ulli." Calverley looked very puzzled, and said, "Would you mind repeating that line again, old man ? 99 I accordingly repeated it. By-and-by Calverley moved across the room, and looked at me very earnestly and said, "Do you know, I really thought I had composed that line myself. Can you tell me where it comes from?" "It is your own line, Calverley," I answered. "I happened to go into your room just now — and hardly knowing what I was doing I -you will find my cardlooked at some Latin lines lying on the table, and that was one which pleased me very much." ley wrote also a "Life of Stein," a work | Mira manus tangit citharam neque cernitur as much appreciated in Germany as in England. It was just a chance that Seeley and Calverley were not competitors for the same distinction, but Mr. Seeley having entered in a leg-term was entitled to go out later, and did so. The two men contrasted as much physically as mentally, and each was a very fine specimen in his way. There was this difference, however. Mr. Seeley seems always to have interested himself intensely in every high and serious subject, but Calverley; maybe to hide a deeper feeling, seemed almost incapable of looking at any subject except from a comic point of view. Once I told him his effort always seemed to be to "disillusionate " everything. He laughed heartily, and took the remark, as I certainly did not intend it, in the light of a compliment. There were other men of that time that have come to considerable distinction Mr. Walter Skeat, our great Anglo-Saxon scholar; Mr. Walter Besant, the novelist and philanthropist; Mr. Sendall, who has edited some of Calverley's "Remains;" Dr. Gell, the Bishop of Madras. The fellowships of Christ's College were supposed to be very good, better than those of Trinity College - so far as information leaked out, about £330 a year. Of course Calverley became fellow and M.A., but to the last there was more of the undergraduate than of the magisterial element in him. Few men have passed through universities so inexpensively as he did. Both at Balliol and at Christ's, his academical income, even while an undergraduate, must have paid his academical expenses. One one occasion I took what we used to call "a rise" out of Calverley. It had so happened that I had gone into his room and found it empty. A sheet of white foolscap was lying on the table half-way covered with Latin poetry. One line struck my eye and pleased me very much, Mira manus tangit citharam neque cernitur ulli. In fact, I do not think that I read any other line. Going next into a room on the ground-floor of the near staircase there were a lot of men, and Calverley among them. The talk happened to be on the subject of weird and eerie things. I or some other man spoke of mysterious harplike sounds that we fancy are heard at times in solitary places. "Yes," I said, "that is an old idea found even amongst Latin poets. Do you remember this line? Calverley's Latin lines were always admirable. The ordinary writers of Latin verse must always contemplate them with admiring despair. Perhaps the most popular of his Latin verses was the tripos Latin poem, "Carmen Seculare," which he wrote one year. It was customary for the vice-chancellor to give a pair of gloves to the writer of such lines. Calverley, as I have been informed, asked for and obtained a pair of boxing-gloves from the vice. Many of the lines of his poems have passed almost into proverbs at Cambridge. His description of the youth who was going to set the Cam on fire and junior optimus exit; of the more fortunate youth Si qua fata aspera rumpas, Tu rixator eris. O fumose puer, nimium ne crede Baconi. But the whole poem overflows with fun which has amused many of the fast-fleeting generations of the university. Cal verley too was an admirable punster. Mr. Payn, the novelist, in his "Literary Recollections," tells the story that when he was left behind in a mountain excursion, Calverley quoted the line, "The labor we delight in physics Pain." One evening one or two of us strolled down with Calverley to the Cambridge railway station. There was a very pretty I found when I went to Oxford that Blaydes was a tradition and the name of Calverley unknown. The author of "Alice in Wonderland" took me by the little path and showed me the forked tree through which Calverley took his dangerous and daring leap. It is not likely to be repeated, for this path, which used to be the short cut to the boats, is now entirely shut up since the dean of Christ Church has laid out his new path from the broad walk. I asked him once how he came to change his name to Calverley. He answered naïvely, that all his family had found out that they had been using the wrong name for a great many years. The change of name concurred opportunely with the change of university. I once asked him the exact circumstances under which he had left Oxford. The story was, that having got into trouble once or twice about climbing walls, he was warned about the very unpleasant consequences that would ensue if he was found doing it again. Alas, a tempting opportunity arose one night, and the forbidden climb was achieved. Calverley had no desire to hurt the feelings of the authority. It was only his playfulness. He wanted his joke and his jump. There was a great but unsuccessful effort to catch the truant, who might have escaped, but for his own wicked wit. He was heard to exclaim, "My enemies compassed me round about, but by the help of the Lord I leaped over the wall." This unguarded admission proved too much for him, and he was requested to take his name off the books. I repeated to Calverley the story as I had heard it, and asked him if it were correct. He nodded his head and said, "Something like it." There was no boisterousness displeasing to the authorities during Calverley's undergraduate days at Cambridge. Nothing could be quieter, in better tone and taste than his conduct. I remember that there was a rumor among the "fast" men, of whom there were some, even at small Christ's College, that the college defences were not impregnable, and that there was a weak point; either that some gate could be opened or some wall be scaled. There were one or two men who declared that they had achieved this hazardous operation. To Calverley any matter of this sort would not be of the slightest interest. He had left everything of this sort far behind. A man who could vault over a horse and cart in Petty Cury had no need to prove his prowess in an irregular and abnormal way. When "fast men indulged their talk, Calverley would listen in an amused and quizzical way. I never myself heard him use a single expression which any child or lady might not hear. There was a sacred pond in the garden, near Milton's still more sacred mulberry tree, beneath whose "glassy, cool, translucent wave have a notion that he used to disport himself. This was no doubt by permission, or in the exercise of his undoubted rights. I Calverley once gave me two songs of his for publication. It was for a little provincial story which I published many years ago in a great Scottish city. The tale has been out of print for a great many years. One of these songs, "O a life in the country so joyous," as Stanzas for Music," has been published in his "Remains," but I could never see much in it. The other, which is not at all known, is much more characteristic. It came out as Would I could tell all thy praises in song! All the day long! at Cambridge. I consider myself very Every generation of university men have their personal literary favorites. Now it is Tennyson, now Carlyle, now Browning, now Dickens. At this time it was Dickens, especially his "Pickwick." Those who took so ardently to "Pickwick" did not trouble themselves very much about Carlyle and Browning. We left the more serious side of things to Mr. Some of these questions are reprinted Seeley and his friends. "Pickwick was by Mr. Payn in his " Literary Recolregarded as the highest achievement of lections." I include some excerpts not the human mind, so far as the human mind given by Mr. Payn. The paper is found has as yet gone. My own idea is that in some editions of the Fly Leaves." at this time the study of "Pickwick " gave The first question is, a great impulse to the consumption of beer. There is hardly a chapter in the immortal work which does not bring in what Mr. Gladstone has called "that re• freshing beverage." The morning began with beer, which continued, with proper or improper intervals, till dewy eve, and later still. When some one remarked to a don that the whole university might be divided into "reading " and "feeding men, he expressed his regret that they washed down the feeding with such copious libations. Some men, who absolutely detested beer, thought it a proper thing to acquire the taste, as being thoroughly British and patriotic. There was an ex8. Give in full Samuel Weller's first comtraordinary knowledge of " Pickwick "pliment to Mary, and his father's critique among Christ's men in those days. It fied that the Fat Boy was not asleep; and that 4. What operation was performed on Tom Smart's chair? Who little thinks that in has left what, entreating him to return to which pocket, of what garment, in where, he whom, with how many what, and all how big? 6. Mr. Weller's knowledge of London was extensive and peculiar. Illustrate this by a reference to the facts. What church was on the valentine that first attracted Mr. Samuel's eye in the shop? upon the same young lady. 20. Write down the chorus to each line of Mr. S. Weller's song, and a sketch of the mottle-faced man's excursus on it. Is there any ground for conjecturing that he (Sam) had more brothers than one? has been said that if the "Paradise Lost had been lost, Macaulay could have revived it from his own memory. This is Mr. Weller and the town-beadle varied direct10. On finding his principal in the pound, not exactly true. When Calverley was at ly. Show that the latter was ultimately elimChrist's, Macaulay came down to Cam- inated, and state the number of rounds in the bridge to spend a few days with his neph-square which is not described. ew, Mr. Trevelyan, at Cambridge. They started him on the "Paradise Lost," but the historian broke down. Tears rushed into his eyes when he found that his incomparable memory a memory, however, which retained all the rubbish as well as all the precious things was deserting him. There was Calverley, with two or three others, who could have gone a very long way towards reproducing "Pickwick." Calverley's famous examination paper on "Pickwick" is well known. I have seen, I will hardly say rival, but another examination paper on Pickwick," but it is "not a patch" upon Calverley's. It shows that there is such a thing as even a recondite knowledge of 66 the Shepherd's liquor as a rule? And is any 21. How many lumps of sugar went into exception recorded? 24. How did Mr. Weller, senior, define the Funds, and what view did he take of Reduced Consols? In what terms is his elastic force described when he assaulted Mr. Stiggins at the meeting? Write down the name of the meeting. a 27. In developing to P. M. his views of a wick feel justified in making? proposition, what assumption did Mr. Pick 28. Deduce from a remark of Mr. Weller, junior, the price per mile of cabs at the period. "Pickwick." Its chief charm is the ad- 29. What do you know of the hotel next the mirable parody on the examination style | Bull at Rochester? The examination paper must be taken | Felix qui tantos potuit perferre labores! Quique procellarum furiis, æstuque fameque illum dales: At jucunda quies, at viva in montibus auræ, From Chambers' Journal. RICHARD CABLE, THE LIGHTSHIPMAN. 99.66 BY THE Author of MEHALAH, JOHN HERRING," 86 COURT ROYAL," ETC. CHAPTER I. THE LIGHTSHIP. In the cabin of a lightship off the Essex coast sat Richard Cable, knitting a baby's sock or boot. The sock was small, so small that when he thrust his great thumb into it, his thumb filled it. It is greatly to be regretted that Calverley never attempted any more serious work that would have brought out his great ability and large knowledge. The best-known pieces of his lyric verse are no doubt the light Cambridge pieces, and here he ought to be compared with his contemporary Sir George Trevelyan, the statesman, whose "Horace in Athens " is most delicious fooling. Sir G. O. Trevelyan says in a note to his poem, that its lines, dealing not very respectfully with the Trinity dons, was the dearest thing he ever composed, for they cost him a fellowship. On this point, however, we are able to assure Sir G. Trevelyan that he was quite mistaken. A Trinity fellowship is rarely ever given to a man on his first competition. He might have made quite safe for it on his second or third trial. He would have commanded it by his own merits, and the fellows would have been glad to welcome a worthy nephew of Macaulay's into their society. Sir G. Trevelyan has since won great "Thirteenth row," said Richard Cable. honor in literature and politics. Calver- "One, two, three, four," he began aloud, ley's ability and scholarship might have and went from four to forty-seven in deearned him perhaps no less distinguished creasing tone, reaching finally an inaudia position. The only subject to which he ble whisper. Then he raised his voice deliberately applied his mind was that of again: "Two together; one, two, three, translation. He studied it as an art, and four, five, six. Two together, one, two, as an art he published several gems of three, four." His tones died away again. criticism on it. His own powers of trans- He moved his lips; but no sound issued lation from Greek and Latin into English, from them till he reached forty-seven, and and from English into Greek and Latin, that he uttered as if it exploded on his lips. were unique. His version of "Theocri- Richard Cable was a fine, strongly built, tus," perhaps the best-known of his writ-well-proportioned man, about half-way beings, is perhaps the best example of this. tween thirty and forty, with brown curly It is curious that Mr. Frederic Harrison, hair, and eyes of clear blue. His face was while discoursing at some length on the tanned with exposure; but the nape of his subject of translation in his "Choice of neck, as visible, now that his head was Books," and while mentioning one trans- bent over the knitting-needles, was of a lation of Theocritus, does not seem to be nutty brown, many degrees redder than acquainted with Calverley's. Life was his face. He wore a knitted blue worsted made so smooth and easy for Calverley jersey, with a pair of thick, warm, darkthat he missed the great incentive of pov-blue loose trousers beneath and below the erty, which causes most of the work of the world. He was not a man likely to work unless under the pressure of a strong incentive a type of a very large class of men. Beyond most even he was devoid of ambition. He married and lived happy ever afterwards, until the last illness came, as it comes to all. In his Latin poem of "Australia" he contrasts the life of the gold-digger, and compares with it the happier and more careless life of the peasant who stays at home. jersey. On his head was a round, brimless sailor's cap, with ribbons behind. He had shoes on his feet and white stockings. Although he was about thirty-five, he had all the freshness of youth about him, and not a trace of care, not the furrow of a trial on his honest brow. The mouth was firm; but as he knitted, he smiled with the most pleasant smile. His face was agreeable, kindly, open; however roughened by wind and spray, its expres sion was gentle, now especially so, as it "Fourteenth row," said Cable, "plain. Cable was not on deck; he was, as al- "Fifteenth row. One, two, three, four." of the same soil that grew thrift and sealavender and glasswort, and where_occasionally sheep were sent to browse. These patches were only covered at very high tides. Then came the sea-wall; and behind that was pasture and arable land, and the water only swept over the bank upon it once in ten, fifteen, or twenty years, when high tide coincided with an in-shore gale. The outer flats grew their own crops; but the crops were distinctively marine, a long ribbon weed, and winkles. After every gale, the weed and countless winkles were swept ashore in black wreaths, and the weed whitened in the sun to a thin, ash-like film. "Sixteenth row, knit plain." On the sea-face of the sea-wall a strip of sand and gravel ran the length of the coast, varying in width from a foot to half-adozen yards. Between this beach and the clay beds lay a depression, scooped by the retreating current as the tide went out, filled with black slime, formed of decomThe lightship lay about four miles off posed seaweed and winkles, dead crabs, the shore, the low flat shore of Essex near and all the refuse of the sea that it washed the little fishing-port of Hanford, a port so up and could not withdraw again. The insignificant, carrying on so little trade, flats grown over with winkles, thick as that Trinity House ignored it, and would daisies in a meadow, formed a happy do nothing for it, not even concern itself hunting-ground for boys and girls alike, about the entrance to the harbor, and take on it the charge of the lightship. This vessel was stationed where it was, manned, and supplied by the Hanfordites. It was a convenience to them, that is, to the oyster and fishing vessels which put out from the little place on Monday and came home on Saturday. The sea on the Essex coast is shallow, so shallow that it cannot form a wave on the margin large enough to sweep away the frail dike that has been thrown up to oppose further invasion. Through the shallows outside Hanford ran one deep line of water, and at the entrance to this lay the lightship. The coast-line was marked in that random inand-out course which prevails in hedge demarcation inland; land was divided from water in a loose and arbitrary fashion, without the existence of any physical reason why one patch should be accounted land and another sea. What was arable was arable only because it lay behind the dike; and on the other side of the bank were acres of land as good that might have been reclaimed. There were three stages in which the soil stood; for a mile out seaward were flats on which grew seaweed, overwashed by every tide; nearer land, in creeks and estuaries, were flats who went out on them with "splashers on their feet to gather shellfish. The splasher is a flat board fastened to the foot; on it the mud can be traversed by human beings as easily as by web-footed aquatic birds. "Seventeenth row! One, two that boy!" Drat Richard Cable stood up, laid his knitting down on a locker and went on deck. He looked landwards. A line of foam marked where the deep sea broke over the submerged banks of clay. A glare of sun was on a belt of willows that seemed white against a gloomy mass of vapor that hung on the horizon. The trees were five or six miles distant; but they were perfectly visible, and looked against the dark background like tufts of cotton-grass. "Ah!" said Richard Cable, "there he comes. I can see the boat. If he don't look smart, the squall will be on him and capsize him before he gets here." The lightship was rolling and straining. The wind was rising. From the bed of black cloud lines extended, shadow-rays over the sky. The sea seemed to be uneasy, and had become fretful. The brightness was gone from the day, the color from the water. "Darn the boy!" said Cable, looking |