just now who knew all about it, and he put down a lot; but I forgot to make him tell me the day of beginning. What's a good place to date from?".


Phineas suggested Callender or Stirling. Stirling's too much of a town, isn't it? Callender sounds better for game, I think." So the letter which was to save the young grouse was dated from Callender; and Mr. Quintus Slide, having written the word, threw down his pen, came off his stool, and rushed at once at his subject.

"Well, now, Finn," he said, "don't you know that you've treated me badly about Loughton ?"

"Treated you badly about Loughton!" Phineas, as he repeated the words, was quite in the dark as to Mr. Slide's meaning. Did Mr. Slide intend to convey a reproach because Phineas had not personally sent some tidings of the election to the People's Banner?


"Very badly," said Mr. Slide, with his arms akimbovery badly indeed! Men on the press together do expect that they're to be stuck by, and not thrown over. Damn it, I say; what's the good of brotherhood if it ain't to be brotherhood?"


Upon my word, I don't know what you mean," said Phineas.

"Didn't I tell you that I had Loughton in my heye?" said Quintus. Oh-h!"


66 It's very well to say ho, and look guilty, but didn't I tell you?"

"I never heard such nonsense in my life."


"How on earth could you have stood for Loughton? What interest would you have had there? You could not even have found an elector to propose you."

"Now, I'll tell you what I'll do, Finn. I think you have thrown me over most shabby, but I won't stand about that. You shall have Loughton this session if you'll promise to make way for me after the next election. If you'll agree to that, we'll have a special leader to say how well Lord What's-hisname has done with the borough; and we'll be your horgan through the whole session." "I never heard such nonsense in my life. In the first place, Loughton is safe to be in

the schedule of reduced boroughs. It wil be thrown into the county, or joined with a group."

"I'll stand the chance of that. Will you agree?"


Agree! No! It's the most absurd proposal that was ever made. You might as well ask me whether I would agree that you should go to heaven. Go to heaven if you can, I should say. I have not the slightest objection. But it's nothing to me." Very well," said Quintus Slide. "Very well! Now we understand each other, and that's all that I desire. I think that I can show you what it is to come among gentlemen of the press, and then to throw them over. Good morning."


Phineas, quite satisfied at the result of the interview as regarded himself, and by no means sorry that there should have arisen a cause of separation between Mr. Quintus Slide and his "dear Finn," shook off a little dust from his foot as he left the office of the People's Banner, and resolved that in future he would attempt to make no connection in that direction. As he returned home he told himself that a member of Parliament should be altogether independent of the press. On the second morning after his meeting with his late friend, he saw the result of his independence. There was a startling article, a tremendous article, showing the pressing necessity of immediate reform, and proving the necessity by an illustration of the boroughmongering rottenness of the present system. When such a patron as Lord Brentford, himself a Cabinet Minister with a sinecure, could by his mere word put into the House such a stick as Phineas Finn, -a man who had struggled to stand on his legs before the Speaker, but had wanted both the courage and the capacity, nothing further could surely be wanted to prove that the Reform Bill of 1832 required to be supplemented by some more energetic measure.

Phineas laughed as he read the article, and declared to himself that the joke was a good joke. But, nevertheless, he suffered. Mr. Quintus Slide, when he was really anxious to use his thong earnestly, could generally raise a wale.

THE "eminent citizens" of Berlin gave a no less than 90 were Jews, a curious incidental dinner on Thursday week to the German Cus-proof of the fact we have so often pointed out, toms' Parliament and Count von Bismarck, to that Jews are coming to the forefront of German show their appreciation of commercial unity. political society. Nearly a third of the memThe dinner was a good one, and cost 1,000l., bers of the Prussian Parliament are, we believe, the subscribers were 140 in number, and of them Jews. Spectator, 30 May.

From an article in "Good Words" in memory of an anonymous contributor, the following poems are copied.



Close within a downy cover
Here at rest I lie,

Half awake and half in slumber
While the storms go by.

Sometimes vague impatient strivings
Stir my life within;

Hopes of being something worthy,
Longing to begin.

Then again a soft contentment

Broodeth o'er my state;
When the time comes I am ready;
Until then I wait.


Is this then life? 'Tis glorious, so fair!
The soft sweet breezes playing round our nest,
The summer fragrance growing everywhere,
The happy birds low cooing in their nest.

What meant the fear with which we put on life?
It is all good, and hope comes after joy;
Come anything in this delightsome strife,
Storms cannot daunt us, sunshine cannot cloy.


Kiss me, kiss me, kingly sun,

Till I glow with crimson light, Till along my veins shall run Liquid lustre glistening bright.

Let thy touch so piercing sweet

Hold me close and thrill me through, Till I faint with languid heat,

Till for rest from thee I sue; Hear me not, O king of light! Let me die within thy sight.


I wonder what has vanished from the world;
It was so bright a little while ago,
And now we leaves upon the branches curled
Hang wearily, just swaying to and fro.

The sun shines on, the cruel biting sun;

He will not veil one smile to ease our pain: What matter that, so his great course is run? The subjects suffer, but the king must reign. We are too weary even to complain.


The desperate clutch at the last weak hold
Grows looser and looser and looser;
The dizzying leap into depths untold

Comes closer and closer and closer.

[blocks in formation]

Wait for a moment, Death, I pray you wait;
I have been waiting years, O friend, for you.
Now that your hand holds mine in firmest grasp,
Let me look back, ay, ev'n from heaven, to

All the dear earth, and make my last adieu.

Mountains and purple mists and valleys green,
Rivers and moaning seas and lakes asleep,
Little white houses where the people live,
One little house where mourners watching

No, I am still, good Death-souls cannot

Yet it is fair, the earth, so fair, so good!
Suffer me, 0
While I implore you not to spurn the earth.
ye friends who dwell therein,
Surely to slight God's work is bitter sin;
Surely God does not end where men begin.

Must it be so then, Death- my tale half told?
Must I then leave my message incomplete?
All that I would have said will some one say,
Some one with wings where I had weary feet?
Let it be so-
one day we all shall meet.

[ocr errors][merged small]


No, there is nothing I want, dear,
You may put the candle by;
There is light enough to die by,
And the dawning draweth nigh.
Only the want remaineth,
Gnawing my heart away -

Oh, for a word of my mother's tongue,
And a prayer she used to pray!

O fy hên Gymraeg!

I wish I had taught you to speak it
While the light was on my brain;

It has vanished now, with the thousand things

That will never come back again.
Only a vision of waters,

Rising towards the flow,

Cometh instead of the countless hills.
The hills that I used to know.
O fy hên Gymraeg!

The people are frozen hard here.
Not you, my darling, not you!
And the air is thick with its yellow fog,
And the streets have slime for dew.
There is never a line of beauty

In all the weary rows,

And the saddest thing of all is this,

That the bareness no one knows;

DEEP-SEA SOUNDINGS. Mariner, what of the deep?

This of the deep:
Twilight is there, and solemn, changeless calm.
Beauty is there, and tender healing balm.
Balm with no root in earth, or air, or sea;
Poised by the finger of God, it floateth free,
And, as it treadeth the waves, the sound doth

Hither shall come no further sacrifice;
Never again the anguished clutch at life,
Never again great Love and Death in strife;
He who hath suffered all need fear no more,
Quiet his portion now, for evermore.
Mariner, what of the deep?

This of the deep:
Solitude dwells not there, though silence reign;
Mighty the brotherhood of loss and pain;
There is communion past the need of speech,
There is a love no words of love can reach;
Heavy the waves that superincumbent press,
But as we labour here with constant stress,
Hand doth hold out to hand not help alone,
But the deep bliss of being fully known.
There are no kindred like the kin of sorrow,
There is no hope like theirs who fear no morrow.
Mariner, what of the deep?

This of the deep:

Though we have travelled past the line of day,
Glory of night doth light us on our way,

They are quite contented, and think it fine. Radiance that comes we know not how nor

O fy hên Gymraeg!

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

With the shade of the mountain across his brow!


[blocks in formation]

From The Boston Transcript. SPRING VIOLETS.

LIFTING the leaves beside a brooklet's bed,

I caught a glimpse of violets looking through. Lo, all the ground beneath was stained with blue,

Soft as the azure bending overhead:

"There is never a longing the heart can There lay they dreaming close beneath my tread,


But a blessing shall fill it yet."

Gorphwysfa! O Gorphwysfa!
Gogoniant! † Amen.

"Oh (for a word of) mine own old Welch! the proverbial longing of the Welch in London.

↑ Gorphwysfa-The name of his home, common in Wales, meaning a resting-place. Gogoniant Glory. The old rallying shout at the open-air preachings, said to have first suggested to Handel the idea of his Hallelujah chorus.

So deeply hid that scarce the beaded dew That damped the hillsides of their covert knew; Only the weedy brook their pulses fed. I had not thought a single bud did grow In all the verdure of that grassy field, While they were thick as stars in winter skies; But careless feet like mine will never know Where beauty loves to hide, all unrevealed Save to the closer search of loving eyes.

A. G. W.




June 3, 184-.-So here I am, fairly launched on the voyage to fame, fortune, and happiness. It certainly looks like it, considering what means and appliances I have for the journey. A table and two chairs, so that I shall not have to take my breakfast on the floor, and that is an advantage at all events; a bed—at least such a thing as they call a bed in the Fatherland; a chest of drawers, some of which will really half open if you pull hard enough, and will very nearly shut again; a portmanteau, containing a reasonable quantity of clothes; a pipe; a box of cigars; an easel; and twenty-five pounds a-quarter of lawful English money. And yet I am better off than I ever was in my life before; and, above all, Grace loves me. Should I not be the most selfish, the most contemptible of men, if I do not work hard with her happiness in view? Yes; tomorrow I will begin to work with the energy of a Hercules. Meanwhile I will descend from my attic and go and smoke a cigar on the Terrace.

June 6.-Two days in my new quarters. Tibald received me well and kindly, and seemed pleased to welcome an Englishman to his atelier. I like the man so far there is largeness about him, and good-heartedness too, though his manner is dry and rough enough. As to his advice, why, of course it is obviously sound; but then I am no German, and can't work eighteen hours a-day. Besides, he wants me to set to work as if every year had thirty-six months, as if it were Art that is short and life that is long; and I have to crowd so much into two years. I see I must guide myself a little and be more than a little hard-mouthed, else I shall never get beyond a foot-pace, and that certainly would not suit me; nor, I think, Grace either.

rounded by its greatest existing works, ought I not to revel in joy? Bu, how can I altogether help fearing? Two whole years from her, and no means of hearing from her meanwhile or of letting her hear from me. I trust her, God knows; but still, what might not happen in two whole years? Oh, Grace, forgive me if my joy in your love is sometimes almost too great for me to bear.

June 27.-The voyage goes well on the whole, though of course diversified by many clouds and shadows of discouragement. Tibald and I are friendly, but I can't help fancying that he somehow looks rather down on my quickness and facility, and is always telling me what not to do. Besides, I have found out a great weakness in the master. He dogmatises, and either won't or can't argue. If I had twenty years before me, instead of not quite two, well and good; but to wait twenty years for Grace!

June 29.- So I have really seen it at last, the great Sistine Madonna, in the flesh. Is not that something to rejoice over! But yet -Bah! I never pretended to enthusiasm when I did not feel it. Feel it to-day I certainly did not. There was, however, that La Notte' of Correggio. I would have given-well, I would give up anything but Grace to have painted that; but I was certainly disappointed with the San Sisto. Nevertheless I must copy it, I suppose. Am I not an artist and at Dresden?

July 4.-I have thought a great deal about Grace to-day. Is there anything in sympathy, I wonder, and dare I think she has been thinking of me also? Yes, I dare. I trust her with my whole soul, and I would trust her to wait a hundred years, if need were. What have I not won in winning her! Beauty, goodness, and all the love of a good and bright and beautiful girl. When I think of her I needs must think well of myself, otherwise I should pay her an ill compliment. But yet I cannot help feeling that I do not deserve her. What am I that I should have obtained her love?

June 15.-Ought I not to be completely happy? The accepted lover of Grace Owen, freed from the old days of want, engaged in But at least I can try not to be unworthy that pursuit I choose, and would always of my great happiness. I will be as true to choose, above all others, under the direc- her in thought and deed as she, I know, tions of its greatest living master, and sur-will be to me. I will become great for her


sake. I have always loved Art, but hitherto | enough for that. But I can paint it in my without ambition. Now I have ambition, mind. What an age it seems since I said and of the highest kind - ambition for her good-bye to you in London, since I held that sake, and for Art's sake through hers. little white hand, and looked into those pure July 5.-The maestro was in a good grey eyes! Ah! you need not be afraid; humour to-day. He actually paid me a I shall never see any eyes like yours, nor compliment. I appreciated it, for he sel- hear any voice half so sweet. No, my own dom compliments. But what did he mean Grace, if work must win you, here goes! by that shrug of the shoulders? Bah! What do I care for his compliments, or his shrugs either? I know myself pretty well by this time, I suppose.

[ocr errors]

July 7.-I wonder what she is doing at this moment. How shall I fancy her? among her flowers perhaps; or, perhaps but what does it matter? Any way she is beautiful; any way she is doing that which best becomes her.

"Each your doing

Crowns what you are doing in the present deed,
That all your acts are queens."

July 9.I could scarcely attend to the
music this evening; but I suppose it was
good, as it filled my mind with thoughts of
Grace. If I could but write to her and tell
her how she is ever in my mind, how her
image is always before me in work, in
amusement, even in sleep itself! And yet
the world will say that I marry for money.
Well, let it say so.
We shall be able to
laugh at the world. I wonder, though,
what her father really thinks about it. As
a merchant and one who has always looked
well after the main chance, I should have
fancied that he would have doubted me,
were it not for his thinking me not unworthy
to be the husband of his only child. That
is strange; there I wonder with the world.
Yet why should not a merchant be unworldly
among his own household, and as clear-
sighted in matters of the heart as in those
of the market? Surely these qualities are
not the monopolies of artists; certainly not
of the artists whom I know.

Any way, she knows that I love her; she at least will never doubt me, for she never will have cause.

July 9.-I am getting on with the San Sisto. But I do not feel it, and dislike my work. After all, I only try at it, I believe, because it is the fashion. The maestro himself called it stupid of me, and said I had better stick to form, and so on and so I will. But, meanwhile, I have an idea-I will do something of my own I will paint a picture. Meanwhile, I will smoke a cigar on the Terrace.

July 12.-Dear Grace! I wonder after all whether you think of me as much as I of you. I would try and paint your portrait if I dared, but I am not quite conceited |

July 30.-I really think that the maestro is beginning to be pleased with me. He certainly seemed to be doubtful about me at one time. Emil says (what a chattering animal it is!) that he never does like men who are above their alphabet. Well, I agree with him, and I candidly think he was right in my case. However, I have done my share of work this week; certainly more than any of these slow Germans. So I will reward myself with a cigar or two on the Terrace. Herr Edward Maurice! August 2.-A letter at the Post Office for a wonder! and

from her father.

So; I am in my own room again. I will read it before the picture that I am painting for her sake.

[blocks in formation]

The devil! Is that all?

One thing, however, is clear- he does not intend me to continue the correspondence. August 11.- My picture is getting on. I never painted so well in England. The Ah, Grace! place seems congenial to me. we may not have to wait so very long after all.

August 20.-It was this day two years ago that I first saw her. How well I remember being introduced by Lawson, and how absurdly and unreasonably jealous I became of the poor fellow afterwards. By the way, I ought to write to him. Well, I have nothing else to do just now, so —

[blocks in formation]
« VorigeDoorgaan »