Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

REQUIESCAT. THY step is drear, thou dark New Year-there's blood upon thy brow;

And though thou tell'st of victory, we cannot hail it now.

One passing bell above the strife flings out its awful voice;

If bride can smile on bridegroom's bier, then England may rejoice.

In conquest's brightest, proudest hour, all glorious though it be,

Our hearts grow cold as thine to think, dead
Havelock, on thee.

Oh, sorest blow our stricken land has borne
from Arm Divine;

Oh, bitterest drop in that red cup, that drink of deadly wine!

Oh, martyr chief; whose steadfast strength, 'mid danger and dismay,

Poured on our gloom the golden light of Plassy and Assaye.

Bethink ye of that hour when close the foeman's legions drew,

The countless on the dauntless came, the traitors on the true;

When gallant eyes grew dim with tears, and hope was faint and low,

And gentle hearts were breaking in the leagur of Lucknow;

Right through the accursed host he swept, right

onward to the mark,

As leaps the life-boat through the waves that whelm a drifting barque.

His requiem be the benisons in fainting accents showered,

His monument our heroes saved, our maidens undeflowered.

Bethink ye, while for crumbling power in blind and fated pride,

The cold Iscariots of our land betrayed the crucified,

'Mid wav'ring hearts and faltering lips he never blenched to own

To Paynim fierce, or Christian false, the God he feared alone.

And when upon the gory sod, beneath the torrid zone,

The victor laid him down to die, say not his

work was done :

[blocks in formation]

That we were tenants of a house decayed; The early snows like dreams to us descended; The frost did fairy-work on pave and bough; Beauty, and power, and wonder have not ended

How is it that we fear the winters now?

Their house-fires fall as bright on earth and chambers;

Their northern starlight shines as coldly clear; The woods still keep their holly for December: The world a welcome yet for the new yaer And far away in old remembered places

The snow-drop rises and the robin sings; The sun and moon look out with loving faces-Why have our days forgot such goodly things Is it now that north winds finds us shaken By tempests fiercer than its bitter blast, Which fair beliefs and friendships, too, have

taken

[blocks in formation]

Ere yet the twilights found us strange and lonely,

With shadows coming when the fire burns low,

To tell of distant graves and losses only-
The past that cannot change and will not go.
Alas! dear friends, the winter is within us,

Hard is the ice that grows about the heart; For petty cares and vain regrets have won us From life's true heritage and better part. Seasons, and skies rejoice, yea, worship rather; But nations toil and tremble even as we Hoping for harvest they will never gather,

Fearing the winters which they may not see.

"Two hands upon the breast, and labor is past." -Russian Proverb.

Two hands upon the breast,
And labor's done,

Two pale feet crossed in rest,

The race is won.

Two eyes with coin-weights shut,
And all tears cease;

Two lips where grief is mute,
And wrath at peace.

So pray we oftentimes, mourning our lot-
God in His kindness, answereth not.

Two hands to work addressed,
Aye for His praise;

Two feet that never rest

Walking His ways.

Two eyes that look above

Still through all tears,
Two lips that breath but love,

Never more fears.

So cry we afterward, low at our knees,

Pardon those erring prayers! Father, hear these.

From Titan.

WHICH?

OR,

EDDIES ROUND THE RECTORY.

CHAPTER I.

"I could wish no surer index of character, and his wife will call, and entertain them too, especially a woman's, than to read a letter from which will be pleasant for our girls; in this her pen: not morbid sensibilities, in a romantic effusion from one young lady to another, or way, at least, they are quite a godsend. The from one everyday acquaintance to another; party comprises the Rev. Dr. Wyndham, his but domestic delineations, in the genuine out- wife, two grown-up daughters, and two little pourings of affectionate hearts, from sister to ones, about the sizes of the Simpsons. I sister, or sister to brother, mother to daughter, or daughter to mother. Some of these I have cannot think what this parish wanted with more than once chanced to see, and can safely more girls; dear me, we have enough alsay no volume of feminine experience ever printed could be compared with them."-Notes on Men and Manners in the Old Country. Letter from Mrs. Burleigh, of Burleigh Priory, to her Daughter, Mrs. Brown of Barnby, Yorkshire.

LANDERIS, May, 12, 18-.

MY DEAR JANE,- Time flies away so rapidly here, that with all my exertions, rising early, and going to bed late, I can never get through a third of the business I have to do, to say nothing of letter-writing, which I confess absorbs much time.

You can well understand all the trials and anxieties which must daily fall to the lot of the female head in every family. I am a slave to mine, and some day the world will know it. If I were gone, it is hard to say what the house would come to. I declare to you, what with Henry's extravagance, your father's obstinacy about the farm, as well as about everything else, the difficulty of making a proper show where the girls are concerned, and managing the house on the small means I have at my command, it is wonderful I am alive and as active as I am, though indeed I am gone to a skeleton, fit for my shroud.

There has been a famine of news here all the spring; the weather and the crops are dull to talk of for ever. But here I may as well tell you, that, after all I said, your father put turnips in the large field (serve him well if they turn out badly); but this is a digression. We have now plenty of conversation; for the new clergyman and his family are arrived at the Rectory. Of course, the world

ready; a few young men would be more acceptable. But I suppose we have all our trials to bear, and I cannot help this one, or I would. They were all in church yesterday for the first time. Dr. Wyndham preached a very good sermon, and his daughters wore decidedly pretty straw bonnets; talking of which brings me near home. I have ordered bonnets at Miss Manly's for Sarah and Fidelia, of pink crape, with little curly feathers at the sides, to be made after a Paris pattern. Vastly pretty they will be, I have no doubt, and so becoming, especially to Sarah. I have got my green silk dress turned, and it looks wonderfully well.

You ask about the Herberts. John is still in India, and Vernon somewhere on the Continent, I do not know where. Old Newton is the only one at Landeris, and you can well imagine the amount of information she would give. She is twenty times crosser than ever. Would you believe it? the nasty old creature would not let me cut a few sprays of japonica off the wall one day last week, when Sarah was in such distress for some to put on her dress and in her hair when going to Oaklands. Of Vernon Herbert I always thought, and ever will, too, that he could not endure this neighborhood since your marriage. I shall never forget the look he had the first time I saw him afterwards; he was the most awfully-cut-up man ever Mrs. Selwyn has decided on living in the village, and she has moved into the little cottage on the Fernley Road. What a fool that woman has proved herself all her life! Dear heart, if I were a widow, I would live

was seen.

at a watering-place-there would be some not in as flourishing a condition as she seems fun there-instead of in this dull old town. to expect. As for papa, it is difficult to say Dr. Price has bought a new phaeton. Now what peculiar bias his recreations take; what can he want with it? I am sure the farming I think will carry the present day at old one was good enough for a single man, least. He is out-of-doors all day long, and though the new one is a very genteel and as I write, I can see him sauntering up the pretty turn-out. I am sorry to hear little garden, in what we used in Ousely long ago Patty's eyes continue so weak: camomile tea to call the "country-parson style;" namely, and a green veil are considered excellent re- the hat drooping over the back of the head, medies. How did Johnnie's socks fit? It often indeed almost touching the coat-collar would be foolish to knit any more if he has behind. outgrown that size; do not forget this when you next write: you had best send me one of those he wears for a pattern. I have kept my letter open to the last moment, hoping that the girls would be home, that I might ask them the name of the place those Wyndhams come from, for I forget it. You know I never could recollect names of places. It is some large manufacturing town, I know; but no matter, I can tell you again; and will now close, substituting kisses for yourself and the children from your affectionate mother, PATRICIA BURLEIGH. P.S.-Did you know the brown horse was

sold?

ANOTHER LETTER.

Frances and I are particularly busy fitting up our own bedroom "to fancy." Your book-shelves were the first article put in its place. And very well they look, only Frances has a bad habit of rearranging the books incessantly, which I am obliged to discourage, and very often to administer a reprimand. Do not be uneasy about her; she is very composed, and tolerably cheerful, and, though we all know she feels strongly, much does not appear. I give her plenty of employment, and do not allow too long for saddening reflections. So cheer up, dear Edward, " to-morrow" must come one day, and be assured, when it comes, there will be no mistake about its being the "right one."

This one from Margaret Wyndham to her Cousin, You must soon try to get leave of absence

Edward Celbridge, LANDERIS, May 12, 18—. MY DEAR EDWARD, -As we are now a little settled here, I am able to give you some account of ourselves and our doings. I know Frances has written you several times; yet, remembering of an old propensity she had to treating of the inner life to the exclusion of the outer, it remains for me to give you some idea of us as we are to be seen and heard of in Landeris Rectory day and daily. We are all very happy, and quite contented, generally rather idle, the kind of idleness Willis writes of; you remember it begins," the rain is playing its soft pleasant tune fitfully on the skylight." We enjoy our complete change of life extremely-being so much separated during late years has made us only value each other's society the more.

We pass the days according to individual taste: mamma's employments during her leisure moments are, first, feeding a flock of chickens she found it incumbent on her to purchase at once on her arrival, and, secondly, cutting innumerable slips of plants, and setting them in most extraordinary localities; but truth must be told they are

to come and see us, and then you can better understand all about this place, of which in the meantime I must try to give you some idea.

It was perfectly charming in point of scenery; of society I can say nothing, for though there are a good many gentlemen's seats dotted over the country, as yet we have had no visitors.

Now for our house, which is picturesque, grey, and, old.

"Across its antique portico

Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw." It is almost a house with seven gables, only for one wing, which has been added in modern times, with larger windows and loftier ceilings. The older portion has funny wainscoated rooms, with out-of-the-way doors, leading into out-of-the-way passages, or up steep stairs into bedrooms full of corners and queer presses, some of the rooms having sloping roofs, some without, some with narrow casement windows, and others (in the newer part) large and bayed. I must not forget the view from our own window; it is perfectly enchanting. First peep down into our garden-flower-beds and fruit-trees are

sloping down to a river which divides our grounds from those belonging to a very fine house on the other side, Landeris Hall, the manor-house of this parish. Behind the dwelling stretch old woods for many miles; farther, blue mountains; and behind them, though out of sight, still within a day's journey, is the sea. Our house might have served as a model for one of those in Mrs. Sherwood's childish story-books, and as to "the Hall," it is the perfection of a storyhouse." At this moment there is exactly the orthodox amount of blue smoke curling out of one chimney, for the house is almost uninhabited, the family living abroad.

If contemplation of the beautiful improves

and cultivates the taste (as Ruskin affirms,) it is well for us, for we do require some compensation for the loss of the cousin tutor of our town-life. We miss you sadly one and all; at meals, papa becomes decidedly pathetic, and mamma as dolorous as need be; to this add Frances, and not unfrequently "gouttes d'eau" from Rose and Lucy, and you will see how much I have to do, to keep them all moderately cheerful at those times when your shadow comes across us all. I hear the trotting of the post-boy's pony, so must conclude, with the best and kindest love of, dear Edward, your ever affectionate cousin, MARGARET WYNDHAM.

CHAPTER II.-MORNING VISITORS AT THE RECTORY.

"I was in company with men and women,
And heard small talk
Of little things,

Of poor pursuits, And narrow feelings

And narrow views,

Of narrow minds."

-SWEDISH TRANS. F. BREMER. "Whose house is that I see?

No, not the county member's with the vane; Up higher, with the yew-tree by it, and half A score of gables?

James. That's Sir Edward Head's,

But he's abroad."-TENNYSON.

THE last letter was but finished, the ink of the signature was still wet, when a little head appeared at the door.

near this, for she talked of the church, and of seeing papa going every day to the postoffice. She is not pretty, and has a driedup face like Aunt Mary's."

"I wish she had put off her visit till a little later," said Frances, rising to go downstairs, for I had another letter to finish. Some old maid, of course, coming to inspect us all. I wonder if ever there was such a thing as a village without one or more old maids in it?"

Take care," said Margaret; "you do not know what I may come to be. No reflections on old maids."

"Be a pleasant one, then, and do not pay "Margaret and Frances, mamma sent me visits when you are not wanted-before peofor you. There is a lady in the drawing-ple are well into a new house." room you are to come and see,"

"Who is she, Lucy?"

"I do not know; a visiter, I suppose. She asked for you."

"And we were so snug here; it is too provoking. Where are the envelopes, Margaret ? "

"Please do not be long in going," said Lucy; "mamma looked in a hurry. Margaret, I can fold and seal your letter for you."

"What do you mean by mamma looking in a hurry?"

"The lady talked so fast, and so loud. I am sure you are wanted to help poor mamma; that is the loudest woman I ever heard."

"Did you hear her name?" "I think mamma read card, but I am not sure.

Miss Jones' off a She must live very

"Social duties, as papa says-visitors and visiting."

"My daughters, Miss Jones," said Mrs. Wyndham, as they entered the drawingroom.

66

Indeed." was the lady's reply as she sprung from her seat, and dashing across the room, extended a hand to each young lady. She was an old maid, no mistaking one of the genus; not one of the quiet unobtrusive class, whose presence is like a cool shadow on a hot summer day, but one of those tiresome, forward, fussy bodies, who push themselves in everywhere, and who love above all things to hear themselves talk.

"How do you do, Miss Wyndhams both? I am so happy to make your acquaintance. Such a pleasure; was so afraid you might be out; and heard you were early walkers; wanted so much to introduce myself to you

all: am quite determined we shall be all the tle King Charles dog. What a beauty he greatest friends possible, in the shortest pos- was, Remus, as I called him; you never saw sible time. Indeed, yes, indeed, you cannot a greater love than he was; but one day he think how I have been looking forward to got out of the door somehow, and ran down this day for ever so long a time back. Allow the street, and how it happened, of course me to express my heartfelt gratification, Miss no one can say: whether the poor dear was Wyndham." bewildered by the noise in the streets, and

All of this delivered in a most rapid, ener-run down, or picked up, or milled into sausagetic manner, caused the voluble lady to ges, or what, I cannot say; all I know is, pause for breath, and leave a space for Mar- that from that day to the present I never garet to give in return a kind of indistinct saw or heard anything more of him; and murmur; which, being of a sanguine temper- such a love of a collar as he had on too. ament, Miss Jones interpreted as a recipro- I'll never look upon his like again."-(Query catory sentiment; and quite pleased, she dog or collar.) dashed on as follows:

[ocr errors]

66

"that is

A lady

"What" began Margaret. Oh," interrupted Miss Jones, not all; the worst is still to come. who lived in the next house had met him turning the first corner, and did not take the trouble of even turning him towards home, and actually never told me until a week after, when I had spent half-a-guinea in advertising."

"Just as you came in, Miss Wyndham, I had been telling your mamma how delighted every one here was to hear our new rector had a family, (Mr. Cooper, our late one, was a bachelor;) they would be such a delightful addition to our little social circle here, quite an acquision, for we Landerisonians (if I may use the expression) are such social people -tea parties, walking parties, working par- "How distressing!" said good Mrs. Wyndties, picnic parties, visiting parties, all suc-ham, in a sympathising tone of voice; whether ceeding each other the whole year round; alluding to the dog, the lady, or the halfone never can be dull here, so animated, so guinea, history saith not. cheerful, such perfect unanimity as exists. "It would have been so different here," reIndeed, the place might have served to give sumed Miss Jones, pathetically; "every genthe idea of Rasselas' to Dr. Johnson, only tleman in the country would have been up I did not know it in his time, and I could not about my darling little Remus. That odious venture to say if it was as pleasant in those Leeds, I never can bear the name of it since. days; all I know is, that nothing could be It has given me a complete prejudice against more like now; only there is no foolish large towns, and indeed, I may say against young man wanting over the mountain-they the inhabitants too, so cold, so selfish, so unhave rather too much sense for that. You feeling. I think living in one quite enough see it is so different from a large town, where to destroy all kindly feelings towards one's no one cares what becomes of you; every fellow-creatures, and deaden all sociability, one is so wrapped up in their own concerns, they have no sympathies to spare for the 'children of one common parent,' as some one says, I forget now who it was. But I would like to tell you an anecdote, to illustrate this; quite a true one, I can assure you for I was the principal on the occasion myself. It is not like a great many capital stories one hears told by such dreadfully common-place people, as if such nonentities ever could have met with such an adventure, the absurdity, while if they had made themselves out the actor in some more moderate tale, probably half the company would be taken in; but what I am going to tell you really happened. I was once on a visit at Leeds, and I had taken with me such a pet of a lit

indeed I—. But I beg your pardon, Miss Wyndham; after all I have said, how stupid to forget that I heard you had lived in a town all your life. Pray excuse me-you will think I was deliberately insulting you. But am I correctly informed? Did you live in a large town?"

"Sometimes in town, sometimes in country; always in one or other," said Frances, with a twinkling eye.

"How unfortunate I was to make such remarks, but you know that when strangers meet for the first, knowing nothing of each other's previous history, these things often occur. Indeed, I have known duels fought about foolish words."

66

Foolish, indeed," said Margaret; "but 1

« ElőzőTovább »