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watching him at his work sometimes ham. - the smoke that fills it half blinds him, mering away at a toy.cart which Francisco but in a moment or two he comes out had fashioned for his amusement, at other again, with Beppino in his strong arms. times tending the plants which stood on The brazier is stupefied, he cannot the shelf yonder. Next to his Camilla stand – Checco places him against the and his boy the old carpenter loved flow wall farther from the fire and dashes water ers, and the love had been shared by little in his face. Checco.

“ Help!” shouts Checco, and works These recollections soften him and harder still to put out the fire ; the smoke almost bring tears, but with them come gets lower and lower, and the yard is others stronger and more bitter. The streaming with water. Checco turns to grimy drudgery beside Beppino – for look at Beppino, he still leans against the used to out-door labor at his uncle's farm, wall, but he has opened his eyes. Checco bad taken no interest in hammer- A woman's loud cry startles Checco ing and soldering pots and pans then he cannot turn round and face his mother. anxious waiting for a glimpse of his He stands trembling, filled with fear that mother: and when she came into the once more she may have misinterpreted workshop, ah, that was the bitter drop! his conduct towards Beppino. He is sur. how she always turned to Beppino and prised to see the drenched, smoke-stained scarcely noticed him; and then there had man stagger to his feet. been the daily torment of his stepfather's Don't be frightened, Camilla,” he gibes.

calls out; "I am all right. The shed was “ Patience,” Checco frowos at his own on fire, and Checco has put it out. I thoughts, “ I did not come for all this, I should have been burned in my sleep if came for peace.”

he had not come.". Softly he opens the door, and looks in; His mother's arms are round Checco, he sees his mother lying on the sofa fast and as he hugs her closely to him she sobs asleep. He stands irresolute, his en. on his shoulder. trance has not roused her, she goes on My boy! my brave boy!” she says, breathing deeply. He draws back again and she kisses him till, in his happiness, and closes the door.

poor Checco feels as if hard life is over, Instead of waiting in the shop, he goes and beaven has begun for him. out by a side door into the little yard. Camilla lifts up her head and strokes This is almost filled up by tumble down his cheek. sheds used for timber in old Francesco's " What a fine fellow you are," she says; time, among them Checco has played to think of you doing it all by yourself! many a merry game at hide-and-seek with But how did you get here, my boy?” his bright young mother. But what is Then, in a sharp voice to poor pale Bepthis? A veil of blue smoke comes be pino, who, after shaking Checco's hand, tween him and the sheds, and there is a has staggered back against the wall, “ I'll strong smell of burning wood. Checco wager it was one of your pasty cigars that hurries forward, but the smoke rapidly did the mischief.” increases; it almost blinds him; he rushes back to the fountain near the door by which he entered.

SPRING is making life lovely at Assisi. A large copper bucket stands beside it, Out-of-the-way nooks on Monte Subasio he catches this up and snatches another are fragrant with violets; while anemones from the workshop, in another moment he and asphodel, narcissus and iris, paint the is deluging the shed with water.

grassy slopes, where they can find them, At first his efforts seem useless, the aod cistus gleams among the rocks. The smoke bursts out afresh and fills the yard, balcony at the little ion is gay with yellow almost stilling him; he knows there used roses, and everywhere the fresh, delicate to be straw in the shed that is burning, he leaves are opening hastily to welcome the has often taken a siesta inside it.

bright, golden spring. The houses of the Again and again he deluges the place little town gleam white as they cling to with water; and now his efforts prevail, the side of the steep hill below them; in there is a lull in the outburst of smoke; the valley is the great church of Santa he goes nearer, and he hears a faint cry, Maria degli Angeli; and above, supported “ Help!

by its double range of arches, are the Checco gasps, till now he has only Church and Convent of Sao Francesco. thought of putting out the fire, it bas all The English lady we saw last year in been so sudden - he dashes into the shed the oliveyard outside Perugia has come to

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PART IV.

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stay at Assisi. She knows that she shall know she meant more than that” – he find Checco here. There are not any checks his hurried words, and looks flowers in the neat garden, but, as she grave but I could never tell how happy looks over from the little balcony of the I am in my garden; every plant is a friend botel, it is pleasant to see rows of cabbage to me; it is delightful to have so many and lettuce and beetroot and peas and friends; and for all the care I give I am beans gleaming in the sunshine, with paid over and over again; and the flowers, freshly turned brown lines of earth be the darlings” — his eyes darken with tween. And beyond the garden stretches pleasure; he stops and adds timidly, the lovely landscape; there is the valley with a certain awkwardness that recalls below, then the intervening, undulatiný that sad Checco under the olive-trees plain, so tender-looking in its fresh green, “ will the signora have but the condescenand the pale foliaye of the olives, with sion to come this way and see my flow. brown vineyards here and there, for as ers ?” yet the leaves lie snug in their sheaths. She nods, and follows him : she looks All round are the purple mountains, with as happy as Checco, and feels almost the towns and villages showing white, some. same age as the lad as she goes on talktimes nestling balf-way up the hillsides, ing to him about his garden, while they or else, like Foligno, crouching below walk along the damp paths. on flat ground. But the English woman He stops on the other side of the bluecomes every year to Umbria, and she has green rows of peas, and points to a hedge seen this landscape often. She is looking of roses covered with delicate pink blosfor Checco, and she gives a start more soms, and with a carpet of double violets like surprise than recognition when she below. sees a tall man coming up the side of the “ How charming!” his companion says. garden. He holds up his head, and, un. Do you grow them for your own pleas. conscious of being watched, he is whis- ure, Checco?” tling a merry tune.

He gives her a bright smile. The lady goes down the rickety steps “I gather them for the mistress," he that lead from the balcony to the garden, nods back at the house; "she is very and walks slowly towards him. She is good to me, and — and" he hesitates at curious to see whether Checco will recog. certain memories, “when I get a chance nize her; he soon sees her, and pulls off I send a nosegay to my mother.” his straw hat, while his face beams with But he does not look sad at her name, a happy smile.

his companion fancies he seems more “ How are you, Checco?" she says than ever contented. gaily. “I thought you would have fór. “ You are then really happy here? You gotten me. I am not sure I should have would not exchange Assisi for Perugia, recognized you if I had not knowo where Checco ?” to find you."

He shakes his head, then he raises his His eyes are beautiful in their expres- dark eyes and looks straight into hers. sion of earnest gratitude, and though his “The signora was right in more than lips still treinble a little, that miserable, one thing that she said to me on the hill. nervous twitching has left his face. He side," he says gravely; "she can never looks quite happy.

know how much she helped me." "Ab," he says earnestly, "does the

A mist comes before his eyes, and a signora think then that I could forget her? | lump rises in his throat. He stoops down that would not be possible.”

and gathers the finest of his violets; then, “Well," she says abruptly, having a without a word, he offers them to his horror of “sentiment,” as she calls it, “and friend. how do you get on here? Do you like “ Thank you, Checco.” She gives him your work? and are the people kind?a bright smile. “ I shall keep these for

His face flushes a little, and in his your sake; I shall not forget you, my eagerness to speak, his words tumble over friend." one another:

She holds out her hand, and he kisses “Yes, oh! yes, they are all good to me. it reverently. “Ah, signora,” he says in The signora was a prophet. Does she a choked voice, “ I owe everything to you. not remember that she said I should one But for you I might be still at San Pie. day find out wbat I was made for? Itro."

KATHARINE S. MACQUOID.

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From The Athenæum.

hardly justifies such minuteness of detail. CARLYLE IN LONDON.

Voltaire's maxim is true, IMMEDIATELY after Carlyle's death two Le secret d'ennuyer est celui de tout dire. volumes of his “Reminiscences" hurried through the press in such hot

Mrs. Carlyle's letters had also supplied

sufficient information about her feelings haste that Mr. Froude did not even take time to correct the proof-sheets properly. Froude need not have handled over again

towards Lady Harriet Baring, and Mr. Within little more than a twelvemonth he had issued two volumes of biography, re.

a matter about which nothing at all ought counting the first half of Carlyle's life. to have been made public. În many other Another year was not allowed to pass lack of discretion. What but injury can

respects, too, Mr. Froude shows strange before three volumes of Mrs. Carlyle's lit do his hero to have it known that he letters were published, and now we have before us two more volumes of biography, Newman" had not the intellect of a mod.

once told his biographer that Cardinal which complete the series. Carlyle died in 1881, and this is October, 1884. There erate-sized rabbit,” and wrote of "some is no need to rediscuss the question of

little ape called Keble"? the wisdom of Mr. Froude's proceedings; most honorable passages in Carlyle's life,

These volumes open with one of the but if the mere statement of them is not his steady prosecution in the midst of sufficient let the reader contrast them for a moment with the manner in which Lock- poverty of the task of writing his “Hishart acted when he was left Scott's lit. tory of the French Revolution,” and his

heroic behavior when the first volume was erary executor. Lockhart did his work destroyed through the negligence of Mill. quickly, but not hastily., He let five years No nobler episode is to be found in the elapse before he printed his first volume, and his biography was finished two years Carlyle who could say, “Well, Mill, poor

career of any man of letters. To the afterwards. His masterpiece is a perma- fellow, is terribly cut up: we must en. nent addition to our literature, and has deavor to hide from him how very serious increased the fame of the great and good the business is,” many a harsh judgment man whose life it recounts. Mr. Froude's books are crude compilations, and he has

and outrageous outburst of jealousy and inflicted a blow on the reputation of Car. passion may well be forgiven. Could lyle from which it is unlikely that it will than those he put down in his journal

there be finer or more touching words Owing to Mr. Froude's method of pub. when Mill had told him of his loss? lication, the interest attached to this last But on the whole should I not thank the instalment of his biography has already Unseen? For I was not driven out of com. been anticipated in a large measure. No posure, hardly for moments.

“ Walk humbly eventful incidents marked the last forty with thy God.” How I longed for some psalm five years of Carlyle's life, and of his char. or prayer that I could have uttered, that my acter and ways of thinking and of living morning I have determined so far that I can

loved ones could have joined me in! ... This the seven volumes already published had still write a book on the French Revolution, given more than sufficient information. and will do it.

Nay, our money will still It is unfortunate, therefore, that his biog. suffice.... I will not quit the game while rapher has not been more sparing of ex- faculty is given me to try playing. I have tracts from Carlyle's journals relating his written to Fraser to buy me a Biographie sufferings from indigestion and sleepless Universelle” (a kind of increasing the stake) nights, and has told his readers over and and fresh paper : mean to huddle up the Fête over again of the spring cleanings in des Piques and look farther what can be atCheyne Row and the philosopher's dislike tempted. Oh, that I had faith! Oh, that I to the smell of paint and the crowing of had! Then were there nothing too hard or

heavy for me. Cry silently to thy inmost heart cocks, matters about which Mrs. Carlyle's

to God for it. Surely He will give it thee. letters had already made ample mention. At all events, it is as if my invisible school. Surely every petty incident in a man's life master had torn my copybook when I showed need not be published at full length sim- it, and said, “No, boy! Thou must write it ply because he was a man of genius. Mr. better." What can I, sorrowing, do but obey Froude pleads that there was nothing in - obey and think it best? To work again ; Carlyle's life that needed hiding, but that and, oh ! may God be with me, for this earth

ever recover.

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is not friendly. On in His name ! I was the * Thomas Carlyle: a History of his Life in Lon

nearest being happy sometimes these last few don, 1834-81. By J. A. Froude. 2 vols. Longmans days that I have been for many months. My

health is not so bad as it once was.

& Co.

I felt my•

66

self on firmish ground as to my work, and stainly on horseback I have always taken him could forget all else. I will tell John, my to be tall. Eyes beautiful light blue, full of mother, and Annandale Getreuen, but not till í mild valour, with infinitely more faculty and feel under way again and can speak peace to geniality than I had fancied before; the face them with the sorrow. To no other, I think, wholly gentle, wise, valiant, and venerable. will I tell it, or more than allude to it.

The voice, too, as I again heard, is “aquiline"

clear, perfectly equable - uncracked, that is A passage like this creates a feeling of sympathy for the writer that a judicious tenor or almost treble voice - eighty-two, I

- and perhaps almost musical, but essentially biographer would not have impaired by understand. He glided slowly along, slightly printing the wild expressions he uttered saluting this and that other, clear, clean, fresh under the torments of dyspepsia. From as this June evening itself, till the silver buckle Mill, his early friend and admirer, Carlyle of his stock vanished into the door of the next became greatly estranged. Mill dared' to room, and I saw him no more. decline an article offered for the Westminster, and when the sage wrote up

A piece of not ill-natured satire is his slavery in Fraser, Mill had the audacity

account of Count d'Orsay's visit: to contradict him. Mill's death, however, About a fortnight ago, this Phæbus Apollo seems to have awakened Carlyle's better of dandyism, escorted by poor little Chorley, nature, and Mr. Froude might well have came whirling hither in a chariot that struck contented himself with printing the ex. all Chelsea into mute amazement with splenpression of sorrow which the news elicited, dor. Chorley's under jaw went like the hopand have expunged the contemptuous per or under riddle of a pair of fanners, such criticism which Carlyle passed on his old was his terror on bringing such a splendour

into actual contact with such a grimness. Nevfriend's autobiography. Yet though Car.

ertheless, we did amazingly well, the Count lyle's judgments of the individuals he met and I. He is a tall fellow of six feet three, were, as we have repeatedly said, grossly built like a tower, with floods of dark-auburn unfair, he had an undeniable power of de hair, with a beauty, with an adornment unsurtecting their weaknesses. He was often passable on this planet; withal a rather subblind to their merits, but the defects al. stantial fellow at bottom, by no means without most always were correctly signalled, if insight, without fun, and a sort of rough sarexaggerated. His descriptions in these casm rather striking out of such a porcelain volumes are as vivid as those in their figure. He said, looking at Shelley's bust, in predecessors. For instance, of Greville, faces who weesh to swallow their chin.” He

his French accent, “Ah, it is one of those the author of the “ Memoirs,” he writes : admired the fine epic, etc., etc. ; hoped I would

One Greville, an old official hack of quality call soon, and see Lady Blessington withal. who runs racehorses, whom I have often enough Finally he went his way, and Chorley with reseen before: memorable as a man of true assumed jaw. Jane laughed for two days at aristocratic manner, without any aristocratic the contrast of my plaid dressing.gown, bilious, endowment whatever - a Laïs without the iron countenance, and this Paphian apparition. beauty. He has Court gossip, political gossip, etc., and is civil to all persons, careless

The estimate of Christopher North is about all persons — equal nearly to zero.

worth quoting: Grote is irreverently handled :

I knew his figure well; remember well first

seeing him in Princess Street on a bright April Radical Grote was the only novelty, for I afternoon probably 1814 – exactly forty had never noticed him before – a man with years ago. . . . A tall ruddy figure, with plen. strait upper lip, large chin, and open mouth teous blonde hair, with bright blue eyes, fixed, (spout mouth); for the rest, a tall man with as if in haste towards some distant object, dull, thoughtful brows and lank, dishevelled strode rapidly along, clearing the press to the hair, greatly the look of a prosperous Dissent left of us, close by the railings, near where ing minister.

Blackwood's shop now is. Westward he in A charming picture of the old age of the haste; we slowly eastward. Campbell whis. Iron Duke is a relief to these bitter por- Palms,” which poem I had not read, being

pered me, “That is Wilson of the Isle of traits :

then quite mathematical, scientific, etc., for Truly a beautiful old man; I had never extraneous reasons, as I now see them to have seen till now how beautiful, and what an ex- been. The broad-shouldered stately bulk of pression of graceful simplicity, veracity, and the man struck me; his Nashing eye, copious, nobleness there is about the old hero when dishevelled head of hair, and rapid, unconyou see him close at hand. His very size had cerned progress, like that of a plough through hitherto deceived me. He is a shortish, slight- stubble. . . . It must have been fourteen years ish figure, about five feet eight, of good breadth later before I once saw his figure again, and however, and all muscle or bone. His legs, I began to have some distant straggling acquaintthink, must be the short part of him, for cer. ance of a personal kind with him. . . . We

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lived apart, as in different centuries; though, | Effects that others attain by art and labor to say the truth, I always loved Wilson he seemed hardly able to avoid when he really rather loved him, and could have fancied took his pen in hand: a most strict and very profitable friendship between us in different, happier circumstances.

It is one of the prettiest shores I ever saw: But it was not to be. It was not the way of trim grass or fine corn, even to the very brow this poor epoch, nor a possibility of the cen- of the sea. Sand (where there is sand) as tury we lived in. One had to bid adieu to it white as meal, and between sand and farmtherefore. Wilson had much nobleness of field a glacis or steep slope, which is also covheart, and many traits of noble genius, but the ered with grass, in some places thick with central tie-beam seemed always wanting ; very meadow-sweet, “Queen of the Meadows,” and long ago I perceived in him the most irrecon- quite odoriferous as well as trim. The island cilable contradictions, Toryism with sansculot- of Stroma flanks it, across a sound of perhaps tism ; Methodism of a sort with total incre- two miles broad. Three ships were passing dulity ; a noble, loyal, and religious nature, westward in our time. The old wreck of a not strong enough to vanquish the perverse fourth was still traceable in fragments, sticking element it is born into. Hence a being all in the sand, or leant on harrows higher up by split into precipitous chasms and the wildest way of fence. The Orkneys, Ronald Shay, volcanic tumulis; rocks overgrown, indeed, Skerries, etc., lay dim, dreamlike, with a beauty with tropical luxuriance of leaf and flower, but as of sorrow in the dim grey day. knit together at the bottom that was my old figure of speech

Carlyle nourished a strong dislike to only by an

- of whisky punch. On these terms nothing can

the Jews, which Mr. Froude illustrates be done. Wilson seemed to me always by far with two amusing stories : the most gifted of all our literary men, either Some time while the Jew Bill was before then or still; and yet intrinsically he has writ- Parliament, and the fate of it doubtful, Baron ten nothing that can endure. The central gift Rothschild wrote to ask him to write a pamwas wanting. Adieu! adieu! oh, noble, ill. phlet in its favor, and intimated that he might starred brother!

name any sum which he liked to ask as payHis descriptions, favorable and unfa.

I inquired how he had answered.

Well,” he said, “ I had to tell him it couldn't vorable, of places are equally good. When be ; but I observed, too, that I could not con. summoned as a juryman, to escape which ceive why he and his friends, who were supinfliction Charles Buller advised him to posed to be looking out for the coming Shiloh, register “as a Dissenting preacher," he should be seeking seats in a Gentile legisla; wrote of the courts at Westininster: ture." I asked what Baron Rothschild had said

to that. The whole aspect of the thing, the maddest to think the coming of Shiloh was a dubious

“Why,” Carlyle said, “he seemed looking stew of lies, and dust, and foul breath, business, and that meanwhile, etc., etc.” fills me with despair. I attended two days, neither of my cases coming on.

He stood still one day, opposite Rothschild's I inquired of

great house at Hyde Park Corner, looked at it all persons what I had to do or look for -- in a little, and said, " I do not mean that I want vain. There was no gleam of daylight in it King John back again, but if you ask me which for me, not so much as a seat to sit down mode of treating these people to have been the upon. At length I followed the hest of nature, nearest to the will of the Almighty about them and came quietly away.

- to build them palaces like that, or take the His account of his first ride on a rail.

for them, I declare for the pincers." way is admirable :

Then he imagined himself King John, with the

Baron on the bench before him. “Now, sir, The whirl through the confused darkness, the State requires some of those millions you on those steam wings, was one of the strangest have heaped together with your financing things I have experienced — hissing and dash- work. You won't?' very well,” and he gave ing on, one knew not whither. We saw the a twist with his wrist — “Now, will you?gleam of towns in the distance - unknown and then another twist, till the millions were

We went over the tops of houses yielded. one town or village I saw clearly, with its chimney heads vainly stretching up towards us

A droll incident is the following criti. under the stars ; 'not under the clouds, but cisin of the sage by a driver of a Chelsea among them. Out of one vehicle into anoth. omnibus : er, snorting, roaring we flew : the likest thing to a Faust's Night on the Devil's mantle; or lyle get in, observed that the “old fellow 'ad a

A stranger on the box one day, seeing Car. as if some huge steam night-bird had flung you queer 'at.” on its back, and was sweeping through un

'Queer 'at !"answered the driver, known space with you, most probably towards

‘ay, he may wear a queer 'at, but what would

you give for the 'ed-piece that's a inside of London.

it?" His wonderful power of describing Carlyle entertained a genuine admiralandscape comes out in many a passage. I tion for Peel, and the passages referring

towns.

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