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Contrasting with the pleasures or frivol. | a charm in his genius. His house was in ities of Bath a century ago the fashionable the Grove, and he would take Cumberevangelicalism must not be forgotten. land's arm, to be conducted to the PanThe Countess of Huntingdon had founded tiles, and endeavor to recollect the situa there the first chapel of her "connexion," tion of the steps, etc. "He enjoyed a a structure of Gothic design, with three vivid recollection of the pictures of men eagles at the upper end for pulpit and and books which he had seen." reading-desks. Herein the lively, though Cumberland relates that he held a conearnest, advocate and chancellor Erskine, versation with Primate Robinson respectbetween the periods of his naval and mili-ing the number of seceders who, in times tary service, in 1768, became associated of past laxity, had fallen off from the with a very serious display of the liveries established mode of worship, and gone of woe. His father, the Earl of Buchan, astray after strange and whimsical teachhad been a regular attendant at the ers. The primate remarked: "If you chapel. Of his obsequies Whitefield wish to get these people back again, you "All has been awful, and more than must sing them in. They won't come to awful. On Saturday the corpse was your preaching; but they have itching taken from Buchan House, a word of ex- ears, and will listen to a hymn or an anhortation was given, and a hymn sung in them; and you have an organ." the room where it lay; the young earl, "Our rural choir," Cumberland conwith his hand on the head of the coffin, tinues, "soon became conspicuous for the countess dowager on his right, Lady its merits. Mr. Benson's admonitions, Anne and Lady Isabel on his left, and backed up by our melodies, thinned the their brother Thomas next to their moth-ranks of the seceders; and a certain feer with a few friends. On Sunday morn- male apostle was deserted by her closest ing all attended in mourning at the early congregation, and thenceforth devoted sacrament. They were seated by them- herself to a favorite monkey, who profited selves at the foot of the corpse, and, with more by her caresses." their servants, received first, and a particular address made to them." At the funeral service, preached by Whitefield, at eleven o'clock on the same day,

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Tunbridge Wells appears to have rejoiced in an exemplary clergyman, the Rev. Martin Benson, according to Cumberland's "Autobiography." This "Sir Fretful Plagiary" settled at Tunbridge Wells after he had been, as he conceives, extremely ungratefully treated by the ministry under Lord North; as they would not reimburse him for expenses connected with his mission to Spain during the period of the American war. He consequently retired to Tunbridge Wells and continued to write voluminously plays, a poem after Milton, and a novel called "Henry," etc. But he says that he can forgive the ministry for the sake of Lord North; when he calls to mind "the hours he passed with that nobleman in the darkness of his latter days." There was

Cumberland says that Tunbridge Wells had a certain number of residents throughout the year in his days; and that the morning papers reached them by dinthe evening papers by ner-time, and breakfast next morning. He seems to have derived much gratification from the society of Lord Sackville, whose house of Stonelands, also known as Buckhurst Park, is at about five miles' distance from the Wells. He relates that Lord Sackville took his last leave of Lord Mansfield at Stonelands in 1785. The latter, who was then about eighty years of age, was much disturbed and affected by the death-like character of the countenance of his friend. Cumberland observes that his manner had more of horror in it than a firm man ought to have shown.

Five years previously Lord Mansfield had appeared to great advantage in his refusal to accept recompense for the loss of his valuable library, etc., in the Gordon riots.

He wrote, in answer to an official request for a statement: "Besides what is irreparable, my pecuniary loss is great. But how great soever that loss may be, I think it does not become me to claim or expect reparation from the State. I have made up my mind to bear my misfortune as I ought; with this consolation that it came from those whose object

manifestly was general coufusion and destruction at home, in addition to a dangerous and complicated war abroad."

Although the hours of the public rooms at Bath were so uncompromisingly regular, it by no means follows that there were no later private dissipations. A Windsor correspondent of the Westmin ster Review for August, 1781, writes that, on the prince's birthday,

There was a grand ball at the Castle, which did not break up till five the next morning, and was remarkably brilliant and crowded. The entertainment was upon the same plan as those given by his Majesty at the Queen's palace; with this difference, that the three tables were in one room, viz. St. George's Hall. Their Majesties, Prince Edward, Princess Royal, Princess Augusta, and Princess Elizabeth; Duchess of Argyll, Ladies Effingham, Egremont, and Weymouth supped at a small table facing the company, under a canopy. The Prince of Wales danced with Lady Augusta Campbell, etc., etc. Their Majesties, etc., supped at twelve o'clock, and retired at five.

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The general habits of the period suggest agreeable suppers after the assemblies at Bath and Tunbridge Wells, with perhaps china bowls of punch or silver jugs of bishop to render the evening festive. Cards in private as well as public are indicated when Mr. Simkin writes:

A sum, my dear mother, far heavier yet Captain Cormorant won, when I played lansquenet:

Two hundred I paid him, and five am in debt.

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LORD BUTE'S BEAVERS.

A CORRESPONDENT writes: "About a month ago, staying in Rothesay, I went to visit what is there known as the beaver wood, and venture to send you a descrip

Late hours are suggested in the description of what I then saw; and after will

tion of the ladies.

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describe a visit of two days ago, when all was changed. In Bute the beaver wood is almost the most interesting show of the island. Driving past the woods of Mount Stewart, and seeing the magnificent mansion Lord Bute is now erecting, we come to a strip of fir plantation about one hun. dred and fifty yards wide, and are informed it is the beaver wood. An old, intelligent man, who has charge, volunteers to show us all he can. His heart seems allied to his charges, and really fond he is of describing what he has seen. A scramble over a wall, a walk of a quarter of a mile through a covert, and we come to the beaver inclosure. The inclosure is simply made by a wall about three feet high, and wire paling another three feet. The belt of trees before mentioned runs

through the whole, with a small burn entering at one end and running out at the other. This inclosed space gave the first

at present. He was then much surprised to learn some had to be caught to send to the Fisheries Exhibition, and hoped it could be managed. Two days ago I went to see how the capture had been conducted, and if successful. This has made me write these few lines. Two beavers sent to the exhibition - destruction everywhere! I walked down the covert with the keeper; how pleasant! A roe darted from us, a brace of grouse off the moor near at hand, and then to the beaver inclosure; but what a wreck! Every dam broken through, their burrows dug out, their house a mass of ruins. I asked, Where are the beavers ?' 'Dead!' said the keeper; 'over a hundred people were here watching, and trampling, and assisting, and frightening.' It was pitiful to see the house pulled down and scattered about; the burrows, with their new clean tree shavings, constructed by themselves, all to be dug up and knocked about for the sake of a capture. Had Lord Bute known the difficulty, I am sure he is too much of a naturalist, and of too kindly a disposition, to have allowed this to be done. But the beavers are exterminated, their splendid work is demolished, and one of the most interesting zoological sights in the British Isles is a thing of the past. This is worth reflecting on when one sees those two poor beavers in the Fisheries Exhibition. In justice to the keeper, I should say he could do nothing, as he is comparatively a cripple, and his superiors were present. In the process of demolition, the construction of the house' interested the keeper very much.

beavers the necessary running water, | embankment, regardless of stone and growing trees, and also captivity. The masonry. Of course, being in the dayinclosure was made, and two pairs of time, we could not see the beavers thembeavers brought from Canada about eight | selves. The keeper told us that, about years ago. Now commenced the most twelve months ago, he counted twenty-two interesting engineering exploits (I speak at once, but could not say what there were as an engineer) ever executed by an animal in the British Isles. The four beavers found that the most advantageous position to build their first dam was at the outlet of their confined space; but their house must be started. A small dam was constructed in an advantageous position, and the house was commenced; also the dam No. I was proceeded with. A description of the house I will give presently. In constructing the dams, the greatest ingenuity must have been exercised, and I have only time to describe some of the most salient points governing the construction. The trees bordering the burn were invariably felled to be of advantage in forming props to sustain a dam. In one case of a tree felled the branches themselves would almost form a dam, in another a prop, in another a tree felled half-way up would form the main support, and so on; but every tree felled showing the greatest ability for construc tion and security against floods and storms. Sticks and mud combined, appeared to construct a sound and sufficiently watertight embankment. In the inclosure and up the burn, five embankments of this character were constructed, and always kept in good and sound repair; apparently to secure facility for feeding and security from danger. From each dam a few entrances were made to burrows running perhaps fifteen or twenty yards from the water underground; but all entrances were under water; and, wherever beavers were at work, a flap of a tail on the surface of the water would send all to imagined security. Their house was constructed more like a Caffir | It was found to be divided into two comhut than anything else. It was in the big dam, and stood about five feet out of the water, being carefully covered with mud, and having a ventilating shaft in the centre, constructed of sticks placed crosswise. Two entrances into this huge beehive, opposite each other, and under water, gave access to the beavers, and it was supposed that either gave access to the centre of the house. But nothing of this was known. We walked by a portion of the big dam which the beavers had to form against a masonry wall; but not be lieving in the skilled labor of the Scotch artisan, they dug below to the solid ground, and put in their stick and mud

partments, and the two entrances met half-way round the house, then an inclined passage took them into the centre of the house. The construction of the floor, roof, rafters, etc., was of a primitive but substantial character, all showing the constructive ability of the beaver." We are at a loss to understand how or why the capture of two beavers should necessitate the death of twenty others, and trust that there may be some mistake in the report. No doubt the survivors have had a great scare, and are probably hiding. Let us hope they will live to recon-. struct their house.

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For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage.

Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, cheeks and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co.

Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, 18 cents.

DRIED LAVENDER.

OH, the sweet dried lavender!

Oh, the more than scent in it!
The butterflies and bees astir,

The pipe of linnets pent in it!
Brick and smoke and mire have fled,
Time and space between drop dead;
Oh, the sweet dried lavender !
I can hear the pigeons whirr,
I can count the quarters chiming,
I can watch the ivy climbing,

Close it clings from eave to basement,
Clasps and shadows all the casement.
Within, against the raftered wall,
The oaken press stands black and tall;
I see its folded linen store
Glean athwart its open door,
I smell the lavender fresh-dried
Strewing all the shelves inside.
Unmade is yet your shroud, mother,
Nor yet you are in heaven;
You count the sheets aloud, mother,

And smooth and lay them even.
Your jingling keys, with music low,
Measure your steppings to and fro;
And, sorting, piling, still you croon
Some soft, half-uttered cradle tune.

Oh, the sweet dried lavender !
I hear the wise old tabby purr
Curled on the window-sill asleep,
Where winter's sunlights start and creep.

I hear, without, familiar babel

Of turkeys and of geese,

I, perched upon the kitchen table,

In a smock above my knees;
My head is all a golden mop;
Upon my cheek the round tears drop;
The frosty morning weather nips
My nose and toes and finger-tips.

Mother, so quick you leave your sheets!
The shelf of sugars and of sweets
So well you rifle for my meal,
Almond and fig and candied peel !
You chafe my little palms, mother,
You kiss away their cold,

You take me in your arms, mother,
And I am five years old.
The Month.

MAY PROBYN.

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SONNET.

IN MEMORIAM W. C. P.

Drowned at Oxon, summer term 1882. As at some revel, when the cups are crowned, And mirth and merriment are at their height, One feaster passes forth into the night Alone, on some far distant journey boundPasses out silent without sign or sound, Fearful lest word of leave-taking should blight The feasting, and with darkness mar the light; So, without word you passed, when all around Was sweet, and life was brightest and most gay; When earth was fairest, and the sky most blur And like a sheet of silver. Isis shone, And we, bent on the pleasures of the day, Heeded you not, my brother, nor e'en knew That you were going, till we know you gone. Chambers' Journal.

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