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thereon, all soft and grey with mist, I the public, the ivy is netted in. Now, was London right away to St. Paul's. inside this netting, secure from the And a sky of forget-mc-not blue above, fingers of holiday-makers, grow all the and under foot wherever you looked wildlings of the country — king-cup and the same continuity of comfortable, ragged-robin, fumitory and charlock, beautiful turf. What is the Bay of dead nettles, crane's-bill, and ever so Naples, with its bitter, relentless, gen- many more. Safe inside this vetting tian blue overhead, and its sun- the last of the refugees from Hampscorched, dusty, and grassless ground stead Heath and Parliament Fields beneath, compared to this view from have taken sanctuary, and, unpicked Hampstead Heath ? Where else can and untrodden, flourish bravely, lookyou find such satisfying beauty? Not ing through the protectivy wiring at in Lisbon as seen from the river, nor their passing enemies with a delightful in Sydney harbor, nor in southern unconcern. Not long ago, doubtless, California, nor anywhere else, not even all these flowers grew on the other side in nature's most favored island — New of the road, and all up the ditches and Zealand. There is nothing, I believe, under the hedges, and the fields were like it anywhere to captivate and com- full of them, just as that field in prifort both the eye and mind at once. vate ground, if you will look over the “Yet,” said mine ancient, “I have wooden fence, is now. But they have heard travellers say, standing where been literally exterminated, and if it you are now, that they did not think were not for the little two-foot strip of much of it." “ The next time you netted ground on one side of the road, hear a traveller say that,” I replied, we might imagine that this part of “tell him without hesitation that no- England had never grown flowers at where out of England can be see in a all. single landscape such turf, such a And so back homewards. But on variety of foliage, and such a city. the way I rested, to fill myself full of He cannot contradict you.”

the view before me, lest I might never And then I wandered down the slope see it again, and chose for my seat the on one side and up the other and down wreck of what had once been a gigantic again to the road, and all the way, beech-tree, as great in girth, I fancy, ankle-deep in grass, I never saw a as any in Burnham Wood; and, sitting single flower. Yes, here a stitch wort, there, I became aware of another relic or shepherd's-purse, or there a speed of the past, an immensely aged elm well, but not one flower that a child trunk. would stoop to pick. Where are they It is hollow now and tunnelled at the all gone? We talk with wonder of top, for the sparrows are at home former multitudes of game that have within, hopping in at holes on one side now deserted their haunts, of the dis- and out at the other. And just below appearance of whales from the north them, on a knob, sits a starling outside seas, of bison from the prairies, and so another doorway, and, from the chirpon ; but how much more wonderful it ings that issue, you can tell there is a is that the flowers should bave all gone family inside, and a hungry one. Still off, unanimously, and left our public lower down you can see a round hole, playing fields. You can walk a mile the work of a nuthatch. The middle with hedges and ditches and ponds, of the tree, which is mere tinder, las and all the way in meadow grass, and all crumbled out, leaving a jagged peak yet not be able to gather all the time of the outer wood upstanding, and in enough to fill a button-hole. Yet come the middle of this is the nuthatch's down to the road, and here you will hole, and, in an idle mood, I fell a

a strange and rather a pathetic wondering when it was made. It sight. Along one side of it runs a looks fresh, and it is quite possible that wooden paling, against which ivy has the bird had all its work for nothing, been planted, and to protect it from for birds do many absurd things when

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building their nests, such hopelessly off, pretending to its wife that it had exasperatingly stupid things that one been making the hole “just for the begius to wonder whether “instinct” fun of the thing,” and telling fibs about does not, perhaps, quite as often make having known all along that it was only its possessors ridiculous human a kind of board sticking up and not

reason.” Here, for instance, is what solid. happened to the nuthatch. Its instinct When the elmo fell a part of the trunk teaches it to go tapping on trees till it ripped away, leaving exposed a finds a hollow-sounding place, and then tion," as it were, and here is seen a to commence pecking out an entrance- very curious piece of working, where way to reach the cavity within. Very some bird, finding the tree decaying often, of course, they chip out their and easy to manage, had sunk a shaft holes in the soundest wood of the tree, vearly three feet deep. Half-way down but, as a rule, they search for a spot it liad hollowed out a cup-shaped recess that gives out a hollow sound when in the side of the shaft, the story of tapped, and promises easy working by which I take to be this : that the first and by, or perhaps a ready-made exca- year the bird had its nest at the very vation. This is what our nuthatch, no bottom of the shaft, and that coming doubt, expected. The wood sounded back the year after to the same hole, very hollow, as well it might, seeing and not caring to make another vest on that there was nothing at all behind it. the top of the old one, it had pecked But this apparently the small bird did out the cup-shaped hollow balf-way not understand. It may have looked down. And a delightfully snug place behind and seen there was nothing it must bave been. At the bottom of there, but when it came back and the shaft, now exposed to view, a flylooked at it from in front, the tree catcher has built its nest this year; but seemed solid enough, and so, like a cat as every puff of wind that blows with a looking-glass, it never put two switches a branch of the next tree up and two together, but set to work to and down against it, grazing the nest peck itself a nesting-place. Soft as the each time and whipping it with its wood was, there were some inches of leaves, the mother will find it a very it to get through, and the nuthatch uncomfortable place to sit. And though worked merrily away, thinking it was quite fresh-looking, no bird came near getting on splendidly, and what a it while I was there, so perhaps she has clever little nuthatch it was to have already been driven away by the per. found a spot so easy to dig out, and petual annoyance of the flicking branch. congratulating itself in all sorts of ways Nor have birds alone possessed the old at having got ahead of the other nut- elm, for a large grub, or caterpillar, hatches who were hammering away at bas been at work driving tunnels, large solid tree-trunks, when all of a sudden, enough to put the finger in, through pop! its head came through the wall the touch-wood. Perhaps the goalon the other side. I should like to moth or the stag-beetle. And here, have seen the nuthatch when it first where the surface is dimpled with little looked through the hole it had been hollows, is where the wasps have been making so nicely, and to have heard borrowing material for making the what it said. I expect it said some- paper of their combs ; and these holes, thing very uncomplimentary about the like bullet-holes, going straight into tree as it looked round to see if any of the tree, are the tunnels of carpenter the other birds had seen what a fool it bees. But the old tree is a volume in looked when its head came out on the itself, and handsomely illustrated, too, other side, and then it flew a long way from the life, by nature.

PHIL ROBINSON.

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Sixth Series,
Volume III.

No. 2614. - August 11, 1894.

From Beginning,

Vol. OCHI.

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CONTENTS. I. MADAME DU DEFFAND,

Macmillan's Magazine,
II. THE DEAN OF KILLERINE. Conclusion.

Translated by Mrs. E. W. Latimer, from
the French of .

The Abbé Prévost,
III. NOTES ON ENGLAND. By Paul Ver-
laine, .

Fortnightly Review, .
IV. ORCHID HUNTING IN DEMERARA, Cornhill Magazine,
V. MRS. MARTIN'S COMPANY. By Jane
Barlow,

National Review,
VI. THE FOUNDERS OF THE BANK OF EN-
GLAND,

Macmillan's Magazine,
VII. BEATIFICATION IN THE EAST. By L.
M. Brunton,

Contemporary Review,
VIII. THE SOUTHERNMOST CITY IN SOUTH

AMERICA, By Frederick Hastings, Leisure Hour,

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374

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POETRY.
322 | THE PIONEERS,
322

THE BREATH OF THE FURZE,
THE PURPLE FELLS,

322

PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY
LITTELL & CO., BOSTON,

TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EIGHT DOLLARS remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage.

Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co.

Single copies of the LIVING AGE, 18 cents.

bells ;

THE BREATH OF THE FURZE.

THE PURPLE FELLS. The breath of the furze came over the hill, THE stifling room grows dark, my senses On a moonlit night when the wind was reel, still.

I hear the murm’ring bees in heather From the tall, keen spires of the golden town

Above the sultry city air I feel That Spring has built on the sea ward The quick’ning wind upon the purple down

fells. Thorn and blossom, all dimly seen In a maze of gold and a mist of green

I see the threadlike brooklets trickle down Was issued forth for the world's delight

To kiss forget-me-nots in restful dells, A fragrant message across the night.

The white Parnassus 'mong the rushes

brownThe breath of the furze came down to the The Muses' flower - upon those glinting sea,

fells. With the blackbird's voice from the hazeltree;

As here I lie upon a couch of pain, Sweet as nectarine, warm as peach,

A gush of joy within my spirit swells, Blent with the salt of the wave-wet beach. I watch the sunshine breaking through the Through the morning glory it strove in rain, vain

And hear the lapwings on those cloudTo make its marvellous meaning plain,

kissed fells. For the world was reeling with sound and scent

I only pray- I cannot pierce the veil — And glow of the mid-May firmament.

That, as I drink of the eternal wells,

I may not think the golden streets are pale The breath of the furze came over the Beside the gorse upon those bonny fells. heath

EMILY Howson TAYLOR. From the gold above and the gold beneath ; Sunday Magazine. It floated down through the primrose dell Where the chaffinch builds and the ring

doves dwell. Wandering waters with welcome-chime, Hailed it softly from time to time,

THE PIONEERS. And the nightingale, when the dark drew nigh,

“Fools only wander from the broad highWove it into his minstrelsy.

way.”

So spake the multitude whose beaten The breath of the furze like a dream stole in

track To the city's heart through the drouth and Some lone soul's patient labor, ages back, din,

Hewed from the living rock that therein With a sudden wonder a woman stopped

they — Where a yellow bough in the dust was The children's children — might walk free dropped ;

to-day ; And all in a moment the tears arise

Some poor unhonored sage with brain on In healing streams to her dull, hard eyes.

rack And the spark of life that a dead soul keeps And heart on fire, thro' nights that slumIs newly kindled in sombre deeps.

ber lack

Hearing strange voices that he must obey. “I will arise now and go once more To the cottage gate by the brown seashore ; Heavily burdened, on from steep to steep, Where the brooklet-spray to the foam de- To far-off wisdom the slow centuries creep; scends

Yet shall be reached that ultimate tableOver the cliff where the furze-brake ends.

land Perhaps the cowslips are blooming now, Where, high above the creeds, all men Where the whitethroat sings on the white- shall stand, thorn bough ;

And clear discern that over them doth Perhaps my mother is waiting still,

sweep, Where the breath of the furze comes over And their wild earth, the Shadow of a the hill !”

Hand.
Spectator,
M. C. GILLINGTON.

Cornhill Magazine.

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From Macmillan's Magazine,

duce it. The conspiracy, it was said, MADAME DU DEFFAND.

originated in the salon of the Baron

d'Holbach, and was promoted by such IF words, as Trench said long ago, men as Grimm, La Harpe, and Laare fossil history, there is an extraor- moignon. It is easy to be wise now dinary significance in the multiplicity and to realize how impossible it was of meanings attached to the word phi- that such a stupendous upheaval could losophy in the last years of the eigh- have been caused by the conspiracy of teenth century in France. You will a clique ; but at the time the accusation think the sentiments of the philoso- was considered of sufficient importance phers very odd state-news," writes to be seriously refuted, and only the Horace Walpole from Paris in 1765. development of events was to show the “ But do you know who the philoso- true character and extent of the influphers are ? In the first place, the ence of the philosophical doctrines term includes almost every one ; in the upon a society sated with luxury and next, it means men who, avowing war inaction, and upon a starving and exagainst popery, aim, many of them, at asperated people. the subversiou of all religion, and still It is the social history of these opinmany more at the destruction of the ions which makes the interest of the regal power.”

life of Madame du Deffand ; the curiThe definition is not scientific ; yet, ous spectacle of a revolution wrought read by the light of 1793, it seems in thought and opinion long before it fairly adequate. The philosophers was translated into action ; of an inthemselves, however, would scarcely tellectual and pleasure-loving society have accepted it. They posed only as anticipating in theory almost every men who would submit all questions of revolutionary movement, and fearlessly morals, politics, and religion to the test invoking the spirits which were afterof reason and natural instinct, rather wards to take such monstrous shapes. than of authority and revelation. But “Your Espinasses, Geoffrins, Deftheir philosophy was not the nymph of fands play their part too,” says Carthe solitudes, but of the salon, the lyle in his cumbrous phrase ; coffee-house, and the mess-room. The shall in all senses be not only philosodilemma that ensued was an ancient phers, but philosophesses.”' One of one;

the test of reasoning was of vary- her own countrymen says more graceing value in such a world of unreason. fully that Madame du Deffand is the It was applied with very different re- most characteristic figure in French sults by the scientific and by a society society from the days of the Regency which played at being intellectual ; by to the first years of Louis the Sixthe fine lady, who added a piquancy to teenth ; and indeed she seems to inher toilet by pondering over the last tensify in her own person the brilliancy, volume of Rousseau and Voltaire be- the restlessness, the intellectual curitween the powder and the patches ; by osity, the devouring ennui of her world. the fine gentleman untrained in poli- It was her fate to live in society tics and all the practical arts of life ; in fermentation, “incredibly active in by the young enthusiast, wearied of mind ;" to have been touched in her too much civilization, eager for action, youth with the pitch of its defilement; and condemned to inglorious ease. and in her old age to preach in spite of The philosophers found themselves in herself, from her cynic's tub, on the strange company and confronted with vanity of the world, although, poor unexpected issues. It is well known woman, she hated serinons, and made that those who survived to see the out- a stipulation even on her death-bed to break of the Revolution were as much be spared them. “M. le curé," she taken by surprise as the less enlight- says, when he comes for her last conened public. Yet they were accused of fession, "you shall really have no having deliberately conspired to pro- cause to complain of me, but do let me

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