PART THE LAST.-BOOK III. CHAPTER XXX.-ANOTHER JOURNEY. THERE was no very long time necessary to bring to completion the scheme of Mary; it was still fine weather although the end of October, and Mrs. Cumberland became very soon enthusiastic about the visit to Cheshire, to Castle Vivian, and the Grange. "I expect to see quite a delightful sight in your brother's return to your attached peasantry, Mr. Vivian," said Mrs. Cumberland; and Mr. Cumberland himself was persuaded to go with the party, to initiate the country gentlemen there into his views, and perhaps to extend his own ideas. "There are many admirable customs hidden in the depths of the country," said this candid philosopher; "some ancient use and wont in the matter of welcome, I should not be surprised - and I am a candid man, sister Burtonshaw." So the philosopher gave his consent; and hers, too, with a sigh of regret for Sylvo's place, gave Mrs. Burtonshaw. During the one day which they spent in London before starting for Cheshire, Zaidee, who felt this journey full of fate for her, a new and decisive crisis in her life, wandered out, in her restless uneasiness. Mary did not watch her quite so jealously as she had done, and she was glad to be alone. Without thinking, Zaidee strayed along those unfeatured lines of street till she came to the well-remembered environment of squares which surrounded Bedford Place. Thinking wistfully of her old self, and her vain childish sacrifice, Zaidee passed timidly through it, looking up for Mrs. Disbrowe's house. Some one before her went up to this house hurriedly as Zaidee advanced, but hesitated, as she did, when he perceived a great many carriages, with coachmen in white gloves and favors, - - a large bridal party before the door. The gentleman before her paused a little, and so did Žaidee; there was a momentary commotion in the little crowd, which made an avenue between the door of the house and the carriage drawn up before it, and forth issued a bride in flowing white robes and orange blossoms, not too shy to throw a glance around her as she stepped into the vehicle. Zaidee shrank, fearing to be remembered, when she found how she recognized at once Minnie Disbrowe's saucy face. And Mr. Disbrowe is with the bride; and there is mamma, of still ampler proportions, but not less comely, than of old; and a string of bridesmaids, in whose degrees of stature, one lesser than the other, Zaidee fancies she can see Rosie and Lettie and Sissy, the little rebels who tried her so sorely once. Looking on all this with interested eyes, Zaidee does not immediately perceive that this is Mr. Percy Vivian who was bending his course to Mrs. Disbrow's. When she does perceive him, there is a pause of mutual embarrassment. He is wondering if she can know these people, and she is wondering why he should call at Bedford Place; but the carriages sweep on with their gay company, and after the interchange of a very few formal words, Percy and VOL XII. 4 DCVI. LIVING AGE. | Zaidee take different directions. There is a painful hesitation between them when they address each other, which Zaidee understands very well, but which Percy cannot understand; and once more his thoughts, baffled and perplexed, centre upon Mary Cumberland's beautiful sister, who is so like his own. Unconsciously to himself, this rencontre increases Percy's difficulty. She is not Mary Cumberland's sister; she is only an adopted child. It suddenly occurs to Percy that Mary meant him to draw some inference from this fact, which she stated to him so abruptly; and, more than ever puzzled, his thoughts pursue the subject; but he can draw no inference; he is only extremely curious, interested, and wondering; he never thinks of Zaidee in connection with this beautiful and silent girl. And the next day their journey began. Travelling in a railway carriage, even when you can fill it comfortably with your own party, is not a mode of journeying favorable to conversation. Leaning back in her corner, covered up and half concealed under Aunt Burtonshaw's shawls, looking at the long stripes of green fields, the flat lines of country that quivered by the window with the speed of lightning, Zaidee found in this dreaded journey a soothing influence which calmed her heart. Convinced as she was that Mary's object was to try her fully, by bringing her into close contact with her own family, Zaidee had earnestly endeavored to fortify herself for the ordeal. But through this long day, when her thoughts were uninterrupted, when no one spoke but Percy and Mary, whose conversation was not for the common ear—or Aunt Burtonshaw, whose addresses were more general, and chiefly directed to the subjects of taking cold or taking refreshments- -a pleasant delusion of going home stole upon Zaidee's weary heart. Mr. Cumberland, who had been greatly struck at the very outset of their journey by the large sphere of operation for his educational theory, his decorated and emblazoned letters, in those names of railway stations at present inscribed in prosaic black and white, was making notes and sketches for this important object, to lose no time; Mrs. Cumberland was enjoying her languor; Mrs. Burtonshaw presided over the draughts, the windows, and the basket of sandwiches. There was no painful idea, no scrutiny, or search, or suspicion, in all these faces. Going home! The dream crept over Zaidee's mind, and it was so sweet, she suffered it to come. She closed her eyes to see the joyous drawing-room of the Grange, all bright and gay for the travellers-Elizabeth, Margaret, Sophy Philip even - and Zaidee coming home. These impossible dreams were not common to Zaidee; she yielded herself up to the charm of this one with a thankful heart. That night they spent at Chester, where Mr. Cumberland made great progress in his scheme for the railway stations. There was still another day's respite for Zaidee, for to-morrow they had arranged to visit Castle Vivian, and the next day after that to continue their journey to the Grange. PATIENCE ON A MONUMENT. I KNEEL within the church alone Hushed by the aisles and walls of stone They play amid the quiet graves Comes the untroubled sound; Here have I heard the bridal vows In faltering accents low, Have heard the pastor's voice proclaim And seen her tears o'erflow And while the clear, calm voice of prayer Have seen the mourner's eye I gazed with calm and tranquil gaze The sunlight's soft and pleasant rays A prisoned robin's quiet lay And gentler thoughts around him crept, I watch amid the slumberers here, And the long years roll on; Each Sabbath, listening throngs appear, New tombstones stare in moonlight cold, By strangers' feet be prest; The sun's last parting rays will come, Till, rising from their silent caves, DUST. DUST we were, and dust to be, Dust within us, dust without us; Dust, a pall, is over all! 'Tis the housewife's daily bread, Dust, the emblem of the dead. When the sky above is fair, And the sun upon the streams, Ere the tempest gathers strong, Tempest's thrall, a cloud of dust; Now the swollen clouds grow dark, Dust is beaten down to mud, Thus we are but motes of dust, On the ground and in the air, A SIMILE. BY H. W. LONGFELLOW. SLOWLY, slowly up the wall Steals the sunshine, steals the shade; Evening damps begin to fall, Evening shadows are displayed. Round me, o'er me, everywhere, All the sky is grand with clouds, And athwart the evening air Wheel the swallows home in crowds. Shafts of sunshine from the West Paint the dusky windows red; As the sunshine f I. R. V. PART THE LAST.-BOOK III. CHAPTER XXX. —ANOTHER JOURNEY. THERE was no very long time necessary to bring to completion the scheme of Mary; it was still fine weather although the end of October, and Mrs. Cumberland became very soon enthusiastic about the visit to Cheshire, to Castle Vivian, and the Grange. "I expect to see quite a delightful sight in your brother's return to your attached peasantry, Mr. Vivian," said Mrs. Cumberland; and Mr. Cumberland himself was persuaded to go with the party, to initiate the country gentlemen there into his views, and perhaps to extend his own ideas. "There are many admirable customs hidden in the depths of the country," said this candid philosopher; "gome ancient use and wont in the matter of welcome, I should not be surprised—and I am s candid man, sister Burtonshaw." So the philosopher gave his consent; and hers, too, with a sigh of regret for Sylvo's place, gave Mrs. Burtonshaw. Zaidee take different directions. There is a painful hesitation between them when they address each other, which Zaidee understands very well, but which Percy cannot understand; and once more his thoughts, baffled and perplexed, centre upon Mary Cumberland's beautiful sister, who is so like his own. Unconsciously to himself, this rencontre increases Percy's difficulty. She is not Mary Cumberland's sister; she is only an adopted child. It suddenly occurs to Percy that Mary meant him to draw some inference from this fact, which she stated to him so abruptly; and, more than ever puzzled, his thoughts pursue the subject; but he can draw no inference; he is only extremely curious, interested, and wondering; he never thinks of Zaidee in connection with this beautiful and silent girl. And the next day their journey began. Trav- During the one day which they spent in Lon- in whose degrees of stature, other, Zaidee fancies she e tie and Sissy, the little surely once. Looking eres, Zaidee does n this is Mr. Perey to Mrs. Di film, there i or search, m ing home mind, and Tesmaids, COME. *he basket T. that section of it which seems to us fullest squirrel watches them as they travel through of fancy and choice expression the Hunting of Pau-Puk-Keewis. But we have space only for two short quotations, by no means remarkable; we could easily choose a hundred such. Hiawatha has a friend, Chibiabos, “the sweet singer," who has died, and Hiawatha sits in his wigwam lamenting. 666 He is dead, the sweet musician! "And the melancholy fir trees Waved their dark green fans above him, As brief must be our closing extract. Hiawatha has wooed and won fair Minnehaha (or Laughing Water), a daughter of the Dacotahs. He is bringing her home, and all nature is rejoicing in his joy. The bluebird and the robin sing out congratulation, and the his woods. "From the sky the sun benignant Looked upon them through the branches, "From the sky the moon looked at them, Mr. Longfellow's reputation will, we think, be raised by the Song of Hiawatha; it is by far, in our judgment, the most original of all his productions; though we do not expect it to be immediately popular. Its peculiarities of subject, of treatment, particularly of metre, may forbid this. But when these get familiarized to the taste and the ear, its beauties will open out and display themselves more freely, and it will appear generally what it really is, a charming poem, and an undoubtedly high work of art. marched through various provinces, following a cross borne by the leader of the sect, and by a great show of piety, so captivated the people that numberless persons of every kind joined its ranks. Boniface X., fearing soine plot, ordered the leader of this host to be apprehended and committed to the flames. After his death the multitude gradually dispersed."] - Notes and Queries. "And whereas the King hath certainly understood that a new sect hath risen up, clothed in white vesture, and assuming to themselves great sanctity, and whereas the people of this realm may lightly consent and be perverted by its novelty, their alms be diverted, and the kingdom QUOTATIONS WANTED. itself be subverted, should the new professors enter the realm: therefore, by the advice of the of the following? Lords spiritual and temporal, the King hath ordained by proclamation that every county and seaport shall be shut against them; and any one harboring or maintaining them shall forfeit all that he is able to forfeit." - Rolls. J. W. [Mosheim has given some account of this sect in his Eccles. Hist., book III. pt. II. ch. 5: "In Italy a new sect, that of the White-clad Brethren, or the Whites (fratres albati, seu Candida), produced no little excitement among the people. Near the beginning of the fifteenth century a certain unknown priest descended from the Alps, clad in a white garment, with an immense number of people of both sexes in his train, all clothed like their leader, in white linen, whence their name of the White Brethren. This multitude "Qui jacet in terra, ron habet unde cadat." "Vox audita perit, litera scripta manet." "Fiat justitia, ruat cœlum." "Indocti discunt, et ament meminisse periti." (This is the motto to Laharpe's Cours de Littérature.) L From the Critic. ing he ever made, and which had long hung The Crayon a Journal devoted to the Graph-framed under that roof." Another drawing, ic Arts and the Literature related to them. Vol. I. New York: Stillman and Durand. London: Trübner and Co. "a slight sketch," was purchased by the indefatigable worshipper from a clerk in the employ of Messrs. Smith, Elder, and Co., Ruskin's publishers; and this last, with This first volume of an American weekly autograph appended, was sent to the New publication, the scope of which is sufficiently York Academy Exhibition, where it excited indicated by its title, deserves notice on ac- much criticism and considerable ridicule. Mr. count of its novelty of plan, as well as the Ruskin, on hearing of this transaction, is enthusiasm that evidently actuates its con- naturally very much annoyed, and writes a ductors. It offers no bait of pretty engrav- letter to The Crayon, of which the following ings, like the so-called "Art" periodicals passages have more than merely local interof our own country, but relies upon an earn- est: "Until I was 18 or 19, I was totally est exposition of, and commentary upon, the ignorant of the first principles of drawingprofound principles of the graphic arts to and as I never had any invention, it would interest and edify its readers. Its motto is be difficult to produce anything more confrom "Modern Painters " "Whence, in temptible in every way than the sort of fine, looking to the whole kingdom of organ- sketch I used to make in my boyhood. Nor ic nature, we find that our full receiving of do I at present rest my hope of being of serits beauty depends, first on the sensibility, vice as a critic on any power of painting. and then on the accuracy and touchstone When I praise Turner, I do not think I can faithfulness of the heart in its moral judg- rival him, any more than in praising Shakments;" and Ruskin's writings are its chief speare I suppose myself capable of writing oracles. The editor has disinterred and re- another Lear.' But I can now draw steadpublished a long series of papers entitled ily, thoroughly, and rightly, up to a certain The Poetry of Architecture; or the Archi- point; and as the American public have seen tecture of the Nations of Europe, considered my child-work, I shall be grateful to them in its Association with Natural Scenery and if they will do me the justice to examine, National Character, by Kata Phusin," which with some attention, the drawing which Í appeared in Loudon's Architectural Maga- shall take care to have in the next New York zine about eighteen years ago, and are from Exhibition, if it may then be accepted. the hand of Ruskin. These are interesting You sent me two rather formidable queries as compositions, belonging to the vernal sea- in your last private note to me. On oneson of a style which has since reached so What are the limits of detail?' I have elaborate and full-colored a development, something like sixty pages of talk in the third and also as showing the careful study and volume of Modern Painters,' which, if I thought bestowed by the young man upon live, will be out about Christmas; but I may his subject, along with that nicety of obser- answer hurriedly, as you will at once undervation, at once poetic and microscope, which stand what I mean, that as far as you can is so rare and exquisite a gift. But these see detail you should always paint it- if papers also exhibit very distinctly, in their you intend your picture to be a finished one, cruder modes of expression, his tendency to and to be placed where its finished painting fantastic and incoherent deductions from illcan be seen. .. In every picture intended established premises, assuming the guise of for finished work, and intended to be seen logical accuracy and the boldness of indispu- near, the limit of detail is visibility — and table truth. We also, from an attempt or no other." The Crayon is also an advocate two which are utter failures, catch a hint of of the Pre-Raphaelite school of painting, the deficiency of humor in Ruskin, in com- which appears to have many warm admirers mon perhaps with most very dogmatic mon. on the other side of the Atlantic. For the The Oxford graduate is much more pas-rest, it contains some poetry, not particusionately honored and admired in America larly noticeable either as bad or excellent, than in his own country; and from this feel- and a great deal of aesthetic criticism, which ing, a somewhat amusing incident took its is, we much fear, like most such ware, rather rise in connection with the Academy of De- enthusiastic than strong, rather flatulent sign in New York last spring. An American than nutritious. Enthusiasm, however, is enthusiast, it appears, visiting Mr. Ruskin's at all events a living condition, and we wish house at Denmark Hill, in his absence, our youthful contemporary all manner of obtained from the house-keeper, in addi- success and development, internal and extion to other precious little reminiscences ternal. of genius, probably the first preserved draw |