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exhort us to an examination of conscience, hearts everlasting, welcome for such as and we turn a deaf ear; the conscience is have founded human happiness on worldly too close for impartial survey and censure. triumph, earthliness, pomp, and far-spreadNeither must remorse, which is old con- ing revel. We build monuments to the science, be adverted to. A past to which men who have given order to life; to we are attached either by prejudice or those who have given color we render voluntary affection impedes and constricts warmer homage ; we ask for them back

In a lumber-room we conduct the again. We believe they are stored for us scrutiny of our dead selves without em- in some cavernous lumber-room of earth, barrassment; we stand aloof, observe and and, returning, will one day cast a procesremember,

sional majesty on life. We have not the Yet why generalize, why speak of lum- courage of the children; we dare not lift ber-rooms, when it is of one we are think the lid of the hair trunk that contains our ing, - the many-nooked attic in an old hopes; we enshrine them, and let no man fashioned farmhouse, where two rosy- approach with unreverent feet. For we cheeked children played in winter on a are tempted to call mystic what we shrink foor strewn with store fruit and ripening from discovering, equally with that we are damsons? It had been revealed to them impotent to penetrate. Awe of contact that, if a certain curious hair trunk were with intolerable power operates more opened, with due rites and at propitious rarely than fear of exposing emptiness in hour, the dolls they had fondled, lost, for retaining us in an attitude of worship. gotten, and after many days desired with Belief in a millennium, as we have sugtears, would suddenly be discovered lying gested, may justify the more honorable bright and uninjured as on the day of gift. contents of our lumber-room, some hope A warming credulity crept through me as that one day they may be reunited to the I listened to details of the anticipated re- glory of the ball-room and the banquet; union. We discussed the toilettes of lost but what shall we say of the objects favorites that "suddenly as rare things stowed away in its lowlier corners, the will, had vanished," the oddities and in- homely, discarded things an elder world firmity of others taken from us by violence esteemed beautiful, buried by us out of or disaster. We recalled the lovable traits sight with revolt and a struggling shame; of creatures fallen to decay through ill- or, it may be, the creatures of our own usage or neglect. We named them by caprice, the fad, the extravagance of an

- Zinga, the Only Son, Antoinette. hour, the ephemeral display, the relic of a Everything was ready; faith flowed to the season's finery that instead of rotting with brim of the event. Had the Child Christ last summer's leaves continues to grin on been there, immediately must that hair us from an obtrusive peg? Why did we truok have yielded up its dead. I remem- not give these things to the elements ? ber the chill of heart with which I heard What prompted us to preserve them? that nothing had been found. There was Has the savage, we cry in our irritation, some quiet weeping on the attic stairs, his lumber-room as well as bis idol-chamthen all reference to the lost generations ber? Does he revere his rubbish and his ceased. The number of these small chil- gods? We respect the squirrel's instinct dren of the resurrection was to have ex. to hoard nuts. What aniinal, even of the ceeded fifty. Great must have been the more sober Scripture kind, has been depopulating of the imagination !

known to retain and consecrate its tar. For the tradition of a millennium, a re- nished weapons, its frayed garniture, or turn of the goodliest creatures that have forsaken cell? Is then this habit of stor. sojourned with us, is exciting and recur. ing a spiritual habit of which we may be rent, and will never be banished from the proud, or one for which a future architect hospitable human heart passionate to en- will make no provision? As we reflect tertain its heroes. The past must return on the great lumber-rooms of the world, to us, and something inore than the past on the difference in quality between the

the past and our joy in meeting it again. warehouse and the museum, our concluIt cannot be that King Arthur and Barba- sion visits us as a smile; had man derossa have taken leave of us forever. We stroyed universally, instead of discarding, want to walk the earth with them again; had he never learnt to spare that froin they kept us in tune; they dispersed the which his vital interest was withdrawn, influences that made life spiritless; they antiquity would not now be lying about us set a-ripple the current of our days ; let as the hills round about Jerusalem, prothe saints break through to an alien Para- tecting us against those gusts from chaos dise; the children of earth guard in their that sweep across the plain of time.


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One of the peculiar and moving attri- old acquaintance is that with him is debutes of lumber is its persistency. We stroyed so much of old-fashioned experiare forever confounding it with rubbish, ence, philosophy fallen out of repute, and but rubbish is ephemeral lumber and not inconsequent religion. Evidence harasses worth a thought. Lumber incommodes us, tradition consoles. To-day is for the us, the grim fostering it requires is bur. craftsman, yesterday for the artist. We densome; rot, that woody rheumatism, cannot reverence what we are ever bandmay infest its bones; it has need of air, ling. The sculptor sees his work as it in certain cases of light and warmth. Yet will be when it cools into immortality. He it does not reward our solicitude. The who would attain distinction in the use of indefinable grace of length of days, a speech must have knowledge of the undisshadow as from the under-feathers of turbed, monumental languages. The En. time's wing, rests over it; its corporeal gland we touch and converse with to-day presence is disconcerting. Our respect is not our country. Our country is where for it is mingled with admiration of our the moth and worm corrupt, on the battle. own long-suffering. Comfort, luxury, con- field, and in the crypt. venience, counselled its removal ; it owes Precious as we have proved our un. its conservation to a lenient reliance on profitable effects, we can by no means un. the liereafter. Its “ patient continuance" reservedly maintain that all things fallen in uselessness impresses us. For how into discredit should be harbored in hope strong is the impulse in living things to of future spiritual authority. We must get done with themselves when their best discriminate between dead and lively lumis accomplished ! “The Aower fadeth” ber. Dead lumber is that which, before

in that is its happiness. The pathos of it became lumber, fatigued and disgusted life lies, not in its transience, rather in its us ; lively lumber is that which in its presurvival of beauty, its monotony, its in- lumber stage gave us interest and delight. stinct for the formation of habits. It is What once genuinely excited us may be natural that the blossom should scatter spared, so only it pertained not to controand the leaf drift. We suffer with the versy; for controversy, as St. Paul points withering flowers that linger, the uncomely out, should set before close of day. But creatures that cannot remove, the things any work of art, utensil, instrument, or that corrupt and do not find a grave, that paper that has depressed or wrought us alter, and yet wane not nor slip away. If evil, should, when its term is over, be oblit. a traveller, roving our northern coasts in erated cleanly as by fiame. Though we November, turn from one of the inlet would deal tenderly with the pious praccoppices of its cliffs, silver with the tice of, as it were, providing almshouses curled-up meadow-sweet and gold with for our infirm and unserviceable chattels, wide-floundered fronds of blemished it has, like other gracious customs, its bracken, to the bare winter sea, he will abuse; we hoard documents less than in. learn the harshness of imperishable life. timate, and more than official.

"On ne The great water lies as under a spell, peut écrire que les choses dures ; quant stricken by its impotence to suffer change, aux choses douces, elles ne peuvent to abandon itself to the passionate, capri- s'écrire et ce sont les seules choses amu. cious misery of the wind. It is sick of santes.” Truth, Marie Bashkirtseff! the its own monotony; the currents of sum- only amusing things, and of them, though mer sunshine withdrawn, it would fain you affirm they cannot be written, your grow old, break up, and perish. Its tides own journal affords delicious examples. heave in lethargic revolt against the op. In correspondence “les choses dures," pression of their own routine; eternity should be consigned to the waste-paper clings to it as a fetter.

basket; "les choses douces” to the piIt were not difficult to ponder till one geon-hole. We should be able to recur to pondered oneself into the paradox that favorite passages in our letters with the nothing is useful till it has lost its use. ease and familiarity with which we turn to From the moment anything is put aside favorite passages in our books. Instead its leavening potency begins. Our awe of of this possession of our friends’ lumi. the dead springs in part from the sense nous suggestions and happy eloquence, we we have of their being no more subject crowd our drawers with manuscripts that to life's daily wear and tear. We think of will never be handled till they are Hung by them in the perfect employinent of perfect impatient hands in basketfuls on the furleisure. Again it is the lumber on old nace. faces that attracts us. The reason we feel To judge of this habit of accumulation so keenly the loss of even a commonplace, in its fondness and extremity, we must

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take cognizance of it in the amassments The colonel's son has taken a horse, and a of a lifetime, when the secret places of raw rough dun was he, cabinets and bureaus expose black pro. With the mouth of a bell and the heart of Hell files no delicate personal recollections can

and the head of the gallows-tree. tint; miniatures of ladies who open on us

The colonel's son to the fort has won, they the full sweetness of their wide, shining, Who rides at the tail of a Border thief, he sits

bid him stay to eattrustful eyes; locks of hair, alas ! not the

not long at his meat. shade of aub of the miniatures, a He's up and away from Fort Monroe as fast cloudier brown, yet lovable in their strong- as he can fly, fibred curl, bafiling and beautiful tokens ! Till he was aware of his father's mare in the We cannot interpret; we should be more gut of the Tongue of Jagai, at home among the catacombs. From Till he was aware of his father's mare with this cynical thought we, guardians or

Kamal upon her back, distributors of the worthless treasure of And when he could spy the white of her eye, the dead, are recalled by the manifesta. He has fired once, he has fired twice, but the

he made the pistol crack. tion, 'mid official files, of a packet curi

whistling ball went wide. ously corded with flushed ribbon, giving "Ye shoot like a soldier,” Kamal said. glimpses of a handwriting intricate as fine “Show now is ye can ride.” trellis. Love-letters, modernity! We It's up and over the Tongue of Jagai, as have reached the heart of our mystery.

blown dust-devils go, Our “dark tower is upon us. We at. The dun he fled like a stag of ten, but the tain the very essence and underlying

mare like a barren doe. reality of rubbish in a packet of yellow | The dun he leaned against the bit and slugged

his head above, love-letters. Whether we read them or

But the red mare played with the snaffle-bars not matters little. They are the sacred

as a lady plays with a glove. writings, the civilizing scriptures of man. They have ridden the low moon out of he kind. We do not open a Bible when we

sky, their hoofs drum up the dawn, come upon it in foreign characters in a The dun he went like a wounded bull, but heathen land. We touch it and give the mare like a new-roused fawn. tbanks. MICHAEL FIELD. The dun he fell at a water-course – in a woful

heap fell he, And Kamal has turned the red mare back,

and pulled the rider free. He has knocked the pistol out of his hand

small room was there to strive From Macmillan's Magazine.

''Twas only by favor of mine," quoth he, A BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST.

ye rode so long alive; KAMAL is out with twenty men to raise the There was not a rock for twenty mile, there Border side,

was not a clump of tree, And he has lifted the colonel's mare that is But covered a man of my own men with his the colonel's pride;

rifle cocked on his knee, He has lifted her out of the stable door be- If I had raised my bridle-hand, as I have held tween the dawn and the day,

it low, And turned the calkins upon her feet, and The little jackals that flee so fast were feastridden her far away.

ing all in a row; Then up and spoke the colonel's son that led If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I a troop of the Guides :

have held it high, "Is there never a man of all my men can say The kite that whistles above us now were where Kamal hides?

gorged till she could not fly." Then up and spoke Mahommed Khan, the Lightly answered the colonel's son: “Do son of the Ressaldar:

good to bird and beast, “If ye know the track of the morning mist, But count who come for the broken meats ye know where his pickets are.

before thou makest a feast. At dusk he harries the Abazai - - at dawn he If there should follow a thousand swords to is into Bonair

carry my bones away, But he must go by Fort Monroe to his own Belike the price of a jackal's meal were more place to fare,

than a thief could pay. So if ye gallop to Fort Monroe as fast as a They will feed their horse on the standing bird can fly,

crop, their men on the garnered grain, By the favor of God ye may cut him off ere he The thatch of the lyres will serve their fires win to the Tongue of Jagai.

when all the cattle are slain. But if he be passed the Tongue of Jagai, right But if thou thinkest the price be fair, and thy swiftly turn ye then,

brethren wait to sup, For the length and the breadth of that grisly The hound is kin to the jackal-spawn, - howl, plain is sown with Kamal's men.

dog, and call them up!

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And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer | Thy life is his — thy fate it is to guard him and gear and stack,

with thy head. Give me my father's mare again, and I'll | And thou must eat the white queen's meat, fight my own way back 1 "

and all her foes are thine, Kamal has gripped him by the hand and And thou must harry thy father's hold for the set him upon his feet.

peace of the Border-line, No talk shall be of dogs," said he, “when And thou must make a trooper tough and wolf and grey wolf meet.

hack thy way to power May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed Belike they will raise thee to Ressaldar when or breath.

I am hanged in Peshawur.” What dam of lances brought thee forth to They have looked each other between the jest at the dawn with Death ?

eyes, and there they found no fault, Lightly answered the colonel's son: “I hold They have taken the Oath of the Brother-inby the blood of my clan;

Blood on leavened bread and salt; Take up the mare for my father's gift — she They have taken the Oath of the Brother-inwill carry no better man!"

Blood on fire and fresh-cut sod, The red mare ran to the colonel's son, and on the hilt and the haft of the Khyber knife, nuzzled against his breast,

and the wondrous names of God. “We be two strong men,” said Kamal then, The colonel's son he rides the mare and • but she loveth the younger best.

Kamal's boy the dun, So she shall go with a lifter's dower, my And two have come back to Fort Monroe turquoise-studded rein,

where there went forth but one. My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and And when they drew to the Quarter-Guard, silver stirrups twain.”

full twenty swords flew clear The colonel's son a pistol drew and held it. There was not a man but carried his feud with muzzle-end,

the blood of the mountaineer. “Ye have taken the one from a foe,” said he; " Ha' done! ha' donel” said the colonel's “will ye take the mate from a friend?

“Put up the steel at your sides ! “A gift for a gift," said Kamal straight; a Last night ye had struck at a Border thief limb for the risk of a limb.

to-night 'tis a man of the Guides!” Thy father has sent his son to me, I'll send

my son to him!With that he whistled his only son, that

dropped from a mountain-crest - Oh, east is east, and west is west, and never the He trod the ling like a buck in spring and he two shall meet looked like a lance in rest.

Till earth and sky stand presently at God's “Now here is thy master,” Kamal said, great Judgment Seat.

“who leads á troop of the Guides, But there is neither cast nor west, border or And thou must ride at his left side as shield breed or birth, to shoulder rides.

When two strong men stand face to face, though Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and they come from the ends of the earth. board and bed,




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THE PAINS OF MUSIC. — A good many | indicate a real liking for music, but how many Londoners will await with much interest the hapless girls, without any ear for music, are decision of a case which was before Mr. Jus- daily condemned to spend weary hours in tice Chitty on December 6. The owners of acquiring an art which they will hasten to some flats in Westminster applied for an in- abandon when liberated from parental conteriin injunction restraining one of their ten- trol. It is a wearisome penance to the chil. ants from playing, a piano, violoncello, or dren themselves, wasting their energies, and any other musical instrument so as to annoy tending to produce a condition of nervous any of the plaintiffs' other tenants. It was irritability. "In a crowded city the habit of stated that the son of the defendant, who oc- practising scales and exercises for hours at a cupied one of the flats, desired to become a time is, we venture to say, without using the professional inusician, and practised on the term in a legal sense, a nuisance to everyvioloncello from eight in the morning till ten body within earshot. It has, however, even at night, with certain intervals, when he prac- more serious consequences, for we have but tised on the piano, and a daughter and her too often to note how the quiet and repose so governess also played on the piano. Such much needed in sickness is destroyed by the perseverance as this young man's appears to slavish adherence to this antiquated fashion.

British Medical Journal.

Fifth Series, Volume LXIX,


No. 2380.– February 8, 1890.

From Beginning,


Fortnightly Review,

Murray's Magazine,

Fortnightly Review,
V. ROBERT BROWNING. By Edmund Gosse, New Review,
VI. Durch GIRLHOOD. By Mrs. Lecky, · English Illustrated Magazine,

Chambers' Fournal,

323 339 348 збо 372 375 380


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