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about two inches, and received from the paintings with remarks which showed a Cerberus of the house a letter. Rapidly cultivated taste and judgment, and then shutting himself in, he read the perfumed intimated her wish to keep them. Charles missive. It was a polite note from Ma- very thankfully acquiesced, and then spoke dame Pellissier, intimating her wish for of the portrait. him to call upon her at once with the neces. “ Well, M. Dupont, you may commence sary materials for commencing a portrait, this morning, if you please, but I have a she had the canvas ready, and adding a de peculiar notion, and that is, that artists sire to see any finished paintings he might should know a little of the person they are have on hand.
| about to paint, to do it well. I flatter A radiant smile of joy passed over the myself that you would be far more effective face of the young artist. It was not, how. in your likeness, if you always commenced ever, the prospect of relief from misery ; it by an hour's conversation with the sitter." was not the chance of a career, of baving Charles smilingly agreed that the young money. Such things have but little influ- widow's theory was a very plausible one, ence over the mind of the true artiste, and entered into a very animated discuswhether poet, painter, or author. Much is sion with her on his own art, which he said of the improvidence and deserved pov- soon found she had studied very consideraerty of literary men; but the calculating bly. The afternoon glided away very and sordid minds of their ordinary judges pleasantly, and when he arose to take leave, are not able to understand that spirits such Madame Pellissier put a small pocket-book as theirs cannot bend to mere material de in his hand, pointing at the same time to the tails. Their souls are so constituted that two pictures. often their misery is a happiness. It Charles blushed, as the high-souled artiste awakens strange thought and reflection. always does on receiving money from such Not to have suffered is not to have lived. as Leonie Pellissier, but accepted the welAnd then when the artiste who has suffered come payment with thanks and a bow. The long, has money, if he were to spend as first sitting was then fixed for the following your careful, prudent man would, he would | Monday, and our hero hurried away towards as lief not have it. The plotting and in his home. He went not to his own mom, triguing necessary to make the most of it he went to that of Constance. He knocked would destroy all the pleasure of having quickly, she opened. He rushed in, caught He must enjoy it, though fully aware that her in his arms, and imprinted on her lips the day of suffering must come again. and cheeks and forehead a dozen kisses. Now Charles, one of those beings in whom “ Charles, are you mad? What is the mind is more powerful than matter, re- matter? Will you be quiet ?" joiced in his month's starvation. It had “My beloved Constance, I am so happy, shown him the heart of his beloved, and he and I know it is your doing. I have sold would not have starved for all the wealth my pictures, and I have a portrait to paint. the world can give. Noble and generous But, sly girl that you are, you forget that hearts are not rare, especially among the only last Sunday you told me all about divine sex, which God created to compen- Madame Pelissier." sate man for every ill in life, but still they 1“ You are not offended, Charles-—" are not found at every step. Charles knew, I “ Offended, my dear little wife" he was certain, that he owed his present good “Your wife, Charles. I dare not hope fortune to Constance; and hence his joyful for that. An artist, a great artist, for you and happy smile.
will be one, cannot marry a poor work-girl, He made himself as neat and clean as he I see now how wrong I have been. But I could, took two small paintings which he never thought of the future. I am happy in had just finished, in the hope of finding a your society, and I forget." purchaser, and started for the Rue de “ Constance, there is but one joyous hope Helder, where resided Madame Pellissier. in this heart, and that is the hope to He was agreeably surprised to find a young see you my wife. Without you there is and elegant Paris lady, who received him no future for me. Constance, why do so with affability, examined his two emall | many youthful geniuses fall by the way, why do so many men of promise and great-1 his only parent, so that they were as happy ness die away unknown, why do so many as ever were two single-minded beings, who poetic and godlike hearts sink into obscu were wise enough to know that if we cannot rity, but that they are alone? We artistes, find happiness in wedded love, we cannot more than any men, need a guiding star. / find it at all. Ours is home work, and there is no home On the following Monday, Charles paid a where woman is not. How would you have visit to Madame Pellissier, He was now a man have patience through the daily neatly and cleanly dressed, and though still drudgery of his labor, with daught but pale not so cadaverous-looking as he had four grim walls to gaze at. No, we must been on the former occasion. The young have a voice to cheer us, an eye to beam on widow received him very warmly. She had us, a lip to smile at us, and press on ours; been much charmed with him on the former and that voice, that eye, and that lip must occasion, and had looked forward with be the voice and eye and lip of woman. pleasure to the second sitting. To the Constance, it is we alone who know what young man's great surprise, she gave him woman is, and who alone know her value. the addresses of half-a-dozen friends who She is not the plaything and toy of the desired to avail themselves of his talents. profligate, the slave and drudge of the Charles was overwhelmed with joy. His sordid, the obedient serf of the plodding dream was now realized, and he could sup man of business, but the companion and port himself and wife by his art. There equal of the man of intellect-the only real was no longer any necessity for beginning man amid the world's millions. Constance, life in the very humble way which at first there are angels in the heavens above, and the young conple had decided on. if, by God's blessing, we are to see them, our “Madame, I thank you warmly, both for eyes accustomed to see such dull objects as myself and Constance." this world discloses in its ordinary pictures, “And Constance !" said Madame Pelliswould be dazzled by their brightness, had we sier, turning very pale, though without being not woman given us to prepare our minds noticed by the artist, who was fixing his easily for any amount of beauty in the future easel in a good light. spiritual existence. You, Constance, are my “Yes, madame. To her—she could not guiding star, my angel. With you I shall deny it-I owe my first start in my professucceed, without you I shall fail. Alope sion. I have long loved her, and now that and unaided I cannot walk. Give me thy fortune snuiles on me, I mean at once to hand, be, oh be my wife."
make her my wife.” What could the fond and loving girl reply “You do well and nobly," said Leonie, to this speech-to the many a rhapsody, with a very sickly smile; and then she adddelivered in accents of profound conviction, ed to herself, “ Thank God, he has spoken and with eyes that flashed though brimful so plainly. I certainly have taken a very of tears! She promised to become his wife, strange liking to him, but crushed so early and then, when the delight of Charles had a it will not take root. Courage, my womlittle abated its first violence, they sat down an's heart.” to discuss their plans.
“I am ready, madame.” Madame Pellissier had given a thousand “And I am at your disposition,” exclaimed francs (£40) for the two pictures, in France Leonie, gayly, and the sitting commenced. a most exorbitant price. But then, Madame The young widow, who, with a warm and was an artist herself and paid like one ; generous heart, was peculiarly open to a while Charles, modest as he was, set too romantic passion, had certainly found her high a price upon his own genius, to be feelings lean very strongly towards Charles astonished at any thing of the kind. The Dupont. But as she had no intention of lovers very sagely reasoned that in Paris rivalling poor Constance, she, thus suddenly they might very well start in life with a checked, succeeded at once in mastering what thousand francs, and they agreed that they was as yet a mere growing inclination. She should be married while they had the money. felt rather proud of being able to do so, and Constance was an orphan, and Charles promised herself genuine satisfaction in witanswered for the consent of his old mother, | nessing the happiness of the young couple. And Gogge likewyse shall wyth us wend,
Cladd in a sable suit,
Apparell'd like a mute,
Who wolde not ys a brute!
The artist was eminently successful in his portrait of Leonie. Employment from that day was not wanting, and at the end of a month Charles and Constance were married. They were happy, and still are happy, for they love one another. I have seldom seen a more delightful ménage than theirs. The selfish and cold sneer at love matches, but they confound them with passion-matches. Marriage is a huge falsehood when not founded on affection, and real affection is a thing which is tested only by time. If it lasts, it is real; if it ceases to exist, it was never genuine. In this instance it was evidently true, for after six years of wedded life, the lovers were as happy, if not happier, than they were at first
We'll kneele us down upon the ground,
And kiss the pleasaunt earthe,
Unto our guild was worthe;
An yff we move their myrthe.
A lytel of that soyl so fayre
Shall each man bear away,
Unto bys dyinge daye,
And how that lande did paye!
Then back unto Guildhalle again
To baked-meates we wyll stump;
With drum, trombone, and trumpe,
Shall play a doleful dumpe.
THE FALL OF SMITHFIELD. Witun a short time the old Smithfield Cattle Market of London has been removed ; whereupon Punch, who contributed not a little to this change, makes the following ballad :
Now, lovely Smytbfelde, fare the wel,
It is the mor pitté;
As nearly as may be ;
I styll will thinke of thee !
Now tolle the knel of grete Seynt Paule,
Seynt Sepolchre's also,
Alack for rewth and woe!
The markett ytt must go!
'Twas merry, on a Monday morn,
To see the ring-droves made,
The stout oak cudgel played,
And the shepe-dogs bark'd and bay'd.
That musicke we shall heer no more,
For Smythfelde must away,
As thro' the stretes they stray,
So squeamish now-a-day!
FALSE HISTORY. The hero of the historian has been, too | long, the fighting man ; and, if a large portion of history might be believed, the great problems of society have all been solved by the sword. History, in the classical times, like the bard of the romantic times, was little more than the retainer of the worldly great. The virtue of the Roman was valor, (virtus ;) and the march of the world's destinies was all represented by the march of the legions. It was impossible that history so written should not be, occasionally, an unconscious satirist of itself,—though the satire, recorded in “invisible ink” for that time, remained to be read in the light of an improved intelligence; and its page is, accordingly, full of morals of the kind, which | are legible enough in our day. The great and attitudinal figure of Quintus Curtius, mounted on his war-horse, clad in glittering armor, and riding, full career, before assem| bled Rome, into a hole in the forum, for the
Our Tytle kiddes, as blythe as grigges,
All ynn their nursemayd's care,
No more shall thether fayre,
And take the mornyng ayre.
Come, Aldermen of London Towne,
And Liverymen so free,
Like & funerall companie,
The last markett to se.
salvation of the city, is rebuked by the less been careful to appeal—surrounding the showy, but also less equivocal service of the latter by all such lights and colors as make goose of the Capitol; and Alexander the the most showy impression on that faculty. Macedonian shares his historic immortality | It is the "pomp and circumstance of glowith his horse, Bucephalus. And, by the rious war” that, in the eyes of men, have so way, this same showy and dramatic figure long “made ambition virtue.” The clamor of the armed Curtius, engaged in his sa- of the trumpet and the roll of the drum crifice, may stand as, in itself, an expression, have stifled, many and many a time, the in the form of apologue, of the entire phi-“still, small voices” in the misgiving heart, losophy of a great part of ancient history. Like the great gong which was kept soundOverlooking all the hidden causes, the inevi. ing in the temple of the Mexican Dagon, table moral sequences which mould the des- while the human sacrifices were performing, tinies of men, it has been ever the man in the shout in the train of conquerors bas been armor who, according to its crude teaching, sedulously excited and fed, while widows ruled the issues of his age. The emergen | and orphans were being made, and humanity cies of the Commonwealth could only be was receiving those deep wounds, from met, or the wounds of humanity closed up, which she could not recover in many a year as the gulf in the Roman forum could only of peace.- Athenæum. be filled by the warrior. All the earth of Rome's Seven Hills, and all the labor of
THE CYNIC. her citizens, could do nothing towards clo- The Cynic is one who never sees a good sing the gap in her soil :-add the armed quality in a man, and never fails to see a man—and he filled it of himself! A better bad one. He is the human owl, vigilant in philosophy, in our day is reversing many a darkness, and blind to light, mousing for historic sentence; and history itself is, to a vermin and never seeing noble game. The great extent, being rewritten. Amid the Cynic puts all human actions into two classsoft, clear peace-lights of the world, the es-openly bad, and secretly bad. All virtue false glare of what once seemed human and generosity and disinterestedness are glory, stands detected ; and, in the review merely the appearance of good, but selfish of even those wars which have had the ar- | at the bottom. He holds that no man does gument of a national necessity, real or fana good thing except for profit. The effect cied, the world will scarcely make the mis- of his conversation upon your feelings is to take, to-day, of ranking the hero of battle chill and sear them; to send you away sour in the first class of heroes. Still, in the and morose. His criticism and inuendoes hour of contest for interests ill understood, fall indiscriminately upon every loving and amid the artificial morality which all thing, like frost upon flowers. If a man is such contests engender, it is intelligible said to be pure and chaste, he will answer: enough how the warlike conqueror should Yes, in the day time. If a woman is prohave so long imposed himself upon the nounced virtuous, he will reply: Yes, on world in gigantic dimensions. The wield- Sundays. Mr. B- has joined the church: ing of great physical forces has the same ef. Certainly, the elections are coming on. The fect upon the imagination, that the directing minister of the gospel is called an example of great moral ones should have upon the of diligence: It is his trade. Such a mau is reason; and the pictures of events are writ generous: Of other men's money. This man ten on the imagination at once, as by a moral is obliging: To lull suspicion, and cheat you. Daguerreotype,-while their truths are im. That man is upright: Because he is green. pressed on the reason, through the slower Thus his eye strains out every good quality, process of analysis and induction, Imagina- and takes in only the bad. To him relition is a mirror that reflects merely the gion is hypocrisy ; honesty, a preparation figures of events and does so instantly; for fraud ; virtue, only want of opportunity; while reason is a scale that measures their and undeniable purity, asceticism. The livequalities, and, to make no mistake in the long day he will coolly sit with sneering lip, reckoning, must do it slowly. To the ima- uttering sharp speeches in the quietest mangination, then, those who have had, or ner; and in polished phrase, transfixing evthought they had, an interest in war, have ery character which is presented: His words
A PLEA FOR EDUCATION.
BIGOTRY AND CANT.
are softer than oil, yet they are drawn swords. | private efforts had been hitherto manifestly -H. W. Beecher.
inadequate to meet; but he earnestly exhorted the gentlemen of the grand jury,
while continuing to administer justice for At the late assizes beld at Stafford, Mr. the sake of preserving order and security, to Justice Talfourd, in an excellent charge to do so with a wise mercy towards those who the grand jury, pointedly drew the atten were so adversely influenced by their de. tion of the gentlemen of the county to the plorable circumstances. A word of comawful state of ignorance among the crim. ment upon such an expression of opinion, inal population, as exemplified by the cal. from so high and estimable an authority as endar of prisoners for trial. Out of one hun. Mr. Justice Talfourd, is scarcely necessary dred and five persons in prison, waiting to be to convince those who have the power, of tried, many of them for offences of the most the necessity, for the sake of the security of serious character, only two had received life and property—to say nothing of what what, in jail language, is called a “superior mercy and charity dictate-of educating education,” and only five could, according to the masses of the people, and substituting the same estimate, “read and write well,” the beneficent agency of the teacher and while thirty-five were totally destitute of the school-house for the semi-barbarism of even the barest rudiments of education; and the policeman and the prison—the hulks the remaining sixty-three exhibited shades and penal settlements; or, in extreme cases, of ignorance more or less deplorable. The the revolting punishment of the gallows. learned judge forcibly illustrated his consciousness of the importance of even a small amount of knowledge, by saying that The origin of these two words is curious. he believed the ordinary amount of educa- The name, “ bigot,” was first given by the tion which the middle classes received, lifted English to the Normans, and was afterwards them higher above the totally ignorant than adopted by the French, for this reason, that genius itself was raised above respectable the Normans, after their conversion to the mediocrity; and that it was almost as im- true faith, so distinguished themselves by possible to comprehend the mental action, their enthusiasm, were so constantly speakor enter into the feelings of those whom ing of God, and doing things with the name want of culture had sent out from the world of God in their mouths that the words “ By of books, and who were, to a great extent, God” became characteristic of them; and oblivious of the past, insensible to the pres- hence the soubriquet of Bigot. Cant is ent, and without hope and faith in the fu- derived from one Andrew Cant, a Scotch ture, as it was to enter into the feelings of Presbyterian minister, of Charles the First's animals. He could scarcely conceive it pos- time. The country people called him sible, that an educated man could descend · Bobbing Andrew." He accompanied the from the position in which his superior op Blue Bonnets across the Border, under portunities had placed him to the low level General Leslie, and was one of the two of those who were, unhappily, so degraded preachers appointed to hold forth in the by ignorance. His extended experience had churches of Newcastle, while the Covenanttaught him that, when wages were low ing army occupied that town. Afterwards, among an uneducated people, there was no he occasionally preached before the Scotch striking increase of crime, but that the jail Parliament. He was noted among his own calendars might serve as indexes of pros- parishioners as a rigid disciplinarian, morose perity; for, with high wages and the op. and austere. Such was their ignorance and portunity they brought of indulging in wickedness in his eyes, that he refused for intoxicating liquors, violent offences against two whole years to administer the sacrament person and property became alarmingly pre of the Lord's Supper among them, Cromvalent. It seemed as though physical lux- well did not like him, and, after that general's ury, acting upon ignorance, produced crime. advent to authority in Scotland, his influence The learned judge added, that it was no fell away. His parishioners, whom he had part of his duty to say, whether a public pro- ruled with a rod of iron, petitioned for bis vision ought to be made for that evil, which removal, and he was formally deposed from