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%l THE LADIES' EDINBUEGH MAGAZINE

BEING

A NEW SERIES OF "THE ATTEMPT."

VOL. I.

EDINBURGH: MACLAREN & MACNIVEN.

MDCCCLXXV. EDINBURGH : PRINTED BY COLSTON & SON.

^r 1936 ^ CONTENTS.

PAGE Bonnie Little Mary, by Lutea Reseda, 207 Christian Woman's Work in India, The, by S. S. Hewlett, 225, 278, 309, 335 Dragon of the North, The, by E. J. 0., 25, 33, 60, 101, 1-12, 165, 197, 229, 261, 293, 325, 357 Dreams, by Melensa, . 155 Enigma, by Jane B. Ballant^ne, ...... 173 " En Route to Italy," by Mrs. Brewster Macpherson, . 11, 40 Exhibition of the Royal Scottish Academy, The, by M. E. T., 77 Features of the Face Indicative of Character ? Are the, by Martyn Hay, 365 " From Italy," by Mrs. Brewster Macpherson, . . . 282 Halcyon Days, by Gratia, 128 Highland Spring, A, by Enna, 140 Hopping-Time in the "Garden of England," by Gratia, . . 342 In the Twilight, by Joan Scott, 86 lona, by H. A. B., 174 Literary Merit tested by Popularity, by Ircene, . . .149 Miss Thackeray's Fairy Tales, by E. V. Lynne, . . . 110 Musical Season, Our last, by Our Notebook, .... 133 Old Home, The, by Martyn Hay, 61 Our Library Table, 30, 132, 388 Patience, by Joan Scott, 308 Puppy's Paradise, by Estelle, 117 IV Contents,

PAGE Qualities Essential to the Novelist, On some, by Procla, . . 1 Reverie, A, by Naomi S. Smith, 24 Shadow and Sunshine, by Melensa, 260 Shield of Achilles, The, by Jeanie Morison, .... 277 Sonnet, by Jeanie Morison, 52 Temptation, by Mrs. Brewster Macpherson, .... 341 Tischendorf, The late Dr., by Sigma, 94 To my Lady, by R., 254 Walt Whatman's " Leaves of Grass," Thoughts on, by Joan Scott, 17 Werburga of Chester, by Procla, 52, 87, 119, 155, 187, 221, 246, 313, 347, 373 Woman's Work— L Introduction, by Phoebe Blyth, 184 II. Girls' Schools, by Louisa Innes Lumsden, . . 208, 238 III. Engraving on Wood, by B. B. M'Laren, . . . 272 IV. Nursing, by Probationer, 301 v. Medicine a Profession for Women, by Eliza W. Dunbar, M.D., 383 VI. Years, by Naomi S. Smith, . .... 380 THE

LADIES' EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.

©n some ^ualiti^s (Kssalial to tlie ^uuelist.

IN order to attain to some idea of what qualities are essential to the novelist, we must first inquire, what is the task which he has to perform ? The world of fiction is a very large world, and that province in it called the Novel is a most extensive and growing province. Of late years it has been widening its limits in many directions—conquering a new nation there, here claiming a new science for its own, appropriating a new sect in religion, or dilating on some great chapter in history. And in proportion to the extent of its efforts is the difficulty in finding an answer to the question. What is a novel ? Difficult as the answer may be when we look at the ingredients in many novels, if we look at their essence alone it cannot fail to be this—a novel is a work of art. It must always be so, even where, as in many cases, the art is but as a drop in a whole bucket of science and speculation. A novel is a work of art, though not generallj^, nor necessarily, of the highest kind of art. The following remarks by a fellow of Balliol College may throw some light on art, in its relation to philosophy and to human life:—" Mere copying is not art. The artist brings nature before us, as we have seen it, perhaps, only once or twice in our lives, under the influence of some strong emotion. He does that for us which we cannot do for ourselves ; he reproduces those moments of spiritual exaltation in which 'we feel that we are better than we know'—moments which we can remember, and of which the mere memory No 1.—JANUARY 1875. A 2 The Ladies Edinhuagh Magazine. may be the light of our lives, but Avhich no act of our own will can bring back. It is not till the distinction has been appreciated between nature as it is and nature as we make it to be, between that which we see and that which ' having not seen, we love,' that any branch of art can be reckoned in its proper value." The writer of these remarks then goes on to contrast the matter-of-fact aspect of the source of our knowledge with the aspect of philosophy, art, and religion. The former takes our knowledge to be exclusively the result of the action of human thought; the latter admits the co-operation of nature by the transmission of images. The view of art, taking its stand on this basis, involves the absolute fusion of thought and things. The habitual interpretation of natural events by the analogy of human design, is but an anticipation of, and a step towards, such a true conquest of nature. This habitual interpretation is a proof that, " to the ordinary man, nature presents itself, not as something external, but, like a friend, as ' another liimself.'" Pure emotion is the medium of the true conquest of nature thus daily anticipated. In it " the experiences of life are held together, and the animal element is so fused with the spiritual as to form one organisation, through which the same impulse runs with unimpeded energy. Then man has made nature his own, by becoming a conscious partaker of the reason which animates him and it. The attainment of this consummation can only approach realisation through the operation of a power which can penetrate the whole man, and act on every moment of his life. But that power, which, in the form of religion, can make every meal a sacrament, and trans- form human passion into the likeness of divine love, is represented at a lower stage, not only by the unifying action of speculative philosophy, but by the combining force of art." Art, then, is the celebration of the union of man with nature. And he must be one with her, else whence those untold feelings of sympathy with her sublime moods, of yearning after her loveliness ? That only arouses our feeling, which has something akin to ourselves; we know this from our intercourse with our fellow-men ; we may know it too from our intercourse with nature. Those thoughts of the Oxford graduate present to our minds a philosophy, under the shadow of which we may The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magzaine. 3 live happily. Not so that other philosophy of the French- man, worshipping the human, yet placing before it a "fatality that must be accepted." And this is the philosophy which we trace in the writings of George Eliot. Which view is the more favourable to art, that whicli shows us nature as the friend of man, or that which represents her as an adverse and superior power? What, then, is the place which the novel holds among Avorks of art? To our age it stands in the same relation in which the drama stood to an earlier age: the drama, in its turn, succeeded the epic. Poetic art spoke first in the epic. Man was one with nature, with a oneness so complete that it was unconscious. The powers of nature and of heroes Avere one to him ; man and nature worked together. Hence the old epic, so simple, so grandly objective, so bound to the hearts of nations. Then came the drama. Man poetised his higher moods and nobler actions. Thus he gradually grew more subjective; new varieties of the drama called for new phases of thought and character. Gradually this study of human nature grew to essays on men and manners, and then to stories of men and manners, or novels. The novel was less high art than the drama, but it described men more faithfully, and thus led to a more exact estimate of character. Still it is a work of art; it must be so, if it fulfil its mission aright. It must give large and true views of life; it must epitomise the feelings and actions of existences ; it must have some ideas besides those of character alone ; it must go only where imagination and feeling can go with it. That the history of the world revolves in circles is a remark frequently made by careful observers. Looking at the novel from this point of view, should not we expect it soon to quit the field in favour of some other species of production ? Are not its frantic attempts to scale the heights of science and philosophy a proof that every pathway, every track in its own level ground, has become a too common thoroughfare? With the next revolution of the wheel of literature, possibly the drama may again come uppermost. Not as it was before ; less exalted above life, more expanded over it; less star- gazing, looking more around; exalting real life and real human beings into a region of poetry. And then, why should not the epic reappear ? At a stage when advancement in many things shall have been attained at the cost 4 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. of a vast amount of subjectivity, the learner will have his task by heart, and man will have accomplished the true end of being; he will again be one with nature. But not as before ; not in the old way of making human the torrent, the sun, the stone; but in the knowledge, deepened into feeling, of nature's vast powers—powers ever working for man and with man. Such an attempt to estimate the novel in its relation to philosophy, art, and history, may form a suitable basis on which to take our stand while we proceed to contrast two of our greatest novelists—namely, George Eliot and Thackeray—with regard to some qualities essential to writers of fiction. 1. Breadth of Subject.—This quality in fiction depends chiefly on the number and variety of characters introduced, and on the importance of the actions about which they are engaged, and of the events by which those actions are determined. As to the number and variety of characters they portray, George Eliot and 'I'hackeray are tolerably equal. They both draw their characters from all ranks, though, in her earlier novels in particular, George Eliot paints the lower classes more largely than Thackeray ever does. In reading Middlemarch, we are well-nigh bewildered by the various groups of heroes and heroines long before we have been introduced to all of them. In Vanity Fair we have fewer characters, but they appear on a larger stage, and the hum of the world's voices in history, and in stirring events, forms an accompaniment to the whole. Thackeray's novels are essentially novels of society; we conjecture, if we did not know, that he was a frequenter of London society, and knew thoroughly its tone, and the style of comment passed on all Avho compose it. His heroes and heroines are men and women of society; he gives them only those virtues and vices which make themselves readily felt by all around; generosity, un- selfishness, true nobility, are his standard virtues ; greed, hypocrisy, self-seeking, all fall beneath his imsparing lash. George Eliot, on the other hand, likes better to paint men singly than in groups ; each individual is to her a world for research. With regard, then, to breadth of subject, we may say that George Eliot and Thackeray both paint men in great numbers and varieties: that while George Eliot's delineations of individual character are more studied and more careful, Thackeray, on the contrary, The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 5 paints men more in the mass, more in onthne, and more with a view to the general effect. 2. Truth to Nature.—Truth to nature in literature is not merely correct description; it is description with thought and feeling added to it. When the author describes scenery, we give his words poetic truth only if he enters somewhat into sympathy with the object described. George Eliot does this perfectly in her description of Dorlcote Mill at the beginning of the Mill on the Floss: here feeling is in harmony with what is seen, and the poet is identified with the landscape. Take this short passage from it:—"How lovely the little river is, with its dark, changing wavelets I It seems to me like a living companion while I wander along the bank and listen to the low placid voice, as to the voice of one who is deaf and loving. I remember those large dipping willows. T remember the stone bridge." The author is evidently depicting scenes of childhood, and the vividness of poetic insight makes imagination and thought keep pace. Nature becomes a living companion ; the passage is one which only a true poet could have written. Thackeray has a somewhat similar passage, where Esmond revisits Castlewood after an absence of fourteen years:—" He had not seen its ancient grey towers and well-remembered woods for nearly fourteen years. There was the fountain in the court babbliii g its familiar music, the old hall and its furniture, the carved chair my late lord used, the very flagon he drank from. Esmond rose up before the dawn, passed into the next room, where the air was heavy with the cdour of the wall-flowers," &c. In this passage we have the vivid painting of a fond memory. Yet the things are still things, not friends : it is a picture possessing Dutch correctness; that of George Eliot floats in a mist of poetry. In depicting such scenes she is superior to Thackeray. This poetic feeling, however, does not accompany her throughout in her delineations of human character. The French writer Taine says of Dickens, that he is a man who, with a stew-pan in one hand, and a postilion's whip in the other, takes to making prophecies; and it may be said of George Eliot, that she is a writer who, with a dissecting-knife in one hand, and an artist's pencil in the other, takes to making characters. But the dissecting- knife has so much to do, that it leaves no level surface on which the artist's pencil may expend its beautifying lines. 6 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

The character is cut open, and all its ingredients are separated into little heaps. In hardly any character throughout Middiemarch does this strike us more forcibly than in that of Rosamond Vincy. George Eliot's hatred of the ordinary conventiona] young lady is well known; but she rather defeats her own object by over- drawing the vices of that unfortunate being. No character in the book awakens our wrath more than that of Rosamond does. We are so strangely moved by this character, that we have very strong doubts as to its truth, and are at least certain that it is overdrawn. It has been remarked of George Eliot that her characters of men are inferior to those of women. This Avas true of Adam Bede ; and it is true of Ladislaw. His attributes are scattered about over the book in such a way that we never sec the whole man at once ; he always appears to us through a dim and misty medium. George Eliot's favourites, too, are subjected to as severe an anatomising process as her aversions; and this process is so perseveringly continued, that we have no opportunity of standing off to view the general effect. All is detail and scrutiny from beginning to end. This is mental anatomy,—psychology carried beyond the realms of ar(. It is as if some one who kept a den of creatures in order to observe their actions, had taken us into this den, and we there beheld these unfortunates, with all the fresh bloom of youth scraped off, and Avere obliged to observe, in a light so strong as to render partiality impossible, the perverse workings of their vicious natures. Does not true art, in her communings with nature, always keep the veil of reverence before her eyes; and does not her love of the beautiful lead her to observe less that which is ugly 1 Besides, in a book whicli professes to be a nDvel, and therefore a history of human life, we expect some adherence to a law which regulates historical compositions; namely, the canon of historical objectivity. And does not Thackeray adhere to this law 1 The very superficiality for which he has been blamed is a proof of this. He looks more on his characters with regard to their actions than to the springs of those actions. Tak- ing men more in the mass, he goes less deep; and yet, at the foundation of the actions of each lies a psychological truth, which finds its outcome in those actions. We know, from the moment of our first introduction to Rebecca Sharp, that that young woman possesses intellect, without either heart or principle; and to show us The Ladies ICdinhurgli Alagazine. 7- the workings of that character, Thackeray does not make incisions into her mind in order to show what is going on there, but he reflects those internal processes in a series of consistent actions throughout the book. We find, then, that where George Eliot anatomises, Thackeray describes. The power of description is a power more suitable to a novelist than that of anatomising, inasmuch as it is more purely imaginative. It seems, therefore, that on this ground Thackeray is more true to nature, and also on the ground that the portraying of thoughts and feelings must be comparatively a matter of conjecture, whereas the recording of action may in all cases have its foundation in reality. 3. Humour and Pathos.—The humour of Thackeray appears chiefly in grotesque situations ; that of George Eliot, in witty sayings. These are exactly the qualities to be expected from a describer of action on the one hand, and an anatomiser of character on the other. The humour of George Eliot appears chiefly in epigrammatic sayings and in conversations. These are so well known that it is unnecessary to quote any of them. The power of putting witty sayings into people's mouths, and that of making them perform amusing actions, are totally different, and Ave can hardly rank one above the other. It seems, however, that the former belongs more naturally to a woman who has lived in quietude with thoughts and feelings ; the latter to a man who has lived among actions. With regard to pathos. Returning to our idea of art as a sympathy with nature, we expect to find that sympathy heightened where the author writes of human feeling, just in proportion to the greater kinship between the author and other men, than between the author and a tree or a woodland scene. Here, if anywhere, we may hope to find art one with nature, and the poet feeling all that his hero feels. Take any one of George Eliot's most pathetic passages. Art is never wholly merged in sympathy. Every outward detail, every phase of thought and feeling in the mind of the person described, is noted with a Diirer-like correctness. We find, on the contrary, that when Thackeray rises to pathos he is no longer only describing feelings, he is feeling them too ; and the reader catches the impulse, and his heart bleeds for the sufferer or sufferers as the case may be. Such is the effect of true pathos. George Eliot lacks enthusiasm ; Middle-march especially 8 Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

Avants it. Adam Bede had more; so had the Mill on the Floss. In the case of this Avriter, observation seems to have killed enthusiasm, and placed contempt in its stead. Art is essentially sympathetic; a want of sympathy makes a defect in art. 4, The Moral Tendency, and the after-thought in the reader's mind.—Morality ought to pervade true art in such a way that its presence should be insensibly felt. It ought not to obtrude itself in the form of advice, epigrammatic sayings in the style of La Bruyere, or plain indications of vices to be censured. If we Avant a proof of human depra\'ity, Ave have it in the fact that people cannot read a simple story, long or short, Avithout asking Avhat is the moral of it. Surely the English nation must be the most immoral one in the world, for it is they more than any others, Avho seem to feel the need of a moral attached to each novel or story. And their novelists liaA-e seen this want, and have met it. They have pointed their morals in the sharpest Avay, and adorned their tales Avith satires of the most cutting description. The French writer Taine says the English are too moral. Their novels are too little works of art, and too much moral essays. So far he is right, but no further; not Avhen he reproves the English noAêlist for not casting the glow of beauty over vice, nor making human nature attractiAê in any form, no matter what its character may be. Moral beauty belongs to art as much as any other kind of beauty does; only it must pervade it, not form a heterogeneous excrescence from it. Both George Eliot and Thackeray moralise too much ; they are too satirical. Thackeray is an avoAved lay preacher, and sermonises openly and constantly; and his sermons have in many instances had the desired eifect among those for whom they were intended. Moraliser as he is, he is tender to human nature: he attacks it constantly, despises it sometimes, and hates it—never. Neither do Ave hate even his worst men and Avomen; Ave are able to laugh at them, because he does so himself. George Eliot, as we might haAê expected, moralises in epigrams and in mental anatomy. Her sayings are Aêry deep and wonderful, though sometimes heavily John- sonian. She does not abuse her victims so heartily and openly as Thackeray, neither does she treat them to so much irony as he does, nor laugh so heartily at their human Aveaknesses ; but she turns them over and oA'er, and looks them through and through, till every little Tlte Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 9 speck and mole has been discovered, and then leaves them for us to gaze on; and lo ! the glory has departed. Scorn and contempt in an author are infectious; and we begin to feel the same for our species. Where these are, cheerfulness and hope are at an end. Not hope for the pleasant ending of the novel, but for the ideal of humanity. Does such hopefulness form a necessary element in the teaching of the novelist, and is the want of it a flaw in his work ? Art and nature, as I showed before, are one with each other. Where nature is looked on as an adverse power, a fatality that must be accepted, then they are no longer one. Art, too, dons her weapons against fate; but in her very feebleness, her strongest weapon is her scorn; and she is certain of defeat. And by virtue of this very scorn and opposition, she is no longer art in the true sense. The calm of artistic power is displaced by a liiorbid foreboding ; and where this is the case, feebleness is the inevitable result. The afterthought occasioned by George Eliot's woi-ks is in most cases tinged with melancholy. This is partly due to the fact that, having adopted a new and painful philosophy, she has also entered upon a new and difficult path in religion. It is a path where reason has much to do in rectifying the conclusions of an unthinking faith. !So hard is this task, so wide the field in which this effort is made, that despair has overtaken the seeker for truth— despair of human help, despair of finding alone a way out of the labyrinth. No wonder, then, that melancholy ensues, and pervades her pages and the minds of her readers. Our only comfort, after reading her works, is the thought that possibly the fate of her noblest heroes and heroines does not embody her type of the fate of humanity. Believing the future to be built up on the basis of the past, and every failure or success to be a paving of the way for something different, we cannot help seeing that those who fail in carrying out noble efforts are sacrifices to the general good. Others will see their fruitless efforts, will carry them on to success, and achieve a praise not wholly their own. George Eliot then, perhaps, chooses her noblest characters from among those who are sacrifices to the good of humanity. The wreck of those noble aims, while it, leads to a sense of the smallness and weakness of the individual, cannot extinguish the hope which those very aims have kindled, a generous hope on behalf of the whole human race. No. 1. JANUAKT 1875. B lO The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Such a thought alone can reconcile us to the fate of Dorothea ; and it is but a shallow reconciliation, when we consider the place she has won in our regard. Not only are her own aspirations not met, but she is given to one of an infinitely lower life and aim. She who had been trying all her life to find out her religion, and who found it only in a perpetual seeking after the Beautiful and the Good, is consigned to the care of one who carries his religion no further than to admire the Beautiful and the Good when he sees them. Dorothea, like St. Theresa, goes out even through the wilderness after her religion. "Will Ladislaw sits com- fortably in his arm-chair, and allows his religion to come to him. And it comes to him in the shape of Dorothea. How tliat St. Theresa ever found her way out of the desert to the fireside of Will Ladislaw, and chose to remain there, I cannot conceive; she must have been labouring under some hallucination brought on by fasting. To Dorothea, at the very outset, the author may seem to have addressed some such imaginary warning as this:— Aim high, seek to reconcile your faith with your life; act nobly, believe largely, and then marry an ordinary man at the end of the chapter. AVith regard to the after-thought occasioned by Thackeray's works, it is in no way tinged with religious melancholy, nor very deeply with melancholy of any kind. In religion he has apparently, more like a Scribe than a Pharisee, adhered to the traditions of his forefathers ; they are enough for him, he rests in them, makes his noblest characters do so, and wishes all the people in Vanity Fair would do the same. And we close his books with a feeling of hopefulness. He never ends in the minor key; after a little interlude of sadness, his tones quickly resolve themselves into tones of joy, and he marches his characters off" the scene with an accompanying flourish of trumpets, which gives us to understand that each has at last found his right place in the world, has met with justice at the hands of his novelist, and is at peace with all around. And is not such peace with external objects one of the requisites of true art, one of the phases of unity with nature ? AVe find, then, in summing up the foregoing remarks, that, while George Eliot dissects men, Thackeray describes them in the mass; while she excels in descriptions of nature, and in mental analysis, he excels in The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 11

narrative objectivity; while she shines in humorous sayings, Thackeray is great as a describer of grotesque actions; while she'records feelings, Thackeray feels them; while she preaches covertly, Thackeray does it openly; while she leaves a melancholy after-thought and an un- definable sadness, Thackeray leaves us wdth a cheerful impression of poetical justice, and a hope that things in general are not going wrong. The points in which Thackeray excels—namely, the narrating of action, practical humour, pathos, a happier after-thought, a sense of poetic justice—are all essential ingredients in the novelist's power. George Eliot surpasses Thackeray in her descriptions of nature and in Avitty sayings ; but she excels him also in mental analysis, and in the power of producing melancholy feelings—two qualities which are not indispensably necessary to the novelist. The very fact, then, that her greatest power—namely, that of mental analysis—does not necessarily belong to the novelist, is enough to show that we ought not to assert her supremacy in that direction. Still, no one can deny that she possesses genius of the noblest type; and nowhere do we feel more constrained to acknowledge this, than where she oversteps the proper limits assigned to her as a novelist. PROCLA,

(Bn %Q\\\\ to JtaliT. BY THE AUTHOR OP "GIFTS FOR MEN."

LEIGH COURT.

WE visited Clifton on our way to Italy, and had one happy week there with dear friends. They took us to see the pictures at Leigh Court. I have twice had occasion to love the name of Leigh; once for its woods, and once for its pictures. Those woods were life to me one spring. After months of anxious watching and weeks of personal exhaustion, it was delicious, witli my recovered treasure, to wander there, and with her to gather early violets. We were unconscious trespassers, and did not know that we had transgressed beyond the public limits, till, at the approach of Easter holiday-makers, gaps in hedges and 12 Tlie Ladies^ JEdinburgh Magazine, walls were all filled up, and we found no entrance to our paradise. The banishment, however, was not complete; for if shut out from Leigh, we were still free of a part of the same woods in Nightingale Valley. The Leigh woods stretch along the summit of the great cliffs opposite Clifton. There are superb views from the pathway wdiich skirts the cliff, but a child wanders more freely and safely away fi'om those precipitous heights; so I and the httle one left the larger glories, and haunted the inner glades. There our delights were many. The trees were still leafless, but the trunks were stately; lofty pillars with sculptm-ed tracery running down their whole noble length, looking as if the rains of centuries had hardened on them as they ran; the buds were all bm-sting, and the variety of their complicated folding gave us enough to wonder at. CroAvds of ferns frolicked far and near, and nestled iipon the outspread branches of the trees. The ivy hung in heavy wreaths; delicately tinted wild roses were blushing here and there; violets and anemones and primroses, the green heads of the lady's mantle, and the tassels of the Dog Mercury, showed fair among the dead leaves of the past year's woodland. Various moss and arum leaves covered the groimd, and the whole air was athrob with the singing of birds. Kind nature took us into her embraces there, and soothed and restored our souls with a thousand healing touches; and our praise of God for the spring left a blessing on those woods, which compensated for our unlawful wanderings. When next I learned to love the name of Leigh, it was not soothing but a stu-ring-up that I needed; and again I found just what I required from the bounties of the place. There are trials of a kind for which we are ourselves responsible, which are due more largely than we care to own to the incommunicable bitterness of the heart itself. Such trials do not injure the body, but they deaden the soul; they induce a weariness of conflict, and lead into the reaction of a deliberate refi;sal to feel at all. In a dream once, I found myself choking, stifling in deep waters; something like great masses of clinging ■weeds imprisoned my feet, so that I could not get out; and the horror of the situation was heiglitened when I discovered that this was my own hair, which had all f;illen off. At last 1 struggled on shore, and feebly walked away The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 13 from the water. After a while, I turned to look at the depth I had escaped, and behold ! there lay a tiny patch of bright green bog moss. " The earth is full," I exclaimed, " of deep waters; and tiiis little pool, so shallow that it is already overgrown with the sphagnum, was enough nearly to drown me." In the same manner I now look back and feel a like wonder that my strength all fell from me, and that I felt as if I Avas drowning in a trouble which already is hidden under gentle results; but at the time I went to Leigh Court, I had but newly scrambled to the firm earth. I had another dream once. I was pushing my way with a companion through a Titanic Vanity Fair. I hate a city at all times, and this city was terrible. The houses were as high as mountains; the roar of its traffic, the rattle of its carriages, were like sounds that may accompany the devil's dance of innumerable whirling pillars of sand and stones driven by howling winds over rocky deserts. The pressure of the crowds was hideous; I felt all squeezed and bruised as if I ^vere forcing my ^vay through thickly thronged fat bulls of Bashan. At last that pressure forced us aside into an enormous flesh-market, hung round as far as the eye could reach with carcases. A sort of twilight pervaded the place, and Ave were alone in it. My companion sat down in it with a sigh of relief, and said she was thankful for the cool and the quiet, and would gladly remain there always. I think other minds than mine must know the temptation to make that sort of " covenant with death" after a lengthened period of over-intensity. The will revolts against any further call upon sympathy, and hardens itself, and says, as Israel said, " The scourge shall not reach us." I was in the crisis of that temptation when I was taken to Leigh Court, willing to sit down in the cool quiet of unfeeling death. One look at a face there " annulled that covenant with death." It was the face of Leonardo da Vinci's " Creator Mundi;" the face and hands of the living Word of God, by whom the worlds were made. The hands were large and powerful, instinct with diverse power, nervous energy vitally present in the thin fingers, cunning faculty in the square turned-back thumb of mechanical genius. One hand held the globe, the other was raised in command, and light was rising within the universe at that command. The surface of the globe reflected the green of His garment and the embroidery of 14 The Ladies Edinburgh, Magazine.

His vesture. His face was inspired with all life; not only with the majestic word of power; not only with the sub- tile strength of organizing intellect; not only with the sacrificing energy of the priest; not only with the sacri- ficial foreknowledge of the Cross, of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world,—but with all these, and also with the rich possibilities of laughter, with the terrible possibilities of the derision of One that sitteth in the heavens. Looking upon that face, I could sympathize with the calling forth of the grotesque forms which crawled over the earth when first redeemed from chaos, when, it may be, revolted foes were forced into the forms of " complicated monsters," " chimeras dire." Leigh Court is full of priceless treasures. Raphael's •' Procession to Calvary," and fine replicas of his " Julius IL," and of his missing " Madonna di Loretto;" an Epiphany said to be by Giovanni Bellini, but by Crowe and Cavalcaselle attributed to Giorgione ; Domenichino's " St. John," said by Mrs. Jameson to be that artist's finest single picture; two superb Titians; Rubens' magnificent " Conversion of St. Paul," and " Woman taken in Adultery ; " Murillo's serene " Virgin resting on her Way to Egypt"; Velasquez' "Adoring Virgin," and the altieri Claudes, two pictures which cost their possessor £12,000, are a few pre-eminent among its jewels. The "Adoring Virgin," attributed to Velasquez, but on account of the ideality of the face believed by Dr. Waagen not to be by him, but by some unknown Spanish painter, is a most unusual thought. The Virgin is represented, I imagine, at the moment when the power of the Highest overshadowed her. She is not caught up and away from earth as in Murillo's " Immaculate Conception." As woman, and not as goddess, she receives the mystery. She is sinking forwards, with her arms outspread, her hands open expressive of adoration, yet instinct with caress. Her eyes are raised, but raised away from the light towards which she is drawn—away from the light which transfigures her. Kubens' "Woman taken in Adultery" is a magnificent study of various expression. The Scribes and Pharisees, blear-eyed and malicious, or fat, sensual, and subtle ; the dignified Joseph of Arimathea looking earnestly at the Christ; the yoimg man gazing with half-admiring pity and curiosity at the woman, more interested in her than in the controversy,—are all touched with a masterly hand. The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 15

Even greater than the power displayed in this picture is the dramatic force of the scene where Saul is struck down on his way to Damascus. Dr. Waagen says of this picture, that terror is strikiugly expressed in the face of the prostrate Saul. I could see no terror there. It looked like the face of one in a death-like swoon ; with an expression on the features such as is sometimes seen on the face of the dead, as if the spirit held converse apart from the body, and yet informed the body ; as if the spirit threw upon the body the influence of that communion, when asking " Lord, what wouldst Thou have me to do'?" it was prepared to receive the answer through those whom it had persecuted; the answer which bursts forth in Mendelssohn's wonderful "Arise, shine! for thy light is come." Dr. Waagen's remark on Guido's " Cleopatra " amused me by its literal truth. He describes it as " extremely pleasing in feature and expression." Charming qualities, which, however truly descriptive of the picture, scarcely raise before the mind's eye that creature born of fire and water. One of the hands looks white, and dead, and leathery,—perhaps, if we like to so imagine it, from the poison having begun to work; but Guido's hands are often failures, at least to the eyes of the inartistic. The name of Michael Angelo is given to a curious little picture of the Crucifixion, but as the only easel picture which Michael Angelo ever painted is in the Tribuha at Florence, this, though perhaps taken from the Thunderer's design, is probably by one of his pupils. It shows us on either side of the Crucified two figures standing, and immediately above them two others, of wlmm we see only the heads looking out of a low-lying cloud. The head on the right and the figm-e on the left are weeping and lamenting; the head on the left and the figure on the right are gazing at the Crucified, too absorbed in contemplation to show any access of grief. This curious geometrical disposition of figures and feelings has the effect almost of a riddle, and takes away from the impressiveness of the treatment of the awful theme at first sight; but there is a certain poAver in the work which lays hold of the imagination after a while, and I found myself often dwelling upon that strange conception of the dual completeness of emotion and contemplation uniting the family in heaven and in earth, where the angel above took up the feeling contrasted with that of the mortal below. 16 The Ladies' Edmhurgh Magazine.

I delighted in a " Virgin and Child " by Vandyke ; a lovely picture, in Avhicli the Child lies asleep on a high bed, and the mother stretches over to gaze on His face. The faces are not idealised, but are sweetly and purely human; and I confess I think that a mother's love over her babe is the more divinely represented the nearer the artist keeps to the natural truth. This picture, lovely as it is, shares in a peculiarity which has always struck me in Vandyke's sacred pictures, as contrasted with his portraits. I scarcely dare venture the remark, but it has seemed to me, that while Vandyke's portraits are all miracles of art, his sacred subjects, treated with the most lovely truth to nature, are to some degree careless in drawing, and in some part or other of the figures affect one as imperfect in art. The exquisite " Virgin " in Munich is, if I may venture to say so, a good case in point. The Baby has fallen asleep in a position which makes it diflicult for the mother to move, and she turns her head slowly and constrainedly to Joseph, who, coming up behind her, has evidently just been checked by her whisper into fatherly caution not to wake the sleeper. The feeling is exquisite, but it seemed to me the drawing contrasted strangely with the magnificent portraits which hung in the same gallery. One great charm about Leigh Court is the perfection of its arrangement, and the courtesy Avith which visitors are treated. The delicious little room in the Seminario at Venice is the only place I have come across, either in England or on the Continent, where we found an equal consideration. At Leigh Court the butler received us as if we had been honoured guests, took us iuto one of the rooms, handed each of us a plan of the walls with names of the pictures, and left us to enjoy ourselves, with the intimation that he would be ready to take us further whenever we chose to call him. His own delight in the pictures was genuine. The considerate provision made for the real enjoyment of visitors to his treasures so fihed me with gratitude to Sir William Miles, that when we left the house I turned round to pour out fervent thanks before his portrait, Avhich hangs in the hall; and whenever I call up the memory of that delicious place, it is with renewed thanks to one who has the rare gift of giving in giving, and where he gives freedom, gives it nobly. LYDIA BREWSTER MACPHERSON. : The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 17 i^hou^hts on telalt Mhilman's " %uu^ jjf %i^m.'*

Is there anything more beautiful than grass ? Is there any scent comparable to the fragrance it can give us ? Do we not associate it in our minds with all that is pure and fresh and lovely—with the glistening of the dew- drop, and the song of the lark, and the bleating of the lamb ? Then truly Leaves of Grass is no inappropriate title for a volume of poems where purity and freshness form some of the chief characteristics. Wherever the author leads us (and Avhere does he not lead us?) we seem to breathe the fresh invigorating air of heaven, not as a chilling blast, but as the summer wind, laden with summer scents, quickening the pulses of life and hope. In the open air he addresses us, and the open road is his favourite theme. We must go forth to hear him, out of the school, out of the church; but, perhaps, we shall return thence blest with the strength he has given us, cheered with the vista he has disclosed to us. For he says—

" I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, T lead no man to a dinner-table, library, or exchange, But each man, and each woman of you, I lead upon a knoll, My left hand hooking you round the waist, My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and a plain public road." Shall we not rejoice at the indication of such a road? for many travellers, especially the young travellers, are standing now perplexed in life's way. They hear a din of voices crying " Infidelity!" "Danger!" " Terrible times!" They are aware of strange doubts working in their souls, coming, they know not from whence, tending they know not whither. And a voice on one side says, " This is the way, here alone is peace ; " and a voice on the other, " Nay, here, and here only, is peace." But there is that " plain public road," and the head bent in anguish may be raised in joy, and the trembling feet may go on, gaining steadi- ness as they go. How do the travellers walk there? They simply go straight forward with a fearless step, not too anxious about duties, but accepting and performing them as they find them. Not too anxious about truth, yet ever preserving the essentials for finding it—a pure heart and an open eye. Listening reverently to every No. 1.—JOJUAKY 1875. C 18 The Ladies Edinbimjh Magazine. voice, but acknowledging the authority of one only, the Divine voice within them. Rejoicing in all progress, and in all that tends to the liberty and happiness of man. Loving mankind intensely, loving also the animals, loving nature, seeing God in all. Not dwelling too much on the future, but carrying with them, deep in their souls, a calm conviction that all will be well. We are not venturing upon a criticism of Whitman, nor pronouncing where his place should be amongst the rank of poets. Great though he is as a poet, it is ratlier as a great man we love to think of him; for does not this name bring him nearer than the other ? And he is one to whom every man and woman may draw near, for he has a touch for each, and a Avord for each. It is a great Heart that speaks to us through these poems, the heart of a Christlike man burning Avith an intense yearning love for the whole human race, and full of hope for man as limitless as his love. No race, no individual, however degraded, is beyond this hope. For example, in the " Saint au Moude," w^hen addressing all the different tribes of the earth, from the highest to the lowest type, " the Austral negro, naked, red, sooty, with protrusive lip, grovelling," he says to the latter,

" I do not prefer others so very much before you either, I do not say one word against you ; Away back tliere, where you stand (You will come forward in due time to my side"").

And in the poem entitled " Faces," where, amongst the pure and beautiful, the "sacred faces of infants," and the " illuminated face of the mother of many children," we have also those of the vile and the mean brought before us, he says,

" I see them, and complain not, and am content with all; Do you suppose I could be content with all, if I thought them their own finale ?

Spots and cracks at the windows do not disturb me; Tall and sufficient stand behind and make signs to me, I read the promise and patiently wait."

Doubtless the ground of this hope lies in his faith in man. He fully recognises the divine in himself and in all men. Alas for the theology that would destroy this faith, teaching as one of its primary lessons (in spite of the contradiction of facts) the utter vUeness of human The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 19 nature ! What thanks do we not owe to the poets and other teachers who help us to rise above this atheistic- theologic mist (for is it not atheism to deny God's presence in His greatest work 1) and enable us to look at the divine side of things, and thus strengthen us to the "bearing," "enduring," and "hoping" of all things, because we "believe all things." No one denies our obligation to love our fellow-men, but is this possible without having faith in them ? Whitman has given us a picture of the struggles and aspirations of the soul in the following lines:—

" Ah, poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats ! Ah, you foes that in conflict have overcome me ! (For vchat is my life, or any man's life, but a conflict with foes— the old incessant war?) You degradations—you tussle with passions and appetites ; You smart from dissatisfied friendships (ah, wounds the sharpest of all!) You toil of painful and choked articulations; you meannesses ; you shallow tongue-talk at tables, my tongue the shallowest of any ; you broken resolutions ; you racking angers ; you smothered ennuis ; Ah, think not you finally triumph— My real self has yet to come forth; it shall yet march forth, over- mastering till all lies beneath me ; It shall yet stand up, the soldier of unquestioned victory."

How true is every line to nature! How pathetic the illusion to that "sharpest" wound! How triumphant the assurance of victory! Poor human soul, so often wounded! so often baffled! pining for heights that seem never to be reached, yet, glorious human soul, offspring of God, thyself a " God, though in the germ." Do we admit this divinity in human nature? and if so, where shall we limit it? Shall we acknowledge it in the spiritual part, and deny it in the material? or shall we view the whole as divine ? Our American brother has answered these questions for us. He calls himself " the poet of the body, as well as of the soul," and asserts, " if anything is sacred, the human body is sacred." Is not this a true leaf of grass? Is not the scent of the clover here ? It is altogether so sweet and refreshing to see the body thus exalted, to hear it declared sacred in all its parts and functions. Another leaf Ave may take up is the individual love. Again and again it is expressed in these poems, and its intensity is not less than the universal love. It is touchingly beautiful to see a soul like our poet's so full of strength and self-reliance, yet dependent 20 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

upon sympathy as for its very existence, unable to stand (at least joyously) alone. And who w^ould envy the strength that is independent of human sympathy ? Thus he speaks of himself—

" I saw in Louisiana a live oak growing ; All alone stood it, and the moss hung down from the branches ; Without any companion it grew there, uttering joyous leaves of dark green ; And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself ; But I wondered how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone there, without its friend, its lover near—for / knew I could not." Love is with him "the base of all metaphysics," the answerer of " terrible doubts." Speaking of the latter he says— " When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long time holding my hand ; then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am silent— I require nothing further." Yet we have a hint given us of an unsatisfied thirst, and of the expectation of the soul to find the " Perfect Comrade " hereafter. His belief in immortality is strong, and his thoughts of God and death are deep and sublime. He does not seem to have much sympathy with the priesthood. Probably in his sight its members deal too lightly with sacred subjects ; and he does not hesitate to apply to them the terms " Bat-eyed" and " Materialistic." We hear him addressing his own soul in these words—

" Ah ! more than any priest, 0 soul, we too believe in God, But with the mystery of God we dare not dally." But though he allows the mystery, he has also assured us that—

" No array of terms can say how much I am at peace About God and about death." Here the brother's hand is reaching us, strengthening us w^th its touch amidst the darkness, and fears that surround us concerning the awful unknown and unknow- able Death, while liis voice—the inspired-poet voice— whispers peace. The Unknown seems know^n to him. It is with him the theme of themes, filhng him wdth an almost passionate joy and adoration. He has unveiled for us the statue of the so-called " King of terrors," and we behold the form of a tender Mother! He has brought i The Ladies Edinhurgli Magazine. 21 us nigh to that Embrace, from whose supposed iciness we shrank back appalled, and we feel nought but the warmth of Love ! Has ever poet helped us thus ? Have any given utterance to such thoughts as these ?—

" Praised be the fathomless universe, For life, and joy, and for objects, and knowledge curious, And for love, sweet love. But praise ! praise ! praise ! For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding Death. Dark mother, always gliding near with soft feet. Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome 1 Then I chant it for thee. I glorify thee above all; I bring thee a song, that when thou must indeed come— come unfalteringly. Approach, strong Deliveress ! When it is so. When thou hast taken them, I joyously sing the dead ; Lost in the loving floating ocean of thee. Laved in the flood of thy bliss, O Death ! "

We must bear in mind the fact that this is not the language of one to whom life is a burden, nor of an ascetic, despising and withdrawing from the world, but of one who can enter into its joys, and who is possessed of great mental and bodily vigour. But he conceives of that other life as possessing so much more fulness and completeness than our present one, that in comparison the latter is but the shadow, the former the reality.

" Pensive and faltering. The words ' the Dead ' I write, For living are the Dead (Haply the only living, only real. And I the apparition, I the spectre)."

Death is to him an almighty, never-failing friend. His eye pierces beyond the dark tragedies of life, and catches the beams of her glory. His ear is quickened to hear her voice even above the cries of human agony. And he says to us,—

" Did you think Life was so well provided for—and Death, The purport of all Life, is not well provided for ? I do not doubt that wrecks at sea, no matter what the horrors Of them, no matter whose wife, child, husband, father, lover has Gone down, are provided for to the minutest point. 1 do not think Life provides for all, and for Time and Space, but I believe Heavenly Death provides for all."

We should be inclined to deem this perfect confidence too unnatural were it alivays unshaken ; but we have in the little poem, " Yet, yet, ye doAvncast hours," tokens given us that the sunshine is sometimes obscured. We 22 The Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine.

have seen it somewhere remarked that a tone of triumph runs through the Bible. The same may be said of the Leaves of Gr'ass; and when the author gives us a picture of himself, contemplating all the terrible things of life—wars, and famines, meannesses and cruelties, and adds, " I see, hear, and am silent," we conceive a majesty in this profound sorrowful silence. It is not the silence of despair (that word seems unknown to him), but the silence of the deep human soul, suffering and waiting till a light shall break on the problems of life. We have said that Whitman resembles that Poet of all Ages, the Christ; and one of the deepest of his poems is the one entitled " To Him that was Crucified," in which he claims for himself (and for all who do not merely sound the name of Christ, but who understand Christ) a union with Him in His great work, which he conceives to be the making men " Brethren and lovers as we are." It is a poem particularly suited to our times. It has a divine peace in it; and to turn to it from the endless discussions and controversies of the religious world, is like leaving the dusty crowded thoroughfare to enjoy nature's own delicious calm. Amongst other striking pieces, we may point to the pathetic " By the City Uead-House," the heart-stirring " Pioneers," the sublime " Burial Hymn" (President Lincoln's), and the " Passage to India," in which we have the following magnificent lines :—

" O thou transcendent! Nameless !—the fibre and the breath ! Light of the light, shedding forth universes, thou centre of them! Thou mightier centre of the true, the good, the loving ! Thou moral spiritual fountain ! Affection's source ! Thou reservoir ! (O pensive soul of me ! O thirst unsatisfied ! waitest not there, Waitest not haply for us somewhere there, the Comrade Perfect ?) Thou pulse ! Thou motive of the suns, stars, systems, That circling move in order safe, harmonious, Athwart the shapeless vastnesses of Space ! How should I think—how breathe a single breath— How speak— if out of myself I could not launch to these, superior universes ? Swiftly I shrivel at the thought of God, At nature and its wonders, Time, and Space, and Death, But that 1 turning call to thee, O Soul, thou actual me, And lo! thou gently masterest the orbs, Thou matest Time, smilest content at Death, And fillest, swellest full, the vastnesses of Space."

These extracts have been taken from the complete edition of the Leaves of Grass. A few years ago, Mr. Rossetti edited a selection of these poems, with a prefatory The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 23 notice, which gives us some interesting information about the author's Hfe. We read of his tender devotion in nursing thousands of sick soldiers during the late American War; hoio lovingly, we can well imagine from the great tenderness of feeling that breathes through his poems Mr. Kossetti is a stanch admirer of Whitman, but we cannot help regretting the negative ^ralsQ he gives him, when he says, " He is not a corrupting writer." On such an important point we look for something more positive. If he is found to write freely about the human body, we think the thoughtful and refined will find a reason for his so doing in the fact that to him the body is so sacred. And we cannot think that anyone giving the book a can- did perusal could fail to perceive the high tone of the author's mind, and how he longs (as the true poet ever must) for the purity and exaltation of the human race. We have been led to make these few remarks upon this remarkable book, because we have reason to believe it is not very well known on this side of the Atlantic. As we said before, our object is not criticism, but simply to bring the author before the reader's notice. Very probably thel after will be ready to exclaim, " Is this a poet ? " How unmusical are his sentences ? How void of rhythm ? Yes, but listen to his own definition of the poet; and if you find the picture fair, read his works, and then judge how far he corresponds to the ideal. " He judges not as the judge, but as the sun falling round a helpless thing. As he sees furthest, he has the most faith. His thoughts are the hymns of the praise of things. On the dispute on God and eternity he is silent; He sees eternity less like a play with a prologue and denouement. He sees eternity in men and women." Since he awakens harmony in souls, shall we not forgive his frequent want of rhythm ? Certainly he makes us feel how great a thing it is to be a man, how equally great to be a woman. Life, and the common things of life, he clothes and crowns with beauty, yet preserving the fairest robe and the highest crown for '• Heavenly Death." JOAN SCOTT. 24 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

% %t\}tXXt,

PURPLE touch of fitful shade, Trembling where red blossoms made Brightness in our forest glade.

Yonder tripping of a hare, Startled from his hidden lair Into clover-scented air.

Pretty leaves, all gold and white, Glowdng in this happy light, But falling in the cool night.

Falling lightly—lightly dead. On a sweet and dewy bed ; While their brothers over-head

Linger out each little day. Linger, warmed by sunny ray, Who so glad at heart as they ?

One came to meet me years ago, Just when the leaves were falling so- Just when the sun was lying low:

And I, among the beauty here, Was looking wide and far and near. Wondering what had made it dear.

n. Golden gleam of harvest moon, Keeping all the hills in tune, Like the march of light in June.

Dying edge of crimson light, On the brook of crystal white, Shining dimly in the night. Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 25

Folded is each heavy rose; Silently each apple grows, Hoio, perchance the night-bat knows.

Silently the dew descends, • / Drinking it each fiow'r-cup bends, Thankful for the joy it lends.

Silently the angels come, And whisper quietly to some, Happy thoughts about their Home.

One who met me years ago Dwells in a land I do not know; But it is Christ who wills it so.

We strolled among the beauty here, And looking wide and far and near I know noio what has made it dear! NAOMI S. SMITH.

" They've dug the crypt for darkness; The aisle the red lights pave, Without is the tvrilight cloister, Within the sunlit nave. Beyond is the choir for prayer and praise. And the chapel for a grave."—W. THOBNBUEY.

WHEN I let my thoughts dwell on the days of my youth, how clearly 1 see before me our Benedictine house of Caserta in Magna Grecia, as it then was ! The path Avas steep which led up to it through the oli\'e and pine wood, and at each turn of the road stood a little shrine, where pilgrims might pause to rest and pray ; but when you reached the meadow where the monastery stood, it was a fair Avide space, with a stream running through it, and bordered by Avoods, above Avhich the rocky mountain- peaks rose into the sky. It Avas all quite secluded ; the stream turned the mill which groimd our corn and filled our fish-ponds, before it danced doAvn the hillside on its way to the sea, seven stadii distant. From Avithout, the No. 1.—JANCAEY 1875. 26 T/w Ladies Edinhurgh Magazine. house showed but a high white enclosing wall, four square, with a mighty arched door and a postern, and with the roofs of the buildings within and the high church bell- tower alone showing over it; but within how beautiful and busy it was ! There was the Abbot's house and the hospital, the dormitory of the brothers, the workshops of the masons, carpenters, carvers, and weavers; for all we needed for ourselves or our poor, we ourselves wrought within the walls. There was the church, and the cloister, then only down one side, but already the pride of our house. For on the open side Avere double columns, and the capital of every column had a different foliage carved on it; and they themselves stood on strange beasts, winged and clawed, to show that even the haunting terrors of the wilderness might become servants and sup- porters of our Holy Church. One of these beasts was a dragon, his tail interlacing the columns, and his strong claws grasping the pedestal; he looked as if some St. George had not slain but subdued him, till the evil was departed from him, and the power only remained. This dragon I have portrayed on this parchment as the initial letter and emblem of those things I am about to relate. At the entrance, two winged Lombardic lions were carved, sitting with stern faces, as if to guard the portal. And all was wrought in white and yellow marble we had quarried out of the cliffs above, or the worser parts in the finest brick and stone. How beautiful the cloister would look when the sunshine glowed on the golden-tinted marble of the columns and architraves! and under the round arches the shadow was so dark that none could see from without who paced within. Our windows were all small and round-headed, save the wide one high on the tower, that the clang of the bell within might be well heard. Many came from far and near to see our cloister, which was designed by our brother Ambrosius. a great architect, and the monk I loved best; lately dead at the time of which I shall now speak. I could just remember twenty years before this time, when I was but five years old, how when everyone expected the end of the world, when all work ceased, and the very mill was silent, while never-ending processions and services went on; still the click of the chisel of Brother Ambrosius was heard working at the cloister arches. The Superior and others would reprove him; but he would The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 27

say—" And if He comes, how better could I be found than carving? But, look you, there is still so much carving to be done here on the arches, and in the world about, that I do not believe the end of the world will come for long, till we have all time to finish." In that year of our Lord 999, if there was a thunderstorm or a shock of earthquake,— and there were several,—all the peasants of the neighbourhood used to run up to the monastery and crowd within our walls, beating their breasts and bemoaning themselves, and confessing out loud to any of the fathers who would come near them; and they, absolving right and left, seemed often too frightened to listen to a word. Then the lord of Borca came one day, with his lady on his horse behind him, bringing their little son, a beautiful child of three, Astolfo, to dedicate for ever as a monk for their sins; for they thought even a child-monk in the family was better than none at such a time. He was very clever and spirited, as was shown in the worst fright we had that year. One festival day, all were so tired of penances and expectation that the Superior granted a recreation for garden-work, and a festal meal on the meadows. It was a beautiful day in autumn, and we boys played merrily on the grass, while the brethren reclined at meat, and even dared to talk and laugh again; when suddenly there sounded one terrible clang, like an instant's thunder, yet with a strange tone of music in it, and then silence again. All started up and ran hither and thither, most to the church. I screamed, too frightened to stir; but Astolfo took my hand, and saying, " Come, I have thought what to do Avhen the fire begins," ran with me headlong down to the fish-ponds, and jumped in with me up to our chins. Will it be believed that not the more ignorant lay brothers only, but a few of the choir monks themselves shouting out, " Follow the blessed child, he is inspired I " splashed in too, and there we all sat shivering for what seemed to me a long time, till Brother Ambrosius came down all shaken with laughter, and lifted out Astolfo and me, saying, " Come out, you wiseacres, who prefer stewing to burning; all may see that you know what you deserve; come out and see that this is all because Brother Grimwold thought the old bell-rope might last till the end of the world, though it was nearly worn through, so of course down came the great bell." Then they all came out; but one old lay-brother, between fright and cold, died of that wetting, so it was the end of the world to him. 28 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

As for Astolfo, he remained my best fi-iend; he grew tall and strong; but though now twenty-three, he was still in the novitiate. They made him renew his dedication when he was twelve years old, or no doubt he would ere this have left the cloister; but though bred a choir monk, he joined as much as he could in the outdoor work, directed the quarrying in the mountain, the road-making, or at home the mill. '• Were it not for the mountain quarry, and the wolves, and the wild swine, I must run off, my Laurentio," he would say to me, "let what will befall my family, who think they may do what they like, now they have a cloistered son." In truth, Astolfo's brother, the young lord of Borca, w'as an evil man, and was hated by both vassal and neighbour. One day, far off in the woods, he met Astolfo carrying a boar-spear. " What business hast thou moulding on the chase % " he said; " go home and do penance for thyself and the family." '"Well met," said Astolfo ; " I rejoice to be able to help one of the family on the road to penitence." And so saying, he gave the young count a good beating, none of the hunters daring to interfere with a monk of Caserta, and their lord's son to boot. I also, though now six-and-twenty years old, had not taken the final vows ; and though I loved our house, I as well as the master of the novices doubted my vocation. Chiefly I delighted in architecture and carved Avork, in which I had been considered an apt pupil of Father Ambrosius. At that time I knew little of the miseries of the world without, though ever and anon people flying from their enemies would seek for refuge with us; and peasants ill-treated by their lords Avould settle on our farms, where none dared to touch them, and which were respected by the fighting men of the Greek Emperor and the Roman Emperor alike. For neither the Capitan of Byzantium nor the Prince of Salerno had any jurisdiction over us; we were a daughter house of the Benedictine Abbey of Monte Casino, which owed allegiance to the Pope alone; and save for the confirmation of our Superiors, we never heard aught of the Abbot of Monte Casino. So "\ve governed ourselves, an island of peace and plenty, and carving, and writing, and music, in the midst of the turbulent seas of fightings and confusions and troubles outside. The Saracens were our one great danger, but hitherto they had done us little harm, owing to.the timely rescue the surrounding lords and peasants, The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 29

together with our own vassals, brought us, when at three different times they attacked us. We were, as I said, six stadii from the sea, and thus the less exposed to their galleys. The most dangerous attack they ever made on us was so completely repulsed that our people pursued them to their galleys, capturing and destroying one, and making a great slaughter. There I was found a little boy of four, remembering little but that my name Avas Laurentio, and that I had been carried away from sweet ladies who loved me, one night of flames, and clash of weapons, and bloodshed. The monks, and in especial Father Ambrosius and Father Anselmo, master of the novices, had cared for me ever since. And now, as I said, I was a young man, and the autumn winds of the twenty-second year of my stay at the monastery were beginning to blow. It is now many years ago, but it seems to me as yesterday, that just as we had finished the office for nones, and were returning proces- sionally from our chapel to the refectory, there sounded a loud knocking at the outer gate, which I, as servitor of the week, hastened to aid the porter to open. Rarely came a knock so late at our door, for we were not on the way to any place of pilgrimage or city, and our visitors were wont to come with the poor at the time of the noonday dole. My heart beat with expectation, for who could tell what chance was toward ? Because of my age, our tall sad Superior, the very glance of whose eye daunted the boldest of us—yes, even my own friend the fatherly Fra Anselmo—had of late spoken often of the time when I, a son of the house, should seal my vow and end my long novitiate. To belong for all my life to that community of sixty monks, never to see the great wide world that lay beyond these woods and that sea, never to mix with the stir of men in camps and courts and cities; above all, never to see those wondrous buildings, those palaces and temples wherewith the great men who had preceded us in the land (although heathen) had endowed it, I could not promise all that yet. I had seen a ruined temple and a vaulted hall, some said a bath, not far from Caserta, which made me long to see more. And when Fra Anselmo would speak with light in his eyes of that glorious saintly company gone before us, among whose fragrant memories our lives should pass, sometimes indeed I caught something of his fire, but oftener longed, if only for once, to enter the world in which they moved, and see perchance 30 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine.

a real St. Sebastian in chain and mail, or a live St. Doro- thea bearing roses. So with these wishes strong in my heart, I hurried to the outer gate. Often, indeed, do our wishes fulfil themselves; and yet the fulfilment may be quite other than what we short-sighted mortals dream. E. J. 0. {To be continued.^

OUR LIBRARY TABLE.

Gath to the Cedars. By S. H. K. London: Frederick Warne & Co. 1874.

THE writer of these journeyings in the Holy Land we have reason to believe is a lady whose travels have extended over other and far different scenes from those here described, a somewhat adventurous visit to Lapland and the North Pole having furnished her most recent experiences as a tourist. The book does not profess to throw any new light on the localities of Sacred Writ, already so thoroughly and frequently described; but the spirit of intense sympathetic interest in Avhich it is written, and as shoAvn, for instance, in the account of the first sight of Jerusalem, renders it admirably calculated to form a preface to a personal visit of the scenes narrated. The halo of feehng which the mind of the writer throws around all she sees, preserves her from a too matter-of- fact dissent from the legends and romanticism which have overgrown, in the lapse of ages, the scenes of biblical incident. Sonie adventures are described with considerable humour, the start from Kuryetein to Palmyra being a good instance of this. The interview with the Sheikh's son on the same occasion, and the descent on mnle-back through snoAv to the Cedars of Lebanon, are but two of the many instances in Avhich the pluck of the lady traveller met with its reward in her entertainment. The volume is profusely illustrated Avith large wood- cuts, many of Avhich are very admirable. Though denominated "original," it does not appear whether they come from the pencil of the authoress herself. The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 31

Ada and Gerty: A Story of School Life. By L GUIS A M. GRAY. Edinburgh: Maclaren & Macniven. 1875. We have much pleasure in bringing Ada and Gerty before the notice of our readers. It is a faithful picture of school life as it is to be found in our best schools, where the physical as well as the mental needs of the pupils are carefully attended to. The scene of the school is laid in one of the best parts of Edinburgh, and so vividly has the author brought before us its situation and surroundings, that it is with difficulty we restrain an exclamation of recognition. The characters of the girls are well and clearly drawn, so that we see, not a dull troop marching two and two through the streets of Edinburgh, but a number of individual human beings with idiosyncrasies and desires of their own. The most interesting and beautiful character is that of Ada. The author shows considerable power in her portraiture of this child, whose lively disposition and keen sense of the ludicrous are always leading her into scrapes, and bringing upon her the wrath of " Miss Maria," the well-intentioned but rather hard schoolmistress. But it is impossible not to love the generous, noble-minded Ada, from our first introduction to her in the midst of one of her merry pranks, on to the last chapter of the book, when the high spirits have been tamed, and she bravely and lovingly prepares to meet that at which many a strong man shudders. In contrast to Ada the author has very artistically placed, in the close proximity of chief friend, the more sober-minded but staunch and sturdy little Gerty. The book is altogether one which, though probably intended for young people, is well worthy of perusal by their elders. The tone throughout is high, without any attempt at preaching, the composition is easy and good, and the pages sparkle with school-girl fun. If we were to find any fault with a work which has given us so much pleasure, it would be that the young ladies indulge in a few Scotticisms which would certainlv have sentenced them to " forty lines " at least, had they reached the ears of " Miss Maria."

Patricia Kemball. By E. LYNN LINTON. London: Chatto & Windos. Patricia Kemhall is the name of a very interesting book, and of its heroine who is also very interesting, and moreover an upright, noble-minded girl. Her character stands 32 The Ladles Ed'mburgh Magazine. out in bold relief against the portrait of the underhand, treacherous Dora, who first gains the affections of her confiding friend, and then works her woe and disgrace, as nearly ruining her life as the life of one so truly good as Patricia could be ruined. She is saved partly by her own perfect openness and true-heartedness, partly by the friendship and judgment of two kind-hearted, clear- sighted people, a brother and sister, by name Doctor and Miss Fletcher. Among the other characters, all well brought out and naturally drawn, Mr. Hamly, the wealthy parvenu, stands pre-eminent. Vulgar and pretentious, bad enough, but not altogether bad, a touch of feeling sometimes shows that even he under other circumstances might have been a better man. It seems rather a mistake to end this healthy-minded, amusing novel with a sensational tragedy. After laughing at a man all through a book, one does not want to see him knocked on the head and sent barbarously out of the world, though one could enjoy the poetical justice of seeing his pride lowered, and his gains, where ill-gotten, taken from him and given back to the man he has injured. Instead of this, the poor injured one is hauged on what seems insufficient evidence for the murder, our heroine left with a shade on her beautiful character; and though things end what is called well, nevertheless an unsatisfied feeling is left in the mind of the reader. Still the book is deeply interesting, and the interest never flags, which is a great and uncommon advantage. The Toadies Edinburgh Magazine. 33

^bt ^ragou of tbc Hortb.

CHAPTER II. " Deep, deep the greenwood round them waves, Their abbey and its close of gi-aves. * * * Yet banners flashing through the trees Make their blood dance and chain their eyes ; The bugle music on the breeze Arrests them with a charmed surprise. Banner by turns and bugle woo ; Ye shy recluses, follow too ! "—MATHEW ARNOLD.

WE threw the great gate wide open, and I for one was somewhat disappointed to see without only a well- apparelled and somewhat obese monk on his mule, with two attendants. As I turned back to announce his degree to tlie community, leaving the porter to bring him in. " Come here, my son," lie said, " and tell me how long thou hast inhabited this monastery." " Years ago," I answered, " I was taken a young child from a shipwrecked Saracen vessel." " And thou art not yet professed 1 It is well thy face pleaseth me; go and announce the priest and monk Damasus to the Superior." Our Superior, Father Crysolarus, ordered us to form two lines in the Refectory, chanting " Apostolica Dilectis- simi," for our priestly visitors were received with much precision ; and so the stranger enlered, and I saw no more, as with the younger novices I retired to our lower hall. Of course they were talking of the stranger; and Astolfo, ever anxious to hear something new, coaxed Bartolo, a lay brother, to change gowns with him, that he might go to the stables to rub down the horses and gather news from the stranger servants. Thereby he ran a great risk, for, contrary to his wont, the prior came among us before vespers, so no change of gowns again was possible ; and had I not seized the utterly confused Bartolo by the arm, and pulled his cowl over his eyes, and thus led him into the chapel beside me, it had gone hard with Astolfo. But none discovered the change, so that time he escaped whipping. And after vespers he came back, smelling foully of the stables ; and they changed gowns, and we novices strolled out into the vineyard. " 0 Laurentio," said Astolfo to me, " such M^onders as I have heard—dearly bought, however, had the old Prior Ko 2.—FEBunARV 1875. E 34 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. guessed. These men have only ridden here, indeed, from iSalerno, but tliey tell me that lying beneath our own cliiFs, and we may perchance see it when it goes forth, is a water-dragon, an enormous glittering ship of war, filled with men of blood, fiercer tlian the Saracens, from countries further away, where snow and ice all the year round have starved the wild giants out of their homes; you have heard them named before—tlie Normans—and none know whether they come peacefully or in wrath. Oil, if but once I could fight as St. George with that dragon, or, if they are peaceful, sail away with them into the wide world in search of war and love and adventure." The novices crossed themselves to hear him, yet some looked wistfully to seaward, where, save for the fishing- boats, Ave rarely saw a sail, for the course to Sicily lay outside the bay, whose shores were yet six miles from Caserta. And so we talked on of ships and travel and war, till the kindly old Fra Anselmo came among us. "Ah, children," he said, "your very looks tell of light and worldly talk. What! all herding together with rapid gestures and flushed cheeks; you do not know how often, were you in the felse vain world, you would long for the true joys of the cloister life. You have talked enough even for recreation-time; take up some light work: where are your colours, Lupo? Could you not paint that sunset sky? Giulio, seek flowers to deck the stranger's collation. Nestoriax and Palladiax, finish me the Greek notation you wot of, and the rest of you go and practise the new Credo; but you, Laurentio, folloAv me." So we did, for our rule of obedience for novices was, that we all obeyed the commands of any brother (or frater) till another might counter-order, save that the Prior's commands came first, and could only be reversed by the seldom interfering Superior. " My Laurentio," said Fra Anselmo, as we went through the corridor, "hoAv T long to see thee one of us, no longer herding with the giddy boys I "When wilt thou find the courage and singleness of mind of a true monk ? Now thou art to come to the workshop—the stranger, Brother Damasus, has sent for thee there." Damasus was there with the Prior when we entered; he was looking over my little clay models of arches and capitals and friezes, altars and tombs and what not, such as I partly dreamed out for myself, partly borrowed from The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 35

recollection of that temple and bath whereof I have spoken. •' Truly," said Fra Damasus, '" here is design, here is fertility of genius ; only let me take the youth with me to visit Salerno, and he shall return with the answers to your letters from Monte Cassino after he has seen somewhat of architecture, and improved his natural powers. And, Prior, he may make this convent and chapel a model for all Magna Grajcia." With what a thrill of joy I heard these words! the joyful thotiglit of travel almrjst overborne by the still intenser delight of hearing that those poor forms over Avhich I had pondered and considered so much, and Avhich, when most altered by me, still seemed the same to the people in the monastery, Avere, indeed, worth looking at —Avortli executing—might, perhaps, wrought out in stone or marble, add to the beauty of our dear house of Caserta. The Pi'ior said in a grumbling tone (he could not brook our receiving praise), " I wish, for the honour of our poor house, you had chosen any other novice to be your companion and our messenger. It is true, I should have feai;ed for the flighty Giulio or Astolfo, that, casting away perfection, they might have become men-at-arms, but they Avould be good seculars. Whereas this youth—a nameless captive of the Sa.racens—had he not by the charity of Fra Anselmo been brought up as a regular monk Avith all learning, might have served as lay brother and mason to the convent, having neither the vocation of a true monk, nor the courage and prudence needed for worldly success." "Nay," said Anselrao kindly, "that remains to be proved." " And," added the stranger, " a novice has little need of worldly courage—at least one who journeys Avith me; for but for aspirations the Avorld cannot satisfy, I Avas born to Avield arms; and as it is, I find my joy in encouraging and protecting weaker brethren." So thence Ave went to the Superi(n", and before the evening collation it Avas decided that I, the eldest novice, should next day attend Fra Damasus on his journey to Salerno, and thence to Monte Cassino, deliver certain formuhie from our house to the Great Benedictine house, perfect myself in architecture there, and return in a year, more or less. My head SAvam Avith joy as I sat Avith the wondering noA^ices at our table at collation. The lamps were lit, the fare was mended, and the hall decked in 36 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. honour of our guest, and all looked gay. Then Fra Damasus, who was a personable man, but with a wandering eye, a sharp nose, and acute mouth, and a face that twitched, told us how the perils of robbers he had gone through in his mountain journey had decided him upon returning by sea; and fearing the unworthiness of our little ships in autumn, he had sent a servant to the great ship of war in the bay to crave a passage to Amalfi or Salerno; " for from what I hear," he said, " they needs must pass that way. Northmen they are, but I bless Our Lady I fear them not, though tl^e whole coast trembles before them; they are good friends to have. Christians now, and kind to all priests. There was old Ulf I knew well; he took me a voyage in his ship and heard mass daily; and at last, I hear, he turned monk in the Island Abbey of Lerins, off Provence. He drove the Saracens off our seas wherever he came, and took payment from the coast for doing so. But you have late visitors, holy father—surely not evil ones," and he crossed himself as a long loud knocking was heard at the outer gate. It was my week to open the gate, but it was such an unheard-of knock, that strange thoughts of unholy visitants flashed through my brain; and this Astolfo methinks guessed, for he went with the porter and me, and aided us to unbar. Without stood many men in the moonlight; one told us hastily he was Damasus' servant, who had been to the great ship, and that these men had accompanied him back again. He spoke as trembling. Then one stepped forward and said in broken Itahan, '-Lead the way in; I shall stay here the night." And he strode in after us with many men, but some stayed without the gate. Astolfo was bold enough to ask his name, and the stranger answered, "Herser^ Thorstein," which Astolfo pronounced to the best of his power as lie opened wide the refectory door, and the glittering lights fell on the stranger and the wild-looking followers who crowded up behind him. We could now see that this was not a tall, but a broad and square man, about forty years old, with a reddish face and yellowish-brown beard and hair. He had bright blue eyes, and his ftice was as if well marked out, but rough hewn, and tlie carving not finished. Yet he looked honest, and moved rather slow, and spoke softly till in anger, and then his voice could ring through the tem- l Herser or ser, a title often given in ancient Norway to persons of distinction. The. Lcdies Edinhurgli Magazine. 37 pest, either of war and strife or of wind and sea. He was clad, as were his men, in a coat of glittering iron scales, and was armed Avith a long sword, axe, and dagger. Everyone rose as the shining fignre stepped in; some showed fear, others curiosity ; Father Crysolarns seemed quite unmoved. " I am here on a friendly errand," said the Northman, " from my leader, the young viking, S^vend Hrolfson, to a certain Damasus who wishes to cruise with us." " A viking—that is a pirate," whispered Astolfo to me as he glanced at our Superior's side, where Damasus had been sitting ; and lo ! he Avas there no longer. Only after awhile he rose as if from beneath the table, murmuring, red and panting, " My ring, my signet, I had dropped it." " If he had." whispered Astolfo, " one of us novices must have groped for it." " Swend Hrolfson," continued the Northman, " bids me say he will carry you and one attendant to Amalfi, on condition you speak tlie inhabitants fair to give us winter quarters, for thereabouts he means to pass Yule. It is true he might take them, and the Amalfi people might fear us much, had we not an envoy from the Bene- dictine monastery on board; but he means peace at present to all." " It is well," said the Superior; " and you, Brother Damasus, can take our boy Laurentio; the servants may follow by land." Damasus also said, " It is well," but methought not so freely as the other. Then we set meat and our best Avine before the Northmen—and Herser Thorstein ate quietly and spoke ciA'illy, but alike to the meanest lay brother and to the Superior himself. " Your wine is good, my host," he said at last; " by your leave I shall send some to the men outside." " It is time for Compline, my son. Will you not call them in to the service ? " said Crysolarus. " No," said the guest, " they may wait outside; and for me, I don't caie for songs I don't understand, though you do sing rarely in Italy; but 1 am one of the tld faith— Odin's man." " Not a Christian! " said Damasus ; and on the other shaking his head he faltered out, "then I fear my duty will hardly permit my travelling with y"u. Father, you Avill not let your lamb Laurentio depart Avith heathen Avolves." " Wolves AA'e are," said Thorsteiu quietly, " therefore rouse us not Avhen I tell you you are just the passenger 38 Tlie Tjadies Edinburgh Magazine. we wanted. We have need of a priest, and want an important man at Amalfi, and go you must." Damasus, trembling, kept answering, " Fain would I, but conscience forbids ;" and Fra Anselmo began. " Let me go instead," Avhen Thorstein suddenly, though he looked unmoved, raised his voice, which pealed through the hall. " Harken, you monks! Are you subjects of the Catapan of Byzantium, or of the Lombard Duke of Salerno, or of the Emperor Henry of the West ? " " Of none," said the Superior firmly; " we owe allegiance only to the Abbey of Monte Cassino, who hold their charter free from the Emperor Charlemagne." " Then by all tlie rules of war," tlumdered Thorstein, " knoAv that your lives and all you possess are forfeit to us. We have just received news of our ally Dato, the Lombard who last season was defeated and reduced to great straits by the Byzantium Emperor. Pandulf, Prince of Capua, and his brother Ateuolf, Abbot of ]\Ionte Cassino, offered him a refuge, and swore to protect him. What have they done ? For a large sum of money they have delivered over to the soldiers of the Greek Emperor the keys of the fortress of Garigliano. where Dato found a refuge. Dato they have cruelly murdered, throwing him, sewn in a sack, into the sea. Some Norman knights they have killed, and others are their prisoners, and we are now on our way to join our coimtrymen and our Neustrian kinsmen, and the army of the Emperor Henry, to punish these evil men. And now, old man, show reason if thou canst why we should not seize on the treasures of this house, and put ye traitor monks to the sword." Still methinks I see the aspect of the hall; many of the monks huddling together with pale scared faces; Damasus trembling like the confection jellies we used to serve up on festivals; the Prior standing white and speechless, the novices open-mouthed and amazed. Not Astolfo, whose colour grew bright, and who drew himself up; and for me it seemed as if at last something was happening—and I Avas half glad. Some looked quite unmoved, in especial Fra Anselmo, who craved leave to speak, and then said— " Look at us, Northman, and you may see we are quiet monks who believed ourselves at peace with all the world, of which we knew so little that one of us had asked to sail with you. If the Abbot of the Motlier House be a traitor—alas the day ! but we knew nothing of it. Now The Ladies Edinhurgh Magazine. 39 if thou wilt kill us, do so: our lives are given away in our vows ; but think first if it would be a fitting deed for a brave warrior." " Just so," said Thorstein. " It is lucky for you that we are Odin's wolves, not Christians, like others of our race who care more for Dato. We don't much care about your lives either, one way or another; we kill sheej) when we are hungry, not for the killing of them. Let this man be ready with another to sail with Swend by noon to- morrow, and he will be satisfied. But if you are wise, do not wait for him to send for you, for he would then at least burn the house and drive you away, if not invite a few hawks and wolves to a feast." Now arose a great talking and hubbub, everyone imploring Damasus to go in peace, and he trembling so that he scarce could stand. Where was all his boasted courage gone ? Anselmo and others offered to go instead, but Ciysolarus forbade them, saying the Northman must have his will. He meanwhile despatched some men to the ship, whom we beheld speeding down the rocks, and ordered more wine up to the guest quarters, whither with the rest he went. Compline was said with shaky voices that night, and then Astolfo took up the wine he longed to carry to the Northmen, an honour no one envied him; and I, leaning out of the window, heard them laughing and talking far into the night. This rather soothed my spirits, perturbed at the idea of sailing away with those dread warriors. And when the community met with their lanterns in the corridoi' to proceed to the chapel for Nocturne Vigilie, Astolfo squeezed my arm, saying, " He is a glorious man; see what he has given me—I may never use it, I must give it up if I take the vows, but I shall keep it till then, in memory of having once seen a brave warrior;" and he showed me under his robe a jewelled dagger. I started with alarm for fear the Prior should see the glitter, but Astolfo seemed quite changed and reckless, and instead of going to his cell went back to the guest-house, where were the Northmen. As for me, I lay long awake, pondering over the quiet days gone by, and the strange fate that seemed now before me. There was much that I shrank from, and yet how disappointed should I have felt had any other novice been chosen to sail away in the Northern Dragon Ship. E. J. 0. {To be continued.) 40 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

"(gtt ifluf£ to Italg."

IL—THE ITALIAN SCHOOLS IN THE LOUVRE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF '* GIFTS FOR MEN."

IT must be confessed that the greater number of pictures Been in churches and galleries do not minister delight, and do not elevate the imagination. We may be fortunate enough in the midst of much half-acknowledged dreariness to feel now and again the touch of a life- awakener; but if we wish to profit by the accumulation of the treasures of art, and to receive from its multi- tudinous hands, and are not able to so profit as practical artists, we must make ourselves alive to the histories of the men, of the schools, and of the times from which these pictures emanated. We must quicken our minds to appreciate, however dimly, that this dazzling web of art is not merely an aggregate of pictures, but is part of that marvellous emanation from the spirit of the ages by which " Man, not men," but ]\IAN made in the image of God, clothes himself with light as with a garment.

" Through the cold mass of marble and of colour his dreams pass, Bright threads whence mothers weave the robes their children wear." "Language is a perpetual Orphic song, Which rules with dedal harmony a 'throng Of thoughts and forms which else senseless and shapeless were.' " Such an effort to appreciate art can indeed never reach its goal in the experience of most of those who take a holiday on the Continent, for their life's work and interests are otherwise fully occupied, and " art is long, and life is short." Still the effort results in an ever- increasing consciousness of the presence of a knowledge too great for us to grasp, and this humbles and elevates, strengthens and refines the mind, as no mere looking at pictures ever can. In connection with this aim, a knowledge of the several schools of art is of importance, not only to the connoisseur, but to the mind of everyone who wishes to take an intelligent interest in the things he sees. I trust, therefore, I shall find indulgence for some dryness if I devote this paper (as on my way to Italy I did my time in the Louvre) to a rapid review of the Italian schools there. Tlie Ladies Eilinhurgli Magazine. 41

The Louvre gives scope for a very fair knowledge of the schools of Italy. There is nothing of the art which preceded Cimabue, nor of his contemporaries. There are only two specimens of the school of Sienna; one picture by Taddeo di Bartolo, who, though individually great, belonged to the decadence of Siennese art, and one by his third-rate follower, Turino di Vanni. The Florentine school is well represented; and though many most important names are missing, we can see the mountain-tops of inspiration in CBIABUE, whose "Madonna degli Angeli,"^ though injured by restorers, is still like his masterpiece in " S. Maria Novella ; " in GiOTTO the founder of the rules of composition, whose " Six-winged Crucified Seraph " ^ is just vanishing from sight, while from his outstretched hands and straightened feet flow mysterious rays to pierce the hands and feet of St. Francis, faint from his forty days' fast, and overcome with ecstacy ; in PAOLO UCELLI, the father of perspective, whose gallery of portraits has great significance for lovers of art;* in PESELLINO, the experimentalist in colouring and in the use of mediums, of whose rare works the Louvre shows three; * and in GHIRLAXDAJO, who so gathered up " the long results of time " in his grasp of all that had been done before his day, and so radiated an all-pervading influence that Cavalcaselle says the history of Italian art might be summed up in the three names of Giotto, Ghirlandajo, and Raphael. The Louvre has one of his finest and latest works in " The Visit of the Virgin to Elizabeth." ' Second in importance to these only as regards the nature and degree of their influence, we find the following . names :—FRA ANGELICO. His " Coronation of the Virgin," though not allowed by critics to be of the master's very best, is a picture that must delight all lovers of that lovely soul whom Lord Lindsay characterizes as "the especial voice and exponent in painting, of tliat religious rapture or ecstacy produced by the action of the spirit or of the moral principle on sense throiigh the medium of the imagination." Whether we look at the transparent veil which hangs over the kneeling Virgin's dress of delicate crimson and tunic of blue, at the purple-winged

1 No. 174. 2 No. 209. Others attributed to Giotto are by his pupils » No. 184. y y • * Nos. 290, 233, attributed to Fra Filippo Lippi, as also is a picture in the Ex Campana. ' No. 2U4. No. 2.—FEERCAKY 1875. F 42 The Ladies" Edinhnryli Magazine.

angels robed in azure and green and rose, at the regal glory of the Messiah, the incrusted richness of the canopied throne, the nine differently-tinted symbolical marble steps which lead up to the consummation of the Church's mystery, or at the varied adornment of the forty saints and martyrs, Ave shall laugh with dehght over the magic of such shimmer and gleam of dehcate colouring as is nowhere else to be found. Our delight in the colouring Avill still be subordinate to the joy in such purity and spiiitual dignity and divine innocence as never Avere pictured, save by him whose every touch was conceived in prayer and perfected in praise.' Of FRA. FILIPPO LIPPI the Louvre boasts one of the masterpieces;- of the very rare works of LEOXARDO DA VlN'CI, the most wonderful man of the IGth century, who, as if by inspiration, anticipated nimieroias scientific discoveries of later days, we find not only three genuine ones, but the star of them all,^ the portrait of ]\Ioua Lisa, mother of Lorenzo di Credi; we find also SlGXORELLl, the anatomical student and the forerunner of Michael Angelo; and FRA BARTOLOMEO, the friend of Savonarola and of Raphael, whom he almost equalled. His " Annunciation" in the Ijouvre is one of his three masterpieces. * All the names of the Florentine school have interest, but to choose amongst them, next perhaps to those Ave have mentioned (still keeping Avithin the Lou\'re confines) are SANDRO BOTTICELLI, of strongly individualized poAver, Avhose melancholy Virgin Avriting the Magnificat, Avhile the child holds the forbidden fruit, is almost a replica of a gem in Florence; PASSIGXAXO,' whose works are extremely rare, and Avhose studio, through his pupil LudoA'ico Caracci, Avas the birthplace of the school of Bologna; VASARI, the author of the delightful but inaccurate Lives of the Painters; CiGOLI, who AA^as master of the "starry (xalileo," before he abandoned art to find sorroAV and immortality in the paths of science. There are many pictures of the Lombard school, under AAdiich general term the Louvre catalogue includes the schools of Parma, Mantua, Modena, Cremona, and Milan ; and Avith reason, since all these Avere in their different degrees founded upon the Avorks of Leonardo da Vinci. CORREGGIO burns the star of first magnitude in this firmament. He founded no school, but had a host of 1 Xo. 214. 'No. 234. 'No. 484. «Xos. 64, 195. 'No. 180. The Ladies Edinburgh Magazbie. 43 imitators, eminent among whom were LANFRAXCO, the painter of cupolas and the unscrupulous enemy of Domenichino: and AxDREA Dl SALARIO, wliose exquisite " Virgin of the Green Pillow" is a delight to look at.^ There are four very characteristic works by the coarse and vigorous CARAVAGGIO, who began life as a mason, and availed in his single strength to carry out an independent study of nature at a time when the blight of imitation was I'ar spread over the world of Italian art. Emers 5n remarks, I think, in his Representative Men, that the mind needs defence most of all against those who deserve its veneration; but it seems to me that defence, to be effective for good, must be founded on the heights of a reverential appreciation, and must not be haunted by the destructive forces of reaction. Caravaggio had a defence against the influences of the master minds of Leonardo da Vinci, Kaphael, Michael Angelo, and Correggio, before whom all originality seemed perishing, but it was the defence of the reaction of a soul lacking in reverence and incapable of spiritual affinities with the good and the great. He therefore " wrought no deliver- ance in the land." He studied nature, indeed, but it was the nature of a coarse and degraded humanity. His " Death of the Virgin,"^ for instance, gives us the expiring mother of Christ " accurately copied from the model of a stupified and intoxicated woman." The vulgar realism which produces disgusting results when it intrudes into spheres higher than its own, does none the less achieve real successes when it delineates scenes of a life such as its own, and " The Fortune-Teller " and "Concert" of the Louvre are, like all Caravaggio's pictures of such subjects, full of life and character, and to some extent they partake of the spirit of Giorgione, whose works Caravaggio had studied.^ It is interesting to compare Carcvvaggio Avith the contemporary school of Bologna, over some members of which he exercised a marked influence. The school of Bologna was an offshoot of the Lombard school. It was foimded by Ludovico Caracci, the son of a butcher, and upheld by his two cousins, the brothers Agostino and Annibale Caracci, and Antonio, Agcstino's natural son. This school, called Eclectic from its professed aim of not imitating any master, but choosing the excellences of all, brought about a revival of taste; but proceeding as it did on the avowed study of older

' No. 403. 2 No. 32. ^ NOS. 33, 34. 44 The Ladles Edinhurcjli Magazine. masters rather than of nature, the impulse it gave could not be lasting. The tide might seem to be rising again as long as the wave lasted of their works, but the ebbing of the waters was not stayed. More than a fourth of the pictures of the Italian masters in the Louvre belong to tins school. The CARRACCI alone have thirty-three pictures (of which the "Virgin warning the Inftmt Baptist not to wake the Sleeping Christ," is very beautiful in one style,^ and " Hercules Strangling the Snakes" in another.^ DoMEXlCll- INO, their chief glory, the modest shrinking genius, doomed during his lifetime to be eclipsed by the brilliancy of his rival Guido, has thirteen; his devoted friend FRANCESCO ALBAXI has twenty-two; and GuiDO twenty. Amongst Guide's works the series of" Hercules and his Labours" is very famous, and mythological subjects Avere better adapted than sacred ones to his powers. It is difficult, in looking at his lovely female heads, to realize that he painted them from the head of his colour-grinder, a man of most repulsive appearance—"using his model." as Mr. Fairholt observes, " as a means of producing beaut}- by contrast alone." The chief interest of Bologna does not belong to the later school of the 16th century, but to the name of Francesco Raibolini, called FRAXCIA, who was born in Bologna in 1450. Francia learned the secrets of painting from Lorenzo da Costa of Ferrara, and his early works, of which the Louvre " Ci'ucifixion " ^ is a specimen, show the ruddy colom-ing and sharply-contrasted tints of the Ferrarese school, to the ranks of which indeed Cavalcaselle consigns him. Towards the end of the 15th century the works of Perugino were taken to Bologna, and the study of these gave rise to Francia's second manner; while to his later friendship with Raphael is attributed his third or Eaphaelesque style, of which the Loiivre portrait (if by Francia at all) gives an example.* Through all his changes of manner his (Avn individuality is very persistent. There is much affectation and a curious geometrical disposition in the pose and arrangement of all his figures; but I deeply love the purity of his virgins, the loveliness and sweet naivete o! his musical angels, the simple admiration of liis adoring saints, the inspired inTiocence of his infant Christs, generally occupied in some manner

' PTos. i;-,6, 137. = Xo. us. 3 No. 31S, ter. ' No. 31S. 318 is perhaps the most interesting of the three. The Ladies ?Jdiiilnirgh Magazine. 45

with the birds Avhieh serve as emblems of the human soul. Raphael, some assei-t, was flattering Francia when he said that his virgins were the most beautifully devout that he was acquainted with, but I always felt he spoke but the simple truth. The rise of the peculiar school of Ferrara Avas mainly due to the influence of Piero della Francesca, the great Umbro Florentine, and its development was ruled by the spirit of Andrea Mantegna. Massive, however, as are the names of these nursing fathers, the artists of Ferrara were never first-rate : of those in the Louvre, the alle- goi'ies of Lorenzo da Costa are the most interesting.^ GEXTILE DA FABRIANO,^ NICOLO D'ALUMXO;'' PINTUR- RlCCino,* PERUGIXO, of whose early style No. 442 is considered the finest existing example, and his pupil, L'lXGEGXO," suffice to give us a good view of the Umbrian school, and to prepare us for the sweetness of RAPHAEL, of whose paintings there are no less than thirteen, besides eight copies. Amongst these are his famous portraits of Count Castiglione •* and Joan of Arragon ; ^ of which last, however, he painted only the head. There are three forms of conquest over evil. First, the conquest by the Archangel Michael. Of this we have two modes of treatment; one in a small picture, painted when he was quite a boy, which I failed to find.** .]\Ii's. Jameson describes it as "a curious and fantastic rather than poetical little picture." Very diff"erent in simplicity and grandeur is his maturer wt)rk. The glorious vision, poised on wings of shifting hues, begirt with dazzling armour, a purple mantle, and his golden hair floating backward on the wind of his rushing pursuit of the falling fiend, has just alighted on the prostrate monster, and raises aloft the spear to pierce the writhing demon. P'lames burst from the earth, where, in futile defiance, the devil grovels and struggles in vain to rise ; held down for all his brute force by the lightest touch of the calni-browed angel. Nothing can surpass the beauty of this picture, Init the triumph it records is an imperfect triumph at the best. It is but the conqiiest through prevailing power; it is only the binding of the evil. The angel may bind

1 Nos. 175, 170. 2 No. 202. ' No. 31. * No. 292. Doubtful if \>y him, but a fine work. * No. 37. A heavy, iiniiiterestiug picture. ' No. 383. ' No. 384. « No. 380. 46 Th". Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

the monster. He may be serenely unmoved by the conflict, but that very serenity chills the soul that looks on him ; and one involuntarily wonders if in the presence of God, and among the burning ardours that surround the hiding-place of love, the angel's soul will never rise, and thrill through all his strength the memory of that Lucifer, Son of the IMorning, and of the hideons thing he had become, and of the dwelling in the darkness of the pit wherein, with unvanquished Avill, he still defied and cursed the Son of Man. No, such a triumph as that of the Archangel is not enough; is futile and unsatisfactory, endurable only in the hope of a better conquest more truly commen- surate with the omnipotence of the Omnipresent. Secondly, In the small picture of " St. George and the Dragon " ' we have the magnificent calm assurance of the Christian warrior. Calm as the Archangel, and by reason of his flesh and blood subject to be torn to pieces by the on- slaught of the foe, he is yet more glorious in his unmoved serenity than the dreadless immortal. The horse is rear- ing, with " his nostrils all wide ; " the lance has shivered in the fight; the dragon is close upou the knight, and in the act to spring; but the face of the saint is serene and unmoved, his sword is raised above his head, prepared with unerring blow to strike the monster dead. The landscape is slight; a few slender trees and rocks show a desert place. The only flaw in the picture is the figure of Cleodoiinda, or Saba, as some call her, who is running away in a manner quite unworthy of her who cried out to her offered deliverer, " Fly, 1 beseech thee, brave knight, and leave me here to die." This is a conquest more complete than that of Michael, but even this does not satisfy. The monster will shortly be there, dead indeed, not only bound; yet will that vile carcase pollute the air, and the bleached bones of his victims will never live again ; and what can atone to those who have been bereaved, for the dead that return no more ? Thirdly, We have the exquisite " Vision of St. Mar- garet."^ With girlish vivacity, and a look of wonder in her wide-open eyes, the graceful form moves swiftly forward. Radiant and undefiled, she has risen from her loathly prison in the dragon's belly, and the hideous monster lies with wide-open jaws and glaring eyes, powerless to move his loathsome coils, or to stir the ribbed wing ' No. 381. 2 37P. The Ladies' Edlnhwgh Magazine, 47 on which the white foot scarcely rests in its dainty stepping. The palm branch is held in one hand by the saint, while the other hand gathers up her drapery from contact with the fiend. Nothing can surpass the loveliness of her face and gesture, and the exquisite background of a forest glade harmonises wonderfully with the scene.

" Milde Margarete that was God's raaide— Maide Margarete that was so sweete and milde," was the daughter of a priest of Antioch, and became a Christian through the teaching of her nurse. Alybius, the governor of Antioch, seeing her beauty, desired to take her for his wife ; but Margaret avowed herself to be the bride of Christ. This confession drew upon her the keenest persecution. Finally, she Avas thrown into a dungeon, or, according to Raphael's version, exposed in a wilderness, where Satan, in the form of a dragon, came upon her— " Maiden Margrete Lok^d her beside, And sees a loathly dragon Out of a hirn glide. His eyen were full griesly, His mouth opened wide, And Margrete might nowhere flee ; There she must abide. " Maiden Margrete Stood still as any stone, And that loathly worm, To herward gan gone, Took her in his foul mouth, And swallowed her, flesh and bone. Anon he brast— Damage hath she none I Maiden Margrete Upon the dragon stood ; Blythe was her harte, And joyful was her mood." ' This triumph of the unresisting sacrifice,—this triumph not by might nor by power, but by the Spirit of the Lord of Hosts, satisfies us more than that of the archangel or the armed knight. It is completer and more perfect; for that mystery of destruction, which having been, must be for ever, is thus robbed of its feting, and captivity is led captive. Theref )re, in Christian art, the conquering hero, when he stands before the throne, is

^ Quoted from the Auchinleck MSS. in Mrs. Jameson's Sacred and Legen- dary Art, from which I have taken the legend. 48 The Ladies^ Edinhurgli Magazine. never accompanied by the overthrown foe; but the martyr bears forever the memorial of his suffering, and the dragon, led by silken thread, forever Avitnesses to the triumph of the guileless child. Yet oven this is not enough to satisfy the infinite demand of the infinite soul of man for a conquest infinite as eternity, infinite as God. Jesus crucified for us, entering into the fulness of His heritage, through the tastiug of death for every man, alone sutfices to reveal the glory of the Father's kingdom; and that revelation is great beyond the power of words to speak or of art to represent. Only in hours of deep communion the vision floods upon the soul witli a glory as of consuming fire, and the spirit knows the everlasting choice between the obedience unto death and the everlasting forfeitiu'e of the great reward; between the shame that, lasting for a moment, may be despised, and the everlasting bui'nings of the everlasting shame ; the choice between the presence before the throne, as of the saint or of the dragon; between the individual glory and the individual loss. Pictures of the school which Kaphael founded, called Roman, from its having drunk largely at classic sources, abound in the Louvre, and give full opportunity for the study of the decadence of Italian art. One of its pupils, PlERlxo DEL VAGA, is intimately connected with the late- timed and shortlived school of Genoa, of which the Louvre shows works of all the principal masters. STROZZI,' a Genoese of romantic history, worked much in A'^enice, to which we will noAV turn. Venice affords in painting an interesting parallel, as noted by Liibke, to the position of Rhodes and Perga- mos in the history of sculpture. In both, at the demand of rich merchants, an increased effort brought forth rich results, at a time Avhen the world of art was otherwise swamped with mediocrities. The school of Venice owed so much to the influence of Andrea Mantegna, that we must first dwell a little on him ; and the more so, as the spirit of this wonderful man swayed the whole of North Italy. Squarcione of Padua was a tailor and embroiderer. It is doubtful if he ever painted at all himself; if he did, he was at any rate personally but little proficient in the art. He had, however, a gift of teaching so amazing, that he has been called the " fatlier of painters." Pupils ' Nos. 412, 413. The Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine. 49 crowded to him, and he is said to have had as many as 137. His fame derives its kistre principally from the name of Andrea Mantegna, his adopted son. Andrea received his first lessons, no doubt, from his foster-father Squarcione; but he imbibed much from the works of Fra Filippo Lippi, Jacobo Bellini, and the sculptor Donatello. The friendship between him and Squarcione came to a violent end, as soon as he insisted on giving his own name to his works, Squarcione till then having profited by their fame : or, according to A^asari, as soon as he married Bellini's daughter. From that time the foster father maligned and opposed his brilliant foster son. Mantegna worked very largely at Mantua, under the auspices of the art encouragers, Francesco Gonzago and Isabella d'Este, but his last days were a sad commentary on the proverbial advice not to put trust in princes. When he was upwards of seventy years of age, ruined by imprudent speculations, and too weak to work, Isabella refused to help him, and haggled over the price of a bust of Faustina, which, on account of his indigence, he offered her. This bust he prized so highly, that the parting with it is said to have hastened his death. The Louvre has four of ]\Iantegna's powerful compositions, and, to my mind, contains nothing more fascinating. The " Madonna della Vittoria "^ is spoken of slightingly by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, and is supposed in part to be the work of Francesco Mantegna; but- I admired the picture intensely. Perhaps even an inferior work by so great a mind has more power to charm, tlian more perfect results from lesser souls. The Virgin sits upon a throne, upon the marble steps of which is engraved the representation of the plucking of the forbidden fruit. A thick arbour full of clustering apples arches over her head. The arbour is hung with chains of jewels and branches of coral; and this coral had evidently some meaning in the painter's eyes, for a kneeling St. Elizabeth holds a crown of the same. St. Michael and St. George hold up the Virgin's mantle on either side. St. Longinus (as Patron Saint of Mantua) and St. Andrew stand behind them, St. John and St. Elizabeth in the foreground; and just touching the steps of the throne with his knees, the young Duke of Mantua adores the Virgin, and is blessed by the Child, ' No.- 250. Ko. 2.—FEBRUAKI 1S75. G 50 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine,

The idea is common in art of symbolizing the Salvation by the same symbol as the Fall; as in this picture in the embowering apple trees. It is suggestively in keeping with the contrasted false promise and true hope: the false promise that spoke of a magic attainment, through the eating of the forbidden fruit, of the knowledge of good and evil, and the true hope which bids us strain after that same knowledge, exercising our faculties of judgment in choosing between the good and the evil. It is impossible, of course, to impart by mere description any conception of so subtle a thing as the power which casts its spell over such work as Mantegua's ; but I cannot leave the small room which is enriched by his treasures, without saying a few words about his allegories. " AVisdom triumphing over theVices "1 is full of the strangest figures. It is far fr(jm being beautiful, and, Ruskin says, must ever be revolting to women and children. Again, in spite of high authority, I must plead guilty to feeling the fascination of great power. Minerva, Chastity, and Philosophy drive before them into the waters (I suppose of Lethe) a herd of Vices. A Avoman Avitli Satyr's legs flies, clasping in her embrace a number of frog-legged babies ; a wild-looking woman dashes through the water, leading in a leash a fiit man who has only the stumps of arms, and who wears an expression of the most disgusting good humour on his sensual face ; a. centaur carries off through the stream a splendidly attired female figure. A horrid-looking half-human tree has an inscription rolled round it containing a prayer to the celestial Virtues to drive from these abodes the hideous monsters of the Vices. Justice and Temperance flying above the scene approach in answer to this desire. " The Allegory of Parnassus,"— with Apollo and the dancing Muses, the listening Mercury, the toying Mars and Venus, the mischievous Cupid, and the jealous Vulcan,—is a more graceful composition, and full of lovely figures. Mantegna's Triumphs of Csesar, second in value only to the cartoons of Kaphael, are at Hampton Court, but they are much destroyed. The Art of Venice welled in the 15th century from two fountain heads, the Vivarini and the Bellini, and was influenced in its rise by the Umbrian Gentile da Fabriano and by Mantegna. Of the Vivarini the Louvre shows nothing, and it professes to have more than critics allow to be genuine of the brothers BELLIXI. The so-called por- ' No. 252. The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 51

traits are not accepted either as portraits of the Bellini or as being their workJ The "Reception at Constantinople of a Venetian Ambas- sador " ^ is a characteristic work by Gentile Bellini, and interesting as recalling the visit of Gentile to the Snltan Mehemet, and his horror when the royal critic supported his own vieAv of the right delineation of a beheaded body, by having a slave's head struck off before the artist's eyes. Cavalcaselle denies for GlORGlONE both of the fine Louvre pictures which glory in that name.^ The twenty TlTLVNS do not all pass muster as being genuinely by him, but of the undoubted ones there is a rich variety. " The Entombment," the wonderful portrait called " The Man with a Glove," and the picture long known as " Titian and his Mistress," are among the best.* The last-named picture has a psychological as well as historical interest, for it is supposed to be the portrait of Alphonso L, Duke of Ferrara, and his third wife, the peasant Duchess. Alphonso's second wife, Lucretia Borgia, of infamous repute before her marriage, became noted for every virtue as his wife; and the third wife, said to have been of character as low as her birth, reformed in the same marvellous way after her marriage to him, and was almost canonized for her goodness by the people. There is scarcely a great name of Venice not represented in the Louvre; but it is time for me to draw to a close. Of the school of Naples, the latest of the Italian schools, six artists have works in the Louvre. Of these LuCA GlORDANA, called " Fa Presto," on account of his wonderful rapidity of execution, and SALVATOR ROSA, are the best known. The Louvre Salvators are superb specimens of the master's style.' LYDIA BREWSTER MACPHERSON.

' No. 69. ' No. 63. ' Nos. 43, 44. Attrib. to Pelegrino and Seb. del. Piombo. * Nos. 465, 473, 471. ' Nos. 358, 361.

NOTE —All the Nos. ai-e red. The Louvre Catalogue is difflciilt to use, which may be my excuse for this paper. Most of the Italian pictures are In the first three rooms to tlie right of the stair. 52 The LaJiefi' EJinburyli Magazine.

bonnet. "Ye are the light of the world." I WATCHED one eve, as pale the moon arose, White cloud against the clear, still, autumn sky— Sky cold and blue o'erhead, though western glows All warm and red the sunset's cramoisie. Alas ! methought, for them by land or sea. Who trust yon Crescent wan for guiding light; And westward turning, gazed while gradually The sun-lit fires were quenched in hues of night: Then upward glanced again—when, lo, all bright In deepening blue o'erhead my Crescent shone !— From setting sun she'd caught the parting light, T' illume the gloom with glory not her own :— So, midst earth's dark, oh Christ, give me to shine, Lightless myself, yet bright with light of Thine. JEANIE MORISON.

'SStcrburga of €\\i^\tx.

CHAPTER I.

WHEN an individual is in a state of repose, wo judge of his character in outline ; when he is in a state of activity, we judge of it in detail. Neither judgment is complete without the other. Let iis take as an example, not an individual, but a town. Stretton is.neither a Welsh nor an English town, though situated in Wales. Its inhabitants cannot boast an unmixed descent from the undaunted superstitious Cymri. Neither are they wholly Saxons ; yet their in- domitable energy points to a preponderance of the latter element. The town of Stretton has an intense character, yet it is not an interesting one ; that is to say, it is not rcknantic or poetical. That it is interesting is proved, however, to the Strettonians themselves, by their thinking it so; that it is intense, is proved to all by the extreme activity which there alternates with complete repose. Look first at its activity. The market-day has arrived. It is dangerous to drive a conveyance out of Stretton on The Ladies" Edinburgh Magazine. 53

the morning of this day. Down the naiTow steep street you must go, wishing your conveyance were only half the breadth it is, so imminent is the danger of getting locked in the wheels of some market-cart, or of letting your horse measure noses Avith some other animal coming up the hill. For the street is too narrow to admit of a double file of vehicles. In the lanes out yonder it will not be much better, and wo to the conveyance that meets another in these lanes on a dark night! Enter the market, and in spite of the crowds who are on their Avay to it, you will still be afraid that the supply is greater than the demand. The larger part of these crowds consists of women in neat white caps or bonnets; hardly a Welsh hat is to be seen. Conspicuous among the custom- ers is Mr. Wood, the overseer of the neighbouring coal- mines of Pen-rhyn; he likes to spend a forenoon in feasting his eyes on bacon, eggs, cheese, and ripe fruit, instead of on heaps of coal and sheets of coal-dust. He is so used to superintending, too, that he likes to control the supplies of his own household; and his weak-minded, delicate sister, who is the only other member of the family circle, or rather section of a circle, is doubtless very thankful for this fancy of dear Bernard's, and remembers to give thanks for it among the other iimumer- able mercies in her lot. Not the least of these mercies was a large, rickety, and old-fashioned vehicle, something like a covered gig, but still more like a would-be open chaise. The only occasion on which Miss Wood entered this conveyance, was when, on Sunday morning, she proceeded in it up the steep approach to Stretton on her way to church. In the market hall we have seen Stretton in its active week-day life; in the great church we may see it in its Sunday repose. The people of Stretton are not very pious, though they might be, if a fine, even remarkable old church, with decorations and monuments within, could inspire devotion. As it stands at the top of the hill on which Stretton is built, the church, with its fine tower, panelled throughout, and decorated with statues of saints, forms an interesting feature in the landscape when seen from a distance, and a subject for study when near at hand. The inhabitants, however, with the exception of a few very superior individuals, are generally more occupied in studying the appearance of themselves and their neighbours, than that of the sanctuary which they 54 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

are visiting. Sunday is to them not only a rest-day, but a very great dress-day. Indeed, w^ere it not for the bonnets on the women's heads, and the fact of being in church, we might almost fancy ourselves at a ball or an opera. I am not going to criticise them too severely, however, but to observe a few of those who have been called superior. There is Miss Jane Williams in a bright green bonnet and lavender muslin dress ; she has a little boy on each side of her, and is endeavouring to make both her nephews, who can hardly read, follow the service in the Prayer-Book without losing the place. This is rather hard work for Miss Jane, and work which seems to have no other result than weariness for both her and the boys; so she is very glad when the sermon begins, that she may gaze at the stained windows, and wonder whether John the Baptist or the Woman of Samaria, whom she sees there portrayed, would have understood the religion of the nineteenth century as expressed in that sermon. In a private gallery, between two pillars of the choir-aisle, sits young Squire Trevor, of Glanhafon. He is occupied in looking at his hands, first comparing them with each other, and then with the roof, in the decoration of which he seems to find another discourse besides the one he is hearing, so intently does he gaze upwards as he leans back in his arm-chair. And, to tell the truth, the sermon was one which required to be supplemented, as it seemed to draw its text rather from expediency than from any other source. So, at least, thought Randall Holme, the young son of the late rector, who, with his mother, occupied a square seat on the right hand of the pulpit. He looked grave and attentive, but his thoughts were in reality fiir distant. In his intent way of gazing before him, he involuntarily gave offence to Miss Columbine Watteau, who was affiicted with St. Vitus's dance, and fancied that Randall was staring at her; whereas the truth was, that during the half minute he spent in looking at her, his thouglits Avere so occupied that he was hardly conscious of her existence. Mr. Bernard Wood had observed the gaze, however, and did not fail to treasure it up in his memory. After service, the church door formed a rendezvous for acquaintances. Squire Trevor habitually shunned the small-talk of the Stretton gossips, Mrs. Holme was, however, not included among these. Her late husband had been a true and disinterested friend to the Squire; The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 55 and when his widow was poorly left, Trevor had at once made over to her a neat house, with a couple of acres of ground, which adjoined the southern march of Glanhafon. Nearly two years had now elapsed since she had gone with iier son and daughter to inhabit this dwelling. Her daughter, however, had now been for nearly a year at school ill Chester; but the midsummer holidays were approaching. The Squire heard Mrs. Holme say to Miss Wood, " To- morrow, I regret to say, we are engaged. I intend to bring Malvina home from school for the holidays, and Randall will accompany me." That evening Mrs. Holme received a note in these words :— " DEAR MADAM,—1 intend to visit Chester to-morrow on business; as 1 hear you are going there, may I ask you if you and your son will do me the favour of sharing my landau for the drive? Should you agree, it will be at your door at any hour you choose to name.—I am, yours truly, CoNWY TREVOR." Mrs. Holme hesitated before accepting this kind offer. A sense of humiliation was inseparable from the acceptance of such repeated acts of kindness from one on whom she had no claim. Still the cost of a hired conveyance would have been serious, and the stage-coach was comfortless. So she accepted, and agreed to start at eleven. When the note was gone, she began to take another view of the matter. Had Squire Trevor not acted without delicacy in thus making his own company a part of the favour bestowed t Though rich, young, well connected, and possessed of many friends, he was not the sort of man with whom Mrs. Holme felt she could make any approach to intimacy. His conversation was charming, his manner faultless, but the tone of his mind had an element of in- considerate self-assertion which was beyond the pale of Mrs. Holme's sympathetic instincts. This quality oozed out slightly, on innumerable occasions, in petty vanities, in intentional shocks to the feelings of others ; yes,, even to their deepest feelings. Mrs. Holme often recalled with pain an incident which she regarded as an instance of this ; it had occurred soon after her husband's death. An eminent revival preacher had visited Stretton; crowded meetings were held daily in the Methodist meeting-house. Conwy Trevor came to one of the meetings. On this occasion many of the women were 56 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

in tears; not a few men prayed aloud. Trevor had sat next to Mrs. Holme and listened to the address, and then, during the singing of a hymn, he had hastily risen from his seat and left the hall. On her asking him afterwards the reason of his conduct, he had answered, " Such meetings are blasphemous, irreverent; I would rather proclaim myself a leper in the market-place than pray aloud as these men do. Such excitement can but nave a double degree of deadness as its result; you will see whether my words come true." And, indeed, Stretton seemed now as spiritually dead as ever, but Mrs. Holme remained as unshaken in her faith in the revival preacher as she did in her horror of Trevor's conduct. ]t was impossible that such a man could be a safe companion for Randall, for ways of thinking were infectious. She would be very careful during the drive to-morrow, and on all future occasions, not to overstep the bounds of common intimacy. When the morrow brought a note in the cramped hand- writing of Miss AVood, offering her " chaise," as she called it, for the drive, Mrs. Holme felt a pang at the impossi- bility of accepting the offer. Such a course would have solved all her difficulties, practical and sentimental. But it was out of the question; and caution, not escape, Avas the only alternative left. Squire Trevor, on the eve of an enterprise, was a being to whom care was luiknown. Duties and burdens were alike hidden beneath the wing of excitement, and the elasticity of his spirit was expressed in the lightness of his step, and in the gay manner that conveyed a greeting to all he met. Mrs. Holme looked tranquil, almost happy, as she seated herself the next morning in Squire '1 revor's carriage, while Randall and Trevor entered it after her. The neat widow's bonnet was not too severe in its outline or lack of colour, for a face that had not lost all the roundness and bloom of youth; and it Avas pleasant to see that the widow for the time was not conning the tale that her weeds too plaiidy told. She was dwelling on the calm and cloudless present, partly because she was again to see her daughter, partly because siie had come to the conclusion that she had done right in accepting the Squire's kindness, and that he was on the whole a more suitable acquaintance for her son than Bernard Wood, who had not many more ideas in his head than a turnip. All this Tlie Ladies' Edinhurgh Mayaziiu bl the widow said to herself in her charitable way, but she would not for the world have breathed it to any living being, least of all to Randall. At the same time she had resolved to be no more than polite, and to restrict the conversation to general topics. Squire Trevor's present mood was such as to make it next to impossible for her to keep this resolution. He was inclined to be very jocular, and also to be very scientific, for at present science was his hobby. He had as many hobbies in his head as he had hunters in his stable, and the number was considerable; but the difference was, that he rode each hobby in its turn to death and then dismissed it, while his hunters had each only an occasional field-day, and were retained even when super- annuated. On this occasion his scientific propensities were shown by the large botanical case which was strapped across his right shoulder, and the geological hammer which peeped out of his pocket. The road at first wound roimd the foot of a hill, where strips of forest alternated with large field-patches. On the left was the river Alyn, almost hid from sight by the willows that wept over its banks. After driving for about half an hour, they gained the open valley, which stretches on to another range of low wooded hills. The view of these softly undulating hills, with their graceful outlines, was such as to suspend the mind in that middle region between awe and indifference. The neat houses of the villagers too, with their porches overgrown with ivy and roses, spoke of a genial mood of nature, crowned with artistic effort on the part of man. Even the soot- begi'imed collier, with his red cowl and loose jersey, had a cheerful look as he trudged along the footpath; and an exhilarating impulse was given by the bright morning and pure air, that seemed to say to all, Live, and enjoy living. By our three travellers this precept was obeyed in different degrees—most perfectly, perhaps, by Squire Trevor. On the carriage arriving at the foot of a steep incline which they must ascend, Trevor said, " Ah! here is the lovely village of Neston, just the place for an old soldier to retire to with four thousand a year; such woods, such splendid fox-covers, such a lovely peal of bells; enough to make one a saint with cheerfulness and good- humour. By the way, are you a geologist, Mrs. Holme % " " I have not the pleasure," said the widow, languidly. No. 2.—FEBEUAKr 1875. H 58 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

" Ah ! you do know it is a pleasure; that is a great deal. I am anxious to inquire about some fossils here, so I shall walk for a little, and meet you at the top of the ascent." Randall too alighted, but instead of following the nimble movements of the Squire, he walked slowly up the hill. As Mrs. Holme sat in the carriage and gazed after her companions, she remarked a striking contrast between them. Trevor might be some ten summers older than Randall, yet, to judge ti-om his activity, he might have been thought to be the younger man. Descending with deer-like bounds the steep bank that led to the river, he crossed a small wooden bridge, and quickly disappeared round an angle of the opposite bank. Randall, on the other hand, walked slowly up the hill, one hand dangling listlessly at his side, the other holding a book which he was not reading. With his head bending forward, he seemed to be looking only at the small piece of road immediately before him. \\'hen the carriage stopped at the summit of the ascent, Randall quickly regained his seat in it, but Trevor was still out of sight. Presently, hoAvever, he appeared, running up the hill at full speed, and thus shaking his botanical case so violently that the fossils, if any, which were in it, might safely be expected to be shivered to atoms. " Mrs. Holme," he exclaimed, when they were again in motion, and he had seen after the safety of his fossils, " did you ever think of envying the mammoth and the rein- deer, who, thousands of years ago, roamed together through the forests ? How they must have laughed at the idea that men, possibly their own descendants, would one clay consider themselves the lords of creation. Look at that toad in the grass; would you not scout the idea that the race of toads might some day develop into a new set of lords of creation, who would displace man from his supremacy ? Yet who knoAvs 'i" Mrs. Holme, who was absolutely unscientific, and did not, on the whole, approve of scientific men, merely asked the Squire whether he had obtained the fossils. " Here," he said, opening his case, " is the tail of a Rhizodus in perfect preservation, found, by a man whom I employ in this Avay, at the outcrop of the coal-measures to the west of Stretton. The Rhizodus is especially interesting : I intend to write a small pamphlet upon it, in connection with the theories of progression and natural selection, which it is by some supposed to disprove." The Tjadies Edinburgh Magazine. 59

Mrs. Holme did not Avish to hear anything more about the Rhizodns : modern science was more than distasteful to her; she thought it wicked, and wanting in reverence. Belonging to the Church of England, she yet was Cal- vinist enough to rate the individual higher than the Church, and to believe the Spirit to be attainable only through the very closest conformity to the letter. It thus necessarily followed that she would, on religious grounds alone, rate the individual higher than the species, and reject with horror the conjecture that hinted at a primordial form and ancestors arboreal in tlieir habits. Having SAvorn fealty to the letter as her liege lord in all matters of religious observance, she could not, without oftending that lord, even take into consideration any theories of Avhich his system contained no suggestion. The only way, therefore, in which she could exercise her private judgment, was by pronouncing all such theories to be Avicked and hurtful. She thus took the shortest cut to a conclusion, Avhich, at the cost of a greater effort of thought, she might possibly have reached by a more satisfictory, though more circuitous Avay. " (Jome, Randall, do not look so gloomy," said Trevor to the lad sitting opposite him, Avho Avith dreamy eyes seemed to see, and yet not to see, the landscape. " The Avorld is not quite extinct yet," he added; " and, indeed, Ave shall come in sight of Chester immediately." Randall had by nature very ardent and sensitive feelings, Avhich, by the constant and almost exclusive society of his mother, had of late asserted themselves unduly, until they had groAvn morbid. The aspect of the country Avhere he lived had tended to increase this tendency. Long lonely musings in the Avoodland haunts Avhich surrounded his home, had deepened, and perhaps narroAved, the poetic current of his thoughts. Hence his character might have run the risk of becoming unduly feminine, had it by nature been inclined to be so. Instead of such a bias, hoAvever, we find in his nature a certain independence and a tendency to mental pugilism. The infantine period, of physical pugilism had long since passed away; and Randall, instead of regarding indiAaduals of his OAvn standing as beings to be fought Avith, had been learning to regard them as beings to be lived Avith. But here mental antagonism had stepped in, and levelled its shafts not only against other lads like himself, but even more 60 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. emphatically against his superiors. Thus to have objects of reverence and maxims for conduct laid before him, was enough to make him distrust those objects and slight those maxims. The strict regulations of his mother's house were galling to his independence, and his submis- sion to them was dogged, and sometimes even mechanical. All the time he was in secret revolving theories in his own mind, and becoming daily more reserved and less cheerful in his demeanour. The society of Trevor was not congenial to him, less on account of the strange notions of that individual, than because he felt that the nature of the man had no meeting-place for his own nature. He felt as if he and Trevor were two waifs or strays sailing apart on an infinite sea, which no wind or current could ever bring nearer to each other. Trevor's society suggested to him no better idea of himself than this. He did not know whether his companion felt the same with regard to him, and he was too indifferent on that subject to revolve it in his mind. " There is Chester I " said Trevor suddenly, as they gained the summit of an ascent. " There it is, the dear old Royalist town, the slow stupid Tory that it is! Did it ever strike you, Mrs. Holme, that Chester has met with the usual fate of old Tories'? It has nothing particular to do; the progressive men of the day are doing everything, and the poor old town has nothing to do but eat his cheese, which is very good, restore its cathedral, and keep green the memories of Charles I. and St. Werburga." " I am sorry you despise the making of cheese," said Mrs. Holme, " for I believe it to be one of the fine arts, which no educated person should be without." Trevor, however, was not listening, and this was strange conduct in him. Why did he suddenly flush, and then grow pale ? Why, as he looked away past the gentle slopes and curved lines of woodland at the town, with the river flowing past it, did he look as if that town, or something there, was all in all to him? We devise interpretations for such looks in our companions, and then forget them till the wave of time casts them up again. Meanwhile, they again lost sight of the town, till, about half an hour later, they found themselves close to Bridgegate. The carriage rolled quickly over the stony The Ladies' Ed'mburgli Magazine. 61 streets, till it halted at the Deva Arms. Here the horses were to rest, and the travellers separated, after having agreed to meet again in the cathedral at four o'clock in the afternoon. PROCLA. (7b be continued.)

A SKETCH FROM NATURE.

IT has often been asserted that childish feelings, whether of joy or gi'ief, are slight and evanescent; that early sorrow is only on the surface, and childish impressions are effaced by the lapse of a few months. It seems to me, on the contrary, that the affections of fresh young lives arc so deeply imbedded in the nature, that the very memories of happy or sorrowful days are preserved with an intensity totally beyond their worth, and live when other and subsequent feelings have long ago died out. I was only fourteen when I left the place which is to be the subject of my pen to-day, and yet, amid the many more exciting scenes I have since witnessed, none have so happy, so clear, so touching a retrospect to me, as the home of my childhood. It was not for any extraordinary beauty in itself,—for the house was an old-fashioned, high- shouldered, two-winged house, the walls of the older part completely buried in cherry trees, rose and ivy bushes alive with the ceaseless twitter of sparrows; a great lawn stretching on three sides, intersected by a babbling stream, where we fished for trout, and where onl}^ slimy eels would take our bait; a great background of dark pine wood; an old-world triangular garden filled with huge sAveet-smelling cabbage roses, wall-flower, balm, and other country blossoms, with wide-spreading beech and plane trees scattered here and there, an ancient rookery in the high branches, one of whose members fell the first victim to my brother's gun, and was surreptitiously plucked and cooked in the playroom, where we children greedily devoured the unsavoury morsel, with the keen appetite which always accompanies forbidden fruit. Sliall I ever forget how our consciences suffered, when the very 62 The Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine.

next Sunday the clergyman read out of the old Levitical Law that ravens were unclean birds, and forbidden to be eaten ! How guilty we felt, what furtive glances we stole at each other, wondering if our sin was legible to the congregation on our faces,—with what remorse we thought of our momentary enjoyment I Alas for the tender conscience of childhood I I doubt if breaking one of the ten commandments now-a-days wôuld cost us as much as did this unwitting breach of the old Law. Each season was remarkable for its own peculiar beauty, and filled with its individual interests. The short winter days—in particular one year, when a snow-storm lasted a whole month, when the road was blocked up for weeks, and a path, whose white walls Avere higher than our heads, was cut between the house and the stable. The spring— when over the bright green grass, jewelled as it was with snowdrops and crocuses, we watched the young lambs frisking and bounding across and across the burn ; or the summer evenings,—when the long shadows lay on the lawn, when, tired of play, we threw ourselves under the shade of the wide-spreading chestnut tree, and watched a thunderstorm come up from the west; expectant nature waiting its approach, the lovely sycamores drooping their broad leaves, the aspen almost fearing to tremble, the beasts huddled together in one corner of the field, the lurid light which crested the topmost cloud, the first wârning growl or flash which winged our timid feet, and sent us helter-skelter to the house. Oh, those glorious days ! when we filled in the boundless outlines of life's possibilities wath the most brilliant colouring; when, buckling on our armour, we longed to rush into the arena of busy existence, and fight the world, the flesh, and the devil with all the fearlessness of youth ; when as yet no minor tones had made themselves heard in the music of our lives. How wê loved the long Avalk through fields of waving corn, by the lane bordered with wild-rose and hawthorn hedges, where our feet sank in purple thyme, to the quaint old church, which stood high over the river on a precipitous bank, surrounded by moss-grown old gravestones dating centuries back ! We could hear the murmur of the river through the half-opened windows, which somewhat diverted our attention from Avatching the gambols of the numerous mice which lived in the tattered old cushions, or from calculating the progress The Ladies Edinhu7'gh Magazine. 63 the fungus had made during the week on the damp mildewed flags with which the building was paved. Very frequently our grand old Newfoundland dog accompanied us, and would mount to the gallery, and, planting his huge paws on the desk of our pew, looked solemnly down on the congregation below. The church Avas noAV knoAvn only by the name of the village near Avliich it Avas situated: but my brother, who Avas about fifteen years of age at this time, and had most Jacobitical and High-Church tendencies, hunted up some old records about its antiquity, and Avrote a most marvellous poem, called " The Fane of Saint Fergus," savouring greatly of " Black Prelacy," or even of the " Babylonitish Woman " herself, speaking Avith great contempt of the men in " Geneva goAvn and bands," AVIIO had usurped tl c place of the- cowled brethren of St. Fergus ; and many other dreadful things, Avhich Avere enough to make the old abbot and monks turn in their graves. Brought up as Ave were in the strictest Presbyterianism, our admiration of our brother's talent was mixed Avitli horror at his heterodox notions. HoAvever, Ave copied the poem siu- reptitiously, and distributed it among an admiring circle of friends. Of course the place Avas haunted. I do not ask anyone to credit the assertion, for I arn aAvare that the belief in ghosts, like every other remnant of the good old days, is dying out in these times; but I firmly believed in them then, and am not sure that I don't now. I only knoAv that strange sights and sounds, Avhich could not be accounted for in a rational manner, had been seen and heard in that house ; that my grandmother and mother, in the young days of the latter, had more than once, in the dead of night, searched for some one Avho could never be found, but Avliose steps had been distinctly heard in different parts of the house; that not one of the servants or people about the home-farm Avould have crossed the lawn after dusk alone ; that we children were aAved to an unrestful sleep by gruesome tales of this same ghost; that not only ourselves and the people about Avere conscious of some inA'isible presence, but persons Avho had never been near the spot, or heard of its being haunted. For instance, one autumn, a band of harAêst labourers had come to the farm, and there not being sufficient accommodation for two young Avomen, the bailiff came to 64 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. the house to ask if they might be allowed to sleep in an old lumber-room in the attic. This was agreed to. You must remember they had just arrived, and had had no communication with anyone about the place; indeed, this would have been difficult, as, being Highland girls, they understood little English, About eleven o'clock, two scared, white-faced figures burst into the servants' sleeping-room below, demanding angrily who had come to frighten them, for a figure had entered and stood by the head of their bed, waking them simultaneously, and only gliding away when they hurriedly asked who was there. Of course this only corroborated the fact of the ghost's existence in the minds of the sleepy servants. The two girls steadfastly refused to go back to the attic, spent the rest of the night by the kitchen-fire, and, breaking their engagement, left such a terrible house early next morning. That the place had a bad name, and was widely known, was evident from the following fact. I am writing of a time before a railway was made iu that part of the country. A canal from the county town to a smaller one, twenty miles further north, ran through two miles of our property. A passenger-boat went by day, and overnight several coal and lime boats were towed along the stream, the crew consisting of a man at the helm, and a lad who walked along the bank, guiding and urging on the horse. Whenever the boat touched the boundaries of our place, the boy jumped in beside the man, and nothing could persuade him to resume his post till the uncanny place was past. One night they thought their fears were to have a dread realisation, for on nearing the shadow of one of the many bridges across the canal, about half-a-mile from the house, suddenly the horse stood stockstill, planted its fore-feet firmly, pricked its ears, and gazed steadfastly in the bank of furze dividing the highroad from the towing- path. The older man cracked his whip, swore, expostu- lated—all in vain : he could see nothing, and only heard the eerie rustling of the dry pods of the broom bushes. At length, tired of urging the boy to go to the animal's head and force him on, he jumped out, and, peering into the shrubs, lie discovered the apparently lifeless body of a man. They tied the sagacious creature, to whose wonderful instinct the poor fellow probably owed his life, to the bridge, and carried the unfortunate man to our house, where he lay for many weeks in a state of uncon- The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 65 sciousness. He was a young doctor who was returning from a late visit, when his horse shied, throwing its rider over the parapet among the bushes below. There was a sort of curse upon the place. Many generations past, people said it had been obtained by its then proprietor by treacherous means. When the oldest part of the house was knocked down, a skeleton was found under a hearthstone, and some weird prophet of the time had pronounced a doom, which has been strangely verified to this day. It was, " That son should never succeed sire.'' It has been so for long; no matter how sure the succession has seemed, some untoward event has happened, and the place has changed hands. No wonder, then, that we grew up with morbid tendencies, and a belief in a fate we were powerless to struggle against. Some dim foreshadowing of the future must, I think, have come home to our consciousness ; and when at last the sombre looks of the heads of the household, which had for some time been a mystery to us, were explained, our sorrow was far greater than our surprise. When the fiat went forth that we were to leave our cherished home in a few weeks for a long sojourn in France, and that never again should we call it ours, we roamed about in a restless, objectless manner, talking with bated breath, and moving with gentle footfall, as if death were in the house. How, as the time grew nearer, we, without any arrangement, but as it were by unanimous instinct, found ourselves always in our favourite haunts in doors or out, endeared as they were by their respective associations, and filled with sweet memories often recalled now by the accidental sense of scent or sound. How on the last morning of all we went, with brim- ming eyes and silent voice, from chamber to chamber, kissing the very walls we were never more to see; to the nursery, where we had often gone to sleep paralysed by terror of unknown evils; the play-room, which to this day the sight of plovers' eggs always calls up vividly before me, from the fact of our being merrily engaged boiling some we had found in a field one night, when we were suddenly arrested in the act by our governess coming to tell us of the dangerous illness of our mother. How clearly I remember the heavy hearts we four children took away Avith us that night! How a large, heavily- curtained bed puts me in mind of the following day, when we, awe-struck little ones, were taken into the Ko 2.—FEBRL-AM 1875. I 66 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

darkened room to say the last good-bye; from which room, thank God I our dear one feebly struggled back to life and to her children. I do not recollect if we paid a farewell visit to the schoolroom ; it was only connected in our minds with most imsentimental punishments and tasks ; but we plucked grasses and heather from the meadow and wood to ieep as sacred things. We immediately rushed into heroic verse, describing our agonised feelings with the minutest distinctness, talked of ourselves as aliens and exiles, hinted darkly at foreign graves, where cypress and yew would cast a shadow over broken hearts, spoke of the Channel as if it were the Pacific Ocean at the very least, and breathed forth the utmost defiance and contempt of our Gallic neighbours ! kSome of these remarkable poems are still extant; but I am glad to say the feelings which dictated them have long ago given place to more Christian sentiments; that the exiles were restored, after the lapse of a few pleasantly spent years, to their native land; and that the aforesaid dismal trees were not called upon to cover the tombs of strangers. « » » « * I had not seen the dear old place for many years, until one day, finding myself in its vicinity, I walked some distance to revisit the old haunts, and see the changes which time had wrought—time, whose loving, tender hand adds new beauty to everything it touches, and over the many enormities of art and architecture spreads a green mantle of ivy, or tones down Ihe garish colours of ugly tints with mellow mosses or soft grey lichens. If only time had wrought the change! but, alas ! the place had fallen into the hands of a man possessing unlimited wealth, and his chief amusement consisted in laying out and improving (?) the property. He had meta- morphosed it so that all the old cherished landmarks were swept away. Spacious lawns and terraces were now, where before was a wild undulating woodland, where we children used to sink knee-deep in ferns and blaeberry bushes : where the green meadow in which we found the first primroses sloped down to the brook by the old saw- mill, with its fresh smell of newly-made sawdust, there was a trim vegetable garden with a high wall and straight bordered walks, through which I passed with a full heart; and in the lovely old dell stretching for miles The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 67 up through the wood, and down which tumbled and gurgled a brook over mossy rocks, sometimes screened by a confusion of greenery; the dell—the idol of our childhood —the one spot I was sure they could not spoil. Trim gravelled walks, bordered with stiif privet and box hedges, were cut by the burn-side, where lovers could walk abreast and talk politics or the state of the money market without having their tempers or attention distracted by brambles catching their dresses, instead of the rough and narrow track, wandered over here and there by woodbine trailers, or a trickling rill dropping from a green mossy rock far up on the bank, where our lovers But my imagination is running away with me, for in those days we were too young to possess such appen- dages, unless boy-lovers, Avho, I daresay, were ungallant enough to leave us to stumble as best we might over the stepping-stones, and only laughed when we missed our footing. I looked in vain, and with a sore tugging at my heart- strings, for the scene which had " orbed into the perfect star, we saw not when we moved therein;" for even the dank pool, where the frogs croaked and the stunted alders grew, where we lowered our voices as if something eerie hung over the place, where we hastily plucked the grey cup rnoss with its silver and scarlet edges, and hurried on in the fast-deepening twilight, hearing the young owl's dismal cry behind us. Where had it vanished ? Most of the hill and moorland where we used to watch the timid deer bounding gracefully over the ground, or standing at a lovely picture against an open sky, was cultivated, and converted into corn and turnip fields; the pool was drained, and the water utilised for purposes of irrigation. If this be civilisation, commend me to the wild savagery of nature ! Surely, T said, with a last waning hope, where the brook widens and falls into the little lake in the pleasure- grounds, no change can have taken place. The little rustic bridges, insecure certainly, but most picturesque, must still be there, covered with those lichens, which were thus prettily described by a friend of mine— '' So tenderly, lovingly, ye clasp The headstone lone and cold, And your gentle arms ye fling around The ruins grey and old. Ye hrusli with your silent silver wing The rocks by the brooklet's side. 68 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

As ceaseless ever your task ye ply, And onward still ye glide." I wandered on. The beautifully rugged edges of the stream, where the water eddied among reeds and grasses into tiny hollows, where harebells stooped over to see their pale reflection, were shaved down and cut to a hideous evenness; the bridges were superseded by plain varnished planks and railings, and where before the stream divided, forming a miniature island covered with shrubs and weeds, was a mound carefully formed and surmounted by a wooden house, in shape something between a Noah's Ark and a Swiss chalet, for the abode and comfort of two black Australian swans, who were quite in keeping with the appearance of the place. The only thing they could not touch was a group of grand old Scotch firs, standing in all their inexpressible dignity, looking so different and yet so beautiful under every aspect, whether towering above the storm, with the snow weighing down their dark branches; or with the red autumn sunset lighting up their rugged bark, and tipping with glory the ever-green pines, the only unchanged friends of my childhood. I did not ask after the ghosts; no doubt they had been improved away with other things. I sat down to still the wild beating of my rebellious heart. Home, and yet no longer home! Why was it not still ours, who loved it so well, and to whom every stick and stone was a beloved friend and face? Ah! it is sb hard to teach oneself that all must be for the best, that the tearing asunder of ties, and the parting from our dearest possessions, is one of life's greatest lessons. Even now, Avhile I write, thousands of recollections crowd upon my brain—scenes long forgotten spring into lenewed and sudden life before my misty eyes—scenes BO lovely, they were an idyll in themselves—-the broad river on whose silvery bosom, rich Avith the evening tints, glided a boat before the current, it and the two unconscious happy figures seated in it, alike drifting they knew not where, wrapt in the warm light of life's summer days. The but if I follow further the leadings of my recollections, it might be truly said that the garrulity of old age had come to me before the allotted time. MARTYN HAY. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. G9

Cljt gragon 0f tht |tflri§'.

CHAPTER III. " Beheld so high upon the dreary deeps, It seem'd in heaven—a ship, the shape thereof A dragon wuig'd, and all from stem to stern Bright with a shining people on the decks."—TENXYSON.

OUR little river ran through a deep rocky ravine just before reaching the sea. Hardly could a sunbeam force its way down into the chill depths, where pale plants hung dripping from the crannies of the dark rocks over the water. The usual way to the sea led along the rocks above, but a pathway led down into the cleft to a poor httle cell, where for many years a hermit had lived— some said a holy man; others, one that by terrible penances tried to purify himself from foul crime. We had heard he was gone away, but I thought that could not be, as I passed along the path at the top at noon the day folloAving the coming of the Normans, for I saw how Herser Thorstein and two or three more had gone down to the cell with the miserable Damasus, who there, methought, sought strength for his further journey. And indeed there was something in his mien and step more assured as he came out of tlie low door and went swiftly on with the Northmen, as if the severe hermit had somewhat consoled him. Ah! how unlike was that soft idle Damasus to my dear brave Father Anselmo, with whom I had lingered so long that all the rest had gone before me, and now I had to run down the last steep descent to be iu time on board the great ship of war. There she floated in the deep water close inshore, one dazzling glitter of many colours and gold. Thirty great oars on each side lay out on the water; and aloft they were spreading wide coloured sails on the three masts. Round the bulwarks many shining shields w^ere hanging; in front was a high raised deck; and behind, the poop rose also, thronged with glittering figures. At the prow, with head throAvu back over the forecastle, a great gilded dragon crest was seen, and its barbed tail curled over the poop. The oars seemed its legs, and the sails its wings, and it seemed to have a life of its own, like some splendid yet evil beast, or Leviathan himself of whom we chant in the Psalms. A moment only I looked, full of delight and curiosity, and then I ran over a long No. 3.—llAEcn 1875. K 70 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. plank on board, none noticing me save Thorstein, who nodded kindly as he stood on the poop ; and the oars Bmote the water so that it foamed all around, and in a few minutes we were far from the rocks; the wind was blowing, and filled the great sails; the oars were drawn in, and we were away over the tossing grey water. I stood in what I afterwards knew as the waist of the vessel; nor could I well have moved thence, for the movement and rolling became so brisk that I found myself more at my ease lying down under a bench close against the side of the ship, the sleeping quarters of the men, when the gurgle of water in my ears, and the noise of creaking, hauling, and trampling, all blended together in a pleasant dreaminess. It was afternoon when I woke up again. I liked now the feeling of the rolling of the ship over the waves, and would fain have talked to the great fair-bearded men who lounged about the benches, or leaned over the brightly-painted vessel's sides. But they shook their heads, saying, "No Italian," till a young fellow, Kolbiorn by name, the skald or poet, as I learned, of the crew, came with some food, which he spread between us on the bench, and by means of the Italian he had picked up, and the knowledge I had of the written Teutonic language in which the Niebelungen LAed, one of the treasures of our library, was written, a knowledge which was soon improved into a good acquaintance with the spoken Norse, we were ere long chatting merrily. Kolbiorn was small, slight, and handsome, and far more gaily dressed than any man on board. He wore golden armlets and various jewels, all presents received for songs, as he told me. I soon found he loved all pretty things, especially and. chiefly himself, and that he Avas ready to put anyone's thoughts into a song for him, and yet he might laugh at those very thoughts the next day in another song. But how these rough men loved his song!—it was " Kolbiorn, sing us of the heroes," or " Kolbiorn, pray—a song about old Norway," or " Kol- biorn, sing a song for Thor," or " a song to my love Gun - hild at home ;" and he was ever ready. Now, while we talked, I saw how on the poop was a clear space of raised deck, shaded from the sun by a striped curtain, red and yellow. Under it, by a table, sat among others Damasus, with his back to me, his cup in the air, like a light-hearted man-at-arms. What mii-acle had so cured his terror ? The Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine. 71

" Ought I not," I said to the Northman, " to go and attend on Father Damasusl " " Nay," said he, " the merry Father does not want you. Father! he looks younger than his son, and likes his wine. I only ho])e he won't lure our Swend into a drinking-bout. There beside him, that tall bony man, with long red hair; that is Sea-king Swend, the lord of us all, except when he is too drunk to stand, and then Herser Thorstein takes command." " And when Thorstein is drunk f " That he never is; he is rather melancholy, for his own ship was wrecked : that is why he is aboard of us. Also, we think he is in love with Hertha, and is too old for her— he was at sea before I was born. Look! there comes Hertha with her ancient maiden out from her cabin under the poop. There is our mistress, our goddess Freya. For her sake we endure her brother Swend, the red fox; for no bigger beast is he, for all he looks so tall and strong. Syades can lead him with a string. Then he is a wizard, or wishes to be thought one; and some say can coin the red gold Swend loves best of all things, out of baser metals. Thorstein there cares neither for gold nor wizard, but he can cow Swend, and Ave would all follow him to the death, for he is a first-rate warrior and sailor, and many a time he has saved our beauty, our darling—the Dragon." The Dragon indeed! of course I thought he was going to say the lady. And so there were women on board. How should I, bred up all my whole life apart from them, com- port myself towards them ? Terror possessed me, and I exclaimed—" Women on board ! " " Two, and soon perhaps another. Do joxx know what you, or rather your gay young Father, are wanted for V " To ask for winter quarters at Salerno." " Ask ! does the bear ask the sheep's leave to lie down ? There is not a port in the whole world where our Dragon would not come in and take what she wanted—the darling. No. But there is a lady who owns a fair castle and lands near Amalfi, and Swend's idea is to marry her and live there for the winter, and then perhaps join our Chris- tianised cousins from Neustria, who are coming more and more to this coast, and establish a fair dominion here. The lady will not marry one of Odin's men, and so a priest must come as messenger, and if she will have Swend, christen him and marry them. If she will not have him, well— he may carry her off, unless Thorstein can prevent it; for 72 7he Ladies' Edinburgh Afaga~ine. he is very sorry for the lady—and, by Thor's hammer! so am I. When Swend is drunk, he may treat a woman as he would a man—and that would be ill indeed ; and then he has already two or three wives, and the one in Norway —Ingeborgd—is a proud woman, who would never be second." " What! a Christian maiden marry a man with two or three wives ? How little the monks knew, when they sent Damasus, what the errand was. He can't know now, or he would protest, though I fear he is but a coward." " No," said Kolbiorn; " to my eye—and I am a fair judge —he may have mischief in him, but not cowardice. How- ever, I daresay, Thorstein knows his way through the wood: he is like the bear, a silent tongue, and nine men's wisdom. I tell you all this because you have a good face, and have read the Saga of Sigurd. Only why they were so resolved to have you on board, the Gods and Syades alone know." " ]3ut Damasus chose me," said I. " Maybe, but Thorstein and Syades chose you, and no one else, which Avas more to the purpose," answered the other; " there they summon me. Keep your knowledge of our language to yourself, and you may find out more yet; meanwhile see who comes out from under the forecastle, Syades himself," and the youth flung himself quickly over the benches towards the poop, while one came forth from the low door under the forecastle, who at once arrested my attention, as I had seen him with Thorstein at the convent. This was a thin spare man, with high dark features, and wearing a long robe. He greeted me kindly, speaking perfect Italian, and invited me to a seat beside him on the forecastle, to which we mounted by a ladder from the waist. The sunset was now beginning to burn in the sky to seaward, and as we talked the darkness came on apace. " And so," he said, " thou art convent bred, and sent forth to see the world in a heathen ship! What were the holy brothers dreaming of? had the seer of the monastery a vision of their novice converting Swend, or are you a runaway from discipline'? how came ever such an innocent lamb among northern bears, Gaulish wolves, and Saracen leopards ? " Now I liked not the man's bitter laugh, and yet there was something that drew me towards him—some strange attraction, which led me to speak freely. The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 73

" Sir, I am sent to travel in part to perfect myself in my art; and am here, I believe chiefly because, I know not why, you wish it. Are you perhaps a master builder ? " I asked, because I saw he was neither sailor nor warrior, yet a man of commanding presence. " Thou hast guessed it, a master of many arts, though indeed to these old monks the worst of the beasts, the leopard—Syades the Saracen; Swend's slave taken in fight, and yet his master." An unconverted Moslem. I felt a strange shudder. " Oh, noble sir, have you then heard " " Ay, heard what can be heard," he said, laughing, " and I remain—like all Spain, like the East, where all learning rose—Moslem still. But indeed it is not of these matters that I chiefly concern myself, not with what is above and out of our reach, like that golden sunset cloud; not with what is future, death and what comes after, which must come whether we strive or lead easy lives, but with what is around and present, that I occupy myself now. We ask questions about the life and destiny of man, and of the purpose of the Deity, and weary ourselves in vain. One answer comes from your Christian priests, another from Kolbiorn the skald, who leans there with his harp on the bulwark ; another from the bigoted followers of Mahomet. Rather do 1 choose to put questions to nature than to man ; to the stars about the rules which guide their wanderitigs, to the elements which build in their endless combinations all we see and all we are. For these answer; it may be a very low and shy reply, but yet it is something—a true response; and as we grow older, we can question with more skill. Now the first look at a young face tells me what the man's qualities are, as an old face tells me character and history. I discourse so to you, my son, because I read in your face at once the quality that dares to look at nature with clear eyes, unblinded by book learning." I had never heard words like these; and while I disputed them, they somehow cliarmed me. Long we sat on the forecastle ; the sunset had yielded to night, but the ship steered her course by starlight. A tent was thrown over part of the waist of the ship, and many of the mariners lay down to sleep beneath it, under the rowing benches. The sounds of carousal had died away; Damasus was in a cabin beneath the poop, and now doubtless slept : and still the strange man with the 74 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. restless dark eyes talked on to me. Most interesting was it to hear him speak of the hidden power of numbers, especially as shown in the great craft of Architecture,— princess of all the arts, and of the societies of craftsmen and masons, bound together by awful vows and secrets, and possessing a knowledge and brotherhood beyond other men, from which roots sprang the fair edifices, not raised by Christians alone, but by heathen also, and Moslem, alike bound to work together in brotherhood for the glory of their craft. And he said of me, that he knew by a little birth-mark, as of a ripe fruit stain near the left eye, that great powers, of a sort he rather guessed than knew, were mine. In short, when long past midnight I lay down under the tilt in the waist, and tried to sleep amid the sleeping men around me, my head swam and my spirits danced with strange wild hopes regarding myself—I, a poor unknown orphan, brought up by the good charity of the community. It was a strange place for a Benedictine novice to be in, but I do not blame the brotherhood, who thought when my journey was settled I should go a short voyage in a well-ordered ship of Christian Normans, under the guidance of an experienced monk ; not as now, in a heathen vessel, Avith a Saracen sage or wizard as my chief companion. Our ship even, as I suspected, was not bound straight to port, but cruising about like a dragon indeed, seeking for prey. At last I slept, and dreamt that I rode all night in a waste land after Syades, who suddenly turned and called on me to strike spurs and leap over a wall as 1 thought; but even as I rose to the leap, I saw it was Father Anselmo who looked at me like a man who has got his death-blow; while beyond, Syades rose dilated in the air, huge and black as a threatening fiend; and while I strove to cross myself and cry out, I siiddenly woke ; and lo I the network of ropes overhead, and the sea-birds skimming across a clear, bright, morning sky. And like the mosaic of an angelic head with a golden halo against a clear blue background, there appeared in that morning sky a radiant vision that all the years of busy life have never since dimmed in my memory. I thought at first some blessed spirit had come to chase away my evil dream wth its pure presence, but I soon perceived it was indeed the Lady Hertha, Swend's sister, whom I had as yet seen in the distance only, who was The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 75 standing near on the gangway which ran round the waist of the vessel. Her golden hair stood off" round her lovely face as though blown back in a winged flight, the pure white of her forehead warmed into the colour of a pink shell on cheek and chin, her clear blue eyes caught mine as she turned to me with a radiant saluting smile, and Avished me good morning in good Italian. It seemed as if my very being leapt towards her, and that I was no more my own. I stammered, and could hardly answer or raise my eyes beyond the deep blue folds that fell over her feet from the gold and broidered girdle, though I Avas aAvare CA^en of the little dark blue and gold Greek coif on her shining hair, and the white fur that mixed with the blue on her bodice, scarcely whiter than the pretty hand \Adth glittering rings she held out to me. " Are you yet accustomed to our ship ? " she went on; " do you like it ? I fear you must feel it lonely, so few talk your language." " Nay, lady," I ansAvered, " that dark man Syades talked to me all yesterday evening; most learned discourse." " Yes, I saAv IIOAV he held you by his talk; he used to speak to me, but I did not much like him. I wished to tell ytu," and her colour deepened, "thatI am baptised— a Christian; also Asmund and tAvo or three of the men; but Ave know very little, and you must teach us something. I hoped much Avhen I heard a priest Avas coming on board, but this Damasus seems Avanting in gravity and mildness; more like a joA'ial man-at-arms than a minister of the Church." " Poor Damasus would be but a sorry man-at-arms; for all his big Avords he is an arrant coAvard," I answered, laughing. " No," said Hertha, " he is a bold lad, I think; and you knoAv I have been brought up among fighting men, and often seen combats. That priest, mark me, Avill go far in a fight," she said, earnestly, as I still smiled. The lady seemed as anxious to coiiA'ince me as if I Avere not but a poor novice, and she the chief's sister in brave apparel; but so it was always with her; she had the courage and honesty of a braA'e man, and the quick, subtle Avit of an able woman, and Avith it a sort of confiding tenderness and earnest Avish to please we see often in children, but seldom in people Avho are much in the Avorld. "It is a pity he is a priest," she continued; "he might 76 - Tlie Ladies' EJbihurgh Magazine.

have been a brave warrior. Ah, do not yon be hasty; be sure you have a vocation before the last vow is made." "It is so difficult to tell," 1 answered. "With Father Anselmo, who is a saint on earth, I have a vocation ; away from him, I doubt it sorely." And so Hertha and I grew more and more friendly ; last night I had thought I could never have spoken to women, and to-day it seemed they were easier to talk to than ever were men. I felt I could lay all my life before her and take her counsel, and she understood and was interested as none ever seemed before, and told me much in return as we slipped easily through the murmuring waves, not far from the purple mountains of the coast. The wind died quite aAvay in the afternoon, and the ship was rowed close inshore and anchored. I heard we were soon to land, and most of us might sup and sleep, if we chose, on shore. I was resolved to do so, for near the sea on the lonely plain stood three great, solitary, noble buildings, ancient temples, with stately rows of columns—one of pure white, the others of red flushed marble—standing in lonely grandeur before the range of purple hills that rose in shadowy softness beyond. They moved my whole heart with wistful yearning; but while I leaned over the ship's side gazing intently at them, a harsh voice behind me shoiited, " What means this, Brother Lam-entio —this neglect of thy superior—this constant talk with Saracens and women '? Down on thy knees, silence on thy obedience, and take the chastisement thou hast merited;" and Damasus stood over me, flourishing the cord taken off his girdle; and as, according to rule, I dropped on my knees, he cauglit me by the ear. This was not fair, but it was very like our Prior, who was our chief trial, so I was used to it all. " Now," said Damasus, and stooping down he half lifted his cowl; and lo ! the young face and laughing eyes of Astolfo looked forth; but I was so fortified against blows in my silence that I made neither start nor soimd, though I gazed with utter wonder. " Good lad," said he, " thou hast taken it without an Oh or an Ah, so that is enough. Oh, Laurentio, but this cowl is hot—I may wear it back now. I could not think how to tell thee secretly enough, here where one is always in a crowd. So here we are, off together, as I was wont to dream; one of us at least never to return to the old nest. Stand up now I The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 77

No one but Syades and Thorstein and a few more know of the change, and I may breathe again." " But how is all this V I said ; " Avhere is Damasus ? " " It is all part of a plan of that wily old fellow, Herser Thorstein, a man I would follow to the end of the world. When he had talked to the real Damasus, whose fat sides never stopped quivering—ah, Kenzo, how couldst thou mistake us 'I—Thorstein, I say, called out, ' This fellow's cowardice will ruin all. Swend will drive him mad with fear!' ' Try me, only try me,' I said; ' I am no coward, though a churchman;' for you see I am in minor orders, and our Thorstein knows no difference. So next day, when we passed the hermitage on the way to the ship, in we slipped, and I took Damasus' dress and left him mine; and he is there, playing the hermit "—and Astolfo laughed more and more. " Pulse brought by the country folk for him to eat, straw bed, and the discipline. It will do him a world of good. I wonder when he will dare tell who he is, and creep away ; for of course if this is known, after all his talk, he can never hold up his head again. See, his very goAvn is all lined Avith satin and fur,* like any court lady ; mine must feel rough after such plumage. But he may keep it, for I shall never cumber myself with it again. The saints be praised, I never took the final vows, and by St. George and the Dragon, and this dragon—who must be a better beast at heart than he looks in face, as he cari'ies me to freedom—my cloister life is over, my Lau- rentio." E. J. 0. (7b be continued.)

Jih^ (gxtiibilion of the ^opl ^tcttish %aitm\x, OxCE more we take up our pen to describe in the pages of the Ladies Edinburgh Magazine the works that adorn the walls of the Royal Academy Galleries. Our painters and our poets, what a debt of gratitude do we not owe to them! Like as the Avelcome sun by its tardy beams dissipates the murky atmosphere that envelops our town-enforced life, so does the touch of their pencil, and * The monks of Monte Cassino gave much scandal about this time by wearing the " habit " made in silk, instead of coarse wool, as ordered by the rule of St. Benedict. No. 3.—MARCH 1875. r 78 Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. the thought of their brain, lighten up for us this work- a-day world, and transport us, in mind and feeling, along with themselves to nature's leafy solitudes. With them we climb her loftiest moimtains, we revel in her sunshine, or shrink and shiver beneath her dreadful storms. Where have not our artists wandered to ? They have been north and south, east and west, and have brought back in their hands glowing transcripts of the scenes they have visited. We have here tlie sensuous gorgeous- uess of the East, and the calm loveliness of the West; the sunny radiance of the South, and also the mighty blast from the North. From among the numerous examples that line the walls we can choose but a few. Shall we, as we pass along, point out to our readers the marvellous technique that in Alma Tadema's " Cleopatra" arrests the attention and excites the admiration of the entranced spectator ? or shall we stop at " Our Northern Walls," and almost shrink from the fury of the mighty waves that foam and fret before us ? Shall we admire the dramatic power displayed in " State Secrets," or stop in tender sympathy before the human interest of the " Turning- Point" % Oiir own Academicians and Associates have also come powerfully to the front. Rarely have we seen finer examples of their several styles than those that are in this year's Exhibition. And before closing our preliminary remarks, we must give ourselves the gratification of calling attention to the good and true work that has come from the hands of our yovmger artists— they who in the future will themselves be in the van, and upon whose efforts will rest their country's place among the great artists of European fame, when those among us who now bear the heat and the burden of the day will be of the past. We must now, however, take the Catalogue in our hand, and proceed at once to discuss a few of the pictures that hang upon the walls ; bearing always in mind that although there are many we should like to call attention to, it is only the most striking amongst them that we have space to advert to. North Octagon, No. 15—" Running Water", by G. P. Chalmers. This is a picture of great technical skill: there is good painting here thrown away—we were about to say—upon a barren subject. We have " Running ^Vater" most admirably painted; had Mr. Chalmers given us The Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine. 79 something to look at in the middle distance, or a background in which there was a more tangible interest, this would have been one of the finest, as it is undoubtedly one of the cleverest, examples on the walls. No. 32—" The Warning before Flodden," by John Faed. The painting of these very ordinary-looking people is very finely executed. The faces are almost as smooth and as polished as if on ivory. But if this picture shows a vast amount of mechanical skill, it also shows a great lack of mental power. This is surely not the "wild-haired Seer" that as a sudden vision flashed before the dismayed king and lords ; neither is this round-faced monarch the sad and dolorous James, who sought to make his devotions at Lithgow, " that God might send him good chance in his voyage." Mr. Faed has failed in his mental grasp of the scene that the old legend convej's. No. 53—" 11 Pescatore," by Erskine Nicol. Mr. Nicol's fame as a delineator of Irish humour is too well established to suffer any diminution from the somewhat commonplace examples tliat he has sent of late years to these walls. This is an ordinary but well-posed figure of an Italian fisherman, intent upon his useful occupation of catching fish. No. 59—" The Covenanters' Communion," by Sir George Harvey. This is one of Sir George Harvey's early pictures, and is no doubt well known to our readers, so as to need little comment here. Suffice it to say, it is in Sir George Harvey's happiest manner. There is an earnest simphcity in the countenances of these God-fearing men and women, that tells a true tale of the stuff that our Covenanting forefathers were made of. Little recked they of danger, or of death itself, if only eternal life were gained. Their pastor and leader is well brought out in the stern and tried lines of hia face; and the very significant fact that danger is near, is well and subtilely told in the upraised eyes of one of the group at the Communion Table while laying his hand significantly and quietly upon the arm of the elder by his side, thus telling that the foes are at hand, Avithout disturbing the Avorshipping people Avhile partaking of the holy rite. No. 74—" The Escaped," by W. Q. Orchardson. This is a picture of considerable dramatic power. The bloodhounds tell us plainly the scent they are upon. As a piece of animal painting we, however, prefer No. 295, in Great Room, " Oscar and Bran," by the same 80 Tlie Ladies^ Edinhurgh Magazine. artist. These dogs are admirably painted. Mr. Orchard- son has a fine bit of colour in No. 206, " Monsieur and Madame." We now come to No. 77, North Octagon—"Peel Castle, Isle of Man," by Sam Bough. AVho is not acquainted with this artist's unrivalled talent, and also with his equally startling defects ? The atmospheric effects of broad sunshine are here capitally rendered; but look at these unhappy horses that the still more unhappy carter is endeavouring to guide in the way that horses are wont to go, while they are crossing their spindle-shank legs and jibbing about in a way that only Mr. Bough's horses would ever attempt to do. But we must look at Mr. Bough's " Peel Harbour. Isle of Man "—No. 171, Great Room. Here we have this very clever artist at his best —the dash of the waves upon the harbour, the dismantled 'wreck struggling amidst the storm-troubled sea—the spectators in the foreground cowering before the sAveep of the wind—the lifeboat putting out amidst the tossing of the comparatively smoother water, are all given with the verve and realistic effect that Mr. Bough is so well able to convey. It is to be regretted that the general tone and colour of this spirited picture is scmiewhat marred in its eff'ect by the close proximity overhead of Mr. A. D. Reid's beautiful picture of " Sea Weed," and of which the deep rich colour rather impairs, by contrast, the paler hues of Mr. Bough's " Peel Harbour." North Octagon, No. 120 —"Tak' your Auld Cloak aboot ye!" by John Watson Nicol, son of the great painter of Irish life. We would point to this picture, among others, in support of our remarks upon the good and true work that our younger artists are sending out into the world. The younger Nicol has in this picture taken a " firm grip " of his subject. The canty old man in the chair, with his sonsy old wife standing beside him, with the " auld cloak" in her hand, are life-like specimens of true Scottish folks. We now come to No. 107—" Our Northern AValls," by Peter Graham. This great painting has already run the brunt of much diverse criticism from the London Press; but whatever judgment may be pronounced upon the picture as a whole, no one who has seen it can deny that here we have indeed the storra-tossed ocean, in all its sound and fury, rushing and leaping in resistless force against those black beaten rocks. We all but hear its roar, as the The Ladles Edinburgh Magazine. 81 foam of the waves spreads white and vapoury over the surface of the sharp jagged rocks, on which swoop doAvn hungry and screaming cormorants—fit accompaniments of this desolate spot. It is a most powerfully painted picture, and overwhelms the spectator with a sense of the majesty and grandeur of nature in her stormiest aspects. Great Room, No. 177—" Christ and Mary at the Sepulchre," by Sir Noel Paton. We have before now, we think, expressed the opinion that this is not the age for such a subject as this painting endeavours to realise. Our modern painters lack the unquestioning faith, the sure conviction, that gave to the Old Masters not only the imagination to conceive, but the realising hand to perform. The Saviour was to them a man who walked the earth as they did themselves, and His mother a simple-minded Israelitish woman, and they painted them as such; they endeavoured also to embody something beyond and yet within these realistic men and women— whether they succeeded or not, it is left for posterity to judge. But what is this scene before us ? What does it represent ? Certainly not the event as described in Holy AVrit; and we do think that Sir Noel Paton's fancy plays more naturally and easily around fairy-land and folk- lore, than about such exalted subjects as the one before us. We now hasten on to No. 224—" Cleopatra," by Alma Tadema. Here indeed is tlie hand of genius in this wonderfvil specimen of a master's art. In the pose of the head and shoulders, in the living expression of the eye, in the varying flesh-tints of throat and bust, in the sensuous and powerful organism, we recognise the dark Egyptian Queen who enthralled in her toils an Antony and a Caesar. No. 234, by W. j\I'Taggart, is a fine picture, excellently conceived and painted. The force of the gale driving the boat through the liissing sea, is in fine contrast to the calm courage of the men within, who are holding their own in the midst of the stormy sea, and have the boat in steady keeping. The broad expanse of angry waves in the middle distance, with the fleet of fisliing-boats in the perspective, are truthfully rendered; while the general tone and colour of the scene are in fine keeping. Mr. M'Taggart has also, in No. 200—" The Fern Gatherers," a very charming bit of colour. We have rarely seen a prettier or brighter child's face than the little girl who is looking out upon us in the foreground of the picture. 82 Tlie Ladies^J Edhihuryh Magazine.

Passing over some beautiful landscapes by Messrs. Beattie Brown and John Smart, we arrive at the one picture that may perhaps be called the picture of the Exhibition. We allude to No. 290—" State Secrets," by .John Pettie. Mr. Pettie's fame is well established in a larger field than this, but never have we seen from his hand a more powerfully drawn figure than that of the red- robed Cardinal engaged in his treasonable occupation,. Here is no exaggeration, but here is also artistic effect of the highest kind. Observe the light, how skilfully it i,s thrown upon every line of the figure—how the calm powerful face stands out from the carefully-studied surroundings—how good is the contrast between the dominant will of the unscrupulous priest and the scared look of the attendant friar. The ascending smoke of the half-burned papers, with the whole of the accessories, are capitally delineated, without being unnecessarily obtruded upon the spectator's attention. We have referred by a single word to a picture which tells very sAveetly and prettily a tale of domestic interest—No. 412, South Octagon—"The Turn- ing Point," by Alexander Johnstone. The wife inter- ceding with her wayAvard husband is most tenderly and pathetically drawn—the poor little girl innocently looking up at her weak-minded but obstinately-willed father; the pretty home-scene which we feel trembles in the balance, and may ere long be a scene of desolation and misery; his wicked tempters, in the shape of those evil faces looking in at the pretty casement window. We involuntarily tremble for the result, knowing as we all do the miserable weakness of human nature; and we fear that the dram-shop which looms in the distance may prove the rock of destruction to that sweet woman and child. The texture is somewhat hard, but the sad story is so delicately and finely suggested that it is impossible to pass over this very interesting picture. No. 475 is a remarkably humorous picture by W. E. Lockhart. Don Quixote is the hero of this scene, and his faithful squire, Sancho Panza, is standing a little in the background, engaged in stuffing into his mouth huge pieces of bread-and-butter; his attitude and expression show him to be true to himself and to his master; he is feeding his inner man, and looking on with equanimity at the poor Don's mad capers among Tlie Ladles Edinburgh Magazine. 83 the paste-board Moors. This inimitable scene is rendered with great and true humour; and although the painter's brush does not seem to have been wielded wdth the same force and precision as it was in " The Dying Matador" of last year's Exhibition, it is, nevertheless, a- picture that must add considerably to the artist's fame. For one moment we must look at a sweet pastoral scene by a foreign artist, V/AXI Bourle, whose name Ave do not recollect to have seen in our Exhibition before,— No. 615, South Room. This picture is full of sweet tender feeling, and is beautifully painted. Two children, a young girl and little boy, are seated on the ground, the young girl looking up at a butterfly; the attitudes of both children are perfectly natural and simple, and yet are full of a tender grace and beauty that our home artists do not seem able to render in the children of our own country. Probably the fault lies as much in the rugged- ness of the children themselves as in the artists' rendering. Before leaving the South Room we must call attention to two surprisingly meritorious works by young artists. One is No. 592, by W. B. Hole—" Her Wedding Day," a charmingly depicted scene, rendered with very fine feeling and in capital tone. The other is No. (535—" Near the End of the Weft," by J. C. Noble. This last is a picture of great merit, and recalls to recollection, both in treatment and subject, examples of Joseph Israels' admirable pictures Avhich formerly apjDcared in these rooms. We nave great reason this year to rejoice over our younger men. PoUok Nisbet has some admirable studies of Venice architecture and interiors, also a more ambitious picture in this room. No. 650—"Becalmed ; Early Morning on the Lagunes, Venice;" but we have no space left in which to call attention to these paintings, and must pass rapidly on to the works of Jlessrs. John Smart, John IVI'Whirter, Beattie Brown, Waller Baton, Alexander Eraser, and others, whose beautiful landscapes demand most careful and attentive study. Before adverting to them, however, we must call attention to a magnificent landscape by Sir George Harvey in the Great Room, No. 11)8— " Scenery in the Highlands." This landscape is in Sir George Harvey's best manner. AVho can paint skies to rival such a sky as this % It is a glorious picture, with mountains and valleys, water and trees—a scene that a Claude would have delighted to paint. Mr. Smart has devoted himself to mist-painting this 84 The Ladies' Edinhurgli Magazine. season; and were it not that his mist is more than sufficiently misty, Ave should be well pleased that he has done so. In No. 401, South Octagon—" The Valley of Mists," we almost feel as if we could take it up in spadefuls and trundle it away. It is nevertheless a \-ery fine picture, and Avorthy of this artist's rapidly-rising fame. Mr. Smart has brought home some very striking scenes from his summer sojourn in the Highlands. We Avould mention more especially No. 144, North Octagon—"Loch Lub- naig;" and No. 365, South Octagon—" A Bad Day for the Hairst." Mr. M'Whirter has a fine picture of a grand if gloomy subject in No. 87, North Octagon—" Glencoe." Mr. Waller Paton has several very bright and pleasing landscapes, in his usual tone and style of treatment. We, however, prefer No. 312, Great Room—" Moonlight near Dollar." This is a Aêry characteristically treated subject ; and No. 186—" On the Dee at Kirkcudbright," is a remarkably bright, pretty little picture, Avith a fine perspecti\'e of flowing river. Mr. Beattie BroAvn has some A-ery fine landscapes; as also Mr. John Nesbitt. This last artist has a charming sea-piece in the South Room, No. 632—" Sunset GIOAV." Mr. Alex. Fraser is as iisual true to nature and hard in texture in his seAêral landscapes—too numerous to notice. He has a charming little thing, gloAving in colour, in No. 367, South Octagon —"Thrush's Nest and Wild FloAvers." We should call attention to Messrs. Wingate and OsAvald as haA'ing made immense strides forward in Nos. 1 and 640 of the former, and in Nos. 75 and 433 of the latter ; but hoAvever much tempted, we cannot linger OAêr the landscapes, as Ave Avish to say a few words, before concluding, upon the animal paintings and the Avater-colours. Mr.Gourlay Steell has several fine examples on thcAA'alls. We Avill, hoAveAêr, content ourselves Avith examining Nos. 308 and 4(i6. No. 308—" Rough Art Critics," is a painting full of humour. Some lively felloAvs of the bull species have taken it into their stupid heads to take umbrage at an unfortunate artist's paraphernalia, and during the unlucky man's absence are poking their noses into his port- folio, and examining into the meaning and use of his large sun umbrella. One of these inquisitive bulls has his slimy nuizzle deep among the leaAês, another is preparing to gore and rend to pieces the unlucky camp-stool, a third is kicking up his heels, and Avith his tail in air is CA'idently Avorking himself up into a fuming rage. Their stupid The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 85

anger is quite natural, and yet most ludicrous; and we consider that Mr. Steell shows genuine humour in making these animals act according to their nature, and yet so absurdly. He does not give them human intelligence behind their animal physique, as was latterly too much the habit Avith the late l;'.mented Landseer, who was too apt to put a man's ready wit and feeling behind a dog's muzzle. In JNTo. 466—" A Warm Day in the Higldands," we have a splendid specimen of a bull standing in a pool of water. This fine animal is perfect in colour and form, and would not discredit the hand of the great Rosa herself. A very fine example of animal-painting is to be seen in No. 387—" Noonday Rest," by Mr. Denovan Adams. This very beautiful picture is a perfect gem of animal-painting. The cattle are most exquisitely painted, and are reclining in the foreground of a very pleasing landscape. Mr. Denovan Adams has two other examples on the walls in Nos. o8 and 78—both very fine examples of animal-painting. The bull terriers in No. 78 are all that bull terriers should be in form and texture; in No. 58 we have a fine landscape with lovely deer in the foreground, coming down the stream and " Scenting Danger." Mr. Alexander also deserves notice for several very meritorious examples of animal life; he is one of our younger artists AVIIO are coming so well to tlie front in this year's Exhibition. Before leaving the rooms we must for a brief space look at the Avater-colours. Mr. Bough has as usual one or two most effective pictures. Mr. Burton has several admirable examples in Nos. 775, 800, 864, and others. We should like to call especial attention to Mr. Pollok Nisbet's No. 818— " Sketch on the Grand Canal, Venice." The transparency of the water and the firmly-painted houses in the background are alike admirable. Our clever young townsman, Mr. Manson, has two finely-painted children in " Spring" and " Summer." We are glad to meet with Mr. J. T. Reid again in Nos. 766, 809, 863, after his long sojourn in Skye, of which these three pictures are characteristic sketches. Mr. Houston has a fine example of his rich depth of colour in No. 1001—"The (lood Captain." We have a lovely view of " Bolton Abbey" in No. 956, by William Miller. In No. 720—" The Refreshing Draught," by Sir John Gilbert, we have an idea of what can be accomplished in water-colours, in depth as well as transparency and delicacy of tint. This is a magnificent figure subject. Our lady artists are also most pleasing and successful Ko. 3.—MAECH 1875. M 8<) llie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. contributors to this delicate and lovely branch of art. The names of Mrs. 8tewart Smith, Lady Dunbar, IMiss AVarren, Miss C. T. G. Gumming, Miss M'Whirter, lAliss Ross, and Miss J. S. Lander speak for themselves; but there are also other lady contributors, who, although they cannot take rank with these veterans in art, are entitled to much encouragement for their success in their various styles. This North Room alone, witli all these lovely water- colours hanging on the walls, of which the greater portion are left unnoticed, Avould repay days and days of close attention. We can remember the time when water- colours were quite an unnoticed feature of Scottish art; but how different is it now that the Water-colour Room has become one of the most popular and eagerly-sought- after places in the Galleries of the Exhibition. M. E. T.

%\\ \\\t i^ii'ilight.

MY love, as we sit in the twilight, Thy true hand clasped in mine, I look back, the hours recounting Since first my heart was thine. The morning smiled when thou sought'st me In her bright and gracious hours: Through her dew-gemm'd paths thou ledd'st me, ■ And decked me with her flowers. At noon, when the sun shone fiercely, And rougher grew our way. Then love round each threw a shadow, And love to each was a stay. As we reached the day's declining, Did not our souls receive Still deeper draughts of gladness In that hallow'd hush of eve I Yet now, as we sit in the twilight, Thy true hand clasped in mine, I call this hour the sweetest Since first my heart was thine. JOAN SCOTT. Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 87

WinhiwQR of (Chester. CHAPTER II.

Ox the southern wall of Chester, and entering from the foot-way, stands an old square-built house. Situated at an angle in the wall, and facing south-west, it commands a view of the estuary of the Dee, and by its look of solidity and elderliness might almost be thought to have undertaken the supervision of all the traffic upon the river. It seems to claim the same kind of regard as that we feel for an old nurse, which is made up of placid affection without any romance in it. Could we connect any romantic association with it, it would be this, that it probably occupies the position formerly held by a Roman tower, and that a Roman soldier in the ancient Cestria may have looked from an embrasure instead of a window, over the same country, down the same river, out to the same blue sea, as the inhabitants of this house now look out upon from its windows. The only feature in the house which attracts interest for itself is a small addition to it, which runs along the lower part of the western gable. This addition has only half the depth, and two- thirds of the height, of the whole house. It is much more cheerful in aspect, however, for it has a bow-window facing south, and it can only be entered through the garden. It is, in fact, a separate dwelling, though wearing the air of an appendage. Randall Holme had preferred a solitary walk in Chester to accompanying his mother to the school where his sister was placed. The poor boy had, at this period in his life, an insatiable thirst for solitude, caused in the first place by the want of congenial society, and in the second by the mood of mind wdiich this want had induced. Circum- stances had been cruel to Randall, in depriving him of the opportunities for improvement which other young men have. At the time of his father's death, his school education was finished. Then grief had reigned supreme in the household, and this of itself had altered the prospects of the children. The daughter had been speedily sent to school, in the hope that she might soon return to be a companion to her mother. Randall, in the meantime, had been kept at home, and subjected to neighbouring tutorial influence; while the hope had been held before him of 88 The Ladles" Edinburgh Magazine. going to college after his sister's return. All this seemed quite wise and natural, and I\lrs. Holme cannot be blamed for not wishing to be left alone; but still Randall suffered to gratify the wish. It was the mother, not the tutor, who was stern; so that Randall shirked his lessons from laziness, and his home duties from perversity. He had no inducement to learn anything thoroughly, except the wish, expressed by his mother almost daily, that he should become a clergyman. She extolled the clerical profession, spoke of his dead father, and of her hopes that Randall might live to become like him. But Randall, amid the tender and hallowed memories of his father, had other memories of long rehgious tasks, serious penances for slight offences, and severe punishments for graver faults. He therefore deprecated the possibility of becoming a clergyman, or if at any moment he allowed himself to contemplate it, it was with the accompanying requisite of a modified clerical temperament braced by a rarefied clerical atmosphere. And now he was in his twentieth year, with no plans formed for any future career, no active principle save that of opposition to authority, or the mental antagonism above mentioned. But the moral and sentient part of his nature was only hemmed in on one side, that it might assert itself the more vehemently on another. Hence the habit of abstraction, the yearning for some ideal mode of life, some perfect object of love, to fill and exalt the emptiness and lowness of his present state. And this secret craving of his seemed to be hindered rather than helped by the presence of others, which was to him another name for want of sympathy. Thus it is no matter of wonder that he wished to take a solitary walk in Chester. As ho passed along the " rows," many of the foot-passengers turned to look again at the tall handsome youth, who seemed quite uninterested either in the quaint ornamental gables or in the modern inhabitants of the old town. Indeed, the so-called " sights " of the town rather oppressed than attracted him ; he had often seen them before, and there were so many stairs to be ascended in passing from one street to another, and so m.any passers-by with preoccupied or vacant faces, that Randall, weary at last of walking about in the town, betook himself to the city walls. Here the view which he had to the far horizon imaged forth the dim ideal after which his mind was craving. Slowly and dreamily he walked on, looking now away to faint outlines of hills, The Ladles' Edinburgh Magazine. 89 streaks of grey and rosy cloud, fields with cattle browsing on them; and now into the narrow roiighly-paved alleys, or in at the windows of smoky tenements, Avhere men he knew not and cared not for were toiling and striving. He had ever the secret hope that some sight or incident would realise to him something of the ideal world he dwelt in. AVhen he had walked more than half-way round the walls, the old house above mentioned appeared in view. The angle where the wall abruptly turns east- wards at this place forms a tempting nook for an idle f)asser-by to loiter in. Randall remained standing here to ook into the distance. The day was warm, yet cloudy. To the south-west a vast sheet of grey cloud overhung the estuary of the Dee, making the smooth Avaters of the river look dim and mysterious, and extending far up into the heavens. A long lake-like rift in this cloud, near the summit of it, was filled Avith red light, looking almost like a sea of blood. Clear against this rift the loAver edge of the cloud stood out in tower-like outlines. It looked like some enchanted castle adjoining the abode of the sun, yet unenlightened by it, and halloAving by its dimness all that was Aveird and unearthly. Presently the gloAv faded from the rift, the cloud edges closed around it, and the red light and the weird castle Avere lost to sight. " Is this like life?" thought Randall; "Ave see the beautiful, oh for hoAv short a time ! and the measure of our joy is the measure of quick-coming grief at its departure. The fairy region of the possible fades aAvay into the grey expanse of the real." Presently he was roused from his reverie by the sailor- like call of some men on the river bank beloAv. He looked down, and saAv tAVO men busily hauling in a barge Avhich had been tugged up the stream. It was ladeu with sacks of meal, and some half-dozen bargemen Avho were on board seemed revelling in rest from labour. It was a cheerful scene, and almost made Randall yearn for hard work that might be folIoAved by such pleasant leisure. Then from behind him there sounded a voice. It Avas the voice of a woman singing. It had a rich, full tone, Avith a bird-like clearness and simplicity. Turning round, he saAv that it must come from within the room of the bow- AvindoAV. The AvindoAv was open, and he stepped nearer, thinking he might possibly make out some of the Avords. The music suddenly ceased, hoAvever, and as he stood looking up into the AvindoAv, a figure appeared Avithin it. 1)0 TJie Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine.

Half-turned from him as she stood in the window, he saw before him a woman clad in the garb of former days. A close-fitting dress of a pale yellow colour, with roses and green sprays woven into it, clothed her slender figure ; while a train of the same, falling from the shoulders behind, added grace and dignity to her appearance. Her auburn hair, confined by a simple black bandeau, fell in a profusion of curls over her snowy neck. She and her companion were evidently too much preoccupied to observe Randall as he moved straight in front of the window. Then he saw the hand of a man waved as if in gesticulation; he caught sight of a man's face as it bent eagerly forward : it was Squire Trevor! And now the young woman stood facing him ; she was looking straight out at the window, in the direction of the cloud-rift he had seen, but not sadly; her large, lustrous eyes seemed to promise all blessedness; her mouth was half opened, as if to speak; the whole face had a happy spiritual expression,—a something, he knew not what, such as Ran- dall had never seen before. He Avas quite near her, and he stood, how long he knew not, gazing into that spiritual face, and yet unseen, for the two were quite absorbed in their conversation. Then she moved from the window. Randall walked rapidly away. Was this, then, the business that had brought Trevor to Chester ? He who seemed so absorbed in science and in other hobbies, had he leisure and inclination for sentimental scenes such as this? And supposing that he had time, had he power and soul enough to attract such a woman as that? Randall walked on, hardly knowing whither he went, hardly observing that he was retracing his footsteps. Coming within sight of the Roodee or race-course, he instinctively descended the steps that led to it, and threw himself upon the sward. Boys were playing at cricket; children were running about; elderly people were sitting on benches or on the grass. Randall saw them all as in a dream. Some birds were carolling in the sky above him, and he thought, " They are ha]ipy; their little lives have only cheerfulness to l3ring; but I, how different!" And through all his waking reveries he still saw the face he had seen in the window. He thought, " she is like the birds, singing for joy of heart; she is one of those who look out beyond the city walls." Tlie TMCUCS' EdinhurgU Magzaine, 91

He thought she must have some key to perfect happiness such as he had never even dreamt of; he thought he must and would see her again. And now he could not think of Trevor without pain, but he consoled himself by the reflection that Irevor saw him just as he would see a fish through water in distorted outline, not in his real identity. It seemed to him therefore that Squire Trevor must carry about with him a false and valuable medium, through Avhichhe could not but see the characters of all other men, and see them dimly and waveringly. It Avas impossible, then, that Trevor could in any length of time gain such a feeling about that Avoman as Kandall had gained by a single glance. HoAv long Randall had remained thus absorbed he kneAV not, biit people Avere beginning to go home. He started up, and, looking at his Avatch, saw that it Avas already half-past four. His mother would haAê left the Cathedral in despair of meeting him. He cpiickly hurried thither, but dream-life Avas still so strong Avithin him that the reality of lateness impressed him but hazily. On reaching the Cathedral, he entered it by the south porch, and Avould have proceeded to Avalk up the nave, but seeing seAêral people leaA'ing the building by the opposite porch, he fulloAved them, hoping to find his friends among them. He found, hoAvever, that a gentleman Avhom he had mistaken for Squire TrcA'or Avas an utter stranger to him, and he Avas thus in the position of an appendage to a party exploring the cloisters. He Avas soon wrapt in the contemplation of the clustering iA'y that mantled the cloisters, and the gently waving shadoAvs Avhich it thrcAv in the cool sandstone recesses. Brought thus in AHCAV only of the amenities of monastic life, he thought how pleasant it mu.«t have been to be a monk long ago in the Abbey of St. Werburga, that he might have sat for a whole summer afternoon poring oAêr romances in the cloistered alleys. AVhen the dismantled carrels, or chambers ftn- study, at the south-Avest corner of the cloisters, Avere pointed out, he transferred his affections to these, and chose for his occupation rather the reading of some of the disputations of the fathers, or the copying of some rare and illuminated manuscript, in the inspired seclusion of one of these monastic recesses. Randall Avas not in a sight-seeing mood, however, and Avhen he re-entered the Cathedral, it Avas rather to seek for his friends than to explore the wonders of the build- 92 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

ing. So he walked straight up the nave, peered along the transepts, then went straight through the choir and presbytery to the Lady Chapel. But no one was to be seen, save here and there an old woman at her prayers. The choir was noAv filled with a dim religious hght of many colours, that tempered the gloom of the old carved oak with motley hues. Randall, on retracing his steps down the church, paused a little west of the lectern, in front of the choristers' seats. Casting his eye over the rich stall-work, he looked at the lofty main arch east of the choir, into which the organ seemed to soar on brazen wings. Gazing then upwards beyond the arch, he felt himself dwindling into awe-struck insignificance. The warm light upon the stalls greeted him like a cheering message as he again looked around him. He was weary in body and in mind; and reassuring himself with the thought that his friends had not yet arrived, he seated himself in one of the choristers' seats, to gaze more at leisure on the wonders around him. What he gazed ou in reality was the land of dreams. Randall, on re-entering the Cathedral from the cloisters, had not failed to observe, over the porch opposite to him, a canopied niche with an antique stone figure in it. This he had supposed to be the figure of Werburga, the patron saint of the Cathedral. He had observed it mechanically and unthirddngly ; yet it formed, notwithstanding, a link in the chain of his remembrances. And no sooner had he entered dreamland, than his figure came to join itself to that which was now the central image in his thoughts. He fancied he saAV the figure of Werburga float down from her niche, and glide noiselessly up the nave till she stood in fr(jnt of him. The figure wore a long, almost colourless robe ; her hair hung in loose ringlets over her shoulders. With a face of unearthly paleness, and eyes full of spiritual meaning, she told him that this her Cathedral was the type of her own life. Oppressed by vain and worldly suitors, she had built herself round by the walls of monastic seclusion, and fled from those who would take no denial. And thus, in a pure and saintly life, in founding religious houses, she had found the highest happiness. Her concluding words were distinct in Randall's mind when he awoke. " Should anyone cross your path who is crafty and vain as Werbode my suitor was, do not stay to contend with him ; remember mv words ; withd)-aw." The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 93

Randall was rudely awakened by a sensation that made him fancy he was falling over a precipice. On opening his eyes, he found himself thrown forward upon the reading-desk, and on standing up, discovered to his surprise that the seat was so constructed as to prevent the occupant from acquiring a habit of sleeping during service; it was movable, and as soon as the head bent forward the seat did likewise. He was glad that no one was present to witness his discomfiture; and the last word of the saint, " Withdraw," which haunted him, seemed peculiarly applicable to his present situation. He reflected, however, that this was somewhat pusillanimous advice, fit only to be followed by a woman and a nun. He was even inclined to beheve that had St. Werburga met with a suitor more congenial than the crafty Wer- bode, she might not have been so willing to withdraw from the world, and the calendar might have boasted of one saint fewer than it possessed. Preparing now to leave the Cathedral, Randall was arrested by the sound of a voice talking. It seemed to come from the wall behind him. He looked in that direction, but an old arch which had been built up seemed to yield a double denial to the possibility of any sound penetrating it. Walking down to the north-west angle of the choir, he perceived where it joined the transept a small and ancient-looking portal. It was half open, and beyond the screen that stretched across the doorway he peeped into a email room. A row of white robes hanging along the wall, showed that this was the choristers' vestry. That it was also the music-room, was shown by the piles of music-books on the table opposite the door. Within the door, and half-hidden by the screen, was an ancient sedile of curious construction. Advancing cautiously and silently, Randall seated himself on the portion of the sedile which was hidden by the screen. Here, by bending his head forward so as to bring it into a line with the screen, he was able to see all the occupants of the chamber without being perceived by them. Six chorister boys in white surplices were seated on a bench at the further end of the room, while opposite to them, the side of her face towards Randall, stood a woman—the same he had seen in the bow-window. Was he, then, again so near her as even to hear her speak % Were these the features he had seen in his dream? It was like another dream; he dared hardly No. 3.—MARCH 1875. N 94 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. trust his eyesight. Her attitude was noble and natural, as, with the same flowing garment and simple tresses, she stood, with one hand slightly raised, the other hanging gracefully at her side, her eyes gazing intently before her, her lips moving eloquently. She must have been speaking for some time already, yet Randall, by listening attentively, was able to conjecture that the Avords now pronounced with such clearness, and accompanied by such grace of manner, formed part of an improvised lecture on music. PROCLA. (To he continued.)

i^\u hit §r. i^isthfttdorf. To many in this country the tidings of Dr. Tischendorf's death came with something of the pang of a personal loss. Not only was the department of scholarship in which he laboured one that has an interest for all, but his own career was marked by a brilliance of achievement, which never suffered expectation to fail till, ere yet the end had been thought of, hope was checked by the knowledge, first that failure of health, and now that death had arrested the cunning hand and brain, till then unresting. Now we can but turn to the past, and sorrowfully count the gains that, as his, can be added to no more. But it is well to do so, not only that Ave may know the greatness gone from us, and gratefully appreciate what this man has done, but also that, giving him his due place in the line of biblical critics, we may understand what is the work he has left behind, and, so understanding, be ready to welcome those who after him shall carry it on further towards completion. The few pages that follow cannot indeed claim to do anything towards this end; they crave indulgence merely as a feeble attempt to contribute towards making generally known the history of a scholar whose labours were for the benefit of all. Few personal details can indeed be given. This, however, seems to be of the less consequence that Tischendorf's was one of those lives which, devoted to the pursuit of a single absorbing aim, derive all meaning and interest from that aim:—nay, he may be said to have had no life apart from the central purpose that gathered to itself all his The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 95

energies, and shaped the current of his existence. What that purpose was, and how fulfilled, it shall be our object briefly to shoAV. Lobegott Friedrich Constantin Tischendorf was born on the loth January 1818, at Lengenfeld in Saxony. We are told that his father was a physician, but have no particulars either of his family or of his own boyish years. He received his early education at Planen, and from the " Hohe Schule" there passed to the Uni- versity of Leipzig, where he devoted himself to the study of philology and theology. While there he wrote a prize essay on the text of the New Testament, in which were enounced principles of criticism very similar to those afterwards followed out by him. The interest in biblical scholarship, of which he thus early gave proof, he further manifested by undertaking as his first literary worlv the preparation of a small critical edition of the New Testa- ment, which was published in the following year. This edition does not seem to have been of great value either in itself or as compared with those which were afterwards to come from him. But in more than one respect its publication was an epoch in Tischendorf's life. The work itself fixes the point from which, theoretically, he started in his labours as a critic, and practically, as we shall see, it was instrumental in shaping his career. In the Prolegomena Avhich formed part of the volume, Tischendorf expressed his general adherence to the principles of one of two critics, whose theories were at this time being warmly discussed in Germany. A few words of explanation are here required. What is known as the Received Text of the New Testament (substantially that of Erasmus, with improvements and additions from the later editions of Stephens, Heza, and the Elzevirs) has long been acknowledged by scholars to rest on utterly insufficient authority, inasmuch as the MSS. from which it was formed were both few and recent. Earlier critics, however, were content to collect various readings from fresh sources, and to append these to the text, Avithout attempting to determine their value on any definite principles. \X^ith Griesbach may be said to ha\'e commenced the science of comparative criticism as applied to the New Testament. His_ editions (let, 1774-77; 2d, 1796-1806) contained a critical text, based on an array of classified authorities; and though the soundness in some respects of his critical 96 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. principles may be matter of question, there can be no doubt as to the benefit which he conferred in definitely laying down principles by which the evidential value of the various authorities for the text might be estimated. The stage into which the discussion of the problem, now recognized as that of approximating, as far as might be, to the original text of the New Testament, next passed, was that represented by the two critics, Scholz and Lachmann, already referred to. Scholz divided the existing MSS. and versions of the New Testament into two families, the Alexandrian and the Byzantine, which may (roughly) be said to contain, the former the more ancient, the latter the more recent, documents extant; and maintained that the text is to be determined on the authority of the Byzantine family,— i.e., of the recent, though more numerous, as opposed to the ancient, though fewer, authorities. Lachmann, on the other hand, held that the text of the New Testa- ment should be founded exclusively on the testimony of the most ancient MSS., along with that of the Latin, as the oldest, version. The question raised by the publication of these two contending views was thus a twofold one :— 1. Given a more ancient text, say of the fourth century, is it necessarily nearer to the original than one more recent ? 2. Are we in possession of the materials from which to form a fourth-century text % Tischendorf, in common with most of the instructed, answered the first of these questions in the affirmative. As to the second, he felt strongly that Lachmann's labours were defective, in respect of the amount of materials made use of by him, and we can imagine him impressed with the necessity of a complete review and examination of the oldest existing documents, and of a thorough-going comparison of them with the earliest versions and other sources of evidence. If we are right in supposing that Tischendorf was possessed by this conviction, and by the desire himself to fulfil a task for which he must have been conscious of his own capacity, nothing could have been more seasonable than the commission wliich—doubtless in consequence of the notice of the scliolars of Leipzig drawn to the young aspirant by his edition of the New Testament—was at this time offered to him. This was to visit, on behalf of The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 97 the Saxon Government, the different European countries, with the view of collating and procuring MSS. The career for which of all others he was best fitted was thus opened to Tischendorf—a career on which otherwise he might not have been able to enter, for at this time so slender were his resources that he has told us himself he Avas unable to pay for the cloak which he took with him on his journey. During his absence from Leipzig, Tischendorfs most lengthened stay was in Pai'is, where he was employed on an arduous but important task. This was the preparation for publication of the famous MS. of the Bible known as the Codex Ephrjemi (C), which, since brought from Florence by Catherine de Medici, had lain in the Royal Library. This copy is supposed to have been originally made in the fifth century, but its vellum leaves have been made to do double duty, and above the first writing, present a copy of the works of Ephraim the Syrian, a celebrated saint and religious writer of the fourth century. The difficulty of deciphering the original writing may be imagined. It has been increased by the vellum having become darkened and stained through the use of chemical applications to obliterate the second writing. After much toil, Tischendorf was able to send a transcript of the MS. to Leipzig, where the New Testament portion was published in 1843, while he was still absent. Besides preparing his edition of the Codex Ephrsemi, Tischendorf while in Paris examined the other uncial MSS. preserved in the Royal Library there, and brought out no less than three editions of the New Testament. In 1842 Tischendorf visited this country, and enjoyed an opportunity of examining its MS. treasures. The following year he went to Rome. The Vatican Library is, as might be expected, rich in valuable MSS.— above all, it contains what at the time we speak of was the oldest copy of the Scriptures known to be in existence, the celebrated Codex Vaticanus (B). But such was the jealous care witli which it was guarded, that, in spite of the utmost anxiety on his part, Tischendorf was not allowed to see it more than twice for three hours each time. Another Codex in which Tischendorf was interested—the only uncial copy known to exist of the Apocalypse—he was " forbidden to collate afresh, but having been permitted to make a facshnile of a few verses, while thus employed he so far contrived to 98 Tlie Ladies^ EdinhurgJi Magazine. elude the watchful custodian as to compare the Avliole MS. with a modern Greek Testament." Towards the close of 1843 Tischendorf returned to Leipzig, where the printing of the Codex Ephrtemi was going on, and required his superintendence. He did not, however, remain long here, but in 1844 started on a journey to the East in search of fresh MSS. The libraries of the monasteries of the Greek Church are rich in such treasures, utterly wasted on their present possessors, who, as a rule, are too stupid and ignorant to make any use of them, or even to appreciate their value. A notable example of this Ave have now to relate, whereby hangs a tale, though a well-known one. The scene was the famous ]\Ionastery of St. Catherine, which since the sixth century has covered with its vast range of buildings the slopes of Jebel Musa, a peak of the Siuaitic range, and peopled, if not enlivened, the solitudes of the desert with its colony (if monks. Here, among a basketful of waste-paper destined for the lighting of stoves, Tischendorf s practised eye discerned some sheets of vellum. These he rescued, and found to contain part of the Septuagint version of 1st Chronicles and Jeremiah, with the whole of Nehemiah and Estlier. Having further ascertained that more of the same MS. was in the convent, he tried, in order to save it from destruction, to enlighten the monks as to its value. He would fain have carried off some of these other sheets, but was not allowed, and had to leave the monastery content with the possession of the forty-three leaves snatched from tlie flames. Tischendorf found abundant occupation on his return to Leipzig in preparing for the press the results of the last few years' labours. In 1845 the Old Testament portion of the Codex Ephrajmi was published; and this was followed in 1846 by the " Monumenta Sacra Inedita," containing transcripts of six MSS. of the Gospels, and the various readings of that of the Apocalypse, already mentioned. Also, in 1846, were printed the leaves brought from the Convent of St. Catherine, under the title of Codex Friderico-Augustanus. In 1850, Tischen- dorf, who since 1845 had held an extraordinary professor- ship in the University of Leipzig, received a chair in the Faculty of Theology. In the spring of 1853 he again visited Egypt in search of MSS. The preparation of a fresh edition of the text of the New Testament occupied him between 1856 and 1859. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 99

In the latter year a lastjonrney was made to the East, and now Tischendorf was rewarded by the great discovery of his hfe. By way of aiding his researches, Tischendorf had secured, ere starting, the patronage of the Emperor of Russia as Head of the Eastern Church. Thus, on returning to the convent of St. Catherine, he was received with all due honour. His one desire was to obtain the MS. which, since the first sight of it in 1844, he had never been able to forget. Inquiries since, however, had proved unavailing, and he feared the treasure was now lost to him. One day, to his intense delight and surprise, a MS. was put into his hands, which proved to be the very one he was in search of—a complete copy of the Bible of the fourth century, as old as the Vatican Codex. He himself records that he was unable to sleep that night—that he even danced—for very joy I The monks were persuaded to present the MS. to the Emperor of Russia, and Tischendorf was himself the bearer of it to St. Petersburg, where it now lies in the Imperial Library. In 1862 it was published under his care, and is known as the Sinaitic Codex (A). Tischendorf's position as the first biblical critic in Europe was now fully recognized, and honours flowed in upon him from all quarters. On the occasion of his last visit to this country, in 1865, the English universities conferred on him their degrees. In 1869 he was created a Count of the Russian Empire. He was in correspondence with learned men of all countries. His own life continued to be spent at Leipzig, which throughout was the centre to which from his wanderings he always returned. Here he is described as having had his home, not, as might have been expected, in one of the qiiaint thoroughfares of the old part of the city, but amid the open air and sunshine of the modern streets which stretch into the surrounding country. Personally, too, in the great critic, we are told that there was nothing of the book-worm or recluse. He seems to have been generally amiable and simple, willing to impart from his stores of information to all who consulted him, and entering with heartiness into the interests of others. A tincture of vanity and self- appreciation, almost innocent in the openness of its expression, seemed in harmony with a character having in it much that might be called child-like. In controversy Tischendorf fell into the usual fashion of 100 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. theological disputation; and if he got hard blows now and then, showed himself quite capable of returning them with no less force. So at least we may judge from the controversial parts of a popular work by him on the Origin of the Four Gospels, which passed through successive editions in 1865 and 1866, had a wide circu- lation in Germany, and has been translated into English. When Tischendorf entered the lists of theological controversy, it was as the champion of orthodoxy. But it was not here that his laurels were gained,—it is in the calmer region of sacred scholarship that his labours and his fame will live; and the greatest boast that can be made for him is of the incorriiptible fidelity to facts which makes the value of the scholar's service to truth. An edition of the New Testament formed the close, as it had formed the beginning, of Tischendorf s literary career. He had now examined almost every uncial MS. in existence, as well as many others. Many Codices he had published for the first time; some discovered by himself, others imperfectly known before. Above all, he had doubled the amount of the most ancient evidence, by placing beside the one already known MS. of the fourth century, another still more perfect of the same date. H e had thus thoroughly prepared himself for the fulfilment of the task which had been the ideal of his life—to form a New Testament text as nearly as possible identical with that of the original writings. This final task occupied him from 1865 onwards, the text being completed in 1872, but the Prolegomena left unfinished at his death. The principles on which he worked were the same as ever. His researches had but enabled him to apply them more perfectly. The reliability of the most ancient MSS. in our possession he held to be proved by their general harmony with versions and quotations of a still earlier date. The text was therefore formed mainly on their testimony, no regard being paid to the " received text," as such, but, in cases of disagreement among the selected witnesses, later authority and internal criteria being made use of. The result remains— to be tested by time ; and if standing that test, to be regarded more and more as a legacy of utmost value. In 1873, before this work was completed, Tischendorf was seized with paralysis. Repeated attacks followed, and in the autumn of 1874 he died—prematm-ely in one sense, yet having within comparatively few years accom- phshed the labours of a long life. SIGMA. X

D E B J^ T El S

PROPOSED FOR DISCUSSION BY

W\te ladies' (Kdinburgh litcrarjj ^ociii^,

SESSION 1875-76.

1. Is there a Standard of Taste ? 2. Was Wellington a Greater General than Napoleon ? 3. Can it be Discovered from the Light of Nature alone that the Soul is Immortal ? 4. Was Mary accessory to the Murder of Damley? 5. Has Scepticism produced a Worse Effect on Society than Super- stition ? 6. Can the Characters of Men be known from the Features of their Faces ? 7. Is the Realistic more in accordance with the true Principles of Art than the Ideal School of Painting and Sculpture ? 8. Was Cromwell a greater General and Govenror than Washington ? 9. Are the Writings of the Lake Poets consistent with the Principles of true Poetry ? 10. Have Animals any Recognition of Moral Responsiblity ? 11. Whether is the Celtic, the Saxon, or the Norman Element in our Literature at present the most powerful and most elevated ? 12. Is the Existence of an Aristocracy advantageous to a Country ? 13. Should a Government interfere with the Religion of its Heathen Subjects ? 14. Does the Study of Physical Science tend to shake Religious Beliefs? 15. Should the Management of Railways be transferred to the Govern- ment ? 16. Is the present Condition of France favourable to the General Advance- ment of Europe ? 17. Can the Drama be made at the same time Popular and Instructive ? 18. Should Home Rule be conceded to Ireland ? JVo. j is to be discussed this Month, April 6th.

The above Debates are only suggested, not imposed, and any Lady may propose other subjects. All Members are requested to take part in the Debates, which take place the first Saturday of every month; and Papers by Members in the country will be read by town Members. Communications to be addressed to the Presidents of Debate, care of Messrs. MACLAREN & MACNIVEN, 138 Princes Street, Edinburgh.

The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 101

^ht ^ragon of tfje l^orlh.

CHAPTEE IV.

" Maids are safe upon land, they should not come on board ; Were she Freyja of maiden, beware, For that dimple on cheek is a pitfall for thee, And those fair flowing tresses a snare."—Tegnir Frithiolf's Saga.

NOT often does it happen that our sweetest waking dreams take form and more than fulfil to the eye all that the fancy pictured. Yet so it was with me the day following our arrival at Psestum or Poseidonia. My art- dream stood on the shore, these glorious temples, with the hills behind and the desolate marsh on either side, lost in the blue to the north, and with the village of Agrapoli glimmering white to southward; and beside me was my heart's dream, the angel-apparition of Hertha. The wind was still light, so in the aftei'noon most of us went ashore. Half the morning I had talked with Hertha on deck. I had told her something of our sacred offices, and her sweet voice had followed me in some of our Canticles, which, alas ! had never sounded to me so beautiful. And especially would she dwell on words about the sea. " Mare vidit et fugit" she said. " Ah ! Brother Lorenzo, when you have sailed as much as I, how wonderful will it appear to you that there is a Power that can quell the sea ! " She spoke of my sailing ; oh, if I could but thus sail with her for ever, I thought; but I said, " The old Greeks thought its power uncurbed; see the fair temple ashore, it was raised to the power of the sea that they called Poseidon, and invoked it, not its Maker and Ruler." " Yes," said Hertha ; " He who made it can rule it; but, in a way, every free spirit is stronger than the sea. Look at Thorstein, he fears it not—it can but drown him; and as he does not mind that when it comes, the worst storms do not trouble him. When I am afraid, I like to stand near him, though he believes in Fate only, hardly in an after life. However, he did say to me that if there were one, he thought the Christian Faith must point the way, for it spoke to all; whereas the Odin Valhalla was meant only for fighting men." And she went on with the first of many entreaties that I would speak to Thorstein of our No. 4.—APKIL 1875. />

i'n \ • ^7 \ '^Tl'S y 102 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine.

faith, while I felt for the first time a pang of that sinful hatred which later burned into my very soul. It was a quiet sunny afternoon when I rowed ashore with Hertha and Thorstein. Witliin one of the great marble temples an awning was stretched over the green marble columns, and by Thorstein's orders large fires were blazing to destroy the foul air-poison that hung like a curse over the once beautiful city. It was mostly piles of ruins, roses and autumn flowers twining and growing over them, and laughing out of black vacant windows. But a few houses were inhabited, and by poor, pale, terrified people, serving our sailors with trembling fear. However, they had brought wine, and good beef in plenty was roasting at the fires. " Swend and the lads have been scaring the folk out of their senses as usual," said Thorstein as we landed. "I must see that this beef and wine is not all strand-hug, if I have to quarrel with Swend about it; or perhaps I shall wait till he has drunk." " Oh, wait," said Hertha hastily, while I asked what strand-hug meant. " It means victualling the ship without paying," said Thorstein, " and used to be the custom everywhere at home, but now it is forbidden by law in Norway." " Thorstein says it is one of the bad things that the New Faith has put down," said Hertha. " I don't know about putting down," he answered, " as long as King Olaf thinks it may be used against any one in Norway who belongs to the old faith." " Yes," she said, laying her hand on his arm, and smiling at him as I could not bear to see, "King Olaf is enough to make a brave man hold on to Odin against his heart's thoughts, and I, till I sailed south, never knew what the Christian religion was like, but I see now why most men of mark in Norway and Iceland have taken it." Now we had reached Neptune's Temple, and Thorstein and the men were piling cushions between two columns for her to sit on; for all, unless perhaps Swend, treated her like a queen. Kolbiorn the Skald drew near with Thorstein and Swend, and reclined near her feet; a little way o& sat Syades, half shown by the flaring fires that after sundown glowed more bright and ruddy on the noble lines of building. The men were busy preparing a great feast, and Astolfo, ever restless, had tucked up his The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 103 goAvn and was working with them, chatting with the Northmen, cheering the villagers, and finding unexpected stores of fruit and corn. Meanwhile Hertha went on telling me of their former life, the others sometimes taking up the story. She told of the long winding sea-inlet that went deep into the heart of the mountains, of the great wooden hall that stood on the knoll by the shore, with the green grass round, and the clear water reflecting all in its depths in front; of the countless crowd of sea-birds that whirledround, and our own Italian birds which built their summer nests in those cool northern solitudes. She told of great shadowy pinewoods, and rocks like diamonds of never-melting ice, and of peaceful homes, where all men were free, brave, and happy, and had enough. But the king of the country had come preaching Christianity to the free inhabitants; and if any, as must happen among freemen, needed time even to ponder before he left the old faith of his fathers, then "woidd King Olaf burn and slay without mercy. And so Hrolf her father found one day all his great houses and barns fired by the king's men, when he would not take Christianity only because Olaf commanded him; so he fitted out his Dragon ship and sailed away into far lands on a sea-roving expedition wjth his wife and son and daughter, not daring to leave any behind. Now Hrolf and his wife were dead, and their kinsman Thorstein's ship had been wrecked, so he had come on board theirs. " Now I have found Christianity quite other than I thought it, and at our last winter-quarters in Spain I took baptism with several more, and Thorstein thinks rather Avith me, and Swend and Kolbiorn too, I believe. So I think we might now go back to my dear Norway, where King Olaf would surely make an atonement and leave us in peace." " No, no, lady," said Kolbiorn, " another gay southern winter must lie before us," and he broke into song, as often. Now, though I had a natural power of learning languages, much exercised in the cloister, I must here stop to say that but for much help in after times from Kolbiorn the Skald I could not have written so plainly what these talks were. Also he was most ready to help in translating into our vulgar tongue any of the little songs that seem the Norseman's natural way of speaking; not that this was easy, for he spoke in no such exact measure as the Latin tongue exacts, but rather chose 104 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. words for the beginning and end of his lines of the same sound, Avhich I partly imitated in Italian. And this new form of poetry has now become well known and popular, so it is strange to think that it was brought from the far frozen North to our flowery land, the home of ancient song.^ But the charm lay in the rich musical voice that, aided by lightly-touched strings, chanted the little song—

"Autumn wastes the southern bowers— Autumn fades the summer flowers— Autumn gives the storms dommion, And our Dragon folds her pinion. When the spring's blithe breeze is blowing, And the swans are northward going, And the chains of frost are breaking, Then, from winter dreams awaking, Shakes her wings and sallies forth Our brave Dragon of the North." " Autumn does not destroy here as in most places," said Thorstein, AVIIO stepped back from the outer darkness into the great circle of fire-light, his hands full of sweet roses and violets, which he tumbled into Hertha's lap. " Look at all these growing still about the ruins." Then I told how I had read in the old poems of Italy praises of the twice - blowing roses of Peestum, and Hertha said, " You sing of them too, Kolbiorn; sing a little soft lay, and you shall have the best rose among them for a reward." At once Kolbiorn sang, and sweetly too— " Every land has a spring rose, When the meadows are flowery sweet. And a thousand odorous blooms Crush we under our careless feet ; But all praise to the roses here, Roses flourishing twice a-year.

'' Every life has a spring, love- Spring for flowers, and love for youth ; Some can give, in their latter years. Sweeter love, and of tenderer truth ; Praise to the love so rare and dear, Hoses flourishing twice a-year."

' It is fair to say that though some authorities consider that Italian rhyme was first Intro- duced in imitation of the songs of the Northmen, Tiraboschi and oth^-s maintain that the Trouhadours from Provence originated it. Should this be true, wc can only suppose that they revived in the 12th century a form of poetry that had died out for a few years after the date of our story. The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 105

Sidelong his eye glanced at Thorstein, whose cheeks burned, while Hertha was seeking among her roses for the best as a guerdon, when Swend's harsh voice broke in. " Love for youth ! I should think so. Come young and old to food, to wine; that mind is the joy left to you greybeards, so come and enjoy it. The squirrel and the wolf may go a-wooing with grey hair because they never were brown, but no one else, my lads. Hear my song—a truer one than yours, my Kolbiorn," And he shouted out—

" The fox, the wolf, the dog, and the bear, Went all to woo the little brown hare : She said to the fox, ' You are rather small ;' She said to the bear, ' You are much too tall;' She said to the dog, ' You are old and grey ;' She said to the wolf, ' My love for aye.' The dog is brave, but grey and old ; The wolf, tho' grey, is young and bold ; The old grey dog is king of the wood, But the wolf is grey before he is good.

Sing me a song like that. Skald, while we eat—a true love-song, not that feigned rose nonsense borrowed from the weaklings of the land." By this time the meat was being served to us who sat by Hertha on silver plates, with napkins,^ while the men mostly gathered round the roasts and cut off pieces with their daggers. " What a noisy fool that is !" whispered Astolfo, who was now sitting by me. " Though I hardly understand a word he says, I feel sure his talk is worth no more than the howling of our new red puppy at the moon. How ever comes he to have such a sea-nymph for a sister! And he is jealous too—jealous of Thorstein's power and Kolbiorn's singing. Watch him now," for Kolbiorn was preluding on the strings; and, not without mischief in his eye, soon he dashed into another song:—

' The manners of the early Northmen were more refined than is always realised, or indeed than those of some of their late descendants. Thus we read, in an almost contemporary Icelandic history, of how a chief, about this date, Brenner-Flosi by name, if we remember rightly, on being served at dinner with an old ragged napkin, cut off a piece of the table- cloth to use instead, and handed it on to hia men. 106 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

" Now fly the frost-giants. For the victorious ; Snow-drifts so hoary, There, 'neath the treliced vine, Triumph the Summer gods, Raven-haired Flora Spring is in Norway. Smiles on the hero brave. Thora the white-handed Her Norse adorer. Weeps by the Swan's bath ;* Birds on the rigging sing, Odin's wood horses f ' Eystein loves Flora.' Bear Eystein from Norway; Birds on the rigging sing, " Storm on the hill-top. ' Eystein loves Thora.' And snow in the doorway ; Few of the heroes " Warm over Valland,t Have won back to Norway ; The summer sun, glowing, Wrecked on the wintry way. Flames on the corn land Poor in their native bay— And broad rirer flowing ; Still the birds sing their lay. Wander together there Answers them Thora, Hero and maiden ; ' Thou wind, inconstant, light, How she clings weeping when Blow back the hero bright; His ship is laden ; See if they welcome thee—- Birds on the rigging sing, Laura and Flora.' ' Eystein loves Laura.' But when he crossed the sea, ' Whom I love, loves but me,' " Autumn in Italy, Laughing said Laura. Fruit-laden, glorious. ' Shall I be one of three ?' Froths up the wine-cup bright ' Never ! ' said Flora." Peals of laughter answered this song, in which all joined but Swend, who began at last, with a face as red as his hair, " Why not! and why not, I say ?" "Why not, indeed," laughed Thorstein; "and then this is not Norway, and Ingeborg is not here, Thor and his hammer be praised for the din we have missed." " And as for the birds," continued Swend, " I know very well what they mean. Master Skald; and for all you think me so stupid, perhaps I may be clever enough to wring their necks. Why should there be maidens in Valland and here too if one may not speak to them ? and there are plenty in Valhalla, as we all know." " So there are, my Swend," said Thorstein. " Cheer up; who knows but they may think moi'e of you than those stupid mortal maidens who are so apt to listen to birds." " Yes, that is true," said the chief thoughtfully; " and I don't know what much else there is in Valhalla, for the fighting must be rather dull when you know you are sure to win." • Periphrasis for the sea. t Periphrasis for ships. % The coast of France between the Seine and the Loire. The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 107

" There is always beer," said Thorstein. " Beer! I don't believe it; it must be a mistake ; the runes must mean wine, the warm wines of Italy." By this time a good deal had gone down Swend's throat. " No, no, there is nothing but beer promised—so drink the wine while you may, Sea-king, only with the more moderation, as it is costly, and we have to pa}' for it." " By all the gods of Asgaard, I am not going to pay ; those slaves of the Greeks are bound to victual their lords." Swend was growing fierce and noisy, but at this moment a horse's feet were heard, and the challenge of our guards, and a horseman rode rapidly into the circle of light, and flung himself down. " Help for my Master," he said, in a Teutonic tongue, "who is sore beset in the village there by the sea—Agrapoli; he is a Norman knight, and they are all Saracens." Some of our men were always armed, and Thorstein sprang up, and putting on his helmet, gave quick directions, then swung himself on the stranger's horse, and galloped off" the way he had come. After him rushed a dozen men with Astolfo, who tucked up his gOAvn and ran with the swiftest; others, who were left, gathered up their weapons, but Swend did not move. "Hold hard, lads !" he shouted ; " enough are gone to take a town, let us stay by the drink." Nor did Hertha seem disturbed, only she told her old carline Bergliot to get ready bowls of water and bandages, " for perhaps there may be wounds, and at least the men will want to wash their hands." This she did, grumbling that if ever they had a pleasant dinner ashore, their L oki-luck brought a fight in. " Remember you are a Christian, and don't talk of Loki," said Hertha; but the old woman muttered on, that she did not know the saints by heart, so surely the old gods would do to swear by. The messenger, who was eating busily, now looked up and said—" So you are Christians ; the fellows told us you were heathen vikings, but I was sure one Northman would stand by another against blue-men whatever their faith, so I came to you for help." " I hope our help will come in time," said Hertha. •'Oh, plenty of time, lady ; my master could fight that township all night, only it was poor hungry work. He is the Norman knight, Sir Rainulf from Valland. I am his shield-bearer, Ivar. We wander about doing good. 108 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. and getting into all sorts of mischief. We have been to Rome on pilgrimage, and now we go to the war at Monte Cassino, having been lately looking for a poisonous dragon,^ said to infest the country; which, by good luck, we cannot find. As to the Saracen village, I asked my knight for his shield, meaning to ride quietly through with the cross turned inwards, but no ; of course he must display it himself and get attacked. Numbers made the townsmen bold, so I thought it best to ride for it, and give the alarm here. I left him fighting in the street, but he will soon be here," he concluded with a long draught of wine ; "he has Loki's own luck." Bergliot stopped short by the man. " Surely by your speech," she said, " you must be from England ? " " From Ilvytby, dame, iu Northumbria." "And I too, I am from Northumbria," said the old woman, seizing both his hands. " Oh, how your voice calls back the old homestead! Would I were back again instead of tossing for ever on the weary sea! " " Dame," said Ivar, " I feel like a bear that has found honey. I am as tired of riding about the world as you can be of sailing. Sit, sit, and let us talk." " But you speak Norse," I said; " are you Norse also in England?" " Yes, in Northumbria—all but the thralls of the land, and our king Knut rules Denmark as well as England," they answered; and then talked eagerly together. Norse- men in England, in France, in Italy, in the far East, Norsemen everywhere, and everywhere lords of the land. Were they not rather than we the true descendants of the conquering Romans, who used to rule the world? Were theynotthebravestofmen,thefairest and noblest of women, while we could but serve them, and perhaps die for them ? So thought I till the horses' tramp was heard returning, and Thorstein appeared, and with him the first I ever saw of these Norman Frenchmen that are now lords of this land, and have just taken Sicily also. I thought, so would I carve St. Sebastian. His armour was beautifully wrought; his belt glittered with gems ; the crest of his helmet was a falcon of gold, with drooping wings, and the head advancing in front. Beneath, the knight's face, straight in feature, like an old bas-relief, shaven to the thick moustache, looked out from under the steel edge, a

This dragon is historical, as I need scarcely add is Sir Kainulf. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 109 little grave, but quick and eager. He was tall, slender, and strong, and reined in his horse with a grace that made our Thorstein look a little rough. Thorstein named him, and after a general salutation he sat down at the feet of Hertha. " They gave little trouble," said Thorstein, who, like Sir Rainulf, was washing his hands; " I could not get at more than two of them to wound." " No," said Rainulf, speaking Norse, but, as they told me, with a French mixture, " they never came well up to me either, only crowded up the way. I was half vexed with Ivar for calling help, yet glad to see you, sir." Now the footmen came back, breathless with running only, for the village folk had not waited for them to come up. Among them Astolfo, who told me this with many regrets, and how Thorsteiu charged in on the mob, and scattered it in a moment; " and what think you of the dainty French knight? There he is at Hertha'sfeet already. Holy Mary! hoAv they all worship her! I never knew women Avere so much thought of out in the world." Eainulf turned very respectfully to Astolfo and said, " How swiftly you ran, holy father! Had I seen you were a cloister monk, I should have offered my horse. You came of course to tend the wounded ? " " Nay, my son," said Astolfo gravely, for he had his cowl on, " know that I, Brother Damasus, but for aspirations the world cannot satisfy, was born to bear arms, therefore I ran up so fast; yet let no man be uneasy about my safety, for had there been danger, the aspirations would have carried me as fast back again." Kainulf looked hard at him. " Brother Damasus—I should know you surely, but yet it cannot be the same." Thorstein broke in, " One more song, Kolbiorn; a good one for our guest, and let him give the subject. What you love best, Sir Rainulf—a lady—your country— arms? " " What I most desire is renown," said the Norman, " but let it be a song a Christian knight can hear." " Renown then, Kolbiorn," said Thorstein, " the best of subjects, but without the old gods, and without Valhalla." "And without beer, and without the swine that run about ready roasted for the hero-ghosts,—I understand," said Kolbiorn, and sang,

No. 4.—APEIL 187O. P 110 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

" O for the gift of a lasting fame ! j O for the joy of a glorious name ! ' He who sleeps to wake no more, i What to him are his steeds of pride, Flocks that feed along the shore, Herds that graze on the mountain-side 7 ; What to him are his ships so fair, Fine white wool and corn in store, ] When with heavy tramp they bear Over the threshold of his door Him who shall return no more ? j What are folk in gay carouse, I Tender touch of wife and bairn, | When away from the fire-lit house I Snows are drifting round his cairn, . And the wandering winds deplore : Him who hears their wail no more ? I

" Only this that the children tell, j How the warrior strove so well, ' That the land is the brighter for him ; | Oh may the earth rest lightly o'er him ! i Unforgotten and loved and sung, A light to guide the way of the young ; I A fair renown is the gift we implore ' When ■we sleep to wake no more." With this the evening ended • some of us went back to j the sliip, some slept in the ruins; and the next day we l stood out of the bay with a fair wind, and sailed past j Salerno. E. J. 0. i (To be continued.)

" People here, too, are people, and not as fairy-land creatures."

THERE are two ways open to greatness as a novelist. One to create a new style—to bring some ground into subjection to the pen; the other to raise fresh crops from fields already cultivated. Writers who come under the first category can need little arithmetic or memory for their summing-up. Richardson's puppets—repre- sentatives of a single passion, but scarcely human beings, except in the name—are insipid to us, living in places i The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. Ill that were likewise but names. Scott's genius discovered that places might be made realities, and so vividly described them that they almost seemed to give life to his puppets. Thackeray and Dickens first put real human nature on paper, and the puppets disappear. Thackeray places human nature before us; Dickens paints its eccentricities. These four men appear to have brought all life under dominion of the pen, and it would seem as if there were no more unreclaimed land to fence in. It would seem that, for the future, novelists must be content to aim only to improve our cultivated land. And indeed there is plenty room for invention in this narrow sphere. Miss Thackeray is a successful worker of this sort. But in addition she can claim the merit of a great invention—the combining of the modern novel with the fairy tale. " Pamela " and " Clarissa Harlowe " are tamer to us than the tamest of modern three-volume novels. They are buried in the foundations of the building that has risen upon them. But " Jack the Giant-Killer " and "Bluebeard" seem as if they would always flourish beside their modern congeners, like a grand old cathedral alongside of a pretty painted brick iron-pillared Dissenting chapel. Lewis Carrol struck a new chord when he gave us " Alice in Wonderland," but she too soon had a host of imitators, who seemed bent on " draining the wells of fancy dry," and never tried to sing a song of their own invention. Kingsley's " Water Babies" appeared about the same time as our friend " Alice," and was another fresh breath from fairy- land. This last year has brought us to a new oasis in the desert, in the shape of Miss Thackeray's book, entitled "Bluebeard's Keys, and Other Stories," a continuation of " Five Old Friends." Alice the dream-child and Tom the water-baby, in " Friendly Chat with Bird and Beast," took us with them to fairy-land, but Miss Thackeray has brought fairy-land to us. She has changed Bluebeard from an ogre into a morose, conscience-stricken Italian marquis of the present day, and Fatima into a merry Irish girl. Under her touch Jack's beans change into shares in a newspaper; and instead of, as of old, having to climb up the stalk to storm the giant's castle, our modern Jack reaches Sir George Gorges (his giant) by means of his articles in the " Excelsior"—the newspaper he took shares in. 112 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

There are the same fairy tales that delighted onr childhood, in " Five Old Friends " and " Bluebeard's Keys"—the same plot, if it may so be called; but fairy princes and princesses have changed into people whom we know and meet in every-day life. Miss Thackeray tells us in the introduction to the " Sleeping Beauty," that after reading some of the fairy tales which have charmed so many generations of children, she wondei's how it is that these old stories outlive all newer rivals, and keep their place on the nursery book-shelves. How is it, she asks, that the princes and princesses never grow any older, their castles fall to ruin or need repairs? How do their dresses, including the memorable seven-leagued boots, never wear out? How is it that " Cinderehfi," "Jack and the Bean-Stalk," " Prince Riquet," and a host more of " old friends," always remain young? The Hatter in "Wonderland," as every one knows, quarrelled with Time; and that func- tionary, being offended, stopped at six o'clock, and refused to " move on." Six o'clock was the Hatter's tea hour, and as the clock always pointed to six, tea-time went on for ever with the Hatter. Perhaps in the fairy tales we speak of, the children fought with Time, and he, refusing to move on, left them for ever in the nursery? H., Miss Thackeray's friend (or rather Miss Williamson, as she calls herself in her writings), suggests that the fairy princesses are to be met with among our own acquaintances, and their history is the history of common mortals; therefore the old tales have held their own through all these years, because they assume the character of many friends we know. Then, as H. and Miss Thackeray sit by the fire, they count up wlio amongst their own acquaintances would suit the characters of the heroes and heroines of fairy literature. Cecilia Lulworth is transformed into the Sleeping Beauty; Cinderella we learn to love anew as Ella Ashford; Little Red Riding Hood, tramping cheerfully through the wood to her grandmother's, is changed into pretty Patty Maynard, and the Wolf is her cousin Reme ; Jack the Giant-Killer is a brave yoimg clergyman, who fights against a giant that lives in foul sewers, and from there comes out to pounce on his prey. Along with " Bluebeard's Keys " we have " Jack and the Bean-Stalk," "Riquet h, la Houppe," and the "White Cat." The second of these is certainly the most difficult tale to Tlie Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 113 work out, and, when done, the most ingenious. Cinderellas we often see, and Sleeping Beauties too, and many fierce Bluebeards march through the Avorld; but who now- a-days knows a Jack who climbed up a bean-stalk till he reached the giant's castle? Miss Thackeray tells of one who lived or lives in our own time, stormed the giant's castle, carried away the hen that laid the golden eggs, and the golden harp, in the shape of the giant's daughter. With much ingenuity she keeps to the well-known features of our old friend. The widow, the cow, and all are there; yet she brings them in so ingeniously that they seem to belong to the new face, although they help to recall the features of a long-forgotten friend. Hans Lefevre is Miss Thackeray's Jack. He is the son of a farmer, who died when Hans was about seventeen, leaving behind him also his widow, Hans' mother. After the farmer's death things go wrong at the farm. Sir George Gorges, the squire, is the modern ogre. He keeps a lease that Lefevre got from him, and pretending that this lease is lost, takes some valuable lands from Hans and his mother. Jack loses all interest in the farm. He sees it cannot pay without the marsh-lands that the greedy ogre has stolen from him. The cow has at last to be sold. Hans takes it to the market, and with the mojiey he gets for it is tempted to buy shares in a local Radical newspaper—so the cow of old is sold for what appear at first sight worthless modern beans. His mother upbraids him for this seemingly foolish squandering of their money, but the investment turns out to be a profitable one. He makes his first visit to the giant's castle on the newspaper business, and bears away with him the hen that laid the golden eggs in the shape of the recovered lease of the marsh-lands, which makes the farm profitable. He carries it away when Sir George Gorges has fallen into a drunken sleep, like the ogre of old. The widow thinks now that Hans will settle to work quietly, and the farm will pay as it did in his father's time. But it is not so. Jack has seen Lina Gorges, the golden harp of Miss Thackeray's tale, and longs to possess it too. Some parliamentary business in connection with the " Excelsior " leads him again to the giant's castle. Lina is standing at one of the windows, with the golden sunlight streaming down on her. He persuades her to fly with him ; Lina nearly consents, but does not like to leave the ogre (her father) ; and as Hans carries her off she cries, as the golden harp 114 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

did, " Papa, Papa 1" The giant wakens, and while pursuing them falls against the window ledge and never recovers from the blow; and Jack transports his golden- haired bride to his mother's house. Miss Thackeray's power does not alone lie in her portrayal of characters, but their surroundings as well. So powerful is her rendering, that we do not merely say coldly, " This is a vivid and truthful picture, but we insensibly breathe as we read the very atmosphere of the place described," says the Times in regard to the landscape-painting in her "Village on the Cliff," and it applies to her fairy tales as well. In them we have pictures of quiet English life, and of sleepy English villages, of shady Fontainebleau, and breezy Normandy; or, as in "Riquet a la Houppe," we lose our way, like Sylvia, in a Swiss pine forest, forgetful of everything while listening to the torrent roaring through the " green mossy glen," and watching the " shifting sunlight" shining on Mont Blanc. So vividly are all the varying scenes painted that we feel as if we had a change of air with each new story. In "Bluebeard" we are carried over the Alps to Rome itself, and see across " walled gardens and stone yards, beyond the spires and domes of the great city to the greatest dome of all, that rises like a cloud against the Campagna." We see the old palaces by moonlight as well as sunlight. We enter St. Peter's, where " dim columns stretch far away in fire and cloud to other shrines and saints, and far lights burn through a silent haze." We come out again into the glare of a " dazzling Italian day," where we meet a quaint band of Roman peasants tramping through the streets on their way to the country, and two little Italian children dance before us, and lift up " their soft monkey hands " for the silver coin that is held out for them; then they caper away with the prize to their " beautiful Albinian mother, who sits watching them, with her chin resting on her hands, and a great basket of violets shining at her feet." With many like pictures Miss Thackeray illustrates her tales, and no enchanted scenes in the fairy tales of old were more enchanting than these with which Miss Thackeray strews her stories. Though the main features of these fairy tales are quite original, we can trace in all Miss Thackeray's stories a slight likeness to her father. No two people in this world were, are, or ever will be, exactly alike. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 115

Wendall Holmes, iu his " Guardian Angel," shows how the features, temper, or some trait of character, after lying dormant for generations, will be produced in some far-ofi" descendant. It may be only a glance, a turn of the head, an inflection of the voice, but these features we haye inherited from many different sources. We catch in Miss Thackeray's writings a mere glimpse occasionally that reminds us of some of her father's. The likeness between Thackeray and his daughter is slight certainly, but she has the same knack of giving her characters ingenious and appropriate names, and of writing as if all the people iu her tales were her intimate friends, and she or rather Miss Williamson were constantly moving behind the scenes, as Pendennis and Titmarsh did in her father's works; like him, she never ends a story sadly, but only lets the curtain drop when all is in a fair way to finish off agreeably. In her remodelled fairy tales it can scarcely be otherwise, for you know how all the old friends ended, do you not ? You remember how " they married and lived happily ever afterwards," as surely as they opened with " once upon a time " % Perhaps Miss Thackeray has refrained from modernising the best known and loved tale of nursery literature, the " Babes in the Wood," as she could not break through her usual rule and let the curtain drop on a murder. Perhaps it is an inherited dislike to have a dismal ending, for none of Thackeray's conclude except in sunshine. In his unfinished "Shabby-Genteel Story" it seemed asif at onetime he would wander away from his usual path, for he says, " it was to have a melancholy ending—for how should it have been gay ? The tale was interrupted at a sad period of the writer's own life. The colours are long since dry; the artist's hand is changed." But he could not leave so. He took up his palette and brush, after letting them lie for so many long years ; and in " Philip " we again hear of Caroline Gann, the little Cinderella of the " Shabby- Genteel Story." Miss Thackeray resembles her father, too, in the way she fills in the background of her stories with people to whom she has introduced us before, and who, though we may only see them in the distance, interest us far more than if the said background were filled in with new characters. For instance, in " Pendennis" we feel more interest in George Warrington when we know he is a descendant of Harry Esmond and the elder Virginiana, 116 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. and in the " Adventures of Philip " we meet a group of old acquaintances. All Miss Thackeray's tales begin with an introduction by Miss Williamson, who with " Friend H." and her grand- children we meet sometimes by their own fireside, where once they are disturbed by the Beast in the shape of Guy Griffiths. Sometimes they are visiting at Lulworth Hall. Again we join them in the " Normandy Cure's Garden," where they meet the White Cat, and pass a summer at Fontainebleau, and we are introduced to Ked Riding Hood, her grandmother, and the wolf. This happy idea of filling in their stories with old familiar faces is a very pleasant Thackeresque feature. Listen to one who is famed for telling good stories, and you will find he doubly interests his hearers by making the actors in his tale be people whom his audience already know. The Thackerays knew how to tell their stories well—knew how to keep up the attention of their readers by this trick. They knew how much pleasanter it is when ushered into a drawing-room, where you expect to meet only strange faces, to find some friend whom you thought you would never see again. You have only a few minutes' conversation with them, but in that time you recall many pleasant memories. I am glad Miss Thackeray has inherited this capacity from her father, for it gives to all her stories, as it did to his novels, not only a deeper interest, but also feeds the idea that their characters are real men and women, and not merely players got up to strut through their parts; and when the show is over, to use Thackeray's own words, we say, " Let us sliut up the box and the puppets, for our play is played out." Miss Thackeray is fond of giving her characters appropriate and suggestive names, as her father had also a knack of doing. We remember his Lady Bareacres, '' Lord Methuselah," Lady Moses, and the Honourable Misses D'Arc, " Lord Magnus Charteris, son of the Earl of Runnymeade," and a host more that crop up all through his works. His daughter in her stories has tried to keep to the fairy-tale names as much as possible, without bringing in any far-fetched title that we should not expect to hear now-a-days. Cinderella would not do for a modern tale, so the two first syllables are cut off", and Ella remains. Still Miss Thackeray was not satisfied, but remembering how her heroine was associated The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. IIT with a desolate fire, she has surnamed her AsMord. " The AVhite Cat" is Blanche, Bluebeard is Barbi, and Tom Ricket's princess, whom he twice met wandering in a -'weird fantastic forrest," is appropriately designated Sylvia. The names in the " Sleeping Beauty " all recall a sense of peaceful drowsiness, as for instance Cecilia's surname of Zuhvorth; and her aunt, who hovers about like a good old fairy, is Mrs. Dormer. Did Miss Thackeray intentionally call her " Sleeping Beauty" Cecilia, a name signifying blind,^ so that when Prmce Frank the Free kissed his cousin, he should open her eyes ? Little of Thackeray's sarcasm appears in his daughter's works, but once or twice we have a passage in which it seems that Miss Thackeray has taken up her father's pen. The description of Mrs. de Travers in " Bluebeard" is one example. How she pinches, starves, and slaves " to keep up appearances." How she grows suddenly affectionate to her before-despised daughter Fanny when she becomes engaged to the rich Bluebeard; IIOAV she revels in her daughter's prospective riches; and how she talks on every available opportunity of her father-in- law Lord Tortillon ! On Mrs. Ashford, Cinderella's step- mother, Miss Thackeray again lavishes some of her father's sarcasm. When you have read her stories, you will find that, besides renewing your acquaintance with the old tales of your childhood, you have also learnt to love a host of new faces who will be companions for yoTi in the long winter evenings. You will always be glad to take them down from their shelf and trace in them the likeness to the- •' Five Old Friends" of nursery days, while the jingling of " Bluebeard's Keys" will play a pleasant accompaniment. E. V. LYNNE.

AVORRY Loquitur. THIS world's a pleasant place enough, But might be much improved, If all that I find hard or rough Could be at once removed.

' Mias Yonge's "History of Christian Names." Ko. 4.—APRIL 1875. 118 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine.

If little dogs were kings indeed, Served faithfully by man, Whose office is to tend and feed The Dandie Dinmont clan;

If all the whips were snapt and burnt, Save one which should be kept Till fellows like old Punch have learnt To treat me with respect; If all the chains and collars tight Were cast into the sea. Save Punch's, when he wants to bite, And grinds his teeth at me ;

If all the great big dogs that growl, And roll me with their paws, Were soon taught manners, made to howl. And sentenced by the laws; If they were fed on barley meal (And not too much of that!) ; It makes me shudder when I feel Their rude familiar pat;

If I could run about all day. Without a call or frown. And make the whiskered cat my prey. And hunt the rabbit down ; If I, returning from the chase, Bespattered o'er with mire. Could take my seat without disgrace Before a blazing fire;

If there were always some one by To let me out and in. To rub my little waistcoat dry, And make no useless din ; If I could eat my supper there, Outspread upon the rug;— (A fireside nook with dainty fare Is exquisitely snug I)

If chickens had four gizzards each, If curries Avere unknown, Mustard and pepper out of reach. And sauces let alone ; The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 119

If biscuits every day were baked, Quite thin and crisp and sweet, The cook's full credit being staked On what / choose to eat; If rich pound-cake were on the shelf, Close by the water-bowl, And I could always help myself Without the least control; If scents, and salts, and snuff, and smoke, Could be abolished quite. And I were free from any yoke To roam by day or night; If it were never broiling hot. And never freezing cold; If I could regulate my lot. And keep from growing old; If all the world were made for me, And Puppy were its king, I have no doubt that it would be A very perfect thing, ESTELLE.

grbiirp of dfhfister. CHAPTEK III. " MY children," the speaker said, " in these times of devious thought and untamed imagination, where can we find a safer guide than music? Beautiful as she is, she allows herself no undue liberty on that account, but remains true to the laws that are fixed, as it were, by eternal decrees, for her guidance. Follow a phrase, or a series of phrases, in music ; trace the many voices of the fugue, or the polyphony of perfect orchestration; stop at any note; instead of being confused, perplexed, disappointed, you may, if your soul be in harmony with the piece, return by a simple act of memory or of progression to the key-note, and all may be resolved into a fitting close. " How sad it is when an artist, be he poet or musician, descends from his elevation, loses the key-note of his art, his inspiration, and becomes a mere copyist! The poet 120 ULC Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. becomes a mere writer of rhymes, the artist a sign- painter, the musician exchanges harmony for noise. Yet the poet, even should he remain a poet, is prone to wander from his theme into inextricable mazes of tangled fancies; and where is the key-note that, once struck, shall restore the theme to his memory ? He may find it after a painful search ; but in music, it is written legibly on the laws of the art, from which it is inalienable. " So, too, with the life of man. That, my children, is the noblest life which has its key-note always at hand, always lending a double grace and a double euphony to every passage. ' Tell me the key-note, and I will tell you whether the phrasing is true or false,' said the great Sebastian to an aspiring young composer. And thus, tell me the key-note of your life ; only then can I tell you whether your actions bear a true or a false relation to it. Ah, my children ! what a pain must it be to ears used to the harmony of perfect life, to hear the discords of false sciences and philosophies that are clanging all around us ! You and I, who are musicians, know that ere we write a piece of music we must know the key-note; but these philosophers have begun to frame their theories without knowing it, and expect that it will come quite natm-ally into its place at the close. Is not this an un- warrantable conclusion ? Or if they have a key-note, it is a changeable one, which they place first high and then low, to suit the mood of their variable caprice. "J'he true theory of the universe seems yet far away from them ; may they find it at some period! " But while they are waging war about words and things out in the cold discordant world, we have our little realm in peace. My children, let us dwell within it. How perfect is music ! In her dominion there is neither summer nor winter; she is uniform, yet never tedious. And she is not more perfect in temperament than in constitution. Strength and sweetness, love and logic, science and art, dwell with her in perfectly equal proportions. Does feeling fly with her even to supernal heights, and then look around for some standard by which to test the straightness of its flight ? Her exquisitely framed laws at once yield an unfailing standard, according to every note its value and its position, with regard to the whole. Where is the earthly empire that has dealt as justly by its subjects as music by the members that constitute her being V Again, does she wish to show her strength, and The Ladies" Edinburgh Magazine. 121 by a series of resonant chords, bold leaps, abrupt movements, to assert her supremacy, and sliow her perfect knowledge of law by her ease in obeying it ? Is feeling then appealed to, that she may sanction that Avhicli law seems proud to own ? Feeling will then glory in a result by which the duality of science and art is merged into perfect unity, and by Avhich the two are bound together by a tie so indissoluble that it seems to have existed from the very beginning of time." She ceased speaking, and while the chorister boys were rising from their seats and proceeding to remove their white garments, she turned and saw Randall, who remained fixed to the spot, gazing at her. He suddenly became aware of the intentness of his gaze, and the un- warrantableness of his position; and, colouring deeply, he rose fi-om his seat, bowed very low, and said in a faltering voice, " Pray forgive me ; I was looking for some friends ; the voice attracted me, and I could not " "Ah ! do not apologise," said the fair lecturer, the shade of embarrassment she had felt giving way to sympathy with Randall; " our lessons are seldom honoured by the presence of visitors." Charmed with her frank civility, Randall ventured to raise his eyes to her face, and he saw there a look of such ineffable good-humour, mingled with a degree of roguish- ness, that he could hardly believe the utterer of the sublime thoughts he had heard and the woman now before him to be the same person. " You are a stranger in Chester? " she asked. " Yes, and I had agreed to meet some friends here at four o'clock." " Four o'clock ! and it is now half-past five." " Is it possible !" exclaimed Randall, in dismay. " Ah! could you direct me to the school of Miss Langley ?" " Certainly I can, as I go there myself every day ; it is one of the nicest old houses in Chester, near the bridge." " Many thanks," said Randall, and with a low bow he hastened away from one Avho was now inseparably associated in his mind with the patron saint of Chester. Miss Langley hved in one of the oldest houses in Chester. It was a house which might be said to be in its prime; old enough to have acquired the habit of being comfortable, and yet not old enough to have begun to lose it. It had a tiled roof; and its gable, which faced the street, was decorated with fine old wood carving. Randall, now 122 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

on his way thither, had no diflSculty in finding the house, as his asldng the way to it had been merely a saying something without knowing very well what he said. So new to him had been the glimpse he had obtained of the *' power of harmony" ^ to lighten the " burthen of the mystery," that all save the speaker and the words spoken had retired into a dim background in his mind. On reaching the abode of Miss Langley, he was shown into a parlour, pervaded by a subdued and softened light. The window, to shut out from view the row of dingy houses behind, was composed of small square panes of Belgian glass of various greenish tints, which, looked at through an imaginative medium, might give a vague idea of green fields far away, giving balmy rest to weary eyes that gaze often on stone walls. A few paintings which hung round the room increased the effect of cheerfulness. Very soon Miss Langley appeared, a tall elderly woman, with a benign smile and piercing grey eyes. She shook hands emphatically with Randall, and bade him be seated. The poet Shelley has somewhere remarked that the love of things, such as plants, birds, or even ornaments, comes to us only as a substitute for some human love Avhich we have lacked or lost. Hence it must be that lonely human beings have often such an inordinate love of things. Yet of such beings there are many who, instead of subsiding into the love of things and possessions of their own, are ever seeking to glean scraps of affection from the harvest-fields of others. Family affection is imperfect at its best, and constantly leaves something undone, some want unministered to, some feeling unsympathised with. Miss Langley, in her school, in all her dealings with her fellow-men, had ever sought for stray tasks like these, and had performed them with unflagging zeal. Friends of her own she had, whom it was to her a second nature to love and to esteem. But her charity was extended not only to these, but to all indiscriminately; and this it was which gave to her manner something mechanical and even spasmodic, something almost of the quality of a charitable machine, which distributes acts of kindness in a regular and systematic way, with or without any feeling to prompt them. Not that Miss Langley had any formed intention of acting in this automatical way; she only exemplified the fact that, ' See Wordsworth " Tintem Abbey." J The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 123 let the benevolent say what they will, it is impossible for even the largest human heart to contain all its fellow- creatures and continue to act naturally at the same time, " I am very sorvj indeed that your mamma has left," she said to Randall, bending her head with a jerky benignity; " she left this house with your aister some time ago, expecting to meet you at the Cathedral. But you do look so tired; allow me to order some refreshment." This was not unwelcome to Randall, who had eaten nothing all day. He faintly thanked Miss Langley as she rang the bell, and felt inwardly grateful to her for continuing to talk to him without expecting a reply. " You will rejoice to see your sister again, and so much improved; perhaps I ought not to say so, but, you understand, she is not under my tuition. Her French and music are all that I could wish, but English! I despair of finding a good master for English; the excellent one I had has been ordered to the south of France in bad health, and I fear he will never return." " I am afraid I do not know of any," said Randall, in a voice so low and altered that Miss Langley started and looked at him keenly. " Overwork?" said Miss Langley, in a grave voice. " No, not that," said Randall; " rather the reverse." A servant now entered with refreshments for Randall. " I fear you have had a very exhausting college session," said Miss Langley, looking sympathetically at Randall's pale face. " Oh, no, I have not been at college at all; it is only the exhaustion of to-day." " But you will certainly go there soon, for I hear you are to be a clergyman." "Who can have told you that? " said Randall, starting back with an amazed look; " it is the very last profession I should choose." " Ah, poor lad! " said Miss Langley, in her most soothing tones; " come, I did not mean to vex you. But let me tell you, you will find enough of difficulties in life without making them for yourself; a few years hence you will know what real struggles are. I know some even younger than you who are already fighting the battle manfully. For instance, there is Mademoiselle de Rehmar, or simply Werburga, as she is usually styled." Here Randall started and reddened involuntarily. Miss Langley continued :—" Werburga de Rehmar has had a 124 Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. hard life for one of her rank and prospects. She lives here with her father, a German baron, who has lost all his property in some iinaccountable way. His wife was a native of these parts, and when, not long after their marriage, she fell into delicate health, he brought her to reside here, as she earnestly desired to do. Their daughter was born here, and, by her mother's wish, was named after the patron saint of Chester. The mother died soon after, and poverty for the baron and his daiighter seemed to follow close upon this bereavement. Werburga can have no recollection of the elegant mansion, about two miles from Chester, where she spent the first year of her life. All her memories are centred in a humble dwelling on the southern wall of the town. The Baron de Kehmar is a literary man, who has distinguished himself more particularly in scientific pursuits. He was naturally anxious that his daughter should be well educated, and while he taught her all the solid branches himself, he sent her for accomplishments to my school. I could not avoid seeing that even this was a great tax on his resources, but my offer to take her at a more moderate charge only hiu-t his pride. Then the child herself came to me; 1 shall never forget her earnest look that day, the air of determination, almost bordering on pride, with which she said, ' Miss Langley, I "wdll willingly teach in your school all that I already know, if you will only allow me to have lessons in piano and singing in return.' I drew her towards me and kissed her on the forehead: I was too much overcome to speak. Since that day we have been fast friends. I could not but marvel at her father permit- ting her to take this step, but she has such a Avinning Avay that no one can refuse her anything." " And does she still give lessons here'?" said Randall, with an almost vain efibrt to steady his voice. " Yes," answered Miss Langley, "she has made herself quite necessary to me; I tremble to think what the school would be without her. She has even taken the place of my English master for the last three months, teaching so efiiciently that the class is even more advanced than it usually is at this stage. And all this in addition to her choir duties at the Cathedral, her acting as amanuensis to her father, besides her other lessons here." " She will break down soon," said Randall; " all this is too much for a young girl." " That is what I fear also," said Miss Langley. " And The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 125

besides, her poor father is far from strong, and will in course of time, I fear, require all her attention. Her own character, too, gives me some anxiety. If she has any fault, it is that of caprice. Like many geniuses, she does things from impulse, and begins to work with an ardour which cannot possibly last to the end." "It is to be hoped that you may ere long find another teacher of English," said Randall. " You may rest assured that I shall do my best to find one for you." j\Iiss Langley was pleased, and even a little surprised, at Randall's eagerness to assist her; but she connected it with no other idea than that of obliging civility on his part. " I shall take the stage-coach at seven," he said, rising to take leave. Miss Langley bade him a gracious adieu, and he began his homeward journey with a mind full of new thoughts and new plans, occasioned by the events of the day. Squire Trevor, in the meantime, in whom consideration for his horses Avas at all times a ruling motive, had not suffered them to remain standing at the door of the Cathedral for more than a quarter of an hour after the time appointed. During that brief space, however, he had contrived to show Mrs. Holme and her daughter some of the beauties of the Cathedral, which he was quite sure they had never remarked before. Standing beneath one of the pillars of the nave-aisles, he said, " You see how Gothic architecture carries us back to nature. The principle of the tree-stem unfolding into branches is by it invariably followed. In these pillars you observe broad mouldings, whether round or square ; follow any one of these mouldings up beyond the capital, every one is there developed into three or more delicate branches, which of themselves are sufficient to form a diagonal or a cross- vaulting in the roof We have thus the principle of a great spreading tree in this the purest of all styles of architecture. For a contrast to this, let me lead you for a moment to the cloisters." On reaching the cloisters, Trevor, with a wave of the hand meant to include their whole range of vision, said, " Here we have the lapse of the early English into the perpendicular, one of the steps towards the growing utilitarianism of modern days." Mrs. Holme, observing that the roofs of the cloisters were tiled, ventured to ask the age of the tiles. " Ah! that is a minor matter," answered Trevor; " tiles can be put on No. 4.—APKIL 1875. R 126 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. any day; they have nothing material to do with the style of the cloisters generally. Those thin mouldings, and alternated piers and buttresses, tell of degenerate days, when British architecture began to lose the simple sublimity of the Gothic, and to choose ornament for its own sake." Malvina Holme, though much impressed by Trevor's remarks, was in too excited a state to receive them thoroughly into her mind. The events of the day were unusual to her, as they broke the routine to which, as a school-girl, she had of late been accustomed. And her excitement was not altogether of a joyous nature; though pleased to return home, she had some cause for regret in leaving Chester. Malvina was a tall brunette, with sparkling eyes, and hair with a ripple in it. When she spoke and smiled, something of the freshness of a spring day seemed to hover about her; she was not a creature meant to grieve often or long; her disposition was too passive, and possibly too phlegmatic for that. Neither brilliant nor clever in the ordinary sense of these words, she yet had a wonderful capacity for learning by means of the affections. But even in affection she was passive, and rather accepted friendship than sought it for herself. With this passiveness, her nature had in it something plastic, which caused it to be easily moulded by those whom she loved. And now there was beginning to dawn within her some sense of the lofty and beautiful in life, which was in part a reproduction of the ideas and dreamy aspirations of Werburga de Rehmar. Unperceived by her companions, she stole round to the north-eastern angle of the cloisters; for was not all this place sacred to Werburga, and might she not here for a few moments dream of the living friend who seemed to her so much greater a saint than the ancient Saxon foundress of the abbey? On the northern walk of the cloisters, where the shadows were already creeping up the wall, she paused at a rustic seat which was a favourite haunt of her friend's. Here the young lover of nature and art had planted a beautiful white jasmine, which had twined itself round the framework of the seat, bespangling it with star-like flowers, and had begun to creep up the old sandstone wall. The little white flowers looked kindly at Malvina, and she thought they breathed the name of her friend. Presently they all turned, as if blown in one direction; a door opened close at hand, and Werburga entered and stood beside her. As Squire Trevor, very The Ladles Edinburgh Magazine. 127 soon after, was re-entering the Cathedral, he glanced into that dim recess, and saw two women in pale-coloured dresses clasped in each other's arms. Malvina's face, as she rejoined her friends, bore the traces of tears, and the face of Trevor was pale and almost stern as he seated himself in the carriage with Mrs. Holme and Malvina, and ordered the coachman to drive to the White House, near Glanhafon. Mrs. Holme was profuse in her apologies for Randall's non-appearance, and even felt some anxiety about him; but Trevor seemed to think nothing of it, and was certain he would arrive at home that evening. The bright mood of the morning seemed for the time to have forsaken Trevor. A few monosyllabic remarks were all he uttered for the first few miles. The soft evening air had meanwhile soothed the spirit of Malvina, and with the volatility of youth she exchanged her feelings of regret for bright dreams of the future. " Mamma," she said at last in a half whisper, " it would be delightful if you would invite Werburga to spend the holidays with us; she lives in such a small house, quite alone with her father, and is not going aAvay at all." " I should be glad to give you pleasure, my dear, and to do her a kindness; but tell me, Malvina, is she not a strong-minded person—one of those modern platform women of whom I have such a horror 1 It would break my heart if my dear girl were to become one of these." " No indeed, m.amma, she is best loved among women; and that, Miss Langley tells us, is a sure sign that there is nothing manly in her character." " I will think of it, my dear; but remember, if she does come, I shall not encourage forwardness, but always call her Mademoiselle; and you, I hope, will do the same." This dialogue had been carried on in low tones to avoid disturbing Trevor. It seemed, however, as if he had heard some not unwelcome news, for the expression of his face at once became more cheerful. He had not left Chester to-day without a keen pang of disappointment. The visit had been one of many, which, from mere visits of business, had grown into visits of business and pleasure combined. In Baron de Rehmar, as a contributor to a leading scientific journal, he had found a kindred spirit. He had introduced himself to him at first as a reader of the journal, and one anxious for enlightenment. The shy student, charmed by the genial frankness of Trevor, had met with favour his advances to intimacy, and spent 128 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. many hours in earnest discussion with him. The society of the daughter had, on these occasions, not been wanting, to listen to the talk, and to charm its intervals with music. To-day Trevor had found the daughter alone; she had sung to him, had talked with enthusiasm about music. On Rehmar's return from a special engagement, Trevor had expressed to him a wish, long cherished by him, he said, that he and his daughter should come to Glanhafon on a visit. To his amazement, the Baron had declined at once, decidedly, and without giving any reason. Trevor tried to think that the daughter looked disappointed; and on leaving the house, the pang he felt had revealed to him, that till now he had not known what those visits had been to him. But he was in the habit of Avorkiug oif such feelings by diverting his attention to something else; and he had at present floating in his brain a scheme which he longed to carry out, and which occupied a large space in his El Dorado of fancied bliss. The conversation he had overheard between Malvina and her mother threw a ray of brightness into his thoughts of the future, and imparted indirectly an increased definiteness to the mode of operations which he was endeavouring to mature in his mind. PROCLA. (To be continued.)

AN ANCIENT FAIRT-TALK. '' Blending of waters and of winds together, ' Winds that were wild, and waters that were free." —r. W. H. MYERS. " I LOVE everything that's old ! " says Goldsmith—" old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine." And I venture to add to his list, old tales. Have you ever lifted the cover of an old-fashioned jar, where some ancient dame has stored up her rose-leaves, and stirring about among them, wondered at the marvellous sweetness bottled up so long in the ugly old receptacle? Just such a feint fragrant perfume of the past clings about some of the old-world stories : they have a dainty aroma of their own, pleasant even to our fastidious senses now- a-days. Here is one of the prettiest among them. Once upon a time, long years ago, there lived in The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 129

Greece, ruler over the Trachinian country, a king named Ceyx. He and his queen Alcyone kept court at Trachis, their rocky capital, upon the shores of the Malian Gulf, close under the shadow of Qilta, the noble mountain robed in pine and oak. Dark and sombre were the pine-groves upon G^ta; sullen was the sound of the waters upon the Malian strand ; but blithe and unshadowed was Trachis, and the palace which was the home of tliis royal pair, for it had everything which could give it sunshine—love. No portraits of Alcyone have come down to us, but there can be no possible doubt but that she was fair—as a fairy- tale heroine ought to be ; and as for her husband Ceyx, I am sure he was valiant and hero-like, for when for the first time there came a cloud to dim their wedded happiness, he behaved as a brave man should. The sorrow was no great thing, only the necessity of a brief separation while Ceyx made a voyage across the sea to consult the oracle at Claros,—yet it cost Alcyone many bitter tears. She had a coward fear of the sea, which was unreasonable; for seeing it was so near a neighbour, she might as Avell have lived on friendly terms with it. Many and many attempts did she make to dissuade Ceyx from his purpose; and it is a marvel he resisted, seeing how eloquent were the words, how sweet and pretty the caresses, which were her weightiest arguments. Nevertheless Ceyx, smiling down at her from the height of his hero-stature, which made those two standing together seem as G^ta beside Trachis", held his own valiantly, and would not yield. Then she changed her pleadings to tearful prayers, that she might at least go with him across that grand fearful sea which was her ever-present terror. But he, though his heart was all the time yearning to grant her petition, still denied himself, and, harder, her, " Beloved! " he cried, " all things else will I share Avith thee ; but danger, never! " And so with a long embrace he put her from him, and departed alone. Long now and desolate were the days to the grieving Alcyone; wakeful were the nights spent in longings for the absent; dreary her morning watch and evening vigil, as she strained her eyes to scan the far horizon for her lord's long-tarrying sail. But at last one evening the Queen's heavy-hdded eyes, weary with grieving, closed tired out upon her pale cheek; whereupon her maidens 130 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine.

bore her to her couch, and rejoicing, left her to slumber, lulled by the croon of waves upon the shore. Then night—like a mother darkening the room, that her child may sleep the sounder—came and drew a curtain over all the land, and over the world of waters; yes I and with finger on her Hp hushed the disturbing earth- voices only the sea still murmured on the shore. Alcyone slept. Slept! not knowing the long-watched-for sail had hovered in sight at last, and that Ceyx could already discern the faint far-off beacon-light which burned by day and by night upon the heights of Trachis. Slept I not knowing of the clouds driving fiercely over the firmament ; of the stars veiled in awful blackness ; of Avinds that rose sighing and sobbing ; of waves that beat madly on a rocky shore. But as she slept the dream-spirits hovered round her couch. A vision rose before her She saw as in waking hours the waste of waters ; the crested waves tossing and foaming; but oh! a helpless ship struggled in their grasp—a Laocoon done to death by crudest serpents ; and on the ship's deck stood a gallant hero facing death, with eyes fixed upon the shore! . . . . Then the moon glided from behind a cloud, and its pale light gleamed upon the hero's face. At that sight a great cry burst from Alcyone, and with the cry she awoke. Oh! how the winds rushed wailing through the pine groves! Oh! how the waves broke sobbing on the shore! In the drear grey dawn, dim and mysterious as the twilight of a dream, a woman glided with swift steps out from the palace portals, down through drowsy Trachis, down, still down towards the rocky Malian strand. Alcyone ? oh ! never surely Alcyone the happy wife, this desolate mourner, with bended head and despau-ing eyes ! She had wept when Ceyx bade her farewell, but now there was no tear in her eye as she gathered her robes around her and went to meet her sorrow. No sleeper roused for her faint footfall, but as she passed, the pines upon ffita's friendly mountain were stirred with pity and murmured among themselves: " Alas ! he comes no more !" And the river Sperchius, rushing to the sea, babbled sorrowfully, " He comes no more !" And every wave which broke upon the strand The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 131 echoed and re-echoed in its falHng, " He comes no more !" Alcyone heard, and her desponding heart caught and repeated like the refrain of a song, " He comes no more, no more! " For in those days mortals understood the language of Nature, with its many different dialects of tree and bird and flower. Ears not deafened by meaner voices listened reverently to hers, and in their very love grew to com- prehend more of her than we can ever do. Eyes not blinded by the greed of gold—by hard, practical, unworthy aims—were clear to dive into her treasuries; and many a pretty conceit, and many a tender secret, did Nature, the great mother, whisper to men. And now, oh! sorrowful Queen, avert your eyes, for you have gained the shore at last, where the treacherous sea comes fawning to kiss your feet, while the winds touch soothingly your golden hair. But what is this dark burden the sea bears upon its heaving breast % A storm-tossed form, with streaming hair, drifting ever nearer and nearer—now upborne by the swelling billows, noAv sinking low into deep wave-furrows. The Queen's wistful gaze, fixed ever seaward, notes it at once, and a shriek of anguish breaks from her pale lips. 0 immortals ! whose serene eyes look ever down from tranquil heights upon human grief and human struggle, look now, and have pity! Let that cry reach your ears ! Alcyone stretches out yearning hands towards this precious _7?o

■ • * • • • This is the legend of Alcyone : as true perhaps as most other fairy tales. One thing I know for certain: All that is noblest in Alcyone—her love, her tenderness, her faithful self-devotion—these at least are immortal, and ride for ever unchanging upon the waves of time. And even in these far-off days, whenever we mortals on our way through life reach fair havens where for a time storms are hushed and every wind is tempered, remembering Ceyx and his faithful Avife, we turn to one another and say, rejoicing, " These are Halcyon Days! " GRATLV.

OUR LIBRARY TABLE. The Maid of Killeena. By WiLLlAM BLACK. Edinburgh : Blackwood & Sons. THIS is a pleasant book to take up when you wish to pass an agreeable hour or two. It is not a long- draAvn-out three-volumed novel, but a group of short tales, each a pleasant study by itself. In the Maid of Killeena Mr. Black takes us up to the Western Islands, where we make the acquaintance of Ailasa Macdonald, a second "Princess of Thule," and in it we are regaled with pleasant pictures of wild coast scenery and the simple manners of the islanders. In the other tales we hear again of Tita, with whom Ave shared " The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton " a few summers ago. From the bleak coast that surrounds Killeena we are taken to the Black Forest, where we see how Queen Tita Avon her Avager. Then Ave are told of the legend of the Billiard Club, in which our old friend Belle, who sang so sweetly in that long drive from London to Edinburgh of the " North Countree," plays an important part. " The Fight for a Wife" is the most amusing and the best Avritten of these tales; and no one, I am sure, Avill grudge the time spent in reading this novelette, in Avhich Mr. Black gives us so much fresh air and beautiful and varying scenery. The Ladles' Edinburgh Magazine. 133

(Dur ^asl Pustcal ^^asoit.

IT is now twelve years ago or more that we passed for the first time a winter in Edinburgh, fresh from a German provincial town, and with our minds well stored with the music given at its winter concerts. Had we then been asked to give a sketch of the Edinburgh Musical Season, the task Avould have been far easier than now, when, on our retiirn to this town, we remark an extraordinary progress in all matters relating to the " ideal art which underlies the rest." Some German friends were here at that earlier time, and it is much to say that the romantic halo, compiled of Scott's Novels, Queen Mary's History, and Mendelssohn's Tsles of FingaJ, tlirough which they had viewed all things Scotch, suffered no serious diminution through contact with reality. However, as regards our music, they were critical, not to say heretical. " You told us this was a musical country," they used to say reproachfully ; " there seems to be only untutored melody, never sung in harmony by the people as with us; and if in chorus, with only the variations produced by half the voices being flat. Some of the airs are pretty, but you do not surely ground an assertion that the nation is musical on the raw material, the simple national songs found in many, especially mountainous countries; as the Swiss ' Jodel' songs, or the Tyrolese melodies, or the Muleteer Songs of Spain, which belong to nations who have done next to nothing in musical art. Your songs have certainly brightness of colour and a charmingly characteristic rhythm, and last and chiefly, capital words whether tender, humorous, or martial; words that no doubt have preserved you from the miserable vulgar trash in vogue among the English populace, who seem chiefly to enjoy a debased form of comic song; and yet," these misbelievers would continue, " music has been cultivated as an art in England as never in Scot- land; there is a school of good aiid characteristic English Church music; and the English Madrigals are as delightful as original in style, only for some inscrutable reason the English people no longer sing them." Any good Scotswomen may supply our indignant defence of the general superiority of Scotland, and our strong assertion that there was, as we do thoroughly

No. 5.—MAT 1S7S. S 1 34 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

believe, a great deal of genuine, if latent, musical taste in the country; and the end used often to'be that the Germans would remark mischievously, that as music in its highest development, the Orchestral Symphony, was apparently not to be heard in Edinburgh, no one could say Avhether we had strong musical susceptibilities or not, " pure music " being to us an unknown art. And when we thought of. the twenty winter orchestral concerts, the daily band, the Gesangvereins, and cheap available opera at the above-mentioned German city, we had a suspicion that they were not quite wrong. In those days we had here in Edinburgh, for about a month, a very fair opera company, the singers repeating some of their songs in the Music Hall, chiefly for the benefit of those who thought it wrong to listen to them in the theatre. The Choral Union, or some such society, gave occasionally an oratorio; Mr. Halle had begun his charming pianoforte recitals to small audiences in the now extinct Hopetoun Rooms; there wa& sometimes a very creditable chamber concert, and some very good, and a good deal of very indiflerent, solo and part singing in private houses, which we only allude to as showing that then as noAv in our society there was a good deal of iuteresi shown in music. There was also the " Vocal Association," a too small but otherwise good amateur choi'al society. Concerts of " Scotch songs" were of course not wanting, and we think this is a fair summary of our musical season at that time; we can recall no orchestral concerts, certainly an adequate orchestra ■vvvas a thing unheard. What a change we have now to record! We have had this year about a dozen orchestral concerts, an advance which speaks for itself; Mr. Halle and Herr von Biilow have given the one three, the other two crowded recitals; the Professor of Music has given fortnight]}^ organ recitals ; there have been three or four so-called " Opera concerts," several oratorios, about ten operas with stars, and a few " chamber concerts." Here is, comparatively speaking, quite a feast of music; let us go a little into details about the bills of fare and the guests. To begin with the highest music. A wandering orchestra, chiefly engaged in London, has given in Edin- burgh, conjointly with Glasgow and other towns, a series of winter concerts; our share being eight, of which two were choral—namely, the ever-fresh and too seldom heard Tlie Ladies' EJlnbmgh Magazine. 135

"Seasons" of Haydn, and Benedict's picturesque if not solemn or dignified oratorio of " St. Peter." Of the latter we think it may be said that the secular music, such as the charming fisherman's chorus and storm ou the lake, is more successful than the sacred parts. The other six nights we had genuine orchestral concerts, generally aided by one singer; the programmes were excellent, and once we had an opportunity of seeing Herr von Biiiow as conductor, a post in which he is considered to excel, and also of hearing him in a Concerto, a never-to-be- forgotten treat. This concert was the best of the series, for it may be said that although the orchestra included many excellent players, it was numerically thin, and sometimes a little wanting in unity and vigour. The performance of the different numbers was seldom perhaps beyond criticism, if not sometimes faulty. It was, however, a great treat to hear so much well-selected music, even if the rendering were not always perfect. Quite otherwise was it with the three concerts of the (Reid) Festival, conducted by ]\lr. Halle, when the fulness and roundness of tone produced by an adequate number of performers, and the perfection of the ensemble brought about by a sufficient number of performances, whether in rehearsal or not. causing the whole splendid body of sound to move like the keys of a piano under the complete control of a single intelligence, Avere perhaps all the more deliciously satisfying from contrast with less first-rate renderings. The light and shade, the exquisite pianissimos, the fine readings of the music, made these concerts, for those who care for pure music, a full and unalloyed delight. The programmes, too, full of good things new and old, were as satisfactory as the rest. It will be long ere we can forget the playing of Beethoven's Second Symphony, and the " Athalie" Overture at the Reid Concert, and the way the orchestra acquitted itself in Schubert's tender Symphony, or the splendour of the wind instruments in the Riemi Over- ture. Madame Norman Neruda lent her assistance to these charming concerts, also appearing at Mr. Halle's Recitals. These, in their own line, were thoroughly good, perhaps more enjoyed than the orchestra by those who from circumstances confine themselves almost entirely to the study of pianoforte music; and besides that ever-bright and constant star, we had this year the meteor- like effulgence of Herr Hans Von Biilow darting across our 13G The Ladies Eilinhw^gli Magazine. horizon; or, in ordinary language, three performances by a pianist with exceptional genius and a bent towards the most modern school of music, who, by the enthusiasm ■which possesses hira, has a tendency to carry his hearers off with him in a whirl of sympathetic emotion. If Halle is a faultless guide and sound musician, Von Bulow is a magician, wild, original, and wayward. An imitator of the latter might probably land in eccentricity without genius. But Ave are tired of the comparisons between these two great performers which have been so rife of late; both are consummate artists, and to be included among the first pianists of the age ; would only that we could hear them both weekly give their diftereut readings of the same music ! If Herr von Billow had here probably the coldest audiences he ever met with, it must have been con- solatory for him to have found them among the most crowded; and at his last recital his reception was less chilling, though it did not depart far from the traditional Edinburgh immobility. We fear this well-known characteristic is not here entirely due to critical acumen, for it is often the least artistic number of a programme which most rouses the applauding part of the audience ; but partly proceeds from that undemonstrative national character which makes it difficult to train a lowland Scottish child to say " Thank you," and partly from real slowness of musical perception. However, we generally pay to music here the '• great homage of silence; " and as it is most cultivated by the ladies, perhaps the applause is no fair criterion of the appreciation of our audiences. On another point we think our musical critics are hard upon us, in blaming as they do that rush to the doors of the Music Hall before the end of a concert, which, to on-lookers and would-be listeners, no doubt, seems most ill-bred and selfish. But the hall itself, and the awkward arrangements connected with it, is, after all, the great cause of this : many less pretty halls there may be, many far worse for SOUIKI, but a more thoroughly uncomfortable one for the audience it would be hard to find in a great city. The so-called " Reserved seats," where one's chance is taken among thirteen numbers, are mere upright, hard, divided benches ; and should the room be full, they are so jammed together that it is fortunate if the bench in front does not cut against the knees of the people in the row behind ; while the ventilation is so The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 137 imperfect, that no wonder if, at the end of a long full concert, the one idea of every man, woman, and child present, is to escape down the staircase to air and freedom of limb, while five minutes' start upstairs gives a quarter of an hour's advantage by escaping the jam at the doors. But, allowing for all drawbacks, our audiences are growiug more appreciative; musical culture is much more diffused, even among men, than formerly. "Wit- ness the good work performed by the "Sacred Har- monic Society" and the "Amateur Orchestral Societ}^," and the evident interest which University students take in music, by no means of the most obvious kind, some of it, of the highest artistic character, performed by the Professor of Music at his organ recitals. These given once a fortnight on an organ of rare beauty and power, especially in the sweetness of its softer stops and the richness and depth of its bass, have done much to familiarise the students, to whom they are open, aud the other invited hearers, with the best music. As so many of the audience consist of young men at the im- pressionable age, it is difficult to over-estimate their power in waking up a knowledge of and taste for really fine music among those of the hearers who have natural gifts, which in former days would probably have remained uncultivated. As it is, the University Amateur Society has just given us quite one of the most enjoyable concerts of the season, the students sustaining the choral parts with great spirit and good taste, an excellent orchestra, remarkably well conducted by Professor Oakeley, giving us specimens from the three greatest orchestral writers, and the whole concert having a kind of appropriate youthful gaiety and dash. The so-called " Opera Concerts," consisting generally of hackneyed songs taken out of operas, deprived of their dramatic surroundings and orchestral accompaniments, we think please rather less than formerly—a sign of growing taste, partly due, no doubt, to the spirited protests which have here, in the cause of Art, been freqiiently made against them. They have the one advantage of allowing singers to display their voices with the least possible trouble to themselves, and at the least possible expense to the concert-giver, for almost the same programme is generally repeated at all the provincial music halls where they appear, and the so- called " conductor " accompanies on a piano. When we 138 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. remember what a number of admirable songs, written for the concert-room by the first masters, are neglected by those excellent singers, who give us merely disjointed operatic fragments, or an occasional ballad, apt to be of very poor quality, we confess that such entertainments become not only dull but tantalising. It is different at the Opera, Avhere we have opportunities of hearing solo-singers of such excellence as to make us overlook, it must be owned, the very low standard, thought good enough for us, attained by orchestra, chorus, and scenic arrangements. Indeed, we can enjoy .the performances of solo-singers more thoroughly in a small house, where every note and gesture tells, than in a vast space like Covent Garden Theatre. We certainly have seldom any novelty given us, and the last one, the " Talismano," cannot be counted as a success. No wonder the British pviblic is anxious for the new sensation of a " Wagner " Opera. The position of this master has been so much discussed here of late, that we venture, with much diffidence, as writing of a question on which there is division in some sections of the musical world, to make a few observations, the results of our own experience. People who are not inclined to allow the extraordinary claims of his great admirers, who call him the Weber of the age for instance —we have, indeed, heard him mentioned in the same breath with a far greater name—should not, therefore, be characterised as " not liking Wagner." There is so much we do like in his music. For instance, the first time of hearing the " Tannhiiusor Overture," we were carried away by it. Afterwards, as with the " Overture to Guiilaume Tell," its charms certainly diminished, perhaps from the mind being stimulated by imitations of natural sounds, or other not legitimate means, which delight more at first hearing than on repetition. Doubtless Wagner wields that mighty instrument, the modern orchestra, with great skill, and gives us lovely snatches of melody. All allow that he is a very clever man, though the self-satisfaction which mars his writing about his own music makes one suspect that it is talent rather than genius that he possesses ; or if the latter, that it finds its vocation in poetry rather than in music. But before he can be ranked among the chief musicians, let him produce a symphony, or some other sustained musical work in which the music does not lean upon the drama. At present, as his admirers also say, we can only really hear him in opera. But we went to a The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 139 splendid opera-house in Munich, where everything is done to enhance effect and promote illusion. Wonderful scenery, with the costly effects of a modern pantomime, crowds of well-trained actors on the stage, real horses probably, or real swans—everything real, or, as they say technically, practicable, that can be ; exquisite dresses, first-rate ballet; and like a serving-maid, assisting all this, music, which cannot be accused of thrusting itself into promi- nence, or in any way existiiif^ for itself—music quite subordinate, often vague, and often dull. The followers of Wagner tell us nothing can be more unnatural than people in an opera breaking into a trio or quartette in the midst of an anxious situation : granted, but the musical drama is and must be mixed art, which permits neither art to attain its highest development. Wagner does not get rid of the absurdity, for in a desperate situation people do not even sing recitative to a full orchestra; on the contrary, we think that by subordinating the music he weakens it, so that it cannot wing us across the non-natural conditions by its own force. Take, let us say, the opening Drinking Chorus of Robert Le Viable; wdthout scenery, words, and singers, it is still on the piano highly suggestive of a warlike carousal. It is significant that the words are, as far as we have seen, printed with the extracts made from Wagner's operas for the piano, and very necessary they seem generally, to show even his admirers what they are to see in the music. In fact, while other musicians lean more on the music in opera, Wagner leans more on drama and scenic effect. This may have its advantages, and be a most interesting variety of opera, but we confess we do not see in it the elements of a great discovery or a great revolution. AVe believe that the highest music can never be equally linked to the drama, far less subordinate to it; it is and ought to be too absorbing; it soars on its own path too high to be fettered by any necessities or laws other than its own, which it is not profane to call divine. Again, the noblest dramatic art needs no aid from music ; would the quarrel between l^rutus and Cassius gain by Wagner's setting it to the orchestra ? Also the noblest painting can never be scene-painting. After all, suppose this stupendous modern drama of all the arts to be achieved by means of enormous outlay and trouble (no cheap joy for the million this), does it not appeal more to the lower 140 TJie Ladles' EdinlmrgJi Magazine. faculties than the pure arts do % Is there not something of the painted statue, of the wax-Avork about it—something like giving Beethoven's " Pastoral Symphony" with scenic illustrations, which has absolutely been attempted, leaving as little as possible to the imagination, and ending by cloying it, as too well-made toys do the children, who often prefer something suggestive, which excites rather than satiates the fancy ? It must be conceded, however, that Wagner's operas always charm more or less from their poetry and beautiful orchestration; and we hear with consternation that "Lohingrin" is to be disguised in the conventional Italian garb in London this year. A translation, especially into Italian, can never render justly its mystical German charm. However, as the author has permitted it in Italy, perhaps he will also suffer it here. But we must hurry from this long digression to a close; it Avill, Ave hope, be excused on the plea that it is difficult now to speak about the music anyAvhere without some allusion to Wagner. Space will not permit us to tell of the pleasant chamber concerts, usually assisted by the Dreschler- Hamilton family (for Ave have already been croAvded out of the April number of this select Magazine, and our words must be few enough to suit May), nor, indeed, Avill time, as some of these concerts are, as Ave Avrite, yet to come. Otherwise our musical season may be considered as over, and Ave think we may congratulate ourselves, in spite of some draAvbacks Avhich it is only honest to notice, on its having been the most brilliant and satisfactory ever enjoyed by Edinburgh. " OuR NOTE-BOOK."

% gtgltlanri ^}?ritt0.

ON gleaming loch and homestead grey The mighty hills look down ; Stern is their aspect, and their peaks In sombre outline frown.

No blade of grass as yet has sprung, The sheep may crop in vain; Each heathery broAV, so dark and dead, Might never flush again. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 141

Those rocky ribs of granite grey, How scarred and seamed their face. Where winter tempests sweep, and streams Dash down at headlong pace ! O lonely Bens, so old and hoar, Go veil your brows in gloom. For broodii:g mists and warring winds Are yours by ancient doom. What share is yours in all the stir Of wakening life and power, The sweet new life that thrills the earth Now in spring's choicest hour ? For, lo! what wealth of bud and leaf Hath burst from every tree ; The larches lead the joyous dance, With birches waving free I The plane, a leafy mass of shade, Dreams of the summer heat; The cherry blossoms fall, alas ! Too swiftly at our feet. How gay the beeches' tender green, And bronze the oak-leaf's hue ! In masses bright, the golden gorse Lends richness to the view. Plaintive and sweet from woodland boughs, I hear the cuckoo's note. Or brooding now o'er glimmering seas, Its echoes seem to float. Yon pearly sky of clearest blue Looks down upon the lake. Which straightway dimples into smiles As dancing ripples break. Sleeping and waking—death and life, A contrast old as Time; Yet ever new, and welcome still As in Earth's vernal prime. Then hail the genial influence That steals through heart and brain ; That sings of youth, and hope, and love. Till we too join the strain ! ENNA.

Ko. 6.—MAV 1875. T 142 Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

cDbc gragon of tlje llortb.

CHAPTER Y.

'' There now to him who sails Under the shore, a few white villages, Scattered above, below, some in the clouds, And glittering through their lemon groves, announce The region of Amalfi ; then, half fallen, A lonely watch tower on the precipice, Their ancient land-mark, comes."—ROGER'S Italy.

HIGH on the hill-top were the great castle and the little township of Asile, where the Lady Valeria now lived, and watched day by day the dangers that beset her. She Avas heiress of great lands, but powerless to help herself; and her vassals, headed bv the old Seneschal. Fazio di Forli, only cared that she should ally herself with one strong enough to protect them from Greek, Saracen, or Norse plunderers. Swend the Viking had tracked her out, and might, unless, as her people wished, she yielded peaceably to marriage with him, besiege and plunder the castle. Pandulf, the Lord of Capua, dared not protect her if he woiild; and also he and his brother Ateuolf, Abbot of Monte Cassino, were known as treacherous even beyond the wont of the Greeks. Her wealth and her beauty were all dangers the more to her; and so the little lady, surrounded by her maidens, gazed with a heavy heart on the deep-blue sea below where the Dragon ship glittered, with many a sparkle reflected from flashing steel or burnished gold. Almost she wished that she had never been taken from the quiet convent in the cathedral city (where she had lived since, many years ago, the Saracens had taken the castle and killed her father), and reinstated in her rights by the Normans. Four years ago, a few of them, not more than forty war,riors, had landed on these shores. They were Christian Normans from Valland, and were returning from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. So fearless were they, and withal so powerful, that men wondered if perhaps the warrior angels inspired and led them. Thousands of Saracens were at that time on the coast, demanding as usual great treasure from the inhabitants as ransom for their lives. The Castle of Asile was then one of their principal strongholds; below it they were wont to land, The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 143 there the leaders lodged, and the country all round swarmed with the turbaued warriors. But the forty Northmen from France cried shame on the trembling inhabitants; they caused the men of the cathedral city to arm, and led them themselves to victory: these forty had cleared the coast, and retaken the castle, and driven the Saracen army with great slaughter into the sea; and then, refusing all reward for their combats in the cause of Christendom, they had sailed back to Normandy. But more Normans had been invited by the inhabitants to protect them from the fury of the Saracens and the bad government of the Greeks, and several had come, Osmund and his brothers, Rainulf and others ; and though in the previous year they and their ally Drogo had been overpowered by the great army of the Byzantine Emperor, and Drogo had lately been betrayed by the treacherous Abbot of Monte Cassino, and executed, yet the rumour had arisen that again the Normans were coming in force, and, aided by the army of Henry the Latin Emperor, would give order and peace to the distracted land. The old seneschal, Fazio di Forli, stood by his lady, all in black velvet and gold chains, but pacing uneasily, and twisting his hands, as he said, '■ If I might but say your ladyship would marry the Norseman, willingly would I go on board." " Say nothing," said Valeria, " except that I will see the Benedictine monks they have brought to confer with me this very afternoon. Oh ! if I could but escape and hide among the ruins, they Avould never find me." " Lady, lady, that Avould be worst of all; they would seize the castle, and us, and me, and torment me to tell where you were ! and if, perhaps, I could not! Oh ! holy St. Agata." " You should not know, cowards that you all are," and she flung herself weeping on the cusliions. crying out that there was neither faith nor manhood left in the land. So we thought too, when an hour later old Fazio and his servants stood on our deck, bowing and cringing to Swend, and assuring him there "would be no difficulty about the marriage, if only Swend would be baptised ; yes, on the very morning of the wedding. Our ship lay close under the great mountain cliffs that here dip straight down into the clear sea, which has wash.ed and fretted away the red rocks at their base into 14-4 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. deep caverns and winding archways, where you could see the water lapping in a purple shadow, and hear the song of waves that had wandered far from the hght, and were feeling round the dim hollows within, once the abode, as tlic old poets tell, of the witching sirens. Flowers and wild vines clung to the crevices of the rocks above, and wherever a little soil could lie, there, golden in fruit and green in foliage, stood the orange and citron trees, and their sweet scent was wafted down to us. A little fishing village was nestled among the rocks like a cluster of martins' nests ; and on one side, where the great purple hills receded from the shore, you could see the white domes and spires of the cathedral city glittering round the sweep of a wide bay. In the sleepy noonday glow the Northmen lay about under the awnings, or lounged over the bulwarks, languid and silent beyond their wont, save some who swam sportively about the rocks and caverns. Swend did not rise from his cushion on the deck as he asked if Valeria had sent him a token as he expected. No, Fazio had brought him no token; the illustrissimo knew what ladies were, seeming averse to marriage, even when they wished it; but her vassals Avould see the contract fulfilled; where could they find a nobler lord, a braver protector? "Your excellency," he whined, as Swend looked fierce, " we are all your servants; if she sliould run aAvay, we would find and restore her ; oh ! be not Avroth Avith us." " You will gain here a fine following of true hearts, as the cook said of the rats," said Thorstein. " Why, Swend, I would ratlier be lord of AVestmansei, where all the people are gulls and rabbits, than live with this hare-hearted folk ; let us send the monks to hear what the lady really says." And as Astolfo and I moved to go, " Say we will take her castle if she will not take me! " shouted Swend. " But no," added Thorstein as we went over the side, " as they are coming to blows at Gaeta, we must not be tangled in a fight with our allies instead of our foes. Let us just hear the answer." So Astolfo and I were soon riding on mules with the old Fazio up a steep rocky path close by a foaming torrent, till in about an hour we had reached the gate of a strong and lordly castle. Passing through various courts and corridors, we gained a little room with small windows looking seaward, and there sat the little lady Valeria on piled-up cushions of richest embroidery left by the The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 145

Saracens. She seemed to me an elfisb little creature, wbose large dark eyes bad a balf-tender, balf-artful look, wbose every movement was as graceful as a bird; but in sooth her aspect and talk moved me as little as a bird's fluttering and twittering. Astolfo seemed quite at his ease as she bowed and said to him, "Holy father, or rather," with a little laugh, " Keverend brother, you come as an envoy from Swend the northern sea-king?" " Rather, lady," he answered, " from Herser Thorstein, and I must ask to speak with you alone." The attendants withdrew, and he continued, '' As I come from him, you know already that it is not to treat of your marriage with Swend, but of helping you to avoid it, that I come to speak." " I know, I know," and she clasped her little hands eagerly; " when Thorstein came here, something in his face made me cling to his knees and implore him to rescue me and my people from the red Swend. Then he said. Tell him to bring a priest to treat with you, and to promise he will take baptism. Thus we shall gain time, and very likely he may refuse; and, at all events, the priests will be on your side, and they have much power. And will you be on my side?" Her black eyes grew soft as she turned them on Astolfo, who threw himself at her feet. " On your side, yes, heart, soul, and sword, and all I have." " Keverend brother I" said the lady, starting up. " No brother, but a novice who will never be a monk, whose heart and arm are all yours, whether you deign to glance at him or not. Yes, lady, Thorstein has told me all, and how Swend has a haughty wife in Norway; and he bids me tell you to refuse bravely this marriage; at the very worst he will himself quarrel with Swend in your defence, though he would be loath to challenge his kinsman; but he thinks in a few days Swend will care less for the alliance, as other things are going to happen, and all will go well. The Neustrian Normans will soon, he thinks, establish such law along this coast that the land will have peace beneath their sway." The lady was, I could see, very timid, but Astolfo greatly assured her; and bidding her fear nothing, we took our leave, and were soon speeding together on foot down the mountain path. Two well-mounted horsemen hustled past us suddenly at a narrow turn—they were 146 Jlie Ladies JuJinhunjh Maj.cicuie.

Rainulf and his squire. He saluted us, and turned again from above. I seem now to see him, the evening sun shining full on him as he rose out of the shadowy ravine, glancing on the ripple of his armour and the gay blazon of his shield, and on his earnest, beautiful face. '• Brother Damasus," he said, •' tell Thorsteiu I am going to offer the lady Valeria my help," and turned and rode on. " MeddHng peacock," said Astolfo, and went on Avith the endless talk about the fair Valeria, which he had kept up the whole way, I heeding him as much as I did the torrent which brawled down alongside. But he roused me at last by saying, " And what plan can Thorstein have ? the men love him, and many hate red Swend ; could we not stir up a tumult and take away Swend's command? Thorstein could marry the girl his sister—I see he likes her, the ship would be her dower, and that madman put out of the Avay." " Thorstein is too honest for such treachery; Hertha would never consent, and I," I said, half choked with wrath, " would fly to Swend and warn him, should you wish to carry out the plot." '•My Renzo, why so hot?" he laughed; "a comrade's chatter is not a plot. Has red Swend won your heart, or is it the stout-armed yellow-haired Hertha? " I shut my lips tight to keep back an answer, and felt the days were gone far away when Astolfo and I were friends who shared all thoughts ; but he was, as ever, frank and gay, and talked on merrily till we came down to the edge of the sea. Here, on a long strip of level sand between the high rocks and the sea, many of our men were exercising themselves by throwing spears. Midway between ship and shore floated Hertha's little skiff, a purple shadow on the emerald sea; a loose, dark cloak fell about her, and her braceleted arms gleamed white as she leant on the oars, and her golden hair seemed to reflect the glitter of the evening sky. As we appeared she shot under the shadow of the sliip; Thorstein swung himself down into the boat, and she rowed him asliore. After a minute's talk low with Astolfo, he continued aloud, " Yes, fiither, have a fling with the spears if you will, only you must get rid of the monk's frock," and he pulled off Astolfo's silken robe, and there stood the goodly youth in his jerkin as comely as any around. '• Thanks, Thorsteiu, for helping in very deed to unfrock me," he said, " for I am not going back again when this Tlie Ladleti Eduihurgk MayaziiLe. 147 busmess is over; indeed, I have just been thinking why should I not woo Valeria for myself—what say you t" " That you are a brisk man, and a Lombard, so not far removed from our race; but you must learn to protect a lady before you wed her, so come to the spears." " Astolfo," I broke in, '' remember who you are, a poor Benedictine novice; how can you hope to win a lady with castles and lands?" " Who am I ? Lord Astolfo of Borca," he said, with angry mettle—" a match in nobility for any lady in the land, for all that I have been washing floors and carrying wood for a swarm of peasant monks till they have forgotten it. Dear Renzo," he went on in a softer tone, " be not vexed; but yoii peasants can never tell how hard that service is to gentlemen; and I could not please them either,—it was all rebukes and the discipline; but now, evlva la gnerra, viva ValeriaT' and he tossed a spear high in the air and caught it again. Thorstein laughed as he said, " You must be one of us; but as to work, we say in Nor- way, the freeman does with one hand what the thrall does with two. It is not idleness that makes a free lord, but being his own master, doing what he thinks right, and fearing neither foe nor fate." And they went to the spear- throwing and left me alone feeling I was not one of them. But then a soft voice sounded near, " Come, Fra Lorenzo, and let us watch the casting," said Hertha; and the spell was round me again, and I stood by her in perfect happiness, seeing what marvels Thorstein could do with the sjiears that seemed, when cast from his hand, to have a life of their own like birds, and alight just where he willed it, while Astolfo proved an apt pupil. Anon Swend came striding hastily up, and asked what news from Valeria. And when Astolfo stood forth and said frankly that she refused to have him, I saw, indeed, it was well he had not Damasus to deal with. For he flashed into wild fury; he seized Astolfo by the collar and shook him violently— " And you dare to bring this message !" he shouted. " I dare all things in their right places," said Astolfo, steadily, while Thorstein tore them apart; but he could not prevent Swend from levelling the spear he carried at Astolfo, while he shouted, " Then die, thou false messenger !" Our novice faced him and never blenched—it saved him, for Swend, lowering the spear, turned next on Thorstein. "Thou here, as ever, thwarting! this must have an end." 148 The Tjadle,.s E luibiiryli Magazine.

"A bad end, kinsman," said Thorstein. "What now? turning on a monk with a message. If jon must fight, challenge Rainulf; he has given the protection of our friends to lady and castle; he is one of the fortj who saved the land; he is an excellent fighter; he would give you glory or death." " Kinsman, ay, you remind me of that, but you may strain the bond too far; at least, my lads," and Swend turned to the men, " you shall get plunder in that castle to-morrow." " An ill way that with a worse end. as the salmon said of the net," answered Thorstein, " so we should be counted pirates by the men we came to aid!" 1 saw, meanwhile, with terror, how Swend still fingered his spear; his red hair stood up round his purple face, he looked like a wild mad bull. Eight in front stood Thor- stein, not touching him now, but watching, with his hand slipping towards his sword hilt. All the men gazed anxiously and silently, and I saw how they feared Swend, if they did not love him; and in another moment the storm must have burst, when Syades glided up and whispered in Swend's ear. He gained his attention, for the Viking turned slowly away with him, and the danger was passed for the time. The men began to talk and laugh again as if nothing strange had happened, only Astolfo muttered between his teeth, " If I could but fight him, I would give ten years of life to fight him." Now the stars were coming out all over the deep-blue sky, and men began to turn shipwards. Hertha, Avho walked Avith Thorstein, turned and said, '• Come with us, Fra Lorenzo;" but he added carelessly, " Oh, there will be plenty of boats." And so they passed on together and the others went also, till I found myself left alone. I was too restless to follow, but kept wandering up and down in the starlit darkness between the wild rocks near the cavern and the little fishing village that lay all asleep half a mile down the coast. A white church gleamed on a little hillock at the entrance, and I mounted to it. ^lidnight was past, and the door was locked. Had the church been open, that might not have happeued which did happen, for then I sorely longed to kneel at the altar, and feel round me again the holy presence which nerves to duty and self-renunciation. But it was shut, and I sat without in body as in mind among the chill graveyard crosses thinking of Hertha with a kind of wild possession, The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 149 as if my whole being had but one goal. Hertha—Hertha to be mine for all time, now and always. But, oh ! good heavens—what could I do ! If I broke from the cloister, what was I but a nameless beggar, not even trained to the arms which might win her, my sea-princess ? And 3'et I felt she liked to have me near her, and her last Avord, vieni, sang sweetly in my heart. As I thus thought, the voices of two fishermen moving towards the boats came up to me. " And why does Fra Lucio stand up there always grinningunburied among the skulls?" "Because he was a saint, and the people still like to see him." " Then would I not be a saint for the night wind to whistle among my poor dry bones. Nay, and they say he walks; he is somewhat restless for a saint; perhaps he seeks now some of the good things he threw away in Hfe." • " Hush, blaspheme not the saints. Holy Virgin! what is that?—the cowled shadow near the mortuary," and their voices died into terrified whispers, and their steps were lost in the distance, while I, the shadow, gazed into the mortuary near which I stood. Within the grating I could just discern the glimmer of skulls and bones, and a dark figure standing upright in a corner. All the joys of life he had laid down before he had joined that grisly company. Oh, why ? Why not enjoy life, and love, and sunshine, and beauty before the dry, desolate end? As I dreamt on, I was aware of one beside me, and saw it was Syades the Saracen. " The night is cold," he said; " autumn draws on apace, and a heavy heart chills even a young frame. See, I read your heart, and I can cure its pain, only trust me and follow me." Now 1 trusted him not, but yet I followed him. E. J. 0. (To he continued.)

litcrariT ItTcril tested bir po}jutaritg.

IT is said that the Welsh Bards laid down, as a rule, one thousand years ago, that every composition should be for the increase of delight, the increase of understanding, or the increase of goodness. There could hardly be worthier motives for writing, and it would be well if all authors would bear them in mind, especially in these later days,

No. 5.—MAT 1875. c 150 The Ladies' EcUnhurgh Magazine. when of making many books there is no end; and it would be well also if the world could summarily get rid of works which flagrantly violate those principles. In the following brief consideration of Avhether an author's popularity can be taken as affording any proof of his literary excellence, we shall, 1 think, find the old Welsh principles of composition of some use in forming a judgment. First of all, what do we mean by popularity ? Speaking roughly and generally, I suppose we mean a certain appreciation or recognition of merit called forth by some persons or things in the minds of the many, felt by the greater number almost instinctively, and often subject to no rules or due to any causes which can be assigned with distinctness by those who feel it. Some kinds of admiration are valuable because we know that they can only proceed from a trained eye and intelligence; the excellence which calls such admiration forth is below the surface, and cannot be found except by those who know how to look for it. This is necessarily the admiration of the few, and is confined to a limited circle'. But excellence connected with the hopes and fears, joys and griefs, strength and weakness of ordinary human nature, appeals to a very much wider one, and if we find in any writer a power of touching those chords, and a response true and clear from many hearts, I think we must acknowledge in him the hand of a master of his art, and in his power a real proof of literary excellence. Of course it must not be forgotten that there are different kinds and degrees of popularity. There is a baser as well as a nobler side of human nature, and the response which coines from thence may be just as genuine of its kind ; but I exclude it from our definition of popularity, for I believe that in the long-run it will be overpowered by the silent, gentle, gradual victory of things really pure, true, lovely, and of good report. There is one test which will generally, I think, distinguish true and deserved popularity from that which is false; namely, lastingness, if we may coin such a Avord. The test cannot of course be applied to living and modern writers, but we may certainly believe, in their case, that the appreciation which is wide and general in their own generation for what they have done towards the increase of delight, of knowledge, or of goodness, will be endorsed by those who come after. There are many instances in the past of this tribute of appreciation being granted by a writer's immediate contemporaries, withdrawn, more often through The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 151 neglect than by dehberate judgment, by the generation just after, and then being lavished once more on the man and his works centuries after the busy hand and brain have ceased their labour. Shall we say that his popularity has failed to stand the test—that his excellence was over- rated? Not so, surely. Have we not rather an additional proof that the approval of the many testified to his real literary excellence'? Passing clouds obscured it for a time, manners changed, modes and subjects of thought took a different turn, a host of noisier and nearer claimants for attention arose; but there was that in his writings which finds an echo in many hearts ; they are read once more, praised once more, and he is recognised again as " one of those rare souls whose thoughts enrich the life-blood of the world." There is perhaps hardly a great writer in the Avorld of literature whose glory has not thus resembled the moon among the drifting clouds; she is steadfast though she seems to waver, and so is his merit unchanged though public opinion may fluctuate concerning it, or pass him by for a time unnoticed; and the recollection that such partial eclipses are not unci)mmon, might often con- sole the risen generation for the disregard with which it sometimes sees the favourites of its own youth treated by the rising one. Let us glance hastily at a few works Avhich have earned undying fame, and I think Ave shall see that it is closely connected with Avhat the writers did for the increase of delight, understanding, and goodness. Of Shakespeare, whose name will at once occur to every one as having fulfilled all the old AVelsh conditions, and interwoven himself, his thoughts, his very words in the minds of his countrymen, who oftentimes talk Shake- speare without knowing it, of him we will only say that he is an instance of appreciation but partially enjoyed in life—so partially that the man and all his surroundings have almost passed beyond the ken of those later generations which have done such ample justice to the imperish- able works of his genius. A master's hand has sketched the contrast for us in that brief scene in Kenilworth at the Privy Council Chamber door:—" The player bowed, and the earl nodded and passed on—so tliat age would have told the tale : in ours, perhaps, we might say the immortal had done homage to the mortal." That great novelist himself shall be our next instance of true popularity extending far and wide. There can 152 TJie LadieH Edinburgh Magazine. be no doubt about the estimation in which his own generation held the works which for years excited the wonder, admiration, and curiosity of every class of society, which are known wherever the English tongue is spoken ; yes, and in foreign lands as well; which have increased dehght, knowledge, and goodness for every reader, old or young, prince or peasant, and not a line in which would cause the great author one moment's self-reproach as he lay awaiting death. He made the dead past live again, and many a one might say of his tales, as the great Duke of Marlborough is reported to have done of Shakespeare's chronicle plays, " They are all the history I ever knew." How happily and neatly have two worthy comrades in the rolls of literary fame touched off the spell which the mighty enchanter cast over the most unlikely minds, where in the Ayrshire Legatees the honest minister of Garnock (who would as soon have kissed the Pope's toe as touched a '• novelle") beguiles the tedium of the steam-boat journey from Greenock to Glasgow with the fascinating pages of a History of the Jacobite Troubles, "aneut the hand that an English gentleman of the name of Waverley hadin it, and finds it 'wonderful inter-esring.'" And again, where, in Miss Ferrier's Inheritance, Uncle Adam, of rugged exterior and tender heart, constant to the romance of his youth, finds refuge from the uncongenial society of Rossville Castle in the company of Dandy Dinmont and Meg Merilees, and would burn the book if the scoundrel Glossin did not meet with his due reward. Sir Walter's popularity has suffered some eclipse within the last few years; a younger rival has for the time dethroned him, and enjoys at present a larger amount of enthusiastic and not always discriminating praise. But thoxigh the rising generation does not know its Scott as well as it knows its Dickens, time will re-establish the one in his rightful place without detracting from 1;he just estimation in which the other is held. Charles Dickens is deservedly a popular writer, and in spite of faults and weak- nesses, his works have contributed very largely indeed to innocent pleasure, to the opening of men's eyes to the existence of many social abuses, and, best of all, to that sense of brotherhood between high and low, the want of which would make society fall to pieces. Our next illustrations of the testimony borne to literary excellence by the appreciation of the many shall be draAvn from a Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. .153 graver class of works. Fourteen centuries ago, one of the greatest souls that ever lived was struggling through long years from darkness to light, and has left behind liim the record of his spiritual experience. Why have the Confessions of St. Augustine such a ftiscination and value to this day? Why, but because all humanity re-echoes consciously or unconsciously tlie cry Avhich he has put into words, "Thou bast made us for Thyself, and our hearts find rest in nothing out of Thee;" and that wonderful revelation of the great mind which he has laid bare, has been a guiding light, a helping hand to many other souls tempest-tost on the waves of this troublesome world, teaching them how they may " rise on stepping-stones of their dead selves to higher things." There is another book stamped for all time with the appreciation of thousands who have learnt from its gentle teaching the secret of inward peace. It may or may not be the work of its reputed author — the name of the writer may have passed into utter oblivion ; but his voice, whether it be that of Thomas a Kempis or of another, is " the direct communication of a human soul's belief and experience out of the far-off middle ages." There is, I think, no passage more touching, more true, or powerful in all George Eliot's marvellous writings than that from which I have just quoted, describing the strange chance which brought the stormy, passionate, hungering soul of poor Maggie TuUiver into contact with the Imitation of Christ. You will forgive me for recalling the very Avords to your memory. " She took up the little old clumsy book with some curiosity ; it had the corners turned down in many places, and some hand, now for ever quiet, had made at certain passages strong pen-and-ink marks long since browned by time. Maggie turned from leaf to leaf, and read where the quiet hand pointed." To her as to many others it came as an unquestioned message, and, continues our great novelist, " I suppose that is the reason why the small old-fashioned book, for which you need only pay six- pence at a book-stall, works miracles to this day, turning bitter waters into sweetness; while expensive sermons and treatises, newly issued, leave all things as they were before. It was written down by a hand that waited for the heart's prompting; it is the chronicle of a solitary hidden anguish, struggle, trust, and triumph not written on velvet cushions to teach endurance to those who are 154 Tlie Ladies' JEdinburgh Magazine.

treading with bleeding feet on the stones. And so it remains to all time a lasting record of human needs and human consolations ; the voice of a brother who ages ago felt and suffered and renounced, in the cloister perhaps, with serge gown and tonsured head, with much chanting and long fasts, and with a fashion of speech different from ours, but under the same silent far-off heavens, and with the same passionate desires, the same stirrings, the same failures, the same weariness."—(Mill on the Floss, p. 266.) To the last example I shall give, the word popularity applies with perhaps greater propriety than to either of the two preceding, for it has earned the love of the poor and ignorant—of those whom we call the masses—to a greater degree than any other book that ever was written, probably. It is more than 200 years since one of themselves, a man of the people, " walked through the wilderness of this world, and lighted on a certain place where was a den, and laid him down in that place to sleep, and as he slept he dreamed a dream." The truth embodied in the story of that dream, told in quaint, picturesque, vigorous language, has indeed " entered in at lowly doors," and goodness, knoAvledge, and do- light owe much of their increase among the humble and the ignorant to John Bunyan'simmortal parable. It has its faults, but we need not stop to criticise them ; in spite of them all it has fascinated childhood and age ever since it was given to the world, and has been a key to the understanding by the lowly and uneducated of a divine book and a yet diviner life, of which it is written in words applicable to the Pilgrim s Progress itself,

" That he may read who binds the sheaf, Or builds the house, or digs the grave, And those wild eyes that watch the wave In roarings round the coral reef."—In Memoriam.

One word more and I have done. If popularity or recognition of merit is really a proof of true excellence in literature, some may be disposed to ask Avhether it should be consciously striven after. Certainly not; and it is through doing so that many have failed to earn undying honour. The author should labour, like every one else, with his might, and even if earthly fame is denied him, or if he does no more than serve his own generation, the evening is coming, and then—" Alles lobt der Meister." IRGENE. The Ladies' Eclinhurgh Magazine. 155

g r c it m %.

WHAT are they, that come to us at dead of night, When o'er our wearied eyes sleep's soothing veil is drawn? What are they, that flood our darkened sense with light? Dreams, Heaven-sent dreams! Have we through the dreary day been sad and Avorn ? Have we felt life's burden all too great to bear? They wait to comfort us, on wings of peace upborne, Dreams, Heaven-sent dreams! What are they, that come to us when on the deep ? Far parted from our loved ones, ne'er to meet again. What mingle, softly, haunting tones with waves that sweep ? Dreams, Heaven-sent dreams! Around us, only the lone sea that hath no shore. Above us, only the cold stars that guide our way. Yet, instant, to our home they bear us back once more. Dreams, Heaven-sent dreams! And what are they, that come to us when life is old ? When we like sheep have gone astray, yet grieved for sin. What shadow solemn forth the far-off" sheltering fold ? Dreams, Heaven-sent dreams! They come to us in youth, our soaring hopes to crown, They come to us in age, to give back Avhat is lost. They come to us at death, our trembling fears to drown, Dreams, Heaven-sent dreams! MELENSA.

tolcrburp of (Kltcslcr. CHAPTER IV.

" PRAY come here, Randall, and help me to tie up this geranium, it is drooping so sadly." Randall walked across the room to where his sister, in a light summer dress, stood in the window tending some hot-house plants. It was the morning after the expedition to Chester, and Randall, after a late breakfast, had 156 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

just entered his mother's parlour. Here he found not only his mother and sister, but Squire Trevor, who had come thus early to call. " Do you think," said Malvina in a low voice to her brother while he was helping her—■' do you think it woiild be possible to train some white jasmine outside this window? I should like it so much." " -You girls are all so fond of white things," said Ran- dall ; " why not rather have a passion-flower, or something with meaning in it, instead of that unpleasantly scented jasmine? But, Malvina, you are not crying? Oh dear! I did not mean to vex you; I will help you to train it; come, I will do it now." " Randall," ^^T-d Mrs Holme, " pray come and sit by me for a little. Squire Trevor has something to say to you; and you, Malvina, pray be good enough to go and see that the new rose-trees are properly pruned." Malvina left the room, while Randall, prepared for something trying, seated himself in a resigned manner beside his mother. Trevor opened the conversation. " Still in dreamland, Randall ? In what region of the world do you intend to wander and lose yourself to-day ? I am glad to see, however, that you succeeded in arriving at home." Randall never had anything to say to Trevor; his ideas, his courage, almost his identity, seemed to evaporate in the presence of that individual. So he sat silent, and allowed his inother to remark, " Randall will learn in time, I hope, to save his friends anxiety." " I should like," said Trevor. " to help him to learn that lesson now. It is for this that I have come this morning. Trust me, Randall, I would fain be of use to you; and let me tell you that you can be of great service to me. I am in want of an amanuensis ; will you undertake the task?" Twenty-four hours before, Randall, in spite of timidity, would have given a decided refusal. But much had happened since then; the day in Chester had formed a crisis in his history. Before, it seemed as if cold precept and stern example had held him aloof, and awed him into isolation ; now, some higher spirit had surely come near to him, and taken him encouragingly by the hand. All last evening the Avords of Miss Langley had haunted him: " There are some even younger than you, who are already fighting the battle manfully;" and these words, together The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 157 with many of those he had heard in the music-room of the Cathedral, and which, he felt sure, had been better understood by him than by those for whom they were intended, had set themselves to a kind of melody, which had kept time with the motion of the stage-coach, melting into tenderness with the glow of the sunset, and gaining a hallowed intensity from the light of the moon and stars. At the close he had added this refrain, which now re- echoed through his whole being, leading captive both will and affections: " The first task that offers itself to me, I will accept and perform." And now this refrain had grown into a vow, so solemn and uncompromising, that it left no room for choice or hesitation. " Y es. I will undertake it," said Randall, promptly, and with such firmness and gravity that ]\Irs Holme involuntarily turned her head and looked at him keenly. He saw a slight raising of both eyebrows and shoulders, and a tremulous movement of the eyelids, as if they were trying vainly to keep guard over the actions of her son. All this seemed to say, " How can you, without consulting me, agree at once to go with a man of whom you have heard me say that his influence is doubtful?" Mrs Holme might succeed in expressing all this to her son by a momentary look; it Avas but momentary, however, and quickly check- ing all signs of perturbation, she turned to Trevor and said— "Mr Trevor, you have already explained to me how you think the work will benefit both yourself and Randall, by assisting the one and stimulating the other; but," and here the widow smiled with her lips, " will you allow me, as Randall's mother, to ask you, of what nature are the manuscripts Avhich it will be his task to write out for you?" " My dear madam," said Trevor, in a low, confidential tone, " let me suppose for a moment that you distrust me as an intellectual guide for your son. On the other hand, you have perfect reliance on his rectitude and independence of mind; your admirable training, his own character, warrant such a feeling on your part. The manuscripts, I will confide to you, which I intend, with his help, to prepare, are destined to exercise their full influence only over the extremely young and the uneducated. Now, your son is to be classed among neither of these; he cannot, therefore, be subject to the influence of the writings in question."

No. «.—MAT 1875. X 158 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

The plausible way in which Trevor thus substituted flattery for satisfactory explanation, led Mrs. Holme to overlook the hitch in his reasoning. The possibility of a smaller degree of influence had not been contemplated ; yet such a possibility left room for much that might be hurtful. The adroit way in which Trevor had praised her for her training of Randall, induced her, for the time at least, to look upon her son as fully equipped with all the weapons of truth, and with no vulnerable part where the shaft of error might pierce to harm him. If physical invulnerability has never yet existed but in the pages of legendary lore, where is its mental coun- terpart to be found'? Mrs. Holme, as we have previously observed, arrived at her conclusions quickly, generally taking the short cut of either feeling or prejudice, to save a long stretch of the road of reason ; on this occasion it was gratified feeling which supplied lier with an un- usually short route to the goal desired by Trevor. " I understand," she said, " and I feel much flattered by the confidence you place in my son; I trust he may fulfil your expectations." If Randall felt any gratification at all, it was in a much less degree than his mother; he did not falter, however, in his purpose. The refrain and the VOAV were still dominant in his brain, like some solemn chant that seemed to express life's noblest aspirations, and to raise him to a height from which the opinions of Trevor seemed to him as insignificant as a grain of sand to an eagle soaring in the air. Should the grain of sand, however, enter the eagle's eye and disturb its vision, it would acquire a great and unwished-for significance. " I am ready to do as you wish," said Randall, in a low but firm voice. " To-morrow morning, if you choose, I will begin the work." Trevor was more than satisfied with Randall's frank acquiescence, and it was agreed that, during the next six weeks, Randall should reside at Glanhafon, only spend- ing the Sundays at home with his mother and sister, as a compensation for parting from the latter so soon after her return from school. Trevor returned liome well pleased with the result of his expedition. He should have assistance; his work would make progress; but was this the chief source of his gratification ? There was another secret cause, which he hardly dared name to himself, and the power of which The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 159 he would not consciously acknowledge, for it hinged upon the question, had Randall been left to spend some weeks at home in the society of a certain visitor who might arrive, what would have been the result? l^ut Randall would be absent, while the circumstance of his being at Glanhafon wouldform a connectinglinkbetween Glanhafon and the White House, with all its occupants and visitors, whoever these might happen to be. On the following morning, Randall, after a tender farewell from his sister, and an admonition from his mother, is driving slowly, with somewhat melancholy thoughts, up the long winding avenue, where the beech, lime, and ash mingled their variously tinted leaves overhead, and ever and anon bent their branches lovingly over the little stream that gently laved the bank beneath. The sighing and whispei'ing of the wind through the trees is accompanied by the soft rushing sound of the brook and the carol of birds; and while the sun darts now and then a fitful gleam across the shady path, Randall has mysterious dreams of a chequered future, full of uncertainty and agitation, dread and longing, with alittle gleam of happiness to lighten it here and there. But there is a steady purpose in his mind, and it is with compressed lips and a calm, if not cheerful look, that he nimbly alights, and ascends the stone steps at the door of the mansion-house of Glanhafon. The door which is now opened forms the entrance to a large building in the modern baronial stjde, the massive front of which, with its turreted gables, almost hides from view the ancient mansion-house, which modestly nestles beside it, like a wren beneath the pinion of a swan. That relic of bygone simplicity, which forms the right wing of the house, has dwindled down into a mere adjunct; and yet it is to the larger structure something of what the soul is to the body; for its largest room, the old hall, has now become the library, and has been made the receptacle of all the dearest heirlooms left by former generations to their descendants. From its walls and shelves the heart and intellect of the departed speak plainly. And it seems that Trevor likes to hear these voices of the past, for he almost lives here, leaving to fade unused the elegant furnishings of the more modern apartments. With his taste for the real antique, however, he combines a love for its imitation in art; and he has shown it here. 460 T^ie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

All round the room, the walls, to the height of five feet, are of finely-carved oak, which, at the end opposite the window, rises to the ceiling, and stands forth in the form of bookshelves. The remaining walls have the space between the oak and ceiling hung with tapestry. Through the broad low window, which runs along the wall at about six feet from the floor, only the sky and tree- tops are visible ; but a flood of light falls on the writing- table and centre of the room, as if to say. Here is abundant light to work by, with no outer view to distract the attention. The rafters of the ceiling are supported by broad beams of carved oak going transversely, and upheld at the corners by stone corbels, on which are carved fleurs de lis, crosses, and stars. The fireplace, which rises to within two feet of the roof, has its front decorated with elaborate oak carving, with the Trevor arms blazoned on oaken shields and banners ; the inner part is of stone. But here this Flemish fourteenth century work is at an end ; in the other furnishings of the room, modern comfort has supplanted antique stiffness ; the thick Turkey carpet and inviting easy-chairs tell of the march of luxury. In one of these chairs Trevor is reclining at the moment of Randall's arrival. With one hand dangling carelessly over the arm of the chair, he is with the other drawing back the hair from his forehead. He starts up in his chair when Randall is shown into the room. "Ah! you have come just in time ; my ideas were growing too numerous to remember, and I had no one to commit them to paper, a task which I dislike performing myself. Can you begin now % " " At once," said Randall, and seated himself Avithout further invitation at the writing-table. Trevor, with the abstracted air of an inspired prophet, stood upright, and looked steadily at Randall for nearly a minute, without thinking of liim in the least. He then began to walk very rapidly to and fro in the room, with an air which seemed to say, Something important is coming now. How any amount of thought, even the smallest, could be compatible with such rapid bodily movement, was to Randall a problem he could not solve. After about half- a-dozen turns through the room, Trevor remained standing in the far corner, where the light from the high window was faintest, and gave forth, in a slow and sententious manner, the following words: " What I The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 161 now wish you to write out f(5r me, consists of thoughts on a new system of education. These are suggested chiefly by a German work which I have been perusing; it was recommended to me by Baron de Rehmar, and is entitled, Neuere Ausichten iiber die Erziehung; von August Lobegott Zinnthaler, Professor der Kiinste und Wissenschaften am Hofe seiner Durchlaucht Christians des Grossberozogs zu Uiiterthorgau. This Zinnthaler, as he tells us in the preface to his work, was one morning smoking quietly in his study, the windows of which overlook the street, when he saw some children pass by on their way to school. He threw a few pfennigs among them, and called out, ' Here, my little Liebchens, come in, and I will teach you something much better than what you learn at school.' They came flocking in, and the Professor chalked upon a black board some rhymes, which I have, to the best of my ability, rendered into English. Here are the words :—

' When chaos opened wide its chasm, Out flew a wondrous protoplasm, And out of this, and this alone, All animals and plants have grown ; Thus whales, potatoes, turnips, bees. Poppies and tadpoles, men and geese, The reptile, saurian, toad, and worm, All sprung from one primordial form. Thus, when I take my walks abroad. See pumpkins springing from the sod, See men and beasts, and creeping things, Web-footed birds, and birds with wings, And many creatures great and small, Living as plant or animal;— I think, with awe too deep to tell, Of that strange nucleated cell, Within primeval fungus hid. Which was the one primordial form That held all living things in germ.' There is much more in the same style, but I shall quote no more at present. This simple method of Zinnthaler's delights me, as it delighted the children, who said it over and over till they knew it by heart; and very soon the streets of the capital of Oberthorgau re-echoed with these Darwinian rhymes, if they may be so called. " What I shall now add, pray be kind enough to write down. 162 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

"The knowledge which man has about himself has hither- to been too psychological; education has begun at the wrong end. The spiritual has been all in all, while the material has been disregarded as of inferior importance. And not content with occupying itself about the soul while resident in this state of being, imagination has even dared to assert definitely what becomes of it when it leaves the body. Passing over the primitive form of this belief, which declares that departed spirits haunt the earth, I come to the Asiatic, Vedic, and Buddhist theories of emanation and absorption. These culminate with the Alexandrian Greeks, among whom I am amazed to find Proclus presuming to tell us the exact mode of the soul's reabsorption into the divine source. But, returning to this mortal scene, I find that, taking it alone into consideration, education has been beginning at the wrong end. It has been branding itself with a stigma of ingrati- tude, contempt, disregard, towards ]\Iatter, the universal mother of us all, the untiring, indefatigable producer of all things, whether tangible and mundane, or intangible and ethereal. " It is therefore my earnest desire to elaborate a system of education, beginning at the right end. I intend to plant my heel on the neck of imagination, and to hold it writhing in the dust till the chariot-wheels of Bober fact and clearly ascertained truth have passed over. This intention bears on the very face of it, that my maxim must be. Look outwards. We are all too self-conscious ; we begin by asking, Who am P? when that is the question we should end with. I shall restrict the inftmt mind, therefore, to the study of external nature, making the facts of natural history and science take precedence even of the history of man. This may come later, Mdien the importance of facts has begun to be clearly seen. Not till the mind is well advanced shall I suffer poetry to be read, and even then this must be done with caution. And here I enter upon a wide field in my scheme of education. Devoted to poetry as I am, I cannot but feel solicitude about the erroneous ideas which even our best poets haye suffered themselves to entertain with regard to the origin of man, and his relation to other existences. I see, therefore, that emendated editions of onr best classics, with copious notes, are imperatively called for. Here, for instance, is a case in point. In Handet, Act I., scene 1, when Horatio is asked, ' Who is there ?' he answers, Tlie Ladles Edinburgh Maga^ine^ 163

'Apiece of him.' Now, by this-answer Horatio errs in calling his body ' a piece of him',' as if it were possible for his mind to be separate from it. He ought to have said, ' Horatio is here present in totality, as a result of evolution.' For the object I have in view, I should think an annotated edition, not only of Hamlet, but of Shak- spere's Tempest, would be eminently useful, specially for the interest about Caliban. For it would show how Shak- spere erred in his idea of the half-brute, half-man, by making Caliban show a highly-developed feeling for nature, while his other powers were still in the semi-brutal condition. Yet to perform such a task it would be necessary to work out from observation and experience the true idea of a missing link, which we should find to be far removed from fehakspere's idea (if, indeed, that Avriter ever contemplated the possibility of such a ligament being sought for), and still further from Browning's speculative philosopher in fishes' clothing. " But let us pause now; I will not weary you to-day. That you may, however, better understand the subjects with which I am occupied, so as to be more able to assist me, I shall advise you to read some of those scientific volumes which I am procuring in monthly parts, and which, though in a popular form, contain really all that is necessary for our purpose." Randall was not sorry when Trevor thus released him from further work for that day. Wonder was for the present so strong within him, that doubt had scarcely begun to assert itself. It Avas now only two o'clock, and he was his own master till seven. He took his hat and strolled out. The sun was at its height, and he mechanically chose a path Avhere shade and solitude combined their charms. The high beechen hedge gave a bioad enough shade for one person to walk in; and when it ended, he found himself in a plantation of young trees. Here a flight of rustic steps led up to a charming Swiss chalet. Ascending a stair to a gallery running round the upper storey of this rustic edifice, he seated himself on a bench, and began to gaze around him. Trees were on every side, save in front, where a stretch of grass sloped downwards to the river Alyn, and formed a pleasant haunt for a herd of roe-deer. Some white clouds were slowly sailing with the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves on the trees. Such a tranquil scene might well have chased away care from a mind more perturbed than Randall's. With 164 The Ladies EdinburglL Magazine. him it seemed to have power, not only to soothe, but to stimulate to reflection. Opening a volume he had brought ■with him, he was soon deeply engrossed in its contents ; and from the deep earnestness of his expression, it was evidently not a book of an amusing kind. For the next three weeks at least, almost every day found him again at the chalet, employed in the same way. Every morning he wrote for three hours to Trevor's dictation; occasionally he rode or drove with him in the afternoon, but more usually he was left to his own devices. What led him to spend so many quiet hours in reading? Had the spirit of study at length possessed him, after tarying so long? Had he some private end in view? Time will show; but, in the mean time, we do not think that he is working out the views upheld by Trevor. It was late one afternoon in July, about three weeks after Randall had gone to reside at Glanhafon, that he was sitting as usual on the bench at the chalet, when he heard a panting sound close at hand, and looking up, saw his dear Newfoundland dog, come to see him all the way from the White House. The dog ran up to him, licked his hand, wagged its tail violently, and made other demon- strations of extreme joy at seeing its master. "Ah, Bodo !" said Randall, "so you have found me out at last;" and here followed a long affectionate address to the dog, which we will not repeat, as our readers are probably acquainted, from their own experience, with the things which are usually said on these occasions. At the end of this philo- zoic rhapsody, however, he remarked, "Ah, you are looking towards the house, Bodo! Is some one there whom you have brought with you?'' He rose from his seat, and followed the dog as it bounded along the footpath by which it had come. As he comes nearer the mansion-house, whom does Randall see walking towards it from another direction? Squire Trevor, with Mrs. Holme on his right hand, and on his left,—not the patron saint of Chester, but her namesake. PROCLA.

(7b be continued.) The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 165

(bht Srarron ai i\)t t^oxih,

C H A P T E K VI.

" Choose the darkest part o' the grove, Such as ghosts at noonday love, Dig a trench and dig it nigh Where the bones of Laius lie ; Altars raised of turf or stone, Will th' infernal powers have none ; Answer me if this be done ! ' 'Tis done.'"—DRYDEN.

WE turned inland towards the mountains, and as we moved among the shattered rocks, I foimd myself confiding all my grief to Syades. Far overhead I could see a spark of light shining from the watch-tower of Castle Asile, and anon Syades, pushing aside some bushes, discovered a built entrance in the steep cliff-side. Here Ave knocked, and there came a woman to the door, quiet and well apparelled, not young nor old, but silent and sad. We entered, and sat in a small yet high room, the roof being the living rock, and a great fire burning at one end; over it hung a caldron, and beyond, the low-arched blackness stretched away without bounds. " And so, poor youth, thou art pining away from fierce longing to fulfil thy life. Well, thy heart shows thee the way to walk in, the only goal of happiness for thee. Walk on bravely, then, and fear nothing: how say the Northmen % ' Faint heart never won fair lady.'" " It is cruel mockery to speak thus to me!" I exclaimed : but Syades seemed, as he answered, to grow taller and more commanding. " Listen, boy. Did I not tell you that, renouncing joy, I had followed wisdom and power only ? The joy I have relinquished for myself I can give to others. I can give you all you desire ; 1 know how you can win wealth, power, and Hertha. I know also how you may lose them all. I scorn to deceive you in aught; there must be a compact between us: I shall give you happiness; you must increase my power. I have cast your horoscope, and know both the hopes and the dangers. First, you have taken no binding life-vows." "No," I said; "even the time of my novitiate has expired." " Then the first step is to renounce the cloister and vow obedience to me." " To you, a Saracen! I dare not, I cannot."

No. 6.—JUNE 1875. 166 llie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

" Listen, fool. This vow in no way interferes with your religion, with which I desire not to meddle. Many Christians have taken it; it more concerns your joining a society of craftsmen of our Art, who may greatly aid you, than anything else. You shall be one of a band of brothers sworn in all things laAvful to help each other; you shall help me to a lost treasure, indeed my own; and when these promises are made, I give you at once wealth, power " " And Hertha ? " "And Hertha—but for one obstacle which needs a further step. The Stars, the IntelHgences round, who know more than we, all give the same rede. That obstacle is Herser Thorstein. Not that Hertha loves him, but that he loves her, with all the strength of his fierce, uncurbed soul. He will win her or kill her; he is far too strong for thee, my poor Laurentio, without my aid ; with it we may subdue him. But for that to come to pass thou must take a further oath of enmity against Thor- stein. Swear neither to forgive nor spare him, and all is done." "But," I faltered, "such an oath is not allowed to a Christian man." " I thought some monkish scruple might come in the way," said Syades, contemptuously^ " therefore I told thee all, not to entrap thy delicate fancies. But if, indeed, thy Christianity permits this Avild heathen to seize thy Christian bride, to treat her cruelly when he has her—for fierce love and indiflPerence never are happy together—it is not the Christianity of your knights and champions who swear to destroy the enemies of your faith, not the Christianity of your offices, where you chaunt — Qui oderunt te, Domine, oderam, Perfecto odio oderam illos: et inimici facti siint mihi." " I will—I will oppose him to the death; but an oath of enmity—I dare not take it; and he has only been kind to me, though I hate him. Oh! Heaven forgive me! I hate him!" " His kindness would soon go, did he not despise you too thoroughly to care for your adoration of Hertha. Credit me, if he thought of you as a rival he would have you scourged out of the ship. Do you know what a man of blood he is, outlawed from Norway for manslaughters? they call his sword Death's-touch, tliey call him Kilhng- Thorstein. No, there is but one good use for him in the The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 167 world, which I will now show thee. Vivia," he said, turning to the woman, "canst thou find nothing further; is all btill in the Cento Colonne ? " "All is still," she said. "Methinks the Dragon has wandered forth, or gone deeper down, for I have thrown down many a torch, which has gone out before there was the glimmer of a scale." " Or it may be the foul vapour rises," he said. " Neycr heed ; we will look for ourselves, Laurentio, if, indeed, thou art not too weary, for the way is long, and the fetid air is dangerous." Syades, the sti'ange woman, and I walked a long way, first in underground cavernous passages, then for awhile in the night air, following some trace the woman only knew through the darkness, for a heavy fog had blotted out the stars. At last we came where a faint sky-reflection showed the ghmmer of a waste of waters, shallow, as I judged from the black fringes of sedges that stood out of them here and there. " Beware here of the air," said Syades, giving me a little box of strongly aromatic spice to hold to my nostrils. Now again we turned underground, carrying torches, one alight, and descended some steps into a huge black space, the depth below and the walls around being equally im- penetrable to our feeble light. But within the circle of its raj-s I saw a feAv columns, stately, shapely, and perfect, telling of endless vistas of them leading away and away, melting into the darkness. The place was to me most awful, a still portal to the Infernal regions, like an unhallowed death, presaging a terriljle aAv.dving. It seemed not less so when Syades called for more light, kindled several torches, and fliuig them far, illuminating for an instant a forest of pillars, and then falling, instan- taneously extinguished below. "Is there water down there?" I asked. " No," said Vivia, " poison—poisoned air. You would die like that fire were you to descend the steps further." " You know," said Syades, " how Castle Asile had long been held by my people, and how four years ago it Avas torn from them by these Northmen, of whom Rainulf was one. May the curse of the Prophet light on him! El Arish, Avho ruled in Asile, had gathered together great treasures, and hidden them; so when they slew him, no man knew where to find them. My art points to this spot, but they are guarded by a familiar spirit he had 168 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. evoked, it may be, in the form of a dragon; it may be that the dragon, who has been seen here, is but a strange accident. Certain it is that one sacrifice, one human sacrifice, the spirit must have, before mortal man can touch the treasure.^ Here, then, lies your way with Thorstein ; I will aid you to contrive that he should be this sacrifice. Nothing easier ; it is only to show him how he can win from Rainulf the honour of killing the dragon, and then all will go well. If we find the treasure, you are absolved from your oath to me, for I shall go into far lands for life; and as for Thorstein, the world will be none the worse for having a bloody heathen pirate the less in it. I show your course ; you need not decide now to follow it." He turned from the fearful place, and soon I breathed more freely, even in the heavy night air, without the caverns. " Who would think now how fair a region this was in the time of the old gods, before the Christians held the land," said Syades. " See, all this dreary overflow of the little river yonder has only come because the way of the water into the great cistern has been blocked up ; so it settles and stagnates into this foul marsh, and the poisoned air has settled in the cistern below, where the clear water used once to lie stored for baths and water-supply for the glorious Romans. It has become, as your prophets say, an abode of satyrs, an habitation of dragons; yet half a day's labour witli an axe, and the water would run into its old channel; the poison would be gone, but the treasure would be lost for ever. Ah! how the land smiled when Pallas and Aphrodite were honoured here—wisdom and beauty, instead of ignorance and foulness! How is it cursed beneath the sway of your unwashed saints!" We were climbing as he spoke over rougher, wilder ground in a rocky gorge, Avhich let little of the faint starlight penetrate its depths, till I was aware of a square doorway with sloping jambs and a narrow lintel, such as often leads into ancient tombs, exit in the rock. The door yielded to the touch of Syades, and gave admission to a fair chamber with columns on either side, and stone seats running round what might have been called the apse, before which stood a tripod or altar. All was empty and silent, shown by a strangely diffused bluish light. Syades

' Even within the present century it was popularly supposed that such a treasure existed concealed in a grotto near Xaples, which could only be found by means of a human sacrifice, and the unpopular old King Ferdinand was accused of intending to sacrifice a new-born child for this purpose. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 169 pointed to a stone seat near the entrance, and as I sat down,—" Once more," he said, " qniet thy scruples; wealth and Hertha are offered to thee; thy religion is left unas- sailed; art thou willing ? " "I am," I answered; and Syades said— "Look then on this talisman; look steadily, and never cease to wish for her it dimly figures forth." He put into my hand a gold coin; on it was embossed a fair head, very like Hertha, and I gazed on and on. I cannot describe how all my being seemed drawn into one narrow line, till even that dAvindled, and I only knew of the face, and that Syades stood by and waved and Avound his hands, as though Aveaving some Aveb around me. I knoAv not hoAV long it Avas ere, at a signal, I looked up Avith dazzled eyes, and saw Hertha herself, as it seemed, floating in air, yet stooping like an angel out of the dim blue light, and smiling sweetly on me. And this vision haunted me through all that folloAved that night. Then Syades spoke, but his voice sounded far and faint, " Swear to obey me, as a vassal his lord, as a squire his knight, as a monk his abbot,—Giuro" " Giuro" I said, and " E giurato " sounded in deep chorus all round the room; and I became aAvare, but, as in a dream, Avith no surprise, that in every seat Avas a black- robed form, and where the tripod had stood a fire was burning on the ground. " Thou hast SAvorn it on Cross and Koran ; is it Avell sworn ? " said Syades, who now grasped both my hands. I answered, " Yes," and again the echo came in startling force from the veiled figures. And noAv began the strange sei'vitude to Syades the Saracen, Avhich so marred my life. Where he beckoned, there I folloAved; Avhat he commanded, that I did: save with a strong effort, all choice for me seemed gone. When he fixed his black eyes on me, I read in them his commands, and he seemed aAvare of my inmost thoughts. Alas! when I hardly kncAv if he were man or fiend, the bondage seemed closest, the chain most firmly riveted. And now he led me forwards toAvards the fire, round Avhich lay Aveapons, and sqi;ares, and triangles; and I can tell little more, for some of the oaths Avhich I SAvore one after another, invoking terrible imprecations on their betrayal, as they concerned not me, but the Society to Avhich they admitted me, I can never be absolved from. Sufiice to say that I learnt to know, and swore to serve, many per- 170 The Ladies'' Edinhuryh Magazine.

sons thus bound together, and in some sort connected with various crafts, chiefly my own of building. There came also an oath not to reveal aught of what I had seen that night of the Dragon's Lair, save and only when permitted by Syades. And again, at his commaiid, I renounced the cloister, and he drew off my novice's gown, and with my own hands I thrust it into that unhallowed fire, already burning dimly with blood of victims. Then Syades spoke—" Brethren, is there an enemy for this neophyte to guard against, to fight against—who should perish by his hands l " And the answer came—" Thorstein Sigurdson, his foe and ours." " Swear, then." said Syades, " never to spare him by land or sea; swear to save from him his helpless victim ; swear not to be reconciled to him, save in word, and to wait only time and place to destroy him as you would an evil beast of prey ; and burn this in token of the oath." And he gave me two sticks bound together in a cross by a scroll, on which I could trace the words Thorstein Sigurdson. I held it in my hand. As I said, I was like a man half asleep, yet some echo of old days struggled through the evil dream Avhich oppressed me, and there was silence. My hand held the cross above the fire, when from very far away came the faint clang of some convent bell ringing for Nocturna; Vigilce, and the Cloister—the pure, calm Cloister—seemed for a moment to close round me, when Syades suddenly struck my hand so that the cross dropped into the fire, and the wild voices shouted, '• E giurato I" " No, no," I said, and strove to clutch the cross, but caught only yielding scorching flame. A shriek seemed to rend the roof, the fire blazed high, and as I fell to earth, wild forms seemed whirhng and blackening round me, and shapes of horror rose through the gloom, which darkened as my senses left me, and a long insensibility followed. When I woke, I at first could recall nothing. I was in a fair chamber, a high window let in daylight, and I lay on a soft bed. The walls were painted with bright devices of genii and dancing girls ; vases of ancient shape and a marble bath and a shining mirror I could see ; all was of a luxury I had only before seen in passing glimpses of rich men's chambers. As I turned, my hand struck a little bell, the sudden tinkle of which was answered by a young serving-man, who entered, saying— Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 171

" Does it please ray lord to rise, or shall I bring refreshments iirst? " " I shall rise, nothing ails me; but where am I, what place is this ? " " This is your own Castle of Asile, my lord; but all questions, I was told, should be answered by the sage Syades, who waits his excellency's pleasure." And then it all rushed back to me, and I directed that as soon as I was dressed Syades might come. And so I took the perfumed bath, and found ready for me secular garments—the surcoat of rich dark velvet, a nobleman's jewelled cap and phime. Even my crucifix was gone ; but roimd my neck I found the gold medal with Hertha's face, and left it there. I glanced round the room, half fearing that my eyes should meet some heathen emblem, but was so relieved at seeing a silver crucifix over the bed that I put off till I was dressed the orison that was yet not said, when Syades entered the room. The servant followed with food, of which I now felt the want. " A fair greeting, my Lord Laurentio," said Syades, as the man left the room. " Yes, you have much to ask— but eat first. That long ceremony of which we shall now speak no more tries young nerves. Know you how long you have slept? From Tuesday at dawn till Wednesday afternoon ! Eat—all is well over, and then come to the friends who await you." Syades spoke courteously and respectfully, but I felt his strange poAver over me from the moment he entered the room. I was trained in obedience, no doubt; but never to the Prior nor to Era Anselmo, nor to the Superior himself, had my obedience been as prompt and easy as to Syades. And so I ate while he continued his discourse, letting me know about myself without exactly relating anything. " It was no small joy to me when I went back to your convent at Caserta, under whose walls I was wrecked more than twenty years ago, to see what a fine young man you had grown, you, the beautiful child, the only son of the Marquis, whom I had saved at the storming of this castle. Had you been a poor spiritless moulding, I would have left all this alone, but now you can prosper; all is at your feet'; nor is this a face and form that fair ladies are wont to scorn." As he spoke, he held to me a mirror, and in the dark-eyed youth, clad in a lordly dress, I could hardly recognise the humble novice of Caserta. 172 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

How was it with myself?—did I indeed cast off my former life as lightly as Astolfo ? As yet I hardly knew ; 1 seemed still to dream, but yet the thought came with a tumult of joy, that I was now in some ways the equal of Hertha. I said little, however, and I believe I slept again beneath Syades' waving hands, for it seemed quite dark when he beckoned me to follow him, and we left the room together, passing through long empty corridors. Now high doors opened on wide valves, and a great hall, all glittering with torches, appeared before me, thronged with peo^ile. All the brilliant figures bowed, every plumed hat was doffed, as I advanced down the hall. Music pealed from the galleries above ; who was it ?—Old Fazio di Forli, who advanced towards me reverently bowing, and offering golden keys on a broidered cushion said, " These to our long-lost lord, the Marquis Lorenzo d'Asile."' It was Valeria herself, who came forward with a shy sweet smile, saying, "Brother, all the weary weight of land and power I give back so willingly to the real lord, only give me a little love ;" and she embraced me before them all. It was Astolfo, dressed like a nobleman, who seized my hand, saying, " Let me first greet the Marquis ; " continuing in an undertone, " and so, my Laurentio, the monks told Syades thou wert the boy who was wrecked with him after their storming of tliis castle—the boy Syades was carrying off to his own land; and Thorsteiu knew Swend would never trouble Valeria more, if her brother were found and she were not the heiress, and so he aided thee : but Valeria is better than an heiress ; she is the sweetest lady that ever resigned a coronet." Now I returned their greetings silently, for again a dream, but qiiite another one, came over me. I knew that great hall again, but I seemed to see it larger and wider, filled with as great a multitude, but rushing to and fro with shotiting and shrieking, and blood and flame. Above the high seat where the escutcheon -vVas carved in stone, I seemed to be aware of a lady, doubtless my mother, who then carried me in her arms, who moved or hid something; and as I mounted the steps, I laid my hand-on the sculptured stone just where she did so many years before—a spring yielded to my finger, which slipped in, and on it sparkled, as I withdrew it, a ring of one great emerald, and graven on it my father s device, for it was his signet-ring, lost from the day the castle was taken; and as I held it up, the old retainers Tlie Ladles' Edhihurgh Magazine. 173 knew it, and shouted for joy; and I felt within myself that it was all true, and that I was indeed the Marquis d'Asile. Yes, it was no dream, it was true, that at the banquet I sat on the high seat, with Swend the sea-king on my right hand, and Kolbiorn next, translating what he said. " So Syades says thou wouldst fain wed Hertha, and art ready with a gift for me. Well, thou shalt have her. He told me a few days ago thou wert the undoubted lord of the castle. Our women are subject to their fathers or to the head of the father's house till marriage; then, indeed, they are free, and will live with no man Avho does not suit them. Mind thou that, and please her well, brother-in-law, and make her love thee," and he struck me gaily on the shoulder, " and we w411 hold the marriage feast next week, for I am off to the war, and wish for no woman on board." And so, in festival and rejoicing and song, the evening sped away; and yet to me how far more joyous than the carousal of the night was the anticipation of the morrow ! E. J. 0. (^To he continued.)

I SLEEP on the mountain, I rise with the sun. And swift to the valley I noiselessly run; I wander in forests beneath the green trees. And follow the birds as they sport in the breeze. When day is advancing and noontide is hot I love the seclusion of some retired spot. Where, hid in a sheltered and cool airy nook. On the landscape in sunshine I pensively look. And tinge with my pencil each object so bright. To soften the radiance of Sol's dazzling light. Though homely in aspect, and sombre in hue, My touch will give beauty and charm to the view; A scion of darkness, a daughter of night. My figure must spring from the rays of the light. Claiming half of the woi'ld, I am modest withal, Contented to follow the great and the small; This arrangement, however, I sometimes resent. And venture to herald a coming event!

Xo. S. - JUKE 1875. 174 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine.

The forms I assume are most varied and strange, Every person and thing I include in my range— The hut and the palace alike I may storm, So noiseless my footstep, so subtle my form. I look very charming when loyally seen Behind a fair Princess, and robed like a Queen. Anon, I'm a monkey, and then I'm a bee. At one time a carriage, another a tree ! I strut with a dandy, and walk with a grace When I follow a lady in jewels and lace; I run on four legs, and a tail I unfold, And personate freely the young and the old. Half hidden by willows, I bathe in the stream, Illumined at night by the moon's silvery beam ; Then under the oak-tree I calmly repose, Or hide from the night breezes under the rose! To resemble each thing is my birthright and dower I imitate all to the best of my power. I resemble the good, but no laurels have won; My head is quite empty, and heart I have none. I resemble the bad amid evil and strife. Yet never did wrong in the course of my life. One object of dread I am called to precede, Fulfilling my mission with sorrow indeed— To the bed of the dying 1 cautiously steal. And there my sad errand in silence reveal. I rest on the brow ere the spirit has passed, And Death follows me o'er the threshold at last. I visit the churchyard, and add to the gloom Of the cedar and cypress o'erhanging the tomb; I lean on the gravestones, and mourn for the dead Who now from my empire for ever have fled. While they enter regions of glory and light, I hasten away to the confines of night! JANE B. BALLANTYNE.

J 0 n a.

" I mo chridhe, I mo ghraidh." (lona the home of my heart, lona the abode of my love.t

THE Pioneer lay opposite Staffa, rolling heavily, and few other cargo of tourists were Avilling to trust themselves The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 175

In the boats and go ashore over the Atlantic swell. There was no rowing into Fingal's Cave this boisterous day, nor even landing near its entrance. We were landed at the other end of the little island, and scrambled first over an expanse of rocks covered with slippery seaweed, then along a terrace or series of terraces fringing the shore, composed of innumerable broken - off" shafts of basaltic columns. The short pillars at the side of the island soon increased in height, and turning the corner, we beheld the magnificent entrance of Fiugal's Cave, that glorious vestibule fronting the ocean, where the lofty, massive, brown, symmetrical colonnades support the superincumbent mass of rock, glowing with golden lichen. No crowds of unsympathetic tourists, no fami- liarity produced by frequent visits, can weaken the impression made by that pillared front of Staffa. Under the new aspect of this day Ave had all that we missed in the halcyon calm of our previous visit. For we enjoyed in perfection the sound referred to by Scott in the well-known passage—

' Where, as to shame the temples decked By skill of earthly architect, Nature herself, it seemed, would raise A Minster to her Maker's praise. Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns, or her arches bend : Nor of a theme less solemn tells The mighty surge that ebbs and swells, And still between each solemn pause From the deep vault an answer draws, In varied tone prolonged and high. That mocks the organ's melody." That was truly a " new sensation." Each wave thundered up the cave, rolling on to its extremity, and as it receded —ere the next followed—there was a moment's hush, and then, drawn from the fretted roof, came that long, deep, musical, tremendous boom, thrilling one like the deepest stop of the grandest organ ever built. It was the Eublimest sound I ever heard. Every time the surf rolled up, it seemed to shake the cave, which was dim with spray. I stood in a niche between two columns, and I could have stood for hours to listen to that wonderful anthem, which at regular intervals swelled through the " temple not made with hands." Looking out seaward 176 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. over the tumbling Avaves, there was the far-famed island of lona, the cathedral tower rising lonely frum the bleak shore. Thither we were soon making our plunging, rolling way, and on all accounts I rejoiced to approach the white sandy extremity of lona. Its green hills, yellow barley fields, tall cathedral, and white cottages, came successively into sight, and we gladly anchored in the comparatively calm waters of the Sound, about a mile wide, which divides lona from Mull. Though among all the islands which fringe the west coast of Scotland, few are less stiiking in outline, less distinguished in natural features, than this little one, dear to all Christendom for its memories ; yet it has a sweet, homely charm of its own, even at first sight. On this sheltered side it has a cheerful, peaceful, inviting aspect, very unlike the character of its western shore, exposed to the full fury of the Atlantic. This is especially felt when it smiles its w^elcome to storm-tossed voyagers, who see in it, as we did, a haven of rest after an unpleasant passage. We landed, and before an hour had passed we watched from the door of our cottage on the shore the Pioneer steaming away with her passengers. Then we triumphantly felt that we were monarchs of all we surveyed, and our right there was none to dispute. The ruins of the Nunnery were near our house, and behind them a green and rocky hill tempted us at once to a climb. The air was cold and pure ; the evening sunshine brilliant, giving a more vivid green to the grass and a brighter purple to the patches of heather that bloomed among the grey crags. On reaching a cairn, marking the top of the hill, we sat down to study the whole island, now spread before us. It is only three miles long, and its breadth varies from a mile to a mile and a-half. The greater part seemed to be a rocky desert. It was a wild, strange view, as the sun sank into the Atlantic. The full moon rose in splendour, and later a broad stream of light lay across the tossing waters of the Sound. The following morning was beautiful. Everything looked bright and joyous, the sunhght bathing green grass and wave-worn rocks, craggy hills and gaunt ruins, white-washed cottages and stranded boats, the blue waves of the Sound, and the Avarm-tinted granite of the opposite coast of Mull. Our first stroll after breakfast Avas along the shore to Martyrs' Bay, where for ages it has been the custom for funerals to land. The coffins were always The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 177 placed on a little grassy eminence, while the procession formed to convey the dead to " lieilig Oran." Up this sandy sliore, to this smooth green mound, and thence along the " Street of the Dead," multitndes of the great of their day have been borne, from distant regions, to sleep in the holy soil of lona. Thus King Duncan was

" Carried to Colm's KiU, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors. And guardian of their bones." I spent the wliole morning in the Martyrs' Bay. The exquisitely clear water assumed hues of vivid green and violet as it ran up the pure white sand. These smooth glittering sands are composed of shells ground finely by the sea, and are strewn with marine treasures, lovely delicate seaweeds, and fairy shells so minute that if it were not for their bright tints the eye could scarcely detect them. We devoted the afternoon to a leisurely survey of the ruins, through which previously we had been hurried with a throng of tourists. The Cathedral, built chiefly in the early part of the thirteenth century, had of course no connection with the most soul-stirring period of lona's history. The oldest edifice is St. Oran's Chapel, dating from the end of the eleventh century; but no building now remaining in the isle can claim to have sheltered Columba or his disciples. This heroic missionary, as is well known, arrived in lona from Ireland in the year 563, with twelve companions. From the end of the sixth to the end of the eighth century, this little island was an illus- trious seat of learning, and centre of missionary operations which extended over Britain, and even to the continent of Europe. The zeal of the "Culdees" for the dissemi- nation of Christianity carried them as far north as Orkney, and as far south as Italy. The localities associated tra- ditionally with that brilliant era are quite out of the reach of tourists, who are landed here for one short hour, few of them knowing what they have come to see, or what history attaches to the bleak ruins through which the guide hastens them. From the sixth to the seventeenth century, lona was called "I," " li," "la," " lo," "Eo," "Hy," "Hi," "Hie," " Y," or " Yi," simply the Island, or " Icolmkill," " I-Columb-Kill," "Hii-Columb- Kille," the " Island of Colunibas Cell" When one passes a few days in lona with the companionship of Heeve's 1T8 The Ladles' Edinburgh Magazhie.

edition of Adamnan's Life of Columha, the early history, standing out so clear amid the mists of the sixth century, becomes wonderfully real and vivid and near. And the isle itself, crowded Avith memories and places of interest, seems to expand into a country. Every creek in the shore, every knoll, every hollow, almost every crag, has a name and a story. Another glorious moonlight night allured us to visit Rcilig Oran between nine and ten o'clock. Passing the ruins of the Nunnery, passing Maclean's Cross, standing beside the way glistening in the moonlight, Ave entered surreptitiously by a gap we had noticed in the afternoon. and stood within the halloAved enclosure,

" Where rest from mortal coil the Mighty of the Isles." " Where, beneath the showery west, The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid."

Forty-eight kings of Scotland, eight kings of Norway, and four kings of Ireland, are said to have been buried here. But of the ancient royal tombs no trace remains, except certain heaps which mark the foundations of the chapels erected over them, and which are called still lomaire van High, " Ridge of the Kings." Strange in the pale light looked the grim figures lying in effigy on flat tombstones, chieftains whose names made the isles tremble, their galleys carved above their heads, gigantic swords at their sides, the sculpture and the Latin inscriptions fresh as if done yesterday. Among the crowded slabs which commemo- rate warriors, abbots of " Y," and great men of many ages, one or two plain modern tombs stand erect, with the names of a Mackay or a Macdonald, " Tenant in Icolmkill." What an impressive scene ! I stood among the dust of centuries, looking on the moonlit Sound of lona. A resplendent glitter stretched across its restless Avaters; beyond, in dark outline, rose the low rocky hills of Mull, and to the left the ruins of the Cathedral Avere black against the shining Avaves. No sound broke the solemn silence, except the distant crash of the sea among the cluster of rocky islets off the point of the Ross of Mull. On entering the roofless chapel of St. Oran, I Avas startled. It Avas very dark inside, and a figure, Avith sword by his side and galley over his head, stood up against the wall, Avhite in a stream of moonlight. Such an " eerie " feeling came OA-er me that I scarcely dared Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 179

.to go forward and satisfy myself that the appai-ition was solid stone. The next day was the perfection of beauty. Inna did not look "placed far amid the melancholy main," but a "precious stone set in the silver sea"—one of " the green islands of glittering seas." The serene water was streaked with brilliant green and lilac, and Eileanura, "the Isle of Storms," seemed tied to the north point of lona by a band of deep purple. We had the amusement to-day of seeing the tourists come and go, and we appreciated our delightful solitude all the more after the hour of stir and commotion which brings all lona to the neighbourhood of the landing-place. The Pioneer was leaving, and we watched her steaming away over the summer sea, tracking with white its intense blue, ere we started for a long expedition. We had the great advantage of having for our guide a gentleman thoroughly acquainted with the history of the island, a native of lona, who for some years had been a missionary in India, and was now at home on a visit. The day had reached its culmination of loveliness, the granite shores of Mull glowed with their warmest pink, the Sound wore its most enchanting blue, the cliffs of Burgh, the isles of Ulva and Gometra, and the towering peak of Benmore, were all steeped in the richest azure. Mr led us southwards by a road through level barley-fields, possessing no interest except that which attaches to every foot of loua, and no beauty except the lavish sunshine that poured down on them. But it was here, doubtless, that Columba and his associates (who were as practical as heroic) worked with their hands, and taught tlie inhabitants how to cultivate the soil. As we walked, our friend read to us the pathetic narrative of the last liours of the saint, by his disciple aud successor, Adamnan. The road, straight as a Roman " street," at last turned ofi" towards the west, and we had a view of the boundless Atlantic on the other side of the island. The first of the objects of our walk was '■'■ Cnoc-an-AingeV in Gaelic, " Colliculus Angelorum" in Latin, in English "The Angels' Hill," where legend says Columba used to converse with angels when he went forth to pray and meditate at eventide. It is a lovely spot, a softly-swelling, smooth, green eminence, covered with close, fine, lawn-like grass, spangled with wild flowers, large geraniums, eyebright, scabius, and milkwort. The contrast is 180 The Ladies" Edinhurgh Magazine. remarkable between this sweet mound and the rough, rocky character of the lona hills in general. It seems as if the " Footprints of Angels " had left a blessing there. Reclining on the soft flowery slope, we drank some delicious milk brought to us from an adjacent farm, and dreamed of the past. One can well believe this was a favourite resort of Columba, who was a poet as well as a saint, and can imagine him watching from here many a sunset over that illimitable ocean. The sea view is very grand, and we had as a foreground a beautiful level green plain, " The grassy Machar, Soft and smooth, lona's pride." Rugged, craggy hills rise out of this green plain, like isles out of the sea, and north and south of it the coast is rocky and fantastic, tortured into the strangest forms by the force of the Atlantic. Between the rocky headlands there are tiny bays, with shores of pure white sand. In one wild iron-bound bay is the celebrated " Spouting Cave." We had not time to go down to it, but we could see the jets of spray shooting high into the air at intervals, as the waves rushed into the cave, and were forced upwards through the aperture in its roof. Leaving the sweet Cnoc-an-Aingel behind, we crossed one more field of ripe barley, and, turning from the cultivated region, we struck into a huddled mass of rough wild hills and bald crags. Soon we found ourselves in a very singular glen, a long, level hollow, neatly walled in by steep hills on all sides but one, where it sloped down towards the sea. There was something weird about the look of this place, and its complete solitude and silence. It is Gleann an Teampull, " The Glen of the Temple," where the Culdees are said to have built a place of worship. Some eay it was the site of a monastery, destroyed in 1203. Our guide now led us in and out, up and down, among hills and crags. It was a wilderness, a labyrinth, where a stranger would need a compass to guide him, or he might wander round and round, and imagine the island to be ten times the size it really is, so strangely is it tossed up, the hills are so like each other, and there is no semblance of a path anywhere. We had still occasional glimpses of the sea, but clouds were rising out of it; the sky was already half overcast, and the wind began to whistle. At last we came to a lonely dell, high up among The Ladle.H Edinburgh Magazine. 181 the hills, and Mr, -, stopping short, said, " Here is the celebrated Cathan Cuildich." This is the most interesting spot in lona, the " Culdees' Cell," pointed out by tradition for ages as the place where Columba and his associates fii-st set up Christian worship. Fantastic rocks enclose the green hollow except on one side, where the opening is filled up by the grand view of the Atlantic, with a few islands in the distance. It is strikingly wild, secluded, and picturesque, just such a place as would be chosen for the celebration of a Highland communion. In the middle is a circle of masonry, overgrown with grass. Here, probably on the site of Druidical rites, those apostolic men worshipped God. These crags must have echoed back their hymns of praise: they must have looked on that sea. Here was first planted the standard of the Cross which was upheld so bravely; here was first kindled the light which burned so brightly and shone so far. " There shall be -a handful of corn in the earth, upon the top of the mountains; the fruit thereof shall shake like Lebanon." We left Cathan Cuildich very reluctantly, ascended and descended many little hills, crossed many bogs, climbed many dykes, and at last saw the top of the cathedral tower rising as a landmark by which to steer our course. Dunii, the highest hill in lona, was now on our left. A broad, grassy, level causeway, known as " the Bishop's Walk," soon brought us to the familiar road, a little beyond the Cathedral. The sky by this time was black with clouds, the wind was blowing in heavy gusts, and the Sound was strangely changed from the brilliant blue of the morning. We had scarcely reached cur cottage before the storm began," and it raged furiously all night. Wlien Ave looked out in the morning, we felt indeed " Placed far amid the melancholy main ! " The Sound was covered with foaming, rolling waves, and the rain was driving wildly from the south-west. The tempest howled through the cottage, and as the day went on, the screeching under the doors and through the keyholes became so intolerable that, for the sake of peace, we set all the doors open, and alloAved the wind free passage. It had been arranged that this day should be spent in an expedition to Port-a-Churraich, "The Bay of the Coracle," or of the " Wicker Boat"—the scene of Columba's landing —at the south end of the island. Till late in the afternoon, we hoped the weather might improve and allow us

No. 6.—JDHK 1875. 2 A 182 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. to go there by land, though not by boat; but the storm increased in violence every hour, and Ave were obliged to give it up. This was very disappointing, for, next to Cathan Cuildich, the bay where Columba first set foot on this shore is tlie most interesting place in lona. We had a second wild night. I can understand what an old resident in lona said to me, that often during a winter hurricane at night, with everything quivering, and the spray flying from shore to shore, she felt as if the little island must break from its moorings, and be half- way to America before morning! The gale, however, moderated considerably abcmt noon, and soon all was blue and bright again. I found the Martyrs' Bay strewn with seaweeds of enormous size, three colossal specimens of which I dragged with toil and labour to our cottage. I determined to turn the short time that remained to us in lona to good account by climbing Dun-ii. Though this hill is only 330 feet high, it is a steep and difficult climb, as it rises very abruptly, and is almost entirely a a mass of bare rock. I sat long, leaning against the cairn on its top, to take in at leisure the wild and glorious view. Scott's lines were ringing in my head—

" The Abbot comes ! " they cry at once, " The holy man, whose favoured glance Hath sainted visions known. A ngela have met him on the way, Beside the blessed Martyrs' Bay, And by Columba's Stone : His monks have heard their hymnings high Sound from the summit of Dun-Y, To cheer his penance lone." Thirty islands are visible from Dun-ii—from Skye in the north to Islay in the south. Looking west and south, the vast Atlantic stretched, blue, but still agitated and foamy, chafing the sterile shores of loiia, breaking over its rocky points in clouds of spray, burying in white surf its attendant islets, and raging in the bay that contains the Spouting Cave, where the jets seemed shooting up to a height of sixty or seventy feet. North, I saw Staffa with the white breakers at its base, and the strange chain of the Treshnish Isles, and on the east the narrow Sound parted lona from Mull. 1 looked over the whole of the little isle, Avhich has attracted for so long the interest of Christendom—an interest growing still. Except the fer- The Ladies Edinhurgh Magazine. 183 tile "Machar," it looked a craggy wilderness, one of the wildest of the " hoarse Hebrides." What a history lay mapped out below me ! There, at the south end, was the locality where Columba landed, and made this tempest- nru'sed island " the glory of the West." There, near the bay, was the hill, to the top of which Columba, after coming ashore, sent one of his friends, to ascertain whether any trace of the Irish coast was yet visible on the horizon, for on this point depended his remaining in Hy. Being assured that Ireland was finally out of sight, the great missionary, turning his back for ever on the native country that was too dear to him, ordered his vessel to be buried, keel upwards, deep under the white beach, and set his face to the solemn life-work he had chosen. Hence that hill is called Carn-Cul-n-Erin—"Hill of the Back to Ireland." Not far from the base of Dun-ii, I could trace the hollow where the Cathan Ciiildich remains still, sole monument of the pure worship established in 563. On the other side, there was the Martyrs' Bay, and the road along which, century after century, when tlae memory of Columba had given sanctity to the very soil, funeral processions had passed from thence to Reilig Oran. I thought of the succession of zealous missionaries who, during the golden age of Hy, had left these grey shores, to evangelise not only the British Isles, but France, Switzerland, Germany, and Italy ; and then of the darkening days which set in at the end of the 8th century, when again and again the Norse rovers descended here, ravaging, burning, and slaughtering— " They have lighted the islandH with ruin's torch, And the holy men of lona's Church In the temple of God lie slain." The Cathedral and the other ecclesiastical buildings suggested to me a new period in the history of lona, after the obliteration of the Culdee order. The two plain Presbyterian kirks were significant of a later era; and thus, looking from the top of Dun-ii over this little sea-girt space three miles long, thirteen centuries seemed to unroll themselves. It would have been easy to spend hours in that eloquent solitude, but 1 saw the Pioneer in the distance, just making her way round Staffa—an unwelcome object, warning me to descend. When I returned to our cottage I found groups already formed on the beach to wait the coming of the steamer. 184 TIic Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

She had only seven or eight passengers to-day, and her trip had been a very rough one. AVe did not get on board without much tossing and difficulty, fur the Monk's wave was rolling heavily between the shore and the anchorage. We were soon away. The cheerful village passed out of sight, last of all the tall Cathedral tower; and then the rugged shore, where Avind and spray leave scarcely a trace of green, looked like an uninhabitable island. The pitching of the steamer increased every minute as we approached the open Atlantic. No sooner had Ave emerged from the Sound of lona than we encountered a wild sea in getting round the point of the Ross of Mull. We were in an archipelago—rocky islets on all sides, the sea raging among them: they were one moment buried in the snowy surf, the next showing again their dark shapes, the water pouring down them like an infinity of cataracts. The coast of Mull here consists of huge blocks and slabs of reddish granite, thrown one upon another, with hardly a vestige of vegetation. High up these the sea rushed, bursting into clouds of spray. There are a multitude of sunken rocks, in addition to the visible ones, and the Pioneer's course lay close to the shore—so close that one imagined that each wave, as it came on, must hurl her on those savage crags. It was an exciting scene. The " floods clapped their hands; " the Pioneer rolled so that no passenger could pretend to keep his footing; and amid flying spray, and dazzling foam, and the sunlight glint- ing on the enormous waves, and a general joyous uproar of waters, we had our last view of lona. Once round the southernmost point of Mull, we were in a quieter sea. This was my first visit to lona, but not my last. 1 have been no exception to the ancient rule—

" There never yet came one to Ee, But he did com* times three." H. A. B.

Roman's Witix\\.

INTRODUCTION.

IN former generations, when the proper sphere of woman was discussed, the question was generally decided by the The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 185 consideration of any course of action being "Avomanly " or " unwomanly." There was and is no fixed standard by which this term can be applied, but this did not render it the less decisive : and under shelter of it, strange incon- sistencies were tolerated. It was '• womanly " to dance or sing before assembled thousands, but it Avas " unwomanly " to speak to a small number, even in behalf of the oppressed or wronged; it was " womanly " to write weak or sentimental novels, but " unwomanly" to approach grave and important subjects; it was " womanly" to appear in the hunting-field, and to be present at the death of the fox, but " unwomanly " to come to the help of the sick and wounded ; it was " womanly " to use the needle, but not the gravers style ; it was "womanly " to starve for want of food, but " unwomanly," or at least unlady-like, to work for self-support. Between the past and present of what is expected from woman, many points of contact exist. Now, as then, she is considered as by nature the guardian of infancy, childhood, and youth ; now, as then, it must be she who so regulates and overlooks domestic matters as to make the wheels of life roll smoothly under her care; now, as then, she must represent and defend the highest form of Chris- tian morality, of self-denying religion, of all-pervading godliness ; and should she ever withdraw from one or other of these high functions, it will be well neither for herself nor for society. But while this is so, and some would greatly limit woman's field of action, many have now wider views regarding them. Statesmen refer to the number of women necessarily thrown on their own resources as a " grave social fact," and remark that among the questions which we have to answer are, "How to manage, when from year to year more and more of our women are becoming self-dependent members of the community ? how to secure to labour its due honour ? how are we to make ourselves believe, and bring the country to beUeve, that in the sight of God and of man labour is honoiurable and idleness is contemptible?" This change has been brought about by various causes: some ascribe it to the greatly increased and rapidly increasing wants of high civilisation, which make it diflfi- cult for the exertion of one to supply the needs of all that are connected with him even by family ties ; others take a more gratifying view of the change, and consider that it has arisen from the higher estimate now made of 18G Tlie Ladies Ediyiburgh Magazine.

woman, in her intellectual nature as well as social position, which would afford her varied powers full scope for development. Some importance is also to be attached to the progress of machinery, which has greatly interfered with the domestic character of female industiy. We must admit, too, that we sometimes look in vain for the chival- rous feelings of the middle ages, when men shielded and cared for all who were less strong than themselves. Experience also has shown that " capability " in various directions is not a question between men and women, but between individuals of either half of the human race; so that the question now arising in many quarters should not be. What can women do ? but. What is it wise or expedient that women should do ? The conviction is now widely spread that it is neither wise nor expedient that a woman should leave unemployed any powers which she can exercise Avith comfort to herself and with advantage to others ; nor is it now considered wise that she should exhaust her strength and injure her health by a continiiance and excess of frivolous occupations aiming at nothing higher than amusement. With this conviction comes the enquiry how she can be more worthily employed ? To this question various answers will be suggested by the mere names of Elizabeth Fry, Sarah Martin, and Florence Nightingale in philan- thropy; of Maria Edgeworth, George Eliot, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning in literature; and of Miss Hosmer, Rosa Bonheur, and Elizabeth Thompson in art. These departments, in their higher aspects, are not however to engage us at present; we propose to consider woman's work on what may be termed its prosaic side —i. e., as a means of providing a livelihood—" gaining money," some would call it; "being independent" is its definition by others. Many of those whom we have named have made their way through difficulties and in spite of opposition which few could overcome; nor is it needful that this should be the only entrance to a successful career. AVith the view of assisting those who propose to qualify themselves for self-support, a series of papers Avill be published in this Magazine, each of which will furnish particulars of one or other of the industries and employments open to educated women—the opportxmities of preparing for them, the pro- bable outlay both of time and money, with the results that may be expected when the time of preparation is Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 187 past. Papers have already been secured, from those whose experience gives weight to what they say, upon the Higher Education of Women—on 8ick-Nursing, Medi- ciue, and Engraving; and others will be provided on Art Employments, Offices in Public Institutions, and Home Employments. The importance of such information must be apparent to all who have noted the rapid changes of circumstances through which many pass in a commercial country like our own; and how often, from sickness or other causes, women are required to be not only self-supporting, but helpful in maintaining others. Even when such a necessity never occurs, those who qualify themselves to meet it have a great advantage in the calmness with which they can look forward to coming years, in the higher health they enjoy from having regular and interesting instead of desultory and aimless occupation, and in the firmness and elevation of character they acquire from pursuing a definite aim for a prolonged period of time. The fitness of woman for mission work has not been adverted to, simply because the many bright examples of women engaged in this work have long made it a recognised field of exertion for them—as it must continue to be. AVhile many other avenues for employment are open to women, none is so lofty an exercise of whatever her powers may be, at home or abroad, in the privacy of the home circle or in the wider sphere of public work, as that by which she seeks to win new subjects to the kingdom of God, or to lead others on to more loyal allegiance to the Prince of Peace, who " by His divine power hath given," to woman as well as to man, " all things that per- tain to life and godliness." PHOEBE BLYTH.

Mcrburrja of €\\nUx. CHAPTER V. THE patron saint of Chester moving towards him in bodily form Avould not have caused Eandall more surprise than did this young ladj-, now clad in pale blue, who walked between his mother and Trevor. For though he had spent all his Sundays at home, the reserve which Mrs. Holme habitually mnintained towards her children, had caused her to withhold from him the fact of the approaching visit of Werburga. 188 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

" Randal]," said Trevor, " let nie introduce you to Mile, de Rehmar. I met the ladies just within the gates, and persuaded them to walk so far with me, by promising to show them the hot-houses, and send them home in the waggonette." In vain did Randall try either to speak or to raise his eyes to Mile, de Rehmar's face ; he had a nervous twitch- ing about the mouth, and a gulping sensation in his throat. Werburga, however, seemed quite at her ease, and in the height of enjoyment. " Ah I " she said, " we have met before, in the Cathedral. I hope you found your friends that day ? " Randall had recovered himself so far as to say " Yes." Then turning to Trevor, she said, " Oh ! it is delightful to breathe this air ; I could sit on the grass here and breathe it for ever." Mrs. Holme looked disapproval, but Trevor answered gaily: " Well, I shall allow you three more breaths of this excellent air, and then I shall beg you to tear yourself away from it, and to inhale a little of the air in my drawing-room. My piano is longing to be heard again; it is suffering as severely as a novice under the vow of silence. Grant us one little song." " Willingly," said Werburga. " I owe you one at least in return for this charming walk." When they had entered the drawing-room, and she was seated at the piano, she said, "What shall I sing? First something sad, and then a merry song to end with ? " " By all means," said Trevor, " make us weep bitterly, and then make us laugh afterwards." "Then I shall sing you papa's favourite melancholy song, called ' Vergebliche Sehnsucht.' Preluding with a few grave chords, she sang the song, of which the first and last verses are here given:—

" Mir traumt', du wolltest kommen Und sitzen neben mir ; Da stand eine grosse Scheidewand, Zwischen mir uud dir. Gibt's denn kein Wiedersehen, Wo Liebe nie erbleicht ? Geister die mich umwehen. Die flUsteni nur ' vielleicht!' "

While she sang this song, Rand was thinklling all the time that he had heard that voice ore, singingbefa merrier The Ladies' Edinburgli Magazine. 189 strain. He liked it even better now. But to look at her, and to hear her sing and talk, it was too much ; he could not realise it. How was it that Trevor could hear all, and yet seem so unconcerned ? To Randall this was an unsolved mystery. " That is beautiful," said Trevor, when she had finished; " but please let us have the gay song at once; if you keep us waiting for it, I shall go mad with melancholy." " Then I shall sing what papa calls my Summer Ballad, because it is somewhat in the style of a ballad, and he thinks it is meant as a rejoicing at the coming of summer. To a graceful and lively strain she then sang these words:—

'' I have walked 'neath silent stars, Asking dewy night to tell Where her fair abode she hath Whom 1 loved, and love so well.

One by one they sink from sight, Comes with dewy step the day, Shows me in her blessed light Her I loved, and love for aye.

Walking in the woods, I said, O ye birds of dawn, I pray, Carol till with airy tread Comes the maid I love for aye.

Chanted loud the little thrush, Bang the lark her silver bell. Till from out a flowering bush Came the maid I love so well.

Then I took her by the hand. Thinking only, all the day, I am walking with the maid Whom I loved, and love for aye." "Ah!" said Trevor, at the close of this song, "that is very different; I feel quite cheerful now." Mrs. Holme tried to make Randall talk to her, and tell her something of his life at Glanhafon, but without success; she could gain only monosyllabic answers. Neither was Trevor in a talking humour after the ladies had left; so, to escape a dull evening, Randall, under the plea of a headache, retired early to rest, and lay awake half the night thinking of Werburga, and also, it must be No. 6.—JusB 1875. 2 B 190 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. owned, feehng somewhat angry with his mother and Trevor for not having informed him of the approaching visit of that young lady. Had he been of a suspicious nature, he might have fancied that they had planned his absence at this time. But he dismissed that idea at once from his mind, as unworthy of consideration. The next morning, after the writing was finished, Trevor said to Randall, " Really it is a mistake to shut ourselves up in this glorious weather, letting the sun peep at us, instead of going out to look him in the face. A truce to writing for one day at least; to-morrow we will let the sun shine upon us all day. Do you know Castell y Waen ? " " Yes," said Randall. " I shall send Jones down to the White House with a request that the three ladies may accompany us thither, and we will call for them to-morrow forenoon." Randall did not study much that afternoon; the thought of a whole day in the society of Werburga was like an immense wave that filled his mind and carried everything else out of it. When the message arrived at the White House, Mrs. Holme and Malvina received it with composure. Wer- burga, however, clasped her hands, and exclaimed in a delighted manner, " Oh ! how charming, to see the interesting old castle, and to have another talk with the clever squire!" Mrs. Holme looked as if on the point of reproving a naughty child. Werburga, however, without seeming to observe this, continued in a low voice to Malvina, " and then to think that we shall escape the visit of Mr. Bernard Wood to-morrow evening; it is too delightful." Mrs. Holme heard this distinctly. " Mademoiselle ! " she exclaimed solemnly, iiut Mademoiselle was already in the midst of another burst of delight, expressed in under- tones to Malvina; so the word and the look were alike thrown away upon her. j\Irs. Holme was an enemy to the unrestrained expression of feeling; she thought that all tidings, whether pleasant or otherwise, should be met with an appearance, at least, of undisturbed equanimity. Wer- burga, on the other hand, had been trained by her father to a frank expression of all her thoughts and feelings; she had learned to mistrust any mood of mind which would not bear such expression, and to banish it accordingly. But that surface equanimity, which formed one of the articles in Mrs. Holme's creed of conduct, might be only like the Tlie Ladies'' Edbihiirgh Magazine. 191 smooth surface of a lake, that at the same time is hiding storms in its bosom, all the more violent because forbidden to appear. The feelings of disapproval now frequently expressed by Mrs. Holme both in word and look towards Werburga, had no hurtful effect upon her brave and courteous nature. Finding that sympathy between them was not to be looked for, she treated Mrs. Holme with civility, and even deference. In her intercourse with others, however, the consciousness tliat she was being inwardly commented on by that lady, did not impose the slightest check on the expression of her thoughts ; it seemed, on the contrary, rather to encourage it. Malvina enjoyed the society of her friend most when her mother was not present. The announcement of an intended visit from Mr. Bernard Wood on tlie evening of the following day had caused Mrs. Holme some uneasiness, for he was not a visitor whom she wished to see frequently at her house. She had been trying to find some pretext for declining the honour of his company, when Trevor's invitation arrived and removed the difficulty. The gratification of Werburga at escaping this visit raised a new wonder in Mrs. Holme's mind. What cause could Mademoiselle have to dislike the man ? That, for the present, remained a mystery. It was a pleasant party that drove, the next morning, between leafy hedgerows, past green fields and under shady branches, away to the south-west of Stretton. The road was level and easy enough at first; the talk was lively; and great amusement was caused by the efforts of Werburga to pick up a few words of Welsh. "I always like to learn languages," she said ; " but this Welsh is so outlandish; I am afraid of it." " Ah ! " said Trevor, " I can teach you a simple enough phrase. It was the first remark of Gryffith when he arrived in Wales,—Gryffith, the frequently baffled, the manacled prisoner, and finally the king of North Wales,— when he landed at Aber Menai from the shores of Ireland, weary and warm and thirsty, he called out to an old long- bearded Druid in white vestments, " Cwrw da! " " It is like the cry of a crow or a sea-gull! " said Wer- burga. " What does it mean? God bless you ! or It is a fine day?" " No indeed; something of a much more mundane character ; it means ' good ale.'" " Gryffith was a sensible man, to ask at once for what 192 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. he wanted," said Werburga; " and I hope all his descendants do the same." The road now began to ascend gradually, and soon became very steep. It was cut out of the side of a mountain, and overlooked a precipitous bank. Mrs. Holme looked slightly nervous, and clutched Randall's arm. Werburga, looking up, saw three tall beech-trees, growing at the top of the mountain, on the verge of the precipice. " Those beeches remind me of the solitary pine-tree in Heine's poem," she said; "what can they be dreaming ofr' " They do not require to dream of anything," said Tre- vor, " when they have such a fine view constantly before them. Look there ! Do you see that grand range of northern hills, with little white houses nestling here and there in the woods on their skirts? And now, look straight down; there is the river Dee, a thousand feet below you, brawling past the famous bridge. Were it only a little clearer we might see the sea to the north-west." Descending the hill on the southern side, the scenery became veiy beautiful, with hill and dale, meadow and forest intermingled. After passing a lake on which a number of swans were calmly floating, they came in sight of Castell-y-Waen. "What is the meaning of the name?" said Werburga; " 'wean' in Scotch means a child." "Yes!" said Trevor; "but 'gwaen' in the Cumbrian language signifies a meadow or unenclosed space." "Well, it is certainly not childish in its appearance. What a noble building, with five towers in front, a large one in the middle, by which we enter! But—oh, horrible!" They had suddenly turned an angle in the avenue to the castle, and beheld, on the level turf close to the road, a table-cloth spread, and covered with viands in abundance. Round it were seen, some sitting, some reclining on the grass, a party, among whom were Mrs. Williams and her daughter Jane, with the two nephews, Miss Columbine Watteau, and—his face enlivened by a broad grin—Mr. Bernard Wood. " He is the inevitable !" said Werburga, in a whisper to Malvina. Then she said aloud, "i\h! there is Mr. Ber- nard Wood! can he have known that we were coming? But to put table-cloths down in this dehghtful scenery I It is profane! " The Jjadies Edinburgh Magazine. 193

Trevor was amused, and ordered the coachman to stop while they exchanged salutations Avith the party. When they drove on, he said with a resigned air, "They are going to follow us up to the castle immediately." Accordingly, when they obtained admission, Trevor acted as if he were determined to see everything worth seeing before the other party should appear. Begging the ladies not to waste time over the pictures and armour in the large hall on the ground-floor, he hurried them upstairs to the principal drawing-room. Here portraits of kings, queens, and other great personages, hung round the walls. Trevor, pointing to one, said, " There is that brave Sir Thomas to whom this house owes its warlike fame; he stood out boldly against Cromwell and Lambert his general. A little further on we have his grandson, whose hospitality has been sung by the bard Huw Morris. It must have been after a handsome entertainment at the castle that Huw composed the penill, where he says that its halls flow with rivers of beer, and that it has m.ountains of bread and beef for all who choose to partake. Poets, after all, like good living; they will praise good wine rather than a sharp sword; at least such seems to have been the case with Huw Morris." " Ah ! you are too severe," said Werburga ; " I believe that starvation and sentiment go together, sometimes at least." " If you think the poets such ethereal beings, let me show you the portrait of a poet's wife. She was the daughter of our hospitable hero, and the widow of an earl when she married Addison. Yet she never forgot her first husband so far as to look on her second as an equal." " Then she was quite unworthy of him," said Wer- burga. " Was it not as great an honour for her to be the wife of a man of genius as to be a countess ?" " Ah! I fear you are literary-mad. Think of the Eosition she held; she could not possibly exalt her usband to it." " Position I" said Werburga ; " I hate position. It is a tyrant which cheats us of our better selves." " It is conventionality you mean," said Trevor ; " that is a different thing." " Yes, but in her case the two went hand in hand; and I despise this conventionality so much, that were it the way to Paradise, I should prefer not to go there." 194 Tlie Ladles Edinburgh Magazine.

" So you are a worshipper of nature and genius," said Trevor ; " who would have thought it ? And may I ask, is it the fine arts alone that you would thus exalt on a pedestal for universal homage '? " " Yes," said Werburga, " the arts alone ; your beloved science should be condemned," she added quietly. " Ah, then you are at open warfare with your father and myself. You dislike scientific studies f •' I dislike the theories to which they lead," she answered ; "they are so many and so groundless. I cannot bear this Darwinism and evolution theory which papa is continually writing about, and which you also seem to dote upon. I have an idea of my own on these subjects, which is suflicient for me." " And pray what may that be ? " " The leather theory," answered Werburga. " The leather theory !" said Trevor in amazement. " I must beg you to explain yourself." " Why, the idea that we are all developed out of old leather. What is more likely ? I am sure Darwinism is not." " Ah ! you are making fun of us," said Trevor. " But here they come !" Mr. AVood and his party now entered the spacious drawing-room. Mrs. Holme advanced to meet them, and was speedily occupied in assisting Mrs. and Miss Williams to admire the view from the windows. Presently Mr. Bernard Wood was to be seen in an earnest tete-a-tete with Mrs. Holme. Had he come here to-day to fulfil the purpose of his evening visit ? Evidently his talk was of a grave nature, for he knitted his brows, and gave sidelong downward glances with his dull grey eyes, as much as to say, This is a serious matter, but I have it on good authority. When Mrs. Holme rejoined the others afterwards she held her head a little more erect than usual, and looked sharply at her son, who at the moment was conversing with Werburga. Eandall and Werburga had not talked much together, they had merely inter- changed sentiments of dislike with regard to such subjects as Randall was engaged in writing upon to Trevor's dictation, when Mr. Bernard Wood came up to them. " Admiring the scenery. Mademoiselle ? " he said, seeing that Werburga had turned from him to look out at the window. Then, with a bland deferential air, he added, " I see you are a person of good taste." " Indeed I hope so, Mr. Wood," said Werburga, coldly. The Ladies' Edinhnrgli Magazine. 195

" No one brought up by such a father as yours could, fail to be so." Werburga could not answer this; coming from another person, it might have been a pleasant remark, but the way in which Mr. Wood spoke gave her an instinctive sense that he was insincere. But then the question rose in her mind, " If he felt no friendship for her or her father, why persist in trying to show it, as he had always done? Why not act in accordance with his real feelings, if they were feelings of indifference ? If of dislike, what then ? " She was thankful when Malvina approached and began to talk with her. They were speedily joined by Trevor; and Randall and Bernard Wood moved off together. " What a nice person Mile, de Rehmar is ! " said Mr. Wood ; " do you know the baron her father ? " " I have not the honour," said Randall. " Then let me give you a piece of friendly advice; do not know him. There is about him, I will confide to you, a mystery which I have never been able to fathom ; some ugly secret, I suspect, hushed up at home, and which he fears may overtake him here." " You do not mean it," said Randall, in an agitated, manner, his eyes flashing fire. " I would it were not so," said his companion, glancing coldly at Randall's flushed face; " but there is something in the presence of that man that tells me he cannot be innocent. If he be so, why shut himself up as he does ? " " He is a student," said Randall, " and all students love seclusion. Mr. Wood, I consider it utterly unnecessaiy f(jr you to spread this calumny; let me beg that you will do so no more ; and for myself, I decline the honour of your society any further." AVith this he bowed slightly, and, turning from Mr. Wood, walked back in the direction in which they had come. He descended the stairs, and going out into the court, found Miss Columbine Watteau there, seated on a brass cannon; she had a headache, and preferred the air. He stood by her, and tried to amuse her by conversation. But he was not in the mood for it, and when the others appeared, he followed his inclination, and wandered away into the woods alone. He threw himself down at the foot of a spreading beech- tree, put his hat over his eyes, and tried to think. The feeling of displeasure with his mother and Trevor had now given place to a stronger feeling against another. The words of Bernard Wood, like a sudden and violent blast, had brought to its height the tempest that racked 19G The Ladies Edinhurgli Magazine.

his soul. Was he not like Orpheus, but without the lute, willing to descend even into Hades to seek the one he loved, and finding himself debarred thence by a three- headed monster that glared on him with cruel eyes, and showed its greedy fangs ? There was the head of doubt and debate; this was the obstacle which represented Trevor and his opinions. Such reflections as these raised in his mind seemed to belong to quite a different sphere from the holy imaginings called forth by the love which he felt. That was a thing which could exalt him to the seventh heaven in self-forgetting adoration, or bid him cast himself into the sea with joy at the bidding of the object of his love. There she sat, enthroned like an angel amid the images which artistic genius had called up around her; while here—! These grovelling conjectures about the nature and origin of man were not to be mentioned in her presence; it was desecration to assert that they were true of a race to which she belonged; he could not think of her and of these things together without an aversion to the latter which must inevitably give them the lie ; for was not love another name for truth % But if these guesses were true, what then ?—a careless, aimless existence like that of the brutes, fit only to be cast into the dust-bin of material waste at its close. If this were all. a truce to higher aspirations. But the monster had two other heads. Alas! one of them had green eyes. Some one was always coming between; Trevor was always there. If she bestowed a few words on him, Trevor was ready, like the lion, to take his share, to take all. And lastly, the insinuations of Bernard Wood. Oh I he knew it was wrong, but he hated that man. The distrust of him which he had always felt had now reached its climax. Henceforward he should meet with nothing but indift'erence from Eandall, possibly something worse. He involuntarily clenched his fist. There was a rustling sound in the tall ferns near him; he looked up, and saw astray fawn that turned towards him its timid, innocent eyes; so tame was the animal. "You are better than some men," said Randall, starting up, and thus frightening the fewn away while he turned to rejoin his party. The desponding fit was over for the present, and he felt comforted by the reflection, that he should spend the following Sunday at home in the society of his mother and sister and Werburga, while neither Trevor nor Mr Wood would be at hand to exert their disturbing influence. PROCLA. The Ladles' Edinhurgli Magazine, 197

%\t g r a g 0 n 0 f 1 j) c I); 0 r t Ij.

CHAPTEE VII.

" Where art thou, beloved To-morrow ? When young and old, and strong and weak, Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow, Thy sweet smiles we ever seek In thy place—ah, well-a-day ! We find the thing we fled—To-day."—SHELLEY.

IT may be well for our novices, who sometimes deem that in laying down this world's goods they lay down this world's joy, that I should relate something of the vexa- tions and troubles of the morrow of that festive night. I had wealth, and the consciousness of noble birth—a strange pleasure to one hitherto regarded as a foundling; and the bride of my heart was promised me; but yet the day would not go smoothly, even without the weight of the secret vows I did my best to forget. It was Michael's Day, and we heard mass said by a grim-looking chaplain in the castle chapel; and then, as the wind was crisp and the sky clear, Valeria Avished me to go Avith her out hunting. But I, Avho only Avaited for SAvend to awake to go on board ship, excused myself as being too busy. Then she said, might she go attended by Signer Astolfo; but before they started, she prayed me to dismiss the coAvardly old Fazio from his office of seneschal. This I did, ap- pointing Syades, as he desired, in his stead; Avhereupon the chaplain appeared, and said he Avould stay in no household where a Saracen bore office, and so Avent his Avay; Avhile Valeria told me how Thorstein had before said lhat Syades Avished for that office, and counselled it should not be giA'en him, as it was dangerous to give power to Saracens on this coast. I reproached Valeria for not telling me this in time, but she, laughing gaily, said it mattered little ; and then she and Astolfo, like two light-hearted children, rode off together, Avith huntsmen, hounds, and horn, leaA'ing me to Avait the waking of Swend from the heavy sleep which had followed tlie deep drinking of the past night. It Avas not till high noon tliat we reached tlie ship together, where an unAvonted stir prevailed. Men Avere caulking her sides, getting in stores, and furbishing arms. Thorstein Avas giving orders, and Ilertha was not to be seen. Had she gone aAvay ? I

No. 7.—JULY 1875^ 2 C 198 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

thought, while my heart drew all together with a pang. No; Thorstein, who clasped my hands with kindly words on my new fortune, saying he had known it long, and believed me worthy of it, added that Hertha had gone early to high mass at the Cathedral City, escorted by Sir Rainulf, but would be here anon. "And the lady has my horse," said Ivar, who was talking with old Bergliot down below. " He will carry her well if you like to buy him, now she is to leave the ship. A worse will serve me, as I don't mean to drag after my knight any further, but turn squire to Dame Bergliothere till we reach England." " What! Bergliot oflF to England !" said Swend, "Ay, sir," said the old woman. "Now my lady is to go ashore, she may choose among ftiir maidens for her women. I am too old and homely, so I go with my countryman here, first to Rome, to get rid of any sins one may have picked up by the Avay, then back to rest at home." " We are both too old to worry about sins and long rides to mass, like xnj master. Here he comes with the lady," said Ivar, as indeed Rainulf and Hertha appeared, wdth some attendants on horseback, on the narrow strip of sand. Thence Hertha was fetched by a boat, and came on board, looking more lovely than ever as she saluted me, and wished me all joy of my recovered lands. "After her," said Swend, "and urge your suit." And after Hertha I sped to the end of the deserted poop, where the curled tail of the Dragon now supported a silken awning. What I said I know not— at least it was fervent —but Hertha was cold, far colder than when she said Vieni a few days before, and her words fell on my heart as a few large hailstones fall into the heat of a thundrous summer day " Marquis Lorenzo, I know that I must leave my home, the ship, and that you can make me a great lady in this land. I think also you really care for me; but hear a few calm, true words. I have only thought of you hitherto as a monk who could not marry, and I did like you then ; now you seem to me a stranger. I have always hoped to be able to give my love when I gave my hand, and I cannot give it to you." " Because I am a stranger, as you say. Give me but hope you will love me some day." " I cannot tell," said Hertha; " let me go in peace, The Ladies' Kdbihurgh Magazine. 199 when my brother sails, to the Convent of Amalfi, and then " " And then I may see you, and vou will learn to love me?" " I dare not say so ; let us end this," and Hertha turned round and SAvept by me, summoning Thorstein to her side. She was nobler, greater, stronger in all ways as a Avoman than I as a man, I felt. I Avas, hoAvever, noAV so determined to bend her AA'ill to mine that anger began to mingle Avath the love I bore her. Later, Ave all sat together on deck, with friiit and Avine before us, but an uuAvonted silence and constraint AA^eighed down all our spirits, till Hertha asked Kolbiorn to sing. As she spoke, a bright ray fell on us from the Avestering sun. "A greeting from Frey," he said, and sang—

" Oh, Frey in the Northlands, Thou sweetest of powers, I'hy kiss on the mountains Turns ice into flowers. Thy smile on the meadow Is joy to the fold, Thy touch on the maid's hair Turns flaxen to gold.

" Oh, Frey in the Southlands, How dread is thine ire ! Thou lord of the death-bow, Thine arrows are fire ! Thy light touch is madness, Thy warm kiss is death ; Thy smilfi on the marshes The pestilence breath."

" It is ever thus Avith thee, Kolbiorn," said Thorstein; " Avhat is true here is false there for thee. Is it not the same life-giving sun here as in the cool north, kindly everyAvhere, though in different ways ? " " Thorstein, methinks, is lost in the wood altogether," said Kolbiorn ; " he hopes Frey has power here toe-, because the gun has, but then his name here perhaps is Apollo, or St. Sebastian shall we say % " and his word floAved into song—

"When Thorstein goes his sires to greet, The death-shoes bound about his feet, 200 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

Where all must go when called by fate— AVhere will he wander desolate ? He cannot find Valhalla. The old gods live no more for liim ; The new faith is unknown and dim ; All paths are hidden from his eyes. Nor found the way to paradise— Though lost the old Valhalla." " Everything is but a game to thee," said Thorstein, sadly; '' hast thou, then, never felt how the beautiful Christian Sagas might be the best things in life, if they were true? But were they so, the people here, who believe them, would be better than our countrymen, instead of worse." " Not all of them," said Hertha, with glowing cheeks; " and these people are of a conquered race, ours are brave and strong; and when the grey dawn of the faith has risen to full day, you will see what a noble nation ours will become." " Our old Sagas cannot be mere fables," said he; " and what great difference there is between Avhat we thought right before, and what the new faith commands, I for one cannot see." "Yes, one thing at least," said Hertha, turning to me with a smile; " ti-e are told to forgive our enemies: is it not so, Marquis D'Asile ? " A tumult of thoughts made my cheeks burn, while Thorstein said, " Forgive those who do harm—nay, there would be no living in such a world. Down with the evil people that are our enemies!" and " Down with them! "— "Serve them up as a banquet to the crows!"—"Make the young wolves drunk with their blood!" echoed from others, while all the men drank the pledge. " Nay," said Hertha, " forgive them, love them, keep them from hurting you, but conquer evil with good. Speak, Marquis, you who are so learned." But I (though longing in all ways to please Hertha) had nothing I could say. Soon I rose to take leave, after bidding them all to a banquet in my castle on the morroAv. Swend went a little way with Syades and me up the hill, " There is more meal shaken into the porridge," he said. " Bergliot tells me Hertha has just told Thorstein she will only marry a Christian, and they have had quite a quarrel, so your Avay is cleared. Thorstein, indeed, with Tlie Ladies Edinhiirgli Magazine. 201 ship and gold gone to Riin I^ he is no match for her. But our Ilertha is a shy bird, so make no slight move to scare her; clutch her once for all, and hold fast; never mind maids' coy fancies. Syades will tell thee our plan, if she does not consent to hold the marriage-feast on board, on Thursday. We will have a priest up at a lonely chapel in the woods he knows of—thither will I bring Hertha, and thou ehalt take her away, will she, nil she. So courage; I shall say nothing yet, but if I do speak, it shall be so thoroughly to the purpose that our Hertha will be glad to leave my guardianship for yours." Astolfo and Valeria were just alighting in the castle court as I returned, and talking to a ragged, miserable- looking monk, in whose hanging cheeks and wrinkled face I did not at once recognise the formerly pompous Fra Damasus. But his voice was as gay as ever, as he said— " So here is the young lord,—a thousand greetings to him ; St, Agata herself must have kept him from taking the vows ; I can see her saying of you two—' No, no, you shall have them, brother George, they are far too warlike and spirited for me. I won't be so hard on the mortal maidens, too, as to take them for myself.'" She might have said it of Astolfo, but never of me, who in sooth was but a shy backward cavalier; but I was pleased with Damasus' words, and with the new respect he now showed me. " Don't ask me of my life at the hermitage," he went on; "oh, boys, boys, may I never again be taken for a holy hermit and treated as such! Once I made off, and the people brought me back again. At last I wandered here on my way to poor Monte Cassino, which I hear is encompassed by armies." "And don't you go there, father," said Astolfo ; "your aspirations would be carrying you into the thick of the fight, and your wind would never serve to get you out again. Here is the Marquis in want of a chaplain—in great want, weddings are in the air ;" and he looked inquiringly at me, who, nothing loath, bade the monk stay for the time at least as chaplain in my castle. Then we all busied ourselves with preparations for the feast of the morrow. It was not difficult to make the halls and galleries splendid, as the Saracens had left quantities

' Goddess of the Sea and the Drowned. 202 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. of rich stuffs and gilded vessels and silver lamps; and the austere Norman pilgrims had not plundered, when they took the castle. Yet the rooms, when all was ready, seemed, however brilliant, more like the palace chambers of some Eastern magician than the halls of a baronial castle. And the same underlying touch of Saracenic magic disturbed my pleasure. Syades dared to say to me, " Now, mark me, Hertlia, unless protected by Thorstein, will consent to this alliance with content, which will deepen into love. But he wishes to mar all, and he may succeed. It is only letting him know to- night the haunt of the Dragon, and he will be eager to get the honour of killing it—it is but showing him the way, and he vanishes from your path for ever." Now, tliough I repelled his horrible whispers, I felt with terror the new power he had over me. I was aware of his presence without seeing him; I knew when he drew near of his approach; it was ever as if two wills struggled within me—his and my own. But all these sombre thoughts were forgotten in the gaiety of the festival. Valeria had collected many gay cavaliers and fair ladies from the country round; after the banquet, the tables were cleared and the dance began, and sweet music pealed from the riclily hung galleries far into the quiet of the autumnal night. The young hostess was brilliant and winning ; the Northmen gave themselves up to the joys of the time before returning to the wintry sea, and the Italian ladies were only too willing to listen to the sweet speeches that meant the less, as their ship was seaward bound. Though indeed the whisper went round that the goodliest man in all the rooms was the Neustrian Norman Kainulf, even as all agreed that, whoever came second, the Lady Hertha was queen of the festival. For me, wherever I chose to cast my eyes, answering smiles and softest words greeted me, till I began to think my cold and distant Hertha was foolishly insensible of her great good luck in having won the heart of the rich young marquis. Towards the end of the feast I had succeeded in leading her away under pretext of showing her some choice art-treasures, when, on passing a window-seat in the lonely gallery, she saw Thorstein sitting gazing down at the sea, and stopt short, laying her hand on his shoulder. He started at her touch, but neither spoke nor rose. '• Ah, dear sea," she murmured, with tears in Tlie Ladies Edluhurgh Magazine. 203 her eyes ; " oh my Norway, shall I never see you more ? Bear them my greetings, Thorstein." " Dear lady," he answered, " I and my men leave the Dragon-ship to-morroAV. You know Swend and I have of late been like fire and water; I only stayed for your sake. I go by land to the war with Rainulf" " And you too leave me, kinsman," she said, with bitter potulence ; while he replied, gently, " I am always ready to serve you when you desire it, kinsAvoman." Hertha Avrapped her head in her veil, shook off my hand, and left us hastily, while Thorstein laid his hand on mine to detain me, and said, " And so you love Hertha truly, and care for all your possessions chiefly that you may give them to her, I do not wonder, for, besides her beauty, she is about the most gracious maiden that ever lived on earth. To a brave man the happiness of his lady is dearer than his OAvn." He paused, and I thought, " Is he going to ask me to resign her ^" But I answered, " You too care much for Hertha r' " Yes, I care more for her happiness than for anything but honour in the world. You have only seen her lately, but I loved her when she was a little maiden of seA'eii, and used to run doAvn to the landing-place when my boat came in with her pretty greeting. And Avhen she Avas older, and I saved her from the burning homestead, and rode all night over the fells with her fair head nestled on my shoulder, lest they should make my little girl a king's captive, did I not care for her Avelfare then, as now, above all things ?" He paused, and the music swelled up sweetly in the silence. Then he went on : " This change of faith has made some change between us, but still I am her true friend. She may learn to love you—you can give her so much. What can 1 give her but a rough boat on the barren sea ? But look you, my young lord, you must not hurry her. We men do not altogether understand maidens —sometimes they hardly understand themselves. Give her time ; let her rest aAvhile in the Convent of Amalfi, as she wishes, so she may learn to think of you as a young champion, and not merely as a monk: and, take my advice, send aAvay that Saracen; he is not fit to be about an honest man's house." " It is Swend Avho arranges for Hertha," I answered, coldly. " SAvend," said Thorstein ; " you know what he is—his wits are all droAvned in ale—he can only drive before 204 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. wind and tide. He is no guardian for a lady of birth." " At least he is her brother, and you have hardly a right to interfere." " I am her kinsman," said Thorstein, with undiminished gentleness, " and I will not see her Avronged." He turned again to the window and looked out as before, as Syades approached, and whispered to me, " Kemember." But I, feeling a deep shame aroused by the word, went rapidly back to the hall, where my guests were now taking- leave. " In two days, then—the mountain chapel of St. Cliris- tofero," said Swend, with his wild laugh. " Bring no one but the priest, and I shall bring only the lady and a trusty guard. I asked her just now, and she won't fix a day, so we will settle it all for her, brother-in-law." And so he and the rest took leave, and Syades escorted me to my chamber, saying the evening had not gone so ill. Hertha had 'not actually refused to have me, and Avould have to submit to Swend's way of doing so. " And if we had only sent Thorstein to Hela, as Kolbiorn has it, it Avould have been better still; but there your nerve failed you, my lord." The cool grey-green olive Avoods seemed full of mysterious promise as I rode through them two days later in the dewy morning, with only Damasus, as I had kept my purpose a secret from all. We left the horses at a farm, and thence wandered about a mile on foot to the lonely chapel. The silver-stemmed trees surrounded it closely on all sides, except where a little clear space at the west door let in a glimpse of the distant sea, and there a small stream glanced in sunshine for a minute as it sped from the forest above to the forest below. The little chapel was empty, but fragrant with the orange twigs which strewed the floor. Damasus entered the little sacristy by a low door to the east, and left me sitting in the western porch, till I heard the sound of voices, and an armed Northman, Eric by name, ran past me with a nod. " I am to guard the door behind," he said, " and Hacon watches the path below;" and he disappeared behind the chapel, while Swend, with Hertha on a mule, appeared in front. She started on seeing me, and said, "Have you deceived me, brother? do the nuns not wait for me here, then?" " No, your husband waits for you," he said, lifting her off the mule, and sending it with a blow down into the Tlie Ladies Edlnhurgh Magazine. 205 woods. " The Marquis, like a true lover, ready to overlook all your vagaries. Here is chapel and priest—the real Damasus this time—and, mark me, unwedded hence you do not go," for Hertha had drawn up her head like an angry swan, half defiant, half alarmed. "Not thus," she said, "shall Roll's daughter be wedded. I have told this gentleman I would not marry him now." Swend interrupted. " You must; our honour is pledged. He has given me for you the money needed for the war." " I am then bought and sold. Marqiiis, I will be forced into no wedlock ; 1 will not marry you." Then Swend broke into fury; in vain I interposed, and implored Hertha only to trust and take me. Swend continued to say even bitterer things in Norse, which enraged me even while I did not fully understand them. At last he seized her roughly by the arms, and thrust her over towards me; and then, looking round in real terror, she cried, " Let me go, let me go alone to the chapel, and speak to the priest. He will hear what I have to say; he Avill help me." " Let her go ! " I exclaimed, and glancing reproachfully at her bruised arm, she moved slowly into the chapel where Damasus stood, and closed, the door. Swend burst into a loud laugh. " Why, Marquis, you look quite scared; the wild bird can only flutter, don't let her go—and when once her word is given, you will have a tender bride. I know them well, our free maidens. As they say at the farms. To-day the whip and to-morrow the oats for the wild mare." I was very angry with Hertha for so scorning me, and more so Avith Swend for his violence, and paced uneasily about, till after many minutes had passed, Swend said, " Well, they have had time for their talk now. Art thou resolute ? If she resists I will hold her at the altar." "Yes," I said, " she belongs to me now, and for her own weal I will take her away with me." And so saying. I opened the chapel door. Straight in front I saw Damasus sitting on the ground, gagged and tied to the altar-rails; behind me Swend shouted, "Call Eric!" while at the same moment some one rushed past me and flew upon him. I ran through the sacristy to the east door calling on Eric, but there was no answer, and the door was locked. Back to the west door only in time to see two wrestling men fall heavily into the brook, and that the one who struggled on to his knees on Swond's chest No. :.—JuLr 1875, 3 D 20G TJie Ladles Edinburgh Miujazine. was Thorstein. Rapid footsteps now sounded on the path, and Hakon appeared. Thorstein, who held Swend's throat with his left hand, while his face was under water, slipped his right hand up to his own side, flakon, with drawn sword, rushed upon him, but Thorstein's axe was out; there was a deafening clash of weapons; the sword flew into the air, and Hakon rolled backwards, his head streaming with blood, and lay. I was utterly bewildered, though I had drawn my sword; but no time for thought was given me, for Thorstein now leapt out of the brook npon me, wrenched the sword from my hand, and dragged me into the chapel. I felt at once I was a child in his hands of iron, and, more quickly than I can tell, he had bound my hands, and strapped me with my own belts tight to a pillar, and then he darted oft" to where he had left Swend. Him he now dragged into the chapel almost insensible, and bound him, too, securely to a pillar, but seated on the ground, as indeed he was unable to stand. Then he disappeared, but soon returned dragging Eric, also bound hand and foot, gagged and bleeding. He left him on the floor, and carefully searched us for weapons, all of which he took away out of the chapel; and then returning, looked reproachfully at Swend. '' 1 was almost ashamed to suspect you enough to follow you through the Avoods, Swend," he began; " but it is well that dogs' ears are pricked when wolves prowl. Be thankful I have not sent you this time into another world, where Rolf would hardly welcome a son who came out of a brawl for ill-treating his daughter. For you, Marquis, you had better go back to your convent, as it appears you can neither fight men nor guard ladies. And you, priest—be quiet, I am not going to cut your throat ; " for Damasus' face was distorted with terror as Thorstein went up to him with a drawn dagger. " I will treat you better than the rest; I will give you back your weapon, your tongue; " and he cut away the gag, doing the same for Eric, with the words, "I am sorry I had to hit you without warning, but you are not much the worse, I think; Hakon, I fear, is finished." " No, no, Herser Thorstein, I am none the worse," said Eric; " and you had to do it, as there were five against you." " Only three," said Thorstein; " two do not count. Now," he continued, looking round on us from the door, " you may stay here for awhile; I will see you are not disturbed. It is a good fast trap you have set, only as The Ladies Edinlurgh Magazine. 207 it happens you have caught your own fingers in it. What say3 the saw ? ' A bird in the net Is not taken yet '— and Hertha is safe. Better luck to you Avhen you better deserve it;" and -with a quiet laugh he went out, lock- ing and barring the door behind him. ^Ve all gazed at each other ; Swend, who looked like a hideous gurgoyle, his red dripping hair hanging in straight lines over his furious face, was muttering vows of vengeance ; Damasus was trembling all over; while Eric, Avho lay like a log on the floor, burst into a loi;d laugh. " How did he manage you all I " he asked, " for, after all, Ave were four armed men, and two on guard. He knocked me on the head so soundly as he came up that I knew nothing more till this minute, biit no doubt the lady went straight out at my door, and got a good start. Well, I call it manfully done: I always said he was the quickest, briskest man on board; and," he added, examining his boTind arms and feet, " how thoroughly well he has made the knots, like the true sailor that he is; ah ! we shall miss him badly on board the Dragon-ship." E. J. 0. (To he continued.)

Ronnie 1 i 11U |fl a r LT. BOXNIE little Mary was all the world to me; Bonnie little Mary, who so blythe as she, Singing in the forest, or laughing by the fire, No one, in her presence, of life could ever tire! Happy in the sunlight, or happy in the gloom, Merry by the sea-shore, or in the darkened room, She carried in her bosom the source of all delight, And all things seemed so bright to her, because her eye was bright. Bonnie little Mary! her gleeful heart has gone, My sunlight set and darkened in the eyes where once it shone; My life is fled, the world is dead, for she has gone away, And there's no more light nor music in the dulness of my day! LUTEA KESEDA. 208 The Ladies' Edinhuryh Alagazine.

Roman's Morli.

II.—GIRLS' SCHOOLS.

AMONG the many fields of remunerative labour which are now beginning to be thrown more or less unreservedly open to women, the profession of Teaching offers almost Avithout question the highest advantages. This was, as we know, far from being the case formerly; and it is to the reformation which the education of girte is even now undergoing that botli the present change in the profession and the large possibilities of development in store for it in the future are due. Few people surely will deny, whatever may be said for or against a woman's entering other professions, that the teaching of her own sex at least is one which seems stamped by nature as most un- mistakably hers. And yet women are only now beginning to claim their full share in, if not exclusive right to, one of its most important and certainly most honourable branches, school-teaching. That this has hitherto been to a surprising extent in the hands of men, cannot be gainsaid ; indeed, the ordinary phrases with which we are all familiar in school prospectuses, " the advantage of the best masters," " first-rate masters, " &c., sufficiently prove how universally Avomen have been ousted from a province Avliich it seems the merest truism to say is theirs. But public opinion is at last changing, and people are beginning to admit the, one would fancy, self-evident truth that a woman is the proper instructor of women, and that she is capable of undertaking every branch, elementary or advanced, of education. The day, then, cannot be far distant when teaching will claim a new place in the estimation of society, and will be recognised to be a profession as honourable for women as it already is for men, demanding in their case, too, special, careful, prolonged, and very probably expensive preliminary ti-aining ; no longer, as formerly, to be taken up hastily, in an ill- prepared amateur sort of way, or, as it sometimes is in later life, because prospects more congenial have failed; but ensuring, on the other hand, in full return for the time and money so spent, rewards far richer than were ever dreamed of under the old system. I shall not attempt fully to enter into the causes which The Ladies Edinhurgh Magazine. 209 led to the system of entrusting so much of a girl's education to masters; it will be sufficient to mention at once the most evident and the most important,—the fact that women have been, and still to a great extent are, incom- petent to teach advanced subjects, or indeed too often any subject, thoroughly. This sounds harsh, and of course I gladly admit not only that there are luany exceptions, but also that mere ciistom, justified very likely in former days by the scarcity of lady-teachers, still exerts a strong influence on a school-mistress, and leads her, in deference to the foolish prejudices of parents, very often to employ a master where a lady would be amply competent to do the work required. The incom- petence of governesses, too, as we all know, is due raiber to their misfortune than their fault, the means of obtaining a really good education having been hitherto within the reach of comparatively few. Many of them, moreover, are already in London and elsewhere energetically availing themselves of the new sources of improvement so lately opened to them. Employers, too, are to blame in still persistently demanding from a governess an amount of varied knowledge incompatible with depth and thoroughness, especially when we consider the early age at which she generally begins her work. Supply, of course, meets demand, and absurd requirements on one side are answered by absurd professions on the other; while employers and employed alike, in sheer ignorance of what real mastery and real teaching of a subject mean, are probably serenely self-satisfied. But society, representing the rough-and-ready common sense of the world, pronounces that the education of a girl must be, as the phrase goes, " finished," and the resource is genei-ally school for a year or two. Here most of the teaching is in the hands of men, " professors " of different branches, and society is forthwith satisfied that their pupil must be thoroughly "accomplished." Zealous reformers tell us that the education of our boys stands in need of great improvement. What in Heaven's name shall we say, then, of that of our girls ? What we can truly say has been already said in the report of the Schools Enquiry Commission, which I shall presently quote; and relying on such unquestionable authority, we may without hesitation pronounce the results of the present system of education by means of "first-rate" — at all events, as we know to our cost, 210 Tlie Ladies' Edinhiirgh Magazine.

expensive—masters to be lamentably bad. And without wishing to say one word against masters as a class, except that they are by no fault of theirs in a position which does not properly belong to them, I cannot but question whether the rather common theory, that it is desirable for girls of sixteen or seventeen to be taught by a man, on the ground that they are thus more interested and more stinndated to excel than they would be Avere the teacher of their own sex, is a true or safe one. No doubt, did men and women mix more freely and simply together than they now do, and in relations not of amusement only, but of common interests, studies, cares, pursuits, among many happy results this too would follow, that it would be a matter of little moment whether a girl or boy either up to any age Avere taught by a man or a woman. The question whether he or she was a good teacher would be all-important : but can any one assert that this is commonly the case in the close, hot-house sort of moral atmosphere which prevails in so many girls' boarding-schools? Separated more or less inevitably from the outer world, ill-provided with facilities for active physical exercise, the safe outlet which nature herself points out for high animal spirits (indeed, to the shame- ful neglect of the average girl's healthy physical development doctors bear ample testimony, and might do so yet more strongly if they Avoidd), under strict surveillance, the supposition apparently being, in this as in several other matters in a girl's life, that if she is not carefully trained, repressed, gxiarded, guided, forced into shape, as it were, like some clipped yew-tree in an old garden, she is sure to become something utterly unwomanly, as if Avomanliness were some toilsomely acquired virtue, and not nature's own free gift — Avhat Avonder if a girl, Avhether high-spirited and fun-loA'ing or dreamy and romantic, is from difterent motiA'cs cA^er on the watch for any possible chance of diA^crsion from the monotony of boarchng-school life, and if the result is the sentimental or simply nonsensical folly Avhich has made the very name of school-girl a reproach ? Under such influences, is not the " stimulus " giA^en by the master apt to be of a mixed and not altogether Avholesome sort ? I cannot but suspect, too, that it is difficult for a master, from his more imperfect understanding of his pupils' characters, to })e so interested in them as a lady teacher Avould be, or, perhaps, so impartial. Here, hoAvcA'cr, I i-cach mere guessing, and stop. The Ladies' Edbilarijli Magazine. 211

The system is indeed sufficiently condemned by its results. Of course it would be most unjust to lay the blame entirely on masters. Everybody, we may assume, has had the best intentions, but there has been no organisation ; things have been left entirely to hap-hazard. Long ago, in 1841, Dr. Arnold felt this, and wrote as follows 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 There is nothing for girls like the Degree examination, which concentrates one's reading so beautifull}-, 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 come of ago, I do not see how the thing can ever be effected. Seriously, I do not see how we can supply sufficient encouragement for systematic and laborioiis reading, or how we can ensure many things being retained at once fully in the mind, when Ave are wholly without the machinery which we have for our boys." Evidently the country recognises the education of its sons to be a matter of national importance. To say nothing of its universities, which, with all their learning, their wealth, their venerable beauty, and storied memories of the past, remain still jealously shut against women, spite of their own large debts to wise and wealthy women of the olden time, schools are provided in unstinted abundance for boys; some perhaps, as reformers tell us, sorely in need of change, but still there they are, actually in existence, not requiring to be with infinite care and pinching economy nursed into life. ]\Iunificent endowments, time-honoured buildings, scholarships to encourage learning and help the poor—all, in a word, that can be devised to kindle the zeal and loyal affection of the Bchoolboy for his school, are theirs. What has the nation done for its daughters? Where are the stately schools, with their little settlement of pleasant boarding-houses clustering round them, which we might expect to find for girls'? A change f)r the better has, indeed, begun. Some girls' schools already exist, and soon it is to be hoped there will be more, which are better able to stand the comparison with those of the boys, though a great Harrow or Rugby for girls is still a thing of the far-off future. But the majority of the schools for the daughters 212 .'Hie Ladies' JEdinhur(jh Magazine. of our upper classes cannot stand this comparison in any respect. They are things of a day, they have no name, no prestige ; neither socially nor intellectually, to speak genei'ally, can their teaching staff compare ^vith that of tlie schools where boys of the same rank in society are educated. And even when, under a wise and liberal mistress, a school is really good, it endures but one lifetime and passes away, or, it may be, undergoes in new hands an entire change: as it inherited no noble tradition from a venerable past, so it leaves no tradition as an heir- loom to the future. How is it that we, so eager, if not overwise, about the education of our boys, have till lately been so careless about our girls ? For a reason very simple and extremely cogent to the British mind, shortly expressed thus: " It doesn't pay to educate a girl highly." Now, it is useless to declaim against this as an unworthy view of education. Comforting ourselves with the belief that a large and enlightened minority exists, let us try to meet the majority on their own ground, be that high or low. It does not pay, or has not paid. Granted, and why not ? Because the education of girls has hitherto been conducted in a make-shift sort of way, superficial schools " finishing"—by the help, too, for the most part of men, not women—a structure whose foundations have too often no existence save in imagination: because there have been no richly endowed schools with highly paid assistant- mistress-ships, and whose head mistress-ships constitute valuable prizes for scholarship, experience, and general moral and intellectual power, well worth the winning of any lady either compelled to work from straitened means, or embracing her profession from the pure love of it. This admits of no question. Granting even that some school-mistresses make large fortunes, this is true only of comparatively few; and in any case, when we compare these ladies with the recognised heads of the profession among men, the head-masters of the great public schools, men who hold indisputably so high a position both intellectually and socially, we cannot deny that the latter are, in the world's estimation at any rate, superior. And if we compare further the staff of the former with that of the latter, the inequality will strike us still more forcibly. On the one side we find ill-paid, imperfectly educated governesses; on the other, cultured, highly- salaried gentlemen, qualified for their work, the im- Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 213 portance of which is thus practically recognised by long years of school and university training. We may be loath to admit that this is a true picture, and may each perhaps be able to recall some school or schools of which the above would be a grossly exagge- rated description. Still, I think, if we face facts fairly, we must admit that in the main it is correct. And though better days have dawned, there is still ample room for further progress. The work has, however, been vigor- ously begun. Besides the Endowed Schools Commis- sioners, to whom we owe a deep debt of gratitude for their enlightened and liberal action in this matter, several companies or associations of private individuals, particularly the Girls' Public Day-School Company, are now at work. Here, as elsewhere, I feel witli regret that, owing to my ignorance of the state of educational affairs in Scotland, I can only speak of England. This, I hope, will be understood once for all. Nor can I state even approximately the number of such companies in existence. Girton College does not, of course, come under our notice here, nor the University Extension, or any of the other lecture or correspondence schemes, our subject being strictly schools. Now, wherein do the new schools endowed by Govern- ment, or under the management of public companies, differ from the old ? This question will be best answered by quoting the Report for 1874 of the Manchester High School Committee : " If the question be asked, ' What is the peculiar and special merit and claim of this school ? ' the Committee reply that the special merit and claim lie in the security offered by public governors of the school, and an independent and frank yearly report of the school, and in the moderation of the terms on which such high education is offered." The Girls' Public Day-School Company thus describe their aim : " The school system will be specially adapted to meet and correct the defects pointed out in the Report of the Schools Enquiry Commission : Want of thoroughness and foundation; want of system ; slovenliness and showy superficiality ; inattention to rudiments; undue time given to accomplishments, and these not taught intelligently or in any scientific manner; want of organisation. Serious endeavours will be made to train the pupils for the practical business and duties of life." No. 7.—JuLi 1875. 2 E 214 21ie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

To enlarge further upon this would be idle. The need of thorough reform is plain, and in this, as in everything else, publicity means security; while the fact that the government of the school is in every case in the hands of a council, secures a permanent, not a mere transitory good. But that neither in ]\Ianchestcr nor anywhere else is public opinion yet ripe for a reformation in girls' education as thorough as those who are alive to its defects would wish, is clear from the reports both of the Manchester Committee and of the Endowed Schools Commissioners. The former, in applying for subscriptions, write : " The Committee say, further, that such a school for girls has become manifestly a requirement of the times in all large towns, that women's interests in education have hitherto not had justice and fair play, and that such a school is a pressing need in this city in particular, and would still only scantily provide for Manchester's daughters what has been provided without stint for Man- chester's sons." The latter in their report for this year say: " We have endeavoured to give substantial effect to the direction of section 12 of Endowed Schools Act, 18G9, which requires us to provide, as far as conveniently may be, for the extension to girls of the benefit of educational endowments. Something we have been able to effect in this way, and we only regret that our success has not been greater. This provision of the Act has been found in many cases to be unacceptable to those concerned in the management of the endowments. Even where an endowment was large, and had improved, or was likely to improve, greatly in value, our proposal to apply a portion of it to female education has frequently encountered determined opposition, and seldom received active support from the looality. Under such circumstances, it requires much firmness of purpose on the part of those concerned in the administration of the Endowed Schools Acts, to give adequate effect to the intentions of Parliament in this matter." A melancholy account of English public opinion! Time, however, may be trusted to overcome this " determined opposition," whether it chance to spring from mere clownish dulness, from selfishness, or from a vague dread of the effect to be produced by the new system on the character of girls. For an honest dread of this Tlie Ladies' Edlnhurgh Mugazine. 215

sort undoubtedly exists. To many who set, and rightly set, a high value on refinement of manners, the very words " college" or " public school" convey, when applied to girls, an unpleasant shock. It is well-nigh impossible for them to believe that girls may be just as refined, as lady-like, in a public as in a private school. I would venture even to say more dignified; and dignity is of the very essence of womanliness. But it would be absurd to waste words in trying to prove this by argument. Were but the fashion of supporting the new schools once set by a few sensible and public-spirited people, of whose social rank there could be no question, these prejudices of class and fancy would melt away like snow in spring. And, certainly, unless the upper classes are content to see their daughters outstripped in the race of knowledge and culture by those of the lower, they will have to reconcile themselves to its changed conditions. Even now we hear reiterated complaints that governesses are not to be got, or that their claims are far higher than they used to be. And this is but the beginning. Soon we shall find that those ladies, comparatively few in number, who are competent to teach well, and prefer becoming private governesses to undertaking school work, will require higher salaries and higher social consideration than we have ever been in the habit of granting. And thus the increased cost of home education will drive people to have recourse to schools ; and as high-grade public schools become more and more common, social prejudices will disappear before the advantages they offer. Turning now from the pupils to the teachers, I think it will require only a brief statement of facts to convince both the parents or guardians of girls destined to make their own way in the world, and also those ladies who, from whatever cause, intend to enter the teaching profession, that high education does already " pay," and will pay yet more hereafter. And this is an argument which neither canny Scot nor practical Englishman will pass by unheeding. A glance at the following short list of the salaries offered to Head-mistresses of endowed schools (copied from a much longer one drawn up by the Head-mistress of the North London Collegiate School, to whose kind help in such details I gratefully confess myself much indebted) will show on what liberal principles the Commissioners have done their 216 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

"Work. These salaries are among the highest which have as yet been sanctioned by law.**

SALARY OF HEAD-MISTEISS. Capitation Fee. Minimum. Maximum. Bedford High School (1st grade),t£3 to ^£5 £300 £700 Koan Schools, Greenwich (3d ,, ), 1 to 2 400 700 Wyggeston . (2d „ ), 1 to 3 300 700 Hatchan . (2d „ ), 1 to 2 300 500 Hoxton . (3d „ ), 10/ to £1 10/ 225 525 Grey Coat . 10/to £110/ 230 530 Westminster (1st grade), 1 to 2 220 340 Ilminster High School 3 400 In those schemes which are not yet established by law, the highest salaries are as follows :—

SALARY OP HEAD-MISTEESS. Capitation Fee. Minimum. Maximum. Maynard's Girls' School, Exeter, £3 to £6 £ 400 £ 700 North London Collegiate School, 2 to 3 900 1300 St. Paul's, . . . 3 to 6 1100 2000 The salaries offered by the Public Day-School Company are, I believe, considerably lower than those of the En- dowed Schools; but as the funds of the Company increase, these doubtless will be increased also. £250 a-year, besides capitation fees, and in some cases house, fire, and light in addition, is, I believe, the average given. The position of the head-mistress seems to be tolerably independent, and to entitle her to a great deal of practical power. 1 quote again the prospectus of the Public Day - School Company: " The duties and authority of the Head-mistress are thus defined by the Council: ' Subject to bye-laAvs and regulations of the Council, and to an annual inspection and examination of the school by independent examiners, the Head-mistress will have the management of the studies and discipline

* Schemes for establishing between sixty and seventy schools have been drawn up, and about forty have become law. t 1st, 2d, and 3d grade are the terms used to distinguish the Endowed Schools. In a 3d-grade school the fees are from £2 to £8 a-year; the pupils leave at 14. ..2d .. .. 6 to 12 .. .. 16. Ist-grade {hoys' schools prepare for the Universities), .. .. 19. Latin, Greek, Mathematics, &c., are not taught in Sd-grade schools. Many schools are, as a matter of fact, 1st and 2d, or 2d and 3d grades mixed. High and Middle Schools are the terms used by the Public Day-Sohool and other Com- panies. Ihey correspond to 1st and 2J grade respectively, but are also often combined in one School as Senior and Junior Departments. The Ladies Ed'uihurgh Magazine. 217 of the school, and will be consulted in the selection and appointment of all assistant teachers, whose emoluments will be settled by the Council.'" The Council, by the way, is composed of men and women; and this holds good of all governing boards of the new schools, whether endowed or established by Companies. The Cheltenham Ladies' College, having been recently reformed, no longer offers an exception to this rule. The advantage thus secured, and the importance of the principle involved, are so evident that I need not insist farther on them. Assistant Mistress-ships are not so highly paid as they ought to be, and undoubtedly will be in time. £200 a-year, which is the highest now attainable in the Chel- tenham Ladies' College, might well be increased; and in other schools, I imagine, the highest salaries do not exceed this. For a beginner no doubt £120 or £130 a-year is sufficient, but would £500 a-year be too high a maximum for the teachers of advanced subjects, such as Classics, Mathematics, Natural and Moral Science ? I cannot think so. These subjects demand for their mastery long study, and therefore a considerable outlay of money. Elementary teaching would not, of course, require to be so highly paid; it might be, under careful supervision, committed to student teachers, a class of whom is attached to each of the public day-schools. From this short statement of the salaries already attainable in schools, it has been made, I think, abundantly evident that to educate a girl thoroughly does pay; that in fact such an investment of time and money is both secure and profitable. Even this preliminary outlay, however, may be lessened by means of scholarships, of which a considerable number are, I believe, already offered under various conditions. Of the want already felt of certificated assistant teachers there can be no doubt. Only the other day a member of the Girls' Public Day-School Company, the Dowager Lady Stanley of Alderley, wrote on this subject in the Times; and I have myself repeatedly heard the same complaint from persons well acquainted with educational matters ; indeed, the number of such teachers required in England has been roughly calculated at more than a hundred thousand. But a merely commercial view of this subject would be exceedingly incomplete. Can nothing, then, be said in favour of school work, except that it ensures sooner or later a comfortable income? Those already engaged in it 218 TJie Ijadies Edinhurgh Magazine.

know from experience its absorbing pleasure and interest, and it is not therefore their objections that I would try to anticipate and answer here, but those of a large number of ladies Avho flatter themselves that they will still be able to secure private governesses on much the same terms as before, because they offer, in addition to what they think a fair salary, the inducement of a comfortable, possibly luxurious, home. " This surely," they say, " is preferable to £150 or £200 a-year, with nothing 'found' and hard work." Now, of course, " tastes differ." A really comfortable home, wnth fair work and £120 or £150 a-year. is not to be despised. But the average salary of resident governesses is, according to Mrs. Kitchener's " Calendar of Teachers holding Certificates," only £80 a-year, £150 and £50 being the extremes; nor, certainly, are most county and professional families able to afford much more. Besides, making every allowance for favourable circumstances, admitting that the good sense and kindly feeling of true gentlefolks can do much to render the governess's position pleasant, still it cannot but be in many respects a difficult, possibly a painful, one. In one situation she must be able to dispense almost entirely with the equal companionship of grown-up people without becoming morbid, while in another she is expected to take her part in society, rather an undefined one, with unobtrusive ease. Do we not even sometimes hear sensible and kindly people say, " I don't urge my governess to come into the drawing-room when I have company, because I cannot be sure that my guests Avill treat her pleasantly % " They may' themselves despise the little-minded folly wdiich looks down on governesses as on inferiors, sometimes partly excused, I grant, by the equal folly of governesses—but they cannot check it. Nor will anything put a stop to this thoroughly illogical and uncomfortable view of a governess's position, until governesses cease to be, so to speak, a mere drug in the market. This change, as I have, said, is beginning to come about, and were the advantages offered by schools once fully recognised, the old conditions would be entirely altered, and the results must be what I have already anticipated. If we try to compare the two lives, that of a private governess and that of a head or assistant mistress in a school,—even putting aside, as still a mere fancy picture, the position in which the full development of the public- school system must eventually place these mistresses, one in every essential point corresponding to that held by The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 219 head and assistant masters in high-class boys' public schools,—most of us, I think, will give the palm to the latter. There is, we must at least allow, more tone, more colour in it. The stir and life of a great school, the interest of teaching large and varied classes, the credit obtained by the success of pupils in public examinations, the congenial companionship of so many ladies engaged in the same work and caring for the same things, the dignified and independent position held—these surely fill life very full of interest and pleasure. Nay more—can we forget the wider sphere of usefulness, the larger opportunities of making omr own brief, fleeting life, thus become a part in one great organisation for good, immortal in the results achieved? I am inclined to insist particularly upon the independent dignity of the posts now offered, because it is pre- cisely this that Scotland has been strangely backward in allowing to women. And yet Scotchwomen surely do not lack, any more than Scotchmen, the national characteristic, that proud independent spirit which has been the lieritage of our rugged little nation from time immemorial. Education in Scotland is a subject into which, in my ignorance of many of the influences at work, 1 dare not venture far. Still, I cannot but protest against the climax reached by Scotland in the unnatural system of committing girls' education into the hands of men. It is actually, I understand, no uncommon thing for purely girls' schools in this country to be under the headship of a master; the recently reformed Merchant Maiden School in Edinburgh is a glaring example. I have heard this practice severely, and, in my opinion, most justly condemned in England, nor could I offer any defence. Pos- sibly, however, it may be said that the system meets an immediate want; that whenever improved schools shall have produced women fit to take the highest place, Scot- land will assuredly not be backward in giving them their due, and that meanwhile the school gains by having a competent head. Yet how is it that no great difficulty in finding suitable head-mistresses has been encountered in England? For my part, I cannot but agree with our English critics that this unnatural system is insulting to Scotchwomen. Even in our most elementary schools there is the same depreciation of a woman's work and capacity. All parties, I suppose, are so far agi-eed that there ought to be a "female teacher" in every mixed school. In fact, the Government grant, extended only 220 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. on the condition that sewing is taught, is too strong a practical argument not to overcome all resistance. But the question, what place this teacher ought to hold!— whether she should be restricted to the charge of the smaller children, and should teach sewing only to the elder girls, or whether the girls, big and little alike, should be her pupils, the master retaining only the boys— is still a disputed one. Clearly, in the first case, the " female teacher " is simply the master's assistant, holding a place completely subordinate to him, while he draws a salary beyond comparison larger than hers, and is considered responsible for the whole school, junior department as well as senior. In the second, she is mistress as he is master, holds an equal position, receives pay in fair proportion to her work, and shares the responsibility and the credit of her school with no one. This second plan has been, I believe, largely adopted in England, and good salaries are given to the mistresses of such schools. Cer- tainly it makes no extravagant demand. Why should a woman, we may fairly ask, be condemned to fill, irrespec- tive of capability, a subordinate position, and to do no work save the most elementary ? Has she not some right to say that the instruction of the girls is her province, just as that of the boys is the master's? Of course, by adopting this plan we relinquish what some authorities consider an advantage, the co-education of boys and girls,—a system, besides, endeared to us in Scot- land by ancient custom. I cannot, however, help suspect- ing that most of the advantages which the girls at least are supposed to derive from it, are but shadowy and doubtful. The only really important one, as I believe, the reference of the work of both boys and girls to a common standard, could be easily secured by subjecting both to the same examinations under the same conditions. It is not, I believe, proposed either in England or Scot- land that women should be placed at the head of mixed elementary schools. And yet it is possible that many women might be eminently fitted for such a post. Some reformers, as we all know, assert that boys, even up to thirteen or fourteen years of age, should be taught by Avomen, and that they would be found far more docile and willing pupils by a Avoman than by a man. Be this as it may, we need not consider it here. The field of teaching is wide enough, even if restricted to girls. (7b be continued.) LOUISA INNES LUMSDEN. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 221

%l\ £rb II r3;t of d{hcs 11*r. CHAPTER VI.

RAXDALL was not the only individual Avho had returned from the day's excursion in an agitated frame of mind. Had there been thunder in the air, or was there something mysterious in the surroundings of Castell y Waen Avhich belied its appearance? Could there still be the impress of some foul deed haunting the place, and insidi- ously affecting all who came there ? Mr. Bernard AVood was too prosaic to ask himself these questions, yet there Avas at work in his mind a disturbing influence which asserted itself too powerfully to be set aside. The hurtful words he had spoken at the castle, not only to Ran- dall, but to others, were closely connected with his own character and previous history. As a distant relative of the late Baroness de Rehmar, he had regarded her with interest—nay, if reports were true, even with a tenderer feeling. Were this the case, how could it, in a nature selfish and narrow as his, be reconciled with the professions of unchanging esteem and affection Avhicli he made to the Baron ? It had certainly rendered him, both at the time of de Rehmar's marriage and later, more keenly aware of the events in the Baron's life tlian of those in the lives of other men. And his nature lacked that element of generosity which could make the happiness of others a source of rejoicing, quite apart from personal feeling. Yet, strange as it may seem, both during the lifetime of the Baroness and ever since, he had veiled these feelings, and remained an intimate and obliging friend of the family. At her death, seeing the Baron overcome with grief, and shrinking with all the terror of an unpractical nature from the management of money matters, which he had hitherto left in great part to his wife, Mr. Wood had stepped in, and offered to assist him in this task to the best of his ability. He had offered to get his property in Germany let to the best advantage, even undertaking to receive the rents, and to pay them into the bank in Chester, where they would be at de Rehmar's disposal. The Baron had gratefully accepted the offer, and felt almost humiliated when Mr. Wood refused to accept of any acknowledgment of his services, further No. 7.—JcLT. 2 r 222 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine.

than the permission to remain the Baron's friend. It is true that, when the rents for the first year came in, de Rehmar remarked that they were exceedingly low, and very far short of what he had expected; but this Mr. Wood easily answered by informing him that land in Germany was at present at a discount, when military affairs were uppermost in the mind of the nation. And as time went on, de b'ehmar thought that surely the German mind must have become a good deal more military than ever, so contemptible seemed to him the money value which was thought a sufficient rent for his land. To him it seemed unaccount- able that rents could thus dwindle away year by year. Yet he shrank from a personal inquiry into the state of his finances, partly from native indolence in such matters, and partly from a sense that to do so would betray a want of confidence in one to whom he believed himself deeply indebted, and whom he was bound in honour not to oflend. Mr Wood was pleasantly aware of this feeling towards him on the Baron's part; and from the fact of the latter being a foreigner and a man of reserved habits, he thought it unlikely that any other would supplant him in the intimate terms on which he stood with the Baron. It was such a thought, tliough he would hardly own it to himself, that gave him uneasiness when he observed the homage and engrossing attention of which Werburga was the object from both Trevor and Randall. The possibility that another might stand in a nearer relation to the lâron than he himself did, was one which Mr. Wood could not calmly contemplate. When he asked himself the reason for this feeling, a horrible chasm seemed to open in the ground before him. But all this mental struggle was hid away, as it were, in the inner safe of his being: in those outer parts that were accessible to the ourrencj^ of daily life he kept a friendly feeling for all men, and for the Baron in particular, along with a very pretty and would-be romantic appreciation of the charms of Werburga. He thought a lady of her rank and distinguished character ought not to be too cordial towards any stray young men whom she might happen to meet; something unusual was in store for her, for which she must wait calmly and with dignified com- lôsure. It was some such reflections as these that had prompted the visit to Mrs Holme, which had been thwarted ; and on their meeting at the castle, he 2'he Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine. 223 would have sought an opportunity of insinuating these notions into the ear of Werburga, had she not turned from him so coldly in the great room, and thus perhaps kindled the spaj'k which had burst into a flame in the words he had spoken to Kandall. It was not to Randall alone that he had confided his important discovery with regard to the Baron's character; Trevor and Mrs. Holme had also each received a share of the disclosure, and had done so with greater equanimity, as well as with greater coldness, than Kandall. As far as they were concerned, he could form no idea of the result his words might have; but with Kandall, it was evident that he had missed his aim, perhaps brewed mischief for himself, possibly made an enemy for life. The Baron, in his turn, must be warned against Randall at once, and what opportunity better than the present, when the daughter was absent from home, and he could count with certainty on a private interview? The following day, accordingly, found him on his way to Chester. The place where a votary of art or literature produces his works must always have a peculiar interest of its own. Whether it be a large and luxurious study, like that of Trevor, or a mere bandbox overlooking an orchard, such as the writing-room of Cowper at Olney, such a haunt cannot but wear the impress of that part of the man which is often the purest as well as the strongest, namely, the intellect. The " den " or workshop of Baron de Kehmar was a long, narrow room, of which Cowper might have said, as he said of his own, that its occupant looked like a wax figure in an old-fashioned picture- frame. The room contained objects which betokened a great variety of intellectual pursuits. There were plaster busts of Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, now grown grey on their brackets. There was the old spinnet-like pianoforte, too, with its loose jingling notes, evidently a sacred possession. There was a prie-dieu in the corner, with antique-looking prayer-books lying ujôn it, and in the book-shelves were many devotional as well as musical works. But to find out what branch of study is now in the ascendant, we must look at the writing-table in the centre of the room, which is laden with books and manuscripts of a scientific nature. Here the laborious student passes many hours daily in earnest study, only now and then striking a few chords on the old piano, by way of recreation. 224 The Ladies* Edinbiwgh Magazine.

De Relimar did not like to be disturbed in this retreat, and there were but two people in the world who dared to enter while he was busied there. One was his daughter, the other—in virtue of his position of trust— was Mr. Bernard Wood. On the day after the excursion, accordingly, that worthy had come to Chester. He went straight to the Baron's house, and, according to custom, entered his study unannounced. The Baron started back in his chair with a bewildered look; his mind had evidently a long way to travel before it could arrive in the scenes of daily life. While it is performing that journey, Mr. Wood walks forward, and quietly seating himself opposite the Baron, turns his grey twinkling eyes towards him. " Business has brought me to Chester to-day," he said, bending his bullet-shaped head, " and I could not leave town without seeing you." The Baron de Rehmar might be about fifty years of age. His hair was sprinkled with grey, and his tall figure had already acquired a considerable stoop through constant study. Plis fine eye and open expression inspired confidence. Naturally he was a mm of independent character and cheerful disposition. But the pressure of poverty and bereavement had bent the upright pillar of independence, making it encroach beseech- ingly on the territory of others, and seem as if sympathy and support were necessary to its existence. In two respects only, and those belonging to the sphere of thought and affection rather than to that of the will, had he preserved his independence of mind. One Avas the untiring search for new discoveries in science, with the fixed rule of drawing his own conclusions from them; the other was the absorbing love of the Fatherland, as he always called it. Nothing but the memory of his wife could have induced him to live out of the Father- land; and Mr. Wood had frequently heard him declare that if his daughter did marry, he hoped it should be none but a German of her own rank. Now thoroughly awake to the presence of his visitor, de Rehmar languidly dropped his pen, and leaning back in his chair, folded his arms and sat expectant. Mr. Wood raised the subject of landed projierty in Germany, which seemed ever near to his thoughts, and was proceeding, for perhaps the fiftieth time, to explain the reason why rents were now so IOAV, and to express a The Ladies Ed'uihurgh Magazine. 225 liope that they would soon improve in value, when the Baron interrupted him, saying— "Come, sir; you must know that when my head is full of money, everything else runs out of it; and it is so heavy that it weighs down my spirits as well as my brain, which opens a sad prospect for one who has no company to enjoy but his own. Tell me something about Strettou. Have you seen my daughter since she went there % " '■'• Yes ; I had the honour of meeting her the other day, but so surrounded by friends that I found it almost impossible to obtain a word from her." " And who are these devoted friends?" " It would take too long to repeat their names; but I may tell you that the chief among them were Squire Trevor and Mr. Randall Holme." De Rehmar sighed deeply, and looked in blank abstraction out at the window. Not much more passed between him and his visitor; but when Mr. Wood rose to take leave, de Rehmar said, " Should you see my daughter again, pray tell her that I miss her sorely; however, I shall write to her this evening." And, indeed, that very evening he wrote Werburga a note, in which he complained of severe indisposition, and requested her to come home without delay. The complaint was partly true, yet, on the whole, it was but a pretext. The next day was Saturday. Werburga received her father's letter in the morning, and resolved to set out at once for Chester. Mrs. Holme tried to persuade her to wait at least till the afternoon, Malvina clung to her with tears, and begged her to remain. But she would not yield, and in little more than an hour she was on her way home, leaving poor Malvina disconsolate. " My dear child!" exclaimed the Baron as he received her with open arms at the door of their dAvelling. " are you again there ? I have missed you so much I " " And I you!" answered Werburga. "But, papa, I have enjoyed myself." They came into ihe sitting-room together : de Rehmar seated himself in an arm-chair, while his daughter knelt down beside him, and, looking up in his face, began, in the most naive way, to relate all that had taken place during her visit to Stretton. Only two people she had seen there whom she did not much like, and these were Mr. Wood and Mrs. Holme. The Baron smiled, but raised his finger reprovingly; " but the others," 226 The Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine. she added, " they were charming. Malvina was the dearest girl; and Mr. Randall Holme, her brother, was so amiable and so shy; and Squire Trevor, he was so amusing and so clever." " And your poor old father," said de Rehmar, " you will find hirn but dull company now, I fear. Ah, child! I have missed you." Werburga answered by a caress, and an assurance that he was the nicest person in the whole world, and that she would never leave him. De Rehmar said nothing in answ^er to this determination, but he inwardly vowed that the shy Randall and the clever Trevor should have as few opportunities as possible of again meeting with his daughter. Had Mr. Bernard Wood been able to read M'liat was passing in the Baron's mind, he Avould have congratulated himself on the result of his conversation with him. " My child." said de Rehmar, in a quick abrupt way, " should you be sorry to leave Chester ? " " Papa ! what do you mean % " " Only that I should like to go away. Why should we not retire to some quiet spot in the country, where one is not constantly stared at, and where heavy bills are not always waiting to be paid? I am too poor and ill to live in a town." " But, papa, we are hardly in the town here. And think of my work! Without that, we should be poor indeed. Let us first try whether we cannot live still more quietly here. I will tell Rogers to admit no visitors except your most intimate friends. And I will work very busily, and we will be quite quiet and happy, and those tiresome bills will all be paid very soon. Will you let me tiy?" Of course de Hehmar consented, as he always did to any reqviest made by his daughter. Randall, in the meantime, on that Saturday morinng, had set out for Glanhafon with a lighter heart than usual. The prospect of the next two days was very pleasant to him, and with quickened step and eager eye he walked up to the door of his mother's house, and went straight to the parlour. Mrs. Holme was there alone ; where were the others? "Werburga has gone home," said his mother, " and Malvina is in her own room." Randall felt as if a blow had stmmed him. He left the room without a word, and sought his sister. She was weeping bitterly. This was too much for Randall. He strolled out into the The Ladies Edinhurgh Magazine. 227 shrubbery, and began pacing rapidly up and down a walk that led through it. For nearly a week she had been living in his mother's house, and he had never seen her there. Why had he been thus banished, and not even told of the expected visitor? And to allow her to go so soon! Had he been there, he would not have suffered it. He felt almost angry with his mother. Certainly there was not much hope for her of pleasure in his society. Ho said nothing more on the subject, asked no questions; but his grave, abstracted look and prolonged silence, broken only by monosyllables, showed that something was wrong. He accepted Malvina's endearments in silence ; even Mrs. Holme was touched, and sorry for him, and asked anxiously what had vexed him. Did he find his present work distasteful ? Surely that must be the cause of his melancholy. The real reason of it never occurred to her. On Monday morning Randall wont back to Glanhafon, and wrote for Trevor as usual. Trevor remarked that he was extremely quiet. He strolled out alone in the afternoon, came in to dinner, but ate hardly anything, and retired early to his own room. The moon was nearly full, and shone high and clear in the heavens. Randall threw his window wide open, and looked out upon the woods, that seemed dreaming in the mist of moonlight. He said to himself, "Now she is in Chester, in her father's house, and I ." He hummed to himself the melancholy air he had heard her sing. All his life and destiny seemed to be at the command of one person ; apart from her, it was but a living death. Was not the feeling he had for her a stronger tie than that of relationship, or of any of the commonplace shackles of ordinary hfe ? Was not duty as well as fate pointing imperatively to her? Suddenly he stood erect with tlie calmness of resolve. Selecting a few books from a pile which lay on the table, he put them, with some other things, into a knapsack, which he slung over his shoulder. He quietly descended the stairs, and passed noiselessly through the hall, where a light was still burning, unbarred the great door, and went out into the night. He felt the balmy night-air like a hand laid in blessing on his forehead, and gently closing the door behind him, he breathed a silent prayer for those he was leaving, and began to walk at a rapid pace. He directed his steps towards a plantation that skirted the northern march of Glanhafon, where the light of the moon was sufficient to guide him past all obstacles, 228 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

Looking up occasionally as he proceeded, he saw dark clouds with deeply - serrated edges flying rapidly along; while above, in a calmer sky, sat the moon enthroned, Avith white clouds floating quietly around her. Such, he thought, is the real life of man when contrasted with its ideal. Storms of passion hurry us without pause from place to place—we have no rest, no tranquillity; Avhile yonder in the heavens sits the image of peace and perfection, from which we seem only to be hastening away. The trees around him looked like dark spectres ; they rustled their leaves as he passed, and seemed to say, " No rest." But when he came out of the wood, and found himself on the open road, he saw the last of the dark clouds passing away. About the moon all was clear save the space filled by the little white clouds, that looked as unruffled as the breast of a swan. " There," he thought, " is the symbol of that hap[)y innocence which reigns in simple state in the midst of earth's dark night, and calms the troubled spirits of men into mute adoration. I, alas ! have seen it but too seldom!" lie checked the sigh that was just rising, and, walking steadily forwards, braced himself with tlie thought that every step was bringing him nearer to Chester, and to Werburga. PROCLA.

{To be continued.) The Ladles' Edinburgh Magazine. 229

^\t gragon of iht llorllj.

CHAPTER VIII.

" Hunting out of doors You'U have, and multitude of hares to course, And after you come home, good cheer enough ; And sweetest ladies at the board above. And comely-favoured youthful bachelors To serve them, bearing garlands for true love. And still let cups of gold and silver ware, Runlets of vernage-wine and wine of Greece, Comfits and cakes, be found at bidding there. And let all those who in your banquet share. Sit with bright faces, perfectly at ease." Folgore da San Geminiano. 13th cen.

THORSTEIN had made the knots so well that all struggles served only to draw them tighter ; and when the sun began to shine through the western window, we were still prisoners. I was sickened with vexation and the weary constraint of being bound on my feet to the pillar, and Swend continued alternately vowing vengeance on Thorstein, and reproaching us for our tardiness in the scuffle. Damasus spoke up for himself; he said he was sitting quietly persuading Hertha, when something sprang on his neck behind like a falcon; then he found Thorstein was holding his throat, and threatening his life with a dagger ; and while Thorstein was binding him, Hertha fled through the sacristy door. Damasus, methinks, was quite consoled for his own bonds by seeing SAvend tied up so tight; and he and Eric, who was a light-hearted fellow, grew quite merry together as to the time which might pass before we were liberated, for none knew at the ship whither the captain had gone. " Well," said Eric at last, " I have not heard of a wedding like this since the marriage of my grandmother Thorhalla. Will you hear a Saga, Captain ? " " No, none," growled Swend, " till the one which tells of the vengeance of Swend Hrolfson on Thorstein Sigurdson." " That will not be such a good Saga as the story of my grandmother. Listen, you others. A fierce Viking called Oddo sailed one day to where a great hall stood on the shore, rich to look at, and with fine cattle on the hills,

No. 8.—AUGUST 1875. 2 G 230 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

and men and maids and corn fields. ' Who owns all this ? ' he asked; and was told, Torhalla the fat, the widow of Ord. He said then he was in need of a wife, and would take her, or her goods without her. " Out came Torhalla, a dame of fifty, and as big as a cask. She seemed pleased enough, if but she might cruise with her bridegroom in the ship. Otherwise her men should fight. So it was all settled, and her people began to store the ship with gold, and cloths, and rich wines. Among them worked a slave girl in mean apparel, but very fair, and on her Hugor the mate cast his eyes, and prayed her to come aboard with him. "' Nay, but if you will give up sea-roving and marry me here,' she said. " So he stayed, and his comrades called him the slave's slave. Torhalla embarked, with an array of damsels as big and awkward as herself, for she said, ' Slim girls do not set me off well.' When they sailed she poured of her own wine for captain and crew, and it was so well bewitched that they all slept heavily. Then Torhalla and her big maids bound them all like us, and worked the ship themselves—for they were all lads but the Carline, and she was a witch-wife (the foster - mother of the real Torhalla), who wished for her pardon from the king. So she sailed to where he was, with the crew of bound Vikings, and she was forgiven, and all the Vikings who would not take service with the king were executed. Worse off than we are, priest." " Then your grandmother was not married after all," said Damasus. " No, no, the mate was my grandfather, and found he had married the real Torhalla, who had disguised herself to escape from the Viking. But in good time, here is some one at last," for the face of Astolfo appeared at one of the high narrow windows, gazing in utter amazement. " Is this the wedding party I see ? " he said at last, " where is the bride ? are you all bewitched ? " Swend's face checked his laughter. " Don't let any more chatter- ing crows look through!" shouted he; " open the door and cut the bonds at once." " Ay, without keys," said Astolfo, " it will take time." " Toss us down your sword then," said Eric ; " I think I could cut myself free meanwhile." Presently Astolfo was battering at the door, but before he and others could The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 231

break it in, Eric had deftly rolled on the sword, and cut a hand free, and then it took him little time to get us all loose, and when the door burst open we were stretcliing our stiffened limbs. Swend rushed away without a word as soon as the way was clear; Astolfo, staring, asked many questions. " You were so long away that when Syades owned where you were, I thought it well to look for you. Then I saw blood on the path, and following the trace found a dead Norman drawn aside into the thicket. Oh, Lorenzo mine—better love the ladies of our own land, than run after these wild powerful women of the north." " I wonder," said Eric, " if Swend and Thorstein are likely to meet now; if so, there would be a fight worth seeing." " Thorstein is gone hours ago," and Astolfo ; "he rode oft fully armed with all his men and many others on the mountain road to Naples. They will be there by this time." " Was Hertha with him % " I asked. " Hertha, no ! Only men-at-arms. I was in the crowd which gathered to see them pass—a goodly array of well- appointed warriors." So Eric went whistling down the hill, and we returned to Asile, I crestfallen beyond words. Syades said it was even as he expected; Valeria implored me to care no more for the proud shy damsel of the north, who was, she said, more like one of the old white marble statues dug out of the heathen tombs, than a real woman of flesh and blood. In the evening Astolfo told me he had pledged himself to Sir Rainulf to go with him to the Avar next day, as his squire, in lieu of Ivar. " There," he said, " I may win fame and fortune, and 1 pray you to let me lay them at the feet of Valeria your sister, and some day make her mine." " Yes, go and practise arms, my Astolfo," I replied ; " win fame ; and as to fortune, Valeiia will have enough. I see in this outside world nothing but fighting readiness counts for anything. Yet I thought once it was not so with Hertha; how she listened for hours to what I told her." " Yes, Lorenzo, you have a silver tongue ; all may yet come right if you win to speech of your lady. It was a bad plan, methinks, to hurry her so ; now she is quite scared, and heaven knows whither she has winged her 232 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. flight. Another thing I think bad: you owe Syades something—but beheve me, sending him off with costly treasures would be less costly than keeping him here. He takes too much upon him; what would Father Anselmo say!" "He is a monk—and in the world you follow the world's ways; well, as far as I haye seen of the world, it holds nothing so wise or so good as our Fra Anselmo. "I tell thee honestly, Renzo, I love him twice as well, now I am no longer bound to the cloister. I would he were here. How truly he said neither you nor I had a vocation! " Thus spoke Astolfo, putting on his new plumed helmet before the mirror, turning his head this way and that, like a crested bird. Next day he departed with Sir Rainulf, and Valeria and I were left alone with Damasus and Syades. We watched together from a balcony the great Dragon-ship rowing out from the bay to gain an offing, and then glittering away to seawards under the purple cliffs of Capri. The fair ship! my happiest hom-s had been passed on board of her; but Valeria said— " With what terror I saw that ship first come, and with what a light heart I see her go, brother! Little I guessed what treasures she would bring me. We always hoped the little boy, who was carried off at the siege twenty years ago, might be alive somewhere; and Thorstein it was who, on hearing this, said Syades, the Saracen captive, had been at the storming, and been wrecked with the child near a convent in the south. So Thorstein went to look for you there, though he never let Red Swend into the secret, as he would then have been likely at once to have carried me off, and made an end of you. When Swend was told, you had been recognised, so it Avas too late for that; besides, he had a great bribe by way of a gift for Hertha, which was all he really cared for. All the people who knew my father thought you so like him, that even before you remembered where the ring was hidden, none doubted." None doubted; what then did I owe Syades ? But little, for Thorstein would have made him bear witness. My lands would have been recovered without that miserable vow, which had not availed to win me Hertha. And then how free and brave I would have felt; how much truer a guardian for the tender Valeria, who was trusting all her weal to me. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 233

The days went on ; we could find no trace of Hertha. She was not in the convent at Amalfi—she seemed to have vanished like a falcon gone down the wind. Syades sought for her everywhere, and was also busied in gathering a garrison for the castle. Many of the men he engaged were Saracens, hut when they showed me they belonged to the Society I felt forced to accept them. Meanwhile we heard that the forces of Henry the Ger- man Emperor had come to fighting with the Greek armies. Gaimer the Prince of Salerno, Pepon the Patri- arch of Aquila, and Belgrim the Bishop, commanded different divisions under the Emperor, which defeated the Greeks in the open field, and wrested from them several fortresses. But the war, which was raging as far as Naples, did not disturb our coast further down. The Normans fought alongside of Gaimer, as it was he who had first invited them over from Neustria; and we heard how, wherever the Normans appeared, the war had gone against the Greeks. Still the armies of tbe Emperor Basil were very large, and as they had utterly defeated Henry's forces under Dato only a few months ago, the issue was not altogether certain. One evening in the month of October, a lonely cavalier rode up to the castle, and we greeted him with great joy when we saw he was Kolbiorn the Scald. He had been slightly wounded, and made it an excuse, he said, to draw ofi^ from the war, for Swend, in his rage against Thorstein, had, contrary to all that he before meant, taken part with the Greeks. Many of his men liked this so little that they had openly gone over to the other side. But Kol- biorn wished, he said, to put a little space between leaving the Greek and joining the German and Lombard cause. Swend had made up his crew with outlaws and pirates of all sorts, and the ship had no order nor discipline since Thorstein was gone. " And as for Thorstein, people say the greatest things of him. He is as good a champion as any of the Normans, and has the best head of them all. Swend is more furious than ever at the news which comes—how Thorstein has been sent for to consult with the Emperor Henry, how he and Rainulf and Osmond are called for wherever need is greatest, and how he is distinguished above all in the camp. 1 must have ready some songs in his honour, therefore I have come to you. Marquis, for a good study of Italian and Latin. I will 234 The Ladies Edinburgh Alagazine.

teach you Norse in return, and we will be able to sing and write the story of the war when it is over." So Kolbiorn and I settled into a life that, but for my unappeased longing to hear of Hertlia, and the weight of Syades' presence, would have been full of enjoyment. We hunted in the morning with Valeria, or we rode about exploring the glorious ruins left us by the old Romans. Then, ■when early darkness fell, came the banquet, with the wines and the southern fruits Kolbiorn liked so well, and afterwards music and poetry. Sometimes we had guests, but were oftener by ourselves, beside the fire of roaring chesnut logs, exploring old manuscripts, or Kol- biorn composing, and I translating, love songs and war songs and hunting songs. " Ah, boys," Damasus would say, " I call this life indeed. How foolish are these people who train their whole souls and bodies for the one silly purpose of knocking each other on the head! How pleasant to hear of the wars beyond Naples and down in Apulia, when they come no nearer us, like the sea beating on the rocks which fence the land! I am thankful I have sense as well as courage; not like Astolfo, who runs into perils like a sheep, because he sees others do it." One day we were belated by losing a falcon, and I said to Valeria that as time pressed we had better ride straight to Asile instead of making the usual circuit, and she answered that the straight way lay across a marsh where the malaria was dangerous, but that we could ride fast through it safely enough that chilly afternoon. And so we galloped by the marsh, near which I knew was the subterranean columned labyrinth. It was far nearer my castle than I had deemed; and when I remarked this to Syades, he took me that same night through a secret door in the hall, down through winding hidden passages to where Vivia still sat in the vaulted room with crucible and caldron. Here she and Syades were wont to fuse and mix strange elements, searching for the philosopher's stone. I shuddered to think that all that darkness and poison and mischief were so near our bright-looking halls, and I formed the idea of building up the passage into the hall, and the great cistern at its opening in the rocks, and so destroying all access. But Syades, in the tone I could not resist, replied, " You forget, my lord, that my property as the heir to El Arish, my treasure you Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 235 have sworn to recover for me, lies there. No, my lord, as soon as that treasure is won I go, and you may build up the whole labyrinth, but it will cost a man's life—one of the thousands who fall in the wars." " Will any one do to go down these steps ? it need not be Thorstein." " Any one," said Syades, " but as it must be done willingly, it had need be one of those hot-headed beasts of prey in pursuit of game, Rainulf, Osmund, who I care not, so that he goes of his own choice with a good heart." After this I took refuge in thinldng as little as possible of the noisome vaults which underlaid the joyous castle, even as the shadows of evil darkened the depths of my life, which on the surface was happy enough. For I could not but think I should find Hertha; and Kolbiorn, to whom I discoursed much of her, cheered me in another way. He said one evening, as we sat alone by the bright wood fire, that she had always had only a sisterly affection, he was sure, for Thorstein; for she had been in no hurry to marry him, when it would have been best for her to have done so. The two years since Rolf had died, Swend had been growing more and more drunken and violent, and every one had learnt to depend on Thorstein. ' But when you came, she told me herself that the young monk had put into clear beautiful words what before had been tangled and confused in her thoughts. She praised you more than Thorstein liked, I assure you, till Swend checked her with his rough laughter. But she is a proud high-spirited maiden, or she could never have kept her brother in check as she has ; and the thought of being bought by you, and shoved over like a bale of goods to a chapman without leave asked or given, must have filled her with indignation. Courage, Marquis! Thorstein at least knows where she is, and he is reasonable, and will not prevent any marriage she likes. A man like him is not in love like us young ones ; he has dozens of other things in his head besides : his love is rather like that wine in yesterday's flask ; a little flat, a little gone in the flavour, less spirit in it, if more bitter." " Why, you sang how ' Every life has a spring love,' but the best lives only bore the roses of love twice." " That Avas only a song. Marquis, the mere cup of Braga, all froth and fancy, meant for Thorstein too ; here 236 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. is one for you," And he preluded a little on his harp, and then dashed out—

" The swans flew far from northern lands, Briyht in the north is the summer sea, To the warm blue seas, and the flowery strands ; And it's 0 in the north I fain would be. " They swam in lakes by ruined towers ; So wild in the north is the winter sea ; And pranked their wings in citron bowers. And it's 0 in the south 1 fain would be. " How fair they were to the southern man ! So soft is the wind in Italy ; He made a cage for a northern swan— But the wind in the north is full of glee. " A cage may break, and a swan may fly ; I'he south is fair, but the north is free. No trace in the sea, no track in the sky. And it's 0 for the dash of the northern sea."

" Do you mean," I asked, " that you think Hertha is gone over seas 1 " " No, I mean a song, and nothing but a song. A Saga should be true, but a song may be what you like—or, indeed, don't like,—for that matter." And he went away, singing— " And its 0 in the north I fain would be." It pleased me well that both Kolbiorn and Valeria cared for me, and that my vassals and servants found me a good lord ; but, alas ! I often felt how ill I had played my part since I had left the convent's shelter for the world's work. I had been, and was, a slave to my passion for Hertha, and had thence become the miserable slave of the Saracen, I had a jealous dislike of the brave, honest Thorstein, while I was yet aware he was the best man I had came across in the worldly life; though it consoled me certainly to think that I had not fully consented to that oath of enmity against him. With all these thoughts I longed for the chanted offices to which I had once been so used that they had somewhat lost their force; and so when Christmastide was come I resolved to hear something of them again. It was Christmas Eve, and I walked alone to the Cathe- dral City, a distance of about three hours, to attend the The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 237 midnight mass. The cathedral steps were thronged when 1 arrived, and a glow of light brightened through the night, as the heavy door-curtain was pushed aside by the stream of entering people. With them I passed the arched doorway into the cathedral, which was lit with such a multitude of tapers that the vault of the roof above the high altar was clearer to the eye than ever it was by daylight, while the great columns cast black shadows where they crossed the blaze of light, and the side chapels were mostly hidden in a soft gloom, the darker from the dazzling radiance of the choir I stood in the crowd facing the high altar when the mass began. Out pealed the triumphant music, and the earthly mists which had so bewildered me of late seemed lifting, and the glorious realities which make all the woes and joys of our short mortal lives seem so small and so trifling, once more shone on me, and I breathed again the pure air of my youth. Nearer the altar than I the lights glittered on the brilliant armour of a knight, so that his form caught my eye, and I saw that beside him stood or knelt a veiled lady. Anon sweet voices in the western gallery were singing the hymn, "Gaudet chorus coslesfium," and the man turned his head, and glanced round. Then I saw the light-brown hair falling long in northern fashion, and the steady quiet face, embrowned by sea-winds, and I knew it was Thor- stein, though he looked somehow younger and more polished, clad as he was like a Norman knight, and shaved to the heavy moustache. I edged nearer through the crowd, and felt I could not be deceived in the graceful veiled figure beside him. The mass was soon over, and I saw how Thorstein crossed himself like the rest. He is a Christian, I thought, and Mea Culpa, with a pang. Then when all the people began to stir, some going to other altars, others leaving the cathedral, he took his companion's hand, and together they went to a dark side chapel, far down the nave. Iron gates separated it from the aisle; one single lamp burned before the altar, so that I could slip in after them unobserved, and cower in a dark corner between the altar side and a confessional. Then Thorstein, turning suddenly, shut the gates, and sat down in front of the altar, quite near me, beside the lady; who now, throwing back her dark veil, disclosed, as I expected, the golden hair and radiant face of Hertha. E. J. O. {To be continued.)

No. 8.—AUGUST 1875. 2 II 238 Jlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

^utomall's %atiirh.

II.—GIRLS' SCHOOLS. {Continued.)

BREAKING short, then, a digression which might lead us far from oxu' subject, let us consider what qualifications and what certificates of proficiency a lady ought to possess in order to be siu-e of success in school-work. And first we must ascertain what the subjects tauglit in the new schools are. In the prospectus of the Norwich High School, which may be taken in this respect as a sample of High and Middle Schools, and also of First and Second Grade Endowed Schools, these are stated as folloAvs :—" Religious Instruction, Reading, Writing, Arithmetic, English Grammar and Literature, Histoiy, Geography, French, German, Latin, the Elements of Physical Science, Drawing, Class Singing, Harmony, Gymnastic Exercises, and Needlework. In the Senior Department there will be advanced classes for Ancient HTid Modern Languages, Literature and History, Mathe- matics, the Elements of Moral Science and of Logic, Physical Science (especially Physiology as applied to Health), Social and Domestic Economy." Certainly there is here wide scope given to a lady to consult her own inclinations as to the subject or subjects she may choose to teach. No smattering will pass muster; but, on the other hand, thorough mastery of any subject will be fully repaid. L. M. H., in her useful little Year Book of Woinens Work, after laying it down as a " maxim for teachers in the present day that the passing of some recognised examination, and the possession of a certificate of some kind, are essential to permanent success," goes on to enumerate the means of doing so which at present exist, beginning as follows:—" The highest certificates attainable by women are the Degree- Certificates of Girton College, Cambridge. These certificates are conferred on examinations in the same papers, and held on the same conditions as those that qualify for Degrees in the University of Cambridge, and are really, though not formally, equivalent to a university degree. The certificates, like the Oxford and Cambridge degrees, are conferred only on resident students who have gone through a systematic coiirse of education." Tlie Ladies Edinhurgli Magazine. 239

Next in value, though at a great distance, are the certificates granted by the London University, one on passing the General Examination, which corresponds to the Matriculation Examination of the male students of the University, and one, called a Certificate of Higher Profi- ciency, on passing an examination in some special subject. Certificates may also be gained by passing the Higher Local Examinations (now open to men as well as women) of the University of Cambridge, and the Junior Local Examinations of the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge, Durham, Edinburgh, and Dublin, open to boys and girls under eighteen. In Ireland, Dublin University and Queen's University, Belfast, hold examinations corresponding to the Higher Local Examination of Cambridge, This list is not exhaustive. I refer those who wish for further and more detailed information on the subject to the Year Book already mentioned. It only costs a shilling, and contains a great deal of useful information. Candidates for the London University and Cambridge Higher Local Examinations may obtain instruction in most of the subjects set for these examinations by attend- ing courses of lectures given at University College, Gower Street, by professors of the college, under the management of the Ladies' Educational Association of London. A boarding-house, where ladies not resident in London can be received, is not far from the college. Courses of lectures which have particular reference to the Higher Local Examininations are held also in Cambridge, and ladies who wish to attend them can be received (on terms which vary according to the accommodation required) as boarders at The Hall, Bateman Street, Cam- bridge, a temporary residence—Newnham H51II, which is intended to accommodate thirty boarders, not being yet finished. There are, I believe, some scholarships offered in connection with the Higher Local Examinations, but I regret that I cannot state either their value or the conditions of obtaining them, except that one, to be awarded in June 1875, must be held at Girton College. It is impossible for me, from my ignorance of Scotch matters, to do more than mention the courses of lectures given in Edinburgh under the management of the Ladies' Educational Association, or the certificates granted to women by the University of Edin- burgh. I may safely say that no lectures anywhere have 240 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. been so successful, or more deservedly so. Of the certificates it is imfortunately impossible to speak with such unqualified approval. They have, beyond a doubt, especially the honour certificates, a very high real value, but they lack the stamp which a recognised standard alone can give. I at least have failed to discover any such standard after carefully reading pages 20, 21, 22, 23 of the Report of the Association.* Referring all those who wish for further information, especially on the subject of training colleges for elementary schoolmistresses, to the Year Book so often quoted, I pass on to consider the certificates pronounced as we have seen to be the highest attainable, those of Girton College, Cambridge. They are of three sorts, and are thus enu- merated in the prospectus of the College :—"A certificate, called a Degree Certificate, will be conferred upon any student whose proficiency has been certified to the satisfaction of the College, according- to the standard of any examinations qualifying for the B.A. degree of the Uni- versity of Cambridge, provided that such student shall have fulfilled, so far as in the judgment of the College may be practicable, all the conditions imposed for the time being by the University on candidates for degrees. "A certificate, called a College Certificate, will be conferred upon any student who shall have passed, to the satisfaction of the College, examinations similar in subjects and standard to those qualifying for the B.A. degree of the University of Cambridge, the following deviations being permitted: the substitution of French and English or German and English for Latin or for Greek: the substitution of English, French, and German for both Latin and Greek; the omission, in case of objection, of the Theological part of the examinations. " Certificates will also be granted for proficiency in single subjects. Such certificates will be of three classes,

* The Houldsworth Bursary of £30, tenable for two years, is offered each alternate year to the most successful student of the Local Examination. The National Union for the Education of Women also gives an annual bursary of £25 to the best student. The holder of this bursary may pursue her studies as she pleases ; but to the Houldsworth is attached the condition that she shall become a candidate for the University Certiiicates in Literature, Science, and Art. It is also hoped that ere long other bursaries may be forthcoming; one of £30, tenable for the next two sessions, has been placed at the disposal of the Executive Committee.—[ED.] Tlie Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 241 and will be awarded with reference, as far as possible, to the standard of University Honours." In these details the constant reference to the University standard, even where the subjects are left to the option of the individual student, is, 1 think, the most striking point. This is in fact the foundation-stone of the Girton edifice, the mainspring of its educational system. The second and third certificates require no explanation. The advantages they oiFer to a student who wishes to give undivided time and attention to any particular subject, especially modern languages, which have as yet no place in the University course, are at once evident. The Degree Certificate, however, requires some explanation. It may either be equivalent to the ordinary B.A. degree of the University, or it may be " in Honours," the addition meaning that the student has passed one or more of the University Honour Examinations, better known by the time-honoured slang of Tripos. Such passing is, I must mention, informal, being unrecognised by the University, but it is not the less real in fact. As yet no student has taken either a College Certificate or a certificate in single subjects. Since the opening of the College in 1869, thirty-one students have been in residence for longer or shorter periods ; eight from various causes left without taking any certificate, sixteen are at present in residence, and seven have gone through the full course and passed final examinations in the Mathe- matical, Classical, and Natural Sciences Triposes, six obtaining Honours and one the ordinary degree. One student of the Hall also passed lately in both the Mathe- matical and Classical Triposes with great credit, having, like the Girton students, but unlike all other students of the Hall, submitted to all the conditions imposed by the University on candidates for Honours. These conditions are: that the candidate shall reside for not more than ten or less than nine terms, and shall pass an additional Mathematical Examination besides the Previous Exami- nation, or Little-go. All, I think, who know what the standard of these Tripos examinations is, will allow that to have taken Honours in them speaks well for the zeal and industry of the Girton students, especially when we consider how unprepared they all were on entering college; some knowing no Greek at all, others little Latin and less Greek, all very little and one absolutely no algebra or geometry. 2 i2 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine,

Such being the standard of tlie Degree Certificate of Girton, it is plain that its claim to be the highest attainable is undeniable. There is, indeed, no real comparison between it and any other, the General Examination of the London University being equivalent only to that examination of its male students which tests and certifies their knowledge at the beginning of their University course, while the Cambridge Higher Local Examinations are described as having a smaller group of compulsory subjects than the London, and as aiming in these at thorough rather than advanced knowledge. I am, of course, well aware that the course pursued by the students of Girton College as regards examinations has not escaped censure from those who hold that these University examinations are faulty, and I think that women should not, as they say, imitate men in following the old grooves, but should strike out some new line for themselves, and aim at excellence in that. But, first, is there not a somewhat perplexing vagueness in this advice % What line, one may ask, ought men to be compelled to resign entirely to women % And secondly, is it not the case that, however faulty in some respects these Honour examinations may be, they are still the highest that exist for testing proficiency in certain subjects ; and if some women at least wish to study these subjects-— perhaps that they may afterwards teach them—on what ground ought they to be denied examination by the highest standard? Disapproving as I do—none more strongly—of all silly talk, the object of which seems to be to pit women against men in a sort of intellectual race, and of all premature attempts to prove anything whatever about the relative mental power of the sexes, believing that we have not yet, and may not perhaps for generations, have the requisite data for drawing any conclusions, I yet hold firmly that the principle of submitting the work of men and women to the same test is the right one. Putting aside every consideration save that of the barest fair-play, is it not plain that to refuse this is simply to refuse to alloAv women to compete on equal terms with men in the common labour market ? This is especially true now that the education of girls is ceasing to be a mere farrago of un- scientifically taught accomplishments, and is being approximated closely to that of boys in subjects and methods of teaching. Yet I would not be understood as The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine, 243 defending the present system of University examinations, the competitive element being in my view indefensible, though no doubt difficult to eliminate. The claim, however, to be judged by a recognised standard is perfectly distinguishable from a claim to be allowed to run a neck- and-neck race for distinction with other candidates. And of one thing at least Ave may be confident, that whether the present English University system really deserves all the hard words bestowed on it by reformers or not, its " machinery," to use Dr. Arnold's already quoted expression, is still beyond comparison superior to any in existence for women. Women, therefore, lose at all events nothing (save the doubtful privilege of becoming a corpus vile for educational experiments) by adopting it, faulty thougli it may be. Nor, I think, could a much more hopeful prospect be offered them than that of sharing in future equally with men in all those reforms and improvements which time, and the anxious consideration of experienced and far-sighted thinkers, cannot but work in the universities, I trust the day is not very far distant when this prospect will be legally theirs. Truth compels me here to confess that I have not always approved of the means adopted by the authorities of Girton College to further their views, although I do agree with them in their principle, and am so far grateful to them for consistently adhering to it. Judged by the test we agreed upon befc^re, its professional value, the (xirton system must be admitted to be eminently successful. Five certificated Girton students have engaged in the work of tuition; two are assistant- mistresses—one mathematical, the other classical—in the Manchester High School; one is a lecturer in physiology and zoology at the Cheltenham Ladies' College ; one is assistant-mistress at tlie North London Collegiate School; and one is resident assistant-lecturer in mathematics and natural science at Girton College. I may also mention that another certificated student, who was for two years resident classical tutor at Girton College, has been at different times requested to become a candidate for four headmistress-ships, but has, for private reasons, declined to do so. Now, though the success Avithin the reach of Girton students, so far as high certificates can command it, is likely to be always greater than tha.t of others, there are two considerations which somewhat equalise matters. 244 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

The firstis that theTJniversity of Cambridge does not at present officially recognise Girton. As regards University Ex- aminations, therefore, the College is dependent more than is safe or desirable on tlie goodwill of the examiners. Hither- to this goodwill has been strikingly manifest, and no serious fears therefore need be felt for the future. Besides, time, among other good things, can hardly fail to bring recognition by the University, and affiliation of the College to it. This first drawback therefore has no practical weiglit whatever. It is different with the second, Avhich is that the Girton College course is both prolonged and expensive, not perhaps absolutely, but relatively to other means of preparation. It extends over three years ; or, in the case of Honour students, three years and a-half. The fees are 100 guineas a-year, and only half the year, which half is further divided into three terms, is spent at the College. Manifestly this must be beyond tlie means of many. Several scholarships and exhibitions have, however, been granted every year; the following are offered for 1875:*— An exhibition of the value of £50 a year for three years has been offered on certain conditions by Mrs Tubbs. Gilchrist Scliolarship.—The Trustees of the Gilchrist Educational Fund offer a scholarship of the value of £50 a year for three years, to be competed for at the Uni- versity of London General Examination of Women in May 1875. A scholarship of the value of £50 a year for three years is offered by Lady Goldsmid to the candidate who shall pass best in the Entrance Examination in June 1875. The scholar will be required to read for a degree certificate. A scholarship will be offered in connection with the Cambridge Higher Local Examination in June 1875. The above, it will be remarked, do not fully cover the fees, but some full scholarships of £105 for three years have been already, and might be again, awarded. I fear I have dwelt at a wearisome length on Girton certificates and scholarships, and will only add that no student is obliged to take any certificate (unless bound to do so by the conditions of a scholarship), or to pass any examination except two,—the entrance examination, and the College examination at the end of the academical year. The stijf- ness of the latter depends, moreover, on the student herself;

* This paper was written in May. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 245 if she chooses to study many subjects, it is, of course, hard ; if few, easy. What certificates may be granted at Mr. Holloway's proposed University for Women, what may be their standard, and what their consequent value, are, like most other points in the scheme, uncertain. In any case, however, this institution—whether it can make good its ambitious claim to the title of University or not —may, and I hope will, do valuable work. It must, at all events, secure good teachers, and these, as it is not to be like Girton, situated close to a university, must to a great extent be women. This seclusion, by the way, giving, as it does, great facilities for out-door games, boating, &c., proA^ed by the experience of Girton to be essential to health during hard study, is, in my opinion, an almost unmixed advantage. Here, then, will be a fresh field for lady teachers, and one which ought to be even more pleasant and more remunerative than school-work. Certainly, such a "University" must out-bid the schools, at least if it is to secure the best staff of resident teachers. I wish I could say anything certain about the position and salaries of the Mistress and Resident Lecturers of Girton itself; but considerable difference of opinion seems to prevail on this subject among the committee who form the governing body, and it is consequently still in a very unsettled state. I have now I hope shown, however imperfectly, that the great change which the education of girls is at present undergoing has already produced a corresponding change in the position and emoluments of teachers, the full development of the new system being merely a matter of time; and that the salaries already offered to head mistresses sufficiently prove a thorough and systematic course of training to be an investment both profitable and secure; finally, the necessity of possessing some recognised certificate of proficiency has been insisted on, and the means of obtaining such certificates, particularly that of Girton College, have been described in detail. If I have given wished-for information, or have awakened in any one the faintest spark of enthusiasm or ambition to enter the noble profession, of which, until lately, I counted myself a member, I shall have done all I ventured to hope. But, before concluding, let me say yet a few words about my own college.

No. 8. - AUGU3T 1S75. 246 llie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

My subject has hitherto constrained me to dwell exclusively upon the mere money value of the education Girton offers. But need 1 say that this is very far from being its chief merit? Not thus can the claims which it has on the loyalty and gratitude of its students—claims deeply felt by us all—be estimated. But any description of it would be out of place here. Even were it otherwise, I should hardly dare to attempt so difficult a task. The student's life at Girton miist be lived before its charm can be felt and its value known. This brief acknowledgment must suffice. LOUISA INNES LUMSDEN.

CHAPTER VII.

MOEL VAMAGH is the highest of the range of hills which lie to the south-west of Chester, and can be clearly seen from that town. In the evening, when its tall peak is bathed in the sunset glow, it seems as if it would fain express to human beings something of the meaning of its name—the Motherly Hill; so warm and genial is the glow, so worthy of reverence the height to which the mountain rises. One evening, at the hour of sunset, a few days after Werburga's return home, de Rehmar was standing near the south-west angle of the wall, gazing at this hill, and dwelling intently on the varied hues of the sky beyond it. Looking round, he saw near him, similarly occupied, a young man of distinguished appearance, evidently somewhat pale and worn, and with an earnest and even dreamy expression of countenance. He was gazing, now into the distance, and now, eagerly and anxiously, in the direction of the Baron's house. Presently he turned towards de Rehmar a face which might be like that of Sir Percival while still in search of the Grail—grave, dissatisfied, even sad. Coming a little nearer, he said, "Excuse me, sir: may I ask you which is the house of Baron de Rehmar?" The Baron looked keenly at him while he directed him to the second house on the wall, with a garden gate as its entrance. Seeing evident signs of agitation in the young man's face, a vague surmise crossed his mind, and The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 247 he added, "But the Baron is not at home at present, and will not be so for some time." Eyidently somewhat disappointed, the young man bowed his thanks, and walked rapidly away past the house indicated. In a few minutes he was out of sight. Leaving the town, he took a road that led towards the hills, and walked quickly along it for about two miles; then turned to the left down a lane, with a brook overshadowed by trees flowing at the side of it, and entered a small farm-house which stood by the lane. Passing through the kitchen, which was payed with flagstones, he ascended a wooden staircase, and entering a modestly furnished room, he threw himself into a chair near the window. Part of the town of Chester was discernible from this window, and the young man appeared to be studying the prospect with great interest. On the eyening when he had set out to walk from Glanhafon to Chester, Bandall had walked steadily all the way, only halting once or twice for a few minutes to look around him. When he reached the town he heard the church clocks strike three. To go at this hour to an inn and ask for lodging would have been the most practical course; but it seemed to Randall to be a course which would have matched ill with the rest of his conduct— better to wander dreamily on yet awhile, and to see what fate would bring. He accordingly turned to the left, crossed the large bridge over the Dee, and took a road which led in a westerly direction. The first streaks of dawn were soon visible, and he easily found the farm- house above mentioned. All was still around him ; even the cocks had not yet begun to crow. Finding his way to an outhouse, he discovered that it contained a goodly pile of hay; and stretching himself on this, he threw his cloak over him and soon slept a dreamless sleep. When he awoke, the sun was high in the heavens ; he emerged from his hiding-place, and looking round him, was so pleased with the quiet and retired look of this abode that he knocked at the door of the farm-house, and asked if he could have a lodging there. His request was granted, and he was soon established in a tolerably furnished room, where he assured the mistress of the house that a window looking towards Chester had far greater charms for him than one looking to the hills. The remainder of that day was spent in walking about restlessly in the lanes and fields, or dreaming in his seat 248 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazme. in the window. What course was he now to follow? Two things had to be done. One was to make arrangements for carrying out the plan he had formed for his life here, for that he should remain here for some time was a settled poiat. The other was to write to Trevor and explain the cause of his sudden flight. First, however, fearing that his mother and sister might be suffering some anxiety about him, he wrote a few lines to Malvina, telling her that Glanhafon had become insupportable to him, so that he could stay there no longer; but here he felt that he could do some good; what that was she should hear later. He begged her to give his love to his mother, and to tell her that he was how far better occupied than he had been before. So entirely was Randall's mind preoccupied by the new phase of life on which he was entering, that he considerably under-estimated the effect his conduct might have on others. Such is generally the case when we pursue any object passionately: for the time being, it is our all in all; we see it surrounded by such a halo of glory that our eyes are dazzled, and when we take them away from it, other objects are indistinctly seen. What then was it that Randall was about to do % To discover this, we must accompany him on a walk which he took the following morning. But that his conduct may not appear too strange and Quixotic, we must bear in mind that Randall had in his nature, to a greater degree than most young men have, both ignorance of the world and mental independence. This combination of qualities would lead him to perform very unusual actions, remaining at the same time utterly ignorant that they were unusual. Thus, while he was acting solely from a determination to carry out his own line of conduct, a worldly-wise observer might have supposed that he was actuated by the motive of defiance of custom and prece- dent. The peculiar circumstances in which he was now about to place himself were not more peculiar than the state of feeling which acted as a spur to drive him onward. On the one hand, there was the feeling, bordering on aversion, with which he regarded Trevor and his theories; and on the other, alongside of it, the passion, rising even to adoration, which he felt for Werburga. So strong had been the conflict between these feelings, that while working with the former individual against his will, he had felt as if every moment were carrying him further The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 249 away from the latter. On the one hand, restraint, irk- some tasks, only a barren waste for the heart to feed upon ; on the other, freedom to choose his own abode and occupation, and nearness to the object of his love! All this he had planned and chosen for himself, and now he was to begin to carry it out. He walked the next morning past pleasant pastures, under the shade of fresh green boughs, into the town of Chester, and threading his way through the " Rows," found himself at the door of Miss Langley's abode. He had, however, some mis- givings when he rang the bell. Even though Miss Langley were at home, he should feel some awkwardness; were she absent — which was more than likely, seeing the holidays were not nearly over—he should be utterly at a loss. Miss Langley was at home, however, having just returned from the country ; she received him graciously. " Ah ! Mr. Holme, I am glad to see you have not forgotten me ; and tell me, how is your sister % " " I believe she is well," said Randall; " but, indeed, I have scarcely been at home since I last saw you." " Indeed ! Have you been travelling ? " Randall proceeded to tell Miss Langley, just as if she had been an old friend, all that had happened to him during the last few weeks. There was one topic, however, which he did not mention at all — namely, his feehngs for Werburga; indeed, he did not once pronounce the name of that young lady. Miss Langley was both pleased and amused, however, with the naive way in which he spoke of those tiresome, prosy, scientific papers which he had been writing out for Trevor, and of the wonder he had felt whether there were any truth at all in these new discoveries. He then added— " When I last saw you, Miss Langley, you spoke some earnest words to me, which from that day to this have haunted me continually. I had been living without any fixed purpose in life; and you spoke to me of some even younger than I who were already fighting the battle manfully. Those words of yours impressed me so deeply that I resolved that I would undertake the first work which presented itself to me. It was this work of Trevor's. But, as I have told you, I found it most uncongenial from the first, so that during my leisure hours, which were many, I have been busily cultivating my favourite taste —namely, literature. I have been both writing and read- 250 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. ing a good deal, and have, I hope, studied Shakespeare to some purpose." " Ah! " said Miss Langley, playfully, " then you are the very person I wish to see. Suppose you were to become English master, and so help me out of a difficulty ? " " Certainly, I will!" said Randall, at once relieved from a great awkwardness ; " that is exactly what brought me here." " Oh, indeed ! I did not mean it," said Miss Langley, now becoming embarrassed in her turn; " believe me, I was only in jest. I should never dream of making such a request to you, who have a very different career before you." There are not many young men in Randall's circumstances who would aspire eagerly to the position of teacher in a ladies' school, or who would not hold up to ridicule any one of their number who did so. But Ran- dall hardly knew, and was too indifferent to inquire into, the opinions of others on this subject; what he was doing he did with simplicity and whole-heartedness ; and it was with something like disappointment that he heard the opinion of the world re-echoed in the words of Miss Langley—" This is not your vocation." Yet somehow he fancied that it was; possibly, however, were he to assert this, Miss Langley might ask for his college certificate; alas ! he had nothing of the kind. All this passed rapidly through his mind, and then he answered— "About my future career I have nothing to say; it is the present alone that interests me. I ask of you as a favour that you will accept my services. Even if it be only for a few months, you will save me during that time from an employment which I dislike, and from the other alternative of no employment at all." " Be it so then !" said Miss Langley, with a tremble in her voice. " I feel that I am accepting a great fevour, and shall write to Mrs. Holme on the subject this very day." '• Pray do not," said Randall; "I had rather you left that to me." "As you wish," said Miss Langley; and after a little talk on the subject of how, when, and where the new school- master was to begin his duties, they parted, Randall promising to call again in a few days. It was not without great satisfaction that Miss Langley The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 251 had heard from Randall's lips the effect which her words had had on him on their former meeting. From the half- view of his conduct which she obtained from this standing- point, she, with the aid of her own benevolent character, pictured Randall to herself as one of those modern knights- errant who go about in unpicturesque clothing, assisting their fellow-men in what seem unromantic ways. Had she known, however, that her part in the matter consisted only of a tiny, half-heard accompaniment to the melody which Werburga, with potent fingers, was playing on the chords of his heart, she would have looked upon him as less removed from the days of chivalry than she imagined. All the romantic devotion and homage which the knights of old felt for women in general, and for one woman in particular— this was the motive which led them to enter the lists, and to win the fair by their prowess. Some feelings akin to theirs now inspired the breast of this modern knight; but he had looked in vain for some field like the tournament, on which to win the favour of her who had won his heart. After all ways had been pondered over, all means thought of, it had then come to this;—in want of any other field, the school-room was to be the field of action ; it M^as there that he was to win his spurs, show what he was capable of, and command her attention as well as that of others. That he was possessed of great powers, was a fact which even his most intimate friends hardly recognised, so dreamy and indolent had he appeared hitherto. Miss Langley, when she thought the matter over at leisure, found that these two qualities formed nearly the amount of her knowledge about him; but she reflected that he might possibly belong to that select class of beings who acquire knowledge almost by intuition—as a kind of second nature. His course for the future being now definitely arranged, one duty connected with the past yet remained to be done. This was to write to Trevor. He felt that were he to leave this undone, Trevor might possibly attribute his disappearance to personal dislike, and be unwilling to excuse it. If he wrote, however, and explained how it was the iincongeniality of his work which had driven him to act as he had done, he felt sure that Trevor, who was not without a dash of eccentricity himself, would excuse this unwonted behaviour in another, and even respect him for not stooping to work as a dog or a horse would do, against his will. All this he felt convinced of. 252 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. and yet the writing of the letter was a task he almost shrank from, as likely to cost him more time and thought than he could spare from the more serious duties which he had now undertaken. He began, however, to ponder the matter seriously, and to ask himself what it was that had chiefly induced him to forsake Trevor in this manner. There were reasons in his own mind that spoke for themselves at once; but the answer of his heart was, Werburga. True, he wished to be independent, disliked restraint, w^as anxious to devote himself to literature ; but all these motives seemed to be floating only in the upper current of his being ; down in the depths, his heart was throbbing from some other cause ; that was the great motive—Wer- burga. That his life and fate might in some way be linked with hers, as he believed nature had already established a rapport between them; that some seal might be set to his passion which might render it inalienable ; this was the deep, the real, the unavowed motive of his conduct. He had such a feeling for her, that only to see her pass along the street was a joy sufficient to fill his heart for days ; and he rejoiced at the thought that this was now a daily possibility. It was his one thought every time he walked towards Chester, and he looked at others whom he met only to remark that they were not Werburga. He felt that he had not the courage, even though she had lived in his mother's house, to go and see her in her own home ; this seemed to him as impossible as to call on a spiritual being. By going at stated times to Miss Langley's, however, he would probably meet Werburga, as if by chance, and perhaps find opportunities of speaking to her. But all these feelings he must set aside for the present, and write to Trevor. Finding it necessary to have a tangible means of collecting his thoughts, he seated himself, directly after his return home, at a table with pen and ink, and after a great deal of thought and hesitation, wrote the following letter:—

" DEAR SIR,—As you have at all times freely expressed your opinions to me, I think it is only fair that I should do the same by you. When you have read this letter, you will understand why I left you so suddenly; and if you do not forgive, and even make allowance for, the step I have taken, I shall find to my grief that the trust I had in your manliness and generosity has been misplaced. It eeems to me, sir, that there are two parts of a man's The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 253 nature which ought never to be trampled upon; namely, his feelings, and his freedom of thought. I consider that the feelings are a more vital part of the man than the intellect, and provided they are in a healthy and natural state, anything which hurts or presses upon them unduly is to be avoided. Such an effect, during all the time of my residence under your roof, was produced upon me by the opinions and so-called facts which then came under my attention. If I tried to accept them implicitly, I found I could not do so without either outraging some feeling, or offending my freedom of judgment. I do not think such facts, or conjectures, as I think they ought to be called, are a necessary part of the education of a human being. To prove this, I think we have only to look at the impression they make upon us at first. On first hearing them, we are so surprised that we stand aghast, and consequently our receptive faculty is so paralysed that it loses the power of adopting them in such a way as to veconcile them with thought and feeling. This of itself, I think, proves that they are alien to our nature; to me it is sufficient proof that they are false. It seems to me that every thinking man will of himself, in course of time, discover and accept those truths which are really in harmony with his nature. He will thus avoid enslaving his thoughts to the opinions of others, and by preserving harmony between all the parts of his mental constitution, will have some prospect of becoming a freely and naturally developed human being. It is a result somewhat like this that I am now striving after. Pardon me, sir, if I venture to say, that, while with you, such a result appeared to me impossible. I feel that science is not my vocation; and I am now entering on anotht^.r sphere of thought, where truths as important and as real as those which it teaches are arrived at by a route which, it seems to me, is a far pleasanter and more beautiful one; namely. Art in its poetical development. Art teaches us the nature of man in its possible state of perfection; Science teaches it only in its precedents. Art embraces all the future, the infinite possible; Science only the formal and finished past. I have therefore closed that part of my life which wore the shackles of those strict researches, and am now beginning to breathe what for me is a purer, because it is a native air. Wishing you, in your future studies, that pleasure and profit which I found they could not afford me, I again beg that you will tolerate, if you do not applaud, my conduct, and remain, yours truly, EANDALL HULME."

No. 8.—AUGUST 1875. 2 K 254 The Ladies' Edirihurgh Magazine.

When Trevor had read this letter, he said, " Poor fellow It is a fine manly nature. I daresay he is right in giving me up; but why run away so suddenly ? After all, he looks on science with the prejudiced eye of ignorance : possibly the grand vocation he has chosen may open his eyes somewhat." But it required another eye than that of Trevor to see that it was the false side of science with which Eandall had become acquainted by his means, and that the aversion which this had inspired in him might possibly close his mind against its true side also, at least for years—perhaps for ever. PROCLA. (To be continued.)

SWEET, have the years been long to thee, As they to me have been. Since thou didst close thy gracious eyes On this earth, warm and green ? And have the hours been heavy, sweet, As they to me are long. Since thou didst tread the heavenly street, And learn the heavenly song f For since they laid the lily flowers Upon thy quiet breast. To me the heavy-footed hours Have brought nor mu-th, nor rest. And since they hid thy placid face In yonder churchyard still. The world has been an empty place, Which no one else can fill. I would not make thee mournful, love, If happy souls can mourn ; I would not draw thee from above. If happy souls return; I would not cast across thy joy One shadow of a tear, If angel bliss can know alloy From sorrows—darkening here. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 255

So dream I, sweet; and yet if one | Should say that unawares i My love and grief had drawn thy feet j Adown the golden stairs, j \ And even in one little hour < This lonely room should be : Transformed to an heavenly bower, ] A heaven of heavens to me ; ' If shortly through that open door : Thy shining robes should pass, | Thy feet, as light upon the floor i As dew upon the grass ; i Thy little hands, like birds that are, | Should both in mine alight; And thine old smile, so slow, so fair, Should deepen with delight; And if the ruby blush should glow ; Thy tender cheek upon, j From whence death kissed it, years ago, i Oh ! many years agone;— i i Sweet, if my love could call thee here How coidd I bid thee stay % For it is many a weary year That thou hast been away. R.

i^k dihristiatt Roman's IStorh in Jndia. PART I. THE subject before us is one of ever-widening extent, and ever-deepening interest: to enter into it fully in the space of some three or four short chapters is imposssible; it is therefore my purpose to give my readers such information on the leading features of the work, as will, I hope, incline them to seek further details from other and better sources. India has peculiar claims upon England; it is a possession of the British Crown, and after the Mutiny, our Queen, having been proclaimed " Empress of India," declared herself to be as responsible for tlie welfare of 256 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. her Indian subjects as for that of the inhabitants of the British Isles. God has given that vast empire to us, and He will certainly one day require an account of the manner in which we have fulfilled our sacred trust. Thank God there has been for many years a great and good work carried on in India by European Christians. Moved by the Holy Spirit, and filled with love to the dear Redeemer and the souls for whom He died, men have given their lives to the work, and toiled earnestly, prayerfully, devotedly, in the noble enterprise. The Church Mission- ary and other kindred societies can point to years of unflagging zeal and untiring labour, ay, and to hun- dreds of jewels for the Redeemers crown, graciously given them for their hire. The hands stretched out in mute appeal have not been unseen; the cry which has echoed from shore to shore all over the world, " Come over and help us !" has not been unheard. The ignorance and misery of thousands of perishing souls in all lands have not been unheeded: the servants of God have loved, and do love, to obey their Master's command, " Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature." But there has been a stifled cry, which is only now being recognised; there have been prisoners groaning in cruel bondage, whose wrongs are only now being understood ; there have been millions of souls shut up in densest darkness, whom the light already spread, and the efforts aheady made, have of necessity failed to reach; we stand upon the threshold of a work hitherto untried, as we begin to understand the wants, and strive to alleviate the sorrows, of India t Women. Let it be realised that in seeking " to make known the Gospel of Christ to the women of India " we are attempting that for which missionaries in years gone by have sighed and prayed, because they have felt that the deplorable state of wives, mothers, and sisters, was a mighty stumbling-block in the way of the conversion of husbands, sons, and brothers; a work too which could never be accomplished by men, as none but women would be admitted into the Zenanas; and we have a reason, cogent beyond the possibility of doubt, for crying Avith all the earnestness of which we are possessed, " Christian women to the rescue! " In this first paper I shall try to show my readers the crying need of India's women, leaving for future pages the interesting and encouraging account of how that need The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 257 is being supplied; and also the discussion of the important question, " What is oiir share in this great work, and how are we taking it up % '' There are in India one hundred millions of women ; of these, fifty millions are of low caste; the remaining fifty millions are ladies, the wives of the nobility and gentry of the country. A Hindu gentleman has been known to say, " The ignorance and seclusion of the ladies of my house are essential to the honour of my family." This degrading seclusion may be considered the key-note to their whole history, the successive notes in the chord (to pursue the simile) being these—" Unwelcomed at birtli, untaught in childhood, enslaved when married, accursed as widows, unlamented at death." Few histories can be summed up in words so brief yet full of terrible meaning: " prisoners for life " is practically their doom ; prisoners too with no bright memories of the past to solace them in their desolation ; with no employment to enable them to forget their surroundings; with no hope, however faint, to gild the future with its cheering ray. The first few years of the life of a Hindu lady pass by in comparative ease ; for, as a child, she is allowed to go out of doors at will, and to find amusement with her doll or other toy. Her greatest delight is to dress and undress her doll, and prepare it for a mock marriage ceremony, marriage being the predominant idea of her life; but she is not permitted to have any of the benefits of education, and at an early age (eight being prescribed in the Shastras, or Holy Books) she is married. In the choice of a husband her will is not consulted ; but to her father this is a business of the utmost importance, involving as it does fiimily interests of the highest order. A ghutaka (or person employed to arrange all such matters) is sent for ; he proposes some youth whom he considers suited in all respects to be the bridegroom of the young lady in question ; and after some interviews between the fathers of the children, and some preliminary arrangements, such as writing the marriage-contract, a day is fixed for the wedding ceremony, and when all prescribed forms have been gone through, the little bride is taken to her new home. Strange and sad must the child feel as she finds herself among strangers, and learns that she can see her own mother no more. Her new companions are the wives of her husband's brothers and uncles, and perhaps great uncles; also her husband's 2-38 . The Ladies' Edinhurgh Magaziinc.

mother, grandmother, and possibly great-grandmother, for every gentleman in a family of any position in India brings home his wife. Once within the walls of the Zenana (or apartment for women) in her husband's house, the lady may be considered a prisoner; she must never again leave jmrdak (the close confinement considered essential to family honour, purdah being " a screen "), unless closely veiled, and conveyed in a carriage from which she can see no One, and into which no one can by any possibility look. Every imaginable restraint is imposed on her; she must always be veiled in the presence of her husband's male relatives, she has no occupation, her life is simply one of thorough inanition. A Mahommedan lady being asked wha,t she and her companions did to pass the time, answered, " We sit here till we are tired, and then we sit there." The Hindu ladies, who are a trifle less apathetic, take pleasure in dressing their hair and changing their apparel; they also cook their husband's food ; the rest of their time passes drearily by in smoking or sleeping, or simple idleness. The sufferings of these poor unhappy inmates of the Zenana are very great, and many lives are lost in consequence of the damp or otherwise un- healthy condition of their apartments, and the ignorance and prejudice manifested in the treatment they receive when ill. One Zenana is thus described by Miss Miiller, (missionary): " A low narrow entrance, through which I had to walk in a most lowly attitude, led into a square court, through which we loaded to a brick staircase about a foot and a half wide. The court was the only receptacle for all thrown-away Avater from the kitchen. Three pupils appeared, one by one, in the little prison-like bed- room, with its walls which age and dirt had made of all shades from brown to black, and which some pictures and would-be decorations tried in vain to adorn. I sat in state on the solitary chair, the others on the bed. . . . The only aperture through which any light could come was a narrow black wooden shutter." To sum up all, woman is downtrodden and degraded to the utmost extent of man's power, tyrannised over and crushed till her life is wretched beyond all power of tongue to tell. But the darkest part of the story has yet to be told; when a lady in India becomes a widow, her woes culminate, and are almost too fearful to contemplate. It is very evident how all is ti-aceable to sad and utter ignorance of God and His ways. The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 259

Many and touching are the references in the Bible to God's loving tender care for the widow; and how beautiful is the example of Jesus! In every Christian land, as by intuition, men treat with reverence and sympathy those from whom God has removed earthly support and joy, and how deeply we feel the sacredness of the claims which that sorrow has upon all! When we turn to India, how dark, how terrible the contrast! To be a widow is to be accused; and not long since. Suttee (or burning the widow alive on her husband's funeral pile) was the awful custom. Happily, our government has abolished this, and also (^more recently) the obligation to perpetual widowhood, but the sentence of death is only changed; the weight of the sorrows heaped upon the widow presses on her throughout her wretched life, till she sinks under it broken-hearted; and so strong is the prejudice against new customs, that very few can be persuaded to avail themselves of re-marriage. We look forward to seeing this prejudice overcome, but in the meantime what is the condition of the widow ? She wears the coarsest kind of garments, eats only the poorest food, and that but once in the day; twice in the month she must keep a strict fast, no bit or drop entering her lips for twenty- four hours. One of our missionaries, teaching recently in a Zenana, where there was a widow fifteen years of age, tells of one occasion on which the poor cliild had to be excused from lessons from sheer exhaustion and consequent inability to attend; her mother, who was present, not daring even to moisten the parched lips. Another heart-rending story is told of a poor young woman, who, because her husband had become a Christian, was considered a widow, and for five weary years subsisted on one meal of rice a-day; at the end of that time, we rejoice to add, she herself was converted and rejoined her husband. With one startling fact in connection with this sad subject of widowhood, we close the present paper; there are in India eighty thousand widows under sixteen years of age ! I Christian women, to the rescue!

" Jesus signals still ; Wave the answer back to heaven, By Thy grace— We will." S. S. II. (To he continued.) 260 The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine.

^hadoic and punslunc.

CREEPETH a heavy mist over the sea, Waileth the leaden wave crested with snow. Lapping the dark dripping rocks drearily— Dead seems all joy here below !

Breaketh from heart of the gloom swift a beam, Singeth the azure wave softly and low, Shineth the brown cliff with diamond-like gleam— Bright seems all joy here below!

Cometh a dimness slow over thine eye, Woe-born and quivering, ready to flow In silver tears to the sound of a sigh— Gone seems my joy here below !

Flasheth a smile from thy dark tender glance. Lighting my life with its love-kindling glow, Swaying my soul with its sweet puissance— Full seems my joy here below! MELENSA. The Ladies^ Edinburgh Afagazine. 261

Cj]iJ ^ragon of the |lorifj.

CHAPTER IX.

" To the dim light and the large circle of shade I have clomb, and to the whitening of the hills There where we see no colour in the grass. Natheless my longing loses not its green, It has so taken root in the hard stone, Which talks and hears as though it were a lady.

Utterly frozen is this youthful lady." —DANTE.

THOSE only who have loved as I have can imagine the trembling rapture with which I beheld my long-lost lady, who looked as though she were a Christmas angel who had lingered behind on earth when the rest had sped heavenwards. Thorstein was between us, and so near me that I could hear all he said, and understand most, from my diligent study of the language with Kolbiorn. While I hesitated for a moment whether to show myself or not, their talk began, and I could not but listen. " And how was it, Thorstein, that you found the truth at last ? " began Hertha. " It was Rainulf who made it clear to me," he answered; " Avari'iors imderstand each other. I feel as if I had discovered a fair new land, with new noble friends and hopes that will not die. And now all surely is clear between us, Hertha ; let me take joii away from here as my wife; we have had enough of victory for me to bring you in safety to the fair castle near Aversa which the emperor has given me; and he has also promised me the command of all the Norman allies when he goes home. 'No small thing, my Hertha, as these brave warriors have accepted me with all kindness as their chief Come and be my princess and theirs." Hertha drooped her head, and became crimson. " Oh, Thorstein, my own brother, I thought you knew —that was all tliat stood between us two years ago,— but now—now " " Now what? " he said quickly. She whispered something so low I could not hear a word, but he turned his face aside towards me, and I saw a quick spasm pass over it.

No. 9. - SEPTE-MBER 1875. 2 L 2G2 Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

'•' Of course I saw it in him ; but you—no, I did not know, I did not think you cared." Again Hertha's answer was inaudible, and he went on. " Yes, a good choice; there is nothing against it, and T am ready to help you;" then after a pause, " you know, Hertlia, it is only as it was before. I am your brother still, or better suited to be your father perhaps— youth to youth. I will'manage all for you. But yet— it does seem strange—I, whom you have known your whole life, think it wonderful you should so trust yourself to a stranger of yesterday." " My best of kinsmen," said Hertha now, " it is strange; a maiden knows not of it, perhaps is willing to marry, as I would have married you once had you been a Christian, but something in her waits for more. Then suddenly one day the lord of her heart comes all unexpected, and to each it seems as if for the sake of Avhat now had come this life had been unfilled, and their hearts waiting. But oh, Thorstein, care for me still; without your good-will I Avoiild not marry : you are my true brother, and soon you will think of your little girl again as in the old blithe days in Norway." " Perhaps—at least it seems easier now to give up. Then as he is so near, I may arrange all as soon as possible; it shall not be baulked like the last wedding;" and they both smiled. " Shall you go now to Asile ? " she asked, " Yes, and to-morrow, or at latest on the day after. I shall expect to be here again, and bring him. Now I have told Kolbiorn to meet me on the rocks under Asile, and I shall walk there by the shore. My horse is tired out, for I galloped on alone." " You are sure, dear Thorstein, that yon will be Avell received at Asile." " Oh, I sliall see Kolbiorn first; no feai' of Lorenzo, but . he ought to get rid of Syades." " Yes, and do you beware of him," she said, drawing on her veil again ; and they rose and left the chapel. I followed as soon as I could without being observed, and saw the gleam of Thorstein's armour already some way off in the crowd ; but when I got near him, I found to my great vexation he was alone. How recognise Hertha among the many veiled women who passed to and fro '? Awhile I strove to do so, but only lost sight of Thorstein also; and at last I left the Cathedral, though The Ladies' Jidinhurgh Magazine. 263 disappointed for the moment, yet full of tumultuous joy. Kolbiorn then was right, it Avas only the insulting form of the marriage that had offended her; ours was but a lovers' quarrel. I felt a true compassion for Thorstein when I thought of the message he had to give me, and I resolved to go home also by the sea-shore, so as to meet and talk with him there. It was still black night in the streets ; the stars were gone, and it was too dark to set ofi"; so I was lingering under the lamp which burned before a shrine of Our Lady in the market-place, when, to my surprise, 8yades almost ran up against me. " Well met. Marquis ! " he exclaimed; •' I was looking for you, and thought you might be here; I have great news for you. Thorstein is in this city." " Indeed ! and why is this such great news ? " '• Do you not see?—we may get him to Asile, and there he might be brought to a useful end. At least "—seeing my angry gesture—" we may find out from him where Hertha is. One of my spies has seen her not far from here." " I will have no one lured into my castle to be murdered." " That, if you call it so, is not needed. There is more news yet; you had not been gone half an hour before Swend, in his Dragon ship, came round the point, and he is now in his old moorings beneath Asile. Let him but take Thorstein, and he is on the watch for him, and he will clear him out of your way with Hertha ; and no fear but Swend Avill find out from him where she is. Swend's humour is no better than when you last saw him. \Vill you ride, and then Ave can talk by the \A'ay ? " " No," I ansAvered ; " there is no huny ; nothing Avill happen till morning, and I Avill Avalk back by the shore. But do you go on, and get out food, and, above all, wine, for SAvend and his men, or they may be troublesome; but above all, do not let them into the castle to terrify Valeria and Damasus." " I go, my lord," said Syados. " NOAV mind hoAv you play your game; your lady is within reach again, and, if you are careful, may be yours to-morroAv." So Ave parted, and I turned shorewards, determined to warn Thorstein of his danger and hear his message. When the grey dawn began to brighten, I had already passed the toAvn and shipping; and further along the lonely coast I saAv a man sitting motionless on a rock; and draAving softly near, I perceived it was Thorstein. I 264 The Ladies'' Ed'mburgli Magazine. stole close up to him on the noiseless sand, and saw how he sat like an old Greek statue of IMars I had seen, quite still, with his hands clasped round one knee, looking fixedly out to seaward. His helmet lay at his feet, and his eyes, gazing on the dim horizon, were full of tears. A deep compassion moved me, and I came round the rock as from further away, letting my steps sound. He picked up his helmet, dashing away the tears as he did so, and turned to me with his usual manner. " You here, and so early. Marquis d'Asile % " " Yes, I come from midnight mass at St. Agata, and I wish you all joy of the Feast of the Nativity." " Thank you. Marquis, I come from mass too, at the Cathedral, for I am a Christian now," and he clasped ray hand warmly—" and I must ask you to forgive me for being a little rough Avhen last we met. It was Swend's fault, and Syades'—not ours, Lorenzo. Now I have broken Avith Swend, do you break with Syades, and we shall always be the best of friends. May I come with you to Asile?" " Willingly, as far as I am concerned ; but there are dangers there for you." " How ! dangers ? " " Yes—only to-day, I trust: to-morrow we will arrange all for you to come; and bring Hertha, will you not ? " " Hertha! I do not understand you. Surely you must feel that Asile is just now the last place Hertha would choose to visit." By this time we were walking rapidly side by side along the sands, and again and again I alluded to Hertha, but Thorstein Avould not speak of her; and with growing Avrath I perceived he avoided her name. At last I said, " Herser Thorstein, it is not well that you should fence Avith me about this matter; you knoAV where my bride is hidden; you know that although her brother's rough folly angered her for the moment, that she is my Avilliug bride; you are keeping us apart, but it is useless. AVhy have you changed to me ? you approved of our marriage before." " Yes, I tried to think it for the best once," ansAvered Thorstein ; " but UOAV I tell you—Hertha is not for you." " I see you Avill tell her I am fixlse, or perhaps that I am the slave of Syades, and keep her from knowing the truth." " Speak no more of her," he said, sternly. " Hertha and The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 265 her afi'airs are not to be talked over between you and me. You may perhaps see her soon; but others will be present who will not allow her to be disturbed." " Allow is no word to be used to me." " One would think this convent-bred youth wished to provoke me to fight him," said Thorstein, half to himself; " you know 1 cannot fight you, we are no match, so let us end this foolish talk and not scold on like women. Take the upper road, Marquis, for I have to meet Kolbiorn on the rocks below, and so a good farewell to you." The traitor, I thought, betraying Hertha's confidence in him. Should I tell him what I had overheard in the Cathedral ? No, he might turn on me then in fury ; life was very precious to me now, and he seemed already irritated. Round the next point lay the Dragon of the North, and all trouble from him would soon be off my hands. Should he go on without warning'? To deliver my conscience, I called out as I loitered behind him, "As I told you, there is danger in front;" but he took no notice, and I thought his blood might now be on his OAvn head. I followed, as he went swiftly over the sands for more than an hour, and then clambered lightly up the point from which the creek below Asile and the ship would become visible. I saw his figure for a moment against the sky-line, then came a clashing of weapons and wild shouts. No doubt, a look-out had been kept on the headland, and I hurried thither myself, too eager to know what was passing to remember that it Avould have been wise for me to have returned in safety to my castle. AVhen I mounted it, I could see, moored so close inshore tliat the gangway rested on the rocks, the Dragon ship : the narrow strip of sand between it and the fishing village was thronged by figures coming and going: some drove cattle; some brought other goods; fires were blazing ; stir of all sorts went on ; and I could see a party of armed men leading Thorstein in their midst as a prisoner. I descended myself and then paused, uncertain whether to turn back or go on, when Swend's rough voice hailed me and bade me come near. " Good morrow to the mighty champion," he said. " Well, we might have our wedding feast now; we have caught the mischief-maker. No time for that, though. "What we want now is plenty of stores on board, wine and meat, and gold from the castle. Give your orders, Mar- quis ; Ave must put out to sea almost directly again." 2G6 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

" Ay, ay, captain, but we must have our Yule feast ashore as you promised," said a grim old Viking, Swerfur by name, as he staggared past under an ox carcase. We were near the mouth of a great cave, and I was now surrounded by the crew, and could see how much it was changed. For one Northman there were two dark Africans or evil-looking Greek pirates. Swend too seemed rougher and wilder even than of old, and no doubt his prompt fierceness awed a little the scum of nations he now commanded, though he never had full authority over the Northmen. " Yes, my men, we sail this evening with all we can carry inside and outside," he shouted—" make way there —I am going to speak ;" and he sprang on a rock and said— " Besides our own feast, I shall propose that as we have been most unlu^cky of late, which looks as if the gods were offended, that A^e should, as is usual at Yule, make a feast for them—give some of the booty in sacrifice." " Yes, yes—a sacrifice—horses—goats for Thor," was shouted from below. " Ay, my lads, and more than that; I should offer a better gift to Thor, our own battle-god—who thinks, no doubt, we have forgotten him, I shall give what he loves best—a Avarrior in his prime. I have the traitor Herser Thorsteiu a prisoner there in the cave." There was a yell of delight; but I could see many of the real Northmen glanced at each other displeased and silent, and Swend went on. " Do you consider that he has deserted the ship, and slain our messmate Hacon for obeying orders ? He left me his captain tied up like a wolf in a trap; he has stolen away my sister, and Avill not say where she is ; and more tlian all, he who sailed with us to avoid King Olaf's tyranny, has insulted the great Thor, under whose name lie was protected: he has become Christ's man and Olaf s man, and is no more fit to be with free sea rovers. Show him tliat Thor has power to avenge himself, mark him on the shoulder w4th his hammer, and send him to the god Avith a message that Av^e are true to the old faith still," This time the response was deep and fierce, and fcAV seemed to dissent, and I trembled, Avhile I listened, from a strange mixture of feelings. Now Kolbiorn came hastily out of the crowd toAvards me ; his eyes were troubled, his fair face pale as death. Swend turned round as he ad- The Ladies Edinhurgh Magazine. 267 vanced. " Mind," he said, " yon two are prisoners. One cannot tell friend from foe in this land of traitors. Disarm them, and don't let them away, but meddle with them no further," he said to the men about, who accordingly disarmed and watched us, but left us freedom of movement. " Swend is in an evil humour," said Kolbiorn in Italian. "I could generally do something with him before, but now he will not hear a word. For Heaven's sake, send for the strongest wine, Lorenzo : the chance is making him very drunk, or it will go ill for poor Thorstein. AVas ever such luck ? Oh, had you but heard in time to warn him ! I knew he was coming, but was stopped before I could save him from walking into the Dragon's mouth. How- ever, I don't think Swend means harm to you or me ; let us go into the cave and hear what counsel Thorsteiu has to give." Two men guarded the high archway of the cave, who let us pass to where, in a narrower part, others guarded Thorstein. He sat on the rocks, close to where they dipped into the narrow inlet of brightest green water, which wound far up the cavern. They had taken off his helmet and mail coat, and his hands were far too tightly bound, but otherwise he was uninjured and undisturbed, greeting us pleasantly as we entered. Before him stood Syades, talking eagerly; and his presence seemed, as usual, to take all power from me, so that, as I dreamily watched the little flashing fish turning among the coral branches under the green water, I hardly knew what I willed and what passed. " As I was saying," continued Syades, " only give us your promise you will tell us how to find Hertha when you are safe in Asile, and I will yet bring you there. Why keep my lord from his bride ? Why throw the last chance of your own life away ? " " I have never thought enough about my life," answered Thorstein, "to change my mind when I have settled thuigs, for fear of losing it. I think it not well to tell you Avhere Hertha is, so that matter is done with. Why, Lorenzo," turning to me, with a little laugh, " always slow ! Surely you had time when you saw I had run on the reef to change your course. Has Swend taken you too ? " " Why use friendly words to one you have forced to become your foe ? " said Syades. " This Marquis knew before that Swend was here ; I told him." " And he never warned me! " exclaimed Thorstein; 268 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

" the treachery of these Italians !'' He added in an altered voice, " As I am a man with but a short time to live, perhaps you will leave me to talk in peace to my friend Kolbiorn." Kolbiorn, too, was looking at me Avith utter scorn expressed on his handsome face ; but e'er 1 had time to speak, Swend had dashed into the cavern among us. " What, the wise Syades here!" he called out; " even the fox will sleep : here I have the lord, and as good as the garrison of Asile, safe together. Now, my Lord Mar- quis, order your people to set open the gates that we may help ourselves, or it will be the worse for you and Master Syades here. Out with you ; I will send you with a guard to your gates: let them open on your peril, and be quick, for I leave this cursed land to-night for ever." " Sweud Hrolfson," said Syades, " it needs but a touch from me, and you would never leave this land or this cave alive. Are you drunk already, that you know not friend from foe? Even now, food and rich wines come to you from Asile. If you want more, harry the country round ; send Eric in command, or he may chance to try and rescue Thorstein. Watch the paths from Naples; the Normans are on their way here. For the Marquis, if, to my regret, any evil befal him, it matters little. I hold the castle, then, for his heiress Valeria. Me you cannot harm." Swend looked awed, but, conquering himself, shouted to his men to seize the Saracen; and several advanced. Out flashed the sword of Syades—flashed indeed, for in the twiHght cave all could see it was not of cold steel, but of glowing fire. The men bore back from the fiery circle, as slowly he retreated into the darker recesses of the cavern ; and the weird bhie sword-light was lost to view round a point of blackest rock. Men followed, but not very speedily, and no doubt some branch of the secret passages opened into the far windings of the cave, for they found nothing; and Syades, as I afterwards heard, soon reappeared at Asilc. But Swend gave orders that Thorstein should be removed from the cave, as some mystery haimted it; so all chance of rescue thence was removed, and he was led out to where a great stone had fallen on the sand from the top of the mighty jagged cliff which almost overhung the sea. " Thor has no sacred stone here," said Swend, with his savage laugh; "but care noi thou for that, Thorstein. The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 2 09

When your back is broken over this one, it will be Thor's stone for ever. Meanwhile you must wait a bit till the meat is cooked, and horseflesh ready, for the vows and the drinking. How do you like the feel of your hands ? are the knots tied v^^ell enough to please you ? " Thorstein made no answer ; indeed, he seemed to heed Hwend as little as he did the screaming gulls who wheeled about, dipping their wings in the smooth lead-like sea; for the day was very still, gloomy, and mild, not like Christmas Day ; a weight seemed to stand over earth and sea; and amid all the wild clamour of the crew now and then came a silence, in which the far-away chimes of the cathedral in the distant city were heard; and the shrieks and shouts where some Northmen were plundering an inland village, whence clouds of smoke and spires of flame began to rise. I never knew how much time had passed, but now, the Northmen, aided by some terrified inhabitants, were spreading their feast on the near rocks and sand; they were broaching Avine-casks from Asile, roasting and boiling huge masses of meat, taking more on ship- l)oard, a bustling crowd surrounding on all sides tlie little knot of dark-hued Saracens Avho guarded Thorstein. Kol- biorn, Avith uuAvonted sadness on his lace, sat close beside him, and they talked on together in a IOAV voice, neither of them noticing me Avhen once or twice 1 addressed a Avord to them. Then there Avas a movement in the croAvd above, a sound as of horses' feet; and looking into the wild throng, I could see my lady riding through them, folIoAved by some one on horseback. The mob surged round her horse; evidently she could ride no further; but she sprang doAvn .among them, and passed through; for it was as if her aAvful quiet beauty clove a way for her, and as if it forced all men to do her homage. She came up to where Thor- stein sat, Avho rose as she drew near. She leant her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his forehead gently and slowly, and then turned round and faced her brother. When I had seen her in the upland cliapel, Avhei'e all concerned herself, she had seemed confused, and almost frightened; now there Avas not in her fair face a trace of bewilderment or fear. I saw how SAvend dared not meet her eye, for he had turned towards her horse, calling men to slaughter it, as a beast noble enough for a sacrifice. '• Our sister has brought it for the horse-broth she will

No. 9.—SEPTEMEEr. 1875. 2 M 270 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. not taste," he said ; and in another minute the horse was felled, and cut up like a bullock. " Hertha," said Thorstein—but in spite of his words his face was bright with joy—" this should not be." " Some of the men may yet listen to Rolf's daughter," she answered. " The men are not here; there are not thirty Northmen; they are a rabble of strangers." " That is bad, dear kinsman, but I have done something; I have sent messages to hasten Rainulf; 1 have roused them in Asile—Lorenzo !"—she turned to me as I ventured nearer; "can you do nothing? You have a garrison." " Alas, dear lady," I began, when Kolbiorn interrupted — "He! he knew, the trap was set, and never warned Thorsteiu." " Lorenzo!" said Hertha. " Oh, my bride, my queen," I exclaimed; " I knew not all the danger, and 1 let him go on because he would not give your message to me. I was in the cathedral, and heard you tell him to summon me." I stopped, for I saw Hertha did not listen; but Thorstein said, " You were in the cathedral, and overheai'd, I begin to understand; you must tell them all afterwards, Marqiiis—not now— the time draws near." The men were now flinging themselves down by the masses of roast and sodden meat, and quaffing huge draughts of wine; and the hoi'se-broth, the great sign or sacrament of Odin-worship, was being served. Yet an uneasy silence, or wild shouts, replaced the usual gay talk of Norse revellers. Suddenly Swerker, an oldish man, spoke on high. " Herser Thorstein, you were our best man; we of the old crew are loath to throw your life away. Yovi came with us to avoid the new faith—taste the horse-flesh, join us again, and let us all pledge Thor together." " That cannot be noAv, Swerker," he answered. " I am Christ's man; besides, it was freedom of choice I fought for; all men who served me should be free to choose their faith also." " Join us again is my rede, if we leave the gods to mind their OAvn business. What say you, Eric ? must we all lose Thorstein because he has quarrelled with Swend 1" " I say, let Swend and Thorstein fight it out," said Eric. "Glorious," said another; "let them fight." " I would fight any one here gladly," said Thorstein; Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 271 and for the first time a little eager hope came into his voice. " No, no, they are no match; it would only be killing Swend instead of Thorstein," came in another voice; " but let Thorstein come on board again as before," " And commandr' shouted Swend; "and for whom? why he fights for the Lombards, and against the emperor at Mickelgarth." " Yes," said Thorstein; " I have taken service with the Emperor Henry, and can fight no more on board the ship; but I will pay a man's atonement for Hacon, and then Avhat more do you want with me? If no one will fight me, let us shake hands for old comrades' sake, and part in peace." " What boots it altering and changing our course like this?" shouted an old rover. " Thorstein's life is not so much better than other people's, nor, by all the gods, is he so much fonder of it that we should think so much about giving him to Thor. That he was our friend, makes it all the worse that he is our worst foe. Go on, Swend, and we will help you, and let us be done with the business." With sick terror I beheld now a rush of men to where Thorstein and Hertha stood. Headed by Swend, with uplifted axes, they dashed past the dark grinning Africans, and were on him. Hertha had thrown her arms round him, and stood now clinging to him, facing the men, tall, beautiful, and tranquil, while the axes were glittering in the air all round her. Thorstein looked not at them, but down on her, with a bright glow of pleasure illuminating his face, while she said to them— " Traitors that you are to the old days and the old land of Norway, strike if you will; it shall not be Thorstein only, but your great leader Rolf's daughter. My true kinsman and I—both, both together!" All the men but Swend drew somewhat back, and there was a pause, broken at last by a new and strange interruption. E. J. 0. {To he continued.) 272 Tlie Ladies Edinhurgli Magazine.

HI.—ENGRAVIXG OX WOOD.

IN the many discussions of the present day, of which women and their employments are made the subject, any occupation in the line of Art is at once conceded to them by the popular voice as eminently fitting. This chiefly perhaps from two reasons:—because the work is, generally speaking, carried on at home, and because the labour is looked upon as " light." The reasons are valid ones, and yet they may be dAvelt upon too strongly, for those who would be successful in art must pursue it Avith a devotion which the home life hinders as often as fosters, and must recognise that it is labour to which they are called, persevering and arduous, though the labour itself may become a delight. Is it not the ignoring of tliis, the regarding of art in the light of a recreation rather than a study, that accounts for so few women reaching the highest rank among artists, while the majority do just so well as to show they could have done a groat deal better ? A writer in the Art Journal says, " Women can attain a certain level ' so easily' that they are tempted to refrain from scaling the heights beyond. AVe submit that what woman most lacks in art, is the power to labour quietly, unassumingly, unremittingly." The recently published Life of Mrs. Gilbert (perhaps better knoAvn in literature as Ann Taylor) has called attention to an early example of engraving being adopted as a profession by women. She and her sister Jane, before becoming known in tlie literary Avorld as the gifted authors of so many well-known hymns and other pro- ductions, were taught by their father, Isaac Taylor, his own art of engraving on steel, and followed it so thoroughly that with a working day of more than nine hours they continued the pursuit from twelve to fourteen years. Mrs. Gilbert in her Autobiography recalls those days with pleasure and pride, saying, " We had, I might almost say, the honour of stepping first on a line IIOAV regarded as nearly the one thing to be accomplished, the respectable, remunerative, appropriate employment of young women." The line thus stepped upon has been more frequently trodden since, the necessity for it, in this country at all Tlie Ladies Edinhurgh Magazine. 273

events, being made plain by the inexorable logic of facts. The public mind has thus got familiarised with the idea, but where " appropriate employments " are to be found is often still the subject of discussion. The solution of the problem must eventually lie in individual experience, as it ends in failure or achieves success. Some light may, however, be thrown upon it by more accurate knowledge of employments suggested, the very A^aguest notions as to the possibilities or requirements of such being often entertained by those who either recommend or condemn. The occupation of which this paper is to speak is one very familiar to us, for we can scarcely handle a book without seeing some fruits of its skill, and yet how few who admire the picture have any knowledge of the process ! The art of engraving on wood is of very ancient origin. The invention has been claimed for the Chinese, whoso books have been printed from wood-blocks for centuries. It is not however, till the beginning of the fifteenth century that there is evidence of the existence of the art as we now understand it, at which time it was used in Germany for printing playing-cards and figures of saints. It was when the art of printing had become known that the publication of illustrated books became general in Germany, reaching England in 1476. After this the practice of engraving steadily increased, but declined in the seventeenth century, till it fell into a state of great neglect, from which it was revived mainly by the genius of Thomas Bewick about the year 1790. His works, as with an inspiration of fresh life, more than raised it to its former importance, from which time it has continued to flourish till it has reached the high place it now holds both in England and on the Continent. An engraving on wood is produced by leaving in relief all the parts intended to be printed, the light portions being hollowed or cut away. The picture is drawn or painted upon Ihe smooth surface of a block of wood, and the engraver renders this into a type, producing his effects by the arrangement of his lines, the lights which he takes out and the darkened masses which he leaves, form, colour, and texture being alike the object of his study. The graver is his pencil, only every line he makes is a light, and it is what he leaves that prints as black. Engraving on wood thus differs from that upon copper or steel, in which the portions to be printed are 274 The Tjadies^ Edinburgh Magazine.

sunk below the surface ; and it is this fact of the drawing being made into a type, capable of being printed along with the letter-press, which gives the peculiar fitness it possesses for the illustration of books. The wood used is boxwood, which is specially suitable for the purpose, from its closeness of texture and beautiful light colour. It is chiefly imported from Turkey, and is cut in slices across the grain of the exact depth of type for convenience in printing. For a large drawing several pieces of wood must be joined together, as not more than five or six inches square of sound quality can be got in one slice. The different pieces are fastened by bolts, and can be joined or separated at will. The tools used are of three kinds, and of each there are various sizes. A glass of slightly magnifying power is commonly placed over the work to prevent any strain upon the eyesight, though some engravers dispense with tliis, finding it unnecessary. AVhen the engraving is finished, a proof is taken by inking the surface with the finest printer's ink, laying upon it a sheet of India paper, and pressing upon this with an instrument called a burnisher. This allows the engraver to judge of the effect, and he can then lighten some portions and soften others, so as to tone and harmonise the whole. Such is a description of the merely outward process ; the whole value of the work must depend on the manner of its execution. With a good engraver it is far from mechanical labour. He must study and sympathise with the artist's ideas, endeavouring to render them faithfully ; aud yet, while seeking to give expression to the work of another, will at the same time express himself. In order, then, to acquire the art of engraving on wood, the first essential is a taste for drawing. Without this as a foundation, efforts will be fruitless; with this, study, practice, and patience may accomplish the rest. The power over the graver as a tool, and the knowledge that directs its use, will grow together, until all the varied eff"ects Avhich the art can render are eventually mastered. This, it may easily be believed, will not be a speedy process. In some of the novels of late years, in which a heroine is suddenly thrown on her own resources for maintenance, she at once becomes an engraver on wood, the profession being invariably acquired in the course of a year ! Accuracy had to be sacrificed to the exigencies of the tale, and anything can be ac- Tlie Ladies Edinhurgk Magazine. 275 complished on paper; but in real life several years of daily work will pass before proficiency is acquired. This does not mean to say that a proficiency very pleasing to the amateur may not be reached at a much earlier period, and pictures for admiring friends to praise grow under her hands, but the amateur standard and the professional one are widely apart. It is only the latter that is being- treated of here. Engraving is applied to many subjects, and undoubtedly there is a class of work which shorter practice would master; but to be able for the lower work only is surely no worthy object of ambition, besides Avhich the range of employment would thus be so limited as to lessen the chance of there being any at all. Partial training has been the ruin of many attempts to gain new employment for women. It is often spoken ot as desirable that they should be able to do " a little" work, and the " little " which is meant to apply to the matter of quantity is easily transferred to that of quality, and this effectually bars the Avay to success. It is very un- desirable to see a lowered standard for women's work, and yet what reason is there to expect the attainment of the higher one in any way but with the same amount of time and labour given by young men ? No one asks for more. It is sometimes said that girls " take up tilings " more (juickly than boys; but even where this is the case, the intuitive quickness of perception which rapidly obtains some knowledge of the art, will not do away with the need for that time and experience which alone will give the power to practise it. Wood-engraving as a profession yields more than much of the teaching so often resorted to in the present day for a maintenance. The return for acquired knowledge may be quoted at from £1 to £3 a-week, whilst a higher scale of remuneration is reached by those who attain superior skill. In the comparatively few cases where an engraver, having also original talent as an artist, makes the designs for what he intends to cut, the return is of course larger. The constantly increasing use of illustration in the literature of the present day seems to give the assurance of there being work for those who can prove themselves proficient. The occupation is open to all alike, and if prejudice should stand in the way of women being employed as assistants by engravers, it does not seem likely to act in the case of publishers who are ready to employ 276 Tlie Ladies'' Edinlurgh Magazine.

any one who can do the work well. In this word " well " must be understood to be included not only skill in the execution, but that thorough punctuality and attention to all business details, in which many women, from want of early training in such habits, are apt to fail. There haye been many examples of women adopting engraving on wood as a profession, instruction being obtamed, as it was in the case of Mrs. Gilbert, from some relative engaged in the art. In late years more systematic attempts liave been made in this direction, classes for teaching Avomeii having been opened at the Cooper Institute, New York; the Queen's Institute, Dublin; and the Schools of Art at Kensington and Queen's Square, London. Those in London were afterwards discontinued, but the one at (Queen's Square has at present been resumed, while a class is now conducted in Edinburgh by an able and faithful teacher,* one of the best engravers on wood in the city. With the op2:)ortunities of instruction thus gained, there ought to have been more seen in the way of result. But instruction alone will not suffice. It merely opens the door of entrance to a course which the student must earnestly pursue with no laggard steps. Miss Nightin- gale says, " Three-fourths of the mischief in Avomen's lives arises from their excepting themselves from the rules of training considered needful for men." Until this exception is no longer made, and there is more of a deliberate determination to succeed, we cannot wonder at not hearing more frequently of success. The education of women has till lately been so deficient in thoroughness, that the idea of persevering in any one pursuit rarely occurs to them. A study of Hebrew, just sufticient to fit for reading a few verses in Genesis, is succeeded by " twelve lessons in Italian," and the poAver to draw a landscape tolerably is thought to point to the propriety of a few lessons in singing! The fault often lies less with the pupil than with friends, who are unwilling to see many consecutive hours given to any one thing, and feel certain, contrary to all the lessons of experience, that " health must suffer." In reality, daily em2;)loyment is most healthful, and those with whom it is not a necessity may AVCII seek it from choice. But are there many women in this country who feel secure against all change of circumstances, and that the question will never

* Mr. K, Paterson, 3 East Kegister Street. The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 211 in their case be raised, " What can she do ? " Various means of employment are now being suggested to such as seek to render themselves independent of adverse fortune, or to those who have ceased to believe in the false but too prevalent notion, that no women should use their powers in the direction of remunerative work but those who absolutely require to maintain themselves. The employment referred to in this paper has its own advantages, and cannot be objected to on the grounds that some others are. The fact that delicacy of touch rather than strength of hand is required, seems to point it out as specially suited to women; and it is also capable of being carried on at home, though it had always best bo borne in mind that a " home occupation " does not mean an occupation which one can leave at any moment in order to do something else. Ruskin speaks of "the vast industries of modern en- gi-aving" as being " one of the most poAverful existing influences of education and sources of pleasure among civilised people." It is siu'ely no unenviable distinction to have a share, however humble, in such work; and though the labour be arduous, often calling for self-denial, a pleasurable healthy atmosphere is breathed, and the mind is quickened and enlarged, for, to quote from a late address by Fronde, " Every productive occupation followed assiduously with a desire to understand everything connected with it, is an ascending stair whose summit is nowhere, and from the successive steps of which the horizon of knowledge perpetually enlarges." B. B. M'LAREN.

©he Shield flf JithilUfl.

IN ancient Roman court, on airy wing A humming-bird I spied, flitting one day 'Mid creepered trellises that shed their gay Luxuriance on the marble floor, and bring. On noiseless wings of perfume, thoughts of home : Drowsily on the air the humming sound Of its small wings mixed with the silence round, And lulled me, half-asleep, to dreams that roam Further than Thought: Soon sudden fiutttrings

No. 9.—SEf TEMBEE 1S76. 2 N 278 ■ The Ladies Edinburgh Alagazine.

Beside mine ear sent all my dreams to rout, And lo a hawk, darkening the air without. And my poor bird dashing its pretty wings In terror 'gainst the glass that fenced it in Safe from its foe. I turned and dreamed once more, And this time, in my dream, came o'er and o'er, The hawk without, my humming-bird within, And mingling with it strange, a story old, Of warrior with a magic shield which hid Its wearer's life from harm ; anon, amid My dream I woke, and musing strove to unfold Its mystic sense. Would / had shield, methought. So tempered!—would / had fence betwixt My foes and me ! Then with my murmurings mixt Strange thought!—The fence was there my bu'dling sought. And yet she knew not, and her foolish wings Bruised 'gainst the pane that saved! Mayhap concealed A symbol lies. Was it a fabled shield, That of Achiltes, which the poet sings, Or a deep truth divine in fable told ? Truth of " Life hid" no enemy may see, Of fence I see not 'twixt all ill and me"? Oh blinded eyes, oh fluttering heart, behold I JEANIE MORISON.

i Christian Moauan's Morh in Jnttia.

PART II.

WHAT is being done for the women of India? The question must suggest itself to every one who truly appreciates their sad state of degradation and misery. We cannot help being almost appalled as we contemplate their helplessness, their cruel bondage, their lifelong sufferings, their dark and degrading ignorance. We look almost in despair at the strong bars of superstition and prejudice which seem to hinder the spread of the Gospel among those unhappy millions; and we turn in vain to any arm of flesh if we seek to have difficulties removed, mountains made plains, clouds rolled away, the AYord of The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 279

God having free course and being glorified; but " the things which are impossible with men are possible with God." Jesus is mighty to save; " His name, through faith in His name," is as powerful now as in the days of St. Peter and St. John. We rest in quiet confidence on the promise given of old to Cyrus, and given undoubtedly to every faithful labourer in the Lord's vineyard, " I will go before thee, and make the crooked places straight: I will break in pieces the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of iron." In the name of Jesus, and in humble dependence upon His Spirit for all needed grace and strength, a great Avork is being carried on among our heathen sisters. It is deeply interesting to trace its origin and progress. In 1821, Miss Cooke landed in Calcutta, resolved to devote herself to native female education. She was moved by God to begin a work beset on every hand with innumerable difficulties, and Avith (humanly speaking) veiy slight prospect of success, but she did not hesitate to obey the monition. God called, she obeyed; would that the same could be said of all His people! How many a door which might be opened by prayer and effort, is more hopelessly barred by the want, on the part of His children, of prompt, ready, unquestioning obedience 1 Christian reader, be ready at all times to do something for Jesus; never neglect even a small opportunity of speaking for your Master. Remember the Society whose work God is now so abundantly blessing in India, and how its first operations were carried on by one woman; see how in this instance the small seed of a good resolution has grown into the noble tree of an accomplished purpose, and " Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it." " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." Miss Cooke was received into the family of Archdeacon Corrie, the Secretary of the Church Missionary Society in Calcutta; there she learned the language, and by patient, unflagging zeal and effort, established twenty-four schools in and around Calcutta, and had 400 girls in regular attendance at the end of her first year.^ In 1823 she Avas married to the Rev. J. Wilson, and went to live in the Church Missionary House; but soon her health began to fail, and it was suggested that, in order to help her in her arduous labours, a committee of ladies should be formed. A meeting for the consideration of

' Vide Report of Normal School, 1859. 280 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

this proposal was held in the library at the Church Mission House in Calcutta, and it was agreed to try the plan, an arrangement being made that in case the ladies wished to discontinue their work, the management should be given again to the Church Missionary Society, At a second meeting, the schools, and a balance in the Trea- surer's hands (6736 rupees), were transferred to the new Society. The work soon increased; the Church Missionary Society gave up the entire management of all its girls' schools in and around Calcutta; and although from time to time it assisted the new committee with funds, it has never again undertaken female education in Bengal. But only the lower classes were reached by these efforts, and our missionaries increasingly felt the importance of seeking to introduce the light of the Gospel into the long closed Zenanas. In order to be ready for any opening which might present itself, a Normal School (in which European girls were trained for Zenana-teaching) was opened; in Calcutta and in 1855 the opportunity, so long and so ardently desired, of gaining admittance to the prison-like homes of the ladies of India, occurred. Some educated native gentlemen became willing to engage European teachers for their families. In 1857, the Com- mittees of the schools for the lower classes, and the Normal School for trainiag teachers for the upper classes, were united, and it was afterwards resolved that, instead of confining their efforts to Calcutta and its neighbourhood, they should work with the Church Missionary Society throughout India, and be henceforth called "The Indian Female Normal School and Instruction Society." There are now twenty-eight English ladies at work in India under the direction of this Society; eight native Christian ladies are also employed in the Zenanas ; and we have sixty native and Eurasian teachers, and a staff of Bible women, numbering thirty-five. The statistics of April last report 622 Zenanas visited; and we constantly hear of more being thrown open, the difficulty now being to meet the great and increasing demand for teachers. Tlie Society is sending out eight ladies this autumn, and others who offer might be accepted for this important work, but for the want of funds. In Zenana visitation, the missionary takes books, writing materials, and needlework of various kinds, and in- structs her pupils in reading and -writing, arithmetic and The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 281 other branches of knowledge. Until she has thoroughly mastered the language she is accompanied by a native teacher, who acts as interpreter. The Bible is always read and explained—" Admit us and our Bibles together," being a rule firmly adhered to by our missionaries. It may not be uninteresting to the reader to see in the words of one of the devoted labourers in this mightj'- harvest fiekP a little of what Zenana-visiting is. She writes—" When I rode to the door, the Babu came out to meet me, and lifting up the chik (a kind of screen used to keep out the glare and flies), he handed me in with respectful ceremony to the door of his wife's apartments. She was waiting to receive me, and taking my hand, pressed it, and led me to a chair with such a timid gentle grace, and so much pleasure beaming in her face, as made me quite love her. She was young, probably about seventeen, and exceedingly pretty and sweet-looking, her soft dark eyes lighting up with intelligence and happiness as she examined the books and work I had brought for to begin with. She told me that her Babu had taught her to read and write in Bengali, and now she wanted very much to learn English, because he knew it so well. She went on to tell me that she often helped her husband, when he had a great deal to do, by copying things out for him in Bengali, and she thought she could help him still more if she knew English. I then asked her to read a little for me in a Bengali book I had brought with me, which she did with much intelligence. The book was the New Testament, and she seemed both interested and struck with the verses she read. She said she had often heard of that book, and that her husband had read it, and she was sure would not in the least object to her reading it also. "After a little more talk about the precious words she had just been reading, we proceeded to study the English alphabet, and after that we had a little work, and so ended my first lesson to this very interesting young Bow." The missionary to the Zenana seeks to win the affection and confidence of her pupils, and bring them to consider her their true fi-iend: she teaches them all they need to know to make them useful and intelligent members of society, and, above all, she tells them " the old

' Miss Hamilton of Lucknow. 282 llie iMdies Edinburgh Magazine.

old story of Jesus and His love." In a subsequent paper I hope to bring before my readers some interesting facts in connection with these imprisoned pupils, to prove that the labours of love undertaken on their behalf are not in vain. The Bible Woman occupies no mean place in the noble army of workers in India; it has been well remarked that " none can be so fitted to cope with the superstitions and prejiidices enveloping heathendom, as those who have themselves emerged from its darkness into the glorious light and liberty of the Gospel of Christ." The Bible Woman carries on her work among her heathen sisters in the bazaars, in the streets, and in the homes of the poor; and a very important work it is, embracing spheres of usefulness which are beyond the reach of European ladies. The subject of medical missions is large, and demands a paper to itself; the few points already touched upon are enoiigh to show that this work claims our most heartfelt, loving sympathy, our most earnest prayers, our most devoted effort. God grant that the ranks of workers may be s^^'elled by some who read these words, and that many to whom the Lord has given the silver and the gold may give abundantly to aid a work so noble, so great, so important as this of the Indian Female Normal School and Instruction Society. S. S. HEWLETT. {To he continued.)

*'4rom I tall)/'

THE PARNESINA.

BY MRS. BREWSTER MACPHERSON.

THE story of Cupid and Psyche is well known. It may be read in every guide-book to Kome how the jealous Venus urged Cupid to work the ruin of the lovely Psyche by inflaming her soul with love for some unworthy object; how Cupid saAv the girl himself and loved her ; how Venus, enraged, persecuted her; and how Psyche, helped by the loves, triumphed over all. The fable is generally said to represent the purification of the human soul through love. This explanation is not satisfactory, for though indeed a simile should not run on too many legs , The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 283 no explanation of a fable satisfies, which does not account for the presence of all the principal actors in the tale. What are we to make of Venus the Goddess of Beauty in such a reading of the fable % I have wasted much time, which might have been better employed, in weaving various theories as to the meaning of this and other legendary lore: but as these cogitations are not likely to profit or even to amuse the reader, I shall do, what I advise every visitor to the Farnesina to do also, take the story as simple fact; as a history, veracious, and guiltless of theory or moral as Bluebeard, or Hop o' my Thumb, or any other delicious wonder, and, flinging aside all philosophy, abandon the mind to the magic revelations of life in high Olympus. That priceless friend of all who like to walk in Rome, Augustus C. Hare, tells us that the hall of the Farnesina was once surrounded by open arches, where are now fourteen closed windows. It was built as a garden lodge for the rich banker Agostino Chigi by Baldassare Peruzzi, and was adorned with paintings from the histor}^ of Cupid and Psyche, by Raphael and his pupils. The heavy wreaths of flowers and fruits which border the ceiling, seem to be the continuation of stiffly bound luxuriant growths, which, springing upwards from the intervening spaces, are trained over the archways on either side until they meet in an acute angle, thus forming, as it were, a succession of Gothic arches of flowers and fruit over round arches of the same. The point of junction of the angle of the Gothic arches with the wreath bordering the ceiling is marked by a large gourd in thirteen of the arches, and by a full-blown rose in one of them. In the lunettes under these fourteen arches are represented Amorini bearing away the spoils of the gods. In the ten triangular spaces between the arches is given a series of subjects taken from the myth of Cupid and Psyche. In the first picture the jealous goddess sits while Cupid stands beside her. She points downwards to where Psyche, unseen by us, is wandering in maiden meditation, " fancy free ;" and Cupid looks, and looking loves. In the second picture we see Cupid, on his downward flight to Psyche's home, pausing on his way to bid the Graces rejoice in her. He floats in the air, with outspread wings. His hands, both extended, point dowuAvards. His head is turned with the most exquisite youthful artlessness of poise and motion towards a Grace to whom 284 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

he speaks. One of the three sits, looking down at the still unconscious and, to us, invisible Psyche. This beautiful figure Raphael is said to have painted with his own hand. I fancy I can trace a likeness in the Grace Avhom Cupid especially addresses to the Barberini For- narina and the Munich Madonna della Tenda. In the third picture, Venus stands with a most rueful face before Juno and Ceres. Little sympathy she gets from either. Juno breaks out into mirthful mocking, and (ycres teases her with quiet wit. In the fourth scene, Venus, panting with indignation, guides her dove-drawn car through the air, to seek sympathy where she is more likely to get it than from her sister goddesses. Of all the pictured dreams here, this one, to my mind, is the most lovely. Next to it we find Venus, with uplifted face and hands oiitspread downwards in a helpless appeal, imploring before Jupiter. Compare this with Venus before Juno and Ceres, and I think it must be confessed that the dreamers were pretty shrewd observers ! Before the goddesses, Venus is passionate, given up to her vexation, reproachful for her sisters' mockery, but quite careless of any art to win them. Here she gazes into the thunderer's eyes, as if at sight of him admiration and affectionate trust must needs be first. She allows no sign of vexation, no trace of anger, to pass over her child-like, pleading face, but steeps her whole person in the mild spirit of injured innocence ; and the eyes and lips of Jupiter show that, for all the size of that mighty foot which he has thrown over the eagle's back, and for all the thunderbolts he holds, he is no match for female wiles; and thus it proves, for a step further on. Mercury cleaves the air, swiftly rushing to give poor Psyche into the power of Venus. I feel that he must pass over my head, and perhaps his mantle's splendid flow may touch me a moment before he vanishes from my sight. It is singular that the most picturesque incident in the whole story is not given in the series. Cupid forbade Psyche ever to seek to see him, and he came to her always in the darkness. Urged by her sister's taunts, who declared that she was beloved by some nameless monster. Psyche disobeyed the god, lighted her lamp, and gazed upon him Avhile he slept. From the lamj) in her trembling hand there fell a drop of burning oil, which woke the sleeper, and he in anger looked on her, and in silence left her; and Psyche mourned with a The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 285 imurning so ennobling, that Venus knew that her love had been placed as high as love could be, and that Cupid had indeed inspired her with love for himself. How exquisitely Raphael would have designed the sleeping god and the gazing Psyche! but there is no picture given of Psyche's fault. Am 1 fanciful in thinking this may have been of set purpose, and that, prophetic of the marriage feast, the mind of Raphael wilhngly passed over Psyche's fault to dwell upon Psyche's ennobling griefs ? Any way Psyche rises first upon our sight, not as doubting and disobedient, but as triumphant through love over danger and difficulty, bearing aloft the prize she has fetched from the depths of Hades. I confess I am disappointed in my first sight of her; but others praise this fresco as among the finest, so I am in a minority. Certainly her air of modest satisfaction is delightful, as she rises bearing aloft the vase of ointment which Venus bid her bring from hell. Lovely, too, is the child that nestles under her right arm, and looks adoringly up in her face. There is no triumph, but an earnest hope of having won regard from a worshipped mistress in Psyche's look in the next picture, as kneeling before Venus she gives her the unexpected treasure. Venus, with her arms thrown up in astonishment, at first enchanted me; and enchant me still she does, though I cannot but wonder how her left foot and leg can keep so still and unmoved while her whole body otherwise is starting up amazccL Cupid in the meantime himself appeals to Jupiter, and the father of the gods takes him by the shoulder with one hand, and by the chin with the other, and gives him a loud resounding smack of a kiss. The eagle holding the bolts in his beak looks on with grim approval. Once more the messenger of the gods is seen fulfilling Jupiter's commands. He brings Psyche to appear before the assembled gods. Juno's peacock flies before her to do her honour, sent doubtless by the " ox-eyed " queen. Here again Psyche does disappoint me. Her arms, crossed over her bosom, have in the course of her labours developed such redundant muscle! Her sweet face, however, is lovely with the " pride of sinless years." I have now gone quite round the Magic Hall. The stoiy is ended in two large frescoes on the ceiling; on the right hand Jupiter sits in solemn council, while

No. 9.—SEPTEMBER 1875. 2 0 286 Ihe Ladles Edinburgh Magazine.

Venus and Cupid plead their cause the one against the otlier before him. On the left is the marriage feast of Cupid and Psyche. In the first Cupid pleads with ardour; Venus has not much to say. She is subdued, and in truth far from beaiitiful. At the Thunderer's right hand sit Neptune and Pluto, Juno at his left; Diana, crescent-crowned, and Minerv^a, bend forward behind him. Before him are grouped Mars, Apollo, Bacchus, Hercules, Vulcan, Janus, and two river gods, and behind these Mercury gives the immortality-coijferring ambrosia into the hands of Psyche, round whose knees an Amor throws his little arms. The gravity and brooding solemnity of this council chamber in the cloiids is strongly contrasted with the jollity and mirth, the flash of wit, and the throb of song of the marriage feast, where Psyche sits encircled by Cupid's arm, gazing into his gazing eyes, and anointed by the Graces. The kindly gods and goddesses round the table make jovial mirth among themselves, and do not annoy the lovers with their eyes (though Jupiter does look as if he had sometliing to do to keep away his !) Pan and the IMuses sing and dance, and the butterfly (or, if I must speak the truth, battledore) winged sylphs scatter flowers upon the festive board. One of these is an old friend, though he is better off for wings when he waits upon Mary of the Flowers.^ And now we will turn to the Amorini, which are seen under the Gothic arches of floAvers above the windows. The exulting boys revel in their heaven of blue. Here, disdaining the enraged eagle, one flies off Avith Jupiter's thunderbolts; Avdiile there, another, pursued by sea-gulls and stormy petrels, absconds Avith Neptune's trident. Mocking the bats' flapping resistance, two torment the dog of hell, stick Pluto's prong into the surly guardian's jaAvs, and leave Cerberus Avith poAver of bark in only one of his triple heads. There, folloAved by liaAvks, one goes Avith the shield and SAvord of Mars ; and the griifin dismays not another as he robs Diana of her bow and quiver. Self-important, as if bent on high behest, one bears aAvay the Avinged cap and caduceus of the messenger of the Highest: and regardless of the leopard's spring, another boasts of the grapes of Bacchus. The gem of the whole is the rogue who races aAvay

' The angel in tlic Madonna dei Fiori Louvre. The Tjadies' Edinhnrgh Magazine. 287 with Pan's pipes. I can give you little idea of the fascination of that darling little rascal, as he laughs and scampers through the skies, unabashed by the still hour of " Clouds in moonlight widely spread." A cloud of little birds have been awakened by his laughter, and thinking it must be day, are audaciously assaulting an owl, who is too much astonished to resist. Further on, one Amor bears aloft j\Iinerva's Medusa- crowned shield in gravest triumph ; and the salamander -wriggles in vain to try and save from another the tools of Vulcan. Right under the eyes of Venus and Cupid, two carry away the cestus and bow. Three of Amor's feats I failed to decipher. In one ho bears a shield and winged helmet, which may be of Perseus. In another two boys carry a heavy log of wood, and are opposed by a harpy ; and in the third, one guides a lion and a webbed horse. Perhaps my reader's knowledge of mythology may be better than mine, and he may recognise the symbols. I have never seen anything more fascinating than the play of fancy in these audacious boys. There are sportive loves by Giovanni da IT dine in the deserted Villa Madama which are quite exquisite in their delicate beauty. It was a briUiant day in April, and the fresh air, and the silence, and the heaps of wild flowers, and the glorious views, had soothed and invigorated my spirits, or else that melancholy ruin would have been too saddening to look back on with any pleasure. We had spent some hours upon the short climb up the Monte Mario, rejoicing in the beauty, when we came upon this ruin. We walked round to the back of it, where near a stagnant pond, upon Avhich some ducks were swimming, we met a weird-looking old man, who courteously escorted us up a broken flight of steps and through ruined passages into a lofty'hall, now open to the air and filled with dirt and rubbish, on the once magnificent roof of which were the remains of lovely frescoes. It may be that ruin lends a charm, but these did seem to me more " moving delicate " than any I had ever seen, and it was grievous that they should be all fading out of sight. Those "joyous angel children" which the Improvisatore felt to be as creations of his own dreams, in Francesco Albano's pictures of the Four Seasons in the Borghese Palace, are delicious, whether they are busied in the 288 Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. quick employs of spring or summer or autumn, or wrapt ill their winter slumbers. Titian gives us a lovely winged darling tottering with dimpled feet over two sleeping babies in his " Three Ages of Man." It is in the Doria Palace, and a copy of it by Sassoferrato in the Borghese. Correggio's boys are fair to see through the pictured windows of the dome of the Abbess Giovanna da Piacenza's room in Parma. They wrestle, they play with dogs, with bows, with horns; they swiftly glance across the casements and hide among the foliage. One of them wears a crown and carries a heavy stone upon his head, " early with his blessedness at strife." Their "vocation is endless imitation," and in a sense that Wordsworth never meant, for they look as if they were playing at playing. There is something unsubstantial about them. Though they are large and chubby, it is with an ethereal chubbi- ness. Their movements have just that indefinable difference from living movement which one feels in figures Avhose motions are reflected on a glass. They are harmless boys, good as the proverbial old maids' bairns; and this is no draAvback to their charm, for they haunt the room of a woman who had resigned a mother's joy. Rubens in the Munich Gallery has seven rosy boys, carrying a monster wreath of fruit. Two of them have rolled over under the weight of it; one bends his back beneath it, and marches foremost bravely; lovely little curly heads one longs to kiss, cluster above the glowing burden. All these and many more I delight in, but above them all, I love that roguish little tormentor of Pan Avhicli frolicked forth from Raphael's fancy. Language could not express his magic. Nothing but the "melodious madness" which Mendelssohn in his sportive mood sometimes loosens on the air, could make the spirit laugh and dance as does his wanton play. These frescoes, all designed by Raphael, were painted; the Avreaths by Giovanni da Udiue, the pictures by Rajihael's favourite pupils, Guilio Romano and Francesco Penni. A fcAV lines upon the other works of these artists to be found in Rome may not be unacceptable. Giovanni da Udine painted a room in the Vatican, in which he represented the courses of the planets. This room last year was not accessible to the public. The "Victory of Leo IV. over the Saracens at Ostia" was The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 289 painted by him from Raphael's design. Of his work in the Villa Madama I have already spoken. His tomb is in the Pantheon. Francesco Penni painted from Raphael's design two of the arcades in the Loggia of the Vatican, among them the well-known group of Abraham and the three Angels, which one meets in pictorial Bibles; also the "Baptism of Constantine," in the Hall of Constantine in the Vatican, Mrs. Jameson in her L^egends of the Madonna says that Francesco Penni and Guilio Romano painted the " Coronation of the Virgin" in the Vatican, attributed to Raphael ; and the delightful old Scotch- man who sold Macpherson's photographs, with mild pertinacity waived aside as untenable any doubt upon the point. I cannot take upon myself to have any opinion in such a matter; but I never can help feeling, when I look at that picture, that I am loving Raphael in his first, and what Ruskin calls his best, manner. The ineffable purity and quaint grace of the angels on either hand, with tambourine and viol, are so entirely Perugin- esque in their attitudes and feeling, that it is almost impossible for me to believe that any but the youthful Raphael himself could have designed or painted them. The lower part of the figure of the angel with the violin is as nearly as possible a reminiscence of Perugino's foremost sybil in the Sala del Cambio at Perugia. I do not know any of Penni's other works, or where they are. He is said to have assisted Raphael in his Cartoons. He was, with Guilio Romano, appointed by Raphael executor of his will. The works of Giulio Romano are numerous in Rome. To him are attributed several of the inevitable copies of Raphael's Julius II. which appear in so many galleries. The copies of the " Barberini Fornarina " in the Borghese and Sciarra Palaces, a " Holy Family " in the Doria after Raphael, and the very inferior copy in the Sciarra Palace of Sebastian del Piombo's^ so called " Fornarina " of the Tribuna in Florence, are by him. In the Sacristy of Sta Prassede is a fine picture by him of the " Scourging of Christ," but a service was going on in the church each time I attempted to see it, and I find it quite impossible to look at pictures while others kneel and pray. He

' Generally attributed to Raphael; but Crowe and Cavalcaselle consider it a settled question that SebaBtian del Piombo was the painter. 290 The Ladies' Edinhurgli Magazine.

has a great cartoon of the " Stoning of Stephen," in the Picture Gallery of the Lateran, and over the high altar of Sta Maria dell' Anima, a damaged picture of the " Holy Family with Saints." Five of the arcades in the Loggia of the Vatican are by him; amongst them the well-known groups of " Joseph Telling his Dream," and " The Last Supper;" also his work is the group of fugitives in the foreground of the " Incendio del Borgo." The Villa Lante, near the Porta S. Pancrazio, was built by him, and contained the frescoes which are now in the ninth room of the Borghese Palace. His principal work in Rome is the Sala di Constantino, where he painted the wall of the Fiery Cross, the Battle of Pontemolle, and the scenes from the life of Constantine, on the wall of the Baptism. These are all I know of in Rome, though doubtless there are many more. The city of Mantua is his chief glorj^, both as architect and painter ; and there he is buried. The extent and magnificence of his under- takings at Mantua alarmed the people for the great expenses involved, and nearly produced a revolt. On the other hand, they so delighted Charles V. that he made a duke of the Marquis of Mantua on account of his having so beautified his capital. But to resume my account of the Farnesina. Two rooms in an upper storey were not open to the public, and, on account of repairs going on, had not been so, I believe, for two years; so I could not see Baldassare Peruzzi's architectural paintings, or Sodoma's " Marriage of Alexander and Roxana." Liasmuch as Sodoma's pictures are few and far between (at lejist in my experience), and rare in their beauty, I was grieved; but otherwise it was with a secret feeling of relief that I found only one room awaited me. The unity of design in the room I had so long lingered in was one secret of its charm. My mind is slow in its movements; and a wall covered with 10,000 various moods and feelings invariably reduces me for a while to a condition bordering on idiocy. The inner room of the Farnesina was not quite so distracting as a gallery generally is, though it lacked the charm of unity, and, for me, lacked the charm of intelligibihty also. The ceiling shows Diana driving her car through a blue heaven set thick with golden stars. A number of small pictures round the room by Sebastian del Piombo bafiled all attempt at connecting them one with another The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 291 even by as loose a tie as links together ■' orient pearls at random strung;" and I speedily gave up the effort, and contented myself with admiring Raphael's " Triumph of Galatea." The sea-nymph, standing in a shell drawn by dolphins, handles the reins of her steeds with deft and delicate fingers, turning the Avhile a radiant face to some sunny height behind her, where it may be Acis lingers. A sister nymph beside her playfully struggles in the embrace of an enamoured triton. Other tritons play around ; Amor- ini, on mischief bent, hover overhead, with arrows fitted into twanging bows aimed at the joyous group; and one of the winged loves floats upon the water at Galatea's feet, holding on to the bridle of her curved-necked dolphin steeds. It v/as radiantly lovely; but I was by this time verging on that state when the fundamental note of such delight required to pass away info its harmonics (whatever these might be!) It may be, therefore, on account of its violent contrast, as well as on account of its interest, that I tm-ned with delight to a colossal head, which from the height of the ceiling looks down with a magnificent scorn straight at poor Galatea's eliort-lived joy. Michael Angelo left this young giant as a witness that he had been there, one day when he called upon Sebastian del Piombo and found him absent. Guide-books refer the visit to Danieli da Volterra; but the modern " Vasari," Cavalcaselle, in the life of Sebastian del Piombo, con- clusively proves that he was most likely to have been the honoured. Sebastian del Piombo, first a disciple of Giovanni Bellini's in Venice, then an assistant and friend of Gior- gione's, came to Rome from Venice, on the invitation of Agostino Chigi; and his work in the Farnesina was his first work in Rome. A great fresco, near the Galatea, of " Polyphemus Playing on the Pipes," is his principal fresco there. In Rome, Sebastian formed a great friendship with Michael Angelo ; and Michael Angelo's influence upon his style was very great. He also absorbed much from Raphael. The chapel of the Borgherini in S. Pietro in Montario, the first chapel to the right as one enters the church, is the work of Sebastian. The upper part, representing the Transfiguration, is in fresco; the lower part, a fearfully realistic giving of the scourging of our Redeemer, is in oils. A replica of this is in the Boi'ghese 292 Tlie Ladles' Edinburgh Magazine.

Palace.^ After twenty years' residence in Rome, Sebas- tian returned to Venice in consequence of the state of Home after the sacking of the city by Bourbon's soldiers. In Venice he painted the magnificent portrait of the Admiral, Andrea Dt)ria, which hangs in the cabinet-room of the Doria Palace. He returned to Rome after the re-establishment of papal power; and Clement VII. gave him the office of the Piombo,—whence his name, " del Piombo." A full-length portrait of St. Bernard in the Quirinal belongs to this period of his life. He died in Rome, and is buried in Sta Maria del Popolo. The Corsini palace is just opposite the Farnesina, and visitors to the one generally pass on to the other. I, however, had found the Farnesina quite enough for one day's work, and did not join the throng. The Corsini contains one relic of interest in connection with the Farnesina—a silver vase which was fished up out of the mud of the Tiber, and which is supposed to have been part of the silver-plate which, in a superb version of Highland honours, after it had been used in an entertainment given by him in the Farnesina to Pope Leo X., Agostino Chigi threw into the river. This magnificent banker, Agostino Chigi, commissioned from Raphael not only the lovely adornments of this garden lodge, but also the sibyls of Sta Maria della Pace, and the chapel of the Chigi in Sta Maria del Popolo, where are Raphael's Jonah and the Angels of the Planets The Farnesiua has also a melancholy interest in connection witli the history of Raphael, for it is said that he was superintending the adornments there, when a message from the Pope summoned him, and the chill from which he died was caught through his having been overheated in his hurried passage from the Farnesina to the Vatican.

N^.B.—The Editors regret they have to suspend " Wer- burga of Chester" for one month, owing to the writer being unexpectedly detained in Iceland.

Erratum.—August No., page 242, line 15, omit "I."

' Room 3, No. 48. Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine, 293

oD Ij ^ g r a g 0 n a i 1 Ij c IJ n r i Ij.

CHAPTER X.

"There is a tnle of Odin, sitting in Vallinll, Who to a banquet summons those in strife who fall, To drink and to be drunken, then to rise and figlit, To wound and to be wounded, be smitten and to smite. But when a man is drawing to the close of life, He yearns for something other than etenml strife ; And it is slender comfort, when he craveth peace, To hear of war and bloodshed that shall never cease." —Thorkell Mani: BABING GOULD.

WHILE we were all occupied with the events which passed immediately about us, a confused troop of horsemen had descended the steep hill little observed by us ; but now they were pressing so forward that the men crowded back upon us, while a clear voice shouted, "Make way there! where is Sea-king Swend ? there is great news for him." I think Swend was glad he had to pause and turn, and he moved towards tlie rising clamour, while a Northman came quietly behind Thorstein and cut his hands free. He threw one arm round Ilertha, while he clasped with his other hand that of the liberator, who was, I saw, Eric my fellow-captive. But now I too Avith the others was attracted towards him who had been calling Swend, and who now spoke loudly and earnestly to him. Could I mistake the light figure and gay face, though his hair now stood out thick and black from under his red cap % it was my old fellow-novice Astolfo, and as gay a cavalier as could be seen, though he wore no defensive armour, and his rich dress was travel-stained. He was on foot, and held a weary mule by the reins, on which sat an old man stooping forward from fotigiie— evidently an ecclesiastic, and of no mean rank, for though a dark cloak hid much of his dress, the gleam of his jewelled gloves and the rich clasps of his hood showed what splendour he could bring into our own Benedictine habit. But his face was ashen pale and terror-stricken, a sharp, cunning, hasty gleam ever and anon passing over it as Astolfo harangued Swend and the listening crowd around him. " Yes," he said, " here is the great Lord and mighty Prince, Atenolf, Abbot of Monte Cassino, Superior of the No. 10.—OCTOBER 1875. 2 P 294: The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

whole Benedictine order. His enemies are in hot pursuit; thank Heaven, Northmen, that you are ready for sea. Take him on board and he is safe, and I am ready to offer to you treasure that will make the meanest sailor rich." " And where is this treasure," said Swend, " and where does the old man wish to go ? " " Much treasure is here, and will go on board with him : niore he will give his bond for, if you will carry him if it may be to Constantinople, if not, to Otranto, or at least to Sicily. Northmen ! save him, and you will make your fortunes ; but now, at once, we must start, for Sir Rainulf and a thousand lances are on our track." "Ay, " said an old sea-rover, " we are all bound, but be sure this man is all he says, Swend, before you undertake the business.'" Some twenty mounted people had followed the abbot, some monks, others armed servants. Clearly enough I saw from their dress and aspect that they were Church dignitaries, and among them I, and not I only, but several Northmen who had been with Thorstein to Caserta, recognised one prior; and these assured Swend all must be as Astolfo said ; also the treasurer was already displaying to Swend's greedy eyes some of the treasure the flying abbot had contrived to carry off with him. When I remembered the treacherous betrayal of Dato the Lombard, and his cruel death, I did not wonder that Atenolf trembled before the vengeance of the Northmen and Lombards on his track. Swend shouted out so that all could hear : " Sea-rovers, are you agreed to take this lord, if not to Mickelgarth, at least to some safe haven'? he offers much treasure for the voj^age, and he is a friend of the emperor's and a foe to the Lombards ; will you take him? " "Ay, ay, we will! " came the loud answer rolling back. " Then make ready, my lads," said Swend ; " all aboard as fast as possible, no time to lose. The old man is hotly pursued, but once off to sea, all is safe." Now began a greater bustle than before, yet there was order in it. Rapidly they shipped treasure, meat, and men. I lingered yet, not fiir from Hertha, when I was accosted by one in the crowd, whom I saw to be Ivar, Rainulf's old squire. " Oh, my lord," he said anxiously, '• do you think she runs much peril'? She would come ; Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 295

Bergliot and I could not keep her back when she heard her cousin was a prisoner." " Where has she been ?" I said ; " do not keep her truest friends from knowing." " Staying at a little mountain-fastness with an old knight, attended by Bergliot and me ; he arranged it so. Ah, when I saw her attended by my knight and the gallant Norseman her kinsman, so bravely telling them to leave her and go on to the wars whither they were bound, I was glad my old arm had some strength left to shield her. But now when she ordered me to ride after her here, as she would share the peril of Thorstein, I thought. Yes, she is worthy even of iiim. But I wish I could get her safe back. " My lady, will you ride V he said to her. " I have horses safe round the point; let us try to slip throiigh the crowd." " No, good Ivar," said Hertha : " where Thorstein is I must be now." The abbot and his train were now on board, and Swend was hurrying down to us. At his order the men guarding Thorstein moved forward with him across the gangway, and Hertha walked alongside on board. I was about to withdraw quietly, when I found myself also hurried on board, Swend saying, "Nay, we must have our bridegroom; our first feast shall be the wedding feast; at any rate it is good to have a great lord of the land with us—so in with you, marquis, and cheer up your old commander the monk." I felt I was a prisoner, and Kolbiorn also, who made a useless effort to slip away through the crowd. All were now in the vessel, a pressing, swaying throng, shoved by the rowers out of the waist, and crowded on poop or forecastle. I, still keeping near Hertha, found myselt standing in the press on the poop. The anchor was weighed, the long oars came flashing out on each side, and the great ship began slowly to mov6 through the glassy sea. The sky seemed lead above, and the sea shone with a dull reflected light, smooth as the calmest inland lake, and lead-coloured also. But as soon as the rocks were cleared, and the great oars could have full swing, a white foam-line formed all round our Dragon, who, breasting it proudly, swept forth as stately and steady as a swan on the water. And then, as she gathered way, there was a glitter on the hill-path behind us, and again a dashing descent to the shore ; and it was Eainulf who had urged 296 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. his horse to the edge of the sea, and into it, and stood there in shining mail, his arms stretched out towards the ship. After him were thronging a multitude of mounted spearmen; more and more they crowded down on the shore, till it was covered with armed men. Then I looked at Hertha; her lips were parted, her soft blue eyes were wide, her face seemed one eager longing—the whole slender form looked as though the soul within were strong enough to wing it over the space between us and the shore, and I read her secret for the first time; it was Rainulf the Norman who had won that noble heart. Why had I never thought of him—bravest of heroes, brightest of comrades, peerless warrior ! Young, fair of face, and gracious, was he not in truth just such a cavalier as might love my lady not in vain! Now, as she stood and waved her veil towards him, while the colour faded from cheek and lip as the water widened between us and the shore, Thorstein said to her, "He will follow, Hertha; no fear but he will follow, and find you too. Trust Rainulf, and fear nothing for the future." " No," said Hertha, " I trust him, even if in this world our morning should not brighten. I know it will come at last. But to see him there now—too late, yet there." " Ay," said Eric; " and as in all the coast there is not a ship bound, there he must remain for many hours before he can follow our long-ship out to sea." Hertha stood still as a carved image till Rainulf was but a glittering speck on the shore, when she turned to Thorstein Avith a sort of gasp, and said, " How to rescue you comes first, dear cousin." " Never fear," said Eric ; " yon affair lasted too long; the Northmen have had time to come to their senses. Many of us have sworn to stand by Thorstein, and we only bide our time." " And now," said Thorstein, " that you need think no more of dangers, I wish to tell you that Marquis Lorenzo here overheard some speech in the church between us two which made him think you meant to accept him as your lord. So forgive him, Hertha, as I do—it was a mistake; and he is not the only one who has dreamed too much of your sweet face." Hertha gave me her hand with silent graciousness, while Thorstein went on: " When Hertha quitted the chapel in the wood. Marquis, she had not gone far before she met Rainulf, who sought her; and he took her to the The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 297 city, where her old Bergliot and Ivar were staying before starting on their pilgrimage. And then I followed, after I had made you all fast in the chapel. And so we found for her an old knightly guardian in a mountain fortress, and there with Bergliot and Ivar she has lived ever since ; but I knew no more than you, Lorenzo, that she and Rainulf were betrothed." But now matters on board drew our attention from our talk. The abbot had been led by Astolfo into Hertha's little chamber under the poop, and he was ranging and cheering the other monks, who looked scared and jostled enough among the sea-rovers. All but our prior, who, straight and rigid, seemed to defy all round to change his mood, though I laughed to see how Astolfo ordered about and patronised his old tyrant. The men were setting sails, which however hung idly flapping against the masts, for scarce a breath of wind was abroad; and now Swend blew the horn, and shouted, "A song, men! a song to cheer this dull evening. Kolbiorn, stand forth and strike up something in which the men can join—the song of departure." Kolbiorn stood on the forecastle, facing towards the ship, harp in hand; he swept the chords strongly, and his rich voice pealed into words like those which follow. Some the men knew and joined in, others were new, and held them listening; for Kolbiorn was wont to pour his mood of the moment into the songs which ever rolled fresh from his heart.

Let us be gone, for the time is come Over the seas again to roam ; To fiercer lieat and to sunnier shine, Further away from our forests of pine ; From far-off misty foam-swept isles, From blazing lieavths and maidens' smiles ; Dearer to us than ever were these, The low black keels in the rippling seas.

Where green sea-water encircles all, And whitens beneath the driving squall— Where waves of the west rise blue and high, And shadow the ship from the wind-swept sky ; Where race the tides past Scotland's hill, And winds pipe shrill in sea-caves chill,— There we have sailed and sailed alone; The wastes of the sea are all our own. 298 Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

Where ocean tlie English pasture laveF, And golden corn iu Valliind waves; And where in sunny Spain the vine Prepares for us the glorious wine ; Where giant ruins of days gone by Moulder in beautiful Italy,— All must under our prowess quail, And greet with dread the northern sail.

Shake it out to the gatlieriug breeze. And turn the helm to other seas ; Greece is before us, and Mikelgarth to .in, Peril and booty and glancing renown ; Thither we hasten, for we are their lords. We who have nothing but ships and swords. Joyously now we are sailing forth. Power belongs to the twilight north.

Black-bued raven and yellow-beaked kite, Eagle, and wolf of the wild we invite, Hover above us in feast and fray, Share what the dragon has left of prey ; Waves leap high, for we send to Ean Many a vigorous fighting man. Fill up the cups in Odin's hall, Rocm for the heroes who soon will fall. And here he changed the music to a sadder strain, and the men ceased to cliime in, but half-hung on the oars to listen. Could we know, ah, could we know, Whither e'er set of sun we go— Over whose head on his sea-weed bed Next tide's waves shall calmly spread ; Who shall pass in the battle's roll To the unknown, tlie certain goal ? Could we taste of the joys of life ? No, let the Valkyr guide the strife.

Hear us, choosers of the slain ; Let not our life nor our death be in vain ; Northmen must be kings of the sea, As long as the winds of the north blow free ; Ready to welcome death as life, Grimmest of foes in the deadly strife, Stanchest of friends to brothers sworn— Shout for the rowers, and blow the horn, Haul on the rojies and leave the bay ; Hither, ye winds, and speed our way. Tlie Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine. 290

No, I cannot tell how wild was the excitement of this song: the rowers chimed in, and the men at the ropes or standing unoccupied echoed it again; and it was indeed with shouting and singing that the Dragon sped on her way, while ever and anon her harsh horns were echoed back to us more softly from the rocky shore. After a while Astolfo came to us and kissed me Avarmly, and told Hertha how one of her messengers had reached him on his way to Asile. " I had ridden on alone, so what could I do ? I sent back to hasten Rainulf, who came Avith the men. Well! I was hard on the traces of the flying abbot, but meant, as I had been a Benedictine, to interfere in no way with him. Now, I thought I might save his life by guiding him to the Dragon ship, and his treasures might buy Thorstein's life, for Swend loves gold perhaps more than revenge. At least here Avas a chance. So I disarmed, as this was being on the enemy's side—over- took the abbot, told him 1 was an ex-novice, and of his chance to escape with the Northmen. Right glad was he to fly for refuge anywhere, and so I led him hither; and seeing how far matters had gone, I called off Swend's thoughts to the treasure without making any bargain. It was the best chance." " It Avas well done," said Thorstein, " and now I think things Avill come right if Ave are Avary. There Avill soon be a great change in the Aveather, and in more than that, it is likely." There was as yet no change in the Aveather and no Avind, but the evening gloomed early, and the night was a very dark one. Still Avith a lamp gleaming on her prow, the Dragon, urged by her oars, forged on through the smooth Avater. 1 Avas in a manner happy as Ave sat togetJier on the poop—Hertha, Thorstein, Astolfo, and I. Hertha was not to be mine, but still she was there; she Avas sweet and ' kind, and Ave talked much together. The night was old now, and a fcAV stars gleamed out, and Thorstein knew by them that Swend was holding a straight course for Sicily. " He is Avrong," he said, " especially Avith so crowded a ship ; he should make for the nearest port, to lie safe through the weather that is coming." As he spoke Ave heard SAvend hailing Kolbiom, who sat by the lantern on the prow. We could hear his clear voice in reply. " No, Swend, I Avill not come; the Scald's mouth must ever be ready for the inspiration of the gods, 300 The Ijadies' Edinburgh Magazine. and should never be defiled by the words of traitors." The yellow lamplight fell full on his defiant beautiful face, and we rejoiced to see by this hoAv Swend's influence must be waning with the men. But now Swend Avas beside us : " Marquis," he said, " the old man down yonder, once your chief, wishes to speak with me. You can best interpret between us, as Kolbiorn refuses; will you come ? " " Go, by all means," said Astolfo quickly; " find out what they plan together." So I followed Swend, who went down hastily, never glancing at Hertha or Thorstein. Below, in Hertha's little cabin, a lamp was swinging which showed me Abbot Atenolf and one prior together, the abbot pale and restless, with the look of a fox in a trap, the prior just as usual. " There, my lord," he said, " is our other ex-novice, Lorenzo, now the head of one of the most powerful houses of Magna Grecia." " And still a true son of the house, I trust," said Atenolf eagerly, "ready to stand by his abbot as a secular, though not as a monk." " Pardon me, my lord," I said; " my part is taken on the side of the Lombards; but I trust that peace may soon put an end to our divisions, and that you may escape from the foes you have so deeply offended." The prior rose to leave the cabin, and, grasping my shoulder, whispered as he passed, " Remember you are still a Benedictine of the third order, and let those whose hearts are pure from all double-dealing, all treachery, cast the first stone here. Lorenzo, since you have been in the world, doubtless you have borne yourself as a man of faith and honour; no hidden plots or hatreds have darkened your soul." And he sw^ept out with a meaning glance, making room for Swend, who now, through my interpretation, spoke with Atenolf. This was to the effect that he would carrj' the abbot to Mickelgarth, but would touch some land as soon as possible to put ashore Thorstein, formerly second in command, now a dangerous foe to Atenolf, and too much liked by the men to be safe as a prisoner on board. Atenolf gave many thanks, and promised rich treasure in return ; and then said musingly, "Thorstein, you say; that is surely not he we call Thurstan, a Norman knight who commands the others on land?" " May be you call him Thurstan, certainly he led the others, the Valland Normans; he is my cousin, and has The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 301 just lately deserted us and Odin's faith for this new- foreign service." " But if he is Thurstan, you must not let him go," said Atenolf eagerly; "the emperor would count bim a rich prize, and greatly reward you." " I dare hardly keep him," said Swend. " Why not kill him then? said Atenolf; " or if you must land him alive, at least put out his eyes and thus disable him;" and as even Swend started, he added, " So our late emperor would have served him—not Basil; but it is a good way of crippling a foe you do not wish to kill. Some of my knaves would do it if you wished." '• That is not Northland vogue, and he is my kinsman," said SAvend; " but I will arrange somehow," and he left us, fastening the door so that we could not leave the little cabin, though we could see through a window in the door the waist of the ship and the forecastle, where a light still bm-ned. The abbot sank back on the couch and spoke to me, but I turned from him with a feeling of horror, and lay down on the floor utterly wearied out, but with a new feeling in my heart about Thorstein. He against whom my envy had burned so fiercely, he too had lost all that I had lost, but how differently ! caring for Hertha rather than for himself, and so ready to forgive me all I had done against him. For it was through me, through my wild love and ungoverned heart, that he and Hertha were now in the power of Swend. Alas ! what was the end to be? Stern as was our prior, I longed to pour out my aching heart in confession to him; I longed for the cloister calm and cloister work to free me from my own wild thoughts. Above all, I longed to throw myself at Thorstein's feet and tell him all,—Syades' plots and my own dreadful vow. But even while I resolved on doing this, my utter weariness quite overcame me, and sleep, deep and heavy, wrapped me for long in utter forgetfulness. E. J. 0. {To be continued.)

Roman's ^orli. IV.—NURSING.

THERE is a constant cry from hospitals for the best sort of women to undertake the work of nursing; and as there

No. 10.-OCTOBEB 1875. 2 Q 302 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine, are many ladies anxious to enter on that important and valuable work, a few particulars regardhig the different hospitals may be useful to some of the readers of the Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. Let me suggest to any lady thinking of taking up the work not to delay because of youth. It would bo well if many a young lady would say to herself, " I am four or five and twenty, and I will give these next four or five years to the good of others." Let her take the training while still young, and then, in case of misfortunes or change of circumstances occurring in any form, she can say to herself, " There is one thing I know well, one thing I can really do; I am a trained nurse." Some ladies are afraid of the isolation they would feel in going to an hospital, and I would urge it as a great advantage if a lady could induce one or more of her friends to go with her. But no one need be afraid of want of suitable companionship in any of the large hospitals, when so many ladies, and some of them of rank and high position, are now learning nursing in them. To obtain the required training it has hitherto been found necessary to go to London; but such changes have taken place within the last few years in the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, that ladies now should apply there before going south. The climate of London is sometimes trying to those, so much of whose time is spent in the wards ; and in Edinburgh leisure hours might be passed with a friend, so that the strain in one way is here not so great. Of course to others the complete break caused by going to another town is an important point in favour of London. In the Edinburgh Infirmary there are already several ladies, and the Lady Superintendent expresses herself most warmly in their praise, and is only anxious to obtain more of the same stamp. In addition to the practical training in the wards, the probationers, as nurses of the first year are called, are taught in a class by Miss Williams, the Assistant Lady Superintendent. They have lectures from different physi- cians and surgeons, and once a-week they have the very great advantage of going round the surgical wards with Dr. Joseph Bell, who lectures to them over each patient. The probationers on day duty rise at G A.M., breakfast at 6.30; remain in the wards from 7 to 9.30, when they have lunch, return to the wards till 3, the dinner hour. Exer- cise is taken either from 10 to 11.30 A.M., or 3.30 to 5 P.M. Tea is at .5 P.M. ; then Avards till 8.30 ; supper at 8.45 ; bed at 10; and fights out at 10.30 P.M. Those on night duty The Ladies EJinhurgh Magazine. 303

rise at 7 P.M.; have tea at 7.30; go to tlie wards at 8.30 P.M., and remain there till 9 A.M.; dinner at 10 A.M., exercise 10.30 to 12, and bed at 12 noon. These are the hours; and now for the work. First of all, the patients' beds have to be made. The probationer leaves her own bed to air when she first leaves her room, but the room must be dusted and the bed made by 10 A.M. Then all wounds have to be dressed, bandages replaced, medicines given, and the rooms and patients made fresh and comfortable for the house surgeon's or physician's morning visit. The sweeping and scrubbing are done by ward assistants, and the patients' dinner is brought into the wards and removed by them ; so that what is considered hard manual labour is not required from a probationer, but there is constant occupation for her. One patient requires a fresh poultice, another fomentations, another some more beef-tea, and so on; thus there is seldom time to weary. But when all the patients seem pretty easy and comfortable—and there are many cases where simply rest and a recumbent position are necessary for recovery—then the weariness and monotony of a ^vvard can be relieved in many ways by an educated, cheerful person. Miss Pringle, the L;idy Superin- tendent of the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, has been highly trained herself, and is working on the experience gained in other hospitals to carry out all the best possible arrangements in her present sphere. She is ready to give all further information to any lady applying to her, in the kindest and fullest manner. The rooms for the nurses are tiny, and the food plain, but till the new building is ready these rooms cannot be altered; and it has been already proved that the most delicately nurtured women can stand the life without suffering. In Glasgow the infirmaries are becoming alive to the necessity of training for nurses, and a small house has been opened in St. George's Road, not long ago, for this purpose; but as there are only twelve or twenty beds, I do not think the advantages are to be compared to those gained by entering a large hospital. We have Miss Nightingale's authority for saying that the best training cannot be had otherwise than in an hospital; and though she herself has probably seen more of varied hospital life than most women, yet in a letter of hers to the probationers at St. Thomas's she says there is nothing she would value so much as to spend another year in the wards of that hospital. In London there are a number of hospitals where training is to be 304 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

obtained, and, as is to be expected, different religious and other influences prevail in each, and a lady would do wisely to choose the one with which she would feel most in sympathy. At the Home and Sisterhood of St. John the Evangelist, 8 Norfolk Street, Strand, lady pupils are received on a different footing from ordinary probationers on payment of the sum of fourteen guineas quarterly for board and lodging. This does not include washing, wine, or medical attendance; so the expense is considerable. The title will show the religious tendencies of the establishment, but the sisters do not associate Avith the lady pupils, and no conversation is allowed in the wards, so that no undue influence is exerted. The sisterhood has undertaken the nursing of King's College Hospital; and some of the pupils »leep in the Hospital, some in the Home. The bedrooms are beautifully kept and very comfortable. The rising bell rings at 6.30 A.M.; prayers at 7, read by one of the sisters; breakfast at 7.30; wards at 8. Every alternate day the pupils attend chapel from 9 to 9.20. Limcheon, consisting of cake and coffee, is prepared at 10.30 for any who choose to go to it, but only for five minutes. By 12 the wards miist be quite prepared for the doctors and students. The sister, nurse, and lady pupil of the ward attend them on their rounds; the lady pupil and undcr- nru'se and probationer looking on, and helping the dressers in doing up the wounds, &c. The patients' dinner is served immediately after all is done and cleared away. At 1.30 the lady pupils have ten minutes to take their dinner, and when the wards are all made tidy, have an hour and a half for recreation—one day from 2 to 3.30, next day from 7 to 8. Tea is at 4 P.M.; wards again from 5 to 8; supper at 8.30; prayers at 9 ; bedrooms, 9.30; gas or;t at 11. Lady pupils are not allowed to go into each other's rooms excejat during recreation hours. On Sundays they attend chapel in the institution one morning, and any church they choose in the evening, and vice versa the next Sunday. There are from eight to ten lady pupils in the institution; and to each ward there is a sister, a lady pupil, an upper nurse and an under one, and generally two probationers. The scrubbing hei-e also is done by another set of women who have nothing to do with the nursing. Patients are thoroughly attended to. and are as happy as the sick can be. Indeed, comparing it to his OAvn noisy and probably close and dirty home, Tlie Ladies' Edinhurgk Magazine. 305 one poor man once said to a friend of mine, "It was like being in heaven ! " The chaplain goes his rounds every day, besides which he reads prayers every morning at 10 to the patients, and one of the sisters reads them every evening at 8 o'clock. On Friday evenings Sister A. gives the lady pupils a lecture, during recreation hour, on anatomy ; and they and the nurses go on Wednesday evenings to hear an address by Dr Beai, one of the phy- sicians who attend the hospital. Ladies buy their own dress, with the exception of caps and aprons; and it consists of a black alpaca dress quite plainly made, plain white collar and cuffs. For outdoor wear, a long round black alpaca or dark grey waterproof cloak; and a close straw bonnet according to prescribed pattern, is appointed, and can be obtained from the Superior. The food is very good and abundant, the lady pupils having their meals in the same room but at a different table from the under nurses; the sisters and upper nurses being in the adjoining room. The discipline in this hospital is strict; but here, as in Liverpool and other places, I have heard ladies say, " Their year of probation was the happiest year of their lives." The work was interesting, and the responsibility which breaks down so many in superior positions, did not Aveigh upon them. In Middlesex Hospital, London, four ladies arc received for training. They board and lodge in the home for nurses attached to the hospital, and are charged one guinea a-week. The hours here are not so long, and the training would be specially suited for any lady who wished to gain some knowledge of nursing, to enable her to superintend the nursing in her own village or cottage hospital. A most charming little home for nurses lias lately been opened in Westminster, in connection with AVestminster Hospital, under the superintendence of Miss Merryweather, who, at Hakted in Essex and in Liver- pool, has devoted a noble life to the good of her fellow- creatures in various ways. Some years ago, the idea of training nurses was started in Liverpool, and a gentleman laid down a sufficient sum to build what 1 think may be called a Model Nurses' Home. The present one in Westminster is on a small scale; but there are hopes that one after the Liverpool model may soon bo begun. There are vacancies in this Home now, and in the Hospital for nurses; and any one putting herself under the kindly rule of Miss Merryweather and her sister, who is the Lady 306 The Ladies' JEdinburgh Magazine.

Superintendent of Westminster Hospital, would assuredly soon feel that she had done well for herself, and would have every opportunity of learning. Miss Merryweather's earnest desire is, that those who go to her should become good nurses; and if they follow her steps, they will become high-minded women. Probationers sleep at the Home, which is only a few yards from the Hospital, and Miss Merryweather takes her meals with them herself. Probationers receive for the first year £16, the next £18, and the third £20. Miss Merryweather values " educated brains " and strong common-sense, and those possessing these qualities will be thoroughly appreciated by her. Almost immediately opposite, on the other side of the Thames, stands St. Thomas's Hospital, well known, I dare say, to many of the readers of the Ladies' Udinburgh Magazine. It consists of, I think, seven large buildings, quite distinct from each other, and only united by a covered way. The Training School here was built by the nation for Florence Nightingale, in token of gratitude for her services in the Crimea. It still has the benefit of her personal interest, though she is disabled, alas! from active exertion. In this hospital, all, whatever their birth or position, are received on exactly similar terms. Those, however, Avho are able, are expected to pay £30 for the year of training. There seems to be something of a hardship here, as the lady does the same work as a probationer who receives £13 and clothing. The lady saves this sum to the hospital, so it cannot be urged that she costs the charity anything. A lady, with say £60 or £70 a-year, is generally less rich than a girl of the poorer classes with nothing btit her health and strength. The £30, also, does not cover all necessary expenses; and the the food, though good and wholesome, does not suit all digestions. The training and teaching in St. Thomas' is of course first-rate; but the size of the establishment, by increasing the distances to the different departments, adds greatly to the fatigue of the nurses and probationers' work. I am told that when the Lady Superintendent has gone her rounds in a morning, she has walked nine miles. A lady would probably have a better chance of obtaining a superintendentship from St. Thomas's than from some of the others, as being the best known and largest; and other hospitals apply there for matrons and superintendents, and also for trained nurses when a new hospital is begun. But the difficulty is more often to find duly- The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 307 qualified women, than work for them to do. In conclusion, I may say, that though strong health is an advantage in every path of life, a lady who is " not very strong" should not at once decide that she is not fitted for nursing. Her delicacy may arise from want of exercise, or want of interest, or unsuitable climate, and the total change to the active life of a nurse might be most beneficial. An incident mentioned in one of Miss Night- ingale's works has often struck me very forcibly as bearing on this point. She says, a lady had suffered agonies from neuralgia for eight years, but she had not been working many hours in an hospital when the pain left her entirely. Each probationer is engaged only for a month's trial, and by the end of that time she can generally judge as to whether she is fitted for the work or not. If all is satisfiictory, her year of training will then begin; she will go, as far as possible, through the different wards of the hospital—so many months in the medical ward, so many in the surgical, so many in the accident, and so on. If the lady is of the right material, she will then have gained a good knowledge of nursing; and her value will be increased—as a lady superintendent said to me—not twofold, but tenfold. In most hospitals a uniform is worn, commonly a lilac print, simple white cap and apron; the head-nurses sometimes have brown or grey alpacas, and these costumes are de rigeur, and have a very pretty effect. The head day-nurses in many—indeed, I may say, most—hospitals, are called Sisters, independently of any religious system. It was found a pleasant and con- venient distinction between day and night nurses, and among so many with different duties. Ladies who wish to be trained in Scotland should apply to Miss Pringle, lady superintendent, Royal Infirm- ary, Edinburgh. If in England, to Mrs Wardroper, lady superintendent, St. Thomas' Hospital, London; Miss Merryweather, 8 Broad Sanctuary, S.W., London; the lady superintendent, Middlesex Hospital, London; the Sister Superior, St. John's Nursing Home, Norfolk Street, Strand, London; the lady superintendents of Charing Cross Hospital, King's Cross Hospital, and Children's Hospital, Great Ormond Street; the Home, 35 Cambridge Place, Paddington, W.—all in London; the lady superintendent. Royal Infirmary, Liverpool; Royal Southern Hospital, Liverpool; and Miss Burt, the Infirmary, Lei- cester. PROBATIONER. 308 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

a f i £ n r f.

I PICTURE thee a friend, divine and sweet, \ Who leads from noonday glare unto thy quiet retreat, ; And with soft sway controls ; Our fever-troubled souls, i Bringing to greet our sadness : Thy notes of hallow'd gladness.

Sweet sister thou of Hope, and fair as she; The Future hers to paint, the Present is for thee ; i And rich the rainbow's hue ; Thou bringest to our view, • j When on the mist of tears "| Thy rays' reflex appears. | i Thy diadem on the thorn-crowned Head was seen ; j For with the noblest thou hast ever been : \ And nature bears thy seal, Her joys of Spring reveal : How she is linked with thee In sweet affinity.

O be thou with us when we've sown our seed, In hour of toil be with us, and in need. In misconception's woe, When friend oft turneth foe, Come, in that bitt'rest hour, Come, with thy healing power.

When Truth illumes us, and our hearts rejoice. Still in that gladness make us hear thy voice ; Lest we on closed eyes Should force the light wo prize, Help us, in faith sublime. To wait God's opening time ; Help us, and make us strong, —Sometimes the way seems long. JOAN SCOTT. The Ladies Edinhurgh Magazine. 309

^\\t (Eliristiatt aotoman'.s tolorli in Jndia.

PART UI.

IN considering the subject of Medical Missions, the mind of the thoughtful Bible student cannot but revert to the first missionary work undertaken by the disciples of Him who "went about doing good;" and as we read His words of divine authority, beautifully combined with human love and sympathy—" Preach, saying, The kingdom of heaven is at hand; heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils"—the thought comes to encourage us, that the loving heart of Jesus is not changed. He would have us go and do likewise; His arm of power is not shortened; %ve, as well as His first disciples, may enter the medical mission field in full assurance of faith, not doubting that He will graciously own and bless our efforts for the bodies and the souls of our helpless and neglected heathen sisters. It is peculiarly woman s work to care for the sick. It has pleased the all-wise Creator to endow her with qualities which render her specially adapted for this work, such as power of endurance, tenderness of heart, gentleness of disposition, and quickness of perception. We do not expect to find these existing to the eame degree in man, as is sufiiciently proved by the words so often heard when a good husband or father has lovingly performed some little office for his suffering dear one—"He was as tender as a woman." This is one point decidedly in favour of women undertaking medical missions. But another, and far more important one, presents itself in the fact, that the ladies on whose behalf this particular effort is being made, are placed by their unhappy circumstances entirely beyond the reach of help from any medical man. They suffer terribly in consequence; scarcely ever is a European doctor called in to see and prescribe for an Indian lady; the native doctors, or hakims, are totally ignorant of Western medicine and surgery, and have, besides, no knowledge or skill in the treatment of women and children. Their aid is rarely sought. " When they are called in," we are told, " it is only to see the patient die, the time for doing anything hopefully effi- cacious having passed." Then there are the native nurses, who are in fact the doctors of the Zenana, and of

No. 10.—OCIOBEK 1875. R 310 The iMdies^ Edinburgh Magazine. whom our missionaries write, "They are ignorant, meddle- some, and immoral." Numberless mothers and children fall victims to their neglect or want of skill; yet medical aid can only be given on any large scale by women, the customs of society excluding men (except on rare occasions) from the Zenanas. How large a field of usefulness is opened by these peculiar circumstances to the Christian women of our own country ! But a third, and still more important point, remains to be noticed. The missionary who enters the Zenana well qualified to give medical and surgical aid to its helpless inmates, has a golden opportunity for telling the good news of salvation,—an opportunity such as has never before presented itself. We can scarcely overvalue it; God grant it may not be lost! Hearts which for long years have been inaccessible to the Gospel may be won to Jesus by this instrumentality, when perhaps others fail. Do we not instinctively feel drawn towards the patient watcher who has gently soothed and skilfully tended us through hours of weakness and pain? Can we help loving the one whose efforts have been the means in God's hands of bringing us back from the brink of the grave ? Will not the Avords, the wishes, of such an one, have a weight with us which no others could have? Must not our tried and trusted helper possess an influence over us ? In the case of the imprisoned lady of the Zenana all these feelings are intensified. The self-denying, patient, skilful friend, who comes to her in her time of trial, or when her children sicken, is welcomed as an angel of mercy; tlie heart of the sufferer warms towards her, and opens to receive her instructions. Yes, there is a mighty power in this service of love, which the Master would have us hasten to use for His glory and the untold good of the suff'ering millions of India's women. Now, my readers will readily see from these statements how exactly suited to the present need of India is such an agency as a female medical mission. The committee of the Indian Female Normal School and Instruction Society are looking forward hopefully to the time when they will have a large and efficient staff" of medical ladies at work among the inmates of the Zenanas. Already they have taken steps with a view to this. In the Report issued by them in 1873, they made an urgent appeal for help in this very important sphere of labour. Two ladies responded to that call: both had previously The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 311 liad hospital training, and they went through a further course of instruction in London during the summer and autumn of 1873. Miss Leighton was the first to offer herself. She had given herself heart and life to the great work of winning souls. She was a truly devoted Chris- tian, loving and lovable, yet very firm and decided. She was also skilled in the discharge of the duties for which she offered herself, and the Committee looked forward with bright expectations to her future labours. Several eminent medical men most Idndly gave both Miss Leigh- ton and Mrs. Crawford the benefit of their gratuitous services to qualify them for their undertaking; and the latter sailed for Bombay in the autumn of 1873. Miss Leighton only left for Benares on November Gtli, for while practising among the poor in Drury Lane, in October, she was taken ill with pleurisy. The attack passed ofi", and she commenced her voyage; but after only one week at sea she was again very ill, and it pleased our Heavenly Father to take her to Himself. ller loss was deeply felt; and scarcely were the friends of the Mission recovering this heavy blow, when they were called upon to meet another sad trial in the deatli of Mrs. Crawford, who had been assiduously labouring for a few months in Bombay. Mysterious and painful were these dealings, and though " blind unbelief" might lead us to question and wonder and be dismayed, we must yet seek in faith to rest in the assurance—

" God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain." That the members of the mission are acting in faith, and submissively seeking to glorify God under this trial, is sufficiently proved by the fact that they are still " going forward." Two more ladies have offered themselves, and been accepted as medical missionaries, and are now actively preparing. Miss F. J. Butler is in training at the London School of Medicine for Women; and Miss Beilby is ready to leave England for Lucknow this mouth (October). The objections raised against this enterprise arc not few. One is, the difficulty for ladies to get, or be willing to receive, from gentlemen the needful instruction; but this has never been felt to be a difficulty in the training of the few lady doctors already practising in America and in our own country. The eager desire to cultivate 312 Tlie Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. talent and win a high position has enabled several to take up and carry on the most trying studies ; and is it to be supposed that the love of Christ reigning supreme in the heart will not accomplish more than a mere desire for worldly advancement and renown? The subject is most admirably discussed in a paper written by the late Dr. Elmslie, and published in The Indian Female Evangelist for January 1873. He closes his answer to this objection in these words:—"True Christian refinement will enable a lady to do anything that is not sinful to help and cheer the suffering needy, and thereby promote Christ's glorious cause in the world. We are bold to say that no pure-minded earnest Christian lady would ever feel the least uncomfortable while receiving surgical and medical instruction from a refined Christian medical man It is only to a cold outsider who, forgetting the noble object in view in the study of medicine by a Christian lady animated Avith missionary impulses, that this objection could occur, or be in any degree cogent." Again, it is questioned whether the Society is not over- stepping its due bounds, and taking up work to which it is not called, in seeking to organise medical missions. To which we answer, that any agency which can lessen suffering, soothe the sorrowful, save life, and help to bring light into the dark Zenana, is within the Hmits of this Society's great work, and ought to be earnestly, prayerfully, untiringly made use of. And finally (not to mention numerous other objections, unimportant, and only raised by those who have never themselves investigated the matter), there are not wanting good people always looking out for trouble, who pro- phesy that the comfort of our own homes will be affected if Ave call upon our ladies to go to minister to the Avants of their heathen sisters, and especially if Ave enlist them in such an uufeminine occupation as the study of medicine. Such fears are groundless, as a moment's thought will shoAV. Let it be considered that it is only the very few among our countrywomen Avho liaA'e all the qualifications required in the medical missionary ; probably it is not too much to say that scarcely one in a thousand could and would giA^e herself to this Avork: let it be remembered also that Ave have many more ladies for AA'hom to find employment than the comfort and management of our homes require, and that A^ery many of good birth and education The Ladles Eduihurgh Magazine. 313 haye no home except such as they can make for them- selyes in some of the few ways open to them in this country. Any one who will fairly admit the ti'uth of these statements, must admit also that there is little enough cause for anxiety respecting our homes, although we call upon all who haye talent, opportunity, and deyo- tion to the seryice of Christ, to aid the great work of the Female Medical Mission. It is strange that the card-table, the theatre, the ball, and eyen the race-course, should so long haye been attended by our countrywomen without our hearing the objection of "uufeminine" from those who so readily bring it forward in this matter ! Let all Christian women come out more resolutely from the world; let them yield themselycs more heartily to the service of Him whose they profess to be; let their liyes be truly consecrated, and our earnest appeal for medical missionary help will be largely and loyingly responded to, while at the same time our quiet British homes will be more abundantly blessed,—as woman's patient industry and gentle loying care are not lessened by missionary zeal, but increased a hundredfold ! S. S. HEWLETT. {To he continued.)

CHAPTER VIII.

IT was with a great lightening of heart that Randall felt that one chapter in his history was closed. He )iow began to turn his attention earnestly to the new task he had undertaken. Alas ! poor fellow ! he imagined that he had discoyered a garden of roses, in which he was to revel in uninterrupted pleasure. The sky seemed all sunshine ; and he flattered himself with tlie hope that things were now about to happen exactly as he wished. But such hopes, at whatever period of life they are formed, are almost inevitably doomed to disappointment; and from such an experience poor Uaudall was not to be exempted, any more than others. Full of ardour in his new calling, he was determined to 314 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

dignify it as much as possible, as well as to set to work in the way which was most congenial to his own feelings. It was thus in the light of a professor rather than a teacher that he now regarded himself. A very young professor, indeed, hardly of age yet; yet never did reverend sire think himself more in earnest than did Randall, as he burnt the midnight oil, and puzzled his brains by day, to achieve something truly worthy of attention. True, he was aware that his teaching was destined for those who would perhaps fail to grasp its full meaning, not having yet advanced beyond the feebleness of childhood. Yet, as he wrote, somehow he constantly failed to realise this. He had ever before him, as a guiding star, the vision of some high-souled genius for whom these words were to be penned, and whom the love of the beautiful would lead to a perfect understanding of all he had written regarding it. True to this ideal listener, he disdained the regular routine of dates and periods in literary history, and wrote largely instead on those favourite subjects which seemed more fitted to kindle enthusiasm. First in order among these subjects came the dawn of literature ; how it rises gradually above the cloud of mythology, of which originally it formed a part. He tried to show in poetical language how mythology is not a thing which a nation sets itself to make, but a living form which flows naturally out of language, and is thus endowed with a real and potent life. While he was still deeply engaged with this part of his work, he went one day to walk, according to his custom, round the walls of Chester. It must not be denied that, while dreaming over his task, he indulged at the same time in reveries regarding all manner of possible interviews with Werburga. One of these reveries was probably going on when he suddenly raised his eyes, and found himself face to face with the person he had just seen with almost equal vividness in imagination. Scarcely seeming to observe his confused, self-conscious look, Werburga frankly wished him good morning, and begged him to come with her into her father's house. " I have nothing interesting to show you," she said, naively, " except my father, who has always something to say to students like himself." Randall followed willingly; but on entering, they found that the Baron had gone out; so the two were left to a tete-a-tete. The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 315

" I have heard strange rumours of you, Mr. Holme," said Werburga, breaking into the subject at once : " do not be alarmed, I have not even told my father of your scheme ; but for myself, I am too near headquarters not to know everything that concerns the school." This frank interest nearly restored Randall to his wonted composure. He longed to know what his companion thought of the step he had taken, but only said, " Yes, it may seem strange to others, but I wanted something to do." " And do you really think," said Werburga, looking fixedly at him, " that you have taken the right coi;rse i If so, you are certainly not ambitious." This opinion, though by uo means new to Randall, came to him from the lips of another as a kind of revelation ; for the feelings and motives which had impelled him to the task, had hitherto shed over it a halo of glory which no calmer speculations could dispel. "You think not'?" he said; "and you also a teacher! I have always considered it a noble vocation." " That depends greatly on the person who enters upon it. Few, very few, bring to it that devotion which alone can ennoble any calling. With women it is usually a pis-aller — a mere shelter from beggary; but with a yoimg man like you, it seems to me almost throAving yourself away to choose a position such as this, when a far more aspiring career is open to you." Randall's first impulse was to open his heart to Wer- burga, and confess the ruling motive of his conduct; caution and timidity, however, forbade this, and he gave the weaker motive instead, pleading his natural bent, his desire for occupation, and his disregard of the opinion of the world. "But you forget," said Werburga, "that part of the world whose opinion you despise, consists of those whom you will have to teach, as well as of the other teachers around you. They will soon cease to regard you as having ever been intended for anything but a teacher, and you will find a constant demand made upon you for exertion, without that corresponding degree of deference which your life hitherto has led you to expect." •' You are surely too severe," said Randall; he looked puzzled, however, and somewhat forlorn. "Forgive me," said Werburga, "if I have discouraged you. If you are an independent character, however, and SIC) TJie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. feel that this is your true vocation, you will follow it out in spite of all that can be said against it. But let us talk of something else. I have a plan to lay before you. The twenty-fifth anniversary of the school is approaching ; and in honour of this, Miss Langley intends to give a fete on the opening day. It has been left to me to arrange some amusement for the occasion, and I have an idea that we might do honour to our patron saint by illustrating her life in a series of tableaux. Now, I want some verses to enliven the performance; and for these, let me appeal to you." "I am not sure that I still intend to have anything to do with the school," said Randall, evidently somewhat piqued by her previous remarks. Werburga put on her most charming expression, walked across the room to where Randall was sitting, and witli a low courtesy begged him to condescend to assist her. " Most willingly," said Randall, rising from his seat and bowing in reply. " How can I help you ? " " With your brains," said Werburga; " \vrite some lovely verses on some of the most touching parts of AVerburga's history. You do not know it ? Listen wliile I relate it to you. " There is nothing very striking in the life of St. Werburgh, or Wereburge, as she is called in ancient chronicles. Beyond those struggles of the affections wliich tinge, if they do not alter, most youthful lives, there is no stirring interest; nothing but that calmness of devotion which rises triumphant over the passions in the case of those who succeed in attaining the saintly life. Yet such inward struggles are often the most telling, because they are the most truly human. Princess Wereburge lived about the close of the seventh century. Her father, Wulfhere, king of the Mercians, not a zealous Christian, early remarked her great sanctity, and not without anxiety, for he feared that she would thereby lose the desire to make a brillinnt match, suitable to her station. Lovel}^ and admired by many suitors, she turned coldly from them, determined to live a consecrated life. In vain did the son of the king of the West Saxons implore her favour ; AVerbode, too, an ambitious courtier of her father's, was kindly, yet sternly repulsed. Far in the solitude of the forest dwelt a hermit devoted to prayer and fasting. The good Saint Chad had by his pious conversation converted from paganism the sons of The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 317

Wulfhere. The jealous Werbode, suffering from disappointed ambition, and from the enmity of these princes, who opposed his suit, took advantage of the favour he enjoyed with the king, and obtained from the latter an order for their execution. But the cruel informer was to suffer for this ; he was poisoned by an evil spirit, and died raving mad ; while the king, driven by repentance to Christianity, became renowned for his piety. " But now came the trial of Chad and of Wereburge. The princess, thoroughly disgusted with the intrigues and enmities of the world, determined to become a nun. It was Chad who was to consecrate her. Yet no sooner had he beheld her beauty than he felt within him a passion which he had never felt before ; and the oflt'ering of such a bride to Heaven was moistened with the tears of him who offered it. Whether Wereburge felt aught or not, could not be told: she remained outwardly calm, and lived one of the noblest lives ever led by mm, so that her piety was even made the means of Avorking miracles, while by her wealth many religious houses Avere founded in the land. Now," said tlie fair narrator, " instead of agreeing at once what the tableaux are to be, let us each fix on what seem to us the most striking moments in the story, and then compare our views on the subject." Randall agreed to this, and for the next few days the story of Werburge haunted his brain by day and by night, to the exclusion of all that had previously appeared to him in the light either of duty or of pleasure. The evening of the fete arrived. The large old house was well lighted, and wore an air of cheerfulness and of kindly welcome. Miss Langley had donned the pale grey silk which appeared so seldom and looked so becoming ; and there was a qiiiet dignity in her demeanour which bore a contrast to the usual forgetfulness of self in the effort to please others. A stage had been improvised in one of the large schoolrooms, with the usual accompaniment of folding doors which attends private theatri- cals. A piano was placed at right angles with the stage, and at this the junior music governess sat and played lively measures while the guests entered and seated themselves on the rows of seats with which the room was filled. Miss Ijangley, who occupied, or rather ought to have occupied, an arm-chair at the further end of the room, was in reality getting nearer to the door with the

No. 10.—OCTOBER 1875. 2 S 318 The Ladles' Edinburgh Magazine. arrival of each guest, so great was her empressement to receive all with due honour and cordiality. " Good evening, Mr. Wood. So you were able to leave your sister this evening I pray come further forward; there, that is a good light. Ah! Mrs. Holme! and'my dear Malvina ! I am so glad to see you." At last came Baron de Rehmar, but Miss Langley tried in vain to persuade him to come forward ; he chose a seat in the back row, from which he might at any time make a sudden plunge into the outer air. The seats were at last filled, mostly by pupils, many by guests ; and now the music became softei', and of a more solemn character. Slowly the curtain rose, and disclosed a dim chamber. A long low table Avith a couch near it occupied the centre of the room, and beside these was a j;?'ie-A'e(/, with a prayer-book laid on the reading-desk. Flere a young girl was kneeling. The dim light gave an unearthly gleam to her countenance ; her long hair hung down over her simple robe ; her hands were clasped, and she was looking up in an attitude of prayer. Then from the background a lovely voice rose in a slow chant; it Avas a clear soprano, like that of a boy-chorister ; the words ran thus :—

"Souls of new-born infants, fled To the mansions of the dead, With your life as pure, as faint As the breath of praying saint, As the pearl of morning dew Melting into heaven's blue, Ere this careless earth of ours E'en has marked it 'mid her flowers,— Souls of children, full of grace, Greet me from your heavenly place.

Tender gleaming aureoles, Shining o'er these infant souls, Making by your star-like gleam Heav'n's bright day a hallowed dream ; Happy stars, that shine by day, Spangling o'er the blessfed way, Where the saints of great renown Glide in heaven up and down ; Infant souls, 3'our voices raise. Pray aloud for her who prays." Tlie Ladies Edinhurgh Magazine. 319 '

The curtain had risen and fallen again over several tableaux, each representing some scene in the life of Saint Werburga. There was a pause and an expectant lull among the audience ere the two last, which were believed to be the finest, should be mis en scene. The music governess had been called away from the piano to assist in some extra preparations, and all eyes were rivetted on the curtain, which was beginning to show signs of rising, when a gentleman entered the room, and took possession of almost the only vacant seat, just in front of de Rehmar. It was Trevor, but, strange to say, he did not look round to greet any one; his Avonted gay humour seemed to have forsaken him for the present, and he sat looking straight before him in moody abstraction. The curtain rose, and displayed the interior of a hermitage in a wilderness. The walls of this abode were of rough unpolished wood. On one corner of the floor was a bed of straw; besides this, the room was almost bare of furniture. Half-turned towards the audience was a young man kneeling in fi'ont of a crucifix; his dark hair, which had the tonsure, was cut close around his noble brow ; the plain black tunic was confined by a rope round the waist; while in his hand he held what seemed to be the picture of a young girl, which he was in the act of dashing to the ground. His dark earnest eyes remained fixed upon the crucifix, while the choir of youthful voices behind the scenes chanted these words :—

" Blessed saint, wljo, when on earth, Fleeing from lier scenes of mirlli, Scorned'st ev'n lier dearest ties For coraiiiiiiiion with the skies. And ill holy pilgrimage Grewest on to riper age, Till the deeds which thou hudst done Thee a saintly name had won ;— Saint Alexius, he my friend, Let thy prayers for me ascend."

De Rehmar overheard a lady who gat next to Trevor explaining to him that this was Saint Chad in his solitary retreat in the desert; that he was about to consecrate Werburga as a nun, and was endeavouring beforehand, by fasting and prayer, to overcome his passionate attach- ment to her, and to attain a saintly tranquillity of mind. 320 The Ladies' Edinhurgli Magazine.

" St. Chad is Randall Holme, you know," added the lady; " does not he look handsome 'i " " Randall Holme, indeed! " muttered Treyor, almost in- audibly between his teeth ; " how comes he here'? " After this, he looked eyen more moody and abstracted than before. Then came the concluding tableau. It represented the interior of a church, dimly lighted. Without the altar rails stood a royal personage, King W^ulfhere, with his two sons; within, in a wide circle round the altar, nuns were kneeling; while, before the altar, with her face towards the officiating bishop, knelt a young girl, dressed in the white garb of one about to take the veil. Her face was very pale, as, with eyes fixed on the ground, she appeared to be in the act of taking the solemn VOAVS. The priest, the same who had appeared in the previous scene, stood with one hand uplifted, looking down upon her with a solemn sweetness. The whole tableau Avas grave and affecting, and one longed for some solemn music to give to it that expression for which words were denied, when the white-robed choir, standing in the background, gave forth the following words to a slow and melodious measure:—

" Maiden spirit, onwniil go, Eartlily smiles mid favours scorning', Into purest lilv grow. Fed by dew of lieavenly morning ; Almost with a tear we yield tliee To the Power who best can shield thee, To ihe dim and cold embrace Of the convent's narrow place ; There, in holy innocence, Thou shiilt dwell, nor issue thence. Till, while we with sorrow name thee, Heaven shall descend to claim llieo. Aiigels, guard with sheltering wing This pure sacrifice we bring."

When this scene disappeared behind the curtain, de Rehmar heard the communicative lady renewing her ex- planations. " That is the consecration of Werburga by St. Chad," she remarked. "Does not he look noble and handsome? And the young nun is, I must tell you, a real namesake of the saint—such an interesting person; does not fehe look distinguished?" llie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 321

Trevor, who was writliing imder these commonplace remarks, and evidently meditating a speedy escape, Avas detained for a few moments by the rapturous encore, which was speedily responded to by the repetition of the tableau. No sooner was this over, than he rose from his seat and hastily left the room, only bowing slightly to de Rehmar as he passed. This was a blow to the latter, who had been watching for a recognition, and, if possible, a chat with his old friend. He consoled himself by the reflection that his friend was out of humov;r, but was quite rmaware that he himself was partly the cause of this. The fact was, that Trevor had felt no little surprise and vexation on finding that Randall held such a prominent place in the performance; and these feelings were by no means lessened Avhen he reflected on the degree of intimacy with Werburga which this implied. He, on the other hand, had been ignored—left out; had heard of the approaching fete only by formal invitation. Had he known from what source this neglect arose, his vexation might possibly have changed into foreboding for the future. De Rehmar had, in fact, seemed hardly pleased at Werburga's having requested Randall to assist in the performance without consulting him; and on her afterwards siiggesting the idea of Trevor also being drawn into it, he had abso'îlely refused his sanction. De Rehmar remained seated while the rest of the audience were leaving the room; he felt sad, and in- difiêrent to all around him. Mrs Holme and her daughter passed very near him; Malvina smiled and nodded to her friend, and would fain have come near enough to speak, but her mother hurried her away, bowing stiffly to the baron as she did so. Then Mr. Wood, who was giving his arm to Mrs Holme, bowed in the same slight and cold manner. What could be the meaning of all this ? There was his daughter feted and taken notice of by all; to- night she had taken the most prominent part in the performance ; all eyes were upon her. Why then was he thus neglected and passed by ? was there some calumny against him? and if so, who was the author of it? The feverish excitement brought on by his personal feelings was aggravated by bodily weakness. Almost madly he said to himself, " They are trying to get rid of me that they may have her all to themselves. Trevor or Holme, 322 Tlie Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. which is it ? But I shall not trouble them long; no, I am too ill for that. And Bernard Wood, Avhat does he mean ? But to end my days here among them! no." He sat for a few moments moodily in his chair, as if forming a desperate resolve; then sprang up, and walking forward towards the stage, drew back the curtain and went in. All was dark there, but in a little room to the left lights were burning. He opened the door gently a little way, and peeped in. AVerburga was there, just finishing the re-arrangement of her toilet; he beckoned to her. She ran quickly towards him with some alarm in her face ; she was used to his fits of depression and his physical ail- ments. " What is it'? " she said quickly; " are you ill ? " He drew her towards him, and gazed long and fondly in her face: at last he said, " My child, would you think it hard if I were to take you away now?" She looked blank for a moment, but consented, only asking if he Avere ill. " No, not ill, only anxious," he replied; " but come with me and 1 Avill explain all to you." When Randall entered the supper-room and heard that Werburga had gone, he felt as if the charm of the evening had gone with her. For the moment he seemed to himself exiled from a garden of roses, and placed in a dark and dismal abode, where it seemed a pain to exist. He soon took leave of Miss Langley, and walked slowly homewards. To-morrow was-the day on which he wâs expected to enter on his new duties. Mechanically he had promised this to Miss Langley as he took leave of her, hardl}^ knowing what he said. But even while he was Avalking home, he remembered how Werburga had spoken of this project of his. It was evident that she did not think more highly of him for it, and thought he was only escaping from his true vocation in life by forming tliis scheme. Was it weakness or infatuation that made him waver in his purpose when he thought of this ? Possibly both, and the same causes made him ponder in his mind what other course was open to him that she would approve. Surely, he felt, that were the only true course for him. Like a chained captive now, however, he must accept his doom. So the morrow found him, as in duty bound, on the Avay to Miss Langley's. He must needs call at de Eehmar's house on his way thither, to enquire whether the baron was really ill, as he had been told. The Ladles Edinburgh Mn-jazlne. 323

What was his amazement, on arriving there, to see a carriage at the door with luggage upon it. He rang the bell, but was refused admittance. Werburga, however, who happened to be passing through the hall, came forward and spoke to him. " Papa is really ill," she said, " and the doctor recommends immediate change of air, so we leave town to-day." This was said in a rather sad tone. " Where are you going 1" asked Randall in dismay. " That I cannot tell," she said. "And shall I not see you again? Oh, Werburga!" It was the first time he had ventured to call her by her name. " Oh, yes I I hope we shall meet soon," she answered; " we are not going to stay away for ever." " Till you return, I must live on memory," said Randall. "Will you not tell me where you are to be I" "No," said Werburga, " I dare not tell that—not even to my dearest friend." " Then I am asking more than to be your dearest friend," said Randall; " let me ask that alone." " That I cannot promise either," she answered, " Let me tell you frankly," and here she looked at him steadily and kindly; " I cannot make a dearest friend of one whom I do not thoroughly respect, and I cannot thoroughly respect one who is not exerting himself to the utmost to find his right place in the world. Pardon me for speaking thus ; I mean well." She said these words so kindly, and with such a beseeching air of humility, that Randall, instead of being very much ofi'ended, as he would midoubtedly have been if thus spoken to by any one else, only said, " Thank you for telling me what you think." Then he added, " Some day, perhaps, I may please you better. May I try?" " Do not let us speak of the futm-e," said Werburga; " that is too dim and uncertain; only let me Avish you success in all that you attempt; and whether we meet again sooner or later, it will always be as friends." She held out her hand, he took it, and in a moment was gone. It was all over with Miss Langley's school now; he felt that the moment the door was closed. The ruling motive which had drawn him thither, was now, in an equally commanding way, pointing away from it. Wliat he was on the way to do seemed to him now the very last thing to be chosen ; there were many other paths open to 324 Tlie Ladles' Edinburgh Magazine. hira, all more worthy of his efforts. This all dawned upon him in an undefined way, in the alluring colours of a temptation out of reach. It seemed to him that that morning the charm had been taken away that bound him to Chester, and nothing left but a life of cheerless toil among comparative strangers. " No !" he said to himself with sudden resolution, "I will not go on with it, I cannot." He then began to consider whether he should go on to Miss Langley's, as he had intended to do on leaving home. If so, it could only be to make an excuse and withdraw, thus bringing odium on himself ou account of the inevitable hitch which such a proceeding would cause in Miss Langley's school arrangements. To avoid an awkward interview, Avould it not be better to send a note, giving some pretext for his conduct 'I So he retraced his steps to his lodging at the farm.

" Randall Holme has been suddenly recalled to Stretton, and will not return," said Miss Langley that afternoon to her head-governess. " I suppose it was imavoidable; but certainly it is strange conduct. And happening at this moment, just Avhen Werburga is called away also,—the circumstance is most disastrous. There is nothing to be done but to give another fortnight's holidays, that I may have time to supplement my staff of teachers." Though Miss Langley and the governess both deplored this untoward commencement of the autunni session, there was no small joy among the younger ladies, who now looked forward to unlimited excursions to the country, and walks along the " rows " of Chester, not to speak of frequent visits to the confectioner's, which were all to be enjoyed during the ensuing fortnight.

PROCLA.

{To he continued.^ Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 325

OD^c ^ragon of t^c |torlb,

CHAPTER XL

" When the wind bloweth strong, hoist thy sail to the top, 'Tis joyous in storm not to flinch : Keep her full! keep her full! none but cowards strike sail; Sooner founder than take in an inch." —Frithiolf's Saga, Dasent's Translation.

I HAD become aware without waking that the vessel was pitching and rolling heavily; but now a cry close by roused me to full consciousness. It was the Abbot Atenolf, standing, deadly pale, clinging to the ship's side, and gazing through the square opening in the door. I too sprang up, and looked out. It was nearly noon, but the sky was all cloud, and the sea steel-grey, cold, and foamy. My first thought was we were in it, for all the waist before us reflected the gleam of water, and heavily the waves plashed over each bulwark alternately, as the ship rolled along in the troubled sea. Above the prow towered a wave, dark, impending, mountainous, over the golden Dragon's head; anon we had turned it, and though some water broke on board, the mass of the wave passed along our quarter. The wind hoAvled drearily ; the oars were all in; quite a crowd of idle men were huddled together in the waist; while ever and anon, as the water dashed over them, a curse in Norse, or Italian, or Greek, would pierce the clamour of wind and sea. But a talk was rising among the men, which made me thrill with alarm as gradually the drift became plain to me. No wonder they had bad luck, they said; no wonder they were likely to perish in the storm ; not only had they cheated Thor of his sacrifice, but now they carried a traitor with them — the murderer of their kinsmen's friend, Dato—l)ato, who had surrendered as a prisoner of war. And such words were echoed in Italian and Greek, for there were many Greeks on board, commanded by one Antigonous, a clever but sinister-looking man. Yet dissentient voices were heard, and by degrees a few monks, om- prior among them, drew towards our cabin door, as if to interpose between it and the mob. "Do you understand what they say, my son?" murmured the pale lips of the abbot.

No. 11.—NoVEJiBEK 1875. 2 T 326 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

" I doubt there is danger, my lord, both from the sea and from the hand of man," I answered; " brace yourself up in case we have to die, as all true monks have died to the world already." And then I was silent, and watched while the anxious minutes went by. I knew there was danger to all if indeed mutiny and murder should break loose in that tempest-tossed ship. Where was Hertha? and where was Thorstein I Cries now arose for Swend, Red Swend, and after some delay he strode through the crowd in the waist, and thence climbed on the forecastle and faced the people. There was silence as if to hear him, but he hesitated. I could see he was not sober. Then sounded a clear voice in Italian, Astolfo's, as if speaking from the poop,—" Swend, you promised to protect him; you promised him a passage ; you will bring down the evil fate if you break your plighted word. And the Norsemen promised by you." " No, no, never! " many shouted, and Antigonous called out, " We Greeks promised nothing. Men, we are the strongest; have at the monks, and share the treasure. I know these seas better than any Northman of them all, and I will pilot you safely." There followed cries of " Remember Dato!" and an angry Norsemair called out, " Speak, Swend! are we to protect the monk or no?" " As you like," stuttered Swend; " he is no friend of mine; have it as you will." And now the mob turned and rushed towards our cabin. " Stand firm," I heard our prior say ; but what could the defenceless monks do ? In a moment they were thrown hither and thither beneath the trampling feet of the fierce men, who now fell on the door, broke it down the next instant, and I dare not dwell on the horrors which followed. The abbot was clinging to me Avith shrieks of, " Spare me, spare me—I dare not die—I will resign all—I give all! " He was torn away, and his voice drowned in wild cries of " Dato, remember Dato ! " He was hurled through the swaying mass of men in front. I got out, but soon was wedged in the crowd, and could do nothing, though 1 saw all. No one interfered—yes, one light figure sprang down; the crush was too great to press through, but AstoLfo was running along the heaving bulwarks aided by the ropes, and jumping on men's shoulders when the heavy pitching jerked him off. He The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 327 saw me, and shouted, " He is our abbot after all: to the rescue, Lorenzo!" Just under where Swend stood, a dense mass of men bending inwards and despairing shrieks marked where the wretched abbot was. "Spare him!" shouted Astolfo, running forwards. " Overboard with him!" was the cry, and Swend added, " Overboard with the traitor.'' ^ There was a heave, a struggle on the bulwark, a splash—and all the crowd turned to look as the ship swept past something writhing in the wild waters. Astolfo with drawn sword had, however, reached Swend. "Traitorin your teeth ! " he cried, and there was an instant but very brief flashing of weapons, and then Swend, who looked far more than a match for my comrade, rolled heavily off the forecastle down on the deck. Consternation and silence followed at first, broken by a voice or two, saying, " He has it"— " Through the heart," " He is dead,"—and then the clamour rose again, and methought they would have turned on Astolfo, when wilder and more terrible than the wrath of man came the fury of the sea. A squall of mingled rain and wind struck the long ship fiercely, and as she heeled over to leeward, the great green waves tore in over her, burying the forecastle deep in the water, which rolled like a wide foamy river down the waist, drenching us all, and sweeping the loose lumber out to sea. Staggering and trembling in every seam, the half- foundered ship struggled up again, and her golden head gleamed once more above the water. And then a voice sounded above the tempest, clear and strong. It was Thorstein, who spoke from the rudder, which he now held. " Silence on board; Swend is helpless or dead, and I claim my heirship—this vessel. She is in danger, but I may be able to save her. You Outlanders, know that the Northmen have asked me to command. Now, instant obedience from all, on your lives. I send men down among you below; every Greek, every Italian, every African, give up at once all your weapons to them, and work as they show you how for the ship." " Not so fast," saidAntigonousinsolently. "Greeks! the

' History records that the Abbot Atenolf of Monte Cassino, who a short time before had sold the fortress of Garigliano to the Emperor Basil for a large sum, and thrown Dato, whom he had promised to protect, into the sea, fled before the successful anus of Thurstan and Eainulf, and emljarked for Constantinople, hoping to find a refuge there. He was certainly lost on the voyage, being either wi'ecked or thrown overboard. 328 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

ship is ours; do not let the Lombards make slaves of us; we are twice their numbers. Strike for a free life on the eea." And he sprang on the forecastle, whither the Greeks crowded after him. " Antigonous, lay your weapons at your feet at once! " said Thorstein,—but still he continued addressing the people. Thorstein hesitated not one minute; he took up a spear, hardly seemed to poise it ere it flew, swift and true, and pierced Antigonous through the body. With a wild cry he fell forward, dead. " Go down," said Thorstein to a group of Northmen, " spare no one who keeps a weapon." And they descended among the multitude, Thorstein himself, with others, watching their progress from the poop with ready spears. They met with little resistance; they took the weapons as they passed from man after man, flinging them mostly into the sea. One wretch had kept a concealed dagger ; " Throw him overboard with it," said Thorstein sternly, and so it was done; and I saw how the Greeks and Africans needed no more words, but perfect order was kept. All was quiet save the storm, which seemed gathering fury; and this Thorstein proceeded to combat. In the waist the water was swaying mid-leg with every roll of the ship, but rows of men were soon rapidly passing it up in buckets, and pouring it out, so that it gradually diminished. A few oars were thrown out, and those to leeward were worked strongly as directions were given. Kolbiorn came near me, and, holding by a rope, spoke in gay spirits of his joy that the Dragon had fallen into good hands again. " Even if this is the last of her, she will make the fight a good ship should, and not be swamped in a lubberly fashion. But Thorstein will save her if any one can ; and I have seen far worse storms. The bad points are the crowd on board, and the want of sea-room. This north-wester is driving us on the coast, but yoii see he is holding off" as much as is safe, in hopes of gaining, if not a port, at least some place to run ashore where we may have a chance for our lives. On the ocean we could ride out this weather well." The next thing that I remember was that some men passed us who had orders to bring the body of Swend into Hertha's cabin, and we waded forward with them. There lay the Viking on the forecastle, straightened and stiffened into the statue of himself; his bright red hair The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 329 fell back from the sun-burnt forehead, and from the features which, in the repose of death, showed something of the beauty of his sister. "Ah! he never did well since he got the command," said Kolbiorn sadly ; " under Kolf or Thorstein it might have gone otlierwise. He was a foohsh man, but a bold one in a fight, and a merry fellow over the cups. I hope Odin will give him a bumper to-night, for thither he must go: he is as much too bad for your heaven as too good for your hell, whither I suppose you think Atenolf and Antigonous have found their way." " What do yoii believe, Kolbiorn ?—anything at all % " " I," said Kolbiorn—" I don't know ; " and he sang

" Could we know, ah ! could we know Whither ere set of sun we go, Over whose head on his sea-weed bed Next tide's waves will calmly spread !"

Well! as we are all likely to be in that bed soon, I will tell you, Renzo : I believe in the All Father, and I may perhaps take Christianity, for I rather think it is he who offers it to me ; but as for either your books or your priests settling wliat becomes of all the people who race through this wild world—out who knows where—no ! they shall not do that for me." The men had taken up Swend's body and were moving off with it, when a tremendous sea struck our quarter, flinging us down, while those who carried the corpse had to cling for their lives to the bulwarks. Hut the crushing darkness of the wave passed off; blinded and drenched, we shook off the stinging bitter waters, and saw light again ; and out to leeward I saw the flash of armour on the weaves, as the body of the Viking Swend was swept away on the sea that had ever been his home. Kolbiorn and I scrambled up on the poop, where Thcirstein stood at the helm, with Hertha by him ; he looked watchful, but cheery ; the ship still obeyed her helm, and there was perfect order; but I saw now how near we had come to the purple hills of the coast all edged with foam, towards which the huge blue waves seemed to be sweeping us. But above, the clouds w^ere breaking; the wind was falling, and fitfid gleams of sunshine lit the sky. Astolfo drew near ; he seemed far more disturbed than any present as he half whispered to me, 330 The Ladies' Edinburgh Muyaz'me.

" Look at our own dear land, so near, and yet now our worst danger, edged by this cruel water." " Nonsense, man," said Thorstein ; " this is only a battle with many chances for us: if I can run ashore where I intend, there won't be much loss of life. And if I don't— well, I expect the next life to be even pleasanter than this one; do not you? " Hertha drew closer to him smiling, then with a sudden change of countenance she said, " AVas it the corpse that was swept overboard '?" " Yes," said Thorstein, " and better so ; better our own sea, the same here as in Norway, than a cairn they might not honour in a strange land." " AA^ell, the sea may soon liave us all," said Hertha. " I don't believe it will," said Thorstein ; "at least don't trouble yourselves about it, as it is not your business to look after the matter, but mine. So, children, throw away care and keep up your hearts." The Norsemen must have been used to danger, for none seemed to mind it much; they were chatting as usual; and I had been trained in meditations on death, so that it was to me a familiar thought. Only I longed to get rid of that weight of evil which I had on my conscience. Thorstein was too busy for me to tell him aught of Syades or of my vow, but I Avent down again to the waist, and found our prior calmly reciting his office; him I implored to hear my confession. He assented, and I followed him into the little cabin whence Atenolf had been torn, and there, kneeling at his feet, I began tlie wayward story; when, after a while, there came a terrible shock, and a cry as from a Inindred voices soon lost in the roar of waters louder far and more dreadful than before. The prior hardly looked round, but said quietly, " Methinks the end has come. I will give you, my son, the conditional absolution we give to repentant sinners who have not time to confess— in extremis.^' Even as he was pronouncing the solemn words with his hand on my head, came darkness. The next moment the waters poured in; high they rose, separating and overwhelming us, and I knew no more. When I woke it was with no remembrance of what had happened. I lay on a pleasant couch in a large room; a row of round-headed windows let in the daylight, and all seemed somehow familiar and friendly. I tried The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 331 to rise, but then became conscioas of pain and great weakness, while a monk in the Benedictine habit came forward, saying, "Better'? Signer D'Asile, take this," as he put a cordial to my lips. Where was I ? in this world or another"? and then it all came back to me, the more as on turning I saw coming towards me Herser Thorstein in light armour, looking as fresh and bright as though no evil thing had happened. " Dear Marquis," he said, " I am truly glad to see you better, though the leech promised you would come to. It has been a long swoon ; it lasted all yesterday." " What has happened, my Thorstein % were we wrecked % " " Wrecked % no—though a few lives were lost. I succeeded in running ashore in the very creek we lay in under Caserta last summer—the only good opening among the rocks for many miles." " Yes, it was a fine bit of seamanship," said Eric, who came forward with others, " and the Dragon will float again after repairs; but when she first ran in, a heavy sea struck her poop—the breaker, you know; and we lost some overboard, chiefly African trash. I think the indi'aw of the wave flUed the cabin, for we found there the prior drowned, and you very nearly gone; and when you came back to life, still you were delirious." " Do not talk to him too much, my lords," said the monk, " and in good time there is the refectory bell for breakfast; leave him to me." And they left us alone in what I now remembered as the guest-room, over the gateway of our own convent of Caserta. There, where little more than four months ago—but what a lifetime to me !—As- tolfo had entertained Thorstein when he came to search for the heir of Asile. It was Fra Cyril, our infirmerer, who tended me, and was ready, but with a new respect for the Marquis in his voice, to answer all questions. How peaceful all looked after the cruel sea ! The morning sunshine gleamed through the windows which framed a bright blue sky, and some opal-tinted doves were cooing and pluming themselves on the ledges. And anon the abbot Crysolarus himself came to visit me, and far, far better, my own dear Father Anselmo. I asked if he kncAV aught of my life at Asile, and spoke of my interrupted confession to the dead prior, but Anselmo bade me hush. I had been on the verge of a fever, and must only rest now. " So little changed you are, Lorenzo, from the 332 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

favourite artist-novice, that I think the cloister must be your true home. We hardly knew our Astolfo again; he is as changed in a different way as the stern heathen Northman Thorstein, who came here in August; and who now proves to be the commander of the Lombards—the lord of all the land—the gentle knight Thurstan, of whom we have all heard." " Yes," I answered, " Thorstein is the gentlest and the sternest of men, as you happen to see him; and Astolfo, though he is no monk, is a more loyal Benedictine than ever I was. Ah, yoxi do not know what I am." "A monk," smiled Anselmo, " who must have some strong man to obey, and an artist who must have beautiful things round him. To-morrow we have our requiem for Abbot Atenolf and our prior; after that you may be better, and return to us for a while at least." So all the day passed in pleasant dreaminess, and at night came some Northmen t3 sleep; andKolbiorn sat on my couch awhile, and told me how Astolfo had gone to Asile to reassure Valeria, and Thorstein was repairing the Dragon ship, which they triisted would soon float again. And next day I heard the bells toll all morning for the requiem mass; heavily they echoed on my sore heart, for with retiirning strength came the thought of my lost love. My couch was moved to a window which looked down on our inner quadrangle and beautiful church; and I watched the long procession,—cross-bearers, laymen, Hertha in mourning-robes with Thorstein,—I knew her thoughts were with the wild Swend,—then serving-brothers, novices, and choir monks in a long long line, chanting solemn hymns and prayers, in which the names of the worst and the best of monks were placed together : Ateuolf, whose face of horror as they dragged him away, still haunted me; and our prior, whose last look, which I also saw, was just what he wore Avhen chanting the Nunc Dimittis at Compline. The mass was over when my door opened, and Thorstein entered, leading Hertha, looking lovelier than ever in her sweeping black robes,—a few of the Paestum winter roses out of the Abbot's garden in her hand. Kindly she greeted me, if somewhat distantly, and then withdrew to a window, and leaned her face on her fair hand gazing outwards, while tliQ doves, fearless of her beautiful still- ness, circled round or perched beside her. " You said there was something you wished to tell me," The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 333 said Thorstein kindly, taking my hand; " speak now; can I aid you ? " But when I began to tell of my evil thoughts of him, and about Syades, he interrupted with—" No more of that, Lorenzo. I know Syades to be my enemy, and it was natural you should have been it also; only better for rivals to be declared foes, and even fight it out, than that they should brood and plot. That is cloister bondage without cloister holiness; worst of bad things is a bad monk,— better be the wild Swend than the false traitor Atenolf." "It seems to me, Thorstein, as if you, the latest Christian, were the best among us," I said. " Now you heel over to the other side," laughed Thor- stein ; " but nothing seemed very new to me in the Christian laws save forgiving one's enemies: and how easy it seems to forgive poor Swend down below these southern waters." "And Atenolf, who wished to put out yoiir eyes'?" " Miserable wretch, is he not punished! Think no more of these things; let me tell you how I think the Norman rule is going to prevail in Italy;" and he went on telling me much of war and government, till he interrupted himself by saying—"What is it, my Hertha?" She now stood upright, gazing down at the window like some angel of blessedness and joy. She did not hear Thorstein, but she did hear a light step that sounded on the stair; another moment and the door flew open, an armed cavalier came swiftly to her, fell on one knee as he kissed her hand, rose again, and as her sweet face said clearly he might, kissed her glowing cheek. "My Hertha—safe and mine," he was saying inco- herently, pouring out his terrors at seeing her carried off by Swend, and how he had ridden south in the desperate hope of finding a swift ship, when the storm came, and the report the Dragon ship was lost. "And then, oh blessed sight! I met Astolfo riding north, who told me all was safe, and you were here." " Yes, my Rainulf, our Thorstein saved all our lives," she murmured, clinging to him, and drawing him away. But Thorstein and he were greeting each other warmly, even as the breathless porter ran in, saying, "]\Iy lord Eainulf, this is against all rule: first to the parlour to salute the abbot before you see our guests." " To the abbot, indeed! when I saw my lady at the window," laughed the happy knight, as he moved away

No. 11.—NOVEMBER 1875. 2 U 334 Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

with Hertha. She turned and saluted me as she passed the door, and I saw she wished to hiirry from the presence of her rejected lover ; but one of the winter roses fell from her hand, and Thorstein, who was following, picked it up and brought it to me. " Roses flourishing twice a-year," he said; but his face was pale, and his lip drawn with an expression of pain, which made me think of my old wish to design St. Sebastian. Ay, I had wished to see him in real life, and a real St. Dorothea also, bearing roses. Were they not even now before me—fairer and nobler than my most impassioned dreams? But I—how changed was I from the youth whose life was filled and blessed by religion and art ? Now the arrows were fast in me, and the deep waters had gone over my soul, and I turned round and broke into a passion of tears. In vain Thorsteiu said what he could to soothe me; I could not listen to him; and presently he went away, and sent to me Fra Anselmo, in whose kind arms I wept more gently, while I told him I was weary of my life, and only longed to take the final vows in the cloister. " We will consider it all when you are better; much must come first, my son," was all I could persuade him to promise. That night, as I slept, I dreamed once more of the waste land across which I was riding hard to where St. Dorothea and St. Sebastian awaited me. But a shadow darkened over me, and hid more and more the light, and anon arms and a face seemed above me,— dim, gigantic, terrible. I started awake in an agony, and one stood before me, his gleaming eyes fixed on mine, his hands moving slowly over me—and it was no dream, it was Syades. All power left me save to obey him: I rose, he threw round me a fur mantle, and step by step I followed him. There close beside me Thorstein slept peacefully; his fair throat and strong arms gleamed white in the moonlight; all the lines of care and work were smoothed out of his sun-burnt face, and he looked young and bright, for he smiled in his sleep as though his dreams were beautiful. I made a desperate effort to waken him, to cling to him, but he only murmured the Norse salutation, " Be thou blessed and happy," and slept on. It seemed some invisible barrier rose between us, and noiselessly I followed my hated conductor down the staircase, and, avoiding the great gates, through The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 335

one of the long corridors of the dormitory. On each side monks slept quietly; in the chapel only gleamed a light where they watched by the altar. But avoiding the circle of light cast from the window, we now paced through the cloister, and 1 saw again the Dragon coiled in the caiwing, and the two marble lions. We came to the little postern, which, alas! was open. We went through it, though I clung for a moment to the jambs of the door, and tried in vain to sign myself with the cross. When Syades turned and looked at me, I had no power. Downwards ever, exhausted as I was, till we reached the sea, so calm now in the moonlight. I saw the form of the Dragon of the North as we descended; her masts were shattered, but her hull seemed entire, and a light glittered on board. Were we bound thither % no—a little sailing vessel lay near, and 1 followed on board. Three or four grinning black Africans manned it; they hoisted sail, and stood out fi'om the shore, and then I knew no more, for suffering had reached a point when a merciful unconsciousness delivered me for a time from my misery. E, J. 0. {To be continued?)

Wiit (Ettristian ^omanVi ^orli in Jiutia.

CONCLUSION.

WHAT are the results of missionary work abroad ? How surprisingly little interest is shown as to this important question; how many who " profess and call themselves Christians " are letting days, weeks, months, and even years, slip by while they sit at home unconcerned, not caring to ask about the success of their brethren and sisters labouring for Christ in Africa and India, North America, and the islands of the seas! Oh, shame upon the apathy and indifference of those who can see the sowers "goingforth and weeping, bearing precious seed," and yet " say not so much as ' The Lord prosper.you.' " And not a few earnest (Christians, who pray for, and make efforts to forAvard, missionary enterprise, speak timidly and hesitatingly about results, as though we were called to labour on in the Master's service without hope of His smiling on our efforts and making them fruitful for 336 'llie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

His glory ; treating as almost impious the idea of large success. "Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it." Now if we cautiously say, " We must not expect to see much result of our work," are we " proving" Him, and waiting in faith for the fulfilment of His word ? Are we not rather tempting Him to close the -windows of heaven, and keep back the blessing He is so graciously ready to bestoAv ? Perhaps there are few ways in which in our work we more dishonour God, than this of acting as if we felt " we are prayerful, self-sacrificing, energetic, anxious to bring the heathen to a knowledge of the truth, but it is too much to expect that God is going to let us succeed." Banish the unworthy thought! Christian missions are successful; they are accomplishing their purpose; the " Name which is above every name" is more Avidely known and loved than ever, and this directly through the instrumentality of well-organised missionary effort. But some will ask, " Is there as much success as there ought to be ? " No, undoubtedly there is not; but this is owing to the coldness and half-heartedness of many in our own land, and not to any failure in work actually done. Yet we do not labour for results ; we take up this -wôrk because the Master said, " Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature ; " and we carry it on that His will may be done, and that He may be glorified ; even though we could not point to one conversion as the result of many years' effort, even though our work seemed to our poor understandings an utter failure, we should still desire above all things to " labour on, spend and be spent, our joy to do the Master's will." I now wish to give my readers a few facts to prove that the work of our devoted missionaries is not in vain in the Lord. Normal Schools are established in Calcutta, Benares, Jullundur, Lahore, Madras, and Umritzur; the school in Calcutta training European and native Christian girls to be teachers for high-caste ladies in their Zenanas, or for Hindu girls' schools ; while at the other five stations native women are prepared for the same kind of work. These pupils, numbering seventy in all, are carrying on their studies under the able supervision of English ladies, The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 337 and they pass exceedingly good examinations ; several whose course of study in the Normal School was finished some years since, are assiduously rendering most efficient help to our Missionaries ; a few short extracts from their own accounts of their present work will give the best idea of the value of the schools in which they have been trained, the satisfactory way in which they have received instruction, and the heartiness and diligence with which they are seeking to impart it to others. Miss Goddard writes thus of the death of a young wife in one of the Zenanas :—" She was such a dear, good, gentle, and promising girl, and so particularly thoughtful and attentive during my Scripture lesson. One could not help loving her; I do not know what the dear girl's hope in death may have been, but surely we may hope that all was well. May He who loves to comfort those in sorrow comfort her young husband, and make this solemn event lead him to search well his own heart, and decide for Jesus." Another (Miss Thomas) says, " I am thankful to say I have, amongst my dear pupils in the Zenanas, met with some encouragement. In a house where two sisters receive instruction I have every cause to rejoice; they are getting on very steadily in English, and particularly seem to take a delight in reading the Bible." A third (Miss Hubbard) writes :—" In one house I have a class of fifteen pupils, six of them girls, the rest women, young and old. After their lessons are over they draw close to me, and listen attentively while I read and explain some portion of Scripture." Miss David writes :— " My portion comprises nineteen houses, with forty-three pupils ; and two scliools, with upwards of fifty-four girls. The 'Schools I visit once a-week, and I think it a solemn and responsible work that of bringing little ones to Jesus." Again, Miss Singh says :—" One of my women, who had been away on account of ill-health, returned. When speaking to her of her illness, I said perhaps God had spared her life that she might know more of Him. She said she was not afraid to die, but it was after death that seemed so dark. She said she read the New Testament when she was able to do so. I showed her the four Gospels, and told her she would find out all about Christ in them, and all that He had done for us, to make beyond the grave a hope of rest and glory to all believers." In looking over these simple records of work done by those 338 The Ladies'' Ldinburgh Magazine. who are themselves, be it remembered, fruits of our work, we cannot but feel that God is greatly prospering the efforts of Christian women for their heathen sisters in India. Turning to Benares, we find five pupils from our Normal School are now engaged in teaching in Church Missionary Schools. Everywhere the girls and women trained in the Normal Schools are making most satisfactory progress, both in their own studies and in the work to which, when prepared, they are appointed. The Hindu and Mohammedan female schools, of which forty-three are now established in connection with the " Indian Female Normal School and Instruction Society," have, in all, an attendance of 1437 pupils. By this means a great woi'k is being carried on amongst the little ones. In reading the statements of what is being done in these schools, Ave cannot but be struck with the many tokens of success. Such remarks as the following are full of encouragement :—" The children are exceedingly fond of 'Art thou weary, art thou languid ?' and ' There is a happy land.' I wish 1 could give you a picture of these schools, they are so interesting. It would do you good to see the rows of bright little beings: they would greet you with shouts of ' Salaam, salaam !' and would be so happy to repeat to you their verses and hymns." " The school was remarkably well taught, the children were quick and intelligent, and they passed an excellent examination. They seemed to be of a high class for a native female school, and their tone and manner were A'êry good." " The other CAêning we Avent upon the roof to see the eclipse of the moon, and there doAvn below were the heathen children, singing, 'There is a happy land.'" " The number of pupils has been steadily increasing. We have an average daily attendance of 197. They receive instruction in the Scriptures, reading, writing, geography, and arithmetic." These fcAV Avords are sufficient to shoAv that, in the instruction of the young, missionary effort is prospering. With one or tAvo examples of results of Avork in the Zenanas amongst the Avomen, we must close our somewhat hasty survey of this most interesting and encouraging subject, hoping that readers Avho Avish to knoAV more Avill study for themselves the thrilling records sent home by our missionary sisters. One writes, " I read from the The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 339

New Testament always, and the women seem so touched when they hear the sweet story of His love and compassion, always appearing glad to see me, more for the sake of hearing of Christ than for anything else." Another says:—" We have to thank God for two of our pupils having been gathered into the visible fold of Christ by baptism, as they had been previously into the invisible by a living faith. We have to tell also that, by God's grace, they are walking in the truth and growing in knowledge." We have the following interesting account of a widow lady:—" Almost from the first she said she would like to learn English and needlework, but she wished principally to learn about Jesus. I gave her a New Testament, and the first time I called after this she had some passages marked, which she read and asked me to explain. Every time I visit her she has some passage marked, or some question to ask. Pointing to her sewing, she said, 'I think nothing of this work compared with hearing about Jesus; and I would like you to spend an hour every time you come, teaching me about Him only.' Another time she said, ' I believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and my brother also believes in and loves Him very much.' " And now I desire to bring home to the heart of every one who has perused these facts, the deeply important question of our share in this great work. What can we do, what are we doing, to forward it ? First on our list of what may be done we place Prayer. Christian women of Britain, who know what it is to carry your own sins and sorrows to the Master's feet; who have proved again and again the " sweet relief" of pouring out your souls before the prayer-hearing God, are you praying for those to whom tliis privilege is as yet unknown ? Are you feeling that their wants, cares, sorrows, press on your hearts ; and that one of the greatest blessings God can confer on you, is to cause the light of the gospel to shine into their souls, and give theyn joy and peace ? Wrestle, agonise in prayer for your heathen sisters ; plead for them as you would for your own life. " Ye that make mention of the Lord, keep not silence, and give Him no rest" until the down-trodden and degraded inhabitants of the Zenana walk in the full light and glorious liberty of the children of God. Take such precious words of promise as Psalm Ixxii. 6, Isaiah xxi. 1-8, xliii. 6, Ixi. 1, and pointing to 340 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. each in beheving prayer, say, "Eemember this word unto thy servant, upon which thou hast caused me to hope." Here is a way in which " all who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity and truth" may help forward Christian missions. Even from the couch of pain, from the suffering child of God, who is too weak and weary to do ought else, the fervent prayer of strong faith will go up acceptably to Him who waits to be gracious. And next, Effort. How much might be accomplished if all who are interested themselves would make efforts to interest others, remembering this great work in casual conversation with neighbours and friends, introducing the subject into their letters, telling facts which have arrested their own attention to any to whom they may be new, and (where possible) establishing or joining a ladies' association for work of various kinds. It would be no small help if all Christian women would make earnest efforts to counteract the great mischief done by some European residents in India, who, never loving and never investigating missionary work, but giving their whole thought and time to the follies and vanities of the world, return to England to misrepresent grossly all that is being done. And then. Giving. The work cannot be carried on without funds; God has entrusted to all of us something to lay out for His glory—to some much, to some but little, perhaps very little: may He grant to us also a willing mind, cheerfully to give what Ave can, that " His way may be known upon earth, and His saving health among all nations." And lastly. Going. Christian sisters ! here is work which angels might long to share with you—work so great, so glorious, so full of blessing, that there is nothing in the world to compare with it. Will some who have read this short account of it consecrate their service at once to the Lord, exclaiming, "Here am I, send me, send me" ?

" Is it too great a thing ? Will not one rise and go, Laying her joys aside, as the Master laid them down. Seeking His lone and lost in the veiled abodes of woe, Winning His Indian gems to shine in His glorious crown ?" —Frances Ridley IIaver gal.

S. S. HE'^VLETT, The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 341

§; £ nt }j t a t i fl 11.

By Mrs. BEEWSTEB MACPHEESON. THE drop uphurl'd with spray on high, When storm-lash'd ocean mocks the sky, While instant, radiant hung in air. Reflected may that instant bear The impress trac'd, minute but clear, I Of oceans wild and heavens drear ; | But downward drawn from heights once more j With broken billows' breaking roar, i Though drop it be in drop-form'd deep, ■ Though part it bear in sounds that leap | From thund'rous sea to thund'ring skies, | With storm-wind's blended harmonies ; \ Yet, poor drop, drown'd in drop-form'd ocean, ; O'erwhelmed, borne in rush of motion, ; 'Tis onward urg'd, and onward still, | AVith impulse none, of conscious will, 1 Till sunk, absorb'd on lonely shore, \ 'Tis lost to life for evermore. E'en thus art thou, oh soul of mine ! j And even thus is fate of thine ; \ A drop art thou in drop-form'd deep, ^ I A sound art thou 'mid sounds that leap \ From nature's ocean roused to strife, i Swift-swept by spirit-blast of life ; { Upborne on swelling 'wave of thought, ] In passion's spray-whirls tost and caught; \ A moment free, with impress given ] Of life-mov'd depths and cloud-veil'd heaven ; j A moment free, then down once more i AVith broken billows' breaking roar, \ Art drown'd, poor drop, in drop-form'd ocean, I O'erwhelmed, borne in rush of motion; ' Borne onward, onward evermore, Till sunk on death's absorbing shore.

Oh God! not thus ! Behold, I rise. Indignant spurn these half-truth lies. O'erwhelm'd in floods a drop may be; ; Its freedom lost where boundless sea J Around it presses evermore | With indistinguishable roar ; I ! No. 11.—NovEMBEB 1875. 2 X " 342 The Ladies* Edinburgh Magazine.

Yet One with loving wisdom guides Each sphered drop in rushing tides, Which, onward urged for evermore, Successive on th' eternal shore Successive break beneath His rod, In music at the feet of God ; Successive, upward drawn by love, Arise, where, glittering set above. Shall every drop in radiance glow In heaven's throne-encircling bow.

WE Kentish folk, as we take good care to let other folk know, pride ourselves specially upon three things. Pass through our county some May day towards the end of the month, and note how round about the snug homesteads acre upon acre of orchard-land is arrayed in the snowy beauty of pure white cherry blossom; come a few weeks later, and see this same blossom developed into fruit of richest ruby hue hanging plentifully upon the trees like the jewels in Aladdin's garden, and own that our cherry- orchards are indeed treasures to rejoice in! Wait yet a few weeks more, and instead of our orchards we can show you reaches of country all a seeming tangle of graceful creeper, bearing a fragrant green cone-like flower goodly to the senses : these are our far-famed hop-gardens. But come at any time, in any month, to seek our noblest boast—never out of season—the fair Kentish maidens ! Oh, we have a great deal to be proud of here, in this bright little corner of England, fringed with its white chalk cliffs, and washed by the lapping waves! And Kentish people are, as a rule, proudly patriotic and loyal to the core. Let one of them do the honours of the county, and show it to you as it looks in the month of September, when the country all about is cheerful with the joy of harvest. The corn fields are bare now, like a deserted camping-ground after the battalions have struck their tents and departed, but the sheaves are garnered safely in the overflowing barns, and the reapers are looking out for fresh conquests. These are ready to hand. Sun and rain in due proportion, and tender care on the part of the growers, have fostered the delicate hop-plants, and now The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 343 the finely-developed green cones, filled with their clammy powder, are ripe for the ingathering. In this part of the country hop-picking is the holiday of the year. The Kentish peasantry look forward to it with the same eagerness as that with which those of a higher grade anticipate their seaside trip or their run on the Continent. Weather being favourable, they seek in the hop-fields stores of health and refreshment (and gossip too, perhaps), against the dull winter days to come. The fragrant breath of the hops has its healing virtue for all; and hither come pale faces to grow rosy, and feeble frames out of the close hot towns to be braced and strengthened. The labour is light, too, and easy for all, and tongues can wag as they will meantime. But before the pickers invade the hop-territory, take a look round and see it in its perfection. For me it has ever-fresh beauties. Here are paths where the tendrils on either side have clasped hands, as it were, and are barring your progress with a lithe and elegant barrier; a screen of vine- shapen leaves at your own level shuts out the onward road from view. And here, to right and left, are avenues —nature's triumphal arches—which are fit approaches to a fairy palace! The plants have climbed now to the top of their poles. Some are overflowing and tumbling downwards again; some are making advances to their neigiibours in a certain friendly way peculiar to creepers ; some are shooting up impertinent little tendrils in delicate spires as charming as they are wilful. And the sweet cone-clusters are hanging everywhere—plen- tiful, precious pendents! If only their beauty might last! But, since it may not, quick to gather in this flower and fruit in one. Senses which are dull now to its graceful excellence, ■v\dll be alive to its virtues some day in the pleasant healthy bitter of their favourite beverage ; and many an invalid too, frail and helpless to come abroad and revel here as we are doing, Avill lie down some restless night on his hop pillow, and bless it for its soothing properties. I don't know a prettier scene than a Kentish hop- garden when it is " a fine hopping." The pickers begin systematically at the edge of tlie field, making a row of encampments, each with its own little colony clustering round the family basket. Two stout bare hop-poles are placed in the ground, and across them, at nearly half their own height, is fixed a third. This serves as a rest 344 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

for the hop-poles, while the cones are stripped from the vine into the large basket standing beneath. In West Kent a wooden bin is the usual receptacle. The basket holds five bushels; an industrious family can manage to fill it three or four times a-day. Whenever this is accomplished, and the good woman who owns it (if she be an experienced hand) has hovered the hops—i.e. lifted them dexterously to make them seem as many as may be —the tallyman is summoned to see them emptied into a huge sack, and to register the basket by a notch cut in the housewife's ^vooden " tally," also on another corresponding one which he carries slung over his shoulders with those of the other pickers. The price paid for each basket varies "with the quality of the hops, being larger in amount when they are small and difficult to pick. The average is about eighteenpence, and even the children can help to earn it. The elders work away steadily, and even the little ones have branches in their hands which they are gravely stripping hop by hop into their own private baskets. How important they look over their work, these grave little people, with serious eyes and chubby, rosy cheeks I And here is another small girl doing her part too in amusing a smaller than herself, to keep her froin " hindering mother." The whole population of the country roimd lives out of doors in hopping-time, and everything else comes to a stand-still. The mistress who needs a servant must wait until hoppiug-season is over; and workers of all kinds leave their situations for a month of pleasanter employment. You tap at a cottage door, and instead of the pleasant interior usually revealed to you, you are faced instead by a chalk inscription on the paint, brief but all-sufficient: " Gone 'oppin'." " Gone 'oppin'," indeed, from the aged grandmother, past all other work, to the baby six months old, asleep in its rickety hand-carriage ; " gone 'oppin'" all available baskets, three-legged stools, cotton umbrellas, clasp-knives ; " gone 'oppin' " the daily bread, the can of beer, the milk for the baby, and the sauce to season the homely fare will be found in the open air before the morning is half over. Many a dainty lady might envy the appetite with which these workers sit down to their well-earned meals; many a sensible lady, trying it for herself in fun and frolic, has finind hop-picking the most novel, delightful picnic imaginable! But let her take care that something old and unspoilable replace her The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 345 dainty attire, for it is easier to come by hop stains than to lose them. Properly prepared, however, the risk is little, and the reward great, I have in my recollection one or two pleasant days of this sort long ago. We were children then, and irresistibly charming was the novelty of a whole day's hard work among the pickers. We travelled to the scene of our labours in a real wagon (delightful journey! a coach and six could not have pleased us better I), and in all respects we behaved for the day like the hoppers we considered ourselves. Oh, joy! For once we Avere really of use in the world! It is a pity that the rural population does not suffice for the harvest. The quantity of hops grown in Kent of late years has so much increased that it is necessary to call in other help; and now crowds of men and women, chiefly Irish, outcasts of the London streets, yearly invade our hop-grounds, and remind us even there of the darker side of human nature. The accommodation of the various villages is not sufficient for them: they are housed in long, low, tarred buildings, provided by the hop-growers; and here they huddle together, in herds more like cattle than humankind, in a most deplorable state of discomfort. Pity that even upon our pleasant, health-giving hop- fields should fall the shadow of human sin and human misery ! Hops were introduced into England from the Nether- lands in the reign of Henry VIH. Until that time—Pro- fessor Johnston tells us in his Chemistry of Common Life— unhopped malt liquor was called ale; but when hops were added to it, it became knoAvn as heer, the name used in the Low Countries. Hop-growing is financially a great speculation. The risk of failure is great, and the culture of the plant is an expensive process, more particularly in the new method of growing now coming into vogue, where many more poles are required. Fields planted in this way look in the distance like a regiment of kneeling soldiers with pointed bayonets. The poles are not placed together in clumps of threes and fours, but stand singly in long rows, and a double tier of longer poles, inclined obliquely, extends from one row to the other. By this means the hops obtain more light and air, and become improved in size and quality. If, all things being favourable for your hop-growing, you should win, you win grandly; a matter of £10,000, perhaps, in a single year. And when the season is over, its results crop out visibly. 346 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

A, the great hop-grower, who has been content hitherto with one horse to his carriage, is now drawn by a pair. The coachman who drives him has a new livery, and the carriage, mayhap, a new coat of varnish. Their neighbours hear with surprise that the stay-at-home Hs are going to travel on the Continent; while the C's are building a new conservatory, and the Us have sent their sou to the university. This is the practical side of hopping- time: I like its pictiiresque one best, and so will you, dear reader, if you come and pay our county a visit. You shall be heartily welcome. Kentish welcomes, whether hostile or friendly, have always been terribly in earnest. We will make you " pay jonv footing." Directly an in- truder sets foot in the hop-fields, one or two shy little sentinels leave their posts and come running towards you with a spray of hops in hand. They stoop, and lightly wipe your shoes with them, then ofier you the branch to carry away with you; and if you do not offer in return some trifle of money—why, the little sunburnt faces will go away disappointed I The hillocks of hop-poles are diminishing now in the fields, and one stumbles over coils of the stripped vine at every footstep. The kilns, too, are alight for the drying ; the contents of the bags are spread out on the floors of the different hop-oasts, and a strong sulphiu'ous smell (not unpleasant) assails the passer by. The hoppers trudge contentedly home in the sunset from their last day's work; a hum of tired voices goes with them; a clatter of cans, a clamour of shouting children. When pay-day comes, and the tallies are presented, this good dame has a crisp £5 note to lay aside for winter wants; that tall lass has earned the new gown she wanted just in time ; all have gained good store in the pocket, and the needful change of healthy country air. In good time the hops dried, and pressed tightly into the huge " pockets," stamped with the Kentish horse and its pro ad inotto, are packed away to the breweries of their different purchasers. The great piled-up wagons are dragged slowly out of sight; the fragrant scent of hops throughout the land grows faint and disappears. There are only the decked churches, and the joyous strains of harvest hymns falling frequently on the ear, to tell of what has been. But the bounties of a good Provi- dence are stored up in our hearts. GRATIA. The Ladies' Edinhurgli Magazine. 347 teterburp of djhcsler.

CHAPTER IX.

THE same afternoon, Mrs. Holme was sitting in her drawing-room with a graver face than usual. Her mind was much occupied with Randall. The angry feeling of vexation which she had had for some days after his disappearance, had now given way to anxiety and regret on account other past conduct towards him. Severity towards him did not now seem so easy to her as it liad often done, and she was actually schooling herself into a due display of sternness when he should return. On seeing him the evening before in the tableau, she had at first felt angry at the way in which he had thrown off" all control; yet as she gazed at him, she could not help feeling proud of her handsome son, and had rejoiced in the many admiring remarks which she heard passed on him among the company. She had beforehand been tolerably aware of his whereabouts, but had resisted all Malvina's entreaties that they should go together and persuade him to come home. " No," she said; " let him take the consequences of what he has done, and ere long he will come home of his own accord." And so she stayed at home, expecting every day that he would come, and every day resolving anew that she would be stern and implacable at first. Nothing had passed between the mother and son on the previous evening; neither had made any advances to the other. Malvina, on her part, had spent many sleepless nights and weary days; she dreamt of Randall by night and thought of him by day, longing for him to come back, and feeling very dreary and desolate \vithout him. So when Randall came home, he was sure of one kind welcome at least. And he was coming home that very day. It was his only resource. His life-dream was broken off, if not finished; so his thoughts drifted to the reality of home. And he longed to see Malvina; he had a craving for her sympathy, which was ever ready, and felt sure that she would be the means of reconciling him with his mother, if Buch a reconciliation were necessary. But Mrs. Holme had an additional reason for wishing Randall to return; she had that afternoon had a visit of a somewhat strange " nature from Trevor. Generous as Trevor had always been in his dealings with her, he had that afternoon sur- 348 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

passed himself, and filled her with both joy and anxiety by offering to contribute one-half of the sum required for Randall's clerical education. Mrs. Holme had of course protested against this generosity; but the Squire, who knew very well that the whole sum was beyond Mrs. Holme's slender means, had put her acceptance of his offer in the light of a favour to be granted to himself, and had even hinted at the possibility of Randall's being able to repay him at some future period: this latter inducement, however, was held out rather to gratify the widow's pride than from any other cause. So Randall's mother was really longing for him to come home; that seemed the last step towards the realisation of her fondest hopes concerning him. She longed to write and tell him of Trevor's offer, and beg him to accept it, and return at once; but then she reflected that were he aware of the source whence this offer came, he would naturally reject it at once, as coming from one whom he had chosen to desert without warning. She determined, therefore, to conceal the name of this benefactor, and at the same time to make Randall's acceptance of the benefit a condition of his peace with her. She even felt that without sacrifice of dignity she might write to Randall and tell that there were particular reasons for his coming home at that moment; and had just seated herself at her davenport to write the letter, when the door opened and Randall entered. He had opened the door gently, and it was with a pale anxious face that he came in. He hung his head a little, and walked forward slowly, while his mother sat erect and immovable in her chair. She took his proffered hand coldly, and looked at him sadly, and even reproachfully. Her old habit of reserve had returned with double force, to aid her in appearing stern, as she had resolved to do. " I have come back to you," Randall said; "tell me that you are not angry with me." " No," she said, looking at him gravely, " I am not angry; only grieved to think that you have so disregarded me." " I have not done so intentionally." he said; " it was my fate, and I could not act otherwise." " You talk (jf fate," she replied, " and yet you seem to be able to act for yourself. Let me tell you then, that it is your fate now to remain in your own room until you fihall have made up your mind to respect my wishes a little llie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 349 more. And one of my most earnest wishes is that you should take Holy Orders," Here the widow looked kindly at her son, and held out her hand to him, " I am glad to be able to tell you that the means of preparing you for this career are now secured to me; nothing is wanting but your own consent. Go to your room now, and think it over; and when your mind is made up, let me know, that we may again be happy together." Randall made no answer; he only turned round slowly and walked out of the room. He went to look for Mal- vina, and at last found her in a remote corner of the shrubbery. As soon as she saw her brother, she ran up to him, and threw her arms round his neck. They had a long talk together, and Malvina was indignant at the idea of his being forced into a profession against his will; but Randall assured her that if he did fix upon this career, it should certainly not be because he was expected to do so. Trevor returned from his interview with Mrs. Holme, feeling somehow less pleased Avitli himself than one who has performed a generous action ought naturally to be. Was there some motive which led him to regard the sacrifice less than the gain which he expected to accrue from it to himself? There are few motives of greater power than love and jealousy; and the events of the previous evening had not failed to suggest to him the desirability of Randall's being speedily removed from the society of Werburga. He assured himself, however, that nothing but a desire that Randall's great talents should be dedicated to the Church, had prompted him to take this active means to accomplish it; and now that he had seen Mrs, Holme's gratification at the generous offer, he said to himself tliat tlie end to be attained would amply justify any motive that had prompted the action, whether good, bad, or indifferent. He was somewhat surprised the next morning, on stroll- ing out into his shrubbery, to meet Randall Holme coming towards him, looking almost as if he had never been absent from these his old haunts. He went up to him, and shook hands cordially, " So you have come home again? Has your new mode of life become tiresome already 1 or are you merely here on a visit ? " There was a slight tone of banter in Trevor's voice, which made Randall answer somewhat quickly—" I am staying at home, which seems to me a not unnatural proceeding,"

No. 11.—NOVEMBER 1875. 2 Y 350 The Ladles^ Edinburgh Magazine,

" Come, come," said Trevor, patting him on the shoulder, " don't take it so seriously, but tell me what you are going to do." " That is a question I cannot answer at present," said Eandall; "all that I know is, that I have thrown up the work I meant to do." Surely there is some mystery here, thought Trevor; I must try to fathom it. Then he said kindly, " Well, I hope you may find some better work soon; and allow me as a friend to tell you, that I feel sure you have far greater powers within you than you are at present conscious of. By humouring every fancy that enters your mind, you only narrow your sphere of action, and fail to bring yourself en rapport with the rest of the world, which alone can teach you your true standing. Forget yourself and your own predilections for a time, and try to enter on some path in life that is worthy of eifort. Believe me^ a really able man, as I believe you to be, may become what he likes." Randall looked thoughtful, but brightened up a little. " Any news from Chester?" asked Trevor, to change the subject, and save Kandall the evidently unwelcome task of answering what he had already said. " Nothing later," said Randall, " than that the de Reh- mars have suddenly left town, and it is unknown to any one where they have gone." "Ah!" thought Trevor; "then this accounts for your having left it too. I need not have been so hasty in my arrangements; but I cannot regret that." Then he asked one or two more indifferent questions, and on the plea of an appointment at home,bade Randall ahurried adieu, excusing himself for not asking him to come in. Immediately on entering his own house he rang the bell, and desired the servant to tell Jones that he wished the whitechapel to be brought round directly, as he had some urgent business to attend to in Chester. Randall, in the meantime, went home in a more thoughtful mood than ever. The three individuals with whose hves his own had of late been the most closely interwoven, all seemed to have the same wishes regarding his future; could this be a sign that this step was the right one for him to take ? He repeated to himself again and again the opinion expressed by Trevor, that a man of ability may be what he likes. In a dreamy way he saw in this choice the only means of reconciliation with his mother; The Ladies Edlnhurgli Magazine. 351 but all the time he was going over again in memory the parting scene with Werburga, viewing it in all its possible lights of hope, suspense, or disappointment. He knew, at least, what she would have advised. Trevor's words had given him courage; his own inclination no longer struggled against this decision. It was not long now before he had made up his mind; and on the evening of that very day the mother, son, and daughter were sitting together in the drawing-room at the White House, dis- cussing cheerfully Randall's future prospects, and when he should enter on his new life as a student at Oxford. Nearly a month had elapsed since the events just narrated, when one afternoon an elderly gentleman and a young lady were to be seen walking by the romantic shores of Lake Westmere, about fifty miles from Chester. It was the hour of sunset, on a clear October day. The hills on the west side of the lake were bathed in a deep purple glow, that deepened as the sun sank behind them; and as it sank, it shot its rays across to the opposite crags, covering them with such a gleam of brightness, that every little outline of rock, every cavern and fissure, were defined with the utmost clearness to the eye. And the lake was calm and limpid, reflecting faithfully all this splendour of various tints. "How exquisite!" exclaimed the father and daughter to each other as they pursued the path that threaded the copse on the shores of the lake. They walked slowly, and every now and then paused to look around them. Turning to the elder figure, we see that age has already begun to write its characters upon his tall form; for the sliglit stoop, and the hair sprinkled with grey, tell of the approaching decline of life. The lady who accompanies him is in the bloom of youth, and a glance at her beautiful and thoughtful face is enough to show that mind and body have together approached as nearly to perfection as possible. While they were standing together admiring the scene, the Baron, for he it was, turned from it to gaze with equal rapture on his daughter's face. By nature, being a German, he was demonstrative, and physical weakness had rendered him still more so. It is no matter of wonder, therefore, that under the influence of such a magic scene he should speak to his daughter in the following strain: " It seems to me sometimes, Werburga, that change of scene has caused a change of character in you. Now that you are always by my side, life seems to me far more fraught with kindness than it 352 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. did. Indeed. I fear I am becoming like, a spoiled child. Do you know that you are making yourself so very necessary to me, that I do not think I could do without you for a day. If any one should ask for you in marriage, I should feel inclined to knock him down. Now tell me that I am a very selfish old father, and that you intend to leave me immediately." " No, indeed, papa," answered his daughter, " I have no such intention. I enjoy our quiet life so much; our little cottage is so simple, and then my music and studies—I feel that I am really learning something, now that I have time to be taught by you, and wonder how I could go on teaching others when I knew so little myself.'' " Then I hope we are really helping each other," said her father, " for I feel that I too am learning, and I can remember no period of my life when I enjoyed such serenity of mind. If only our so-called friends will keep away, and not try to find out where we are, nor disturb our retirement with painful remembrances." They were now walking on again, and had just turned an abrupt angle in the road, where it began to wind round a little bay. Here they saw coming towards them, at a very few yards' distance, one of the very persons of whom the Baron had just been speaking—namely. Squire Trevor. He at once quickened his pace, and came up to them. Both father and daughter hastily suppressed the slight annoyance and awk^vardness which they felt in consequence of what the Baron had just been saying, and at least looked the cordiality which they expressed towards the new-comer. The face of Trevor was positively radiant as he shook hands with them ; and Werburga thought she had never seen him look so handsome. " Squire Trevor ! you here!" they both exclaimed in one breath, while at the same moment Trevor pronounced de Rehmar's name in a tone of equal surprise. " I have just arrived for a few days' shooting in this neighbourhood," said Trevor. " I must own I heard some rumours of your being not far off, but hardly ex- expected really to meet you." " Then we are well met," said the Baron ; " pray come with us to our humble abode ; it is close at hand." Trevor turned with them, and they all walked together till they reached a path leading to a thatched cottage at some distance from the lake. Its walls were overgrown The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 353 with creeping plants, which disguised the homeliness of the building and the extreme simplicity of its porch. The tall figure of the Squire was obliged to bend somewhat low before he could enter. But within all was elegance and refinement. It seemed as if a fairy had waved her wand over the rude interior where they now found themselves, and conjured out of rough unpolished walls and uneven floor an abode so elegant, that every inch of it spoke of exquisite taste and artistic arrangement. The well-lined book-shelves, the water-colour drawings, bronzes, the guitar in one corner, near it the pianoforte, books of engravings on elegant tables,—all these told of a soul too free to be enchained by poverty, too noble to pine in solitude. "Ah!" said Trevor, "what a charming retreat I I feel that it is almost profanation to intrude upon it, and yet how grateful I am for the good fortune which has led me hither I " " Indeed it is well that you have found us," said the Baron, blandly; " let us hope that you may not soon desert us." " I should be only too glad to linger in your neigh-' bourhood," said Trevor, "yet I fear two days at the most are all I can count upon." Cunningly spoken, Squire Trevor ! Do we not know, though de Rehmar and his daughter did not, that your love of shooting is on this occasion nothing but a pretext for finding the abode of Werburga ; that you have driven all the way hither on purpose to see her, and have only succeeded in tracking her out by dint of diligent enquiries made at many houses on the way ? What was that animal that you drove tandem hither in front of your own riding-horse % What but a cream- coloured pony which you intend her to ride by your side, with a view of afterwards presenting it to her % Surely with such a gift in your hand your happiness is safe ! To tell the truth, Trevor, since he had guessed that some degree of intimacy existed between Randall and Werburga, had been suffering acute pangs of misgiving and jealousy. He had an intense regard for VVerburga, but it was a regard which was greatly quickened by the knowledge that it was shared by another. He had always had great delight in her society, and had fancied, that though she amused herself by pretending to differ from him on many points, she was in reality all the time paying 354 The hadies Edinburgh Magazine.

him that inward and absolute homage without which he would have regarded any friendship as a dead loss. In coming now to seek, or rather to claim, the goal he had set before his heart—namely, the affection of Wer- burga—it was not without a flattering consciousness of his own position and advantages. And in this consciousness, the thought of the gift he had brought with him to offer her, occupied a very large place. He had thus placed before his mental vision a thick veil, which, while it distorted the real character of her he sought to win, could not fail at the same time to hide fi-om him the true way to her heart. Indeed, his society was, as he thought, a great boon to any one on whom he bestoM^ed it, and this he would fain impress on Werburga. " You are shooting here ? " she asked ; " have you been successful ? " " No ; quite the reverse ; in fact, I am rather disgusted with the bad sport, and think I shall take to riding. Do you ride ? " " Oh, I enjoy it of all things," she said, " but I have not often had tlie pleasure." " I have two horses here," said Trevor, blandly ; " one is quite suitable for a lady not much accustomed to riding; may I ask you to honour me by using it to-morrow ? " Werburga looked at her father, who smiled assent; his distrust of Trevor seemed to have vanished completely. So she accepted the offer with a radiant face. The next morning, the roan and the cream-colour were waiting before the Baron's humble abode ; the latter Avas adorned with a handsome new lady's saddle, and looked sleek and submissive. Trevor and Werburga set out in high spirits. They rode at first at a slow pace, which gradually grew into a canter. For some time they pursued a bridle-road at the base of a line of tall cliffs ; then came a break in the cliffs, and a clear waterfall was seen pouring itself into the pool below. " Oh !" said Trevor, " here is a charming spot ; let us halt for a little to rest our horses; we can hitch them to the stile ; and now for a pleasant chat." Selecting a portion of greensward sheltered by the cliffs from the heat, and not too near the waterfall, tJiey seated themselves and looked around them. " What a charming pool for fishing," said Trevor; " I thought I saw a salmon leap just now ! " ^'Ah! you like fishing," said Werburga; "it is a The Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine. 355 pleasure for which I am neither intellectual nor patient enough. I think it requires a mind accustomed to ruminate on one thought or set of thoughts." " I fear you are too fond of excitement," said Trevor, " if you do not enjoy fishing; I say too fond, because I think there is excitement in it, quite as much as I desire for myself. What amusements are lively enough to suit you? You might enjoy shooting, were it a lady- like amusement." "No," said Werburga; " what I should really enjoy is hunting; but do not make me wish for what I caimot have." " Nay," said Trevor, " there is no reason why you should not have it; a lady may do as she chooses. How should you like to possess a number of horses, and ride a different one every day? " " Only one ? " she said ; " I should like to ride three or four every day. I should always have a pack of loose horses with me when I rode out, ready to change when I wished it." "You remind me of Enid," said Trevor; "what an excellent countess you would make I " " Indeed, I should not wish to be anything of the kind," said Werburga. "I should have to be constantly commanding servants, and hiding my real feelings under a mask of civility. Tell me," she added, looking at him archly, and with a certain na'ivette of expression, " are not these things that a countess has to do'? Do not deny it, you know that it is so; but for me, I had rather walk all my life than have twenty horses and be obliged to behave in that way. And I think, too, that I am happier in a position where I can be poor without being ashamed of it." " Well spoken," said Trevor, with mock humility ; " do not be offended, however, if I do not believe you; and now tell me, do these sentiments apply to counts as well as countesses ? " " Of them I do not pretend to judge," said Werburga, " but I rather think they do ; and indeed you may believe me." To tell the truth, it must be owned that these opinions had never before occurred to Werburga, but were only assumed now to suit the caprice of the moment. "Could nothing induce you to alter these views'?" said Trevor. " Were you a great lady, for instance, by fortune and position, as I know you to be already by 356 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

birth, could you not adorn the station with the virtues you commend, and thus wipe away the reproach you have Liid upon it ? " "No, I do not give myself credit for such superhuman virtue," she answered. " But suppose noAv, for instance, that a count or squire, rich, yoimg, and not more wicked than the rest, were to lay his fortune at your feet, and beg you to share it with him; and suppose he were to add to the fortune a very great regard for you "—here Trevor actually blushed and hesitated—" could you not " "Never!" she answered quickly, without seeming to find any special meaning in his words. " Why do you ask me such questions ? But look there ; are not the ponies getting away? " They were not; however, this changed the sxibject, and the two remounted, and rode home somewhat quietly. The Baron met them at the door; Trevor helped Werburga to dismount —oh, how carefully!—and as he did so, said in a low voice, " Do you like this pony % if you like him, he is yours." " Oh, that is too much," said Werburga, with a determined look, "I could not accept such a gift." Trevor had grown pale; he was silent and thoughtful during the rest of the evening. He had a short interview with the Baron the next morning, and then one with Werburga, after which he was seen driving away at a tearing pace, both the horses in front of him, and his face like the face of Jehu when he drove furiouslj^ and vowed vengeance against his enemies. After Trevor had gone, the Baron embraced his daughter, and said, "My dear child, I hardly expected this decision; I assure you I put no obstacle in his way, but rather encouraged him. Think what you have thrown away ; but tell me you have not done it for my sake; if so, I cannot rest till all is set right." "No, no!" she exclaimed; "indeed I could not have done otherwise, had it been for my own sake only. I do not love him, and never shall; and now let us talk of something else." PROCLA. {To he continued.) Hie Ladles Edinhuryh Magazine. 357

^\t gragon of i\t Itorilj,

CHAPTER XII.

'' Such omens in the place there seemed to be ; At every crooked turn, or on the landing, The straining eyeball was prepared to see Some apparition standing." —HOOD.

I, KoLBlORN ViGVSON, the Scald, have been asked to write down what followed the disappearance of Lorenzo, Marquis d'Asile, from the monastery of Caserta, and how we recovered what had been written by him. I well remember the morning he was missed from the guest- room where many of us slept. I was woke by Thorstein and the monk Anselmo talking of him in the morning ; and Thorstein said it was most strange, " for, coming in late and seeing no other place, I laid down beside him; and as I am the lightest of sleepers, I do not understand how he could go without my knowing." Every part of the monastery had already been searched, and all that day and the next they sought through the neighbourhood, bat neither trace lior tidings could they find. We knew he was, for various reasons, unhappy; and some whispered he must have made away with himself, so that the abbot caused search to be made in the ponds and river; but Fra Anselmo, and also Thorstein, were confident it was not so, and that Lorenzo, with all his weakness, was too noble-minded to throw himself away. We all missed him, for every one liked his gentle dreamy face and kindly ways. Though he was most slow in war, and indeed in all active work, never have I seen any one quicker in learning languages, defter in carving, or delighting more in songs and Sagas. Our Dragon's head had by him been made more fierce and brave; and he had designed hilts and brooches in metal for many of us. He was like many others at that time, even Thorstein himself, much in love with our Hertha, who, with her corn-bright hair and winning face, was, in my opinion, just the sort of maiden who would bewitch a whole crew when the weather was fine and there Avas no fighting. I was glad that she was now to go ashore and become the wife of Sir Rainulf, the Neustrian Norman,

No. 12.—DECEMBEK 1875. 2 Z 358 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. and we were to escort her at once to Castle Asile, to remain there till her marriage. Eric, meanwhile, was to stay by the Dragon ship till she was repaired, and he could bring her round to Thorstein at Gaeta; for now, owing to Swend's death, she was Thorstein's heritage, as women do not inherit war-ships. Thorstein himself had to go back to the Emperor Henry without delay, to receive from him the government of the province and the person of the child, nephew of Dato, who was to be placed during his nonage under the guardianship of the Nor- mans ; Pandulf, Prince of Capua and brother of Atenolf, having been deprived of his principality, was to be sent a prisoner to Germany, and Dato's nephew was to be made Prince in his stead. Now Thorstein sought my company more than of old, and glad was I to be the chosen friend of so great a man. The morning before we took horse for Salei'no, being two days after the vanishing of Lorenzo, he and Raiuulf having heard mass after the custom of the Neustrians; and I having been also present to hear the music, he urged me much to take Christianity. But at that time I would not, and Thorstein said—" I will not try to convert you with the spear-point, like Olaf Harold- son. Come with us, hoAvever, to the Emperor's camp at Monte Casino, for the command of the Normans and the possessions of Pandulf are there to be made over to me with much ceremony. It will be no pleasant life, Kol- biorn. 1 must try to bring order into this distracted land, and try also to guard this handful of true Northmen against being betrayed by any party of these Italians who may no longer want their aid. Every one here has a price and can be bought, methinks: everything is treacherous; the very weather, which is so pleasant when one does nothing, seems to me like a cup of sweetened poison, taking the fire and heart out of a man." " That is true," I said, " and I fear fever and ague have hold of me now since our wet voyage; and who would care for a dash of sea-water in Norway 1 " " We shall none of us die of old age here," said Thor- stein ; " as for poor Lorenzo, he had fever on him heavily, and who knows whither he may have wandered? It irks me to think how I left him to that wizard Syades, who shall hang on the nearest tree to our next meeting- place, now I know what I do of him. Astolfo may have found out something at Asile, where I shall bestow Ivar instead of Syades. And Kainulf and I purpose The Ladles' Edlnhircili Magazine. 359 returning to Asile when we have bid farewell to the Emperor—and then will be the marriage. Astolfo, I suppose, will then wed Valeria; perhaps he did right to withdraw at once from our company; though it is not I who -will take up a blood-feud for Swend, after he had made me a present to Thor. ' Given away is lost,' said the dog to his former master." " No one else will take it up, Thorstein; most men only endured him for the sake of liolf and Hertha." " Ah, Hertha," said Thorstein with a deep sigh—" I hurried to find her last week, the rather as the Emperor wished me to marry the daughter of Pandulf, and take thus the principality." " And she is a most fair lady, as I hear ; and you would have been Prince indeed, not mere guardian." " She is the niece of that wretched traitor they flung into the sea—she is a dark-eyed Grecian girl. No, I wish for no lady, and expect no good except in guarding the land like a good Avatch-dog, till they succeed in killing me—by poison probably. Oh, if it were but fair fighting." " Take my council, Hersir Thorstein ; let us sail in the Dragon ship for dear old Norway. You are a Christian, and might take up your former position and more. The king would rejoice in you, and who knows I might turn Christian too, if I heard the church bells ring at Nideros among our own true-hearted people ?" " No, Kolbiorn, that cannot be, for I am the friend of Erling Skialgson rather than of Olaf Haraldson, and I have blood-feuds on my hands too in Norway. No, forget this growl of an old sea-bear who dreams sometimes of the cool fresh wind and sparkling ice at home, in this wet soft dull season they call winter. Have we not won renown and power too—and may I not at the head of these brave warriors bring law and peace to this troubled land? It shall be the better of us, my Kolbioru, before we lay our bones in its beautiful churches. See how fairly the leaves and dragons and lions are carved here," for we had all this time been pacing the cloisters, partly wrought by the lost Lorenzo, and as fair as anything I have seen in Italy. Next day we set out with Hertha and Rainulf, and a guard of Northmen, among them Giver the Smith, sometimes called the Unwashed, a short, square, ugly man, but wonderous deft of his hands both in fighting 3(J0 The Ladies^ Edinhurgli Magazine..

and smith-work. So in five days Ave rode easily to Salerno, and thence to Asile, with Bergliot and Ivar joined to our party. Here we found that none knew of the disappearance of Lorenzo—also that Syades had been absent since the day after the Dragon had sailed, and Vanno Melzi, an old servant of Valeria's, commanded the garrison. By this time the fever and ague had so increased on me that I could hardly sit my horse; so, much against my will, I was compelled to remain at Asile, whence Rainulf and Thorstein rode, after their noontide repast. All the Northmen save Olver the Unwashed rode with them, as the roads further on were thronged with flying Greeks, and not safe for Lombard men of mark. Astolfo that same day set off, at the prayer of Valeria, to make all enquiries at Salerno and beyond it for the lost Lorenzo. So Hertha, Valeria, Damasus, and I were left alone together, I being obliged to spend most of the day in my bed. The second day Hertlia came into my room with a cooling di'ink and sent away the attendant. Then began between us the following talk. " Kolbiorn, you are a sick man, but you will soon be better, and you are so brave you will not let what I tell you make you worse ; you are my reliance." " What can be mended need not hurt, Hertha, and what must be will be, so in the name of all the gods say on." " I wish," Hertha continued, " Astolfo had not gone; he avoids me; but tell him that I had counted poor Swend's life as forfeit since he meant to have Thorstein so cruelly slain. Enough of that; it is of the garrison I Lave to speak, and 1 wish for good council from you. Valeria is too timid to do aught, though she would allow me to act in her name; Damasus is even worse, as you may think—the most cowardly of men. Olver and Ivar are both low-born men, and, though strong and true, cannot command. Those that do, were appointed by Syades, and I believe them to be faithful to him, if to any one. The men are more than half of them Saracens. I do not like their looks; also we should be most valuable hostages in the hands of their friends at Agrapoli or elsewhere. Now, should we at once leave the castle -—while we can—if we can—for already they do not obey; or shall I try to get rid of all the Saracens by means of the Italians, who are jealous of them, and might strike for Valeria?" The Jjadles Ediuhurgli Magazine. 361

" I well believe all you say, Hertlia," I answered, remembering how surprised I used to be when Lorenzo allowed Syades to put Saracens into the garrison, " but where could we go if we left the castle? There is no such stronghold near. If they mean mischief, they could carry it out without the walls; and our departure would show suspicion, and might make them act. Whereas they may think twice about betraying us if they think they are not suspected—knowing what risks they would run from the vengeance of Thorstein. But to rid the castle of the Saracens, now Syades is away, seems quite natural; the wonder is they were ever there at all." " So far good, Kolbiorn," said Hertha. "Now comes more. Do you remember how you told me Syades had vanished in the cavern below, at the time Thorstein was held there a prisoner ? I heard here that he appeared again in the castle after that, and neither gate nor postern was opened. Wizard he may be, but I rather would believe there is a passage to the cave than that he has wings. So I have caused Olver to break the lock of his room, which he had left shut up; and there we have indeed found a secret door in the wall, and a long descending stair to another door we mean to force. Most likely this leads to the cavern in the rocks. Others besides Syades may know of it; it is a weak point in our castle, yet it may be useful. I do not wish it known that I am exploring it, so I have thought that it would be best to move your bed into the wizard's room; Ivar could be with yoxi at night, and I shall only let our own people in." I was pleased to be of use, ill as I was, so I was moved into the Saracen's room off the grand staircase, with a turret whose window looked from a dizzy height down on the sea. Round the room were strange implements, and many rolls and books; and at one end, hidden by the hangings, was a stone which turned on a pivot, and formed a concealed door to a black winding descent. The fire burned bright on the hearth of the wizard's room next evening, and I lay on the couch, feeling well at ease, as the day-fever had past, and the night one had not come on. Hertha sat by me, looking also content, for she had explored the passage. With Olver and Ivar she had been down for two hours, and had returned to my room alone. They had forced the doors, of which the last opened into the cavern; thence she had sent Ivar to search for Astolfo and what help he could bring, and had 362 Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

left Olver, armed and on guard, to open the doors. She had warned me to let Valeria and Damasus, whose courage was not to be trusted, know nothing about it. By the fire now sat Damasus, the flagon and wine-cup before him, bragging a little, for tliough he was alarmed himself, his heart was kept up by brave company. Opposite, the little Valeria nestled in a great chair, starting and quivering at every sound. And old Bergliot served us, grumbling as usual, yet well pleased to be again with her lady. " Ay, I am never to be done with wild work, it appears," she said as she served the supper; " this is worse than the ship, for there one could not lose one's way at least, as in this great hollow mountain of a castle. No wonder if elves and trolls and even vampires come to live here, as they say." "Nay, Bergliot, you who have sailed so far, have seen many a stone fortress," said Hertha. " Ah, they are not like the wide cheery wooden halls of Norway, or the timber cots- of England. Here the folk dare not let the shield cover the head, but must burrow in stone dens like foxes, out of the way of their enemies." " But then, Bergliot, they are not so easily burnt," said I; " remember how Rolf's hall blazed when King Olaf's men came down upon him." " Yes, how the beams crashed down, and the spearmen waited at the doors for those who ran out! I see it all yet," said the old woman. " You ran well, Bergliot," said I. " We all ran well after Thorstein, who cut a way out for us, and mounted us in the forest." " Yes," said Hertha, " he took me on his horse. What a ride we had through the dark woods, with the fire-glow for so long behind us ! " " But that was all natural war," said Bergliot. " NOAV here, what between blue men and Saracen wizards to guard us, and a fiend monk, Fra Lucio, to haunt the passages, and a demon below sitting on the treasure, and a dragon of the pit there in the marshes, one can't call one's life one's own—one does not know on which side the gale is coming—one dare hardly look over one's shoulder for fear of something; and as if that "svas not enough, now they have insiilted Thor on the sands below, just showing him a splendid sacrifice like Thorstein, and then taking him away, as 1 might take a big bone from a eavage dog." TJie Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 363

" Now stop," said her mistress, " you know you don't believe in Thor." '• Of course I don't, but much he will care whether a poor old woman like me beheves in him or not. Kolbiorn there does. Maybe he is a strong fellow for all that; and best beware, he may be listening." " Peace, woman, peace !" said Damasus, uneasily; " we will have a solemn procession at noon to-morroAv, and all together, and lay the evil spirits with bell, book, and candle." "They will all come here to me, a poor outcast heathen," I said, laugliing at his dismal face. " And it would be well, craving your pardon. Lady Hertha, if you would leave the Saracens in the castle alone for the present," he went on imploringly; " they are quiet now, and for the love of the saints let us not provoke them." "Nay," said Hertha, "they would not let me ride unescorted this morning; we are in truth their prisoners. This score of Saracens shall leave the castle, I hope, to-morrow. Some of the Italians are true, and we have two Northmen." " Two ! " repeated Valeria; " ah ! could we but escape oiirselves! here I live now in terror." "No wonder, lady, no wonder," said Bergliot in a cheerful manner ; " and where you consider too that the demon of the treasure must have his victim ; and perhaps that is what has befallen the young Marquis, your brother. If sO; you are safe for a year. It reminds me of old King Arne of Swithiod. Do you remember, Kolbiorn, he lived to be a hundred and ninety years old, but every tenth year he had to send some one to content the pale goddess Hela, who was waiting for him; and they say in those days men trembled for fear of that sacrifice when the tenth year came, and when at any moment the knock of Arne the old might be heard at the door, coming to claim his victim." Bergliot stopped short, for a loud knock sounded in the room, seeming to come from all sides at once. Valeria shrieked, and the old woman, saying, " The worse the way the better the speed should be," went quickly to the door and flung it open, and there before us, with an evil smile on his lips, stood Syades the Saracen. A black man, with rolling eyeballs and glittering white teeth, stood armed behind him. Ilertha rose, 364 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

and glancing at Valeria, who was almost fainting, and at Damasus, who was trembling, said, " The lady of the castle, in the absence of her brother, has asked me to tell you and all the Saracens that she will give you pay for past services and discharge you, as she means henceforth to have only Christians in the garrison." " Not so fast, lady. She is in great haste to assume the death of her brother, the Lord of Asile. I represent him; he has only been absent a few weeks." " If you represent him," said Hertha, " you will obey the Lady Valeria, and also for your own sake it will be best to keep on good terms with the kinswoman of Thor- stein, the affianced bride of Rainulf," " So well am I aware of your value in their eyes," answered the Saracen, " that I could have wished no better prisoner to fall into my hands to enable me to make a good peace with them. Ha, lady! do I not give check at once to queen and castle % In ordinary play, the queen should be saved; but your knights are so fan- tastical that they may think for the Emperor's sake it is better to save the castle. But first, this is my room, and I mean to clear it. Fair Chatelaine, let me escort you to your own-far pleasanter apartment;" and he began to raise Valeria. "Do not fear, dear Valeria; go with him. Bergliot, help her," said Hertha. "And you too, monk." Damasus sprang up eager to obey—" and you, fair Northern lady." " I shall. stay by my sick countryman," said Hertha. " I must see him moved, but I will go when he does, if you wish to return for him; meanwhile"—and as Syades advanced towards her, a dagger glittered in her hand— " do not touch me, or you will have no means of con- ciliating Rainulf; only a terrible vengeance." " Yes, I shall come again with men to carry him," said Syades, half carrying Valeria, and driving the others before him, and fastening the door outside. How I k)nged for my former strength, as Hertha took my hand and leant over me kindly and cheerily, looking like her kinsman Thorstein. " You do not look afraid, fair goldring bearer." "Nay," she answered, "unless it be of increasing your fever. Did you not hear? there was a knock at both doors; but the other is hard to open, so I dared ijot attempt it with two foemen in the room. Now I shall." She went Tlie Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine. 365 to the concealed stone door, and not without some diflfi- culty opened it; and the next moment Ivar and Olver were in the room, and better still, Astolfo, fully armed, with two Italian men-at-arms behind him. Astolfo took Hertha's hand, and, falling on one knee, kissed it, saying— " You forgive me, lady; there is peace between us ? " " I forgive you truly," she answered. " You were right, you could not have done otherwise." " And now," said Astolfo, springing up ; " we must not be taken here as in a trap, the more as Syades knows our other way out, and might stop it up. Kolbiorn, I fear we must take you to the turret, and lay you on the floor. I shall take your place, and they shall carry out a lively sick man. Lady Hertha alongside of me; you others behind the hangings; and the moment we are outside the door, be ready for a rush. He will bring more men with him; more certainly will be within call; but I hope we are ready to fight at long odds with traitors and slaves, we free Lombards and Sea-rovers of the North." E. J. 0. {To he continued.^

dj h a ni c t £ r ?

WHETHER the character of men can be known from the features of the face, is a question which so often arises that I venture to bring forward some arguments bearing on what I feel to be the unpopular side of the subject; viz., that the face is not a reliable source of information as to the character within. Some one has said, " Man's face is like a turnpike, no trust is indelibly inscribed upon it." Without going quite so far as that, 1 am still inclined to put little faith in appearances. So much has been said and written on the power of rightly reading the features ; too many people, many of them by mere force of habit and a tendency to do what others do, trust to the outward and seeming aspect of things ; that as nothing, or next to nothing, has been said on the side of the question which I favour, I can only adduce a few historical examples, and speak more at

No. 12.—DECBMBER 1875. 3 A 366 The Ladies' Edinhurgli Magazine. length of those which have come under my own personal observation. After all, it is a case to be judged almost entirely from a personal point of view. There are types of individuals as well as types of race, and much might be said of the influence of climate, education, culture, or habit of life in giving the characteristic touches to face and form; but thi swould lead us into too discursive paths. There is no mistaking the precocious cunning on the face of the street arab, or the vacant brutishness written on the features of the ignorant outcast; but these are the results of hereditary taint, of moral or physical disease, not the outcome of the mind or character within—two things totally opposite, and not to be confounded with each other. There are two sets of marks on a living face ; these, faint, shadowy, deceitful, shown at will or concealed by careful study—those, branded as with a hot iron by passion, excess, or vice, totally beyond the power of volition, and incapable of being erased. The first are an occasional accident, the last an inevitable consequence. A parent transmits to his child the same feature, gesture, expression; but while the faces may be almost identical, the several characters may be as widely apart as the poles. I cannot deny that the ingenuous eye and cheek of childhood will betray the passing thought and feeling as clearly as if they were told by word of mouth, or that a life of noble thought and elevating aim, and in exactly the same manner a course of vile living and evil-doing, engraves Avith a pen of iron on the lineaments of the aged, lines which he who runs may read ; but I affirm that between those two extremes of age, in a mixed multitude of persons in the social intercourse of every-day existence, it is both impossible and dangerous to judge men's characters by their faces. It is most natural to form an estimate of every one you meet from the appearance, but it is all but impossible to discover with any degree of accuracy, (ask yourselves if in attempting it you have not failed in at least half the cases you have tried) whether a man be humble or haughty, true or treacherous, intellectual or ignorant, I think it is Voltaire who says, ''Speech was given us to conceal our thoughts." In like manner, it seems to uie the face was given us to be the mask of the mind. Especially a Briton's face. Who cares to go wearing his heart on his sleeve, displaying the emotional side of his nature, The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 367

clasping his cher Alphonse in his arms, as Thackeray amusingly describes in one of his sketches, did he only part with him the week before, and flashing forth the direst vengeance of lip and eye at the most trifling contradiction? Let any unprejudiced person study the several faces of an Englishman and Frenchman during the narration of a tale of sadness. The one, stolid, concerned, it may be, but concealing all expression of sentiment,—the other, excited, garrulous, tearful. Of course the verdict of the onlooker would be to the effect that the one was a callous man of the world, the other full of heart and feeling; but let the actions of the two in the circumstances, not the faces, show the real character beneath. Men, as a rule, like to display their best side to all. The organ of the love of approbation is pretty well developed in most. In the sacred precincts of our chambers we can eat out our own heart in bitterness and disappointment ; let us show a calm untroubled front to those busy observers of our actions called the world, who will soon find out by 'other means than reading the lines on our faces the motive mainspring of our deeds. But it will only be by close study of our 'daily life, especially the life of our own fireside and home, where the best and worst of a man's disposition are showii, where the little meannesses and greatest selflessness crop up unwittingly. There only is the mask dropped, and the real, true character fairly seen. In the ruddy-faced shepherd lad there was nothing to give indication, even to the prophet whose divine gift might, if anything could, have discovered it, of the future power and warlike genius which made David a name among nations, and conqueror over all his enemies. Nor do I think the face of Judas bespoke the fell treachery of his soul, else had he not been the one of the Twelve selected to the trusty position of treasurer over their common goods. Looking back through the pages of history, what was there in the lovely face of the famous Marchioness de Brinvilliers to warn the unconscious victims who fell a prey, first to her transcendant charms, and then to a cruel death by poison? Believers in physiognomy must have existed in those days, l)ut she must have been a puzzle to them, with the infantile purity of her fair seductive face and the innocent charm of her guileless manner. 368 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

What was there to mark the undying heroism, or, as his enemies call it, the cruel bloodthirstiiiess, of (Jlaver- house's disposition, in " the languishing glance of an eye like that of a love-sick girl," as one historian has it I what in the free glance and frank open address of all the handsome, gallant race, to warn their trusty adherents ot the existence of that vein of falseness which was the ruin of the whole Stuart dynasty? Look at all the paintings, whether on canvas or storied page, of the Pompadours, Maintenons, Du Barris, Castlemaines,—all those lovely, fascinating, unprincipled women who ruled kings and nations, and influenced the fate of continents : is there one single coarse line to mark the base profligacy which distinguished their lives on the refined and lovely lips which smiled at one moment with the tenderest sensibility, and the next poured forth language which would have done discredit to an outcast on the street ? Come down to our own day, and where will you find a better example of the fldlacy of Lavater's theory than in the hasty judgment pronounced on the eai-ly manhood of him who ended so lately among us—and alas ! in exile—a life which stands almost unrivalled in this century for greatness ? Looking on his face as seen in his unsuccess- ful youth, people said, " He was a fool; he had no character, no decision; he would never reign." Short- sighted beings ! He possessed more than any other man the wonderful and difficult fticulty of patient waiting. Projector of magnificent enterprises, a wise general, a judicious ruler, himself his sole and best councillor, this, to physiognomists, seeming simpleton, forced a hostile nation to acknowledge with acclamations his power, and forget in his greatness, and its consequence, their glory, the few stains which sullied its primal efforts. To the very end of his mighty career, worn out by physical suffering nobly borue, by adverse fate, by the bitter upbraidings of the very creatures his hand had raised, wrung as his proud heart must have been looking back, fearful as it must have been forecasting the future, what did that keen face show % I have heard many verdicts pronounced by people looking at Napoleon personally, and at his photographs which were a living likeness, and almost every one used the same expression—sinister. There was nothing sinister about the man. He hid the motive power of his deeds; he did well, knowing the garrulous, volatile nature of his people; but his servants, The Ladies^ Edinburgh Magazine. 369

his personal friends, those nearest him, when to hide his feelings was impossible, pronounced the term most mis- applied, for they found him kindly, thoughtful, gentle. They may have feared the Emperor, but they loved the man. It is the fashion to suppose and maintain that great criminals, more especially murderers, are distinguished by the peculiar formation of their brain and the villanous cast of their countenances. Some certainly are prcjved to be so to a degree which forces us to believe they are barely responsible beings; but as a rule, among this class, there is little to indicate outwardly the low state of the moral nature within. Claude Duval, the famous highwayman, who thought as little of killing a man as of eating his dinner, made high-born damsels fall in love with his sweet face and charming address. The great political intriguants, both male and female, have worn masks so immovable as to defy the keenest insight of the most practised physiognomists. Walk along the street with me. This man with the grand physique, with high-domed forehead, finely-arched eye, and all the varous bumps properly developed, I know to be endowed with the smallest modicum of brains, and to leave the few talents he has, utterly unemployed. This little shambling figure, with low brow and small lack-lustre eye, which meets no neighbour's gaze, whose lip has a vacillating tremble, belongs to one whose eloquence has the power to sway a nation, and whose scientific writings will be handed down to a proud posterity. I have knoAvn a woman whose sweetness in society was a byword, who never let a frown disturb the serenity of her brow, who yet was a constant canker in her home ; and I have before my mind at this instant two individuals, whose frank, open, handsome faces, gentle manner, and chivalric address, were their passport to a society which welcomed them gladly, who belied their looks so cruelly that they never entered a house but they left a bitter blight behind; and their nearest and dearest were sacrificed in the most heartless manner, did they stand between them and the passing pleasure of an hour. What would a believer in physiognomy reply to that ? No evil passion, no cold heartlessness, no bitter, biting, malignant sarcasm—and there were plenty—had during a course of many years written one line to denote 370 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. their presence on the noble features, or stolen one tender glance from eyes whose every look was false—eyes so soft and gentle, so trusting and true, that it is difficult yet to believe in their falseness, and well-nigh impossible to visit them with righteous anger, as they beguiled you with the coaxing looks of an artless child. Do we not all take sudden fancies or dislikes to casual acquaintances or travelling companions,—prejudice, that evil "vveed which grows so quickly, and is so difficult to eradicate, preventing us from giving up first impressions which often prove'erroneous. A sullen look, a cynical smile, a compressed lip, will make us sit side by side for hours nursing a silly dislike to our travelling companion, or the person seated next to us at some social gathering, when we might have had a pleasant interchange of thought, and mayhap laid the foundation of a lasting friendship. The looks which so prejudiced us may have proceeded from a shy self-consciousness which some persons can never overcome, from a passing annoyance or an unpleasing train of thought; while, on the other hand, the fascinating smile and radiant insinuating glance may cover the deeply- laid scheme of a smooth-faced hypocrite. Beauty has such a universally attractive power, that few physiognomists, however unprejudiced they may deem themselves, are entirely impartial. It is so difficult to connect the idea of vileness of any sort with the perfection of form and colour, that one lulls the whispers of reason to rest, while the less-to-be-trusted senses revel in the fairness of a casket, heedless if the gem within be gold or tinsel. Ask yourself honestly, do yoxi not unwittingly— unwillingly, perhaps—in the face of your calmer judgment, give the palm to beauty ? Must not a fair face and handsome form go hand-in-hand with virtue and goodness, while those whom God and nature have not so highly gifted—the plain,the rouglily-hewn,the deformed— repel us instinctively, whispering that it is not worth the trouble to dig beneath a surface which promises so little. Do we not all feel, as George Eliot makes one of her characters say, " Nature never makes a ferret in the shape of a mastiff. You'll never persuade me that I can't tell what men are by their outsides. If I don't like a man's looks, depend upon it I shall never like him. I don't want to know people that look ugly and disagreeable, any more than I want to taste dislies that look disagreeable. If they make me shudder at the first glance, I say, Take Tlie Ladies Edinhur^jJi Magazine. 371 them away. An ugly, piggish, or fishy eye now, makes me feel quite ill." But the same keen observer and analyst of men and manners says in another place, and this of herself, and not from the mouth of any of her characters :— " After all, I believe the wisest of us must be beguiled in this way sometimes, and must think both better and worse of people than they deserve. Nature has her language, and she is not unveracious; but we don't know all the intricacies of her syntax just yet, and in a hasty reading we may happen to extract the very opposite of her real meaning. Long dark eyelashes, now, what can be more exquisite ? I find it impossible not to expect some depth of tone behind a deep grey eye with a long- dark eyelash, in spite of an experience which has shown me that they may go along with deceit, peculation, and stupidity. One begins to suspect that there is no direct correlation between eyelashes and morals, or else that the eyelashes express the disposition of the fair one's grandmother, which is on the whole less important to us." How often is the blush of diffidence mistaken for that of guilt, a bold stare for the frank, free look of conscious innocence ! I like not the countenance of him who meets friend and foe with the same bland smile ; far rather would I trust the stern, morose lines of a face which seldom relaxes, but when it does, will light up with a ray whose genuineness there is no mistaking. Womanish, effeminate features have often been allied with noble endurance and heroic courage, while a form and face indicative of manliness and power have frequently concealed a treacherous coward. A slight and languid-looking frame has often disguised an iron will, a soft voice and flexible mouth covered an implacable temper; nay, do we not know that ■weakness to resist temptation, and instability of purpose to lead a noble life, are frequently associated with a splendid physique, f Another aspect of the question has suggested itself to me, and one which is in general not duly considered. The estimate we form of people is as liable to the influence of time and circumstance as are the things and places we see,, and which are at the first moment of sight indelibly photographed on the memory for ever. Few places convey a similar idea to different people. A scene which strikes me with awe and admiration, the remembrance of which is to me a joy for ever, falls flatly on another: while 372 Tlie Ladies'' Edinburgh Magazine.

a wide open view, which fills him with delight, I do not care to look at again. The conclusion at which we arrive is often measured by our own mood and surroundings, as they are pleasant or the reverse. So with people. I am suddenly placed in the society of one who is to be my companion for hours, or it may be days. I am in an imhappy mood, at variance with the world, and more notably with myself. I have not yet spoken to my neighbour; he is a sealed book to me. I look at him, I read distrust in his eye, scorn and ill-temper in his curling nostril, sarcasm and spite in his down-turned lip. My friend Jones, who is in the highest spirits at the prospect of his holiday, like a dog just off the chain, after enthusiastically whispering to me that " he is sure the stranger is the very best fellow going," has phmged headlong into a narration of his most sacred domestic history. Is Jones right, or am I ? The man cannot have two characters, both legibly inscribed. Rather, has not each seen him as he wished to see him, a faint reflex of his own present mood ? If a man's face is capable of so many interpretations, it is not a reliable source of information. If I am to judge by outward signs, for rather would I measure the disposition by the action of those members not so immediately under control as the face. Watch the formation, the movement of a person's hands; they are much safer indications of the temperament. The nerveless look of long thin fingers, which simply touch yours and fall away; the firm strong grasp of a warm hand; the nervous playing with trifles ; the manner of turning the leaves of a book; nay, the very way in which a needle is put through a woman's work, will satisfy a keen observer as to the salient characteristics of their several owners. An unsteady tread, a wandering step, will sufficiently indicate a vacillating nature incapable of decision; while a firm gait and upright carriage convey the impression of a mind full of strong resolve, and capable of perseverance to the end. I would ask my readers to pause a moment and look around the faces of friends and acquaintances ranged in the cabinets of their memories, and answer truly how often they have been deceived in the smile or frown, the eye or the face before them ; how often have they not formed a wrong estimate, and repented a hasty judgment? Tlie Ladles' Edinburgh Magazine. 373

They are singular if they have not some time suffered from following the erroneous guidance of a first pleasing impression, or been hurriedly betrayed into losing a possible friend by an uncharitable decision built on the untrustworthy foundation of an unfortunate expression. MARTYN HAT.

CHAPTER X.

DE REHMAR, in renewing his friendship with Trevor, had quite banished all suspicion of coldness on the part of the other. He had even begun to regard him with warmer feelings than ever, so that he could have given him his daughter almost ungrudgingly. Yes, to secure the happiness of others, he could have brought himself to make such a sacrifice ; but now that the sacrifice was not required of him, he felt glad for his own sake; and could he have felt sure that Werburga had concealed from him nothing of her own state of mind, he would have felt glad for her sake also. " You are too transcendental, Werburga," said the Baron to his daughter, a day or two after the departure of Trevor. He had seated himself in an easy-chair, to peruse a volume of Kant's Philosophy. " Papa, what do you mean'? " said the person addressed. " Transcendentalism, my dear, is the name given by Kant to the class of ideas existing in the human mind independently of experience. Now you will understand my meaning when I say that you are too transcendental in your aff"ections. From what you have admitted to me, it seems that you have set your heart on some human being whom you have not seen. You tell me that you have not yet seen any person whom you can love; and as the heart cannot possibly exist in a vacuum, I conclude from this that you have formed for yourself an ideal object of devotion. Is not this the case % " " No, papa, that would be far too troublesome. I should greatly prefer a vacuum. But indeed I have not given the subject any serious attention." "Women are strange beings," said her father; " they

No. 12.-DECEMBER 1875. 3 B 374 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. believe in the impossible and despise the actual, and laugh at both." " Yes, papa, I had rather laugh than weep; rather be without love than die of a broken heart," The Baron leant back in his chair, and looked at his daughter with vacant eyes, just as if she were some object for investigation which he had examined thoroughly both close at hand and at a distance, and still found incomprehensible. By no questioning, however, could he gain any further information; so he soon passed from wonder and curiosity to his normal state of tranquil pleasure in her society; and the calm life in the little cottage flowed on as peacefully as ever after the little episode which had disturbed it, and ruffled its "waters for a brief space. The time began again to pass so pleasantly and so quickly, that the father and daughter felt both sorry and surprised as each day came to a close. With another, too, whose acquaintance we have already made in these pages, the winter now setting in was to pass very agreeably. The regular studies and congenial companionship which now alternated in the student life of Randall Holme, were destined to cause a revolution in his character. He was like some plant which had hitherto been dragging on a half-existence in the depths of a gloomy cavern, and was now for the first time brought into the sunlight, and suffered to expand into its true form. It has often been remarked of thoughtful and noble natures, that in youth they are reserved, dull, and sometimes even morose; but that the better ones among them, as life goes on, find their way into a garden of roses by means of a key of their own making, cast in the mould of moral rectitude, and adorned with the graceful forms of high imagination. Youth is for them, indeed, a Lenten time, when their path is so beset with spectres and gloomy forebodings that all joy seems for ever banished. Yet all the time a joyous Easter is waiting for them in the future, all the more joyous that the path towards it has been so sad. And when that is attained, they seem to be but at the beginning of a bright and endless youth, that will cast its fragrance over all their future life. And so it was with Kandall Holme; the brightness and beauty of his life were but now beginning to dawn; and it w^as not the worse for him that they dawned so late. All his dreams Tlie Ladies' Edinhurgh Magazine. 375 of the future, even the dream of love, had till now been tinged with melancholy; now there was nothing but bloom and freshness. Some part of this change was due to the stimulating influence of the class-room, but by far the greater part of it was to be attributed to friendship. Randall was of too retiring a nature ever to mix freely in the society even of young men of his own age; but there were a few among his fellow-students whom he instinctively singled out as friends. Chief among these was a youth of French extracticjn, though all his life resident in England. Alfred Chastel was of the same age as Randall, and a thorough contrast to him in character; he was gay and genial in manner, and had a greater love of field-sports than of study. Yet he was also to some extent a student, and that not an idle one. To him Randall owed in great measure the preservation of his health, for Alfred often called him away from his books to have a walk, or a row on the river. The two inter- changed thoughts unreservedly, till each knew almost every event in the other's life, every opinion on men and things in general, and on his own friends in particular. Summer had come again, and Randall had completed his first year at college, with its four terms. Before returning home, he and his friend Alfred had planned a little tour to the Harz Mountains. They were to be absent oidy three weeks, during which time they hoped to admire the clouds and spectres, and to explore the tree-clad valleys and hills, of that romantic region. On their way thither they spent a few days in the town of Hanover. Exhausted by the heat of that waterless and airless capital, they one day sought refuge from it in the shade of the lime-tree avenue that led to the then still royal abode of Herrenhausen. Here the fountains, the palm-house, the stiff French gardens, amused them for awhile, till, again seeking shelter from the heat, they seated themselves under the shadow of a huge lime- tree. Here, as a matter of course, they were speedily accosted by a fat Kellner, of which beings one meets about foiir to every mile in Germany. To eat in the open air seems to the German mind to be one of the most natnral combinations of circumstances ; indeed, there it would appear to be, not a matter of free will, but of necessity. The theory of the custom seems to be, that German scenery, by its peculiar beauty, exhausts the faculty of admiration so completely that immediate hunger ensues, 376 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

and that this famished condition is apt to recur so frequently, that it is necessary to have the means of removing it placed at intervals of not more than halt an hour's walk. So the two friends yielded to the pressure of circumstances, and ordered coffee. When they had partaken of it, and were paying the reckoning, the waiter, with some agitation, said in broken English, " Ah, gentlemen, you are English; there is a countryman of yours lying here very much hurt; will you kindly speak with him ? " Passing into a small inner room in the restaurant, they saw lying extended on a table, for couch there was none, a middle-aged gentleman. His face was very pale, his eyes were closed, his lips compressed as if in pain. Randall bent over him and looked into his face for a moment, then started back suddenly, exclaiming, " Mr. Bernard Wood !" The sufferer opened his eyes a little, looked at Randall, and shuddered slightly. He opened them again, and made an effort to speak. Randall came nearer, and heard the words, " Take me with you; I am dying." Smitten with compassion, Randall ordered a carriage instantly, and the two lads conveyed the sufferer most carefully to their own hotel. They were both too generous to think for a moment of their own pleasure when their fellow-countryman lay in such agony before them, and begged them to care for him. On arriving at the hotel, a doctor was sent for, who only too clearly confirmed the sufferer's own opinion that he was dying. From the landlord of the hotel Randall learned that Mr. Bernard Wood had spent the night there. He had arrived in Hanover the previous day, and had gone out early in the morning, after paying his bill and ordering his luggage to be sent to the station, addressed to the small town of B , where he had said he had business to transact. A further account was given by the keeper of the restaurant, who came in the evening to bring a gold-headed cane with B. W. marked on it. Mr. Wood, in straying through the avenues of Herrenhausen, had stopped at this cafe, where he had expressed himself particularly pleased with the elegant china in which his coffee was served. Wishing to buy a specimen of it, he was led to a trap- door, whence a wooden stair led to the underground store-room in which the cups were kept. Here the luckless traveller had missed his footing, and fallen headlong a height of about twelve feet. The medical The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. Zll

man pronounced him to be iu a precarious state ; several ribs on the left side were broken in such a way as to impede the action of the heart. Life might linger on for days or weeks, but could not possibly last long. The physical prostration which had thus overtaken Mr. Wood soon led to mental prostration. Kandall, during the hours which he spent by his bedside, had to listen to long contidences, such as could only come from the mouth of a man Avhose end was near, and who could not possibly live to endure the contempt which they must draw down upon him. Wliat had been a scarcely uttered surmise was, then, an acknowledged fact ; Mr. Wood had really played the treacherous thief towards de Kehmar; had systematically appropriated his money, and made flimsy excuses to the unpractical and too confiding Baron. And now he had been on his way to examine the Baron's affairs, and to receive his half- yearly rents, all with a view to his own advantage. All this he revealed to Randall, generally at dusk, that the blush, if blush there could l^e, on his pallid cheeks might be unseen, and that the twitchings of the mouth and contraction of the brow might be all his own. He would fain have extracted from Kandall a promise of secrecy; and Randall gave it with one proviso, that he might confide all to the Baron, at the same time recommending Mr. Wood's reputation to his mercy. For days the sufferer lingered on, and refused to see a clergyman. Randall, as an intending clergj^man, insisted on taking the place of an actual one, and never failed to administer exhortations, prayers, and consolations to the sick man. And when, iu about a week after the accident, the last moment came, it was with a look of gratitude to Randall, and a blessing on his lips, that Mr. Bernard Wood went where he prayed that his works might not follow him. Deeply solemnised, and with such feelings as do not usually fall to the lot of one who is travelling for pleasure, Randall proceeded to the small town of B. He had with him a letter written by himself, and signed by Mr. Wood, which was to ensure his acquisition of the rents due to the Baron. Mr. Wood had charged him to have no conversation with the banker, bvit merely to receive the rents as any messenger woidd have done, and depart. Randalll complied with these injunctions all the more easily that his knowledge of German was very imperfect, and the man of business did not understand English. 378 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

When he had obtained his missive and departed, he began to feel very glad at heart. What joy to be the bearer of such news ! He was bound to go to the Baron before he went home, and he was glad in the prospect of this visit, and of the tidings he had to bring. As soon as his journey began, he felt that he was going nearer to his ideal of goodness, truth, brightness; for the belief in these was for him identical with the belief in Werburga. Had he been told that Werburga was not that perfect character he held her to be, that she was subject to out- breaks of passion, or that her animated manner concealed a heart of icy coldness, he would either have indignantly repelled the assertion, or, if compelled to believe it, would have felt heartbroken in consequence. He had always, almost unconsciously, aimed at such a development of his own character as might please her; while a mysterious hope hinted at a reward for such attainment far too glorious to be realised. And no"\v this hope Avas intensified by the fact that he had received a message to convey to her, and that of a pleasant nature. Yet mis- givings did not fail to check and annoy him. He had been long absent, and how could he tell what might have happened? Trevor was near her; he was rich and of high position; he might have stepped in, and, by some fascination, made her his. And then came a more subtle and more depressing thought; Werburga the rich heiress would be quite a different person from Werburga the poor teacher. Would she not look down upon him ? Would not things be henceforth utterly changed between them ? With tliis thought he embittered many hours as he proceeded on his journey. It was indeed true that Werburga, though still unconscious of her good fortune, had, during the past year, in many respects become a different character. She had come down from the heights of contemplation so far as to dwell more on the level of ordinary life; yet in this she moved so sweetly and so gracefully, that her life seemed to have received a new charm, which made it happier. She was less like a Saint Teresa going out alone into the desert, and more like a Saint Elizabeth bearing a sweet load of roses, to strew aroimd her in daily^ kind- nesses to both rich and poor. On a beautiful afternoon towards the end of July, which the northern nations call the sun-month, a solitary horseman was seen riding along the shores of Lake Tlie Ladies Edinburgh Magazine. 379

Westmere. Dismounting at the door of a thatched cottage, he knocked and was admitted. He was greeted by a soft feminine voice with the salutation, " Randall Holme! I scai'cely recognised you! " And indeed it was no ordinary young man whom Werburga now saw before her. There was the same tall figure, only more erect; the same raven locks, but the expression how altered and brightened! The beautifully-formed intellectual forehead was clear and unwrinkled, save by lines of thought; beneath it the large dark eye looked forth with a gaze that seemed to see life for the iirst time, and yet to have seen it long. When he spoke there was a certain grace and abandon of manner that seemed to have no connection whatever with that of the old Randall. Wer- burga was astonished, and with reason, and could not solve the mystery till the Baron said to her afterwards, " The secret of it is this, he has learned to forget himself in looking at men and things; for some men such oblivion might have been fatal, but for him—he has first looked at himself to sueh purpose that he can now afford to let himself alone. That is a great test of character; and see how it marks the nobility of his; what fire, what candour!—one of nature's noblemen." Werburga did not echo these sentiments; she did not feel herself called upon to do so. Something else was c^ianged in Randall besides manner and character alone; liis heart seemed to have forgotten its old habits. He had remained closeted with the Baron, or Avalking with him, for hours after his arrival; and nothing but the most ordinary phrases of politeness had he deigned to utter to Werburga. Yes, men are fickle, she thought, but no matter; his boyish fancy had never met with the slightest encouragement from her: of this she assured herself, and rejoiced that it was so. She betook herself to her books, but soon tired of reading; then to painting, with the same result; at last she strolled out alone. It was getting dark, so she strayed, as she often did in the twilight, into the chapel near at hand, to dream for a little over the organ. The dim light within the chapel received a strange unearthly gleam from the stained windows; while the ivy that had crept up the outer wall, till it tapped with the breeze against the window-pane, seemed to Werburga like some banished spirit knocking in vain for entrance into the place of souls. She began to play, and soon, through the solemn chords and majestic 380 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine.

movements of the passages she pkxyed, there came a sound as of stealthily advancing footsteps. Glancing towards the chapel wall on her right hand, she perceived standing against it the figure of a man. His head was bent forward, his hands were clasped over his bosom, as he stood in an attitude of rapt attention, leaning with his back to the wall. Werburga played on, almost inspired by the entrance of this listener, though not knowing who lie was. Suddenly he raised his head and walked slowly forward, till he remained standing by her side, and gazing into her face. Then she knew who it was. and she saw by his gaze that he was looking at something very far away. As she played on, it seemed as if his spirit were soaring into that realm where the sky is always blue, the trees are always in leaf, the dumb creatures are all beautiful and tame, and even men and women are robed in a halo of beauty; it was the realm of Love. Could she follow him there ? PROCLA. (To be continued.)

—~^t fweeiesc o aaia!»»»°"

PART I.—PAST.

A HAPPY world of long to-morrows. Mountains and birds and sweet fresh rain ; Tears and lessons and little sorrows— Soon there cometli sunshine again ! Cold bright day when it has been snowing, Little red fingers eager for play— Eager to finish the tiresome sewing, And join in the gleesome holiday. Tall fair lilies out on our river, Sailing away on the happy weeds ; Ah ! how the waters flash and shiver, Bow and talk to the solemn reeds! Joyous holidays out haymaking. Daisies hiding in meadow sweet; Some of their petals bruised and breaking By eager treading of little feet. Tlie Ladies' Edinburgh Mugazine. 381

Cool white violets all for mother, Dai'k-eyed pmsies and faint harebell, Sister roses that twine each other Down to the brook where cresses dwell. Fruit-trees blooming in rosy laughter, Shaking loveliness into tune ; Honey bees wait, and there cometh after Grey young larks in the broad, white noon. Walks in the rich, unclouded weather. When waving corn and flowers stand. Scarlet and blue and gold together, Like opal seas within the land. Long blue days with the goldfinch singing, Watching rosebuds grow in the lane ; Tender talk when grey clouds are bringing Darkness over the land again— Tender talk all alone with Mother, When swallows are going to bed. And stars peep out one after another— Out of the gloom overhead. 0 stars, and purple hill and streamlet, Is Heaven fairer out afar % For we, they say, are in a dream yet Of glories that there really are : If so, I do not wish to waken, The Dream is all so grand and fair; To me, a Heaven would be forsaken If Mother was not with me there : To me each day brings gladder story. To me there cometh nought of fear. Oh ! dear Earth-land, I love your glory. For I have Mother with you here I

PART II.—PASSIXG. A fitful world, half light, half shade, . With long, dark storms that intervene; And gleams of lovely light that fade Before the shadows flit between.

No. 12.—DECEMBER 1875. 3 C 382 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. j

Low-waiHng breezes in the night, : Hinting at sorrow yet unheard ; ; A touch of sadness in the flight ; And farewell song of forest bird. \ A half-regretful yearning fear ] (That must be felt ere really kno^\^l) ' To find, when falls each passing year, : How much more quickly it has flown. And weight of inward pain that yields j Great, loving tears, we know not why, : When, looking over summer fields, l We watch the pretty shadoAvs die, ! Leaving behind their parent, Night, W^ith throbbing stars like souls in pain ; j While, westerly, there falls the Light That we may never see again. And young fresh impulse giving place, As give it must, to graver thought, ; When outward scorn has checked the grace Of what our first impressions taught. | A calmer life, whose separate day j Is taken up with thankful care, j As if its hours might end their way ■ Out in the Dark, we know not where. But trust with Whom, because the worst , And weakest too may cling to Him, i Who chose us all and loved us first, i When years ago the Land lay dim. j The same bright world of long ago, j The same sweet Nature as of yore. But fer more cherished, for we know— ] We knoio that it returns no more. i 1 Nor have we " long to-morrows " now, As once we said in baby glee ; With busy hands and placid brow, We only wait what is to be. We wait, while passing through the crowd, And watch the multitude unseen, Hearing its voices, swift and loud, Clamour of what they do not mean. Tlie Ladies' Edinhurgli Magazine. 383

Gathering blossoms while we may, To give their sweetness now and then, We walk a quiet, restful way, Perhaps not known to fellow-men. Not known % Ah, no, nor understood. But often judged ill-timed and odd ; To careless view, no Avay is good That leads men, weary, up to God. So let it be. And for the rest. The same Love guides my errant will; All my babyhood it was best, In my womanhood it is still. NAOMI S. SMITH.

Roman's ^torli.

V.—MEDICINE A PROFESSION FOR WOMEN.

IN the present day it is quite possible for a girl of sense, who can command a small income, to obtain a thorough medical education. The Universities of Paris and of Zurich admit women to all their classes without reserve,- and a school of medicine for women has lately been established in London. Four to five years are required to complete the curriculum of study. Four to four and a-half years suffice to acquire the knowledge necessary to obtaining a degree, and some six or twelve months should afterwards be spent in visiting the various schools of medicine at home and abroad. The first two years of study are devoted, by common consent, to the natural sciences, including Anatomy and Physiology. The student attends lectures on Botany, Zoology, Comparative Anatomy, Natural Philosophy, and Chemistry, and is expected to work for some months in a chemical laboratory. The list of subjects will doubtless appear formidable to the uninitiated. It would not be fair to say that only the most superficial knowledge of the sciences named can be acquired in two years, for with average ability and common industry it is possible in that time to learn more than the mere outlines, and at all events it is possible to know as much as is needful for 384 The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. practical purposes, and to satisfy examiners. The more attention is given to Natural Philosophy and Chemistry, the more thorough and the easier will be the study of Physi- ology ; while the dry facts of Comparative Anatomy gain much interest when viewed from the standpoint of Physiology. The anatomy of the human body is learnt partly from lectures and books, but chiefly by dissecting; and micro- scope anatomy demands dexterity in handling the micro- scope, and fine handiwork which need not be here described. After the student has been introduced to the natural sciences, and knows the structure of the human body (Anatomy), as well as the manner in which its functions are performed in health (Physiology), she is then fitted to begin the study of Pathology, i.e. the science of disease, and therapeutics, or the treatment of disease. General Pathology and special Pathology, or diseases of special organs, are treated of in lectures and illustrated at the bedside. The various methods of discovering and determining diseases are to be carefully acquired from oral instruction and by constant practice. Medicine is divided into two branches: Surgery and Internal Medi- cine, a division determined by separate modes of treatment. Neither branch should be neglected for the other. Diseases of the eye, ear, throat, and skin have recently developed into separate and large departments, and the student must not consider her education complete without a •knowledge of all the departments of disease. When the last examination is passed and the degree obtained, the new-made doctor must rely upon her own powers of observation and her faculty of learning from experience as well as of making intelligent use of the experience of others, if she is to be truly successful as a medical practitioner. It is possible to board, lodge, dress plainly, pay fees, and all the expenses of education, for £100 per annum, in Paris and in Zurich, and I believe in London also. For examinations and expenses in connection with them, about £30 extra must be reckoned. It is very important to acquire the habit of study and some preliminary knowledge before commencing the medical curriculum, as it will otherwise present great difficulties. Besides a good English education, which shculd be a sine qua non, Mathematics, Latin, German, and French are especially useful to the medical student. The Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. 385

Mathematics trains the mind to habits of accurate thought, and facihtates the study of Natural Philosophy and Physiology. A little knowledge of Latin is essential, and every doctor ought to be able to read French and German works on medicine. The matriculation examinations of the London University, and of the Apothecaries' Hall, are open to w^omen; and every girl Avho intends to be a doctor should pass one or the other—if possible, the London University examination, as its requirements are much higher than that of the Apothecaries' Hall. In- formation respecting these examinations may be obtained from the Registrar of the UniA^ersity, and from the secretary of the Society of Apothecaries. The difhculties of the profession of medicine are much insisted on by those who are anxious to keep women out of it. There is anxiety and vexation in every vocation of life, and hard work too, in most cases where bread has to be earned. Human nature appears to have a certain capacity for suffering which must be satisfied in some way; and where no great troubles agitate the life, mankind contrive to extract misery from the most trifling ills. Small annoyances in the absence of great difficulties often assume large proportions, and are as hard to combat, and as exhausting to the system. The profession of medicine has no doubt its trials. A doctor has to work in season and out of season, has no time of certain leisure, is bound to one place from year's end to year's end, and night and day must be prepared to quit comfort and ease with promptitude. All this is grievous perhaps, but in the first years of practice these inconveniences do not press heavily, especially when necessity supplies a wholesome stimulus to exertion. When the demands of practice are very great, common sense dictates to many men certain restrictions and hmitations which preserve them from the fate of the overworked, and there is no reason why women should not in the same way spare their health and strength. When practice increases beyond management it is well to raise the fee, to refuse to go out after certain hours; and thus room is made for younger practitioners. Numberless and incessant worries attend the doctor's life. But the whole world complains of worry—the merchant, the lawyer, the statesman, .the teacher, the housewife. Are the worries of a physician more trying than those which the principal of a school has to encounter^ 386 The Ladies Edinburgh Magazine.

I do not think they are. The grave responsibilities and anxieties, which no doctor can escape, require to be met with nerve, patience, self-reliance, and skill. The three first-named qualities are gifts of nature, possessed often by women to an eminent degree; skill can happily be acquired by industry, Avhere there is average ability. The advantages of the profession of medicine, as affording a good means of livelihood, and suitable occupation for the energies of women, are obvious, and need not be enlarged on here. It may reasonably be hoped that in a few years it will be possible for women to obtain an English degree, which will entitle Ihem to be enrolled amongst the registered doctors of England. At present every woman who intends to be a medical practitioner must be careful to get a thorough education, and she can then confide herself to public opinion to stand her in the stead of registration. i would now proceed to say, that as far as my OAVU experience goes, and it is some eight years since I took the first step towards entering the profession, I can see no reason why it should not be open to women. It is too common to class all women in one category, instead of distinguishing the great differences that exist amongst this half of the human race. A\'hen it is said women have not the qualities necessary to practise medicine successfully, that is true enough of many women, but it is quite untrue as regards a large number. There are many women who do not shrink from responsibility, nor from hard work, who have patience, self- reliance, and courage, besides good abilities. There are many women who remain self-possessed in danger, and who are not the less sympathetic because they do not faint and tremble at the sight of suffering. I would neither persuade nor dissuade any girl as to studying medicine. If she has determined with herself that she will do so, if she shows that her intention is deliberate and well considered, I for my part know of nothing that should deter her. Success will depend chiefly on perseverance and fair health. The course of study is so long and so varied, that any girl not possessing the requisite qiialities will turn away long before she can obtain a degree. There is a certain demand for women-doctors; how great or how little that demand may prove to be, time alone will show. I myself believe that when the public The TAuVies" Edlnhurgh ^[agazine. 387 becomes familiar with the notion that doctors are not necessarily men, a woman will then have much the same chance as a man of obtaining a practice : that is to say, if she is clever and capable, and settles in a district not over- stocked with doctors, she will get hergood share of patients. To look at the matter from another aspect—does a woman lose any good thing by becoming a physician ? She must expect to be considered a monstrosity by persons who do not know her; but does the study of medicine indeed act deterioratingly on her character % In my experience, it affects neither their moral qualities nor their manners. What women are without medical knowledge, that they remain with it. It is not true that a naturally gentle and refined woman is rendered coarse and ill-mannered by the study or profession of medicine. I can give an instance. The epitaph of one of the first women-graduates of the University of Zurich has, it is sad to say, already been written. In a notice of the life of Dr Susan Dimock, who perished in the wreck of the Schiller, there is a passage which con- firms what I have just said. " Her voice was soft and low, her sympathies large, her manners refined and modest in the highest degree." In speaking of her we can reverse the riddle of Samson, and say, " Out of sweetness came forth strength." These qualities made her services invaluable to her patients. In lecturing to her students she said : " If I were obliged in my practice to do without sympathy or medicine, I should say, Do without medicine." She did not care to have any woman study medicine who was naturally unsympathetic. One student having said, " I have not much pity for hysteric patients," Dr Dimock remarked, " If medical science is not yet so far advanced as to discover any lesion in what we call ' hysteria,' this is no reason why we should have no sympathy with those thus afflicted, for they suffer severely." It is useless to say that because a woman is a doctor she must therefore be unmannerly, coarse, and wanting in kindliness, for facts which cannot be gainsaid do not bear out the theory. Our opponents, it seems to me, often argue as if they thought that, were the profession of medicine once opened to women, the whole sex would evince a great taste for the pursuit, and be all transformed into medical women, to the great confusion of social and family life, and the extinction of all that renders life pleasant and 388 TJte Ladies' Edinburgh Magazine. delightful.. Now, it is quite impossible that the profession could support an unliuiited number of women, perhaps not more than say two to five thousand—a mere fraction of the number of unemployed women of Great Britain. Our sex has too much practical sense to study and toil without prospect of remuneration. And the number of women-doctors will be limited, sooner or later, by the demand that they create for themselves. ELIZA W. DUXBAR, M.D.

OUR LIBRARY TABLE. Augustine's CJioice ; or, The Children of Strathdevon. By LOUISA A. MONCREIFF.MONO Edinburgh: Maclaren & Macniven. 1876.

AT this season of the year begins tlie annual influx of books for the delight of those "little people" whose claims in this line are now-a-days so fully recognised. " Augustine's Choice" is a story which we believe will find much acceptance with a large circle of youthful readers. The scene is laid in Scotland, partly in the Highlands, partly in the precincts of " fair Dunedin ;" and we follow the fortunes of a goodly and diversified assemblage of youths and maidens through the most momentous years of their young lives. The incidents of the story are in many respects distinctively Scotch, and this circumstance will render them to a certain class of readers specially attractive. But the vein of earnest Christian conviction which runs through the book is fitted to reach all alike; nor can it, we trust, fail to impress the most superficial reader. We must allow that the impression we receive from the conversations and cogitations of the children is, that they speak and think in a manner implying depth of reasoning beyond their years. Perhajjs, however, this arises merely from seeing before us, in the clear and definite language of the authoress, those emotions and arguments which undoubtedly would assert themselves in the young minds, if in reality in a less distinct and concise manner. We must refer to the little allegory of Nithon and Idyl as a graceful and suggestive episode. I ^i"-.

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