50 CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. no more right to take my wheat than I to take his coat, and that I wished the public to bear this truth in mind.' This was experience bought with a vengeance. It is more often than not a very dear school; but some people will learn in no other, and scarcely even in that. On one occasion, an English gentleman, who possessed a keen wit, was at a brilliant assembly of the elite of Vienna, where a distinguished lady of that city frequently amused herself and immediate circle of friends by saying smart and rather uncourteous things, evidently for the purpose of annoyance. By the way,' inquired his fair interrogator, 'how is it your countrymen speak French so very imperfectly? We Austrians use it with the same freedom as if it were our native tongue.'-'Madame,' retorted the Englishman in the blandest manner, 'I really cannot say, unless it be that the French army have not been twice in our capital to teach it, as they have been in yours.' One of the most distinguished incidents of Zimmermann's life was the summons which he received to attend Frederick the Great in his last illness in 1786. One day the king said to this eminent physician: You have, I presume, sir, helped many a man into another world?' Any ordinary person would doubtless have been scared by so momentous an inquiry, and it was, in fact, a somewhat bitter pill for the Doctor; but the dose he gave the king in return was a judicious mixture of truth and flattery: 'Not so many as your Majesty, nor with so much honour to myself.' As all classes of individuals, from the highest to the lowest, are liable at times to meet with a Roland for an Oliver, we must not even exempt those shrewd men of the world termed lawyers. A seafaring man was called upon the Well, sir,' said the lawyer, stand as a witness. 'do you know the plaintiff and defendant?' After a moment's hesitation, Jack declared his inability to comprehend the meaning of these words. 'What! not know the meaning of plaintiff and defendant?' continued the energetic inquirer. An intelligent fellow you must be to come here as a witness! Can you tell me where on board the vessel it was that that man struck the other one?'-'Certainly I can,' replied the sailor; 'it was abaft the binnacle.'-'And pray,' asked the lawyer, 'what do you mean by that? Well, that's good,' responded the witness; you must be a pretty fellow to come here as a lawyer and don't know what abaft the binnacle means.' At another time, a lawyer, in cross-examining a witness, asked him, among other questions, where he was on a particular day; to which he replied that he had been in the company of two friends. 'Friends!' exclaimed his tormentor; two thieves, I suppose, you mean.'They may be so,' replied the witness drily, 'for they are both lawyers.' A good story is told of a certain Bishop, who, from information received, felt it his paramount duty to remonstrate with one of his clergy for hunting; and so the reverend Nimrod was expostulated with by his chief. Well, your lordship,' was the reply, I think you will agree with me that not a little generalship is required in the management and marshalling of our pleasures, and I really don't see that it is By turning the table,' as it were, upon the enemy, a common soldier of the Russian army proved himself equal to the occasion, and speedy promotion was the fortunate result. It appears that Suvorof, the well-known eccentric general, used frequently to ask his young officers and soldiers the most absurd questions, considering it a proof of smartness on their part if they gave He one day went don't know as an answer. a prompt reply, and hating above all things "I up to a sentry, and as the man presented arms, Suvorof said: "Tell me how many buttons there are on the uniforms of fifty thousand men ?'I can't say,' replied the soldier, very naturally; upon which the marshal, according to his custom, The sentry, however, began to abuse him for an ignoramus and rate him for his stupidity. knowing Suvorof's character, took courage, and answer yourself; for said: 'Well, sir, perhaps it's not every question your Excellency could instance, there are my two old maiden auntswould you please to tell me their names?'-The man's quickness atoned for his apparent impudence in the eyes of the general; and the soldier was elevated from the ranks the following morning, his promotion being the turning-point to an ultimately distinguished career. It need scarcely be said, however, that the same good fortune does not always attend every answer to a question raised by a superior person, absurd or eccentric as the matter may be. It is well known, for instance, that Frederick, king of Prussia, conqueror as he was, sustained a severe defeat at Köslin in the war of 1755. Some time after, at a review, he jocosely asked a soldier who had got a deep cut across his face-'My good friend, at what particular alehouse did you get that ugly-looking scratch?'-'I got it,' answered the It is extremely doubtful if any man, at Köslin, where your Majesty paid the reckoning.' reward or promotion followed on this occasion; make any note of the circumstance. but if so, history has unfortunately failed to Again, there are people who mistake imperOne of these tinence for wit, and often get rather more than one Roland for their Oliver. persons, a foppish nobleman, seeing Descartes enjoying the pleasures of the table, said: 'So, sir, I see philosophers can indulge in the greatest the other. 'Do you really entertain such an delicacies and good cheer.'-'Why not?' replied idea as to imagine Providence intended all good things for the foolish and ignorant?' In thorough conformity with our subject, numberless instances might be quoted in which the humour is somewhat of a 'broader' kind. A young man in America during an electioneering contest, suddenly shouted out: 'Hurrah for Jackson!' at which a Van Buren man exclaimed, Journal angrily: Hurrah for a Jackass!'-'All right, held out her hand, with a smile that was meant old man,' said the youth; 'we won't quarrel to be cordial, to the pale, fair girl who stood, as over such trifles; you can hurrah for your if hesitating, a pace behind, and who now came favourite candidate, and I'll do the same for forward, and with the colour fluttering in her mine.' cheek, said, in a faltering voice: 'You mistake me, aunt-Lady Barbara! Do you not know me, then? I am the Marchioness!' Examples culled from historical records are occasionally open to serious doubts, and it would be extremely hazardous at times to give a guarantee for their perfect truth. Apart, however, from these grave misgivings, they serve their purpose in an admirable manner in illustrating such subjects as those we have in hand, as the following concluding anecdote will amply testify. Henry Carey, a cousin to Queen Elizabeth, after having enjoyed Her Majesty's favour for several years, lost it in this manner. As he was walking in the garden of the palace under the queen's window, she asked him, in a jocular thinking of nothing?' The answer was a very brief one. Upon a woman's promise,' he replied. -Well done, cousin,' said Elizabeth; 'excellent!' Some time after, he solicited the honour of a peerage, and reminded the queen that she had promised it to him. "True,' said Her Majesty; but that was a woman's promise.' manner: What does a man think when he is ONE FALSE, BOTH FAIR; CHAPTER IV.-I AM THE MARCHIONESS. The other sister, still sobbing, started, and turning towards the last speaker, said, in a tone of bewilderment: 'Why, Cora? O sister-my poor Cora-what can all this mean?' Lady Barbara herself drew back, astonishment in her eyes, displeasure in her voice. Miss Carew!' she said grimly. The girl thus addressed grasped the chair beside her for support, and in a voice that was even less steady than before, made answer: I am Lady Leominster. I was Wilfred's wife. Shocked though I am, and surprised as I am, I must repeat that this is the truth.' Mr Pontifex, who had been fidgeting uneasily to and fro on the hearthrug, now began to arch his gray eyebrows seriously enough, as if he saw that matters were taking a graver turn than had been usual in his large experience of commonplace persons and events. He took off his goldrimmed spectacles, rubbed the glasses and readjusted them on his nose, and then stepped forward, clearing his voice before he said, somea solicitor can be what awkwardly, for even bashful: "This is a painful scene, very painful to me, I can assure you, Lady Barbara. There must be some grievous mistake, or some overexcitement, to account for-for so extraordinary an affair.' Lady Barbara, with a face that was very grave indeed, drew herself up to the full height, and said earnestly: Miss Cora-Miss Carew! I appeal to you to give up this most unseemly contest, and be your better self again. I entreat you, for all our sakes, not to continue this illjudged claim, which can but trouble the peace of the family with which you are connected, and which must be useless to yourself.' She to whom this speech was addressed made answer: 'Lady Barbara Montgomery, I can prove what I say.' Lady Barbara stepped forward with a stately tenderness of manner that became her well, to greet her widowed niece, as the two sisters in their mourning garb appeared in the doorway. Mr Pontifex stood, bowing and smiling, in the background as the two girlish figures approached. She who came first, threw her arms round Lady Barbara's neck, exclaiming in a voice half-stifled by emotion: 'I little thought when I left homeit seems but yesterday-that I should return here alone, and-and- Yes, dear aunt, it is the coming back to old Castel Vawr that brings my bereavement with fresh sorrow-the pain of it— back to me. I feel just now as I did when And she broke down, sobbing. An outburst of passionate grief, even in our placid epoch, is contagious. Mr Pontifex took snuff more demonstratively than was usual with him. It was in a very softened tone, and in a quasi-maternal manner, that Lady Barbara said: 'Be comforted, my child-my poor Clare; you are at home again now, dear, and with friends.- never of herself have Here is Mr Pontifex, whom you may remember, base!-Cora, darling, my poor, loved Cora, listen perhaps,' added the chatelaine of Častel Vawr, to the pleading of your better angel-fling aside as she recollected the presence of the family the sinful fancy-give up this cruel wrong to lawyer.—Yes, yes; you are back with us again, her who loves you, and take my full and free in England, and at home; and then, too, you forgiveness, dearest, and your twin-sister's lifehave your sister, Miss Cora.' And Lady Barbara long love!' when' Her sister here broke in almost in a shriek. I see it all!' she cried; 'I see it now clearly, only too clearly. It is the doing of that wicked Frenchwoman, that so-called Countess de Lalouve, with whom you, my poor misled Cora, became, unhappily, so intimate on board the Cyprus, on our voyage home from Egypt. She it is who has prompted you to this, and she alone, I feel sure of it, for my own pure-hearted sister would Ah, it is terrible 52 CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. And 'Never!' was the passionate rejoinder, amidst I-Istormy sobs-'never! You madden me. am indeed-Clare-Lady Leominster!' the girl, sinking on the sofa near her, buried her beautiful head among the silken cushions and wept with a passion of grief that could not be checked. Lady Barbara's expostulations went for nothing. So did the caresses and the soft words of the sister who knelt beside her. Mr Pontifex, elevating his bushy brows into the form of the Saracenic arch, took prodigious quantities of his highly-scented snuff as he surveyed the scene. For a long time-it seemed long; but a period of excitement cannot be accurately gauged by the matter-of-fact standard of mere seconds and minutes the weeping girl remained as it were alone with her own thoughts, and paid no heed to the remonstrances of Lady Barbara or to the entreaties of her sister. At last she rose, pushing back as she did so, with an impatient gesture, the golden hair that hung disordered over her temples, and with a set stern face, that indicated a courage strangely at variance with her youthand slender form. 'Lady Barbara,' ful appearance she said resolutely, 'I have made up my mind, and will stay no longer where my word is doubted and my position denied. I shall leave this house. I shall go to London. With my brother I can find a refuge, until it is proved-as I am resolved it shall be that I am Marchioness of Leominster, and should be mistress here.' There were no tears in her eyes now, though she was pale, and her features had hardened to the cold beauty She never faltered in of sculptured marble. was resolve; and Lady Barbara, who used to speak with authority, felt the words of well-meant expostulation die away upon her lips. her Mr Pontifex, who had been restlessly rubbing his plump hands together, and blinking like an elderly owl in the daylight, now came to the front. May I ask,' he said in a quick businesslike tone, which indicated a certain inward sense of satisfaction at his own presence of mind, 'which lady wears the wedding ring?' His eye fastened as he spoke on the marble-white face of the beautiful girl who had last spoken. Instantly she snatched off her glove, showing the golden circlet on her slender finger. The other, too, slowly ungloved her hand, whereon also glistened a wedding ring! The lawyer, like Lady Barbara, was for a He moment struck dumb with astonishment. stood for a little, as if considering what to do next. Then he spoke. 'Allow me to ask,' he said, 'if none of the servants who have travelled with you can help us out of this difficulty?' 'Yes,' said the sister who had declared her intention of quitting the house for London; call Pinnett, my maid; she travelled with us from Egypt.' Pinnett was called. "There is a slight difficulty here,' said the lawyer in his best judicial tone to the maid. 'Will you be so good as point out to us which of these two ladies'-indicating the sisters with a wave of the hand-'is my Lady the Marchioness?' There was no hesitation in Pinnett's manner. She promptly turned towards them, and pointing to the sister who had first entered the room and addressed herself as the widow to Lady 'Oh, Pinnett,' cried the sister about to be exiled, The lawyer, with mobile eyebrows and pursed lips, retreated a pace or two and again sought counsel from his snuff-box. But Lady Barbara, fairly shocked at the deliberate duplicity which had been exhibited before her eyes, drew herself up to her full height, and said slowly and frostily to the sister who had last spoken: 'Miss Carew has chosen her path in life. She had better act up to her expressed determination, and-go!' Then worthy Mr Pontifex again came forward. He must, he begged to remind Lady Barbara, be in London that night. He should be most happy, as an old friend and legal adviser of ahem! both families, to escort the young lady, whose position at Castel Vawr could not be otherwise than distressing and difficult, to her brother's house in Bruton Street. 'I knew Sir Fulford Carew well, very well,' he added; 'likewise old Sir Prideaux ; and have seen Sir Pagan, and shall be glad to be of service in this emergency.' 'You are very kind, sir-I thank you. I am ready,' said the girl, speaking in the hard, mechanical tone of a sleep-walker, as she turned towards the door. 'Cora!' pleaded her sister, but quite in vain. Lady 'Rest and refreshment at least'Barbara began. 'I want neither,' was the cold reply; 'when Mr Pontifex is ready to go, I am also.' Lady Barbara rang the bell. A servant who answered the summons received orders to send round the carriage that was to convey Mr Pontifex to the station. 'The young lady's luggage?' asked the lawyer in an audible whisper. 'It shall be sent to-morrow,' replied Lady Barbara magisterially; 'We will have what is necessary for immediate requirements unpacked and placed in the carriage.' 'My maid has all the keys,' said the sister of her who was about to depart, self-exiled, the stately English home so recently from reached. Very soon the final arrangements were hurried through, and the carriage was announced. There was a hasty leave-taking on the part of Mr Pontifex, who was anxious to abridge a But without a word or gesture painful scene. Twice she of farewell, the pallid beautiful girl, upon whom all eyes were bent, turned to go. spoke, first as she left the great drawing-room, and again after she had traversed the huge hall, and was crossing the outer threshold. I shall come back,' she said each time-'I shall come back, and as mistress here;' but she uttered the phrase in the same cold monotonous cadence, as of one who talks in sleep. Never once did she look at her sister; never once did she reply to the words which that sister continued to address to her to the last. Her demeanour was unchanged as she sat in the carriage on its way to the station, and in the train on its journey to London. When, in the lawyer's company, she was in the cab that rattled through the gaslit metropolitan thoroughfares towards her brother's bachelor abode in Bruton Street, she murmured half unconsciously, but in a tone too low to catch the ear of Mr Pontifex The die is cast; I must assert my own. I cannot spare her now!' (To be continued.) BOOK GOSSIP. A MOST interesting book comes to hand on the much-debated and vexed question of the treatment of our poorest classes. It is entitled, Social Wreckage: A Review of the Laws of England as they affect the Poor (London: Isbister), and is from the pen of Mr Francis Peek, a gentleman whose experience as a member of the London School Board, and as an earnest and sympathetic investigator into the condition of the poor, renders him qualified to speak on a subject which must always owe more to practical inquiry than to mere abstract thinking. A few years ago Mr Peek issued a little book dealing with 'Our Laws and our Poor,' which book received at the time much and favourable consideration from the press. This book being now out of print, the author rightly judged that, instead of reprinting it, he would better serve the public, and the cause he had at heart, by publishing the present volume, which, while it contains all that is still valuable of the former, includes other matter which further study and experience have led him to believe worthy of consideration by those interested in the subject. cure. Mr Peek is strongly of opinion that the laws of England, so far as they affect the poorer classes of the community, stand greatly in need of reform. As regards the poor-laws, for instance, he says there is a universal concurrence of opinion among those who have studied the subject, that the influence of these laws in the past, and to a great extent in the present, even as now administered, is to discourage providence and to foster the very evil in society which they were intended to He thinks further that the influence of the law at present is to encourage the dissolute and idle to throw themselves and their families on the parish; and that this influence should be changed, and a healthier sentiment introduced amongst the poorer classes, by the necessity of providence and thrift being somehow by law insisted on, and the criminality of improvidence and wilful waste made clear. This is very much in the line of social reform which has frequently been taken in the pages of this Journal, and to our mind presents the only feasible and hopeful way out of the existing chaos of discontent and misery among the classes referred to. The workhouse system as respects children, our author believes to be irretrievably bad, and adduces many startling facts in evidence of this view. He would replace it by introducing a system already tried in Scotland with success, namely, to board the children out in families, with respectable people of their own rank in society, and thus accustom them to the tender and softening influences of home-life, instead of having them herding together in large workhouses, where the influence of each upon the other is the reverse of good. Both in point of economy and of moral results, the boarding-out system is shown to be greatly superior to that of the workhouse. The chapters on the licensing laws and intem perance, on the miscarriage of justice, and on crime and its punishment, are equally suggestive and practical. In the concluding chapter, he deals with a specially difficult and delicate aspect of the question by discoursing on 'the uncharitableness of inadequate relief.' He urges the necessity of careful discrimination in the bestowal of all relief of the poor, whether such relief be given by the poor-law authorities, by benevolent societies, or by private persons. If any relief is to be beneficial, not only must it be bestowed after thorough examination, but when given, it must be adequate; in fact, the bestowal of inadequate relief is no charity.' To bestow a dole, for instance, for the relief of a man who has been thrown into poverty by want of work, is, in his opinion, to leave him very much where he was before, with the additional evil, that he may thereby learn the luxury of eating bread in idleness-a taste which he may not speedily unlearn. In such a case, Mr Peek advises that careful inquiry should be made into the man's circumstances, suitable work found for him until permanent employment is obtained, sufficient support being meantime provided to sustain his health. "This action,' he adds, 'is not only a true fulfilling of the law of love, but is true economy.' We do not think this can be doubted; but the difficulty about it is that it would give 'benevolent' and 'charitable' people so much extra trouble-it is so much easier to fling the idle man a sixpence or a loaf, and be done with him. We cannot enter into all the details of the system which Mr Peek sketches; but we have no hesitation in saying that none who have the means and the disposition to assist their less fortunate fellow-creatures, and are anxious to do so effectively, but will find it their profit and wisdom to read Mr Peek's book. When Prospero, on the morning after the tempest, tells his daughter Miranda how he had been thrust by the devices of an unworthy brother out of his dukedom of Milan, sent to sea in a crazy vessel, and stranded on that solitary island where Ariel found him and became his guardian spirit, he accounts for his misfortunes by indicating that he had loved his books better than his title and all that belonged to it. Me, poor man!—my library Was dukedom large enough. The love of books is indeed a happy, though not, alas! always fortunate, malady; a malady which, when one gets thoroughly infected therewith, is not to be exorcised from the blood by any surgical or medical enchantments whatsoever. James the First of England expressed the hope that, if it should ever be his fate to be imprisoned, it might be in a library. What a place,' says Charles Lamb, speaking of Oxford, to be in is an old library! It seems as though all the souls of all the writers that have bequeathed their labours to these Bodleians, were reposing here, as in some dormitory, or middle state. Moreover, those who love books like to hear what others say of them-they are about the only friends of whom we can speak our minds plainly without in any way estranging them. And especially pleasant it is to hear what those who are themselves great authors have got to 54 CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. "What impertinence !' say to us about books. As one means of grati'You spoke rather loudly, you know, and Mr fying this literary appetite, we do not know anything more pertinent than a beautiful little Drummond and I were close behind you. Pointbook which has just been published, called ing to the stars, you said to Charley: "Mark The Book-Lover's Enchiridion (London: Simpkin, how those starry globes of liquid light are swimMarshall, & Co.). This book-lover's handbook In good-just as if there was some fellow up there lighting 'em up one after another, you know."' 'You are as bad as Mr Drummond,' said Clunie disdainfully, and with that she flounced away to the other end of the seat. contains Thoughts on the Solace and Companion-ming earthward one by one." This was rather ship of Books,' selected and arranged chrono- too far-fetched for Charley. All he could say logically by Philobiblos,' who must himself, in his usual haw-haw style was: "Ah-yes-vewy to judge by his pseudonym and this specimen of his work, be very blessedly and fatally infected with the disease above referred to. this book you have, as its motto from Marlowe rightly indicates, Infinite riches in a little room; the selected writers ranging from Solomon and Cicero down to Carlyle and Ruskin. All the extracts are good-every tit-bit within these covers is sweet and toothsome; and many of the anonymous author's fellow-sufferers within the charmed circle of book-fever incurables, will thank him heartily and gratefully for this delightful supply of medicine for the mind.' ** It is one of the best books of its kind, and one which we think might be better known in Scotland than it seems to be. It gives an immense amount of useful and even attractive information on all the different branches of government administration at home, with an account of each of our colonial possessions abroad. Besides peerage, parliamentary, church, and army lists, there are notices of the chief scientific events and discoveries during the past year; and all this is given, so far as we have been able to discover, with singular accuracy. Whitaker's Almanac for 1883 is before us. FOR HIMSELF ALONE. CLUNIE and Elma sát for a little while in out. 'I daresay I ought, dear, but I'm not,' responded Elma with provoking placidity of tone. "The way you carry on with that odious Mr Drummond is outrageous.' 'Whose feelings have I outraged?' 'You were actually seen walking out with that man before breakfast!' 'I like somebody to walk out with, and "that man" is very amusing. Some people are not amusing.' 'He's a pauper-an absolute pauper.' 'Yes, poor fellow. It's a terrible crime.' 'Some people are poor, but still agreeable; but Mr Drummond is thoroughly odious. He seems to be always taking people off behind their backs.' 'He is rather clever as a mimic. You should have heard his imitation of the conversation Neither of them spoke for full five minutes. Then Elma said: 'Clunie!' Her cousin took no notice; so, after waiting a minute, she said coaxingly: Clunie, dear!' What do you want?' asked Clunie ungra ciously. 'I want to ask your advice, dear.' 'My advice, Elma?' answered her cousin, turn'You know you are always ing half round. welcome to that. I only wish you would follow it more frequently.' A friend of mine,' began Elma, keeping her eyes studiously fixed on her embroidery 'a girl whom I knew at school, has lately got married to some one very much below her in position; but they love each other very devotedly. Her husband is a clerk in the City, with a salary of a hundred and fifty pounds a year, and they live in apartments. My friend has written to me to go and What would you do, if you were see her. me?' "There would be no harm in my going to see her just for once?' 'I've no patience with you, Elma. If I had a sister, and she were to forget herself as your friend has, I would never speak to her again as long as I lived.' With these words, Clunie calmly resumed her reading. friends 'So that is what I may expect from my when I marry Dick,' mused Elma with a bright ""Drop her, of course." defiant look in her eyes. Well, if they can do without me, I can do without them.' At this moment, Mrs Pebworth appeared in the veranda, her kind, homely face looking somewhat Dick perceiving her from red and flustered. 'Aunt, where 'Come and where he sat, started to his feet. are you going to sit?' he cried. keep me company.' He drew up another chair, and she sat down beside him. 'What is the matter?' he asked. 'You look worried.' 'It's them pickles. What a trouble they are! 'Why don't you leave all those things to the They won't turn out as green as they ought.' servants?' I'm surprised at you, nephew. A pretty mess they would make of them. I think there must be an eclipse somewhere about. My grandmother used to say that 'Servants indeed! |