tombs of similar successes—the "Rec- punctual crowd of frock-coated men in reation of Lucifer,” and the like; but tall hats is deposited on the platforms the pictures of Victorian "society" of the great London stations, and every which Du Maurier drew with so much evening the same men, the majority humor and knowledge will always be now carrying the small "bass" bag prized by the historians of manners. In which contains the fish for dinner, the foibles of artists and musicians he again throng the outgoing trains which found an inexhaustible vein. There will take them to sleep in the country. was not a contretemps of the drawing. “I hear you live in the country now," room that escaped him. The awful says one business man to another in the appositeness of the enfant terrible, the columns of an American comic paper. self-sufficiency of the gilded youth, the “No; my wife and the children live in exquisite maladroitness of conventional the country. I live on the cars.” And speech-(who has forgotten the sublime unfortunately it is only by taking perremark of the young man, eager to be petual journeys that London profesagreeable to the ladies in his auditory, sional men can enjoy country life at all. "I think she's the ugliest woman I have No one can call the passing of a few ever seen, present company always ex. weeks of holiday in a farmhouse lodgcepted” ?)—these lighter aspects of our ing "enjoying country life.” To get the social intercourse were touched by Du real true pleasure out of English counMaurier with genial skill. Every try, you must live in the same place "craze” has found in him a humorous year after year, and the place must be, chronicler. The sudden passion in temporarily at the very least, your own. Belgravia for "slumming" has left There are no flowers so sweet as those many mementoes in his drawings. which spring from the seed planted by Only the other day we saw the Ladies the master of the house in his scanty Ermyntrude and Hildegarde cleaning leisure, and no vegetables half so good their own bicycles, while Jeames stood as those

watered and tended haughtily aloof. These humors were in the long summer evenings to the manhandled with admirable taste and un- ifest contempt of the gardener who refailing kindliness. We shall miss them marks with an audible sniff "Master sorely; we shall miss, too, the children won't let them peas alone till he's and the dogs that were a constant de- drownded them outright." Indeed, the light. Memory regretfully summons possibilities of delight in a garden are the aristocratic youngsters who passed endless, even if its owner can only be some of their little companions with in it in the early morning and the late their tongues out. "Those are the evening, with Saturday afternoons ani Joneses, mamma; they are so exclu- an occasional whole day off thrown' in. sive!” It was a happy spirit that caught But it is not only in what are in the these amiable incongruities for thirty strictest sense of the word country years and the public for which Du pleasures that the man who lives out of Maurier worked is not ungrateful. town will be the gainer. His knowl

edge of men outside the narrow limits of his particular class will also be immensely widened. In London he may

believe that the artisans and working From The Spectator.

men have, in a modified degree, the ON LIVING IN THE COUNTRY.

same tastes and amusements as he has The eruption of red-brick villas, himself; in the country he knows that which spreads yearly wider over the this is so. For every summer evening home countries, like a new scarlet-fever, he sees the cottagers, after working is a visible sign of the great change hours, digging in their gardens and atwhich has come over the habits of the tending to their “ 'lotments," while the London professional man in the course

younger men practise cricket, and th: of the last ten years. Every morning a women sit outside their cottage doois

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"vor to chatty and zee yolks go by,"– very point in village life, and it is as the rustic equivalent to paying a round accurate now as it was when it was of calls. If, indeed, a man has had the drawn sixty years ago. One of her good fortune to be brought up in the characters always spends the morning country, he will possess an invaluable hour when the tradesmen are making knowledge of the class below him, for their rounds looking out of the parlor he will have mixed with it on an window for the better convenience of equality almost impossible in later life. spying on the purchases of the neighHimself a dirty little imp of six or bors, on which he comments to his wife seven, he will have chased butterflies in the following terms: "Kitty, my dear, with the village boys, and have felt a there's a leg of pork, a calf's head, and respect for the boys of eleven or so quite a rump steak gone to Mrs. Martha uninfluenced by the amount of their Budgell. What can she be doing with fathers' incomes. Did not those of the three meats? Single lady-bad healthelder boys who were “not on my side, only two servants-very rich, to be sure father," threaten to ravage the garden and three meats. Very odd, ain't it, at midnight in revenge for some out- Kitty, my dear. . . . And there, there, break of “cockiness" on the part of their I declare, is a delicate little turkey poult youthful neighbors? This wider sym- to Mr. Mogg. Sure there must be some pathy and comprehension between man mistake there! white meat! white fowl! and man may be put down as not one of ... Good la! come here, my dear, only the smallest of the advantages of living see! here's the fishmonger, and sure if in the country.

he ain't taking a pair of soles to the But there is always the wrong side Moggs!-well, this is the very strangest of the tapestry, and two capital objec- thing-ain't it, Kitty, my dear ... to tions to life in the country come to mind think of the Moggs, with three hundred at the moment. One is, of course, the thousand pounds, having white meat, weather, which invariably does the white fish, wbite fowl! I declare I wrong thing at the wrong moment. should not wonder if their soup was "Providence," said the farmer, when white too!" There are many men who told that Providence had sent the find it really impossible to live under drought which was spoiling his root- the constant scrutiny of their neighcrop, “Providence mostly does things bors. They lead the most blameless wrong, but sometimes the Almighty is and open of existences, and yet the too much for him." Unfortunately, the knowledge that the petty details of occasions when Providence is overcome their households are being spied and in the matter of weather are few and far commented on makes life absolutely between. The other terrible drawback intolerable to them. These sensitive is the universal prevalence of the people will certainly be more at ease as village spy. People who live on breezy insignificant items in a crowd, than in commons or "in silent woody places” the prominence of living in one out of may be exempt from this plague, but it the half-a-dozen "gentlemen's bouses' may almost be said that for the man in the ordinary English village. The who lives in a country village there is London neighbor is too busy with his no such thing as privacy. Who knows own work to care what is happening or cares, if you live in London, how next door, while in the country there many joints of butcher's meat are con- are sure to be people whose only way of sumed every week at your dinner-table? killing time is to take a deep interest in In the country, on the contrary, the the domestic details of their own and local butcher will mention the fact to others' lives. For whether he lives in the cook next door, who will tell her the country or the town, man's great mistress, who will tell the curate's wife object during the whole of his short life when she comes to tea and muffins at is to kill time as effectually as possible half past four. Miss Ferrier gives us in by work or play, and he thinks that he “Destiny" a picture illustrating this has passed a well-spent day, who can say to himself at night, “What, evening the purposes of talk? And the answer already; I had no idea it was so late." must certainly be, "In

London." Of course, one great argument which brings us to the conclusion that agạinst living in the country is the the real way to make the most of absence of society. And if society country life is to be a Londoner, and must always mean parties in great to live in the country near enough to houses, this is quite true. You cannot town to enjoy the society of London expect very young people to enjoy liv, friends who will form at any rate a ing all the year round in the country. welcome seasoning to the indigenous In the summer, with tennis, picnics, neighbors. And if you can persuade boating, and now bicycling, the country some of your London friends to settle is bearable enough,—but in winter near you, your happiness will be “Towered cities please us then, and greater still. This applies chiefly to the busy hum of men.” For the noise the inhabitants of villadom. The man of a crowded room, the bright lights, who inherits an estate of his own has the flowers, and the general air of duties and pleasures of quite a differgaiety are immense factors in the en- ent kind, into which it is not proposed joyment of the very young. But for to enter here. But to be the contented people whose pleasure in society con- inhabitant of a villa it is well to be a sists in liking "good talk,” the country Londoner, to whom the mere escape is no such bad place. A country house from bricks and mortar will be a pleasparty is one of the most favorable ure unknown to those who take counplaces for talk imaginable, and even try surroundings as a matter of course. the humble two or three guests, who Add to the pleasures more properly are all the dweller in the small villa belonging to the country a certain is able to assemble, will sometimes amount of social life, partly supplied make conversation decidedly worth by London friends, and you will have listening to. But, it will be urged the satisfaction to a very great extent where in the country can you meet of eating your cake and having it still. people who will be worth inviting for

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Cycling and Heart Disease. It is cal- Cycling, whilst dangerous in affections of culated that more than a fourth of our the aortic valves, is often of great service adult population "cycles" or meditates in uncomplicated mitral disease. Of cycling. Of this fourth a very consider- course it must be cycling in moderation. able proportion have reached or passed Hill climbing and fast riding are permiddle age. It cannot but be that a num- emptorily excluded, as is also riding which ber of these are the victims of "heart causes an approach to breathlessness. disease.” What is the effect of cycling The great point for the beginner in such upon a person with a heart affection? cases is, we hold, that he should spend The answer is that everything depends adequate time and money in preliminary upon the nature of the affection. We tuition, and not be in too great a hurry have long ceased to regard all heart affec- to be “off on his own account.” Whilst tions as of an identical degree ci serious- on this subject we cannot but express ness, and long left off the unscientific surprise at the general incompetence and practice of wrapping all victims of heart want of intelligence of the average "cycle" disease in metaphorical cotton wool. It is tutor. As a rule he is one of the stupidest now understood that most sufferers from creatures breathing. There would appear cardiac trouble profit by exercise, and to be an excellent opening for both men that some are advantaged by a good deal and women tutors in this new amusement of exercise, and that of a vigorous kind. and recreation.


NOVEMBER 14, 1896.



From The Atlantic Monthly.

London, and, looking casually down, CHEERFUL YESTERDAYS.

saw beneath my feet the name of Oliver It is a mistake to suppose that we did Goldsmith, it really gave no more sense not have, sixty years ago, in New En- of a dignified historic past than those gland, associations already historic. stones at my birthplace. Nor did it At home we had various family por- actually carry me back so far in time. traits of ancestors in tie-wigs or

In the same way, our walks, when powdered hair. We knew the very

not directed toward certain localities treasures which Dr. Holmes describes for rare flowers or birds or insects, -as as gathered in his attic, and never were to Mount Auburn sands, now included tired of exploring old cupboards and in the cemetery of that name, or the hunting up traditions. We delighted to extensive jungle north of Fresh Pond, pore over the old flat tombstones in the where the herons of Longfellow's poem Old Cambridge cemetery, stones with

had their nests,-were more or less long Latin inscriptions, on which even

guided by historic objects. There was the language is dead, celebrating vir- the picturesque old Revolutionary Pow.

der Mill in what is now Somerville, or tues ending in issimus and errimus. The most impressive of all was the Vassall

the remains of redoubts on Winter Hill, monument, raised on pillars above the

where we used to lie along the grassy rest, and bearing no words, only the slopes and repel many British carved goblet and sun (Vassol),—the slaughts. Often we went to the fascimonument beneath which lie, according nating wharves of Boston, then twice as to tradition, the bodies of two slaves:- long as now, and full of sea-smells and

crossed yards and earringed sailors. A At her feet and at her head

neighbor's boy had the distinction of Lies a slave to attend the dead, being bad enough to be actually sent to But their dust is white as hers. sea for a dubious reformation; and

though, when he came back, I was forThis poem was not yet written, but bidden to play with him, on the ground Holmes's verses on this churchyard that he not only swore, but carried an were familiar on our lips, and we sighed alleged pistol, yet it was something to with him over his sister's grave, and live on the same street with one so over the stone where the French exile marked out from the list of common from Honfleur was buried and his boys, and to watch him from afar exepitaph was carved in French. More- hibiting to youths of laxer training over, the “ever-roaming girls” whom what seemed to be the weapon. (I may Holmes exhorted to bend over the wall here add that the only other child with and “sweep the simple lines" with the whom I was forbidden to play became floating curls then fashionable,—these in later life an eminent clergyman.)

own neighbors and sweet- Once we undertook to go as far as Bunhearts, and it all seemed in the last de ker Hill, and were ignominiously turned gree poetic and charming. More sug. back by a party of Charlestown boys,gestive than all these were the eloquent “Charlestown pigs," as they were then fissures in the flat stones where the usually and affectionately called, -who leaden coats of arms had been pried charged us with being “Port chucks" out to be melted into bullets for the (that is, from Cambridgeport) or “PointContinental army. And it all so linked ers" (that is, from Lechmere Point, or us with the past that when, years after, East Cambridge), and ended with the I stood outside the Temple Church in mild torture of taking away our canes. LIVING AGE.





Or we would visit the ruins of the

And, tragical to relate, that evening Ursuline Convent, whose flames I had in the study Barty and I fell out, and seen from our front door in Cambridge, it led to a stand-up fight next day. standing by my mother's side; all that There was no preparation that evenI had read of persecutions not implant- ing; he and I sat side by side reading ing so lasting a love of liberty as that out of a book by Châteaubriand-either one spectacle. I stood by her also the “Atala et Réné” or “Les Natchez,” I day after, when she went out to take forget which. I have never seen either the gauge of public opinion in consulta- since. tion with the family butcher, Mr. The study was bushed; M. Dumollard Houghton; and I saw her checkmated was de service as maître d'études, alby his leisurely retort, “Wal, I dunno, though there was no attempt to do any. Mis' Higginson; I guess them biships thing but sadly read improving books. are pretty dissipated characters.” The If I remember aright, Réné, a very interest was enhanced by the fact that a sentimental young Frenchman, who youthful Cambridge neighbor, Maria had loved the wrong person not wisely, Fay, was a pupil in the school at the but too well (a very wrong

intime, and was held up by the terrified deed, in his case), emigrated to North preceptress to say to the rioters, “My America, and there he met a beautiful father is a judge, and if you don't go Indian maiden, one

Atala, of the away he will put you all in jail.” The Natchez tribe, who had rosy heels and effect of the threat may have been some- was charming, and whose entire skin what impaired by the fact that her was probably a warm, dark red, alparent was but a peaceful judge of pro- though this is not insisted upon. She bate, and could only have wreaked his also had a brother, whose name was vengeance on their last wills and testa. Outogamiz. ments. At any rate, there stood the Well, René loved Atala, Atala loved blackened walls for many years, until Réné, and they were married; and the State was forced to pay for them; Outogamiz went through some cereand there was no other trace of the mony besides, which made him blood affray, except the inscription “Hell to brother and bosom friend to René-a the Pope" scrawled in charcoal on a bit bond which involved certain obligatory of lingering plaster. We gazed at it rites and duties and self-sacrifices. with awe, as if it were a memorial of Atala died and was buried. Réné Blundy Mary-with a difference.

died and was buried also; and every Thomas Wentworth Higginson. day, as in duty bound, poor Outogamiz

went and pricked a vein and bled over Réné's tomb, till he died himself of exhaustion before he was many weeks

older. I quote entirely from memory. From Harper's Magazine,

This simple story was told in very L'HONNEUR BRITANNIQUE EST SAUF. touching and beautiful language, by no

On Wednesday afternoon M. Bros- means telegraphese, and Barty and I sard was buried in the Cimetière de were deeply affected by it. Passy, a tremendous crowd following “I say, Bob!" Barty whispered to me, the hearse; the boys and masters just with a break in his voice, “some day behind Mérovée and M. Germain, the I'll marry your sister, and we'll all go chief male mourners. The

off to America together, and she'll die, walked in another separate procession and I'll die, and you shall bleed yourbehind.

self to death on my tomb!"

"No," said I, after moment's Béranger and Alphonse Karr were

I'll marty present among the notabilities, and thought. “No-look here! speeches were made over his open your sister, and I'll die, and you shall grave, for he was a very distinguished bleed over my tomb!" man.

Then, after a pause.



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