Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

2

"Where in the world have you been?" asked Madame de Staël.

"Madame," he replied with the greatest calm, "I have been taking my customary walk."

"You must have fallen into the water," she said, "for your feet are positively soaked."

"Only the dew, madame, I assure you. I never once left the broad alley by the mill."

"That explains the state you are in," exclaimed Corinne; "is it possible you never perceived that the water had been turned into that very alley, and that you have been walking in it up to your ankles for the last two hours?"

with their managers, being generally apt to regard them as their natural enemies. Few, however, have carried their animosity farther than Arnal. During one of his innumerable lawsuits with the director of the Vaudeville, he deemed it expedient to propitiate his judge by a preliminary visit, and lost no time in soliciting an audience of the president of the tribunal.

"Monsieur," was the unexpected reply of the porter, "he died last night."

"Oh," said Arnal, too deeply intent on his own affairs to realize the other's meaning, "that does not signify in the least, I have only one word to say to him!"

Perhaps, after all, the individual most notoriously subject to this infirmity was the country manager, Thornton, of whom more instances of chronic absence of mind have been related than would fill a volume. The following, which we believe to be authentic, has never to our knowledge appeared in print. Thornton was staying with his wife at Brighton, whether for business or pleasure is not recorded; and, according to his usual custom, started one morning for a stroll on the beach before breakfast. It was nearly high tide, and in the course of his walk the bright

Munster, Bishop of Copenhagen, was noted for his absence of mind, an infirmity which increased as he advanced in years. He was accustomed, whenever his duties summoned him from home, to hang a placard on his door, announcing, for the benefit of any chance visitor, that he would return at a certain hour. One day, being obliged to attend to some important business in the town, he affixed the usual notice, and, his errand accomplished, came home, and ascended the stairs leading to his modest apartment. On arriving op-ness of a pebble just washed by the sea posite his door, he glanced mechanically at the placard, and, entirely unconscious of his own identity, concluded that he was too early, and waited outside until the clock struck, when he suddenly recollected who and where he was, and let himself in.

This reminds one of General de Laborde, an ex-aide-de-camp of Louis Philippe, who, after making his bow at a ministerial soirée, was so absorbed by his own reflections on leaving, that, while still half-way through a long suite of rooms communicating with each other, he fancied that he had already reached the porter's lodge, and, to the astonishment of all present and his own confusion, exclaimed in a sonorous voice, "Cordon, s'il vous plait!"

Châteaubriand relates in his memoirs that his wife, who had organized for charitable purposes a sale of chocolate manufactured under her own personal superintendence, was so entirely devoted to her philanthropic project that she thought of nothing else; and on more than one occasion so far forgot herself as, instead of subscribing her letters "Vicomtesse de Châteaubriand," to sign them Vicomtesse "de Chocolat."

French actors are rarely on good terms

struck his eye, and he took it up in order to examine it more closely. Presently it occurred to him that it was time to return to the Old Ship, where the couple lodged; and, looking at his watch, he discovered it was almost nine o'clock, the hour appointed for the morning meal. Putting the pebble carefully in his pocket, he mechanically tossed his watch into the water, and reached home just as the shrimps and fried bacon were placed on the table. Their departure having been previously fixed for that day, Mrs. Thornton, after doing ample justice to the dainties provided, and not wishing to be late for the coach, turned to her husband, and enquired what time it was; whereupon the manager, extracting the pebble from his pocket, began to stroke his nose (his invariable habit when in great perplexity), and staring at the stone, fell to wondering how it came there.

"What are you looking at, Mr. Thornton?" asked his astonished wife. "And pray, where is your watch?"

66

My dear," he replied with a bewildered air, "I haven't the least idea, unless" here a fresh inspection of the pebble appeared to suggest some faint remembrance of the substitution "unless it is at the | bottom of the sea!"

From The Saturday Review. WHITSUNTIDE AT HOME AND ABROAD.

uous; but it would be a mistake to suppose that more æsthetic things are neg EVEN in these days of conquests by the lected. Between the early dinner and the Blue Ribbon crusaders, there are only late supper these tables are deserted, save too many honest Britons who confound by casual strangers from a distance droprecreation with dissipation, or something ping in for chance refreshment or by a like it; and who think they have done no few belated veterans snoring peacefully sort of justice to so solemn an occasion as behind their pipes. And the seeming a holiday if they do not carry home a solitude and silence of the surrounding headache for the morrow. Our country woods are absolutely deceptive. The Gerpeople might learn sundry useful lessons mans are by no means a noisy people; in that respect from foreigners, and espe- and you may suspect nothing of the many cially from the Germans. We cannot hon- straggling parties till you almost stumble estly assert that the Germans are abste- upon them. But there are sure to be cermious or even moderate in the use of tain favorite resorts, either consecrated by either beer or tobacco, or even of solid some romantic mediæval legend or recomfood, for the matter of that; but as the mended by natural charms. And at these, beer, at all events, is sound and light, they which are of course enlivened by the permay indulge in it liberally without danger ennial beer-taps and coffee-kettles, social of excess. The Germans, at least, are groups are assembled in an amicable insincere admirers of scenery, though till of terchange of civilities. On the way to late years they were very little addicted them you pass respectable heads of to travel. All the more on that account houses, in flowing black frock-coats, with do they love to make the most of their im- bloated umbrellas, dragging up the steep mediate neighborhoods at the seasons woodland paths, laboriously towing their when long custom authorizes them to better halves along, who hang an embarleave their business. And where can full- rassing weight on their arms. And in blown spring be more thoroughly enjoy- Germany there always seems to be a suable than in the romantic Rhineland, then perfluity of spinsters of most uncertain untroubled by tourists; in the spirit- age, in mushroom hats and scanty pettihaunted Harts, in the absurdly-named but coats, who might really have sat as the charming Saxon Switzerland, or in such originals of those caricatures of the Enforests as those of Thuringia or Baden?glish "meeses" which we wonder at in At Whitsuntide the cities and the towns the windows of the Rue de Rivoli. Elsepour their populations into the country. where, in some sylvan nook or in the seThe steamboats and the special tourist cluded depths of some rocky ravine, we trains are swamped in good-humored come upon family parties enveloped in mobs; from the biggest hotel down to the smoke-clouds raised by the men, while smallest Gasthaus, every corner is filled to the ladies are contentedly chatting and overflowing. The air in the immediate knitting. The young women are more precincts of these establishments is redo- closely looked after than with us, so, unlent of sausages, Sauerkrat, and tobacco; less in case of actual and imminent enand the feats performed with the knives gagement, detached couples are seldom to and forks of the competing customers are be surprised. But should you prolong astounding. But digestions generally ap- your walk, as you may probably be temptpear to be well up to their work, and dys-ed to do, you will come upon long-haired pepsia, at all events, does not vent itself in visible ill-temper. Even when actually eating and drinking the excursionists live as much as possible unter freien Himmel; for all the restaurants, like the idol-sanctuaries in ancient Palestine, stand in groves, and any number of small round tables are spread out in the open air. Perhaps that material side of the German holiday-making may be the most conspic

youths with their great green botanical or entomological cases, eagerly hunting after science in her most seductive resorts. And when all these worthy folks go home after their holiday, it can hardly have left any but pleasant memories behind; for although we might fancy they had oversmoked and over-eaten themselves had they been English, surely they ought to know their own constitutions best.

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

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 Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, 18 cents.

[graphic]

A MAY SONG.

THE CALL.

COME away! come away!

The sea is blue, and the sky is blue, The woods are green, and the fields are green, The golden sun and the silvery sheen,

They call and call for you.

The waves on the shore are playing, playing,
The flowers in the breeze are swaying, swaying,
The whole wide world is out a-Maying
To-day, to-day.

Come away! come away!

The sea is song and the sky is song,
Music is here and music is there,
And life and love are everywhere,

Singing the whole day long!

The tide on the beach is swaying, swaying,
The sun with the clouds is playing, playing,
And life and love are gone a-Maying
To-day, to-day.

THE ANSWER.

I must stay, I must stay;
The song of the sea is not for me,
Nor golden bowers of cowslip flowers,
Nor vision bright of sunbeam showers;
No fresh green spring I see,

No fragrant breeze is round me playing,
No glorious ocean-tide is swaying,
Yet my world, too, is gone a-Maying
To-day, to-day.

Let me stay! let me stay!

There is music here, as everywhere; And sky pale blue, and sunshine too, For eyes that love to read life true,

Love seeth all things fair.

Like meadow flowers in breezes swaying, All radiant hopes are round me playing, My very heart is out a-Maying

Sunday Magazine.

To-day, to-day!

GENEVIEVE IRONS.

IDLE CHARON.

THE shores of Styx are lone forevermore,
And not one shadowy form upon the steep
Looms through the dusk, far as the eye can
sweep,

To call the ferry over as of yore;
But tintless rushes all about the shore

Have hemmed the old boat in, where, locked in sleep,

Hoar-bearded Charon lies; while pale weeds creep

With tightening grasp all round the unused oar.

For in the world of life strange rumors run

That now the soul departs not with the breath,

But that the body and the soul are one;

And in the loved one's mouth, now, after death,

The widow puts no obol, nor the son,

To pay the ferry in the world beneath.
Academy.
EUGENE LEE-HAMILTON.

IN THE WOOD.

WHEN thou art weary, go into the fields, Nor scorn to feel a child's joy to behold The bowing buttercups bend in the breeze, Dashing the green with gold.

Stand by the stile, within the green cornfields, When early on some iron-gray clouded morn The wind sweeps o'er the land, and listen to The rustling of the corn.

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

From The Contemporary Review. CAIRO: THE OLD IN THE NEW.

BY DR. GEORG EBERS.

I.

IN the present paper I shall consider Cairo as the parent city of Arabic culture, and seek all through it under the modern for the ancient and the most ancient of all. It is no part of my aim to describe the wonderful charm of this remarkable city. She, the precious diamond in the handle of the green fan of the Delta, has been celebrated in song and flowing prose both by the East and by the West. The delightful poet, Beha-ed-din Zoher, who lived at the court of Cairo as secretary to the sultan Melik-eç Calech, a grandnephew of Saladin's, is never weary of celebrating in animated verses the pic turesqueness of the place, the power of her princes, the beauty of her women, the charming mildness of her nights, which brought soft dreams to the heart of the poet when he was alone, and which he had often passed happily right on till morning in garden parties, Nile trips, and drinking-bouts with bands of merry friends. In the "Thousand and One Nights," many a dwelling-place of mortal men is invested, by the transfiguring power of the imagination of the narrator, with an inconceivable and more than earthly glory, but none of all these pearls shines with a purer water or is counted rarer and more beautiful than Cairo. The oldest of the interlocutors — i.e., the one who had seen most and whose judgment is of most value — speaks in these enthusiastic words: "He who has not seen Cairo has not seen the world. Its earth is gold, its women are bewitching, and its Nile is a wonder." On the following night Scheherezade praises the charms of the city of the pyramids in these terms: "As compared with a sight of this city, what is the joy of setting eyes on your beloved! He who has seen it will confess that there exists for the eye no higher enjoyment, and when one remembers the night on which the Nile comes to its height, he gives back the winecup to the bearer full, and makes water flow up to its source again." That is as much as to say, there

is nothing more left that he can do. And to the interlocutors in these tales Cairo was no picture in a dream, no inaccessi ble island of the blest, no distant Golconda, for there is no manner of doubt that it was in the very Cairo we see, and in the time of the Mameluke sultan El. Ghuri that this treasure of old Moslem tales, which has for centuries circulated in small gold pieces from hand to hand, from people to people, was originally collected and minted into those very forms in which they are at this hour familiar to all the nations of the earth. God has granted to the writer of these lines the favor of sending him into the wide world, and letting him wander over land and ocean, and see many towns and countries; but when he now travels backward in thought, and sweeps over the whole realm of recollection lying behind him, he discovers no city on the face of the earth that seems to him more charming than Cairo.

The tourist who visits the place, without previous preparation, under the guid. ance of a tour-contractor, is as unable to escape its charm as the scholar who is familiar with every phase of its development and with every movement of its life. The artist finds himself embarrassed with the abundance of the materials and the richness of the colors which surround him, and for the musing dreamer, the looker-on at the play of life, there is no more favorable spot than this. To open the eyes means here to receive new impressions, to look about is to learn, and stimulated by the abundance of pictur esque forms and scenes, even the most indolent feels himself compelled to be always viewing things. For the investigator, who is permitted to touch with his hand the thing he has brought with him to the Nile as a mental possession, other enjoyments still are always in store in Cairo. We children of northern cities would be repaid by a journey to the Nile, were it by nothing else than breathing on a clear winter morning the pure spicy air of the desert, or seeing from the citadel on a fine evening the sun go down behind the pyramids, and the cupolas and minarets of the town glittering in airy robes

« VorigeDoorgaan »