Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, March 9, 1873, Page 5

s BRITISH MAGAZINES. The Agricultural Laborer in Eng- lané---Browing’s “ Fifine at the Fairs Baron Stockmar’s Memoirs--- The Literature of America. u Penny-Awfuls ” --- Darwin’s Scientific Observations---Montalembert and His Daughter. How Charles Lever Got the Materials for His Characters---The Children of the London Poor. CORNHILL. In the Cornhill, THEOPHILE GAUTIER, whose death has evoked 8o wide & sympathy and Iament, is described with a very keen spprecia- tion of his character and his formative circum- stances. To those who iake their French litera- ture a8 one takes an ice or & cobbler, Gautier is known as writer of popular books of travel, _oragein of short stories, or critical feuillotons on painting and the drama in the newspapers. Bearcely any one who resds suy French literaturo at all but will have come across, whether at rail- ‘way bookstalls in vacation or otherwise, one of the volumes of travelers' descriptions, such as “Tra Los Montes,"—the earlicst of them all; such as the “Voyage en Russio,” the “ Italio,” tha “ Quand on Voyage,” and therest ; or, again, one of ihe volumes of short stories, such as that called ‘“Romans et Contes,” or “La Peau de Tigro.” But his greatest work was in fournalism. That it should have been 6o is Dot strange, in view of his facile and manifold sbilitios ; for that pleasant style, that plisnt humor ard large gayety, that fanltlessuness of descriptivo art, could not fail to have boen swept into the all-compelling current of jour- nalism ; but it is in singular contradiction to the fierceness of his early denunciation of that Pprofession : Tto reading of newspapers, he had eaid, interfered with tho growth of true artists and truc men of learn- iug. Newspapers werv the death of books, as artillery had been tho death of individual prowess, Nowspapers stripped everything of its freshuess, They made it im- ble to huve the first of mnything sl to yourself, y poiled the surprise of the theatre by telling you beforehand how the play was going to end. The: Tobbed ou of the pledaure of privats gossip, scandal, and tittle-tattle, and docked your drawing-room privi- lege of being » week before tho rest of the world in forging » falec pleca of news or g » true one. - They desfenod you, despite sourself, with ready-made udgments, sud set you ugainst things you would bave naturally liked, Bocause of them, instead of hearing cach nztive and individual ass speak ac- cording to his foily, you heard nowadaya nothing but socond-hand cdds aud ends of newspaper wisdom, You g0t mercileasly etuffed with futelligenco Just ihreo ours old, and knew all the whilo that Gvery baby in &rms was s well up es yourself. Your teste got dead- ~eued and depraved, and you became a dram-drinker in reading. Withiu o'few iaonths of this tirade, tho cur- rent bud caught him. Balzac was just starting his Clironigque de Paris, snd summoned the young author of “MMle. de Meussing " to join his stalf. ° This was the origin of s friendulip of Gautier for Balzac which only ended with Balzac’s death, In 1837 began his connection' with Za Presse, which continued seventeen years, until 1855, when he joined the staff of the Moniteur. THE AGRICULTURAL LABORER Is the most troublesome membor of the British economy. Bo wretched is his fare, and so de- plorable his condilion, that he is almost in real- ity a skeleton in the closot of English states- manship. A writer in the Cormhill, who does Dot believe, witis Goldsmith, that all the charms which solaced the lot of the British peasantry are gone : = These ll:uind thy bowers thelr cheerful influence ehed,— - These were thy charms, but all theso charms are flod ; or, with Crabbe, contrasting the fancied happi- ness of peasant lifo with the stern reality : Or will you praise that homely, healthy fare, ¥Elenteous and plain, which happy peasants share] OE, trifie not with wants you cannot fecl, or mock the misery of o stinted meal. Homely, nut wholesome; plain, not plenty ; such a3 you who praise would never deign to touch,— gives this discription of their daily Iabor : He goes forth to his labor amid the scéncs of nature, which poesess a beanty of their own underall vicissi- tudes, which are never monotonous, never dopresging, never squalid. His work s of a kind which to many gentlemen is 8 pleasure. In the evening he returns dovwn the winding path through the copse where the o0d-pigeons are cooing, past the old gray church, and the “ immermorial elms,” where the rooks are going noisily torest, up the straggling street of cottages till ko Teaches his own little home with its garden, its apple trees, and its beo-hives, To say thot heis insensible to all the pleasant sights and sounds of rural life, which only a cultivsted tasto can appreciate, is to be- tray stark ignorance of his nature, Ho is moreover cne of a littlo soclety, every member of whichis known personally to the heads of it, on whom in sickness, or sorrow, or penury he can calculate for sympathy and belp, He lives, in short, among beautiful things, his -labor 13 healthy and dignified, his neighbors are kindly and generous, The discuseion which follows, concerning the condition of sgricultural labor, has no particalar irterest for American readers. Wo roprint ssa matter of information tlus statement of the wages of English farm-laborers : 5 The mean money wages of the English agricultural L-bores being sot &% 125 & week, we 2t that e avo 1o 8dd on fothis sums varying from kfs 2 ek o g o necount of piece work, harvest work, and_perquisites ; nd, that i gk nfia‘ done at, o have furtier 16 =dd on the of wife, dren, wher- " ever theso are mfiojcfl. In tho lowest paid _districts ir. Bailey Denton sets weekly wages st 108 6d a_week, sud the value of oll extrasat 5s 6d. A Hampshire farmer, who paya his men from 8sto 10sa week o8 regular wages, tells the present writer that during tho. ‘soars 1666, 1867, and 1838 his average leborers got from Z38 56 534d to £40 18a 8d per snnum, including evary- thing, money for beer, piece work, and harvest work, no other'perquisites being allowed but the carriage of , znd, of course, a low-rented cottage and gurden. ‘gives an averago for the threo years of 158 7d a week. Andneither he nor Mr. Denton takes into ac- count the exrnings of wife or children. Dutas in * those districis the women babitually work in the field, andas their pay, when employed, would be about 43 G & week, we cannot ‘allow less then 38 a week for the wife. Two children, one at 1s Gd, the other at 2364, would be below tho average, so that gives us o total of 7s for the family earnings, independently of the husband. Adding 105 64 and 58 Gd and T to- gether, we get 233 o week, or .£69108 a year aa the Yalue of the carnings of a regularly employed Hamp- shire or Wiltshire laborer ¥ith a wife and two boys to help him. We have purposely put the earnings of wife and children ot a lower amount than we believe them t, then, on the other Cd as the minimum i h. Wo con-~ g e clude this portion of our article with the following re- marks of Mr. C, B, Bead, M. P., addressed toan agricnl- tural audience in 1667: * * I belicve that the daily wages that are current in Norfolk aro sbout the average of the agricaitural wagesin England. If you tako the weekly wages at 12s, {Ley_amount, with oxtra carnings at plece work, to at jeast 143 5 week or .£36a year; for the additional pay of harvest alono will be 186ds week, if spread over twelve months. Now, the sver- sge income of all the working classea, including orti- saus and mechanics, 15 176 per week per family, or £44 a year. Mind, not 178 a week for the man, but his wife's and children’s earnings aa well; and there are sery few of you, I apprehend, whoso family does mob bring you _in 358 week, and 80 raise your incometo to the averzge of tlie working classes generally,” We Eelfevo this estimate to be consicerzbly below thie aver- tge. TEMPLE BAR. Ono of Robert Browning's critics has said that his readers must pass through fivo stages of mis- nnderstanding bafore even sttaining a distinct conscionsness that he is not to be understood at 2ll. This may not be true, says a writer in Temple Bar, reviewing Mr. Browning’s F “ FIFINE AT TOE FAIR," but it is certain that they havo at least a three- fold difficulty to contend with: the difficulty at- tendant on all abstract operations of thought, *_tho difficulty of performing them through the ** medium of another person, and tho special difii- -.: culty infused into them by the complexity of the :euthor’s mind. i “ Fifine at the Fair " is eaid 10 be & serio-fan— ~tastic .discussion on the nature of sexusl love sud its relation to all other modes of msthetic life, and turns meinly on the question whether such love best-fulfills itself in constancy or in change, in devotion to one object, or in the ap- preciation of many. Mr. Browning ssys every- thing that can be said on. either side, and neu- tralizes each argument in its turn; he mingles ophistry with truth, self-satire with satire, and ‘leads us finally to- concludo that he. neither Judges nor sees any ground for judgment ; that ke holds the mirror to lifo with ths indifference .Stockmar was one elt, and that wo must seck him, not in the JPreference for any one aspect of existence, bt in his equal sympathy with all. T_hc form ho has chosen is thatof. amonologue, wluch' opens with a vivid comment on the sights of a village fair, and passes into a balf-dreamy development of the thoughts suggested by them. It is spoken by & supposed Don Juan to an im- sginary Elvire, whose probable remarks he answers or anticipates, thus giving all the ani- mation of dialogus to the undisturbed flow of his own ideas. Elvire is discornible throngh- out the poem, but under s form &0 vaguo that sh_o 8eems scarcely more .than a phantom con- sclence, or & haunting ides of stability and truth. "She forma tho strongost contrast to the third personage in the drama, the glpsy rope- dancer, Fifine, whoso vivid humanity identifies itself with all that ia fleeting and equivocal in lifa. Fifine is the poetry of the flesh ; Elvire the purer life of the soul. Thereviewer follows the course of the poem, maling copious extracts, and unveiling the philosophy which underlies the involuted verso and mystic phrase. 3 To express that the yearning for completeness through something otlier than' oneself, which is the essence of love and the vital princi) lo of art, i8 algo tho foundation of religions beliefs, an that religion is but a transformation of tho primitive instincts of human love, BMr. Brown- Ing says : : Each soul lives, longs, and works For itself, by itaelf, because o lode etur lurks, ‘Anothier than jtzelf,—in whatsoe'er tho niche Of mistiest Heaven it Lide, whoo'er the Giumdalelich May grasp the Guiliver; of it, or ke, or thie— Tha o3utos o brotclos eper Kelramane,— (For fun'a sake, whers tho plrass bas' fastaned, leavo < it fixc 80 soft it aye—God, man, or both together mixed ) Tlis guessed at througls the flesh, by parts whicn prove the whole. This constitutes the soul dlscernible by soul —Elvire by me! The poem ends with the line which 18 perhaps & trne summary of Mr. Browning’s belief : Love i all, and Death is naught. If this singutar tzsue of truth and sophistry has any practical tandency, it iy that of n eatire upon marriage, or at least on domesliclife; and so far it were beticr that it had pot been written, The sclf-ridicule of tho Lero's final cecapadt adds considerably to the dramsatic effect of the poem, cnd i perhzps a necessary result of ihie ecrio-comic spirit in which 1t was concolved, but it lexves an imypression none tho less unpleasant for the slight relation it probably bears to any definito purpose of the author’s mind. The raco of Elvires perhzpa need o lesson: they are sometimes short-sighited aud intolerant, and diepored to exact n mazimum of fidelity in retorn for 5 mizimum of charms; Dut thoy have some virtues and many sorrowe, and wo $vish Mr., )31’!7»‘1!.“.!?x had given to the attractions of Lis typieal wife, just the added dogree of pungeacy or of swectnesa that would have insured her husband’s de- votion ot least for four-and-twenty hours longer, In bis most direct advocacy of freo love, ho almost dis- mma criticlsm ; for he treats tho subject with a large simplicity which places it outside marslits, if Dot beyond it ; while {he frankly pagan worship wideh Le dedicates to material beauty 18 Ieavened by all the mystic idealism of semi-Christian bolief. The half-ro- ligious language of Don Juan's amorous effusions hus, atleast, n zelativo truth to Mr. Browning's mind, It it were othiorwise, # Fifine at the Fair ” would be more easy to understand, and also less worth the under- etanding, NEUFCHATEL hasjits romances, slthough more celebrated in ‘modern times for its delicioua bondons, or cream cheeses. It is itusted ncar _tho head wators of the Batiune, in tho valley of which, at Arques, Henry IV. vion one of his mogt gallant and im- portant victories. Almost under the old castle walls it was thet he took & fortified position, sad drew up his devoted littlo army of ' not more than 4,000 strong, to meet the shock of the XLeaguers, eamounting to 86,000, led on_ by the Duc de Mayenno. Just bafore this batilo tho Bearnais Prince ut- tered the noble sentiment, in answer to & supe- rior officer of the Lesguo, his prisoner at the time, who had asked him rather contemptously, ‘where were his forces to cncounter such su ovorwhelming host ns was arrayed azainst lim ? “ You do not see all," said the King, * for you do not count God and the Right, which are on my side.” 2 John Sheehan puts ono of the Knightly stories of Neufchatel into verse, under the title of . THE TURQUOISE RING, By Bethune’s banks, in duys of courtolsls, “Thero lived & young and gallant chievalier ; Bave lanco and charger brave no wealth Lud he, But servod, like gentlo Enight, hismiseress duar, 0 ber he cried, . One morn in pride, “Brove news! Once more our Barons bold uprear ’Gainst England’s power thelr glorious banners fair! # Dear France's right may God for aye maintain, ‘And bless the Knight who combata for bis King | Whilst thou, my lady Jove, ahalt still retain In pledge of my fond falth this turquaice ring, Its azure blue 8hall keop its hue . With Hubert’s life; but should its brightness wane, ‘Weep for thine own truo Knight in battle elafn.” Some gentle tears the lady ehed, 55 o'er Tho Tnight'a coirass her Emow-hite sctt S8 TEG 3 AnA nn har Sushir.s cheek the tints she bore Ot love's fond gricf and woman’s nobler pride. Then bending low To ssddie bow, o kissed he= brow, and vowed his crs should be “Sweet Lady Claire, for honor, love, and thea 1" As down the forest glado at early davn Hor pating Knight pricks on Lis gallant stecd, His weeping dume still watches from tho laws, ‘As fading form and footfalls faint recede. Till peanon light And plume enow-white No longer waving on the morning alr, Bhe looks to Hesven and breathes her fondest prayer. Three yoars tho Eastern ring shone pure and bright. Thréo years for honar, love, and Idy fair, Sir Hubert fought, till tidings came ot night— 8ad tidinga from the battlefield—to Claire, Sho knew too well What page could tell, #The ring ! he fatal ring 1" sho fainting cried ; Belield th6 azure’s fading hue, and died. “ THE BARON IN ENGLAND" is an article on the * Momoirs of Baron Stock- mar,” & series of court revelations of astound- 1ng recklessness. It opens with an account of the manner in which the celobrated ¢ Memoirs of 8t. Simon " wore originated, and then pub- lished, despite royal inlibition : - cn Louis de Rouvrol, Duc do Ealnt-Simon, was yet o very young fellow, Lic waa appolnted ono of, the Pages, or officers of abont the same dignity, to Louls the Fourtcenth. One day, the Grand ‘as absurdly called, encountered tho soung gentleman of his househiold in tho Gallery of Glasscs, at Verssilles, The King honored the page by entering nto conversa- tion with bim; but it was not for thosaka of tho honor, . 4 D¢ Rhuvrol,” said His Mojeaty,* do you tako notes of what passes hero?” = o, sira1” 4 Writo no lotters of description?™ * None, ii;!." p Do you Lecp a n e vy yons Majeaty skt igvee- Arodzus o doing such o thing,” “Good I Tejoined the sovereign, *We are well pleasod with you " and the great King passed on, with ® e onng gentlemin looked after him, also ith & amile, That eveuing, in his ovn room, he addressed himself foa great work. A blnk-psgéd writing-book ‘was before Lim, and pen snd ink. The smile was prob- aLly still on his face, 2 1o remombered the. questions of his royl master. “Not 5 bad ides, that of the King’s ; 1 had never thonght of keeping -a dlary of court Iife ; but I will begin, ot once, doing 50 " Scme centiment that might bo thts interproted, in all likeli- Tood, possessed bim, On thatnight, at ull events, he Qipped his pen into fhe ink, and wrote the frst words of hat marvelous work which is Jnown to us under ‘of “ Memoires de Safnt-Simon, e ot séara aftar tho deatl, in 1755, of Salnt-Sl. ‘mon, who has made live 2gain the family and court of Toonts th:c Fourteenth and that of the Regent Duko of Orleans, the huge manuscript (in which every one waa depicted ik thoso fgures in art-books, which ehow ns tho skeleton of the man side by side with thossme man in full dress), wan sealod up. It somehow came into 1he posscasion of Louis the Fifteenth, who allowed no -one to read it but himself, and Je revelled in the scandal snd in tho truthful lights thrown e, The Duc de Choiseul, his Minister, would not ba baulled. He procured a falso ke, resd the manuscript at leisure, and copied the parts with e Bewaa beat plossed. Gradeally, detached portions got into print, but nothing like a satiafactory ‘edition of the Memoirs appeared till 1830. The Baron Stockmar wus one of those useful, Mephistophelisn domestics of a high order who, frequent tho back-staira of royslty, and do a eat deal of indispensable manceuvering and Exud work that conld not be trusted to more high-born and_scrupulous hands. _Although born of tho middle class, sud a doctor by profes- sion, we find him resident in Queen Victoria's nlace as a sort of counsellor to herself and Basband, and ot difforent, times b was in confl- dentinl relations with the re:gmng families of Belgium, Coburg, England, and Prussis, &nd was fond of boasting of his fwo_ groat works,—the molding and making of Prince Leopold and Prince Arthur. In his memoirs, he gives some examples of the manner in which official routine entangles and embarrasses royalty itself. During the reign of William IV., Stockmar was bidden to look into the organiza tion of the royal houschold. e d that the outzide of the palace was under the \\'l::df.laufnfl Forests, The inside obeyed the Lord Chamberlain, to & certain extent, My Lord could order His Mojesty’s windowsto be clesped on the inside, ‘but, says the Baron, “ the degroo of light to be admit- fed’in the palace dépends proportionably on the well- timed and good understinding Letween the Lord Chamberlain’s ofice and that of tho Woods wnd Forosts.” 8o housckeeper aud maids wers ruled by the Chamberlain, while the livery servants were placc: under the control of the Master of the Horse, and the rest of. the servants obesed the Lord S , “The 1ast officinl,” 50 wrote the Baron, ¢ for mmphhflndu the fuel and laye the fire, and the Chambelaid . Watson, the Master o H wm[égm& that th:'d(nmg-mda'm wz;oaxw:g u#;w S]l; ck vely answered, - * 3 f::.hnz. ltgi‘:nolro\‘u' fault. The Lord Steward lsyd into dark plees, Rfonsrch, 3 he. Steward trimmed end Lt them, t the routine of the circumlocu- ton office has yet ceased. Wa might describe in Stock. mar's own words the means by which small wants fn tho palaco are still satisfiod. Ha tells us that ¥ a pane of glass or & oupboard-door in tho scullery wanted mend. ing, the chief cook had to draw upand sign tho requist. tion, whict was conntersigned by tho clerk of thehteh. en, who tookit for furtlier signatureo the Master of the Horse, who ment it to the Lord Chamberlain for his authorization ; from whoso offico it went before the clerk of the works, under the office of Woods znd For- esta, by which office the broken pane of glass or the cupboard-door was mended in the courss of time.. perhaps! Even now a visitor, let us say to that quiet and mysterious ofice, tho Board of Green Clothi may by chance find his foot entangled in an old mmat.’The mat s rarely trodden, the oflice dvors do not give fro. quent sccesa to that zuat, and sbove the door might bo ttingly inscribod, Januz amat limen, But fo got that mat repaired, and ‘to obtain ofticial authority 0 prov. cure a now ane, would require a time, during which a fellow's hair might becom thinned and turned gray: 8o careful aro we now of the public money that ‘If in tho Houses of Parliamont, s new lock and x:!;n:hwld be required for any of the doore, spplication must be made for the former at one seat of power, but permis. sion to have » key must bo officially sought for st anoter. 4 t i3 not many months ego that some were required for ofictal fencing o Irewad. Tos wems might have beon bought thero for next to nothing, but the rails wero bought in England, and a ship was shur- tered to carry them to Dublin quay. As the ‘great officers who ‘wero supposed to bave control in the palace wero seldom there, sud wero not represcnted by deputy, there woa praciically no control atall, Servants did very mucli as they liked, and_yet it is with wonder that we read how illustrious visitors havo beon regligently re- cuived, left to find thelr own apertments, and, on issuing from them, to wander helplesaly about 'tho corridora in search’of tho_diniug-room, S r Temarks that when the boy Jouea was discovered, at 1 o'clock in the morning, under a sofa in the rooth ad- Joining Her Mnjests's bed-room, nobody was raspon. &lblo, The Lord Steward was not to blame, as he had D0 control over the pages ncar the Queen’s Tbe Lord Chambérluin was not blamable, be- cause the porfers were mot within | i department, ‘But Jomes got in when porters should ' have detected him; ond if the pages hsd bad their eyes open the rescal would nover huve reached ons of Her Majesty’s sofas, Stoskmar suggested reforms which wers, for the most part, adopted, aud thes2, with otbers additional, wero carried out Ly Princo Albert with unezampled strictness, not to say rigor. Waste, and extravagance, and_disorder wero stopped. Order relgned within the Tmperial palaces, but thero camo with it a system which savored of mieanness, We bave heard of 8 Wealthy tradesmau who, having been paid his acoount at the proper ofiico in ono of the rosal palaces, expreused a desire, Just for oncoln his life, to tasta tho Queen’s le, Noobjection was made, but as, on liftin tho glass to'hia Lips, Lo was told that tho liquor would be duly booked, with his name, as the recipiont of it, ha steaiglitway sct tho glass down and left it untaafed, Thia story has 1 paralel in that of the gentleman who, out of respect for tho memory of the Duka of Kent, from whom he had roceived somo esscatial eervice, 8cut to tho Queen o cask of rere wine. Preseuts zrg generally declined now Ly eoverofgus, but 4t s _eaid that this wine was not only roceived and acknowledged, but that the sender was required to pay the import du- tiea, If this Lo really true, the demand was certainly w1 ot of offielal fmpertinence. IN ‘‘ AMERIOA AND HER LITERATURE,” John' C. Dent ways, while admitting that the writings of Proscott and Motley in Listory, Imoruon In_spcculativo plilosophy, Thoodor Perker in_rationalistio theology, Holmes and Lovell in discursive cesay, Whipplo in literary criticism, Longfellow, Pos and Eryat in pootry, and Irving and Hawttiorne in the lighter wall of fiction, aroan honor to literaturo, and will loso nothing by comparison with tho’ best works of their respective classes, either in England or clsovhore, tho undoniablo and oft-ropeated fact still remains, that the best eorts of those writers have no cleim to be regarded as dis- tiuctively American produotions: . Longfellow’s * Evangeline” has an_exquisitely pio- turesque passago here and there,—witncss bis deacrip- ton of tli> cuckoo warbling frou the thicket,—but the pocm 18 a wholo 8 dsficient in force, owing in a great measure to the ponderous impracticable hexameter in which it is dressed. * Hiawatha ia deficient both in musicand in force. Holmes' Iytics aro genial, fanci- £ul, unequaled in their way; but they aro procscly such as two or three of his Englizh contemporaries might have written lad they Leen clover enough. Cooper's novels, at the first curmory glance, scom to bo American; but in no scnac of tlio word ¢an they bo termed photographs, and as & whole they are inartistic, The “Biglow Papors" ore mnot in. ortlstic: such a term, indeed, would sound liko o paradox If applisd to nnything from tha pen of Alr. Lowell. The humor i3 fine, sud * Birdo- fredum,” ia irresiatibly funny. We are Introduced to thie quaint provincialisms of {ho Down-Easter in guch 8 manrer as to afford conclusive proof that the suthor Bas mado the diclact a study ; but no one is better asware than Alr, Lowell that the book is notbing mora thau a alashing aud powerful political squib, In short, search s carefully 6 -you will- smong all the many emanations from the American press provious to the Lust fow yezrs, with view to discovering among (Lem = production which is exclusively American, in spirit aud tone, aud your quest will prove ns hopelcss &3 wag that of the blind Ethiopien who, with an extinguisked candle, in o dark cellar, hunted fora black cat that ‘was not there, The distinctively Americsn literaturo is of a Inter growth. It lis began: Vi I g T = Thapoems of Walt Whitaeoyand o futei oig SHfifet, 35 Bret Harte, according to the best Judgment ve arg able 1o form, furnish abundant evidenco to tho cereful reader that a time has arrived when our trans- Atlantic fricnds are about to cast off their literary alle- giance, sud when an sdherence fo Lnglish precodents, buth as respects turn of thonght and method of ex~ prossion, is begiuning to bo ata discount among the rising literary names of the Great Republic, Of these writors, ho thinks Mr. Whitman is incomparably the most original : 1t 15 to him the more discerning among his conntry- men ato especially looking for something great; aud, Judging from such of s products of his genius aa havociready reschod us, W, believo that they will not 1oo n, Ttis within the bounds of probability that Walt Whitman vwill be compeiled to pass through quite as flery an ordeal in America o erewhilo foll to tho lot of Wordsworlh in Englsnd ; but, if 20, wo here beg to record our sincero conviction that the ultimate result in hia caso will be the same ns waa that in tho case of Wordsworth, There is, indeed, s great deal in common between tho two. Tho ssma passionate susceptivility of feeling, the same dapth of philosophic meditation, tho same homeliness of expression, the same disregard for, and contompt of classic precedents, aro perceptible in each. Joaquin Millerhas somo resemblanco to Walt Whitman, says this latter-day Suinte-Beuve, 4 but is by no meana dovoid of originality e 18 almoet equally unconventional, but is by no D0 means 60 atrong. With all his uncouth bombast, his dramatic power is such 19 to stamp him 28 o writer of 1o ordinary powers. His wild life among the Sier- ras s doveloped in him a vivid_power of description which is peculiarly his own, Defective in eleganca snd his poctry has tho ring of the true motal Wo are glad to sce that, acting upon the judicious hink of 5 Westminster reviewer, hic fs biding bis time, and Dot publishing quits so profusely as formerly. Mark Twain is 3 personsge of o very different stripo, His great defect is that he is too thin; but perhaps no wrilr 1o the lauguago s more unifdrmly droll. Tl digestive organs of the man who can go over many pagen of Marka publications withiout: being calied upon to exerciso - his risible faculties must surely re- quire immediato lookingafter, His humor, too, is al- ways good humor, and i never cynical. It is 'thorough- 1y American. N forcigner 1a capable of appreciating his quaint and characteristicsayings ; though wo fancy his works would nccessarily cvoko laughter if they were tranalated into Chaldee. Bret Harlo i, and doservea to be, well known in this country, In respectof mere finish, ho is far in cd- vauce of any of the other three writers whoso works we havo becn_considering, e fs an artist, and an artist who wiclds a graphic pencil. For many months his skotchies aud poems furnished the cream of the Ocerland onthly. Like Whitman, 3tiller, ond Clemens, ho fs & purely American production, He has a host of imitators, but ot one of them is it to bo mentioned in the game Dresth with him, In his vivid, soul-stirring pictures of California life, the miner, the ranchman, and the bully of twenty years since, live and move again, in sll tholr wild semi-savagers. He posscases and fmparta 3 conrciousnesa of the grotesque peculiarities of the dvellers in that singulur region, for which we will look in vain in the pages of any other writer who his at- tempted to depict mining life and its incidents in the far West. It is not until he comes to flay the American journsalist that the acumon of this wonderful critic reaches its worat : The standard of American journalism—mors espe- clally of New York journalism—{s low : not only far bo- low our own, bnt below that of any other country in tho world, With two, or st the most throe, honorable éxceptions, the leading American newspapers are a reproach to the entarpriso and intelligence of ! nstion, The paper which enjoya tlio largust favor of a1l 13 perliaps ihe loast creditable. Every ono buys it, every ono reads it, but every one holds i in contempt, Its editorial articles are not_ only slovenly in respect but crammed with _scurrilities snd A and in! 3 %‘fm Uu;!cgi:lfl’ abeolutely at the disposal of the highest bidder; and, if public roport is to bo relied, ‘upon, the biddings have sometimes beea very high. This "principle of mamagement,—or, Tather, this ab- scnce of all principle in management,—has met with 4ta just reward ; for the paper in question Las less political influence to-dsy than almost any other journal throughout the United States, ‘Our’ remarks upon this particular paper will, in & ‘minor degree, apply fo tho great mass of American Amf et there are m:\nhy mcmbg; :: the newspa] press of America who are means dcflcim 1in journalistic ability ; and who, apart from their editorial capacities, are thoroughly hanor- sble and high-minded gentiemen—gentlemen who have lnmnmmowlulg of what & properly-con- ducted journsl should be. They seem, however, generall , t0 feel themselves constrainod #ail with the pop! current and to await the benign- ant influences of time, Bui tlemen of &hdr intellectual calibre should be in _advanco of their gl:i #nd shonld sspire ta lead popular fe g, insteac o ‘being content to follow in its wake. Itis gflu&hgm know that a change for the better 1s taking pl ,IL it must be confessed that the change is very gradual, = % ST PAUL'S. . P | James Greonwood, in St - Paul's, lays. bare another of the corrnpting influences of Funflon life, which he hos been so closely investigatiog, In the workhouses, pawnbrol ers’shops, prisons, and atums of that great motropolis, * PENNT-AWFULS is his subject. A Ponny-Awfal, it must be ox- plaincd, ia one of thoso innumerablo pestilential publications which racount, for the delectation of the juvenile strcet-Arabs of London, all the careers of crime which the imagination or the polico records afford : 1t is not difficult to trace back the evil in question ita orfgin. At loast s quarter of & contury age i o to somo ent indistdual to reprint and ! issue in “penny weekly numbers” the mats - tained in tho * Newgate Calendar,” and the phtiicaris was financially s great success. “This excited the o ‘pldityof other spoculatora. in whos eyes money loses Done of its valus though ever so begrimed with nastt: ness, nnd they set thelr wiis to work to produce print. ed Iy -ope'ortha” that should be as savory to the morbid tastes of tho young and ignorant as was the Tenowned Old Bailey Chroniclofself, The taak was by R0 means & difficalt 0o when once was fonnd thaspirit to set about it. The Newsate Calendar was after all but a dry and Jegal record of the triala of rogues and murdefers for this or that particular offense, gith at moat, in sddition, brief sketch of the conyleted one'a previons career, and a fow oleervationa on his ‘moat romarkable exploita. After all there was really 1o romance in the thing; ‘and what persons of limited oducation and int love in a book is romance, ore then was & grand fleld] What could be eanter than to tako the commonplacé Newgat raw material, ond ro-dip it in'the most vivid scarlet, and weavo fntg it the ralnbow Yues of fiction7 What was there that s camo ont” at W ¥l of Juck Sheppard and Clauds Daval, .and’ {Afr,: Turpin, and whi tho Calendar renders. %o groedlly dovoured: compared ~with wiZ ‘might be made to those eame heroes when the professionzl romauce-monger, with the vio tim’s akull for an inkstand, gore for ik, and tho as sasain's dagger for a pen, 8at down to write their his. forlea? a0 great thing was 10 ahow what tho New. ato Calondar fad fatled to ehow. It was all very well o demonstrate that at times thera existed honor among thievea ; tho thing to do was to make it clear that ctcale ing was an honorablo business, and that all thieves were peraons to bo respocted on account at least of the risks they ran and the perils they so daringly faced in tho pursuit of their ordinary calling, Again, in g the achievements of fobbers of a superior grade, the dar govo Lot the merest gimpse glories of o highway villaln’s ex- mherean, a8 waa well Jmown to the romancist of the Penny-Awfal school, the life of perton Iike Mr. Turpin or any Kajght of theRosd s Just one cudless round of daring, dashing adventure and of rollicking and roysteriug, or tender, blisef enjoymenta of the fruits thereof. Likowise, accor to tho same authorlty, it was a_well-known fact, one that could not bs too generally known, that rogues nnd robbers are the only “brave®’ that deservo the #fatr,” and that 10 sweothearts are so trueto each other, and enjoy such unalloyed felicity, as gentlemen of the stamp of Cspt, Firebrand (who wears dace ruffies ond adfects a horror for the low operation of cutting a throat, but regards it z3 quite the geutlemanly snd ¢ professional ” thing to sond & bullet whizzing ‘futo n human skull) sad buxom, fascinating Molly Catpurce, Mr. Greenwood gives o passage from ono of thieso Ponny-Awfuls, to show the natare of their teachings : * What's the good o' being honest 7" s the mornl sentiment that the Penny-Awrul suthor puts juto {20 mouth of his hicro, Jos tho Ferret, in his delectable story ¢ Tho Bos-Thieves of tho Slumua,» # Whet thu [ of being Lionest 27 8338 Joe, who is ata banquet consiating of the “rickest meats, and hot brandy and water ; “ where's tho pull 7 It is all cantiug and humbng.' The Lonest cove s tho one Who alaves from morning till night for half a bellyful of grub, and & reggod jacket, and s pair of trotter casea (shoes), that dun't keop' his toes out of the mud, £nd sll that lic may be called & good boyand have & clear conscience.” [Loud lsughter and cries of “Hear, hear,” by the Weascl's “pals,”] *1 nin’t got 0 consclence, and X don’t want one. 1f I felt one a-growing in mo I'd pison tho blassed thing.” (Aore laughter.] *Oura fa the game, my lada. Light come, Ught go. Plonty of tin, plenty of pleaiure, plenty of sweethearts, and that of fun, and sll got by mak- ing o dipin’s pocket, or encaling a till. Il tell you Jhat it 1, my bearticn,” contined tho Veascl, raliing his glaa’in his hand (on @ finger of which thers sparkled a valuable ring, part of the produce of the night's wark), 17 tell you what it 1s: it’s quite ss well that them curs and milksops, the honest boys® of London, do not know what o Jolly, easy, devil-may~ cara 1ifo we lead compared with thelrs, or we shouid Dave 20 many of 'em takin’ to our line that it would be bad for the trade.” 1t may boasked, who aro the “guthors,” the tal- ented gentiemen who find it n laborof Ioveto die- course week after week tos juvenilo andience of tho doings of lewd women and ““fast” men, and of the delights of debauchery, and tho exercise of low cun- ning, and the victimizing of the innocent and unsus- pecting? Ay, who are they7 Fow things would afford me greater satiafaction than to gather togethor ahundred “thousand or so of thoso who waate their time snd monoy in the purchase and perusal of Penny- Avtuls and ¢xlibit 4o them the sort of man it fs whote ands {a entrusted the preparation of the precious hashes, Before such an oxhibition could take place, lhau.\vf be however, for decency’s sake, compelled induce him 1o’ his feco znd shave his meglocted muzzle; likewlse I should probably have to And him a coat to wear, and sibly a pair of ehoes, His muster, the Penny.Antul Proprietor, does not treat him liberally. Tobe sure he 12 not worthy of a great amount of congideration, be ing, 08 a rule, s dissipated, gin-soddened, poor wretch, who hag been brought to his present degraded state by his own misdoings. AS for talent, he has none at all ; never had ; nothing more than a mero sccidental liter ary tulst in his wrist—just o3 one {requently oeus & dog AR b B Gty cauepy 10T SOME Unsccountu. Dle gittit Las for catching rats, or dolng tricks of con. Juring. Mo works to order, docs this obliging writer, Either he bas lodgings in some dirty court closo aé band, ar hofs stored awsy in & dim, upstsirs back room of the Peany-Awful oflics, and there tho proprietor visits him, and ‘they havo & pot of alo aud pipes togother,—tho ono in hisplendid sttire, and tho other in Lis fatfered old coat and dirty shirt,—and talk over the next * number " of Selina the Soduced ; and very often there s heard violent langusge in thal dim littlo den, the proprictor insisting on thera being “more flavor” in tho next batch of copy than the last, and the meek suthor beseeching a little respect for Lord Campbell and his Act, But the noble owner of Selins geuerally has his way, “Do as you liko about it,” kays he, * only bear this in mind, "I know what goes down best with ’em and what's most relish- ed, and if I don’t find that you warm upa bit in the noxt number, T'll knock off half-a-crown, and make tho tip for the week eoventecn-and-six instead of & ‘pound.” Henry Holbeach roviews MR, DARWIN'S LAST BOOK, # Expression 1 Man and Animals,” and draws a Iudicrous picture, at Mr, Darwin's expense, of the manner in which he mado his “gaveral young children " the subjects of scientific obser- vation : In one place Mr. Darwin’s words clearly imply that ho kept & note-book in which he recorded his ideas of ‘passing exprossions on the faces of his own infants ; snd, in fact, we find that he believes he knows tho exact dates ot which they first smiled, sobbed, or shed tears, How many children hio has is & questfon whi-h » parent can scarcely help woadering about, and his own amiable franlkness almost invites speculation, As, for example, on page 257: “Seversl years ngo, I was -nl?d-ea by scelng sere of my joung children _earnestly _doing _something {ogethor on tio ground ; bat tho distancs wss 00 groat for me to ask what ihey were about, Therefore I throw upmy open handa with extended fingers above my Dead ; and 23 soon a5 I had dome this I became con- scious of the action. I then waited, without saying a word, tosez i my children had understood this ges- furo; and a8 thoy came running to ame, they erled outy £¥Wo saw that you wero sstonisbed st us’” Now, aa Mrs. Partington sald, “Its a wonderful world—my husband knowed a woman as had elghteen children in five years, or flve children in eighteen years, Inin't sure which,” And certainly these words, * seceral of o enough my young children,” do suggest u brood S furnish an amplo feld of iavestigation for an fa- quiring mind. There is nothing really and finally o facts nearcst to Iudicrous in orie's taking notes of us, and nsing them for sclentific pu I took euch notes when I was a boy, and yeb possess the gecords of them, Lut I could 0ot do t now ; 43d © Sad cannot help laughing at other people's dofng Tender may be amused by somo illustrative extracts from Jr. Darwin's volume : Page 86, * It fs curlous Liow early in lifothe modu- Iation of tlie voice bocomes expresilve, With any of my children, undor the age of two years, I clearly per- celved thot Bis humph of assent wss rendered by & alight modulation strongly emphatic; and that by o pecullar whine hia negative exprossed ‘obstinsto deier- lon.” Page 153, “Infants, whilst young, do not ehed tears or weep, 25 s woll kmown to nurses and medical men. This clrcumetance s not exclusively due to the lacrymal glands being ms yet incapable of secreting tears. I first noticed this fact from having accident- ally * [ol, ah 1] * brushed with the cuff of my coat the open eye of orie of my nfants, when 77 days old, caus- thib eye to water freely ” [monster {]; *‘and though the child screamed violently, the other eye remained dry, or was only slightly suffused with tears.” TLisis followed bya series of ubeervationsas to the dates at which fnchoate or complete crying et in with differcnt children; e. g., “A similar alight effusion occurred ten days previously inboth eyes during s ecreaming fit, The tears did not run over the eyelids and roll down the cheeks of this child whilst screaming udlxghm 122 days old, This first happened " [—in your knowl- gdge, you mean or dld you keep ups loepless watch for soventeen days and nights, rendy to interrogate nature still further with cozt-caff and noise-bozea?} “seventecn dsys later, st thesge of 139days . . . In ono case, Twas poiitively sismred teacs ran down e unusually carly age of 78" ‘Page 157, 4 Yiith gniof my infents, when 77 days old, the inspirations [in & screaming 'fit] *“were 8o rapid and strong that they spproached {n character to sobbing ; when 138 days old I first noticed distinct sobbing.’ .. . . The keepers of the Zoological Gar- dena pasure mo hat they have never heard asobof any kind from & monkey.” 'his really scems to dissppoint . r, Darwin | JyoaBR159. 41 asked ane of myboys fo shout a8 loud ly as ho possibly could, and as “soon By ehmteactad hin. emscalar muascles 1 obeerved this repeatedly, and, on esking him why hs had every time so firmiy closed his eyes, I found him: quite Toavare of the fact, He had acted Lnstinctively or un- consciously. ‘Now, (his should have been llustrated : “ Master Dx:mnnnhununu 28 loudly as he could, st the request Tago189. “Imade threeof my children, without giving them any clue to my object, look as long and attentively as they could at the summit of a tall flm standing sgainst an ertremely bright aky. With 80 that o 1" :xhu Fers energetically contractéd . - it s tried their utmost " (the patient little angels 1) o < rnonl“;.tmnh, with spasmodio twitchtngs, would be observed.” - FRage 201, 1 fouched with a bit of paper the sole of tlie foot of ome of my. infants when only seven dsss old 7 (where was Mrs, Darwin? whero was the nurso?, “and it was suddenly jerked awny, and the foes cur] about, 85 in an older child,” Once more, who will ot Tegret that this scene wis not photographed, and the result reproduced for the benefit of the raader? FRASER'S In a review of Mra. Oliphant's life of CHARLES DE MONTALEMBERT, 1 the parlismentary, ecclesinstical, and oducation- alreforms which that ardent young Frenchman espoused aro sketched, 23 are also the stirring scenes of his trial and condemnation, in 1858, for articlos published in the Correspondent, said to contain attacks on universal suffrage, on the rights of ths Emperor, on the respect due to the laws, and to the government of the Emperor. 020 of the grostest trials Montalem- bert’s delicate, scusitive nature had to bear, wag the assumption by his only and beloved dsugh- ter, Catherino, of the veil of the cloister. Btrangely enough, he brewed this bitterest cup himself, for it was his own work, “Zes Moines de I Occident,” that persuaded this beantiful girl to bury herself in the seclusion of a nunnery. .In his house in the Rue du and in his chaty at Villersexel, his ki 31 gay, sweot-tempered, and accomplished, and her ap- pearance in society had realized every wish her father him imight have forined. Suddenly #he announced to her desire to become & nun, This daug) historian of the cloister said it, moant it, d1d {t, for ber father could not well refute her argunents.” AL Cochin _deser] friuds Iknew 8o woll, and _gaid to him, ¢ am fond of everything cround rie. 1 love plensure, wit, sociaty, and its mnusoments ; 1 love my family, my studies, my companions, my youth, my life, my country; but I love God better than all,'and 1 desiro to give myself to Him. and when he safd to her, *My child, thero is som: that grioves you?’ slie Went to the book- slielves, and sought one of tho volumes in which he narrated tho history of the monks of the West, “It 1a you,’ she answered, ‘who have tanght mo that, withered ' hearts and weary souls - cre mot the “things wiich we ought fo offer to God! Somo months _after, Aademolsella do Montalombert carried out her’ purpose, as ber father sald, ‘a ax prande desolation.’” Tac gop she leftin his Life was never filled up; and thoogh Mrs, Oliphiant says that he grew to forget his individual dis- appointment and pain in seeing her uscful and happy her vocation, noons who saw him could doubt but that in giving her up ho bad given up tho light and brightness of his lust yexrs, They were years of physi- cal suffering, though of unblunted sympathies and of undimmed faith. Deatli came painlessly and gently at Iast, on March 13, 1870, o one Who was caut 1n gentls mould,” ond eaved ah lionorable French stetesman from Leholding the humiliation of his Leauilful France st the hands of @ 10roign foe, and the destruction of Paris at the Liends of tho Communc, IN A ‘“8EETCH OF CHARLES LEVER, o aro told Low that inimitsble writer mined ths material for his characters and storios: Just as Thackeray, day after day, fnvited to his tablo an ecoentric Irishman, all broguo and blarney, who furnished material for Capt. Costigen, Lever datly feasted u retired Mujor who had served in tho Peuin- suls, and tio character of Monsoon was the result, The Major woll knew tho uses to which hix prescuce was o gerve, but Lever’s wino wus 80 good, that he merely contented himeelf with plessantly upbralding Bis host, now and again, for the too frea dashes with which his portrait was put in from number to nume ber. During the progress of Charles ONMalley, which had Fapidly followed Up the Confessions i 181, Laver was in habit of riding into Dablin from Temploogue, and gathering from the knots of barristers who threnged tho ball of the Four Courts material for the story in hand, One day the novelist joined a group of plossant talkers, with memories much better stocked than their bags, and in thomidstof whom our informant, Mr. Portér, stood, marrating how in passing (hrongh Tralee s short time befors ho called to see an old friend, Mr. Roche, Stipendiary Megistrato there, whoso ser. vant, when'very ill, eald, “ Ob, masther, 1 don't think 1¥'s o'right sort of doclor that's attending me, for he g8v0 1m0 two doaca that bo called emetlcs, and ncither o thom would reat on my stomach.” In the following Dumber of * Charles O'Malley,” Afr. Porter recognized the anccdota put into the mouth of Mickoy Fret. Tn the samo way our late friead, Mr. Brophy, tho dentist, foct cyclopedia of lang snecdote, wag, a8 he him” self assured us, frequently put_under contributlon by Lover. The well-known {ncident in # Harry Torr. quer, of the ofiicer coming on parade ut Cork without remembering to wash the black off bia face, which had made him- a capital at privato thes- tricals tho provious -night, recently bappened to Capt. Frizelle, an ancestor of the presont writers fem. ily. The character of Con HefTernan, in another novel, isa highly-colored portrait of 3fr. O'Connell. And # Davenport Dunn, the Man of our Day,”is 1m0 other than John Sadlelr. Archbishop Whately Nkewlse figures in the novelist's pages, and o do many other prominent persons famliar to Dabiln eocioty, That rich character, “ Frank Webber,” whoeo thoroughly veracious advcntures proved profitable stock-in-tred £o Lever, was Robert Boyle, a5 his own family sssure us, _ Ho 'was o well-known aan at Trinity College, and 110pped ot mo dering fesf, from tho orse-wlipiisg of 2aj. Sirr, the Fouche of ' Dabiin, o practical jokes oa the Dean 'of his University, ‘Though Lever's fascinating Bim one of the most popular o somotimes say 3 bitter thing: It s well known that the late Archbishop Whately ‘was remarkably susceptiblato flattery. Oné morning st Iedestale, nesr Stillorgan, Dublin, his Grace rev cetved 3 nunlber of gucsts, including & Iarge propore. ton of the expectant Jergy, who paid npp: cran t0 tho ex-Fellow of Orfesrotc, P4 iplanadera; o B s plucked a leaf, which he de- grounds Dr. W Gauscons flavor, *: Tastoit,” matd B27Bding it to one of tho acoltes, The latter Dlandly obesed, and then with a wry face subscribed to'tho botanical arthodosy of his master. * Tasto 1" 8aid tho gratified prelate, harding the loaf fo Lever. “Thank your Grace,” 1id tholatier, us he declined it, #my brother s not in your Lordship's diocese.” Yuder the title of DOAMDLEDERRIES, there are some choice littlo verees, like thesa : T am not shock'd by fallings in my frlend, For human life'a 3. sigzsg o e ead. But 11 e to a lower plane deacend, Contented there,—alas, my former friend From the little that's shown To complote the unknow, £33 folly wo hourly repeat; 'And for once, 1 would eay, That men lead us astray, Ourzelves we a thousand times cheat, If hie draw you aside from your proper end, No enemy iiko 3 bosom friend. Dear friend, s much admired, 50 oft desirad, ’Tis true that now I wish to be away, - “You are not tiresome, no ! but I am tred. Allow to servant brain and nerves fall play In their electric function, yea and nay. Feith and affection do not shift their ground, Howe'er the vital currents ebb and flow, ‘To feel most free because most Armly bound 18 friendship’s privilege : 80 now I g0, o rest awhile the mystic nerves and brain, To walk apart,—snd long for you again, While friends we were, the hot debates That rose *twixt you snd me Now we are mero associates, manners made men, he could Avd never disagree. For thinking, ono; for converse, two, 1o more ; Three for an argument ; for walking, four; For social pleasure, fiv for fun, £core. MACMILLAN'S, 5 “THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR" Details some of the sensible philanthropies with which the Parochial Mission Women’s So- ciety sought to rescue tho children of the Lon- don poor from some of tho avoidable miseries that darken and degrade the lives of their pa- rents. They started with the idea that moral reclamation must be precaded by physical allovi- ation : ‘With this ides, one of the Bupplemental Ladies ar- ranged with the zdmirable Supcrintendent of the Mis- Bion which had been aasigned 10 her, that twice o week cheap hot dinners should be sold to the children and adults connected with the Mission, ~Lady S, was will-" ing to provide fuel, Iabor, and cooking utensile. Sho mida (?,"x’mw.m,l.'x condition that the price paid by b conumes should cover the entire cost of tho. f0od, and allow a margin for such accidents as wa arg proverbially told to look for, even in the best-reg- ulated families, This was dome for thres fol- lowing winters, and with perfect success, During three montha. 857 adults und 954 children pur. chased thelr digners at this kitchen, paying one or a forthing, ome bslf-penny, three-farthings, Cmy e piate, tho prices’ varying 1 T b6 asticlea rovided, The dinners consisted of + and yegeta- lcs, or of broth with pleces of meat floaing in it, or of rice’ puddings and sweet gauco; or mince and frut ples, or of rolly-polly puddings THeh with raisins and Bicntia: /s a rio the womenjook. their dinners away ith them, tand the children—chiefly boys—ate it on thespot, 'The locality was more remarkable than the viands, *‘The littlo room coald not contain the num- bers who csme to buys good, cheap dinner, and s table was 1aid under a railway arch, wherea morry party would enjoy themselves, The civilizing process waa ‘much farthered by theso dinners, At first when a plate- fulof meat or pudding was banded toone of our street Arabs, he wonld look up and grin, empty the contents into one hollowed palm, return the plata to the cook, and 10 eat out of hin own hand. To sit down'to a regular meal spread on s table covered ith a whito cloth, was an entirely now 1ifo to the chil- dren ; sod when 'Lady . sdded kmives, forks, and spoans to hier mensge, without charging Anything for thelr use, the wonder grow I At first these implementa ers locked at, and grinned over, as a sort of practi- al Joke, with which the lads Lad nothing to do, Great Caro. whs_taken not] to interfere with the liberty of the subjects, by forbidding the use of Angers in. stead of forks. But after s time art conquersd nature, Little refinements were addedone by one, and at in- rvals of weeks or even months, while the boys were ey Jett o, teach other £8 much = pessible, For instance, st first e plate of alt occupied the Lable, into which each dipped hia fia- e s o Tour saltcellars (2 Kitchen was crowded with hungry lads of all sges, the lady Superintendent, to whoss ‘and patience tho wholo success of the Dot only maintained order, but inepired - her rough customers with & chivalrous Tespec &n entire protection. Ouly'once did a new boy venture to “give sauce,” and tho treatment ha ro- ceived from bis companions waa s summary that Miss 8. was obliged to interfere to eacure tho safety of -ths offender. dsughter Catherine had ‘beside him, Bhe had inherited his {lluntfih?x hter of the v or 8300, or for $200, R e METROPOLITAN MOBES. A Superb Bridal Trousseau--Toilette Glories in Abundauce. Long Basques and New Polon- aises. Outside Garments-=The Economy of India Shawls. The Latest Head-Coverings,” From Our Ouwn Correspondent. Nzw Yoex, March 6, 1873, To- contemplate straw bonnets and spring gowna with your nose and ears tingling in an Arctic temperature is little Joss than ridiculous. But the most skeptical can hardly doubt that, when ethereal mildness does come; it will bo positive and anequivocal in its character. TIE DELAYED 8EASON. - The fact of winter continuing cold and stormy solong oud so late, hss had adecided offect upon -the fashions for the noxt season,—suita boing of darker and heavier material than ara usually made up for March and April wear. Bummor cashmere, vigogne, camel’s hair cloth; Japancse poplins, aod other fabrics of the same description, are almost. exclusively used for polonaises for next month, over silk akirts ; while the lovely foulard laine, fotilard, and light silks aro lying untonched in mysterious arawers and on hidden ehelves. Few women have courage to look beyond the present heaps of mud and slush, and sec iu the dim future dry pavements, and consequent dainty attire. IN A DIMDE'S TROUSSEAT, now making hore, aro two traveling dresses, for & tour of twomonths or more. The one in which the lady will start is of sea-green serge-foulard. The skirt, cut to clear the gronnd, has two nar- row bias ruflles of the matorial, slightly gather- ed, round the bottom; thon a twelve-inch kilt- ploating of gros-grain, four shades lighter, set close above the second rufffe. The head of the kilting is finished by a third ruffle, pleated in largo box-ploats, with wide spaces betweon,— the upper cdge being lined with the gros-grain, and the silk allowed to roll up above the serge, to simolate a cord. The polonaise is eut in the Louis XY. style, and has long, broad revers of theeilk, get in with the front bias, extending to the bottom of . the garment, and 2180 round the neck, forming & kind of rolling collar. The revers are buttoned back on the polonaise, at the hottom, by thrao large silk bat- tons, The bottom of the polonaise is finished by 8 broad facing of the gros-grain, with a dou- ble fold of scrge and pilk at the Lead. Sleeves uro coat-shapo, with deep cufls faced in a similar manner, A fine, embroidered linen collar and cuffs, with a pin, ear-rings, and sleeve-buttons of verd antique, cut in the shape of tree-lenves, in a claw-like 5eumf of unpolished silver, com- plete the drees. The bonnetis of the same gros-grained milk as irimmod the dress, with a wreath of oxydized leaves and berries crossing the coronet in front, and gracefally susteining o bunch of loops of 'laco and ribbona oxn the left gide. The wrap for this suit is a dol- man of sea-green cloth, edged with a double cord of self-colored silk, Tho second dress i6 of Napoleon-blue summer cashmere. The petticoat 18 trimmed on the front breadth by three perpendicular folds of the stufl, three inches wide. The centro fold is prui on either edgo_ with a donble fold of palo luo faille, and reaches to the knee. Tho other folds are piped with tho light silk only on the outer edge, and they are throe or four inches shorter than the middle one. They are all ter- mina‘ed by coquettish bows of the cashmere and il and the centro one is sme- cecded by three others, placed at equal distences between it and the belt. A deep kilt-plesting bohind is hesded by a box-pleated ruching of tho cashmere and Eilk laid in oach other, and fringed on the odge. Above this are two finger-wide pleatings; each Leadod by tho ruchi and extending tp th tebiier in 1ot CEPRwt0d extending fo ihe 4 daigh {06 hipa ; while, on the right side, s large square pocket of tho cashmere, ,ornamented with the Bilk, hangs . suspended by two straps, and fas- tened by a largo button to the waist. The basque is finished by folds of the cachmere piped with tilk, and & deep Iringe of the mm%lu shades. There is no over-skirt,—the deop basque and high skirt-trimming rendering it unnecessary. Tl wrap Is & loog, straight scarf of cashmero, lined with pale blue. L'he bonnet is a fancy ceru straw, with s simploe straw cord tied round tho crown, and fastencd at the left by a bunch of jot leaves and straw flowers. - ‘Bosido these suits, there is a dainty dioner- dress, of foulard and silk. Tho skirt is composed of violet faille, with an exquisite wreath of vio- Iots, of the sanie color and white, wronght ronnd. the demi-train, meeting on the front breadth in s large, spreading group, The polonaise, of o charming Parisian design, and mado of white foulard, is open from tho waist down, and faced with violet silk. It is wreathed with the em- broidered violets, and edged by exquisito Valen- ciennes lace. It has a violet silk vest, outlined on the white by a wreath of violets and dnintg, but narrower laco. 'The sleeves aro tight to the elbow, with s _deep flounce lined with the silk, and wrought like the rest, Valonciennes rufiles in neck and sleoves, and pear] ornaments, com- plete thia perfect robo. < Tho wedding-dross of this favored mortal is & pinkish-white gros-grain, covered with long &ashes of tulle, 8o delicatoly draped that they almost cover tho dress, while yet they seem to bebeld on only by the besutiful wreaths of range-blossoms and white roses that are pro- fasely employod, The waist has three long, soft oints behind, corded with fine cords, and edged By side-pleatings of tulle. A tallo scarf, canght by a bnnch of whito flowers in the middle of tha back, passed over the shonlders, crossed on the bosoin, goes under the arms, and is tied in 5 large, loose bow on the tournure. The veil is algo of tulle. LOXG BASQ! jUES, and high skirt trimming, with the decided prof- erence for polonzises, promise to ostracise over- skirts entirely this year. The former, wo learn from Parls, are among the most stylish of gar- ments, and, whon they are sufliciently known horo to be properly fitted to different figures, they will, no doubt, be extromely popular. Those that have been seen thus far, seem moro like & scant polonaise without looping, and of varions-shaped skirts. $ A new, pretty, and convenient polonalse has just arrived from the Fronch capital. It ises- acially adapted to wash materials, but is suita- Eln for any. It is _open from the waist down; has not cut pleatsin it; is looped from the two side ecams up to the centrs of the back of the waist, and is held by buttons which fasten through button-holes " left in the side-skirt seams. The effect of this, so difficult to de- scribo, is just what was desired last summer for porcales, cambrics, and the like, but which failed of proddetion. OUTSIDE GARMEXTS, like tho costume, sppear to be mno Lmger in voguo; but their g‘hce is 80 fully and 60 fally supplied by the now styles of sacques, mantles, scarfs, etc., that thelr former wearers are not likely to misa them. It may not really ‘be mcre economical to wear the new cloth gar- ments than to have them like every sunit; but it certainly sgems 8o, ginco we are ableto buy much less material than before. The new dolmana, mantles, and eacques will bo womn with any costume, whatoser their color; but, if their tint also prevails in the dress, the effect will bo greatly enbanced. Embroidery is 'com~ ing 8o Emuy into fashion that many of the fre importations of dolmans = are almost_wholly ornamented with it. Vines with branching leaves, half-blown buds, sprays with flowers, trailing 868, graceful palm-leaves in shaded silks, and other marvelously-beautifnl de+ sigus, are found on the long, wing-like eleoves of the dollmans, and sometimes an the jsunty Eng- lish walking-jackets. On these, howaver, it is a perceptible disharmony, for they aro simply con- Yenient and coqueti ‘while embroidery unques- tionably belonga to the elegant and dignified stylosof the dollman and mantle. Thelattor are the most, efal, and sacques the most comfort- able, of'this season's wrappicgs. - INDIA BHAWLS, which come with renewed beauty each year, ara always among the most_select of garments, and, when considered in their {uo light, among the most reasonablo in price, Thay will ‘enduro 'and dook better alter it, than any o market. And when we consider that 400, or €500, or more, if harder v shawls in tion ablow, we can pur- our purses g : chase an article which will bo of - servica to us during nine or ten months ot of eyery year of our lived, we must’ cerfainly re thert a8 an economical investment, Qur lieges are wont to say that camel's hair shawls are a delusion and & snare, purposely set by designing merchunts for nmowary husbands aod fathers.” This mistake, however, doubtless arises from the general de- structibility of the feminine garb ; but camel's hair shawls will last longer than their owners. Moreover, always having, like diamonds, 8 mar- ket value, thoy can bo disposed of st something - approximating to their real valae, i’ DONNETS AND HATS improve somewlat as tbe woaks go on.- The; incline to be lower and fiatter than before, an aro, therofore, moro_generally becoming. That plan siraw, with bat = little ornamen- cords and braids, same ex'l.'mtm’i&!, 2 3 oes without saying, since the windows and u!lgps sro fit of then One advantage of this style, it seems imposaible to twist even themost delicate aod plinblestraws into the hidcous shapes to which silk sud lace can be put. The toworing crowns and bigh coronets are disappearing, to the satisfaction of the round-faced beauties, whose freshness and faimness were serionsly impaired by the recent fashions. It seems probable that the flexible palmetto straws, from coming, will Florida, particularly soft and be divide favor with the broad Leg- o and couniry wear. The for- mor will have a cable-cord twisiod loosely and wound ronnd the low crown, andtied on onesido; with & rucking of pale biue, lilac; or green rouzd the nuder edge. Btrings of the sameshade may or may uot Le used, according to tho faucy of the wearer. ~Leghorn flats, on tho contrary, will bo wraathed with fowera, loaves, vines, etc,, sad will not gencrally havo strings. ilats will bo more worn daring the summer than they have been the post season, a8 thoy are so much mors convenient and comfortablo. Still, one straw bonnet, snd one of lacs or crepe, are indispensa- Dle. Blany of the latter will be mingled with silk of contrasting colors, aud_trimming laces. One Iaco bonnet is of biacl: thread net. puffed’ over paradise,—mm undecided bluo-green,—with & bunch avd ving of festhor-flawers of the sama shade, comploted by lice strings tied under the chin and fastoned by a feather-bud like the outes bunch. FURBELOW. TMiscellnneous Fashion Items. Twenty thousand francs is said to havo boen tho ost of Miys Rothschild’s wedding-robe. —1It is no longer fashionable to bave the walls of your domicile papered, but you can have them trescoed or hung with damaslk, —A new absurdity in bonnot-trimming is & long, black ostrich festher, which droops from tho top of the hat, aud is twisted round the necle 5 ' —The prattiest chatelaine-vinaigrettes worn are made in silver on the model of antique vases. The cost from §30 to $50. —People having come to the conclusion thad linen, althongh a Yery good thing in the way of; table-cloths, is not_exactly adapted to purpoass’ of respiration, creah flor-oloths aro hereafter to be banished ffom dancing parties. —The new parlor decorations, rustic worls bird cages, are not succoss. They are so very dark that the birds Isbor under the delusion. that it is always- night, perpotually sleep, and connot be induced to sing a note. ‘ —An eminont Wall stroet man, the sensation oporator of thie season, ia very ‘anxioua to gof into “society,” and one of his methods of ine gratizting Limsalf is ingonious. Mr. Operator is introduced to Mre, Milloflenrs, and immes diately commences totalk stocks. * Wonderful,® ho eays, ‘how easily money can bo made by ono who knows the market; Iwish, now, on’d let me investa trifle for you, just for g ittle experiment, you know: I undartake to tum a hundred into a thoussnd for youina, day.” " Mra. Milloflonrs consents, perhaps, ** just’ for a joke.” Mr. Operator takes her hundred, and in the course of a day or two Mra. AL ros ceives n neat littlo notoe, inclosing Mr. O.'s check: for a thousand. Be sure, AIr. Q. is included in Mrs. M.’s very noxt dinner party. Bat every ona ;}n;{lflnrfl to pay $900 for an entree.—New York ail. THE GREAT SPECIFIC. In the falr a quack doctor, in tones harsh and loud, WWas vauating his wares o the wondering crowd ; ‘His eloquent voice with success was exeried, rzmmfia: ng.:&:axf were all but desorted. “ stall,” “you can buy, if you pleas: AR fnfaliiblo éure, sirs, for every diseasd. - P Tou'veno time to'lose ; for I've not near encugh o farniah you all with this onderful stufl, o of 50u carry away my whole stare, You would come Lack to-morrow and clamor for mose, The moat coplous dose of it never can hurt you ; Not a man in hia senses now doubta of it virtue. In oll shades of life, whether comic or tragic, In love, war, or trade, ita effect is lika magio; Jtahorlens the glant, and makea the dirart biggor ; Insures to the hunchback. "Besguss wyoe, ‘charms every doy £o the beauty it gives: spinster treshness 8a long as she lives, The poor bachelor takes it, and soon gets s wife ; 1t brings peace to the hearth of connubial life. A very few drops will turn lies into truth, And the gravest of ina to * mere follies of youth.’ Bteeped in it, the nzstiest morsels will please, And the bitterest pills may be swallowed with éaze, Daily dishfuls of dirt have been cheerfully esten With 4 littla of this, sirs, toflavor and sweoten. Even those who don’t uso Jt have causo to -speak wel) of it, For they find a relief in the look and the smell of {t.* # 0, please, ir, what 18 it 7 7 they ali loudly cry 1 * What ia this specific you wont us to buy? - Bsy, what's your stuff made of 7 wo wish to be told.” “Xou_fools ] wiiy, whst ahould it bo mad of, but ol » < —_— e SELECTIONS, BY DUFF PORTER. ) The eense of the beautifal is ag ‘essential & part of a true life as an honest eenso. —Excess of sendation, like too much oilin & lamp, finishes by stifling thonght. -—When 4 man meets his fitting mate, society bezins. —This strugglo of man with man for bread woars out enthusiasm very fast. ' —The sabsence of summer is the absence of tasta and genins; where there is no winter, log~ alty is unknown. —It is by whiteness heeped up that the snowe flake arrives at the avalauche, and the knave at crime. —There &re griefs too eacred to be babbled to the world, and there may be loves which ons ‘would forbear to whisper even to a friond. —Secrots are rarely betrayed or discovered ac- coriimg to any programme our fear has sketched ou —The most selfish persons are those who have self—ceteem to such a degreo that they do not Enow they are sclfish. —After the storm comes alall, eay the con- solers; only they forgot that the Tull is at oll times harder to bear than the storm. —Nothing great or good comes withont births pangs; and, jast in proportion that natares grow more noble, their capacities for suffering in- creaso. —Let tho most manly man but suffer enough, “and his wings begin to giow straightway. —The most important deod s man ever per- forms is to repent, when repentance leads ta reformation and new life, —They are greatly to be pitied who can barely supply their own pbysical wants, who drell ai- ways in narrow quarters, and have no pillow or plato for strangors. —Philuuuphi and Religion—those vigilant sen. tinels—warn the human race that there exists o something boyoud that which is seen. —There are some faces we meet in our daily life that seem liko familiar frioads, a8 though they had, in some time paat, been called into a sorrow like our own, and we had met themin the deop waters. - —It is difficnlt for my mind to conceive of idea of decay, for all connccted with the creation of men wears to me an aspect of perennial graca and undying grandeur, —A man may be on the way to truth just in virtue of his doubting. —There are porsons who, to solve the enigmas which are worcover periectly immaterial ta them, spend more time thau would suffice for ten zooA deeds. ¥ —God, in his providence, haa left nothing to tho domain of chance, but s rendered onx firito knowledge certain h:::‘ regard to all tho erations of Nature, when proximate caases 22 b perceived and anderstocd. —While peopls are young, or sirong, or prea- perous, they t! little of that great army wiih mnfl‘:l banners that is silently walking amid troubles nnd dissppointments, day by day, une ablato do or achiove, - ' —The last best {ruit which comes to lata per- fection, even in the kindliestzouls, is tenderncas toward Lhahnxgl, Ilo;benr::;cq "mrd the unfor. boaring, warmth of heart tow: cald, philans trophiy foward the misanthropic s WHETHER | LOVE TEE. '_ "0 which ko oft I Lreathad my ho; }Vhfl?filhflulh l;xl!w Sose . 20d.1e sent thee, badewed with lover's Whether 1 love thee, o2k the donde ™ Wkich oft t0 me my messengers have becn, Whether I lave thee, ask the stroam 1n whidli thy lovely image havs seca. ~ Whether I lave thee, 2sl: thyse, - Though I bave nevey toid my lo%e ta thoe,: Whellier I 1076 thee, ask mino cycs, In them @y love foraver thou wilt sea,