altogether free from any preconceived bias as to the authorship of the Epistle to the Hebrews, and eager for a lull discussion of its canonicity and exegesis. Again history has repeated itself in the current session. Greek and physiology have disappeared together; the former because there were no students, the latter because there was no professor; wlule, on the other hand, three brand-new special subjects—zoology, economic science, and the theory and practice of education—have appeared. Logic has been temporarily merged in ethics; there are but 10 mathematical and 8 Latin students; while English literature continues to attract a steady class, if not quite so large a one as usual. Political economy, one of these new subjects, is very much in vogue at Cambridge and in London; but here, in the very city of Adam Smith, it seems to be less popular than the more speculative sciences. For, while Dr Calderwood, after five continuous sessions, this year lectures to no fewer than 46 students, only 34 attend Tlie Higher Education of Women in Scotland. 95

Dr Hodgson's class, although his lectures not only have the charm of novelty, but are also most entertaining and full of every-day practical interest. In Berlin such a course would be much appreciated Ijy tlie ladies of the Victoria Lyceum, and, from its bearing on many political and social questions, would be considered by them to be a " salon-subject," suited rather to women of the world than to school-girls.

GENERAL TABLE OF ATTENDANCE IN THE CLASSES.

Classes. |1867-68 68-69|69-70|70-71 71-72 72-73 73-74^74-75 75-76 76-77

English Lite-) 265 : 1:J9 141 84 64 78 67 93 70 rature, ) 55 Experimental > tl 72 70 43 Physics, ...) ... Il' Logic and) 55 44 49 52 35 Metaphysics,) ... Mathematics, ... 35 17 17 17 10 ■■ Ethics, •• 45 30 29 29 i'9 46 Geology, 64 43 Greek, 18 Latin 18 "9 16 5 "s Chemistry, 35 Physiology, 97 ; Biblical Criti-| 141 1 j cism, 3 85 ... : Zoology, 19 i Economics, 34 Education '.. ::: ... 25

Total \ 265 335 292 \ 220 204 219 335 239 252 212 The above table, borrowed from the Eeports of the Associa- tion, presents the results of ten sessions in a synoptic form. Criticism is easy, for want of steadiness and an inadequate representation of physical science are obvious faults. Were these years to be lived over again, doubtless the Association would do its work differently, but it is far from certain that the change would consist in a more varied progi'amme. On the contrary, the experience of these ten sessions points rather towards greater caution in opening new classes, than towards a wider choice of subjects. Be this as it may, the arrangements of the Association are no cause of the want of fixedness in the programme, or of the remarkable fluctuations in the numbers of certain classes. Both peculiarities are due, to a very considerable extent, to the utter want of any rational plan of self-education in the case of many young students. For, in their present stage of intellectual development, not a few clever girls require a George Eliot to warn them against the 96 Tlie Ladies Edinbui'gli Magazine.

"acquisition of knowledge by random forgings," against mistaking a " motley ignorance " for true culture, and, above all, against the notion that to take up a new subject each winter, Avithout any reference to previous studies, is education in any right sense of the word. It would seem to be the usual course of the drawdng-rooni student to begin at the end, so that, on leaving the sclioolroom, where her M'hole time has been engrossed with the piano, taught after a mechanical and mindless fashion, or with modern languages taught empirically, she embarks at once in some study which no man would attempt at the outset of his University career. She will innocently take up physiology, a study which presupposes a sufficient knowledge of physics, of electricity, and of chemistry, and is most enjoyed by those to whom the laws of inductive logic are already familiar. Or, if she is metaphysically-niiiided and gifted with a ready pen, nothing deters lier from beginning ethics Itefore she has acquired any notions of logic or of psychology. " It is a wrong method," said Dean Swift, " and an iU choice of studies, that make learned women just so much the worse for what they have read;" and we quote him the more boldly, because it is well-known that professors and examiners alike marvel at the continuance of these strange inversions of the reasonable sequence of studies, even after certain excellent counsels given by the Principal of the I^niversity of Edinburgh, in his address to the students of the Association in 1872. Wiser advice has seldom been given since 1723, wdien Swift wrote his "Letter to a Young Lady." The point of this address was to show that " the present system of female education gives no proper preparation of the mind for subsequent intellectual pursuits." Now, bearing this well in mind, let us take up the class- registers, and we shall find that the majority of ladies pass over tlie disciijlinary subjects offered in the programme, and rush through a long series of what Sir A. Grant terms " special studies,"—each winter taking up the novelty of the season, without any regard to rational order or connection in their studies. Older ladies may say that it is too late for them to lay the foundations anew ; but it is vexatious to see quite young girls pursuing a plan which can only end in disappointment, for, however Avell they may do their work, it will not give them the reward they seek, if that reward be the harmonious development of their faculties, and an improved judgment, capable of discerning and of balancing both sides of a question. TJie HigJier Education of Women in Scotland. 97

But we must quote more of Sir Alex, (i rant's golden words, they are so exactly to the point. "Now, the experience, and at all events the practice, of all Europe seems to indicate, that the foundations of higher education for a man should be laid in Latin and mathematics; and so long as this method is acquiesced in, I do not see how you can get out of the conclusion, that the foundations of higher education for a woman, if she is to ha\'e anythmg like a systematic higher education, should be laid in these subjects also." " But it seems that the last thing which ordinary parents would think of demanding for their daughters would be a scholarly and well-prepared mmd." So far concerning things as tliey are, and the need of a solid preparation in early years. His words on the choice of subjects from the programme of the lectures are quite as weighty. " It must be remembered that there is a dift'erence between the subjects themselves, in what I might call cardinality. The subjects of language and philology, of mathematics and experimental physics, of logic and philosophy, are more cardinal than the rest, insomuch as they open the way to wider views of knowledge, and are in their different ways generally preparati\'e ; whereas, sciences like botany, geology, and political economy, are more of the nature of specialities, to be taken up for their own sakes, and not with a view to other things beyond." Archbishop Whately says almost the same thing:" Gram- mar, logic, rhetoric, and the philosophy of mind, are mani- festly studies of an elementary nature, being concerned about the instruments which we employ in effecting our purposes. Such knowledge is far from showy ; elements do not come much into sight; they are like that part of a bridge which is under water, and is therefore least admired, though it is not the work of least difficulty. On this ground these studies are suitable to women, as least leading to that pedantry to which learned ladies are liable. A woman miglit, in this way, be very learned without any one finding it out."^ Again, in 1841, when the mothers of the girl students of to-day were themselves young, Dr Arnold wrote to Mr Justice Coleridge : ^ " I feel quite as strongly as you do the extreme difficulty of giving to girls what really deserves the name of education intellectually. Wlien was young, I used to teach her Latin with her brothers,.

1 Selections from the Wi-itiiigs of Archbishop Wliately, p. 44. 2 Stanley's Lifa of Dr Arnold, vol. ii. p. 24.5. 98 The Ladies EdinbitrgJi. Magazine. and that has been, 1 think, of real use to her, and she feels it now in reading German. But there is nothing for girls like the degi-ee examination, which concentrates one's reading so beautifully, and makes one master a certain number of books perfectly. And unless we had a domestic examination for young ladies to be passed before they came out, and another like the great go, before they came of age, I do not see how the thing can be effected." One word, however, must be said in behalf of our real students. They might reply: our teachers bid us begin at the beginning, but, so long as Latin and mathematics, logic and physics, are not regid.arly taught, each session, with a full equipment of preparatory and tutorial classes, when these are required, how is it possible for us to lay a solid foundation ? Perfectly true; and, so long as the Association is without an Endowment Fund, it is difficult to see how it can be otherwise. Still, even when these disciplinary classes are provided for, they are always badly attended, so that the ultimate cause of the evil is in the mass of the students. In the meantime, we can offer one practical suggestion to steady workers, and that is, to follow the line indicated by the University Board in the conditions attached to the Higher Certificate for women, and to prepare for the Local Examinations first of all, as a preliminary to severer studies. Further, we would urge all who are under 25 to select the four pillars of all learning (Latin, Mathematics, Logic, and Physics), for Honours at the Local Examinations. No student who thus prepares herself for the after work of the lecture-room will be likely to feel any want of previous training,O' for to have done so is to have laid the foundations of higlier culture on the firm and solid ground of thorough disciplinary instruction. AN OLD STUDENT.

-1« •■ wr ••^St^- tf - w ■

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 3. " The stormj- March is come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies ; I hear the rushing of tlie blast, That through the sno^vy valley flies. But in thy reign of bhist and storm Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day, When the changed -winds are soft and warm, And Heaven puts on the blue of May." Onr Library Table. 99

1. " Tliis dark and stormy water." 2. '•' 0 sacred dome, and my beloved abode, Whose walls now echo to the praise of God, The time shall come when landing monks shall cease, And lowing herds here occupy their place ; But better ages shall thereafter come, And praise re-echo in this sacred dome." 3. Ancient pifj; a " cotton " town. 4. " Read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest!" F. M.

No correct answers having been received to Acrostic No. 2, in which difficulties seem to have been looked for where they do not exist, the contest will remain open this month. A Prize is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. Solutions to be addressed, " Acrostic Editor," care of Publishers, 22 Hoive Street, Edinburgh ; to be sent not later than the 15th of the month, written clearly on a sheet of paper containing only the solution, pseudonym, and full name and address of the sender. Solutions will be acknowledged in the following number. The name and address of the winner only -will be announced at the close of the competition.

0 U E LI E 1; A E y T ABLE.

EDINBURGH PAST AND PRESENT : Its Associations and Surroundings. By William Ballingall. Edinburgli, 1877.

THIS is a volume which is best described by the words of dedication : " To the citizens of Edinburgh, and to all who love its beauties and its memories, this volume is inscribed." It is specially designed to preserve the recollection of the many memorials of lesser interest, to a great extent unknown, which are still in existence, ere the march of so-called improvement shall have caused all trace of them to disappear. The eight divisions of the book are contributed by different writers, among whom we may mention the Rev. George Gilfillan, Professor Geikie, Flora Masson, and the author of "The Hotel du Petit St Jean," &c. All the ^VTiter.s have discharged their office in a spirit of due tenderness and reverence for what the traditions of the past make almost " hallowed ground " to every loyal Scotchman. In the chapter of " Historical and Descriptive Notes," contributed by the editor himself, there are many matters which doubtless have been known till now to a very limited circle. The illustrations of the book, which appear in great profusion, are furnished by many of our best Scotch draughtsmen, and are engraved, in most cases with great success, by the editor. The letterpress is also closely interspersed with smaller cuts, the result being, in conjunction with the admirable printing and finish of Messrs Constable, an extremely elegant and interesting volume. lOO TJie Ladies Edinbiiygh Magazine.

S TRAY NOTE S. THE Prosj)ectns has been issued of a Higli-Class School for Ciirls, which is to be established in St Andrews, and opened towards the end of September. The highest teaching power has been secured for the school. Miss Louisa Innes Lumsden, who is a certificated student University of Edinburgh otters a Local Examination, with Pass and Honour Certificates, open to w^omen. These Examinations take place in June, and are held in any place where six candidates join to form a Local Centre. The Report, price 6d., published by James Thin, 5") South Bridge, contains full information, and also gives the Papers of the last Examination. The Preparatory Class, advertised on our cover, has special reference to this Examination. Since 1874, the Edinburgh University has ottered a Higher Certifi- cate to women only. Candidates must have jiassed the Local Examin- ations of some University, and must also have studied in the Classes of the Ladies' Edinburgh Educational Association. The Report of this Association, and the LTniversity Calendar, supply the llegulatioiis for both Examinations. WE hear that the Executive Committee of the Ladies' Edinburgh Educational Association, by authority of the Council of Management, have applied to the Home Office, with a view of ascertaining whether it is ]>ossible to bring the concerns of the Association within the limits of the LTniversities Commission. APPLICATIONS for the rules and conditions on which loans are granted by the Teachers' Educational Loan Committee, should be made by letter to the Hon. Sec, ]Miss Ewart, 3 Morpeth Terrace, Victoria Street, London, W. The Report of the Committee announces their readiness now to consider apijlications for loans for the Easter Tern;. We observe that no applications seem to have been made from Edinburgh, or indeed from Scotland !

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A prize is ottered for the best article received by the Editors and accepted for insertion during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists born in the 18th century. SUBJECT OF DEBATE for the next meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society, to be held on Saturday, March 3d, at 2 St Colme Stleet, at 11 o'clock :—" Does Daniel Deronda sustain the reputation of i ts author ? " For all information, apply to the Secretary, 11 Carlton Street, Edinburgh. Our Female Novelists. lor

III. MRS HAXXAH MOEE. h. 1745 ; A. 1833.

IT is interesting to the explorers of a new country, as they penetrate onwards and upwards into its recesses, to come upon the distant mountain springs, which have condensed into rivulets, and these into the streams and rivers of miglity continents. So when, in the history of the past, we care to trace the origin of the currents of human thought, which go to make up what is called "the spirit of the age," it is iuteresting to find ourselves m company with those who were the well-springs of the rivers ; who inaugurated the ways of planning and working, which their successors took up and improved upon. And to carry our simile further— while in some cases so many springs combine to form the brook, and so many brooks to swell the stream, that we scarce can tell the real head-waters, other rivers, like the infant Klione, leap full and strong, with the voice of waters, from their glacier cave, and from that source to the ocean bear no other name but one. So, in the stream of time, there will ever be some minds in advance of their century, to whom we can turn at once, as the originators of movements which change the state of society, and whose influence is visible in the tendency and flow of the stream, long after they have passed away. When women, feeling all the advantages of their present, as compared with their past position, seek distinction, academic or literary, or enter upon any of the careers, of honour and usefulness now open to them, and ask, who first advocated a better training for their sex ? we question whether, among such honoured names as Carter, Chapone, Montague, we shall find one to whom we owe a larger debt of gratitude, than to her who forms the subject of this paper. Her efforts extended literally from the palace to the cottage, and fiction was one of the means she used to disseminate her own ideas upon the subject. Some may consider her as wrongly placed in tlie present series. It is true that, of her many works, one only, by any stretch of the imagination, can l^e called a novel; as an essayist and dramatist she occupies higher, though not the highest ground. But not to linger over definitions, or try to No. 28.—APRIL187T. /rf^'' "i'X O 102 Tlie Ladies Edinburgli Magazine. draw hard and fast lines between " novelist" and " writer of fiction," we will concede that it was only once, and for a particular purpose, that she wrote a novel, hoping that our readers will look upon her life as one of singular interest to ourselves, and will, in this connection of thought, dwell more upon what she was, and what she did, than upon what she wrote; regarding her as a fellow-worker with ourselves, to whose influence on her own generation we are indebted for many of our privileges and powers at the present day. On the double ground of her being the writer of one novel, and the earliest promoter of the higher education of women, we shall, with their perndssion, claim a place in these pages for Hannah JMore. Her father was well-born and well-connected in the county of Norfolk, but, losing his property through a disputed succession and a lawsuit, he settled in Gloucestershire as a schoolmaster, and married a small farmer's daughter. We hear little of her except by the affectionate notices in her children's letters, but she used to collect and preserve Hannah's childish scribbles, thinking thein unusually clever. Of the five daughters, Hannah was the youngest but one. The father educated them himself as governesses, and must have been aware of her superior talents, from the advanced classical training he gave to her only. Before the eldest sister was twenty, she opened a school in Bristol, which became fashionable, and afterwards famous, in all the west of England. Partly as teacher, partly as pupil, Hannah lived and studied there, and soon began to write. The beauty of her classic translations and little English poems, and a series of plays intended for performance in her sister's school, drew the notice of her friends; and various odes, on public occasions of political interest, attracted such men as Burke and Sheridan to the youthful authoress. For Garrick, too, she wrote prologues and epilogues, and they were soon fast friends ; he jilayfully called her his dramatic pupil, and gave her valuable hints as to stage effect and management of her plays. Three of these, Percy, the Inflex- ible Cajjtive, and the Fatal Falsehood, were on the stage before she was five-and-twenty, Garrick often taking the principal parts. She had a perfect enthusiasm for him, and so had he for his " dear Nine," his favourite soubriquet for her. Perhaps it was in allusion to this name, that the undergraduate compliment was paid, during her first visit to Oxford, as the guest of Dr and Mrs Kennicott— " Muses nine we had before ; Kennicott lias given iis—More." Our Female Novelists. 103

It was at this period, too, that she formed the strong friendship with Dr Johnson, Avhich lasted till the day of his death. He liked the otlier sisters, Lut had almost a veneration for Hannah. To the hospitality of Mr and Mrs Garrick she was indebted for the brilliancy of her London visits, where either at their house at the Adelphi, or at their Hampton Court villa, slie was always welcome, paying them long and frequent visits, till Garrick's death. London society must have been very attractive at this time. Yet this must have been owing to the numbers who dared to break through the trammels of fashion, for, as a general rule, female culture can never have been in a worse state. Pope, who died the year before Hannah was born, had stigmatized the fashionable female life of his day, as " a youth of folly, an old age of cards ;" but even he might have owned that it was better to leave women wholly untaught, and trust them to mother- wit, and the sharp lessons of life for mental training, than to cram them with superficial knowledge and showy accomplishments, taught in such a way as to preclude all real refinement or elevation of character. And a few years later, when the morals and costume of revolutionary France exercised an evil influence over the tone of English society for a time, we possibly owe it to Hannah More, and a few like her, that the pernicious contagion did not spread farther. Those to whom her name suggests only a prim, staid old lady, in a mop cap, lecturing and sermonizing against the world and its snares, should read, in her letters of this period, how thoroughly this young and winning woman enjoyed the semi-theatrical society of the Garricks' house, and the notice and attentions, from distinguished persons, which were proffered to herself Wliile always rising to the level of the highest minds among whom she was thrown, she was not al)ove drawing amusement from the gayest scenes and most trivial characters. Some of her notices of her engagements make us feel envious. " We dined to-nig]it in Hill Street, at Mrs Montague's, a name not unknown. We had Mrs Chapone, Mrs Boscawen, Dr and Mrs Kenijjcott, Dr Johnson, Dr Solander, Miss Reynolds, and her brother the painter—all mighty pleasant people." In another letter she claims, wdtli comic pathos, sympathy for her sufferings of mind and body, while preparing for a peculiarly brilliant assembly where some royal guests were expected, on whose account it was deemed fitting that a fashionable hairdresser should be called in:— " Vainly did I entreat him to stay his hand, and to regard fashion, if he must needs regard her at all, at the most respectful distance possible I04 TJie Ladies EdinburgJi Magazine. in the arrangement of my head. Alas ! on rising from a two hours' endurance, and going to the glass, I could only feel as a vain beauty might do on first consulting her mirror after an attack of smallpox." Poor Hannah 1 we feel for her; but luckily the hairdresser could only interfere with the outside: we have no doubt that the inside of the head remained as pleasant as ever to her friends. These were valuable years to her ; she was learning to use her own powers of observation on the realities of London life, and attaining full knowledge of the mischief done by its fashionable follies; she was awakened to the pernicious influence of an education wdiich turned out female spendthrifts, gamblers, givers of Sunday concerts and card- parties; she was acquiring the tact best learnt in general society, so truly necessary for all who enunciate disagreeable truths, failing to acquire which, we had better refrain both tongue and pen from uttermg, be they ever so true; and above all, she was practising the self-control which enabled her, Avhen the world was literally at her feet, to draw resolutely back from every pleasure that would have entailed the sacrifice of her own principles. We all know the pretty little trait recorded of Garrick, not over-scrupulous himself, but respecting her consistency, when card tables were being placed in his house on Sunday afternoon. He, observing the covert smiles of some less well-bred guests, watching to see whether Hannah would play, would leave the room, or remain in a painful minority, drew her arm within his, saying,"Now then,my dear Nine, you're &.Sundaytcoman ; you and I will take a walk in the gallery." Mrs Garrick, though a Eoman Catholic, used to call Miss More her domestic chaplain, to seek her counsel on all occasions; and while in her first widowed grief, beside lier husband's coffin, this of all others was the friend she called to her side. Soon after Garrick's death, in 1782, the way was opened to her life-work. She had long been interested in the state of the downs and valleys lying upwards from the Axe to the Mendip Hills. This, and her love of country life, made her resolve, on her sisters giving up their school and going to live in Bath, to take up her own abode at the village of Wrington, near the Cheddar Cliffs. She named her cottage Cowslip Green, and lived there for some years, till she built the pretty house of Barley Wood, nearer the hills, with a beautiful view of the Bristol Channel. Her plans for doing good grew in extent, when she saw the destitution, spiritual and mental, which lay around her at Wrington. The lovely vales and heaths were peopled with a race of Our Female Novelists. 105 poachers, gipsies, and thieves, with few opportunities of public worship, and none of education; with a set of farmers and petty squires as ignorant, and parsons scarcely more sober or moral, than themselves. Thirteen hamlets were under the care of one curate, who thought twice a-year was enough Sunday service for them. The Bible had never been seen in some of the villages, one good reason being, that nobody could have read it had it been there. Worse than all, the rich, godless farmers strenuously opposed any idea of bettering the people, and stirred up the indolent clergy to oppose Mrs Hannah More's benevolent plans, on the grounds of Popery, Methodism, Jacobinism, and every conceivable absurdity. It is difficult to realize such a state of matters in our own day, when every scheme for the good of our fellow-creatures, however chimerical, is sure to meet with some support. In one hamlet, where the clergyman had cordially assented to the projected reforms, he desired his clerk to read a notice in church, that at ten o'clock on the following Sunday morning the school would be opened by himself and ]\Irs Hannah More. The man, on concluding this notice, proceeded to read a second on his own authority, to the effect, that on Friday a meeting would be held in the market-place by the farmers, at seven in the evening, to consult what measures should be taken to oppose the Sunday school! It was virgin soil, we must own ! But by perseverance, kindliness, and strong common-sense, tliis admirable wonian worked in a few years a marvellous change. She built and supported eight schools, which in time supported themselves; she provided the whole district with Bibles and prayer-books, and won over all the gentry and better-thmking farmers to her aid. Forty years after, there w^ere found, in cottages on the Cherril Downs, Bibles cherished as mementoes of Hannah More, by the grandchildren of her Sunday scholars. Practical hard work, however, only called out fresh literary power. In these years we first see her as a writer of fiction, urged by the representations of Wilbeiforce and Bishop Porteous. They had lately aided in forming the Society for Circulation of Pure Literature, hoping it might check the flood-tide of atheistic and revolutionary publications now beghming to deluge the country. The idea commended itself to Hannah More's good sense, and she began at once her series of Tales for the Cheap Repository Tracts, which soon obtained an enormous circulation. "If we are to teach the people to read, let us by all means give them something- io6 TJie Ladies Edi7ibnfgh Magazine.

to read," she wrote to her sister Sarah at this time; and they worked hard together at the Magazine, the first attempt, we believe, at serial publications for the benefit of the poor. The labour of editing and circulating it was soon too great for Hannah and Sarah More, so they contented themselves with contributions, to which Hannah, at least, sometimes appended her name. Her stories are clear, spirited little sketches of the scenes and characters which surrounded her in daily life. They give us a faithful idea of English country life, in shepherds' liuts, labourers' cottages, tliriving farms, village fairs, and schools; and the reality of the characters, and her power of truthful delineation of them, strike us even now, though all is in the style of a generation long past and gone. In such Tales as Hester Wilmot,Blach Giles the Poacher, Tmvny Baehd the Gipsy, Mrs Jones Diffi- culties or a Cure for Melancholy, and many others, we recognize the real power of a writer of fiction; not the less that the actors are in some cases drawn from the life. The story of the Two Wealthy Farmers shows us some of the hindrances which beset her early work, and gives a very amusing though sad phase of Somersetshire farm-life at the time. One wealthy farmer tells his neighbour of the " fashionable ways" of two daughters, just returned from boarding-school—"They've as much grease and fiour on their heads as would keep a labourer in suet-pudding for a week !" He goes on to describe "Miss Betsy's" demeanour at the barn- ball, wliere, disdaining the sports of milkmaids and jilough- boys, when asked by her young farmer partner and lover what country dance he shall call: " j\Iiss liolds up her chin and says in some French gibberish, slie'll not dance nothing but a Menuet de la Cour," of which our readers must imagine Farmer Bragwell's pronunciation! The poor young man replies, she must both call it and dance it herself, as he can do neither; whereupon— " Mi.ss falls to swiimuiiiy, and sjjrawling, and curtseying, for all the world like a posture-mistress, till, seeing Wilson standing like a stuck pig, and us all langliing at her, she falls in a rage, and bids him go down country-humiikin,^ with the dairymaid, 'who will be a fitter partner, as well as wife for him, than she can be.' ' I am quite of your opinion, Miss,' says he, ' and will take my leave of you here.'" . . Wiser folk than Betsy Bragwell suffered from a bad boarding-school in those days; and now was the time to show where the remedy was to be applied, and how. Mrs Hannali More knew that the farmer's daughter only aped the squire's; she, again, the nobleman's, and so on. lleform ' A country dance. Our Female Novelists. 107 must begin in the palace, and, as water to its own level, it would find its way to the cottage. Somewdiere about the year 1789, she put forth the most remarkable perhaps of her works, Thoiujhts on the Manners of the Great, an essay weighted with thought and power. Full of delicate satire, quiet and unexaggerated in tone, its arguments are less based on religion than on common-sense. This essay, attacked, criticised, abused, had all the success its author desired—it was read. The first edition sold in a fortnight, the second m a week, the third in seven hours! Being on a visit to Mrs Garrick at the time, she was often asked if she knew the author, as he seemed to be of her way of thinking. " Whoever he may be, I am sure he is in earnest," was the quiet reply. The greatest lady in the land is said to have pierced the incognito at once; and from Mrs Montague came the sly epigram to her old friend: " Of .sense and discernment in this little Look All agree there's a ■wonderful store, But while for the Author some eagerly look, I only am asking for—More 1" And "More" was soon forthcoming in a sequel essay, Estimcde of the Religion of the FashlonaUe World, hy one of the Laity. This, too, was an undoubted success, and in spite of the anonymous shield, she received warm thanks from high quarters, some from bishops, who commended these works to the attention and support of their clergy, in visita- tion sermons and charijes. It was soon after this, that various letters on the state of France after the Eevolution drew upon her the attacks of Jacobin pamphleteers, for uncharitableness and intolerance ! This reproach, from those whose doctrines had just deluged France in the blood of her noljlest children, sounded ludicrous to English common-sense, and possibly helped to antidote the poison of revolutionary atheism among our working-classes. In one of her cheap Ilepository Tracts, Hannah More has a striking little satire on the much- abused word tolerance—in Mr Fantom, the Revolutionist; and, in the same serial. Village Politics; a Dialogue luith Will Chij)s, the Carpe7iter. As a writer of fiction, she certainly has the power of making her characters speak naturally. The shrewd sense and humour of "Will Chips" are not beyond those of an artizan of the day, and the circulation of such a tract must have done good. Mrs Hannah More moved to Barley Wood about 1801. io8 The Ladies Ediiiburgli Magazine.

Her Strictures on Fenmlc Education had now appeared, and in 1805 she published Hints for the Education of a Young Princess, dedicating it to Fisher, Bishop of Exeter, the tutor of the Princess Charlotte. The royal family warmly thanked her ; and when in early womanhood she for whom the book was written passed to a higher crown, it was the last she read. iSTone of Hannah More's works are more distinctly characteristic than this. It was widely circulated in America, and translated into Oriental lani^uaffes. Her health was breaking, and Bishop Porteous' death came as a heavy trial. She was now busy, among various lesser works, with her only novel. She took the first idea from Wilberforce, who, in 1802, asked her to put forth her educational theories in a story, which should contain plot and character enough to attract the novel-reading public. We give his words: " My idea was and is, that you should write some religious and moral novels, stories, tales—call them what you. will—illustrative of character and jirinciples. The Cheap Repository Tales, a little raised in their subjects, are the very things I want." We hope this wiU answer the large class of Mrs Hannah More's admirers, who maintain, that as she thoroughly dis- approved of novels, she never could have written one. We beg to differ, first, on the ground that human beings never are perfectly consistent, even on their own showing. We grant that in many of her later letters Hannah More expresses strong disapproval of novel-reading, but generally this is on the ground of wasted time. In one passage, too long to cpiote, she includes Walter Scott in this vote of censure, lamenting the thousands of liours .spent, or wasted, " over the thirty volumes of Walter Scott alone." But we must in fairness look from her stand-point, not ours; we need not assume that she_^would say the same now. Where we read a hundred books, our great-grandmothers read one. Could any one seriously wish that a succession of novels, even Scott's, should be the sole study of a life-time ? And again—we are in a position to estimate what Walter Scott did for the literature of his day, but it could not be so then. AVe may admire Mont Blanc at Chamounix; but to view the monarch of mountains, in his magnificent proportions to lesser heights, we are better twenty miles off. Lydia Languish, while preparing for a ceremonious reception of Sir Anthony Absolute, affords a type of the "reading yomig lady of the day," when she bids her maid put Pere- grine Pickle out of sight, and lay Pordyce's Sermons open on Our Female Novelists. 109 the table. " 0 la, yes, Miss," replies Lucy; " but the hairdresser has torn out as far as Proper Pride!" For the benefit, then, of the Lydia Languish-es, who had but one serious book, which the hairdresser tore up—though Fordyce scarce deserved higher preferment—and on the princijjle that " a verse may catch liim who a sermon flies," we think even Mrs Hannah More might be excused for becommg "a novelist" for once. The result is, Ccelebs in Search of a Wife, a very quaint, pretty, and to us amusing book. It is in the stiff form of a soliloquy, like the Vicar of Wakeficld, to which it is nearest in type, but the interest is well sustained, and the many characters life-like. The hero, who details his search and its issue, is a young gentleman of fortune and estate in Westmoreland. His parents, at their death, cliarged him never to marry till he had consulted their best friend, Mr Stanley. Easy enough in the present day, although ]\Ir Stanley lives in Hampshire, for so important a business would warrant a special train. But not having that resource, Ccelebs orders his curricle, which we regard with great respect, for it is to play an important part in bringing about the final crisis. On reacliing London, he is received into the house of another old friend, Sir John Belfield, with a charming wife; they introduce him to London society. Of course there are long monologues, and plenty of moral reflecti-ons, yet these help on a story which depends on delineation of character, having little or no incident; how unlike the sensation novel, with its automaton hero and heroine, its stage-puppets, and shocliing events ! Here each specimen of young ladyhood is drawn with quaint humour. Ccelebs having heard or read that classical learning made ladies neglect their household duties, goes to dine with a widower and his two daughters. The slovenliness, not to say nastiness, of the cookery so repels him, that— " I jumped to a conclusion, and was in an instant persuaded that my young hostesses must not only be perfect mistresses ot Latin, hut the tout ensemble was so ill arranged as to induce me so give them full credit for Greek also." On seeking, after this unsuccessful meal, to get up a feast of reason with these fair savantes, he tries them first with Virgil. They have never read any book by this gentleman, but they've read a great deal—Rosa Matilda, Tears of Sensi- bility, &c.:— " Yes, Sir, and we've read Perfidy Puninhed, and J&mmy and Jenny Jessamy, and the Fortunate Fooiman, and the Illustrious Chamber maid. No. 28.—APRIL 1S77. P no The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Here the conversation, through the impossibility of our being intelligible to each other, dropped ; I sunk lower in their esteem for not knowing their favourite authors, than they in mine for not having heard of Virgil."

Once at Stanley Hall, Eros finds Psyche, and all is well. Lucilla Stanley is a true picture of a quiet, elegant, English girl. By the time tlie Belfields arrive on a visit, all is in train. The country neiglibours, the old rector, the younger children, all play their parts in the simple story, and there is a troublesome Lord Staunton,to make love to Lucilla and teaze poor Coelebs, just enough to save true love from running too smooth. The catastrophe is hastened by an enfant terrible, a five-year-old sister, who begs she may go back in his curricle to the north, adding, that she knows Lucilla wants to go too. Her running off to "ask papa," leaves him alone with his fair Eve, whom he at once asks to confirm Celia's words, when the child rushes in with, "papa thinks the curricle won't hold us all, but I'm sure Lucilla w^on't mind being crushed." However that may be, the journey is duly settled, and Calebs becomes Benedick, Lucilla leaving a pretty Phcebe to succeed her as Miss Stanley, with a young baronet in perspective, and doubtless a well-appointed curricle. AVe hope the descen- dants still flourish on the shores of UUswater, and should any modern Coelebs be in search of a wife, we can only recommend a minute exploration of its lovely recesses, where if he should discover Lucilla's great-grand-daughter, all the better for him. This was Hannah More's last very noticeable work. The sisters all died off, leaving her to an old age of increasing bodily suffering, but of ever brightening peace and hope. Some time before her death, she was persuaded to sell Barley Wood, as the lonely life was a great strain on such an invalid. She died at Clifton, aged eighty-eight, and was laid to rest in the village chtirch of Wrington, where, with her large heart and liberal hand, she lived so long and worked so well. Each generation will choose its own books, and its own time for reading them. Mrs Hannah More is now generally abandoned to tlie mice, spiders, and venerable dust of our highest top shelves, and perhaps even there she is in good company. Our "book-box" now supersedes our "library,"our books are pleasant, but rapidly changing acquaintances, seldom intimate friends. Old-fashioned novels and essays should still interest those who care to know of tlie ways and thoughts, the work and play of bye-gone generations. But Mrs Hannah More's writings can rest on their own literary By the Seaside. Ill merits, and should at least convince us of the great work she did, in improving the standards of her sex's training; that not only in the strife and turmoil of public, but in the quiet of domestic life, women might be so trained as to " Do noble things, not dream them, all day long, And so, make life, death, and tlie vast forever One grand, sweet song." L. DUNDAS.

■ » "■ j» -

" COMMIT THY WAY UNTO THE LORD."

HE gives thee great things, will He then forget To give the less / He gives the body, will He fail to give A fitting dress ]

He gives the life ; will He not then supply The needful food i He is thy Father, and He gives to thee All that is good.

He feeds the ravens, will He then unfed His children see ? He clothes the lilies, shall His hand withhold Raiment from thee ?

Take, then, no thought for food or dress, but trust To Him thy way. He will take thought for thee, and banish all Such cares away.

Seek first His kingdom and its righteousness Leave Him the rest. And safe in His providing thou shaft be Most truly blest.

And through this dreary world He'll lead thee on To light above ; To dwell witli Him in everlasting joy, Where all is love. CROCUS F. LEIGH.

THE afternoon crept on slowly, so slowly passing away. Bertha sat quiet, while Mrs Stanhope went on repeating that they really must go out, it was getting so late, when Edward, who had been out since luncheon, came in; he walked up to the table, fidgetted about, opened books and laid them down 112 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazijie.

again, and then said: "Leslie is gone, I just caught sight of him on board the Ostend boat." Bertha's boasted self-control forsook her now, a great pang seemed to slioot through her heart; she turned deadly pale, and sat staring at her brother without speaking. Sophy said, "Gone! impossible. You must be mistaken. Did you see his face ?" "Yes, quite plainly, 1 couldn't mistake him, though he didn't see me; the boat was just moving when I caught sight of hiin." Bertha got up from her seat, and walked out of the room. "There!" said Mrs Stanhope; "will you say now that, she doesn't care about him ?" "Well, I suppose she does, but why should she be so awfully close ? How's a fellow to know what she's thinking and feeling, if she keeps it all to herself ? I dare say Jack doesn't know that she cares about him." " If he doesn't care about her, he is not at all worthy of her, and I shall tell her so," said Sophy. " Do you think it will be much comfort to her, when she is breaking her heart for him, to be told he isn't worthy of her?" said Edward, half smiling. "But I say, Sophy, can't you go and say something to her ? She is so awfully cut up, poor girl, and you know, I shouldn't know what to say." At that moment the house door was heard to shut. "What's that?" said Edward; "not Bertha gone out, surely!" "Yes, it is," said Sophy, " and she is half way down the crescent already; what can we do ?" " Do ? nothing, of course. She won't come to any harm; she is very fond of wandering on the shore. I dare say it will do her good." Bertha felt that even the solitude of her own room was not enough for her. The atmosphere of tlie house seemed to oppress her; she must get out into the free air of the cliffs in order to breathe. Slie hurried through the town, and up the steep path to the cliffs. It was a dull, heavy, misty day; nothing could be seen of the far-famed view from the heights on the west of Whitcliffe, consequently this afternoon there were no sight-seers nor pic-nic parties. She found a hollow place near the edge of the cliff, where she could sit unseen by the passers by; this was the solitude she wanted, and here she sat down on the grass. It was an intensely oppressive day; even on this height not a breath of air was By the Seaside. 113 stirring ; heavy clouds hung overhead, looking ready at any moment to fall in rain ; the sea lay before her, dark and still, the distance all shrouded in thick mist; only one object was visible on its surface, the steamboat, so small now, it would have been scarcely discern- ible but for the line of smoke that followed it. As Bertha watched it lessening, it seemed to her to be typical of her vanishing hopes; she hid her face in her hands and groaned. Could it be ? she thought. Had the liglit of her life been rekindled for a moment only to die out, and leave her in deeper darkness ? And why had he come to see her ? Why had he not gone abroad at once, as he at first intended ? She had been comparatively contented before, even in her loneliness; why should he have revived hopes he did not mean to fulfil ? Perhaps he had come to see her only as a friend, having long given up all thought of anything else ; and then finding her feelings unchanged, had thought it best to avoid her for the future. Or perhaps he thought her changed; perhaps he had interpreted her constrained manner to be indifference, when her whole frame was so throbbing with the tumult of her feelings, that she had scarcely found words to answer him. Oh, if that were the cause, it was hard to bear indeed. But then why leave her so ? Why go away without a word? Irrespective of herself, it seemed unfriendly towards her brother. Surely he could not have intended it yesterday; he had spoken then of not going abroad for some time. This change of plan must have had some cause, and what cause could there have been,except that which was connected with herself ? She looked up now, to take a last look at the boat that was bearing him away. It w^as gone; not even a speck was to be seen upon the water, the dense mist shrouding everything. She felt then that the last link was broken, and murmured half aloud some words that had been running in her head for the last half-hour :—

" And from that time to this, I am alone, And 1 shall be alone until I die." Alone! yes, there ia-a sense in which we are all alone in this world; whether married or unmarried, solitary or one of a large family, we live our single individual lives unknown, even misunderstood, sometimes, it may be, by tliose nearest and dearest to us; and every one of us shall give account of himself alone, at the last day. 114 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

And yet there is a sense, too, in which none of us liveth to himself, for we have duties towards each other which no reserve, no feeling of want of comprehension or of sympathy, can excuse us from. And as Bertha sat here alone, thinking of all her past life, and of the life that was before her, it occurred to her for the first time that perhaps there was a certain amount of selfishness in her reserve, in her utter rejection of sympathy. She remembered how uni- formly kind her brother and sister had been to her, how much they had tried to make their house a happy home to her, when she liad no claim upon them, when her presence must often be a restraint upon them, though they had never let her feel that it was so. And it seemed to her that she had been ungrateful to have so repelled their sympathy, shutting herself up, and thinking always that they could not understand her, nor enter into her feelings. Since it seemed to be her lot to live with them, where her home was there must be duties for her; and if there was work for her to do, in that she might find at least content, if not happiness. The sunshine of her life seemed to have passed away; but she remembered some German lines she had somewhere read :— " Klage nicht, es hat die Naclit Eiueii Himiuel auch, und Sterne." Night may seem dreary, if we think of it while we are still enjoying the brightness of unclouded noon ; but when evening comes, there is a peacefulness, a sense of repose, in the quiet moonlight, in the silence of the starlit heavens, which the brightest sunshine on earth cannot give. The brief dream was over, the scarcely tasted cup of iiappiness dashed away from her lips; and yet she felt that the life before her might not be all cheerless, not altogether desolate. The afternoon wore on, and still Bertha sat there on the cliff listening to the surging waves, and thinking over her life, past, present, and future, till it began to grow dark ; and the clouds, which had grown darker and heavier, fell in a misty, drizzling rain. Then she rose, cold and stiff with sitting so long in the damp, and went slowly down the hill and througli the town. On her way she passed the church ; the door was open, and an involuntary impulse prompted her to go in. It was already dusk, and inside the church it was quite dark, the pillars alone showing white and ghostly. The silence and gloom seemed awful, and yet, at the same time, soothing to Bertha's troubled mind. She knelt down behind one of the many columns, and bent her head in By the Seaside. 115 prayer, uttering no words, but striving for entire submission to the Divine will. All at once a burst of music thrilled through the church ; the organ pealed forth, and along the empty aisles sounded in soft melodious tones the beautiful opening recitative of Handel's "Messiah." The familiar notes suggested to Bertha's mind the yet more beautiful words that are set to them; words spoken centuries ago, by the mouth of the Hebrew prophet, to the wandering, rebellious, but chosen people, and written for all tlie weary, all the heavy-hearted, throughout all time:— " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saitli your God." As the last notes died away, the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs, and lights flashing in the organ-gallery, warned Bertha that the choir were come to practise. She rose and left the church, feeling thankful for the little delay that had occasioned the organist to spend his spare moments in playing in the darkness the beautiful air that had brought such comfort to her heavy heart. Little had he thought of doing service to any one. We may be thankful to think that perhaps we are sometimes permitted to do some little good unconsciously to ourselves ; for the good deeds done, the kind words intentionally spoken, are few enough, compared with the mass of human misery that needs relieving. The rain was falling fast when Bertha left the cliurch; but she went on unheeding, too entirely at peace in herself to care for any outward things. When she reached home, she found Sophy on the stairs, waiting for her. "Why, my dear," she exclaimed, running down to meet her, " where have you been? and it's raining so; and you're so wet! come in here." And she led her into the drawing- room, where the tire was lighted; dragged her down on the rug in front of it, pulled off her dripping cloak and hat, smoothed back the damp disordered hair from her forehead, and chafed her chill liands in her own soft warm ones. " Sophy," said Bertha, humbly, while these tender little ministrations were going on, "I am afraid T have often been very cross, and selfisli, and disagreeable. I am very sorry; you must forgive me, because I have been so very miserable, and I'll try to do better." "Dear Bertha, dear old girl!" cried Sophy, the ready tears, that with her were always as near at hand as smiles, falling fast on Bertha's shoulder as she bent over her, "don't say so; you are the best,—the dearest,—and don't despair; 116 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. he will come back, I know he will. Do you know, tliat once before we were engaged, I was so silly T thought Edward didn't care for me, and I cried all the evening." From that day the sisters became friends in quite a different sense from what they had ever been before. There had always been kindness, but now there was confidence between them. Days passed on, but nothing was seen or heard of John Leslie; and Sophy's hopes of liis return, which had at first been strongly and confidently expressed, grew less and le«s. Her only consolation was in abusing him heartily, and declaring that a man who could treat Bertha so was not worth thinking about. This, of course, was only said to her husband, for she felt the truth of what he had before said to her, that to say so to Bertha woiild not be quite the right way of consoling her. Very little ever passed between them on the subject; though Bertha had in part broken through her extreme reserve, she scarcely ever spoke of her trouble. She went about her usual occupations, doing, indeed, more than before; and, excepting that she was a little paler, and her step a little less elastic, there was no outward change. She devoted a great deal of time to the children, both teaching tliem, and playing with them, or telling them stories. She took long wallas witli her brother, made a great many sketches, and read hard books; for novels, which she used to be fond of, had become distasteful to her, and poetry was a luxury which she did not indulge in much. It brought on a dreamy mood which she used to like, but had now learnt to dread, for it made such shipwreck of her hardly acquired peace of mind. One walk she never took; she never went to the shore under the east cliff. The children used to ask her to go there, their favourite place for playing, because it was the only part of the shore where there was any sand to be found, but she always refused; it seemed to her that it would break her heart to see that place again. Sometimes she would sit a whole afternoon without speaking, stitching away at her work as if her life depended on it, but looking quite calm and composed, till a low faint moan, involuntarily and almost unconsciously uttered, would betray to the sympathizing Sophy the dull pain that was weighing on her heart. And then Sophy would get up from her seat, and standing by lier sister's side would pass her hand caressingly over her shining hair; and Bertha would just touch the soft hand, and accept the unspoken sympathy in thankful silence. Again, there were By the Seaside. 117 times when sUence was intolerable, when she felt that she must pour forth her burdened heart to some one—to Sophy, if she were with her; and if she were alone, she would walk up and down the room with her hands clasped upon her forehead, giving utterance to the bitterness of her feelings in broken words and smothered sighs. Bertha was by no means a weak-minded person, but her feelings were very intense; she had cherished her love in secret for years, for, while entirely submitting to her father's will, she had never lost sight of the possibility that circumstances miglit so change that he might give his consent, and she had liardly known how entirely she had built upon this till now, when all her hopes were shipwrecked,—when he, whose fidelity slie had so implicitly trusted in, had failed her. She did struggle hard to get over her trouble, but her efforts did not seem to be very successful; time alone can heal such a wound as hers—or rather the gradual influence of outward things, to which we give the name of time. It has been well said, by a French writer, " Ce n'est guere par force d'esprit qu'on sort d'une grande affliction ... on est si faible, ou si leger, qu'on se console." This is a liumiliating consideration, but it is true ; not pride, nor strength of will, nor tlie resignation that religion teaches, will go far towards mastering a great grief; it is through our weakness, our readiness to be impressed by outward and present things, that we are first consoled. If it were not so, we could hardly live in this troublesome world—our life would be one long mourning over lost friends, bliglited hopes, disappomted affections ; and therefore it has been mercifully ordered for us that we can in a measure forget; and we consider a long-indulged grief to be the sign of a morbid state of mind. So Bertha lived on, content to float quietly down the stream, and trusting that time would heal her sorrows. Days passed on. October came and went; November was at hand—November, to the Londoner associated with damp fogs, raw, chilly days, a pavement slippery witli the greasiest mud, a yellow atmosphere even on the finest days, while in rainy and cloudy weather, breakfast, and perhaps even luncheon, must be eaten by candlelight. How different it is in the country ! What more delightful than those last autumn days, with their brilliant mornings, the transient glory of their sunset; at night the meteor-lighted sky! Or those still, grey cloudy days, when not a breath of air is stirring, and the last golden leaves fall down sUently; No. 28,—MARCH 1877 Q Il8 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. when red coats ride past our windows, and we hear the distant cry of the hounds ; when pleasant parties assemble in country houses for cover-shooting; when the long evenings and fireside comforts are a novelty to be enjoyed. There is certainly no time of year when country people think with more dislike of London, and London people more regret returning home, than in the month of November. Edward Stanhope was as fond of the country as any one, and had no wish to return to London unnecessarily; so, though the beginning of term obliged him to be at his post, he easily consented to the request of his wife and sister that they might be left behind at Whitcliffe a little longer, and promised to sj^end every Sunday with them, and to come down as olten as he could on other days, that he might get a little hunting. " Bertha," said Sophy, coming into the drawing-room, one afternoon soon after Edward's return to town, " could you give me now that sketch of Woodcote that you promised me ? I am going out to some shops, and I could take it to be mounted." Bertha took a sketch-book from a side table, and tore out a page. " How faded it looks ' " she said; " this paper absorbs the colour so much ; all the sketches in this l)ook are the same. I must touch them up a little." And, taking out her colour-box, she sat down at the table in the window, and began turning over the pages of her book. " Then you won't come out with me ? " said Sophy. " If you once get to your drawing, I know it will be no use for me to wait for you. You won't leave it till it is too dark to see." " No, I think not," said Bertha. " I will go out by myself a little later; it is so fascinating touching up my old sketches. I must have all the daylight for it that I can." Then she hesitated ; there were associations connected with that book of Woodcote sketches, which she knew were more dangerous to her peace of mind than poetry or novels, but the temptation seemed irresistible, and, after a moment of irresolution she yielded to it. At that moment the door bell rang. " How tiresome ! " said Sophy, coming back into the room, and laying down Bertha's sketch on the table. " Now, I am just caught, and I shall not get out till it is quite late, and all the beauty of the day is over. I daresay it is some of those stupid men that Edward asked to dinner By the Seaside. 119 the other day. I wish they would he content with leaving their cards." Bertlia laid her brush down on the top of her glass of water and sighed, not because tlie arrival of visitors would disturb her absorbing occupation, but l)ecause all society was a weariness to her, everybody tliat she spoke to seemed so utterly uninteresting. The next moment Mr Leslie was announced, and before she knew anything but that the room seemed to be going round, he was there, speaking first to Sophy and then to herself. The first thing she was conscious of was that he looked much altered, grown thin and pale, tlie hair worn away on his temples, his step weak and slow ; he must certainly have been ill. She longed to ask him, but could find no words. Sophy was the first to speak. " Have you been abroad ever since we saw you, Mr Leslie ?" " Yes," he said, " I only came back yesterday; I was afraid I might not still find you here ; I thought Edward would have written to me." " Written to you, Mr Leslie ! " exclaimed Sophy in a tone of great surprise. " Why, how could he ' We didn't know where you were." " Then yoii did not get my letter ? " "No, indeed; we have never heard anything of you since jou called here last September." " W^hat must you liave thought of me then ! I wrote from Ostend the moment that I landed, to tell you that I had had a telegram from Brussels, saying that my brother was very ill there, and I had only just had time to catch the boat. I remember distinctly carrying my letter down to the bureau of the hotel myself, and laying the money upon it; the waiter took it from me, and said he would put the stamps upon it; and as the omnibus was waiting at the door to take me to the train, I could not stay to see wliat became of it. I wish I had put it into the box myself. W^hat must you have thought of me !" " We did not know in the least how soon you had intended to go abroad when you were here last," said Mrs Stanhope. " That you were gone, we knew, because my husband saw you on board the Ostend boat, just as it was starting. But that was by accident, and we have never known anything more of your movements ; so perhaps you will now tell us what has happened to you since." " For the first fortnight or so 1 was nursing my brother," I20 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. he said, " and just as he was getting well I caught the fever myself, and was ill for a long time." All this time Bertha had not spoken. Mr Leslie looked round at her, but she made no movement, and he could not see her face distinctly; she was sitting with her back to the window, and the sunsliine lighted up her golden hair, but left her face in shadow. Sopliy was more ready with the expression of her sympathy. "Were you very ill? " she said ; " you look as if you had been." " Yes," he said, " I believe they quite gave me over. I knew nothing about it at the time, and I can't remember anything about it now." Bertha shivered. He could see that, though while he spoke lie was looking at Sophy. " I had great difficulty," he said, " in getting out of my doctor's hands at all, he was so possessed with the idea that the fogs of England would quite kill me; but I managed at last to give him the slip, and yesterday, as it was so fine, I to ok the opportunity to cross at once." " Are you staying at Whitcliffe ?" asked Mrs Stanhope. " I am at present," he said; "whether I stay here or not will depend upon circumstances. It seems to me a very pleasant place for this time of year; one gets away entirely from the fall of the leaf, and all the damp and fog, which I have been recommended to avoid." Bertha said a few words about the bright clear weatlier they had been enjoying for some weeks past, and its contrast with logs and darkness they had heard of in London; a few commonplace words, but her speaking at all was a sign to Mrs Stanhope that she had recovered her composure, and that this would be a favourable opportunity for her to go away, and leave Bertha long enough with Mr Leslie to admit of tlieir coming to an explanation. A loud cry from the nursery gave her an excuse for leaving the room; and, saying she must go to see what was the matter, she hurried out of the room, regardless of a half-imploring look, which she felt rather than saw, from Bertha, who, feeling that the crisis of her fate was come, was inclined to shrink back in a sort of terror. " 1 am afraid I interrupted your drawing," said Mr Leslie, glancing at the table, Avhere lay the sketch-book and paint- box. By tlie Seaside. 121

" Oh, no' " said Bertha ; " I was not doing much—only looking over some old sketches, intending to touch up some that seemed faded." " May I see what you are doing ? " said Mr Leslie. " If they are Woodcote sketches I shall like very much to look at them." She took up the book to give it him; as she did so, something fell out. He picked it up—it was a dried harebell. " I am sure this is a Woodcote harebell," he said, looking at her; " I never saw any grow to such a size as they did on the heath there. I remember your wearing some in your hair, one evening; it was one day when I first came to Woodcote. We had been out shooting, and you came out to meet \is, and we walked over the heath. Do you remember it ?" " Yes, I remember it perfectly well," she answered. " Why, here is a drawing of the very place ! " he cried, as he turned over the leaves of the book ; " the gate you were standing against when we came up, and the heath with the birch trees and firs; and you have put us in, coming up in the distance. Did you do it that very day ? Yes, 1 see there is the date in the corner—the first of September." " No, I did not do it then," she said, colouring a little, " but 1 tliought then it would make a pretty sketch; I drew it afterwards, and put the figures in from memory; aiid I put that date to it because—because you were all there on that day." " I see," he said ; " but if you did the figures only from memory, you have got some wonderfully good lii'cenesses. Old Wenham is very good indeed; I sliould have known him anywhere. What a jolly old fellow^ he was ! It is very nice to see these sketches of Woodcote," he continued, turning over the pages. " It was the nicest place I ever saw, and the time I spent there was the happiest time of my life." Bertha gave a half sigh. " I thought then," he said, looking at her fixedly, " that my life was going to be very happy alwfiys ; but it has been very dull and lonely since then. Must it be so always ? " She looked at him, as if she was afraid to understand what she felt must be his meaning. He went on. "Do you remember New Year's eve, when we were listening to the church bells ?" " Do you think I could ever forget it ?" she said in a trembling voice. " You listened to me then," he said ; " will you listen to 122 TJie Ladies EdinburgJi Magazine.

me now ? All these years I have never ceased to think of you. I have never ceased to look forward to the time when I might venture to speak to you again, when the objection your father made so justly would no longer hold good. Let me think it is so now. Don't let the recollection of your father's former decision come between us now. I know he was right then, and I had no right to Iiave spoken to you at all, but circumstances are changed now. I am still poor, but not so poor as I was then. You would not be afraid of poverty, Bertha?" She tried to speak, to answer him ; but no sound came. She raised her eyes to his. The unspoken answer was enough for him—she was unchanged ; the vision that had been before him through years of separation was realised. SUBUKBAXA. {Concluded))

% MliJittb in C^riiniiirjt. I. THE ALHAMBRA.

MALAGA stands but little chance of pleasing the traveller who arrives by the bridle road from Ronda, fresh from the breezy mountain air. It strikes him as close, dusty, and barren, though in reality the hills are clothed with vme- yards. A visit to the gardens of La Concepcion, and San Jos4, prove beyond a doubt the mildness of the climate, the fertility of the soil, and the good taste and courtesy of their possessors. We longed to reach Granada, and decided on going by diligence. A great mistake. For those who ride—and there are few even of the most inexperienced, wdio would be afraid on the safe, easy, Spanish saddles, from which it requires some art to be thrown oft^—it is far better to take horses to Loja, sleep there, and go on by train to Granada. Another route is to drive to Velez Malaga, and ride to Alhama, stop the night, and on to Granada next day. We started about six o'clock in the evening, having secured the interior, which was so small that it was a matter of mathematical calculation, and some good temper, to decide what to do with eight legs in the space allowed. Cramped, smothered with dtist, on hard seats, and unable to sleep from the incessant screaming of the drivers trying to urge the mules along, we made up our mind to have a miserable journey, and were not disappointed in the enjoyment of a A Month in Granada. 123

A half-naked, wild-looking man rushed inces- santly from side to side in aid of the coachman and postillion; belabouring, it seemed to us, the particular animals that were doing their duty properly. It was only when fairly started on a desperate gallop down hill, that he enjoyed a few moments rest. This he passed fuming and panting on the doorstep of our compartment; a mute, incarnate appeal for backsheesh, or in Spain, cuartitos. The heavy vehicle groaned and swayed from side to side, close to precipices just visible in the moonlight. P'rom these, had a wheel come off, or the niules shied, there was very insufficient protection. Fearful, inexplicable jolts, or the grating of the drag, were the only diversions to the ordeal; none the less trying for being borne in silence. To most minds there is something far less repulsive in the idea of a sudden cessation of life, in the midst of feelings heightened l)y a pure enjoyment of nature, by being thrown singly down a breezy hill-side, than in meeting a stifled, bruised, ig-nominious collective death, in a toppling omniljus. Malaga appeared from time to time, sparkling like a jew^el beside the IMediter- ranean, as we climbed up the gradients that scaled the moiui- tam barrier we had to surmount. Further on in the night, grand outlines rose against the deep star-lighted sky; adding sorrow for losing the scenery to the poignancy of bodily incon- venience. At Loja we saw dim forms flitting about the rambling posada; cheery voices of equestrians preparing for an early start in the twilight of an April morning. Tlie garish day found us tearing over the far-famed Vega. Half an hour after we were dragged out into the streets of Granada almost unable to stand; a prey to beggars and custom-house officers. The latter, however, in justice be it said, let iis off unsearched, and unquestioned, for a bribe of three pesetas, or half-a-crown; and the beggars soon found we were too cross for them to stand any chance either of a hearing, or of cuartitos. A commissionaire, with a carriage all ready to take us to the Fonda Ortiz, within the precincts of the Alhambra, put us in a little better humour. Tlie truth, however, must be spoken : weary and dusty, hungry and athirst, not even the grateful shade of its embowering elms could rouse us to more than a faint appreciation of the fact that we had reached the spot, so long the summit of our aspirations, which was to be the acm^ of delight. But a good breakfast, a refreshing bath, a sound sleep, and the possession of a dainty little sitting-room—where the war- blings of the nightingales mingled by day and by nig] it with 124 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. the music of running, plashing water, and the thick foliage of the early green taught " light to counterfeit a gloom "— threw quite a new gleam on the aspect of affairs. The prospect of a month's rest in such a spot, after the toil of many months' travel, had in it something excessively attractive. Next day, therefore, we started in a state of semi- exaltation for our first visit to the Alhambra. A bargaining with oficiales at the door of the sanctuary, as to the price for which we were to be let in, which seemed by no means fixed, but liable to be modified by prospective propinas, a little prepared us for the disappointment of not being allowed to wander alone, and at will, through the courts and halls over which "Washington Irving has thrown the glamour of his graceful imaginative fancy. It is the penalty this generation has to pay for the newly awakened appreciation of the edifice in the mind of its possessors, and their tardy efforts for the preservation and restoration of what remains of it. Like sheep we were driven from one part to another, or penned up for half an hour in one room, bolted in, till the guide returned from fetch- ing additional visitors, who had arrived too late to begin the round with us". They were hurried through what we had already seen. With increased numbers, crowding and jostling one another, we took in all that it was possible to glean from the united descriptions of Forbes and the guide. In spite of all, it was most beautiful. If the Hall oftheAbencerages, tlie Court of the Lions, with the bloody stains on the stones of the slaughtered princes, the retired patio de Lindaraja, with its elegant little fountain, meet liiding-place for a dark-eyed houri, did not stir up our feeling of romance to the pitch we had expected on this first visit, the enchanting gem-like views of the Vega, from the arches in the Hall of the Ambassadors, and of the valley of the Darro, from the Tocad&r de la i2eina,made up for all. There was something light and joyous in the very air. We seated ourselves, when the show part was over, on a fragment of ruined wall below the Torre de la Vela, and felt perfectly happy. In the Plaza de los A Igibes are water carriers clustering round the IMoorish wells, any one of whom might have been tlie identical little af/uador of the " Tales of the Alhambra." We grew to love every inch of this strangely interesting palace and fortress of the Moor. To ramble, book in hand, through the tangled boughs of vines, fig trees, and pomegranates, and read the legend of the " TJwee Princesses," under the shadow of the tower where the gentle Zorahaide, one of the sweetest of A Month in Granada. 125

Arabian impersonations, wore out her solitary existence, after the flight of her sisters, was a rare mental and physical luxury. To trace the walls to the very gate where Boabdil turned liis back on the restless scene of his * unhappy reign; and to pass hours alone, or together, on the platform of the Vermilion Towers, possessed a fascination that defies description. In the latter spot, with the long white Ime of the Sierra Xevada lying under the deep blue sky on one side, the majestic mass of the Alhambra on another, Granada below, every street and turret enriched with historical associations, it required very little imagination to call up the pomp of war, and people the glowuig Vega with the sights and sounds of the two contending hosts of the Christians and the Moors. It would require some effort in the coldest, most unimpressionable person to still enthusiasm, and make the heart beat slowly, under the spell of a scene like that. A month seemed all too short, and so we found it. As one lingers in the deep shadow of the avenues, wliere even the unintellectual Sj)aniard may be seen with a book, the solemnity of a monastery or of a churchyard comes over the spirit. Some one quoted aptly the lines of Horace Smith:— " 'Neath cloister'd boughs each floral bell that swingetli, And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer. There amidst solitude and shade I wander, 'Ne^th the green aisles or stretched upon the sod ; Awed by the silence, reverently I ponder The ways of God." Alas! that such shade and such solitude should be broken by beggars, and disturbed by crowds of unromantic tourists, energetic Americans, and bored specimens of young England, who profane its echoes with loud talk and 'boisterous laughter. A feeling of quiet acquiescence comes over the mind, as when we look at the graves wliere the dead rest; not the dead which have been dear to us, but the general accumulation of past humanity, to whom we ourselves shall one day be joined. There is no shrinking dread of the fate we must meet. " With a soft spring of holy, Mild, delicious melancholy : Not sunless gloom or unenlightened, But by tender fancies brightened "— do we look forward to our change, rather as a rest to the worn out body and wearied spirit, than as a destiny to be feared and mourned over. Just such a rest was the No. 28.—APRIL 1877. R 126 TJie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

Alhambra, in the feverish haste of a life of travel. It was pleasant at night to leave the crowded tahlc d'hote, and find our way up to the Torre tie la Vela, to watch the sunset light up* the snow with rosy red, then leave it silent, and cold, and gi'ey. Still would we linger till the stars came out, the lights brightened and multiplied in the streets of Granada, and on the distant Vega. Or if the moon

" From cloudless etlier looking down," like " Hope," threw the while

" On darling spots remote her tempting smile ;" or a guitar in the distance, like the " shepherd's pipe," was playing, "And with a deeper peace endued The hour of moonlight solitude"— we thanked the "gentle poet" who gave us words to express the beauty ordinary soids can only feel. But the charms of a sojourn in Granada (and it is a place to tarry and tamper with time in), are not all clustered round the wondrous pile of the Alhambra. Setting aside the cathedral, with its services, and the tombs of Ferdi- nand and Isabella, there are the promenades, and quaint streets, where Spanish beauty flirts the fan, and rolls glances of liquid fire around. Every corner presents a pictm-e of costume and character, the same now as Avlien Cervantes and Le Sage painted them. We found infinite pleasure, also, in roaming whole days along the bridle paths of the surrounding country. We chartered the services of a water-carrier and his four donkeys. Juan was a pattern arriero—small, rosy faced, with twinkling- black eyes, good-tempered, slow, patient, trmi and tight, from the crown of his round velvet hat, to the soles of his tidy boots. Jacket, trousers, crimson girdle, and elaborately tucked shirt-front, were always the perfection of cleanliness and neatness; he was the purveyor of the bread, wine, and oranges, which served for our at fresco luncheons on these expeditions. We generally sat dowa. under one tree, and he and his assistants (for the donkeys were troublesome without their respective guides) under another, when the noon sun was at the hottest. They would sleep while we went in search of flowers to dry, or views to paint. The task of saddling the donkeys before our start in the morning, which generally lasted an hour, and went on in front of the hotel, was the source of endless jokes among the Contraband. 127 supernumeraries of the Fonda. Jealous of our not employing their vehicles to jolt over roads ankle deep in dust, they were unsparing in sarcastic remarks; a weapon the Spaniard knows how to make use of When we returned towards evening, however, full of glee and ready to praise everything in and about their beautiful Clranada, a bouquet of flowers was sure to be waitmg for us, and past animad- versions were forgotten and forgiven between us. C. EAY.

IN the first quarter of the present century smuggling was still in its zenith in most countries, but nowhere was it more winked at by the higher, and assisted by the lower classes, or more thoroughly enjoyed by the perpetrators, than in Ireland. The English smuggler pursued his trade from the desire of riches, and became a desperado as the natural consequence of his calling; feeling that however tolerated by the poorer and more ignorant fishing-classes, he was an object of terror and dislike to all " decent people." Not so his Irish brother-in-trade. To out-wit the law and its myrmidons, was an act of fun and adventure, with which the sympathies of the people went; condemned by the few, enjoyed and commended by the many. Were they not English laws that were outraged, and, judged by a more liberal code of justice, was it not all fair-play to do so ? A smuggler, if successful, was a hero, not a blot upon society ; his hair- breadth escapes and deeds of daring were listened to, ap- plauded over the wine in the parlour, and the potatoe-pot in the cabin. The wild west coast was a very hot-bed of contraband trade. Its rugged cliffs, rough sea, and dangerous rocks, so unfavourable to legitimate mercantile pursuits, all assisted the smuggler. He who had all to win, or all to lose, knew that his chances of success in eluding pursuit by sea, were fifty to one on land. The big cliffs, the sunken rocks, the sudden storms, were all his friends, delaying and endangering his pursuers. I remember an old county Mayo man telling me how he, the grandson of the district magistrate, and actually living in his house, got into a smuggling scrape before he knew what he was about. His grandfather's castle was built close to the river Moy, a short distance above BalKna, in 12S The Ladies EdinburgJi ATagaaine. the very centre of the contraband trade bet-\veen the coast and the inland counties. He was a boy of about fourteen years of age at the time, and his great amusement was boat- ing on the river. One day while at dinner, the butler whispered that the steward wanted to see him at once. Seeing by the man's manner that something unusual was on foot, he contrived to leave the table imnoticed, and ran down to the yard. Here he found the steward impatiently awaiting him. "Get the key of the boat-house, and come on, sir, quick!" The key was in his pocket, and he ran to the river side. There he found fourteen men waiting for him to get out the boat. One glance sufficed to make known their calling. Each man had a bale of goods, two feet square, strapped across his shoulders, and they were evidently bound for a long hard run across country. They were smugglers, and the excisemen were after them. The boy knew well the risk he ran in assisting their flight, but the love of adventure, and the sympathy of his race with their trade, over-balanced his prudence. The boat was ready in a moment, thirteen of the men lying in her bottom, the fourteenth at the helm, and our young friend busy with the sails. I forget all the nautical jargon about how he managed it; but he contrived to make the boat lie over, and turn up her side to the bank, where the excisemen had now made their appearance, and the men lying in her bottom were completely concealed. His Majesty's officers hailed and gesticulated, but the boy pretended not to see or suspect that they wanted anything with him, and sailed steadily on. Some hundred yards down the river there was a bend, and this rounded they were out of sight of theii' pursuers, who were left far behind, fruitlessly searching for a boat in which to follow up the chase. Once past the bend, he put the boat against the wind, and she flew up the river, and many miles away. He unshipped his cargo, amidst thanks and protestations of eternal gratitude, got a man to return with him, and sHpped down the river, and into his grandfather's house as quietly as if he had been for a pleasure sail. Every peasant for miles round knew of the adventure, but as he said, " None of them leaked on me, and it never was found out." About a month afterwards, he met a man hanging about the place, who produced several dozen of white silk handkerchiefs, and pieces for silk dresses, &c. This was the form the smugglers' gratitude had taken. " I daren't take them," he said ; " if my grandfather saw Contraband. 129 me with them, he'd guess where they came from, and turn me out." So he gave them to the steward, desiring him to distribute them among the girls on the place, who "sported" the silk handkerchiefs as neckties, and made themselves gorgeous in the dresses. To this day my old friend speaks regretfully of his loss, and whenever he tells the story (often enough, in sooth !) ejaculates sadly,— " The finest white silk handkerchiefs—and I was afraid to take them !" He tells another story of an adventure in the same district. One of his uncles took him out to shoot, and as they were getting over a fence, he jumped upon a sort of mound in the wide dyke at the further side. It gave way under him, and he went down feet foremost into an illicit still! He had alighted on the mud roof of an under-ground cabin. He was seized, and almost strangled, in a moment. His uncle followed to the rescue, but was soon overpowered by numbers. Half-a-dozen men occupied the cabin, and had mistaken them for the guagers. Young could speak Irish pretty weU, but his uncle knew not a word of it, and the men spoke nothing else. With difficulty they were made to understand that their appearance upon the scene was quite accidental, and not in any way inimical to the interests of the still; the men threw discredit upon the story, and vowed they " had not another minute to live." Young besought them to spare their lives, at least until they had sent for a certain rent-warner, who would identify them; and at length the distillers consented to do this. The rent-warner came, and the " young master" and his uncle were released with many protestations of regret for the indignity passed upon them. " We were treated to some potheen on the spot," says my friend, "stuff that had been 'nm through three times, and was as sweet as new milk, and afterwards escorted home by the crowd of country people who had gathered round the spot, amidst cheers and shouts." Times have changed since then; cheating the law has still its fascinations for Paddy; but contraband trade has died out, and potheen " stills " are discovered few and far between. For some years past our neighbourhood has been afforded some amusement, and our police a good deal of trouble, by the " dodges " and escapes of an illicit distiller, one of the last of his class. Not long ago, having finished his term of imprisonment for a former offence, he took lodgings in a house in the bog of Allen. There he set up 130 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. a still without letting his landlady into the secret. The police " got wind of it," as we say in Ireland, and proceeded to search the house. As his landlady innocently ushered them in at the front door, our law-breaker, who was at the moment engaged at the still, made his exit at the back, leaving the " lone widow" in for the penalty. He is not likely to come back to receive lynch law at the hands of her indignant male relatives, and has not been heard of since. Mrs E. 0. LESLIE.

■ tj •■ t< -jp#&.-»g- - tf •

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 4. " An apple cleft in two, is not more twin " Than these two creatures." Thongh of different speech and country, their services may yet be taken advantage of once a-year by us all. 1. " Sport royal, I warrant you. . . . I'll give thee leave t(j play till doomsday." 2. In Scotland nothivg will keep you as warm as I. 3. In the mouth of a Scottish Jehu, the usual "stopper." 4. The Scottish embryo of " our wooden walls." F. M.

Acrostic No. 2 has proved too much for our correspondents. Of the six answers received, not one is correct, though some are very nearly so, " Hawthorn" being wrong in only one light. We append the solution :— 1. S SUMAROKOFF. F 2. T THYRA. A 3. V VASHTI. I 4. A ARTHUR. R 5. L LANGHAM.l M 6. E ELISSA.2 A 7. N NAIiDI. I 8. T TALLEYRAND. D 9. I ID. 0 10. N NEEF. F 11. E ETHIOP. P .12. S STEROPE. E 13. E EDGAR. R 14. V VIARDOT. T 15. E ESCHENBACH. H " St Valentine's Eve, or the Fair Maid of Perth," is tlie title of Sir Walter Scott's novel.

J An Archbishop of Canterbury in the reign of Edward III. 2 Queen Elissa only received tlie name of Dido after her death. Our L ibrary Table. 131

ANSWER TO DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 3. \. " Locli Goil," whose cruel " waters wild " Went o'er " the hapless father's child." 2. " loyia " pilgrims visit still— The sacred Lsle of Icolmkill. 3. Cheers in the House of Commons greet The gain of " Uldham's " vacant seat. 4. Two useful letters here we see, Ubiquitous and wise " N.B."

Wild March comes roaring in, A Lion fierce and bold, His voice a stormful wind. His breath a bitter cold ; Yet oft like playful Lamb, Among the meadows green, With breezes soft and sunny skies His going out has been. " B."

Correct answers received from " B," Eleuthera, F. G., Hamlet, Haw- thorn, Lara, M. C. B., Message Girl, and Nelly Bly. A PRIZE is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. Solutions to be addressed " Acrostic Editor," Publishers, 22 Howe Street, Edinburgh ; to be sent not later than the 15th of the mouth, written clearly on a sheet of paper, containing only the solution, pseudonym, and full name and address of sender. Solutions acknowledged in the following number ; and name and address of winner only announced at close of competition.

OUE LIEEARY TABLE.

CHARLES KINGSLEY : His Letters and Memories of his Life. By his Wife. London : H. King & Co., 1877.

BY the many readers and admirers of the works of the late Charles Kingsley, these volumes were looked for with expectation and interest. Mrs Kingsley has done her task with a loving and at the same time a delicate hand. Opinions may difi'er as to the relative importance and value of difl'erent portions of these letters and memories, but all must be unanimous as to the care and literary taste which has been used in their arrangement. Bulky as the volumes are, the many-sidedness of the life they illustrate made that almost a necessity. Here are materials for scA-eral ordinary biographies, for we find Charles Kingsley to be poet, novelist, hard- working clergyman, chartist pampleteer, man of science, and Cambridge professor. Into and through all his varied occupations he carried an intense energy and vitality, that urged him whatsoever he did, to do it with his might. All the successive (j^uestions of the day interested him ; and in the subjects of sanitary improvement, and of education in all its aspects, especially that of the education of women, he was both eager and earnest. A life of such ceaseless activity could not be 132 The Ladies Edinbiirgli Magazine.

a very long one. He never wished that it should he so. Underlying his whole character, and along with a thorough appreciation of this world as a place in which to do good work for God, was an unappeasahle longing for death, as the welcome revealer of all mysteries, the opener up of a fuller and better life. In the book itself, however, we find the best exponent of his deeper religious life.

-^j)—4»;*-*- STEAYXOTES.

SINCE the opening of the Edinburgh School of Cookery in November 1875, the movement has spread rapidly through Scotland. Permanent Schools have been established in Glasgow and in Dundee ; and the system of conducting branch classes in other towns, which was developed by the Edinburgh School, has been adopted by them. Public classes in connection with the Edinburgh School have' already been held in twenty-three towns in Scotland and in England, and fourteen other towns have app)lied for classes. Nine private classes in Schools have been held in Edinburgh and its vicinity ; seven 2>ublic •classes for cheap cookery, and three for higher-class cookery are at present in progress. The demand for qualified teachers of cookery in the various schools is at present in excess of the supply. Only educated women sliould enter this profession. They must possess an aptitude for cooking and for teaching, and have a clear and easy style of speaking. The necessary training, with a diploma from the Northern Union of Schools of Cookery, can be obtained in the Edinburgh School, from the beginning of November 1876. The fee for six months is .£8, Bs. Miss Kennedy, of Manchester, who was last year the Classical Teacher in Cheltenham Ladies' College, has this year started a large School for girls in Leeds, with some variations from the usual pdans for such Schools ; the most definite of which is, that no English grammar is to be taught, except in the very highest class, the want being supplied by Latin grammar, which is to be made the basis of all. There can be few, if any, among our readers to whom the name of Anne Mackenzie is an unknown, unhono\u-ed sound. Her value as a worker in her o^^^l especial line—missions to heathen countries—will long make her loss severely felt; but we must hope there are not wanting those who will take up and carry on what she began so well, so that her little " Net cast into many waters," may still bring its accustomed freight to shore.

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PRIZE is offered for the best article received by the Editors and accepted for insertion during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists born in the 18th centur}^ SUBJECT OF DEBATE for the next meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society, to be held on Saturday, April 7th, at 4 Ainslie Place, at 11 o'clock :—" Ls it desirable that our Government should send out another Arctic Exj)edition ? " For all information, apply to the Secretary, care of the Publishers, 22 Howe Street, Edinburgli^, Our Female Novelists. 133

IV. MES CHARLOTTE SMITH. 6. 1749 ; d. 1806.

THE works of almost every author have some quality peculiar to themselves, by which we both recognise and remember the authorship. Thus, we have characterised Johnson as sententious; Goldsmith's style is transparent, Defoe, graphic; in poetry, Milton is sublime; Spenser, purely imaginative; Chaucer, vigorous and real. It is the very presence of such peculiarities which endears an author to us; it is this very exaggeration of a single quality that constitutes genius. An ideal symmetry in character or form of man, animal, or thing, we may admire from a distance ; but it is the less perfect and the more characteristic to which we cling : it is this that endears to us a friend, a poet, a flower, or other object. Imagination had run wild in Mrs Eadclifte's novels, and revelled in vivid descriptions of life in Miss Burney's; it was the lot of Mrs Charlotte Smith to possess that just equilibrium of powers by which she held her heroes and heroines within the bounds of sober sense and reason. It was for her to portray on the pages of fiction human beiugs more like the rest of humanity, and hence yjossibly more suited to exercise an influence over the many. Only the very gi-eatest writers rise above the reproduction of self in their writings ; thus, as Madame de Stael could not but make herself the original of her Corinne, so Mrs Smith reproduces herself in Emiudine and Ethdinda ; and Mrs Inchbald, though she has done herself injustice by the portrait, is the original of Miss Milner. Though inferior in intensity of genius to many who had preceded her, Mrs Charlotte Smith possessed a greater equilibrium of powers than any of her contemporaries. By a certain subjectiveness only, and want of intensity, or of immensity of any kind, as Dr Johnson might have called it, does she forfeit the right to rank as a woman of decided genius. After reading even a few pages of one of her novels, we instinctively conclude that she is a lady who would probably be always ready to sit bolt upright on the extreme edge of her chair, with a No. 29.—MAY 1877. S 134 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazifie.

piece of conventional embroidery in her hand, should such an attitude and occupation prove expedient. Mrs Smith was one of those—and there are many such— who, though authors by nature, would have all their lives remained mere dabblers in literature and lazy amateurs, had not sorrow or necessity driven them to the task. To seek a fair ideal world, and place it as a barrier between themselves and dire reality, becomes to them not merely a pleasure, but a requisite. And it is well if sorrow do not flavour their works with bitterness, if necessity do not con- vert them into a task. A writer, forced to work by such taskmasters, has need to beware lest his work betray the secret of their agency in its production. If he do so too plainly, he is no true artist, no worthy aspirant to the highest guerdon of fame. The visions of angels which Milton portrayed in his paradise, were all the brighter for his blindness. The extravagances of Moses and his father in the Vicar of Wakefield, were all the more reckless for the author's penury. It remains to be seen whether the subject of our remarks had the calmness and dignity so to subdue her sorrows while writing, as to render her works opaque to their gaunt image. The lives of men were brought strongly to the surface at the period when this lady flourished. The American war, the French revolution, called for vigorous action enough; the stage was in a state of feverish activity; dramatists, both men and women, were counted by the score; andthei'e was withal such literary activity among ladies, that learned men were astonished at it. Mrs Montague had founded her Blue Stocking Club ; Mrs Chapone, ]\Iiss Carter, and many others, were givhig forth their strictures on female education; and novelists too were rife, when Mrs Charlotte Smith appeared on the scene, as one destined to form a link in the chain of the British muses. She was the eldest daughter of Nicholas Turner, Esq., of Stoke House, in Surrey, and of Bignor Park, in Sussex. The 4th of May 1749 was the day of her birth, and before she had completed lier fourth year she lost her mother. Her education was accordingly entrusted to an aunt, who evidently thought the chief end of woman was to excel in accomplishments. To the clever child, all learnmg was easy ; she could never recollect how she learned to read. When at school, she was remarked for her elegant dancing; and her want of application to her studies was readily atoned for by the remark that she was too great a genius to study. Her imagination was at this Our Female Novelists. 135

period too vigorous to demand any outward aid ; she composed verses by the score ; her ideas were original, and her conversation was full of wit and vivacity. But events were in train which were to change all this, and to transform the happy girl into a sorrowful woman, who earned her bread in tears. In 1764, her father decided upon a second marriage, and it was resolved by his sister-in-law that Charlotte should be rescued from the position of a step- daughter in her fatlier's house, and placed in that of a wife. Accordingly, she was introduced, while not yet fifteen, to Mr Smith, a youth in his twenty-first year, the son of a West India merchant. They were married in 1765, and now began the troubles of life for poor Charlotte. The position of a cliild-wife must always be a difficult one, and one which only the most precocious talent can hold successfully. In Mrs Smith's case it was peculiarly trying. She only escaped from the Scylla of a step-mother to encounter the Charybdis of a father and mother-in-law. The father, we are told, had eyes so piercing, that she accustomed herself daily to lay aside her literary labours on his approach, lest his eyes should consume them. The mother, who was old, tall, thin, and delicate, entertained her daily with querulous remarks in a gruff voice, on the want of practical wisdom generally to be found in young ladies ; and poor Charlotte had her ears daily assailed by long recipes for picklmg walnuts and cabbage, memoranda of the best way to sew on buttons, the last new stitch for anti-macassars, or the most effectual mixture for a troublesome cough. Probably her thoughts fled during these tiresome counsels to her darling fields of poetry, and revelled in them like uncaged birds. In addition to these lively conversations, she also enjoyed occasionally the society of four wild, ungovernable West Indian boys, the sons of the correspondents of the house, who came to spend their holidays under Mr Smith's roof. Can we wonder that she, at this period, addressed the following'to lines to the Muse ? " Who that has heard thy silver tones, Who that the Muse's influence owns, Can at my fond attachment wonder, That still my heart should own thy pow'r ? Thou ! who hast soothed each adverse hour, So thou and I will never sunder."

The dreaded father-in-law afterwards became her greatest friend, and it was from his death, in 1776, that all her mis- 136 The Ladies Edinbttrgh Magazine. fortunes dated. Large sums of money were lost through ambiguities in his will; the estate in Hampshire, which the family had purchased, was sold. She accompanied her husband to France, where she spent a peculiarly trying winter in country seclusion among utter strangers. Soon after their return, finding her husband's temper incompatible with her own, she withdrew from him, followed by all her children, who chose to attach themselves to her fortunes, and removed to a cottage at Wyhe, where she redoubled her literary labours. These were now a solace to her, and at the same time a means of support. One novel succeeded another with great rapidity. Previously to this, she had only written poetry, and translated a novel, entitled Manon I'Escaut, by the Abbe Prevost. Now her genius, as if released from leading-strings, began to walk alone ; she was fired too with tlie example of Miss Burney, wliose Cecilia slie had read on its appearance a few years before. In 1788 she published Emmcline; or, the Ovjylmn of the Castle. Ethclinda and Celcstina quickly followed. Desmond \\?iS, less successful, owing to its political bias and spirit of progress. Last of all appeared lier clief-d^ccuvre, The Old Manor House. In conversation Mrs Smith was full of wit and vivacity, and could even make her woes a subject for pleasantry. Though cold and distant among strangers, she was frank and warm-hearted with those whom she could trust. She died in 1806, broken down with sorrow at the loss of all lior children. An interesting and tolerably true sketch of the liistory of some kinds of progress in culture since the beginning of novel-writing, might be based on the characters of the heroines depicted by successive authors. Prom the conventional lay figure of Mrs Eadcliffe, we pass to the much more important Evelina. The beautiful pieces of moving insipidity, destined to be frightened by robbers, to lose their way in haunted chateaux, to be suddenly parted from their incomparable adorers, the moment after they have met with them; such is the primitive heroine. Prom this, only a short space of time carries us, in Prench literature, to the high-souled despiser of conventionality, Corinne; but the English mind requires a medium between these, one who neither palls upon it by her insij^idity, nor shocks it by her regardlessness of social requirements; who, if she be un- womanly enough to have cultivated her mind, yet does not blazon forth this cultivation on CA^ery possible opportunity. Our Fetnale Novelists. 137

Mrs Smith has given us such heroines; she first of all, in the list of authoresses, has described the simple, innocent girl of good breeding and connections, of quiet culture and sober sense, whom the country gentleman would welcome as the partner of his life. Such delineations would contribute towards the refinement of the age, by reflecting upon it something of what the authoress herself was. Society wanted refinement, and such a woman as Mrs Smith could inspire this through her novels, as well as through her conversation. For do we not take her heroines to be in some degree a reflex of herself? Emmeline and Ethelinda are both tender, pensive, and fond of poetry. They love to wander forth with books, by running brooks, to muse on fortunes sad and strange, and wish that everything would change. Emmeline has humour, satire, and pathos—the characters are finely sketched. But the satire, though strong, is not playful; the authoress has been unable to detach from it a certain bitterness, the fruit of her own life-experience. An instance of this, and at the same time an example of Mrs Smith's somewhat sententious style, may be taken from The Wanderiwjs of Warwick, a rambling continuation of The Old Manor House, full of jealousies, shipwrecks, disappointments, and suicides:—"Happiness," says the authoress in person, by way of cheerful introduction to the work, " or even its resemblance, is so rare, that to behold a group of human beings wlio are at the moment happy, is perhaps the most pleasing of all spectacles to a benevolent mind." Poor Mrs Smith ! We feel inclined to regret that she lived in the country, and could not go to the play; there she might at least have witnessed a transient resemblance of happiness. Her chef-d'oiuvre is Tlie Old Manor House, especially the first part of it. The heroine, ]\Irs Eayland, is a Queen Elizabeth in private life. She is the only survivor of the three co-lieiresses of Sir Hildebrand Eayland, and finds herself, at the age of sixty-nine, sole inheritor of the name of her house, without any relation to whom to bequeath it. Though, like another Elizabeth, she could not bear openly to acknowledge her successor, she was as little proof as the royal ancient virgin against the attractions of an amiable and handsome young man, whom she loved to consider as tlie child of her bounty, and the creature of her smiles! Eelations she has, the Somerives, descended from a daughter of the house of Eayland, who had married a yeoman; the scion of this house, Orlando, is attached to 138 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Monimia, the daughter of tlie housekeeper at Eaylands; and for the sake of this beautiful girl, who is given to weeping, fainting at odd moments, and screaming at the fancied sight of ghosts, he refuses an extremely well-brought up young lady, whose intellect is highly cultivated; and whom certainly any sensible young gentleman of the present day, who knew anything about the true sphere of woman, would have infinitely preferred to the trembling, feeble-minded Monimia. " Miss Ann Jane Eliza HoUybourn, who equally resembled her father and mother, was the pride and delight of both. Possessing something of each of their personal perfections, she was considered by her parents a model of loveliness; and her mmd was adorned with all that money could purchase. Slie had the long waist of her mother, fine sugar-loaf shoulders that were pronounced to be extremely genteel, and a head which looked as if the back of it liad by some accident been flattened, since it formed a perpendicular line with her back. To dignify witli mental acquirements this epitome of human loveliness, all that education could do had been lavished—masters for drawing, painting, music, French, and dancing liad been assembled around her as soon as she could speak; she learned Latin from her father at a very early period, and could read any easy sentence in Greek; was learned in astronomy, knew sometliing of the mathematics, and, in relief of these more abstruse studies, read Italian and Spanish. Having never heard anything but her own praises, she really believed herself a miracle of knowledge and accomplishments." Mrs Eayland rejoices at Orlando's refusal of this young lady. He joins the side of the rebels in the American war of 1776, and, after many calamities, returns penniless to his native coimtry. Mrs Eayland is dead, and Dr Hollybourn is in possession of the estate. In due time, however, the real will in favour of Orlando is discovered, and he, along with the charming Monimia, whom he marries, falls heir to the old manor house. In description of scenery, Mrs Smith preserves the truth of a painter. Tliat subtle personification of nature, hitherto confined to poetry, which makes outward objects share in and sympathise with the emotions of man, is first of all by this authoress introduced into the domain of novel- writing. Who that reads the following description does not see the whole scene rise before his eyes ? " Just as he arrived at the water, from the deep gloom of the tall firs through which he passed, the moon appeared . A New Poem and an Old Story. 139 behind the opposite coppices, and threw her long line of trembling radiance on the water. It was a cold but clear evening, and, though early in November, the trees were not yet entirely stripped of their discoloured leaves; a low wind sounded hollow through the firs and stone-pines over Ins head, and then faintly sighed among the reeds that crowded into the water; no other sound was heard, but, at distant intervals, the cry of the wild fowl concealed among them, or the dull murmur of the current, which was now low. . . . Nature appeared to pause, and to ask the turbulent and troubled heart of man whether his silly pursuits were worth the toil he undertook for them ? Peace and tranquillity seemed here to have retired to a transient abode; and Orlando, as slowly he traversed the narrow path, over ground made hollow by the roots of these old trees, stepped as lightly as if he feared to disturb them." One of Mrs Smith's chief excellences as a writer is her truthfulness. Where others would have exaggerated or caricatured, she paints to the life. It seems almost as if she had, with an excess of laisser oiler, carried the undercurrent of her soul into her books; and this it is which forbids her to occupy the highest pedestal devoted to genius. That mood of bitter despondency which the events of her own life had occasioned, runs into her w^orks with all too full a stream, unchecked Ijy regard for others, uncalmed by dignified abstraction from the outer world. She is too sensitive to be broadly genial; few women, and those only the sti'ongest, are so. The unkind world drives them to sad introspection; and this in time draws forth echoes laden with their own complainings. That weakness which cannot master its own woes sufficiently to minister to those of the world, must form a barrier between such writers and the highest fame. Still, she fills an honourable niche in the gallery of British novelists, and is a true exponent both of her own life and her own time. JANE MENZIES.

% %t'm '%zm\ aiTir an ^Itr Storg.' WHEN Boiardo invented a good name for one of the heroes of his poem, he set all the bells a-ringing. A poem was something important then, but now there "is not the least * Si'jiml the Volsunq and the Fall of the Nihlumjs. By W. Morris. Ellis & White. 140 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

little carillon, or any stir in the world, although a new long poem has appeared in it. It has been more or less briefly noticed in some of the newspapers, and not unfavour- ably received by the critics, but not so mucli noticed as the tolerably successful novels of the season; and, as far as we have seen, it has stirred no critic to enthusiasm. And yet what thought and work and research it represents ! It is, to the ordinary good novel, as a symphony to a song. Like a symphony, however, some thought and attention are required for its enjoyment; but we believe it will amply reward those readers who give it both. The story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Nihlunys, by ]\Iorris, is a new poem on an old and perhaps not widely popular subject, in tliis country at least, where the legend is not at home. Besides, numbers of people care only for the sort of poetry which is the ornament and blossoming of our ordinary modern life; plenty of verses are written for them; they need not trouble themselves to go far a-field, nor share our attempts to enter into the ideas of our ancestors. But there are others who are quick to recognise in the heroic stories which belonged to the childhood of their race, the undying foundations of national character which form the essence of race, and which must have a perpetual interest. What made the Teuton ? Whence did he draw his strength; what were, and perhaps still are, the sources of his failures ? How and where did he differ from the Celt or the Eoman ? and why did he triumph over them ? Much light is thrown on these questions by this study of the Teuton ideal,—an ideal which still wakes a responsive echo in the alien nationalities into which the great people, the Theod, is now divided. For the legend of Sigurd and the Niblungs is veiy old, almost out of space and out of time; it certainly belongs to a period before the Teuton ideal had been touched by the civilisation, the subtlety, the slippery nature of the conquered races. In the second cycle of Eomance proper, we find all these qualities giving quite another heroic type ; better in some ways, and in some ways worse, but above all things widely different. In England the poetical glamour of the conquered Celts, crossed by the martial fire of the conquering Anglo-Normans, and softened by Christianity, gave us the Eomances of Arthur. These belonged also to Norman and Armorican France; but in the rest of France, as in Germany, romantic literature was built from the adventures of another set of heroes, Charlemagne and his peers, morally an inferior type to the Knights of A New Poem and an Old Story. 141

Arthur, though the stories relating to them are more varied and amusing, and also more civilised. The German roll of heroes has, besides Dietrich of Bern, probably the vast shadow of the Theoderic of history, Parcival and others, who were popular heroes when the story of Sigfried was chiefly remembered in the dwarfed and degraded form' of popular fairy tales. Still, in Germany and Burgundy, the legend was never, as here and in France, quite forgotten. In Scandi- navia only, which was the home of the purest and most unmixed division of the Teutons, no foreign influence ever introduced a new race of heroes to supersede the earliest. The Norsemen most fortunately took to recording the lives and deeds of living people, or of their immediate ancestors. So they have left us, not only the ideals embodied in fictitious Sagas, but the real lives of the real men and women who venerated those ideals. It is therefore to the old Norse literature that we must turn, if we wish to understand these ancient legends, and their relations to the people. There we find in the Volsung Saga, and m several of the poems of the Elder Edda, as also m the prose of the Younger Edda, the oldest existing form of the Teuton myth of the Niblung. The great German poem of the Nibdungen Lied, though it is said to date from the 13 th century, gives the story much altered and modernized. Time and place have been imposed on the legend. Nifelheim, or the mist world, becomes the Nether- lands ; the scene of the story lies chiefly at Worms ; and the fatal quarrel of the two heroines, though in both versions it is on a question of precedence, is not, as in the old story, which shall bathe in the upper waters of the river, but which shall first enter the Cathedral of Worms. Dietrich of Bern is introduced into the story, and the real Burgundian Prin- cess, Brunehault, probably a namesake of Brynhild's, has by some writers been confused with her. Our readers may remember some interesting papers on the Nihelungen Lied in this Magazine in 1874. The German of the long poem has been sufliciently modernized by Simrock to be understood by ordinary readers; we confess to have only read portions of it here and there, in a most artistically illustrated edition, but we believe it does not possess much poetical merit beyond that of clear narrative verse. Far otherwise is it with the fiery Eddiac poetry, which is brief, passionate, and incisive, and touched with wild beauty; and we think the poem before us, chiefly original, but in some places a free translation from the Edda, is full of kindred inspiration and fire. No. ■l'^.~yLk.Y 1877. T 142 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

One of the most striking characteristics of the story is the extraordinary recklessness of human life shown on all sides ; and as gi'eat men generally perished in battle, and a son's first duty was to avenge his father, the blood feuds were apt to become interminable, and, from the poetic point of view, monotonous. We find also a strong feeling of personal honour and dignity, shown among other things by the most scrupulous fidfilment of promises, however fatal the consequences were seen to be; an uncomplaining endurance of all the woes of life ; faithfulness in friendship, love, and marriage; open-handed generosity, ardour in work, and, above all, courage and truth. The women hold a position quite unknown among either the ancient or the Eomance nations. It was only in actual battle that they were considered less powerful than the men; in wit and wisdom they were held superior; they were as faithful, and nearly as fierce, as their lords ; their honour was as dear to them, their endurance was as great. Wagner has been justly blamed for working up the story of Signy into a lawless love scene; in the Saga, followed by Morris, when, under the pressure of a terrible necessity to avenge her father, her honour is stained, there is no more life or joy possible for her; and she goes back into the blazing hall of her wicked husband, and shares his fate. Hard as the rocks of the north, and pure as its icicles, were the typical women of its legends. Tribal attachment was strong, and internal laws were observed; but those who were not of the tribe were counted as enemies ; there was no hesitation as to plundering their coasts, and killing or enslaving them. Labour was honourable, and was not left to slaves, as among the Eomans. Men were free, but far from equal; the person, the property, the honour of the freeman, were sacred ; but he was led and commanded by the first man (fiirst), the duke or dux, the rider or knight. Any freeman might become a leader; and the thralls, usually captives taken in war, and churls, or tillers of the ground, might Avin their freedom ; no brand of inferiority divided them for ever from their working masters, the earls or well-born men. Thus we find in the description of the dwelling of King Volsung, with which the poem of Morris begins, how—

" There was a dwelling of kings ere the world was waxen old ; Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold; A N'eii' Poem and an Old Story. 143

Earls were the wriglits that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors ; Earls' wives were the weaving women, queens' daughters strewed its floors ; And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men that cast The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast." In this measure the poem lilts on through 390 pages. We may observe, besides the rhyme, the ringing echo of the alliteration that gives the poem something of the joyous clang of the Icelandic original. Of course, it does not follow that the rules for Norse alliterative verse are observed throughout the poem; they are complex and absolute, varying %\ath different metres, but generally to be described as one slight and one strong responsive echo of a syllable in each line, each beginning with the same consonant. But both in form and language this poem is saturated with the spirit of the Edda. Now and then we may wish for more of the brevity with which the ideas flash out in the old model, and yet Morris has only clothed the ancient story in a more ornamental dress—often rich and beautiful—always, we think, characteristic. The metaphors are simple, and free from all mixture of modern thought; now and then perhaps they may appear obscure, but only because they pre-suppose more acquaintance with the old literature than is generally to be found. The first book tells of the fall of the Volsungs; and here is the first boding of evil from the lips of a wise woman :— " She spake, and the feast sped on, and the speech, and the song, and the laughter Went over the words of boding, as the tide of the Norland main Sweeps over the hidden skerry, the home of the .shipman's bane." Volsung, though fully warned that he was betrayed, would not go back from his plighted word, and insisted on travelling, as he had promised, to his enemies' country. " But he said : My word is given, it is gone like the spring-tide ships. To death or to life must I journey, when the months are come to an end. Yet my sons my words shall harken, and shall nowise with me wend." Finely illustrative of the Tentonic idea of vengeance for the death of a father are the following lines. It is Siggier, the murderer of Volsung, who speaks, and Volsung's sons answer him. " Who lit the fire I burn in, and what shall buy me peace 1 Will ye take my hcaped-np treasures, or ten years of my field's increase, Or half of my father's kingdom 1 0 toilers at the oar, O wasters of the sea-plain, now labour ye no more ! 144 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

But take the gifts I bid you, and lie upon the gold, And clothe your limbs in purple, and the silken women hold." But a great voice cried o'er the fire : " Nay, no such men are we, No tuggers at the hawser, no wasters of the sea : We will have the gold and the purple, when we list such things to win: But now we think of our fathers, and avenging of our kin. Not all King Siggier's kingdom, and not all the world's increase, For ever and for ever, shall buy thee life and peace." The calm, conscious, dignified resignation to fate and the inevitable, which was one of the finest traits of the Norse character, is well expressed in the last words of Sigmund Volsung's son to his wife, as he dies on the battle-field:— " Our valour and wisdom have met, and thou knowest they shall not die: Sweet and good were the days, nor yet to the Fates did we cry For a little longer yet, and a little longer to live : But we took we twain in our meeting, all gifts that they had to give : Grieve not for me; for thou weejsest that thou canst not see my face, How its beauty is not departed, nor the hope of mine eyes grown base. Indeed I am waxen weary ; but who heedeth weariness That liath been day-long on the mountain in the winter weather's stress, And now stands in the lighted doorway, and seeth the king draw nigh. And heareth men dighting the banquet, and the bed wherein he shall lie ?" In the next book Sigurd appears, and Eegin the dwarf, his wise master. The gods of Asgard cross the stage with the mixture of naive childishness and grandeur which belongs to that mythology. Here they do not play a very dignified part. Loki having mischievously killed a giant disguised as an otter, has to pay a blood-fine to the giant's father. So he rends the hoarded treasure from Andvari, a dwarf who haunted the Ehine, snatching it from him to its last remnant, a ring, and on this treasure the dwarf lays a curse which clings to the Rhine gold for ever. So Tafner, the giant's son, kills his father to obtain the treasure, and broods over it for long years in the form of a dragon. So Regin his brother, weak, yet strong in wisdom, lives for generations among men seeking to train a hero who shall win it for him. At last, when he has trained Sigurd for the purpose, and Sigurd has slain the dragon, a new wisdom falls on the hero, and he becomes aware that Eegin means to slay him, and he kills at once the evil dwarf, " abhorred of gods and men," and gains for himself the Ehine gold, and with it the A New Poem aftd an Old Story. 145

curse. So, though he wakes the peerless Brynhild from her magic sleep, and wins her love, all goes wrong : Grimhild, the witch-queen, causes him by a magic draught to forget his love, and to marry her daughter Gudrun the Niblung; and he rides the magic fire, and wins Brynhild only to bestow her on his brotlier-in-law Gunnar, and wakes from the spell too late. And when he and his love have perished, the curse still clings to the unhallowed gold, till the Niblung race is destroyed, and the hoard is cast back into the Ehine, never more to be seen by mortal eyes. We are inclined to believe that a faint echo of tribal wars is to be heard all through the story; but there seems no special reason for connecting it, as some have done, with myths of the sun, and spring, and winter. The myths have already in it taken concrete form; we find the summer gods presiding, but checked by the frost giants and the elfin races; or, in other words, the untamed and clashing forces of Nature. The gods are not indeed yet far away; and the giants, though they are " Folk that are seen no more, Yet whiles, as ye ride some fell-road across the heath, there comes The voice of their lone lamenting o'er their changed and conquered homes." The tale of the curse on the ill-gotten treasure seems, however, one of those ideas that are true for all time, never truer than when the spoils of Eome had just been seized by the Teutons. Never was there a period in history more terrible in its records of violence, rapine, and slaughter; and it says much for the nobility and strength of the Teutonic race, that their great qualities—their fidelity, honour, and respect for women—survived those evil days. It is rather a serious omission in the new poem, that the author forgets apparently to mention how Sigurd avenged his father. It is told in tlie Edda how he would not be egged on by Eegin to the conquest of the dragon, till that his first feat of arms was accomplished; and any man would have been held contemptible or niddering in the north, who did not thus honour a murdered father's memory. In tlie last book of the poem, Mr Morris, we think unsatisfactorily, follows the German instead of the Norse version of the story. The later story jars on the veneration for family ties, then so strong; and seems therefore a less natural, if a more terrible tragedy than the oldest version, in which Gudrun, the widow of Sigurd, and the unwiUi;ig wife of Atli, is obliged to see the treacherous destruction of her 146 The Ladies Edinbtcrgh Magazine. brothers by her husband, on whom she avenges their death. These brothers liad caused the death of Sigurd; and the German version followed by Morris makes her lure them to her husband's court, and gloat over their defeat, torture, and death. Still, from the merely poetical point of view, Morris may have done wisely in sacrificing Gudrun's character to the necessity of variety in the catastrophes, otherwise the fall of tlie Niblungs might have been almost a repetition of the fall of the Volsungs in the first book. If he has made "the white-armed Gudrun" into an aven

SEVERED—NOT LOST. OH ! leave them, leave in slumber Those dirges of the soul, Whose chords we cease to number As blighting seasons roll, Lest we, our calm forsaking, Deepen the undertone, Until the wordless aching Enslave us as its own. Serene of mood, and smiUng, Calm nature goes her way, The common hour beguiling With sun, or starry ray. 'Tis true, the tempest's passion Leaps into lawless life, Yet she, in her sweet fashion, Knoweth to lull the strife. 148 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Thus we, surcharged with feeling, May need the storm's relief ; 'Tis o'er—now let us, kneeling, Hymn farewell to our grief, While in our thought enshrining (To light the darkened way) A thousand memories, sliming From the departed day. DuM*.

OR, FIVE AND TWENTY YEARS AGO AT THE ACHEN SEE.i

CHAPTER I. IT was on a beautiful June afternoon, the westering sun streaming down through soft mists, which enveloped the conical peaks, standing up in curious groups along the side valley behind Pertis Au, that a boat, with a young girl as its sole occupant, was loosed by her from its moorings at the southern end of the Aclien see, or, as its name implies, the lake of the brooks. Besides its uncommon beauty, lying six thousand feet above the level of the sea, in its setting of pine woods and green alps, or alnrtis, the lake of the brooks has other points of interest. This pass of the Achen-thal was one of the earliest Eoman pathways to the far-lying northern provinces of their vast empire, where lay the home of the dying gladiator ;— " There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother ;—he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday ;" and here, probably, some of the Gothic hordes also chronicled in " Cliilde Harold," passed along in after years, to avenge the blood of such slaughtered ancestors on the degenerate victors. The valley is also the watershed of the district, and the Achen see offers one of the rare instances of a lake forming an outlet to a stream at either extremity; one rivulet flowing from it northward, towards the confines of Bavaria, through the tract of country so often fiercely contested between the neighbour nations ; the other taking a 1 The Edelraute, not the Edehveiss, the author was informed by " Jorgle," is the plant sought for by the Tyrolese men, at the peril of their lives, for their unrelenting lovers. It grows in far more inaccessible places and altitudes than the Edehoeiss. Edelratite. 149 southerly direction, through the Achen pass, to the valley of the Inn, turning more than one picturesque saw-mill in its rapid descent thither. This June afternoon, unruffled by a single breath of wind, or the storms which rise suddenly, and in a few minutes curl its surface into angry breakers, the water lay tinted with lines of delicate green, purple, and rose-colour, that might have been taken for the reflection of the fields of Alpine roses, which dipped their blossoms into the transparent blue of the lake below, leaning over as if charmed with their own loveliness. Marie, the girl who was rowing, had been waiting vainly an hour or more, for the chance of meeting with a weary foot-traveller from Innsbruck, who might feel anxious to be spared the extra two miles tramp aloirg the road bordering the lake. This road, following the windings of the shore where it was possible, had once or twice been cut, at the expense of much laljour, right through the solid mountain- spurs, jutting out into the water. Its darkness there told of the immense depths to which the shelving precipices descended below the surface. Marie rested on her oars for some minutes as she came opposite Pertis Au;—perhaps the mazy beauty of the vaUey spoke to the heart of the mountain maid ;—a vague sentiment of the sublimity of God in nature stirred the latent echoes in the soul of this member of a race ever attuned to religious feeling. Certain it is, she did not hear the shouts of a wayfarer, who was striving to attract her attention in one of the pine plantations, which hid the way at intervals, until he had repeated his signals many times ; indeed it was his frantic gesticulations with a handkerchief that made her at last alter her course, and turn the boat's head landward. As it dashed in among some bushes, Marie saw at once the stranger was in evU case. Limping, with his face drawn into horrible contortions, he tried to reach the edge of the boat; but overcome by pain, he sank on a log, and looked helplessly up at the girl, who stood with one spring on the turf before him. " What is the matter, sir ?" she asked kindly, her face all concern in a moment. "Not much," answered the young man, unwilling to impose too far on her feelings of compassion; " I have sprained my ankle, climbing up the rocks after some of your beautiful flowers, and it refuses to go any farther. Can you get me assistance, in order to reach the Inn, wluch, I am told, stands at the other end of the lake ?" Xo. 2n.--M\Yl877. U I5D The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

" What more do you need ?" replied Marie ; " I can take you there." " But how am I to get into the boat, maiden ? Even with your help ? The pain is past endurance." "Trust yourself to me, sir; I can carry you," replied Marie quietly. "You lift me!" exclaimed the youth, relapsing into his native Berlin dialect, in his astonishment. " Yes, easily," replied Marie, with a blush that mounted up to her forehead, yet still regarding hmi composedly. He looked at her; there was indeed strength written in every outline of the well-knit figure planted on the soil before him ; it was almost broader in the shoulder than was compatible with the uncommon beauty of her face. " I cannot let you try," he said at length ; " not that I fear you might drop me into another world, through the untold depths of this black water, but for very shame of accepting such service from a woman." " That's nothing !" replied the girl: " Do I not carry loads of hay, twelve times as big as you are : and long distances —not for a mere step like this ? Do not delay, sir," she added more earnestly, as a pang .passed again over the traveller's face; " an extra hour will only add so much more difficulty to Lena's task of curing you." As she spoke, she advanced close beside the stranger, and helped him to rise. He groaned in agony. Without another word, Marie took him up in her arms ; and in a minute he was lying in the stern of the boat, with his knapsack beside him. As she resumed the oars, and steered out again into the lake, the young traveller, while recovering from the sensation of bashfuluess, silently took her portrait with furtive glances. Tall, full in figure; exquisitely fair, where the white kerchief, forsaking its modest line for a moment, allowed the smallest suspicion of shoulder to be seen, as she bent forward on the oars; rippling golden hair crowning her like a glory, although braided and kept as close as pins and ties could do it—the traveller speculated how like a mantle it would be, if left unbound to flow out its natural length— blue eyes, and a mouth where sweetness lay, tempered by the firmness of resolve. Marie Zingerle deserved the fiat that declared her the beaiity of the Achen-thal, and of many other valleys besides. With the grace of movement, so often indicative of strength, she sent the boat through the water at the pace rather of an outrigger on the Thames, than of the heavy flat-bottomed craft then in use among the lakes of all the German mountain districts. Edelraiite. 151

. " I might have lain some time, if chance had not brought you to me, maiden ; " began the young man after a pause. " There are not many travellers along your shelf of a road." " Not yet; there will be plenty later," she replied; " when the students begin their walking-tours, then we have merry times in the Inn. They are a joyous folk those students!" " Not over polite always, are they ? " asked the stranger. " The' hostess knows how to keep them in order," replied Marie ; " no one dares take a liberty in Agatha's house." " I wish she would keep your cows in better training," said the youth : " I had hard trouljle to prevent one from being decidedly uncivil, as I lay in my helplessness down yonder." " They are good creatures," said Marie ; " she meant no harm ; slie was but askmg what your business was ? They have not learnt yet to take off their horns when a stranger goes by, as their master does his hat"—she added smiling. " No; their prominent idea seems to be to take the stranger on to their horns," replied her companion ; " but I I convinced her ladyship at last, that I would rather put up with neglect than such obsequious attentions, so she led on her company, and left me alone." " Ah ! that was Mai-blume" replied Marie; " she is as good as a cowherd;—she leads all the others out to pasture by herself every morning, and brings them home again at night. She is the queen ; and not one dares go before her." " She appeared a determined character," said the traveller; " as strong as you, maiden, but—by no means so beautiful." The last words were spoken in a low voice ; they did not reach the girl's ear. Standing up as they approached the cluster of white, broad-eaved buildings, at the northern end of the lake, Marie gave a jodel, that brought out two or three people at once to meet them. The foremost was a splendid specimen of the mountaineer, who, as Marie greeted him with the name of " Jorgle," answered, " What, for a fish, have you brought us here, little sister ?" in the broad patois of the Tyrol, almost as unintelligible to the traveller as Chinese; but when Marie explained matters, he raised his hat with a sort of kingly dignity, which made the young stranger feel almost his inferior. " I am very sorry, sir," he said, jumping into the boat; '■' let me carry you indoors, and good Lena will soon see after the sprain; she has wondrous luck in doctoring." 152 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

"Yes, when God gives his blessing," said a low voice behind them; and when the stranger turned his head over the shoulder of the stalwart Jorgie, he encountered a pair of calm, grey eyes, looking at him from a face, whose peaceful stillness seemed like a foretaste of relief and rest at once. " Bring the gentleman upstairs," she added ; " I will tell the hostess." But before they reached the door of the hostel across the road, it was already tilled with the comely, stately person in question. The countenance of Wirthin Agatha might have frightened any 'one who felt guilty in soul, it was so strong in its lines, and so serious in its expression; but her voice was gentle, and her smile full of goodness, as she said, " Poor gentleman! Is he much hurt ? How did it happen ? Take him to the big chamber, Lena; it has a cheerful outlook on to the lake, and is near the balcony, which will be pleasant for him till he is able to get about again." Very grateful the traveller felt when Jorgie, carrying him like a baby across his two arms, laid him full length on the bed, in a clean room, with white-washed walls, and snowy curtains, and very little extra carpeting. Lena soon followed, laden with herbs, and cold-water bandages ; for a few minutes she made soothing passes with tliat gentle hand of hers, after the boot had been cut from the swollen ankle; this, with the help of a sleeping-draught, after tlie cold bandages had been applied, soon sent him into a refreshing slumber. He was a\\'akened next morning at four o'clock by a noise that seemed to shake the house to its foundation. Before he could form a conjecture as to what it was, it ceased; and then he lieard the voice of Jorgie leading the rosenkranz, or morning prayers of the household, in which all joined Avith a fervour which allowed little doubt of its sincerity, and left the guest ample food for reflection, after they had dispersed to their several occupations. Wilhelm Stein was the only son of a second-class government official in Berlin, whose small salary had been so well eked out by his careful Hausfrmi, that they had been enabled to give this their well-beloved child the benefit of a liberal education; and to allow him to follow the bent of his inclination, by devoting himself to the fascinating, but unproductive career of a painter. The family resources had been even stretched to the extent of giving him the means for a year's sojourn in Italy. It was on his return from Eome, when this leave of absence had Edelraute. I53 expired, and after spending a few weeks at Venice, that he fouud his way from the glories of Titian on canvas, to the splendours of natural scenery and beauty, that cluster round the great painter's birth-place at Ficve di Gadorc. There he lingered all the late spring, among the fascinations of the then little-known Dolomite region; until, warned by the fact that a full portfolio, however useful prospectively, did not at the time add to the bulk or prosperity of his porte-momucie, he hastened over the Brenner, and was pushing forward to Munich, when he met with the accident that begins the story. Wilhelm's parents were good, moral people ; true to the manifest duties of kindness and charity in almsgiving; but except as connected with the rare occasional solemnities of the Lutheran church's calendar, religion, as it is understood to be a thing of daily life, entwined in every thought and action, was something perfectly unknown to him. A feeling akin to shame came over him, as he listened to the low monotone whicli followed tlie summons of the bell outside his door on the landing, devoted by hostess Agatha to this daily gathering of her household:—shame for the misguided, ignorant peasants, who could be bound by this mummery. He looked down on them well-nigh with contempt, from the height of his intellectual and philosophic freedom. It was with a smile bordering on cynicism, that he took his breakfast, two hours later, from gentle Lena's hands, and said, " You are early and noisy in your devotions, Lena. Can't- you get through the day witliout such a ceremonial ?" " Asking the Lord our Father to bless his children is not a mere form, sir. If our chapel here were built, as we hope it soon will be, and we had a priest to lead us, we should worship there : till then, is He to be forgotten, as if we were receiving no mercies, and incurring no dangers ? " There was something in the steadfast calm of the grey eyes that checked the flippant answer rising to Wilhelm's lips, and he said, as he bent over the tray where the good coffee, and rich milk, and new kuchen tempted him to eat— " At least you have both time and will to let your Chris- tian charity pour itself out abundantly on unlucky ones like myself, good Lena." He was prevented saying more by a call outside his door; it opened a little way, and a bouquet and hand appeared in his chamber. Lena went forward to receive the flowers; a few words passed between her and the owner of the hand, all in that wonderful conglomerate language ending in 154 The Ladies EdinbttrgJi Magazme.

engerhjfi, ungcrhj!^, and isserlys; so that the message, " Marie thinks that as the Herr Reisender is so fond of wild-flowers that he sprained his ankle getting them, he might like a few just freshly gathered," came like a perfect sur]n'ise to him. Fresh indeed they were, the morning dew still wet on the dainty forget-me-nots, the delicate Mai-Uiimen, the elegant lady's slippers, and Grass of Parnassus, all standing up from a wreath of the brilliant Alpine-roses. Wilhelm gazed in utter astonishment. If he had searched through the most costly flower-stalls of the Gendarmen mar'kt, in his native city of Berlin, he could not have picked out a nosegay blended with a truer eye for colour, or a more keen sense of beauty, in both form and arrangement. Putting the bouquet to his face, it served to hide the blush, half of sensitive, artistic appreciation of intrinsic loveliness, half of shame at the thought of the ignorant peasants he had contemned shortly before. " Tell her, Lena," he stammered at length, as the thought of the golden-haired girl standing behind the door quickened his pulse, " tell her I will keep tliem all my life." " No need for you to do that, sir," replied Lena, quietly; " Marie will keep you well supplied till you can hunt for them yourself on our hills, and in our pine woods. Her hands are apt in the work; a day seldom passes without her making up a bunch for some of the travellers who tarry on our shores beside the lake." This intimation a little took off the poetry of the gift for Wilhelm, who was a thorough Berliner in the ultra romantic turn of his excitable nature ; but sufficient romance, after Lena's explanation, lingered to help him through the examination of his lamed limb; the state of which was declared most satisfactory by his village doctress.

CHAPTER II.

IT was full three months later, when the evenings were perceptibly creeping over the days, but giving their soi't dreamy beauty as an equivalent for the long twilight of summer, that Wilhelm and Marie once more sat in the boat together. Slie waited for him this time, knowing that he was coining from Innsbruck, whither he had gone for money to take him back to Berlin. It was a pleasant walk enough down the rugged pass to the Chrdfin Brauerei at Jenhach, Edelraute. 15 5 where the traveller now can rest half-way on a balcony shadowed by the American creeper, with a glass of good Bavarian beer, and a whole stretch of the glorious Inn-thai and the mouth of the Ziller-thal before him : the valley below green and pink, with fields of ripening tobacco. It is quite another story coming back ; and though his ankle did not afford Wilhelm a shadow of excuse for such an indulgence, having — thanks to Lena's rubbing — become quite as strong as the other, it seemed only natural to ask that the boat should meet him at the farther end of the lake, and that Marie should be there with it as usual. She looked much more serious tlian when we first saw her in the glow of the June afternoon. It is doubtful if she noticed the colours on the lake at all, though they were more gorgeous than in the height of summer. There was a new softness in her eyes, and the cheek was paler that lay on her clasped hands, as she murmured, " 0 ! mein Vater ! can it ever be wrong to love ? " It was very plain that, right or wrong, poor Marie did so. Love spoke out of her whole mien and bearing, as she started up at the sound of a now familiar voice, stealing on her suddenly in the middle of her half-spoken thoughts. It mantled up in the blush that dyed cheeks and throat. Wilhelm had approached by a path she did not expect him to come. " So ! you are here, beloved," he said, in the simple, Scrij)- tural phraseology, at once genuine and affectionate, which lovers use towards each other in Germany. It is impossible for us to render the I)w, that sweetest, tenderest, word of aU. " Nay, nay," he continued, taking the oars from her hand; " I shall bear the burthen to-day, as I would I might ever bear it, Marie, all through life for thee, in shadow and in sunshine, now and for all time, dear maiden." He had placed her opposite to him, and sat with both her hands in his; looking at her with an earnestness, that made the white kerchief rise and fall rapidly, with the wild beating of her heart. She looked at him, too, piteously, when the kind grave voice was silent. They were pleasant, manly, honest eyes to meet; true as lier own, but of a deeper blue ; the light brown hair also was some shades darker than hers. His forehead was broad and fuU, the mouth ever chan"inp' yet firm and joyous in its curves. He might not be handsome, that long-legged, raw-boned young German painter; yet he was a goodly youth to behold, and Marie acknowledged it to herself, as, pained by her silence, he shook the 156 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

long flakes of hair hack from his forehead, as if to get rid of a great weight, and still sat looking at her. " Go on," she said at length,-" it will he dark in half-an- houi'." " No hurry, if this is to he our last row together," he answered. " You will come again," she said, keeping her lower lip from quivering with an effort. " Not unless it be to claim you as my wife, Marie;—my good parents write most kindly, they are quite willing to receive you as a daughter : nothing but your own unaccountable obstinacy stands in the way of our both being happy. You love me, Marie; I know it though you will not say so." He looked passionately moved; nothing but the strong will of the Tyrolean kept her impassive under his appeal. " It is my last night here, Marie. Farewell to our pleasant rambles with Jorgle, up the hills where you found me the . flowers; to the readings of an evening on the lake; and the sweet talks beside the brook, while your brother was fishing for trout; to our early walks up to the Semiliutte, on the pastures, where we drank milk and helped to make the cheese, and wandered home again in the cool afternoon breeze. Ah ! dear Marie, are they all to be a dream ?" "Yes! yes!" exclaimed she hurriedly. "It is best so, Herr Wilhelm. You will go away, and some one else will drive Marie out of your head. You will marry, and be happy; and come back here perhaps with your wife." " And you ?" he asked. " Will you marry fat Peterle; with the farm, and the many cows, and be envied by half the girls in the valley? " " God forbid !" said Marie, with a shudder. " Yes, God forbid ! " reiterated Wilhelm : " You will do it at the peril of your happiness here, and hereafter. With a soul full of thought and love, pure as the snow that will wrap you in when I am gone, and winter comes, and as high above your coimtry-women, good though they be, as these mountains are above the plain, yoii will wither and die, not live, in the company of poor Peterle." " I know it," said Marie, very quietly; " but I shall not marry:—I shall go into a cloister; and tend the sick, and lead a holy life; where sinful thoughts cannot come to tempt me." " Will bars and bolts keep them out, dearest ?" he answered: " with your clear understanding, and love of truth, does not your heart tell you these wily priests are Edelraute. 157 willing to keep you ignorant, that they may still hold over you the sway of their pitiless superstition ? Nay, Marie, hear me; do not be angry. Worship as much as you lite, and how you like: you have taught me the beauty and reality of a glowing, fervent, religious faith. I honour it, and you that practise it; but why submit every thought and act to the dictation of these Jesuit fathers ? Your own clergy are many shades better; they acknowledge human weaknesses, and honour human feelings; but these outsiders of all earthly joys " He seized the oars, and pulled a few vigorous strokes, to get rid of his irritation. " We must be humble, and obedient," answered Marie with some spirit. "What has not freethmking among Lutherans led to ? " " What did not the bigotry of your priesthood tend to ten years ago ?" he asked in replj''. " Have you forgotten the sorrowful caravans of weary people out of the Ziller-thal, whom the wicked mockery of zeal for God, and for Holy Church, turned out, suppliants to Prussia, for the shelter denied them in the land of their birth ? Do you suppose their country was less dear to them than to others ? That it was not as hard to them to bury their dead like dogs, in the open fields; to be denied the sacred blessing of holy rites on marriage, and on their new-born babes, for years; and to be torn out at last, root and branch, old man and suckling, from the homes as closely twined around their affections, as those of other Tyrolese ? This cannot meet with justification, much less approval, from a tender conscience like yours!" Marie hid her face; she remembered but too well the agonising scenes of that exodus of the persecuted Lutherans of the Ziller-thal into Silesia, though but a child when it happened; and the dull murmurs of disapprobation, also, which rose in nooks and corners, from bolder spirits against the cruelty with which, at the instigation of the Jesuits, the decree for their banishment had been carried out; and whose influence rendered a personal appeal even, on the part of the sufferers, to good Kaiser Franz, in Vienna, of no avail. " Such a departure from Christian love can never be justified, maiden," went on Wilhelm, warmly. " Keep your own faith, and serve God as your fathers did before you, if you wiU; but let the men and women of keener suscepti- bilities, and more restless longings, have their thoughts and ways of worship also, without holding over them what is as bad as the halter and the rack; you do not condemn us to No. 29.-MAV 1877. X 158 TJie Ladies! Editibtirg/i Magazine.

perdition, Marie; you cannot do it at the dictate of a priest." " It is dreadful to hear how they speak of the Holy Mass, of the Mother of God, of subverting our Holy Church," said Marie, eagerly; " why can they not be happy like ourselves ?" "Eh! well, my own beloved one," said Wilhelm, tenderly ; "it is worse than useless spending our last moments togetlier in controversy, over things wherein we shall both think the same when we leave off as when we began. Let us talk of happier subjects. By this time, I hope, Jorgie has oljtained the wardenship of the parish. Good, fine-hearted Jorgie !—he would make a king." Marie blushed again painfully; not even the hearty praise bestowed on her brother, could win a smile. " You are so sad to-night, Marie," said Wilhelm : " let us land for a few minutes, and you will find the pyrola for me which you said grows in that pine wood." "No, we had better go on," urged Marie, with a voice and manner so anxious, that Wilhelm felt provoked, and ran the boat aground on the fine, white, pebble beach, with a jerk. Then he jumped out, and held a hand to Marie. With a look of fear, she glanced back over the lake towards the inn, which M'RS just near enough for a beholder to have seen them from the balcony. " You do not fear to trust me, Marie," said her lover, re- proachfully. " Oh! no, no," she answered, springing to his side in a moment. He caught her to him, and kissed her passionately on brow and lips. For a moment Marie yielded ; then holding him away from her, almost with a look of horror, she burst from his arms, rushed back to the boat, and pushed it off, before Wilhelm could guess what she was about. He looked after her, too surprised to speak;—the girl crossed her hands on her bosom, and said, " I cannot help it! Jorgie shall come for you directly. Farewell;" and the yearning tenderness of the face, how full of love, and womanly pity, and sorrow, no words could tell, faded out into the distance. Wilhelm «tood some minutes motionless, listening to the plash of the receding oars; then he threw up his arms, and his face grew dark and stern. Flinging back his hair with a gesture of despair and grief, that could only struggle out in a low, wild cry, he stood by the water's brink, irresolute. C. EAY. {To be continued.) Musical Notes. 159

WE have had some good music this season in Edinburgh. The Eeid Festival was, as usual, a brilliant success; the previous series of orchestral concerts was better than last year, and tlie University Musical Society gave the best and brightest concert they liave yet acliieved. Besides these orchestral concerts, we had some good chamber music, and various clioral societies have sung very creditably. Then Carl Eosa's company gave us some very pleasant operas, fairly complete though on a small scale, making us the less regret the absence of the great stars of the Italian Opera, who generally come here with a too small band and cliorus. And we have heard Eubinstein. Tliose of us who survive to old age, will probably be thought interesting people by the next generation but one, if for no other reason but that we have heard Rubinstein. Seldom in this imperfect world can minutes and hours of complete and perfect satisfaction, joy, and delight be hoped for such as he gives to his hearers by the mighty genius of his interpretations. It is well to know something of the music that he plays, to realize the better how he irradiates it by his wonderful powers, and what secrets he reveals in it. What depth of feeling and thought there was in the steady calm of his reading of Bach— how Chopin's Sonata seemed all on fire, seemed to have a splendour of whicli one was before unaware, and how each number seemed as if it must be the best while he played it, and yet the next appeared more magnificent still. Words fail to convey the feelings probably of a great number of the audience, though Edinburgh did not "rise" at him as London does now. There he has won his way at last, in spite of the unworthy criticism of some leading papers, which for long prevented many people from believing their own ears. Certainly music, as an art, is attaining a prominence and a power in Edinburgh that could hardly have been tliought possible twenty years ago; however (and now we approach a " ({uestion hrixlantc "), there are not wanting those who hint we have musically wandered into a wrong path, where the further we go tlie worse for our patriotism if not for our music. It is little to the purpose, for instance, that the audience enjoyed the University concert thoroughly, for '■ there was not in the programme one Scotch song ;" nor, as far as our memory serves us, was one included in any of l6o The Ladies EdinbnrgJi Magazine.

the high-class concerts we have mentioned. Therefore a local paper bristles with thistles, and the yell of the Celtic Slogan is heard; on the other hand, the southerners begin to laugh at us again, and to remind us that we alone of all European nations have produced no musical composer. They tell us how Dr HuUah mentions in his report, which is based, perhaps, on a larger and more practical experience of the teaching of vocal music than any other man among us possesses, that as, on an average, the Welsh have the truest ear for music in the United Kingdom, so the Scotch have the worst—probably owing to the damage done to that sensitive organ by the defects inherent in the national instrument. Only the other day the English wind bands took all the open prizes, even in the rough type of music heard at the "Waverley Market. These are strange facts, if, as some ardent patriots say, we possess in our national melodies "some of the noblest music in the world;" indeed, one enthusiast went so far as to declare that all Schubert's songs were to Scotch songs as a muddy pond to a clear mountain stream. Such fiery patriots are not open to musical arguments, and probably have not a glimmering of what music as an art is;—leaving them, then, to shout their war-cries, let us turn our attention to the dear old Scotch airs themselves, and inquire what is their real character and value. These belong probably to a remote antiquity, and are the heritage of the sad, poetical, dreaming Celt. They are written in the antiquated and imperfect Scotch, Oriental, or Chinese scale, and mostly consist of one strain only ; they are seldom improved by the addition of modern second parts which are however very common. Numbers are essentially alike; the lament, the love-song, and the reel—are often nearly the same air, played slower or faster, and with a different accent; the plaintive wildness of the song underlies the dance music, whose gaiety is not generally owing to the tune itself, as is the case with many Irish airs, but caused by the marked and sprightly rhythm — the so-called " snap" — so characteristic and dance- inspiring wherever it is heard. Eeels and strathspeys seem to be the spirited and merry interpretation, by the civilized violin, of the wailing old Celtic airs. We are inclined to agree with those antiquaries who consider the melodies to be of Celtic origin, often modified by the Teutonic violin. They are the accompaniments to a ballad literature, of which our country has reason to be proud, or else they are Musical Notes. i g i

the dance music to which our ancestors have footed it for many generations. They are not, indeed, cultivated music, nor does it appear that they admit of development; but they have their own merits and their own character, a historical and artless value, which we believe will endure. To quote a Scotch author of fifty years ago, who had studied the subject thoroughly,!—" Old Caledonia has much to boast of. The style of her music, it is true, is such that it allows not of that extension or improvement which is inherent in tlie musical systems of the modern school. It is long since completed, and we can only add to its specimens; scarcely, perliaps, that. But it is full of beauty, though of a pecular cast. It forms part of the history of our former manners and feelings, and is peculiarly associated with our early poetical literature." He says further, and we think truly : "Our national airs have suffered by the vulgar practice of ' harmonizing' them for voices. The ballad is an air for one voice, and whatever harmony it admits, is instrumental. It is not designed for the harmony of voices, and the effect is to encumber it with a dull, heavy, psalmodic accompaniment; independently of the nonsensical effect which the poetry sometimes acquires from the same cause. The Italian duet, the dramatic trio, the chorus, the English glee, and the ecclesiastical composition in parts, are harmonies designed for voices by the composer, and tlie melodies are constructed accordmgly. But in the ballad glee it would be better, nine times out of ten, if all the under parts were silent." In illustration of one of these remarks, there was a letter in the papers the other day from Aberdeen, announcing, with much self-congratulation, that the Aberdeen students had sunf^ in chorus " The Land o' the Leal," to the delight of" an audience, whose sense of the ludicrous and the incongruous must have been slow, if that sense was not stirrecf by a hundred lusty young men shouting together, " I'm wearin' awa', John, Like snaw-wreaths in thaw," &c. Our Edinburgh students, who at the University concert two years ago, sang the air, harmonized by their I'rofessor of Music, to " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled," showed more taste in their selection of words. Probably, however, but few of our old airs harmonize well, and even as solos they do not generally appear to the best advantage in a concert hall, 1 Dr MacCulloch, " On the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, in Letters to Sir Walter Scott." 162 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. and are very seldom well sung by foreign professional singers. They are essentially best suited for " chamber music." We once heard a lady, who in her day was renowned for her excellent singing of Scotch songs, say of them, " they are as easy as speaking." Very likely, but what an incommunicable gift is that of speaking thoroughly well; faults in elocution may be corrected, but charm can hardly be imparted; and so of reciting Scotch songs. Some people have the knack of singing them, others cannot acquire it; we never heard them better sung or recited tlian by a young Highland nurse-girl, with a very sweet voice. It has been asserted, also, that they are very difficult to sing, probably because many of them require a voice of good compass, as from important notes occurring at the extremi- ties of the scales, they are often neither treljle nor alto, neither tenor nor bass songs. Many of them, therefore, which are manageable enough in a draWing-room, are ungrateful and difficult, not from musical reasons, but from those given above, to sing in a large hall. From this peculiarity some of the ohlest and best airs are quite free. The song, " 0 a' the airts the wind can blaw," wliich has been lately often quoted as especially beautiful, is one of many instances of a fine old air (" The Lowlands o' Holland ") to which another and very inferior second part has been loosely tacked, which wanders far up and down tlie scale, and thus causes the song to be considered " difficult." But it is in the ingle-nook or in the fresh air, where they grew up, that Scottish songs sound best, associated as they are with the beautiful lyrics of the poet- ploughman and the poetess-peeress; and if the music is not capable of further development itself, it may offer hints and suggestions to musicians. Of this we have already a grand example; though Mendelssohn has not introduced into the " Scotch " Symphony any known Scotch air, he has in the Scherzo given us a kind of glorified suggestion of the national music of the country which inspired him to write some of his finest compositions. National characteristics may form subjects for art—but when we speak of art in the abstract, we would do so in the telling words of Goethe: " tliere is no patriotic art, and ]io patriotic science—&oi/i are universal." CAILLEACH. Our Library Table. 163

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 5. " Hail, thou, the fleet year's pride and prime ! Hail! day which Fame should bid to bloom !"

1. "A wise physician, skill'd our wounds to heal, Is more than armies to the public weal"— Can we to this a woman's entrance seal ? 2. As sentinel to every tongue we stand,— If we except the Ethiopic land. 3. I come to-day, I live but till the night. And die at advent of the next day's light. PRO TEMPORE.

SOLUTION OF ACROSTIC No. 4. G GOLF F 0 00 0 W wo O K KOBIL L Six answers received ;—that of " Hawthorn " the only correct one. A PRIZE is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. Solutions to be addressed " Acrostic Editor," Puljlishers, 22 Howe Street, Edinliurgh ; to be sent not later than the 15th of the month, written clearly on a sheet of paj)er containing only the solution, pseudonym, and full name and address of sender. Solutions acknowledged in the following number ; and name and address of winner only announced at close of competition.

O U E L I B E A E Y TABLE.

TRIPP'S BUILDINGS : London, King & Co., 1877.

THIS is a very simple and unpretending little story, yet it is not written without a definite object. We need not enquire particularly what hospital is meant by the " Midland :" yet, knowing that all the facts mentioned are true, we must recognize the great need (which exists everywhere) of trained nurses for the sick, of a somewhat higher calibre than has hitherto been usual. "Tripp's Buildings" is written -with a thorough knowledge of the London poor : it is a pathetic picture, not without a dash of humour in its pathos, of their troubles and their aspirations. The two friends, one with strong individuality, that could not fail to leave its mark—the other, so touching in her simple devotion—are drawn with a firm and loving hand ; and the story makes an impression on us, such as we do not always gain from books of more pretension. 164 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

STEAY NOTES.

WE are glad to learn that Miss Clark and Miss Smith, who were this session at the head of the classes of Latin and Mathematics in the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association, have also passed with distinction the University Certificate Examination in Latin. We learn further, that Miss Clark and Jliss Middleton have passed in Mathe- matics ; Miss Hislop and Miss Stalker in Moral Pliilosophy; and Miss Hislop and Miss Middleton in English Literature. All these ladies, we understand, gave in excellent papers. THE new Preparatory Class of Conimon Subjects for the Edinburgh University Local Examinations, opened early in April, numbers, including correspondents, thirty students. The advanced class for the honour subjects numbers twenty-one students resident, in Edin- burgh, and thirty-nine correspondents. IT is with much pleasure that we are able to state that this year Aberdeen will once more have a centre for the Edinburgh University Local Examinations. Several of the candidates have been studying by Correspondence with the Edinburgh PrejDaratory Classes. A MEMBER of the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association has kindly presented a Bursary of ^25, tenable for two years, for competition at the Local Examinations in June 1878. There is some talk of Latin being an indispensable condition for this Bursary. A STUDENT'S Bursary, collected in the classes of the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association during the last two sessions, now amounts to £20, and will be offered at the Local Examinations of 1878 on the usual conditions. WE are tempted to ask why we do not see Edinburgh following the example of Cambridge, and offering in addition to these l^ursaries prizes of £10 or £15 for distinguished excellence in classics and mathematics. THE Glasgow Ladies' Educational Association held a very successful public meeting on April 3d. Principal Caird presided, and several other professors were present and took jjart in the proceedings ; therefore we have every reason to hope that the University intends to do something definite towards supplying the long-felt want of Higher Education for Women in Glasgow. For though there have been frequently courses of lectures for women, and this year some really hard work was done in Professor Young's class, the want of system and of a certificate has hitherto prevented anything like scholarly training. MISS MENZIES has been invited to Dundee to deliver a course of lectures on early German literature. We \\O^Q in a futm-e number to give some account of the success of these lectures.

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PRIZE is offered for the best article received by the Editors and accepted for insertion during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists born in the iSth century. SUBJECT OF DEBATE for the next meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society, to be held on Saturday, May 5th, at 6 Chester Street, at 11 o'clock :—" Is it desirable that our Government should send out another Arctic Exjjedition ?" being a continuation of the Debate held at the meeting on April 7th. Our Female Novelists. 16=

(Our Jcmalc ^lobelists.

V. MRS INCH BALD. h. 1753 ; il. 1821.

A SIMPLE STORY !—Thus runs the title of tlie greatest work of the authoress whose life we have now to consider. And truly the title may as appropriately he applied to her own history. Full of candour, transparent as the day, she records her most trivial actions witli as much faithfulness as her greatest. Even her little foibles are confessed, and confessed with such charming ingenuousness that we seem to see them almost transformed into virtues. Possessed of many correspondents, she left none of their many letters unanswered, and into tlie confidences imparted in these answers the world has been received. It is with a pang of regret that we read of the destruction, by her own liaud, of those four volumes of autobiography, which would have revealed her life to us as plainly as that of a Pepys, a Eussell, or, we had almost said, a Henry Martyn. Yet far from her that pettiness of detail which we find in the first, or that scrutiny of inner vileness which characterises tlie diary of tlie last of these ; so far as we can judge from her memoirs and letters, her confessions have a refinement and nobility even in dealing with trifles, and an utter absence of that morljid element which repels instead of attracting the reader. If tlie heroine of A Simple Story is frivolous, vain, and fend of applause, it is because the authoress has selected from her own life those incidents in which, somewhat inconsistently with her own character, she had committed slight indiscre- tions. If Miss Milner is contemptible in the latter part of the book, it is because the author has departed utterly from her counterpart, and, to add excitement to the events of her story, painted in her heroine a deterioration of character, of which the original was never guilty. Mrs Inchbald, in the records we possess of her life, appears before us as she really was. There is a genial frankness about lier, and a certain independence peculiarly her own. Her life is as interesting as either of her novels. More than one novel, in fact, might be constructed out of it. We have the No. 30.—JUNE 1S77, Y 166 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

youthful spirit of adventure, hreaking through the bonds of conventionality; the efforts and disappointments of struggling ambition; the admiration of the many, marriage, widowhood, intense literary activity, and then a quiet evening of life, and a happy departure at its close. Let us now proceed to look a little more closely at tliis strangely varied life. There was nothing in Mrs Inchbald's birth or station to hint at the position she was destined to hold. Tlie child of John and Mary Simpson, who were farmers and Catholics at Standing-field, near Bury St Edmunds, Elizabeth Simpson was born on the 15th October 1753. She had three sisters, who, like herself, were all remarkable for great beauty. Elizabeth was of an ardent and romantic nature, and was early seized with a longing to see the world; at the age of thirteen, this desire seems to have reached its climax, for she then declared that " she would rather die than live any longer without seeing the world." A visit to the theatre at Bury St Edmunds only increased this longing, and when about sixteen she applied by letter to the manager of the Norwicli theatre for an engagement. When we remember that she was not only quite untrained, but laboured under a defect in her utterance, it is not surprising that these overtures were rejected. She seems, however, to have had a romantic and girlish tendre for this manager, as his name, Eichard Griffith, printed in large letters at the end of her year's pocket-book, may testify. Education in tlie Simpson family appears to have been confined to evening readings, and those chiefly of a theatrical nature. Elizabeth, both at this period and later, was almost entirely self-educated. In her voluminous diaries, we often find the records of her readings during a whole year. These, in the year 1783, when she was twenty years of age, comprised Rollin's Ancient History, those of Greece and Eome, England and Ireland; The Pantheon, as a guide to tlie translation of Homer's Odyssey; Tasso, Paradise Lost and Regained, Junius' Letters, Hume's Essays, Letters of Voltaire, and Essays upon Shakspere; besides many of the classics in the best translations. At a later period, we find her reading Gibbon's Life, Lord ChesterfleMs Letters, Phctarch's Lives, &c. In 1782, she made careful researches in the History of England, " studied a work on the globes, and entered carefully in her common - place book the distances, bulk, and other characteristics of the heavenly bodies." She also applied herself to natural philosophy, and Our Female Novelists. 167 by degrees she acquired such a ready command over her stores of information, that tliey seemed to be rather " the result of regular education, than the elements only gleaned by industrious maturity." Knowing her to be of such energy, and also of a romantic turn of mind, we are the less surprised at the bold step she took when eighteen years of age. The desire to go on the stage had become unconquerable. Eegardless of the impediment in her speecli, she daily indulged in visions of herself, tieadiug tlie stage in queenly attire, acting heroic parts witli inimitable grace. Every-day life became irksome to her ; her brother had become an actor, and she yearned after a similar career. Strange that tlie path in life she so thirsted after was not that in which she was destined to excel. Genius was there, only mistaken; it was the intensity of life that longed passionately for an outlet, and could not understand itself nor its destiny, until " she had seen the world." Failing all encouragement, then, from without, she took the duty of guardian upon herself, and ushered herself into public life. She thus records this resolute step: "On the 11th of April 1772, early in the morning, with much fear and difficulty, I left my mother's house unknown to any one, came to London in the Norwich Fly, and got lodgings at the Eose and Crown, in St John's Street." She was just eighteen, very tall and slender, with auburn hair and lovely hazel eyes. The mother of the enthusiastic ogirl was consoled, as is usual under such circumstances, by a letter left on the dressing-table of the fugitive. It began thus : " By the time you receive this I shall have left Standingfield, and perhaps for ever;" and concluded with the hope that in time she might regain her mother's regard. On her arrival in London, she found that tlie friends in whose house she had hoped to be received had gone to Wales. Going from one lodging to another, she finally settled at the White Swan, on Holborn Bridge, where she lived for ten days, pretending to dine out, and living on penny rolls and water. At last she went to the house of one of her sisters, and negotiated with a Mr Dodd, the manager of a theatre, for an engagement. As Mr Dodd seemed too acutely sensitive to the charms of her beauty, she put an obstacle to his admiration in the shape of a basin of hot water thrown in his face. This sounds startling; but it must be remembered that Elizabeth had to act the part of guardian to herself. On a former visit to London, slie 168 Tlie Ladles Edinburgli Magazine. had met with Mr Inchbald, a second-rate actor, and a dabbler in painting, wlio had ah-eady made her an offer of marriage. But this Kihneny of dramatic visions had other aims than those of ordinary young ladies, and had addressed her lover in some such terms as these : " You see, Mr Incli- bald, I liave complied witli your request by answering your letter immediately. In spite of your eloquent pen, matri- mony still appears to me with less charms than terrors; the bliss arising from it, I doubt not, is superior to any other, but l)est not to be ventured for (in my opinion) till some little time have proved the emptiness of all other, which it seldom fails to do." Having now, by her indiscreet flight, proved the emptiness of one kind of bliss, she agreed to bestow her hand on Mr Inclibald, and was married to him within two months of her flight, 9th June 1772. In the September following slie made her first appearance as Cordelia. After this, she and her husband accepted an engagement in Edinburgli, during which they were accustomed to walk together on the hills and by the sea-side, reciting aloud, and thus learning their parts. Tliey also indulged in non-professional reading on these occasions,—a practice recommended by Garrick, the actor, to Henderson. A dispute with the Edinburgli audience, however, put an end to their residence in that city, and they went to Paris, where Mr Inchbald hoped to achieve success as an artist. This delusive hope, however, was soon ended, and they returned to Brighton, so poor that, instead of dining, they more than once went into the fields to eat turnips. Mrs Inchbald's married life was of short duration. Her husband died very suddenly at Leeds in 1776; and we find in her note-book for that year: " Began this year a happy wife—finished it a wretched widow." In 1780, she made an engagement with the Covent Garden Company, which lasted for eight years, after which she retired altogether I'rom the stage. During the period of this engagement at Covent Garden, she produced a number of plays, most of which were successful. On her retirement from the stage she lived in lodgings, chosen because they were " cheap and silent," spending little on herself, that she might have the more to bestow on her sisters, and suffering many hardships, to which a more self-indulgent nature would not have submitted. Of one of these charming abodes she thus writes: "^ly present apartment is so small that I am all over black and blue with thumping my body and limbs ao'ainst mv furniture on everv side ; but then I have not Our Fannie Novelists. 169 far to loallc to reach anything I want, for I can kindle my fire as I lie in bed, and put on my cap as 1 dine, for the looking- glass is obliged to stand on the same table with my dinner." About tlie year 1810, she retired from the world, and her remaining years w-ere, as she calls them, years of repentance. She died at Kensington House, a more comfortable dwelling, in 1821, and was buried in Kensington Churcliyard. As an actress, Mrs Inchbald shone but faintly; as a play- writer, she was more brilliant; but it was as a novelist that she achieved her greatest success. Her two novels, A Simph Utory, and Nature and Art, were published re- spectively in 1791 and 1796. The story of the former is briefly as follows:—Dorriforth is a Iioniish priest of lofty mind and keen sensibilities. He is a stern moralist, and unmerciful to the failings of others. He succeeds to a peerage, and becomes guardian to a Protestant young lady, Miss Milner, who is fVjnd of pleasure, and in every respect a contrast to himself. Yet the two have a strange fascination for each other. Dorrilbrth, to escape from his absorbing passion, decides on a foreign tour. At the last moment lie is unable to tear himself away from his beloved Miss Milner, and liis tutor Sandford, a Jesuit, steps between them, saying, " Separate this moment, or resolve to be separated only by death." He then " steps to a book-case, takes down the Ojfic-es of the Church, opens the marriage ceremonies, and they are on their knees before him." With rapture the bride sees the empty carriage drive away which was to have borne her lover for ever from her sight. But a tragic chord is at once struck. She sees the ring which has been placed on her finger to be a mourning ring. We now pass over seventeen years ; and, oh ! luckless and unnatural change ! Dorriforth has become a heartless tyrant, and the fair Miss Milner is no longer beautiful! alas ! no longer beloved ! In passing over this long interval, the authoress has evidently taken as a precedent the Winter's Tale, in which she had herself acted the part of Hermione. Duels, heartrending scenes, the death-bed of the heroine, and the marriage of her daughter, form the chief substance of tlie remainder of her narrative. In this work the predominance of dialogue is very noticeable. The author scarcely addresses the reader in person at all,—a fact mainly attributable to Mrs Inclibald's familiarity with the stage. This was also the style of Eichardson. The Simple Story made its way to every heart, and the author Avas declared to be " one of the greatest ornaments of her I/O The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. sex." While the printing was going on, she frequently sat up correcting the press till three o'clock on cold January mornings; and during the production of a second edition, she passed nearly all her time at the printer's,—so slow was such machinery in those days. The father of Maria Edge- worth wrote in enthusiastic terms to her about The Simple Story. He says: " TJie Simple Story, two-thirds of it at least, is superior, in truth of delineation and strength of character, to Maria's, or to anv other writing. Dorriforth is a perfectly new character upon paper, and very few such minds and bodies (for I have always embodied him) are to be met with in any country." Miss Edgeworth herself thus writes to Mrs Inchbald: " I have just been reading—I believe for the fourth time—The Simple Story. Its effect upon my feelings was as powerful as at the first reading. I never read any novel that affected me so strongly, or that so completely possessed me with the belief in the real existence of all the people it represents." The writer of this epistle then concludes, that it is by leaving more to the imagination than most authors do that our novelist succeeds in so powerfully affecting the feelings. Mrs Inchbald's style is clear and vigorous, and her expres- sions have a certain charm which speaks of a thoroughly transparent nature, and reveals to us that she is writing from the life, and from her own heart. Humour there is occasionally, tliough it generally takes an epigrammatic turn. The story of Nature and Art, though painful from its too literal dealing with crime, is interesting, from the many touches which recall Mrs Inchbald's own experience, and express her sentiments on religion and other topics. Thus she was doubtless remembering her own flight from her early home when she penned the following, as the experience of two boys setting out as adventurers in life :—" They pursued their journey till they arrived at that metropolis which has received for centuries past, from the provincial towns, the bold adventurer of every denomination; has stamped his character with experience and example; and, while it has bestowed on some coronets and mitres—on some the lasting fame of genius— to others has dealt beggary, infamy, and untimely death." To show her disregard of outward marks of distinction, expressed in a humorous way, we may quote the following dialogue between a nephew of twelve, just arrived from Zocotora Island, where all his life had been spent, and his uncle, a deau of the Church of England; the question is Our Female Novelists. 171 apropos of the uncle's wig: " Why do you wear such things?" " As a distinction between us and inferior people; they are worn to give an importance to the wearer." " That," says the ingenuous youth, " is just as the savages do; they stick brass nails, wire, buttons, and entrails of beasts all over them, to give them importance." We can easily credit with this a waiter whose dress is described by a decided admirer, as being " always becoming; and very seldom worth so much as eight-pence!' To give some idea of the earnestness of her religious feeling, we quote the following. The same boy has for the first time been taught to pray, and his rapturous devotion in addressing a Being whose existence has but now been revealed to him, gives rise to the following soliloquy on the part of his uncle :— "This is the true education on which to found the principles of religion,—the favour conferred by Heaven in granting the freedom of petitions to its throne, can never be conceived with proper force, but by those whose most tedious moments during their infancy were not passed in prayer. Unthinking governors of childhood! to insult the Deity with a form of worship, in which the mind has no shave; nay, worse, has repugnance ; and by the thoughtless habits of youth, prevent even in age—devotion." So writes the authoress who sought the advice of father Jerningham concerning her doubts of revealed religion, who, in a letter to another clergyman, ably defended tlie stage against the condemnation of it by the pulpit, and to whom an Edinburgh minister wrote, in reply to an appeal from her, an expression of his opinion, that not only was it " possible for an actress to be a virtuous woman, but that a well-regulated theatre might become, if not al)Solutely a school of virtue, at least a source of rational entertainment, and a harmless pastime for all." Nature and Art, thougli not so widely popular as her other novel, passed through two editions in a very short time. Mr Edgeworth writes in raptures about it, and mentions a friend of his as liaving the whole story indelibly impressed on his mind. The contrast between the characters of the two brothers, tlie one all nature, the other all art, is inimitably brought out; the sallies of humour and truthful touches of character are from the hand of a true artist. Mrs Inchbald does not excel in descriptions of nature, for a very good reason; she rarely looked at the originals of these. 1/2 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

A garret in London, with a view of the windings of the Thames, the masts of ships, mingled with the domes and roofs of houses,—tliis was her earthly paradise. She had her wish, to see the world, and she remained in this, the scene of busiest action, all her days, even after she liad virtually retired into seclusion. The manners portrayed in her novels form a striking contrast to those chosen by novelists now-a-days; and we cannot but regret that so exquisite a genius as her's should have condescended to such minute delineations of vice. "We cannot but picture to ourselves what excellent works, full of fresh simplicity, she would liave produced in the nineteenth century. No amount of cultivation would ever have imparted to her muse the slightest shade of pedantry; while the infinite varieties of human character, produced by the intense and varied activities of tlie age, would have presented her with loftier and more congenial themes than those her own age afforded. As it is, her various excellences as a writer ought to be sufficient to keep her memory from being lost in oblivion. As a companion and friend, she possessed the rarest powei's of attraction. Her society was sought by men and women of all ranks. The artist, the author, the noble, flocked to her door, and were received in her humble lodging. Conventionalities were of light importance in her eyes, and possibly at tliat day tliey were less exacting than they now are. She never condescended to be ashamed of her family and relations, but persevered in her rigid economy to tlie last, in order tliat she might help her sisters. To one of these she gave £100 a-year, much more than she allowed herself. She retained her beauty longer than is usually the case, and even after her fiftieth year the heart of a very young man paid the warmest homage to her charms. Her Imnd was frequently sought during her widowhood, but she eitlier liad not, or resisted, any decided preference. Among her friends was the celebrated Mrs Siddons, in whose welfare she took, throughout life, the deepest interest. Kemble also was a frequent visitor; she corresponded with, and afterwards made the acquaintance of, the Edgeworths, father and daughter. Godwin, Madame de Staiil, Talma the actor, Lawrence the painter, all sought her society. We read of her visiting the Marquis of Abercorn at Stanmore, where slie met Lord and Lady George Seymour, Mrs Kemble, and her musical niece Miss Sharp. The party amused themselves after dinner by talking on religion and politics, and after supper tliey played at crcunho. She passed Good " IV/mtis a Word?" 173

Friday in this elegant retirement, but by seven o'clock the next morning was on her way home to recommence her labours. She took a deep interest in politics, and frequently revolved in her own mind the destinies, not only of Britain, but of all Europe. The fall of Napoleon was bitter to her, and she could not bring hei'self into sympathy with the military triumph in Hyde Park, which took place on that occasion. When we reflect on vanished greatness, there are not a few, distinguislied greatly in their day as statesmen, soldiers, authors, or artists, whose names we can hear almost without emotion. But when we are told of a being full of truth, simplicity, and feeling, whose life was marked throughout by charity and benevolence, whose society was sought by men and women of all ranks, and who was so exquisitely charming and lovely, that she needs must break many hearts because she could bless but one—then we cannot but stop short, and shed a tear, as if we had lost a dear friend; and at the moment when our heart beats quicker at the thought of her wide and intensely human character, a feeling of dismay steals over us while we remember that she has passed away. The high-souled, the true, the generous Mrs Inch- bald ; noble she was on earth, so she is peaceful now. JANE MENZIES. Note.—It had laeen intended tliat Mrs IncliLald and Mrs Charlotte Smith, who formed the subject of a paper last month, should have heen noticed together, but on consideration it was found by the writer that their claims could not be done justice to in one article.—ED.

-^?i—K<»—>>>^- "WHAT IS A WORD?" WHAT is a word ? a moment's breath Cast forth u])on the winds of heaven, More fleeting than the fragile wreath By Autumn's fading flowerets given. A mingling drop in life's dark ocean, A bubble on the rushing stream ; A moment's flash of some emotion Felt and forgotten like a dream. Yet oh! beware; the sword's bright steel Is not more sharj) and not more keen, Than oft, to hearts that quickly feel, That " little thing "—a word—has been. The careless hand that strikes the chord With one fell sweep the strings may sever, And love and peace by one light word Be crushed and shattered down for ever. ANNIBAL. No. 30,-JrKi- 1ST7. Z 1/4 J^^'^ Ladies Ediubiirgh Magazine.

FEW of us but have breathed freer, and walked gladlier, in the pure air of the Western Highlands and Islands, feeling thankful that, even in this utilitarian age, such ozone has been left unpoisoned for the thirstj^ lungs of the weary and the weak, and such scenery left untrinnned for the painter and the poet, and the far larger class that delightedly receives nature's impressions without a thought of re- expressing them. AVhat pleasant fellow-travellers we meet there! Or is it only that they have grown pleasanter than their wont, as we feel that we ourselves have done, away from the wear and tear of common e\ery-day life ? All nature seems " Apparelled in celestial \iyi\\t, The glory and the freshness of a dream." And we feel as if we had somehow or other got back into the youth of the world. Yet how is it that, across this mere sensu- ous enjoyment, there floats so oft a haze of doubt and ques- tioning that sometimes gathers to a mist, hiding the very beauties lying round ? And such a little thing may suggest it. A lonely hut, a little child, the very solitude itself. Is it only because the soil is poor and sterile that so many districts in Scotland are left desolate ? Yet we know from chance allusions in old records, that dense forests once covered many a stretch now unbroken by a tree; but that was in days too remote to leave a trace to us. Many a valley that is now utterly desolate was, in comparatively modern times, thriving and well-peopled. Since the time when the stern Glencoe first cowered under its shadow of haunting tragedy, many another glen has passed voicelessly into like desolation. This is touchingly witnessed to by many a furrow yet to be traced on lonely sunny banks; by many a pile of mossy stones where once stood cottage walls beside the uubridged stream that flows by with its song of— " Man may come, and man may go, But I go on for ever." Is it an effect of that worship of wild animals that seems so peculiar to our country ? For many an owner here leaves leagues to the red deer and the grouse, and grudges a rood to an eager tenant, lest he may interfere with the most cherished " shooting," regardless that thereby strong willing A uiong the Western Islands. 17 5 hands and brave hearts are often sent sadly to a new world, where, though they rear themselves a new home, they look back yearningly eastward for " The path across the sea," that should bear " The weary hame to their ain countrie." We cannot now discuss this question, nor its relative effects of emigration and centralisation, we wish to speak only of one consequence of things as they are. The inhabitants of these lonely spots are very poor—poorer than they need be, one would think; and yet that the fault hardly lies in themselves, is shown by the way in which they succeed, whenever they are transplanted into more favourable circumstances. What the old Celtic triad says of genius may be said more truly of success—it is, "the gift of God, the exertion of man, and events to suit." We all know how God's gifts and man's labour may he paralysed by untoward circumstances; and we see that whatever may be the fortunes of centripetal individuals, those left stranded on this outer rim of things are sadly at the mercy of "events." There cannot but enter into hearts that have any power of sympathy with others, the desire to find if there be no way to induce these " events to suit." I well remember my first visit to Skye, and my dreams of its general improvement. My hrst thought was, how pleasant it would be to build strong healthy cottages to replace the huts that can hardly be said to cover so many of the people ! But houses could not of themselves support their inmates; and how could these inmates be helped better to support themselves ? JNIeditations arose as to whether lessons from Lothian farming, aided by all the new discoveries of science and art, could not somewhat change the face of things. These were much discouraged by a conversation overheard at the table d'hote, regarding " a farmer who had tried to farm in Mull upon tlie new systems, and had lost largely by it every year, until he had to give it up." Had he not enough money, or not enougli wisdom, patience, and determination to carry out his schemes, or were circumstances really set too strongly against him ? Perhaps he wanted to make money too quickly, not working to increase the value of the laud, and provide his dependents with honest labour meanwhile. But surely drainage would of itself do much for the island ; surely some products thrive on peaty land well- drained ; and surely even some are content to grow on damp 176 The Ladies Ediiibiirgh Magazine. soil ? Even without the cost of drainage and farming, could there be no more of that economy of little things, which often takes the place of making money, by rendering it unnecessary. One sees so much more of it upon the Continent than in the poorer ranks of our own country; but then, abroad, the peasants often possess, or at least mary possess, the soil on which their cottage is built. And whatever may be the issue of the dispute, as to whether large farms or peasant proprietors can bring the most out of the soil, certain it is that there is great food for reflection in the phrase of one well-known political economist, " Give a man the title-deeds of a barren rock, and in ten years it will be a smiling garden." Could they not even plant trees in the hollow of every streamlet, as they do in the immediate neighbourhood of Portree ? Trees grow while men are sleeping, and yet remain a product as of labour. Can nothing be done with the cotton-grass that grows so luxuri- antly on hills and marshes in the north and west of Scot- land ? Several years ago, I tried to find out if no use could be made of it, but everybody said, " If there was any good in it, somebody would have found it out before now." I thought this answer neither argument nor proof. I wonder if some wise person cannot find it out yet ? It is sometimes used to stuff pillows by thrifty housewives who live near its habitat, but not nearly to such an extent as one would expect, from the poverty of the country and the abundance of the article in question. White and soft, it is a favourite simile of Ossian and other bards, when tliey are describing lovely maids " white as the Cana." Could not its tufts be sewed together for a soft fur, something after the manner of " swandown ?" Or could its delicate soft fibres not be woven into cloth or Lice of some kind ? Supposing tliey are brittle, still " union is strength;" and perhaps a kind of cotton felting, or a very fine white paper, could be made somehow from these indigenous cotton plants of ours. The thriving manufactory of the famous " Skye Tweed," just behind tlie town, is encouraging, and one cannot but wish that its good might be extended, or even rivalled by a sister manufacture. I once heard two gentlemen, travelling in a railway carriage in Lancashire, discussing subjects of local interest The one had been railing at the weather, when the otlier startled him by boldly upholding the opinion, " that it is to its moist climate that Lancashire greatly owes its prosperity, because on it depends the success of the eotton manufacture. There is a twist in eotton that requires Among the Western Islands. lyj damp treatment in weaving, and even when this is artificially introduced, at a considerable cost, it is not so efficient. A dry east wind, even in Lancashire, necessitates this rectifica- tion of the atmosphere. In Manchester, they can spin cotton a hundred degrees finer than in the eastern counties, and so," he said, rising into enthusiasm, " this barren stretch of land, so valueless in itself for purposes of cultivation, can command the produce of all other soils, because, along with its coal, its moist atmosphere has enabled it to become the richest county in England, and to take the lead in the cotton-spinning of the world." Is it possible that, to some small extent, this manufacture might be introduced into Skye ? Can peat be used as fuel for machinery ? Could its damp climate even be thus economized ? Yet we ourselves did not find it too damp. We were there about a fortnight, and had only one rainy day, one wet morning, and one or two sharp showers on another afternoon,—a fair enough proportion for any place. But I believe, on the whole, that the climate vjould prove damp enough for making cotton. I wonder if there is any similar twist in the fibres of the cotton grass ? A vision of Portree restored, with spreading streets, M-ith trim grass and shrubs, replacing the nettles that grow by the side of the winding ascent from tlie harbour to the town; with nice rows of workmen's houses leading back to more than one manufactory to the west; flourisliing farms inland ; woods waving in every hollow, and crops on every bank; perhaps with a famous hydropathic establishment beside the bay, was being painted in the workshop of my mind. Alas ! my Alnaschar's dreams required capital, and I had not even his nucleus at my feet, or I do not think my feelings would have induced me to shatter it just then. A friend who has capital once seriously considered Oban in the light of a speculation, thinking tliat much might be done for it by promoting a direct trade with America. He spent some time there making investi- gations, until certain difficulties of harbourage, the imperfect inland connection, and the present want of sufficient material for export, prevented him from setting on foot his brilliant scheme. "Ah!" thought I, "if he only had done it, all these things could have worked so well together !" But Skye was not the only island suggesting such ideas, but " All that group of islets grc-y, Which guard famed Statl'a round." In Staffa itself, there is certainly nothing to dim the 1/8 Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

majesty of nature; and we can give ourselves wholly up to the sway of our emotions. It is indeed the Temple, and nothing comes between us and God. But when we go on to lona, as Wordsworth says,—

" How sad a welcome ! to each voyager Some ragged child holds up for sale a store Of wave-worn peljbles, pleading on the shore, Where once came monk and nun witli gentle stir, Blessings to give, news ask, or suit prefer."

Though the children are not now ragged, nor over im- portunate in tlieir pleadings, they set one a-thinking. On the way up to the ruins, one of our companions picked up a tolerably square block of the beautiful granite from the opposite coast of Mull. Unwilling either to lose it, or burden himself ^^ith it, he gnve a boy twopence to carry it down to the boat. He meant to take it to India, and have it polished as a clock stand. But when we returned to the boat, which was to transport us to the Pioneer, no granite was there. Suspicious of the boy's faith, our friend regretted he had paid him in advance; but a merry twinkle in the boatman's eye, as he insisted there were plenty stones as good to be had for the picking \\\), showed us who was the guilty one. He lifted more than one piece off the pier to replace the loss, but our friend was whimsical, and would have no such compensation, so he went back grumbling to tlie steamer. This suggested an idea. Could not the inhabitants spend their winter months in tlieir lonely recesses, in polishing little specimens of this stone, and then the children might have something more tempting for sale in summer than " wave-worn" pebbles. The men at the Lizard during winter, polisli the beautiful vases and other ornaments from the Serpentine and Steatite, that in summer make their pretty little stalls so dangerously attractive to the tourists, wliile they themselves are free to act as guides or boatmen. Could we get one man from the Lizard to spend one winter in lona ? After leaving the Island of Cohimba's Cell, we entered those wonderful straits, which hungry passengers who must dine, must miss. I sat quite alone on the deck, while the boat glided througli an archipelago of tiny rocky islets, pink as the lining of southern shells, rising out of that niarvel- ously clear water tliat only rolls in from the ojDen Atlantic. But even, while ]:>assively letting the strange colours of the landscape print themselves upon my memory, the scene was A}no}ig the Western Islands. 179 haunted by incongruous ideas of polishing, of labour, and of profit. Indeed, the great masses might well suggest splendid monoliths for pediments of monuments and shafts of pillars, and it almost seemed as if nughty cranes appeared upon the shore, lifting them, all shapely and sparkling, into vessels ready to bear them over the face of the earth. In one little creek, what seemed like signs of disintegration suggested a still more ambitious notion, a China manufactory, with one foreman from St Anstells, for the preparation of the stone, and two from Worcester China Works, to teach the natives their wisdom. If only our imagined capital, which can be so well laid out in day-dreams, could pass cun-ent in this work-a-day world! But last summer I heard that there is another and more practicable scheme for helping the poorer inhabitants of these islands, originated by the late Dr Alexander Fletcher. Hear- ing so much of the widespread sufferings of the inhabitants of Skye, he went there in 1851, and made himself personally acquainted with the distressing circumstances of the people. He thought that if boats could be provided for the men, obliging them to repay the cost by instalments, it would be much better for them, than giving them any pecuniary relief, which must, from its very nature, be temporary. In aid of this patriotic scheme he formed " The Society for the relief and encouragement of Fishermen in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland," and by every means in his power, from the pulpit and in private life, he strove to advance it. Its aims were "to supply poor fishermen, of good character and industrious habits, with substantial boats—the original cost of which, with interest on the money, to be repaid by themselves in certain instalments, &c. The boats shall be considered as belonging to the society, until the whole amount of the instalments are fully paid up, when they shall become the property of the party or crew. The bond is then fully discharged, and they receive the title-deeds of their property." The first boat, " The Flying Fish," was at once purchased, and the scheme set a-going. Until ]857, Dr Fletcher confined his attention to Skye, but after that date it was extended over all the islands. By 1859, about 100 boats had been provided, the crews of which had caught fish to the amount of more than £2000. The boats might also be insured ; aid was given in the improvement of cottages, and Savings Banks were started. Not only did this give physical aid, but it elevated and improved the moral position of the people. Men, hitherto spiritless, because their l8o Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

energy had nothing to call it into play, began with the hope of possessing a boat, to enter into a new phase of life. Tliey found that " Heaven helps those who help themselves ;" and their self-dependence was a more precious gain than the silver and gold they won from the apparently exhaustless mine of wealth that lay in the sea around tliem. Dr Fletcher thus put the instruments into their hands, whereby they might " win the bairnie's bread;" and no wonder is it that that tender heart, so loving to children, has been specially called " The Children's Friend." Most noble and steadfast help did he receive in his work from Mr Cook, the leader of so many excursion parties to these districts, and through him many were interested in the movement in all quarters of the land. The list of the original society contains a goodly number of names, many of them very valuable. Each member paid 2s. 6d. annually at least, and a subscription of two guineas made him a member for life. Clergymen preaching in aid of the society were also made members. Many of the names of the boats were suggestive—" The Alexander Fletcher," " The Thomas Cook," " The City of Edinburgh," "The City of Glasgow," "The Children's Friend," " The City of Exeter," " Tenax Exon." The secretary and treasurer for Exeter, Mr Clapp, took an especial interest in the scheme, and when, after the death of Dr Fletcher, and the treasurer and secretary for Edinburgli, the society died a natural, or unnatural death, he resuscitated it on the 1st IMay 1865, under the name of " The lona Provi- dent Society.'' At present, I believe, the society consists practically only of Mr Frederick Clapp, Mr Thomas Cook, and the minister of lona. Mr Clapp has been indefatigable. When the original " Tenax Exon " was wrecked, he sent out circixlars among his friends, and procured sub- scriptions to restore it, providing also " The Star of the West " and " The Devonia." Other boats are in prospect. The cost has always greatly exceeded the receipts, and this energetic treasurer has hitherto made up the deficit from his own purse ; interesting himself not only in providing boats, but also in improving the cottages, in establishing Penny Savings Banks, in forming a Library, and in aiding a Mutual Improvement Society and Reading Room. Mr Frederick Clapp occasionally brightens the gloom of the winter months by soirees and Christmas gifts, and sets of " Isca prizes " for the best and most efficient scholars in the day and Sunday schools. He is anxious to provide a profitable employment for the rainy season, and on my Among the Western Islands. i8i

suggesting the polishing of the granite, he sent some specimens to be polished and tested. The answer was that " it took a good polish, but was too hard to be worked pro- fitably by hand, and steam-polishing would require considerable outlay." So it seems as if even the most modest tower of my granite " Chateau en Espagne " is at present imprac- ticable ; but other suggestions may be made by other people, when the want becomes more generally known. In The Hiijhlander for March 3d, we see that in the stormy weather of the opening year, " one wild gust swept down upon three boats, which were drawn up above high-water mark on tlie shore of lona, raised them into the air, and carried them bodily out to sea. What renders this the more remarkable is the fact, that the boats were tied together, and that two of them had in tliem a considerable quantity of stones. The place where they were drawn up was a sheltered hollow, apparently safe from danger. Fragments of two of them were cast up a day or two after, on the shore, but of the third no trace has been seen." So there are these three boats to restore, as well as the other boats that Mr F. Clapp had set his heart on providing; and surely there are some people in Scotland able and willing to help our Southern friend in his noble attempts to benefit our own coasts. We cannot close better than by quoting one of the little poems written by John Harris, the Cornish Miner Poet, in aid of the movement, and in encouragement of his friend.

THE DEVONIA. " In the island of lona, ' Send a boat, Ah ! Tenax Exon, Rife with legend-lore and lay. Send a boat, ye friends afar, Dwelleth many an honest fisher, That I may pursue my calling Sadly tried from day to day : Under sun, and moon, and star. Sighing when the dusk increaseth. Then my little ones shall bless Sighing when the skies are clear— As the curfew fills the glen, ' Sport the bright fish in the waters. Mingled with their sire's petition. But I have no boat to steer.' When are hushed the sounds of men." •Came the winds o'er heights romantic, Tenax heard, when day was waning. Fierce and cruel from their caves. Heard as if an angel spoke; And the skiff my father left me. Entered he upon his mission, bank amidst the trembling waves. Laying on his Master's yoke. Scarcely I escaped by swimming, And he prays his friends to rally Dashed upon the boulders dread ; Round the hand outstretched to save. How we talked, when tears were streaming. Aiding him to launch ' Devonia/ When the evening meal was spread !' On Hebrides' lonely wave."

Note.—Small contributions of money, or books for the library, will be gladly received by the minister of lona ; by Mr Fred. Clapp, 44 Magdalen Street, Exeter ; and by Messrs Thomas Cook & Son, Ludgate Circus, London. CHARLOTTE CAKMICHAEL. Xo. 31). JiNF, 1.S77, 2 k l82 The Ladies Edinbnrgli Magazine.

(5EbcIraivtc;

OB, FIVE AND TWENTY YEARS AGO AT THE ACHEN SEE.

CHAPTER III.

WHEN Marie arrived, she found the inhabitants of the inn in a state of too much excitement to take any heed of her. Hostess Agatha was standing in the front guest-room, with her back to the stove, her lips set, and one hand tapping the back of the other, in a way that betokened she was annoyed and angry. Jorgle leaned on the window- sil, looking vexed and humbled. Lena was as disturbed as it was possible in her nature to be. On a chair in the middle of the room sat an ecclesiastic, whose dress betokened that he was a professed member of the Jesuits. He, Father Mathew by name, had been sent on a mission to the districts bordering on Bavaria, and to the community of Achen-hirch in particular, to stir up the flagging zeal of the people: who, partly from their situation on the high road of traffic from the northern countries, partly, it was more than suspected, from the laxity of their parish priest, Herr Pfarrer Horst, had, it was judged by the higher clergy, laid themselves open to evil influences; and needed a little extra care, from one of the ranks of the Jesuit order. As Marie entered, she caught Father Mathew's words— " So long as heretics and schismatics, are nursed and retained in your midst; allowed to poison the minds of the young of both sexes; and to talk of iinholy union in marriage with the daughters of our Holy Church ; is it any wonder that I need to bear testimony of evil doings among you, and before the community at large ? Be warned in time, daughter," he said, turning to Agatha; " your zeal has hitherto never flagged; of your substance have you contributed largely, and heartily;—continue to do so, and the Church will account it as a balance to this want of circum- spection in harbouring a schismatic, and an alien ; but I say once more, Beware !" Then rising to his full height, he cast a piercing look on Jorgle. " To you, young man, let disappointment teach humility; and remember, he who listens to a single word breathed against the Cliurch, is already accounted her enemy, and one guilty of deadly sin." Edelraute. 183

There was deep silence when he ceased speaking; as he turned to go,Father Mathew's eyes fell on Marie, who shrank back; but he signed to her to follow him, and she obeyed. AVhat passed between them we must leave untold. Agatha, Lena, and JiJrgie, were still talking earnestly when she returned, her eyes swollen with weeping, and sobbing convulsively. " I have not promised to marry Herr Wilhelm," she said, in broken, passionate sentences; " whatever Father Matliew may say, and believe ; I have left him now, because I do not wish to be disobedient, and bring down the curse he has threatened me with. I will never see him again; though my heart break." Lena leaned over the distressed girl, whose head sank on the table, and tried to comfort her. " Where is Herr Wilhelm ? " asked Agatha suddenly. jVIarie started up : " Go Jorgle. I forgot; I left him on tlie Aljjenrosen Hohc; and promised you should fetch him ; go ! it is getting dark." When he had departed, Marie turned to Agatha. " Hide me somewhere tUl he goes to-morrow : I will not see him again: he will seek me at my mother's cottage. He is good, so good, dear Wirthin; it is hard not to dare to love him." Agatha took the hand of the bewildered girl, while tears stood in her own eyes, and led her to the sanctuary of her bedroom. There she soothed and comforted her, till she grew calmer. " Jorgle has lost the wardenship !" she said, with a last sob; " and all through me." " He has," said Agatha getting up, pacing the room, and tapping her hands again: " through Father Mathew you ought to say. The Herr Pfarrer told me yesterday he was sure of his getting it." She appeared more disturbed than Marie had ever seen her. At length she reseated herself on the bed beside Marie. " You are a good, brave maiden, Marie ; I respect you more than I can tell; God will help you my girl, and give you strength for this great sacrifice, gone through for His sake." " His mother was wUling to receive me," said Marie, scarcely above a whisper. " But you would not be happy among enemies to your faith," said the hostess; " it would be a daily cross, and perhaps end in perdition at last. There is little happiness where man and wife are not one in heart with God and Christ. I like Herr Wilhelm ; and do not marvel that your fancy turns towards him. He is a likely youth, that any 184 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

maiden might love; but you have done right. I say again, you are better and braver than I could be in your place, Marie." There was a noise of hurried footsteps on the landing. Lena opened the door with a frightened face, and Jorgle peered over her shoulder. He was pale as death. Without a word, he placed a letter scribbled in pencil, and a bundle of bank notes, in Agatha's hands. " Did you not find him ?" asked Marie, starting up, " oh ! Jorgle! where is he ?" Jorgle did not speak; the hostess read aloud; " Farewell dear Wirthin—Lena—Marie. Fare- well true Jorgle. Thanks for all your kindness to your unhappy Wilheim Stein." Agatha looked at Jorgle; her eyes put a fearful question. He shook his head sadly, and turned away ; a tear seemed wrung out by that silent interrogatory; he brushed it fiercely off his cheek. Marie grew white, and sank senseless on the bed. AVhile Lena tended her, Jorgle said in a low voice to Agatha, " I found the packet close beside the water. If he did not do that, he must have climbed the path by the ravine, where the grass is so slippery; he could not have kept foothold for a moment. T shall search to-morrow; either way there is little hope. If the other thing happened," he said, avoiding the dreadful word, " we shall know when the body floats." The next fortnight was one of terrible anxiety to the household at the inn. Jorgle found no other trace of the young painter, on the path, or in the ravine; and no body floated to the surface. There was general re^et in the community; for young Stein's frank good-nature had endeared him to many. Agatha did not know his parents' address in Berlin, and no one thought of applying to the police there. Gradually the weatlier broke; winter set in early, and wrapped the mountains, the valley, and the mystery, in its soft mantle of unbroken snow. The lake alone looked black, and threatening; only on a chance day, could the sun, and a cloudless sky, win it to give back a faint reflection of more cheerful colouring, for a few short hours, and then it was green, not blue. IMany an anxious eye surveyed its dreaiy waste, the leaden skies, and then cast a sorrowful glance on Marie. She went about like one in a dream. The pride of the AcJien-thal was fading; and Father Mathew found few sympathisers, when he expatiated on the way in which speedy judgment always follows on transgression. Edelratite. 185

CHAPTER IV.

THE spring of 1848 was a stirring one throughout Europe. Minds, men, and kingdoms, were all equally moved; Austria as deeply as any. The echo of the uproar penetrated even to the Tyi-ol, usually little disturbed either in its loyalty, or its religious faith. The busy burghers of Inns- bruck, had dared the previous autumn to talk of making a railway over the Brenner, through the very heart of the mountain fastnesses. The clergy deprecated all this change and unsettlement in unmeasured terms; while some of the more conservative peasants thought with them, many boldly spoke out words, such as freedom of the press, constitutional government, and national guards, which had never before appeared in the vocabulary of tlie Tyrol. From the six- teenth century—when almost every man who had attempted to adopt the new opinions set afloat by Luther, and every German Bible liad been hunted out of the Tyrol, uirtil the unfortunate persecution of those Protestants who still remained in the Zilkr-thul, which resulted in the exodus to Silesia, before alluded to—not a single effort had been made to undermine the Catholicity of this faithful child of the Church. The devotion of the Tyrolese was sincere. Their loyalty to the House of Hapsburg, resulted quite as much from the position its members held, as the staunchest defenders of orthodoxy among the distracted Protestant kingdoms of northern Germany, as from personal attachment. They would have sung now, as they did in the days of Hofer :— " In unsern Bergern wachst ein Bauiu, Heisst Treu ; t'iir Gott tind Kaiser; Dii Ijricht Tyrol zum Ehrenkraiiz, Die immer griineu Reiser." ' They were just the race amongst whom religious fanaticism, once rooted, would spread and prosper; like Presbyterianism among the Scotch, or loyalty to the Stuarts in the High- lands. The wary Jesuit fathers early found congenial soil among them. They steadily discountenanced all attempts on the part of the Empress Maria Theresa, and of her son Joseph the second, to introduce the shadow of religious toleration. One innovation, in the shape of a decrease in 1 " Upon our mountains grows a tree, Called truth, for God and emperor ; The Tyrol breaks its twigs, and weaves A wreath of fame, as conqueror." 186 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. the term of military service, they did not oppose. The Imperial Jager never retiii'iied to the spiritual flock as innocent and inexperienced as he was when lie reluctantly quitted his native valleys for service in the capital. The schools both of medicine and law, as well as those of general instruction, were under the control of the Jesuits; they were looked on both with fear and jealousy, by the secular clergy. Tor years Braudeis, the governor, had supported their power right loyally; a disagreeable, free-spoken tourist, or a bold newspaper writer, touching on forbidden topics, was soon shown the way over the frontier, by means of a secret intimation to Brandeis, from the affronted hierarchy. It was early in March that Jorgle came to his mother's cottage to say he was called away on business to Bavaria, and should not be home, perhaps, for some days. Marie raised her head, listlessly, as he entered ; she was spinning the usual winters' task of linen and coarse woollen cloth, but there seemed to be no joy in her work. The sound of her rich voice, once the boast of the district, was hushed. Marie had felt no heart for her mountain songs since that fatal night. " Is it business on Agatha's account ?" asked Ursel Zingerle. " Not exactly; but she knows I'm going," returned Jorgle evasively. He looked anxiously at Marie, and then sat down beside her. " Cheer up, schivesterchen, there's not time in this life to waste its best years in useless regret. Keep heart, Mdrichen. Have faith in God, and in better luck coming. There are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it." Marie looked at him, but the expression of lier now immense blue eyes was so sorrowfid, that Jorgle rose hurriedly, and with a few hasty words of parting to both, left the cottage murmuring, " Poor little heart! poor thing ! It grieves my soul to see her !" Ever since the father's death, life had been a struggle with the widow and daughter; but for Agatha's kindness in various ways, the boats would have ceased to keep them, as they did under the management of Ziugerle himself. Many people wondered that Jorgle did not take up the business; but accustomed from boyhood to be all day long at the little inn, where he had begun life under the auspices of Agatha's aunt, he had rendered himself indispensable ; and remained when she died, and the hostel, as well as other goodly possessions in land and money, passed to her adopted daughter, the grandchild of a brother, who A Drive to Portobello. 187 had fallen under Spechbacher, in the brave fight in the Inn-thai, against' the united forces of Bavaria and France, in 1809. A large portion of her grandfather's noble qualities had descended to Agatha. Her open-hearted charity endeared her to her neighbours; while her liberality, and devotion to the interests of the Church, secured her a high degree of respect, commendation, and indefatigable attention, from the clergy. There was no one superior to her in the estimation of Father Mathew; who, until the affair of Wilhelm Stein, had deservedly held her up as a pattern of Catholic excellence. But although as courteous, humble, and obedient to the new authority, under praise as under animadversion, her parish priest, Herr Pfarrer Horst, stood paramount in Agatha's estimation and confidence. The late breach with the Jesuit father had confirmed the preference. It was his kindly face that greeted Jorgle, as the latter passed out of the village, preferring, he said, to let the poste overtake him, rather than wait for it. " Good morning, young man," Pfarrer Horst said, as Jorgle pulled off his hat, and looked straight into the face of the worthy ecclesiastic, with bared head. " Whither away so early in the year ? " At that question, Jorgle ceased to look so honestly at him. " Take care, my son," he continued ; " you are too good to serve as a tool for bad men ;—there are plenty abroad just now, who think they are screaming about justice for all, when they are only on the hunt for some advantage to themselves. Be wise, Jorgle, and think well before you are led to act." The young Tyrolean twirled his hat, and plucked at the wild cock's plume at the side of it. Those calm words had more effect than all the diatribes of Father Mathew. A strong fight seemed going on in him, as he watched the retreating form of the good priest; but he remembered something, apparently, and murmured, " I must go, for her sake it must be ;" and strode on towards the confines of Bavaria. {To he contimied). C. EAY.

THERE are few persons in Edinburgh who have not occasion at times, either for purposes of business or pleasure, to visit the thriving little town of Portobello. On a fine Saturday afternoon in summer, half the popula- 188 The Ladies' EdhihirgJi Magazine. tion of Edinburgh seems to pour down to its pleasant beach, there to let the worries of the past week be blown away by the fresh sea breezes, and to lay in a stock of health and strength for coming labour. There one may see fathers and motliers strolling along the parade, with troops of little ones digging in the sands or " paddling" in the rippling waves ; while others are thronging the pier, enjoying the inspiriting strains of the band. These hundreds of holiday-makers have all reached Portobello probably by one of the three following means of transit:—They have come on their feet, in the train, or in the tramway cars. Now, there are certain drawbacks to all these means of travelling. If the first is adopted by a family party, the little ones ai'e wearied and drag behind, and all ariive at the seaside more or less dusty and cross. The second mode is better, though the riish for the train down the steep hill from the Waverley Bridge, the crowding round the ticket box, and finally the arriving at the Portobello station, with the long hot road to be traversed before the beach can be reached, to say nothing of losing the pretty view over the Forth on the journey, make this mode less agreeable than might be. There only remains the tramway car: this at least is free from all the stated objections; but on a road with so steep an incline as that which connects Edinburgh with Portobello, few people can entirely forget that the horses are somewhat overweighted. It was our privilege lately to visit Portobello in a more agreeable manner than any of these, namely, in a tramway car drawn by steam. It was with considerable interest that we awaited the arrival of the engine in Waterloo Place. In case any of our readers have not had the opportunity of inspecting a steam car, we shall endeavour, though we fear very unscientifically, to tell them something of the appearance and management of the one by which we travelled. The car, or rather the engine attached to it, is constructed by Messrs Hughes & Co., Loughborough. The car itself is exactly such as is in use on our present tramways, to which, instead of horses, is attached a neat-looking engine, boxed in so as to conceal the machinery, the dimensions of which seemed to us to be about half those of an ordinary car; therefore the whole length, from the front of the engine to the back of the car, does not exceed that from the horses' heads to the conductor's platform of those in general use. In front of the engine is a seat for the driver, who is the onlv man needed for its management. At the back of the A Drive to Portobello. 189 car is the usual platform for the conductor. This was all tliat we could observe before taking our seats, but it was on starting that the chief interest began. Smoothly and noiselessly the start was made. Xo need in this car to avoid tlie seats at the upper end in case of being distressed by the sight of horses straining every muscle in order to set in motion the heavy weigiit to which they are yoked ; all goes easily and lightly as a sledge on the hardened snow. I'erhaps our readers may think that if the sight of strugolinu' horses was spared us, there \vould be in their place a snorting engine, emitting smoke and ashes to tlie discomfort alike of passengers and wayfarers. Not at all. The Hughes' engine condenses its own waste steam, after it has fulfilled its purpose, by means of a tank of cold water placed above tlie engine, and an automatic vah-e lets into the condensing chamber exactly the quantity of water required to condense tlie steam present, the amount of steam, of course, varying according to the work required of the engine, from steepness of gi-adient, weight of car, or other cause. The condensed steam being thus re-converted into water, can either be used for watering the road—a great luxury on a dusty day—or retained in a tank below tlie car, and emptied when the car reaches its terminus. There could not be a better road for testing the power of a steam-car, than that leading from Edinburgh to Poitobello ; the gradients are, at some places, such as to afford proof positive of the efficacy of its traction-power. While descending one of the s'teepest inclines, the engine-driver was suddenly desii-ed to halt. He immediately applied the brake, and pulled up within a very few yards, certainly within a shorter distance than it is possible for a driver to pull up a car drawn by horses. Not only can this brake power be applied at a moment's notice, but it is so arranged that, before starting, the brake can be set at a certain point, preventing the possibility of the engine being worked at a greater speed than has been directed. It is easy to understand what an advantage this \\'ould prove in a crowded thoroughfare, where, if necessary, the speed could be fixed at five, or even at four, miles an liour, after which it would be impossiljle for the driver to give way to the temptation of increasing the speed, though, of course, it would always be in his power to slacken it, should he see reason for so doing. We passengers were much interested in watching the effect of our engine on the many horses that we met on the Xu, 30.—JUNE 1877, '•* [J tgo The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. road. Most of them took no notice whatever, a few cocked their ears and examined ns intelligently; and one pair of horses, driven by a stupid old man, who, as soon as he saw us approaching, lashed them up most unpleasantly, did make a little attempt at shying. Indeed, we thouglit, that the horses understood us better than their drivers. After a pleasant drive of about twenty mhiutes, we reached our destination, and made a short pause while the engine took in a little more water, after which it was shunted, and brought round to the other end of the car for the return journey. As it Avas backing on us in order to be coupled to the car, we involuntarily braced ourselves for the bang and jolt apparently so indispensable in the coupling of a railway engine to a train, but our preparation was quite su])erfluous, the well-bred engine of Mr Hughes quietly stopt within two feet of the car, and permitted itself to be once more put into harness. On our return journey, the road being somewhat dusty, the exhaust steam was utilized in watering the ground we passed over. The line from Portobello to Edinburgh, involving, as it does, a considerable amount of ascent, afforded us the opportunity of testing how the engine would do its up-hill work. To iis there appeared to be no slackening of speed, easily and pleasantly we ascended the gradient of, we were told, 1 in 20, between Norton Place and the High School, and drove briskly into Waterloo Place, leaving the car with the comfortable sensation of having wearied neither man nor beast in our service. The question naturally suggests itself, when will these steam-propelled cars be in general use in our city ? It is difhcult to say. An Act must be obtained from Parliament empowering Local Authorities to sanction the use of steam- locomotives on our tramway lines. Such an Act, we believe, it would not be hard to obtain, for Parliament seldom objects to any reasonable plan proposed by Local Authorities. Where, then, is the hitch; who are the obstru.ctives ? We fear we must lay the blame of the delay at the door of two most respectable bodies of men—at that of the County Eoad Trustees, and that of our own City Magistrates. Let us examine briefly the objections made by these persons, and some others, to the substitution of steam-traction for horse-traction. The most usual objections seem to be three in number. It is asserted, 1st. That the engine will frighten horses. 2d. That it will endanger life and limb. 2>d. That there is no demand for it on the part of the public. The first of these objections we believe to be made in ignor- A Drive to Portohello. 191 auce of the kind of steam-engine required for the jiropulsion of cars. People think that it will go puffing and snorting through our streets, as is the wont of railway engines, with tlie glow of embers disclosed to the astonished gaze of our equine population. This we have already shown not to lie the case. The engine is noiseless and smokeless, and any little surprise that horses may experience at the sight of a vehicle moving as if of itself soon wears off, as is found to be the case in Paris, Vienna, and other cities where steam- cars are already permitted to run in the streets, and on the roads. The second objection, as to the endangering of life and limb, is also groundless. This could only arise from its going more quickly, or being stopped with more difficulty than horses. Neither of these objections, however, apply. Tlie speed can be positively controlled to the maximum desired, and the engine is as completely under the control of the driver as any horses could be. Some people are afraid that the boiler may burst. This its construction renders impossible. It, as was explained to us, consists of a bundle of tubes; any one of these may give way—an accident not attended with the slightest risk; but they cannot all burst together, and cause an explosion as an ordinary stationary boiler may do. "We are also informed that an American " cowcatcher " can be put in front of a steam-car, and will act efficiently upon it, as is not the case with a horse-drawn car, owing to the up and down motion communicated to it by the horses. The third objection, that of their being no demand for steam-traction on the part of the public was stated with gTeat calmness and assiu-ance at a recent meeting of the County Koad Trust. The account of that meeting, as reported in the newspapers, reads most amusingly; the gentlemen are evidently in utter darkness as to the wishes of the middle-class in Edinburgh on the subject. Nor are they apparently much better up in the other facts of the case. One noble lord laid it down as law, that if steam- traction is to be permitted, the present lines must be entirely altered, and made larger and deeper, in order to bear the increased weight which will pass over them. This remark was apparently allowed to pass unchallenged by his col- leag-ues, though the assertion is unfounded on fact. It is all very well for those who have private carriages to in- veigh against tramway-cars in general, and steam-cars in particular, but does it ever strike such persons of what self- 19- TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. ishness they arc guilty in so doing ? Do they never think of the thousands of hard-workin" men and women Avho for twopence may by the help of these cars save strength and time which to them are money ? Have they never been pleased of a Saturday afternoon to see cars laden with holiday makers, who are thus conveyed to the extreme outskirts of the town, in all directions ? Our County Eoad Trustees seem to be of this class, and speak with easy contempt of the uselessness of introducing steam-traction for the purpose of extending the tramway system to villages outside of Edinburgh. Surely we may trust the Tramway Company not to lay down rails, or to introduce improvements for which there is no demand on the part of the public. Having answered to the best of our power the objections usually raised to the introduction of steam-traction, we must state more positively what are its advantages, and why it claims the support of the public. First. The introduction of steam-traction will put an end to the suf!erings of many horses. We believe that the tramway horses are as well cared for as is possible in the circumstances ; they have good stables, plenty of food, and work very short hours. Still in a city like Edinburgh, with gradients of 1 in 20, and in some places of 1 in 16, it is impossible but that horses weighted with cars and passengers to the amount of four tons must suffer much. Xo one can see them toiling u]i Leith Street, or even the upper part of the iSTortli Bridge, without pity. The Select Committee of the House of Commons, which has been examining carefully into the whole matter, issued its report in April last, and on the cruelty part of the subject speaks as follows :—" One of the strongest arguments in favour of the use of mechanical power upon tramways, is to be found in the fact that the traction of the ordinary tram-car is a severe strain upon a horse. Some remarkable evidence has been given upon this point. . . . The London General Omnibus Company owns nearly 8000 liorses, and, in addition to its own vehicles, supplies horse-power to some of the tramways. The horses are usually bought at about the age of five years, and the average life of a horse after that time, if drawing an omnibus, is four-and-a-half years; if dragging a tram-car, four years only. It follows, then, that in the work of this Company alone 1600 to 1700 horses are broken down every year." If this frightful destruction takes place in the level streets of London, what must it be in the steep gradients of Edin- Double Acrostic. 193 burgh ? This argument should specially appeal to the members of the Society for the Suppression of Cruelty to Animals ; and it would be a fitting work for them to proclaim annually, at their interesting meetings, the need of steam- traction to be substituted for horse-power. Would it be too much to hope that with their help a very few years might see the last horse unyoked from its car, and sent to more congenial work ? Secondly, The demand for horses in Edinburgh is becoming more than the district can possibly supply, and prices are rising terribly. If the 500 horses needed for our tramway system were set free, and no more ever required in their place, prices must surely fall. Thirdly, Steam-traction costs at least one-third less than horse-traction. This would enable the Tramway Company not only to extend their system to more distant stations, but would allow of some reduction of fares. This reduction would have direct effect on the overcrowding of the poorest districts of our city. If for a halfpenny a working man could be conveyed from his liome to his work, he would be enabled to make that home on the outskirts, or even beyond the limits, of the town. Cheap houses for working men would spring up within easy distance of the tramway lines; and in this way more might be done to reduce the overcrowding, and consequent sin and misery of oui" brethren in the courts and closes of our old town, than can be effected at present by hundreds of missionaries and district visitors. These are some of the thoughts given rise to by our late steam drive to Portobello. If any of the readers of the Ladies' Edinhurgli Magazine are anxious for private discussion on the subject, the Editor Avill, we are sure, put them and ourselves into communication with each other. S. M.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. C. MY first the arena of luy last; where gaiety and sporting once ay ear unite. 1. This is always asked for. 2. Far o'er the ocean and tlie billows' foam, A rugged prison, yet an island home. 3. Tlie Frenchwoman lias it even when in poverty. 4. Impersonal ; not egotistical. 5. " Women's weapons." F. M. 194 -TJi^^ Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

SOLUTION OF DOUBLE ACROSTIC No. 5. 1. A closed door—all entrance is denied To lady students seeking for the key; No road this ircnj hangs written up outside, To bar their passing to the prized M.V. 2. When first we step o'er Learning's floor, A meets us smiling at the door. With five-and-twenty friends or so. Good fellows all, we ought to know. 3. To-day is sad, we fear and dread to-morrow. But yesterday is dead, and done ■with sorrow. Ah! gentle month, of poets loved and sung, Ah! May Vay blossoming of summer snows, Thou lingerest long the wintry chills among, Thy hawthorn buds are tardy to unclose. " B." Nine answers received ; the following eight correct :—" B," Crocus Foster Leigh, F. G., Hamlet, Hawthorn, M. C. B., Message Girl, Narda.

A PRIZE is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. Solutions to be addressed " Acrostic Editor," Publishers, 22 Howe Street, Edinburgh ; to ,be sent not later tlian the 15tli of the month, written clearly on a sheet of paper containing only the solution, pseudonym, and full name and address of sender. Solutions acknowledged in the follo^\'ing number ; and name and address of winner only announced at close of competition.

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OUR LIBRARY TABLE.

GREAT ST BENEDICTS ; SCAMP AND I ; OUR BOYS ; and LETTIE'S LAST HOME. London : John F. Shaw & Co., Paternoster Row. THESE stories are written, we believe, by a young Irishwoman, who has boldly launched into the republic of letters in London, without any introduction except her own merit. They are touchingly told, and we feel something of the same charm in them, that has made the author of Jessica's First Prayer so justly popular. Scamp and I, is an account of the adventures of a little London waif -w-itli her dog, such a waif as we hope and believe is nearly a thing of the past; rescued and taught something of the love of God and man, before she is taken to the home where alone love is com2Jletely understood. We heartily recommend these stories for children, Sundaj'-schools, mothers' meetings, &c., and feel assured that their healthy tone and melting pathos, will make them liked and appreciated. Sti-aj Azotes. 195

THE SEAT OF WAR. Edinburgh Publishing Company. WE hope that all our readers and their friends will possess them- S(4ves of this wonderful " multuin in imrvo." It supplies a want which is often felt by the uninitiated at the Ijeginning of such a period of public excitement and interest as that which has now o]iened upon us. We so constantly hear people say : " 0, if I could only understand these military movements, and these details conveyed in the telegrams ; I really have tried to follow the Avar movements for weeks past, and can make nothing of them, even with a map." The little shilling book now before us, gives, besides a capital map, and plans of the Seat of War, a short account of each place involved in the struggle, or likely to be so, so that the various localities referred to in telegrams and newspaper reports are no longer mere names, but places with whose situation and characteristics the reader is perfectly familiar. Added to this, we have a short statement of the chief facts which led to the actual declarati(jn of war ; the declaration itself, with the Emperor's manifesto, and circular to the European powers, and the reply of England. This forms the first part of the book ; the second is an account of the Russian and Turkish armies and fleets, their numbers and relative strength, their generals, and their present position. With all this, and a useful appendix, and general index and table of contents, it will easily be seen how really valuable a Handbook is ofl'ered to us, who, occupying for the present the position of spectators, cannot but feel with increasing anxiety, how soon our own homes may be filled, if not with the horrors of warfare, yet with many of the sorrows and desolations caused by a conflict which seems destined to involve the greater part of Christendom.

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S T E A Y NOTES.

THE Course of Lectures delivered by Miss Menzies to ladies in Dundee has now been terminated. The earlier literature of Germany, with its epic and lyric poetry, formed the groundwork of this course of lectures. The epics, thougli legendary in themselves, were shown to be even more valuable than history as exponents of the life of the nation, and of a character which, thougli in some degree barbarous, was rich in the sterner and nobler virtues. The period of the Minnesingers, which was also that of the Crusades, brings this early literature to a close. The chief agents in Mediaeval civilisation were then traced as they express themselves in these legends and poems ; and after a rapid outline of the state of poetry during the intervening centuries, the second great outburst of Teutonic genius in the latter part of the eighteenth century, was briefly sketched. The events which paved the way for it, the causes which moulded it into form, and some of the greatest men who gave it expression, were included in this short summary of the period. In connection with the lectures, two subjects for essays were given out ; one on the contrast between the Characters and Customs of the Middle Ages, and those of the Present Day, as seen tlirough the pages of legend and fiction ; the other, a Definition and an Example of Epic Poetiy, with a few remarks on the example chosen. 196 TIic Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

The attendance was satisfactory, about sixty persons being jn-esent at the opening lecture, and twenty-five ladies at the whole course, who showed, by their earnest attention, how much enjoyment they derived from the lectures. The defects at present existing in the early education of women were sj)oken of at some length at tlie outset, and the means of remedying them pointed out. Special mention was made of the University Local Examinations ; and at the concluding lecture. Miss Menzies read a portion of a letter from a lady much occujiied witli this subject. Tliese remarks appear to have been well received, for the ladies afterwards expressed willingness to go more deeply into the sul)ject, and showed a desire to set on foot some arrangements for fnrtliering the Higher Education of Women in their city. We trust tliat these endeavours will be successful, and that thus a great want will be supplied in Dundee. WE liear that Lady Candidates are coming to Edinburgh from York, Durham, Chester, and Penritli, as well as from various parts of Scotland, to attend the University Examinations, which will be held on the 19th, 20th, and 21st of this montli. These ladies have, we believe, been stiulj-ing throughout the winter by correspondence with the Preparatory Classes held in St George's Hall. IT is with great pleasure that news has reached us of Portree being about to be added to the number of towns in which the Edinburgh University will this year form a local centre. We trust that this will do much towards stimulating secondary education in the Isle of Skye. WE are glad to be able to announce definitely that Professor Tait will be among the lecturers of the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association next session. May we advise intending students to read during the summer Thomson and Tait's Elements; or should this seem an alarming undertaking to beginners, may we remind them of the Primer on Physics in Macmillan's series ? THOSE of our readers who may have been interested in the account of John Harris, the Cornish Miner Poet, which ai:)peared in our pages last year, will be glad to learn that he has now received the Queen's bounty, to the extent of £200. AMONG the candidates examined last month by the Irish College of Physicians were Dr Louisa Atkins, Dr Sophia Jex-Blake, and Dr Edith Pechey, who all succeeded in satisfying the Examiners, and have now received the double diploma of the college, which entitles them to place their names on the Medical Register, as fully (|ualified physicians.

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PRIZE is offered for the best article received by the Editors and accepted for insertion during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists born in the iStli century. SUBJECT OF DEBATE for the next meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society, to be held on Saturday, June 2d, at 5 Chester Street, at 11 o'clock :—" Is a life of frequent travelling a better means of mental culture than a life spent at home ?" Our Female Novelists. 197

VI. THE SISTERS T 0 R T E E. Jane, 6. 1776 ; d. 1850. Anna Maria, 6. 1780 ; d. 1832.

IT is interesting to trace the progressive history of the novel, and of the siipply which gradually arose to meet the togrowing need of fictitious literature, suitable to the youth of each rising generation. Before Sir Walter Scott had gilded with his magic wand every scene he pictured, and every subject he touched, there were indeed worthy writers to bridge over the gulf which separated such novelists as Richardson, Fielding, Smollett, Miss Burney, and all their numerous inferior imitators—with their long, high- flown sentimental romances—from that later school which, founded on Scott and his contemporaries, reaches down to the present day. Novels, certainly, there were, but such as exercised an enervating and injurious influence on society, till this reform was accomplished ; a reform for which Miss Porter helped to pave the way, with her semi-historical r6mances, published, fortunately for her own fame, some seven or eight years before those of the " Great Unknown." Jane and her sister (whose genius, if less distinguished, was much more prolific, having produced in all fifty volumes) were the daughters of an Irish officer, who died when his children were in mere infancy. Their widowed mother came to reside in Edinburgh, renowned even at that j)eriod for educational and scientific resources, as weU as for a brilliant literary society. The quiet home life of the Porters, which ever continued a model of what real family life ought to be, was thus varied by the society of men of genius and learning. Sir Walter Scott, then a young student, enjoyed passing his evenings in their circle, often teasing the younger sister Anna Maria, whose love of reading made her sit apart buried in her books, till she was wiled away to sit on the lad's knee, and listen bewitched to some weird fairy tale, thus laying in a store of knowledge, which, quickened by a keen olaservation and a warm fancy, brought forth fruits in after years. Anna Maria became an authoress at the age of twelve; No. 31.—JULY 1877. 2 C 198 TJie Ladies EdinburgJi Magazine.

Jane did not publish her first work, Thaddeus of Warsaiv, till she was twenty-seven. It is natural to conclude that during her residence in Scotland, Jane Porter acquired that romantic devotion to the early historic interests attaching to that country, which she has surrounded with a charm peculiarly her own. While possessing a vivid appreciation of fine scenery, her forte lies yet more in the detail of heroic endeavour and passionate feeling; but her principal characters want individuality and variety, and appear as if all cast in the same mould. Her heroes walk, speak, look, act, fight, and make love exactly in the same manner, are endowed with the same virtues, and resist exactly the same temptations ; nevertheless, they always command our respect, as acting up to the highest principles. Filled with an ardent admiration for chivalrous actions, fired by patriotism, and recognising the necessity of those virtues being kept alive in the hearts of the youth around her, Miss Porter set herself to do in her day, though in an inferior degree, what Sir Walter Scott did for all time and every nation. To clothe dry historic facts in a fairy garb of briglit changing scenery, interspersed with old castellated towers and tiowery meads; to invest the somewhat rough, if gallant heroes of an earlier day with the charms of a " very perfect gentle knight," as much at home in a lady's bower as in a battlefield; to rouse, in the heart of every youth and maiden who reads her works, an enthusiasm for honour, virtue, valour, fortitude, gentleness, constancy—all the old chivalric graces which make a true man; nay, not only to rouse their enthusiasm, but to stimulate them to a like example— such were her aims. Not resting there, she was careful to provide reading such as should not only impress on the pages of her readers' memories, with her magic and fairy-like pencil, the real, living images of dead-and-gone heroes, and hard battles, nobly fought; but pure literature, which should never call a blush to the cheek, nor suggest aught but good, noble thoughts. So well did she fulfil her self-imposed task, that not only did her works place her in an honourable position among the literati of her time, but to this day Jane Porter's books are read, when those of her contemporaries are scarcely known, and Tlie Scottish Chiefs and Thaddcus of Warsaiv are still included in the catalogue of many a schoolroom library. Apart from the merits of the story of The Scottish Chiefs, the work by which she is best known, she has endued with Our Female Novelists. 199 a deeper interest the grey old tower of Cambuskenneth; has made the tourist turn again to gaze, from the rocky rampart of Stirling Castle, on the silvery, supple folds of the graceful Forth; has deepened the shade on Stirling's old bridge, whose once crimsoned stones tell the story of a fight fraught with the destiny of two nations, and crowned with a glory (somewhat dimmed, certainly, by the hideous erection lately placed there), the wooded steeps of Abbey Craig. She still may stir the sluggish spirit of the present day, when patriotism is apt to be smothered by cosmopolitanism, and remind every true Scottish heart that Caledonia has held her own in the lists with other countries, be the tilt for arms or poetry, history or fiction, brave deeds or lovely women. While Miss Porter is quite at home in the details of war and its attendant horrors, one cannot fail to be amused at some glaring mistakes she commits, such as that of putting in the mouth of her hero Wallace such long-rounded moral sentiments as are hardly in keeping with speech accompanying action. It is not at all probable, that in the very heat and front of Ijattle he would have stopped to harangue a trusty if somewhat bloodthirsty follower thus :— " I seek to make my subjects men, to T)e aware that they fight with fellow-creatures, with whom they may one day he friends, and not, like the furious savages of old Scandinavia, drink the Llood of eternal enmity. I would neither have my chieftains set examples of cruelty, nor degrade themselves by imitating the barbarities of our enemies. That Scotland bleeds at every pore is true ; but let peace be our aim, and we shall heal all her wounds." In season, and more especially out of season, he is made to utter short, epigrammatic sentences, like copy-book texts, such as, " To connive at cruelty is to practise it;" or, " Learn, brave earl, to discriminate between a warrior's glory and his shame, between the defender of his country and the unprovoked ravager of other lands." In these quotations the sentiments are doubtless fine, but their delivery is incongruous in conjunction with a bloody battlefield, and all the heat and confusion of siege and rebellion. Miss Porter's especial hero. Sir Wniiam Wallace, is made more of an angel tlian a man; endowed with every grace of person and mind, and every possible and impossible virtue, forgiving, over and over again, his most treacherous enemies, such as Lord Aymer de Valence, the villain of the story, who twice tries to assassinate him. Admire him as we must, especially in his self-sacrificing devotion to the interests of his country, and the steadfast nobility which made him 200 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. refuse a crown which was almost forced on his acceptance, we cannot but wish that Miss Porter had made liim more manly and less sensitive. There is something almost feminine m the description of the affection existing between the boy Edwin Euthven and his general; and pitiful beyond description as was the blow which deprived him of his wife and child, it rather detracts from the grandeur of his character to find him for ever invoking the sainted spirit of his Marion, while at the same time he offers Helen iNfar attentions which look to outsiders something more than fraternal. There is a ludicrous anachronism in one chapter—a regular nineteenth century touch—which escaped the pen of the writer, when Wallace, having disappeared either to the rescue of some fair dame, or for the indulgence of one of those frequent midnight soliloquies, it is mentioned that his attendants had concluded he had gone to bed, " as they saio Ids bonnet was left in the hall." Thaddeus of Warsaw is perhajis a more interesting character. His country's wrongs so long and nobly contested, his bravery, his trials, and the manly courage and patience with which he endured contumely and insult in his lonely exile, endear him to the hearts of the readers of his piteous history, nearly as much as to the fair ladies who so openly showed him a marked preference. With the exception of one or two characters in the book. Miss Porter does not draw a very charming picture of either the manners or morals of London society about the year 1795; but never, like too many writers of the present day, does she invest a lawless passion with an interest tending to destroy the sense of sin, nor, on the other hand, completely divest the sinner of every good impulse and power of repentance. If the conversation is somewhat stilted, it is a true picture of that which marked the time; the interest of the story never flags, though there is neither plot nor sensation, and the d4no'Aement of the secret of Thaddeus' birth is most im- probable. The description of tlie hbrary of a would-be literary lady of that jieriod may be interesting to those who are at present engaged in similar studies, more thorough, however, than those undertaken to please the passing whims of the Misses Dundas; though we imagine tlie ladv students of our day would be satisfied with less display and more reality in the adornment of their sanctums. " Tliaddeus was instantly let in, and witli much ceremony ushered into a splendid library, where he was told the ladies would attend him. Our Female Novelists. 201

Before they entered, they allowed him time to examine its costly furniture, its glittering bookcases, bird-cages, globes, and reading- stands, all shining with burnished gilding ; its plaster casts of the nine muses, which stood in nine recesses about the room, draperied with blue net, looped up with artificial roses ; and its fine cut-steel Grecian stove, on each side of which was placed, on sandal-wood pedestals, two five-feet statues of Apollo and Minerva." The insulting rudeness with which he was received by the "nouveau riche" Lady Dundas and her daughters, one of whom fell sentimentally in love with him, makes one blush for one's sex. " While a servant was setting chairs round a table, on which was painted the judgment of Hercules, Lady Dundas again opened her lips. ' Pray, Mr Thingumbob, have you brought any grammars, and primers, and dictionaries, and syntaxes with you ?'" Amongst her minor works, of which a series of Talcs Round a Winters Hearth were written in conjunction with her sister, Jane wrote The Pastor s Fireside, and Sir Edward Seaward's Diary, a style of book which for some time after had a host of imitators. She went, in 1842, to St Petersburg with her brother. Sir Eobert K. Porter, a man specially distinguished in more than one walk of life. A talented artist, he was appointed historical painter to the Emperor of Russia, and while at his court, he wooed and married a Russian Princess; but as his predilections were more for a military life, he accompanied Sir John Moore to Spain, and went through a severe campaign there. Subsequently he travelled through the East, and gave to the world, on his return, various accounts of the different scenes of his life, as soldier and traveller; while his paintings still exist to show his skill as an artist. Soon after his sister went to reside with him, his death occurred. She returned to England, taking up her residence in Bristol, where her death occui-red in May 1850. It is not often one sees, except in isolated cases, such as tlie Ik'ontes and Porters, the gift of composition so liberally bestowed on the different members of one family; and it is ■a pleasant sight to find them rejoicing in each other's talents, and happy in each other's fame, without a shadow of the envious feeling wliich too often dims the glory of genius. Anna Maria Porter wrote many more novels than Jane, and though widely known and read at the time, they had neither the success which attended the writings of her elder sister, nor do they retain the place which hers still occupy. Their 202 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

style is so similar, both in manner and construction, that the Hmvjarian Brothers is constantly ascril)ed to Jane's authorship. Of fifty books, the best known are Tlic Lily of Killarncy; Don Sebastian, or The House of Braganza ; The Recluse of Norway; and the Hunyarian Brothers—a slight description of which may serve as a sample of the style of all. We have here the history of two brothers, Charles and Demetrius Leopolstal, their frequent and remarkable love affairs; the startling vicissitudes of their several fortunes; the stern rectitude of the one contrasts with the hot-blooded passion of the other, but both in some degree modified by the brotherly affection subsisting between them. Certainly their fraternal conversation is rather heavily interlarded with interjections to suit modern taste, and the word "sensibility" occurs somewhat too often; either one or the other brother dissolves in tears on the smallest occasion, frequently when the reader sees no occasion at all. It would surprise us to see two young men of our day falling on each other's necks, and tearfully embracing, while pouring forth in broken and ecstatic language the story of the non-success of a love-suit, and fainting away at the end of the recital. But it was evidently quite en Hgle in those romantic days; or perhaps Anna Maria Porter gives us the picture of the times, as seen through the sentimental veil of her own consciousness. At least twenty times do we find Charles and Demetrius, from various heart-rending emotions—whose experience must, we think, have made them old before their time—"trembling,"— " suffocating,"—" violently rushing into each other's arms,"— " excess of tenderness overcomes them,"—" they heave prolonged sighs;" in every chapter, and in one in particular, we find tlie entire dramatis personce in a mingled torrent of weeping. We can scarcely imagine a company of noble warriors and high-born dames so conducting themselves, even under the saddest circumstances; and we are informed that Charles, whose unbridled passions had caused all the e'mcute, " was at length possessed of a frantic wish to die," which," perhaps, would have been the best thing he could have done, considering that he caused his friends a good deal more trouble, even after his tardy but extremely tearful repentance. However, " all's well that ends well." At length he is safely married; and though in the last pages there is a renewal of general weeping, let us hope it is this time for joy. Demetrius, who still stands in need of his brother's Edelraute. 203 advice and supervision, "answers liim with ardent sensiljility," and a mutual embrace seals the oblivion of his fault. The last paragraph is as follows—and it is a consolation to find that at length they have reached a high and dry spot, where there is no more occasion for their too sensitive spirits to faint and fail:— " United inseparahly to the women they loved, bound to tlieir various friends by the sweetest ties of obligation, and gifted with immense wealth, the Hungarian brothers were deeply impressed with this conviction, that sujjerior blessings demand superior virtues. They now study how to combine magnificence with utility, and happiness with religious awe ; their duties, and their enjoyments, and tlieir riclies, ' making to themselves wings, liourly fly away, as an eagle towards heaven in their flights, beautiful and celestial in their end.'" In exalting virtue and benevolence, and portraying the charm of domestic affection, Anna Maria Porter wrote from the fulness of her own heart; for her private life was distinguished for its unassuming piety and active charity. She died, much regretted, at the age of fifty-two, while on a visit to her brother, Dr Porter of Bristol. " Earth plays the step-dame to her poets ever; They die—she gives them fame. As if they cared to hear, by God's great river, The echoes of their name." MARTYN HAY.

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OR, FIVE AND TWENTY YEARS AGO AT THE ACHEN SEE.

CHAPTER V.

THE foste. overtook Jorgle, and he exchanged a few minutes' talk with the driver, liandsome Toni; but he did not get up. Turning short round to the left, he retraced his steps by a path leading back along the hills overlooking the lake, till lie directed his course to the right, beside tlie valley behind Pertis Au. There he climbed by paths which only a skilful hunter could have ventured on when thus covered with snow, to a cowherd's hut, deserted for the winter months. Before approaching, he stopped and gave a jodd, that made the rocks ring. At the signal, a dark-bearded man appeared instantly in the doorway, and swinging his hat round his head, 204 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

gave a feeble imitation in reply, and ran down to meet Jorgle. "I thought you were dead, if not buried, man," said Jorgie; and the stranger, shaking his hand warmly, replied, " It has been the longest night I ever passed; and the bed of the hardest." " The Herr Doctor has been used to luxuries in Vienna," said Jorgle, with a queer twinkle in his eye, and surveying his companion with great curiosity. " Upon my word, you are grown out of all knowledge; your own mother would scarcely acknowledge you with a beard like that." " The man is developed in a hurry, body and beard and mind, such times as these," replied the stranger laughing: " we have been doing serious work this -winter ; minds are ripe for the changes that are coming ; and before long, there will be an explosion, that will shake your mountains even out of their propriety. Are you still willing to go with us, old fellow ?" " Heart and soul; if you do not upset too much," answered Jorgle. " Well, it will do little harm to get rid of those pestilent Jesuits, at least," replied the Doctor. " Isn't Horst worth ten of them ? " " Ja wold, truly," said Jorgie, heartily. " I believe he has a notion something is in the wind : he will not be sorry to see the last of those interfering fathers." " Just fancy," continued the Doctor, " the lengths to which their jealousy of outward influence carried them last year, when they refused to allow two poor, harmless, old maids from Magdeburg to buy up a ruin they wished to Kve in for a few months in summer, because they were Lutherans ; the time is come to send them about their business, Jorgle. You owe them one ill turn, and I another; we'll be even with them yet. The manufacturers are furious; the pro- hibition against talvino; foreign Avorkmen, and the refusal to let them settle in the country, or to enjoy their own worship, ties the hands of the capitalists all ways. I was told by one only the other day, that he was bound at the beginning of his undertaking to employ only eight, and that tliey were to be reduced to four as soon as natives could be found competent to talve their places. Isn't that tyranny of the first water ? Without such restrictions, if you only knew your own interests, and what belongs to you as men by right, the land might be enriched by industry of every description. It is not possible to seal hermetically a portion of a great Edelrmite. 205 state like this against all others, and to declare it in a state of spiritual siege for all eternity. I defy Brandeis, and the Jesuits, to make a rock fortress out of a land of eight hundred thousand inhabitants, and five hundred and twenty- six square German miles. It isn't to be done !" " I can't enter into all your fine reasonings. Doctor," said Jorgle, taking off his hat, and scratching his head uneasily, when the stranger stopped for want of breath, not of will to go on. " But I know we should like a reduction in the price of salt; and the stamp laAvs altered ; and a difference made in the excise ; and these fathers got out of the country." " Yes," said the Doctor laughing, though he looked half vexed; "just to have the leather cut out where the corn pinches; instead of altogether new shoes, made after a pattern that would never gall. Why, man, education is your children's right; let your sons be on a par with the rest of the world, and superstition will pale, with the ignorance that supports it." " And we may expect all the wrangling and jangling, the strife and the differences of you Protestants," said Jorgle gravely. "Let religion alone," he added; "our schools are good enough for all we want, and our clergy, too, if we only get rid of the interlopers." The two young men had been climbing up the face of the mountain behind the hut, and now came to a fork of the pathway. "That leads over the Joe/;,"said Jorgie; "it's a splendid place for chamois, and Eddraute, too," he added, looking again curiously at his companion. " The plant you used to tell me about, that grows on the highest rocks?" said the Doctor, standing still; "that your young men seek at the risk of life itself, when their maidens will not have anything to say to them, and that never fails to soften the hardest heart ? Where is it, Jorgle ? tell me. I'll climb for it, if I perish!" "Not now, Herr Doctor," said Jorgle, watching the excited face of the stranger with infinite satisfaction ; " it is covered eight or ten feet deep at least in snow. It would be worse than folly to attempt to get it at this season of the year." "Never mind!" replied his companion; "let me see exactly where it is to be found. Let us go over the Jocli, Jorgle," he said, springing forward impetuously; "the bracing air will give one more manhood for the coming fight; you know the way, come on !" Jorgle stopped, looked keenly round him like a hawk; No. 31.—JULY 1877 2 D 2o6 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. up at the sky, in the wind's eye, and at the lake. " Per- haps we might venture," he said. " It's a glorious world among God's fields of snow, up there. I always think, a great deal more like my idea of heaven, than what most folk picture heaven to be. You are sure-footed, strong-headed, Herr Doctor ; we'll go to-morrow, if you don't mind another night in the hut. It is too late to start to-day." " With the chance of seeing where the Edelraute grows, I would wait for a week," was the answer. "I've but a poor supply for our supper, bread and cheese," said Jorgle; " if we could see Hans the forester now, he would help the larder, and keep, our counsel into the bargain. He was coming this way to-day." In a few moments he had climbed a rock near, and sent forth another jodd, that was even more piercing than the last. While its echoes were dying away in the distance, a faint reply came over the still fields of snow, untrodden except by the denizens of the higher regions. At a second signal from Jorgle, a figure appeared on an opposite ridge. It was the forester. Nearly an hour elapsed before he joined them; but his bag was not empty. Before long a fire crackled, and the steam of roast meat made the air of the hut pleasant to the noses of hungry men. As they sat smoking after their meal, which had been washed down by a couple of flasks of red wine, which Jorgle and the forester carried with them, no one would have guessed, as the joke and song went round, the Doctor taking his full share in both, that weighty thoughts were busy in the brains of two at least.

CHAPTER VI.

Some days after, news began to come of events, in quick succession, calculated to astonish the minds of the peaceful inhabitants of the Aclicn-thal. France was in the agonies of a revolution. Vienna had caught the flame. Students and malcontents were roaming about the city in formidable numbers. Kind-hearted Kaiser Ferdinand was become the most popular man in the capital, by declaring his willingness to liold a constitutional parliament, to obtain the advice of his people in this crisis of political feeling. When he drove out, it was the delight of the populace to take out the horses and drag his carriage themselves. From Innsbruck the news was equally astonishing. There was a clamour for reform, that nearly sent Governor Edelraute. 207

Brandeis out of his wits. The clamourers were too many to put into prison, or send over the frontier. The Jesuit fathers were Iceeping close ui tlieir quarters, for the murmurs against them were loudest of all; and little sympathy was expressed for them by any class, except by the governor, and a few nobles brought up in their seminaries. From Trent the tidings were even more exciting. Troops of peasants from the neighbouring villages had come into the town, and joining the rabble, ever ready for mischief, had fallen upon the excise offices, thrown the accounts and ordinances into the river Etsch; stormed the barracks of the finance guard, and destroyed everytliing. The head commissioner had lied ; resistance was not to be thought of; and the populace here and at other places was not to be stilled, until a deputation had been sent to Vienna, to convey their wishes to the government. Pio Nono came in for ovations everywhere; his voluntary reformations filled every one with enthusiasm, from Etna to the Alps ; a shout for the Constitution was always followed by another for him. Charles Albert of Savoy was marching over the Italian frontier. The gallant old Eaddetzky, 83 years of age, was defeated at all points. The Tyrolese were called out to fight, and rallied willingly at the summons. Things were managed much more quietly in Innsbruck ; yet even there such a tumult had not been raised since the days of Hofer. The land parliament was to be summoned : and what most of all interested the little group gathered at Agatha's, was the news that Jorgle was chosen deputy for his commune, and that he was hand and glove with a learned Herr Doctor Schmidt, who was to head a deputation to Vienna, bearing a petition for the passing of reforms that seemed most urgent; and especially, to insist on the dismissal of the Jesuits. Opinions were divided in the little community, and there was much stormy discussion at the inn. Agatha went about graver and more silent than ever; but, nevertheless, with a pleased expression on her lips. At Herr Pfarrer Horst's suggestion, she gave orders for the materials of the little chapel to be deposited ready for building as soon as the weather permitted. She was oftener than before beside the beds of the sick and dying, and ministering actively to the destitute and poor; but when Father Mathew, anxious to make the most of time now growing short for his order, urged on her the duty and suitableness of giving up her possessions to the Church; the beauty and holiness of a celi1)ate life, with the rich reward prepared for self-sacrifice here in this 2o8 TJie Ladies Edinbnrgli Magazine. world and in tliat which is to come, hostess Agatha listened quietly reverently almost, but promised—only to consider. As summer drew on, events thickened. In April the Fathers had met circumstances half way, by offering to give up their college in Innsbruck; many had already dispersed to America and Australia. In May, the decree for their dismissal was published at Vienna. Brandeis tried to help them, by putting all sorts of obstacles in the way of its being carried out. He even wrote to the Archduke John, stating that the decree was unsuitable to the times; and the love of the people to the order was such, that dangerous disturbances might follow on its passing into execution. But another occurrence put this topic in the shade. The Emperor and Empress of Austria appeared suddenly in Innsbruck. They had fled from the disorders and dangers of the capital, and committed themselves to the keeping of the faithful Tyrolese. So suddenly had their journey been undertaken, so great were the precautions taken to keep it secret, so few preparations had they dared to make, that not even the courtiers and ladies in waiting knew what was their destination when they started, as they imagined, for an ordinary drive. The Empress on her arrival at the Schloss, in Innsbruck, had to borrow night linen of the castellan's wife. The royal pair, and the younger members of their house, were safe, and knew it, among the loyal mountaineers. Deputations crowded in from all the other provinces during May, offering them asylums elsewhere ; but the Emperor Ferdinand remained in Innsbruck till August, and the capital of the Tyrol had seldom before seen such an assemblage of royal and remarkable personages within its boundaries. Though the cares of kingship in such a crisis forced the words, "I wish I were not an Emperor," from Ferdinand's lips, and led eventually to his abdication at the end of the year, the tragedies going on in other places made him thankful for his refuge in the Tyrol. The Princess Windischgratz fell at her husband's side, in his palace at Prague, killed by a shot fired from a house opposite, intended for him. Count Lamberg was torn from his carriage, and murdered by the mob, in I'estli; and the court had not long returned to Vienna, when Count Latour fell a victim to popular violence there. Biit the very boldest of the reformers, with Herr Doctor Schmidt amongst them, rallied round the fugitives in Innsbruck. Jorgle made the hearts of his auditors warm as he told of Edelrautc. 209 interviews with the Emperor and Empress, and discoursed of the affability and virtues of them, and of the young Archduke Franz Joseph, their nephew, and the future Emperor. Even Marie's pale cheeks glowed with a tinge caught from the general enthusiasm; while Agatha's eyes dwelt on the face and form of the handsome deputy, no longer the poor boatman Jorgle, with an ever-increasing interest and pride. It was just before the full burst of summer, when the first buds of the alpine roses were coming into blossom ; when the line of snow was daily creeping up the highest mountains, and the brooks scampered down in their joy through the pastures, where the cattle were browsing on the gaily flowered turf, making sweet music with their rippling waves over the stones, till with a last leap they were buried, song and all, in the waters of the lake they seemed to be hurrying to so eagerly; when the blue Gentian lifted up its tiny cup to the bright sunshine; and the Edelweiss stood beside it, wrapped in its white woollen gown, the two reminding one of an old woman, preacliing of rheumatism and damp shoes in the merry summer's evening to a gay young girl. She might wag her hoary head in the yet keen breeze off the snow ; Gentian looked up unheeding, drinking in the blue of that wondrous sky overhead, and distilling its colour in the alembic of her glistening petals, by the magic help of the sun she loved to gaze at. A light footstep well-nigh crushed them both, but the traveller leaped aside, and after a moment's glance passed on. " Only one flower will I gather to-day," he said, looking up; " yonder stands the rock. Help me, kind Kohold of the mountains ! Speak for me, sweet sprites of the dashing rills ! Breathe a prayer for me, little Gentian, as you stand stretching upwards to the sun, that cherishes you even unto death!" As he spoke he sprang upwards, strength, hope, youth in every limb and muscle. It was a giddy height, but he did not flinch. Step by step, steadily upward and onward; sometimes on a ledge so narrow, lie had barely room to stand, while the stones he sent rolling down told of the abysses that yawned for him, if he should be unlucky enough to follow: round sharp edges and awkward corners, clinging on for the dear life with foot and hand; slipping over beds of ice, lying unmelted in shady nooks and corners; still onward and upward, nerved by the energy of some deep resolve, he stood at last on the spot he wished to reach. With a cry of joy, breathless, panting, he sunk on his knees. 2IO Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Just uncovered from the snow, the white mantle thrown back round it, on the Irnre rock, in the brilliant sunshine grew a tiny weed; it scarcely deserved the name of flower. Insignificant as it was, he picked and kissed it tenderly, laid it wrapped in paper close to his heart; and then prepared to go down again. As the traveller pursued his fearful descent, far more dangerous than the climb iip had been, an anxious pair outside the cowherd's hut stood watching him by turns through a glass. "Jorgle! Look! that is dreadful!" exclaimed Marie, "can't you go and help him ? Oh ! Jorgle ' " and the girl laid the telescope down on a ledge of turf, and hid her face, turning sick and dizzy with fear for that fellow-creature in peril. Jorgle watched now, his face white, and his lips set. Once, when the traveller slipped, he threw up his arms with a cry. " He is gone! No ! He has recovered his footing again ! He is coming down like a cat! Pray, Marie, pray, girl, for only God's help can brmg him over that next bit in safety!" She had cast herself already on her knees, before the rude wooden crucifix, fixed on a heap of moss-grown stones beside the door. At length, with a shout of relief, Jorgie threw oft' his hat, exclaiming, "All right! The worst is over, he is safe now, safe !" And a jodd cleft the air, that must have caught the stranger's ear, for he too stopped to wave his handkerchief, and shout lustily in return. " Who is it ? Do you know him ?" asked Marie. "Yes, it is my friend the Herr Doctor," said Jorgle. "Come, maiden, let us go and meet him;" he added, dragging her with him up the steep hill-side. " He is a brave man ! you must congratulate him, Marie ; get one of your prettiest bouquets ready for him; only our bravest hunters climb that clift"." Marie followed rather reluctantly, as Jorgle plucked a branch of the alpine roses, more forward than the rest. She had heard much of the Doctor, and wished to see him; but felt shy of meeting a stranger. Yet she began mechanically weaving the fiowers together, with her innate taste and skill, while she asked, " Why did he run such a risk ?" " Who knows?" answered Jorgle, looking at her sideways; "perhaps he has a lover, and has been climbing for the Edelraute, that she may not say him nay." Marie sighed, and murmured, " Happy lover!" " Yes, truly happy she who gets the Herr poctor," said her brother warmly; " of all the men I ever saw, JMarie, he is the freest-hearted and the best." They were now hasteii- Edelraute. 211 ing on, the stranger coming towarc}^ them with long leaps and strides. Marie could only see he was tall and strong, and had a long dark beard and moustache. He was getting nearer, when he stopped and took something from his bosom. His hat was pulled low over his brow. Not till they were quite close could Marie catch sight of his eyes. That moment she stopped, turned pale, and looked strangely bewildered ; but he still came on—near, nearer : he had grasped her hand, and held the Edelraute up before her ! With a wild cry of joy, panting, sobbing, laughing, in her sudden happiness, Marie sunk on her lover's shoulder with a cry, as he clasped her to him, murmuring the words, "Oh Marie! my Marie!" Jorgle turned his face to the rock ; tears blinded his eyes. " McAii Gott, do Thou bless them !" he murmured; "and bless all who love each other."

CHAPTER VII. It was highday and holiday that June evening at the little inn by the Achen See. Agatha sat at the head of the long table, in the large guest-room, looking statelier than ever. She had put on her black velvet bodice, with her mother's silver shoulder knots and chains, and the silver girdle, that had come down as an heir-loom through many generations. Her snowy kerchief was crossed daintily over her bosom, and at her right hand, on the board, stood a splendidly cai-ved ivory cup. The room and table were filled with guests, among whom appeared Father IVIathew, and the kindly face of Herr Pfarrer Horst. Marie and Wilhelm sat side by side at Agatha's right hand, next to Jorgle, and the parish priest and Father Mathew on her left. Wilhelm Stein's dark beard and moustache had mysteriously disappeared on tlie way down the mountain, or in the cowherd's hut; and no one who had seen him so disguised, could have failed to be convinced that his soft light whiskers were much more becoming. Marie had a bunch of forget-me-nots in her golden braids, and a few in her bodice, with the Edelraute. A sense almost of solemnity seemed brooding over the room and the company, when, towards the end of the feast, Agatha exchanged glances with the Herr Pfarrer, and rising from her seat, said, "Dear friends and neighbours, a very happy occasion induced me to bring you all here together this evening, with the concurrence of our esteemed pastor, and our spiritual helper. Father Mathew." 212 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Here she bowed courteously to the Jesuit, who moved uneasily in his chair, and looked as if he were not sure what might be coming next. "This occasion," resumed Agatha, "is the sudden reap- pearance amongst us of one whose amiability and long residence last summer in our midst, endeared him to many; and whose supposed death caused unfeigned sorrow and anxiety to all during the winter. Some, I regret to say, might have been spared us, but for the secret connivance of our deputy, who it seems has known of Herr Wilhelm's safety some months, and deserves general reprobation for so cruelly keeping us in the dark." Here she looked down severely on the miscreant Jorgle, at her side; he could only hide liis face in confusion, while murmurs of dissatisfaction were aimed at him. "But," continued Agatha, "as he pleads good reasons for his silence, and our fears have proved so happily unfounded, I think we will forgive him. Herr Wilhelm, it seems, passed the winter in Vienna, in frequent conference and correspondence with the more progressive portion of our countrymen; and together they have been planning reforms, which I trust may be for the benefit of our beloved country. He has now returned, to ask the hand of Marie Zingerle as his wife; and our kind and indulgent pastor, considering how much she has suffered, and how truly the young people love each other, has consented to obtain from the Holy Father the dis- pensation necessary to allow of their union, as soon as possible. The maiden will retain the faith of her forefathers, and her future husband is willing that she should do so; under these circumstances, friends and neighbours, you will, I think, all pledge me in this cup (which, as you know, good Kaiser Franz sent to my honoured grandfather), a toast to the health and happiness of Herr Wilhelm Stein and his bride Marie, the hdlc of the Achen-thal." The invitation was responded to by all except Father Mathew, who pushed the cup sternly from him, with a gesture of marked displeasure. Then Agatha rose again, and with a perceptible shade of pallor, but with firm voice and noble mien, she said; " If, Eeverend Father, you will not pledge me in a toast to the health of a young couple, whom I believe God has destined for each other, I scarcely dare to hope you will do so in another. Friends," she said, placing her hand on the table for support, " I have to inform you that, with the advice and hearty consent also of our pastor, Herr Pfarrer Horst, I have come to the conclusion, that if it be not good for a man Edelrnntc. 213 to live alone, it is still worse for a woman; and with his approval, I have determined to endow a man yon all respect, and whom I have knoM'n from boyhood, with the poor possessions it has pleased God to give me; in the firm conviction, that he as my husband will help me to spend them aright, and to dedicate ourselves to a useful life, dwelling in peace and comfort with you our true friends and neighbours." As she ended, Jorgle rose to his full height, and taking the hand she held out to him, looked for a moment into her upraised eyes, and then bent down and kissed her forehead, with all the warmth of a lover, and the courtesy of a gentleman. After the toast was drunk, in a few telling words he spoke of the undeserved blessing that had fallen upon him, a poor peasant's son, in that free gift of a heart, whose goodness had been proved to all there by the repeated acts of love and kindness shown towards them and others. How earnest his endeavours should be for the future, to show he was not unworthy of it, time alone could manifest. In the confusion of lioclis, and the clinking of glasses, it was not noticed for some time, that Father Mathew had entirely disappeared. If at the end of that eventful year the gallant, simple- minded Tyrolese neglected to secure all the substantial advantages Wilhehn Stein and his friends so earnestly endeavoured to obtain for them, the Jesuits at least were dismissed ; and though he, as a Protestant, was yet unable to settle in the land of his adoption, or to own a foot of ground in it, he still looked forward hopefully towards the measures of toleration which did in reality follow in 1861. He and Alarie assisted at the festivities which marked the inaugu- ration of the new emperor, Franz Joseph, in December; and not a lovelier face than that of the beauty of Aclicn-tlial appeared amid the noble groups that surrounded the young monarch, setting sail in the frail bark of royalty, on those troublous seas of politics, at that stormy period. It was a countenance looked on even in the gay capital with pleasure, and spoken of with respect; for her husband, Wilhelni Stein, was making his mark on the annals of his time, and Marie loved to work with him. After five-and-twenty years, let me tell the reader (if he or she care to know it), that Agatha and Marie are still happy wives ; and the Edelraute grows on the same spot, if any luckless lover may wish to go and find it. C. EAY. No, 31.—JULY 1877. 2 E 214 J"^^^ Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

THE MONK'S VISION.

AN OLD LEGEND.

SUNBEAMS in a brilliant glory Fill the air with radiance bright, Soften'd by the misty mantle Of the early morning's light ; And the golden glow is touching Every vale and every height.

In the green and fertile valley Stood the cloister old and grey ; Richly sculptur'd was the chajiel Where the brethren knelt to pray ; Stately was the pillar'd portal Where the poor came, day by day.

But the cells were small and simple, Meet abodes for men of jjrayer ; All contain'd the holy symbol. All of luxuiies were bare ;— Little wealth possess'd the brethren ; Many needy claim'd their care.

O'er the richly painted vellum Where the Holy Word was writ, Bent the eldest of the brethren, As at morn he used to sit ; And the sunbeams, through the casement. All the cell with radiance lit.

'Twas the early Christian ages,— Not quite hid the unseen things ; Still, at times, poor weary mortals Glimpses caught of angels' wings. Heard the antiphons celestial. Which the choir eternal sings.

Now we wait the promised blessing To the faith untaught by sight. Looking for Christ's face, unveiled, Only in the land of light ; Then, at times, an open vision Came His people to delight.

To the brother this was given, As the Holy Word lie read ; One was near him, human, tender, With the thorns about His Head ; Yet enslu-ined in utter glory. And in majesty most dread. Home. 215

In a beatific silence, Kneeling liy the heavenly guest, Long reniain'il the favonr'd brother. All his soul liy peace possessM ; Then a hell, unwelcome, sounding, Came to break his perfect rest.

And he knew the poor were gather'd, Waiting for their daily dole, All such charity the chai')ter Had decreed he .should control ; Yet to leave His holy Presence Seem'd a robbing of his soul.

But his duty surely call'd him. And he sought the Savioui-'s face. With an eloipient expression, Silent, telling all his case ; Then arose, and lowly bending, Left the consecrated place.

He retum'd, and, joy amazing. Met his Mastei-'s smile serene ; And He said—"My presence fails not Those who at My work have been ; For among the poor beside thee, All the while I stood unseen."

Lord, though ours no visions wondrous. Many a duty, great or small, Day by day, we miist be

-?*-«K«*-*-'

FEW themes have stimulated the imagination of the poet and the painter more than " home, sweet home." The haven alike for the hopeful and despairing; the goal where the triumphant hero receives his crowning joy, or the wounded soldier lays his aching limbs—home is the magic word that finds a response in every breast. But although it is universally admitted that in home life the conditions are found for spiritual and social pleasure, there is not the same unanimity in conceding to it the power of fostering mental growth. " Der Wanderstab " is also viewed as a fairy wand, transforming, as in a panto- 2l6 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

mime, the clo\\n into the pantaloon—the fool into the wise- acre. An attempt to dispel this delusion may not be altogether out of season, and if we can succeed in finding a word of hope for those to whom destiny denies the pleasure of travel, this paper will not be written altogether in vain. In order to show that it is not only travel, but also home life which favours growth of thought, it will be necessary that we should clearly understand what we mean by mental culture; and if, in a somewhat detailed examination of this subject, we seem to wander over a w'ell-worn path, we only do so tliat our argument may gain a firmer foundation. It will be readily admitted that mental culture does not consist in the exercise of observation and memory, but in the acquired power of actively originating thought. The force of this statement will be obvious if we contrast the mental action of the primitive and of the cultured man. Thus we find that the child or the savage is the passive recipient of the external objects revealed to him by his senses, while the cultured man recognises the relationship between these objects. For instance, when man observes that the hunger he feels can be appeased by the food he eats, he generalises the relationship between two observed facts; when he tills the earth to reap a harvest, he rises to a still more complex thought; and wdien he stores the grain and barters it for other commodities, he retreats still farther from the savage state in which the existence of self and the existence of the grain were the only recognised relations. Mental culture, therefore, means, in logical pliraseology, to emancipate the mind from particulars, and to move with ease among generals. But this does not yet exhaust the meaning of the words mental culture. There is one particular fact which requires a special struggle before it can be generalised. This fact is the knowledge of self existence. Self is the pivot round which the uncultured man's whole interest revolves; but as soon as he learns that there are other existences in the world whose importance equals his own, he has made a step towards mental culture which is more difficult and more necessary than all others. Thus the unlettered patriot who dies for his country has reached a higher point in mental culture than the learned pedant, all whose thoughts circle round himself as the centre of his accumulated knowledge. But the patriot has only made one step in advance. He is still a specialist, and the man of culture must be a universalist. Perfect mental culture, therefore Home. 217

(which lies within the ideal, but not within the reach of man), may be described as the acquired power of generalising to the uttermost all knowledges. Enlarging thought, thus circling into thought of still wider compass, self will retreat farther and farther into the background, until it becomes but a unit in the infinite. Bearing in mind, therefore, that mental culture does not consist in an accumulation of knowledge, but in the power of recognising the relationship Ijetween knowledges, let us suppose a typical traveller starting on his first journey, and try to imagine the influence which constant change of scene will exercise over him. By taking an extreme view, both of travel and of liome life, we shall arrive at a juster estimate of the effect of these two states. But before we proceed, it may be well to determine what type of mind is to be subjected to these tests. The utterly indolent must naturally be excluded from our consideration, for those who are listless at home will be equally listless abroad; but there is also another form of disposition which lies equally beyond the pale of our subject. An Alexander Von Humbolt, or a Kant—whether as a traveller or a recluse—will remain a Humbolt or a Kant still, because (and here we venture to classify them with the obtuse and the inert) their minds will remain uncontrolled by outward circumstances. The type of mind, therefore, to which we must limit ourselves is the average intelligence, which, neither paralysed by indolence, nor propelled by quenchless energy, can be moulded and fashioned by its surroundings. Let us, then, follow the mental state of such an individual as he journeys forth to view the world. Can any pleasure equal his delight as one new object after another charms his observation ? As yet the objects he meets with are only recognised as particulars, but, full of enthusiasm, he resolves that these shall all be generalised in turn. He hears new theories broached, the old home-spun prejudice is cast aside, and all these increasing materials for thought are to be sifted and grappled with at leisure. But alas ! the wished-for leisure never comes. Our subject pre- cludes us from allowing our helpless traveller time to pause and think. The trunk is packed, the train whizzes; more new scenes, more new theories, more new acquaintances crowd upon him; the earlier impressions are lost; and gradually, too, the novelty of novelty wears off. The edge is taken off his first enthusiasm. His mind is overstocked with materials which have vainly awaited the hour when they 2i8 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

were to lie ordered and generalised; but not only has the accumulation of knowledge been too rapid, the power of regulating it has grown feeble from disuse. The old household gods have cruml)led to dust, and there is no energy left to replace them by a newer faith. Innumerable acquaintances are formed; but, as one after another is forgotten, the capacity for friendship is lost. The exercise of observation has become second nature, l)ut to rise from particulars to togenerals has become an unnatural task. It is found easier to remember the hour when the nuns sing in tlie chapel on the Piazza di Spagna, than to generalise the relationship between different forms of worship. It is easier to note that Pompeii has little shadow, and that the sun is scorcliing, than to fonnulate the fragmentary details of its present history into a completed thought of its past existence. Let us now take the other side of the picture, and imagine an individual living in the most secluded corner of the globe, where the narrowest of prejudices circulate. But as we have pictured a traveller, whose enthusiasm, at the outset of life, was great, so also we must imagine a recluse anxious to gain a fuller mental life. In his personal experience he finds few materials for thoiight; custom has so benumbed his interest in the common objects of his observation, that there is no novelty in his surroundings to stimulate his mind into action. Books, therefore, are liis only recourse. He opens a volume and reads. The subject is not so fascinating as the open book of experience which the traveller peruses, and some mental inertia has to be overcome before he can grasp the author's meaning. By this act he has not only acquired new knowledge, he has tasted the joy of self-activity. As he proceeds, he energises more and more freely, and the pleasures of thought (unlike the pleasures of observation), instead of diminishing, increase. It is true, what the traveller saw^ and heard the recluse must picture to himself, and the vision thus conjured up may be less vivid than the actual experience; but while the powders of observation are left partly in abeyance, the thinking powers are strengthened; what is missed in knowledge is gained in culture. Then, again, altliough the traveller was startled out of his equanimity by the new theories Avhich were revealed to him, with all the vitality and charm M'hicli a living voice can give, these same theories may have left the mind of the recluse untouched as he read tliem on the lifeless page. But, ogranted such a case, is it not better so ? Is it not more conducive to mental culture to cling to one completed Home. 219 thought, even if it be a prejudice, than to sutt'er a cold iconoclasm to shatter a delicate structure which it does not rebuild? On the other hand, let some unusual event stir tlie mind of the recluse into a state of doubt; liow triumphantly he emerges from the situation! The difficult prol^lem is sifted to its depth, not only because a monotonous life leaves leisure for thought, but because a mind accustomed to activity holds all the thinking powers at command. lieturning now to the traveller, we find that not only is the thinking power weakened; the old primitive tliought of self is forced into prominence upon Mm. Living in a civilized age, he is transported out of his century into what is the savage state, where to scramble for the bare necessaries of life becomes paramount duty. If he does not jostle his fellow-traveller, liis fellow-traveller will jostle him. If he does not push and hurry to secure all the advantages he can, he may lose his train, or his bed, or his dinner. It is true this individual struggle for precedence lies at the base of all man's activity; but in settled communities, and with higher civilization, the good of the whole means the good of the one, and, this truth being recognised, all jiersonal disturbance of the universal equilibrium is rendered unnecessary and unseemly. But this thought of self-interest generalised is denied the traveller. Thus, it not unfrequently happens that this aggressive obtrusion of his own personality is consolidated, by custom, into a characteristic trait. A different picture meets us in home life, where as a hospitable host or as a welcomed guest man is privileged to exercise all the graces of unselfishness and courtesy. Let us stiU farther follow the traveller to the close of his career. We have seen that novelty has lost its charm; but, sadder still, he is absolutely unfitted for the enjoyment of domestic life. The monotony of routine wearies one whose sole activity consists in observation. His mind craves for change, and yet, with jaded indifference, he passes from scene to scene. Enslaved by the tyranny of the external, to whose influence he has submitted his nature, he passes a grey existence, having missed that mental culture which is gained by self activity. It is far otherwise with the recluse. Every nook of his cherished home is known and beloved. There is no monotony for him in the secluded dell, quivering with melody; the common routine and duties of daily life have their nameless charm, nor is he oppressed with " the weight of too much liberty." Let him, however, travel. He does not crave for 220 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. the excitement of novelty, as the traveller does, and then flit coldly over the surface of things; but, be he at home or abroad, his mind recognises life's deeper joys in whichever state circumstance places him. DUMiE.

TO A YOUNG GIRL.

From the German of HEINE. So gracious, beautiful, and pure, Like to a flower tliou art, I gaze on thee, and sadness steals Into my inmost heart. It seems as if upon thy head Jfy hands I needs must lay, And that the Lord would keep thee so With all my heart must pray. M. REID.

—»e-«x»-<«-"-*-

A BEAUTIFUL infant lay, sleeping peacefully, in theloving arms of a tender mother, who bent over her child with looks of fondest solicitude ; her bright smile of pleasure softly changing to an expression of pensive happiness as her mind roved from the present to the future, and she strove, with the pencil of love, to lay the colours of hope on the fair canvas. Unseen and little suspected, three more powerful operators were watching the innocent slumber of the young child. They wore a varied aspect. The flowing tresses, glowing cheek, and radiant eyes of one, contrasted as strongly with the pallid face and anxious expression of the second, as they did with the whitened and drooping head of the third. Inrisihlc,t\ms theyappeared, and inaudible, thus they spoke :—The bright and beautiful one (whose name was Imagination), bending a moment over the babe, exclaimed, in a voice that fell on it as softly as a moonbeam, " Ah ! little one, in my hands how shall your mind outshine this fleeting loveliness of form ! I will open door after door of the clioicest treasure-houses; there you shall revel; on whatever your eye rests dwells a rich delight, whatever your heart desires you shall possess. The TJiree Sculptors. 221

I am able to make you the happiest of the happy.' How can you thus deceive the poor child?" answered the second (whose name was Care); " it is not possible for you to bestow any one of these things in a manner that will out- last one touch of my work ; I have my part to perform." And Care sighed mournfully. " That is just like you," cried Imagination, petulantly; " whatever / touch is beauti- fied ; wherever yon work, it is marred. See what your melancholy sigh has done!" pointing to the shade that clouded the baby's brow. The young mother noticed it too, and wondered. Had some mysterious sympathy conveyed the thoughts of her own heavy heart to the half-couscious mind of her innocent child ? Chiding herself, and for lack of better remedy, she l^reathed a kiss on the perplexed little forehead, and smoothed out the tiny Avrinkles. Once more Imagination bent forward. " How noble will be the sculpture to which this marble-like shrine of theintelligence is dedicated! " Care smiled, with a pitying expression. " How much of your lal:)oriously elaborated work will remain when my turn comes ?" Imagination answered, " My hand- maid, Thought, will be well trained to preserve the precious treasure; your disfigurement will be the worst apparent." " Nay," replied Care, " Time, here, will do more in that way than I, and I question whether his trusty servant, Experience, will not do your work more sensibly." They both drew back, and regarded old Time with suspicious glances. Themselves above the sweep of his blade, they felt keenly for those mortals in whose lives they were interested, and who lay within his easy grasp. Observing this mode of regarding him, Time withdrew his steady gaze from tlie infant's face, and answered for himself with mild dignity. " I acknowledge that so long as my hand is bound by the command of our one Great Master, I cannot blight your workmanship, therefore your turn comes before mine. But if yonder babe lives to submit to your several purposes, I only ask you to wait, and you will hear me hailed as the kindest of the Three Sculptors, who are ordained to try their skill on this human marble-mind." " This cannot be," eagerly exclaimed the other two. " I make a proposal to you," rejoined old Time ; " let Imagination furnish, from her rich treasvires, the vision-form of this child, trace the fair proportions she proposes, and then submit the model to Care, who, on her part, shall chisel those lines she so dearly loves. Then I will take my share, and illustrate my plan to you;" and as he spoke, he set his great pendulum in No. 31.—JULY 1877. . 2 F 222 Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. motion. Impulsive Imagination, aspiring to triumph, waved her fairy-lilie wand, and forthwith the lovely image of the child stood before them. At each stroke on Time's bell, a change passed over the form and features, and Imagination, glowing with noble joy, plied her delicate task and subtle art, until the rich wealth of mental treasure kindled the ardour of the eyes, and lighted up the massive brow—now with a dream-like beauty, now with commanding splendour. Enrapt at the result of her labour. Imagination paused, and waited a moment to contemplate, with exulting delight, the glorious gifts slie had bestowed. She turned to lean on the arm of the attendant, Thought; but Thought had left her side, and now obeyed the orders of advancing Care. " How is this ?" cried Imagination, hot-hearted, with quick indignation. " Have you forgotten ?" replied old Time. " Childhood and youth have passed away. It is now Care's turn to take the chisel, and see how she can direct the matured Thought." With restless and jealous eyes, Imagina- tion watched her rival's fatal lingers, now clasping the chisel. And yet the first effect made her eyes glisten. A resolution of expression her art could not bestow, adorned the face. The next line, a gentle melancholy, scarcely pleased her so well; but when sorrow, anxiety, and trial, had cut long scars on the lovely brow, she lifted her hands in passionate deprecation. " Oh ! not so, not so!" she implored. Time sighed. " It must be," he answered, as every vibration of his great pendulum brought into sterner relief the deepening seams. Care paused, and poising her chisel for a moment, turned her half-mocking, half-mournful eye on the drooping Imaghiation. " Here is a deeper line of your own," she said ; " see how well it has prepared the way for me !" It was indeed the favourite form, Sensihility, rendered more acute by Romance. Passion was the sharp edge which the cruel hand of the stern sculptor impressed there. Imagina- tion wailed aloud as she beheld the distorting marks; she veiled her face with her hands, that she might not be tor- tured by the sight of her beautiful image marred by agony. It was the hand of Time, laid gently on her disordered tresses, which caused her to look up. " It is now my turn," he whispered. Care had dropt the instrument of her fatal task, and stood apart, gazing intently, with profound melancholy rather than satisfaction, on the havoc her hands had made. Time now advanced. He took up the chisel, and laid its sharp edge against the deeply scarred face. Imagination sprang to her feet, and flung herself between The Three Sculptors. 223 the sculptor and his marble. " It is enough," she said ; " spare further blows, or with one Ijenevolent touch cause this woeful existence to terminate." But Time shook his head. " Impede me not," he said sternly, and Imagination shrank back. Care regarded the two with an expressive gaze. She knew the trace was immovable, the scars were sealed; her work had been sad, and its result tilled her with gloom. Time slowly moved his fingers; their placid task keeping measure with the ever resounding strokes on the bell. There was something so quiet, so soothing in the serene style of the great sculptor, that weary Imagination had almost slumbered, when a sudden silence told lier that the work was done. Then she looked, and wondered mutely at the grand change Time had wrought. There were, indeed, new and painful seams ; but the sharp lines left by the unsparing hand of Care had been so softened, that even the delicate pencillings of fair Imagination herself showed to more advantage than when, without a single adverse touch, they formed the sole decoration. Time still held the chisel, but not another line was added, for a hitherto unnoticed figure appeared in their midst—the movement of celestial pinions making the silence more profound. Contemplating the result of so much anxious labour, the angelic visitant began in gentle and authoritative language. " This, then, is your toil ? To what would you have reduced the immortal being you designed to personify ? But your hands liave been stayed. No false strokes can occur in the original. Imagination, thou art but a servant; where is thy pretended sway ? Bow down to the high will thou art caUed to obey ! Lofty, indeed, is thy work ; but sure malediction awaits thy touch if thou dost approach and rule unsanctified and unrestrained. Far exceeding the vainglory of the first triumph will be the reality of thy labours, if all the affections and aspirations are chastened and elevated to things purer tlian the natural mind can per- ceive. Care, thy solid work shall not be without its blessing; only bend thou unto the command of Him who binds and looses the forces of afHiction. Ye are not of necessity divided, ye two. Imagination, smooth thou the lines of Care: and do thou. Care, impress the fleeting influence of Imagination. And thou Time, thou hast done well. But there is a task that no created power can fulfil—one more stroke, and Time would give way to Eternity. But no labour of human Imagination, no toil of liuman Care, can win a passage to the world of holiness and glory beyond." 224 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

A brief silence followed, when suddenly the young mother, in whose arms the living child was sleeping, raising her eyes to the soft blue sky, whispered simple words of prayer to the Redeemer, that her babe might live to His glory and praise, both here and hereafter. Then the bright angel bowed his head, and with one touch of the chisel, Time dissolved the visionary image; and at the same moment, the mother woke her child with gentle kisses. LYDIA W. MELLAND.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 7. " CALEDONIA'S QUEEN." • 1. " Once liid from those who search the main." 2. When "good," it "bodes good end." 3. " The crown of life." 4. " Neither her outside forni'd so fair, nor aught So much delights me, as those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies that daily flow From all her words and actions." 5. " One eye on death, and one full fix'd on Heaven." 6. " The manna of a day." F. M.

SOLUTION OF DOUBLE ACROSTIC No. 6. 1. To every sort of asking, Acrostic, Question, Letter, An answer is expected—the more correct the better. 2. In ^t Helena,' victress England gave To her old foe, a prison and a grave. 3. " Holas, it is in vain they dress In polonaise, or robe j^rincesse ;" Ovu" neighbours mourn our island ways, " They have no ' cliic' these blondes Anglaises." 4. His I, I, I, is out of place, Mere egotistic chatter ; What one might do in such a case Were quite another matter. 5. "Tears," women's weapons; ugly weapons too ; And to themselves most harm they often do. The Oaks is over, the Derby is won. And Ascot Races have also been run. " B." Seven answers received ; the following four correct :—"B," Haw- thorn, M. C. B., and Message Girl. A PRIZE is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. Solutions to Ije addressed, "Acrostic Editor," Publishers, 22 Howe Street, Edinburgh ; to be sent not later than the 15th of the month, written clearly on a sheet of paper containing only the solution, pseudonym, and full name and address of sender. Solu- tions acknowledged in the following nunil.)er ; and name and address of winner only amiounced at close of competition. 1 St Helena is accepted as alternative for St Kilda. Our Library Table. 225

OUE LIBRAEY TABLE. BLUE ROSES. By the Author of " The Hotel dn Petit Saint Jean," etc. London : Henry S. King & Co., 1877. IT used to be the rule in old-fashioned stories that when the prince won the princess, and the lovers were married, " they lived happily ever afterwards." Now-a-days a good deal of research is sometimes made into the lives of the hero and heroine, after they have attained the highest earthly bliss—a research which does not alwaysjustify that conclusion. In the book before us, the hero—an Englishman—wins his love—a Polish princess ; everything prospers in their wooing, and yet their married life is a tragedy. Is it a common case ? They were passionately in love, bu.t only slightly acquainted with each other, and in a year the dis-illusion is complete; the man's love is gone for ever, the woman's love has turned to bitterness, and destroys her temper and her health like some morbid disease. One of the chapters is headed by this extract from Balzac :— " II n'y a pas de marriage heureux possible si une connaissance parfaite des deax epoux, coinme mceurs, habitudes, caracteres, ne precede leur union. Des presents, des cadeaux, deux, trois, on quatre mois de cour ne font pas le bonheur. C'esl uno, Jieur solitaire hUn difficile a trouver." Surely this is but a half truth. In a nmrriaye de conmnance, preceded by virtually no acquaintance at all, good sense and common instinct frequently bring true love in their train. And in a love match, it is in the nature of the idealizing passion to soften and beautify all relations till the mutual characters are known, and people have learnt how best to helj) and please each other, and a tender friendship grows out of the romantic devotion of the lovers. Only, the search for the jleur de bonheur must not be too absorbing, or it becomes that dangerous " blue rose," the poison-ilower ideal, of which our story tells. Not the ideal which infers a high standard of effort, but the ideal of a joy not to be found in this mixed life, and which, under the different forms of satisfying love, patriotic pride, or mere ease and comfort, is sought for by diffeient characters. Such " blue roses " are the subject of this story, which in form and matter rises high above the ordinary run of novels, and deserves a different fate. This is a book to remember and to buy. It is a real little work of art, like a picture by Messonier, complete, finished, graceful, and with a certain precision and restrained severity of taste characteristic of the books of this author. The principal actors are verj' careful studies, and the heroine is a most lovable creature in spite of her many imperfections. It is, however, the slighter sketches which give in a few words excellent portraits of the minor characters—the figures in the back-ground— which seem to us to be especially happy. For instance, at a supper- party at Carlsbad we have " A Jewish financier, a bald-headed man, who believed, not in the Pentateuch, but in music and in money. Then came three militarj' men, who believed in mirth and tobacco ; then two atkicMs, who believed in themselves—a form of creed more widely spread than even Buddliism. . . . Then Delfine, the fat blonde opera singer . . who would say ' Acli' and ' So,' and eat all the bonbons that he liked to give her ; for Delhne, besides being what she called a 'friend of sugar,' had a prodigious appetite. Aged twenty-three, poor and hard-worked, really very little in herself, and as nearly without qualities as it is possible to be, she seemed just now to this feverish young musician, carefully brought up in London, to be the ideal in person, simply because her voice prompted and suggested all that was most intense in himself of sensibility and of passion." Wlien the English husband takes his Polish Helen to the dull country-house where " nothing ever happened," pre.sided over by his 226 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. mother—"a tall, lean, grey, angular woman, unlovely in person, shy in manner, ignorant of literature, and without even any feminine instinct in dress "—no wonder that the latter is rather scared even by Helen's album. " ' Who is that ?' asked Sarah, pointing to a most uneartlily-lookiug person. ' Oh, such a strange woman 1 She is an inconsolable widow, half paralysed now, who has fitted up a room for herself in the vault where !ier husband is buried, and lived there till she was quite perdue with rheumatism.' ' Heigho ! what wonderful devotion !' said Frank. ' Yes, and they were not at all happy while he lived. He tried poisons on every one, and, they say, on her : and at last, by mistake, he poisoned himself. But even without the ])oiiiOiiii,G'etaltitnmarlqutarait tons fcs torts.' . . . . Now we come to the political characters. Mamma does not over-much like my having all these in my book; but in England, of course, it does not matter. Voita Konarski, who died on the scaftbld; the young Emilic Soplitza (none of that family ever die in their beds) ; and Ladislans says, though it is thirty years since she died, let Poland only have need of that house, and it will have again children to spare." And so on, through a long list of doubtful or disreputable jjersonages. No wonder that Helen, who came of the race, " and was ca2)able of repeating in her own experience a dozen of those strange dramas which she repeated to her mother-in-law," had as poor a chance of c^uiet happiness as most of her nation. " It is hard to say what quality was wanting in her, that all her good ones became not only so useless, but so dangerous. Her ardent temper made her tear along the rails of life at a pace that was certain to bring about collisions with her neighbours. She nnist ultimately weary herself by her own eager paces, and in the meantime she expected far too much from others, and made no secret of that delicate sensitiveness of the affections which is our vulnerable spot—the point where people can make us suffer." If the poor Helen had many of the faults of her people, she belongs to a family, we are inclined to say, almost too delightful to be Poles, who, indeed, have often great charm of manner ; but very seldom do we hear of their showing such heroic qualities as those of the Malinofska family. For, if ever political misfortunes were the direct result of political crimes, they were so in the case of Poland, whose distracted history, while she had a national existence, is sometimes now forgotten in sympathy for her ruined condition.

LOG LETTERS FROM THE " CHALLENGER." By Lord George Campbell. Fourth Edition. London : Macmillan & Co., 1877. SCIENCE is ra])idly becoming popular, and would be much more so than at ju'esent were more liooks like Log Letters from the Challenger written. That it has already reached a fourth edition, witnesses not only to the interest of the su.bject, but also to the excellence of the execution of the writer's task. With the charm of truth, added to glowing descriptions and a racy style, resembling South Sea BulMes, but (juite free from the dash of coarseness which mars that otherwise capital book. Lord George Cami)bell carries us right round the world, introduces us with equal ease to men and animals, birds, fish, amphibians, plants, and insects—rare and strange ; to magnificent tropical scenery, to the icy landscape of Kergueleu Land and its famous cabbage; to the gigantic volcano of Mauna Loa, in Hawaii; to the little-known people and land of the Japanese, and to the untamed natives of New Guinea. At the same time, a clear idea is given us of the special work upon which the " Challenger " was employed, of the scientific results obtained, and of the means by which the work was accomplished ; whilst full opjior- tunity is meanwhile aflbrded us for a hearty laugh over abortive efforts, when, after hours of hard work, the dredge brought up nothing but mud and a broken starfisli, or other unprofitable matter. Even Our Library Table. 227 mud, however, is not to be despised in these deep-sea dredgings ; for, as is now well known, the character of the niud brought up by the dredge in various parts of the ocean, and at different depths, has been of the greatest value to geologists, enabling them to explain rock for- mations which have hitherto been a puzzle, and proving conclusively that the forces in operation to rear, in remote geologic ages, the stupendous limestone and coral rocks of our existing continents, are still at work, forming, from countless myriads of minute decomposing shells, a sediment at the bottom of the ocean, to be gradually elevated and perhaps built upon by innumerable coral insects, till by degi-ees raised and consolidated into future islands and continents, when the solid ground upon which we tread shall have once more subsided into the bosom of the restless deep. Most amusing are the sketches given of the habits and manners of the penguins, and various other sea- birds, who seem busy preparing a supply of guano to revive the energies of the present virgin soil 01 the South Sea Islands and Australia, when these lands, like some parts of Europe, shall have become exhausted by excessive cultivation. Lord George Camjibell re-echoes the praises bestowed by the " Earl and the Doctor " upon the natives of the South Sea Islands ; and indeed, according to all travellers, they would seem to be a most interesting and intelligent race, although, alas ! gradually but surely decaying beneath civilization, with its attendant vices, diseases, and artificial wants. Of all the islands visited, the Sandwich Islands seem to have been the least attractive to the writer of Loy Letters. He says—" To me there is nothing South Sea Islandish about the Sandwich Islands—nothing in the scenery, vegetation, or birds—nothing in the natives, chiefly because I fancy they are universally dressed and uglily dressed, the men in trousers, and the women in shapeless sacks. To this dressing is ascribed in great part the rapid decrease of the population—colds and consumption following on intermittent nakedness one morning, and heavy clothing the next." It seems a pity that our well-meant efforts at civilization should thus tend to extermination ; and we cannot help believing that the ends of morality and decency might be equally attained by encouraging the manufacture and use of native garments, as by importing calico and shoddy from England. Habits of industry would thus be induced, which would be of incalculable benefit to the people in helping them to develop the natural resources of their lovely fertile islands ; whereas, at present, tlie ingenious native manufacture of tajjpa cloth, made from the inner bark of a species of mulberry, is given up, and there is no industry to supply its place. Kava drinking has given place to the consumption of the pernicious orange rum, and idleness and drunkenness are decimating the population. We may safely predict that whoever takes up this charming volume will not put it aside before every word has been read. From the first page to the last it is full of interest, both to the general reader and to the scientist, and it is impossible to read it without both pleasure and profit. Of the scientific results of the cruise we cannot here speak; suffice it to say, that the system of ocean circulation has been established, and that for the first time it has been possible to construct a map of the risings and depressions in the ocean bed, which will add greatly to our store of knowledge, alike of the past and of the present. A. W. BUCKLAND, 228 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

STEAY NOTES. THE Edinburgh University Local Examinations have created considerable stir tlirougliout Scotland this year. There were no fewer than twenty-four Centres needed to satisfy the demands of candidates in various parts of the country, including two Centres in England, viz. :—London and Peterborough. This is an advance of thirteen on the number of Centres formed last year. Altogether, these Examina- tions seem to be taking a firm hold in Scotland, and to their power we look for great improvement in the general education of the country. IN our May number, we asked why no one had followed the example of Cambridge in offering a prize of .£10 or of £\h for excellence in Special Subjects. We are happy to announce that this query has not been in vain. A " constant reader" has been moved to offer i,'10 as a prize for excellence in Latin at the Local Examinations of June 1878. WE learn with great pleasure that a Ladies' Educational Association is now formed in Aberdeen. A public meeting, attended by many influential citizens, was held on 11th Jvme, for the formation of this Association. Its aims are sound, and are summed uj) under the three following heads :—1. To establish Advanced Classes for young ladies, to be conducted chiefly by Professors in the University of Aberdeen. 2. To promote the extension to this district of the system of Local University Examinations. 3. To aid generally in promoting the Higher Education of Women. We wish this new association very great success. WE cannot allow the announcement of the death of Miss Mary Carpenter to pass without notice. The life-labours of so earnest and so indefatigable a worker can be but slightly comprehended by the many who are ignorant of the extent of her zeal and efforts ; but even to such her name will be ever associated with the benevolent reforms which have been brought to bear iipon the young waifs and strays of this land. While we honour her for the self-devotion with which she carried out her great aims, let us not forget that as a woman her character showed other evidence of depth of feeling, and of culture ; and assuredly her work among the neglected and erring lower classes of society was such as must be carried out, if the higher education, now so vigorously promoted, is to be more than a superficial toi:)-dressing.

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PRIZE is offered for the best article received by the Editors and accepted for insertion during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists born in the 18th century. AT the next meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society, to be held on Saturday, July 7th, at 5 Chester Street, at 11 o'clock, instead of a formal debate, each member present will give a short description and criticism, original or quoted, of any picture whicli she has seen. No meetings will be held in the months of August and September, Our Female Novelists. 229

VII. LADY MOEGAN (SYDNEY OWENSON). 6. 1782 ; d. 1859.

ON the 16th of April 1859, there died at her house, 11 Wil- liam Street, Lowndes Square, London, a little old lady, who had been—perhaps more than any woman of her day—the idol at once of literature and of society, the flattered of wit and wisdom, the courted of prince and peer—the brilliant Sydney Owenson, Lady Morgan. Twenty years have not passed since that day, and yet to how few is the name, once so full of association with all that is piquant, fascinating, and famous, more than the veriest shadow of a shade ! " What has a woman to do with dates ? " characteristically exclaims our heroine in the first chapter of her Memoirs; and accordingly it is only by rather uncertain comparison that we can assign the birthday, which she thus proceeds graphi- cally to describe, to somewhere about the year 1782. " I was born on Christmas-day, in that land where all holy days are religiously celebrated as testimonials to faith, and are excuses for festivity—in ' Ancient Ould Dublin.' There was, on that joyous night, one round table distinguished above most others by the wit and humour of the convives. The master of the feast was as fine a type of the Irish gentleman as Ireland ever sent forth—his name was ' Eobert Owenson.' " Wlien, ere the company had dispersed, or the feast ended, the same convivial host announced to his guests that he was made the happy father of " a dear little Irish girl, the very thing I have always wished for," the intelligence, continues the interested narrator, " was responded to by a half-suppressed cheer, mellow as a low mass, and hearty wishes of long life to her." The news was " a reason fair to fill their glass again." The father with difficulty dispersed the joUy crew by accepting Lysaght's proposal, that they should all meet that day month at the chris- tening of the little heathen; and that he, Ned Lysaght, should be the sponsor, and " vow three things in her name; which he had ne\'er been able to observe in his own." I have quoted somewhat at length our heroine's description of her No. 32.—AuODST 1877- 2 G 230 The Ladies Edinhirgli Magazine.

first entrance on any stage, because there is much in it that is ahnost curiously in keeping with the future life and character of that night's ddhdante, " The Wild Irish Girl" of our memoir. Sydney Owenson's father, the above-mentioned host of the jovial Christmas supper, Eobert Owenson, was a Celtic Irishman, and an actor, the son of a young Irish farmer, by name Walter MacOwen, whose prowess at a country hurling match had won the admiration, and ultimately the hand, of the Queen of Beauty of the day, the orphan granddaughter of Sir Malby Crofton—a woman of genius, a poetess, and musician, whose talents were so appreciated by her Irish neighbours, that they gave her the sobriquet of Clasagh-na- Valla, or the Harp of the Valley. Talent and a love for art were thus hereditary in the family, as well as the jollity and conviviality which made the farmer-husband of Clasagh-na- Valla the hero of every rustic frolic. Eobert, the only child of this strangely-assorted pair, seems to have inherited at once the athletic beauty of his father, and the artistic instincts of liis mother. While still a lad, his magnificent musical voice attracted the attention of Mr Blake of Ardfry, who adopted him; and the young man's fortune would have been made, but a passion for a prima-donna of His Majesty's Theatre offended his patron, and led to his dismissal. The house of Oliver Goldsmith, his countryman and relative, was his haven of refuge, who encouraged him in the idea that acting was his forte, introduced him to Garrick, and the stage became his profession. In the course of a few years, this handsome, fascinating, harum- scarum Irishman, in visiting an old class-fellow, met with his pious, prudent sister, Miss Jane Hill, the daughter of a substantial burgess of Shrewsbury, and wooed and won her, in spite of the opposition of both father and brother, to consent to a clandestine marriage. Sydney Owenson thus speaks of her mother—" I gratefully acknowledge the memory of my mother's worth ; and early as I lost her, if there has ever come out in my poor nature a show of discretion, and a scantling of that most uncommon quality, common-sense, I owe it to her. It is my inheritance from my excellent English mother." As miglit be expected, though there seems to have been much afl'ection on both sides, the marriage was not a very satisfactory one. Mrs Owenson " hated the stage, though slio loved the actor," and there seems to liave been a continual mental, and an occasionally audible, protest against her Our Female Novelists. 231 husband's profession. Of all this strangely-mingled lineage, the subject of our notice was the first living descendant; and she and her younger sister Olivia were brought up in the hand-to-mouth manner, in the matter of education, which resulted at once from the varying views and the uncertain circumstances of their parents. Their childhood was passed between Dublin, where the old JMusic Hall had been converted into their house, and their pretty villa at Drumcondra, where the family party consisted of Mr Owenson, " who now always spent his Sundays at home, and as much of his other days as his commercial, convivial, and dramatic avocations would allow;" Mrs Owen- son, Sydney, Olivia, and the Welsh maid Molly, the faithful factotum brought by her mistress across the channel at the beginning of her married life, and who stuck by the family through all its changing fortunes. Mrs Owenson's ideal of education was supplied by a daughter "of the good Sir Eowland Hill of Hawksley, who had read the Bible twice through before she was five years old, and knitted all the stockings worn by the coachmen ;" but, alas! Sydney wofully disappointed her mother's ambition, for she could not " even learn the few verses Avhich open the genealogy of the patriarchs." But though she could not be taught to read, the young brain was by no means idle ; she " wove all her favourites among cats, dogs, and birds into stories, and tagged doggrels together wliile lying awake half the night, and, as soon as she could get a hearing in the mornint^, recited them to the kitchen," where " James undertook to write it down, and Molly corrected the press." "My father took me on one occasion," she relates, "to ^Moira House, and made me recite my poem, to which he had taught me to add appropriate emphasis and action. The Countess of Moira laughed heartily at the ' infant muse,' as my father called me, and ordered the housekeeper to send up a large plate of bread and jam—the earliest recompense of my literary labours." The poem which met with this appropriate reward was as follows:— " My dear pussy cat, Were I a mouse or rat, Sure 1 never would run off from ycni ; You're so fiiiiiiy and gay. With your tail when you play, And no song is so sweet as your ' mew.' But, pray, keep in your press, And don't luake a mess 232 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

When you share with your kittens our posset; For mamma can't abide you, And I cannot hide you, Except you keep close in your closet." In spite of, or perhaps because of, " the education of the children " being, as we are told, " a favourite theme of discussion and disputation " between the parents, " it proceeded in a desultory manner. The moment nature broke out into any what noticeable act, discipline was brought in, and a master was found for the time being, which always proved to be a very short time indeed." A pen-and-ink sketch of a pretty church by the road-side made the fond father and mother prophecy a future Angelica Kaufmann in the "infant muse," and a drawing-master was summoned; but the threatened conversion of a cherub's head into a negro's, in the inexperienced hands of the young artist, dispelled their art visions. " Caligraphy and mathematics succeeded to the finer art," less apparently for the sake of the scholar than to put something in the wallet of " a poor fellow from Lough Eea, once a flourishing schoolmaster, a great mathematician, and copperplate writer," now a travelling pedlar, whose extempore instructions came also to an abrupt termination, as Sydney thus narrates: " Paper was got, lines were ruled, and Marcus TuUius Aufidius gave me a line of strokes, and a line of A's and B's to copy. ' Now, Miss, broad strokes down, hair strokes up.' I not only copied these strokes, but I copied his most ridiculous mouth, which he opened and shut to correspond with the ups and downs of his pen. My little sister tittered ; my father and mother, though angry, could not suppress their smiles; the susceptible Marcus Tullius took offence, and rose in wrath, saying, ' Och, then, Miss is too cliver for me entirely.' ' Well then,' said my father, ' to ease your burden, we will for the present take your Connemare stockings, and by-and-by your instructions.'" And so ended the attempt at caligraphy and mathematics! " Synods " held twice a week for " religious disputation," at which Mrs Owenson was "the Protestant Pope among them all," alternated with "musical rehearsals in the morning or the evening, or whenever they could be held, and a regular rehearsal every Sunday evening" of the company of Signior Geordani's Italian Opera, in the Owenson's house, the old Music Hall in Dublin; and at each of them there was a highly interested auditor in the person of the little Sydney. Of regular education she seems to have Our Female Novelists. 233 had none. A young poet-proteg6 of her father's, Thomas Dermody by name, who for a time had a home in their house, at last succeeded in teaching Sydney and her sister to read and write—a feat which she tells us he accomplished through their fondness for his society and fun! But this easy, happy, desultory home-life was not to go on forever. Sydney was still a child when, early one June, the "Eiding of the Fringes," a popular Irish festival, took place in the village of Glas Nevin, near their house at Drumcondra. Mrs Owenson, who had been for some time an invalid, was confined to bed, and Mr Owenson was absent. " The servants, taking advantage of the reldche from all authority," resolved " just to run down to Glas Nevin to catch a peep at the Fringes," taking the little Olivia with them, and leaving only a drunken gardener asleep in the kitchen, and Sydney reading and watching at the open window of her mother's bedroom. During their absence the dark Messenger came to Mrs Owenson; and almost before the frightened solitary child could summon their assistance, or the returned husband reprove their conduct, he was a widower, and his children motherless. " My father," writes Sydney, " unconscious of the event at the moment, was walking in restless agony up and down the drawing-room, with a child in either hand. The doctors arrived—feathers were burned and musk scattered about the bedroom—the atmosphere was that of death; but we knew it not till Molly entered and presented my father with my mother's wedding ring, the Irish mode of announcing the death of an Irish wife and mother." Even at this early stage the strong character and warm affections of the little Sydney showed themselves. The children were sent to the house of a kind neighbour till the funeral should be over, but Sydney was not to be kept from her father. Twice arrested on the point of escape, at last she succeeded by forcing herself through a hole cut in the coach-house door to let the dog in and out, and at once fled to her father's arms, where " the embrace and tears that followed were a relief to both." He cliid her for coming. " But papa," she said, " I promised dear mamma that I would take care of you, and I must." Mr Owenson was sincerely anxious for the well-being of the two little girls thus left to his sole care and tenderness, and at no small cost of privation to himself placed them, as soon as possible, according to their dead mother's earnest desire, at the best school in Ireland—" I may add," says Sydney, "in the whole Ignited Kingdom," Madame 234 The Ladies Edinburgh Magaf:ine.

Terson's, in Portarlington. Here Sydney, had her first experience of anything like systematic training; and spirited, and doubtless spoiled, as the little Irish girl was, she seems thoroughly to have appreciated the wise and wholesome regime to which she was subjected. We find her writing of her life during this period as follows:—"The pure air, well-regulated habits, and frugal biit wholesome diet, must have a beneficial influence, in after life, on the mental and physical condition of those who were subject to it, and which no home education could have given." Her talent for story-writing made its first appearance in a History of poor Hagar and her Desolate Boy, in wliich she painted "her horrors at such injustice;" but Madame Terson naturally did not approve of the paraphrase, and threw the MS. in the fire, with a mild warning to the young authoress not to meddle with such sacred subjects till she could understand them. Other less hazardous attempts at authorship, however, followed, among which was an imitation of Goldsmith's Retaliation, the names of the original being converted into those of her school-fellows: a performance which won for her an immense poj)ularity among the yoimg ladies so honoured. Nearly three happy years passed at Clontarf House, where, among the best things they had acquired, Sydney tells us, "was a respect for punctuality, and a fear of doing wrong, the disgrace of which was substituted for punishment," when unfortunately Madame Terson's health gave way, and she retired into private life. Another school was chosen, Mrs Anderson's, in Dublin; but it seems to have been a school of lower tone, and to have exercised by no means tlie same beneficial influence on its pupUs. Before the close of their first year there, their father took them with him to spend their summer holidays at Kilkenny; and on their return to Dublin before the holidays were ended, they were left under the care of their faithful Molly, in lodgings in St Andrew's Street; wliUe their father set off hastily for the south of Ireland, leaving an injunction to write to him every day. Several of Sydney's letters of this period are preserved— gay, light-hearted, frank, and aftectionate, with much graphic power in describing persons and incidents, and not a little of Irish wit. P>ut the clouds were gathering thickly round poor Mr Owenson's fortunes, and his sudden journey to the south proved to be in consequence of a statute of bankruptcy which was in process against him, and ere long the news Our Female Novelists. 235 reached the little party in St Andrew's Street. Instantly Sydney's high spirit rose to the emergency. Her letter to her father, on first hearing of his position, gives perhaps the noblest view of the "Wild Irish Girl," then a cliild just entering her teens, to be found in the whole Memoir, who, whatever her faults in after life, never failed to exhibit unfaltering courage, unfailing energy, and devoted affection. "Dearest papa," she writes, "you see I have let two days pass since I wrote last; but Olivia sent you, I know, a very funny letter, with a caricature of Molly answering to her call, "Tis I, my lord, the early village cock !' I have nothing so amusing, dear papa, but I have made up my mind on a subject which I trust you will not oppose, for there is no use in op- posing it. Mr O'F has been here; he has told me all, and I have seen your name on the list of statutes of bankruptcy. Now for all this, dear Sir, we must relieve you from the terrible expense you have been at for our education. Of this I am resolved to relieve you, and to earn money for you, instead of spending the little you will have, for some time to come. / ivill not go to any school where they can teach me nothing I did not know before! I was at the head of my classes at Madame Terson's; and as for Mrs Anderson, the vulgar creature! she is not worth mentioning. Now, dear papa, I have two novels nearly finished—the first is St Clair, I think I wrote it in imitation of Werter, which I read in school- holidays last Christmas; the second is a French novel, suggested by my reading the Memoirs of the Duke de Lidly, and falling very much in love with Henri IV. Now, if I had time and quiet to finish them, I am sure I could sell them; and observe. Sir, Miss Burney got three thousand pounds for Camilla, and brought out Evelina unknown to her father; but all this will take time. Meanwhile, I want an asylum both for myself and Olivia." The young authoress, with all her hopes of ultimately finding an Eldorado in authorship—hopes destined to be better realized in her case than in that of most who have entertained them—was prepared with a scheme for immediate provision for their necessities, as practical and sagacious as could have emanated from the brain of any woman of the world,—a home and education for Olivia, and an asylum for the faithful Molly, as children's maid, in the newly founded private school of Madame Dacier, the late head governess at Mrs Anderson's, at the extremely reasonable rate of £25 a-year; and for herself a situation as "instructress or companion to young ladies;" and already she has two situa- 2^6 The Ladies Edinburgh Magnrdne.

tions in view—"The one, Mr Sheridan's, the secretary of war; the other, Dr Dickson's, the bishop of Limerick. Should the latter answer,"she continues,"! should prefer, as it would take me out of Dublin and all former acquaintances. Not that I am ashamed of what I am about to do, but then, I think, you will be, with your Irish pride; and as for Olivia and Molly, I am afraid to break it to them. But I am resolved. I know I shall go through my appointed task right well; and, as Shakespeare says, 'All my corporal faculties are bound up to the purpose.' I will not say more, dear papa, at present; but I hope to have everything settled by the end of next week, when we must give up these expensive apartments, happen what may.—Your own old SYDNEY," In a small way Sydney was already an authoress, for her father's "parental vanity" had led him, she tells us, to print a small volume of her verses by the name of Poems hy a Young Lady, hetween the age of twelve and fourteen. And though, by her own account, " they had all the faults of tiresome precocity," they seem to have been of some assistance in interesting friends in her behalf at this juncture in her life. Very soon after the former letter comes another to her father, dated Castletown, Delvin, Westmeath, with the information that she had already entered on her duties as governess and companion to the two daughters of Mrs reatherstonehaugh, of Bracklin Castle. The mode of arrival at her future home is singularly amusing and characteristic. All arrangements made for her journey; on the following day she " accepted a farewell dinner, and a little dance after, which Mr Fortaine called a fetit hal d'adieu; for the night of my departure he said, ' The mail goes from the head of this street; it will blow its horn when it is ready for you, and we will all conduct you to your carriage.' Well, papa, this was all very nice, for I wanted to be cheered; so I dressed myself in my school dancing dress, a muslin frock, and pink silk stockings and shoes. Molly had my warm things to change in time for the mail. Well, dear papa, we did not exactly mind our time; and the fatal result was, that I was dancing down, ' money in both pockets,' with a very nice young man, Mr Buck, the nephew to Miss Buck, when the horn blew at the end of the street! Oh, Sir, if you knew the panic! All that could be done was for Molly to throw her warm cloak over me, with my own bonnet, and my little bundle of things, so that I might dress when I got to Kinigad." But the bundle went astray Onr Female Novelists. 237 during the night journey, and she had to appear in the presence of her new employers in her " white muslin frock and pink silk stockings," surmounted with Molly's warm cloak and her own bonnet! Luckily, the Featherstone- haughs were kind and genial people, who " screamed at the fun " of her disaster between mutterings of " Dear little thing—poor little thing;" and her relations with them, so oddly begun, continued for several happy years. During her residence with them she made a first attempt to publish her novel, St Glair. Taking advantage of a visit to Dublin, and disguised in the cook's market bonnet and cloak, she sallied forth one morning before breakfast in search of a publisher, intending " to take her chance of finding one iu the streets of Dublin !" Chance led her to the shop of T. Smith," printer and bookseller, who, as good luck would have it, had known her father, and sent her on with a note of introduction to a Mr Brown, on whose counter she was allowed to deposit her MS.; but leaving town next day, and having left no address with Mr Brown, she heard nothing of her book, till long after she picked it up in print! After leaving the Featherstonehaughs, Sydney went for a time to live with her father and sister at Coleraine; but, as her biographer remarks, " Sydney's virtues were not of the patient, home-staying household kind. She was capable of working hard in her own way, and she worked from the honest stimulus of wishing to earn money to help her father out of his diificulties; but she could not endure dulness or discomfort;" and so, in spite of her love for both father and sister, in a few months she quitted them to take another situation in the family of Mr Crawford, at Fort-William, in the north of Ireland. Another novel, also called St Glair, or First Love, but apparently different from the story of the name which had been so unceremoniously published by Mr Brown, was published by her in Dublin, in 1802. Again quitting the Crawfords, she joined her father and sister at Inniskillen, and there finished her novel in six volumes. The Novice of St Dominic. " Without one friend to recommend, when I wished to publish The Novice," she writes, " I looked in a newspaper for a bookseller's name—I saw E. Phillip's, and wrote to him." He answers, "That though charmed with the ingenuousness of her letter, he must see and read before engaging for her new work." And Sydney resolves to take The Novice to London herself. " When the coach drove into the yard of the Swan with two necks, in No. 32.—AUGUST 1877. 2 II 238 T!ie Ladies Edinhnrgli Magazine.

Lad Lane, she had not a notion where to go, or what to do next, and sat down upon her small trunk in the yard to wait until the bustle of arrival should have a little subsided. Overcome with fatigue and anxiety, slie fell fast asleep !" Next morning, however, " with unabated spirit, she proceeded to seek her publisher, taking her MS. with her." The novel was accepted, on condition of the six volumes being reduced to four; and Phillips, "fascinated into aliberality almost beyond his judgment," paid her at once ; and though " this first fruit of her success could do but little towards rescuing Eobert Owenson from his embarrassments, the fact that she could earn money by her pen was more than relief to both father-and daughter : it was hope and fortune." Her first purchases for herself out of her literary earnings were an Irish harp, and a black mode cloak. The Novice of St Bominic was published in 1805,and proved a great success; and henceforth Sydney Owenson was a successful writer. The Lay of the Lrish LLarp, a collection of poems and melodies, appeared the next year; and shortly after The Wild Lrish Girl. For this book she got three hundred pounds from Phillips, and from henceforth her literary reputation was made. " The great secret of the success of The Wild Lrish Girl," says her biographer, "was, that it conveyed, in a vivid and romantic story, curious information about the social condition, the manners, customs, literature, and antiquities of Ireland." Ever after Sydney Owenson's literary career was a triumphal progress; publishers competed for her books, and peeresses for her company, but she never relaxed her labour. " To the end of her days she always thought of her position in life as a conquest; the titles and equipages of her great acquaintance were to her what scalps are to an Indian ' brave,' outward and visible signs of conquest, not inheritance." Lda of Athens,her next novel, was published by Messrs Longmans, in 1809. It is described as written under many distractions, and containing much " perilous stuff." It procured for her " the thorny honour" of a review in the Quarterly. It was less successful than her previous works; and Lady Morgan herself seems to have been rather ashamed of it, and speaks of it as " a bad book." Brilliant and fascinating, it was not to be expected that Sydney Owenson could escape her fair share of lovers, and we find traces of sundry flirtations. One only, that witli Sir Charles Ormsby, who is described as " the ugliest fellow, and the most accomplished gentleman, in Our Female Novelists. 239

Dublin," appears in any degree to have affected her; but, though evidently much attached to each other, there seems to have been no definite engagement between them, and eventually they quari-elled, and all intimacy seems to have ceased, though they continued to have much mutual regard for each other. At last, however, the brilliant coquette met her fate in Dr Morgan, made for the occasion Su- Charles Morgan, the family physician of the Abercorn family, in whose house she was for some years a resident. " The Wild Irish Girl" was not easily to be caught, and the worthy doctor seems to have had hard times of it during their engagement; and there is no saying how long his trials might have endured, or how they might have ended, had not his friend, the marchioness, come to the rescue in the following peremptory manner:—" On a cold morning in January, Sydney was sitting in the library by the fire, in her morning wrapper, when Lady Abercorn opened the door, and said, ' Glovina, come upstairs directly, and be married; there must be no more trifling!' Her ladyship took Miss Owen- son's arm, and led her upstairs into her dressing-room, where a table was arranged for the ceremony, the family chaplain standing in full canonicals, with his book open, and Sir Charles ready to receive her. There was no escape left. The ceremony proceeded, and the Wild Irish Girl was married past redemption." Once caught, Sydney Owenson made a most affectionate and happy wife. Her husband seems to have been a man of a highminded, generous, and affectionate nature. " He," says her biographer," kept her steady, and she kept him from stagnating into indolent repose. To Mrs Lefann, her most intimate correspondent, she thus writes, in February 1812, a month after her marriage:— " Since you will not even ask me how I am, I will volunteer the information of my being as happy as being loved up to my bent (ay, and almost beyond it) can make me." And the mutual affection lasted untarnished during all the thirty years of their married life. The first entry in Lady Morgan's diary, after her widowhood, is—" Oh, my husband ! I cannot endure this. I was quite unprepared for this! So ends my life. Nov. 1843, Plus ne m'est rien, rien ne m'est plus." In 1813, she published her novel of O'Donnel, for which she received five hundred and fifty pounds, and which had a success exceeding even that of The Wild Irish Girl. In 1815-16, she and her husband visited Paris, taking with 240 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. them introductions which admitted them to Parisian society of every shade of politics—Madame de Genlis, Madame Patterson Bonaparte, Monsieur de Lafayette, are among the acquaintances of this period; and in 1817, her work on France was published. It made a great sensation. Both abuse and praise were showered on it in no measured degree. The Quarterly assailed it in an article " almost proverbial for its virulence and bitterness." Lady Morgan was rather proud than otherwise of the commotion it made: and she amply avenged herself by putting John Wilson Croker, who had the credit of writing it, into her next novel, Florence Macarthy, which appeared in the following year. Another work was arranged for in the same year by Colburn, on Italy, Lady Morgan to write the Observations and Sketches, and Sir Charles the Chapters on its Laws, Politics, Science, and Education, for the copyright of which they were to receive two thousand pounds. This book appeared simultaneously in London and Paris, in 1821. It produced even a greater sensation than the Avork on France. Lord Byron writes of it: " Lady Morgan's work is fearless, and excellent on the subject of Italy. Pray, tell her so ; and I know the country." Her fame was now at its height. Colburn writes, at the close of the same year, offering two thousand pounds for a similar work on GJermany ; but this proposition never came to anything, Lady Morgan being then engaged on her Life and Times of Salvator Rosa, which appeared in 1823, and for which she received five hundred pounds. In 1827, The OBriens and 0'Flaherties, which was even more popular than her previous stories, was published, Colburn paying her for the copyright one thousand three Imndred pounds. In 1829, her second work on France appeared, which Avas destined to cause her more annoyance than any of her previous books, through the unscrupirlous rage of her late publisher Colburn, whom she had deserted for Messrs Saunders & Otley, and who took every means to injure the sale of the book and her literary reputation, with only too much success. Among her correspondents at this time we find notes from Moore, Campljell, and Mrs Hemaus. Her next publication Avas Dramatic Scenes and Sketches, given by her to Messrs Saunders & Otley, in the hope that it would prove a compensation for the loss they had sustained on her prcAdous Avork; but neither did this prove such a brilliant success as it deserved, though it is considered one of Lady Morgan's best Avorks. In 1837, Sir Charles and Lady Morgan bade farcAvell to After the Rain. 24I the pretty house in Kildare Street, Dublin, which had been their home during all their previous married life, and settled in London, where she set about writing an important work. Woman and Her Master. The idea of the work is to demonstrate that, in spite of apparent subordination, women have in all ages been " the depositaries of the vital and leading idea of the time;" but Lady Morgan's health and eyesight were failing, and only the first instalment of the work was finished. In 1842, the " Book loithoid a Name" a collection of sketches and articles by Sir Charles and Lady Morgan, appeared; and in 1843, Sir Charles died. Henceforth Lady Morgan's life had fallen into the sear and yeUow leaf. Eesolute as ever, she put away her sorrow, and returned to the world which had become a necessity to her; but few things are sadder than the subsequent entries in the Dooms- dcnj Book, as she calls her diary, seldom opened now but to record the passing away of another, and yet another, of the friends of her earlier days. " So I reel on! " she writes; " the world is my gin or opium. I take it for a few hours per diem—excitement, intoxication, absence! I return to my desolate home, and awaken to all the horrors of sobriety." In her house in William Street, using society as a sop to son'ow, the last years of this brilliant life passed away. The first entry in her diary for 1859 is as follows :— " January 1. This day my Odd Volume, probably my last, made its appearance in the world I'enfant de ma vieillcsse. This csqiiisse has a success more universal and cheerful than ever attended any of my works." Her spirit and energy, and capacity for work, were hardly diminished from the time of her girlhood, but the end was near. A cold, apparently slight at first, became serious; painful attacks of spasmodic breathings came on, and at the end of a fierce struggle for breath, she said to her niece, who was supporting her, " Sydney, is this death?" And on the evening of the 16th of April 1859, Lady Morgan passed away. JEANIE MORISON.

AFTER THE RAIN,

THE summer storm is over, And clouds dispersed again ; Nature, refreshed, is resting After tke rain. ^42 '^^'■^ Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

From one leaf to another, In a scarcely stirring plane, The drops like tears are falling After the rain. And from its topmost branches Comes a sudden joyful strain— A blackbird singing gladly After the rain. I could not choose but listen, Half in pleasure, half in pain, To what that bird was singing After the rain. In my heart had raged a tempest, There, too, it was still again, Tho' clouds hung dark and heavy After the rain. My lot seemed drear and lonely. My wild heart would complam, No voice of praise ascended After the rain. And now I wandered restless, And seeking for peace in vain. Until that song was uttered After the rain.

No longer I felt weary When I heard that joyous strain ; It fell like balm, and soothed me, After the rain. My heart, no more repining, Caught up the glad refrain ; The bird and I were singing After the rain. CROCUS FORSTER LEIGH.

A TALE OF SELF-SACRIFICE. " Let me . Die, if dying I may give Life to one who asks to live." LON'GFELLOW.

THERE is a land of fruitful valleys and fertile plains where the olive grows, and purple grapes are plentiful, and scarlet pomegranates blush under the plane trees. Valleys imply mountains, and mountains there are: Olympus, with its Alcestis. 243 head among the clouds; Ossa; and Pelion,^the sentinel on the sea-coast. Many a picturesque legend belongs to this land of Thessaly: strange stories cling with the mists to the mountains' sides—the brooks babble of quaint fancies. One sweet tale has been often told with pen and pencil. It is the story of Alcestis, the devoted wife; and the scene is laid in Pherw, a city of the plains. Once, in the beginning of time, there was mourning and despair in Pheroe, the royal city of Thessaly, and in the palace of Admetus its king, for the fiat of the Fates had gone forth—Admetus must die. Even now the thread of his life was spun out; and the dark-robed Atropos, with hand upon her shears, drew near to sever it for ever. Then in the great strait of his mortal sickness the king bethought him of a boon the gods had granted long ago, that if one of his nearest and dearest would die in his stead, the sacrifice should ransom the forfeit-life of Admetus. For a moment a ray of hope illumined the king's despair, and then departed swiftly as it came; for where might he look to find a mortal willing to brave death for his sake ? Father, mother, kindred, friends, sorrowed full of anguish for their doomed beloved one, but none volunteered to make the required sacrifice; for ah! life is sweet, and death is terrible ! There was one who had hung over the royal couch day by day with loving ministry, deaf and blind as it seemed to all except what concerned the prostrate figure lying there. But now she rose up, this queenly form, with the flowing draperies, and her eyes shone like twin-stars with the inspiration of her noble purpose. She looked away dreamily through the open casement round which vine-leaves quivered in the sunset warm with sunny life, and in the far distance her gaze rested on the purple slopes of Olympus, with crest ever hidden from view like a mortal's hereafter. She sighed: then, stooping, pushed back with gentle fingers the curls clustering round Admetus' brow, and kissed him, whispering softly, " Husband! sleep in peace. For thee, Alcestis dares to brave even the shades of Death!"

Why was it summer, and the world so fair ? The goats browsed lazily on happy hill-sides; shepherds piped to their flocks; a sweet tumult of bird-notes filled the zephyrous air. Nature seemed to mock Alcestis with its vivid life, and make it harder still to die. To loose her hold for ever of the warm hands clasping 244 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. hers, to bid farewell and go alone out of this bright world into the drear and terrible unknown, to wander a shadow among shadows in a passionless existence, where love was not, nor hope, nor joy of life, to drink of Lethe till even memory grew pale. Tliese things had made even the kingly heart of Admetus quail, and should Alcestis be found fear-proof ? Yes,/or him. That thought sweetened all for the loving wife, as in the calm dignity of high resolve she put aside all dread and doubtings, and waited strong-hearted for the messenger of the Fates. All day long, from sunrise to sunset, the queen Alcestis waited, crowned doubly a queen by this majesty of her sorrow. Her maidens wept around her, her little children clung to her knees, and wailed with piteous voices, but she—was tearless. And at even, when all the land was wrapped in the dim mystery of twilight—when the very sun had turned away his face not to witness the sad sacrifice— the summons came. With one long-drawn yearning sigh of farewell, Alcestis departed to the Land of Shadows, and Admetus rose up strong and vigorous, once more to taste what of joy life had left for him. Joy ?—Nay ; Alcestis had stolen all the sweetness out of life, and carried it with her to the Shadow-Land. This woi'ld about him was emptied of delight for evermore.

IL It clianced on the desolate day following, when all hearts in Pherce were sore for Alcestis, that a traveller arrived at the palace-portal, and begged admittance. He seemed a-weary with long journeying, and rested on the knotted club he carried, as if glad of its support. Admetus' doors and Admetus' heart had always been open to all who claimed his hospitality; and now, notwithstanding the cloud overshadowing Pherce, the palace-gates were rolled back on their hinges, and the stranger bidden to the best that Pheroe could give. He was tall of stature, and it seemed as though a lurking strength lay dormant in the relaxed muscles of his mighty frame. He wore a lion's skin girt about his person, and the fierce head of the royal beast, terrible even in death, glared from over his shoulder at those who dared to look. At sight of him the little ones of Admetus ran affrighted away, so formidable was his aspect. Akestis. 245

The board was spread, and the wine flowed plentifully, and with it strength and boldness flowed anew into the veins of the exhausted stranger. Then for the first time he noted the gloom brooding over hospitable Pherce, and inquired into the cause. " We mourn our lady, the gentle Alcestis," replied the weeping attendants ; and hereupon, with tears and lamenta- tions, they unfolded all the tale. At that the guest of Admetus sprang to his feet, and a gleam like summer lightning flashed from his eagle eyes. " Whither went your lady ? " he questioned quickly. For answer, they pointed in silence towards the Shadow- Land. Thereat, without even waiting to thank his host for his entertainment, this strange visitor caught up his club and strode out of the palace. His tread was the tread of a hero among men; and those he had left behind looked at one another, and whispered under their breath: " It is Heracles, the Deliverer!" Whereupon a vague unreasoning hope crept into their sorrowful hearts, and lodged there.

The dark mists arose from marshy swamps, and rolled up from hidden valleys, as in brief space afterwards Heracles stood upon the brink of the river which separates mortals from the Shadow-Land. Black and terrible flowed the waters of Acheron, lapping with a sullen plash at the keel of the waiting boat; but, nothing daunted, the hero sprang aboard, and bade Charon, the grim ferryman, put off across the stream. As he drew near to land, he scanned the shore eagerly, but the banks of Acheron stretched away on either hand barren and deserted : no glimpse could he gain of the two he was seeking. Then Heracles flung his passage-money at the feet of his surly steersman, and landing, strode on past the fiery torrent of Phlegethon, deeper and deeper into the nether world. He passed the flood of sad Cocytus, whose waters, men say, are made of human tears; and saw close beside the dusky portal behind which Somnus sleeps upon his ebon couch. The drowsy influence of poppy and nightshade stole over his senses, the river of Forgetfulness enticing plashed its plaintive lullaby, but the hero pushed on unheeding of all. Strange shades flitted by in the darkness, weird cries assailed his ears and chilled his blood; the place seemed full of piteous faces peering from dim cypress groves. Then, as he went, imploring hands were stretched out to him,—despair- Ko. 32.-AUGUST 187T. 2 I 246 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. ing fingers clutched at his garments, mutely beseeching deliverance, for even to these haunts of woe his hero-fame had spread. He was heart-wrung by this ever-present anguish ; nevertheless, daring not to tarry, he shut eyes and ears, and liastened on through gloom illumined by no sunbeam, through hideous shapes and flaming fires, till far in the distance he spied at last the two dim forms of the two he sought—Alcestis, the pale captive, and Death, the King of Terrors, flitting before him in the dark. Then Heracles braced himself for the struggle and strode the faster, and coming up with Death, at last compelled him to stay his flight. And now did a conflict follow such as no moi'tal mind can picture, while Heracles, the hero-champion, WTestled with Death for his prey. The gloom deepened, the wmds stood still, the immortals themselves looked on with breath suspended at the meeting of those two great ones. Long and dreadful was the fight, bvit for this once the mighty King of Terrors had found a mightier than himself. Heracles prevailed at last, and, coming off conqueror, bound Death fast with diamond chains, and forced him to release his victim. So the victory was won; so Alcestis, the gentle captive, trembling, astonished, as yet scarcely believing in her deliverance, was loosed from her bondage, and made free to go whithersoever she would.

III. Now it happened on a morning when the grief of Admetus was some days old, yet every day more bitter, tliat the king came forth at early dawn, and paced to and fro before liis palace in sad self-communing. The fount Hyperia was gushing forth its silver-voiced waters, the birds were awaking with cliirping and trills to another day of careless-hearted song; but for Admetus no new day of joy would awaken any more. Content and he had parted company. Full of sorrowful thoughts, in which self-reproach barely mingled, he walked through this blithe Thessalian land, rich witli the plentiful fruits of the earth, and abundant flocks and herds. Wliile he mused—contrasting this lonely present witli the happy past—suddenly there came to the ears of Admetus a strain of soft sweet music stealing up out of the distance above, around, he knew not whence. Alcestis. 247 The dawn ^as strengthening; the first beams of the rising sun were dispersing the mists of morning. It seemed to Admetus presently that those rosy rays gathered themselves together into the semblance of a form divinely beautifid, whom by his long floating fair hair, and by the golden lyre he held in his hand, the king knew to be Apollo, the Sun-God. In former days, the great Apollo, exiled from Olympus for some offence against the majesty of Zeus, had sought refuge with Admetus, and served him in the disguise of a herdsman for nine long years. Apollo, therefore, we may be sure, could feel for the grief of the Thessalian king, because he had known and loved the gentle Alcestis; nay, some legends tell that he himself had stooped to plead with Death for mercy, though in vain. Pleased, yet half in awe at the transformation of his lowly herdsman, the sad king welcomed his gifted visitor, and then, sure of his ready compassion, would have poured out his tale of sorrow, had not Apollo stopped him, and with the kingly air of authority which sat so well upon him, bade Admetus return to the palace where guests were waiting his coming. "With reluctant steps, not daring to disobey, Admetus turned towards that home whose charm was henceforth lost for him. We can fancy him re-passing the portal, and moving forward indifferent, yet courteous always, through the as yet dimly-lighted vestibule, where stood the new claimants on his hospitality. The one seemed to be a female form veiled and half-hidden by her ample loose-falUug di'aperies. In the other, Admetus, with mild surprise, recognised the unceremonious guest who had lately quitted Pheroe with such scant leave-taking. Waiting for no greeting, the stranger steps boldly forward. He is calm of speech, but there is a gleam as of triumph in his eye. " I left you in haste, 0 Admetus," we may imagine him saying; " I left you in haste, and gave you no thanks for the hospitality shown without stint to the weary wayfarer, because I am plain of speech, as all men know, and find deeds easier than words. Nevertheless, I noted your sorrow, and would fain assuage it, for Heracles is not ungrateful. I bring you here one to share your heart and throne, who shall replace the loving lady you have lost, and be to you ten times dearer still. These are my thanks, O Admetus !" And taking the veiled lady by the hand, he would have presented her to the king, but Admetus waved him back impatiently. 248 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

"None but Alcestis herself shall ever fiU Alcestis' place !" he cried, vehement and determined. " None can rival my dear lost lady !" " Decide not so hastily," besought Heracles persisting. " Do but lift the veil, and judge for yourself!" "It is useless," answered the king, still obdurate. "Alcestis was peerless among women; none less worthy shall share my heart and throne ! " Nevertheless Heracles persevered, again and again imploring Admetus not to despise the gift which the gods had sent him ; so that at last, wearied with his importunity, the king gave way and consented that the stranger should discover herself The silence of a moment follows in that dim grand hall— a moment of suspense andheartbeatings; while all eyes turn upon the silent visitor, waiting a Httle withdrawn into the background for the king's decision. Then at last she advances; her step is uncertain, faltering; strangely does she tremble. Nevertheless, with ineffable grace, the veil is thrown back, and Admetus sees—0 Death! 0 Life! what wonder is this ? Sees no stranger, but Alcestis herself in warm living beauty standing there before him; coming, falling on his neck, clasping liim heart to heart in an eloquent silence!

The legend ends here: great joys, like great sorrows, should be let alone of our poor words. But can we not picture for ourselves the bliss of that rapturous home-comiug ? Touched, 1 think, with something of solemnity; for none of mortal race can travel, if only to the borders of the Shadow-Land, and return unchanged. Cannot our fancy go further, and build up for the two a happy after-life, wherein the loving devotion of Alcestis shall find its meet reward ? And what of her brave deliverer? He went his way once more to wage anew his lifelong warfare against the Tyrant Death, and was hero of many another mighty deed which crowned his name with honour. On clear frosty nights, men, looking skyward, may still see the memory of Heracles pricked out in sUver stars upon an azure ground; and seeing, remember how the brave and wise of the world do ever "shine as the brightness of the firmament," and " as tlie stars for ever and ever!" GKATIA, Where shall we Go? 249

I.—TEY COESICA.

BY ONE WHO HAS DONE SO.

HAVING derived a great deal of enjoyment from two recent visits to this comparatively little frequented island, I propose to give a very slight account of our experiences there, hoping to induce others to follow our example. The voyage, short though it is, will always prevent Corsica from being overrun by tourists, which in itself is no small recommendation in these days, when every winter resort is full to overflowing; but it has, besides this, much to attract those who travel for pleasure, and like to combine a fine climate with grand scenery, and are content with something less pretentious than the large and expensive hotels of the Kiviera. We started for our first visit to Corsica in the middle of January 1875, leaving Leghorn by one of the Eubaltino steamers, which ply between that place and Bastia twice a-week. The morning was clear and frosty, and the view from the deck of the "Bastia," at 10 A.M., was extremely beautiful, the Apennines standing out sharply against a cloudless sky, glistening in their dazzling covering of freshly fallen snow, and forming a lovely background to the busy town and harbour we were quitting. The time usually taken for the voyage is about six hours, but our experience was unfortunately a much longer one. The sea was very rough when we started, but by no means unpleasant, and whilst close under Capraia the water was almost smooth by comparison; but just when we saw the lights of Bastia shining cheerily a short distance ahead of us, we were doomed to a most tedious and unexpected delay, for we were ruthlessly dashed away from the harbour by the fierce blast of the Libeccio, for which the east coast of Corsica is famed. This terrible wind tore down upon us from the mountains, and literally turned our small steamer completely round, sending her careering up the coast for several miles, at the mercy of the savage white squall, so common to the Mediterranean, whose acquaintance we made for the first, and, we hope, for the last time, on this 250 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. occasion. No less than four times did we vainly attempt a landing with the like disappointment; and it was only after the fifth trial that we were enabled to come to anchor close to the harbour, after which we had a very excitmg quarter of an hour in a small boat, which ultimately deposited us safe and sound, but wet to the skin, on the quay in front of the Douane. The next day was so calm that it was almost impossible to believe that the misery of the past evening was not all a dream; but we were told that we had in reality encomitered the worst Libeccio which had been known for a year or two. Our first day in Corsica was an extraordinary change from the cold which we had left behind us in Italy, being exactly like a fine warm June day in England, only that the sky was of a far more intense blue. We spent our morning sitting under umbrellas, for the sun was very powerful, enjoying the warmth and the various views of the quaint old town backed by hills; and then turning round to wonder at the glassy smoothness of the sea, and the beautiful islands of Capraia and Elba. The afternoon was devoted to a drive along the coast to see the grotto of Brando, which, though a very beautiful specimen of its kind, was of small interest compared to the scenery through which our road lay. It is a miniature " Corniche," winding round a series of little bays, each with its old martello tower, or cluster of quaint brown houses, with here and there a private mausoleum standing in its little garden, containing a cypress or two, and a few flowers, with a vine or fig-tree usually trained on its wall. The rich vegetation, scarlet aloes, anemones, yellow oxalis, maidenhair fern, huge striped aloes, whose grand flower stems of last summer still towered above the road; cistus bushes, myrtles and lentiscus, groves of olives, with here and there a lemon garden, and on the other side the glorious expanse of sea, and the islands tinted with amethyst in the afternoon light, combined to keep up a continual interest. We drove on as far as Erbalunga, after leaving the grotto, and returned to our hotel—such a dirty one, by the way!— perfectly enchanted with our expedition. The irext day was pleasantly spent in strolling in the vicinity of the town, and sketching some of the bits that most took our fancy; and the evening found us in the hospitable salon of the vice- consul, Mr White Jervis, where we obtained a great deal of useful information about the island in general, and our route to Ajaccio in particular. W/iere shall we Go? 251

We hired a carriage from the Messagerie, and sent on relays of horses, sleeping a night at Corte, a picturesque old town, with a fortress perched high up on a rock, round the base of which the houses cluster. It stands at the foot of Monte Eotondo, and many fine excursions may be made up the valleys later in the season. The whole route to Ajaccio is very beautiful, but the second day's journey is by far the finest, as the road mounts the pass of La Foce, about 4000 feet high, to which one ascends through a fine forest of the Corsican pine (Finns lariccio), known as Vizzavona. Of course, in January, there was a good deal of snow lying at such an elevation, and we came in for a heavy storm near the summit, which did not cease until the fine beech forest on the other side had been passed, whence the road descends very rapidly, by a series of steep zigzags, upon the picturesque village of Boccagnano, where we halted for a short time. The rest of the drive to Ajaccio was quite delightful, as we had left the storm behind us, and plunged into warmth and sunshine. The vegetation was an endless delight—large bushes, trees, in fact, of arbutus, laden with their scarlet fruit, and covered at the same time with bunches of white blossom; olive trees completely smothered with masses of the graceful smilax, which hung from them in long festoons, the currant-like bemes glistening brightly among the dark wreaths of foliage; lentiscus, crimsoned with its fruit; myrtles, richly purple with their large tempting-looking berries, which were covered with a bloom rivalling that of the choicest plums; hellebores, literally weighed to the earth by their load of pale green blossoms ; tiny mauve crocuses staring with wide opened eyes at the sun, from every bank; and cistus by the acre, were amongst the things chiefly noticed. Not without interest were the groups of peasants, about whom we remarked, as a decided peculiarity, that, whereas the men almost always elected to ride their diminutive donkeys sideways, the women invariably rode astride, and often two together. The road from Bastia descends till it reaches the sea level, at the head of the bay round one side of which Ajaccio is built, and then turns to the right, entering the town by a long boulevard, with fine trees on either side; after which it ascends through the populous thoroughfare of the Cours Napoleon, untU it reaches the Place du Diamant, where 252 The Ladies Edinbiirgh Magazine.

stands the large and ugly statue of Napoleon I., and from which a fine view of the Golfe d'Ajaccio is obtained. Our hotel, the "Germania," was situated in the Cours Grandval, which leads directly from the Place du Diamant towards the hills to the north, in a charmingly open and airy situation, with fine views from all the upper windows. Here we took up our quarters, and remained for nearly three months with some friends who had come direct from England, and whom we found on our arrival already established in the hotel. The situation of Ajaccio is extremely beautiful, commanding fine views of the mountains, with the sea in front, and backed by liills which shelter it effectually from all cold winds. At the time of our arrival, the environs of the town were very beautiful from the quantities of almond trees in full flower; and the numerous orange gardens are a great feature of the place. The orange trees here are treated very differently from those along the Eiviera, being allowed to grow quite naturally, and are therefore often weighed down to the ground with their golden load, the fruit, in many instances, seeming more abundant than the leaves. From our end of the town, a walk of five minutes took us into the olive woods, where are endless paths in all directions. We explored all the surrounding hills, and even in February and March found many flowers and ferns. The temperature was so mild that we never required fires, except occasionally in the evenings; and rarely wore anything beyond our usual indoor clothing when walking, though we found it advisable to take light shawls to put on when we stopped, as we often did, for luncheon on tlie top of some hill. Never were al fresco meals more enjoyed, or done more ample justice to, than were ours after a long scramble among the "macchie" (as the dense growth of shrubs is here called), seeking fresh paths and fresh points of view. Capital carriages may be hired, and many are the pleasant excursions to be made round Ajaccio. Amongst the best of these are those to the villages of Alata and Cauro, and the Cols St Antoine, St George, and St Sebastien; from all of which fine views are to be had. We spent some days at Cauro, in an unpretending little inn, kept by Eossi, where the rooms were clean, and the people very civil. It is also a good place from which to make excursions, as the surrounding country is extremely pretty. Where shall zve Got 253

Amongst the plants found up to the time of leaving Corsica, on April 4th, were bee, butterfly, and other orchises; peas (scarlet, yellow, purple, and blue), vetches of endless shades, feather hyacinths, statice, thymelea, gagea, romuleas, crocuses, oxalis, hooded arums, asphodel, squills, narcissus ; to say nothing of cactus, laurustinus, and the exquisitely sweet-scented white heath. Of ferns, we found, besides many of the common kinds, the fragrant fern, Clicilanthes odor a; and the rare Notlio- chlcena Vellea. A " praying mantis " and a scorpion were also amongst the spoU. Our second visit to Corsica was made from Marseilles, whence we crossed to Ajaccio, on the 4th April 1877. Nothing can well be finer than the first hour or two of the passage from Marseilles, on a lovely evening in spring, such as we were fortunate in having. The rocky coast and numerous islands through which the steamer made her way, the deep blue sea, flecked with crisp white waves (telling of the lively night awaiting us when out of shelter of the land), and the sunset colours in the sky, combined to make us regret the summons to dinner, which it would have been better policy, on the part of Valery Frferes, to have postponed for another hour, until their passengers were feeling the full effects of the uneasy motion of our boat, which proved to be, as the mail agent cheered us at dinner, by informing the poor victims—" un bateau Ms scjisitif." We were on deck next morning by 5 A.M., hoping for a view of Corsica, but a heavy curtain of fog hid it entirely, and only lifted as we rounded the familiar lies Sanguinaires. We landed at 11 A.M., and were heartily welcomed by Herr Dietz, our host of the " Germania," and soon found ourselves back in our comfortable rooms overlooking the bay. It is quite impossible to give any idea of the wondrous beauty of the "macchie," on the hills round the town of Ajaccio, at this season. One in particular, which is densely covered with cytisus, was all aglow with a rich warm yellow, mingled with the bright tender green of the young shoots of arbutus, myrtle, lentiscus, and other fragrant shrubs; which, seen against the cloudless blue sky, was a delight from our windows. The masses of cistus, some with immense mauve flowers, others white, with dazzling golden centres, gave out a most peculiar and delicious perfume, which it was a perfect feast to inhale day and night from our open window—a fragrance No. 32.—AUGUST 1877. 2 K 254 Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

that will always be associated in our memory with the glorious Corsican days; and which leads one to believe tliere may be some truth in the saying ascribed to Napoleon I., that he could recognise the scent of his native island many leagues off at sea. This saying was curiously corroborated by a lady whom we met during our stay, who told us that, when crossing from Africa to Marseilles some years ago, she one day perceived a delightful scent in the breeze; and on remarking it to the captain, he said it was the smell of Corsica, and that he had often before noticed it when tlie wind set, as it then did, from the island. Of course, for the mere pleasure-seeker, April and May are much more enjoyable than the three preceding months, as the higher routes in the interior of the island are open by this time in ordinary seasons, and the flowers, which are such a charming feature, are in great perfection. Before the middle of May it is rarely too warm, except for those who object to the temperature of an English summer day, though we had some really hot weather when the minimum of clothing was desirable; but we invariably found the heat so tempered by the fresh sea breeze, that it never was oppressive. Towards the end of April the hills round Ajaccio became literally gardens, and we returned day after day from our rambles laden with spoils ; and pressed every available jug, jar, and bottle in the hotel into the service to contain our treasures. In addition to the flowers enumerated before, we gathered serapias in endless variety, cyclamens, which made a crimson carpet in an ilex wood near the town; lupins, orchises, fumitories, a very curious flower, which we believed to be the Limodonmn abortivum; several varieties of garlic, all very attractive until touched, when the smell obliged us to relinquish them ; and, above all, the queen of Corsican flowers, the noble and fragrant Pancratium illyricum, which grows in abundance near Ajaccio. The orange gardens were still in great beauty, as the fruit was only partially gathered during our stay, and the blossoms were fully out like stars amongst the leaves; the exquisite young tendrils of the smilax, quite pink at the tips of the shoots, and with its leaves delicately spotted, were clinging to everything that came in their way, and the grass was full of tiny pinks, bugloss of intense lilue and puiple, and gorgeous poppies. We took advantaije of the fine weather to make an expedition to the Forest of Bavella, hiring a carriage and Where shall we Go? 255 sending on relays of horses, by doing which we avoided the necessity of sleeping at the small villages, and reached S*''' Lucia di Tallano on the first day; slept there, proceeding next day to the forester's house at the Bocca di Bavella, where we arrived in time to have five hours of daylight for exploring the magnificent forest, as far as we could, and slept in the forester's house that night. Very rough indeed was the accommodation, and food there was none ! Happily we had been advised to take provisions, and therefore did not suffer from the nakedness of the land. The view from the " Bocca " can scarcely be equalled, certainly not surpassed, in its extraordinary beauty, and no words can convey the faintest idea of it. One looks down from a height of 3000 feet upon the forest, which follows the steep descent of the valley, filling it with its noble trees for miles. On the right it is closed in by rocks of great height and wonderful forms ; whilst on the left the huge mass of Monte Incudine rears its cleft head, its rocky spurs following the course of the valley. In the middle distance, beyond the limits of the forest, is a wide plain, and in it one of the large salt lakes (which in summer are such fertile sources of malaria, but which now look too lovely in the sunset light for any such thoughts to prejudice one against it!) lies gleaming like a jewel; beyond this again, is the sea, with the island of Monte Christo glowing ruby coloured ; and far away, beyond all, the faint outline of the mountains of Italy, north of Civita Vecchia, All this was bathed in the light of a most glorious sunset, which lit up the rocks and trees with a glow as of fire. It was a scene never to be forgotten. Next morning, after a short stroll in the forest, during which we gathered anemones (lilac, white, and purple) and sweet violets in abundance, we returned to S** Lucia di Tallano. Arriving there by noon, thus having ample time to make acquaintance with its immediate neighbourhood, which is replete with interest and beauty, we returned on the fourth day to Ajaccio, much delighted with our successful expedition. After a week's repose in our " Capua," Ajaccio, we set off in an opposite direction to the Forest of Aitone, taking up our quarters at Evisa for two nights. We drove into the forest on the second day, as far as the forest house, taking with us a side-saddle, which had been our constant travelling companion, and having sent a mule on to wait us there, we made our way to the Col di Vergio. This forest is less grand than that of Bavella, as the surrounding scenery is not so imposing; and it would therefore be well to make the visit to 256 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

Bavella after that to Aitone. The trees in the latter forest are certainly liner, hut the largest are being rapidly cut down and shipped off from Porto to the continent. On the third day, we left Evisa at 5 A.M., and from that time until we reached La Piana, the scenery was grand and beautiful beyond description. The Gorge of Otta, through which the road passes for the first few miles, is walled in by immense crags of rose-coloured granite, from the clefts of which grow box bushes of vivid green, below and often in a ravine so steep and narrow as to be invisible from the road, dashes a fine stream ; and in front, and filling up the end of the gorge, is the sea, intensely blue. The sharply defined shadows of the early morning added greatly to the wonderful gi'andeur of the scene. From Porto the road leaves the gorge, and, turning sharply to the left, winds up a steep series of zigzags amongst fine woods of arbutus and myrtle, until a considerable height above the sea is attained; then it suddenly plunges into a wilderness of extraordinarj'^ rocks, threading in and out of them for a mile or two. A more complete contrast can hardly be conceived to the rich vegetation through which one has been passing than these bare crags, without a bush growing upon them. From this, a short bit of road leads to the village of La Piana, which is situated on a plateau high above the sea, and commands a fine view of the wonderful country through which one has just travelled. The rest of tlie route, until the village of Sagona is reached, is not strikingly beautiful. Near Sagona, one regains the road, which leads to Evisa, and the remainder of the drive over the beautiful Col of St Sebastien is the one taken on the first day of the expedition. The Ferula communis grows in great luxuriance on the Col, its foliage looking like green clouds, from amongst which rises, to a height of five or six feet, its grand candelabrum-like head of yellow flowers—a noble plant!—very different to the miserable specimen we have obtained since our return home from an English nurseryman, in the hope of some day seeing a feeble imitation of it in our garden ! From Ajaccio we drove to Corte, staying a day there to walk up the pretty valley of the Eestonica, well worthy of a visit; as is also that of the Tavignagno, rather a longer expedition. Near Corte we drove through an acre or t^^'0 of pancratiums, the scent of which filled the air. We passed wild roses of great size, and of a salmon-pink colour. The Where shall we Go? 257 roadside was in places carpeted with a large mauve convol- vulus, and the shady banks were fringed with maidenhair fern. We stayed a day or two at Bastia, in order to see more of its neighbourhood than on our former visit, and very pretty it proved to be; notably, the drive to San Martino, and the first few miles of the road to St Florent, where we found the curious fern, Nothochlcena marantce, growing in abundance. It is a pity that the accommodation at Bastia is so far inferior to what one might reasonably expect in a town of its size, as otherwise it would be an excellent point from which to explore the country round; as it is, neither the " France " nor the " Eoma " can be recommended. We were told by a German gentleman, that a clean little inn has been opened at Erbalunga, by an old naval officer. This will be a great acquisition to those wishing to spend a few days near Bastia, from which place it is only about five miles distant. We took the steamer on the 17th May to Leghorn, which we reached after a six hours' passage, having spent a very enjoyable six weeks in Corsica, and having the pleasant impressions of the former visit fully confirmed. We would strongly urge those who appreciate a charming climate, fine scenery, and lovely flowers, to follow our example, and go there. It may be well to add, that there is a chaplain during the winter months at Ajaccio, and a church is to be opened there, it is hoped, this autumn. There is a clever French military doctor—Melgi'ani by name ; and there are fairly good shops. Lodgings and houses may be had at a reasonable rate. There is regular communication to and from Marseilles twice a-week, by means of Valery's boats, in from fifteen to eighteen hours, which leave Marseilles on Wednesdays and Fridays. The shortest sea passage is from Leghorn to Bastia, between which places there are two steamers a-week. Diligences run between Ajaccio and Bastia in twenty hours, also a " berline " in sixteen hours, taking only two or three passengers ; but in either of these, much of the finest scenery is passed at niglit. A private carriage costs about 200 francs, taking two days, and breaking the journey at Corte, where the Hotel de rEuroi)e is fairly good. The accommodation in the interior of the island is very rough, and by no means suited to invalids, who must remain at Ajaccio ; but clean beds are almost invariably to 258 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. be met -with. Food is scarce, and a few days' notice shonld always be given of an intention to visit any of the remoter villages. E. M. D. ■ »(-»> '^KSSk- » •■ » • DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 8. ALAS ! this month my first must fall Beneath my last; good sport to all! 1. A modern " pick me up." 2. The cession of this bodes a larger appropriation. 3. A musical " circle." 4. Our national possession. PRO TEMPORE.

SOLUTION OF DOUBLE ACEOSTIC No. 7. M MONA A 0 ONSET T D DEATH H E EVE E R RESIGNATION N N NEWS S Two answers received ; that of Message Girl only correct. A PRIZE is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. Solutions to l>e addressed, "Acrostic Editor," Publishers, 22 Howe Street, Edinburgh ; to be sent not later than the 15tli of the mouth, written clearly on a sheet of paper containing only the solution, pseudonym, and full name and address of sender. Solu- tions acknowledged in the following Number ; and name and address of winner only announced at close of competition.

OUK LIBEAEY TABLE. SERMONS FOR THE CHRISTIAN YEAR : Translated from the German of the late Richard Rothe, D.D., with a Preface by William R. Clark, M.A., prebendary of Wells, and vicar of Taiuiton. Edin- burgh : T. & T. Clark, 'l877. THIS volume of sermons by Dr Rothe (one of the most famous of recent German theologians) may well be considered a valuable addition to any library. It is only recently (in 1868) published in Germany, and is probably kno-\vn to few English readers ; but now, thanks to Mr Clark and his able assistants, one of the translators being a young Edinburgh lady, it is placed within the reach of everyone. Un- doubtedly it is more enjoyable to read books in the language in which they were written ; but this translation has the unusual advantage of being almost literally true to the original, maintaining throughout unmistakable traces of German quaintness and simplicity. Consider- able variety of style is apparent in the sermons, and some are extremely fragmentary, owing to the fact, that while some were prepared for j)uljlication by the author, the majority were printed from his manu- scripts after his death, and some even from notes taken by his hearers ; but we hardly think that this will detract from the enjoyment and Stray Notes. 259 interest likely to be found in their perusal. The thoiight, though frequently deep, is never obscure, but is clothed in clear and forcible language, easier to follow than the more wordy productions of many more familiar divines ; and the whole teaching is rather suggestive than dictatorial; more generally helpful, we cannot but think, than the exhaustive style, which leaves its readers nothing to argue ont for themselves. MISS IN THE KITCHEN. By Ella Burton. Edinburgh Publishing Company, 1877. WE often hear that " necessity is the mother of invention," and certainly the axiom would seem to hold good in the case of the young lady celebrated in these pages ; for her efforts at housekeeping, in the absence alike of assistant and of previous practice, acquaint us with many discoveries in that line, which, if not original, had, at least for her, the attraction of novelty. The expose of the ignorance in household matters of many of our young ladies is doubtless in the main true, if a little overdrawn. We are inclined to think that the veriest ignor- amus would know that hot-water more effectually cleanses dishes— as well as other things—than cold ! The hrocliure is, however, very amusing, and may aid in drawing more attention to the subject. VIRGINIA : A Roman Sketch. Bentley & Sons, New Burlington Street, London, 1877. IT is rather a relief to open this book : the title has a somewhat sombre and severe sound ; and we expected to find it a classical sort of poem, in Homeric metre, and full of deep tragedy. Instead of this, it is in reality a very pretty and pleasant story, printed in a type most refreshing to overwrought eyes, and full of exqui.site touches and sympathetic descriptions, qiiite free from sensationalism. We will not say that there is no catastrophe, for there is one which makes us long for the power to avert it, and fills us with exceeding regret ; still it cannot be called cruel, and the most sensitive ndnd will not be shocked at it. We heartily recommend our readers to get the book, and see for themselves what it is. They will find in it very lifelike and charming pictures of modern Rome, and modern Romans ; together with a glimpse into the fascinating artist life, which seems to sui'vive all revolutions and changes, and to be the most eternal part of " the Eternal City." " Art is long and time is fleeting," we are told, and so it is in Rome ; and long may it be so, for among all vicissitudes of men and manners, still the true art spirit seems to flourish better under the blue Italian sky than anywhere else ; and even the cold Anglo-Saxon temperament there catches some spark of the divine fire, which now and then lights up our colder atmosphere with its reflected glow.

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A MEETING for the Distribution of Prizes and Certificates gained at the late Local Examinations by Students of the Preparatory Classes in St George's Hall, was held on Friday, the 20th July—Professor Calder- wood presiding. Tlie honours taken by these students were enumerated, and showetl that tlie work had been attended by very satisfactory results. The Second Bursary, open to all candidates, was gained by Miss Walker, with the high percentage of 86 in French, 86 in English Literature, 85 in Logic, and 80 in Physiology. Of the twelve other Honour Students from these classes, seven gained prizes, as also did seventeen Ordinary Students. Of the twentj'-eight students taking common subjects alone, this year only two failed—one in arithmetic, and one in Scrijature history. Four special prizes were offered for students in these classes. They were gained as follows :— 1st prize, ^10, by Miss Burnside, Glasgow (corresponding student) ; 2d prize, £h, by Miss Ray ; 3d prize, .£3, by Miss M'Kerron, Kennetliniont (corresponding student) ; 4th prize, ^3, by Miss Gair, Falkirk (corres23onding student). It will thus be seen that the corresponding students carried oft many honours in these classes, We believe that this is the first time that a regular system of instruction by correspondence lias been attempted in Scotland, and the results are certainly such as should encourage its promoters to further eft'orts. IT is with great interest that we learn of the recent decision of the Senate of the University of London, to admit women to degrees in the other Faculties, as well as in the Faculty of Medicine. THE FIRST ANNUAL MEETING of the Congress on Domestic Economy was held at Birmingham on the I7th, 18tli, and 19th July. It was conducted in three sections, under the following heads :— 1. Needlework, Clothing, and its Materials ; 2. Cleanliness, Washing ; 3. Food and Cookery ; 4. Household Exjjenditure ; 5. Thrift; 6. Health ; 7. Sickness ; 8. The Dwelling ; 9. Warming and Ven- tilation ; 10. Methods of Teaching these Subjects ; 11. Text-books ; 12. Mode of Inspection ; 13. Importance of Female Inspectors; 14. Working of the Examinations of the Society of Arts in Domestic Economy. Papers were read by Miss Chessar, Mrs W. E. Gladstone, Professor Huxley, Mr R. Rawlinson, C.B.; and Miss Helen Taylor. We are informed that one of the most interesting pajiers was that read by Miss Guthrie Wright, the energetic Hon. Secretary of the Edinburgh School of Cookery. At the close of the Congress, a private meeting was held of ladies and gentlemen connected with Schools of Cookery, to discuss the condition and schemes of the various Schools. It was found that the Edinburgh Committee had managed their School with exceptional financial success.

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PRIZE is offered for the best article received by the Editors before Isf March, on the subject, "Where shall we Go?" The article on Corsica, in our present Number, is the first of the series. A PRIZE is offered for the best article received by the Editors, and accepted for insertion during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists, born in the 18th century. No meetings of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society will be held in the months of August and September. Our Female Novelists. 261

VIII. JANE AUSTEN. 6. 1775 ; d. 1817.

ALL that we know of Jane Austen's life resembles much the record of the sun-dial: " I number none but sunny hours." The quiet regular life in that middle station between poverty and wealth, for which the wise King of Israel prayed ; the mental endowments fitted to shed grace and refinement over the common-place, but not of a kind to demand a conspicuous or peculiar sphere for their exercise—these afford slender materials for anything like a detailed memoir of one of the most gifted of female novelists. Born in 1775, her early girlhood must have partaken, even in her quiet country home, of the excitement, the horror, the sympathy, and the foreboding called forth in so many minds by the stirring events passing on the Continent, at the close of the last and beginning of the present century. No doubt the peaceful and refined family circle at Steventon Eectory was visited from time to time, like most other houses of the period in the southern counties of England, by rumours of French invasion and notes of preparation for armed resistance; and with two gallant brothers constantly afloat, and exposed to all the chances of war and shipwreck, it is impossible but that anxiety must have been a frequent guest at that fireside, and stirring scenes and notable deeds the topic of conversation. Yet in the few letters of the authoress preserved to us in the graceful Memoir by her nephew, there is scarcely an allusion to public events; and it is not among scenes of political or warlike interest that she finds the subjects of her matchless stories. The daughter of an English parson of the last century —a character whom the nineteenth century is apt to mention with slight respect—it is pleasant to think that she is in many respects a fair specimen of a very numerous class, a refined cultivated gentlewoman, with talents and virtues fitted to adorn any station, qualities which endeared her to all around her, and which would have been the No. 33.—SEPTEMBER 1877. 2 L 262 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. brightness of any man's home. Her earliest years, to the age of twenty-five, were spent at Steventon, the place of her birth; and the " lowly scenes and simple views" of that somewhat tame and uninteresting part of Hampshire may have iniiuenced the mind of the young authoress in her choice of the common-place^ subjects, over which she cast the glamour of her genius. Her education was almost entirely a home one; for though at school for a short time with her eldest sister, she was only sent because no one could bear to part the two inseparable companions, and her nephew says nothing of her going there on her own account, when of an age to profit by the instruction. Probably the method she describes in the case of Elizabeth Bennet was that of her own girlhood: " We were always encouraged to read, and had all the masters that were necessary;" and mediocre as the results may appear to our modern notions, it certainly produced what the " higher education" of more recent times has not yet made too common, a writer with a faultless style of pure correct English. It has become a common-place of reviewers to say of every dull and twaddling story which finds a publisher, that " it is quite in the style of Jane Austen;" and it is hard to say which is most insulted by the senseless comparison—the delicate wit and masterly painting of real living personages, or " The dear style which flows without pretence, With unstained purity and unmatched sense," contrasted with the utter insipidity and slipshod English of many of her so-called imitators. She was accomplished, according to the standard of those days. She knew French and Italian; was well read in English history, poetry, and romance; and could sing agreeably to her own accompaniment. She wrote a small, clear, lady-like hand; and the dainty finish which characterizes her novels was perceptible in all she did with her fingers, from needlework to the folding and sealing of letters—a lost art since the days of adhesive envelopes, of strange and gorgeous device. She seems to have been one to whom the exercise of the pen is as instinctive a faculty as that of the voice or the pencil to the born artist in music or drawing. From her childhood she was in the habit of composition, and her nephew's Memoir speaks of the advantage she derived in the formation of her taste and style from the companionship and similarity in mind of her eldest brother, ten years her Our Female Novelists. 263 senior, and from the direction of her opinions and reading which she received from him. By the time she was three-and-twenty, she had completed three of her novels—Seyisc and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Northanger Abbey, two of which bore other names before their publication, which was long delayed. From Mr Austen Leigh's account, it seems that a story, under the title of Ellinor and Marianne, was the earliest of the compositions of her ripening genius, though it was laid aside during the growth of what some consider her most talented work. Pride and Prejudice, which in MS. was entitled First Impressions. None of these were published until 1811, and no light is thrown by the Memoir on the reasons for this long entombment within the author's desk. We can only conjecture that she wrote as birds sing, because she could not help it; and that diffidence and distrust of her own powers, and the want of any such encouragement or counsel as literary friends might have given, had something to do with this curious reticence. Ncn^thangcr Abbey was certainly written, her biographer states, before the end of 1798; and her own delicate quizzing, to use the word fashionable in her day, of the then prevailing style of novel, shows how perfectly she was aware that her own books were addressed to a taste widely different from that of the admirers of the Eadcliffe school. Her first venture among the publishers must have strengthened this conviction, for a manuscript, which must have been that of Pride and Prejudice, was summarily declined by one with whom her father tried to negotiate in 1798; and though Northanger Abbey was accepted by another in 1803, he seems to have regretted his bargain, for it lay unpublished till after her death, when the family regained possession of the MS. Not very long after this unsuccessful attempt, the happy home at Steventon was broken up by Mr Austen's resignation of his living, and the famUy seems to have led a somewhat unsettled life for the next few years, entering a good deal more into general society than formerly; and possibly Jane Austen found herself less favourably situated for composition than when her days were passed in the retirement of a country parsonage. None of her writings can be attributed with any certainty to this part of her life, unless it be that charming and most promising fragment, entitled " The Wat- sons," which tantalizes us in the pages of her nephew's Memoir. But she was storing her mind with fresh scenes and characters, improving her already intimate acquaintance 264 2he Ladies Edinburgh Magazitie.

with Bath and its society, and perhaps witnessing some such unlucky accident as Louisa Musgrove's upon the Cobb at Lyme. Mr Austen Leigh's description of her at tliis age is that of a very charming woman. To us it reads like the conception we have always formed of our favourite " Emma," to our mind the most captivating of all Miss Austen's heroines. " Fair and handsome, slight and elegant, with cheeks a little too full," is Sir Egerton Brydges' impression of her in early womanhood; and her appearance a few years later dwells in the affectionate remembrance of her nephew long after this sweet gentlewoman, so loving and beloved, had passed away from earth. In his own old age he thus tenderly recalls the outward presentment of his " dear Aunt Jane:"—" In person she was very attractive; her figure was rather tall and slender, her step light and firm, and her whole appearance expressive of health and animation. In complexion she was a clear brunette, with a rich colour; she had fuU round cheeks, with mouth and nose small and weU-formed; bright hazel eyes, and brown hair forming natural curls close round her face. If not so regularly handsome as her sister, yet her countenance had a peculiar charm of its own to the eyes of most beholders." Her brightness and mirth made her a favourite with children and young people; and her qualities as a playfellow and promoter of all their schemes met with hearty appreciation from a large circle of nephews and nieces who began to grow up around her. Early in 1805, her father died; and after some years of short residences at various places, Mrs Austen and her two daughters found a settled home once more at Chawton, in Hampshire. The second of her sons had inherited the name and property of his relation Mr Knight; and though not re- siding much at Chawton House, he was able to put a cottage in the village at his mother's disposal; and here, surrounded by many of her nearest kinsfolk, Jane Austen passed the remainder of her life. Her new home, though not strikingly beautiful, was a great improvement upon Steventon. The rambling and irregular old house stands a little way back from the high road; a plain ordinary looking gate, unguarded by any lodge, opens upon a short approach, which, ere it reaches the hall door, makes a sudden, sharp little ascent, at whose foot, a few yards aside from the carriage drive, stands the simple little village church. Erom the hall door steps you might easily look in at the windows upon the con- creo-ation, were it not for the screen of sombre yew trees which intervenes. The sunny lawn is bounded by a long Our Female Novelists. 265 green meadow stretching away towards well wooded park- like ground, and across the road the eye rests on fine timber and turfy slopes, a scene of quiet English beauty. The quaint juxtaposition of the churcli and house remind one of the home of the dreamy young lover of the " Miller's Daughter;" " Late left an orphan of the S(£uire, Where this old mansion mounted high Looks down upon the viUage spire." In just such proximity to the Great House as Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove enjoyed with regard to Uppercross, Jane Austen spent eight happy years, a valued member of a bright and affectionate family circle. Within a short time of her settlement at Chawton, she seems to have resolved on publishing, and Sense, and Sensibility, and Pn'rfe and Prejudice, appeared in quick succession; but even while the second of these was being prepared for the press, her pen was once more busy, and Mansfield Park and Envina soon added to her long with- held honours. The taste of novel readers must have been undergoing a silent change during the years that had passed since slie had last written; for in 1815, when Emma had appeared to deliglit the lovers of fiction, the Quarterly Review praised in high terms these three specimens of " a style of novel which has arisen within the last fifteen or twenty years ;" just about the time when our authoress made her first unsuccessful attempt at publication. She must have been a rapid writer, for her books followed one another very quickly; and she seems more than once to have begun working at a new story as soon as, or before, its predecessor was actually in the hands of her readers; yet she herself likens her composition to " working on a little bit of ivory with so fine a brush as produces little effect after much labour." It is pleasant to read iir the few letters Mr Austen Leigh has rescued from oblivion, how real and how dear to her were the creations of her genius. She welcomes the arrival of Pride and I^rejudice from the jjublishers, as that of her " own darling child;" she frankly avows that she considers Elizabeth Bennet " as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print," and "does not know how she shall be able to tolerate those who do not like her." She seems to have fretted a little over her mother's reading of the book aloud; " though she perfectly understands the characters, she cannot speak as they ought;" and Emma was 266 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. to her " a heroine whom no one but myself will much like." The actors in her dream-world lived on in her own fancy ; and the young nephews and nieces around her learned oraUy many additional scraps of their history—such as the failure of Miss Nancy Steele to catch the Doctor, Mr Woodhouse's survival of his daughter's marriage for only two years, and the amount of the "considerable sum" given by Mrs Norris to William Price—namely, £1. Though ill-health began to creep upon her, her pen was busy almost up to the last. Persuasion was finished in the middle of 1816, and may owe much of the sweetness and pathos for which it is to be distinguished, to the inward discipline of suffering working upon a noble and gracious nature. Hand and brain were at work again, a few months after, in sj^ite of mortal sickness; but she was not permitted to bring any further effort to completion. The serious nature of her malady, which seems to have been long concealed from herself and her friends, became suddenly apparent; she was removed to Winchester for better medical advice; but all that skill could do was of no avail, and there, in July 1817, the end came. It must have been a great wrench to her to part with life when there was so much to endear it to her. Her simny temper, powers of enjoyment, unaffected pleasure in the use of her talents, and the absence of great trials and disappointments in life, all combined to make this world a happy place to her. " Have I not found a happy earth ? I least should breathe a thought of pain ; Would God renew me from my birth, I'd almost live my life again ! " She must have felt thus when she heard her sentence; but having lived so as to dread " the grave as little as her bed," she resigned herself with calm wiUing submission, and died in peace, tenderly watched over by her sister and brothers. Her nephew's Memoir, Avith something of that delicate reticence which distinguished his aunt's writings, and which we may deem a family characteristic, dwells lightly on the last scenes; but enough is said to prove what, in spite of her own reserve, shines out in many passages of her novels—the strength and depth of her religious principles. Persuasion and Northangcr Abbey came out after her death, and added much to her slowly-earned fame. It is a curious instance of what has been often observed, talent unappreciated in its more immediate circle,—that, in her Our Female Novelists. 267 own neighbourhood, the books which commanded the admiration of men of the highest reputation were but little thought of. Her own family, indeed, rated them as they deserved; but they only received a slight degree of praise from the common-place and unintellectual society which she had so truthfully delineated; " and if," says IVfr Austen Leigh, " they had known that we ranked her with Miss Edgeworth and Madame d'Arblay, they would have smiled at it as an amusing instance of family conceit." A second review in the Quarterly, about four years after her death, from no less a critic than Archbishop Whately, probably did much to draw general attention to her great merits. She had never been without the warm admiration of some of the leaders in the literary world. Sir Walter Scott read and re-read her books wdth endless pleasure, envying " the exquisite touch which renders ordinary and common-place things and characters interesting from the truth of the description and sentiment." Dr Whewell spoke warmly in praise of all her novels, and " quite fired up in defence of Persuasion, which a friend had pronounced rather dull," insisting that it was the best of all her works. Southey thought them " more true to nature, and containing passages of finer feeling than any others of this age." Coleridge, Lord Holland, Sydney Smith, Sir James Mackintosh, Miss Mitford, and Lord Macaulay, have all left their admiration on record. Mons. Guizot declared, that he found in her works and those of other English lady-novelists, " toute v,ne dcole de morale." The favourable verdict pronounced by so many first-rate judges could not fail to have an influence on the general public. She grew rapidly in popular estimation, partly owing to the change of taste in fiction to which we have alluded as having set in; partly because some were led by the approbation of these guides of opinion to weigh her merits for themselves ; and partly, perhaps, because many were ashamed not to admire in such good company, even though they might fail to stand what some one, with the jest that has much truth in it, called "a new test of ability " —the power of axjpreciating Miss Austen's works. They have fairly taken their place now among our English classics; but how difficult it is to analyse their peculiar merit. We can praise the easy grace of the narrative ; the sound, high principle evident in the author, but never ob- truded ; the pure, correct English, a model to lady-writers of all time. But how shall we describe in words the nameless charm which is the real attraction of all these works ? True 268 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. it is, that the incidents she deals with are tame, the characters of no grand or heroic type, and often silly and vulgar to the last degree; yet our authoress delineates vulgarity without being offensive, and folly with a wit that makes us enjoy it more than wisdom. It is, indeed, as her reviewer in the Quarterly has well remarked, one of her highest excellences, and " a merit far from common, that she is as happy in her portraiture of fools as of people of sense ;" and he ranks her fools as second to none but Shakespeare's in their individuality and fidelity to nature. They are the occasion of some of her most felicitous writing. Are we not all mentally the richer for our acquaintance with Mr Eushworth, with his pink satin cloak and his forty-two speeches, and not knowing what to do with so much meaning as Sir Thomas liertram ascribed to him ; and with Mrs Elton, armed with her " little basket and large bonnet, and all her apparatus of happiness ; " with lier " vivacity " and her " resources," and her fortune " of so many thousands that it would always be called ten ?" On gala occasions, what can any of us do, whether duchess or dairymaid, but follow the judicious advice of the Kev. Mr Collins, and " merely put on whatever of our clothes is superior to the rest ? " And how grateful we ought to be to dear Mr Woodhouse for the profound medical opinion obtained from Mr Perry, "that wedding-cake might certainly disagree with many—perhaps with most people—unless taken moderately." And when our tempers are tried by the shortcomings of "good j^lain cooks," do we not covet that treasure of the Hartfield establishment, " Serle, who understands boiling an egg better than anybody else ? " Miss Austen surely must have done her own style injustice when she spoke of it as laboured. Those dainty shafts of wit must have darted from her pen with as little premedita- tion as they would have done from her lips, for we meet with the like -in her letters which cannot have been studied compositions ; and she was evidently one of those who en- liven the most trivial matters by their humorous way of putting things. Next to her bright playful wit, Jane Austen is remarkable, compared with some writers who have succeeded her, for a certain delicate reserve. It is impossible, as Archbishop Whately has said, not to recognise in her a distinctly Chris- tian writer; her good people act in all serious matters on the liighest principles, but tliey do not talk about them; nor are deep and holy subjects brought forward by tlie authoress; and this we are sure proceeds from reverence, and not from Our Female Novelists. 269 indifference. With somewhat too much of an opposite tendency in the light literature of the present day, it is refreshing to turn again and again to an author who is not always analysing motives and dissecting consciences, with the risk thereby of fostering in young minds an unwhole- some habit of self-contemj)lation. One other of Miss Austen's works claims a brief notice, the curious tale, if so it can be called, published with Mr Austen Leigh's Memoir under the title of " Lady Susan." It is thought to have been an early composition; and there is great talent shown in the way in which the plot is unfolded, and the various characters are sketched in a series of letters. But the authoress judged well in never publishing it. The principal character is simply detestable, and the rest of the group of correspondents are too slightly delineated to attract much interest or to redeem the piece. It would not have introduced our authoress agreeably as a novelist, though as a relic it possesses some merit. To admit that Miss Austen's works have some faults is only to say that she is human ; but we shall decline the ungracious task of dwelling upon them. We wiU only conclude with Lord Carlisle's graceful serio- comic tribute, " Lines on a Lady Eeading a Novel," which may also serve fitly to introduce the next figure in this series,— " Beats thy quick pulse o'er Inchbald's thrilling leaf, Brunton's high moral, Opie's deep-wrought grief ? Has the mild chaperon claimed thy yielding heart Carroll's dark page, Trevelyan's gentle art ? Or is it thou all-perfect Austen ? Here Let one poor wreath adorn thy early bier. That scarce allowed thy modest youth to claim Its living portion of thy certain fame ! Oh! Mrs Bennet ! Mrs Norris too ! While memory surv-ives we'll dream of you. And Mr Woodhouse, whose abstemious lip Must thin, but not too thin, his gruel sip. Miss Bates, our idol, though the village bore ; And Mrs Elton ardent to explore. While the dear style flows on without pretence, With unstained purity and unmatched sense ; Or, if a sister e'er approached the throne, She called the rich ' Inheritance' her own." A. DUNDAS.

No. 33,—SKPTEMBER 1877. 2 M 270 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

®n Sccontriirg fbxtcation of ®omcn in Stotlanir. NOTES ON THE ST GEORGE'S HALL CLASSES AND SYSTEM OF INSTRUCTION BY CORRESPONDENCE.

" I feel strongly the extreme difficulty of giving to girls what really deserves the name of education intellectually."—flr Arnold.

IN the early spring of 1876, an advertisement to the following effect appeared in the Scotsman:— "A STUDENT of the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association wishes to meet with others who, like herself, are desirous of obtaining the University Certificate for Women, with whom she might study for the Preliminary Local Examinations." Before many weeks had elapsed, this student had entered into partnership with other persons likeminded ; for a more detailed advertisement was inserted, setting forth as follows the plan of study of these associates :— " EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY LOCAL EXAMINATIONS.—Ladies wishing to pass this Examination in June 1876, are invited to join a Class for the Preparation of Students. " Tutor—Mr M'GLASHAN. " Subjects—Grammar and Analysis, Aritlimetic, History, Geography. " Candidates may be prepared for Honours. The Class will meet three times a-week. " Terms, £1, Is. for the Course. " For further particulars, afply to S. M., 5 Chester Street."

Nearly all of these ladies had, like the first advertiser, studied in the classes of the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association, and not a few had won prizes, and possessed a goodly bundle of parchment, i.e., of first class certificates, testifying to their diligence and ability. But, by decree of the Senatus, all were alike disqualified as candidates for the Higher or University Certificate for Women in Literature and Science, because none of them had passed the Local Examinations. To gain this pass certificate was then their object, and they proposed to attain it by forming a class under a competent tutor, first, for the " preliminary subjects ;" and next, for such honours studies as tlie majority should select. Before going any further, and telling how this plan was carried out, it will be well to explain what a Local Examina- tion is, and what it is not. Eirst of all, it cannot be too often repeated that a Local Examination, as such, is not a test of higher or University Education. Its aim is merely to On Secondary Educatio7t of Women in Scotland. 271 supply a test of that secondary or school education which everyone in pohte society is supposed to have received. This description applies to all ordinary Local Examina- tions of whatever university, unless they are specially characterised as being " Higher " Examinations. The Edin- burgh Board of Examiners grants certificates of two grades, i.e., ordinary and honour certificates. No candidate is exempted from a previous examination in the so-called " preliminary subjects," a series belonging not to secondary but to primary education. This examination might easily be passed by the elder scholars in any well-taught public school; for its subjects are simply grammar and analysis, reading aloud and dictation, arithmetic, and the barest rudiments of history and of geography. Yet, strange to say, with scarcely one exception, our band of lady students agreed that to them this was by far the most formidable ordeal; and, to come to details, they said that they were weaker in arithmetic and in geography than in anything else. Many added that they had never learned any English grammar at all, and that they were totally ignorant of what was meant by the analysis of sentences. The department of special and honours subjects, on the other hand, includes those ordinary studies in which young ladies are supposed to spend their school-days. Erench and German, English literature and accidence, history, and the elements of physics, are among the studies from which a choice of two or more may be made. Some of these honours papers are sulficiently elaborate, and can only be answered successfully by well-trained candidates; and none save diligent students can hope to gain the much-coveted prizes awarded by the university to those who take a first class in more than one subject, or to be, among a host of eager competitors, the happy winners of certain valuable scholarships. But the ordinary pass is distinctly easy of attainment, since, like all pass examinations, it is not intended for clever, but only for average learners. To return to what took place in April 1876. Our advertisement gathered together a class of decidedly able and well-read women, many of whom had mastered a variety of subjects, and had their knowledge well in hand. They were, however, far more afraid of the simplest requirements of the Local Examiners than they had been of university class papers; and, indeed, their mere presence in the class-room showed that they would not have ventured to go up for examination in the common subjects without special pre- 2/2 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

partition. Success in the lecture-room, where they had pursued higher studies, had not blinded these ladies to their real shortcomings; and, instead of besieging the Senatus with petitions to have their disabilities taken away, they one and all agreed that, in exacting some proof of secondary instruction, the University Board had been wise in their generation. They accordingly, on the principle that it is never too late to mend, set to work right cheerfully to lay anew the very foundations of learning. One of the foremost of them all was not long in writing to a friend, tliat she found the study of grainmar and geography, when carried on in good company, and with a definite aim, to be " quite as fascinating " (the words are her own) " as science or literature." We think that these ladies would have worked even more cheerily had they known that they were not only achieving culture for themselves, but also doing much to help forward the secondary and, through it, the higher education of Scot- land. For their example tended to exalt thoroughness and accuracy in the eyes of society, and did something surely to show the University of Edinburgh that these ladies coveted the promised honour of its certiticate for women, since they were ready to work hard in order to pass through the previous examinations. It also taught the younger sisters, and, we may add, the nieces of some of these students, that it was needful to be painstaking and careful in their own elementary lessons, if they were not to go through life bemoaning a bad education, or murmuring that the world was gTowing too clever for them to live in! The class was fortunate in its tutor. Mr M'Glashan entered on his singular task of teaching the rudiments of grammar and of arithmetic to grown-iip women with all the zest and freshness of one who makes an experiment. The results at the Edinliurgh Local Centre, in June 1876, were that, after but three months' work, 30 of these ladies went up for examination in common subjects, 29 took the ordinary pass certiticate, and 10 gained honours. The best student. Miss Menzies, won the £40 scholarship offered by the Ladies' Educational Association, and stood second among 280 candidates, with a total of 270 marks, besides taking honours in music and in drawing. These events were a good deal talked about, and various friends at a distance asked whether dwellers in the country could not obtain guidance in private study, and be assisted to work on the same lines as the fortunate members of the class. In short, they suggested a plan for teaching On Secondary Ediication of Women in Scotland. 273 by letter. The already existing Cambridge system, with its class fee of £4, 4s. per subject, was much too expensive for Scotland. But it appeared possible, if a corresponding class were worked along with the Edinburgli one, and if printed papers were largely used in both, to do it more easily and cheaply. We resolved to make the attempt. A smaU committee undertook to make the business arrangements, and to guarantee the advertisements and other preliminary expenses, so that prizes of £lU, of £5, and of £3, might from tlie first be offered. Mr M'Glashan made no difficulty. He was not even unduly alarmed at a prospect of unlimited correspondence throughout the winter. The plan was advertised in all the leading county papers, and two articles, entitled, " How I passed the Local Examinations," and " Notes on Instruc- tion by Correspondence," appeared in the pages of this magazine. Both attracted some attention at the time, and when republished separately they sold well. These essays are out of print; and events move so rapidly in educational matters, that they could not be re-issued without alteration, since, in spite of containing much solid and lasting information about private preparation for Local Examinations, both, in one short twelvemonth, have become antiquated. In November, 40 students met in St George's Hall for the study of the Preliminary subjects ; and before long there was a class of 52 correspondents. A few ladies wrote from England, and there were a good many north of Ireland members. It is not unlikely that these ladies were attracted by the circumstance that the University of Edinburgh places no restriction on the age of candidates, and thus offers to ladies who have not secured a certificate before the age of eighteen, an opportunity of doing so even when consideralily older. But, since tlie object of the promoters was to stimulate culture at home, the main interest of the winter's work lay in their correspondence with ladies living in the remoter districts of Scotland. Such letters were often very interesting; and, out of zeal for a common cause, valuable friendships have sprung up between the managers of the scheme and certain unseen correspondents. One or two writers, after a few months' correspondence, came to Edinburgh in order to join the class. They found its members working at precisely the same point as themselves, and, we must add, not one whit more advanced in knowledge. Letters came from all parts. They came from prosperous Lowland county towns, and told us that life was dull there, and society rather bored with 274 'TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. itself. The writers asked whether, in working for an examination, there might be a possible remedy for a social condition which they aptly described as one of intellectual stagnation, solely mitigated by— " Personal talk Of friends, who live within an easy walk, Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in our sight."

Letters came from country-house schoolrooms where the governess had long solitary evenings for study, in which her elder pupils were rarely spirited enough to join. Many came from Glasgow itself, testifying to the difficulties which, even in a great city, beset any solitary grown-up woman in the pursuit of knowledge. Some of the writers were teachers in schools, who knew, by professional experience, the worth of an honoiirs certificate, wliich admits its holder's name to the Kugby Calendar for lady-teachers. Letters came, and these were the most welcome of all, from tlie far north, and from wild glens of the west, where the post comes but seldom. They came too from Skye, and from the Isles, and from Highland manses, where the daughters, once their school-days are past, are, as a rule, cut off from aids to learning. The majority were uneasy about their arithmetic; and, as a whole, the correspondence bore testimony to the disor- ganised state of secondary education, and to the difficulty in many districts of obtaining anything beyond primary instruction. Still, this correspondence proved that, even where there is no teaching to be had, save in the parish school, something may yet be done by a girl who is quite resolved to learn and to be well taught. One clever lady, whose arithmetic was in a hopeless state of disrepair, narrated how she had amazed a head-master by coming suddenly before him with the request that she might join his class! He entered into our friend's views, told her that it was the very best thing she could do, and made room for her, slate in hand, among the children, until the mysteries of vulgar fractions had become plain. We should be glad to see so good an example widely followed; for, if rudimentary learning be but securely based, a good system of teaching by letter may guide diligent students to a great deal of knowledge. The experience of the session teaches, that no one need think it very difficult to stiidy in this way. For, from first to last, the tutors found that progress was as marked witli the one set of learners as with the other. Nay, it seemed as if the leisure Oil Secondary Education of Women in Scotland. 275 and stillness of country life in winter produced work of greater solidity than was done amidst the distractions of town; and no surprise was felt by those who had looked on from the very first, when three out of five prizes were awarded to correspondents. In the winter of 1876-77, it was necessary to engage the services of a second English tutor, and we were fortunate in securing Mr E. Reid. A Latin class, under Mr A. B. Thom- son, and a German one, under ^Miss Eappenegger, were also formed, and prospered. In April, the promised class for honours was opened. It was also found expedient to announce a second class for the study of the previous examination in common subjects, because a few ladies prudently resolved to go through the wliole elementary drill a second time, and to rest satisfied with passing the preliminary examination only in June 1877. No fewer than 32 members joined this class and its corresponding division. The Local Examinations of the University of Edinburgh in June 1877 were, throughout Scotland, a very great success. The St George's Hall classes sent up no fewer than 55 candidates to the Edinburgh Centre. But the promoters of these classes rejoiced still more over one or two new local centres, which were mainly due to the exertions of correspondents, even when they were not entirely made up of them. The results of the winter's work were made known at a meeting held on July 20th, at which Professor Calder- wood presided. The Chairman summed up the results :— In Honours, no failures. 11 times 80 per cent, and upwards of marks were gained; and of the 14 Honours Candidates, 9 won University Prizes. In the Ordinary Special Subjects— 3 times Candidates took 90 per cent, of marks. 10 „ „ „ 80 „ „

In the Preliminary Subjects— 3 times 90 per cent, were gained. 10 „ 80 „ 29 „ 70 „ Of the 16 holders of Ordinary Pass Certificates, the names of 12 appeared in the University I*rize List. Professor Eraser told the meeting that, as examiner, he had been amply satisfied with the logic papers. Indeed, had he known how thorough the study of Jevons Primer had Ijeen, he might have made the questions harder. He 2/6 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. added that it would be well if all university men entered his class as well prepared in logic as these ladies. During the winter of 1877-78, it is intended to hold these classes again, and to organize and extend the correspondence. There can be no doubt that this is the part of our work which has real national importance at the present moment. Ladies in Edinburgh who wish to repair a defective education, or to begin any new study that strikes their fancy, can get up a class, and find some one to teach them, if but by following the example of our original student with her advertisement. But it is very different in the country; and we would suggest to ladies living in county towns, or in populous neighbourhoods, that tliey should form Ladies' Educational Associations, and use our correspondence system as a means of directing a local instructor in his work. A future paper will, we trust, relate how well some of our friends are already organizing such associations. But what, we would ask, is to become of the daughters of those families in the country, where means are awanting to send all to school, or to give the high salary necessary to secure a really capable and well-trained governess ? One young correspondent replies, from her own experience, that they should, like the lady already mentioned, make use of the nearest public school. We have this writer's permission to quote her very sensible letter:—" Let a clergyman's daughter, in the Highlands, attend the public school. This will be better than having the master to teach her privately, as one learns much from the mistakes of others, Another advantage of the parish school is, that arithmetic is there taught more thorouglily than in most ladies' schools. She should certainly learn Latin, altliough this might mean hard work at first. I never understood English grammar until I had learned Latin. When a class of boys began Latin, we girls joined it, as we did those for Greek and mathematics. Our parents said that we ought to take advantage of such education as was within our reach, and that, if the foundation was well laid, other things could be added. In addition to our lessons, we had always a sliare of the household work to do. It was no unusual thing for me to have a lesson-book open beside me, in order to take a peep at it now and then while I was doing out a room, ironing, or washing the tea-cups. I was told that the one part of education was as essential as the other; and that labour fairly divided between mind and body preserved the health of both." Her concluding words are eminently satis- Our Scotch Cousin. 277 factory to us, for she adds—" Such a young lady should by all means join the corresponding classes. She could easily do so while attending school; and more than one session of teacliing by letter would be an advantage to her. Although I had the benefit of excellent instructions, I need not have attempted the Local Examinations had I not had the help of this correspondence." A MEMBER OF COMMITTEE.

WORK AND LOVE.

WORK, work, work, Though Ufe be long aud weary ; Work, work, work, Kor pause to think life dreary. Weariness only is, where loving work is not— Dreariness only is, where blessings are forgot.

Working for tliose we love^ Our Father over all; Perhaps renouncing cherished plans, Obedient to His call. Did not our Elder Brother work—■ Saviour and Lord of all? '

They say that work is prayer— Are work and love not one'? One in our Father's great command. One in His blessed Son ; One in the promised great reward, When the long rest is won i

Work, work, work. Making brightness in the night; Work, work, work. With the true love wliich is might. Let loving work go on, till breaks the longed-for day, When, before the glorious light, the shadows llee awav. L. G. C.

©itr Stolrl^ Cnusiit. JACK and I were at breakfast one morning, when a letter came announcing the death of an old aunt of ours in Scot- land, who had left a great deal of money to her orphan niece, our cousin. As she had always lived with her aunt, she was now left homeless, and our aunt had wished us to take her to live with us, which wish we resolved to attend Xn. :!3. —SEPTEMBER 1877. 2 N 2/8 TJic Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

to. So Jack wrote to our cousin, and very soon we had an answer—written in big sprawling characters—saying that she would come to us in a lew- days. " Wliat is lier name. Jack ?" I asked, after he had read the letter. " Something very Scotch," he replied, laughing; " it is spelt Auchindachie, but I don't know how to pronounce it." " Poor thing, what a name to come to London with!" I exclaimed ; " I sha'n't venture to call her anything but Janet." Well, Jack went away to his business as usual, and all day as I went about I thought of our cousin, wondering what she would be like. Then when Jack came home, we talked of her until slie became a perfect heroine to us. At last the day of her arrival came, and as train-time approached, I grew very impatient, doing nothing but looking out into the lamp-lit streets to see if the cab was coming. Jack had gone to the station to meet her, knowing—kind, thoughtful boy that he was!—how strange a Scotch girl would feel coming to London for the first time, all alone. Well, at last I heard a cab stop at our door, and I rushed downstairs and had it open before the maid could come up. I looked eagerly out—there was a figure coming up tlie steps—that must be J anet! I did not stop to look what she was like before I gave her a hearty embrace. But after I had kissed her and bade her welcome, I did look at her. She was big, rather stout, and red-haired. Her face was red, too, and had a conceited, self-satisfied expression, which I did not like. I was surprised to see she wore no mourning. Her dress was reddish browai, made in last year's fashion, and very badly fitted. She wore also a smart velvet jacket, and a bonnet which was a perfect mass of flowers and feathers. She carried a big umbrella, and a shabby leather bag, the latter evidently well-filled. I had time to notice this while she saw her boxes taken in, and then, when she turned upstairs, I looked towards Jack, who was evidently as much disappointed in our cousin's appearance as I was. " Oh, Jack, I'm sure she's not a bit a lady !" I whispered; for I always know a lady the minute I see her, and this, I was sure, was not one. Jack only laughed, and I followed Janet upstairs and showed her into tlie bedroom prepared for her. When I told her we should have dinner presently, she seemed astonished, and said bluntly, " I didn't know it was tlie fashion to dine at supper-time ; we ahvays dine at one." Our Scotch Cousin. 279

I left her, and went to the dining-room, where slie soon joined us, and we sat down to dinner. She, poor thing, looked so awkward, that I felt sorry for her, and would have tried to help her if I could have done so. She handled her knife and fork very clumsily, looked at her table-napkin as if she had never seen such a thing before ; used a steel knife to eat fish, and tried to cut roast beef Avith a fish-knife. She helped herself with her own spoon, and drank tlie water in her finger-glass. I could hardly help showing how shocked I was, while .Tack seemed inclined to laugh every time I looked at him; so it was a great relief to me when dinner was over, and we went to the drawing-room. I tried to make her talk, but it was hard work. " You must be tired after such a long journey, Janet ?" I said, sitting down beside her, determined to be as agreeable as possible. " Yes," was all the answer I got. " What part of Scotland is it you come from ? " I next asked. " Auchtermuchty," replied my companion. I did not confess that I was no wiser for this infcffmatiorn but cast an appealing glance to Jack, who was laughing behind a newspaper, and did not notice my mute entreaty. I resumed my efforts at conversation, trying eveiy subject I could think of, but her replies were still monosyllabicv and I was just about to give up in despair, when Jack asked carelessly, " Your aunt kept a farm, did she not ?" The effect was like magic; Janet began to talk at once. She addressed herself to me, and told me of cows, pigs, butter, poultry, and other things connected with a farm,, while I listened with as much interest as I could assume. In a little while, to my great relief, the servant brought in the tea-things. Janet partook largely of the contents of the cake-basket, and the only observation she made of her own accord was, " Isn't it a pity to take tea so soon after dinner ? I can't do justice to this fine cake." I was too much taken aback to speak; but Jack said gravely, " It saves the cake, you know, cousin." " Ay, so it does," she rejoined; " and it must come expensive for you making cakes; I guess the eggs are dear." " Of course we don't make cakes at home when we can so easily buy them," I said coldly. She looked astonished, saying regretfully, " I've got some fine recipes, which I thought you might like to try." 28o TJie Ladies' Edi/iburgh Magazine.

" So you might," ,Tack suggested, with a sly glance towards me, and I promised to see about it. Soon after this, Janet declared herself tired, and went to bed, while Jack and I remained talking for a little. " How do you like her, Ethel ?" he asked, as soon as Janet had left the room. " Not at all," I returned ; " I'm quite disappointed in her, she has no manners." " Poor Janet," he said, laiighing ; " you must teach her to be a lady, a task you are quite capable of." " A task 1 don't like, all the same," I answered crossly, and bade him good-night, wishing that Janet had stayed in Scotland—or anywhere else away fi'oni London. Next morning, when I went down in time to make coffee before breakfast, I found Janet sitting in front of the fire, knittin"'. " I forgot I was in London this morning," she said rather sulkily, after I had bade her good-morning, " I have been down for about an hour." I was secretly wondering liow the servant had liked this, when Janet explained, that being tired of waiting, she had gone out for a walk. " Alone !" I exclaimed in amazement, " and before breakfast ! We don't do such things in London, cousin," I added kindly; but she retorted quite angrily, " I don't care what you London ladies do, you needn't dictate to me;" and flinging down her work, took her place at the breakfast table. She hardly s]5oke to me during the meal, addressing herself wholly to Jack, and talking loud and fast, with a strong northern pronunciation, on a variety of subjects. Slie seemed quite at home this morning, and as soon as breakfast w^as over, she proposed tliat we should take her to " see London," as she expressed it. She seemed to expect Jack to go with her, and was disappointed when he told her he would be engaged all day. "Ethel will go out with you in the afternoon," he added, as he left ns. " I can go out alone if you are busj^," she said graciously, turning to me. " You must have a good deal to do of a morning." " No ; I have very little," I answered. " I sliall be ready to go out when you like ; but we don't generally go out so early as this." " Well, well, I am in no hurry," she said, and sat down to her knitting again. After lunch we went out, and I took her, first of all, to a Our Scotch Cousin. 281 dressmaker's, where a large order was given, under my directions, which would let Janet appear, in her dress at least, a lady. After a few more shops had been visited, we came home, Janet full of wonder and admiration at all she had seen while she was out, and ready to listen to all we told her about London. By the end of a week Janet was regularly at home with us, and thoucrh I confess I did not like her, I was civil and attentive, and slie seemed quite happy with us. Her manners did not improve, and I tliought her more suitable for the kitchen than for the drawing-room. She seemed from the first to take a great liking to Jack, and after she had been with us for about a month I suddenly discovered that she was deeply in love with him. Slie soon afterwards confessed this to me, with many hysterical sobs and tears, declaring she could not live with us any longer unless he loved her in return, and concluding by begging me to tell him so ! I was horrified, but declined as quietly as possible to do any such thing, and all day she remained inconsolable, shutting herself up in her bedroom, and refusing to be comforted. Next morning she looked pale and miserable, and I felt that this state of things wouldn't do. I told Janet so, pretty decidedly, and to my surprise she agreed with me, expressing her intention of leaving us for a while tUl she got over it. I was far from sorry, and she gave out that she was going away to visit a friend in Yorkshire, as the sudden change to London from the country had made her ratlier unwell. So one morning she set oft', and I must say I did not miss her. But a few days after she was gone I did miss something else. We were uoim; out to dinner, and when I was dressing I found that aU my jewelry had been stolen. The box in which it lay had been broken open, and everything was gone. While I was lamenting my loss a maid came in to announce that a quantity of plate was also missing. I was amazed and vexed. It was so unaccountable. Both our servants were strictly honest—one of them had been with us since we were children—it was out of the question to suspect them. We were sure no thief could have entered the house ; there remained only to suspect Janet, and this I confess I did, though it seemed preposterous. We gave information to the police, but in vain; a week passed, and we heard notliing of our lost property. We heard nothing of Janet either, which confirmed my secret suspicions. I was meditating a conversation with Jack about her, when I heard the door-bell rinu,', and a minute afterwards 282 The Ladies' Edifibiirgk Magazine.. the servant announced a young lady wishing to see me. It was an unusual hour for visitors, as it was after dinner, but I went down to the library where the stranger was. When I entered, there rose to meet me a young lady, neatly dressed in mourning, of small stature, and very pretty, with regularly formed features, and soft grey eyes. I paused a moment in surprise, and was about to ask her errand when the little thing put back her veil, and said, smiling so prettily, " I am Janet Auchindachie, and you, I suppose, are my cousin Ethel!" I was so overwhelmed with surprise that I stood staring at this second Janet—so utterly unlike the first, and so much more like what I would have wished our cousin to be. At last I stammered, " There must be some mistake. One Janet Aucliindachie was here before. Please sit down till I go and speak to my brother;" and leaving my visitor, now as much amazed as I had been, I rushed upstairs and told Jack what had happened. " It's as I was beginning to suspect," he exclaimed. " That young person was no more our cousin than I'm a Dutchman. In fact, I'm mistaken if she is not our mysterious thief." "I've been thinking so too. Jack," I replied. "But do come down at once and see this young lady ! She is so pretty, so different from the other ! " We both hastened downstairs. Jack prepared with all manner of questions, to prevent our being taken in a second time. But the moment he saw her he bade her a hearty welcome, and all his suspicions melted like hoar-frost. " I have sufficient proof here of my identity," said the stranger laughing, after the story of our other cousin had been told to her. She then produced several letters and documents, among others the letter we had written asking her to come to London. We at once made her at home, and after she had rested and taken some dinner, we told her aU about the impostor— for such she was without doubt. When we concluded, Janet said gravely, " I think I know who it was—a girl who lived with my aunt; as a servant she was far from honest, and after my aunt's death she went to England. I remember giving her the letter I wrote to you to post, and telling her I would pay some visits in Scotland before coming to London. ]\Iy impression is that, knowing my plans, she must have destroyed the letter, and determined to personate nie here for a time. She always wished to go to Where shall zve Go? 283

London, and prided herself on her lady-like appearance, so I have little doubt but that she thought you would welcome her without suspicion." " Which indeed we did," interrupted Jack. " You know how she took advantage of you," continued Janet, " for I have little doubt that she is the thief, and I'm afraid we shall never hear more either of your property or your false cousin." Janet was right. From that day to this we have never heard of the thief, nor of our stolen goods. The real Janet proved as pleasant and lady-like as the false one was the opposite, or as I had at iirst sight imagined she would be. She had been with us only a very short time when I saw that Jack and she loved each other. This was wliat I had expected and hoped since she had first come, and it was a very happy day for me when I acted as bridesmaid to my cousin. They would not hear of my leaving them, and declare that they won't let me go until I have a home of my own, which I always reply will never happen. And we often, in the winter evenings, sit by the fireside and talk over the strange story of our pretended cousin. One evening I told them the reason she had given for leaving us, and Jack replied merrily, " I guessed as much, Ethel, but I waited for the real one, you see, and I'll never repent my choice as long as I live," he added, looking fondly at his wife. Thus our cousin became Jack's wife, and if every Scotch girl makes as good a wife as she, I advise all Englishmen to do as my brother did, and marry their Scotcli cousins— if they have any. CEOCUS FORSTER LEIGH.

II.—HELVELLYN.

THAT depends, as the " Cheshire Cat" would tell you, on wiiere you want to go, and what you want to do when you get there ! We shall imagine ourselves addressing an intelligent audience, wlio, having neither unlimited time, nor unlimited cash, are tired of work, and want a little play in a pretty playground. Where shall they go ? Dear friends, suppose you try the green Lake country. Why do so many people know the Italian and Swiss Lakes, and so many more 284 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

the Scottish, and so very few the English ? They are not grand, you say. Well, perhaps not, and strawberries are not as big as pine-apples ; but you don't refuse to taste them for that sole reason. But how is it that with limited time and means, we are ready to run all over Europe, and endure all manner of hardships with the best possible grace, when comparatively few hours and few shillings would take us into so pleasant a region as this wonderful little north-west corner of England, where, in an area of thirty miles, there is as charming a combination of hill and glen, wood and cliff, mere and waterfall, as you need wish to see ? We will grant that the quiet beauty of the country is better known, and consequently better appreciated, if you can stay some time in it, and are " up " to hill-rambles, not only to the regular " sights," but in search of the less well-known beauties ; tlie wild tarns, the deep ghylls, the foaming becks, each in itself too small, perhaps, for regular sight-seers to " Hunt it, and make it a lion, and get it at length into guide-books." But if you have no more time than will serve for the regular tourist-round, even this must be charming to anybody with eyes and brains. Though all is on a small scale, what of that ? The mountains are real mountains, and the lakes real lakes. If you sketch or botanize, there are the materials ready to hand; if you are what Mrs Gradgrind calls—"something-ological," tliere are lead-mines, and copper-mines, slate-quarries, pebbles, plumbago, miner- als and metals enough to keep you and your geological hammer in full employ. If you love the Lake poets, you can read them on their own ground, and enjoy them as you never did before ; if you do not love them—more shame for yoxi!—you need not read them. If, again, you are adventurous, and want to nearly break your neck, there are rocks and every sort of convenience; if you want nearly to be drowned by the upsetting of a crazy boat, to be lost in a mist, to be belated, beniglited, terrified out of your wits in any reasonable way (some people are unreasonable in their demands), you can be as well accommodated in these respects at Iveswick as at Kiissnacht. Go, then, and see the English Lakes, if you have never seen them, and pay special regard to Thirlmere—lovely, lonely Thirlmere—before Manchester drinks it all up ; for Manchester, we hear, is turning sober, has taken the Temperance pledge, and intends in future to slake its thirst with Thirlmere. Albeit strong in the cause of Temperance, we could not but hope there might yet Where shall we Go? 285 be a slip between the cup of Thirlmere and the lip of Manchester. Go where you will, a holiday ramble is a deliglitful thing. Nobody disputes that in theory; but it is only fully enjoyed as a set-off to hard work, and some people dispute tliat. Do not be friglitened : we are not going to quote the proverbial " dull boy " Jack; only what about tlie Jack-asses who have all play and no work ? Are they beneath the dignity of a proverb ? They certainly cannot enjoy holidays as we did, when, fresh from the labour of gaining our Local Certificate, we set off to enjoy our play. As to special modes of enjoying oneself, no two people, probably, think quite alike. If a whole party start together on a pleasure-hunt, ten to one but you will see that the real zest of the search is different to each one. If two of us sat down to make mud pies, one would place her happiness in brown mud, and the other in black—[N.B. there would most likely be enough for both in this summer of 1877 ') But the fact is, that nobody's mind will unbend e.x;actly in the same way as anybody else's mind. Mrs Sarah Battles worked at whist, and unbent her mind afterwards over a book ; Domitian killed flies, and other great characters have had some peculiar sfogo;—we lilce going up a hill. A mountain-pass is delightful, where you get higher and higher, till you can peer over tlie top, and see what there is on the other side; but better still, a mountain-top, especially if it be the highest in its own neighbourhood. Not merely for the sake of the view, which is all very well in its way, but even with the certainty of no view—and in this insular climate, the odds are, there will be none—we like the actual going up, the gradual unfolding and widening of the map below you, the relative change of position of different points of thd landscape; it is all pleasure the whole way. As to the view itself, that is far finer, in the artist's sense of the word, half-way up than at the top ; the higher you go, the picture becomes more of a map, and only gains in width to lose in picturesque beauty at every step. As to Helvellyn, that king of the Lakes, you have not done your duty by the country till you have stood on his storm- swept crown. He is not quite as high as Scawfell; but while that fine hill sulks away in his corner, and only looks on Wastwater, Helvellyn is the very centre point of the district, a great mountain mass, sending forth spurs, whose feet are washed on one side by UUeswater, on the other by Thirlmere, Grasmere, and Eydal. Four or five other lakes, and No. 33.—SEPTEMBER 1877. 2 0 286 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

many tarns, are in siglit; the Solway Firth, Morecambe Bay, and a goodly belt of blue and silver sea. And has not our own Sir Walter Scott trod its turfy steep, bearing the wizard staff, which turned all it touched into gold ? Did he not so immortalize poor Charles Gough, as to leave him and Helvellyn in our hearts for ever ? when he folded his pilgrim to sleep " In the arms of Helvellyn and Catcliedecam." Can the melody of the beautiful little poem ever cease to delight us ? Dear romantic young lady-tourist, could you not engage the Poet-Laureate to commemorate you in such magic verse, and then go up—let us say—Scawfell in a fog, tumble into the Mickledore chasm, and rest assured of fame, and our best thanks ? Eut here we were at Ambleside; days were passing, Helvellyn was still waiting, and so were we, for the weather was unsettled, and somewhat thundery, and we were giving up the idea, when a chance visitor, though he could not settle the weather, unsettled our minds by saying, " Here's a glorious day ! why don't you go ? Too late ? not at all; take the one o'clock coach to Grasmere, get ponies there and a guide." So in shorter time than we can write the words, a sandwich was eaten, the waterproofs and umbrellas strapped, the guide-book secured, and all the barometers within reach looked at. They were all going down; but when a gloomy morning has cleared into a superb day, and that ubiquitous and useful person, the " oldest inhabitant," tells you it is going to be irne, what can you do but trust him ? And now we were on the Grasmere coach, and had fixed upon the Grasmere, or Tongue's Gill ascent. Much longer than the Wythburn, it is much more beautifid. A few days before, we had been talking from the top of the Keswick coach to a guide who was leaning against the inn-door at Wyth- burn, as to the best route. We had been greatly diverted, too, by the remarks of a young fellow-traveller, who informed tlae passengers that she lived in London, and knew nothing about mountains. On Helvellyn and Skiddaw being pointed out to her, she expressed great dissatisfaction : she had " thought 'ills were 'igher," and tliat they " went straight up." Know- ing somewhat of hill-climbing, we had privately opined that if the poor little soul had set off from that point, straight up the stey braes of Helvellyn, she would have ceased to wish him higher, or straighter up, before she had gone far! At the Eotha Hotel, Grasmere, we were soon furnished with Where shall we Go? 287

a capital guide; and as to ponies, there may be as good, but there never can be better than the two clever and nimble little beasts on which we were mounted. A tedious bit of dusty road, and then we struck the Tongue's Gill, up a steep path above the pretty wooded ravine, down which a brawling beck dances and foams. Up and on, through fern and foxglove, the ponies choosing their own way zig-zag up the long turfy tongue, or promontory, wliich parts the two streams, while we look back at the ever-widening view— Grasmere like a sheet of glass, set in her emerald green meadows, the quiet village and old massive church at her head, where " Ilotha with her silver tide," bathes more than one lionoured English grave. Now the Coniston mountains come into sight, and Coniston, Esthwaite, and Windermere lakes, and a long bar of golden sand, and then the sea. When Southey and Wordsworth waUced Sir W. Scott up here, who would not have been of the party ? But we leave the thymy turf and get upon grey rocks, the ponies climb like wild cats, and now make a sharp descent down a kind of rocky staircase on the side of a cliff. We are rounding the shoulder of Seat Sandal, and the next sharp ascent will bring us in sight of the first tarn. A heavy driving shower is falling, but we do not mind it much; the wind is rising and the clouds drift fast. Over some marshy ground, up a green face; and by the end of the first hour we are landed on a heathery platform, with the southern panorama still in view, .while directly below us to the north, a wild lonely tarn is lashed into mimic waves by the wind. It lies with its steel-blue waters locked in by Seat Sandal and the huge shoulder of Fairfield, and beyond it rises due north a steeper hill than either, with a kind of undefined scratch on its side. A vague idea shoots across us, that tins may be our actual path, but it seems almost silly to ask. Ponies might go up, and people might, separately; but how anything was to stick on a pony's back the while ;—well, we wind down a shelf, about as wide but not as smooth as the mantelpiece, and at the north-east corner of the tarn ford the stream, which leaves it to dash down a steep dark glen to the north. Oh, what a scene for a painter ! Down goes the stream, lost in a series of cascades, through the deep defile of Glenridding, and there, under the dark rain-clouds, lies Ulleswater, spanned by a double rainbow, and framed by St Sunday Crag and Place Fell. The sun breaks out again, the gidde settles us in our saddles, looks to the girths, remarking that the hardest work 288 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. is before us. " What! are we going up there ?" "Yes, just where you see the path." It was just what one did not see; but the ponies turn to the hill, and make for the afore- mentioned scratch, as if they knew their business, while a half-recollected quotation from "the Enterkin" runs through one's head : " Commodore Rogers was a brave man—exceedingly lorave—quite particular, He climbed high rocks—exceedingly high—quite perpendicular, And what made this the more inexpressible That these same rocks were quite inaccessible !" The attempt at a track disappears now and then, but the ponies find their way, and one's energies are employed in sticking on, and not rolling down into Grisedale Tarn, as we leave it deeper below us. " Are we nearly up ?" " Well, about half-way; but once on the top of this, the path is dead level." One can't converse at ease sticking on the wall of a house, or one would say—" Once on the top, what more is there ? " Now look over the western slope of Seat Sandal. The beautiful blue heads of the Derwentwater and Buttermere hills rise one by one, hailed with delight as old friends, bits of sea and lake, flashes of light on tarns, and Skiddaw, how purple-blue ! The ponies quicken their scramble into a trot. Here we are at the cairn ! " No, ladies, it's a cairn, but there is the cairn, just two miles off—see." The path winds off into distance, and ends at a speck seen against the sky. " This is a spur of Helvellyn. What is this tremendous hill ?" " The Dolly Waggon Pike." People who go without a guide often stop, thinking their work is done, and turn downhill from this point. We rest here, and study the view. Go a couple of yards to the north; the sight nearly makes one's head swim. Down drops the hill, in sheer cliffs, towards Patterdale, and the glens that look so beautiful from UUeswater. The lake lies curled like a blue feather among its hills; we can trace the silver Eamont into distant woodlands beyond Pooley Bridge ; there are the green heights of Upper Lonsdale, the moorlands of Shap, all ending in the ridges of Crossfell, dark now with thunder-clouds. North-west and west, Ave look to the Solway and the sea, the Scotch coast, Criffel looking at Skiddaw, the bright Bassenthwaite Lake, a scrap of Derwent- water, and mountains all tossed in wild masses, all of darkest indigo, save where the sun glints on the Honister Crag, showing the pass to Buttermere, and makes the broad green Where shall we Go? 289 top of Grassmoor like a new-mown lawn. Far beyond, behind the Pillar and High Stile, another pale strip of sea, with the Isle of Man like a cloud. Scawfell is sulky, and keeps his cap on ; but all his attendant heights are grand— Lingmell and the Great Gable, and the cliffs of Great End— why, we see right over the Sty Head Pass. Further south, Powfell, Wetherlam, the Old Man of Coniston; and paler blue beyond them, Wordsworth's beloved Black Combe. Still southwards, what a sweep of shining water, the chain of lakes enclosed in wood and hill, ending in the sea again, Morecambe Bay down to Lancaster. Over Ingleboro' dark clouds are brooding. We heard afterwards of a tremendous thunderstorm in Yorkshire at the time. We doubt if a more varied panorama could be seen from any hill in the island; not certainly in the Lake country. Skiddaw sees too little water, and Scawfell, we are told, too much, nothing but sea and Wastwater. Ihe variety of this view is quite wonderful. We push on. The weather is going to change ; a sudden blast of wind, icy cold, sets the clouds in rapid motion. Onwards, along the top of the precipice-wall, and again we quote Sir W. Scott—how well he always chooses his epithets I Truly, " the mighty Helvellyn,"—never can his vastness be so well appreciated as in the walk from Dolly Waggon Pike on to liis broad shoulder. And the " dark brow,"—never did mountain frown more sternly than he, with those beetling red cliffs. And the " arms of Helvellyn and Catchedecam," tliose long rocky arms of Striding and Swirrel Edge, folding round the Eed and the Kepplecove tarns ! We wondered how many eagles sailed and " yelled " in Sir Walter's day. They are all silent now. As we cross what the Swiss would call a col, a narrow isthmus with just footing and no more, a stony slope on one side and a precipice on the other, and make our last ascent to the cairn, an ugly rust-coloured cloud comes sweeping from the sea, a white steam boils up as if out of the tarns, in a minute the whirls of vapour meet and close ; we are in a black cloud, can see each others' faces and our ponies' ears, and the cairn which we are touching, but further—alas, no ! A gulf of cloud, driving with a speed that makes one dizzy, that is all. We know that one step would be over a cliff, and we stand still. " It may lift in ten minutes, and may not for ten hours," says the guide. And now the cloud looks greenish, and the icy blast brings a hissing sound ; we know what that means. 290 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

A hail-storm rattles down, whitening the rocks. The ponies shake their dear little heads, fold their tails close, turn their noses to the cliff; we unfurl umbrellas, and sit quiet. The guide relates how last Easter Monday a party—three ladies and two gentlemen—had to stay up here all night; so dense a fog closed round them, they could not find the path. Think of that, dear young lady-tourist! could you have been more romantically uncomfortable on the Matterhorn ? The hail scatters the mist, and we begin the descent, passing the col, and taking the Wythburn path. It is boggy in many places, and the heavy rain makes it worse ; miniature waterfalls abound. In places where there is any chance of one's neck being broken, one likes to have a good view of a performance so personally interesting; declining umbrellas, therefore, we get drenched. Never mind; the clouds are breaking, here is the sun, Thirlmere's twin lakes flash out below us, and cramped with cold and wet we insist on walking. " I was just going to advise it," says the guide, " the path gets so steep here." " Not worse than ' IJolly Waggon?'" "0, yes; the steepest you've seen to-day." Down, down, such stairs of rocks. What an ascent this must be, more direct than Tongue's Gill, straight enough to satisfy our London friend. But " a haggis, Cot pless her, can charge down-lull"—we race down, looking back to see how gal- lantly our little beasts do it, without a slip. Eeaching a green ghyll, we mount again, doing honour to Coleridge's pretty little " word-picture" of the Knight's Tomb, by settling that " the grave of Sir Arthur 0' Kellyn " must have been somewhere among these birch-trees, where the brook is brawling down. Wythburn Inn at last. We had intended bidding guide and ponies good-bye, and taking the Ambleside coach here, but the latest had passed long since. We are tired, but must perforce ride back to the hotel, four miles further, 'which will make a round of fourteen miles. It is a glorious evening, and without further peril we reach the " Eotha," take leave of our trusty guide and four- footed companions, dry our stiffened skirts at the kitchen fire, and drink steaming coffee, while the light carriage is preparing wliich will take us down to Ambleside. So good-night, dear reader; and if you still ask, where shall we go ?—take our advice, and go up Helvellyn. L. DUXDAS. Double Acrostic. 291

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 9. When I was young and gay, I sailed from shore to shore. . Alas, and well-a-day ! These golden hours are o'er. Nor blue waves of the Spanish main, Nor northern gulfs a-mist with rain, Shall I see ever more ; Yet in my mind their hues remaia As life-like as before.

Now I am old and worn, My fint to me is sweet; But those shall be my scorn Who seek it ere 'tis meet. They find my srxondls with'ring lilight, Which soils the fair, and dims the bright, And vanquislios the fleet; lily first is age and labour's right For weary hands and feet. E. J. 0.

SOLUTION OF DOUBLE ACROSTIC No. 8. B B. and S. S I INCH H R RONDO O D DEBT T Correct answers received from " B.," Hawthorn, and Message Girl. A PRIZE is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. For Rules, see former numbers of this Magazine.

• H-H -jiGt- tf ■■ W ■

STEAY NOTES.

WE learn that the Glasgow Association for the Higher Education of Women is about to begin its practical work. Thougli tlie arrangements for classes to be held next winter are not yet completed, they are in good progress ; and meantime our Glasgow readers will hear with pleasure that Professors Caird, Veitch, Young, and M'Kendrick, have agreed to hold classes for the Association. WHATEVER may be thought of the progress made in Great Britain towards the Higher Education of Women, there can be little doubt that New Zealand is losing no time in furthering the cause. Canter- bury College has for some time opened its lectures to women, with the very natural result of finding that, from the want of previous training, many did not reap full advantage from them. The Board of 2g2 TJie Ladies Edmbiirgh Magazine.

Governors has therefore agreed, that a High School for girls shall be founded, with, if possible, an endowment of a landed estate. This is indeed establishing matters on a solid basis, and we send a warm greeting to our fellow-workers at the antiiiodes. WE are favoured with a Prospectus of the Preparatory Classes for the Edinburgh University Local Examinations. The preparations appear to u.s to be very complete, comprising Classes for all tlie Preliminary Subjects, as well as for English Literature, Logic, Mathematics and Algebra, French, German, and Latin. The system of instruction by correspondence will l^e carried on in connection with all these classes. We hope that ladies in many remote parts of the country will devote some of the dark hours of winter to a systematic course of study, such as is now brought within the reach of the most isolated inhabitant of our island. WE are glad to announce that another of our subscribers has responded to our appeal for j^rizes in special subjects at the Local Examinations of 1878. A prize of £10 has been placed \>y her in the hands of the Treasurer of the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association, to be awarded to the candidate who shall take the highest marks in English Literature ; subject to the conditions of continuing her studies in the classes of the Association, and of having taken Latin as a "common subject" in the Local Examinations. This prize is further limited to ladies who intend to become teachers. We remark that no prizes are offered for sjiecial excellence in Logic or in ]\Iathematics. May we suggest to others to follow in this or another line the above good example ? A CORRESPONDENT expresses her surprise that E. M. D., in her charming article on Corsica, says nothing about the Chalybeate springs of Ozezza. They are a ferruginous Seltzer w^ater, very rich in iron, and very eflervescent. One of their chief merits, however, is that of all known chalybeates—that they retain their properties when bottled ; and tlierefore they are largely coming into use, both abroad and in England. They can now be had in Edinburgh ; and a friend of the writer has used them this summer, instead of going to Schwalbach. WE are requested to make the following correction on our note of last month concerning the names of the students who have gained prizes in Mr M'Glashan's Preparatory Classes for the Edinburgh University Local Examinations. 1st prize ^10, gained by Miss M'Phail, Kilmuir, Uig, Skye (corresjionding student) ; 2d jnize £10, gained by Miss Burnside, Glasgow (corresponding student) ; 3d prize £b, gained by Miss Ray Edinburgh ; 4th j^rize £3, gained by Miss M'Kerron, Kennethmont, Aberdeenshire (corresponding student) ; 5th prize j£3, gained by Miss Gair, Falkirk (corresponding student).

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PRIZE is oft'ered for the best article received and accepted by the Editors before \st March 1878, on the subject, "Where shall we Go?" A PRIZE is offered for the best article received by the Editors, and accepted for insertion during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists, born in the 18th century. No meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society will be held till October. Our Female Novelists. 293

®«r J|cm;ik IJiDbclisls. IX. MISS FEERIER. h. 1782; d. 1854.

IT has happened to us more than once, on putting the question—Do you like Miss Feri'iei''s novels ? to be met by tlie answer, " I never even heard of Miss Ferrier." Peaceful times, whether in history or private life, have the disadvantage, so to speak, of aflbrding comparatively slender materials for the historian or biographer to work upon. Yet it is an honourable tribute to domestic life, that a woman with talents which would have distinguished her in a far wider sphere, should have been content to pass her quiet and happy days with no ambition beyond what could be gratified by the possession of the esteem and love of all who were privileged to call themselves her friends—content to pass away, leaving no public memorial save three charming books, which, although they stamp their authoress at once as a wit, a genius, and a well-bred Scottish gentlewoman, are by no means universally known or read. Such a woman was Susan Edmonston Ferrier, born in Edinburgh in 1782. She was the daughter of James Ferrier, a Writer to the Signet, and for some years man of business to the Duke of Argyll. This connection of his was the means of bringing his daughters into a more extended circle of acquaintances than they might otherwise have formed. To the visits she was thus enabled to pay in the West Highlands, we are probably indebted for some of Miss Ferrier's best scenes and most amusing descriptions. Her mother was a Miss Coutts, and was distinguished for great personal beauty. As Clerk of the Court of Session, James Terrier was at one time the colleague in office of Walter Scott. To name him in such company shows under what happy auspices the little maiden entered the literary world. We need not dwell on the charms of Edinburgh society as it then was, so many records of it are within our reach. A few still linger, of the numbers who in our own childhood could tell us stories of old family friends and kinsmen among the men and women whom Eaeburn painted, and for whom Scott No, 34.—OCTOBER 1877. 2 P 294 '^^^^ Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. wrote, who laughed with Cockburn and Jeffrey, and trod many a merry measure to the strains of Niel Gow. But as the numbers dwindle, year by year, of those who saw and spoke with that generation, we often feel glad that so many of its characteristics have been preserved from oblivion, by being wrought into the fascinating prose of Miss Terrier's novels. She paints from the life, and gives us a series of undying portraits, where, but for her, we should only have had uncertain oral traditions of the ways and fashions, grave and gay, of our forefathers. Scottish peculiarities are fast dying out, social landmarks disappearing like the beautiful outlines of our historical Edinburgh, under the touch of modern improvement. No such materials can ever be had again ; no future day can produce an " Uncle Adam," a " Lady M'Lauchlan," a " Glenroy," a " Miss Grizzy," a " Miss Pratt." Whethei', therefore, we rejoice in or deplore the rapid friction of modern life, which reduces all angles to one dead level, we must at least be thankful to her who committed such sketches to the safe keeping of the world of fiction, before the originals disappeared from the land. Miss Terrier was attacked in early life by small-pox, which destroyed the sight of one eye, and weakened the other. This misfortune does not seem to have hindered her enjoyment of society, and certainly did not impair her wonderful quickness of observation. Not the less remarkable is it, that, with such keen wit and dangerous powers of satire, it is not upon record that she ever made an enemy, or alien- ated a friend, by her writings. As her stories are all of her own day, and the scenes laid in the places she habitually frequented, she might have given endless offence, but that her tact and self-control kept other talents in their right bounds. She was an intimate friend of Sir W. Scott's family, and we have a pleasing little notice in his diary of her last visit to Abbotsford in his lifetime :—

May 12, 1831.—Miss Ferrier comes out to us. This gifted personage, besides having great talents, has conversation the least exigeante of any author—female, at least—whom I have ever seen among the long list I have encountered with ; simple, full of humo\ir, and exceedingly ready at repartee, and all this without the least affectation of the blue- stocking.

Perhaps a still more uncommon possession than that of intellectual gifts, is the power of so carrying them as neither to encumber their owner nor the bystanders. Oiw Female Novelists. 295

As long journeys were few and far between in those days, much of the amusement of society in Scotland consisted in country-house visiting, and of tliis so pleasant a guest had a good share. The clannish feeling still survived, which opened the great man's doors to all his kindred, and welcomed to his table all with any tie of blood, however distant. This gave variety to remote neighbourhoods, and supplied many incidents to a quick observer like Miss Terrier. A spinster of good birth might live almost entirely in a round of visits to great connections, even while retaining a little 'pihd a terre, to which a retreat could be made at times; thus we see Miss Pratt, one day feasting on venison with her cousin the earl, desceudincj on the next to a domestic bathos of Babby Braidfoot and barley broth. I As people did not tlien live, neither did they write by railroad—the better for their brains, their books, and their readers. Miss Ferrier was past five-and-thirty when her first novel was published. She had formed a strong friendship with a Mrs Clavering and her daughter, connections of the Duke of Argyll. In concert with Miss Clavering, she began writing a story, till, perceiving the superiority of her friend's work to her own. Miss Clavering wisely withdrew her share, and suffered Miss Ferrier to proceed alone. This story, entitled Marriage, appeared in 1818. It opens with the elopement of a London beauty of high rank with the younger son of an impoverished Highland family, and the introduction of this uncongenial bride into his ancestral home, to the hospitality of his old father, the society of five gawky sisters, an elder l)rother and his wife, and the care of three old maiden aunts. Lady Juliana's notion of a castle in the Highlands is a chateau en Espagnc; based partly on the description by noble friends of a duke's shooting-lodge, where wealth makes a luxurious picnic life agreeable for a week or two—partly on the recollections of her bridegroom, who had left Glenfern at eight years old, and partly on the drop-scene of the Italian opera. The grim reality thus bursts upon them both :— " They had gained the summit of a very high hill, and the post-boy, stopping to give his horses l)reath, turned round to the carriage, pointing at the same time to a tall thin grey house, sometliing like a town, that stood in the vale l^eneath. A small sullen-looking lake was in front, on whose banks grew neither tree nor shrub." A significant look from the driver made the colour mount to Douglas' cheek as he stammered out, " Surely it can't be ? yet somehow I don't 296 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

know. . . . Pray, my lad, what is the name of that house ? " " Hooss !" repeated the driver—" ca' ye thon a hooss ? thon's gude Glenfern Castle !" Of a piece is the life which follows—the sordid life of a decayed Highland family. Poor Lady Juliana ! she loathes the advice and advantages proffered her, from the " few family broth " produced for her refreshment on her arrival, to the society and patronage of the magnate of the country- side, and oracle of the spinsterhood, Lady M'Lauchlan. The dingy rooms, at siglit of which her fine lady's-maid throws up her place, declining life "among such Oaten- Toads "—the sight and smell of the red-herrings and scones, the strains of the piper which send her into hysterics, to the wrath of the Laird : " A Ijonny bargain indeed, that canna stand the pipes ; she's no the wife for a Hielandman!" The spirit and fun of the whole are indescribable. The eldest son's wife, as well-born as Lady Juliana, and better bred, tries to reconcile her sister-in-law to the lot which she herself endures with cheerful good sense, but " Mrs Douglas' attenjpts to teach her to play at chess and read Shakespeare, were as unsuccessful as the endeavours of the good aunts to persuade her to read Fordyce's Sermons, and make baby-linen." Lady M'Lauchlan and Sir Sampson arrive on a visit. A specimen of her ladysliip's style shall be given on her first appearance in the parlour before dinner. She thus accosts the eldest son, who holds her in abhorrence:— "' So Major Douglas, your servant. Why, it's so long since I've seen you, that you may be a grandfather for aught I know.' The poor Misses came at that moment sneaking into the room. ' As for you girls, you'll never be grandmothers ; you'll never be married, unless to wild men of the woods. I suppose you'd like that; it would save you the trouble of combing your hair and tying your shoes, for then you could go without clothes altogether, humph I you'd be much better without clothes than to put them on as you do'—seizing upon the luckless ]\Iiss Baby, as she endeavoured to steal behind backs. And here, injustice to the lady, it must be owned, that for once she had some grounds for animadversion in the dress and appearance of the Misses Douglas." The climax is reached when the Laird tries to settle his son on a small farm near him, a proposal which sends Lady Juliana into shrieking hysterics, and makes poor Harry's blood run cold as he thus remonstrates with his father:— Our Female Novelists. 297

" ' But Lady Juliana, sir, has never been accustomed.' . . . ' Let her serve an apprenticeship to your aunts; she cou'dna be in a better school.' ' But her education, sir, has been so different.' ' Edication! what's her edication been, to raak her different frae other women ? If a woman can nurse her bairns, mak their claes, and manage her hooss, what mair need she do ? If she can play a tune on the spinnet, dance a reel, and play a rubber o' whist, nae doot these are accomplishments, but they're soon learnt. Edica- tion! Hoot! I'll be bound Leddy JuUy Anie will mak as gude a figure by-and-by as the best edicated woman in the country.' ' But she dislikes the country, and'—-—' Wait a wee till she has a wheen bairns, and a hooss 0' her ain, and I'll be bound she'll be as happy as the day's lang.' ' But the climate does not agree with her,' continued the tender husband, almost driven to e.xtremity by the persevering simplicity of his father. ' Stay a wee, till she gets to Clackandow! there's no a finer freer-aired situation in a' Scotland ; the air's sharpish, to be sure, but fine and bracing, and ye've a braw peat-moss at your back to keep you warm.'" After the birth of twin-daughters, Harry and his wife at length escape to England, leaving one infant to Mrs Douglas' care. Lady Juliana ruins her husband, who goes in a marching regiment to India, and dies there. She finds an asylum with her brother, the Earl of Courtland. Whatever her opinion of the comparative dnlness of English and Scotch country-house life, we find Glenfern the more amusing of the two. Dr iLcdgill, the physician, is well described, but the story drags at Beech Park. The deserted twin is sent there at eighteen on account of delicate health. Her journey to Edinburgh affords some capital scenes, especially a visit paid to Mrs Violet M'Shake, the tank a Mritage of the family, \\-ell-nigh a hundred. On hearing of Mary's health, she exclaims:— "' Health I It w^ould niak an ool laugh to hear the wark that's made about young fowk's health noo-a-days. I won'er what ye're a' made 0'!'—grasping Mary's arm in her great bony hand—' a wheen puir feckless windlestraes— ye maun awa up to Ingland for yere healths—set ye up ! I won'er what cam o' the lasses i' my time that bute to bide at hame ? And whilk 0' ye, I suld like to ken, '11 ere live to see ninety-sax, like me ? Health ! he, he !' " At Beech Park, Mary would have a bad time of it with her selfish mother and heartless twin, Adelaide, were it not 298 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. for the partizanship of a very lovable cousin. Lady Emily Lindore. By an introduction from Lady M'Lauchlan, she visits a blind and bereaved Mrs Lennox, whose only surviving son is Mary's "fate." The romance is in great peril, when poor Mary accidentally comes into the room where Colonel Lennox is being implored by his blind mother to " try and love " Mary Douglas. Lady Emily's consolations are characteristic. " ' In my situation,' sobs Mary, ' what would you have done ?' ' Done! why, taken the old woman by the shoulder, and cried Boh ! in her ear. Well, never mind, you don't care for the man, so there's no harm done ; you've only to change the drainatis perso7ice. Fancy you heard me recommending you to Dr Redgill for your skill in cookery ; you'd only have laughed at that; so why should you cry at tlie other ?' " Adelaide marries a duke, and then elopes with a former lover, and after many complications, and a most amusing- episode in old aunt Grizzy's visit to Bath with the M'Lauchlans, Mary becomes the wife of Colonel Lennox, who turns out to be heir to Sir Sampson, whose opportune demise on the wedding-day leaves the young couple to reign at Lochmarlie amid Aunt Grizzy's felicitations. " 0 Mary ! what a lucky creature you are ! Never, I'm sure, did a young person set out in life with such advantages. To think of your succeeding to Lady M'Lauchlan's laboratory, all so nicely fitted up with every kind of thing, and especially plenty of the most charming bark, which I'm sure will do Colonel Lennox the greatest good, as you know all officers are much the better of bark." To unalloyed felicity and unlimited bark, we commend the young pair, and pass to a still more striking book. The Inheritance appeared in 1824, with a better-laid plot and more sustained interest than the former work. The pompous Earl of Eossville is thus described :— " He possessed a wide range for his unwearying powers in his own family; for he could weary his steward, and his housekeeper, and his gamekeeper, and liis coachman, and his groom, and his gardener, all the hours of the day, by perpetual fault-finding and directing; he deemed it his bounden duty to direct and manage every man, woman, child, or animal who came within his sphere, and that too in the most tedious and tormenting manner." As a foil to this gem, we have his cousin and bugbear, Miss Pratt. " Everybody wearied of her, and everybody abused her; Our Female Novelists. 299 while yet she was more sought after and asked about than she would have been, had she possessed the wisdom of a More, or the benevolence of a Fry. She was, in fact, the very heart of the shire, and gave life and energy to all the pulses of the parish. She supplied it with streams of gossip, and chit-chat in others, and subjects of ridicule and abuse in herself. Even the dullest laird had something good to tdl of Miss Pratt, and something bad to say of her, for nothing can convey a more opposite meaning than these apparent synonyms. As well might Lord Eossville have attempted to admonish the brook that babbled past him, or have read lectures to the fly that buzzed around his head. Eor forty years he had been trying to break her in, but in vain. Yet they only jarred, they never quarrelled ; for they had been accustomed to each other all their lives, and while she laid all the rebuffs and reproofs she received to the score of bile, he tolerated her impertinences on account of blood." Lord Eossville's luck biings him a niece from abroad, his ward and heiress. He destines her to a nephew in Parlia- ment—she falls in love with one in the Guards, while a third falls in love with her, and the game of cross-purposes goes through the tale, greatly helped by Miss Pratt. The secondary characters are the glory of the book, each a portrait in a pen-stroke. Lady Betty, known only by her lap-dog, and tigers in cross-stitch; Mrs Fairbairn, in one morning visit; Mrs Goodwilly, and Miss Becky Duguid, by one accidentally dropped letter; and Anthony Whyte—he is only a " name," but how well we know the precise, well-appointed bachelor, his small mind and small jokes, his well- hung pictures and well-arranged dressing-room, his projected dinner-trumpet and bills in Parliament, and his three thousand a-year! At first sight of Gertrude, Miss Pratt discovers her likeness to a fancy portrait in the character of Diana, which hangs in a turret-room; and after a wrangle with Lord EossviUe, she jumps up with— "' Come away, my dear, and see yourself as a goddess— seeing's believing, my lord.' ' Miss Pratt!' cried the earl, in a tone enough to have settled quicksilver itself. ' Miss Pratt! this behaviour of yours is—is—what I cannot possibly permit; the Yellow Turret is my private dressing-room, and it is surely a most improper and unwarrantable liberty.' . . . 'Ibegyoutenthousandpardons,my dear Lord Eossville! I really had quite forgot the change you have made in your dressing-room; but, at any rate, I would have figured every creek and corner of yours fit to be seen at all times. There's 300 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Anthony Wliyte, his dressing-room is a perfect show, so neat and nick-nacky; his silver shoe-horn would be an ornament to any drawing-room.'" Lord Eossville, in pique, suffers the invasion, and the likeness in indisputable, supplying a notable feature in the story. Gertrude is, in fact, a spurious heiress, and granddaughter to the original of this picture, Lizzie Lundie, the liuntsman's daughter. Mrs St Clair is a woman of low birth, who, to retrieve her position with her husband's family, has induced him to connive at her passing off as her own the infant child of a woman she met abroad, and recognised as Lizzie Lundie's daughter. She takes Gertrude, after they are settled at Rossville, to visit her own family. An old Uncle Adam is one of Miss Terrier's best eftbrts. Lizzie Lundie was his early love, and for her sake he went to India. Eeturning thence a millionaire, he finds her faithless, his friends scattered, his father's cottage swept away, to make room for an ornamental park. He buys this, shuts it up, and lives in the county-town an old, soured, broken-hearted man. At Mrs St Glair's visit, and the sight of Gertrude, " the picter o' bonuie Lizzie Lundie," the leal Scottish heart grows young again. His devotion to her is beautiful, and when tlie disclosure of her birth makes the St Glairs cast her off, he positively rejoices that she should " owe nae- thing to that proud thrawn pack. Lizzie Lundie's bairn must be my bairn." He installs her as his heiress at Broom Park, till she finally marries tlie constant lover, Edward Lyndsay. But if Lord llossville cannot be mentioned without Miss Pratt, neither can Uncle Adam without his niece. Miss Bell Black—we beg her pardon, Mrs Waddell—as maiden and wife, his pet abhorrence. " I ne'er see that craater that I dinna wish mysell blind, and deaf, and doited." Her marriage w-ith Major Waddell makes no difference in his treatment of her, and his repulses of her attacks upon his hoards. It has been adduced as an instance of Sir W. Scott's powers of vivid narration, that the crowds that visit Graignethan Castle ask with one consent for the window out of which Cuddie got his " het kail." We hold it as an equal tribute to Miss Ferrier, that of all ranks in the service, a Major comes before us at a certain comic disadvantage. Be his prowess and his charms what they may, he has always some lee-way to make up in our good opinion, in order to avoid being bracketed with Miss Bell's conjugal victim. " Me a married woman, and a man of the major's rank! " follow him like an echo. We look to see him kept dry by end- Oiir Female Novelists. 301 lesfe changes of over-tight boots, kept cool by imprisonment in a hot room wrapped in a military cloak, till, if he be really worthy of our regard, we wish him speedy promotion, a brevet-colonelcy even, to remove his image from among the chronicled absurdities of poor Major Waddell! We will give a specimen of Uncle Adam with Miss Pratt, both being Gertrude's guests after Lord Eossville's death. She is reading the papers, and his ire is excited hrst, by proposals to publish a print of the Rev. Peter Pirie ; secondly, by the birth of " a son and heir " to the " lady " of Lieutenant Duncan Dow ; but finally explodes at the newspaper apotheosis of " 'Nathaniel Lamb, Esq., hosier and glover,' ' To the purest benevolence, the most enlightened piety, and the most devoted patriotism, Mr Lamb united the firmest principles, the most perfect integrity, and the most affable address.' Here Uncle Adam broke out with—' Affable address ! the affability o' a hosier ! I never could bear that word a' my days, and far less noo; dinna read ony mair, ma'am. Affable ! affable ! I wonder wha wad tak affability affthe hands o' a glover! but it's a'just 0' a piece wi' a' thing else in this world noo. Half-pay lieutenants maun lia'e leddies and heirs; and bodies 0' schule-maisters and ministers maun sit for their pickters and ha'e their faces printed, as though they were kings and conquerors. The newspapers are iilled wi' the lives o' folk that naebody ever heard o' till they war dead. I dinna ken what things are to come to !'" In much the same vein is Uncle Adam's answer to Mrs Waddell's demand for admission to Broom Park : "' Weel, weel, dinna plague me; gi'e me pen and ink, and ye shall ha'e an order, if that's a' ye want,' said Mr Ramsay impatiently Mrs Major glanced her eye over it, then reddened, and exclaimed, ' Such a way of wording it! Good gracious ! Uncle, can you suppose I will go on these terms ? ' Admit Major "VVaddell and his Mdfe !' Wife ! I never met with anything like that '' ' What is't ye mean ?' demanded Uncle Adam in a voice of thunder; ' are ye no Major Waddell's wife ?' ' Why, my good sir !' began the Major, ' you know it is not customary to call ladies of a certain rank xoivas now.' ' Certainly not,' inter- posed the lady. ' I thought everybody had known that, wife ! What else could you have said if the Major had been a carter ?' ' What are ye, then, if ye're no his wife ?' 'Why, my lady, you know, my dear sir, would have been the more correct and delicate thing.' ' Your leddy,' cried Uncle No. 34.—OCTOBKR 1S77. 2 Q 302 Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Adam with a sardonic laugh; 'your leddy!' 'Certainly,' said the lady, with much dignity, ' there can be no doubt about that; and I have too much respect for Major Waddell and myself to submit to any such low vulgar appellation.' ' I've met wi' mouy a daft thing in my day,' said Uncle Adam, ' but this beats them a'—a married woman that'll no submit to be ca'd a wife ! I dinna ken what's to come next. Will ye be his dearie, then ?' " . . . . We must hasten on; yet how pass unnoticed the last scene in Lord Eossville's life ? As he looks from his window in a snow-storm, he is startled to see a hearse draw up at his door, and horrified when Miss Pratt issues therefrom. In a moment his hands are grasped, and his admiration claimed for—" my Jerusalem dilly, as Anthony Whyte calls it! " Her carriage has been upset on Coeklestontop Muir, in the snow, and she has availed herself of the passings hearse of the radical distiller to reach Eossville. The unhappy earl nearly throws physiology to the winds, and Miss Pratt into the snow ; but the final struggle between bile and blood is too much : he retires to his Yellow Turret, and dies in the night, qualifying himself for a journey in Miss Pratt's equipage, which has but one end for all travellers—the Earl and the radical distiller. Destiny is less easy to quote, but it is a beautiful tale, with more of passion and romance than the others. In its transitions from light to shadow, we are constantly reminded of music dropping suddenly into a minor key. Whether it is merely the work of maturer years, and therefore the result of deeper insight into the human heart; or whether she had really known the wrench of ceasing to esteem, we know not; but we feel that Edith Malcolm is drawn with a force and reality that may well have their source in the sympathy— " AVliicli only souls in suffering tried, Bear to their .sull'ering brethren's side." But she is far too deep a thinker not to interweave playfulness with sadness, even as it is in our chequered lives; and the wit and humour never fail. Grlenroy, " with a family-tree on which all the birds of the air might roost;" Eenbowie and his waistcoats ; Mrs Malcolm of Inch Orran's dress, with its " number of bows that tied nothing, and ends that had no ends to answer, save to swell the milliner's bill;" Molly Macaulcy, too, our favourite in all the books, a fact which might have astonished her simple self, but no Our Female Novelists. 303

one else. As to Mr M'Dow, with his manse, his love affairs, and his courtship of Lucy Malcolm, we know of nothing in fiction to equal him, save " Mr Collins " with Lizzy Bennet. Edith's English experiences are more diverting than poor Mary Douglas. The Cockney household, Mrs Ribley's hemming, her husband's speculations for their nephew, on Miss Mogg, the muffin-maker's daughter— " Three hundred thousand pound, and old Mogg in a dropsy !" Have we never had a quiet laugh, when some alliance having been effected witli the peerage, the connection is apparently considered to go backwards through the family ? Have we never quoted Mr Eibley's comment to his wife, when Miss Mogg marries a Marquis' son ? " Only to think, Kitty, my dear, of old Mogg being a dowager marchioness ! " If we have said too much of her books and too little of herself, our excuse must be the quietness of a life that justified no intrusion into its details. Destiny was inscribed to Sir W. Scott, and published in 1831. One memorial of her last visit to Abbotsford that same year we gladly give. As that great poet-life darkened to its close, lilfe " sweet bells jangled, out of tune," were the tones of that harp at times. Thus writes his son-in-law:— " He would begin a story as gaily as ever, and go on in spite of the hesitation in his speech, to tell it with highly picturesque effect, but before he reached the point, it would seem as if some internal spring had given way; he paused, and gazed around him Avith the blank anxiety of look that a blind man lias when he lias .dropped his staff. Unthink- ing friends sometimes pained him sadly, by giving him the catch-word abruptly. I noticed the delicacy of Miss Eerrier on these occasions. Her sight was bad, and she took care not to use her glasses when he was speaking, and she affected also to be troubled with deafness, and would say—' Well, I am getting as dull as a post; I have not heard a word since you said so-and-so, being sure to mention a circumstance behind that at which he had really halted. He then took up the thread with his habitual smile of courtesy, as if forgetting his case entirely in the consideration of the lady's infirmity." Such an instance of unselfish tact needs no connnent of ours. Sir Walter is said to have declared, that he would rather have written her three stories than all his own. This was probably playfully said; yet we own that in the special line of portraying Scottish character, she has excellencies wliich 304 The Ladies EdinbnrgJi Magazine.

lie only has equalled, and which even he has not surpassed. On the first appearance of Marriage and the Inlieritance, many, it is said, shared in the opinion quaintly expressed by the " Shepherd" (JVodcn Amlros., vol. i. p. 254): " I aye thocht they were written by Sir Walter, till it spunked oot that they were written by a lady." We scarcely think the same could have been said of Destiny. The style is more unmistakably feminine; and whereas a man could not have so well depicted Lady Elizabeth, so also he would have given us an idealized, but far less real, Edith Malcohn. Before her death, in 1854, the weakened sight was wholly lost. She would regret to one of her nieces, that she had not used her talents more distinctively in God's service. We may be permitted to doubt whether a better use could have been found for such powers. If we would not have a fatal gulf between duty and pleasure, to carry the highest principles into the lightest hours is surely an excellent work. When we mark, in her books, the invariable condemnation not only of the grosser forms of evil, but of all that is petty, narrow, and selfish, in high life or low; when we recognise the religious principle, always present, and never obtrusive; the moral pointed, but never strained; when we see that vice can never " bolt her arguments," that no young heart can ever be misled by her into calling wrong right, and putting sweet for bitter, we feel that, however customs may vary and times alter, Miss Eerrier's books have a value above that of mere amusement, and that, as " la beauU est toujours dans son pays" their power to cliarm is independent of change or chance, or the fasliion of a world that passes away. A minor service she renders us in common with Miss Austen, that of showino; the amusing undercurrent in the quietest stream. Her stories have more plot than Miss Austen's, but her wittiest scenes are the dullest bits of every- day life. Who would be delighted to breakfast with the Kibleys, lunch with Mr M'Dow, dine with the Eairbairns, fiddle and sup with Lord Eossville ? Yet tliese could only be amusingly described by one who, in real life, would have enjoyed what most of us would call aa insufferable bore. Miss Eerrier, like Miss Austen, makes us ashamed of our own stupidity, in not finding out what an amusing thing common life is after all! On Dr Johnson's principle, then, —blessed is the man who contributes to the harmless stock of public amusement,—we record our undying obligations to Susan Eerrier. L. DUNDAS. Edinburgh University Local Examinations. 305

SONG.

Dearest, who, like a fond spirit from Heaven, Gleamd'st o'er my sight As a ray from the sun through a thundercloud riven, Pure, fragile, briglit; I feel 'mid the tears which like lava streams sere me. Riving my heart, That thou shalt no more like a dove nestle near me—• We, too, must part. In the poppy's red breast burn the sunrays of morning ; So, love of thee Shall burn in my heart till at eve the cold warning Of death set me free. Soiled as I am with the world's dusty travel, I dare not stain Thy soul's white purity. Life must unravel, Death make all i)lain. I must toil on for the rest which thou knowest. Weeping for thee ; Bear to the Heavens, dear child, where thou goest. One prayer for me. MARGARET THOMAS.

-a-M-

NOTES ON THE EDINBUEGH UNIVERSITY LOCAL EXAMINATIONS.

" THE iron of examination which has entered into the soul of the nation was forged at Oxford and Cambridge;" and although non-gTemial or middle-class examinations were invented at Oxford in 1858, they did not cross the Tweed until seven years later, when the University of Edinburgh followed tlie fashion, and instituted Local Examinations, as they were by this time called. In 1866, a beginning was made with about 70 candidates and 40 certificates—14 of these were girls; but by 1871, these numl)ers had not increased, for in that year we find only 69 candidates—26 senior (13 boys and 13 girls) and 43 junior (35 boys and 8 girls). At this date a restriction, cojjied from the English regulations, as to the age of candidates, was in force, and undoubtedly liindered many ladies from coming- up for examination. No girl who was over 20, nor boy over 18, could obtain a senior certificate; neither was any candidate over 16 admitted even for a junior. To the removal of this limitation as to age, in 1872, after Professor Calderwood had undertaken the secretaryship to the Board, not a little 306 TJie Ladies EdinbitrgJi Magazine.

recent success must be attributed, for it had prevented all those enterprising ladies who do not begin the work of self-education till after they are grown up, from appearing at these examinations. That such ladies find a certificate worth having is shown by what has taken place in Ireland. There, as elsewhere, until this year, the usual limitations of age existed; so that some ladies who desired certificates, but were thus excluded, actually began to study for the Edin- l)urgh Examinations, iir the hope of planting a local centre in their own country. In consequence of this, the Dublin University Board removed all restrictions from their Senior Examinations, although still limiting tlie Junior Certificate to candidates \inder 16. But the limitation of even this lower examination to young candidates is, we venture to think, unfortunate. Many ladies who wish to M^ork, but who have no love of teaching, desire to use these certificates as evidence that they have such solid rudimentary knowledge as should be possessed by the applicants for certain situations, such as that of the matron or superintendent of a home or of an orphanage, by a secretary or by an instructress of cookery. Granted that it is too late at 25 for a half- educated woman to begin the long course of studies leading up to a higher examination, it is a matter of everyday experience here in Edinburgh, that it is by no means too late for her to repair the shortcomings of early training, by preparing for an ordinary, or so-called junior certificate. We therefore would ask. Since these diplomas Im^-e so much practical value, not merely for teachers, but as testimonials of fitness for persons in quest of situations where knowledge of accounts, and the ability to write a good letter, or even to read aloud well, are required, why debar a woman from qualifying herself for them because she did not happen to have done so before she was 20 ? Again,- in those cases so common among governesses, where no preparation for a Junior Certificate is needed, it is often felt to be a very great hardship that the stamp of a University Certificate cannot be obtained unless the candidate can journey to some Edinburgh Local Centre in order to get it. In 1875, the appearance of 121 candidates from 7 Centres gave promise of better days to come; and Professor Calder- wood, in a letter to the Committee of the National Union for the Education of Women, gives it as his opinion that " the offer of the £60 scholarship by Miss Houldsworth, and that of £25 from the National Union, have led to much keener competition than we have ever had before." These Edinburgh University Local Examinations. 307 words suggested to several members of the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association, that some action on the part of that society might have a good effect, especially if it were in the direction pointed out by Professor Calder- wood. Accordingly, at a meeting of the Association, held January 7, 1876, a motion, " that the executive committee be directed to take steps for collecting a student's bursary in Edinburgh, and for raising local bursaries in country to\\^lS," was unanimously carried. A sub-committee was formed, and corresponded with local secretaries, with heads of schools, and with other persons interested in education. The Eeport of this Committee was published in the Annual Eeport for 1876, and shows that mucli indifference on the subject existed. We learn from it tliat— " Tlie answers received by the committee were so far satisfactory ; that in general tlie idea of district scholarships was approved of. But, on the otlier hand, the writers were apt to assert that in their own neighbourlioods, from ignorance and indifference, or from poverty, it was doiilrtful whether the plan could be tried. The rector of one of the forenif^st burgh schools in Scotland described a state of things which may be regarded as typical. He expressed his own deep interest in our endeavours ; but such is the apathy of the town and district, that he could give no hope of success in raising a scholarship. This in

1" An inspector of schools told nie that when he asked in a Hiohland school if many scholars learned classical languages, several, both boys and girls, stood np. One barefooted girl construed a chapter of Caesar very well, and went through a geometrical pi'oblem correctly. The schoolmaster sent out to a field for his best scholar, who was at work there, and the boy came in with tlie traces of work on hands and feet. His teacher handed him Virgil and the Anabasis, and he translated certain 2)assages to the inspector's satisfaction. Such things happened in other country schools."—(German Letters, by Ur L. Wiese, vol. ii. p. 74.) Dr Wiese admires, though he does not approve of, the characteristically Scottish "romantic disorder" of this mixture of secondary and primary instruction. We would ask, how else, when the population is thin and scattered, can any secondary education at all be provided for a clever boy or girl, if they happen to be the children of a working man ? Sir Arthur s Inheritance. 3^9 were attracted by the desire of gaining the University Higher Certificate, for whicli the Local Pass is the indispensable preliminary examination, so that the authorities did an excellent thing to help their Local Examinations, when, in 1874, they granted the prayer of the Ladies' Association, and instituted the " University Certificate for Women in Literature, Science, and Philosophy." A. DUNDAS.

Sir Slrlhxtr's Inbtrititntc.

CHAPTER I.

FROM John Ashby, Hoverton Court, to Arthur Morton, Esq., Christ Church, Oxford— " Your uncle died suddenly at eight this morning. Come immediately." This telegram was received by the person to whom it was sent in the midst of a breakfast he was giving, in the joy of his heart, at just having taken his degree; and he startled his guests by the sudden exclamation, " By George !" " Wliat is it ? wliat is it ?" was the universal question, half checked by good breeding. " Nay, tliere is no reason I should not tell you all," he replied, after a moment's reflection ; " indeed, you may as well read it for yourselves;" and he handed the paper round. They read it, and as they did so, they almost simultaneously rose to go. " I'm awfully sorry, but you must want to get rid of us," one of them said; and in a few minutes they were all gone but one, his best friend, Lionel Harford. " Can I be of any use, Morton ?" " Not just now, thanks. I will write to you about my affairs here; they are all pretty straight, I believe; but don't go. I can't be off for an hour or so, for there is no train till 2'20. I will just have my portmanteau packed." He called his scout, and gave the necessary orders. " Now let me tell you about this. I did not care to tell all those fellows at once, but they may as well have tlie story right; it will be all known soon and told wrong probably. This uncle of mine who is just dead was Sir Horace Morton." " Yes; and so they want you to go to his funeral, do they? It is very civil to telegraph so quick." No. 34.—OCTOBER 1877. 2 I? 310 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

" Well, I'm his heir ; that's the reason." " The deuce you are! Is it a large fortune ?" " Rather; and a wonderful old house, I believe—I never saw it." " How very odd; why?" " My father and he quarrelled; he was a strange sort of man, I believe, and never would see any of us. He has never taken any notice of me, and I always felt he might marry any day; he was only about 65." " Then am I to congratulate you on being a baronet ? " " Well, I am one, I suppose; but whether it is matter for congratulation I cannot say. It always seems to have been an ill-omened sort of name and place. The house is haunted, they say." ■' My dear fellow, excuse me; but you do not seem to appreciate your good fortune. I like you all the better, thougli; it is a gloomy thing your uncle dying all of a sudden, and your never having known him. But I hope you have got all your happiness before you ; and now I am sure I had better go. Never mind me—I'll walk out and join you as you go to the station." Hoverton Court might indeed be justly described as " a wonderful old house." It was an odd mixtm'e, being an Elizabethan building, joined on to the remains of an old castle, where one massive dark grey tower, and bit of parapet, looked over the more modern front, and out upon a terrace of the garden, or "pleacaunce" as it might more fitly be called. Beyond lay a bowhng-green, ornamented with curiously cut yew-trees; and outside stretched the park, bordered with magnificent woods. " What a croquet-ground !" was the very matter-of-fact thought that shot through Arthur's mind, as the most common-place ideas will, at the most solemn moments. He \vas driving up to the house by the light of the moon; as he approached, the door was thrown open, and a grey- haired butler appeared, bowing solemnly. " I am Mr Artliur Morton. Was it you who sent me the telegram ? " " It was, sir. Sir Horace was found dead in his bed this morning; " and the old servant's voice faltered. " How very shocking! What did he die of, do you know 1" " Disease of the heart, sir, no doubt. The doctor had said, a few months ago, that this might liappen at any time." Arthui' was silent for a few moments, Sir A rthur's Inheritance. 311

" I wonder you knew where to find me," he presently observed. " My master charged me to telegraph to you, sir, if anything should happen ; and his orders were, ' not unless anything should happen.'" " He never wished to see me then ?" " Well, no, sir. He had lived alone for many years, and he wished to die alone. It was not my place to offer him advice, sir." " Certainly not; you have done quite right. I should be glad to see the doctor in the morning, and anyone else who may be able to tell me my uncle's wishes. Is there a A\ill ?" " There is one certainly, sir, but it has not been touched yet. I thought it best to send first for you, as my master desired, and I sent word to Mr Smith the lawyer, and he will be here to-morrow, sir." " Very good; thank you. Now, will you take me to my uncle's room ?" " To-night, sir ?" " Yes; why not ? I should like to see all that remains of him." " I beg your pardon, sir," said the old man rather timidly, " perhaps you may not have heard—this is an awkward house to go about at night—at least the old part." " You mean, it is said to be haunted ?" The butler bowed. " Sir Horace's room is just at the entrance to the old jjart of the house, and perhaps if you were to wait till the morning " " I really cannot do that. I ought to pay this respect to the dead without loss of time, but I am sorry to take you there. If you will come and show me the door, I will go in by mJ^self." The old man looked at him with increased respect. " This way, then, sir," he said; and Arthur followed him through a length of rooms and corridors, up an old oak staircase, and through more passages and lobbies. At last they came to an arched door, of different archi- tecture from the rest, and through this they passed into a room that seemed to have Ijeen used as a study; through this again was a small bedroom, and here Sir Horace Morton had l:>reathed his last. Arthur stood for a few moments gazing on the face of the dead. It was that of a handsome man of about 60 or 65, with well-formed features, and black hair mixed with grey; all around was arranged with the greatest care and respect; 312 Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. and having satisfied himself on this point, he felt at liberty to go to his own room. On entering the study, he perceived a door that seemed to lead into some other chamber; and turning to Ashby, who had remained in attendance, he asked, "What door is that?" " That door opens into the old part of the house, sir," whispered the old man nervously. Arthur mentally resolved to explore it before long; but he thought it best to ask no furtlier questions at that moment, and silently followed his giiide to a pleasant room at some little distance, where the sight of his portmanteau and hat-box greeted him, and gave an air of reality to the affair. " But you'll take some refreshment, sir ? We did not know exactly when you would arrive, or we would have had dinner ready. But there is a cold supper laid in the dining-room." Arthur's first impulse was to decline food altogether; but on second thoughts it occurred to him that this would be foolish, and he followed the butler to the dining-room. It was a good-sized room, panelled with old carved oak, ceilr ing and all, and the plate and all the appointments were equally antique. Having finished his repast, Arthur retired at once to his own I'oom, declining all further offers; and there, sitting down in an arm-chair, he proceeded to try to realise the change that had suddenly taken place in his fortunes, and get rid of a certain dreamy, unreal feeling that oppressed him—a feeling well known to most people at some time or other. " So this is my house," he thought; " my property, my furniture, my plate, my pictures, and so forth;" then, taking up the candle, he looked round the room, but soon sat down again. " The wretched thing is," he went on, "that I have not got a soul belonging to me to care whether I have it or not— no father, mother, brother, or sister. I daresay my aunt will write and say she is delighted, but there is no one for me to talk things over with. I might rather like looking into everything if I had anybody to do it with me. As it is, I can only feel at present as if I were making myself at home in somebody else's house. If my poor uncle had gone on living and asked me to stay with him, I should have enjoyed it a great deal more; as it is, I suppose I shall have the lawyers upon me to-morrow. The haunted rooms interest me more than anything else; some time I shall go and look at them, but not now. I cannot feel as if it were my home Sir Arthur's Inheritance. 3^3 yet, and T shall conduct myself like a guest, till after the funeral at all events. This room looks modern and cheerful enough," and he turned his head and looked round. " I shall have no supernatural visitors here, I feel sure. If only I could dream of somebody—of my mother ! Oh ! mother, mother! could not you come and see me in my sleep ?" he said with a sigh, laying his head on his crossed arms on the table. Presently he looked up, and there was no one to see the dew that glistened on his eyelashes.

Nearly a week passed, and the funeral took place in strict obedience to the MTitten injunctions of the deceased. Arthur had managed to get through the time somehow or other, though there was but little occupation for him as long as he felt bound to adhere to his intention of only " behav- ing like a guest." He had read a good deal, and had explored the gi'ounds and the woods beyond, where he was not likely to meet anyone; and he had held consultations with Mr Smith the lawyer, with the doctor, and with the clergyman of the parish, and tried to find out all he could of the character and wishes of his uncle, but without much success. Sir Horace had lived for many years in complete retirement with his books and his scientific studies, and but little was known of him. "A very peculiar man," the clergyman pronounced him ; and the doctor added that his health had long been indifferent. He was very silent, and had hardly ever spoken of his nepliew, except to leave the order that he should be sent for in the event of anything happening, on which the faithful Ashby had so promptly acted. " Everything is to go on the same for the present." This announcement was made in an authoritative manner by Ashby to all the other servants the morning after the funeral, and it was received with satisfaction; though whether the old domestics, accustomed to Sir Horace's quiet life, would approve of the company and variety that a young man like Sir Arthur might be expected to have, remained for time to show. He, meanwhile, was trying to enter into the spirit of his new position ; and he found it easier than he expected to accept the situation and be a man of large property. " The first thing I have got to do is to buy some horses," he reflected; " there are none but carriage and cart horses 314 The Ladies' Edinhnrgh Magazine.

here at present, and I must have something to ride soon. In the winter I shall hunt, of course, but T want a couple of hacks now. I would run up to Oxford and see what I ctjuld find there, only it is vacation time. I wonder where Harford is now. He ought to write to me. I have a great mind to ask him down here, or make him meet me in London, and go with me to Tattersall's. I had better write to him at his mother's house, I suppose; but I must get tilings a little straight here first." He scon wrote, and Lionel responded, but said that he could not accept his invitation directly, as he was just in the act of taking his mother and sisters to Paris for a few weeks; and as there was no one else he cared to invite to a Utc-a-Ute visit, Sir Arthur was left alone. Meantime he had carefully explored the whole house, and the liaunted rooms had attracted liim especially : he had gone there first in broad daylight, and had walked through them with Ashby, who could hardly be induced to speak till the last door was closed, and he and his young master were once again in the outer world. " We do not know who may be listening in there, Sir Arthur," he said; " and they never lil:e being talked about." One evening the fancy seized Arthur to go there by moonlight. He knew his way now; it was a suite of rooms one through another, chiefly unfurnished, or with only the remains of tapestry and curtains hanging in rags and cobwel)s ; but there was one room at the end which was in much better order. It was a small chamber hung with dark red, and with dark red cushioned sofas placed round the walls; it would have been a pretty little room if it had not been so far off, and if it had not felt so " uncanny." And, lastly, there was a flight of wide stone steps leading out of the passage adjoining this room, winding round the outside of the old tower, the most ancient part of the house, and going down, it was supposed, into some subterranean passage that communicated with the cellars ; only it was choked up at the bottom by a large heap of rubbish. Arthur had spoken of removing this, but Ashby had dissuaded him. " Better let it alone. Sir Arthur; the old passages are pretty (j^uiet now; better let 'em stop." On the night of which I speak, the moon was shining brightly, and Arthur had walked out after dinner with his cigar, and was pacing up and down the broad walk of the garden between the yew trees. Sir Arthur's Inheritance. 315

" How Kght the old part of the house looks now," he thought: " I wonder what I should see if I were to go and look at it ?" He glanced at his watch: " Half-past nine; just time to go in and have my coffee, and then I will explore." Ad hour afterwards, having seen the last of the servants, and gone to his own room, he pro\dded himself with a box of matches and a lamp, wliich, however, he did not then light. " The moon will be quite enough to show me how to walk about, and I think I shall see farther if I am not carrying a candle in my hand." He then quietly left the room, Avalked rapidly along the passages till he came to the arched door ; opened it, closed it behind him, and then began to saunter slowly through the deserted chambers. Nothing unusual happened; the moonlight fell brightly on the rotten old floors and walls : now and then the waving of a rag of tapestry, or a thick cobwelj, gave him a momentary start, but soon he became quite accustomed to the feeling of the place, and rather enjoyed the scene of utter quiet and solitude that prevailed. After this night he often went there, sometimes with and sometimes without a light; according to whether or not the moon was likely to be a sufficient illumination. He now generally made a practice of walking through the rooms the last thing l)efore going to bed, giving vent there to those \'ague imaginings which suited the place. He often thought of his mother, who had died many years before : of his father, and of the various relations he had seen or heard of. Family life was, to him, a thing almost unknown, and he wondered wliether he should like it; he had grown so used to solitude, that he now rather dreaded the liability to constant interruption, and the loss of retirement which he would find if others were living with him; and yet he thought that perhaps he should be glad of one, person—somebody to whom he could speak of his affairs and of his thoughts. It miglit be Lionel Harford; but he would get bored if he had too much of this sort of thing. These and other ideas were rushing through his mind one night while he was leaning against the wall in one of the empty rooms, looking out on the moonlight in the pleacaunce; suddenly a sort of shiver came over him, and some inexplicable feeling made him turn round and look back. Yes ! there was somctliinij: he could not be mistaken; he certainly saw a 3i6 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. dim white figure, like that of a woman, glide across the further end of the room, and vanish through the doorway into the next. Arthur was no coward. For a moment, indeed, he felt a sensation of terror, a wild desire to fly, but then a counter principle awoke within him: he knew that if he gave way to the fear, he should be a coward for life; that, once yielded to, the demon of superstition would have him for his prey, and that if he began to run, he should probably go out of his mind, at least for a time. " And why should I give way ?" he thought. " This is my house ; I have a perfect right here; I have done no wrong. If a mortal guest came to see iue, I should offer a courteous welcome, as it is my place to do. Why should I fail in courtesy, because I am honoured by a presence from another world—if it be so?" He took up his unlighted lamp and turned towards the door through which the figure had gone; he passed straight through this room and into the next, and there he saw her again, turning through the opposite door. He followed her quietly, resolved above all that nothing should make him quicken his steps. He gazed at her steadily, but her back was towards him, and he could see nothing but an indistinct white trailing dress, and what looked like long fair hair. At last she came to the little red room. He knew there was no door on the other side of that, and no room through it, and it was with a beating heart that he followed her in. She turned round, and he saw her face ; it was very pale and very lovely, and her eyes were large and dark and wide open, but they did not appear to see him or to observe anything; they were fixed in a vacant and almost frightened gaze as she stood motionless before him ; and even while he looked at her, she faded from his sight and was gone—how and where he could not say. There was no further door through v.hich she might pass unperceived, and she seemed to have melted into air, and he was left alone with the bright moonbeams shining in through the old turret-window. For some time he could not make up his mind to move; he stood quite still awe-struck, and yet hoping that the apparition would re-appear, but she did not, and after a while he began to collect his ideas. Perfectly himself by this time, he went about seeking in vain for traces of her. In the course of her progress he had remarked that she had stood still for a moment at the to}) of the old stone steps that led round the outside of the Sir Artluirs Inheritance. 317 tower and within the parapet, but which was blocked by an iron door; here she had turned with a sort of terrified movement, and entered the rooms which led to the red room in which she had disappeared. The more he thought of this, the more he felt that this had been a special point in lier movements, and the more he longed for an explanation. In fact, he had now so entirely lost all sense of fear in the impression of her beauty and the interest of her appearance, that he was only anxious to see her again. He followed what he rememljered of her footsteps, vainly trying to see her once more ; and it was not till a late hour that, after a long and perfectly unsuccessful search, he retired to his OAvn room, determined to visit the old part of the house every night till his unearthly visitor should re-appear before him. Having once thrown off all sensation of fear, Arthur was even conscious of a sense of strange fascination about the place. He became more and more fond of his old house, and less and less inclined to leave his retirement and go into the world again; he ceased to wish for a companion, partly because he dreaded that his supernatural tastes might be found out and ridiculed. His mysterious visitant did not very often appear, but she did so sometimes, and this was the great event to which he was always looking forward. He used to wait and watch for her, and follow her as she glided through the rooms, sometimes in one direction and sometimes in another, but always going to the top of the stone steps, and then with a shiver turning and entering the red room, where she invariably vanished. He never could gain so much as a glance from her, nor indeed did she ever seem to see anything ; her large dilated eyes retained their fixed gaze into space, and her whole face its vague dreamy expression, which had also something terrified in its look. Sir Arthur felt a strange unwillingness to speak of these mysterious circumstances, but at last one day he made up his mind to investigate the stories about the old part of the house, and see if there were any history, any supposed explanation, that could throw a light on his beautiful vision, and explain how and why the rooms came to be haunted. But he could not find out much: every one said they were "bad rooms;" of that there seemed no doubt, but of legends and stories there were none to be found. The rooms had always been spoken of with dread, and carefully shunned, from the earliest recollections of the oldest inhabitants; and they said that their fathers and mothers had told them the same, but there were no anecdotes to No. 34.-OCTOBEB 1877. 2 S 3l8 TJie Ladies Edhibiirgk Magazine. account for it. There only seemed to be a general idea that some who had lived and died in the house were apt to revisit it; and especially those who had been there when it was besieged by Cromwell, who destroyed a great part of it, after having killed many of the defenders in the attack. There were vague stories of his soldiers pursuing people down the old stone steps, and slaying them in the vaults below, and a peculiar shudder was generally brought on by the mention of these steps, especially if Arthur hinted any intention of re-opening the communication. There was only one story that assumed any definite form : a story about a white doe that had been a great favourite of one of the children at the time of the siege. It appeared that, when food ran short, the child had gone on secretly feeding the doe from his own scanty allowance, till at last, wlien they were put to sore straits, it was said that the doe ought to be killed and added to the stock of provisions. The boy resisted with tears aud entreaties, but at last it became impossible to hold out, and most rmwillingly Sir Ifalph Morton, the boy's father, was forced to pass sentence of death on the favourite. It was said that the boy had fled to the vaults below with his beloved doe, who was there slain at his feet. Soon afterwards the place was taken by assault; Sir Ealph was slain and the boy kept a prisoner, till he escaped to France, and returned with King Charles the Second. " But this throws no light on my beautiful apparition," thought Arthur; "and if a fair maiden was put to death at this or any other time, how strange tliat her fate should be forgotten, while that of a doe is remembered. I wish I knew something of her story, for she interests me. I wonder if I coTild get her to speak to me: I hardly like breaking our silence; one does not know what might happen." And thus amid dreams and shadows some weeks glided by, and Arthur grew more and more to love this luireal sort of life. He shrank from coming out from his solitude, half feeling as if he himself had become a phantom of the unseen world, aud as if he, like the other vague shadows of the night, dreaded the crowing of the cock, and shrank from tlie light of day. ANNIBAL. Maty Crndelius. 319

MARY CRUDELIUS.

THE recent premature death of Mrs Crudelius was a heavy and (in spite of her long ill health) an unlooked for loss, not only to many attached friends, but to the cause of education in Scotland. We have to speak of it exclusively in the latter aspect, and to tell something of her services to that cause—how her active and fertile brain originated the movement here for the higher education of women, lier remarkable power of organization fashioned the means of carrying it on, her enthusiasm and energy overcame the difficulties which beset the commencement of every undertaking of moment. It is now just ten years since the Edinburgh Ladies' Educational Association—the creation wholly of Mrs Crudelius—came into being. The course of thought from wliich it sprang we cannot trace in any detail. But Mrs Crudelius herself used to say that she had always felt a strong interest in education, and taken pleasure in comparing the different methods which she saw practised around her, and in testing them by their results. Coming, on her marriage, to reside in Edinburgh, she ere long set about in- quiring into the means of instruction open to women in that supposed seat of culture. She found that, except the ordinary schools, there was none. On the otlier hand, continued intercourse with her early home (Manchester) made her aware of the efforts of the North of England Women's Union—in which some of her friends were actively interested—to provide instruction for girls wlio had left the schoolroom. Miss Davies also was at this time drawing attention to the education of women by her writings, and still more by her endeavours to obtain public support for the proposed college, since established at Girton. The knowledge of these movements, acting on her own latent desires, may have suggested to Mrs Crudelius the desirableness in Edinburgh of some means of instruction for women beyond and above that received at school. But the practical working out of the idea was all her own. She saw that it was better to adopt a system already in use than to attempt the formation of a new one, especially when in itself the former seemed well fitted for the purpose in view. The Scottish Universities, with all their shortcomin"s, had proved themselves suited to the peculiar genius of the Scottish character. Their constitution had in it something 320 Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

of freedom and elasticity, and the non-residence of students in college seemed favourable to the Universities includino; women in their sphere of operations. The idea, in short, which Mrs Crudelius at first formed, and never ceased to hold before herself as the goal of all desire and exertion, was that of higher education to be provided for women in Scotland hy the Univci^sitics, as a regular part of their activity, and by means included in their ordinary machinery. About the particular way in which this end was to be reached, she cared little; and for mixed classes of men and women in Arts she had no desire, though she was not opposed to such an arrangement. She has not, alas! lived to see the full realization of her idea, which indeed is likely to be long of reaching its accomplishment. Nothing short of this, however, would she ever accept as that which she wished and looked for; and she was able to inspire others with so much of her own belief, that in the Association a hope is still cherished of the Universities some day taking up the pro- blem of women's education, and giving to it a more satisfactory solution than any which can now be reached. Mean- while, through Mrs Crudelius' intiuence, its form and methods in Scotland were fashioned on the model of those of the national Universities, as far as this could be done by individual efforts. We have now to speak of the means by which this was effected. As a first step, Mrs Crudelius strove to interest in her plans some personal friends, and one in particular (Mrs Daniell) may be named, to whom Mrs Crudelius always expressed herself as under the deepest obligations for valuable help readily and unsparingly given. By the exertions of these two ladies, along Avith one or two others, the Ladies' Educational Association was formed—not without much toil and trouble. The members were pledged to advance by all means in their power especially the hio-her education of women. Not that Mrs Crudelius was indifferent to the claims of secondary education; but the other seemed to her not only in itself greatly needed, but sure, if supplied, to re-act favourably on the lower stages, by making strongly felt the defects of actual early training. She was anxious, in particular, for a Avider use of the Uni- versity Local Examinations liy girls—an aim this which, dropped perforce by her, has since been taken up by others, and carried out with a success in whicli none could rejoice more than she did. The first thing done by the Association was to carry out Mary Crudelius. 321 a schem.e of instruction by courses of lectures (never fewer than forty) from Professors of the University of Edinburgh, in most cases identical with those given to their University students, except that they are much shorter, not extending beyond forty, or at most sixty, lectures. In 1868, a single class of English Literature was held by Professor Masson. Tliis has been repeated every winter since, but always accompanied by other classes, M-hich have now come to number as many as six. Mrs Crudelius strongly desired o raduation for women ; but discerning, with her usual good sense, the impossibility of obtaining this at once, she acquiesced in tlie best arrangement that could be made, and accepted the existing certificate. Incorporation with the University remained to the last her aim, and, while that was not granted, it seemed to her a matter of comparatively small importance whether or not Professors in their individual capacity took part in the management of the Associa- tion. It is, however, a satisfaction to those who to the end looked on Mrs Crudelius as its natural leader, that last winter's reconstruction of the Association was in its details shaped according to her suggestions. In 1868, Mrs Crudelius accepted the post of Secretary, and during the greater part of the last ten years acted in that capacity. Nearly all the time, she suffered from illness in various forms; but against this she struggled bravely, and during the first year of the Association's existence, its affairs were practically conducted by her alone. Afterwards she became unable for this, and frequent com- pulsory absences from Edinburgh, as well as shattered health, forced her at last to give up the work in which her interest was centred. Still she was there to guide others by her clear insight and wise counsel. Now it is so no more ; and none feel so deeply as those who worked witli her, and thus learned to know the largeness of her views, the singleness of her aims, her courage and openness, her generosity, lowliness, and utter carelessness of self, how great was the value of her life—how irrepaiable the loss when she passed away from the scene of all earthly activity. E. H. 322 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 10. Upon the arid plains see thousands languish, And England hastens to relieve tlieir anguish. 1. A doubtful expression. 2. The acme of all. 3. Sweet " diez nous." 4. A pair of "eyes." 5. Indefinite. 6. Negatively indefinite. F. M.

SOLUTION OF DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 9.

R ROVER R E EHED U S SEAS S T TINT T Four answers received—thele followingfollow ing three correct :—" B," M. C. B., Message Girl. A PRIZE is offered at the close of the year to tlie solver of the greatest number of acrostics. For Rules, see former numbers of this Mayaeine.

-«x?s>-*- S T E A Y NOTES. " RuSTiCA " wishes to know how tlie instruction by correspondence is managed, as she does not at all agree with your Member of Committee, that no one need be afraid to study in this way. Will one of last winter's students give a record of her jjersonal experiences in a note ? " Rustica" is particularly anxious to know whether the answers and corrections were always easy to understand ? Also, how often one may write to the tutor. [We hope that some interesting notes will be sent in answer to " Rustica."] " CLERICA " writes to ask how much the books required in order to study for an ordinary pass will cost ? [She will find tliis information by comparing the St George's Hall Prospectus with the price list jiub- lished on the cover of the Report of the University Local Examina- tions, to be had from J. Thin, 55 South Bridge, Edinburgh.] ANOTHER Correspondent writes to ask if she may take honours witliout going up first for the ordinary pass certificate 1 [Has this lady studied the University regulations ? There is no objection to her doing so.] A CORRESPONDENT, who intends to study in Edinburgh next winter for the University Certificate for Women, writes as follows :—" Is there a preliminary examination before entering the Professors' classes ? Does the Honours Certificate of the Local Examinations exempt one from such examination." [There is no such examination, except for those under 17 years of age, and for these a University Local Examina- tion Certificate is accepted as a substitute. These queries show how very little is known by persons outside a certain cliarmed circle about Stray Notes. 323 the mode of working of examinations, lectvxres, and classes for women. We wish that readers would make use of our "Stray Notes" to put such practical enquiries. Abundance of information has been published, but only persons who are already well versed in this apparently intricate subject know where to look for it.] THE Committee of the St George's Hall Preparatory Classes have rejirinted the article on Secondary Education of Women in Scotland which appeared in our September number, believing that the information it contains on the subject of instruction by correspondence cannot be too widely spread throughout Scotland. Ladies who will kindly help the committee to circulate this pam])lilet are requested to apply for copies to Miss Dundas, Polton House, Lasswade. THE Prospectus of the Glasgow Ladies' Educational Association will appear in about a fortnight. We learn, with some regret, that the courses will not, as in Edinburgh, extend to 40 lectures, but will be very much shorter. However, an excellent remedy for this inade(|uate supply of instruction has been found in an arrangement, b}' which one set (jf lectures comi)letes the pi'eceding, and both together form one continuous couree, though under different teachers. For example, a course of Psychology, from November till Christmas, is to be followed by one of Moral Philosophy, beginning in January ; and, still better, a course of Natural History (we trust that this means Comjjarative Anatomy) will precede Dr M'Kendrick's promised lectures on Physiology. In annou.ncing academic lectures on the French Language and Literature, the ladies of Glasgow act as the pioneers of the Scottish Universities, and show our reformers in what direction public opinion considers new chairs to be most urgently needed. If we are to criticise the programme, we should say that it is, if anything, too varied ; for in addition to these courses. Professor Grant is to lecture on Astronomy. At anyrate, we cannot join in the regrets sometimes expressed that Professor Nicliol sees no room for a course on English Literature, since we are entirely of the same o^iinion. We are glad to learn that there will be tutorial classes in Latin and in Mathematics, in this the very first year of the Association's history. A corresponding member of the St George's Hall Classes has sent us some interesting information about the Dublin University Exaniinations for Women. There are three graded examinations— a Junior, an Intermediate, and a Senior Examination. No lady can obtain a Junior Certificate who has completed her eighteenth year, but all limits of age have this year been removed from the other Examinations. As far as we can judge from the questions and from the regulations, the Dublin Junior Examination is certainly not easier than that for the Edinburgh Ordinary Pass. For, although only one "special" subject is required, against this must be set, that the standard in each is decidedly higher. For example, in Edinburgh we have only (|uestions in certain prescribed French and German books, while in Dublin there is always one ad uperturam passage for translation into English. The authors selected for study are also more difficult ; such as Les Horaces and Wilhelm Tell, instead of TeUmaque and the Thirty Years' War. In classics, both agree in choosing a passage from the Anabasis, Bk. i., for translation into English, but the Scottish Examiners are contented with Ccesar, while nothing easier than the JEneid will satisfy the Irish. If we turn from the regulations to the questions set at the last Examinations, it 324 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

is impossible not to be interested in those given by Professor Edward Dowden in English grammar and philology, in historical accidence and in literature. They show that he expects to find not only a thoroughly scientific knowledge of our mother-tongue, but also a wide range of well-directed reading among the candidates for his certificate. We rejoiced over such as the following : " Exhibit your acquaintance with one sonnet of Shakesj^eare, Keats, and Wordsworth." Or, how deliglitfiil to have the dryness of an examination paper relieved by the enquiry, " How do you account for Hamlet's levity after his interview with the ghost?" We hold Professor Dowden to be worthy of all honour among examiners, were it on no other account than on this, that he has appended as a note to his list of queries : " N.B.—A special additional mark will be given for excellence in style in the answers to the alwve questions." The italics are his own. But where there is so much to admire, we would fain ask why analysis of sentences is omitted from the whoie series of papers \ Here- in Scotland, this subject is one of the hardest which our candidates have to master, and we are inclined to think that it would be easier for a young lady to get up a bowing acquaintance with half the sonnetteers in the English language, than to learn Morell's Analysis. But some readers may know so little of the conditions on which the l>rosperity of examinations depends, as to ask why the Edinburgh standard is not higher than that of Dublin 1 If they will compare page 56 of our University Report, with page 6 of the Dublin Regulations for 1878, they will find in the former that only two scholarshijjs were offered at the examinations of last June, while the latter contains the following long list of scholarships :—A Junior Bursary of i,'25, the gift of Trinity College. Three Senior Bursaries of £ib. Two Ex- hibitions of .£10 each, the gift of the Countess of ileatli, for proficiency in knowledge of Scripture. Two of .£20 each ; and lastly, a scholarship of £40, founded by the Governess's Association of Ireland. The conij)etition for so many prizes must tend to keep up a high standard, and in reality it is remarkable that the Edinburgh papers should be as good as they are, when there are so few rewards. Signs are however not wanting that better days may be in store for our Scottish Examinations. Reference to the regulations for 1879 will show that much has been done quite recently to provide exhibitions, so that in June 1879, there will be more bursaries than have ever before been ofl'ered. We shall reserve details for a future article on scholarships for women in Scotland, without which our series of essays on education would be incomplete. We must add that, simultaneously with the sudden increase of numbers at the last two examinations, the standard has risen rapidly, and that, in all liiielihood, a fresh impulse will be given throughout the country by the recent institution of examinations at Glasgow.

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PRIZE is offered for the best article received and accepted by the Editors before \st March 1878, on the subject, " Where shall we Go?" A PRIZE is oft'ered for the best article received by the Editors, and accepted for insertion during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists, born in the 18tli century. The next meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society will be held at 5 Chester Street, on Saturday, 13th October, at 11 o'clock A.M. Our Female Novelists. 325

X. MISS EDGEWOETH. &. 1767 ; rf. 1849.

I THINK it was Professor Masson who once said: " Tlie novel is the first literary fortress which has been seized by women." And who can deny that one of the earliest to mount the breach and plant her banner on the summit of the citadel was Maria Edgeworth ? When her novels were given to the world in the latter half of the last, and beginning of the present century, they had but few rivals in the popular favour. The Evelina of Miss Burney, put forth with trembling, a timid dove upon the waters of the world of literature ; its one or two successors —Mrs Inchbald's Simple Story, and the Romances of Mrs Eadclift'e—were almost the only competitors by writers of her own sex. Miss Edgeworth had already reached the zenith of her well-earned fame, when Sir Walter Scott, fired by her .example, set about trying " to do for Scotland what Miss Edgeworth had done for Ireland." She was born at Black Bourton, Oxfordshire, of English parents, in 1767. She was therefore, by birth, an English- woman ; but from the early age of four years, until her death, she resided in Ireland upon lands inherited by her family. Edgeworthstown is about forty miles distant from Dublin. » Under its hospitable roof there were gathered, as years went on, the children and grandchildren of its owner in a harmonious group, beautiful for its unity. Eichard LoveU Edgeworth, the father of our authoress, was four times mariied. Maria was the child of his first wife, and after her came a succession of brothers and sisters, some well-nigh half a century younger than herself. To them, and in due time to their respective families, she attached herself with all the warmth of an ardent and affectionate nature. Her father's pupil and counsellor, the sharer of her stepmother's domestic burdens, the sympathizer with all in their joys and sorrows, Maria Edgeworth was the centre and rallying-point of that happy home. Her friend and follower in the path of literature, No. 35.—NOVEMBER 1877. 2 T 326 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

Mrs S.C.Hall (who in the year of Miss Edgeworth's death paid an affectionate tribute to her memory in the pages of the Art Journal), has pictured her to us in the midst of this widespread family circle, as she has seen her with her own eyes, seated at her own especial writing-table in th& great comfortable library at Edgeworthstown. Pen in hand, wrapped up in her subject, she painted the word-portraits of her charming stories, undisturbed by the social talk going on around her, by the play of her little nephews and nieces, or by the comings-in and goings-out of friends and visitors ; looking up now and again to put in her word—never morose nor unsociable. May not the affectionate unity of this happy family have unconsciously served as a model for the many home-interiors painted for us by her graphic pen ? Miss Edgeworth is described as small in person, with a manner full of vivacity. Her face was pale and thin, her features irregular; " they may have been considered plain even in youth," we are told, " but her expression was so benevolent, her manner so entirely well-bred, partaking of English dignity and Irish frankness, that you never thought of her in reference to plainness or beauty. She had a pleasant voice, her words being always well-chosen, and her manner of expression graceful and natural." This, one might fairly expect from the originator and mainspiingofher Lady Delacour's sprightly conversations and epigrammatic vit; yet for all her conversational talent. Miss Edgeworth could "listen as well as talk." Her friend Mrs Hall expressly notes it of her. A rare virtue this, in one who feels within herself the power of wielding the weapons of conversation. She had a vivid perception of the ridiculous—a quality which one notices as almost inseparable from a large and noble mind ; but it was kept well under restraint for fear of giving pain to others. It was Miss Edgeworth's own express desire that none of her letters should be printed, and that no life should be written of her. We cannot therefore, as with some of our men and women of genius, follow out the minutiae of her daily life, her innermost thoughts and feelings, the intricacies of her character. But in her intercourse with some of her gifted friends, of whom there were several knit to her in the bonds of sincerest friendship and esteem, one catches many a glimpse of Maria Edgeworth in her Irish home. We see her dispensing its hospitalities to rich and poor, to friend and stranger, to her comrades in the brotherhood of authorship. We find her helping on with kindliest sympathy, schemes Our Female Novelists. 327 for th*, benefit of her poorer neighbours and dependants, amid afl her literary labours never too busy to aid those around her with words of counsel or unselfish deeds. We come across many a trait of a good and sweet disposition, shedding its influence upon all its surroundings. The 7nind of the authoress we see in her works, but it is pleasant to get this insight into her heart. The humble violet of the hedgerow is doubtless the truest emblem of a lowly life, such as hers,—unobstrusive, never forcing itself upon the notice of the passer-by; only discaverable by its fragrance, and in this unrivalled. Castle Radcrcnt, the first of Miss Edgeworth's novels, was published anonymously, and called forth the highest praise from Sir Walter Scott. It was followed by Belinda and the Talcs of Fashionable Life, Ennui, Abneria, &c. Patronage, in many respects the most important of her novels, made its appearance in 1813. Her pen was indefatigable. " Our friend Miss Edgeworth writes all the while she laughs, talks, eats, and drinks," Scott says of her ; " and I believe, though I do not pretend to be so far in the secret, all the time she sleeps too!" Miss Edgeworth's deLtneations of fashionable life, its curses and follies, are vigorous and truthful. Her tales may lack the " fairy colouring of high fancy and romantic tenderness," but they hold a faithful mirror up to nature. " The proper study of mankind is man," and in her retired Irish home Miss Edgeworth entered upon it with persevering fidelity. Her forte consisted not so much in poetic descriptions or in the painting of striking scenes ;—there are no special high-lights to rivet the attention, but the sunshine falls pleasantly on divers points throughout, and the reader is carried on insensibly from page to page by the well-sustained interest of her tales. Here is a specimen of her style. It is a speech addressed by the lively Eosamond Percy to her more sedate sister Caroline, the heroine of Patronage, who has just rejected an unworthy suitor:—

" You have decided prudently, my dear Caroline, I acknowledge. But—I begin to think you are a little too prudent for your age. —Bless me, Caroline, if you are so prudent at eighteen, what will you he at thirty 1 Beware !—and in the meantime you will never be a heroine —what a stupid heroine yovi will make ! You will never get into any entanglements, never have any adventures ; or if kind fate, propitious to my prayer, should bring you into any charming difficulties, even then \»*p]eoUld not tremble for you, or enjoy all the luxury of pity, because we should always know that you would be so well able to 328 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. extricate yourself— so certain to conquer, or—not die—but endure." . . " Caroline, my dear," continued she, "you shall not be my heroine ; you are too well proportioned for a heroine—in mind, I mean : a heroine may—tnust have a finely proportioned person, but never a well-proportioned mind. All her virtues must be larger than the life ; all her passions those of a tragedy queen. Produce—only dare to produce—one of your reasonable wives, mothers, daughters, or sisters on the theatre, and you would see them hissed off the stage— good people are acknowledged to be the bane of the drama and the novel—I never wish to see a reasonable woman on the stage, or an unreasonable woman off it. I have the greatest sympathy and admiration for your true heroine in a book ; but I grant you, that in real life, in a private room, the tragedy queen would be too much for me ; and the novel heroine would be the most useless, troublesome, affected, haranguing, egotistical, insufferable being imaginable !—So, my dear Caroline, I am content that you are my sister and my friend, though I give you up as a heroine." Eosamond herself is a charming character, and her high- spirited brother Godfrey also interests us. Here is a little scene in which he plays an important part. The Miss Hauton in question, a young lady of beauty and fashion, shows an evident preference for his attentions, and he is naturally flattered at being thus distinguished. He is spending a morning in her company at her brother's house, trying to believe against his better judgment that she is all his conscience could approve as a wife. A certain Captain Bellamy makes his appearance. " Maria," said Colonel Hauton, turning to his sister, " don't you know Bellamy ?—Bellamy ?" repeated he, coming close to her, whilst the gentleman was paying his compliments to Lady Oldborough, " Captain Bellamy, with whom you used to waltz every night, you know, at what's the name of the woman's '?" " I never waltzed with him but once—or twice, that I remember," said Miss Hauton, " and then, because you insisted upon it." " I !—Well, I did very right if I did, because you were keeping all the world waiting, and I knew you. intended to do it at last—so I thought you might as well do it at first. But I don't know what's the matter with you tliis niornuig—we must drive a little spirit into you at Cheltenham." Captain Bellamy came up to pay his respects, or rather his compliments, to Miss Hauton. There was no respect in his manner, but the confidence of one who had been accustomed to be well received. " She has not been well,—fainted last night at a ball—is hipped this morning ; but we'll get her spirits up again wlien we have her at Clieltenham. We shall be a famous dashing party !—I have l)een beating up for recruits all day—here's one," said Colonel Hauton, turning to Godfrey Percy. Our Female Novelists. 329

" Excuse me," said Godfrey, " I am engaged—I am obliged to join my regiment immediately." He bowed gravely to Miss Hauton— wished her a good morning ; and without trusting himself' to another look retreated, saying to himself— " Sir, she's yours—you have brushed from the grape its soft blue ; From the rosebud you've sliaken its tremulous dew ; Wliat you've touched you may take.—Pretty waltzer, adieu ! " To the romantic school of writers Miss Edgeworth never belonged. The prudence, the reserve in expression of feeling, the strong common-sense which characterize her heroines, contrast powerfully with the sensibility, the recklessness, the freedom to which we are now-a-days accustomed. The novel-readers of the present time smile at the homeliness, the formal manners, the old-fashioned ejaculations, the ponderous poetic justice of Patronage, Belinda, and Helen ; but in days to come, when the ephemeral popularity of our highly-spiced favourites shall have passed away, we may safely prophesy that our children's children will take down the tales of Miss Edgeworth from their hiding-places in remote corners of dusty bookshelves, and delight themselves like former generations in the literary lore, the keen insight into character, the knowledge of men and things, the high uncompromising principles which distinguish her writings. Sir Walter Scott entertained the highest opinion of Miss Edgeworth's power in delineating character. "If I could but hit Miss Edgeworth's wonderful power of vivifying all her personages, and making them live as beings in your mind, I should not be afraid," he said to Ballantyne at the outset of his career as a romance-writer. And gratefully considering that he owed to her the inspiration of the idea of his Scotch novels, the Great Unknown sent her through his publisher a copy of Waverley inscribed, " Erom the Author." In 1823, during the course of a tour which Miss Edge- worth was taking through Scotland, Scott had the pleasure of making her personal acquaintance, and doing the honours of his lately finished home at Abbotsford to one whom he held in such high esteem. The beginning of that fortnight's visit was one of the happiest days in his life. The meeting between the two friends must have been a pleasant picture— close at hand the poet's newly completed house of Abbots- ford, looking its noblest in the lovely weather, which happened to be especially favourable,—the cordial host stepping forth eagerly to welcome his friend and fellow- author beneath the archway of his home,—the visitor with lier face lighting up as she exclaims impetuously : " Every- thing about you is exactly what one ought to have had wit enough to dream ! " 330 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Two years later Scott returned the visit at Edgeworths- town, and after enjoying its hospitalities for a few days, persuaded Miss Edgeworth to join his party in an expedition to the Lakes of KiUarney. Happy must have been the fortunate persons privileged to be of the company ! We are here considering Miss Edgeworth the novelist, but we must not forget that the same gifted imagination which provided Helen and Belinda for the amusement of our maturer years, illustrated for us the first principles of morality and integrity in Simjilc Susan, Waste Not, Want Not, A Day of Misfortunes, and other favourites of our nursery days. Yes; and in Early Lessons taught us to reflect with Frank, and learn experience with Harry and Lucy. The last-named tale was originally written by Maria Edgeworth's father and stepmother for the use of their own children, and more than twenty years afterwards was grafted by his daughter on to Early Lessons. It is noteworthy that the Sandford and Merton of Mr Day was originally designed by its author as a short story for insertion in Harry and Lucy. The writer was an old friend of Miss Edgeworth's father, and during her early years she spent much of her time at his house. Indeed, throughout her life she was rich in friendships. Besides her admiring disciple Mrs S. C. Hall (who speaks of her as the " most delicious friend " it was possible to have), Miss Edgeworth in later years became the friend and correspondent of Eogers, Moore, Cuvier, Miss Seward, and Mrs Hofland. Once or twice in her life our authoress had the opportunity of playing the part of a literary lion during occasional visits to London, when the brilliant notorieties of the time were gathered together to meet her, esteeming it a privilege to see and speak to one of whom the world had heard so much. " I have lost all my eloquence to-night," said L. E. L. to a friend on one of those occasions,—" I can only feel how superior that little woman is to everybody else!" In Miss Edgeworth's green old age, when she was between seventy and eighty, Mr and Mrs Hall at length visited her at Edgeworthstown, and were struck by her perennial youth- fulness—" Miss Edgeworth had used time so well that lie returned the compliment," as Mrs Hall aptly expressed it. In her seemed to be illustrated those words of the poet Southey, in which he compares such an old age to the evergreen holly, more sober, perhaps, in youth than its gayer neighbours, but far outlasting tliem in brightness and vigour: Where shall we Go? 33^

" So serious would my youth appear among The thoughtless throng ; So would I seem amid the young and gay More grave than they, That in my age as cheerful I might be. As the green winter of the Holly Tree." Beloved and honoured, with faculties unimpaired to the last, with her bright spirit unquenched by its long life- combat, Maria Edgeworth passed to her rest after a brief half-hour's illness in 1849, at the age of eighty-two. GKATIA.

III.—LET US GO TO SKYE!

So said one of three ladies, on Sunday, the 1st July 1877, as they were driving from church in Mull, and caught a dim peep of the Skye hills. So they went. Why to Skye ? " For when we're there Although 'tis fair, 'T may prove another Yarrow." It may, but it may not; so we shall tell why the prospect of Skye is so fascinating—1st, Historically. 2d, Because in its grandeur it stands alone. One hundred and thirty-one years ago, Skye, till then unknown to the outer world, became famous as the hunting- ground of the " Prince of Wales," the " Young Chevalier," or the " Young Pretender," as love or hate called Charles Stuart; and whatever may be our opinion of him or his cause, whether we be Jacobite or Hanoverian, yet all must acknowledge the honour of the people of Skye, who suffered a man with £30,000 on his head to hide in safety among their caves and mountains. The romance of Flora Macdonald and Prince Charlie will ever hang in beauty about the wild shore of the Hebrides. One hundred and four years ago, the Cockney of the Cockneys, albeit perhaps the greatest Cockney, tore himself from his beloved Fleet Street, and penetrated those distant regions, further from London in those days than Kurdistan or Khiva is in ours. He received the hospitality of the proprietors, marvelled at their cvdture, visited the ministers, wishing that men of such varied accomplishments did not 332 TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

belong to a schismatic " sect," and went to and came from Skye without mentioning tlxe Coolins. The great lexico- grapher was there late in the season. Clouds might often hang about their rugged summits; and if his defective eyesight did rest on them, he probably thought them monstrosities, inferior, from a civilised point of view, to Cornhill or Holborn. It is the fashion to speak of Dr Johnson's injustice to Scotland. Is there not some misconception in this judgment ? His opinion of Scotland and the Scots seems to me most flattering. He was prejudiced against the nation because of its Presbyterianism and its conduct in the betrayal of Charles I. He thought, because it had refused a " Church," and its army had sold the king to the English Parliament which sentenced and beheaded him, it must be a nation of savages; and he struggled in vain to discover that the Scots were what he hoped to find them. That a man of liis obstinacy should have left the record he did of pleasure, in his intercourse and conversation with the people of even the most distant parts of the Highlands, is most gratifying. " Sir," he said at one time to Boswell, " it is not the invasion of England by the Scots that I object to, it is the conquest." Forty-one years after the visit of Johnson, the " Wizard of the North " landed on the shores of Skye, and touched with his magic wand her hills and lochs. The Lord of the Lsles told the world of the Coolins and Loch Coruisk, names till then unknown beyond the narrowest limits; and set men wondering how these marvels could be seen. Years afterwards, Hutcheson's steamers solved the difficulty to the non-yacht keeping multitude ; and then again a railway to the confines of the mamland gave many more an opportunity of going. " How gladly we should visit Skye," says the Ehine and Swiss-going tourist; " but the hotels are often so full you can get no accommodation, and it rains there constantly !" Query, Are the hotels never full in Switzerland; and does it never rain there ? But why are the hotels full ? It is because everybody will go at exactly the same season of the year! It seems to be one of the unwritten laws of the Medes and Persians, or of a stiU more binding statute-book, that of fashion itself, that it is not the " thing " to travel in Scotland till after the 12th. Because Parliament, " like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along" during the dog- days, until the night begins to lengthen again, and the evenings to become chilly, because the young birds ai'e not ready till the Where shall we Go? 333

12th; ladies, who certainly do not as yet sit in Parliament, and who rarely take out the " licence;" and men—who, if not at liberty to travel for long, might at least exercise a little discretion as to their holiday-time, think they must not wander until after the middle of August; and consequently the hotels are full, and heavy rains often, not " always," fall. Our three ladies, however, jomed the "Clydesdale" at Tobermory, on Tuesday, the 3d of July. When one is in Mull, one is pretty well independent of the outer world; communication is slow and infrequent; and so, when they had resolved, there was no one to say them " nay," no one to cast doubtful looks at the clouds and prophesy failure. A little hitch occurred about going to Tobermory. The horses were otherwise engaged, a boat was at command, but winds and waves are proverbially fickle, and the " pull " was long. However, on Tuesday, the wind was all that could be desired, and with a full sail and a round sea, as one of the boatmen expressed it, they ran into Tobermory Bay—beautiful beyond even Oban or Portree. The day was not perfect, angry looking clouds were flitting about, and there was one very heavy shower in going to Tobermory ; but they took courage, and telegraphed to Broadford to have ponies waiting at Coruisk next day. Two of the party had already visited Skye; to the third, who had only seen the outline of its hills from a far distance, it had ever seemed more a dream and a romance than a reality. She was a little bit of a Jacobite, not very dangerous in these days. In her early youth she had done violent battle for Queen Mary's innocence and King Charles' honour. She had believed in the nobleness of the cavalier and the chivalry of Prince Charles. If some of her feelings are less strong than in her school-girl days, yet enough of the dream remains to invest Skye with the charm of a living romance ; besides, a hundred other recollections hover around it, and nature is to her the object of the deepest reverence and love. She wistfully looked at the sky, and hoped almost against hope. The journey was disappointing, as drenching rains came at short intervals; but, when it was fine, who shall venture to describe its fineness ? Tlie colouring, when tlie clouds rolled back, was rich in proportion as the darkness had been dark before. The cargo in the " Clydesdale " was heavy, so she generally stopped at the ferries for about half an hour, and the glimpse we got made us wish for good ponies, uidimited time, and interest at the " weather-office," and a look into No. Jo.-N"oVi:MHEK 1677. 2 'X' 334 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. all the nooks and crannies. To some, a pony, not a yacht, is the ideal of bliss. We reached Broadford in the evening, were told how wet it had been, were encouraged by the Cassandras of the district, got supper, and went to bed. And here let us ask what are the necessaries for a tour in Skye ? The smaller and fewer the " impedimenta" the better—a good rule in all travelling, but indispensable where there are no railways or coaches. \st. A sufficiency of money. Travelling is expensive in Skye, but as the distances are not great, the sum total is not higher than in other places. 2d. Information and knowledge beforehand. My experience is, that the West Highlander is not com- municative; at least, I have rarely found the "open sesame." I have met, and could mention, a few exceptions; but, on the whole, I find that information is not volunteered. 3f?. For ladies—dress in general that is not the worse for a " bit showery;" a serge, rather short, a warm jacket, and hat of the same material. 4^A. Boots that will defy bogs, if possible —no pretence about them ; ploughman's boots without high heels. One's comfort depends on boots, 'oth. An Ulster; and, if one has it, a light waterproof An Ulster generally keeps one dry, although it ships rather too much water itself. An umbrella is generally added; but umbrellas, unless they are of the size and material of tents, are of little use to one's self, and are a great nuisance to one's neighbours. Besides these, good health, sure feet, a steady head, and, above all things, a good temper. One note out of tune! How one knows it on a journey ! Our little party, T am thankful to say, had most of the requisites; and it must ever be a bright and shining memory to us. On Wednesday, we were up betimes. The weather was not encouraging, b^^t our ponies were to be sent to Cambus- uinary, and what could we do ? A shower cleared off about nine, our carriage was prepared, and we started for Torrans on Loch Slapin. We little thought when we set out what a day was before us ! We believed there would be bright intervals between the showers ; we scarcely even hoped there would be no shower; and instead, a magic brightness reign- ing from morn till eve. TheBeinn-ua-Cailleach (the old woman's hill) is the most striking object on leaving Broadford; but Blabheinn is before us, and at each step it becomes clearer and more strange. On reaching Torrans, the nearness of Blabheinn still shut out the Coolins, but even there the view was grand. A pleasant sail brought us to the Spar Cave, celebrated by Scott and Where shall we Go? 335 others. Many persons say that ic hardly merits a visit now, but we thought it wortli going to, if merely to see the rocks that surround the entrance ; and the interior, to those who have sure feet and steady heads, and can accomplish a very steep climb with a river running below, and heavy drops falling from above, is very wonderful. The landlord of the hotel at Broadford ought to have provided us with caudles, but did not; so, with the exception of one little taper which we had with us by the sheerest chance, and which was insufficient to show us the wonders of the cave, we were in darkness. Still we saw enough to make us wish to see it better. We soon rounded Aird's Point, and entered Loch Scavaig, and then we saw the Coolins. At first, having nothing to compare them with, they disappoint you as to height, but their outline is extraordinary. The top ridge is compared, not inappropriately, to a wreath of holly. The hUls in Skye all rise from the sea level, and when near you have no idea of their height. We were ignorant when sending our message, and we did not know whether our ponies were to be at Cambusuinary, or at the top of the ridge above Loch Coruisk. We found them rightly enough at Cambusuinary, to which place we ought to have sent our baggage, thus leaving those of us who were willing free to walli to the top of the ridge, and see on such a glorious day Coruisk to all advantage. But we had not been warned at Broadford (get your information beforehand), and our boatmen, although most anxious to do everytliing for us, had not an extensive command of English. Our knowledge of Gaelic, though pretty strong on the whole, did not sustain a long business conversation, and we can only be tliankful that we saw so much. The view from Loch Scavaig is unrivalled, both to the north and to the south. Kum, with its bold mountains; Ardnamurchan, high and dark; Scuir, Eigg, Canna, and Muck, are all seen to the south; and the Coolins,prominent among them Scuir-nan- Gillean. Scuir-na-Banarach and Bruch-na-Frea are to the north. Coruisk, first mentioned by Scott, and since then visited by thousands, is too well known to justify us in trying to describe it. We wandered for a time about its si lores, and reluctantly leaving it returned to our boat, and went under sail to Cambusuiuary, about three miles off. Our boatmen entertained us during the day, by singing Gaelic songs, with their solemn bagpipe-like drawl, so much in keeping with the spirit of the surroundings. We were 336 TJie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

sorry when our boat journey for the day was over, but Glen Sligachan lay before us. MacLeod of MacLeod offered to take Scott to that unknown and almost unnamed loch (Coruisk) by land; but Scott, unwilling to divide his party, refused to go. He little knew what he was losing in Glen Sligachan, and the world has in consequence lost his description. Failing the picture Scott would have given, which might have been still better, though of that I am not sure, let any one who intends visiting it, read the account in Norman Madeod's Life,^ and he will hardly regi'et that Scott was not there. No words of mine need be added to that account, so attainable by all. Suffice to say, that oui' ponies did nobly; and the one of our party who preferred walking did nobly too, although the ground was a little " soft" here and there. We arrived at Sligachan in time for dinner, between seven and eight, and were not sorry for the rest and refreshment. Next morning we started for Portree. The day was again lovely; and although our backs were to the Coolins, we often looked round, and they seemed to grow larger as we drove away from them. We reached Portree early in the day, took a boat, and rowed eight miles up the coast to the shore, visiting Prince Charlie's Cave by the way. The coast is steep, and has neither beach nor footpath along its edge. We should have liked to have continued our sail to Loch Staffin, and visited the Quirang from the east side, but strong boats are not to be got in Portree; and it was not safe to go further, so Loch StafBn is among the things of the future. The shore is difficult of access, and not so much visited as the Quirang; yet the view is much finer, and the surroundings almost as tine. This was our second happy day in Skye. Our third day, Friday took us to the Quirang. We drove from Portree in the public waggonette via Uig. By this route you skirt Loch Snizort on yom* left, when you look out far beyond to the Outer Hebrides, pass a little to the right of the site of Kingsburgh House, and arrive at the lovely Uig Bay. From Uig there is a road that goes to the north of the island passing Duntulm Castle, the most ancient seat of the Macdonalds, and Kdmore Churchyard, where Flora Macdonald lies buried, and turns southward to Loch Staffin, whei'e I believe there is an inn, whence one might return by the Quirang to Uig next day. We, however, drove by a steep inland road from Uig to the Quirang. We

1 Vol. i. pp. 108-9. IV/iere shall ice Go? 337 had some very heavy showers, which did not hurt us much; and we saw some of the wonderful mist effects that are common in hill countries. Photographs have made the Quirang familiar to all; nor are photographs flatterers. Its wonders are unrevealed, except to those who have gazed upon it. The climb, especially after you leave the " needle," is stiff; you have literally to put " a stout heart to a stae brae;" but if your boots are good (remember boots, intending pUgrim ! that will not turn round) it is worth the trouble. When you leave the rocks, you come to the " Table," which is so soft and green. Such a bed of luxury and verdure! What a play-gTound for fairies on a summer night! Again you see the Outer Hebrides and Eoss-shire. " Wlaat is the thing most worth seeing in Skye ?" is asked. Echo answers " Wliat ?" On Saturday, as we wished to see the west of the island we drove to Dunvegan. Of course that implied our staying over Sunday in the quiet of Dunvegan, wliich out of six days was perhaps extravagant; but as Sunday afternoon turned out very wet, and we happened to be alone in the inn, we rested better than we should have done at Portree or Sligichan. Dunvegan is a lovely contrast to the wilder beauties of the south and east, and not less worth seeing. Then again we wished we had another day that we might have gone by boat to Loch Bracadale, and see Macleod's Maidens and Talisker Point. As it was, we wandered in the Dunvegan woods, open to all visitors, and rowed in the lovely bay. We were particularly gratified by the lady of the castle, with a courtesy whicli is necessarily rare in these tourist days, speaking to us on Sunday, and inviting us to see the castle on Monday, when she would show us the treasures, and unfold to us their marvels. We were glad to see a place celebrated by Johnson, as almost reminding him of England. " Boswell," he said, " we came in at the wrong end of the island." " Sir," replied Boswell, " it was best to keep this for the last." Johnson answered, " I would have this both first and last." Scott too has poetised, and if possible idealised this spot, describing minutely its wonders, with the addition of a little poetic untrutlifulness, caused perhaps by mortification that the ghost would not appear to him (a Highland ghost troubling itself with a Lowlander !) although that Lowlander had almost a Highland spirit, ami might almost have been so honoured), though he slept on purpose in the haunted chamljer. We saw the ancient chalice, the famous drinking-horn of Euari Mor, the Fnirv Flag, and 33^ Tli^ Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

were shocked to learn that the then chief had broken its spell by showing it to Dr Johnson. Does it not haunt his great and superstitious spirit that he made such a poor return for the chieftain's hospitality ? We saw some little things belonging to Flora Macdonald, a fly leaf of a Bible, in which she had inscribed her own marriage and the birth of all her children; also hunting knives and chain armour, the dungeon and the haunted room, one lovely Eaeburn portrait head, and letters written by Dr Johnson and Sir Walter Scott after they had left Dunvegan. Dr Johnson's is written in a clear modern hand, most courtly in style, and yet not rounded into Johnsonian English. That of Scott accompanied liis presentation copy of the Lord of the Lsles, and spoke of how much that poem owed to the chiefs kindness. It was altogether a most delightful hour spent among the things of the past, and we left Dunvegan with regret. I must say one word about the service in Duirinish Church on Sunday. It was a mixture of Gaelic and English, and we especially liked the singing of the Gaelic psalms. They "give out the line," but instead of reading it the " precentor " intones it in a most musical key. We have observed this custom at all Gaelic services, but it was un- commonly beautiful on that Sunday. Our time was now fast drawing to a close. The " Clans- man " was to leave Portree at 4 A.M. on Tuesday, and we had to join her; and we started from Dunvegan about 12 to go to Sligichan. By this route one ought to get a fine view of the Coolins ; but a grey mist hung over the hills, and we felt thankful that it kept fair. The day improved how • ever; and when we came to Loch Bracadale, it was soft and lovely. Talisker Point stood before us bold and firm, and the whole scene fed our imagination. A hundred little waterfalls, with their green banks, transformed tlie hill-sides to enchanted bowers. As we approached Sligichan, the Coolius became sharp and cloudless, and we saw them once- more in their grand and rugged beauty. It seemed abnost too sad to leave Sligichan; and we spoke of lingering there f(ir the night, starting for Broadford before daybreak, and there joining the " Clansman;" but learning that we could get on board that night at Portree ; remembering that it was much easier to start at 3 A.M. the night before than the next morning; that the evening was fine; that it was wet sometimes even in Skye; and that "discretion was the better part of valour," we resolved to go to Portree. It was our last look of the Coolins, for the mornin<.o Where shall zve Go ? 339 broke dark and gusty, and torrents of rain fell. Wlien we left Portree, Skye was a happy dream, and Ardnamurchan a stern reality. Of the beauties of the way we saw none. Loch Hourn and Loch Nevis and the Coolins might have been a hundred miles off; even bold Eum was lost; and one of the party, and many on the steamer, were glad when Ardnamurchan was to our stern. We entered Tobermory, when our party separated for a time; two remaining in Mull, the third hesitatingly resolving to round the " Moil" that night. Fortune favoured her, as it is said to favour the brave. In going down the Sound of Mull, the clouds rolled back, and she had the view almost unrivalled, even in Skye, between the Sound and Oban. It surely is the finest view in Scotland; perhaps those who have travelled far would say, that when the weather is clear, (the "when" of Scotland), it is one of tlie finest in the world. One could gaze for months on that ^■iew in its varied beauty, and grow wiser and better everj^ day. The Mull of Cantyre was rounded at midnight, and we went up the Clyde like an arrow. The " Clansman" is very different from the top-heavy " lona," that rolls even in a dead calm. I would recommend even bad sailors to go round the " Mull." The bad time is short, and sailing is very different in a deep-sea boat from what it is in a summer paddle-steamer. Our week in Skye is a very pleasant recollection to all the party ; but for complete enjoyment, a fortnight is better, without hurry, and in June and July the weather is generally fine. Those who have been to Skye are sure to agree with the writer, and wiU wish each other a speedy return. JANE F. STUAKT.

]^Q * * * * As in the undimmed mirror of thine eye Mine sees itself reflected bright and clear ; So doth the image of my soul appear Pourtrayed in thine when I behold thee nigh The clouds are lifted from my mental sky, With sun and moon and stars my steps to cheer, And light me onward without doubt or fear While all the phantoms of the darkness fly. My soul with iixed gaze must penetrate The deej) recesses of thy kindred soul, To know itself and be from error free : Then rising from captivity elate In harmony divine and self-control It owns true wisdom, fair Sophrosyne. ESTEIJ.E. 340 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

CHAPTER II.

" IT won't do, it won't do," muttered old Ashby to himself, as he stood behind his master's chair one evening at dinner, having vainly offered various wines and viands for his acceptance. He did not speak audibly, of course ; but a suppressed groan might have been heard, had anyone listened. It was lost, however, upon Sir Arthur, who was sitting alone, surrounded by the old family portraits ; and it would be hard to say whether he or they were least life-like. " It is just the way Sir Horace went on," the old butler continued, thinking to himself; " eating and drinking next to nothing; seeing no one and doing nothing—only mooning about, or going into those old rooms, I am afraid, very often —as if any good could come of the living keeping company with the dead! It will bring grief on the old home some of these days, if I know anything." At this moment his meditations were cut short in the most unexpected manner by liis master, who suddenly informed him that he meant to go from home for a short time, and began giving instructions with tha,t view. When the dessert was placed on the table, Arthur took out a letter, and began to read it as if to refresh his memory. It was as follows:—

" Dear Arthiu-,—Wliy won't you come and see us ? You have often promised me a visit, and you cannot be obliged to stay in your lonely old house for ever. There are one or two horses for sale in this neighbourhood that might suit you, and you had better come and see them, for I will not take upon myself to choose a horse for any man. My mother will be glad to see you at any time. Write and say your day and your train.—Yours faithfully, LIONEL HARFORD."

" I suppose I must go," thought Arthur. " Lionel does not like being refused, and I have not so many friends that I can afford to lose him. Besides, he is too good to lose, dear old Lionel! and I want to see these horses. Why am I so unwilling to go ? I feel as if it would break up my life here, which suits me so well; and I am not fit for society after living alone so long. Still, what can I say ? Yes, I will go." It need hardly be said that the night before he left home Arthur went into the haunted rooms. He felt as if he were Sir Arthur s hiheritance. 341

bidding adieu to his mysterious visitant, and could not resist a vain hope as to whether she might vouchsafe him some sign which he could cherish in his heart, among other scenes and in more earthly society. After waiting some time he saw her, lovely as ever, passing through the rooms in her usual manner; and yet he thought he could trace in her a slight difference. What was it ? Could it be that there was a sort of tremulous movement about her, where all was wont to be cold and still, sad and spiritual ? Could she recognise his presence ? The thought was too wild to be acknowledged. Could she know of his approaching departure ? and if so, how could that explain a variation which seemed to indicate some sensation the reverse of sorrow ? His own heart beat quickly as he looked at her ; but when he tried to follow and approach nearer to her; she passed into the red room and disappeared. ***** It is a strange reflection, though not a new one, that those persons who are destined to meet and influence each other's lives in the strongest manner, have often to pass many years in absolute ignorance of each other's existence—that while «'c are living and loving, and perhaps hating, with all the little varieties of sentiment that are tlie forerunners of the great feeling not yet aroused, they are doing the same— perhaps miles away, perhaps very near us, yet equally unknown and unsuspected, till the supreme moment arrives and we recognise our fate ! It may be at this dinner-party; at that ball; in a casual walk in the park; at a morning visit; or in any of the countless incidents of daily life that the introduction is made, the acquaintance begun, the last volume of the story opened. We must transport the reader to a small and pleasant country-house in the south of England, where we find Lionel Harford speaking to his mother, who is awaiting the announcement of dinner in the drawing-room. Her two daughters Edith and Ella are there also, and look up as their brother comes in and speaks. " Don't wait, mother," he says; " Morton is come, but his train was late. He would much rather you would begin dinner and let him come in when he is ready." " That does not seem hospitable," said Mrs Harford. " He will be miich happier really; in fact, I believe he would like best to dine alone with me. He seems quite out of sorts; I can't think what is come to tl^fellow." " How do you mean ? " jr^ No. 3.'i. NovLM.-.KR 1,S77. •■ 2 X 342 The Ladies Edinbiif-gh Magazine.

" He is grown so pale and quiet; that old house and all the rest of it seems to have taken all the life out of him. He turned quite shy when I spoke of' the ladies,' and said ' he had hoped we were alone.'" Dinner was about half over when the door was opened, and a tall figured glided in, shook hands in silence with the hostess, bowed to the young ladies, and dropped into the vacant chair which was placed beside Ella. He replied briefly, but courteously, to Mrs Harford's remarks, and Lionel's eager hospitality, and seemed to be gradually warming into the spirit of the family circle. He had answered some question of Edith's, who sat opposite, and was turning to say something to Lionel, when for the first time he encountered the eyes of the younger sister; and suddenly stopping short, he appeared to lose all recollection of what he was saying. ^Vlly Ella's fair quiet face and soft fawn-like eyes should thus suddenly have unmanned him, it were vain to try to exj)lain ; she had not spoken to him, being young and shy, and habitually silent in company ; she had only looked at him for one half moment, and he was at once reduced to silence, and the same strange absent expression came over his face that had at first attracted Lionel's attention on his arrival. All further attempts to support the conversation were vain, and it was a relief when the ladies left the room, and the two young men sauntered out on the terrace. Here they began to discuss business, with reference to the horses that Lionel wished his friend to look at; but even this theme was at last exhausted, and Lionel suddenly stopped short, and turned round full on his friend, saying— " My dear fellow, what has come to you ?" " How do you mean ?" said Arthi.r, taking his cigar from his lips and holding it out between his two fingers, while he returned the look given him, till his eyes wandered off into space, and his friend remained steadily gazing at him. " I do not know; you are so altered. You look so thin and worn, and you stare about you so curiously. And why could not you talk at dinner ? You always used " " I did not know what to say." " It would not much have mattered what you said ; any twaddle would have done. As it was, you frightened us all, I believe." " Not really ? My dear fellow, I am very sorry. What a brute I must be ! I have not seen any ladies for so long, that I do not know how to behave, I believe. I am afraid Mrs Harford will think me an idiot. I had better go away the first thing in the morning." Sir Arthurs Inheritance. 343

But as he said this, a thought passed through his mind of a pair of soft eyes like a fawn's. Where had he seen them ? Curiously enough, they seemed the eyes of Ella, blent with the vision of his own mysterious chambers, and it was as if they both aj^pealed to him not to go away. Lionel, at all events, would not hear of such a proposal. " Go away ? Nonsense; you shall do nothing of the kind—only wake up a little and be like yourself—you wiU be all right in the morning, I dare say. It is only that you have been living too long in that gloomy old house, with nobody but the ghosts to speak to. I say, have you ever seen anything of them ? My dear fellow, don't tell me you have !" he continued, as a moment passed and no reply came. " Honestly, I would rather not tell you anything about it at present," Sir Arthur said at last. " It is an awkward subject, and I hardly know what to say; but this much I may tell you: I love the old house, and all it contains. Perhaps some day I may be able to explain myself" " How mysterious!" muttered Lionel; and he thought to himself, " He's dazed, there's no doubt of that; he is moon- struck, living by himself and smoking by moonlight, no doubt, half the night, and fancying he sees ghosts. I am beginning to feel rather ' eerie' myself, by only walking with him. We had better come in—perhaps a good night's rest will set him to rights." Sir Arthur Morton did not leave Woodleigh the next morning. On the contrary, he stayed on day after day, and fell gradually into the ways of the house, so that while he grew by degrees more "like other people," the other inmates acquired a liking for him, and for those individual points of his character which were sure to rescue him from ever growing commonplace. There was only one of the party with whom he never could feel at ease, and this, strange to say, was the young and gentle Ella—or, as she had been really named, Ellafyne. It came out one day in the course of conversation that this was her proper appellation. " It was a fancy of my father's," said Edith, in reply to a question as to its origin. " I believe it meant something about a fawn, and Ella's eyes, even when she was a baby, v.ere supposed to be like those of a fawn." This in truth they were; and why their soft and appealing glances should have had such a subduing effect upon Arthur it is indeed hard to say. It certainly was not from any sort of dislike, for, on the contrary, he felt himself perfectly 344 '^^^^ Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. fascinated by them, and so anxious to please her that nothing seemed good enough to say to her; and therefore he very seldom talked to her, and only watched her humbly and from a distance. The first time the ice was broken between them was one evening when the two sisters were out on the terrace, and a conversation arose between them on the subject of dreams. It began, as such talks usually do, with generalities, and by degrees assumed a more personal form, and by the time they were joined by Lionel and his friend, Edith was ex- tracting from Ella a description of a dream of hers. " I have dreamed it several times," she was saying; " I often dream it, so that it seems quite familiar to me. It is about a number of rooms." Here she would fain have stopped on seeing her brother and Sir Arthur, but Edith's curiosity w^as roused, and she tried to lead her on. EUa, however, seemed uncomfortable, and would not say much, and Lionel began arranging with Edith about an excursion they were to take the next day. As soon as they were fully absorbed in the business, Sir Arthur, turning to Ella, said— " I could not help hearing you saying something about a dream you had had as we came up, and it made me very anxious to hear more. Do tell me about it, if you do not mind." " Yes, if you wish," said Ella; " but it is really nothing, and it sounds very silly." She blushed and hesitated. " Do you really want to hear it?" " I do, indeed," said Arthur eagerly, " unless it is disagreeable to you to talk about it." " Well, then," said EUafyne, lowering her voice and drawing a step nearer, " it is only that I sometimes dream oi' wandering through a suite of rooms, one through another, and very old looking; with faded tapestry hanging in rags, and full of cobwebs, and some curious old flight of stone steps winding down I don't know where, for I am always frisrhtened to go down. Then there is, a little room all lined with red or with old red couches; and that is generally the last thing I see in my dream." Ella stopped suddenly, appalled by the strange look on Sir Arthur's face. He was gazing fixedly at her, and seemed rooted to the spot where he stood. " "Wliat is the matter ?" she exclaimed involuntarily. " Nothing, nothing," he replied hurriedly, coming to himself as it were. " It is a very curious dream, most curious Sir Arthur's Inheritaiice. 345 indeed," he whispered, as if to himself. Ella felt frightened as she looked at him, and both of them, as by a mutual impulse, turned round and joined the others. The following morning at breakfast, when the letters were brought in, Arthur received one which moved him to make an exclamation of annoyance, and Lionel asked tlie reason. " Why, I am sorry to say, I have a summons home that I must attend to at once. Mrs Herford," he continued, " I am so very much vexed—but I can hardly expect you to be so—the fact is, I must go home to-morrow." " I am very sorry to hear it—why must you ? if it is not a secret." " It is no secret at all. My aunt, Mrs Seymour, has written to say that she is going into the north, and will be passing close to Hoverton, and she hopes I shall be able to receive her in a few days. She is my nearest—indeed, my only living relation, and I could not put her off without strong cause." " Of course not, but I am very sorry; you must come again another time, and pay us a longer visit." And Mrs Herford smiled as she rose up and locked the tea-chest. Lionel began to lament loudly; Edith expressed her regrets with her usual frank kindliness; Ella said nothing, but went straight out of the room. By-and-bye Arthur came up to Mrs Herford, as she sat writing in the drawing-room, just as the dog-cart was coming round to take him to the station. " Mrs Herford," he said, " will you let me ask you a very great favour? I think you were saying that you meant to leave home before the whiter. Would it be possible— might I hope—to persuade you all to come to Hoverton and meet my aunt ? She will be with me for two or three weeks, I expect." " You are very good," Mrs Herford began, but she was interrupted by Lionel. " Mother, it is the very thing—it will just fit in with that visit you want to pay in Lancashire. It will be a capital half-way house, and we should like to see Hover- ton," he continued, looking round for approval. " It would be charming," said Edith. Ella started and looked as if she wanted to say something, but the words died away on her lips. Mrs Herford required little j)er- suading, ])ut she could not pledge lierself to such a step at once; so she promised to write her answer, and Artlmr liad 346 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. to make his adieus, and set out on his homeward journey. Adieus are, after all, very commonplace things, and it is seldom at these moments, when we are armed point device in a conventional routine, that any special feelings appear; and Arthur and Ella wished each other good-bye in the usual manner. The next day, having consulted Bradslmtv, and had tete-a-tete discussions with each of her children and her maid, Mrs Herford wrote and promised a speedy visit at Hoverton. Arthur meantime was once more thinking of his mysterious visitor, as well as his new interest. " Will she come to me again," he thought, " now that I have left her so long ? I have never spoken of her. . . I felt I must not do that unless it were to communicate mth . . . . . but that is nonsense. Besides, it would make her afraid to come. And yet I feel uneasy, and as if something Avould happen when they are both in the same house. That strange mysterious likeness!—what can it mean ? I can only wait and see how we all go on, and whether these mysteries are ever explained—these curious sympathies and dream-like feelings,—the way in which her presence fills me with a desire to talk to her, and yet deprives me of the power to do so; though I feel as if, in some remote time, I had known her intimately. She, too, is shy and constrained with me to a painful degree, and seems anxious to avoid me—and yet, is it entirely from dislike ? Well, perhaps I shall never know. Perhaps these things are never to be explained in this world;—only in the next, when we are all, in that respect, on the same terms—spirit among sj)irits, immortal among immortals—will these things be made clear." The announcement that company was expected at Hover- ton Court produced great excitement there. The servants had rarely received a visitor before, and seemed at first overwhelmed with the idea of a house full of guests arriving, ladies as well as gentlemen! However, they took a more cheerful view of the innovation by degrees; and after the first shock had subsided, old Ashby expressed his opinion that " Change was good for us all sometimes;" that " Sir Arthur was a young gentleman, and it was not to be supposed but that he would want to see his friends now and then. To be sure the ladies, .... he could not say when any ladies had been inside Hoverton Court before. He hoped they were not timid ladies, and that they had not heard . . . anyhow, they must do their best to Experietices of Corresponding Students. 347 have things proper and comfortable. Perhaps, if Sir Horace had had a little company now and then to cheer him up, he might have gone on longer." And with the deep sigh which the thought of his late master never failed to bring forth, the excellent old servant betook himself to the duty of cleaning up all the unused family plate, in honour of the expected guests, and for the credit of the house. It need hardly be said, that after his return Arthur had lost no time in visiting the haunted rooms. He went aU over them the very first evening of his return; and not a night passed without his spending some time in wandering through them in such wise, that had he been seen, he might have been taken for a ghost himself. But the fair apparition never appeared. " Perhaps," he thought, " she is displeased at my having been away. Can she know how much I have thought of her ?^conslant and yet inconstant!—thinking of her, and yet almost blending her identity with that of another. Oh, EUafyne! " And the former thought again recurred, " What can be the secret of this mystery ? Shall I ever understand it ? or is it among those things to which death alone can supply the ' mot de I'enigme ?' " ANNIBAL. {To he continued).

■ X -u »< •■ > -Tti^- ^ - ?t - K •

€^tumtt% of Corrcsponbing Stitbtnts.

LETTER I. MY DEAR You bid me describe my last year's experiences, in order to show you that it is possible to study my letter. But I must ask you to have patience with a fragment of autobiography, l)y way of introduction, as I should like to tell my story from the very beginning, before coming to what took place in November 1876. To look back is to recall wasted school days—a present body, but a too often absent mind, when in class—hurriedly and incorrectly written exercises, and distracted thoughts; there was, in those days, no visible goal to be reached, no real prize to be won, and so I followed hither and thither the bent of my own foohsh fancies. This is the record of my first youth. I had brothers; we often worked together—they with steady purpose, but I at " everything by turns, and nothing long." The possible for women 34^ TJie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

appeared to be very small; for, in the range of the wildest fancy, no striving, however unwearied, seemed capable of opening a career to me. My brothers went out into the world to seek their fortunes; I stood on the threshold and said good-bye, or, as Jean Paul Eichter has it," I—I remained alone behind them with the night;" our paths in life had severed, and afterwards, in the routine of existence, I merely sought for something wherewith to stifle ambition, or to dispel melancholy. I read all sorts of books. Pope told me that " women had no characters at all," and were best defined as " black, brown, or fair." Milton seemed to have considered my great mother as unfit to talk with even an affable arch- angel ! On the other hand, the " modish" existence of a gentlewoman seemed to enjoin a dolce, far niente life upon such as myself, since modern inventions had taken from us much of the household work which fell to the share of our grandmothers; and so, with a quiet conscience, I took to my books again—to those books which I had come to look upon as " the silent friends that ever please "—and resolved to be content. Knowledge I knew to be power,and to me everything seemed worth knowing; so that, at first, a series of pleasing sur- prises from freshly-acquired information really enlivened and varied my life not a little. Languages, history, science, poetry, fiction, all passed before me. I worked hard, but my work was desultory, and my efforts were scattered over too many subjects. I needed, as it were, to be driven in harness, and to be kept in the right track by the strong bit of a fixed purpose, and with the spur of a well-directed aim. I never paused to consider what I meant to do, for, conscious only that I wanted knowledge, I read on at random, taking for my motto the saying of the Greek sage, " The gods sell their gifts to men for labour;" or these lines of Browning— " No end to lecarning ; Earn the means first, God surely will provide Use for the earning. Others mistrust and say, ' But time escapes, Live now or never.' He says, ' Wliat's time 1 leave Now to dogs and apes, Man hath Forever.'" For a time this answered, but in the outside world the education of women had meanwhile undergone a rapid revolution. I heard of ladies who were at work preparing for University Examinations—of Local Centres established here andthere—and of scholarships that might be won. Little school girls put me to the blush by their thorough understanding Experiences of Corresponding Students. 349 of the beginnings of learning. Friends, who had been trained in classes and in lecture-rooms, came to visit us in their summer vacations, and showed a precision and an accuracy which all my reading had failed to give me. My past seemed purposeless, my learning bore the stamp of no Uni- versity brand, nor in an emergency was it likely to possess any marketable value. My very books had surely been false friends ! What then was I to do ? One day, in the autumn of 1876, a small pamphlet came into my hands. It was the " Eeport of the University of Edinburgh Local Examinations," and I found appended to an advertisement of preparatoiy classes for this examination the following: " N.B.—For the convenience of ladies at a distance, a course of teaching by correspondence will be carried on in connection with this class." This was surely the very thing that I wanted, for did not I live in the far distant north ? Without a moment's hesitation I wrote to S. M., to whom I was referred for information about this system. November came, and I was enrolled as a member of the correspondence class, and received a printed programme which detailed the studies for two months to come. 1 rejoiced in its precision. The rudiments of history and geography, of grammar with analysis, and of arithmetic, were the subjects prescribed; and, full of hope, I set to work. The first thing to be done was to set apart a certain portion of each day for uninterrupted study, and to divide this and my subjects into corresponding portions. Thus, in history, the task for November and December was chaps, v.-xv. of Scott's TctUs of a Gi^andfather. This represented so many pages per week to be studied; and, together with my reading, 1 found it useful to exercise my memory by means of Nelson's excellent Date Book of Scottish History. In like manner, I found the manual of questions and answers which accom- panies Anderson's Geography to be very useful. It was easy to acquire a general knowledge of the outlines of mountain ranges, of plains, and of river basins, but I confess that I was not a little alarmed at the direction— " Candidates will be required to fill in an outline map of some European country;" for of map-drawing 1 knew absolutely nothing, and I felt but little interested in this branch of art. The fiords of Ncjrway tormented me ; the coast line of Holland, with its river-mouths and cliaracteiiess indenta- tions, was confusing; the required angle for the peculiar hang of the Iberian peninsula was surely very mysterious; and 'he leg of Italy was to the last a puzzle, only to be equalled No. 35.—NovEMBEK 1877. 2 Y 350 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. by the outline of the mulberry-leaf of the Mored. But, though distasteful, this toil was not fruitless, for a daily quarter of an hour's practice enabled me, at our December examination, to send up an outline which bore some resemblance to reality, when we were directed to " Trace the coast-line of Europe from Cape Ortigal to Cape Spartivento, inserting the most prominent features." Arithmetic required careful daily practice. I had forgotten most of what I had never accurately known, and those long tables of weights and measures in Colenso had nevertheless to be attacked. But when a hard sum or a difficult rule brought me to a standstill, a note of inquiry sent to the tutor always produced a clear and satisfactory reply, and gradually practice made the way plain. However, I worked at my sums steadily every day. Last in my syllabus, though not last in my thoughts, came grammar. In my school days, the consideration of nouns and of verbs had bored me, and I had learnt nothing of analysis of sentences. Imagine, then, my feeHngs of perplexity, when I read in our first examination paper, " Analyse the following sentence:—'Towards the west lie the fertile shores that stretch along the Adriatic'" Before the arrival of this paper, I had been studying Morell's Grammar, beginning with Part I.; but I now discovered that in order to do the work properly I must, at the same time, read Part III., which treats of the structure of sentences. It was interesting from its very novelty, and ere long I was quite at home among such terms as Comple- tion of the Predicate, Indirect Object, Extension of the Pre- dicate, Complex Sentence, and so on. The corrections made in my answers to the examination papers threw sufficient light on the subject, and I learned much from my own mistakes. Altogether, the winter's work was very pleasant. Direc- tions came once a fortnight, showing me exactly how much study would be necessary in order to attain a given definite object. Now I had often found in time past that home readings had been irregular and fitful, frequently interrupted, and not seldom overdone from excess of zeal. But these fort- nightly directions regulated my proceedings, and substituted continuous work for spasmodic bursts of labour. To me the arrival and despatch of a packet was a pleasant excitement; andlquite agree with the motherofa fellow-student,who lived ill an equally out of the way part of the world with myself, when she said, "We all enjoy Mr M'Glashan's questions; and, even among the boys, the attempt to 'clear' each paper creates emulation." Experiences uf Corresponduig Students. 351

The examination of June 1877 was the goal set before us. Is it not worth something, when you dwell in the wUds, to know that you are keeping pace with your times, and that you are not debarred by the conditions of a quiet life in the country from gaining that most useful possession— a University Certificate ? M.

LETTER II. I was educated at home, and after leaving the schoolroom was at a loss how to study alone. The Local Examina- tions were suggested to me, but how to prepare for them was a difficulty. A friend told me of the Correspondence Class, and I wrote to S. M., from whom I got all particulars In November came a notice of what books were to be read, and of what parts were to be studied in a certain time. Once a fortnight we got printed questions, to which we had to send replies. I cannot tell you how I used to long for the arrival of the corrected papers, that I might profit by the red ink markings, with which mine were at first plentifully studded. " Not clear enough," " rather short," " note the definite form of the question," were frequent criticisms, and taught me to aim at a style of answering better fitted for Local Examinations. At last, I had the pleasure of seeing some of my papers marked "excellent" or "very satisfactory." I enjoyed working in this way very much, and the longer I worked the easier it became." B.

LETTER III. DEAR EUSTICA, I shall try to give you, in as few words as possible, an account of my own experience of the Correspondence System. The advertisement of Mr M'Glashan's class, with the words, " Instruction by Correspondence," caught my eye last year while I was rather enviously, I confess, looking for the aimouncement of Lectures to Ladies, which appears in the Scotsman every autumn. I did not then know that Local Examinations existed, and I wi'ote to S. M. to make inquiries. In return came a delightful letter, telling me about the proposed plan for helping dwellers in the country, and enclosing the University Eeport. This was mvaluable to .me. I cannot say that there seemed to be anything very 352 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. mysterious about the scheme. Careful study of the Uni- versity Eeport showed me what the work would be. My first communication from Mr M'Glashan was a " plan of study," printed, telling what parts of certain books to read within a given time. The papers of questions were also printed, and came about once a week. To these I sent answers, and they were returned with clear and full corrections. Any questions I asked were satisfactorily answered, but I generally tried to puzzle things out for myself. The first Examination Paper was an event. It came on the evening of the day named, so I was prepared for it, and did it at once. Of course, while all help either from books or from friends is permitted in writing the replies to the ordinary papers of questions, in answering an Examination Paper one is on honour to do it all by oneself, and never to look into a book after opening it. Mr M'Glashan sends us the number of marks deserved by our Examination Papers, so that we know what our probable place in a Local Exa- mination would be. These examinations at home are an invaluable part of the training for the final examination. J3ut for them I am sure that I never could have got through it. My opinion of the system is, that it is capital as a guide, and that no one need be afraid of beginning even a new siibject in this way. 1 began Latin by correspondence, and worked at it for six months without any other help whatever. It is a great benefit to be thrown so much on one's own resources, for this in itself is an excellent discipline. Besides, students may be led to seek for such help as their own district affords ; and I tliink they will often, as I did, discover this in quarters where they might not otherwise have thought of looking for it. The great temptation in private study is to be discursive and un- methodical ; and the correspondence system, in giving a method and an aim, just supplies what is wanted. F. G. October 16, 1877.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 11. Her sweetest strains by memory made more sweet. 1. The channel through which that powerful stream flowed. 2. The spell of an eastern enchantress would almost yield the palm to such song. 3. Her voice was ever this ; not in mere speech, but song. 4. We fain would claim her as our own ; but Germany cries " Theft I " 5. Would that in this mere abridgment we could sound half her praises ! 'i. Like this stately bird, she " left this world with singing and joy." 7. Let all lament ! her strains we shall neve:' hear more. F. M. Our Library Table. 353

SOLUTION OF DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. 10. I IF F N NE PLUS ULTRA A D DULCE DOMUM M I II I A AN N N *N0NE E * " No one " ia accepted as alternative for " none." Correct answers received from " B," F. G., M. C. B., and Message Girl.

A PRIZE is offered at the close of the year to the solver of the greatest number of acrostics. For Rules, see January number of this Magazine.

-«—*wt—«-

0 U K L I B E A E Y TABLE.

THE MARQUIS OF LOSSIE. By George Macdonald, LL.D. London : Hurst & Blackett, 1877. No one but George Macdonald could have written such a book as this, which forms a fitting sequel to his former tale, " Malcolm." It would have been impossible for any other writer so to mingle the mystical and the practical—so to weave into the texture of a thril- lingly interesting, sometimes even sensational tale, high and ennobling views of life, and deep and true lessons in religion. Nor is it grand theories alone which are given ; there are hints how to do as well as to dream. High speculations are made the basis of rules for every- day life ; and those great truths on which George Macdonald never fails to insist—the Fatherhood of God, and the Brotherhood of man, shine forth from every page. It may be objected that the tone of the book is unreal, and some of the characters too good for common life. But its very charm lies in this, that we find here depicted men and women at their best—not so much what they are, as what they may become ; and life not quite as it is, but as it might be, if only men and women would be true to that which is highest and best in them. If men and women in ordinary life do not talk quite as do Malcolm and Mr Graham and Lady Clemen- tina, or even Blue Peter and his wife, we cannot help thinking how delightful it would be if they did. To readers of " Malcolm " the characters are nearly all familiar, and it is with ever fresh delight we meet with one and another of our old friends. Malcolm himself—fisher, groom, and marquis, " about whom there is simply so much manhood, one never thinks of rank when in his company "—Miss Horn, the tender-hearted, continually proclaim- ing that she has " nae feelin's "—Mr Graham, the " heretical" schoolmaster—Florimel, the spoilt child of fortune—old Duncan, with his inveterate hatred of the "Cawmills"—Blue Peter, with his rugged piety, and his wife with her simple faith—the fisher folk with their manifold prejudices—all of them again apjiear, although of some we see less than we could wish. The contrast between the characters of 354 ^/^^ Ladies' Edinbu7'gh Magazine.

Lady Clementina and Florimel is splendidly drawn and full of meaning. The upward progress of the one, with her earnest mind longing for truth, brought at the most critical period under the influence of a "Master" indeed, and the do^v^lward progress of the other, wrapt in selfish worldliness, utterly unworthy of the affection of the poor artist Lenorme, with his " great forehead" and " prominent eyebrows," but redeemed from ruin at last by the dormant power in her to " love the highest when she sees it," form a study of great interest and value. The book teems with lovely morsels for quotation, epigrammatic sentences, conveying in a few words " some deep truth," which seems so simple as we read it, but which we could not have evolved for ourselves after years of thought. We open it almost at random, and find such lines as these :— " Eh, but God's unco quaiet! Sae lang as He kens till Himsel' 'at He's a' richt. He lats fowk think 'at they like—till He has time to let them ken better." " What of conscience she had was not yet conscience toward God, which is the guide to freedom, but conscience toward society, which is the slave of a fool." " Does a man ever do his duty in order to be better than his neighbours ? If he does, he won't do it long." " God never gave man a thing to do concerning which it were irre- verent to ponder how the Son of God would have done it." Perhajis the most charming passages in the book are the conversations of Lady Clementina with Mr Graham. This is how he winds up one of them—" If you have ever seen the Lord, if only from afar— if you have any vaguest suspicion that the Jew Jesus, who professed to have come from God, was a better man than otlier men, one of your first duties must be to open your ears to his words, and see whether they commend themselves to you as true ; then, if they do, to obey them with your whole strength and might, u]iheld by the hojDe of the vision promised in them to the obedient. This is the way of life, which will lead a man out of the miseries of the nineteenth century as it led Paul out of the miseries of the first." The love-scenes toward the end of the book are quite glorious in their exalted purity. Extracts would convey no idea of them. They must be read as a whole to be appreciated. The ending is idyllic, showing, as none but a poet could show, the poetical side of herring-fishing. The calm evenings, the moonlit sea, the fishing boats going out, the people cheered in their toil by the presence of the marquis and his lady, the return home in the early mornings, the singing of the hymn, with four lines of which the book is closed— " Like the fish that brought the coin We in ministry will join. Bring what pleases Thee the best, Help from each to all the rest." We seem to see and hear it all. With those scenes rising before our eyes—with those sounds greeting our ears—with that atmosphere bathing our spirits—it is with intense reluctance that we bid our friends farewell. Si tray Notes. 355

STEAY NOTES.

THE replies to Rustica's enquiries, in the October number, are too long for our Stray Notes. They are, however, so interesting and useful, that we have decided on offering them to our readers as a separate paper, under the title of " Experiences of Corresponding Students ;" they will be found at page 347 of our present number. TRAMONTANA is the eldest of a large family ; she left school some years ago, and has forgotten a good deal of the little she once knew. It has lately become necessary for her to seek employment, and, as she has a natural love of teaching, she would like to become a governess. What should she do in order to gain a certificate ; and which are the most useful subjects to select ?—[By all means let Tramontana become a member of some class for instruction by correspondence. There are excellent ones at Cambridge ; but if Tramontana is not prepared to study for a higher certificate for women, she had better enter the St George's Hall Classes for teaching by letter, as the University of Edinburgh has no restriction regarding age for its junior or ordinary certificate. She must, of course, begin with the preliminary subj ects, i.e., grammar, arithmetic, rudiments of history and of geography. But, at the same time, wc would recommend her to take up, at least, one modern language ; and if she already possesses a little half-forgotten Latin, she cannot do better than refresh such knowledge. The modern system of teaching languages is much more scientific than was the case in former years, and some knowledge of Latin is now considered indispensable for a good teacher of English or of French. Tramontana would do well, after she has passed her preliminary local examination, to aim at honours without passing the intermediate or ordinary pass examination, because she would then have a right to inscribe her name on the Rugby Calendar. But if she wishes to be a well-equipped teacher, she ought to study the theory and practice of education under Professor Laurie. His certificate would be invaluable to her professionally ; and there are, besides, excellent arrangements by which these students are permitted to attend model classes in the Normal Colleges and in various public schools.] WILL any reader give E. B. information about the Berlin Lectures for Ladies ?—[In our December Stray Notes, we hope to give some account of the Tenth Annual Report of the Berlin Victoria-Lyceum, from which E. B. will gain at least some of the information she desires. If any of our readers will send us information as to the expense of living in Berlin, while attending lectures, we think it would be useful to ladies who wish to study there.] WE have received the Prospectus of the Glasgow Association for the Higher Education of Women, giving full particulars of the arrangements for the ensuing session, which opens on Monday, Nov. 12, and of the different courses of lectures which we mentioned in our notes of last month. Professor Young's Class of Natural History, beginning in November, has, as its special subject for this session, " The Nervous System in the Animal Kingdom ;" while Professor M'Kendrick takes uj) the sametopic after Christmas, in his Lectures on Physiology, the special subject of which is, " The Physiology of the Nervous System and the Senses." Professor Veitch gives, in the first part of the session, a course of Lectures on Introductory Psychology, with logical rcfcrencer-. Such 35^ TJie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. a class will form a useful preparation either for a fuller study of Logic in some future session, or for Professor Caird's course, in the latter half of the winter, of Introductory Lectures on the " Natm-e and History of Philosophy." M. Lacaille's course of French Literature continues through the whole session ; but it will be divided into two courses of lectures—one before Christmas on the Literature of France up to the 17th Century, and a second, beginning in January, on the Literature of the 17th and 18th Centuries. After Christmas, Professor Grant will give a course of Lectures on Astronomy, which will include visits to the observatory, and experimental illustrations of the spectra of metals. Certificates for success in voluntary written examinations will be given by the Professors. We are requested to state, that copies of the Prospectus may be obtained on application to Mr Maclehose, bookseller to the University, St Vincent Street, Glasgow. IT is said that, in January, Mr Ruskin will exhibit a selection from his famous Turner Collection. The pictures will be shown in the Rooms of the Fine Art Society, in Bond Street, and will be explained and criticised in a catalogue raisonne, which he is writing for the benefit of art students. Mr Ruskin has always collected Turner's works, and no man could have done so with a more discriminating judgment. It is understood that the coming exhibition will form a complete series, illustrative of the earlier and later manner of the painter. Of late years Mr Ruskin has brought out his writings privately, without the medium of either publisher or bookseller. Those who may wish to possess his " Elements of Drawing," which he has lately re-issued in an altered form, must address themselves to Mr Ruskin's agent, Mr George Allen, Sunnyside, Orpington, Kent. Part I., we believe, costs 3s., and is a small book easily sent by post. A beautiful volume of illustrations, intended as a graduated series of copies for beginners, is in preparation. We are sure that many art students will welcome this intelligence, as the original edition has long been out of print. " WORKING BEE " will be much obliged to any one who will tell her if instruction can be had in Edinburgh in Crewel-work. [AVe regret this query arrived too late for insertion or answer last month. " Work- ing Bee " is recommended to apply to Mrs E. H. Hoddle, 6 Johnston Place, Stockbridge, who gives private lessons in Embroidery, Crewel- work, Cutting-out, and Fitting. Mrs Hoddle will form a class for ladies, if desired. We may also refer our correspondent to Miss Henderson, 7 St Vincent Street.]

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PRIZE is offered for the best article received and accepted by the Editors before 1st March 1878, on the subject, " Where shall we Go?" A PRIZE is offered for the best article received by the Editors, and accepted for insertion during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists, born in the 18th century. The November meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society will be held at 5 Chester Street, on Saturday, 3d November, at 11 o'clock A.M. Debate—" Is a thorough English education attainable without a knowledge of Latin i " Our Female Novelists. 357

XI. MARY EUSSELL MITFOED. 6. 1787; d. 1855.

" ABOUT sixty years hence, you know, my letters will be rummaged out, and the whole correspondence will be sorted and transcribed, and sent to the press, adorned with portraits and facsimiles, and illustrated by lives of the authors, beginning with the register of their births, and ending with their epitaphs. Then it will come forth into the world, and set all the men a-crowing and talking over their old nonsense (with more show of reason, however) about the superiority of the sex. What a fine job the transcriber of my letters will have ! I hope the booksellers of those days wUl be liberal, and allow the poor man a good price for his trouble." So writes Mary Eussell Mitford, at the age of twenty-five, to her friend Sir William Elford, with a true, albeit somewhat sarcastic, prediction of her posthumous fame. The voluminous and illegible letters have been given to the world, the life has been written, the productions of her patient and painstaking pen are ranged as classics in our libraries, and pictures of herself and her home adorn the volumes. Although her works have now-a-days retired, as it were, from public life, to make way for their modern successors and competitors in the fields of literature, it is yet a task alike of interest and of pleasure to turn back for awhile to renew and to strengthen our acquaintance with one who holds a place of acknowledged eminence among British female writers of fiction. The father of Miss Mitford belonged to an ancient North- umbrian family. He graduated as physician at Edinburgh, obtained the hand of Miss Eussell, daughter of a Hampshire gentleman of good family, the only surviving heiress of a considerable fortune, and settled at Alresford, with the intention of practising his profession. There Mary was bom, the only and idolized child of her parents; and there she spent ten years of a happy childhood, in a charming home. But, in 1795, the family were obliged to leave this No. 36.-DECEMBER 1877. 2 Z 358 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

dwelling, when those troubles and anxieties began, caused by the imprudence and reckless expenses of the father, and which continued during the whole long period of the life of Miss Mitford, only increasing and intensifying with every advancing year. The first move was to Lyme Eegis; and now, at the very beginning of their misfortunes, it seemed as if a turn had occurred in their favour. The little daughter became the possessor of a lottery ticket for £20,000, having determinedly adhered,in spiteof some slight difficulties, to her choice of what proved to be a winning number. Under these unexpected circumstances, Dr Mitford established his family at Eeading, and from thence Mary was sent to school in London, in 1798. Her letters and her conduct at this time bear witness to a precocity and strength of intellect quite unusual. She returned to the paternal roof in 1806, and in the autumn of that year her father took her to the north of England to visit his friends and connections there—a tour which her letters describe in detail with great vivacity. The pleasure of it was marred by a " thoughtless and selfish vagary of her father's—his deserting her for an electioneering freak," and leaving this young girl, of barely twenty, without warning, to the care of her newly-formed acquaintances. After some interval, however, he rejoined her, and they returned to the south together towards the end of the year. Ere long, notwithstanding the windfall, the extravagance of his mode of life began to tell. The showy house he had built at Reading, on the site of a picturesque old farmhouse, had to be quitted, and the broken fortunes of the family found shelter in a wayside cottage at Three Mile Cross, not far from the town. This was Miss Mitford's home till within a few years of her death. Here her mother died in 1829. Nothing is more touching than the terms in which the daughter speaks of the loss of that dear parent —" dear saint," as she calls her again and again in her letters. From this small and humble home—" I seem to fill it," she writes—emanated nearly all the literary work of Miss Mitford's life. Here she wrote her stories, her dramas, and her immense correspondence—here she was visited by her many admirers—and here she devoted herself cease- lessly to the care of her father, till his death in 1842, at the advanced age of 82. In her younger days. Miss Mitford was perhaps more closely drawn to his energetic and enthusiastic temperament, to which her own bore many points of resemblance, than to her gentle and " some- Our Female Novelists. 359 what characterless " mother. But towards both parents no more striking instance of filial duty and affection is to be found, than that wliich, with undeviating self-devotion and self-forgetfulness, she exhibited throughout the whole course of her life. Of the character of Dr Mitford, it is, however, necessary to say a few words. To quote Mr Chorley— " The sorrow, the disadvantage, the mistake of Miss Mitford's life should be clearly unfolded. Hers was the story of a credulous woman sacrificing herself to an utterly worthless idol, told over again, but with some difference from its usual formula." Selfish, unscrupulous, imprudent—a speculator, a gambler, and a profligate—his character lias now met on all hands with the reprobation it deserved. Handsome in an uncommon degree, a real Adonis in his youth, to his "beauty," joined to reckless good-nature and cheerfulness, he was mainly indebted for the influence he exercised over the affection of both wife and daughter. To retrieve, or rather to arrest, the downfall of their fortunes. Miss Mitford from an early period became in effect the " bread-winner " of the family ; never repining, and indeed, with " a delusion almost trenching on moral obliquity," upholding and supporting her idol to the end of his days. That his death must have been a real grief to her is abundantly evident from the way she writes of him. " I love him a million times better than ever," she says to Miss Barrett, the recipient of her fullest confidences, at the time of his failing health, when almost her whole day was given up to reading to him and playing cribbage with him, " and can quite understand the love of a mother for her first-born, which this fond dependence produces in one so looked to." Her love for him led her to believe that he was equally honoured and esteemed by others. After Dr Mitford's death, a subscription was raised to enable his daughter to pay the debts he left behind him, and to provide an annuity for her declining years. She was forced to remove from Three Mile Cross—which was literally falling to pieces—to Swallowfield, a less comfortable cottage, some miles from Eeading. Here her death occurred in 1855 ; worn by sickness, but calm and thankful, she passed away from a life of which the later years were marked by more than ordinary anxiety and suffering. Such is a sketch of the principal events in Miss Mitford's career—free indeed from stirring incident, but marked, from an early period, by the worry and cares of pecuniary embar- rassment. To the necessity for exertion thus devolving 360 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. upon her, we owe, however, the productions of her pen, if we may believe the oft-repeated assertions of her letters. " I assure you I should like nothing so well as to be able to fling my tragedies and my articles into the fire. ... I confess that, for a friend's own happiness, I would never persuade her into writing. It is not a healthy occupation. I always detested it; and nothing but the not being able to earn the money wanted by my parents in any other way, would have reconciled me to the perpetual labour, the feverish anxieties, the miserable notoriety, of such a career. I have said this to a hundred aspirants. But, however, when there is really tlie impulse, the inspiration, why then let it come !"

And again:to" " Nothing astonishes me so much as that anybody who can live without writing should take the trouble, especially in prose, for poetry will come." This at sixty years old; and we can perhaps readily understand such a sentiment from a mind harassed by over- whelming work, and a body of failing strength. Of Miss Mitford's character we may form a clear idea from her correspondence; its marked individuality impresses itself strongly upon the reader of her voluminous letters. We learn to regard her as a woman of varied powers, of large sympathy, of extended interest, no less in the diverse paths of literature than in all the relations of social life. We see in her a nature which turns with delight from serious writing and reading to the pleasures of country walks, of rural scenery, to the care of her pets, and the culture of her garden. We find her natural cheerfulness sorely tried, and yet we have a more or less forced preservation of it to the last, shown both in her patient demeanour under bodily suffering, and in the continued vivacity of her letters and writings. Her love of flowers is perhaps the most marked characteristic of what we may call her natural tastes. We find its traces in every page of her books, and of her familiar letters. " Nothing can be more vulgar than my taste in flowers, for which I have a passion. I like scarcely any but the common ones," she writes, and then goes on to give a long list of her favourites, calling it her " confession of faith." " I place flowers in the very first rank of simple pleasures: and have no very good opinion of the hard worldly people who take no delight in jthem." She writes what she calls " a rhapsody " to Miss Barrett, on a stolen revel by night among the meadows and flowers—" Flush, and the puppies, and I! I myself, I verily believe, the Our Female Novelists. 361 youngest hearted of all. I ran away, leaving my father asleep—I could not help it." Joined to this, her " passion," and to her love of the country, was her delight in all animals, but especially her dogs, in whose dumb but eloquent affection she was ever ready to seek companionship. It seems true in the case of almost all who have large and widespread sympathies, that they bestow a portion on the lower creation. Dr Mitford's greyhounds were aU dear to her, but above any she prized her dear "Mossy"—abbreviated from " Mosstrooper"—and writes an affectionate tribute to his memory. Her love of the beautiful did not find its sole satisfaction in nature. She seems to have possessed an ardent artistic temperament, which, even if not highly or technically cultivated, yet combined very true and delicate instincts with much discrimination. Some of her art criticisms are incisive and appreciative, and her taste was to a certain extent formed by her acquaintance among painters. She says— " I do love pictures better than anything else in the world, except flowers, and books, and greyhounds, and fresh air, and old friends." A goodly list of exceptions truly! The most noticeable blank in her artistic sentiments is the want of love or appreciation of music. With one or two very slight exceptions, the subject is never touched upon. We have, however, a theory, that for such total absence of appreciation a defective education is mainly responsible. We turn with some confidence to the glimpses we receive in her letters of her views on deeper matters; for in one so open-hearted and enthusiastic, it is probable that on such points we shall find tolerably outspoken confessions. Here is her remark on the varying impression we receive of the length of time, with which all must often have been struck— " I am quite certain that the time which seems, while it is passing, the fastest (or, rather, which treads so lightly as to banish all idea of time), is that which, on looking, back, seems the longest." On many of the topics of to-day, such as the education question, which she held to be " the very greatest of any," and the necessity of providing amusements for the people. Miss Mitford's opinions were far before those of her time. There are other lighter matters which crop up in her memoirs. She speaks thus of the old crewel work, now so adndred and imitated— " It is one of the pleasantest signs of the times to see how beauti- 362 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

fully flowers are fainted now, by the aid of the needle, on all sorts of materials . . . everywhere flowers, and really most beautifully imitated they are." She was made an honorary member of an Archery Club, but she thotight it " a very troublesome way of making a hole in a piece of canvass !" The indication we have tried to give of the character of Miss Mitford would not be complete without some description of her as she appeared to her friends. She cannot be said to have laid any claims to personal beauty. She was short, and, from her earliest youth, in plain words,/a;!; she herself often alludes amusingly to the rotundity of her little person. But the intellect of her countenance, the " grand head," with its " wonderful wall of forehead," were attractions which overbalanced other personal defects. Her ignorance of the becoming in dress was curiously extreme ; she was absolutely indifferent on the matter; and both in private life, and on more formal occasions, her want of taste led her into tmfortunate mistakes—witness the velvet hat and feathers, and gorgeous blue satin-lined cloak, Avhich she substituted, in sitting for her portrait to Mr Lucas, for the simple cap and soft lace which she usually wore. The literary life of Miss Mitford falls naturally under three principal heads—her letters, her tragedies, and her prose works. The first of these divisions contains necessarily large reference to the home aspect of her life—reveals her personal character—and in tliis is to be found its interest. We have already alluded to the immense bulk of her epistolary effusions. They abound, even more than her graver works, in original terms of expression, quaint phrases, and bright or tender thoughts. Such as the following seem to us to yield almost the greatest charm of her writings. First we have, to express a contrast, " the vulgar hurry of business, or the chilling apathy of fashion. Here is mock modesty turned off with a happy phrase— " I have always had a strong ambition to resemble great men ; and having despaired of catching their virtues, have been wisely contented with adopting their faults." Then, for vivacity— " A most respectable gojivernante at Guildford has just brought out a new-old love match of twenty-one years' standing. Only think of a secret's coming of age !" " A book ladeu with an impeccable heroine ought to be covered all over with cork jackets, not to sink." " I do believe (so and so), first, because it is incredible, and incredible facts are very aliuiidant in this world." Our Female Novelists. 363

In her graver reflections we learn that— " High animal spirits are amongst the best of God's gifts." " Truth, which in art as in everything, is a grace above all graces." " A Laugh has a long echo." " Friendship is the bread of the heart. I thank God far more earnestly for such blessings than even for my daily bread." We are struck by the large number of celebrated people to whom these letters are addressed, including Mrs Brown- ing, Haydon and Lucas the painters, Douglas Jerrold, Kemble; and among her own special friends, the Eev. Hugh Pearson, vicar of Sonning; Eev. William Harness, one of the family trustees; Mrs Hofland; and last, but almost most important. Sir William Elford, who had taken a fancy to her when quite young. It is in these letters that we find scattered about her criticisms of authors, ancient and modern; and in one who overtook such an immense amount of reading, their variety is not matter of astonishment. Some specimens will be interesting. Of Byron's Childe Harold we find her writing— " The sentiment is so strange, so gloomy, so heartless, that it is imijossible not to feel a mixture of pity and disgust, which all our admiration of the author's talents cannot overcome. . . . Out of charity we nmst hope that his taste only is ia fault." Then we find, from an English heart, a quiet but emphatic expression of a love for Burns— " Read Bums, even though you should happen not to understand him. All his prose, you know, is English, ay, and most excellent English to boot ; and whenever his sweet muse takes her iipward flight, she drops her Scotch pipes, and sings above the clouds in the language nearest to heaven. In plain prose, all his loftiest passages are pure English." It is possible, however, that these sentiments may not be deemed complimentary on this side of the Tweed. Then hear her on Chaucer— " I am not sure that I don't prefer him (setting Milton and Shake- speare aside), to almost any writer in the circle of English poetry. . . . There is such painting, such individuality in his personages, such freshness in his landscapes, that even those passages which have been echoed by every succeeding poet seem new again in him." Of Keats she says he had " a thousand faults and a million of beauties." She tried hard to admire Wordsworth— " But, alas ! my admiration was but a puny flickering flame, that wanted constant relighting at Mr Talfourd's enthusiasm, and constant fanning by Mr Talfourd's eloquence. He went to town, and out it went for good. ... I should never have done for a disciple of Mr Wordsworth ... too much self-will about me, too much spirit of opposition." 364 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

We are amused by the clear evidences of the slow growth and increase of her appreciation of our Poet Laureate. From her criticism on The Princess, and her doubt " if these dark people know their own meaning," she comes to confess that she thinks " his three lovely volumes the most delicious that have appeared for many years." It is curious to read her speculations, by no means uner- ring, on the authorship of the books of Sir Walter Scott. She delights in his novels—"We have had nothing like them yet, and I do not think we soon shall." With Euskin she was quite captivated, and Charles Kingsley inspired her with deep admiration, which must have been to some extent mutual, judging by an eloquent sonnet he wrote in her honour. On the female writers of her day we look with interest for her opinion. She speaks enthusiastically of Miss Austin, though blaming her for a " want of eloquence," as almost her only fault. She " anticipates with delight" every book of Miss Edge worth's, which she says is but to re-echo the opinion of all the world; she admires her " exquisite distinction of character." For her dearly-loved Miss Barrett, afterwards Mrs Browning, she has nothing but praise. She passes severe strictures on Hannah More. As to Madame D'Arblay, " what she says wants so much translating into common English, and when translated would seem so commonplace." Of Mrs Opie she says—" One knows the usual ingredients of her tales just as one knows the com- ponent parts of a plum-pudding;" and these hard com- ments are but slightly atoned for by the confession, in perusing Lady Morgan's 0'Do7mel, that " instead of indulging my malicious expectation of laughing at her, I was obliged to content myself with laughing with her." The range of Miss Mitford's reading was not bounded by English books. She had a large acquaintance with French literature. Balzac, Moliere, Dumas, and endless other authors, she read and criticised with much discrimination. She had much praise for some of the novels of Georges Sand; but she thought " the French beat us more in history than in novels." We suppose all good writers have been great readers, though perhaps few have had so insatiable an appetite as Miss Mitford. On removing from her cottage at Three Mile Cross to Swallowfield, she computed her library to contain over 6000 volumes. We have lingered long over Miss Mitford, the woman. Our Female Novelists. 365 because we find the key to her genius in the traits of her domestic character, and gather from these our strongest impressions of her personality. No sketch of Miss Mitford, however, would be complete without some detailed reference to her works. Like most young literary aspirants, the first productions of her pen were poems. At the age of twenty-three a volume of " Miscellaneous Poems " was published, and favourably reviewed in many quarters. To this a long pause in literary work succeeds. " I had (of this proof of tolerable taste I am rather proud) the sense to see they were good for nothing, so I left off writing for twelve or fifteen years;" and not till 1823, at the age of thirty-six, does the pressure of poverty and the hard necessity of writing for money cause her dramatic efforts to find their first successful result in J^dian, acted at Drury Lane, with Mr Macready as the principal character. Her other plays—Foscari, produced in 1826; Bienzi, in 1828 ; and diaries the First, in 1834, when she was forty-seven years old—achieved for her a very considerable fame as a tragic authoress. Success alone in this branch of art is a proof of merit. It is impossible here to find space for either extracts, or outlines of the plots of these plays, which have now become the property of " dumb forgetfulness;" but they possessed many merits both of diction and situation. We turn to Our Village, in which we find in their perfection the distiuguishing characteristics of Miss Mitford's pen. In these sketches lies the source of the honour ac- corded to Miss Mitford, of being the veritable founder of a style of writing which for purity is unequalled, and the delicate word-painting of which is as finished as the productions of the most ardent pre-Eaphaehte. "We find individuality and lifelikeness in every character and in the description of every object, sometimes of almost startling distinctness. The surprising number of these little tales and descriptions—numbering upwards of one hundred—is only less wonderful than their originality. Our readers must acknowledge the difficulty of choosing from among so many specimens. It is impossible to describe a plot, when the only plot consists of the little incidents in narrating which lies the beauty of the tale; but for description we give the following, choosing almost at random. Here is "An Admiral on Shore "— " He was a most kind and excellent person, although a little testy and not a little absolute; and a capital disciplinarian, although addicted No. 36.—DECEMBER 1877. 3 A 366 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. to the reverse sins of making other people tipsy while he kept himself sober, and of sending forth oaths in volleys whilst he suffered none other to swear. He had besides a few prejudices incident to his condition—loved his country to the point of hating all the rest of the world, especially the French ; and regarded his own profession with a pride which made him intolerant of every other. To the army he had an intense and growing hatred, much augmented since victory upon victory had deprived him of the comfortable feeling of scorn. The battle of Waterloo fairly posed him. ' To be sure, to have drubbed the French was a fine tiling—a very fine thing—no denying that! but why not have fought out the q^uarrel by sea %'" The vivacity with which she describes " lost keys" is charming— "' The keys, if you please, ma'am, for the wine and the Kennet ale,' said Anne, my female factotum, who rules, as regent, not only the cook and the undermaid and the boy, but the whole family, myself inchided, and is an actual housekeeper in every respect except that of keeping the keys. ' The keys, ma'am, if you please,' said Anne ; and then I found that my keys were not in my right-hand pocket, where they ought to have been, nor in my left-hand pocket, where they might have been, nor in either of my apron pockets, nor in my work- basket, nor in my reticule ; in short, that my keys were lost!" Like a piece of mosaic is the elaborate description of " Modern Antiques "— " They were old maids and sisters, and so alike in their difference from all other women, that they may be best described together. Both, then, were as short as women well could be without being entitled to the name of dwarf, or carried about to fairs for a show. Both were made considerably shorter by the highest of all high heels, and the tallest of all tall caps ; each of which artificial eleva- tions was as ostentatiously conspicuous as the legs and cover of a pipkin, and served equally to add to the squatness of the real machine. Both were lean, wrinkled, withered, and old ; both enveloped their aged persons in the richest silks, displayed over large hoops, and stays the stiffest and tightest that ever pinched in a beauty of George the Second's reign"— and much more in the same style. We cannot pass over the humorous account of the sampler— " Really, that sampler was a superb thing in its way. First came a plain pink border ; then a green border, zig-zag ; then a crimson, wavy ; then a brown of a different and more complicated zig-zag ; then the alphabet, great and small, in every colour of the rainbow, followed by a row of figures, flanked on one side by a flower, name unknown—tulip, poppy, lily—something orange or scarlet, or orange- scarlet ; on the other by the famous rose-bud ; then diverse sentences, religious and moral, . . . then, last and finest, the landscape in all its glory." Perhaps the most charming pieces of writing are those entitled " Walks in the Country," where the different aspects Our Female Novelists. 367

of rural scenery are described. Here is a beechwood, or rather coppice— " They are like no other coppices, or rather none other can be compared with them. The young beechen stems, perfectly free from underwood, go arching and intertwining overhead, forming a thousand mazy paths, covered by a natural trellis; the shining green leaves, just bursting from their golden sheaths, contrasting with the smooth silvery bark, shedding a cool green light around, and casting a thousand dancing shadows on the mossy flowery path, pleasant to the eye and to the tread,' a fit haunt for wood-nymph or fairy.'" We join in her enthusiastic delight at the finding of " the first primrose "— " There, better and rarer than a thousand ghosts, dearer even than nightingales or glowworms, there is a primrose, the first of the year t atuft of primroses, springing in yonder sheltered nook, from the mossy roots of an old wUlow, and living again in the clear bright pond. Oh, how beautiful they are—three fully blown and two burstmg buds ! How glad I am I came this way ! " What can be more beautiful than her picture of "Frost ?" " At noon to-day I and my white greyhound, Mayflower, set out for a walk into a very beautiful world—a sort of silent fairy land—a creation of the matchless magician, the hoar-frost. There had been just snow enough to cover the earth and all its colours with one sheet of pure and uniform white, and just time enough since the snow had fallen to allow the hedges to be freed of their fleecy load, and clothed ^vith a delicate coating of rime. The atmosphere was deliciously calm ; soft, almost mild, in spite of the thermometer ; no perceptible air, but a stillness that might almost be felt ; the sky, rather grey than blue, throwing out in bold relief the snow-covered roofs of our village, and the rimy trees that rise above them ; and the sun shining dimly as through a veU, giving a pale fair light, like the moon, only brighter. There was a silence, too, that might become the moon, as I stood at our little gate looking up the quiet street—a Sabbath-like hour of work and play." Belford Regis—" Homely Sketches," as Miss Mitford called them—followed in 1835, differing in no material aspect from the style and manner of their predecessors. The tales purport, however, to be concerned with " a country town" instead of a hamlet. In 1854 appeared Atherton and other Tales, the long-projected and much-dreaded novel, whose success she tried to ensure by adding to the one volume which contained it two others of shorter tales, which had already been given to the public. The last of her works was entitled Recollections of a Literary Life, and may best be described in her own prefatory words,—" an attempt to make others relish a few favourite authors as heartily as I liave relished them myself" Many of these papers consist mainly of extracts from the works of the various authors; but we find intermixed a good deal of appreciative criticism. 368 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

These were Miss Mitford's last literary works. Before drawing this paper to a close, it may be interesting to note some of her own opinions on composition. " A novel," she thought, " should be as like life as a painting, but not as like life as a piece of wax-work." On no point is she so emphatic as on the paramount necessity of " clearness of style." " I have a love of clearness—a perfect hatred of all that is vague and obscure." Then she says, " I am so fidgetty respecting style, that I have the bad habit of expecting a book which pretends to be written in our language to be English." She thought herself "the. slowest writer, perhaps, in England," touching and re-touching per- petually. She frequently speaks of re-writing her books, even three times before the final edition. Her strong pre- possession in favour of cheerful stories is thus attested— " I don't like to feel as if I wanted to cry. I had far rather laugh, or at least feel that quiet, cheerful pleasure which the sunny and the beautiful are sure to inspire ta any art." She somewhere gives as a reason for this, that she had known so much real sorrow. A pathetic confession is the following to Miss Barrett:— " I have a tendency to reverie, an under-current of melancholy, belonging essentially to the poetical temperament, and which we have in common, my only point of superiority being higher animal spirit.s, and a greater power of throwing myself into outward things. How else would I live as I do, alone, and yet keep up a cheerfulness which I have retained through the most depressing disorder to which the human frame is liable \" " Miss Mitford," says the Saturday Bevieio, " had a taste for success in others, as well as that more common form of the liking, a taste for success in herself." Yet it acknow- ledges " she was a real celebrity." Although no writer of power is without a conception more or less clear of his or her own merits, we are constrained to admit that Miss Mit- ford was singularly free from any undue estimation of her talent. She writes with much humility, in 1843, to the Rev. William Harness, in words of graceful modesty, which may fitly conclude this paper— " I only pray to God that I may deserve half that has been said of me. So far as the truest and humblest thankfulness may merit such kindness, I am, perhaps, not wholly undeserving, for praise always makes me humble. I always feel that I am overvalued ; and such is, I suppose, its efl'ect on every mind not exceedingly vain-glorious." ELIZABETH L. SETON. Sir Arthur s Inheritance. 369

Sir grtbwr's InJ^^ritanre.

CHAPTER III.

THE old house had been brilliantly lighted; Sir Arthur was anxious that the first impression should be a cheerful one, and the evening was dark, and the train late by which his expected guests were to arrive. It was even later than he had foreseen, and it had been a dull drizzling day, so that the travellers could see nothing as they drove through the park. Ella's heart sank within her. She did not know why, but she felt thoroughly nervous, and when at last the carriage stopped, she involuntarily seized Edith's hand, and held it so tight, that it required some self-control to say nothing ; but in a moment the doors were thrown wide open, and their host himself appeared upon the threshold, eager to receive them, and pressing before the servants to hand the ladies out. The background seemed a perfect blaze of light, and the guests felt the full influence of so warm a welcome. Lionel sprang from the carriage and grasped his friend's hand, and then they both assisted Mrs Harford to alight. Edith followed, and lastly, Ella, stepping down with a trembling foot, passed into the house. At that moment, without any preparation, there rang through the whole buUding a sound, so loud and sudden, that they all started and looked round in silence. It rang with a clang and a crash, and shook the old house to its foundations; and Mrs Seymour, who had been waiting in the drawing-room, ready to bestow a dignified reception upon Mrs Harford, forgetting everything, rushed out into the hall, her hands clasped, and exclaiming—" What is that ?" Sir Arthur was looking round with an angry spot on his cheek, which she had never seen there before. " Some monstrous piece of carelessness," he thought; " and at what a moment!" Then, forcing a lauoh— " I see what it is," he said; " it is only this thing." And he walked up to the end of the hall, where over the fireplace there hung a trophy of armour and weapons. Some- thing had disturbed the arrangement of this, and several of the pieces had suddenly fallen to the ground with a tremendous noise. " It is all right," he said, "only this is broken;" and 370 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

taking up the hilt of a curious old sword, which had snapped in two—" Put it all to rights as well as you can," he said to old Ashby, who had followed him, " and let the things be better fastened up, if possible." He put the two pieces of the sword into the servant's hand and turned away, never seeing that the old butler's face grew deadly pale, and his hands trembled violently as he took it. Mrs Seymour had now recovered herself, and proceeded to take the guests to their rooms. No one was present when old Ashby, holding the broken sword in his hands, was looking at the pieces and muttering, while he shook his head: " It is no use, no use; I am afraid some misfortune is coming on the old house; it is old Sir Ealph's sword, who died in the civU wars."

The evening passed off very pleasantly; the ladies retired to rest rather early, and then Lionel asked " if they might not go and have a look at the old ruins." Sir Arthur looked grave, but after a moment's thought, he opened a door and led the way to the old Phasaunce; but though the mists had partly cleared, and the moon was visible, it was still cold and damp. " It won't be comfortable," he said. " We had better be practical, and come to the smoking room." " Perhaps it might disturb the ghosts," said Lionel; but he remarked that Arthur remained grave. He looked as if he were going to speak, but after a moment's thought, he changed his mind and said nothing; and Lionel, intimate as he was, and utterly free from what he called superstition, could not press the subject. They did not sit up long, and as soon as his friend had gone to bed, Arthur heaved a sigh of relief. " Now," he said, " I am free . . . free to see how the old places are influenced by the new presence, and whether she, who so strongly affects my inmost feelings, seems to in- voke the strange visitor who has foreshadowed her." He opened the oak door, closed it behind him, and proceeded to make a careful investigation, staying longer than he had ever stayed in the old rooms before, but seeing nothing. Only the moonbeams enlivened the surrounding gloom ; and in time, weary with watching, he also retired to rest. Several days passed very agreeably at Hoverton Court; nothing was said of the haunted rooms ; nor would any one who witnessed the cheerful faces, and heard the conversation Sir Arthurs Inheritance. 371 that went on, have imagined that in close connection with this pleasant society there remained a strange mystery, never explained, yet hardly ever absent from the minds of some of the party. Meantime the company amused themselves- in their different ways. Mrs Seymour and Mrs Harford chatted over their work in the mornings, and walked or drove in the afternoons, and the young ladies either accompanied them or went elsewhere. There were no near neighbours to vary the party, but they did not wish for variety; sometimes Edith and Ella rode with the gentlemen, and explored the beautiful woods and hills around. They had started one autumn day on one of these expeditions, and were returning home in the waning light, when they came on a sudden turn in the road that brought them within a short distance of the old part of the house. The evening was fine, and yet suggestive of storms, with banks of dark cloud here and there. The air felt unnaturally still, the greater part of the sky was clear, and yet the rapid motion of the clouds, that occasionally swept across it, seemed to prognosticate some approaching disturbance, none the less for the heavy and almost oppressive calm below. " It is a strange evening," remarked Sir Arthur, who was riding with Ella a little behind their companions. Ella did not reply; she was gazing intently at the ancient building before her, and as she turned towards him she was seized with a sudden fit of shivering. " I am afraid you are cold. Miss Harford," he remarked; " we ought to have got home sooner." " Oh! no," she replied, " I am not cold, and the ride has been charming." Then, looking at the old house, she hesitated a moment: she knew Sir Arthur pretty well now, and they had discussed all manner of subjects together: she had a question she wished to ask, but she was not sure whether he might like to be interrogated about his own affairs. However, she went to work cautiously, and merely said, " Has this part of the house ever been photographed or engraved ?" " I really do not know," he said; I fancy it exists in an old county history, and it may have been done often since, very likely, but I have never seen it. Would you like a photograph of it ?" he continued; " I will have some done, and you shall choose which you like." " Oh! thank you, but I did not mean that; I only asked because I have felt, ever since I came here, as if 1 had seen 3/2 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

this old side of the house before, and knew it quite weU, and I thought I must have seen a picture of it, especially that bit," she added, pointing with her whip to a bit of old staircase, that was dimly visible descending round an old turret just within a wall, and apparently going down into unknown depths; and then again she shivered. Sir Arthur observed it, but he said nothing. They were now coming down a steep road to the front of the house, so he could not quicken the pace, and did not wish to attract the attention of the others, who were on in front. Ella, then, with an obvious effort, though attempting to be quite at her ease, turned to him and said, with a nervous sort of smile— " You have never shown us the old part of the house." " No," he said, and hesitated; " would you like to see it?" " Yes, I should," she replied, in a more decided manner than was usual with her. " I am very anxious to see it." Arthur felt as if some crisis in his destiny were approaching, which he could neither resist nor avert. " You know," he said, " that there is a melancholy sort of legend attached to it. Have you ever heard the story ? It was in the time of the civil wars; my ancestor. Sir Ralph, was a devoted Cavalier, and defended this place stoutly against Cromwell's forces, who were commanded by a certain General Ford. The sieije was long, and the inhabitants were driven to desperate straits, and forced to eat whatever they could lay hands on. At last a demand was made for the last remaining animal in the place, a white fawn, that was the favourite of Sir Ralph's son, a young boy. He had kept her concealed in one of the vaults, and fed her from his own scanty allowance of food, and but what is the matter, Miss Harford ? you look very ill." " No, no; it is nothing," answered Ella faintly; " pray do not take any notice, but—I know what you were going to tell me—they killed the fawn, and then the place was taken." " Yes, that is the story," replied Sir Arthur, surprised. " How did you know it ?" " 1 cannot tell," she said. " I do seem to know it perfectly well, as if I had been there at the time. I can fancy I feel them hunting the poor, timid creature from the vault, up and down steps, and through long suites of rooms, and then -" she shivered, and then added, with an effort,—" It is curious, but that General Ford was an ancestor of mine. Sir Arthurs Inheritance. 373'

His son changed his name to Harford after the Eestora- tion." " Strange, indeed," replied Sir Arthur, gravely. " It almost seems as if your knowledge of the story came by inheritance. Can it be that an instinctive consciousness of former deeds can be thus transmitted to us ?" Ella made no reply, and alluded no more to the subject of the haunted rooms. The evening passed away much as usual, but Arthur on retiring to rest found himself quite unable to close his eyes. His conversation with Ella haunted him, and he was continually wandering oft' into all sorts of wild speculations. " It is of no use," he cried at last, " these things are amongst those ' undreamt of in our philosophy,'—mysteries of nature that perhaps might be easily explained if we had the key, but into which science as yet has failed to penetrate. Who knows whether the various curiosities of spiritualism, of electro-biology, and other marvels, may not one day be better understood, and found to be but a part of some occult sphere of Nature's power, to which the ancient superstitions, ghosts, and dream-lore, may also belong ?" After a time, weary of sleepless inaction, he rose, and following some unconscious instinct, went towards the rooms of which he had been thinking so deeply. To his surprise, as he was about to open the oak door, he found himself confronted by Lionel. " I was coming to look for you," said the latter. " Some- how or other, I cannot sleep to-night, and I thought I heard somebody moving about. I suppose it was only you. What are you going to do ? Have a cigar ?" " No," said Arthur; " but I wiU come down and have one with you, if you like." " I'll tell you what I would much rather do, have a look into those old rooms. It would be just the time, between twelve and one, and a glorious moonlight night. I should like to have a chance of seeing a " He stopped short. Very few people like to jest about the unseen world at midnight, however they may plume themselves on being free from superstition. " As you please," said Arthur, coldly; " but remember it is on your own responsibility." " Certainly," said Lionel, with some surprise; " I could not think of going away from this house without having seen those rooms, and that by night." " Be it so," answered his friend, and threw open the door. No. 36.—DECEMBER 1877. 3 B 374 '^he Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

The moonlight was streaming in through the casement, revealing the remains of ancient tapestry that hung on the walls, the groined ceilings, the carved chimney-pieces; even the cobwebs that hung festooned from one quaint old ornament to another. " But fitful was the histre, pale and wan, As watchliglit by the bed of some departing man." Ever and anon a dark cloud swept over the moon, completely obscuring the place, and a low hollow sound was heard, as of distant thunder or distant wind, it was hard to say which, as it rose and fell at intervals; but whatever it might be, it was certainly something born of storm and hurricane. Even Lionel was silenced at first under the influence of mystery within, and the expectation of some natural con- vulsion without; but, as a deeper shadow than usual passed by, leaving the intermittent moonlight, he tried to talk as before. Looking round the rooms with a rapid glance, he turned to Arthur. " Very curious, indeed." " What a large place ! You ought to have these rooms restored!" and other such remarks, to which his host made little reply; and he soon succumbed to the feeling of awe, that made it impossible to keep up a conversation, much less to jest. He was aware of a strange chill, a sense he could not account for, as if of some unusual presence, though he saw nothing. They made the complete circuit of the rooms as far as the old stone staircase, and then turned to retrace their steps. They had got to the last room, when Lionel looked back, and suddenly stopping short, exclaimed in a whisper, " Look, look; for heaven's sake, what is that ?" Arthur quietly smiled, and said nothing. He was not startled; he only saw the fair white form he had watched so often that it had become a familiar presence to him. It glided softly along in the usual way, and, as if drawn on by an irresistible impulse, both the spectators followed it. They saw it go towards the stone parapet, and seem to look down, and then, after a pause, proceed to the little red room. There it turned slowly round, stood still and confronted them with eyes wide open, but obviously seeing nothing. There was a look in those eyes that sent a cold shiver even to Sir Arthur's heart. There was something in this appearance of the vision that differed from every former experience; something less spiritual and at the same time more fearful. On each previous occasion he had been more and more impressed with the calm unearthliness of her aspect. Now it was calm, cer- Sir Arthurs Inheritance. 375 tainly, but it was rather the quiescence of bodily lethargy than the serenity of one above the vicissitudes of this world. He stood gazing on her, transfixed and expecting her to vanish after her usual fashion, till his attention was attracted by a sort of convulsive groan from Lionel. He turned towards him, and saw him rooted to the ground, his hair erect, his eyeballs distended, and his hands clenched, while he muttered between his teeth a half choked exclamation, and the name of his sister. The sound of his voice seemed to have an effect upon the apparition. She half turned, and began to murmur some confused sounds, which by degrees formed themselves into words. " It is here," she said. " It is here ; up and down here, and into the red room; but not, oh! not down the steps." She paused and wrung her hands. " What have I to do with the blood that was shed here ? The loyal innocent blood ! And yet I know it, and the vision has come to me from the days that have long passed away." Meanwhile, the night, which had before been frequently Ulumined with moonlight, had suddenly become completely overcast. Dark clouds fleeted across the sky, and the rooms in which they stood grew so dark that they could hardly distinguish anything. Suddenly a vivid flash of lightning shot through the building, revealing every stone and bit of carving with a glow brighter than that of the sun, and a tremendous peal of thunder at the same instant seemed to shake the old house to its foundations. The shock opened the lips of Lionel, and restored his power of action. Bursting from the restraining hand of his friend, he rushed headlong forward, shouting loudly the loved name that the vision had called to the hearts of both, but which Sir Arthur had never dared to pronounce. " Ella, Ella," he called, " in heaven's name what are you doing here ?" The figure did not vanish, on the contrary she seemed to grow more human; a terrible shiver passed over her. As Arthur gazed astounded, the discovery flashed on him that on this occasion she was perambulating these rooms, not only in spirit, not only in dreams, when—as some believe—our souls are for a time detached from our bodies, and free to wander where they list; but that these mysterious events had reached their culminating point. The force of her spirit, combined with her actual vicinity, had brought her to its accustomed haunts in a state of somnambulism. 376 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

He tried once more to arrest Lionel. " She is walking in her sleep; if you awake her suddenly she will die." But even while he spoke, came a second flash, more vivid than the last, illuminating every chink and cranny of the gloomy chamber, as with the glow of a hundred summer days condensed into one intense moment, and seeming to kindle and absorb the long golden hair which floated like a halo round the head of Ella. Simultaneously with the flash came the tremendous peal, re-echoing through the rooms till the old house rocked again; and even before it ceased, another crash was heard and felt, as of falling stones and crumbling walls. But neither Arthur nor Lionel listened to it; both had rushed forward with extended arms in the direction of Ella, and as the darkness again closed round them. Sir Arthur, whose knowledge of the place gave him the advantage over Lionel, reached and supported her now insensible form. " A light, a light," he shouted, " quickly, for heaven's sake—if you have one." Even as the words were uttered a red glow was seen to spread gradually over the opposite wall; a slight crackling sound was heard, and the smell of smoke became clearly perceptible. The house was in flames, struck fatally by the forked lightning. Was some angry spirit borne on the flash, and was this the hour of vengeance ? Was the child of the old Eoundhead soldier to fall an innocent victim to her ancestor's sins ? Fate and revenge are strong; but there is a yet stronger power to resist them—the power of love and forgiveness, blotting out the past, and bringing a mightier spell to counteract that of an ancient curse. Sir Arthur raised the girl in his arms, and calling to her brother to follow, strode rapidly on through the volumes of smoke which now threatened to choke them back. " On, on this way," he shouted. " Do not try to go back —the flames divide us from the rest of the house. Follow me down the old stone steps." As they reached the edge of the parapet, they caught sight of old Ashby below, wringing his hands and moan- ing ; several others were with him, and Mrs Harford and Edith were seen clinging to each other and calling vainly for Ella. " She is here—she is safe," said Sir Arthur; " only bring a ladder and be ready to receive us." Dark Days. 377

Hoverton Hall was burned to the ground, and old Ashby's nerves were so shaken by the terrors of this night that he never would resume his former duties, but preferred to live and die in retirement and silence. A new house was built in another part of the grounds, and there Arthur and Ella lived long and happily, in spite of the " uncanny " outset of their story. His courage and determination had triumphed over his ancestral misfortunes, and her gentleness and affection more than atoned for her forefather's rebellion and cruelty, and so ended the mysterious doom that for years had clouded " Sir Arthur's inheritance." ANNIBAL. {Concluded.)

DARK DAYS.

A TRUCE to frets and fumings— A truce for a while I pray ; A truce to the weary longings For a richer, fuller day.

Why sit still at the casement Watching the dark clouds meet ? Better come forth to the bustle And stir of the busy street.

Something there may reach thee, May make thy soul forget The terrible self that haunts thee— The self that pains thee yet.

That Death, the true and tender. Points to a certain goal ; Is this thy best Life-comfort, 0 weary, waiting soul ?

Yet think !—If a Fonn should meet thee, And Voice of reproachful power Should say, as Death thou greetest, " Couldst thou not watch one hour ?" JoAK SCOTT. 37^ The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

IV.—TO LUCCA.

A QUESTION which we, being essentially town-mice, will generally answer, very much to our own satisfaction, By going from city to city, storing up "sunny memories of foreign lands" from quaint Italian towns, lying basking, like their native lizards, in the southern sun, or from the more bustling homes of French or German life. In the poet's May of last year, after debating at Florence the knotty point of where to go next, we determined to deviate a little from the beaten tourist track, and bend our steps to Lucca, the old-world town, proudly surnamed by its inhabitants L'Industriosa, which seems not much visited by foresticri, though it can boast of some Koman remains, as well as of ecclesiastical antiquities. Like most north Italian towns, Lucca suffered in the Guelph and Ghibeline feuds ; then passing from the power of one master to that of another, after some centuries of independence, it was merged in the United Kingdom of Italy, having previously become a French Principality in 1799. A three hours' journey by rail from Florence, through a vividly green country, covered with trailing vines festooned from tree to tree, brought us to Lucca, where, relying as usual on Baedeker, we went to the Croce di Malta—which may be the best hotel in the place—being put at the top of his list; but if so, what any other can be is better imagined than experienced. We appeared to have been, judging by the visitor's book, the lirst Inglesi who had ever ventured to pass a night in this very Italian hotel; and certainly travellers unused to " roughing it," or retaining unaltered English prejudices in favour of cleanliness, would find themselves in far from comfortable quarters. But any discom- forts we underwent would have been weU repaid by the wonderful Fra Bartolomcos, which form the artistic glory of Lucca. His most famous picture is the " Madonna della Misericordia," in which the human pitiful mother is pleading with her Divine Son, for the salvation of the men, women, and children, who have crowded under the protection of lier outspread, overshadowing mantle. For a wonder, considering the present low state of Italian Art, in the Pinacoteca there Where sJiall we Go ? 379 is one really good modern painting by a native artist. It is a sort of shadow or dream of Tintoret's " Massacre of the Innocents at Venice," or that almost more touching one in the Tribuna at Florence, by Davidde da Volterra, which involuntarily fills one's eyes with tears. Here, one of the murdered children, a straight little white figure, is lying on the ground quite dead ; and, beside it, the mother, spent with grief, her eyes nearly closed by weeping, one hand clasped lightly among her dishevelled black hair, is prone on the ground, one arm clasping the lifeless baby form. All around is grey ground, stones, pillars, houses—only the highest part of a building in a background has caught the bright red light of the setting sun. Of course Lucca has a catliedral (what foreign town worthy of the name does not possess one ?) dedicated to San Martino, whom it felt rather surprising to find so far away from his own home of Tours. It is a Lombard-Gothic building of the 11th century, with a three-storeyed faqade added in 1204; the decorations everywhere are of the most grotesque description, recalhng the unnamed animals, and entertaining scroll-work, found on the " Sculptured Stones " of this country. The interior is in the form of a Latin cross, with a handsome clerestory over the aisles; the arches are slightly pointed, just enough to suggest the Gothic additions which did take place in the 14tli century. San Martino is not behindhand in the possession of a relic to uphold its rank in the list of cathedrals—a very notable one too—which alone would have given name and fame to Lucca, had it been able to put forward no other claim to distinction. This is " II Volto Santo," a crucifix in cedar wood, said to have been carved by Nicodemus after the Deposition from the Cross—he having been moved to undertake the work by Divine inspiration or command ; winds and waves miracu- lously conveyed it to Lucca in 782. It is exposed, for the veneration of the faithful, three times a-year only—of which, fortunately for us. May 3d is one; so we came in for a very " gran' festa " indeed. From early morning, on that sunny Feast of the Invention of the Cross, the streets of Lucca were astir, every human being, whether coming from the country, or belonging to the town, having apparently but one object in life for the time being—to pay their respects to the Volto Santo; of course we went with the multitude. The unpriced relic has a shrine to itself, in the centre of the Duomo, " II Tempietto " by name; it is an octagonal chapel of marble, partially 380 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. gilded, where, for 362 days in the year, the crucifix is enclosed behind strong doors, and curtains of crimson silk. The antiquity of the image is evident, to even unartistic eyes, but its real date is as unknown as its history. The Volto Santo is life-size, the Head slightly inclining to one side; the Face, sad and drawn, with very little " beauty " in it; from the waist downwards the Figure is clothed in blue velvet, richly embroidered with gold; jewels literally cover the head and neck. We went to the cathedral rather early, and found its great nave crowded with a motley and most picturesque assemblage—women in bright coloured head-dresses, in which orange predominated; men in almost equally gay gala attire; little children, black-eyed, rosy and smiling impersonations of Domenichino's or Eaphael's cherubs; while monks of various orders were almost too numerous, as in their neighbourhood the " odour of sanctity" is more powerful than pleasant. Round the shrine, the crowd was dense ; some worshippers kneeling motionless on the marble floor; others pressing on to get the earliest possible view of the venerated relic; a good many were hearing mass in the quiet side chapels ; while the less devout whispered together, evidently regarding the day's work as a mere " ploy." Beneath II Volto Santo an altar was dressed with lace, flowers, and candles, garnished, moreover, with money boxes for the offerings of the faithful, which seldom amounted to a larger sum than a soldo or five centimes piece. Beside this altar stood a priest, who had more than enough to do touching the Feet of the Figure with medals and rosaries, one at least of which each devotee brought to be thus hallowed. We passed on with the crowd, and were looked at several times as if suspected of heresy, though doing very much at Eome as the Eomans do; they (substituting Lucchesi for Eomans) poured in at one door of the chapel, and out at the opposite, pausing for a moment before the crucifix to cross themselves and say a prayer, which those pressing on from behind, never allowed to be uninterrupted, or too long. The whole scene was essentially Italian; so was the unmistakably real, though possibly transient, devotion: it seemed quite in keeping with the bright warm sunshine, which streamed through the clerestory windows, lighting up rows of dark, earnest faces. Through the seldom-opened great West doors, across the arcaded vestibule, one could look into the grass-grown Piazza, usually quiet and deserted, the echoes of which that Festa day were wakened by many Where shallive Go? 381 footsteps of those who joined holy day and holiday together, in a way wliich seems possible only on the other side of the ('hannel. In the cathedral, not far from the west door, liangs, suspended by a long chain from the roof, a hexagonal frame-work of iron, not unlike a skeleton brazier. A\'henever the Arclibishop says Pontifical high mass, this is filled with tow, which, during the singing of the Gloria in Uxcclsis, is set on fire, and wliile it blazes up the Archbishop pro- nounces the words, "Sit trunsit (jloria mundi,"—an impressive piece of ritual, for which we have been able to find no special meaning or origin. Our time in Lucca being limited, we had onlv one walk on the br(jad grass-grown ramparts, which entirely suiround the town, and form a deliglitful promenade for its iuliabi- tants. The views from the gravelled pathway on the top are beautiful, especially looking nortliwards towards tlie blue mountains of (Jarrara, tlie white streaks in which scarcely show at sucli a distance. AVe made one very pleasant excursion to the Bagni di Lucca—the favourite " villeggiatura " of the townspeople, famed far and near for its watei's, and mucli resorted to by invalids for the cure of rheumatism—lying about 12 miles north of Lucca. The road to tlie Batlis runs tlirougli a lovelv country, by the side of the impetuous rushing Serchio, under mountains, green and terraced to their very summits, covered with a profusion of wild flowers. We saw laburnum (h'opping its golden rain, from tlie most arid-looking rocky clefts, and long strings of leafy vines swaying backwai'ds and forwards in the soft summer wind. The " stabilimenti " are not all under one roof, l)ut scattered up and down a steep rocky valley ; the furtliest distant are about a mile from I'onte di Serraglio, wliich last is the fashionable resort of Italians in " the season." We could imagine it a charming sinnmer abode, though possibly, as we ^\•ere told it was, somewhat warm and enervating. Mr Hemans, son of the poetess, and well known to all frequenters of liome as an anti(iuariau of great taste and learning, died last \K\V at the Bagui (li Lucca. M. S.

Xo. 3C,—DpfFMT-.lP. ISTT. 382 The Ladies' Edinhurgli Mayaziue.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. No. \-l. " Of solvers every month we've had so few, That to this pastime here we say Adieu."

1. The scene of a celebrated feat of Archery. 2. The luminary of the festive board. 3. A silver snake. 4. Ancient infallibility. 5. Winter's winding-sheet. 6. The medium of speech. 7. Falsely worshipped. 8. An historical consjiiracv. F. i[.

ANSWER TO DOUBLE ACROSTIC No. 11. T THROAT. T H HOCRI. I E ELOQUENT. T R RAUBEREI. 1 E EPITOME, E S SWAN. N A ALAS. S

Correct answers received from " B," M. C. B., and M(!ssage Girl. Our Series of Acrostics clo.ses here for the present. The winner of the Prize will be announced in January, with the last solution.

CUE LIBRA E Y T A P, L E.

OUR TRIP TO BLUNDERLAND. By Jean Jambun. Edinbui'^h and London : W. Blackwoud & Sons, 1877. WHOEVER wishes to enjoy an hour or two of delightl'ul nonsense, had better take up Our Trip to Blimtkrland. We \entiire to altirm they will haixUy lay it down till they have accompanied Norval, Jacques, and Ranulf, tlu-ough all their adventures. And who .shall tell the number of delightetl little ones who will pore over these pages as they have done over those of Alice in Wonderland, between which and the Trip to lUunderland there is a good deal of resemblance l They will learn here the lesson (true alike for old and young), that the entrance to the enchanted ground is won by deeds of love ; and will, we truist, bear in mind the fairy's words to the little heroes, " You will see every day the a

S T II A Y NOT E S.

THE BERLIN VICTORIA-LYCEUM.—We have received the Tenth An- nual Report of an institution the counterpart of our own Educational Association. Tliis institution, as its name suggests, has owed much to tlie patronage of the Crown Princess, especially in the days when it was an untried experiment in Germany. We hope one day to welcome, as an addition to our Educational Series, a historical sketch of the Victoria Lyceum. The Report tells of a prosperous state of matters : it announces a wider choice of subjects, several new lecturers, with names not unknown to fame, and an increase of 100 over the number of students in i876 ; thus bringing up the total to 900. In three classes there was an attendance of upwards of 100, and one lecturer addressed more than 200 hearers. These statistics would make us think that (ierman ladies must be as deeply studious as their fellow-countrymen, were it not for the very next sentence, which leads us to infer tliat, as a rule, these students do not attend any e.xaminations ; for it is mentioned, as a proof of real substantial progi-ess, that a Latin class, wliich had distinguished itself by unwearied diligence, petitioned to be examined. This important class was IKJ larger than our own, as it numbered but nine students, two of them withEnglish names. We have heard that German professors continue to keep up the attention of their students without frequent examinations, and we would invite a note on this subject from any one capable of giving accurate inlbrmation. The prospectus for 1877-78 is .so varied, and oilers so inany entertaining subjects for study, that it very nearly sent us to Berlin for tlie winter ! We regret that no such course can be liad in Edinburgh—even in the University—as that which Dr Jerden will deliver. His subject is 2)er- ha]is, to well-educated persons, the most interesting that could l)e chosen. " The Italian Renaissance, The Intellectual Revival of the 13th Cen- tury, The Italian Gothic, Franciscan and Dominican Ritual, Birth of Plastic Art under the Pisani, Dante, Influence of the Divine Comedy on Art, Lyrics of Petrarch, The Florentine School, Giotto and his Works in Padua, Assisi and Florence, Siense School, &c." This course is to be abundantly illustrated with pictures, prints,and models, and each lecture is to last for an hour and a half. There are also to be lectures on Physics, on Botany, on Physical Geography, on Hi.story ; on French, English, American, German, and Italian Literature. In each case, we are struck with a remarkable diti'erence of method from our own. Each lecturer, instead of giving a sketch of an entire subject, takes only an exceedingly narrow portion of it, in order to treat this as fully as possible. For instance, Dr Lindner delivers two courses on Shakesjieare ; and Dr Lasson lectures on Tuesday, on Goethe and his Times, and on Friday on The Theory of the Drama, illustrated from Goethe's Plays, and from Faust. Again, in Botany, a course on Lichens, Algai, ancl Fungi is followed by another on Mosses and Ferns, The absence of 384 The Ladies Edinhitrgh MagarAnc.

an}' "degree certificate'" to regulate the lectures may jierhaps explain how it is possilile to work in tliis way with such a leisurely thoroughness and attention to detail, as must \w delightful to those who would fain study for culture's sake, and without the disturhing phantom of coming examinations. In short, there is an air of enjoyment ahout this whole lecture system, just as there is an air of business about our own; and, to quote the words of an English resident in Berlin, '• Salon- subjects are with us decidedly in the ascendant, when comj^ared with academic studies." EXPENSE OF LIVIXG IN BERLIN.—At the Victoria-Stift, Konig-griit- zen Strasze, 93, ladies sharing a room can be boarded and lodged for 15 marks (= 15s.) per week—20 marks for a separate room. With Eng- lish or Scotch (■ompanions, a lady might inake this arrangement, but German boarders are often of a lower social grade. At a private l)oarding-house, such as Frau Woyeke's—17, Belle Alliance Platz— more comfort can be had for the same terms ; but those willing to pay from 30s. to £-2 per week, can secure far better accommodation at lirst- class boarding-houses. Ladies are advised, however, to see and judge for themselves, before coming to any decision. THE LADIES' DEBATING CLUB, formed in London during the winter of 1874, contiinu's this year under somewhat new conditions, and has now a distinct local habitation at 22 Berners Street, W. The club, numbering at present between 60 and 70 members, meets once in three weeks, from 8 to 9.30 v.M. Annual subscription 2s. 6d.—election by ballot (two black-balls excluding). The office of permanent President has been abolished : the Club is managed by a Committee, a Treasurer, and two Secretaries—all elected annually. Among the rules of the club we notice the following:—"That in order to ensure quickness of reply, the discussion at some of the meetings be on subjects chosen by the President from a book, pamphlet, or newspaper, on the evening of meeting.'' " That one evening a-year be set aside, in which gentlemen may be admitted as visitors, taking ])art in the debate on the same terms as other visitors." The passing of the latter rule seems to us a rather daring act. We hear, however, that these nuxed debates have been very successful. The London King's College Debating So- ci(!ty has more than once invited the Ladies' Club to a disciission, on which occasions the ladies seem to have acquitted themselves well. WILL none of our readers contribute a jjaper on the Employment of Women as Librarians ? Mr AYinsor, the President of the American Library Association, considers, that among the many women who are now governesses, some, at least, might be found, who, in giving their attention to the above-named occui^atiou, might enter upon what he calls " a more important sphere of usefulness."

LADIES are invited to contribute to this Magazine. A PKIZE is offered for the best article received and accepted by the Editors before Is* March 1878, on the subject, " Where shall we Go ! " A PRIZE is oft'ered for the best article received by the Editors, and accepted for inseition during the current year, on any one of our British Female Novelists, born in the 18th century. THE next meeting of the Ladies' Edinburgh Literary Society will be held at 5 Heriot Row, on Saturday, 1st December, at 11 o'clock, A.M. Debate—" Is the Saxon element in our Literatui'e at present more powerful and elevated tlian the Norman ?"

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