ard D he leader's manner and speech, which I have | in the judgment of all right-judging permyself noticed on other occasions, pro- sons, while the Association would soar,' duced its result here; men left their work etc., etc., etc. It was the most barefaced to follow the steps of the great professor, thing I ever witnessed; but every one and towards afternoon Sedgwick woke up laughed, every one was delighted, and the to the fact that the little class of savans. resolution in favor of inviting the Assowho had started with him in the morning ciation to Cambridge was carried almost, had grown into a crowd of listeners, com- if not quite, unanimously. se posed chiefly of colliers and the like. Thereupon the fire kindled; Sedgwick went off into one of his irregular foods ere of unpremeditated original oratory, rose from the physical (as he delighted to do) to the moral, and gave his rough audience the benefit of his thoughts and kindly ts, advice. A witness of the scene, who described it to me, spoke of it as one of the most wonderful he had ever seen; the whole heart and attention of every one present was gained as by magic, every eye was fixed, while on most faces tears Dr. of emotion were seen quietly trickling down. I never had the pleasure of hearing Sedgwick preach; I imagine that in order to have heard him to perfection one ought to have been present on the occasion of one of his visits to Dent or its neighborhood, when I am told that the dalesmen flocked to church in great numbers and listened to him with much enthusiasm. But there is one sermon of his which has had an unusual history, and which is remarkable as being the foundation or kernel of the largest book which ever came from his hand. He was invited to preach the commemoration sermon in the chapel of Trinity College in the year 1832. This he did, and treated in a very striking and earnest manner the great question of the "Studies of the University of Cambridge." He was of course requested to print the sermon, which he also did, and by-and-by he enriched it with annotations. The sermon has gone through five editions, and in the last occupies the central ninety-four pages of a very stout volume. The book begins with an introduction of four hundred and twenty-two pages, and concludes with notes which occupy no less than two hundred and twenty-eight; so that in its ultimate form the sermon itself is the least important part of the work, and has been compared to a few grains of wheat between two huge millstones. The mention of the British Association | in connection with Sedgwick's eloquence reminds me of an amusing little event which occurred on the occasion of the visit of the Association to Cambridge in 1845. For some reason which I cannot explain, Dr. Whewell, then master of Trinity College, had taken up a very strong opinion against the propriety of the visit; Professor Sedgwick was equally anxious that the visit should take place. Accordingly a meeting was summoned in icone of the schools, at which the momenatitous question was discussed whether the Association should be invited or not. The professor described the event as a wrestling-match" between the master nt of Trinity and himself. Of the master's speech I need say nothing here; the pro- A noted Scotch professor used to say fessor's reply was most spirited and most that there was some fine confused eatamusing, and perhaps chiefly remarkable ing" in a singed sheep's head; and a for the bold manner in which he set aside similar criticism may perhaps be applied logic, and trusted his case to the guar- to Sedgwick's "Discourse on the Studies dianship of burning rhetoric. He first of the University," with all the miscelladrew a picture of the appalling result to neous matter which is bound up with it. ent the prospects of the Association which It is a delightful book, either to read conmust surely follow from Cambridge giving tinuously, or to take in hand for an odd it the cold shoulder. He assured us that half-hour; but I fear that its interest will it was nothing less than a question of life decline as time goes on. Some of the and death; that the society could scarcely matters discussed have already been left of survive such treatment from such a body; behind in the intellectual arguments of and, having worked out this view of the the present day; and perhaps also it is subject to his heart's content, he suddenly, necessary to have known the man as he and without notice, adopted and supported was in life, and to have loved him, in with equal eloquence the exactly opposite order thoroughly to appreciate a book view. Did we think that the British which is a flagrant breach of almost every Association would suffer from such treat- rule that can be laid down for authors ment? No; our conduct would all recoil who wish to construct a book secundum upon ourselves. We should be disgraced | artem. ures 2075 trat It has been already said that Sedgwick's | Preface and Appendix on the Climate, literary relics were something like the History, and Dialects of Dent." It proresults of accident. True as this is with duced more effect than the professor exrespect to the volume to which reference pected, as he himself explained fully in a has just now been made, it is perhaps supplementary volume. I will tell the still more true with regard to another story, however, as it came under my own interesting relic, which, so far as I know, notice. Happening to be in Cambridge has not yet been published, though it was some time after reading the book, I called circulated in print during his lifetime. upon the professor at his rooms in TrinThe origin of the book, or rather ity College, he being confined to his books to which I now refer, and which rooms by indisposition of some kind. belong to the concluding period of his We soon began to talk about his book, life, as the "Studies of the University" for a copy of which I thanked him. He belongs to the early part of his career, is brightened up at once, forgot all his exceedingly droll and characteristic. It maladies, and exclaimed with great deseems that a chapel had been built in an light, Oh, my poor little book has been outlying district of his native parish, of in the great places of the earth; the which he was one of the trustees, and queen has summoned it to court!" which received the name and was always then went on to say that her Majesty had known by the name of Cowgill Chapel. heard of the book, and expressed a wish The new Midland Line between Carlisle to see it, and that he had transmitted a and Settle runs close to it. In the course copy. He added, if I rightly recollect, of ecclesiastical improvement it was ar- that he would not have a copy put into ranged that a separate district should be court dress, but preferred that his little assigned to this chapel, and a scheme, book should appear before her Majesty having been prepared for the purpose "in all its rustic simplicity." according to the usual course by the eccle- The result of the professor's literary siastical commissioners, was duly sub- ebullition was remarkable, and probably mitted to her Majesty in Council and unparallelled. His grievance, which to became law. When the professor saw most onlookers would seem to be trifling the scheme his indignation knew no or even infinitesimal, was remedied by bounds; the familiar name of Cowgill was act of Parliament. A clause was ingot rid of altogether, and another name serted in a bill in the year 1869 by which which belonged to the district-namely, it was enacted as follows: He Whereas by an order in Council, bearing date the ninth day of September, 1865, a district Chapelry was annexed to the Chapel of Cowgill, in the Parochial Chapelry of Dent, in the Parish of Sedbergh, in the County of York and Diocese of Ripon, to be called by the name of the District Chapelry of Kirkthwaite, such District Chapelry shall henceforth be called by the name of the District Chapelry of Cowgill, and not by the name of the District Chapelry of Kirkthwaite. Kirthwaite substituted. But this was not the worst. Apparently through the instrumentality of the curate in charge, Kirthwaite had been changed into Kirkthwaite. That strange unauthorized k was gall and wormwood to the professor's mind. He got up a memorial to the ecclesiastical commissioners, praying that Kirkthwaite might at least be changed back to the authorized Kirthwaite, or, still better, Cowgill restored. Alas! the scheme had received the royal approval, and the commissioners had no power. Nothing could exceed Sedgwick's joy The professor felt that all that he could do at the success of his efforts. He gave was to address his fellow dalesmen, make vent to his feelings in a second little a protest against the whole proceeding, volume, addressed to his fellow dalesmen, especially against the rash and unjustifia- and entitled "A Supplement to the Meble introduction of that k, and then leave morial of the Trustees of Cowgill Chapel, himself in their hands. This he did; and with an Appendix." In this supplement are indebted to the objectionable he narrates the whole history of the trans scheme assigning a district to Cowgill action in a tone of profound gratitude to Chapel, for one of the most charming the queen, and then runs off more suo to repertories of old memories concerning all kinds of interesting particulars con the ways and customs of the Yorkshire cerning the early history of Dent. dales nearly a century ago that can well be imagined. we The book is called "A Memorial by the Trustees of Cowgill Chapel, with a I have ventured to introduce the nam of the queen into this little narrative, be cause it was impossible to disconnect he Majesty from the story of Cowgill Chape e tra e 1 and the objectionable k in the fictitious | tlest expression of fun or kindness, or to Kirkthwaite. I trust I may be permitted convey the impression of the man of to introduce the same name once again, genius. I have seldom seen such an eye. for the purpose of recording a character- It was altogether a grand face, having, istic story of Professor Sedgwick. Some however, the beauty of the forest oak time after the queen's great bereavement, rather than that of the garden plant. the professor received an invitation to There must be in existence hundreds d Windsor: this of course was generally of letters which would be available for a known through the ordinary channels of biography. Whether his scientific friends information. Shortly after his return to received many worthy of reproduction on 1 Cambridge a friend said to him, "You scientific grounds I do not know; possihave been to court, professor, since I saw bly not; but there must be abundance of you last." "No," he replied, "I have bright, chatty letters, written in the fulnot been to court; I have been to visit a ness of his heart to intimate friends, a Christian woman in her affliction." These selection from which would be exceedwere very characteristic words, and I am ingly welcome to those of the present not wrong in saying that those who knew generation who had the privilege of knowhim will recognize them at once as having him. I venture to introduce one ing the ring of genuineness. The words specimen into this fugitive sketch. It is themselves, as well as the visit which scarcely a specimen; there is nothing gave rise to them, are indicative of that remarkable in it; it is only a gossiping peculiar gentleness of heart and sweet- reply to a letter in which I had asked ness of character, combined with robust him to give me a copy of his "Supplefaith and perfect Christian simplicity, ment;" but note the kindly tone which which made him as welcome a companion runs through it, and observe how the in the chamber of sickness and death, as octogenarian speaks of his companion of his genial disposition and his fund of fourteen, and also how he brings in the interesting and amusing talk made him to little bit about the Bagshot Sand at the be in the combination room or the family end. circle. Perhaps I may give, as a companion to the story of the visit to Windsor, the following which occurred within my own circle of experience. A parish ioner of mine at Cambridge, who, amongst other occupations, worked at geology, and so became well known to Sedgwick, was taken ill and died. During his illness he caused a portrait of Sedgwick to be hung upon a wall where he could constantly see it as he lay in a state of weakness; and before he died his last wish was that the professor would come to see him once more, which he accordingly did. BOURNEMOUTH, HANTS, MY DEAR LORD - Your letter has found me out. Just come, in a Trojan post-horse. My letters are forwarded from Trinity College in packets. One of them came with thirteen fullgrown letters in its abdominal cavity, and so I naturally called it a Trojan horse. The one Castle was less prolific. It only turned out a which has brought your kind letter from Rose litter of eight. Fortunately, I had put a copy of my "Supplement" among the books my servant packed for me before we left Cambridge. I actually anticipated some friendly demand like that with which I have been honored by his lordship of Rose Castle; and I am giving myself as much praise as I deserve, and a little more, for this act of thoughtfulness. My servant will make a B. P. parcel of the little pamphlet and send it off, I hope, by this day's post. Speaking of portraits, I may observe, by the way, that the lithographed likeness taken from a chalk drawing by Samuel 's Lawrence is an admirable representation of the man as he was in the vigor of middle age. Notice the eye, it is excellently I suffered greatly from bronchitis in the well represented, it has a force in it spring months of this year, and when I bewhich it has been given to few eyes to came convalescent, I was advised by my doctor possess. It seemed capable of express- to seek out a warm nook on the south coast, eing almost any passion. Those who did and halt there for a week or two, that my lungs not know him well might fear from the may recover a healthy tone, and my general manifest vigor of it that it was capable health may be renovated. I now ail very little. The weather has been very beautiful, but very showing terrific bursts of but anger; it never did, within my knowledge, though which has this day confined me to the house. searching, and I have caught a slight cold I have seen it flash with almost awful fire Only I went out at II A.M., muffled and bandhe when I have heard him denounce some-aged like a mummy, to take a hot bath. Forthing which he regarded as wrong. Its tunately, the bath-house is close to our door, general habit was to melt into the gen- in the very next house to this hotel. tude ars C tive nect B of On my way hither I halted at Bath (with a lad of fourteen for my companion, who has been driven from Marlborough College by the bad fever), and we did thoroughly enjoy that magnificent bathing establishment; and we had friends to cheer us. We have no friends here; and the state of my health hardly allows me to make any. My companion is perform ing morning, noon, and night upon a bicycle which I gave him, and of which he is not a little proud. He performs upon it very well. Let me now turn my face from the bishop, and look at his lady and his daughters -at all his establishment. I send to them my kindest greetings, and ask God to bless them all, and to fill their hearts with gladness. All this part of Hampshire rests upon a sterile sand. Left to itself it produces nothing better than heath and furze bushes; and its look is featureless, barren and desolate. But pine-trees will grow in this Bagshot Sand (as geologists call it); and the town, when I first saw this coast in 1821, along with our friend Whewell, was a very small starvation village. It now peeps out in multitudinous grotesque villas of all shapes and sizes, which, in combination with the dark evergreen woods, produce a very lively effect. It has, I think, an American look about it. But my paper is done, and I have wound up my tales. I remain, my dear lord, I cannot close this paper more appropriately than by quoting the last paragraph from the "Supplement," the last words that the professor printed. "You have been very kind, very good to us, Mr. Fairfax; you have stayed and helped us when there was no one else; you have always been a - comfort. But then it must have been very, very dismal where there was nothing but trouble," and gloomy for you to be in a house Alice said. pain. It Her pretty eyes were swimming in tears. It gave her a little pang to think But if a long life has been given me, am I to that perhaps this visitor, though he had murmur because the infirmities of age are be- been so kind, had been staying out of ginning to press hard upon me? God forbid mere civility, and thinking it hard. that such should be my bearing while under was not out of any other feeling in her my Maker's hand! Nay, rather let me laud mind that she was aware of; but to think his holy name for the countless and ill-deserved that Fairfax had been longing to get blessings he has showered upon me; and humbly ask him for Jesus' sake, his anointed away perhaps, feeling the tedium of his son, to pour into my heart the grace of thank-stay, gave her a sharp little shock of fulness, and to cheer the remnant of my fastwaning life with hopes becoming my grey hairs, and my Christian profession. While asking my God and Saviour to help me in calling up such thoughts as these, I wish also to impress them upon my dear old friends in Dent, and in the neighboring dales (and not upon the aged only, but upon all my brother dalesmen of whatever age), especially now that I am winding up my final conclusion, pronouncing my farewell, and asking God to bless my dear birth-dale, and those who dwell within it. I have now had my say, and given utterance to my grievance; and I conclude by asking whether we are ever, and if so how soon, to have a memoir of Adam Sedgwick? HARVEY CARLISLE. "Do not speak so-pray do not speak "That is So," said Fairfax, distressed. But I think I will go to not the reason. the village. There I can be at hand whatever is wanted. You will know that I am ready by night or day, but I have no right to be here.' her Alice looked at him, scarcely seeing him through the great tears with which out her hand with a tremulous gesture of eyes were brimming over. She put appeal. "Then you think," she said, in a voice which was scarcely louder than a whisper, " you think it is very near?" Fairfax felt that he could not explair himself. In the very presence of death could any one pause to think that Pau be 3 B1 This reassured her a little, and the glimmer of a feeble smile came on her face. She gave him her trembling hand for a moment. He had been very "kind." It was not a word which expressed his devotion, but Alice did not know what other to use — very very kind. "The house will seem more empty still if you go. It seems so lonely," said Alice; "like what it used to be when they were away in town and we left behind. Oh, if that were all! Paul ought to have been here all the time, and you have taken his place. It is unjust that you should go when he comes." door. "Don't leave me alone," he said "I shall not go," said Fairfax softly. He had held her hand in his for a moment only for a moment. Alice, in her grief, was soothed by his sympathy; but Fairfax, on the other hand, was very well aware that he must take no advantage of that sympathy. He would have liked to kiss the trembling hand in an effusion of the tender pity, and if it had been Lady Markham he might have done so; but it was Alice, and he dared not. He held himself aloof by main strength, keeping himself from even a word more. There was almost a little chill in it to the girl, whose heart was full of trouble and pain, and whose tearful eyes appealed unconsciously to that "kindness" in which she had such confidence. To be deserted by any one at such a moment would have seemed hard to her. The house was oppressed by the slow rolling-up of this Sp cloud, which was about to overcloud all their life. He never In Lady Markham now scarcely left the sick-room at all. When they warned her that she would exhaust herself, that she would not be able to bear the strain, she would shake her head with a woeful sort of smile. She was not of the kind that breaks down. She was sure of herself so long as she should be wanted, and afterwards, what did it matter? Now and then she would come out and take a turn or two along the corridor, rather because of the restlessness of anguish that would take possession of her than from any de- A visitor in the house at this melansire to "change the air," as the nurse choly period had, it need not be said, fdes said. And when she was out of the room stood in a very unusual position. He at Sir William's worn eyes would watch the scarcely knew the family, and yet he was |