sword with the other, he was going to take off her head. The poor lady, turning about to him, and looking at him with dying eyes, desired him to afford her one little moment to recollect herself. "No, no," said he, "recommend thyself to God;" and was just ready to strike. At this very instant there was such a loud knocking at the gate that Blue Beard made a sudden stop. The gate was opened, and presently entered two horsemen, who, drawing their swords, ran directly to Blue Beard. He knew them to be his wife's brothers,-one a dragoon, the other a musketeer; so that he ran away immediately to save himself: but the two brothers pursued so close that they overtook him before he could get to the steps of the porch, when they ran their swords through his body and left him dead. The poor wife was almost as dead as her husband, and had not strength enough to rise and welcome her brothers. Blue Beard had no heirs, and so his wife became mistress of all his estate. She made use of one part of it to marry her sister Anne to a young gentleman who had loved her a long while; another part to buy captains' commissions for her brothers; and the rest to marry herself to a very worthy gentleman, who made her forget the ill time she had passed with Blue Beard. TH TOADS AND DIAMONDS HERE was once upon a time a widow who had two daughters. The eldest was like herself in face and humor. Both were so disagreeable and so proud that there was no living with them. The youngest, who was the very picture of her father for courtesy and sweetness of temper, was withal one of the most beautiful girls ever seen. As people naturally love their own likeness, this mother doted on her eldest daughter, and had a horrible aversion for the youngest: she made her eat in the kitchen and work continually. Among other things, this poor child was forced twice a day to draw water above a mile and a half off the house, and bring home a pitcher full of it. One day, as she was at this fountain, there came to her a poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink. "Oh! ay, with all my heart, Goody," said this pretty little girl; and immediately rinsing the pitcher, she took up some water 11342 from the clearest place of the fountain and gave it to her, holding up the pitcher all the while that she might drink the easier. The good woman having drunk, said to her, "You are so very pretty, my dear, so good and so mannerly, that I cannot help giving you a gift." For this was a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor countrywoman to see how far the civility and good manners of this pretty girl would go. "I will give you for gift, that at every word you speak, there shall come out of your mouth either a flower or a jewel." [When this occurred on her return, the mother at once sent the elder sister, with the best silver tankard, to the fountain on the same errand; which she resented as menial's work.] [The elder sister] was no sooner at the fountain than she saw coming out of the wood a lady most gloriously dressed, who came up to her and asked to drink. This was the very fairy who appeared to her sister, but had now taken the air and dress of a princess to see how far this girl's rudeness would go. "Am I come hither," said the proud, saucy slut, "to serve you with water, pray? I suppose the silver tankard was brought purely for your Ladyship, was it? However, you may drink out. of it if you have a fancy." The fairy answered without putting herself in a passion, "Since you have so little breeding and are so disobliging, I give you for gift that at every word you speak there shall come out of your mouth a snake or a toad." [This also occurring, the mother blamed and beat the younger sister, who ran away and hid in the forest, where the king's son met her and asked why she was alone there weeping.] [Said the younger sister,] "Alas, sir! my mamma has turned me out of doors." The king's son, who saw five or six pearls and as many diamonds come out of her mouth, desired her to tell him how that happened. She hereupon told him the whole story; and so the king's son fell in love with her, and considering with himself that such a gift was worth more than any marriage portion, conducted her to the palace of the king his father, and there married her. As for her sister, she made herself so much hated that her own mother turned her off; and the miserable wretch, having wandered about a good while without finding anybody to take her in, went to a corner of the wood, and there died. PERSIUS (AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS) (34-62 A. D.) worst among the early Cæsars. HE fame of Persius is perhaps more difficult to account for than that of any other equally eminent author. His brief life was chiefly spent under the crushing tyranny of the Real freedom of speech was impossible. Persius, as he himself confesses, was not a true singer. He had not the poet's joyous creative imagination. Even the claim of originality, in style or in substance, is denied him. His voicethinner, shriller, less articulate than his master's-is still the voice of Horace; and he lashes essentially the same foibles, though with a far more savage swing of the whip. Had Lucilius's satires survived, they would probably have reduced to still smaller space the claims of Persius to originality. The work of the latter is immature and fragmentary, consisting of six satires, only six hundred and fifty hexameters in all, to which should be added the fourteen "limping iambics" of the modest, but perhaps spurious, Epilogue. PERSIUS Yet the fact remains, that Persius has held firmly his position as third in rank among Latin satirists. This, moreover, is the one field wherein the Romans acknowledged no Hellenic models or masters. Hardly any ancient poet survives in better or more numerous manuscripts. Few have a more brilliant line of modern editors, from Casaubon to Conington and Gildersleeve. This can be no mere accident, still less the favoritism shown to a popular young aristocrat. Something of vitality the little book must have had. Our first impression is of extreme incoherence and obscurity. Yet in this there is nothing of pedantic willfulness. The note of sincerity, the strident intolerant sincerity of youth, pierces our ear quickly, despite all the inarticulate verbiage. Even in this brief career too we seem to trace a line of progress toward calmer, clearer, more genial self-utterance. Especially the tender lines to his old tutor Cornutus leave us "wishing for more"; which is perhaps the rarest triumph of the satirist, in particular. Professor Conington declares. that as Lucretius represents Epicureanism in poetry, so Persius stands no less completely for Roman Stoicism. The concession is at once added, however, that Divine Philosophy, in that unhappy age, could teach little more than manly endurance of the inevitable. Altogether, unless we confess that obscurity itself may draw the thronging commentators till they darken the very air above it,we must consider that Persius offers us one more illustration that the fearless frank word of the austere moralist is never hopelessly out of season, but may re-echo for evermore. Or, to change the figure: "How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.” The edition of Persius by Professor Gildersleeve (Harper, 1875) is especially valuable for its linguistic and stylistic comment; the more as Persius, like Plautus and Catullus, used more largely than the other poets that lingua volgare from which the Romance languages take their direct descent. The more indolent student, however, will find his way to Conington's edition, more recently revised by Nettleship, which includes a capital prose translation on parallel pages. To this graceful version the present translator confesses his heavy indebtedness. WR THE AUTHOR'S AMBITION WRITE, locked in,- one prose, another verse; You'd fain see quivering, while the verses glide What! an old man like you Oh, evil day! Is then your knowledge worth But it is pleasant to be pointed at With the forefinger, and to hear, "That's he! Conned as their lesson? Lo, the heroic sons Of Romulus sit at their wine, full-fed, By bard bewailed. The gentry add their praise; The stone is resting lighter on his bones? The humbler guests applaud; and from his tomb Shall not the violets spring? I A CHILD'S TRICK OFTEN touched my eyes, I recollect, With oil, in boyhood, if I did not wish To learn by heart the dying Cato's words; XIX-710 I "WE TWA» SPEAK not to the throng. I give my heart- It is my joy to show, O sweet my friend, To you, how large a part of me is yours. Strike, and with caution test how much rings true, A hundred voices I might dare to crave, So might my words all that unseal which lies, |