tening outside would have said that Old He stretched out his hand with a mo Roses was still speaking. By this resemblance the girl, Vic, had trailed to others. It was now apparent to many, but Dicky said afterwards that it was simply a case of birth and breeding - men used to walking red carpet grew alike, just as studowners and rabbit-catchers did. 46 The last words of the governor's reply were delivered in a very convincing tone as his eyes hung on Old Roses' face. And, as I am indebted to you, gentlemen, for the feelings of loyalty to the throne which prompted this reception and the address just delivered, so am I indebted to Mr. Adam Sherwood for his admirable language and the unusual sincerity of his speaking; and to both you and him for most notable kindness." Immediately after the governor's speech Old Roses stole out; but as he passed through the door where Vic stood, his hand brushed against hers. Feeling its touch, he grasped it eagerly for an instant, as though he was glad of the friendliness in her eyes. It was just before dawn of the morning that the governor knocked at the door of the house by Long Neck Billabong. The door opened almost at once, and he entered without a word. He and Old Roses stood face to face. His face was drawn and worn, the other's cold and calm. "Tom, Tom," Lord Malice said, "we thought you were dead "That is, Edward, having left me to my fate in Burmah--you were only half a mile away with a column of stout soldiers and hillmen you waited till my death was reported, and seemed assured, and then came on to England; for two things, to take the title, just vacant by our father's death, and to marry my intended wife, who, God knows, appeared to have little care which brother it was. You got both. I was long a prisoner. When I got free, I knew; I waited. I was waiting till you had a child. Twelve years have gone; you have no child. But I shall spare you yet awhile. If your wife should die, or you should yet have a child, I shall re "For the sake of our name," the other interjected stonily. "For the sake of our name. But I would have taken my punishment, taken it in thankfulness, because you are alive." "Taken it like a man, your Excellency," was the low rejoinder. "You will not wipe the thing out, Tom?" said the other anxiously. Tom Hallwood dried the perspiration from his forehead. "It can never be wiped out. For you shook all my faith in my old world. That's the worst thing that can happen a man. I only believe in the very common people now those who are not put upon their honor. One doesn't expect it of them, and, unlikely as it is, one isn't often deceived in them. I think we 'd better talk no more about it." "You mean I had better go, Tom." "I think so. I am going to marry soon." The other started nervously. "You needn't be so shocked. I'll come back one day, but not till your wife dies, or you have a child, as I said." The governor rose to his feet and went to the door. "Whom do you intend marrying?” he asked, in a voice far from regal or vice-regal; only humbled and disturbed. The reply was instant and keen. "A barmaid.” The other's hand dropped from the door. But Old Roses, passing over, opened it, and, mutely waiting for the other to pass through, said: “I do not at all doubt but there will be issue. Goodday, my lord!” The governor passed out from the pale light of the lamp into the grey and moist morning. He turned at a point where the house would be lost to view, and saw the other still standing there. The voice of Old Roses kept ringing in his ears sardonically. He knew that his punishment must go on and on. And it did. Old Roses married Victoria Dowling from the Jumping Sandhills, and there was comely issue, and that issue is now at Eton; for Esau came into his birthright, as he hinted he would, at his own time. But he and his wife have a way of being indifferent to the gay, astonished world. And, uncommon as it may seem, he has not tired of her. GILBERT PARKER. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. 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, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single copies of the LIVING AGE, 18 cents. THE EVENING PRIMROSE. SAD evening primrose, with your silken stole Hung delicately sunward, what a soul Looks from your patient eye! how frail and pale You stand among the flowerets! and your bowl Shows like a vanishing phantom of the grail. Young buds that point a finger to the blue Crowd on your stem, and youth and hope are new, While the sap runs; yet scarcely has the sun Warmed twice upon your petals ere their huc Fails into pallidness of death begun. And strewn about the grass the blossoms hide The poor discolored fragments of their pride, Or hang disconsolate with draggled vest, And clinging, sodden cerements, to abide The gradual working of the Alkahest. Was it for this you struggled into light? That one brief day should crown a tedious night? Was it for this you felt your way along The paths of natural growth, that from their THE haste, the bended knee, the cry That followed the departing form: Fine ardors quenched in caution cold, O weak and melancholy doom, To his young heart's bright festival To bid fair guests and not find room, For the most gracious guest of all: To hail the Holy, greet the Just, To ask, and crave, and still not stay, Wistful and frank to almost trust, Yet pass to gilded want away! O boundless misery, dismal fate Of minds that self but half subdue, To reach, of loftiest life, the gate, And valor lack to venture thro': To cheat the infinite desire, To halt and falter near the goal, To kill the spirit's mounting fire, To save the shadow, lose the soul! A story old, yet vital now The vision and the voice abide, A voice that clear, persistent, low, Breathes where the ghosts of beauty grow Murmurs amid the twilight pines, Speaks from shy blooms in spring that blow, For duty's self-forgetful pain, For stainless thought, for service high, But we indifferent, deaf, and blind, Carpets of blossom every orchard yields; So sang my best loved poets long ago, They tease us, and they loiter by the way. Spring mocks us now with many a golden hour Of sun and growth, half shown, then snatch'd from view; And we are left again in winter's power: A matchless gift. The wild, capricious time, From The National Review. THE EARL OF ALBEMARLE. active, was less exclusively barbaric, athletic, and frivolous than now; though, If you had wished to reconcile a red indeed, a few members of it may be Republican to the existence of a hereditary credited with a certain interest in such nobility, you could not have done better political tidings as the daily newspaper than introduce him to Lord Albemarle. may supply. Young Keppel's master at He was one of the most charming ex- Westminster, however, had recommended amples of a gentleman of the old school his father to renounce the project of makit has been my good fortune to meet-"aing him a lawyer, and advised the choice good old English gentleman, all of the of a more active profession. This was ancient time." In person he was slight, after sundry floggings for neglect of and of medium height, with fine features, lessons, from which the intercession of blue eyes, and a winning smile. His his playmate, Princess Charlotte, had manners were dignified, unaffected, and quite failed to save him, and after the courteous, without the smallest approach episode which caused his removal from to stiffness, pomposity, or self-assertion. the school, it having been discovered that His politeness was that of a good heart, the boy was in the habit of climbing over though the outward guise of it may have a wall and down a lamp-post or rope owed something to inherited high-breed- ladder in order to go to the play at night, ing, and native charm; with him it was leaving a dummy in bed to represent him. no mere veneer of politeness assumed by After this his family made him a soldier. some Chesterfield or Horace Walpole, so But in later life he combined a taste for superficial that it easily turns to vulgar reading in many different literatures with insolence in the presence of those counted the usual pursuits of an English couninferior, and on very slight provocation. try gentleman, and indeed became quite Scratch the gentleman, and you too often an accomplished linguist, with marked find the cad. But Lord Albemarle was a delight in, and aptitude for, learning man also of scrupulous honor and integ-languages. Although he never made rity; his was a very chivalrous nature pretensions to accurate scholarship, phias all would understand clearly, if it were proper for me to tell a characteristic anecdote relating to his life at court. He was tenderly considerate of the feelings of others; and though in early manhood he had been proud and impetuous, displaying some of that irritability of temper which often accompanies a sensitive and very affectionate heart, in later life this toned itself down to a gentle serenity. He was fastidious, and easily pleased, or ruffled, by the manner of others towards him; witty and humorous too; in his best days Lord Albemarle was born June 13, he had been the prince of good fellows, 1799, and died February 21, 1891; so that and of boon companions, accustomed to at the time of his death he was in his "set the table in a roar" by his amusing ninety-second year. He came of a disstories, in which, I believe, there was tinguished Dutch noble family; and an never a spice of malice - all bubbled interesting account of some historic inciover from a spring of innocent mirth dents, in which his forefathers took part, within. In later manhood he combined especially of famous battles, is contained culture and a certain love of literature in the first volume of Lord Albemarle's rather remarkably with the tastes and "Fifty Years"-as also of their later pursuits of a man of action; thus recalling exploits in England. Arnold Joost-Van in some measure the Elizabethan age, Keppel accompanied William of Orange when our upper class, though quite as to this country in the year 1688, and was lology was a favorite study. In English, the poets he cared for were Shakespeare and Byron. He read Italian, which he learned when quartered in the Ionian Islands as a youth, German (he was particularly fond of Schiller), French, Persian (he knew enough of it to enter into a long conversation with the shah when the latter visited England), and Hindustani. Till nearly ninety, his eyesight remaining good, and his faculties unimpaired, he read books in most of those languages. (The title is derived from the town of Aumale in France, the same which gives one to the Bourbon Duke; and our own Monk of the Restoration had been Duke of Albemarle.) This gallant, talented, and handsome Keppel stood high in the favor of William. created Earl of Albemarle for his services. | the forest, "Ah! he too must go!" Such was his feeling (as of personal attachment) to all the ancient trees on the estate. He had been familiar with them from boyhood; under their roof of greenery he had played with brother and sister, and in manhood he affectionately regarded them at all seasons of the year. Yet hard and conscientiously as he toiled, even sacrificing through long periods cherished inclinations and projects to secure an end, which to him appeared worthy of all effort and keen sportsman, a bold rider, and an excellent landlord, cultivating very friendly relations with his tenantry, so that his memory is dearly cherished by them to daughter he had never heard a single person speak an ill word about him; and that is much to say. I had not the privilege and pleasure of knowing the late lord till he was between eighty and ninety, when I met him at the house of my cousin, Mr. Ernest Noel, who had married his daughter, Lady renunciation, he was destined to suffer Augusta Keppel. He was then living deep disappointment, unforeseen circumwith them, either at his own house in stance baffling him at last; and QuidenPortman Square (where he died) or during ham was sold. But one is glad to know some months of the year at their country that eventually the fates relented; and residence, Lydhurst, near Hayward's much to the old man's satisfaction, the Heath, in Sussex. His memory when I estate was bought by Lord Egerton for his first met him, was still fresh as that of a daughter, who had married Lord Albeboy; and to hear him talk of past times marle's eldest grandson, the present Lord to hear him, for example, recount eagerly, Bury, so that the family place came again and with boyish freshness, his recollec- to the Keppels. For the rest, Lord tions of the battle of Waterloo was a Albemarle in his Norfolk home was a most interesting experience. He seemed to remember the incidents of yesterday and of middle age as well as he remembered those of youth, and such a continuously illuminated memory is rare. this day. A farmer lately told his Nearly up to the last he took a keen interest in politics, although he ceased to take an active part in them when, succeeding to the title, he devoted himself to the duties of a country gentleman, and to the management of his estate in Norfolk. This had been left to him much encumbered by his father; so he devoted years of patient assiduity and self-denying exertion to clearing it as far as possible of debt, and handing it down unembarrassed to his successor. For though "a Whig of the sixth generation," as he used to say, indeed a convinced Liberal, he yet retained a kind of feudal feeling concerning old family properties, and the desirableness of their remaining in the hands of their original possessors. One of his daughter's earliest recollections of her father, is of his taking her through the beautiful woods of their old home, Quidenham, and marking for the axe one noble tree after another, now and again exclaiming, sometimes with tears in his eyes, as he paused before a venerable patriarch of When Lord Albemarle was an old man, living in Portman Square, it became a custom for his friends to visit him on the anniversary of Waterloo - among them the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Cambridge, Mr. Gladstone, and Robert Browning - he being one of the very few surviving officers who could remember that great day; one, moreover, who had gained the good-will and respect of all who knew him. This visit of friends to Lord Albemarle grew and grew till it assumed quite the proportions and appear. ance of a levée. His unassuming, gracious manner on these occasions, so gratifying to himself, will long be remembered. The account he has given in his autobiography of his Waterloo recollections is very graphic, although he did not begin to write that book till he was seventy. But his memory had remained, as I have already observed, wonderfully accurate. So |