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refuse him," she says fifty times a a trembling hand and with eyes day. “It will be the happiness of my blinded with tears. old age, and a chance for you such as Dear Arturo, I am so wretched, yet you never dreamed of. You will be I feel your pain more than my own, enormously wealthy and all your because I am as sure of your love for friends will envy you; you can aspire me as you are of mine. I write to let to the highest position. With a Span- you know my mother's orders. I feel ish nobleman for your husband, you wretchedly to cause you so much sufcan go to court. You will be maid offering, but my own is just as intense. honor; you will be one of the principal After a terrible scene mamma inladies of Madrid.
sisted, even demanded, that our en"But, on the contrary, if you take gagement should end. Just imagine Arturo, you will live in poverty and knowing as you do how dearly I love misery; you see how we live with an you-how much grief this resolution income equal to captain's pay. causes me. Don't scorn my advice, dear child. I I sacrifice myself in order to obey speak from love and a knowledge of my mother, and to give her, in her old the world.”
age, luxuries which to-day she cannot Her words and your example exer- enjoy. cise a great and profound influence on I have not yet told you all; she my mind.
wishes me to marry a man whom I Arturo carries himself well, he is do not love. She has worked upon my discreet, agreeable and affectionate, feelings of gratitude, telling me of her although he lacks resources, and can tenderness and the care which she has expect absolutely nothing in the fu- lavished on me ever since I was born, ture. If I marry him I shall lead a in order to oblige me to consent to life of privations and hardships. Mar- such a monstrous union. ried to the Mar iés, I should live in The Marqués de Peña Alta is old, luxury and ease.
and I am almost a child. We have difWhat you tell me, dearest Luisa, is ferent tastes and habits, and cannot another reason why I should decide. be happy. Your lover shed tears-for men can But what does it matter? He is imcry, sometimes—but he dried those mensely rich. He has superb palaces, tears and found consolation soon after, magnificent carriages, and poor too soon. Arturo will do the same; mamma will enjoy all this. It does besides, military men have so many not matter if I am unhappy, it does sacred obligations and imperious du- not matter if I live in sorrow and bitties to absorb their attention.
terness. Pity me, Arturo, because I I am going to write him. I must shall never forget you, and your image soothe his anger with loving words, will be engraved forever on the heart and I shall write so tenderly that he of your unhappy
Margarita. will think I am sacrificed; that I am obeying my mother. That excuse will have more or less effect, but in reality, Arturo de Sandoval to the Marqués de everyone knows that daughters are Peña Alta. not, as they were in old times, victims
My dear Sir: of their parents' wishes.
I send you the enclosed letter that Thanks, dearest, for your advice.
you may better understand the woman Ever lovingly,
whom you are shortly to marry. I Margarita.
loved her with enthusiasm, with true
passion, but to-day she inspires me Margarita to Arturo.
with profound contempt. I believe Madrid, March 12, 189-. that you will have the same impresI am afraid that you will not be able sion when you know what she is and to read the lines which I write with what she is worth.
Mental Activity in Dreams.
607 I am not moved by a mean impulse on me that the papers had been origiof revenge in writing this; no, I write nally written in secret ink, and later in a more noble and generous spirit. exposed to fire, or to the action of I wish to open your eyes, which are chemicals. To this now obvious exblinded as mine were, and to prevent planation I did not consciously reason. you from falling into the clutches of Beyond these simple mental phean ambitious and heartless woman. nomena we come to the cases in which With this motive, I am,
a mathematical problem is solved, or Yours truly, a musical piece is composed, by a perArturo de Sandoval.
son “walking in his sleep.” Several
instances occur in books about psyV.
chology. Next we find the cases in The Marqués de Peña Alta to Arturo which a dream dramatically reveals to. de Sandoval.
a man some secret which he cannot A man capable of doing what you remember to have ever known while have just done is rightly named
awake. A story of this kind is told miserable wretch. You will receive, in a note to “The Antiquary.” A genwithin a few hours, the visit of two tleman, in dire need of certain docupersons whom I have asked to conferments, dreams that his dead father with two persons whom you may se- appears to him, and gives him the clue, lect, in order to arrange the conditions
with many curious particulars. Scott of a duel. It would not be right to
argues that the aream only revived leave unpunished the mean action of
some lost memory, perhaps of childwhich you have been guilty, and I
hood. hope to give it deserved and just pun
Now, in the last “Proceedings of the ishment.
Society for Psychical Research,” there
occurs a perfectly beautiful case of
the mind so!:ing a problem in sleep, VI.
and solving it, apparently, by the aid The Marqués de Peña Alta to the
of a person long dead, in the course of Senorita Dona Margarita de In- a dramatic dream. Here is no preestrosa.
tence of a spook; the perplexed mind, My dearest one: Will you consult
it is admitted, hits on the right soluwith your mother and fix the date of
tion in slumber, and throws it into
The hero is Dr. Hilprecht, professor
of Assyrian in the University of PennEduardo, Marqués de Peña Alta.
sylvania. In March, 1893, the learned Translated for THE LIVING AGE by Jean Ray- professor was trying to decipher the mond Bidwell.
two broken bits of agate, pieces, as was supposed, of old Babylonian finger
rings. He had not even the bits of From The Illustrated London News. stone before him, only sketches made MENTAL ACTIVITY IN DREAMS.
from these originals. which were disMost people know the curious re- covered by archæologists from the freshing influence of sleep on the mind. American university. The professor The schoolboy goes to bed, unable to guessed their date, widely, at 1700remember the lines he has tried to 1140 B.C., and he did decipher one learn by rote; he wakens with his task character as K U. He ascribed this achieved, “word perfect.” For days “to King Kurigalzu (?)” and set down this summer I puzzled over the pe- the fragments
“unclassifiable.". culiarities of the paper and ink in cer- Then he marked his proof “for press," tain historical manuscripts. One and went to bed, tired and dissatisfied. morning I awoke with the idea flashing The professor dreamed a dream. A
Chaldean priest took him into a temple which read “Iacobus II., Gratia”), treasure-chamber, wherein was “a large the combined fragments read: wooden chest, with scraps of agate and lapis lazuli on the floor." The priest
To the God Ninib, child then said that the two fragments, pub
Of the God Bel lished on page 22 and page 26 of the
Kurigalzu professor's book, were not finger-rings.
Pontifex of the God Bel King Kurigalzu had once offered to the
Has presented it. shrine of Bel an inscribed cylinder of agate, such as we have all seen in
There was a difficulty even now, for in museums. Then the priests were sud- the sketches the fragments were repre denly ordered to make agate earrings sented as of different colors of agate. for the god Ninib. Now the priests
How, then, could they have originally “were out of agate” in the rough. They been parts of the same cylinder? Dr. therefore cut the cylinder of Kurigalzu Hilprecht, in August, 1893, went to Coninto three parts whereof two were con
stantinople and examined the two fragverted into Ninib's earrings. The
ments, which he found in separate priest, in the dream of course, bade Dr. vitrines. They fitted into each other, Hilprecht put his two fragments to- but, when originally sawn out of the gether, and he departed. The professor cylinder, “the whitish vein of the stone (teste Mrs. Hilprecht) jumped out of bed, appeared on one fragment, the larger compared the two sketches of the frag- grey surface upon the other.” ments, and exclaimed, “It is so, it is so!" The explanation of the discovery
The fragments, even now, are incom- made in the dream is that, when wide plete. Certain characters are “entirely awake, Dr. Hilprect's mind was led lost, and have been supplied by analogy away from the original unity of the two from the many similar inscriptions." fragments by their difference of color Thus filled (just as we might add as exhibited in the sketches. “Dei" to a coin, partially obliterated,
"Coventry and “Middlemarch.”—It is industrialism has not displaced the probable that in a very few years old feudal feeling, and the shopkeepCoventry will hardly be recognizable ers of “Middlemarch” are more as the “Middlemarch” of George Eliot. spectfully aware of the old county The life she sketches is that of a quiet families than they are to-day in little country town. Mr. Vincy, the silk boroughs like Leek or Uttoxeter, to manufacturer, representative of a fail- take our instances from the Staffording industry, with his indignant tirades shire country that our great novelist in faulty English against the “new- knew so well. George Eliot's connecfangled dyes that rot the silk," and tion with “Coventry” will be fresh in his cheerful, handsome wife in pink
the recollection of readers of her life. ribbons, with her innocent pride in the The friendship which she formed children, who are so much more culti- there with Charles Bray and his famvated, in a surface sense, than their ily was the main influence that deterparents; Mr. Bulstrode, the Methodist mined her career. Her translation of banker, the medical men of the new Strauss's "Leben Jesu,” which gave and old school and their lady par
her the entree to London literary life, tisans; Mr. Farebrother, the Broad and brought her into relations with Church whist-playing parson, and Mr.
Chapman, the editor of the WestminTyke, his Evangelical rival-all these ster and with George Henry Lewes, types seem already to be removed was suggested by this citizen of Covfrom us by much more than a genera- entry.
From "Travel.” tion. In George Eliot's book modern
I. HORACE IN ENGLISH. By Charles Cooper, Gentleman's Magazine, .
Quarterly Review, .
Part IV. Translated for THE LIVING
AGE by Mary J. Safford,
POLITICAL NOVEL, By H. D. Traill, Fortnightly Review,
Blackwood's Magazine, .
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MOSCHUS' EPITAPH ON BION. IN THE WOOD OF FINVARA. I have grown tired of sorrow and human "Ah, well a day! When mallows fade
and fall, tears; Life is a dream in the night, a fear among When withers all the thriving clump of
Or fresh green parsley by the garden wall, fears,
dillA naked runner lost in a storm of spears.
Another year will see them flourish still
But we the great, the mighty or the wise, I have grown tired of rapture and love's Whene'er we fall on death and close our desire;
eyes, Love is a flaming heart, and its flames Unhearing sleep within the hollow earth aspire
The endless sleep that knows no morning Till they cloud the soul in the smoke of a
So Moschus sang two thousand years ago,
of woe. I would wash the dust of the world in a
Yet from the spell of that sad knell-like soft green flood:
strain Here, between sea and sea, in the fairy
Our hearts must turn, nor wed despair to wood, I have found a delicate, wave-green soli
The early world felt youth's quick keen
despair; Here, in the fairy wood, between sea and To her this earth's green garden was so sea,
fair, I have heard the song of a fairy bird in a That eyes yet blind with tears at death's tree,
sharp knife And the peace that is not in the world Saw through the darkness cold no other has flown to me.
But we, the children of the ages grey.
wings; IN MEMORIAM: WILLIAM MORRIS.
In the quaint skill of spring's unfolding Painter-poet, art thou gone,
birth Work of words and palette done? We guess the power to build new Heavens Gone from rising self-mued eyes
and Earth: To have commerce with the skies? Yea, through the garden since that day Gone thou art! But echoing sure
One passed Shall th' evangel song endure:
Whose eyes slept once in death, yet waked "Little labor of each minute,
at last. Let thy living soul pulse in it!
CLOTILDA MARSON. Be thou, humblest artisan, Priest of art and very man! What a Stoss or Krafft may teach, Grasp it; it is in thy reach!
In the glory of youth the young man went; Fischer's wrist or Dürer's brush
His heart with pride was stirred; Are for thee as song for thrush!
"They should yield," he cried, "to the mesBliss of effort sung by poet,
sage sent, Let your eyes quick-flashing show it!
And force of the burning word.”
The long years passed and a wearied man So sang Morris Hope's sweet song
Crept back to the old home door: To a dear despairing throng,
“I have spoken my word and none bas Sowing seed of countless price
heard, For his Earthly Paradise.
And the great world rolls as before." Speaker. CSOK, JO S. E. W.