K. Sons are the second souls of man;

Y. Right skilfully hast thou my questionings And wives the heaven-sent friends ; nor


Most pious of princes and learned, but yet Among all joys health be surpassed;

Resolve me who liveth though death him Contentment answereth thy last.


And what man is richest and greatest of Y. Which virtue of virtues is first? and

all ? which bears Most fruit? and which causeth the ceasing

K. Dead though he be, that mortal lives

Whose virtuous memory survives; of tears?

And richest, greatest, that one is

Whose soul - indifferent to bliss
K. To bear no malice is the best;
And Reverence is fruitfullest;

Or misery, to joy or pain,

To past or future, loss or gain Subduing self sets grief at rest.

Sees with calm eyes all fates befall,

And, needing nought, possesseth all. Y. Still, tell me what foeman is worst to subdue ?

Then spake the Yaksha: “Wondrously, oh And what is the sickness lasts life-time all king! through?

Hast thou replied, and wisely hast fulfilled Of men that are upright say which is the The law of this fair water; therefore drink! best?

And choose which one of these thy brethren And of those that are wicked, who passeth

dead the rest ?

Shall live again.”

So Yudhisthira said, K. Anger is man's unconquered foe;

“Let Nakula, oh Yaksha ! have his life The ache of greed doth never go;

My dark-browed brother with the fiery eyes Who loveth most of saints is first; Straight like a sala-tree, broad-chested, tall, Of bad men cruel men are worst.

That long-armed lord.”

But see where Bhima lies Y. Good prince ! tell me true, is a Brahmana Dead,” spake the spirit, “ dearest unto thee; made

And where Arjuna sleeps, thy guard and guide! By birthright? or shall it be rightfully said, Why dost thou crave the life of Nakula If he reads all the Veds, and the Srutis Not thine own mother's son-in Bhima's doth know,

stead, He is this? or doth conduct of life make Who had the might of countless elephants, him so?

Whom all the people call thy Well-Beloved ?

Or wouldst thou see Nakula alive again K. Oh Yaksha! listen to the truth:

In place of great Arjuna, thine own blood, Not if a man do dwell from youth

Whose valor was the tower of Pandavas ? " Beneath a Brahman's roof, nor when The Srutis known to holy men

But Yudhisthira answered: “Faith and Are learned, and read the Vedas through, Being preserved, save all, and, being lost,

right, Doth this make any Brahman true. Conduct alone that name can give;

Leave nought to save : these therefore I will A Brahmana must steadfast live, Devoid of sin and free from wrong;

First in my heart. Faithful and right it is For he who walks low paths along,

To choose by justice, putting self aside. Still keeping to the way shall come

Let Nakula live, oh Yaksha! for men call Sooner and safer to his home

King Yudhisthira just; nor will he lose, Than the proud wanderer on the hill;

Even for love, that name; make Nakula live! And reading, learning, praying, still

Kunti and Madri were my father's wives ; Are outward deeds which ofttimes leave

Shall one be childless, and the other see Barren of fruit minds that believe.

Her sons returning? Madri is to me Who practises what good he knows

As Kunti, as my mother, at this hour; Himself a Brahmana he shows;

As she who bore me she that bore the twins ; And if an evil nature knew

And justice shall she have, since I am judge ; The sacred Vedas through and through,

Let Nakula live, thou Yaksha!' With all the Srutis, still must he,

Then the voice Lower than honest Sudra be.

Sighed sweet, evanishing : “ Thou noblest To know and do the right, and pay

prince ! The sacrifice, in peace alway,

Thou best of Bhârat's line ! as thou art just, This maketh one a Brahmana.

Lo ! all thy brethren here shall live again.”



Fifth Series, Volume XLII.


No. 2026. — April 21, 1883.


From Beginning,




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Blackwood's Magazine,

Macmillan's Magazine,


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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 sentin 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 Numbers of The LIVING AGE, 18 cents.


Seldom and dear to me the sight

Of day adorn'd to meet the night. OF ONE WHO COULD GO OUT ONLY IN A BATH

'Tis sweeter now and much more dear CHAIR, THE DOCTOR RECOMMENDING THE

Than former summer evenings were, MORNING; BUT ONCE BEING OUT ON A JAN

When ofter, with surprise I met

The sudden joy of the sunset ;

And when the color'd light was gone, ALMOST FORGOTTEN.

Then joy and I were left alone Oh, let me, as I ought to, grieve

In silent conversation free, For loss of thee, dear time of eve;

And thoughts of things I never see. Let me be thankful as I ought

For forced remembrance and sad thought.
The quiet passionate evening time
Has been my love and oft my rhyme;

The orient day's divine ascent
I have loved with less of love's content;

“DIE ALTE WASCH-Frau.” More like our life and so more sweet

See, busy with her linen there,
This time when earth and heaven so meet. Yes, busier far than all her peers,

In spite of age and snow-white hair,
Almost did I-oh, sin ! — forget

In spite of six and seventy years, The dim delight of the sunset;

An ancient woman who has gained The round sun lingering misty red

The daily bread which life demands, Ere in the sea he sinks to bed;

Within the sphere that God ordained,
The tremor and the blush upon

By sweat of brow, and toil of hands.
The sea, expecting the red sun;
The movement of that hour so still;

She in her youth has had her day,

Has loved and hoped, and met her mate, The sense that goes before the will, And thoughts that heavy lag behind,

Has walked along her woman's way, And bring the quiet to the mind;

Grim Care still following, sure as fate ; And what delights the eye not least,

Has borne her husband children three,

Has nursed him in his sickness sore, The gloom of the deserted east,

Her faith and hope undimmed, when he All empty of the glorious sun, And darkness seen where morning shone.

Sank to his rest forevermore. The hill that, tip-toe, did defy

Children must bred and nourished beWith rugged head the early sky,

She bravely buckled to her task; Now in the gentle mist more great,

Reared them to honest industry, Leans down on earth with all its weight; Best heritage the poor can ask ; And here the old street slumbers deep,

Then with her dear ones she must part; And red-tiled cottages asleep

To seek their fortunes forth they fare, Look lazy, lost, and quieted

And still the old and lonely heart In drowsy dreams of ages dead.

Blesses, and waits with courage there. And still the setting light is kind, And somehow finds its way behind

With careful savings flax she bought To where the cottage children play

And stinted sleep her fax to spin Forgetful of the serious day,

Fine yarı her thrifty hands have wrought, And all with serious love intent

And to the weaver carried in. On strife that bursts in merriment.

He wove a web of linen fair; Oh, listen to the noise that's made

She brought the needle and the shears, Where those thick bushes make thick shade! And her own fingers sewed with care The birds have something they must say

The last strait garment woman wears. Before the light has gone away.

Last labor of a life complete,

She shrines it in a chosen place; Before the light is gone away

Strange treasure is a winding-sheet Let love bring joy that loves delay;

To house as in a jewel-case ! The pensive sister of dear sorrow,

On Sundays 'tis her first array, She weeps to-day to laugh to·morrow.

It prints God's word within her breast, And now no longer do I grieve

Thus she forestalls her burial day,
For loss of thee, dear time of eve,

When in its folds she lies at rest.
Since more than all I lost I find
In this forgiving evening kind,

May 1, when eventide draws on,
This dying winter afternoon,

Like this poor woman, see fulfilled Unlike late-lasting joy of June,

Th' allotted task, the battle won, And lovely with a likeness lent

Within the lines my God hath willed ! That leaves it less and different.

When life's mixed cup is drained at last, No little beauty this, though less

Like hers, my memories pious be, Than summer's more than sweet excess; That I may look, when time has passed, No loss, this lovely difference

As kindly on my shroud as she. That suits it to my present sense.

Temple Bar.

C. B.


From Blackwood's Magazine.

new matter has been recovered; much JONATHAN SWIFT.

that was irrelevant has been set aside; In the controversy which Swift's life and we think that a portrait, credible and and character have provoked, it has been consistent in its main lines, may now be extremely difficult hitherto to arrive at constructed. After all deductions have any quite satisfactory conclusion. Bio- been made, Jonathan Swift remains a graphical criticism, like Biblical, is a pro- great and imposing personality gressive science. The critical method, unique in that century as Benjamin Diswhich we have brought to comparative raeli has been in ours. perfection, was almost unknown to our The dean himself is to some extent reforefathers. Johnson's “ Lives of the En. sponsible for the gross caricature which glish Poets” is one of the best books of has been commonly accepted as a faithful the time, for his arbitrary dogmatism was portrait by his countrymen. The intense controlled and informed by an adınirable force of his genius gave a vital energy to common sense; but even Johnson often the merest trifes. His casual sayings misleads. We do not speak of his criti- have branded themselves upon the lancism of poetry, for the canon of taste has guage. Only a woman's hair die like changed since his day -as it may change a poisoneil rat in a hole I am what I again ; but the genuine spirit of inquiry am - ubi sæva indignatio cor ulterius is conspicuous by its absence. Even the lacerare nequit, — these letters of fire lives of the men who might almost be may be read through the darkness which called contemporary are treated as if the has engulfed so much. But a true and gossip of the club and the tittle-tattle of complete estimate of a man's disposition the coffee-house were the only available and temper cannot be constructed out of sources of information. Thus, until Wal. scattered and isolated phrases. We must ter Scott's memoirs were published, the take these for what they are worth, real Swift was almost unknown. The compare them, weigh them, find out their growth of the Swift legend was indeed proper place and relative value in the unusually rapid; and if an exacter criti. narrative. The subtler lights and shades cism had not been brought to bear upon of character are necessarily missed in a it in time, there is no saying to what sketch which busies itself exclusively proportions it might not have attained. with the occasional outburst – however The great Dean of St. Patrick's was be. vivid and impressive — of passion or recoming a grotesque and gigantic shadow. morse. Mr. Thackeray seldom hurts our Scott was not a critic in the modern sense sense of the becoming; but his slight and of the word; but his judgment, upon the unconscientious treatment of one of the whole, was sound and just, and his large greatest satirists of the world is, it must humanity enabled bim to read into the be sorrowfully admitted, a well-nigh unstory much that a stricter scrutiny has pardonable offence. since approved. The creative sympathy The leading events of Swift's life fall of genius is seldom at fault; for it works naturally into four main divisions: ist, in obedience to the larger laws which His school and college life ; 2d, His resigovern human conduct, and if its methods dence with Sir William Temple; 3d, His are sometimes unscientific, its conclusions London career, with its social, literary, are generally reliable.

and political triumphs; 4th, His Irish Scott has been followed by diligent stu- banishment. He was born in 1667; he dents, and the researches of Mr. Mason, died in 1745: so that his life may be said Mr. Forster, and Mr. Henry Craik may the deau's biography before his death ; but the matebe considered exhaustive. All the docu- rials which he had accumulated, as well as those in the ments that have any real bearing upon possession of Mr. John Murray and others, have been the controversy have been made accessi- put at Mr. Craik's disposal, and his elaborate “Life of

Swift" (London - John Murray: 1882) must for the ble; and Mr. Craik's masterly life, in par. future be regarded as the standard work on the subject. ticular, leaves little to be desired.* Much Mr. Leslie Stephen's “ Swift,” published last year, is

an acute though somewhat unsympathetic study, in • Mr. Forster had only completed the first volume of which Swift's great qualities are rather minimized.

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to cover nearly the whole period between ing as those which united his mother to the Restoration of Charles II. and the Pope, – last Jacobite rebellion.

Whose filial piety excells Oliver Cromwell had been only a few

Whatever Grecian story tells. years in his grave when Jonathan Swift was born. Swift was an Irishman, in so But he frequently went to see her, far as the place of birth determines na walking the whole way, as was his habit; tionality; but except for the accident that and on her death he recorded his sorrow he was born in Dublin, he was, by extrac-in words so direct and simple that they tion and temperament, an Englishman. cling to the memory: “I have now lost He came of a good Hereford stock, and my barrier between me and death. God he was proud of his ancestry. My birth, grant I may live to be as well prepared although from a family not undistin- for it as I confidently believe her to have guished in its time, is many degrees in- been. If the way to heaveo be through ferior to yours," he says to Bolingbroke piety, truth, justice, and charity, she is

an admission which he might safely there." make, for St. John had a strain of Tudor Swift was thus cast upon the charity of blood in his veins. The dean's grand his friends from his earliest infancy. father had been vicar of Goodrich, and When barely a year old, indeed, he was sehad been distinguished during the Civil cretly taken to Whitehaven by his nurse, War for the heartiness and obstinacy of who belonged to that part of the country, his loyalty. But loyalty was a losing and who could not bring herself to part game in England at the time. So it came from her charge. The little fellow apabout that several of the vicar's sons were pears to have thriven in that homely comforced to cross the Irish Channel, and panionship. He remained with her for try their luck in the Irish capital. The three years; and before he was brought eldest, Godwin, through his connection back to Ireland, he could read, he tells with the Ormond family, was fairly suc. us, any chapter of the Bible. Soon after cessful; but the younger brother, Jona- his return to Dublin he was sent by his than, when he married Abigail Erick, had uncle Godwin to the grammar school at still his fortune to make. He died a year Kilkenny — the famous academy where or two afterwards, leaving his widow well. Swift and Congreve and Berkeley received nigh penniless. So that when Jonathan their early training. From Kilkenny the the second made his appearance in this lad went to Trinity College, – but bis bad world on the last day of November, university career was undistinguished: he 1667, the outlook was by no means bright. failed to accommodate himself to the tra

The widow contrived, however, to strug. ditional course of study, and it was with gle on hopefully, and indeed remained to some difficulty that he obtained his de. the end a bright, keen, thrifty, uncom- gree. The sense of dependence pressed plaining, capable sort of woman, much heavily upon him; he was moody and ill regarded by her son. In course of time at ease - -at war with the world, which she was able to get away from Dublin to bad treated him scurvily, as he thought; her native country, where the Ericks had and more than once he threatened to been known more or less since the days break into open revolt. of that Eadric the forester from whom The Celtic rebellion of 1688 drove him, they claimed descent, and settled herself with a host of English fugitives, across in Leicester, where she seems to have the Channel — not unwillingly, we may been well esteemed, and to have led the believe. He joined his mother at Leiceseasy, blameless, unexciting life of a pro-ter; but before the close of 1689, he had vincial town for many years. Her son obtained a post in the household of Sir had become famous before she dried; but William Temple. Sir William was living he was always loyal and affectionate to the at Moor Park, near Farnham, in Surrey cheery old lady, though their relations per- a wild and romantic district even now, haps were never so intimate and endear. and which two centuries ago was a nat

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