In recurring to the list of my private pupils, it would be wrong in me to omit to mention that all the intercourse I had as his private tutor with Lord Lincoln-afterwards Duke of Newcastle and colonial secretary friendly and unaffected on his part as it always was, though some what alloyed by a constitutional stiffness and reserve, which, however, gave way upon close acquaintance, led me to regard him with sincere esteem, and to entertain a highly favorable opinion of his sterling character and of his solid if not brilliant abilities. He was unfortunate as a minister at the time of the Crimean war; but I feel persuaded that the country never had a public servant more honestly devoted to its best interests, or more thor oughly and conscientiously anxious, at whatever cost of labor and trouble to himself, to do his duty; and he was brave and unflinching as he was laborious. Thomas Dyke Acland (now Sir Thomas, and M.P. for north Devonshire), a gentleman commoner of Christ Church, after taking a double first in 1831 was elected fellow of All Souls. I have not much remembrance of him as a private pupil, but in a testimonial which he gave me when I became a candidate for the second mastership of Winchester, he spoke most kindly of his "personal experience of my qualifications as an instructor." Though I was considerably his senior, we had been friends and fellowcricketers at Harrow; and we were I think fellow-pupils of Saunders, at Cuddesdon, during part of the long vacation of 1829. I have also still a vivid recollection of his highly esteemed father, and of his own amiable disposition and exemplary character, both at school and college. Of Canning I have already spoken more than once. It is melancholy to think that both he and the Duke of Newcastle, like Lord Elgin and Lord Herbert, were taken away, almost simultaneously, when, humanly speaking, they could be ill-spared, and when many more years of useful and honorable public service might have been expected for them and from them. But besides my private pupils, both as an undergraduate and afterwards, I had a very large and varied acquaintanceprobably no man at Oxford ever had a larger partly in consequence of the different games and athletic exercises in which I took part, and partly because I made it an object of ambition to know every one who either was distinguished in any way or gave promise of distinction in after life; and what was then somewhat marked and uncommon in a Christ Church man (I trust it has ceased to be so now)- I showed no preference for men of my own college. For instance, among my contemporaries who still survive, in addition to those already named, I was specially intimate with Thomas L. Claughton (now Bishop of St. Albans), and with Roundell Palmer (now Earl Selborne), both scholars of Trinity, and both distinguished in the highest degree by university honors of many and various kinds; with Anthony Grant, fellow of New College (now archdeacon of St. Al bans and canon of Rochester); with John Eardley-Wilmot (now Sir Eardley, and M.P. for south Warwickshire), of Balliol, who gained the Latin-verse prize in 1829. I was also acquainted with Bonamy Price (now professor of political economy), of Worcester, who took a double first in 1829; with Frederick Rogers (now Lord Blachford), of Oriel, who took a double first in 1832; and with Piers Claughton (late Bishop of Colombo, now archdeacon of London), of Brasenose, and afterwards of University, who took a classical firstclass in 1835, and won the English essay in 1837: while my principal playmates at tennis were among the fellow commoners of Oriel, especially Francis Trench (elder brother of the Archbishop of Dublin), an old Harrow schoolfellow and friend, who took a classical second in 1828; Edmund Head (afterwards Sir Edmund, and gov. ernor of Canada), who took a classical first in 1827; and the Hon. Charles Murray, the best player of us all, who afterwards became a well-known diplomatist at several foreign courts. In 1831 I obtained the university prize for Latin essay on 66 Quænam fuerit Oratorum Atticorum apud populum auctori. tas," a subject which afforded me an opportunity of giving vent to my Tory sentiments in a way which probably found favor with the judges, and was certainly not unacceptable to my audience in the theatre. In the long vacation of that year I was free from private pupils, Thomas Agar the course of conversation, I remember, I ventured to ask him if he had seen Sotheby's "Translation of Homer," then lately published, and what he thought of it. He replied that he knew, he was sorry to say, little or nothing of Greek, but he could scarcely conceive anything better than Pope; and, by way of example, he quoted, with great emphasis, the rendering of the famous passage, which occurs twice in the Iliad, viz., in Book vi., 208, as the saying of Hippolochus to his son Glaucus, and in Book xi., 783, as the saying of Tydeus to his son Achilles, αἰὲν ἀριστεύειν καὶ ὑπείροχον ἔμμεναι άλλων ; perhaps intending it also as both a graceful compliment and a useful lesson to me as a young man, who, he had been told, had recently taken a first class at Oxford, and won the two University prizes for for three days, and the two poets parted, Latin verse and prose.* The visit lasted never to meet again in this world will be remembered that Sir Walter re for it Robartes, an old Harrow and Christ Church friend, who had just taken his degree (afterwards M.P. for Cornwall, and eventually made a peer by Mr. Gladstone), having offered me a seat in his carriage if I would accompany him into Scotland. I gladly availed myself of so pleasant an opportunity of visiting this country for the first time; and accordingly railways being then unknown we two posted together in an open barouche (with Robartes's confidential servant on the box to take care of us, or at least to relieve us from all care and trouble incident to our journey), along the north road from London to Edinburgh, and thence by Perth as far as Blair Athol. The professed object of our expedition, besides sight-seeing, was to shoot and fish; and we came fully equipped for both purposes, but in our youthful heedlessness and plenitude of hope, we had neg lected to provide ourselves with necessary introductions, and so our anticipations of sport came to little or nothing it happened to be a bad season for river fishing turned from. Italy only to die at Abbotsin consequence of drought- until, on our ford the following year. The separation return by Glasgow and the west, we affecting as it had been - was rendered reached Rydal Mount, where my uncle still more so when we came to read and kindly took compassion upon us, and ponder over the verses, consisting of four through application to the then Lord stanzas, which he had written that mornLonsdale, who sent over his keeper with ing, before breakfast, in my cousin's aldogs, obtained for us some grouse shoot- bum, and to whom, when he gave back ing on Shapfells. It was altogether a the book, he had said, "I would have fantastic but highly enjoyable excursion, done this for nobody but your father's and Robartes, as a travelling companion, daughter." In the verses-they were was a pattern of good nature and equaindeed the last lay of the great minstrel nimity. But I should scarcely have - there were several indications of dethought it worth recording if it had not fective sense and metre, as if the mind been connected with what follows. While had given way, for the moment, in the I was still at Rydal Mount, after parting process of composition, although nothing with Robartes, who returned homewards of the kind had been remarked in the alone, a letter arrived from Sir Walter Scott pressing my uncle to come and see him at Abbotsford before he set out for Italy. All was soon arranged for my uncle and his daughter to accept the invitation, which had been extended so as to include me. They were to travel leisurely in a pony carriage-my uncle's usual conveyance - and I was to follow by coach. Setting out after them, I did not arrive till the evening of the memorable day Tuesday, September 20 on which "Yarrow" had been "revisited." The next morning, however, I had the privi lege of accompanying Sir Walter and a portion of his guests, including Mr. Lock-years I was agreeably surprised to see it introducedhart, to view "fair Melrose," which I trust we did "aright" (it would be strange if we did not with such a guide !) though it was not "by the pale moonlight." In course of conversation during our visit. As Sir Walter, with his daughter and Lockhart, were to leave early on the Friday for London, we took our departure on Thursday about noon, my uncle and his daughter for Edinburgh, and I for Lufness, near Aberlady, to spend a few days with my friend Hope, who was then there alone reading hard for his approaching degree. How curious that when I next visited Abbotsford, some twenty years after, it was to be the warmly welcomed guest of Hope himself, who, in the * Many years afterwards I told the above anecdote to Dean Stanley, and after a further lapse of some with that power of memory and felicity of adaptation for which he was distinguished—in the first address which he delivered as rector of the University of St. same Greek words, emblazoned over his head in the Andrews, à propos of the inscription, consisting of the hall, or upper library, in which the address was spoken. interval, having married Sir Walter's only grandchild, Lockhart's daughter, had become its proprietor! And how sad, that within another twelve months, he had joined the Church of Rome, and we never met afterwards! But though personal intercourse had ceased between us for many years, shortly before his death I received from him a long and affectionate letter, in reference to the precise date of the days of the above memorable visit, which I had asked him to endeavor to clear up from his private archives, having observed that the details given concerning it in my uncle's "Memoirs" and in Lockhart's "Life" of Sir Walter do not altogether correspond. He sent me a very full reply, though obliged to use a clerk's hand; showing that Lockhart was careless and incorrect in his dates, as I had supposed; quoting for me the following from Sir Walter's diary, written after his arrival in London - -"Wordsworth and his daughter, a fine girl, were with us on the last day; I tried to write in her album, and made an ill-formed botch; no help for it," etc.; and concluding with the words, in reference to his weak state of health: "I am prevented from asking you to come here yourself just now. Lat er, perhaps, I shall be more fit, as I shall be always happy, to have a visit from you. Yours, affectionately, etc. Abbotsford, September 19, 1871." Alas! the hour of greater fitness never arrived. 66 CHARLES WORDSWORTH. From The Leisure Hour. GRANDMOTHER AND HER THREE LOVERS. BY MM. ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN. I. WHEN I was young I knew a certain old man named Christian Rosenthal, who is still well remembered by the inhabitants of Sainte-Suzanne. Whenever he passed before our house in front of the old corn-market, my mother used to say, "That is the King of Sweden, Rosenthal III. He is going to sing hymns in the Protestant church; his old comrade Jean Baptiste robbed him of his crown, and now he is out of his mind. The best thing that could happen to him would be for God to take him away." My curiosity was greatly excited by these words, and I watched poor old Rosenthal out of sight with wondering eyes. VOL. XLIII. 2207 LIVING AGE. He was a tall man, wearing a kind of tunic of green plush, and covered his head with a rat-tailed wig, under a broad threecornered hat. His wrinkled features, his prominent nose, and his narrow jaw gave him a thoughtful expression. He stepped timidly, leaning upon an ivory-handled stick; his waistcoat came nearly to his knees, and his legs were as lean as an old barn door fowl's. That is exactly as I remember old Rosenthal in the year 1820; and a few years after that, after his death, I married his daughter, Mademoiselle Anna Christian Rosenthal von Löwenhaupt, and took his widow, Françoise, into my family to help to bring up the children. It was then that the old lady, Grandmother Françoise, as we always called her-explained to me the strange words which I had heard from her, and which had never been out of my memory. Before the Revolution of 1789, the regi ment of Royal Marines on its return from Corsica happening to be at Toulon, three sergeants of that regiment began at the same time to court Mademoiselle Fran çoise Janin, daughter of a worker in ebony who lived near the soldiers' hospital. The names of these three lovers were Jacob Zimmer, Christian Rosenthal, and Jean Baptiste Bernadotte. Every week they came to her father's house, and her father made no objection. But as for the young fellows themselves, they were very much in each other's way, and would have had no objection each to exchange a few sword-cuts and get exclusive possession of Françoise's hand. They all three claimed to be gentlemen, for in those days none but gentlemen had a chance of promotion; yet Zimmer was only the son of a Strasbourg brewer, Bernadotte belonged to a respectable citizen family of Pau, and Rosenthal, who was a native of a small seaport on the north coast, claimed to be of noble descent because one of his ancestors had been hung at Stockholm for having tried to usurp the crown of Magnus in 1275, in consequence of which all the Rosenthals had been banished from Sweden forever. Although these events had occurred ages before Christian Rosenthal was born, he was all the same filled with a noble and a just pride. Now it happened one winter evening that the three comrades suddenly thought they would like to have their fortunes told by an old woman called Catinetta la Marseillaise, who lived in a back street near the harbor. Grandmother Françoise went on : We had just found out the alley, and we had been knocking at the broken door for a quarter of an hour; the gutters were all dripping round us, and the weathercocks creaking, but nobody answered. I was frightened, and I should have run away if Rosenthal had not held me back. Zimmer was trying to burst the door open, when a light appeared above us, dimly showing a garret window; then it came down, and presently a feeble voice was heard behind the door asking, "Who is there? What do you want?" "Let us in," cried Zimmer, "we want our fortunes told." In another minute the door was opened, and a small, pale, thin child carrying a lantern told us to come in, but not to make any noise for fear of the watch. We followed her down a dark and narrow passage, and the poor little creature, pushing open a door on the left, cried, "Here she is!" Then we saw Catinetta, sitting in a crazy old armchair in a corner before a small table with cards upon it. Her thick and matted grey hair hung tangled over her shoulders; she had a hump upon her back, and looked just like a wild-cat arching its back. The dirty copper lamp hanging from the ceiling lighted up in every corner heaps of poor rags; a torn gobelin tapestry closed in her alcove; a few broken chairs were visible in the dim light. There could scarcely be a more miserable hovel than this filthy old rat-hole. I was just thinking of retreating, when the hag began shuffling her cards, saying, "Well, who shall I begin with?" "Begin with this pretty maiden," said Zimmer; "and speak up, because we all want to hear." Then, taking hold of my hand, she examined me for a few minutes, while I was trembling all over. "Don't be frightened," said she; "you have a very good hand." Then, spreading her cards upon the table, she explained them to us, telling me that I had no need to complain of my lot; that I should be married to one of the three soldiers present; that we should have both joy and misery, but more of the former than of the latter; and that I should rise in the world. In a word, everything that these old women always tell young girls who like to believe them. I was laughing, when, picking up the cards and beckoning to Zimmer, she told him to cut. Having fallen back a little way, I listened, and I remember all her words just as if it had been yesterday. 66 You," she said, “will be a fighter all your life; you will carry your sword right and left, north and south, and you will never care where or why. You will be all for fine horses, good wine, and money to spend. You will go in different regiments because of your stubborn temper, but in the end you will have the command of a cavalry regiment." Zimmer did not believe that he should ever be a captain, because in those days none but nobles got promotion, and he was not of a noble family. "Never mind!" she cried; "what I tell you will be sure to happen, for so it is written. But it will all come to an end with a stroke." "What! at one stroke? "A ball will pass through your body!" she said. "That's all right!" cried Zimmer; “I ask for no better. You have satisfied me quite." He threw on the table all the big cop. pers that he had, and Catinetta swept them into a bag. Then came Rosenthal, but he and the old woman whispered, and I could only hear him replying, "I don't care; if only Françoise loves me it doesn't signify for the rest." From that moment I loved none but him. Only Bernadotte was left. He had sat quietly down in the darkest corner, with his legs crossed and his hat on one side, looking on without believing a word, and then the old woman, shuffling her cards, drew near to him, saying, "Come on, it is your turn." "Thank you," said he, "I don't care to know my fortune." Why so?" "Because I have not a sou." "No matter, I will trust you." No, thank you; I had rather have the pleasure of being surprised, supposing anything good is to happen to me.' "There now!" cried Zimmer; "you know my fate, and I want to know yours. We are old comrades; don't let there be any secrets between us. If you cannot pay, Jean Baptiste, I will stand; and if there's no help for it, I will pledge my watch." "You won't cut?" said the old woman; "then I will cut for you." Then, looking at the cards, she cried, "Were there ever such cards as these? Never have I seen the like!" and, turning to Bernadotte, | were shuffled and cut again for the fifth who did not move, she said with much time, and he who had believed nothing deference, "Come, young gentleman, I now believed everything, and followed the will show you such a fortune as nobody ever saw before! Show me your hand.” And as Zimmer and Rosenthal and I pressed him he came forward, laughing incredulously, and saying, 'Well, if you want me to, I will; it is not worth quarrelling about." He took off his glove and presented his hand, and the old creature now gazed upon it, shuffling her cards and muttering confused words. "That is well," said she, "now cut." He obeyed; and she, laying out the cards, looked more astonished still. Again she mixed the cards and made him cut three times, and the same cards came back each time. So that Bernadotte, losing patience, exclaimed, "Well, old lady, are you not satisfied yet? Is not that enough?" "Yes, yes," she replied, “I have seen it all; but I cannot believe my own eyes. For thirty years I have had all the principal people of the place officers, soldiers, and sailors-coming to consult me, but never did I see such a hand as this." movements of the old woman with a rest- His countenance and his manner had struck us with amazement. No one spoke, and Bernadotte, himself silent and selfcontained, seemed as if he was in a dream. After a few minutes' silence he abruptly said, "Let us go!" But remembering that he had given nothing, he threw down a crown-piece upon the table. We were following Bernadotte into the passage, when Rosenthal, following him closely, said, "I had rather have my fortune than yours; " and lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “Give up Françoise, and I will give up to you the throne of Sweden." No doubt he was only joking. But Bernadotte was serious; and standing there in the moonlight, he answered, "Done! give me your hand," and they did shake hands, much to my dissatisfaction. Zimmer and I came out last. He offered me his hand, saying, "Françoise, if you like, you shall be a captain's wife!" Jean Baptiste, hearing this, changed color, for he was very ambitious. He had His big red moustaches, his great bony enlisted at seventeen, believing that pro-face, and his huge jaws frightened me. motion would not always be for the rich. It was Bernadotte that I should have He, like many others, foresaw great polit-preferred. Not having heard him give me ical changes; to win battles was the dream up to Christian, I let go Zimmer's arm of his life. and took Rosenthal's, saying, So he answered not a word, and Cati. netta, again shuffling, gave him the cards to cut, and then giving them but a glance, she said, "Young man, you will become a prince! 66 "Oho! a prince!" he cried, with a mocking air. They have made no princes for a thousand years. That's out of the question." "But princes will be made," she rejoined with animation. "Come, cut again!" We were listening behind, wondering. Once Zimmer cried out, "I am not surprised at that. What is to be will be. If heaven and earth are to be moved for it, it will come to pass. I was always sure this Jean Baptiste was lucky. I could see that very plainly at Bastia, at Corté, at Calvi. He was born under a lucky star." But the game began again. The cards "Take me, Christian; I love only you, and will have no one but you." He was very glad, but Zimmer got angry. They insulted each other in the street, and next day they fought. Both were wounded. But their time was not yet, and in five weeks both left the hospital. Only Christian came to see me now. I never went to dance again, for fear of more quarrels, and it was known in our neighborhood that I was engaged to Rosenthal. II. THIS happened in 1788, in the year when the Notables were convoked at Versailles. Soon after, Rosenthal, being discharged, married Françoise Janin. But a year after, not knowing what else to do, he re-enlisted as a private soldier in the regiment of Auvergne. Françoise had a little money, and obtained from the Mar |