all power to their lawyers to defend the cause One sturdy Cagot family alone, Belone by name, kept up a lawsuit, claiming the privi lege of common sepulture, for forty-two years; although the curé of Biarritz had to pay one hundred livres for every Cagot not interred in the right place. The inhabitants indemnified the curate for all these fines. M. de Romagne, Bishop of Tarbes, who died in seventeen hundred and sixty-eight, was the first to allow a Cagot to fill any office in the Of course the inhabitants of Biarritz were Church. To be sure, some were so spiritless all the more ferocious for having been con- as to reject office when it was offered to them, quered; and, four years later, a carpenter, because, by so claiming their equality, they Miguel Legaret, suspected of Cagot descent, had to pay the same taxes as other men, inhaving placed himself in church among other stead of the Rancale or poll-tax levied on the people, was dragged out by the abbé and two Cagots; the collector of which had also a right of the jurats of the parish. Legaret defended to claim a piece of bread of a certain size for himself with a sharp knife at the time, and his dog at every Cagot dwelling. went to law afterwards; the end of which was Even in the present century it has been that the abbé and his two accomplices were necessary in some churches, for the archdeacondemned to a public confession of peni- con of the district, followed by all his clergy, tence to be uttered while on their knees at to pass out of the small door previously apthe church door, just after high mass. They propriated to the Cagots in order to mitigate appealed to the parliament of Bourdeaux the superstition which, even so lately, made against this decision, but met with no better the people refuse to mingle with them in the success than the opponents of the miller Ar- house of God. A Cagot once played the connauld. Legaret was confirmed in his right gregation at Larroque tricks suggested by of standing where he would in the parish what I have just named. He slyly locked the church. That a living Cagot had equal rights great parish-door of the church while the with other men in the town of Biarritz seem- greater part of the inhabitants were assisting ed now ceded to them; but a dead Cagot was at mass inside; put gravel in the lock itself, so a different thing. The inhabitants of pure as to prevent the use of any duplicate key,— blood struggled long and hard to be interred and had the pleasure of seeing the proud apart from the abhorred race. The Cagots pure-blooded people file out with bended head, were equally persistent in claiming to have a through the small low door used by the abcommon burying-ground. Again the texts of horred Cagots. the old Testament were referred to, and the We are naturally shocked at discovering, pure blood quoted triumphantly the precefrom facts such as these, the causeless rancor dent of Uzziah the leper (twenty-sixth chap- with which innocent and industrious people ter of the second book of Chronicles), who were so recently persecuted. Gentle reader, was buried in the field of the Sepulchres of am I not rightly representing your feelings? the Kings, not in the sepulchres themselves. If so, perhaps the moral of the history of the The Cagots pleaded that they were healthy accursed races may be best conveyed in the and able-bodied; with no taint of leprosy near words of an epitaph on Mrs. Mary Haud, who them. They were met by the strong argu- lies buried in the churchyard of Stratford-onment so difficult to be refuted, which I have Avon. quoted before. Leprosy was of two kinds, perceptible and imperceptible. If the Cagots were suffering from the latter kind, who could tell whether they were free from it or not? That decision must be left to the judgment of others. What faults you saw in me, Pray strive to shun; LADIES AND WIVES. A lady of rank came I WAS x years old in the year of grace_x X x. to be churched after the birth of her first child, I will say so much as, that I do not mean I was 6 when the obsequious clergyman, thinking woman years old in a. D. 36, nor 7 in A. D. 49. I dare say too common a term to apply to her, thus altered PROFESSOR DE MORGAN, or some of your mathethe petition: "O Lord, save this lady thy servant."matical correspondents, will be able to find my The clerk, resolving not to be outdone in polite-age. - Notes and Queries. -ness, immediately responded: "who putteth her ladyship's trust in thee.". Notes and Queries. PART X.-BOOK III. CHAPTER VIII-VISITORS. "Are we to have a party here to-day, Maria Anna?" asks Mrs. Burtonshaw. "I might have had a decent cap on, you know, if anybody had taken the trouble to mention it. What is it to be?" "Not a party, my dear Elizabeth, only a few friends from town to spend the day-a country repast, and a stroll by the river," says Mrs. Cum berland. I wonder, for my part, how people can have such bad hearts!" But a great many other persons fill the room to distract the attention of Mrs. Burtonshaw. There are ladies in gorgeous brocade, and ladies in simple muslin; there are little parterres of bonnets so leafy and flowery that they might almost do to replace the clusters of floral ornament in these rustic baskets on the lawn. There are gentlemen in all the varieties of morning costume, and gentlemen in full dress, looking very odd and uncomfortable in the fresh early daylight young gentlemen with clumps of moustache like "A few friends-there's no end of people at Sylvo, who have nothing particular to say; and the gate," cried Sylvo, stretching himself out be- elderly gentlemen, who are rampant, each on his fore the mirror. Appearances there are not un- particular hobby, riding very hard by the side of satisfactory, it is to be presumed, for Sylvo sets Mr. Cumberland, who, in his delightful candor, himself up as a pillar at one side of the open is ready to trot with all. A cluster of the most bow-window, and waits with great composure for distinguished members of the company have the inroad of guests. gathered round Mrs. Cumberland, and Mary is The flowing of the tide immediately becomes surrounded by a gay crowd, on the extreme boraudible by a great many voices and footsteps in der of which stands Zaidee with Aunt Burtonthe hall. This hall is square like the house, well-shaw by her side; everybody is asking who evesized and airy, and decorated with some rybody is, or answering the same. The mirror "images," as Mrs. Burtonshaw calls them, and sparkles with the figures that move upon it-the a series of casts of the friezes of the Parthenon. The indefinite sounds merge into a universal laugh, and then the door is opened, and Mr. Cumberland enters at the head of a numerous partya party much too numerous to be announced one by one. It is "Steele's last" which brings in Mr. Cumberland's company with such a breath of laughter. "Some one remarked how cooled, and makes his bow. the hall was," said a stout gentleman, with a chuckle. No wonder," says he, "look at all the friezes;" whereupon Sylvo's teeth appear once more under the clump of brushwood, and a great "ha, ha," from the bow-window swells the universal mirth. "Who is Mr. Steele ?" asked Mrs. Burton-thing more, my dear? shaw. "A poor rascal of a painter-any work to do, ma'am?" says somebody, putting his hand to his forehead, and pulling a lock of long hair in mock obeisance. "Got a wife and family-do it as cheap as another. Miss Cumberland here will speak to my character-servant, ma'am." gay colors and universal animation. Mrs. Burtonshaw in her turn becomes interested, and plies Zaidee with questions. Who is this gentleman, for instance, who is a little bald and pries about with an eye-glass? Perhaps he hears the question, for he immediately advances to Miss Elizabeth Cumberland, to whom he has been present "Have you seen Mrs. Montague Crawson?" asks this personage, peering eagerly through his eye-glass." Have you not been introduced to my wife, Miss Elizabeth? That is Mrs. Montague Crawson yonder, that lady in the green shawl.” "Then he has only his wife, I suppose, and nosays the puzzled Mrs. Burtonshaw, when Mr. Crawson has taken himself away. "Oh yes, he has his eye-glass," says an adjacent young lady, "just as these young gentlemen who support the window have a moustache, each of them." The speaker laughs innocently, unwitting that this is Sylvo's mother who refuses to smile upon her. Mrs. Burtonshaw draws herself apart in kindling wrath. ran?" asks somebody in the crowd, addressing the former hero of Mrs. Burtonshaw's sympathy. "Yes, it's quite true, I put in the word," acknowledges Mr. Steele. Do you think I haven't timber enough in my head to paint another? How is Mrs. Steele? Mrs. Steele is not here, she's gone over the Channel. Don't mention it, but I have as good a chance as another; all the ships in the world don't get safe to their journey's end." "Poor old Steele, he is coming to poverty in his old days," said somebody else behind. With "Tell us how you did about that pictureunmingled consternation Mr. Burtonshaw look-that great old master. Is it a Steele or a Zurbaed on and listened. If the poor gentleman was coming to poverty, was that a subject to be mentioned in polite society to hurt his feelings?and old! The "poor gentleman" in question was of a slim and pliant figure, closely buttoned up, with long hair untouched by gray, and a face of beardless youthfulness. "It will give me great pleasure, sir, I am sure, to be able to help you in any way," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, with a courtesy of antique politeness, puzzled, yet compassionate; and Mrs. Burtonshaw gave the cut di- Zaidee, who was looking on with a smile, felt rect to the unfeeling personage who proclaimed her hand vehemently grasped by the indignant the poverty of Mr. Steele, and whom Mr. Cum-hand of Aunt Burtonshaw. "Come away from berland was now presenting to her. "I have no that inhuman man, child!" called the good lady patience with men who trifle with other people's under her breath. "What does Maria Anna mean, feelings, my love," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, retir- I wonder, by bringing such people here? enough ing to give her countenance to Zaidee "of to destroy the morals of her children. Mary! course, though he is an artist, the poor gentle- Why, Mary is laughing with him, as if he were man does not wish any one to know his poverty. the most innocent person in the world. Who is DXCIV. LIVING AGE. VOL. XI. 7. this poor Mrs. Steele, Elizabeth, my love?" asked Mrs. Burtonshaw, with sad solemnity. "She is a very pretty lady, Aunt," said Zaidee, laughing a little at the very matter-of-fact understanding of good Aunt Burtonshaw. "Well, it is very sad for her, poor thing," said Mrs. Burtonshaw," but I am glad enough that he is married, for Mary's sake, and all these young people. You are a great deal too frank, you young ladies. Come here and sit by me, Elizabeth. I cannot let you go near that dreadful man." other men, with the purest self-denial, but he could not get his wit weeded out from his life as he could his play-going. With the most unpretended simplicity he bewailed this sad necessity to "talk nonsense," which he could not overcome; and Mrs. Burtonshaw's indignation awoke the slumbering self-reproof. He who called himself a religious man had compromised his character!-perhaps he had crossed the borders of innocent jesting-perhaps jesting was never at all an innocent amusement. Mr. Steele did not recover himself till his audience were wearicd of waiting, and it was only when the power of his self-condemnation was expended that the fresh heart which kept him youthful came back with a rebound; he passed out into the sunshineamong the gay young voices, the sounds and the fragrances of summer- and was himself again. But they continue to hear this dreadful man, notwithstanding; and he is telling some bon mots and puns of his own, with the simplest glee in the world. "What are you doing copying this?' says Hilton to me one day. It was a sketch of a bull's head in the British Institution. What is the British Institution now, you know," said Mr. Steele. "Why, there's no interest in it.' 'No,' There was no end of people, as Sylvo said, says I, no interest-it's all capital!'' To and there was no end to the tastes and inclinaMrs. Burtonshaw's infinite disgust, everybody tions which animated them. Mr. Cumberland's laughed, and everybody continued to stand round beautiful lawn was dotted with gay groups, and Mr. Steele, expecting something else to laugh at. the white blossoms of the acacia fell upon other He had just begun to another of his reports, when heads than the musing head of Zaidee. Then a little lady standing by touched him on the came an afternoon dinner-"a country repast," arm. "I see you have quite forgotten me," said as Mrs. Cumberland called it-and then a great the little lady, who was plump and pretty. "Ideal of talk and music, of flirtation and criticism, met you once at Hollylee, Mr. Steele - Mrs. indoors and out of doors. But there was no Mr. Michael." Vivian to make the day a charmed day for Mary Cumberland, or a day of terror to Aunt Burtonshaw. The invasion of guests proved a sedative to the fears of the old lady, and kept the younger one out of the enchanted world of her own thoughts. Mr. Steele receded a step, and made one of his bows of mock humility. "I know it was one of the angels," said the wit with a characteristic hesitation, "but I had forgot the name In the severity of exasperated virtue, Mrs. Burtonshaw rose. 66 Mary, you ought not to listen to such a person," cried Mrs. Burtonshaw audibly. "I cannot tell what Maria Anna means by it it is dreadful; and there is a Mrs. Steele too!" "There has been a Mrs. Steele, I am happy to say, any time these thirty years," said the object of Mrs. Burtonshaw's wrath, with a perfectly in nocent smile. Mrs. Burtonshaw turned round upon him once more with open-eyed astonishment. "Do you mean that he's a wandering Jew?" cried poor Mrs. Burtonshaw, who was put to her wit's end. CHAPTER IX. THE EVILS OF KNOWING AN "What are you reading, Mary? I want you to come and take a drive with me, my love," said Aunt Burtonshaw. "You ought to have a rest to-day, after entertaining all these people. Come, my darling, and drive with me. What are you reading?" "It is a novel, Aunt Burtonshaw," said Mary with humility. "It is that beautiful book of Mr. Vivian's. I am delighted to see how Mary's taste improves," said Mrs. Cumberland from her sofa ; 66 one always feels more interest in a book when one knows the author. I shall ask him to put his antograph upon our copy when he comes here." "And pray what are you reading, Elizabeth?" asked Mrs. Burtonshaw. "It is Mr. Vivian's poems, aunt," said Zaidee. "You are quite right; no one knows how old he is." "I hear he has got great-grandchildren," cried one and another, eager to promote the good' lady's delusion. "The more shame for him!' said Mrs. Burtonshaw solemnly, "to speak in that way of a very pretty lady, and to make compliments to other people. I shall never give such things my sanction, you may be sure." Amid much suppressed and restrained laugh- "Upon my word, I should be glad to know ter Mrs. Burtonshaw turned away; but the charm who Mr. Vivian is, or what he means," said Mrs. of the joke remained in the fact that this privi- Burtonshaw; "you used to be glad of rational leged talker who happened to be a man of the occupations-you used to do your needlework, most tender conscience, was struck with com- and take drives and walks, and like a little conpunction forthwith. This gay spirit, with its versation: now you have books all day long fund of invention and retort, its wit and mirth-books morning and evening; and it is always and daring sallies, was a spirit imbued with the mort susceptible and trembling piety. "A Steele" was just as good a synonyme for a joke as for a picture in the understanding of those who knew the artist best. He had relinquished a hundred other "carnal inclinations," very innocent to Mr. Vivian. Who is Mr. Vivian then? will nobody tell me? Is e only an author? Now, I don't want to hear that he is a delightful young man, Maria Anna. I don't think such things are fit to be said before these children. Who is Mr. Vivian? that is what I want to know." "It is not because of Mr. Vivian I am read- She felt as if called back from the Grange suding," said Mary, faltering at this unusual fib; "if denly, and called back from her recollections. 99 you only would look here, Aunt Burtonshaw, there Mrs. Cumberland was beckoning to her with her is some one so like Elizabeth here." hand. thing to say to you. Sit down," said the lady “Come here, Elizabeth, my love; I have someof the house, pointing to a stool beside her. Zaidee obeyed quietly, as it was her custom to obey. Mrs. Cumberland cleared her throat, and seemed to have a momentary difficulty in making a beginning. here one of these days, I trust," said Mrs. Cum"My dear child, Mr. Vivian will be coming berland, still with a little hesitation. Involuntarily Zaidee started; she felt as much disposed to answer Aunt Burtonshaw's question, and tell her who Percy was, but how should she know? So Zaidee was silent, putting constraint upon herself. Aunt Burtonshaw was not satisfied. "If you will please me, Mary, you will come and let me have my drive, and I will look at your book to-morrow," said Mrs. Burtonshaw. It was a great effort of self-sacrifice on Mary's part. She rose reluctantly, and with much deliberation put her book aside. She could not tell Sylvo's mother never to speak to her of Sylvo of her seat with her hands in dismayed apprehen"Yes," said Zaidee. Zaidee grasped the edge again, and Mary remembered with a blush her sion. Could her secret be known? almost determination to put up with Sylvo before he arrived at Twickenham. Things had chang- with him," said Mrs. Cumberland. "Of course you are sure to be much struck ed wonderfully since that time-there was an you are prepossessed in his favor; and I can safeimmense gulf between her feelings now and her ly say he is a most delightful young man. Now, "Already feelings then. Sylvo had not changed the least my dear love, tell me candidly, is your heart in her estimation; he was the same good fellow quite free, Elizabeth? Be frank with me, my he always was: but Mary would rather have dear." dropped quietly into the river under the willows than made up her mind to marry Sylvo now. The deepest crimson flushed on Zaidee's face; When Mary left the room with Aunt Burton-"Perfectly free," said Zaidee somewhat emphashe raised her head with an involuntary dignity. shaw, Zaidee continued to read the Poems of tically, though in a hurried under-tone. She felt Percy Vivian; these were mostly fragments- a little ashamed of questioning like this. snatches of wild song-sketches of great things incomplete, versatile and brilliant and changea-beth," said Mrs. Cumberland. "You are not "I have thought of you a great deal, Elizable. She thought no one else could understand quite like other girls, my dear. When you marry as she did the chance allusions to the family his- it will be proper that your bridegroom should tory which ran through Percy's verses; no one know your real name, and all your circumcould recognize like her that, wild tumultuous at-stances; and perhaps finding that you were not mosphere, the rush of wind and mass of cloud, really our daughter-though I am sure I love which filled the firmament of Percy's song. This you like one, my dear child-you must not be was not like Margaret's landscape; it was na- offended-might make a difference with some ture, every word of it, alive with air and motion; young men. no rigid portrait, but an animated reflection of have more advantages than Mary; and I feel But there is one way in which you the scenes familiar to him. While Zaidee read, certain that Mr. Vivian, for example, who is a her heart went back out of this mild and gentle poet and an enthusiast, will be sure to admire landscape, with its noble river and its verdant you very much. I should not like you to make woods. She saw those oaks Agonistes, every one a common match, Elizabeth. I have always set of them, with the red leaves stiffening on their my heart on something quite out of the usual branches, and the young foliage thrusting slowly way for you. Now, you would please me very through the last year's garments, which were so much, my dear child, by encouraging Mr. Vivian slow to fall. Instead of the drooping blossoms a little, if he seems disposed to pay his addresses of that beautiful acacia, Zaidee saw yonder to you; and do not be too shy, but let him see fierce little hill of Briarford, with all its golden you, and form a proper opinion of you when he and purple glories, its gorse and heather, and comes here. My love, you need not blush and that old warm family home lifting its face to the frown, and look so disturbed; what I am saying winds, wistfully gazing on the flat country into to you is quite proper, and not compromising the cloudy horizon and the far-off sea. mind was far away, wandering over those well- Elizabeth, my dear?" Her you in any way. Will you attend to what I say, remembered places, which memory invested with an imaginative charm. She had no recollection ever to go away; let me stay always at home," "Oh, no, no; do not bid me. I do not want of this wealthy home at Twickenham, Mrs. Cum-said Zaidee, turning her flushed and agitated berland upon her sofa, or Sylvo out of doors with face towards Mrs. Cumberland, but not venturhis cigar, or the great mirror which gathered eve-ing to raise her eyes. "You have been very rything together within its pictured breadth. good to me so many years; let me stay, if it is "Elizabeth!" said Mrs. Cumberland. Mrs. Cumberland patted softly with her thin fingers upon Zaidee's hand. "That is all very well, my love; that is what all young ladies say Zaidee looked up with a momentary pang. at first," said Mrs. Cumberland with a smile. "I will not say any more at present. You know dress at all, except in case of necessity. This my wishes; I leave the rest to time and your added another shade to Zaidee's heaviness. She own heart, and-Mr. Vivian. Now, my dear felt that something was amiss, though, in perchild, go back to your book; I have said all I fect innocence of all offence, she could not tell have to say." what the something was; the house was out of joint; there was a universal jarring of all its members. Mrs. Burtonshaw, too, was clouded and perturbed, by turns anxious and angry; and Mary had deserted all her usual amusements, and sat perpetually by her work-table plying her needle, while Zaidee all unwittingly fanned the flame which Mrs. Cumberland had kindled, by a continual study of Mr. Vivian's book. When Zaidee rose, the first thing which caught her eye was the reflection in the mirror of Mary Cumberland standing within the half-opened door. As Zaidee raised her troubled face to the light, she caught through this medium the keen look of her friend fixed upon her. Mary's lips were closed tight; Mary's face was very pale, and her hair fell down strangely lank and disordered upon her cheek. It looked like an im- When things were in this condition-when, personation of startled suspicion and self-de- between her fears for Sylvo and her doubts of fence; it did not look like pretty Mary Cumber- Mary, Aunt Burtonshaw led a very troubled exland returning with fresh roses on her cheeks istence, and Zaidee and Mary, each of them, fell from her drive with Aunt Burtonshaw. Zaidee's into strange solitude-it was intimated one day beautiful face, full of dismay and agitation, but with great solemnity that Mr. Vivian was com of no evil emotion, met with a gaze of astonishing to dinner. Mr. Cumberland had encounterment the angry scrutiny of Mary. It struck her ed him in London, had taken advantage of the with a painful surprise; and she went quickly opportunity, and the great author was to dine forward to ascertain, if it was ascertainable, with them to-day. Zaidee, who could not help what the import of this silent defiance might looking up with great and sudden interest at be; but Mary turned before her friend could this announcement, found Mrs. Cumberland lookreach her, and Zaidee only saw her figure dis-ing at her with a smile of private communicaappearing up the stair when she came to the tion, while Mary's face, full of clouds and storms, door. Pausing a moment to give Mary time to was also full of the keenest observation, though reach her retirement, Zaidee hastily sought her she had turned her head away. Zaidee colored own room. She was uneasy and disturbed by painfully, and cast down her eyes full of tears. Mary's look; but Mrs. Cumberland had quite She felt herself in an unnatural and false posi unintentionally thrown a new light upon Zai- tion between this mother and daughter. It was dee's life. Her real name and all her circum-impossible to avoid being interested, impossible stances-Zaidee shuddered at the possibility of to resist a rising eagerness and anxiety. She any one having a right and a necessity to be in- could not anticipate Percy's visit with the tranformed of these. The sudden revelation sent quil expectation of a stranger; but Mrs. Cumher back with a shudder from all the dreams of berland's smile and audible whisper of the dress youthful existence. That any one could think she should wear to-day gave her singular pain. of Percy paying his addresses to her," our Aunt Burtonshaw said humph," and Sylvo Percy," of whose fame she was so proud-was a yawned in anticipation over Mr. Vivian's visit, hallucination at which Zaidee only smiled. But while a gleam of excitement in consequence with quite a different regard she looked at the came into Mary's gloom; but Zaidee withdrew great principle which Mrs. Cumberland had very sadly from the family assemblage. She stated as a thing of course, and which her own did not know how to subdue these jarring elejudgment immediately approved. Who but Zai- ments into concord, or how to place herself in dee Vivian could understand why Zaidee Vivian her natural position again. fled from home and name and fortune? Who Zaidee was in the drawing-room early, in Aunt but herself could feel the weight of Grandfather Burtonshaw's corner by the embroidery-frame, Vivian's legacy? the dreadful burden and guilti-hoping to escape the especial notice which she ness of disinheriting Philip? Zaidee turned to go down stairs again, with a blank in her face and in her heart. She must guard herself now with a strange and jealous care. She must suffer no stranger to come into her young affections. She must never put her secret in the power of another-nor betray her home and name. CHAPTER X.-THE GREAT AUTHOR. must have gained had she entered the room after Mr. Vivian's arrival. Mary, on the contrary, was late of making her appearance. Mr. Vivian arrived with a dash of wheels, drawing up a high stepping horse before the gate, in a manner which called forth the cordial piaudits of Sylvo, who hurried through the trees to report him "none of your spooney fellows after all," before the stranger made his formal entrance. Then the All that day Zaidee was left alone-it did not door opened with great solemnity, and Mr. Peroccur to her to inquire why Mary so pertinacy Vivian entered the room. Žaidee, bending ciously avoided her company, rather sitting by herself or leaving the room than sharing Zaidee's seat and occupation, as was usual to them. Mary's pretty face did not look the fairer for the sullen cloud upon it, and her manners, already strangely changed, grew still more perplexing under this veil of resentful silence. When she addressed her mother, it was with scarcely restrained impatience, and Zaidee she did not ad over the embroidery, looked up with great eager ness from under the shelter of her curved hand. He was but nineteen when she left the Grange; she thought he was no older still in his bright and versatile youth. The eyes that were full of a hundred laughing fancies; the white brow all lined and puckered under its wiry hair; the cloud that rose and descended upon his face like a veil, making the sunshine all the brighter by its |