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ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI.

BY R. L. STEVENSON.

In ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt ;
There, from of old, thy childhood passed ; and there
High expectation, high delights and deeds,
Thy fluttering heart with hope and terror moved.
And thou hast heard of yore the Blatant Beast,
And Roland's horn, and that war-scattering shout
Of all-unarmed Achilles, ægis-crowned.
And perilous lands thou sawest, sounding shores
And seas and forests drear, island and dale
And mountain dark. For thou with Tristram rode
Or Bedevere, in farthest Lyonesse.
Thou hadst a booth in Samarcand, whereat
Side-looking Magians trafficked ; thence, by night,
An Afreet snatched thee, and with wings upbore
Beyond the Aral mount; or, hoping gain,
Thou, with a jar of money, didst embark,
For Balsorah, by sea. But chiefly thou
In that clear air took life ; in Arcady
The haunted, land of song; and by the wells
Where most the gods frequent. There Chiron old,
In a vast mountain antre, taught thee lore :
The plants, he taught, and by the shining stars
In forests dim to steer. There hast thou seen
Immortal Pan dance secret in a glade,
And, dancing, roll his eyes; these, where they fell
Shed glee, and through the congregated oaks
A flying horror winged; while all the earth
To the god's pregnant footing thrilled within.
Or whiles, beside the sobbing stream, he breathed,
In his clutched pipe, unformed and wizard strains,
Divine yet brutal ; which the forest heard,
And thou, with awe ; and far upon the plain
The unthinking ploughman started and gave ear.

Now things there are that, upon him who sees,
A strong vocation lay ; and strains there are
That whoso hears shall hear for evermore.
For evermore thou hear'st immortal Pan
And those melodious godheads, ever young
And ever quiring, on the mountains old.

What was this earth, child of the gods, to thee?
Forth from thy dreamland thou, a dreamer, cam'st,
And in thine ears the olden music rang,
And in thy mind the doings of the dead,
And those heroic ages long forgot.
To a so fallen earth, alas ! too late,
Alas! in evil days, thy steps return,
To list at noon for nightingales, to grow
A dweller on the beach till Argo come
That came long since, a lingerer by the pool
Where that desired angel bathes no more.
As when the Indian to Dakota comes,

Or farthest Idaho, and where he dwelt,
He with his clan, a humming city finds ;
Thereon awhile, amazed, he stares, and then
To right and leftward, like a questing dog,
Seeks first the ancestral altars, then the hearth
Long cold with rains, and where old terror lodged,
And where the dead. So thee undying Hope,
With all her pack, hunts screaming through the years :
Here, there, thou fleeëst ; but nor here nor there
The pleasant gods abide, the glory dwells.

That, that was not Apollo, not the god.
This was not Venus, though she Venus seemed
A moment. And though fair yon river move,
She, all the way, from disenchanted fount
To seas unhallowed runs ; the gods forsook
Long since her trembling rushes ; from her plains
Disconsolate, long since adventure fled ;
And now although the inviting river flows,
And every poplared cape, and every bend
Or willowy islet, win upon thy soul
And to thy hopeful shallop whisper speed ;
Yet hope not thou at all ; hope is no more ;
And oh, long since the golden groves are dead,
The faery cities vanished from the land !

Cornhill Magazine.

KITH AND KIN,

BY JESSIE FOTHERGILL, AUTHOR OF

THE FIRST Violin.”

CHAPTER IV.

topics. He was not aware, himself, of

the attention which these letters had atMEETING THE THIRD.

tracted. He knew that generally they The morning of Monday was half called forth angry replies, accusing him over. Aglionby stood in the saleroom of wishing to undermine the whole of the warehouse, which at the moment fabric of respectability ; to explode the was empty. He had disposed satisfac- secure foundations of society, and cause torily of large amounts of goods already, anarchy to be crowned ; and to these and now for the first time he found a fulminations he delighted to reply with leisure moment, in which to take up a a pitiless, slashing acerbity ; an intuitive newspaper, and glance over it. It was stabbing of. the weak points in his opthe advanced Liberal journal of Irkford, ponents' armor which must have made the Daily Chronicle. In a conspicuous those enemies writhe. He had never place at the head of a column, in the yet paused to ask himself whether his middle of the paper, was a letter to the course of action in the matter were noble editor, entitled, Education in Denom- or not. He detected abuses, and those inational Schools." This letter was abuses flourishing rankly under a system signed, “Pride of Science," as if with which he thoroughly disliked ; and he a defiant challenge to the rival“ Pride hastened to expose them, and to hold of Ignorance." Aglionby's eyes gleam- up them and their perpetrators to ridied as he glanced down the columns, and cule ; dangling them before such a pubhis most disagreeable smile stole over lic as chose to take an interest in his his face. The letter was from his own proceedings, and scourging them well, pen, and was not the first, by several, with whipping words and unsparing with which he had enriched the columns hand. His letter this morning was a of that journal, on that and kindred pungent one. He had written it, on the say?

Thursday night before, in a bitter mood, man, saw that he was regarding him with and the bitterness came out very clearly an intense fixity of expression which had in the composition. He had made a in it something almost fierce, and which point of investigating the proceedings called forth at once the young man's and system at several denominational readily-aroused sense of the ludicrous. schools, and had collected some signifi- “ Perhaps you would like to begin at cant facts, which he had used with con- the beginning ?” he suggested ; and the siderable cleverness to bring a good deal old man, meeting his eyes, and hearing of discredit on the clerical and denomi- his voice, most certainly started and national party.

changed countenance. “I shall be pelted to death for this, As you like—I don't care," he mutin to - morrow morning's issue," he tered, still continuing to gaze at his reflected, looking cynically pleased. guide. “ Holloa ! Here's a leader on my pre- " Then come this way," said the latcious effusion. What has it got to ter, conscientiously carrying out his

directions. The visitor followed him, He had just begun to read, but was and Aglionby explained everything to interrupted by a call of,

him very clearly, but very soon came to "Mr. Aglionby!"

the conclusion that his trouble was He looked up, and saw one of the wasted, for so absent-minded a man, he principals of the firm entering the room thought, he had never seen. Merely —and behind him another figure. Agli- glancing at all the things he was shown, onby felt slightly bewildered, but not he kept his eyes still persistently fixed very much surprised, when he recogniz. upon the face of his guide, occasionally ed the choleric-looking old gentleman of giving utterance to a “Humph !" when the Liberal Demonstration and the play, it appeared necessary to say something, on Saturday afternoon and evening. but evidently feeling but scant interest

“ The third time of meeting !” he in the vast stock and complicated busireflected. Kismet! The will of Allah ness system of Messrs. Jenkinson and be done!''

Sharp. He stood silent, while his glance wan- At last they found themselves back dered beyond both the men, to the door- in the saleroom. Aglionby remarked, way, and the beyond which was visible “I think you have seen everything through it. Blank space. Neither a

(This was entirely a figure of hat with a brim, nor yet one without : speech, for he was convinced that the nothing but the remembrance of a pair strange old man had perceived little or of deep-set gray eyes, a pale face, and a nothing of it all.)

Do you wish to see steadfast-looking mouth.

Mr. Jenkinson again, or shall I show “Mr. Aglionby!" was repeated.

“Yes,” he answered, as he laid down I should like a few words with ihis paper, and advanced a step.

you, was the reply, unexpected but " I think you are at liberty just now." hardly surprising after his peculiar be

“There are no customers here at the havior. moment," he replied.

“ If we

can be alone, that is. I “Then be good enough to take this should like to ask you a few questions.' gentleman round the premises. He is “ Perhaps I may not be disposed to interested in our arrangements, so you answer them,” remarked Aglionby a will explain them to him as clearly as little dryly. you can, and give him all the informa- “Perhaps not, but I rather think you ition he desires.

will. At any rate, you might as well Then with a bland smile, Mr. Jenkin- hear what they are. ison, the senior partner of the firm of Aglionby glanced around. It was the Jenkinson, Sharp and Company, excused dinner-hour, and there was no one in himself on the plea of a pressing engage- the saleroom but themselves and a boy, ment at that very hour, from going the boy to whom he had given half-afarther with them, and they were left crown for keeping his place at the meetalone together.

ing on Saturday. This youth was unAglionby, turning to the old gentle- doing a blue handkerchief containing

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two slices of bread and butter, and a You have? Well, here he is—I am bottle of cold tea-his dinner.

he.'' “Bob, just clear out, will you, and He tapped his broad chest with his get your dinner somewhere else," said strong forefinger, and a rush of color Aglionby good - naturedly. The lad covered his face, while his eyes were raised a pale, delicately-sensitive face, fixed ever more intently and more smiled, and picking up his little bundle, eagerly upon the other's face. Aglionby departed.

looked at him, his own countenance, so Now we are alone,” observed Ag- strong a contrast to that of his comlionby, propping himself up against a panion, set in a gravity which amounted mountain of goods,” and sticking his to sternness. There was no sarcasm in hands into his pockets. The old gentle- his eyes now, and no malice upon his man seated himself a solitary, lips. He bore little likeness to the halewooden - bottomed chair, folded his looking old man, with his white hair, his hands on the top of his stout walking- ruddy, full face, and yet there was, as stick, and said,

one looked at them, a something-a “I wish to know your name." flavor of expression perhaps, a similar

'My name is Bernard Aglionby," ity in the way in which their lips closed replied Aglionby, lifting his head a

one upon the other. little, with a gesture of unconscious “I am he, he said again. I am pride.

your grandfather, lad ; I !" “ I thought so !" burst from the old “I knew you must be, as man's lips, as he struck his stick upon you spoke of Yoresett and Scar Foot," the ground; and Aglionby, gazing at said the other gravely. “Well ?" him fixedly, felt a strange sensation stir- “ Well ! Have you no word to say to ring at his heart. A rush of vague rec- me? The nearest relation you have in ollections-memories strange and po- the world !" tent, partaking both of sweetness and “ What should I have to say to you? bitterness, came surging up in his mind. Nothing agreeable, surely." Whose spirit was it that looked at him And why not ? What injury have I through those frosty blue eyes ? The ever done you ?" pause that followed the last words was “That is an odd question,” said Aga long one. Aglionby waited almost lionby, shrugging his shoulders. • You breathlessly for the next question. When turned my father out of doors, and disit came it did not surprise him-now. inherited him when he married my

Did you ever hear of a place in mother, and when you might have been Yorkshire, called Yoresett-in-Danes- reconciled with her, how did you treat dale?”

her ?'' Aglionby glanced at him keenly, How did she treat me?" put in searchingly, and saw that he was agitat- Mr. Aglionby, hastily and wrathfully. ed. Then he replied, curtly enough, What a question ! Was she to ' Yes."

tamely submit to insults ? As for me, “Were you ever there ?"

you have ignored me from the hour of "No."

my birth to the present one, except “Ah! Never there !" He looked once, when you proposed to do me a with an indescribable mixture of expres- deadly injury. My mother treated that sion at Aglionby, and went on slowly, effort of yours as it deserved to be

“ Perhaps you've also heard of a treated.” house called Scar Foot, not a hundred

" This to me! From you—from my miles from Yoresett ?''

own grandson-” “I have.

Pardon me, but I can be no grand"And of one John Aglionby, who son of yours, for you disowned my lives there ?” he said, and his tunes father for marrying my mother-and vibrated, while the glance he fixed upon when you might have atoned for my his interlocutor was a strange compound father's death, you only pursued an inof defiance and anxiety.

nocent woman with your vindictive ha" I've heard of him too," replied the tred and revenge, in asking her to sepayoung man, his face darkening.

rate herself from her child-from the

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child she had borne in trouble and ad- in the ears of those who gave me my versity-her only comfort, if a poor one. name. A grandson of yours-no!"

“ Then, when your mother-no, I'm Aglionby the elder was quivering with not going to discuss her ; don't be wrath and emotion. He shook his stick afraid—when she told you how she had menacingly within an inch of Bernard's decided your destiny for you—did you face. The latter smiled slightly, drew feel content with her decision ?" his hands from his pockets, and folded “Perfectly-why not?" his arms.

Tell me what she said about me. “I suppose that is your view of the Did she teach you to hate me?" case," said the old man. I say, that No. I remember it well. your father was my all—and that he about six years old, and I was learning broke my heart.”

my lessons in my mother's room. She “You look as if your heart had been had been down-stairs, but presently came broken long ago !" retorted Bernard up again, looking pale and determined. sceptically.

She came up to me, and took me up in • He refused even for one instant to her strong arms, and kissed nie often, look at the woman whom I wished him and asked me if I would like to go away to marry.

from her and live with some one else ? “ Englishmen generally choose their I cried out, 'No.' Not if I had toys wives for themselves, and my father and sweets, she said, and a pony, and a just did what you had done before him, beautiful home! And you, mother,' and what I have done after him," said I answered. No, not me, my boy.' I Aglionby, quite convinced that he stated bawled out lustily that I would not go ; an undeniable fact.

and she kissed me with a kind of wild What! You are married ?"

passion, and called me her lion-hearted “No, I'm only engaged to be." boy. Afterward when I grew older, she

Bah! I say an only son has no told me all about your offer. She said right to choose indiscriminately. There you had sent a messenger to say that if is .policy to be considered and family she chose to give me up entirely to you interests. When your father scoffed for eleven months in the year, and durat Marion Arkendale, and took up ing that time to hold no communication with-"

with me or with you—she might have Stop, if you please. You are speak- what was left of me, for one-and she ing of my mother. One whisper that said she had sent you back the answer savors of disrespect to her, and I leave that you deserved. I say she did right. you on the instant. Indeed, I must de- If I were begging my bread in the cline to discuss her at all with you, in streets, I should say she had done right." any way.

His grandfather had been gazing inMr. Aglionby chafed under this curb, tently at him as he spoke, drinking in, but nothing in Bernard's expression as it were, every word that he uttered. encouraged him to continue the sub- As Aglionby ceased, he drew a long sigh, ject. He bit his lips, and drew his and a strangely subdued look came over brows together, looking the young man his face. He passed his hand across over, from the crown of his sombre, his eyes and said, in a low voice, as if shadowy locks, down to the arched in- communing with himself : step of his long, slender foot.

Ay! ay ! such was my message Why are you called Bernard ?” he such was my message. Then," he asked." It is no name in our family.” added presently, looking

up again, “My mother's name was Bernarda; “ since you are called after your mother and her father's before her was Ber- and her people ; since you have been nard; mine is the same."

delivered over into their hands, what “And have you no other? No John, have they done for you? Perhaps you for instance, nor Roger, nor Ralph ?" were to proud to accept their assistance, “None but Bernard."

eh ?!? “Why not John Bernard ? It would A gleam of hope, pleasure, and aphave made a fine name !"

proval dawned in his eyes, and he look"I don't suppose John sounded well ed eagerly at Aglionby.

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