-

"I had so much to talk to you about," he said, "and we have not had time to say a word, have we? Ah! when can we have a good long time to ourselves? Can you escape your captain to-night, my darling? I should like to shake him by the hand, to thank him for taking care of you; but couldn't you escape from him, my Lottie, to-night?"

Lottie grew a little pale; her heart sank, not with distrust, but with perhaps a little, a very little disappointment. Was this still how it was to be? Just the same anxious diplomacies to secure a meeting, the same risk and chances? This gave her a momentary chill. "It is very difficult," she said. "He is the only one I have to take care of me. He would think it un

kind."

"You must not say now the only one, my Lottie-not the only one — my substitute for a little while, who will soon have to give me up his place."

tions proved needless. It was the worse | dismay; and then, for the first time, there for both, perhaps, that it should be so was a pause. but that which is fittest and sweetest is not always that which is most practically good. Instead of talking seriously to each other, making their mutual arrangements, deciding what was to be done, as would have been far the wisest way of employing the solitude of this sweet morning, which seemed to brighten expressly for them, what did the two do, but fall into an aimless delicious whispering about their two happy selves, and nothing more! They had things to say to each other which came by stress of nature, and had to be said, yet were nothing, while the things of real importance were thrust aside. They fell a-gossiping about themselves, about each other, going over all the old ground, repeating last evening's tender follies, about — when you first began to think and when I first knew and what has been in the one heart and in the other, when both had to talk of other things, and make no sign. What need to follow all the course of that foolishness? There was nothing in earth or heaven so deeply interesting to Lottie as to hear how Rollo was thinking of her while he stood and talked to somebody else, watching her from far; and how his heart would beat when he saw her coming, and how he blasphemed old Captain Temple, yet blessed him next moment for bringing her here; and what he had really meant when he said this and that, which had perplexed her at the time; nor to Rollo than to know how she had watched for him, and looked for his sympathy, and felt herself backed up and supported the moment he appeared. There was not a day of the past month but had its secret history, which each longed to disclose to the other, and scarcely an hour, scarcely a scrap of conversation which did not contain a world of unrevealed meaning to be unfolded and interpreted. Talk of an hour! they had ample enough material for a century without being exhausted; and as for arrangements, as for the (so to speak) business of the matter, who thought of it? For Lottie was not an intelligent young woman, intending to be married, but a happy girl in love; and Rollo, though he knew better, was in love too, and wished for nothing better than these delightful confidences. The hours went by like a moment. They had already been aroused two or three times by the roll of baby carriages propelled by nursemaids before the greater volume of music from the Abbey proclaimed that service was over. "AÍready!" they both cried, with wonder and

But he will not like to give it up now; not till he knows; perhaps not even then for his daughter, you know "Ah! it was she who married Dropmore. Lottie, my love, my darling, I cannot live through the evening without you. Could you not come again, at the same time as last night? It is early dark, heaven be praised. Take your walk with him, and then give him the slip, and come here, sweet, there to me. I shall be watching, counting the moments. It is bad enough to be obliged to get through the day without you. Ah! it is the signor's day. The signor is all wrapped up in his music. He will never suspect anything. I will be able to see you at least, to hear you, to look at you, my lovely darling.

After a moment said Lottie, "That was one thing I wanted to ask you about. You know why the signor gives me lessons. Will it be right now to go on with him? now that everything is changed? Should not I give them up?"

"Give them up!” cried Rollo, with a look of dismay. "My darling, what are you thinking of? They are more necessary, more important than ever. Of course, we will pay for them after. Oh, no fear but he will be repaid; but no, no, my love, my sweet, you must not give them up!"

She looked at him with something like anxiety in her eyes, not knowing what he could mean. What was it? Lottie could not but feel a little disappointed. seemed that everything was to go on just the same.

It

SO

"I shall see you there," he said; long as we are in the same place everything is sweet; and I have always taken so much interest in your dear voice that no one can suspect. And to-night you will come - promise me, my darling just after the service, when it is getting dark?"

-

"Yes," she whispered, with a sigh then started from his side. "I saw some one among the trees. The old chevaliers are coming up for their morning walk. Let me go now -you must let me go

Mr. Ridsdale

"Mr. Ridsdale! How can I let my Lottie go before she has called me by my right name?"

From The Saturday Review.

THE THINGS WE HAVE NOT.

AMONG all the various kinds of charm, whether inherent in the objects of our desires or woven round them by fine threads of association and circumstance, is there one more subtly enthralling than that which belongs to the things we do not possess? We can scarcely tell how much of the ethereal beauty of youthful dreams depends upon their inaccessible distance, for many other things conspire to steep them in a magical atmosphere. But when we have long ago emerged from that enchanted ground, and have reached the level table-land of middle life, there still are visions haunting us, some more, some less, but not wholly absent from the busiest and the sternest lives; there is still a halo surrounding some objects, which we could not, even if we would, entirely dispel. "And of all the favorite spots about which this glamor hovers, there is none to which it clings so persistently as to the things we have not. In a sense this is true, of course, of what we have had and have lost. But that is a comparatively intelligible feeling, made up largely of regret, mixed with love and self-reproach, and bound up with many personal and perhaps even arbitrary associations. It is not the same as the strange bloom of ideal beauty which belongs for us to the things in which we have not, and never had, nor can hope to have, a share. Such things wear a kind of remote impersonal grace, which can be scattered by no rude touch of change or chance, and withered by no closeness of grasp. Our thoughts of them are culled from all the most perfect instances, and combined into a type which perhaps transcends experience. There is an incident in "Transformation" which shows how fully alive Hawthorne was to this idealizing faculty as exercised especially by those not in possession. In looking over Hilda's pictures some of her friends pause at one of a child's shoe, painted, as the author tells us, with a care and tenderness of which none but a woman who deeply loved children would have been capable, and which no actual mother would have been likely to bestow upon such a subject. Actual mothers no doubt have enough to do with their children's shoes without painting them. Possession brings an object into many disenchanting relations. Children themselves, however idolized by their mothers, can scarcely have for them that abstract visionary charm which they possess for the childless. No doubt the

"Oh, I must not stay. I see people coming," said Lottie, disappointed, troubled, afraid of being seen, yet angry with herself for being afraid. "Mr. Ridsdale Rollo, dear Rollo let me go now "Till it is time for the signor And he did let her go, with a hasty with drawal on his part, for unmistakably there were people to be seen moving about among the trees, not indeed coming near their corner, yet within sight of them. Lottie left him hurriedly, not looking back. She was ashamed, though she had no cause for shame. She ran down the bank to the little path which led to the foot of the hill, and to the town. She could not go up and run the risk of being seen going home by the Dean's Walk. She drew her veil over her face, and her cheeks burned with blushes. She was ashamed, though she had done no wrong. And Rollo stood looking down after her, watching her with a still more acute pang. There were things which were very painful to him, which did not affect her. That a girl like Lottie should go away alone, unattended, and walk through the street, with no one with her, a long round, annoyed him beyond measure. He ought to have gone with her, or some one ought to be with her. But then what could he do? He might as well give up the whole matter at once as betray all he was meditating to his people in this way. But he watched her, leaning over the low parapet, with trouble and shame. The girl whom he loved ought not to go about unattended, and this relic of chivalry, fallen into conventionality, moved him more than greater things. He did not object, like Ferdinand, to let his Miranda carry his load for him; but it did trouble him that she should walk through St. Michael's by herself, though in the sweet security of the honest morning. Thus minds differ all over the world.

joys of possession are far more intense | observation, which, through sympathy, and more richly colored than those of con- may become almost as fruitful as the nar templation; but they have not the same rower province of personal experience. half sacred remoteness, the same unchang- And sympathy is the form into which uning lustre. They are purchased by so satisfied feeling is most easily transmuted. many cares, often by so much toil, and By its operation the possessions which for exposed to so many risks, that enjoyment others are limited and accidental and tranis often obscured by fatigue and anxiety. sitory become for a few unchanging and However, we need not disparage the de- all-pervading. Human nature and its cirlights of possession in order to enhance cumstances are everywhere so much alike those of mere contemplation. These are that those in whom a possession, lost or pure enough and keen enough to need no withheld, has called forth the faculties and adventitious aids. But their comparative feelings appropriate to it will never lack excellence can scarcely be appreciated un- objects for their exercise. If to enter til after a certain rather severe discipline. largely into the lives of others lays one Perhaps no satisfying enjoyment gives open to many griefs, it also brings many so keen and sharply defined an impression joys; and neither can be so absorbing as of certain forms of happiness as does the if they were our own. To live in the exeagerness of expectation, or the yearning perience of others means, at its best, to gaze of privation and disappointment. have a far wider range, and therefore Does any millionaire realize what money sooner to attain to the calmness of matu can buy so vividly as the struggling poor rity, than is possible to those whose expeman does? He no doubt knows more rience is chiefly personal. We mean not about it; he finds out a thousand unex the calmness of indifference, but the calmpected results in convenience and pleas-ness of an habitual balance of feeling. ure, and by practice becomes expert in devising gratifications the very possibility of which would not occur to the poor; but all these details necessarily distract his attention from the one radical and inestimable privilege of being once for all utterly beyond the reach of debt, difficulty, or anxiety in money matters, with its accompanying expansion in all the thousand directions in which our activity is limited by money. The fact of this freedom and all its details become familiar to him, but the keenest sense of its value belongs to those who are, or have very recently been, cramped by poverty. The gift of silence has a wonderful charm for great talkers; and we can hardly suppose that to any very beautiful woman outward symmetry means as much as it does to those who

suffer for want of it.

Even in respect of opportunities of acquiring knowledge, the empty-handed have some advantages. Actual experience no doubt teaches more forcibly than any thing else. But it is necessarily absorbing and narrow. It does not leave room for the extensive observation of life which is possible to those whose personal share in it is least. A Roman Catholic priest probably knows more about family relations than any father of a family, though his wider knowledge is of course lacking in a certain fertilizing and corrective element, which is perhaps rather moral than intellectual. It would, however, be idle to deny the importance of a certain personal isolation in throwing open wide fields of

For those who share in many lives there can scarcely ever be a period of unrelieved gloom, or of untempered brightness. A certain quiet serenity is the peculiar portion of those who are willing to pass through life empty-handed.

But, as we have said, this habitual acceptance of the universal in lieu of the personal can by most people be attained only as the result of keenly felt privation. Till we have at least hungered after some good thing for ourselves, we can scarcely recognize its full value for others. But if the chief end of life be, as may be plausibly maintained, to impress certain ideas upon the mind, it may be a question whether this end will be most effectually attained by actual experience or by privation; in other words, by positive or negative experience. There is a keenness and a persistency about our appreciation of the things which do not fall to our lot which is rarely found in regard of those we have. We may call the topmost grapes sour, but we gaze at them with an earnestness which we should hardly pause to bestow upon those within our reach; and it is odd if the flavor of those undevoured clusters does not haunt our imagination long after the sweetness of their swallowed brethren has been forgotten. Weak human nature would no doubt in general rather eat grapes than receive ever so perfect a mental impression of them; but as we rarely have our choice between these rival processes of experience, it is worth while to open our eyes to the merits

of both. Birds in the bush look better | and abstract is rarely very rapid or very and sing more freely than they will ever marked in lives filled to the brim with do in the hand, and when we cannot catch them it is a pity if we cannot learn to sit down quietly and listen to them. And the birds of loveliest plumage and most exquisite song are those which cannot be enjoyed at all except in their native haunts. A lark in a cage charms us chiefly by recalling recollections of free larks, and humming-birds, we believe, have too exquisite a sense of the fitness of things ever to live in captivity. What indeed would they be to us without their liberty to flit from flower to flower? One might as well wish to tame a butterfly.

If we could weigh in a balance the things which can and those which cannot be ap propriated, we might perhaps be surprised to find how very large a part of our happiness is derived from things which we cannot lose, because we can never possess them. Possession is of course a very vague word, capable of many different applications; but almost in proportion to the possibility and completeness of individua! appropriation are the precariousness of our tenure and the weight of counterbalancing burdens. Sky, sea, and moorland, mountains and stars, music and poetry, will never fail, nor do they ever cost us an anxious thought, for they can never be ours. We had almost added flowers to the list; and all this is indeed true of the "jocund companies" of daffodils, and blue firmaments of wild hyacinths, and starry glades of wind-flowers, the sheets of heather and golden furze, and all the hosts of their wild compeers, who owe nothing to human care. It is even true, in a sense, of roses and lilies, jessamine and honeysuckles. But because these last are capable of becoming cherished nurslings, we cannot say of them that they never cost us an anxious thought. Other people's roses and our neighbor's lilies may give us unmixed pleasure; a purer, though less intense kind of pleasure than that which we derive from our own carefully nurtured plants. The most refined epicureanism would perhaps lead us to cultivate, above all, a taste for the thornless roses which blossom behind no garden hedge, for the unfading lilies which never grew on lawn or bed.

strong personal interests. What we have called negative experience is the choicest soil in which it can be made to bloom. If privations have not been endured, or have not been sharply felt, the mind is hardly ever roused to the keenest admiration of which it is capable; enjoyment ties it down, and lulls it to sleep, and limits its range. Nothing so throws open the doors of the soul and so irresistibly lures it outwards as to have gazed long and steadfastly upon some great natural source of happiness, only to learn that it is forever beyond our grasp. Minds elevated enough to take such an experience kindly are thenceforward undisputed heirs of such happiness in all its forms. They may not grasp it, and yet it can never elude their grasp. They know better than to wish it reduced to the narrow limits of their own personal belongings, for their eyes are satisfied with its perpetual presence all around them. Pleasure for them is transmuted into beauty, possession into contemplation. And contemplation is the one satisfying joy belonging to this world, for it alone has upon it a touch of eternity.

From The London Times. THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

ONE of the most interesting papers read in the Anthropological Section at the recent meeting of the British Association was by Professor Daniel Wilson, of Toronto, on the Canadian Indians. Professor Wilson showed that the Canadian Indians, instead of "melting away" before the civilized virtues and vices of the white man, have already been to a considerable extent absorbed, and the likelihood is that ultimately this absorption will be complete. At present, Professor Wilson maintains and he has so mastered the subject that he has a right to speak - the blood of the so-called "red man" flows in the veins of every class of Canadian, from the highest to the lowest; and many of those who are treated by the government as "Indians" are as white as many of their "pale-faced" fellow-countrymen. This subject of the It is impossible to weigh the personal fate of the American Indian has been also against the universal, the concrete posses- engaging the attention of competent men sion against the abstract idea, and say in the United States, and the facts and from which the greatest enjoyment is de- statistics which have been collected appear rived in the long run; but certain it is to give the death-blow to the commonly that the one tends to displace the other. accepted "blight " and "withering" theThe growth of interest in what is universal | ory.

An extremely interesting paper on the | sissippi and the outlet of Lake Superior, subject, just published, by Lieutenant- resting on long lines and with little lateral Colonel Mallery, enters into the question spread, near rivers, lakes, and the ocean. of the former and present number of the The greater part of the districts east of the Indians in so thorough a manner as to give Rocky Mountains and some to their west, confidence in the conclusions come to. where the Indians are now, or in recent Colonel Mallery, from his position on the years have been found, and much of United States Survey, has had every op- which was until recently charted as the portunity of acquiring a knowledge of the "Great American Desert," was, in fact, a present condition and number of the In- solitude when America was discovered, dians, and he has taken great pains to the population being then confined to the become acquainted with whatever records wooded borders of the traversing streams. exist as to their past numbers. Colonel Colonel Mallery adduces irrefutable eviMallery shows that the estimates of earlier dence to prove that many Indian tribes writers are so varied as to be untrust- now classed as prairie Indians were, when worthy. Early travellers had no opportu first met with and for long after, lake and nity whatever of acquiring a knowledge of river Indians. Early voyagers on the the Indian population of the North Amer- Mississippi and Lake Michigan met Indiican continent, but naturally would exag-ans only after many days', and even gerate the number of those with whom weeks', travel. Vermont and western they came into contact. Naturally, also, Massachusetts and much of New Hampthe natives from a wide district would shire were left unoccupied. On early crowd to the shores of the sea, river, or maps the low country from the Mobile lake, which were the first visitors' only River to Florida was marked vacant, and highways, and thus the latter would be led the oldest reports from Georgia assert with to form an exaggerated notion of the ex-gratulation that there were scarcely any tent of the whole population. Colonel Mallery shows that before and long after the advent of the whites, the only regions where the Indians could find support were along the shores of the great rivers and lakes. If the successive waves of continental migration did originate on the Pacific coast, it is scarcely to be supposed that they crossed the arid plains only lately explored, or even the more eastern prairies, where, with all then existing facilities the support of life would have been most difficult. The savages relied at first mainly on fish, secondarily and later on the chase, and only in their last stages of development on agriculture, which, though a greater resource among some tribes than is generally understood, became so after their long-continued occupancy of regions near the Atlantic and great lakes. They could neither, before obtaining the horse, pursue to great advantage the large game of the open prairie necessary for their subsistence while passing it, nor transport stores before collected, and moved probably (as one route, others being also contended for) via the headwaters of the Mis

Two papers are in fact quoted from in this editoNumber of our Indians," published in the "Proceedings of the American Association for the Advancement of Science," Nashville Meeting, and "Some Common Errors Respecting the North American Indians," in the Bulletin of the Philosophical Society of Washington, both by Brevet Lieut.-Col. Garrick Mallery, Captain 1st Infantry, U. S. Army, detailed with the U. S. Geographical and Geological Survey of the Rocky Mountain Region in charge of Maj. J. W. Powell.

rial, the titles of which are: "The Former and Present

savages within four hundred miles of Savannah. Colonel Mallery adduces many other facts which, when grouped together, show how insignificant was the territory actually occupied by the natives before the European immigrants could possibly have affected their numbers or distribution, and how silly are any estimates obviously influ enced by a calculation of the product of their number on some one square mile, multiplied by the figures expressing all the square miles embraced between the Atlantic and Pacific and certain degrees of latitude. The mounds of the Mississippi Valley certainly prove that at some time it held a large population; but the origin and period, connections, and fate of these socalled "mound-builders " are still sub judice. It is, however, conceded that they were agricultural, had several arts unknown to the historic tribes, and had passed away before the latter had come within our knowledge. The ethnologists and philologists, though so widely disagreeing in other respects, both admit that the actual distribution of the natives at the time of, and shortly after, their discovery, was as represented by Colonel Mallery, and the immediate practical inquiry concerns the tribes then and still known to us, rather than ancient inhabitants, whether or not the ancestors of these tribes.

This distribution rendered misconcep tion of their numbers by the early whites almost unavoidable. The latter, using the natural and only readily available highways