The rector was almost taken aback by the abruptness of the request. "Quite impossible, Mr. Saul," he said quite impossible. I am told by Mrs. Clavering that you were speaking to Fanny again about this yesterday, and I must say, that I think you have been behaving very badly." "In what way have I behaved badly?" "In endeavouring to gain her affections behind my back." But, Mr. Clavering, how otherwise could I gain them? How otherwise does any man gain any woman's love? If you mean common that the servants were not generally summoned to announce his arrivals, but his visits were made to Mrs. Clavering and Fanny more often than to the rector. On this occasion he rang the bell, and asked for Mr. Clavering, and was shown into the rector's so-called study, in a way that the maid-servant felt to be unusual. And the rector was sitting uncomfortably prepared for the visit, not having had his afterbreakfast cigar. He had been induced to declare that he was not, and would not be, angry with Fanny; but Mr. Saul was left to such indignation as he thought it incumbent "Look here, Mr. Saul. I don't think on himself to express. In his opinion, the that there is any necessity for an argument marriage was impossible, not only because between you and me on this point. That there was no money, but because Mr. Saul you cannot marry Miss Clavering is so selfwas Mr. Saul, and because Fanny Clavering evident that it does not require to be diswas Fanny Clavering. Mr. Saul was a gen-cussed. If there were nothing else against tleman; but that was all that could be said it, neither of you have got a penny. I have of him. There is a class of country clergy- not seen my daughter since I heard of this men in England, of whom Mr. Clavering madness, hear me out if you please, sir, was one, and his son-in-law, Mr. Fielding, - since I heard of this madness, but her another, which is so closely allied to the mother tells me that she is quite aware of squirearchy, as to possess a double identity. that fact. Your coming to me with such Such clergymen are not only clergymen, but a proposition is an absurdity if it is nothing they are country gentlemen also. Mr. Cla- worse. Now you must do one of two things, vering regarded clergymen of his class, of Mr. Saul. You must either promise me that the country gentlemen class, as being quite this shall be at an end altogether, or you distinct from all others, and as being, I must leave the parish." may say, very much higher than all others, without reference to any money question. When meeting his brother rectors and vicars, he had quite a different tone in addressing them, as they might belong to his class, or to another. There was no offence in this. The clerical country-gentlemen understood it all as though there were some secret sign or shibboleth between them; but the outsiders had no complaint to make of arrogance, and did not feel themselves aggrieved. They hardly knew that there was an inner clerical familiarity to which they were not admitted. But now that there was a young curate from the outer circle demanding Mr. Clavering's daughter in marriage, and that without a shilling in his pocket, Mr. Clavering felt that the eyes of the offender must be opened. The nuisance to him. was very great, but this opening of Mr. Saul's eyes was a duty from which he could not shrink. He got up when the curate entered, and greeted his curate, as though he were unaware of the purpose of the present visit. The whole burden of the story was to be thrown upon Mr. Saul. But that gentleman was not long in casting the burden from his shoulders. "Mr. Clavering," he said, "I have come to ask your permission to be a suitor for your daughter's hand." "I certainly shall not promise you that my hopes as they regard your daughter will be at an end." "Then, Mr. Saul, the sooner you go the better." A dark cloud came across Mr. Saul's brow as he heard these last words. "That is the way in which you would send away your groom, if he had offended you," he said. "I do not wish to be unnecessarily harsh," said Mr. Clavering," and what I say to you now I say to you not as my curate, but as to a most unwarranted suitor for my daughter's hand. Of course I cannot turn you out of the parish at a day's notice. I know that well enough. But your feelings as a gentleman ought to make you aware that you should go at once." "And that is to be my only answer?" "What answer did you expect?" "I have been thinking so much lately of the answers I might get from your daughter, that I have not made other calculations. Perhaps I had no right to expect any other than that you have now given me." "Of course you had not. And now I ask you again to give her up." "I shall not do that certainly." "Then, Mr. Saul, you must go; and, inconvenient as it will be to myself,- terribly inconvenient, I must ask you to go at once. which is so distasteful to me. You must excuse me if I leave you." Mr. Saul then departed, and from this interview had arisen that state of things in the parish which had induced Mrs. Clavering to call Harry to their assistance. The rector had become more energetic on the subject than any of them had expected. He did not actually forbid his wife to see Mr. Saul, but he did say that Mr. Saul should not come to the rectory. Then there arose a question as to the Sunday services, and yet Mr. Clavering would have no intercourse with his curate. He would have no intercourse with him unless he would fix an immediate day for going, or else promise that he would think no more of Fauny. Hitherto he had done neither, and therefore Mrs. Clavering had sent for her son. ON THE EDUCATION OF GIRLS. Mr. Solly, F.R.S., F.R.C.S., Surg. St. Thomas's Hosp., Lond., says, speaking of the education of girls:- "As an old physiologist I wish to the give my opinion. I am quite certain that there would be less illness amongst the upper classes if their brains were more regularly and systematically worked." Again, Dr. Aldis, of London, says:-"I am perfectly convinced, as the result of many years' practice, that whatever tends to develop the minds of women will have the best effect on their moral and physical as well as intellectual health." Dr. Hufeland, in a work edited by Dr. Erasmus Wilson, F.R.S., says:-"It was the first and unalterable destiny of man, that he should earn his bread by the sweat of his brow. He who eats without labour will never thrive. We shall find that no idler over attained to a great age; and that those who have been distinguished for their longevity were all men whose lives had been extremely active and laborious. But mental idleneas is hurtful as well as bodily, because it produces langour. What do we remark in a man who is subject to langour? He begins to yawn; this already betrays that the passage of the blood through the lungs is interrupted. The power of the heart and vessels suffers of course, and becomes too torpid. If the evil continues longer, accumulations and stoppages of the ood take place. The organs of digestion acquire a tendency to weakness all Steri that entle other you swer there is only one, but not a very agreeable remedy for it, and that is, regular occupation.' Again, to quote from Dr. Spencer Thomson: "How common is etiolation, or blanching, caused by town life; this as Dr. James Johnson traces, is indicative, in the higher classes, of no avocation, in the middle and lower, of unhealthy avocation. No avocation and unhealthy avocation! the one with its ennui, its indulgences, and its excitements; the other with its overwork and anxieties, and its excitements." Dr. Leared, M. D., Oxon. and Lond., when speaking of the injury to the digestive organs caused by luxurious habits, writes thus:- "idleness, and the want of a definite pursuit in life, must rank Unfortunately high in this class of causes." doctors are sometimes too busy, or too inconsiderate, to give the whole of this subject the careful investigation it deserves. They find a child feverish and excitable, and they say, Stop the lessons. But a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and if these doctors knew more, they would find that various causes are capable of producing the same result. The strange and remarkable adventures of "Lydia Languish" may be the cause of a nervous fatigue, commonly supposed to be produced by the intensely exciting nature of French verbs or the history of England. Should the doctor, misled by the accounts given of the number of hours spent in work, prescribe absolute rest, the evil will of course be aggravated, for it is just as imthe functions are weakened and deranged a possible for the brain of a child to remain instate which disturbs the most important func- active, as it is for any other part of its body. tions of the body, and which enfeebles the no- If a child be not occupied in healthy work, it blest powers, is a shortener of life. But I think will find some other. Exciting day-dreams and I hear one ask, what is the best remedy for sensational novels will take the place of gram. angour? It accompanies us to the ball, to the mar and history; juvenile balls, of wholesome playhouse, the tea table, in our walks. In an- exercise. Fraser's Magazine. From Blackwood's Magazine. OUR AMUSEMENTS. late; that is, well-meaning persons have = been busy in trying to provide wholesome recreation for the working classes, just as others, with the most praiseworthy zeal, have been trying to suggest some kind of religious entertainment adapted to their tastes. It is a pity, perhaps, that in both cases so little heed has been taken of the old adage, that "Charity begins at home." The "AMUSING themselves very gloomily moult tristement-after their fashion." Such was the account which the lively French chronicler, five hundred years ago, gave of his English neighbours. It is as true now, in this nineteenth century, as ever it was. There is quite as much want of real There are desperate efforts after amuse- amusement for the higher classes as for the ment, as we suppose there were then, lower. The modern rage for sensational amongst the richer classes of luxurious idlers, excitement and costly display has no claim who have nothing else to do. Wherever to be so called. These pomps and vanities pleasure is the only business of life, it is no rather weary and disgust than refresh or wonder that it should prove very hard work exhilarate. A simple, active, practical indeed. The true idea of amusement is, of mind gets impatient of these things; and it course, recreation after work; and here it is is not difficult to understand a man like the that we manage so badly. It seems as if a late Sir Cornewall Lewis declaring that true Briton could only get one idea of life" life would be very pleasant, if it were not into his head at a time; though it is but for its amusements." What is wanted in justice to say that he sticks to this with our busy life is some means of honest and wonderful tenacity. If he " 'goes in" for hearty recreation for mind and body which pleasure, as the slang is, he goes in for it shall unbend the strained faculties from thoroughly, and is determined to have his time to time, and send the toiler back to his full innings. If he belongs to the fashion- duties a healthier and a happier man. able world, the pains which he will take, natural incapacity of our countrymen to and the sufferings he will go through, to strike out for themselves any means of enkeep himself and his family in the full joyment but such as are ponderous or exround of fashionable pleasures, do credit to pensive used to be ascribed to their being his pluck and perseverance and here the fed so much upon beef and beer. It does masculine pronoun must be distinctly un- not seem that French cookery and light derstood to include, in grammarian's lan- wines have done much to enliven them. guage, the less worthy gender. Even here, The modern young Englishman still dances any motive so slight as mere amusement is a solemn measure, looking as though he scouted; all comes under the name, dear to were half-asleep, or performing (as indeed English moralists of all schools, of "duty "he sometimes is) an act of conscientious but my duty to society." So, too, he who goes in for business does it thoroughly, and has no idea of investing time in what doesn't pay. Or, if he must take a holiday, it is done in the same energetic style-a rush across the Continent (if he be young), a terrific scramble up some mountain where no man ever went before, and where no man was ever meant to go; or, if he has more time to spare, he contrives to spend it in some still more delightfully disagreeable expedition; and probably favours the public with the account of it in print, as A Christmas Holiday on an Iceberg,' or 'Three Weeks in a Cannibal Family. In his graver years, he takes a month of what he calls holiday at some English watering-place where the greatest discomfort may be bought at the greatest expense, much on the same principle as the hard-working mechanic loves to concentrate his enjoy ment into three days of drunken debauch and a pair of black eyes. There has been a little stir making in this last direction of disagreeable duty. He takes up athletics, probably, but that is in the light of a serious business, to which he devotes himself with long training, and much labour; and would feel himself injured in a tender point if any one spoke slightingly of these things as recreations. When he is out of training, and no particular "event" is coming off, then he thrusts his hands deep down into his trousers pockets, and looks around upon the frivolities of life with a gloomy superiority. His devotion to some kinds of what used to be called amusement is undeniable; but it has taken the form, too generally, of measuring how much a man can do in his particular line, how many miles he can walk in an hour, how good an average he can make at cricket, how many head of game he can bag in a day. The enjoyment seems not so much in the act as in the result; and there is too often a gasconading tone about the thing which is not pleasant. It is not like the healthy pleasure of the child who finds a fund of delight the M andi teb in the commonest toy, and "makes believe which has an unexpected flavour. It sug- But In the world of older and graver people, It is not likely, in our sombre climate, there has prevailed of late a little affecta- and with our more phlegmatic temperation of despising mere amusement, as scarce- ment- nor is it by any means desirablely worthy of the time and attention of an that we should be able to find the same intellectual age. It is not only for children, enjoyment in mere gossip and idleness that but for those who are very far from being some of our Continental neighbours do. children, that it seems to be thought a little Few and far between with us are those instruction ought always to be combined balmy days and nights when mere existence with it; something on the same principle that is a luxury; and lounging about and doing a benevolent lady of our acquaintance, find- nothing are very properly reprobated in ing brandy a very popular medicine during Englishmen, perhaps because the part is so autumnal epidemics, always mixed a little seldom performed gracefully, and conveys rhubarb in what she gave away. On this the idea in the performer, not of a joyous principle Mechanics' Institutes, Mutual Im- lightheartedness, but of a supercilious lassiprovement Societies, Literary Institutions, tude and disgust. One would rather see ted and Crystal Palaces were founded. There one's children in some sensible mischief in was to be no more cakes and ale without their play-hours, than aimlessly mooning virtue. Information and improvement were about. So we may be very thankful for to be the order of the day. The result, so hunting, and boat-clubs, and Alpine clubs, far as our observation goes, is that people and, above all, volunteer corps, as outlets go to the Crystal Palace to eat their lun- for the waste energies of young men who cheon and see Mr. Pepper's Ghost, a have time and money and little to do. "scientific" exhibition which was certainly it is the workers of the world whose amusesuccessful; and that, in the case of the ments are worth considering. It cannot be library of the Mechanics' Institute, the pop- said that this class has too much in the way dularity of its contents, judging by the books of amusement, and many of those forms of taken out, has been found to be something it which have been mentioned are not in we will not pledge ourselves their way. They cost too much time or to the exact statistics: scientific treatise, 1; too much money, or they are only another history, 3; fiction, 2500. Mr. Mudie, we form of fatigue rather than rest or relaxsuspect, could tell much the same story; ation. Most of us are too wise to complain, only that, for credit's sake, a certain amount or to admit that there are dull hours in life, of solid literary food is ordered to be put when a little of the oil of gladness would into the family box together with the supply make the machine go all the easier. But it of new novels. The best thing out in his- is so, nevertheless; and our pride and retitory and philosophy is sure to be found lying cence, and the very domesticity on which on the drawing-room table; but it is be- we congratulate ourselves, make our scanty cause Mr. Trollope's and Miss Braddon's leisure less pleasant than it might be. always"in hand." Talk- curious that a people so apt at all inventions ing the other day with an able and popular which simplify labour should hit upon so few lecturer, who seldom failed in getting a full to enliven the intervals of rest. and attentive audience, we ventured to ask him what kind of subjects and what style of "Well," was his reply, treatment he thought the public liked best. but there's one secret I've found out"I hardly know; what the public hates is information." in this ratio last volumes are It is Perhaps of all classes of society, this want of wholesome recreation presses most heavily upon the country clergy. It is a very popular notion that they have no occasion for amusement; in fact, that anything so Peo- frivolous is inconsistent with their serious ple go to they calling. And yet the captious laity com would fashion; but the exuberant chuckle of adage about "all work and no play." go to see a Greek play if it was the plain of dull sermons; unmindful of the old The such bta joke on the lecturer's part is welcomed change more, or get less of it. In almost strong enough of the weariness of the nat- one effect of amusementby the gravest audience, is proof quite any secular occupation, the work itself has a healthy ex ural man over the dry husks of instruction, citement. Not to speak of manual labour and his delight when anything turns up of all kinds, which, unless the strength be -- too severely taxed, has so much of the na- | activity which, in a small parish, would ture of amusement in it that it is often the amount almost to persecution. It may be best of all remedies for mental worry and said, of course, that as the parson's work is depression, most of what are called busi- the highest of all, so his interest in it, his ness occupations have a certain excitement mental activity and consequently his enof their own; very often, indeed, too much joyment should be of the highest kind of it. Putting aside all such speculative also. This sounds well, and may be true ventures as are really gambling and not enough in theory. But remember what lawful trade, all the many forms of buying this work really is, and must be. To have and selling which employ our English ener- to preach - which means to press the same gies have in themselves much of the interest truths over and over again in different lanof a more or less successful game. If car- guage. to a half-empty church in the ried on prudently and legitimately, there is morning, and to a stolidly complacent audinothing in them to depress the spirits or to ence, heavy with bacon and greens, in the harass the mind. Such employments may afternoon, is not an inspiriting labour in itnot be highly intellectual; but (perhaps self. Most of us have seen, in the pages of fortunately), the great majority of the use- some modern novels, very original and ful members of the commonwealth are not graphic discourses, supposed to be addressed highly intellectual; and they find such em- to such audiences by the heroic minister, ployments pleasant enough. The story of orthodox or schismatic, of the story. Such the retired tallow-chandler who could not purple patches are evidently intended to resist going down to the old place on a boil- show the reader what sermons ought to be, ing-day, though told as a jest, contains a and are not, and how entirely the novelist very serious and a very happy truth-that could take the shine out of the regular parenjoyment lies in occupation, not in idleness. son if he (or more frequently she) had conIf you follow the ascending scale of labour, descended to the same vocation. It is useand take the life of the successful lawyer or less to protest against filling up the pages the politician, the excitement of the work is of novels with amateur theology, because, of a higher order still; what such a man so long as the public endure it, the writers requires, in his intervals of leisure, will be will hardly give up such a convenient rerest and relaxation, rather than active source for padding for hymns and seramusement. Lying by quiet seashores, and mons are the two things which every one doing absolutely nothing, will be excellent feels that he can write; and it is very well, for him; for of excitement he has even too in these sensational days, if they do not fill much in the daily business of his life. their pages with something much worse. Nor will we venture to guess how many conscientious novel-readers like ourselves make a point of skipping these intrusive preachments, which come to us like lambs in wolves' clothing; on the same principle that, with all respect for wholesome medicine, we abominate all such combinations as "cathartic candy" and "pepsine wine." But, admitting that the preacher of fiction does, on some single occasion, discourse eloquently to an imaginary congregation, will the clever author undertake to keep him up at the rate of one hundred and four sermons every year? or if he could, will the wildest license of fiction permit him to assure his readers that the hundred and fourth sermon was listened to with the same rapt attention as the first? And then the parson's week-day work, what is it? Much of it is, and must be, mere routine; very necessary and very useful routine, no doubt; but unelastic, and tending to be wearisome. Pastoral visits to the aged and infirm poor are angels' work, but they often tax the patience of a weak mortal more than harder duties. Trying to get a school up to But there is nothing of this excitement in the ordinary work of the country parson. We say the country parson especially, because he who is placed in any town parish of importance will not only have to preach to a fairly intelligent audience, and to make his sermon somewhat of an intellectual exercise, but his work, though harder, will have wider interests, and his position will, most likely, assign him a leading part in many secular matters, which will go far to give him the wholesome change which he requires. But the life of the country parsonage is of a different kind. The Sunday may be busy enough; indeed, what with Sunday-school twice a day, and the two sermons which the modern English Christian demands as his due, and, in some cases, choir-practice or adult classes besides, more work is sometimes undertaken by a conscientious parson on that day than is good for him. But the most zealous worker cannot make the Sunday come more than once a week; and the six days' interval must be hard to fill up satisfactorily in the way of his calling, unless by an amount of pastoral T 2 |