The tone should not be pitched high, and the language should be idiomatic, the rythm crisp and sparkling, the rhyme frequent and never forced, while the entire poem should be marked by tasteful moderation, high finish, and completeness, for, however trivial the subjectmatter may be, indeed, rather in proportion to its triviality, subordination to the rules of composition, and perfection of execution, should be strictly enforced Each piece cannot be ex

pected to exhibit all these characteristics, but the qualities of brevity and buoyancy are essential.

We may accept these conditions as the true test of excellence, and applying this test to the poetry of Thackeray we can arrive at some definite conclusion as to its intrinsic worth.-Temple Bar.

I

EVERY one remembers, or has read, how, for some years after the Peace of Paris and. the accession of the late Czar, it was said that Russia "sulked," or that Russia "rested"-the words getting to be characteristic in England, the one of the Patriotic School (those who had been, or who would like to be thought to have been," in the Crimea, damme"), the other of the Manchester School and its humble admirers. In a certain narrow sense, both terms were true; in a wider and better sense, neither-as has been abundantly testified by recent competent writers. Russia was smitten with wonder and shame at her defeat, and at the utter collapse of the magnificent autocratic system of Nicholas. But these feelings did not last long. Only those who know the Russian character can believe how quickly shame and indignation passed in all sincerity into penitence before heaven, and how the wild throes of that again gave speedy birth to ecstatic resolves, and schemes for the most searching social and fiscal reforms-in theory.

The philosophe liberals in particular, when the country got wind of the Czar's emancipation idea, were carried away by the most unbounded enthusiasm, such enthusiasm as ordinary Englishmen have no conception of, as seems possible to be felt on this side of Europe only by people of Celtic stock. Englishmen have a foolish insular habit of sneering at anything of this kind they fail to understand as sentiment," by the mere name condemning and dismissing it, or of denying its reality, and calling it hypocrisy. Of the genuineness of this Russian enthusiasm there can surely be scarce a doubt, when it is remembered

that very many, if not most, of the enthusiasts were nobles, who fully expected to lose seriously by the great emancipation and other projected reforms, but who were ready to sacrifice their interests for the good of their country, to prove in a fine theoretical way how sweet it is pro patria mori. They expected that in "something less than no time" their dear country, with a reforming White Czar at its head, would be not merely abreast of the nations of Western Europe, but far ahead of them, in the very van of liberty and civilization. Whether it was a wise enthusiasm, likely to lead to much practical result, is another question.

It will be remembered how these generous gentlemen were disappointed and snubbed as soon as the great ideas began to take practical shape; how the noblesse had been asked to send through their marshals to the Czar suggestions as to the great emancipation and cognate questions, how they rejoiced at this because they took it for a sign that the Czar was to break the Tchinovnik, or bureaucratic yoke, and to settle and arrange all reforms in consultation with a parliament of his nobles and notables; and how after all it was apparent that the bureaucracy had triumphed over both Czar and nobles, and were arranging things pretty much as they pleased. The following authentic story concerns that crisis, and is very characteristic of the temper to which the Russian nobles had been brought.

In the winter of 1860-61, Olgaroff, a wealthy noble of a northern district, was at home sulking and smarting under what he considered the humiliating trick that had been played on him and his peers. He was marshal of his district, and the long, elaborate, and eloquent

report he had drawn up 'and sent in to St. Petersburg had been, like other reports, disregarded and thrown aside for waste paper. He was eight-and-twenty, liberal, philosophic, and excitable; he was unmarried, and had now for company in the house with him his old mother, a shrewd, cheerful friend, of a squat Finnish figure, and a collection of new books, mostly magazines.

One morning Ölgaroff and his friend sat smoking in the stifling, stove-warmed room he called his own, when in the still crisp air without could be heard the jingle of bells, and presently the strange, remonstrant cry with which a Russian driver appeals to his horses.

"Iván," cried Olgaroff, letting the magazine drop which he had been loosely holding in his fingers. Iván Ivan' itch!"

a quick glance to Olgaroff, as if to say, "He is still the same Iván, then," shook off his wraps into Iván's hands and sat down. But, turning suddenly as the old fellow was going out, he cried, No, no, Iván, my friend, I am not going to lend you those things to curl yourself up and go to sleep in. See, you had better leave them here." Iván turned and did as he was bid, with a look of disgust. "Now you can go and warm yourself with praying for the Little Father, and with confessing the many sins you must have committed in your foolish old life.'

Feodor Demidoff," said Iván, coming a step nearer, without a trace of anger, "I have never in all my life done any wrong I know of; except, perhaps," he added after an odd reflective pause, that I have never had enough food or enough sleep." And he went out.

"The lazy dog!" exclaimed Feodor. Olgaroff looked at the stove and was silent. The Finnish friend smiled. Does he," continued Feodor, "know? Does he understand what is going to happen ?"

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"No," said Olgaroff; "but what does that matter now ?"

Well, this. I have a magnificent idea; I have driven over express to have dinner and to discuss it with you. We must strike a grand coup. See here: the Czar is coming in a day or two to Zeliakoff's for bear-hunting; there will then be many old friends about him: the ukase, as you know, is not yet issued. Could we not in a week or so get many of our party, of our way of thinking, assembled at Moscow, andhey, presto!-whisk our Little Father off there, impress him with the injustice and shame he is doing us, and get him to cancel this Tchinovnik business before it goes farther? He has a kind, gentle heart, has the Little Father. Could not this in some way be done?"

Olgaroff looked in silence at Feodor, and from him to his friend, who looked trustfully back to him. He grew pale, and bit his nails; his fingers trembled visibly; his excitable nature was seized by the audacity of the idea, though he could not disregard its peril. "Yes; but how?" said he, walking up and down. How can you get him to Moscow ?" He stopped full before Feodor,

Olgaroff resumed his pacing up and down, showing by his little nervous actions-biting his fingers, picking his teeth, grinding his hands together, kicking at scraps of paper on the floor-the stew of excitement he was in. The little Finnish friend puckered his good-humored face, and tried to look as if he were thinking hard. Olgaroff seized a book and threw it into his friend's lap; a magazine, and threw it to Feodor. Try," said he, and get hold of a hint. He himself restlessly poked about and walked about; taking up a magazine, peeping into it, and throwing it down with an impatient "Tush!" snatching a book from the shelves, and playing the same tricks with it.

"Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly, "bear-hunting, you said? Here, I have it!"-reading from a bookEnter a man dressed as a bear.'

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He

That's the very thing! Look !" dashed at one of Feodor's furs, a fine bearskin, with the head dressed to serve as a hood. This he threw about the Finnish friend, calling to him to stand up." He will be the very figure to enter as a bear. There is upstairs a very fine complete skin of a big bear my father shot. We will disguise him in it. We must have no confederates; only we three; it might miscarry else. Him there, and a handkerchief with chloroform you have heard of chloroform ?— we make our simple, harmless means. Is it not a good idea?"

"I do not quite understand-”

"Here, sluggish head! We write at once to our friends all round to meet at once in Moscow, and wait. In a few days after the Czar has come and settled himself comfortably with the Zeliadoffs, we are sure to be invited to join a hunt. You and I are both known as good hunters. Presently we get the Little Father's ear. He likes an adventure-does he not?"

He does.

"We whisper him that we know of a most huge bear across our way in the forest, and get him to draw himself away from his attendants and the rest, that we may have a good shot all by ourselves. He'-pointing to his friend

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shall be our great and tight-hugging bear. Oh, do not fear, little one, our rifles shall be without ball, and we shall see that the Little Father's is the same. This bear shall be in a pre-arranged difficult spot-that bit of defile, fifteen versts from here, is best-you know it? We shall let the Little Father advance to give the shot; the bear, of course, comes on; we shoot; the bear comes with a rush and hugs the Little Father, lets him smell his handkerchief, and we carry him insensible to the sledge we have in waiting, and away through the forest to Moscow. Does it please you?"

It is perfect!" exclaimed Feodor. And I am to be the bear?" said the friend with a shrewd twinkle. "I must practice hugging. Have you any-?'' "No, no, little one!" cried Olgaroff "Not that.

There was a shuffling in the passage, a fumbling at the door, and Iván appeared and said, Dinner."

II.

IN the still, hard winter, travelling is much more rapid than at any other time of the year. Friends were quickly communicated with, and advised to rendezvous by a certain time at Moscow and wait, and they would see what they would see. I have had no precise information as to how long this took, nor how long it was before the invitation came to the two chief conspirators to join the imperial hunt; but I have understood it all fitted well with their expectations. The Finnish bear was at his savage post in the head of the stiff little defile, and the sledge waited withdrawn some little way in the forest.

The Czar always fretted against the ceremonials of attendance.' The Zeliadoffs were particularly obsequious and troublesome in these respects, and the Czar, when he chanced to overhear (as he was meant to do) one famous bear-hunter, Demidoff, say to another, Olgaroff, "I wish we could let the Little Father know, without anyone else knowing, of that big brute over our way in the forest. Wouldn't it be grand sport ?".

Ah, what's that?" said he, aside. "A great bear, sir," whispered Demidoff, "we would like you to get a shot at. Only, sir, we think there would be no adventure nor sport in it if we go to find him in a crowd."

"Yes; let us get away, Demidoff," said the Czar. "But I should have my trusty old huntsman with me, should I not?"

If you had him with you, sir, how could you slip away from the company? You and he both absent, they would soon miss you, and come hallooing about and spoil the whole game; and we have an old man with us, the finest bear-hunter in the country. See, there is Berinsky, something like you, sir, and keeps always well in the front of the hunt; tell your old huntsman to attach himself to him, then they will think there you are in front."

"A good idea. So, gentlemen, I am with you," said he, with the zest of a schoolboy to get out of bounds. "I will slip away among the trees-this way, is it not?-as soon as ever I

can.

Olgaroff stood a little aloof, gnawing his finger.

When the hunt was well started into the forest, they observed the Czar at a favorable moment slip behind a tree, and then, when the hunt had passed on, from tree to tree into the haze of the forest. They-Demidoff and Olgaroff, that is, with their stolid attendant, Iván Ivan'itch-hurriedly followed. When they came up with the Czar, he laughed cheerily like a schoolboy, and seemed not a little surprised at their glum looks.

Think it is rather a rash adventure after all, perhaps ;-eh ?”’

"Oh, no, sir," said Demidoff. "We are numerous enough and strong enough to face and kill the fiercest bear that ever trod the forest. Only we must get on the track quickly and quietly; the place where we last saw him is not far off. Permit me, sir, to look to the loading of your gun.

"Feodor," whispered Olgaroff, "I don't like it at all. It's mad. Is there no way of getting out of it?”

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"Eh?" said the Czar with a turn.

"Olgaroff was saying sir, am I sure I am not getting out of the way? See; here is the track, the marks of his big cushions.' Peace, little one; peace child;"-to the dogs Iván,held in leash, which were growing restless, sniffing and whining.

They pushed on steadily and in silence, Demidoff supporting well the pretence of tracking the bear, Olgaroff scarcely at all. On and on, among the trees, over the smooth, hard snow, till they neared the defile.

Iván Ivan'itch was leading. Presently he stopped, and motioned to the others to stop, too. He laid his ear to the ground, and almost immediately rose, looking as alert as his dogs. He pointed forward into the little defile, which seemed to have been originally a mere wide crooked crack or fissure in a roughish hillock, and to have been further widened and worn by the weather of centuries. Iván led on into a turn in the defile. Peeping from behind a tree that grew at the angle, he whispered eagerly," Oh, Holy Mother, what an infidel of a brute! Come, Little Father, stand behind this tree. It is odd. He looks terribly roused, and

""

"He takes He growls Splintered Now, Olga

I never heard the little one," whispered he to Demidoff, who was quietly taking aim, "growl like that!'' Tush!" said Demidoff. his part better than you do. well." He fired. "Pah! only the bark of a tree! roff; he is not ten yards off. Iván looked amazed at this ineffectual shooting; but his master, at least, was a cool, steady shot. Olgaroff went behind the tree, but had no sooner looked than he started back white and trembling, and exclaiming :

It is a bear! There is blood on his shoulder and his muzzle! It is a bear !" God confound the man!'' cried the Czar, advancing for a shot. What did he think it was?- -a jackass ?''

"Oh, fly, sir! fly! he is here!''

"Great God!" cried Olgaroff, and fled.

The Czar advanced with his knife, when an exposed tendon of the tree-root tripped him up. The knife flew from his hand, and he sprawled on the ground at the very feet of the bear. The brute growled, and loosened his embrace of Demidoff.

"Hist, Little Father!" whispered Iván, the old hunter. Lie still!"

A STRANGE and difficult life, and the production of much art-work in poetry and painting of which the merit has been fiercely debated, give interest of a peculiar kind to the story of William Blake. Pictor Ignotus he was styled years ago, and to a large portion of the public an unknown painter he still remains. Prob

ably the amount of uncouth design of which he must perforce be accused, and the volume of incomprehensible verse in which he expressed a part of his aspirations, have largely contributed to delay the universal admission of success to the designs which are not uncouth and the verse which is not incomprehensible. The