very clever, but so odd that he never will ter from her sister. "I'm glad she's got do anything." her son back safe at last, after all these years." 66 Do anything means succeed in life in the Cecilian vocabulary. Walter was doing a great deal for himself and for others. He was learning, as he said, but it was in an uncouth slow way; his was what would be called in a certain kind of slang a big inarticulate soul." He had a large heart and a large brain, but he could not express his meaning either by word or action; he was full of corners, rubbed everybody the wrong way, so that few people liked to act with him, and his rugged talk produced antagonism instead of assent. He had little imagination, and could not place himself mentally in the place of others and see their difficulties, or consequently explain bis own. It is a suffering temperament"As it is, I live and die unheard With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword." He was reading for a fellowship, on which he intended to live while working hard at his law in London. His father's fortune was so small that he did not choose to take any help at his hands, and he led a very ascetic life, coming down occasionally to Fernyhurst as one of his few pleasures. 66 How wet and tired Mr. Scrope looks, and, Tom, you're quite dry," said May, on one of these occasions, as they came in from their journey down from London on a wretched winter's evening. "Wet! No wonder, stupid fellow! He chose to get outside the coach in this pelting rain, because we took up a woman in a thin gown, and no cloak to speak of, and he gave up his place inside to her. I had the pleasure of her company as my neighbour all the way to Danesbury all along of' him," said Tom. "Oh! so that was the reason, was it? It was all an abominable piece of selfindulgence," shouted Tom after him. "What kind of a woman was it?" said May, curiously, after he was gone. "A sort of a kind of old maid-servant, I should think by her looks," answered her brother. CHAPTER IV. "Yes, Clara and Amy have been in such a way about it," observed May; " they thought the ship must have gone down, they were so long without hearing from him." 66 Stuff and nonsense," cried Tom; "why should that ship go down more than any other, I should like to know ?" "I'm glad it wasn't this one, however," answered his father, with a smile. You'll write and ask him here, my dear?" he went on, turning to his wife. "I should like to hear a little about the Cape, and I used to like the lad, though he's been gone so long that one has nearly forgotten him." "And tell the girls that he must make haste and come before my time at home is over," added Tom to his sister. Lionel Wilmot was the son of a general officer of small estate, about thirty miles from Fernyhurst, who had married Mrs. Dimsdale's sister late in life, after seeing a great deal of service, and with a bullet knock on his head, which had sunk his later years into an uneventful invalid existence, leaving a very large scope to his wife's energies, which were great. He had lately died, and his soldier son, who had been away with his regiment, with but one short interval, for the last six or seven years, was now returning to put his father's affairs in order, and arrange matters for his mother and two young sisters. He had always shown himself an exceedingly good son and brother, and had done everything in his power for their comfort provisionally from a distance. His return was of course a great event to them; he had been away so long that he seemed almost like a stranger. Brickwall, his patrimony, was the very pink of propriety - an old red-brick house, with stone quoins and bits of balustrade, in a proper little park, standing on a tidy little hill, with the church close behind on one side, and a capital square kitchen-garden wail on the other, girt in with a number of good trees, not, however, large enough to be fine, which would have been out of keeping. May had always felt inclined to gape as soon as the first of its neat iron fences broke upon her view. As a child, her visits had been a terror to her aunt, for she led her two tidy little cousins into all sorts of iniquities; they dirtied and tore more frocks in the few days of her stay than in the whole "So Lionel landed on Tuesday, I hear, course of the year besides. May was from Brickwall," said Mrs. Dimsdale, one dreadfully inventive and active; out of morning at breakfast as she opened a let-doors she made dams and water-mills in the COMING HOME. stream, and indoors built up half the school-! room furniture into "houses," to the horror of the governess. She was found one day declaiming to them the passionate love passages in Romeo and Juliet, of which the music and the images had struck her fancy, though the meaning was far beyond her. Another time it was 'One more Unfortunate" which some one had read before her out of a magazine; whole cantos of Walter Scott, scraps of Spenser, with absurd bits from Charlie's songs and Tom's Pickwickian extracts, came pouring out in wonderful juxtaposition. Altogether, it was much more entertaining than Pinnock's Catechism and Cowper's Poems, which was the diet on which the girls were usually fed, and they worshipped her, to their mother's infinite disgust. Lionel had been away so long that May only remembered him as a tall boy, who used to tease her and insult her dignity by calling her a tomboy. "How very good-looking Lionel is!" said Mrs. Dimsdale one evening a day or two after her nephew's arrival at Fernyhurst, when he had left the room to fetch some bulbs which he had brought home for her from the Cape. "And he shoots as straight as any man in England or out," went on Tom, with considerable respect for a tall cousin who had seen so much of the world. "Good night, Lionel," said May, taking the candle which he had lighted for her, and shaking hands in very cousinly fashion at the door which he had opened. "Did you generally do the civil in the wigwams at the Kaffre dinner-parties, Lionel?" Tom called out with a smile from the bottom of the arm-chair where he was ensconced. As May went up-stairs she also observed to herself how agreeable he was; how much pleasanter than Walter Scrope; he never asked her, when she solved a question by some pretty poetic platitude, whether it was true or not; or declared that no amount of lofty sentiments could make two and two into five; he listened to her; he did not always by any means agree with her, but he gave her argument its very fullest value, and even sometimes put it into better shape for her. "Whereas Mr. Scrope knocks people down and treads on them afterwards," she said musingly to herself. "I don't like "And he's got as good a head on his talking to Walter, he's very overbearing," shoulders as I have met for some time," ob- she went on, almost aloud, as the contrast served his uncle. "He's told me more came before her, and she stopped on the about the difficulties of the Dutch and Eng-landing of the dark, polished old oak stairlish law with the Kaffres and settlers than I case in the energy of her distaste. ever knew before." SPECTRUM OF FHE FIRE-FLY. MR. C. A. | viceable light can be produced without a simulYOUNG has described in the American Natur- taneous generation of the whole range of undualist, the spectrum given by the common fire-flylations, from the slowest to the most rapid, as as being perfectly continuous, without trace of found in solar rays. lines, either bright or dark, and extending a little above Fraunhofer's line C in the scarlet to about F in the blue, gradually fading out at the extremities. It will be observed that this portion of the spectrum contains the most luminous rays, the caloric and actinic rays not being brought materially into play. This insect, therefore, has the power of generating only those undulations whose velocities are such as to affect most powerfully the organ of vision, and in this respect is a remarkable adaptation of force to precisely the object to be attained. In all devices for illumination by artificial means, many waves moving both slower and faster than those required, are simultaneously generated, so that but a small portion of the radiant energy exerted is made available to human vision. Yet it may be doubted whether any strong and ser SALMON, it appears, are found in great abundance on the Pacific coast. The San Francisco Bulletin says, "From Mexico to Alaska every clear stream running into the ocean is frequented by salmon. These fish even ascend small streams which one can jump across, and the number which frequent large streams is wonderful. The size, quality, and shape vary considerably in the different streams, the largest being caught in the Sacramento river. While the salmon theoretically must have clear water, it is remarkble that it seems to thrive in the muddy waters of the Sacramento." Here is possibly some news for Mr. Frank Buckland, 66 From Temple Bar. Ts the world sufficiently grateful to Mr. Samuel Pepys, F.R.S., for that little book which he wrote just 200 years ago? That Diary" which he kept from day to day, for nine years, for his own behoof, in cipher, and which remained a hidden treasure for some century and a half-frozen up like the music in Baron Munchausen's horn until the discovery of the cipher used suddenly dissolved the spell, and the long imprisoned story became audible by mortal ears? It is a work which appears to me never enough appreciated, whether we regard it in either of its three-fold aspects: as a contribution to the history of an eventful period -or as a picture of the manners of the time or as the anatomy of a human heart, full of vigorous pulsation, laid bare for our keenest examination. For, be it observed, it differs toto cœlo from all histories of England with which we are acquainted; and, indeed, from all histories whatsoever. Those interesting and veracious works are commonly written either by some partisan - who writes, if not with malice aforethought, at least to demonstrate some foregone conclusion, and of course takes care to suppress all that makes against his theory or else they are the much more valuable memoirs of some actor in the scenes described, but who chronicles them confessedly "to be seen of men," and never forgets to paint the picture in a light favourable to himself. But Mr. Pepys' pictures are entirely free from all suspicion of this fatal defect, inasmuch as they were not painted to lead, or mislead, others, but simply and only as a record for himself; and so soon as he found himself no longer able, from failing sight, to keep his diary in cipher, he very wisely ceased to keep it altogether, entry on his journey home from Brampton, whither he had gone to bury his uncle. Stopping at Hatfield on his homeward ride, he strayed into Lord Salisbury's great house, and was followed by "a pretty little dog, which I would fain have stolen, but could not, which did trouble me!" he adds, with exemplary truth. Most charming contrast with the class of maudlin diarists whom I have condemned! They would never talk of " stealing" the dog, not they! They would have declared that the poor little dog seemed lost, and looking for some kind owner, and they felt almost induced to take it home out of charity," or some pretty little fiction of that sort. The candour with which Pepys relates this, and other similar stories which tell so strongly against himself, gives us, I think, good reason to believe that the public events which he chronicles are stated with equal truth, and that the pictures he has left us of the notabilities of that day, and the manners of the time, are painted with a faithful brush. And, let me add, very few of those who "made the history" of that period were unseen or unnoticed by those observant eyes. Very many of the actors in the bistoric drama passed in review before him: Bards, sophists, statesmen - all unquiet things were most of them seen by him, from the king upon his throne down to the poor starved sailors, whom that same king cheated out of their wages and left to die in the streets. During the time of Pepys' secretaryship to the navy, the Duke of York (James II.) was Lord High-Admiral, and, as he lived at Whitehall with his royal brother, Pepys was brought into constant communication with these two last Stuart kings. In those days a king was a king, So, as regards the other aspect of the and the loyal secretary observed the sovebook the dissection of his own heart-it reign most anxiously; evidently in the hope presents the greatest possible contrast to of seeing some divine effulgence beaming the so-called Diaries" which vain and forth from the royal presence. It is true silly people inflict upon the world; and in that as he got to criticise the merry monwhich, under pretence of self-examination arch more minutely, when his eyes had reand self-condemnation, they contrive still to covered from the dazzling effects of his first boast and vapour and belaud themselves; a appearance, he began to suffer from troubleclass of books which drew from Hannah some doubts whether, after all, “conquerors More the remark that, rather than not talk and kings" were really made of less “ peneabout themselves at all, people would even trable stuff" than the rest of mankind. consent to abuse themselves. Mr. Pepys is And how naïvely he confesses his disapentirely free, I think, from this charge; ex-pointment on hearing these two Stuarts cept, at least, in so far as poor human na- converse in the royal barge returning from ture is apt to endeavour to deceive its very Woolwich to London, when he had the suself as to its motives of action. But, gen-preme felicity of increasing the weight of erally, our diarist expounds his motives with that august freight by sitting close to the the most delightful candour. Witness the door of the cabin, or 'coach," as I fancy it 66 was called in those days, and "of seeing at the moment to turn up her nose at him. and observing their manner of discourse," And this belief in caste was carried by Mr. no doubt with the greatest possible interest. Pepys into matters of graver moment; so "And, God forgive me!" he adds, "though that when the parson at Brampton Church, I admire them with all the duty possible, on seeing him enter, commenced the general yet the more a man considers and observes exhortation with " Right worshipful and them, the less he finds of difference between dearly beloved," he evidently thought it them and other men; though, blessed be quite right and proper. Like Cassio, he God! they are both princes of great noble- had no objection that the ensign should be ness and spirits!" evidently trembling, as saved, "but not before the lieutenant," by he says it, at his own audacity in presuming any means! to see no such difference! Curse not the king, no, not in thy chamber," says King Solomon; "for a bird of the air shall carry the matter," and Pepys seems to fear that the secret ciphered in his diary might escape like that once whispered to the reeds touching the length of King Midas' ears. 66 Yet I think he gave most convincing evidence of his loyalty and attachment not only to the Crown, but to the very person of royalty, when, on Shrove Tuesday, in 1668, he did see by particular favour the body of Queen Catherine of Valois; and I had the upper part of her body in my hands, and I did kiss her mouth, reflecting upon it that I did kiss a queen, and that this was my birthday, thirty-six years old, that I did kiss a queen." This was Henry V.'s queen (Prince Hal's "Kate"), who had been buried 211 years before (in 1457), and her body, exposed by some accident in rebuilding a part of the abbey, was kept in a certain chest until 1776, when it was re-buried. Talk of attachment to the throne and person of a sovereign, this was devotion with a vengeance! What would the squeamish loyalty of 1870 say to such a test? Shakespeare makes Henry declare that there was witchcraft" in his bride's lips, and surely it must have been so, if they retained their | attractiveness for more than 200 years after death! Nor was his belief in caste confined by any means to the throne, but it extended downwards through all the successive ranks; and nothing excited his indignation more violently than to see one of these ranks invading another. Thus when Creed, his junior in the service, proposed to marry Mrs. Betty Pickering, niece to his patron's wife Lady Sandwich, he records his horror at ** his devilish presumption in aiming at a lady so near to my lord," and, in point of fact (for that is the head and front of his offending), so much above the rank of Pepys own wife. Creed, however, appears to have shown no sign of penitence for his offence. He not only "aimed" at Mrs. Betty, but appears to have hit her and brought her down, and they were shortly afterwards married, though the lady affected I wonder what the servants of the present day would think of the manners and customs of the masters and mistresses of the seventeenth century? Although he was neither an ill-natured man, nor a severe master, Pepys seems to have thought nothing of inflicting corporal chastisement upon his household when he thought it was needed. Having been for some time troubled by the conduct of his boy Tom, he adjourns with the culprit and a rod into a room at the top of the house looking towards the garden, and there he "did soundly beat him," he says, "after first reckoning up his faults to him; "but, owing to the lightness of the rod, he adds, that he hurt himself much more than the boy: for, being unaccustomed to such athletics, his own right arm was so sore within fifteen minutes of the operation that he was unable to move it! A result which must have given Tom the liveliest satisfaction. Nor were such little attentions confined even to the baser sex in his household, for coming home one day and finding "the door left open by Luce, our cookmaid, it so vexed me that I did give her a kick in our entry, and offered a blow at her: and was seen doing so by Sir Wm. Pen's footboy, which did vex me to the heart, because I know he will be telling their family of it." And on another occasion, discovering that his cookmaid had let in a "roguing Irish woman" to help her in cleaning, he made his wife beat her soundly, and then shut her down into the cellar all night, as a trifling reminder not to do it again! Fancy the domestics of 1870 being treated in this fashion! would not Mr. and Mrs. Pepys soon have found themselves in the cells of the nearest police-station, and would not the Daily Blunderbuss have crashed its thunderbolts on to their devoted heads? Thank God that it is so, that those good old times have passed away for ever! Not that the domestic picture must be painted altogether in dark colours, for within two days of his onslaught upon Luce we find him taking his wife and two of his maids out a-pleasuring to the " 'Jamaica House," where the girls did run for wa 66 flattering; for at the Council Chamber, during their sitting, all I observed there was the silliness of the King, playing with his dog all the while, and not minding the business, and what he said was mighty weak."* And, again, at Saxham, the King was drunk with Sedley, Buckhurst, etc., the night that my Lord Arlington came thither, and would not give him audience, or could not." gers over the bowling-green; " and we find him often of an evening sitting in his kitchen, with his wife and her maids, cracking jokes and chaffing his servants with the most entire abandon. Nor need we forget that in his childless and wifeless old age, when his life-work was over, he retired to the seat of his old friend and servant, William Hewer, at Clapham, where he was treated with the utmost respect and kindness until his death, some three years after- So during some great political crisis he is wards. And we hear him, in the diary, found in Lady Castlemaine's apartments at speaking of the return of a former servant, midnight, surrounded by his usual entourage who comes by force away from her other of Nymphs and Satyrs, all in hot pursuit place," to be again with her old master and of “ a poor moth," which they are trying to mistress, in terms of almost caressing affec-get some sport out of; and during one of tion. his royal progresses through the country, how the King and these gentlemen did make the fiddlers of Thetford to sing them all the obscene songs they could think of." How Pepys' mind must have reverted to the day of Charles's landing at Dover, when he took the Bible presented by the Mayor, and said it was the thing that he loved above all things in the world!" "A marciful Providence fashioned us holler It seems to me that his skill in pen-and-we read ink portraiture has never been sufficiently admired. With what graphic force, in a few vigorous touches, he often puts the likeness on his canvas. Witness his photograph of Tom Bates, a 'prating, bold counsellor, noted for a great eater and drinker, not for quantity, but of the best;" could Chaucer himself have painted the man of law in livelier colours? Do we not all know him- this prating, bold counsellor, whose jaws, between talking and eating, get no rest-nor his hearers either? Sergeant Buzfuz is more elaborate, but hardly more lifelike than "Tom Bates." Sir John Duncomb again, the newly-made minister, may hang as a pendant to the barrister: "To the Treasury Chamber. Here I saw Duncomb look as big, and take as much state upon him, as if he had been born a lord." Is not the new Lord of the Treasury present to our eyes, with all his blushing honours thick upon him, puffing himself out, like the fabled frog, to the full size of the political ox, giving himself all the airs of one born in the purple? Vandyke's stately canvas shows us with what imperial dignity and grace the first Charles upheld his order, and Lely and Kneller, longo intervallo, present to us with sufficient fidelity the periwigged Mohocks and exuberant Magdalens in whom his son delighted. But Mr. Pepys tells us not only how they looked, but what they did. He tells us how, by Charles's early rising (at five A.M.), he tired out all the lords-inwaiting and people about him, what an excellent tennis-player he was, beating his loyal subjects at that game, - how admirably he danced, much better than his brother James; and how it was the etiquette of his court for every lady present at his great balls to stand up during the time that the King was dancing. On the other hand, the portrait of him, when at work, is not so sings Mr. Biglow: and certainly Charles seems to have swallowed his professed principles pretty effectually! 66 The chronicler's opinion of the King's character, as shadowed forth in the Bible scene, seems to have suffered some little shock in the fracas which occurred at his coronation, when he had no sooner reached the steps of his throne than his footmen seized upon the velvet and gold canopy of state which had been borne over his royal head by the barons of the Cinque Ports, and tried to loot" it for their own personal benefit. The barons, however, held on nobly, the footmen continued their attack, by main force dragged their lordships down to the lower end of the Hall at Westminister, and would certainly have been victorious, had not one of the heralds present cleverly closed the door, and so prevented their egress with the spoil. What an edifying spectacle in the very presence of the King, on the most solemn ceremonial occasion of his life to have a mob of lords and footmen struggling and fighting all through Westminster Hall for one of the badges of his state! It is true that the turbulent serving-men were speedily dismissed Rochester's stinging quatrain must be confined to the "chaff" of his lighter hours. That he never said a foolish thing" had no reference to his dicta at the Council Board. |