Remembrance. ONLY a little curl of silken hair That lies within the shelter of my hand, Catching a gold gleam from the flickering fire And yet its story is not lightly scanned. Before my eyes gathers a mist of tears Poor little curl its tale is linked with mine; It brings back once again those buried years On which life's sunlight ever seemed to shine. I pierce beyond the walls of my quiet room, Beyond the city's din, and dust, and glare; A lovely, laughing face lights up the gloom, A sweet voice comes like music through the air. Ah me! my love, the light of other days Dwells in your eyes and lingers in your smile; Still are you by my side, so sweet, so glad, I feel your soft touch on my weary head, The gold-touched curl shines brightly in my clasp ; I yearn no more for days beyond recall Holding a fairer future in my grasp. For darling, is it not your voice I hear n ar When we shall meet beyond the skies again? ) Miss EDITH M. BRIGGS, LL.A. BY THOMAS WILMOT, L.R.C.P. LOND. M.R.C.S. ENG. L.S.A. HONORARY ASSISTANT PHYSICIAN TO THE BRADFORD INFIRMARY; VISITING PHYSICIAN TO THE BRADFORD FEVER HOSPITAL. ΤΟ ΕΤΑ. HADST thou, sweet maiden, lived in ancient days, The seeds he sows with such a careful hand; Has nurtured them, and soon o'er all the land Will shed their odours, which will long remain. EDITOR. THIS talented authoress-for-whom we predict a bright future-was born at Westfield House, Wyke, on January 22nd, 1867. She is the fourth daughter of the late Mr. Jonas Briggs (q.v.]. Some two or three years ago Miss Briggs was successful in passing the examination and obtaining the Diploma of Literate in Arts, of St. Andrew's University, taking honours in English, Anglo Saxon, Moral Philosophy, Logic, Comparitive Philology, etc. This degree, which is distinctly a ladies' qualification, is equal in status to the more masculine one of M.A. दिग Last year Miss Briggs under the nom de plume of “Eta" (the name of the Greek letter "E") issued to the world a dainty volume of "Poems." This volume was highly praised by the critical press many of the leading metropolitan and provincial journals according unstinted praise--and in our opinion the praise was in every respect well merited, for flashing through every poem like a brilliant meteor, is the glow and glamour of divinest melody, warm, weird imagination, and sparkling glimpses that proclaim the authoress is gifted with all the subtile influences of truest poesy. Some critics say that feminine poetry lacks a certain something that everywhere abounds in and denotes the productions of the sterner sex. But had not "Eta" been personally known to us we should unhesitatingly have asserted that her volume of "Poems" were of mascuture growth, so pregnant are they with the characteristic sentiments-which so often abound in the man-but which so seldom are found in the woman. The Graphic in noticing Miss Briggs' book could evidently not determine the sex of its author. Says the Graphic critic :-"In 'Messages from Hell' "there is perhaps more of the author's own, and certainly a frank un"veiling of his opinions it is only fair, to add that the "motives of his or her muse appear to be excellent." The Bradford Observer who are usually down on the productions of local versifiers, in this instance accorded the following meed of praise to the volume :"This little volume of Yorkshire homespun is fresh proof that in many "nooks and byways of the broad county live poetic hearts and tuneful 'singers, whose existence is so modestly concealed that it is suspected "least of all by those among whom they live. 'Eta's' instrument 'may not be very sonorous or many-stringed, but it rings true and "sweet, and her moral insight is keen. One of her poems marks well. "the invalidity of the world's judgments as to 'Failure and Success:'"Judge none blest, 66 God oft writes Failure' where we write Success.'" : "she says, and in another poem she writes with a scathing pity of "millionaires : "A stately equipage,—within was one "Cursed with great wealth, for all his riches were "As mountains rose between his soul and life; "For he lived "No higher than his gold mines." "That last line is excellent. Indeed, many of her lines are remarkable "for their pith and power. But she is best in her shorter lyrics, notably "in "Only an Irishman' and 'Little Feet,' the latter of which we 66 "O'er the wide world everywhere, March the tiny feet, Through the flowery fields so fair, Some are gladsome, light, and free, Cold, neglected, bare. But they all wake echoes sweet Of the bygone days, When we walked with little feet' In Life's pleasant ways! Miss Briggs' book was noticed in the following manner in the Journal of the British and Foreign Association of London, of which Miss Briggs is an honorary member :—“This is a small but attractive little volume. "We predict for it the success it so well deserves, and which, we feel sure, it cannot fail to obtain amongst thoughtful minds and natures, "capable of appreciating the more refined style of poetry. We are "not, we think, more inclined to praise unduly the sentimental or so "called religious poetry of the day, than most, but we cannot resist, “although the volume before us contains a little of both, giving a word "of strong recommendation in favour of its merits. "If we see no signs of great poetic genius in the lines of Eta,' "yet we can discern a deep and tender insight into character, and a delicate and sensitive appreciation of the works, and words and feel"ings of others. The lines on Noel Paton's' immortal picture 'Lux "in Tenebris,' are worth a dozen prosaic descriptions in a 'Royal Academy Catalogue,' and will be read and appreciated by many a "student of his pictures. The tale of 'A Modern Atalanta,' is clever, "and well told. The other poems are somewhat after The Frances "Havergal' style, and come in not a bad second. "us much in mind of Longfellow's 'Weariness,' 'Oh, little feet, that such long years Little Feet,' put Must wander on thro' hopes and tears, &c.' "The poem is pretty, and the rhyme perfect. "Only an Irishman,' contains, we confess, to us, the most stirring "and fascinating lines in the book. Eta,' has here struck a chord "which re-echoes in every patriotic British soul. We well remember "the electric words in Mr. O'Brien's speech- "I'm only an Irishman,' "and the spontaneous reply then given by England, and by Scotland, "which stands even more true to day, 'If you are only a true Irishman, "you are all we wish for, and most adore, and your hopes shall not be "unfulfilled,' 66 "Eta' has reason for no small pride in being the creator of her "little volume; and in concluding our short review, we wish her every success, and we feel sure that : 66 : 'She may hope, as no unwelcomed guest At our warm fireside, when the lamps are lighted; To have her place, reserved among the rest, Nor stand as one unsought, and uninvited.'" The following also appeared in the Monthly Magazine for February last, entitled Versification :-" Considering the many volumes of medi 66 ocre verse which are constantly flooding the market, it is a pleasure "to come across a little book-bearing not only the stamp of merit "but of originality likewise-between the covers of which are contained many a sweet rhythmic line and poetic expression. In the volume "under notice these excellent qualities are discernible, and 'Eta' is to "be congratulated on her work. In the poem Messages from Hell' "-suggested, so the authoress tells us, by the book 'Letters from "Hell '—there is much that is highly commendable, in the diction, in "the correctness of measure and metre, and chiefly in the sentiment. "We quote from this poem the following: As through dark thunder-laden clouds there breaks There creeps a half-formed hope: ‘Eternity Were this true, then Hell, With all its woes, were blest with rays from Heaven! And then before my yearning gaze appears Is swallowed up in longings vast as vain, To see His countenance divine-to hear His gracious words—to know His heavenly name- "In similar style to 'The Lost Chord,' there is in this little book, "The Message of the Organ,' an exceedingly pretty poem. In ‘Shell Whispers' we are treated to quite a different vein and form of verse; 66 |