sea songs. “ Hold your noise, ye old big four-post bedstead on the ground floor. fool!” I've heard her cry; “there's the It was a tight fit. They did not lack for parson coming along.” The fierce old covering, and there were lumps of various ruffian used to like my coming to him, but dimensions which in the aggregate constihe had no more conscience than a carrot. tuted a mattress, and there lay Joe BickIt seemed impossible to arouse the faint- ers. Once as I was speaking in my feeble est response to any appeal to the moral way of Him who came to seek and to save sense. My heart used to die within me them that were lost, Doris, with her back sometimes. The only occasion on which turned, sat hudding over the apology for I noticed anything like an approach to a fire, pretending to take no notice. Sudgentleness was when he said to me once, denly, Joe burst out into a coarse laugh. with signs of vexation that he had been “ My toes, if she ain't a-crying!” Doris brought to unbend so far, " You're a good started up, turning her face away, and sort, anyhow! and God A’mighty will re- fung herself out of the house.

" What a ward

you, I don't doubt. But what's the brute you are to laugh at the woman!” I use of your a-talking to me? I ain't fit exclaimed, for I was roused.

“ You're for no other place than this. Soul? If blind. It was a lie. You couldn't have you could see my soul, you'd see such a seen her if she had cried !” He laughed dirty un as you ain't often met. Who's again. “ My toes! Many's the time I've a-going to save a rotten tater? 'tain't give her a black eye, but I never see her worth it!” “But the ascendency which blubbering for all that. But see or no see, Joe Bickers had acquired, and retained she's been blubbering now. Think I don't for over forty years, over Doris was un know! I tell you she's a-crying !” I saw bounded. She was his slave. The secret no more of her that day. Next time she of it, I doubt not, was that she had a heart began by being as reckless as usual. The and he had none - a cruel, noisy, jovial, old reprobate was evidently sinking. For boisterous, reckless giant, of the stuff that the first time she condescended to consult the old buccaneers were made of. But me. I don't know what to make of him. marry him she never would, and never He keeps calling out he'll be shaved. He did." She never would marry any one. It won't die, he says, unless he's shaved, was not for want of asking. “Why, there and I don't want him to die. I want to was one of 'em that wild he come and keep him. Do you think, sir, as I ought plumpt down on his knees and swore he'd to have him shaved ? ” There was a gronever get up till I'd marry him. He'd a tesque pathos about the question. Doris given me thousands !" "Why in the dreaded the thought of hastening his end. world did you not take him, Doris ?”

What, marry a man that had flopped on Doris was left alone. She had stiil a his marrow bones and squealed like a pig? great deal of vigor and infinite pluck. She Yah! 'Twarn't likely ! Why, if I'd mar- had her donkey, too, and her cart, and she ried one of 'em, you see, I should ha' be- contrived, literally, to pick up a livelihood. longed to him. Then — possible — I'd She never begged; she had many friends have got tired of him.”

here and there, who were always ready During those months when I used to go with a shilling. People who condemned to visit fierce old Bickers — though he her irregular life were ready to cast a veil was as hard as the nether millstone over her antecedents. She was proud as there came a gradual change over Doris. Lucifer in her way, and scorned to apolThe strange couple lived in a ruinous ogize for what she had not scorned to hovel, which was one of two when I first commit. She rather made the worst of knew it; the other house (?) grew so dan. herself than the best. She forgot nothing; gerous that the owner dismantled it, used she knew everybody – especially all their some of the rafters to prop up Joe Bick-old peccadilloes. Truly a formidable perers's tottering wall, sold the tiles for a few sonage, whom prudence suggested should shillings, and patched up some holes in be best left alone to go her own way. the roof. In this miserable ruin the old The donkey cart grew very rickety. She ruffian died. While he lay there, fading took it to the wheelwright, a kindly man away, it was my business to drop in and in his way.

I want you to sit with him.

mend this cart; what will it cost? What They had abandoned the upper room, will it cost you, that's my meaning; for where the bats hid under the tiles and you must mend it up and I shan't pay you flew in and out at pleasure, and the wind for it. Leastways I don't think I ever whistled and the snowflakes found an shall ! The cart was mended. Doris easy entrance; and they had put up their I went on in the old way, doing little jobs,


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getting shillings, scraps, and small doles. | she said to me; 6 I used to think I never Then the donkey broke down. One should die. I never thought I was the day we missed the patient little brute. same as other folks. Nothing never did “Where's the dickey, Doris ?" Simon, me no harm. I've known hundreds of the knacker, had gone to her to buy it. diers — what was that to me?” What for? For somebody's kennel. What At last she got an allowance from the would he give? Half-a-crown. What parish — went out no more then she would he charge for shooting it? A shil- took to her bed. All her life she appears ling. And dig the hole too? Yes, he to have put away from herself anything didn't mind that. Doris stood by as he but the present hour. When she could dug the hole, then she pulled out her shil- no longer trudge about the old roads and ling. Now you may shoot him. I ain't lanes, she fiercely resented the faintest a.going to have my dickey feed the dogs !” suggestion that she would be better cared The old dickey rolled into his grave, and for in the Union. “I never set my foot the two covered him over. Doris was in the Union yet, and they shan't make me. desolate. “I've had three on 'em — this I don't want no taking care of. Let 'em last one better nor twenty years.

He leave me alone. I'm best alone. Who's fared as if he looked at me that morning, a-going to look after me — a-peeping and and said good-bye."

a-picking and a-sniffing about?'

So we Men and women who are absolutely had to make the best of it. But Doris fearless always have a power over animals. grew feebler; she found it harder and Doris would have laughed at a mad bull, harder to fetch her pail of water from the and the monster would have turned away well; she hadn't strength or spirit to from her; the fiercest dog would trot up wash up her things or put them away, or to her, thrust his nose into her hand, and even light her fire. I used to drop in caper round her. Quite recently I was more frequently, though it was not always complaining to a good woman that there easy, for she lived a couple of miles off. were no hedgehogs to be found.“ Begging The woman's heart was evidently softenyour pardon, sir, Doris could find you a ing, but she fought against it in impatient, hedgehog any day; she says they come defiant outbreaks. She was thinking. out to look at her!” In fact, a week be. Clearly the memories of the past were fore she had taken a young hedgehog to haunting her; there were the signs not so one of our cottagers a mile off and given much of weak and puling regret as of a it to her. Some time afterwards she had bitter and acrimonious disgust. “ Yah! I dropt in to inquire about the hedgehog. see it all now; I didn't see it then. There The little creature had not taken kindly to ain't no one to blame but myself. Yah!” its new home, had hidden away, and only Now and then her abruptness took me at came out in the evening when the black- a disadvantage, when she, evidently speak. beetles emerged from their holes. As the ing out what had been turning over and two women were gossiping - lo! in the over in her mind for nights and days, broad noonday there appeared the hedge- would hurl at me some sad question as hog It ran up to Doris, crooning softly, though it were a missile she was burning as their wont is, and seeming to ask to be to throw from her. "What puts me out,' noticed.

she said one day, “is what such as you When the donkey was gone, Doris come to such as me for. You ain't got still living in the old hovel had to trust nothing to gain by it — you ain't obliged to her own feet. Coming back every to you ain't a-going to tell me as you evening, weary, often wet and hungry, no like it here you are, wet and dry. What fire in the grate and scanty provisions in do you do it for? That there woman over the cupboard, the hard life began to tell the way, she wouldn't come near me if it upon her. She had never had an hour's ill. wasn't for you. Ah! as if I don't know !”

Her hair had grown grey, but there she laughed a feeble, cunning laugh, and were still tangled masses of it shadow- tried to look sly. “Doris, when the old ing the broad, square, powerful forehead. dickey was alive you used to take mesTill within a month of her death her full sages, didn't you, whether you liked it or lips were red as a girl's; the brilliant not? Perhaps that's my way.color of her cheek was a delicate carmine, on wi' you ! you ain't got no master, and the smaller vessels still distinct with the you don't want no shillings — I did." blood that circulated through them regu- * Ah! Doris ! Doris ! but I have a Maslarly as it had done seventy years before. ter, and that's just where it is.” She Doris bowed her head at last — bowed looked at me, said nothing, tossed about her heart, too. “ I suppose I'm a dier," I on the bed, sat up again, then half wearily,

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half petulantly, “Well, you can't like it was plunged. “He couldn't a-bear the anyhow. He never comes to see you; drink, and he couldn't abide my old and if he did, possible as you could do man!” The lad grew very strong, but he without him!”

was no match at all for old Joe. He sul

lenly submitted to the ruffian's brutal vioAnother time she broke out, • Mrs. lence for three or four

years; then when Dash came here yesterday; she brought he found he could do no good, and that it me a bit of chicken. She hadn't no call was faring worse and worse with his sisto come; she wouldn't ha' come if you ter, one day he disappeared.

• He always hadn't sent her. I had to eat her victuals, said he should go away some day, and if though it kind o' choked me; she wanted he did he'd never come back.

" Come 'em more’n I did, and they'd ha' done her along wi' me, Doris,” he said one night more good! Then she went on to say afore he went off ; “I'll never marry till that Mrs. Dash had in the old days always you do; I'll work my fingers to the bone been good for a sixpence, an egg, a cup of to keep you respectable; come along and milk, or some scraps. Four years before leave it all. Don't you be dragged in the this time her husband had “broken.” mud no more !” Doris had called at the door some days But no! With the obstinate infatuation afterwards and found her old friend in of the woman, she refused to move. She tears the bailiffs had been in the house. never slept a night in her life ten miles Mechanically she had gone to look for from the place of her birth. There she something for Doris – there was nothing. would live and there she would die. “Never mind, Doris !” she had said with Once, when I was in the jolly twenties, a wan smile," there's twopence for you !” a merry band of us had been out shooting. Doris took it, shambled off, and swore a Just as we turned homewards the sun big oath that she'd never go near that sank down and it was twilight. Up rose door again. “ I'd have given it back, and a partridge; some one fired; the bird was more too,” said Doris, " but I knew her hit. A shot, I conjecture, had passed well; she wouldn't ha' liked it; but I through one of its eyes and lodged in the never went there no more !"

brain. In the waning light we saw it The shadows were deepening. We got wheeling round us in a regular circle a kind neighbor to go in two or three round and round and round. It was gettimes a day to look after Doris, and very ting dark as we fired one after another; kind and considerate she was; but Doris but we missed. The bird flew round and at first resented the intrusion. In a little round; at last one chance shot ended it while she submitted, and ended by ex- all. I often think of the poor partridge ; pressing a reluctant sort of gratitude; but, and when I do I think of Doris too, flutin the presence of this extemporized sæur tering round and round and round in an de charité when I called she was obsti- enchanted circle-dropping at last ! nately silent. The good creature noticed I wrote that letter and the brother came. it, and had the tact and delicacy always to A serious, broad-shouldered, thriving retire when I came in to pay my visits. miner, with a vast hand that took mine into “ I'm a dier !” said Doris. “ Not just its mighty grasp while his lip quivered, yet, though ; don't you be afraid. Possi- and his words came slowly: "I've come to ble you'd write a letter for me?” Write fetch Doris, but she won't go, sir. Sup. a letter for Doris! Whom to? Then pose I was to take her up and carry her came a strange story. Fifty years ago, off in a first-class carriage. Do you

think when Doris had first taken up with Joe she'd stand it? There's a train at 4.15 Bickers who was then earning a great this afternoon.” He'd been travelling all deal of money doing odd jobs of drilling the night, fourteen hours of it.

It was and carting — Joe wanted more help. now midday. I told him the thing was Doris thereupon went to the workhouse not to be done - impossible.

impossible. "Then I'd and took out her youngest brother, a lad best get back. My wife's been paralyzed. of twelve or fourteen. “And I brought There's two shops to look after. I must him up,” said Doris.

get back!” He stayed a few hours, The strong, affectionate nature of the amazed the seur de charité by his prolad, his strange thoughtfulness, his intelli- fuseness, left money behind him, and gence, his somewhat melancholy tempera- orders that his sister should want for ment, had come, you may be sure, not nothing, and was gone ; the poor wife was from Jaunty Jem, but from the other side calling to him, and the two shops, and the of the house. He conceived a deep hor- work he had left in the coal-pit. How he ror and loathing of the life into which he managed his various occupations who shall

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say? A man of few words and slow of yours, they're a mucky lot! I never done speech, he left only one message behind no night poaching same as you. Wboare him. “Give my love to his reverence. you to come in here with your horking and Mind, I say my love! I mean it.” The your snivelling? Get out wi' you !

The 4.15 train took him back to his wife, who fellow slunk away and gave in a report to wrote an urgent, pleading letter to Doris. those that sent him that Doris was * a-goLet her come. “Oh, come to us for the ing to hell !' love of God!” She was past railway She was past caring now what people journeyings by this time. “I knew he'd said of her; the old contempt of the come if I sent for him," said Doris ; "he world's censure helped her now.

Let was always a good sort of boy. I brought them - they had cause for it ! him up, and he's a good boy now,' I rarely read anything to Doris. I used aged sixty years or thereabouts!

to trust to my memory for the most part, You ladies and gentlemen of the lei. and tell her what I thought it was good to sured classes who subscribe to Mudie's tell. She was sitting up in her bed hud. and religiously visit the Royal Academy dled together, her arms clasped round her I have noticed a superstition among you knees, on her head a magenta (is that the which is rather widely prevalent. I have word?) handkerchief tied under her chin, heard many of you express unbounded faded crimson petticoat, and crimson astonishment that romance, sentiment, stockings, an old blanket gathered round pure nobleness, and the simple heroism of her shoulders. Somehow I forget how self-surrender should be found among the it came about -- I told her of one whom masses in the squalor of the alleys or of they brought to Him, how they were very the cottage in the lane. I am inclined hard upon her; how they could not help myself to fall into exactly the opposite being hard – it would not do not to be superstition, and to doubt whether the hard against some sins, some wrongs, before-mentioned articles are to be found some evil-doers - how they said this and anywhere except in the before-mentioned that; how He was never hard; how He was

so very, very sorry for her. Doris utterly “Well ! he's been and gone, my poor broke down. Clutching her knees, she boy! There's another thing you might do looked at me, the wide eyes filled with the for me now!”. For perhaps the first and big drops that rolled down her cheeks. I only time in her life a deep blush rose to never saw a human being sob before withher cheek, mantling all her brow with out the least attempt at stopping or hiding crimson. It was some time before she the spasms of emotion. I hope I shall could bring it out. She recovered herself. never see it again. What did she say? “ Are you a-going? 'Cause I'll tell you What did I answer? Nay! Nay! Hush ! when you're going !" I silently took up Next day and the next I could not go to my hat; with my hand upon the latch I her. Doris was very restless. “I can't paused, turning my back on her as she ease her," said our seur de charité when lay.

I did come at last; "she keeps telling '“ Will you be so good as ask 'em in me to read to her about the woman, your church next Sunday — just to - all and I don't know what woman - I've on 'em — just to — say a prayer for a bad been trying ever so !” Her trying conwoman as has lived as she hadn't ought sisted in reading about the lost piece of to? Possible He may look in and hear silver, the judgment of Solomon, St. Paul's 'em !” Can you guess who He was? advice to wives. Finally (when all these

Of course I gave the message almost in failed to satisfy Doris) somebody dropped her very words. The pathetic notice pro-in who suggested the seventeenth chapter duced a profound impression. Everybody of the Revelation of St. John! was talking about it. A wild rumor, ex. Doris tried to raise herself the next tensively circulated and repeated in the time she heard my voice. We had our markets, went about that Doris had con- last interview. That night she died. A fessed to being concerned in a murder week or two before she had sent for Mrs. committed fifty years before. The Phari. Dash. By the help of careful instrucsees were greatly exercised. One of them tions Mrs. Dash found, in a hole in the must needs go and look into the matter. chimney, a little hoard of seventeen shil** Is it true, Doris?” Some of the old fierce- lings. It had been stored up against the ness of scorn came back to her. “ Get day of her burial. Doris had no fears out wi' you! I ain't so bad but I know now, for her “boy” would save her from this house is my own. Who wants you in a pauper's grave; but the money was his, here? I know all about you — you and I and he'd better have it. The brother came

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From The National Review.

again, and brought his sadly crippled wife sonal friends. But he loves freedom no with him too. They gave away the few further. He keeps the stranger and even things that were in the house. It was his neighbor at arm's length. He may with the utmost difficulty that I could live for years without speaking to his make them understand that there was no neighbor who lives in the next-house, or fee to pay, that they owed me nothing. the boarder who occupies the rooms next They went their way, strangely sorrowing, his own. He wishes to be let alone. It when they had laid their sister in her is the Frenchman who loves freedom in grave.

the club, the café, the salon, who greets And this was the end of Doris !

you with open arms in the market-place. AUGUSTUS JESSOPP. That is what the Frenchman calls liberty,

or in other words equality, and he pos. sesses that kind of freedom. But the German is an idealist, and loves neither liberty nor equality, or, if he does, it is

only as a man loves his grandmother.” HEINE'S VISIT TO LONDON.

While this conversation with the captain The English people not long ago were was going on it had become dark, and the reading a book on England written by an boat had entered the Thames. Heine is observant Frenchman long resident in this surprised at the crowded river, and is not country. He is a friend and admirer of free from anxiety when he sees the ships John Bull

, and his work has been very passing so closely by each other that their favorably received among us. But there passengers could alinost shake hands - a is another book on England, written by the welcome and farewell at the same moment. German poet, Heine, which is not so well He looks with wonder on the forest of known. Heine was a German and a Jew, masts and on his own boat as it slowly a poet and a satirist, and so we must re- and safely glides through among them. ceive his criticisms with a grain of salt. The stars, meanwhile, have burst out in Besides, he came over to England in a fit the sky, and the captain, seeing him in a of spleen. He was disgusted with the silent mood, calls his attention to them. tyranny of Continental nations. His books You talk of freedom,” he says, “and had been subjected to the censorship, and have come over here to see its triumphs. had come forth so terribly mangled that There is no such thing either in heaven or he was unwilling to own them. It seemed in earth. These stars that shine over our to him better that he should not publish heads are not free. They are bound fast his thoughts at all, than that they should by an eternal law, and cannot move a hairbe given to the world in such a mutilated breadth from their orbits.” Before Heine form. But he had heard of Britain as the had time to reply, the captain cries out, land of the free press and free institutions, “Look there! Do you see that black oband he resolved to spend a few months ject looming through the darkness? That among us and see them for himself. He is the Tower of London." accordingly embarked for London, and Heine found rooms at the Tavistock arrived about the middle of April in the Hotel; but as these did not suit him, he

soon removed to 32 Craven Street, Strand. His thoughts were running on the free. From early morning till late at night he dom of the press which John Milton had went about sight-seeing. He had made so nobly won for the Englislı people. And up his mind that he would not be astonso, as soon as he sighted England, he ished at the greatness of London. But he cried out,

O land of freedom, I greet was astonished; he could not help it. He thee!” and was losing himself in a solil- came prepared to see great and lofty paloquy upon English freedom, when the aces, and he saw little houses three stories captain came up and asked him to be a high, built of brick, and crowned with litile less demonstrative. He warned him chimney-cans that looked like fresh-drawn that he might not find England so free as teeth. But it was the number of them he was anticipating: " There are several that astonished him. He wandered about kinds of freedom,” he continued, “and the hour after hour, and saw the same uniEnglishman does not possess them all

. formity everywhere prevail. Day after He loves freedom, and he has it when it day he went in new directions, and still he means personal liberty. He loves to be followed the same kind of streets, stretchfree in his own house, and so he calls it ing miles upon miles, and seeming never his castle. He loves to be free in his re- to end. He was, he says, like the boy lations to his wife, his children, and per- I who made up his mind not to cry when he

year 1827

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