and, thanks to his insouciance, that worthy | mate chattels. Here stood his college was none the worse for the incident.

prizes, Plato and Gibbon - there were A similar story is told of an old clergy- his favorite commentators; a row of man going to preach at an unrestored". 'poetry and other bookes, good ones, I church in Lincolnshire, some thirty years warrant yė " jostled the best works on the ago. He entered the great well-like pul- topography and natural history of the dispit, and then disappeared. At length, as trict. Now they are all ignominiously anxiety became general, the clerk drew tied up in lots and flung on the floor, nigh, opened the pulpit door, and, on look-fingered by curious laborers and bargaining in, found that the floor had given way, doubtless owing to the body of divinity which the clergyman had brought in with him. He, too, had slipped through, but was caught by a beam, and thus upheld, though rendered invisible to the congregation. The clerk helped him off his undignified position, and addressed him, with a smile, in the vernacular, "Be thou hurt? We'll have a new floor put in agin thou comes to preach to us next time!

It is time, however, to turn from these reminiscences. Even to the incumbent whose tenure of the benefice has exceeded half a century (and there have been many notable examples of clerical longevity during late years), the day of release from his earthly labors comes at last. The passing bell, to which he has so often listened, now tolls for him; but he is beyond its mournful tones, and hears no more. In a few days the long procession of sorrowing children and friends winds up to the little grey church on the hill, and, amid many expressions of kindly love, the old man is laid under the churchyard turf, which is ever (and naturally) greener than any other grass. The pent-up tide of human interests in the village once more flows into its accustomed channels, and all are eager over their teacups to know who the new parson is to be. In due time he comes; and soon he, too, brings a bride, and a few more years slip by, and again the cycle of duty and happiness revolves, and the round of clerical life so runs on from age to age, and the old parsonage is peopled with many a ghost of past possessors, while, spring by spring, the oak on the lawn renews its strength and looks down in unchanged vigor on the changeful spectacles of humanity which successively act themselves out by its side. But there is one scene on the death of an incumbent which is more melancholy to a thoughtful observer than even the departure forever of his widow from the home of her early wedded happiness, and that is the sale of the good man's books. Probably he possessed a useful and well-chosen library, which he valued more than any other of his inani

loving Jews, their titles murdered by the
rustic auctioneer as he puts them up,
and each lot, amid merriment sufficiently
incongruous under the circumstances,
knocked down to country bumpkins for a
few shillings where the late owner had
spent pounds. It is not the loss at which
such private libraries are always sold
which is so affecting, as the dispersal
of treasures which had been carefully
amassed and deeply valued by their dead
owner. Book-lovers soon learn to look
upon their idols as possessing sympathies
and feelings like themselves. The pa-
thetic side of a book's character is now
prominently brought forward. To think
of that "Icon Basilike," in its tattered
leather covering, being carried off by the
farrier to wrap his horse-balls in; while a
little Elzevir, for which a farmer has, in
total ignorance of its estimation, given
sixpence, is thrown into his light cart,
and becomes his children's plaything on
reaching home! What stronger irony
has fate in store for books as well as for
their owners? Therefore the sad specta-
cle of the sale of the parson's books con-
tinually repeats itself around us, and is,
for the same reason, continually disre-
garded. To the contemplative spectator,
however, no more touching conclusion
could be found than this, the last scene
in the life of a country parson; "Vanity of
vanities, all is vanity." Yet these rever-
ent thoughts may well be intensified as
he looks on to a day when some other
books are to be opened, not only for the
poor parson, but also for himself; and
then he murmurs the grand old prayer-
with which the parson had been so famil-
iar—that, with one above as
our Ruler
and Guide, we may so pass through things
temporal, that we finally lose not the
things eternal."

66

From Chambers' Journal. THOMAS CARLYLE.

Ir is one of the disadvantages of those who are the contemporaries of any great man that they are not so favorably situ

ated as are subsequent generations for | magazines, and fairly began his literary knowing him, and forming a true estimate career. In 1826 he married Jane, daugh of his character and his work. For exam-ter of Dr. John Welsh, Haddington, and ple, we actually know less of Tennyson a lineal descendant of John Knox. She and Froude and Sala, than we do of was a remarkable woman; taught herself Swift and Addison and Pope. Of Thomas Latin while but a girl; and was in the Carlyle, we are equally ill-informed; and habit when a child of secreting herself Mr. Froude, we dare say, has no fear of under her father's table so that she might his prophetic reputation when he says listen to the philosophic and learned regarding the "Sage of Chelsea," that "a conversation that passed between him hundred years hence perhaps people at and his friends. Settling in 1828 at large will begin to understand how great Craigenputtoch, Dumfriesshirea propa man has been amongst them." erty belonging to his wife Carlyle devoted his whole time to literature; " Sartor Resartus" and the remarkable essay on Robert Burns, being part of the fruit of this solitude.

Not much is known of Carlyle's parents, but what is known of them is highly favorable. He himself calls his father the "remarkablest man he ever knew." He rented a small farm, and afterwards a A letter written to Goethe in 1828, from larger, at Ecclefechan, Dumfriesshire. Craigenputtoch, revealed the simple life He had great energy and decision of char- which he led in that region, with its loneacter, and was more than ordinarily intel- ly surroundings. The neat, substantial ligent; possessing, it is said, an extensive dwelling stood far away from any popuvocabulary of words, which, as we see in lous neighborhood, being fifteen miles the case of his distinguished son, has not north-west from Dumfries; but two ponies been lost in the family. He was an elder which they possessed carried the author in the Kirk, on good terms with the min- and his wife whither they would. Here ister, and hoped at one time to have seen he had come to simplify his mode of life his son Thomas in the high places of the and remain true to himself. "This bit Kirk too. His end was somewhat unex- of earth is our own," he remarks; "here pected, he having died suddenly while we can live, write, and think as best Thomas was in London negotiating for the pleases ourselves." On his library table issue of "Sartor Resartus." His mother, was piled a cartload of French, German, like the mothers of many great men, was a American, and English journals and periwoman of more than ordinary sagacity odicals. Writing to De Quincey in Deand penetration; and to this it is said is cember of the same year, he remarks: to be attributed much of that shrewd in-"Such a quantity of German periodicals stinct, and caustic insight into character, and mystic speculation embosomed in which marks the writings of her son. plain Scottish peat-moor being nowhere Carlyle, who was born on the 4th else that I know of to be met with. December 1795, received his education We have no society, but who has, in the partly at the parish school of Ecclefechan strict sense of that word? I have never and partly at Annan, entering Edinburgh had any worth speaking much about since University before he had completed his I came into this world. . . My wife and fifteenth year. Here he studied hard in I are busy learning Spanish; far adclassics and mathematics, and read exten-vanced in Don Quixote' already. I sively and assiduously in all kinds of lit-purpose writing mystical reviews for erature. Through too close attention to somewhat more than a twelvemonth to study he injured his naturally robust come; have Greek to read, and the whole health; and speaking to the Edinburgh universe to study (for I understand less students in 1866, he sounded a very seri- and less of it)." ous warning to them on this point. During the visit which Carlyle made to Designed by his parents for the Church, Scotland to discharge the duty in connec a change of views when he was twenty- tion with his appointment as lord rector one made this impracticable. We next of Edinburgh University in 1866, the sad find him teaching mathematics in the intelligence reached him of the sudden burgh school of Annan; and thereafter death of his wife in London; and few classics and mathematics at Kirkcaldy. things of the kind are finer than the epiTowards the end of 1818 he again ap- taph, which he caused to be placed on peared in Edinburgh, with no definite her tombstone in the family buryingprospects before him, but with decided ground at Haddington: "Here likewise leanings towards literature. He executed now rests JANE WELSH CARLYLE, spouse translations, wrote for the reviews and of THOMAS CARLYLE, Chelsea, London.

...

She was born at Haddington, 14th July 1801, only child of the above JOHN WELSH and of GRACE WELSH, Caplegill, Dumfriesshire, his wife. In her bright existence she had more sorrows than are common, but also a soft amiability, a capacity of discernment, and a noble loyalty of heart which are rare. For forty years she was the true and loving helpmate of her husband, and by act and word unweariedly forwarded him as none else could in all of worthy that he did or attempted. She died at London, 21st April 1866, suddenly snatched away from him, and the light of his life as if gone

out."

doubts; perhaps not at all times free from despondency. In his "Life of Sterling," he mentions a visit which he made to the latter in the autumn of that year, when "from a shelf, I remember," he says, "the good soul took down a book modestly enough bound in three volumes, lettered on the back Carlyle's French Revolution,' which had been published lately; this he with friendly banter bade me look at as a first symptom, small but insignificant, that the book was not to die all once. 'One copy of it at least might hope to last the date of sheep-leather,' I admitted; and in my then mood the little fact was welcome." In July of that same Ralph Waldo Emerson found him at year, John Stuart Mill had reviewed the Craigenputtoch in 1833, and described him" French Revolution." "This is not so as tall and gaunt, with cliff-like brow, much a history," he began, "as an epic self-possessed, and holding his extraor- poem; and notwithstanding, or even in dinary powers of conversation in easy consequence of this, the truest of histo command; clinging to his northern accent with evident relish; full of lively anecdote, and with a streaming humor, which floated everything he looked upon." They discoursed pleasantly of books and philosophy, and Emerson accidentally discovered that his aspirations were directed towards London, whither he removed to Cheyne Row, Chelsea, in the following year.

Between the years 1837-40, Carlyle delivered four sets of lectures, only one of which "Heroes, Hero-Worship, and the Heroic in History has been published. These lectures created a great sensation in literary circles, and were delivered to crowded and select audiences. Charles Sumner, who heard him, declared that "he seemed like an inspired boy; truth and thoughts that made one move on the benches came from his apparently unconscious mind, couched in the most grotesque style, and yet condensed to a degree of intensity." Harriet Martineau, who had something to do with the arrangements for these lectures, did not consider them very successfully delivered, owing to his unconcealed nervousness, and the fact that he did not seem to enjoy his own efforts. These public appearances he termed in a sportive vein " "my day of execution." As utterances, however, they are probably among the most notable of these times; but except in 1866, when he addressed the Edinburgh students, he has not again appeared in this capacity.

It was some time before Carlyle became certain of having caught the ear of the public to any adequate extent. Even so late as 1837 he was not without his

ries." Mill, in his " Autobiography,"
expresses his belief that the early success
of this work of Carlyle's was much accel
erated by what he said of it in the West-
minster Review. Immediately on its
publication," he explains, "and before
the commonplace critics, all whose rules
and moods of judgment it set at defiance,
had time to preoccupy the public with
their disapproval of it, I wrote and pub-
lished a review of the book, hailing it as
one of those productions of genius which
are above all rules, and are a law to
themselves." In 1839, yet another trib-
ute of high praise, mingled with clear and
candid criticism, appeared in the same
magazine, this time from the pen of John
Sterling. "What its effect on the public
was," says Carlyle, "I knew not, and
know not; but remember well, and may
here be permitted to acknowledge, the
deep silent joy, not of a weak or ignoble
nature, which it gave to myself in my then
mood and situation; as it well might."
Upon his publication of the "Letters of
Cromwell" later on, he discovered that
he had at last found due recognition, and
was surprised at the swiftness with which
the first edition was bought up.
these historical works deserved to suc-
ceed; for, apart from all other literary
excellences, they were the honest produc-
tions of a diligent hand. No one who
examines and compares them with other
histories bearing on the same period and
events, but must acknowledge the careful
sifting of facts, the minute attention to
accuracy of detail, which everywhere dis-
tinguish these writings of Carlyle.

And

In passing his "French Revolution" through the press, his patience was sorely

of his investigations or studies, is said to be confined to a few good books, the newspaper holding a very subordinate place. His library is one of the smallest that ever belonged to a great man of letters, which is explained by the fact of his magnificent memory; a book once read is to him as a sucked orange, to be thrown aside.

tried, a misfortune having befallen him
similar to that which befell Isaac Newton.
Carlyle had lent the manuscript of the
first volume to John Stuart Mill, who
carried it to Mrs. Taylor, the lady whom
he afterwards married. By some strange
accident, it was left exposed, and a stupid
servant lighted the fires with it. When
the author heard of this misfortune, he
was like a man beside himself, as there Carlyle has not only made his mark on
was scarcely a page of the manuscript his own times as an essayist and historian,
left. Sitting down at the table, he strove but also as a conversationalist of the first
to collect his thoughts, and began to re- rank. His talk, like his books, throws
write, but only to run his pen through a lurid if somewhat one-sided light on
each page as it was finished. Doggedly a subject. His tongue has still the
persevering, however, Carlyle finished "sough" of Annandale about it
the volume at last, after five months' keen, sharp, singing voice, in the genuine
labor. To Thomas Aird, who met him Border key, and tranquil and sedate with-
in Dumfriesshire afterwards, he said that al, neighborly and frank, and always in
in his opinion the second effort was better unison with what is uttered." Harriet
than the first.
Martineau thought his sympathetic mood
the finest, and that excess of sympathy
had been the master - pain of his life.
Margaret Fuller declared that he "sings
rather than talks. He pours upon you a
kind of satirical, heroical, critical poem,
with regular cadences." In conversation,
he allows his mind to follow its own im-
pulses as the hawk follows its prey; and
he generally bears down all opposition.

"a

In 1844, we printed in this journal an admirable letter addressed to a young man by Carlyle, on a proper choice of reading. Wise letters of his are continually coming to light, weighted with thought, experience, and kindly sympathy. As a rule, he has not been afraid to tell the truth, and make a plain statement of facts to his correspondents. In many respects, in quality if not in quantity, he There is some humor in the story restands alone as one of the most notable lated by Miss Martineau, that Carlyle, correspondents of this generation. In dissatisfied with his house at Cheyne answer to Dr. Carlyle of Toronto, who Row, went forth one morning on a black had been seeking advice as to improving horse, with three maps of Great Britain himself in his profession of school-teacher, and two of the world in his pocket, to exhe wrote a letter, in which he enforced plore the area within twenty miles of diligence and patient energy in the ac- London, for a more suitable residence, quirement of any subject; knowledge yet stuck to his old house after all. The gained by personal exertion being far same authority indicates that his health more productive than if a teacher had has improved under growing public recoghelped. He quoted the instance of Cob- nition, although whether this has anything bett learning French while his fellow- to do with the improvement, may be quessoldiers were drinking and idling; and of tioned. In the correction of proofs he is his own brother John who learned Latin exceedingly fastidious, revise following with little outside help. The books read revise. Owing to this weakness, Miss in the hours of relaxation must not be Martineau offered to see the first reprint fools' books. "A very small lot of books of his "Miscellanies" through the press, will serve to nourish a man's mind, if he and thus save unnecessary expense. He handle them well; and I have known in- declined, however; and coming in one numerable people whose minds had gone day from his printer's in Charing Cross, all to ruin by reading carelessly too many he was laughing prodigiously, having enbooks. The wisest men I have known|joyed the following joke all the way from in this world were by no means great the printing-office. In urging on the readers good readers, I should rather printer, that worthy had replied: "Why, say, of a few books that were wise, having sir, you really are so very hard upon us an abhorrence of all books they found to with your corrections! They take so be foolish. A man gathers wisdom only much time, you see!" The author urged from his own sincere exertions and reflec- the plea that he must be accustomed to tions, and in this it is really not very much that sort of thing, and that he had got that other men can do for him." Carlyle's such work done in Scotland. "Yes, inreading, apart from the immediate subject | deed, sir," interrupted the printer. "We

are aware of that. We have a man here from Edinburgh; and when he took up a bit of your copy, he dropped it as if it had burnt his fingers, and cried out: 'Mercy on us! have you got that man to print for? Lord knows when we shall get done with all his corrections!""

and will doubtless be properly appreciated by many young parents of the present day.

Here are a few quotations concerning the little heir, Lord Fitzmaurice : :-February 23, 1766. "Lady Juliana Dawkins came to see Lord Fitzmaurice, and admired him as he deserved. I dressed him in garter blueasque, the color that becomes him best."

March 5, 1766. "Lady Charlotte (Finch) came to see Lord Fitzmaurice in the morning, admired him, and assured me he was much bigger than any of the princes had been, and than Prince Wil liam is even now, though allowed to be a very fine child. She further flattered me by saying she saw a strong likeness to Lord Shelburne. General Clerke came afterwards and looked at him, and was polite about him."

Carlyle doubtless owes his healthy longevity to the strict habits of temperance and exercise maintained throughout his career. Besides walking, he was at one time fond of omnibus riding. While his "Life of Friedrich II." was in progress, he declared that he rode in this way twice round the world. A walk before breakfast is part of his daily programme. Work commences after breakfast; his working hours are short, generally from half past ten or eleven till two. The afternoon is devoted to exercise, either that of a walk with an old friend or an omnibus ride. The interesting commemoration of his eightieth birthday in the shape of a gold medal and an address presented to him by a wide circle of admirers, and by a gathering of friends in Germany, will Most mothers will be able to imagine be fresh in the memory of most readers. the pride Lady Shelburne felt when she A remarkable old man, both in his physi- recorded the next step in his infant lordcal vitality and bis intellectual vigor, still ship's nascent career. On the day followlooking abroad upon the world out of ing we read: "Lord Fitzmaurice was those cavern-like eyes, regretting our fol- put in a tub of water, and bore it much lies, pitying our misfortunes, and deeply better than I expected." The ensuing sympathetic with all forms of sorrow. entry, written two years later, is interestMay he in those latter days enjoy the resting as showing how a lady of rank spent which his life of laborious industry has so her time at that period. amply earned for him!

From St. James's Magazine,

DIARY OF AN ENGLISH LADY ONE HUN

DRED YEARS AGO.

April 8, 1766. — "We arrived in town. I was quite surprised at the improvement in my dear little child, who now takes notice of a watch."

July 19, 1768. "My lord's business calling him to town, he left me very early this morning with no other company to supply his place than my dear little boy, who after the solitude of the first day was past, has done it better than could have been imagined. I spend my time as follows; at eight I rise, dress, and take the IN the memoirs of Lord Shelburne, child, without his nurse, one turn round amid the history of the stormy scenes of the shrubbery before breakfast. Immepolitical life, in which, from the middle of diately after I go out with him again till the last century to the beginning of the a little after eleven, when he sleeps. I present, Lord Shelburne played no unim- then read my chapters in my blue dressportant part, there occur occasional ex-ing-room below stairs, and from that time tracts from the diary of his first wife, till two the 'Mémoires de Mdle. de Montwhich will, we believe, be found interest- pensier: then go to see Lord Fitzmaurice ing to many of the present day. Coming dine, and teach him afterwards to spell as they do in the form of rough memo- words, till it is time to dress for my own randa, made principally for the amuse- dinner; after which I have twice, taken ment of the writer, and not carefully composed with a view to their future publication, they give an insight into the private life of that period which is instructive and but seldom obtained; the pleasant pride, for instance, with which Lady Shelburne chronicles the doings and progress of her infant son is most amusing,

the air or walked with him, and amused myself in planting Chinese seeds, which Mr. Sullivan gave me, in pots for the hothouse, and after working some of my Paris net trimming, and seeing the child put to bed, walk in the shrubbery till nine o'clock, and then come in and read 'The Adventurer,' or 'Les Caractères de la