farewell before her departure for Italy. I would have betrayed me now; but no ! This was a new danger of discovery for she came for a book and went out Louisa Lanesborough, which caused again. At tea-time they all talked of her and Mrs. Neville much anxiety. me so much, and of letters and ac66 Thursday. — A note this morning counts, that it required all Mimosa's from Anna Maria to say that she will generalship to parry the unlucky hits be at Beech Hill this evening!!! Anna made. They talked of Marion Now what will become of us? Surely too. Horatio thinks I look so like a she will know me directly. How can I widow! Alfred likes me very much, keep out of her sight? And she will and thinks me an excellent specimen ask after me; tell the Tennysons that of Guernsey servants! Well, this day I came over with dearest Mimosa, and also has passed!" they too will ask after me ! "

They arranged a number of plans to avoid detection, and decided that, if discovered, "L. L." should explain everything to Anna and ask her to keep her secret. While they were arranging these plans "a tap at the door made me open it, aud Anna herself came in!! In the joy of meeting and greeting I slipped out unperceived, and remained in the kitchen until they went down." Later: “Anna saw me, but was too préoccupé to notice Marion, and she soon took leave for the night, but it was settled that she should remain until the Monday. One day might pass, but four! Our decision at last was, that we should try her eyes and ears when alone, by my coming in and speaking before I was obliged to do so in the parlor, with the likelihood of my voice being recognized. Therefore on Friday morning, as she sat with my mistress, I passed close to her, took the tray from the table beside her, and spoke several times; then left the room for the effect. She did not suspect me in the least, merely saying that Marion was a very nice-looking girl, and she liked her! How wonderful! for

I am sure that I should know myself; yet how comfortable! I can now do anything; and yet to-day, as I entered the dining-room with the hot bottle, she looked so hard at me that I got quite nervous. Then again at night, as I was sitting (at work, fortunately) with the door imprudently left unfastened, she glided in. I felt sure that she was come to say, Louisa, I know you!' and her own name trembled on my lips. I am sure, had she not been very short-sighted, that my face

She was a very meek and modest widow evidently. One day during dinner (she did not wait at table at Beech Hill, as she did in the London lodgings) Marion was summoned to the table to answer some trivial question. Mrs. Neville looked annoyed at the proceeding, and told her afterwards that Alfred and his brothers had been disputing as to the color of “Marion's " eyes, which they had never seen, and took this method of settling the question, which, however, proved unsuccessful. Marion came, spoke, and retired without raising her eyes, and the young men owned themselves vanquished.

So the last half-sad, half-happy days. passed by; their "last days perhaps forever in an English home," as Louisa felt. And it was with a very aching heart that she copied, under the date of April 25, 1839 — their last evening at Beech Hill—the following lines: Yes, there are those nor wealth nor pleas

f

Emily, Matilda, and my four kitchen
comrades standing at the door. It was
soon over; blessings and wringings of
hands, farewells waved from an En-
glish home to one who may never see
one more, and to one who feels that
henceforth she is homeless in the
world. Mary Tennyson was the calm-
est there, for even Laura's innocent
tears gushed forth, and mine were
hardly hidden.

and half-anomalous position of outward servitude in which she found herself, continued.

On the morning of April 28, then, after a hasty breakfast, two carriages came; in one was placed Mrs. Neville, Laura, and Mary Tennyson; Frederick Tennyson and Marion in the other, with all the boxes and parcels, nineteen of them, all under her care, as she had undertaken the office of courier, to pay for everything, settle and provide for the whole party. To save Mrs. Neville

was made as far as possible by water. They accordingly embarked at the Tower Steps, Loudon, in the Phoenix, for Havre, from where they went on by diligence (viâ Paris) to Chalon. Here Frederick and Mary Tennyson left the

"The carriage rolled away as swiftly and lightly with its load of sorrow as though it followed in a festival. ...all unnecessary fatigue, the journey London again London at St. Paul's Hotel, opposite St. Paul's itself. As soon as possible I dressed and went to Seeley's (the publisher's); from thence to uncle Peter's. Mimosa met me, and we went to Kensington, to Mrs. Johns', dear, dear kind thing! She had pre-party to travel by another route and pared a dinner for us, which we partook of, and then she accompanied us to London, and left us at Curic's in Brook Street. Went in, and was introduced to Curie as Louisa Lanesborough. He was most kind, and made me write from his dictation the course she was to pursue, recommending us to a homoeopath in Paris, La Fith. He talked a great deal of animal magnetism."

When she returned to the hotel Louisa Lanesborough changed her dress, resuming her character of "Marion."

After this interview with Curie, she appears to have definitely decided to accompany her friend Mrs. Neville to Italy.

The story entitled "Through Night to Light" the principal characters in which are Mrs. Neville and Louisa Lanesborough - begins at this point; but no reference is made in it to the Tennysons, nor to Louisa Lanesborough's disguise, as they do not bear on the purport of that story.

As it had been arranged while at Beech Hill that Frederick and Mary Tennyson should accompany Mrs. Neville to Italy, Louisa was unable to throw off her disguise, which she had always hoped to do before starting, should she decide on going to Italy. And accordingly the irksome cap and “front,"

rejoin them at Como. From Chalon
Mrs. Neville, Laura, and Louisa Lanes-
borough went on to Lyons, from where
they continued their journey in રી
Rhone steamer to Marseilles (a pleas-
ing account of this part of their jour-
ney is given in " Through Night to
Light"). From Marseilles they went
on to Genoa on board a Mediterranean
steamer, and proceeded by easy stages
to the lake of Como, where they were
rejoined by the Tennysons. Here also
Mrs. Neville's brother, an officer in the
Austrian service, joined them, and her
father was daily expected. This was a
new dilemma for Louisa, as he knew
nothing of the "Marion " episode, and
expected to find Louisa Lanesborough
in her own proper person with his
daughter. The Tennysons, on
other hand, knew only of the servant
Marion, and Louisa felt the strongest
reluctance to reveal her identity.

the

dreary," "Mariana in the Moated Grange" (Louisa's copy of which differs somewhat from the printed poem), or sketching the "Things" which Alfred was wont to aver he saw in the small hours or "before a midnight

man, half beast, which, some from Alfred Tennyson's, some from Louisa Lanesborough's pen, now lie before me, with a sonnet of Alfred's, dated "23 May, 1840," which I have never seen in print.

Often in later years have I heard from Louisa's daughter of the pleasure with which she used to listen to her mother's descriptions of the happy, homely life the Tennysons spent at Beech Hill; of the big, grown-up family, each going his or her way in per

worked till breakfast, then remained in my room till near three, and I then read a little to Charles while he was painting. Dinner-time came; when in my room, I was just writing a letter to M., when she came in, and we determined on telling Mary Tennyson. Ac- fire," - strange, grim forms, half hucordingly I went to the dining-room, where they were sitting at the balcony, and in passing Mimosa I stooped over her and kissed her! Mary looked up amazed! Charley sat in an ecstasy of delight at the scene. Again we kissed, and Mary was in such astonishment that she could not speak. At last Mimosa said, 'Mary, what do you think of this? Who do you think this can be?' She did not know; she was quite bewildered. I spoke and said, 'Which of her friends do you think I could be? Who am I most like?' fect freedom; the sons dreaming, 'Louisa Lanesborough, but- 'It writing, thinking out life - problems, is her, Mary! it is Louisa.' 'Non- each in his own line (Alfred wandering sense, nonsense!' said Mary; it can- weirdly up and down the house in the not be. I cannot believe it!' but her "small hours," murmuring poetry as look was perplexed beyond descrip- he went); the sisters fond, proud, cultion." Finally, Mrs. Noville having tivated, appreciative, reading to one explained, and Louisa having taken off another Alfred's last new poem Οι her cap and wig and changed her dress, quoting Charles's or Frederick's say"Marion" vanished from the scene, ings; and the tender mother's spirit and " we talked and wondered and brooding over all. went over it all that whole evening." Among the papers which have come Shortly after this the Tennysons re-into my hands with the library of turned to England, and Louisa Lanes- Louisa Lanesborough (subsequently borough remained in propria persona Madame L—— C- -) is a bundle of with her friend Mrs. Neville (as re- private letters from John Ruskin, Mark counted in "Through Night to Light") | Pattison, Victor Hugo, J. H. Newman, until the following year (1840), when E. B. Pusey, Samuel Wilberforce, and she again paid a visit to the Tennysons others. From among them I extract a at Beech Hill; and she would laugh- letter which I may without indiscreingly relate in after years how strange tion (by omitting a portion of it) reproit seemed to come back there under duce here. It is from Emily Tennyson altered circumstances. Her "fellow- the "Emily" who was once Arthur servants," the same she had left Hallam's betrothed to Louisa Lanesbefore, watched her return with unsus-borough, and runs as follows:

picious eyes. "John" waited solemnly "MY DEAR LOUISA,—Did not a upon her at dinner, and never guessed, change come o'er the spirit of my counas he handed his dishes, that he was tenance last Thursday, 4th, at dinnerstanding behind the chair of the maid time when your letter was put into my Marion. Many a laugh must she and hand! In the rural monotony of our Mary Tennyson have had over the sit- Beech Hill existence, such an unexuation, as they sat together in the twi-pected arrival to the favored individual light, dreaming, and talking over "the is a spirit-stirring event. Letters at past," listening to Alfred as he read every moment of the day and night are them his latest verses on their favorite things to be desired, and when one

3

J

T

al

at

re

ne

drops in from an unlooked-for quarter, "I am glad you say dear Mrs. Ten-
the unfortunately constituted Tennyson nyson; that tender little adjective
discovers his or her face, through the looks very nice, and looks as if you ap-
quicker beating of that very sensitive preciate duly what you have seen of
insensible thing, the heart, blooming our mother against the world. .
up till the extended, ruddy glow might
very easily be mistaken for the wealth
of globed peony.

"Gramercy, Louy, as Charles called
you, for writing to such a quaint bird
as myself; in consequence I say, as
they say in the East, May your shadow
never be less.'

66

...

Much love from us all- no more time. Don't let the first letter to me be the last. —Thy very affectionate "EMILY."

"Mi

These two devoted friends, mosa " and Louisa, after they separated in Italy, never again met in this world. Mary Neville ("Mimosa") now lies buried in the church of the monastery of Santo Spirito—the great Armenian convent, where Byron studied, near Venice -the only woman

ever

66 · Mary is sitting by me. She wishes me to say she is going out for a fortnight, and is busy packing, or she would have written; somehow or other, words appear to have been of little ser-interred within its sacred precincts. vice to ye both on one occasion. She Louisa to whose journal I am inwas expecting a letter from you; while debted for the account of the romantic Collins, thing of the enchanting smile incident recorded in these pages-has and golden hair, seems to have been also passed through Night to Light. holding out the same delusions to you.' BARTLE TEELING. Then follow allusions to other matters.

6

“How glad I feel for thee once more at home, after all thy trials and miseries! Never mind about the great piece of life being dragged away by the weary wanderings,' if by these same weary wanderings thou hast gained more experience in humanity, even should the experience have given rather a grave cast to thy life-for, as thou gavest me to understand, thy caution-bump is small; consequently, I am afraid thy wisdom in the world, between deceitful and true hearts, must be gained by painful experience.

66

From Macmillan's Magazine.

A DISCOURSE ON SEQUELS. "IT is the fate of sequels to disappoint the expectations of those that have waited for them." So writes Mr. Louis Stevenson in his dedication of Catriona," "which was his own sequel to his earlier tale of " Kidnapped." That authors should go on producing, sequels is a matter that need surprise no one. When the world makes friends with a character in fiction, it is only natural that it should desire to hear more of him, and equally natural that the author should be glad to gratify the world's desire. It is hard to say goodbye forever to a pleasant acquaintance even among mere mortals.

I suppose nobody ever read Shakespeare's "Henry the Fourth" without a lively desire to meet Falstaff again. That is just what Queen Elizabeth felt when she saw the play. Being a queen and a Tudor, she incontinently gave command for a sequel; at least tradi tion says that it is to Elizabeth's command we owe "The Merry Wives of Windsor." The tradition, it is true, considerably later than

dates from

Shakespeare's time. The earliest writ- | play was a favorite with Restoration ten authority for it, I believe, is John audiences; also with the late master of Dennis's dedication (dated 1702) to Balliol. We shall all, I suppose, with "The Comical Gallant," a new version Hazlitt admit that it is an amusing he made of Shakespeare's play; and it play, with a great deal of humor, chardepended for its preservation upon the acter, and nature in it. Yet will every oral testimony of Nicholas Rowe, who right Falstaffian add with Hazlitt that was not born until some fifty years he would have liked it much better if after Shakespeare died. From that day any one else had been the "hero" of to this, however, the story has been it instead of Falstaff. The indignities generally accepted. Queen Elizabeth, suffered by Falstaff reminded Hazlitt said Rowe, was so well pleased with of the sufferings of Don Quixote. the character of Falstaff that she com- There Hazlitt let his natural zeal outrun manded Shakespeare to continue it for his critical discretion. Falstaff is the one play more and to show him in love. | very last man in the world to be called If Rowe was right, and the queen's Quixotic; but in the main Hazlitt is desire was to see the fat knight in love, right. Falstaff in "The Merry Wives the wish was something less wise and of Windsor" is not the man he was in more womanlike than was usual with "Henry the Fourth." His degradaher. Falstaff in love would be a con- tions are too dishonoring, and how tradiction in terms, and Shakespeare much his wit has degenerated a simple could not so falsify his conception. test will prove. Falstaff's sallies of wit This is how Falstaff himself in the play are among the most current of the opens his design to Bardolph, Nym, world's quotations. Not one quotaand Pistol at the Garter Inn at Wind- tion, I think I am right in saying, sor. My honest lads," says he, "I comes from the Falstaff of the later will tell you what I am about." "Two play. Falstaff's admirers would willyards or more, interposes Pistol. ingly believe that as the Mistress No quips now, Pistol " replies Sir Quickly that was servant to Dr. Caius John. "Indeed I am in the waist two was a different person from that other yards about; but I am now about no Mistress Quickly, the poor lone woman waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, I who kept the Boar's Head in Eastdo mean to make love to Ford's wife; cheap, so it was not Hal's Mentor, but I spy entertainment in her; she dis-"another fellow of the same name courses, she carves, she gives the leer of invitation." "The report goes," he adds, "she has all the rule of her husband's purse.

That was as near as Shakespeare could bring himself to the ordained task, and if Elizabeth was satisfied, she was less exacting than she sometimes showed herself. Some lingering after lust there is in the would-be seducer of Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, and an unabated craving after lucre; but love! not for the queen's command the bare suspicion of it in the two yards' girth of him.

Whether it was the fate of this sequel to disappoint the royal expectation tradition does not say. It may be that the taste that desired to see Falstaff in love was satisfied with the horse-play of these merry wives. At any rate the

that was crammed into the buckbasket with the foul smocks; and for all his protestation, that, if he were served such another trick, he'd have his brains taken out and buttered and give them to a dog for a New Year's gift, nevertheless endured the disguise of the fat woman of Brentford and the horns of Herne the Hunter. The most ingenious German commentator has not yet, however, ventured on so desirable an hypothesis; and indeed the presence of Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol is damning. If Shakespeare himself did not write a satisfactory Falstaffian sequel, it was, we must suppose, that his heart was not in the job. The tradition, according to Gildon, was that he took only a fortnight about it. Yet let not the profit column of the account be ignored. If Falstaff loses, Slender and Shallow

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