There is no part of inhabited England, rural or urban, to be found
precisely in the same condition, or presenting the same aspect, as
in the days of King Henry the Third. And if the baronial hall of the
Bellamonts is no longer to be found _in situ_ at Swarkstone, on the
Derbyshire banks of the Trent, the devastating hands of Time and
Warfare must be blamed, not the present chronicler.
Besides the Danish Sverk or Swark's _tun_ (or territorial enclosure),
Sinfin Moor, Chellaston, and all the lands down to the broad river, had
been included in the demesne granted to his Norman follower and his
descendants by William the Conqueror, who took and gave the property
of the conquered with a like lavish profusion. But the lands have been
denuded of wood, partitioned, bought, sold, passed in heirship or
exchange for centuries since a Bellamont held sway over all.
The very eminence from which their castellated hall looked down upon
the distant river has been levelled and ploughed up, as if to score out
all record of Bellamont possession.
Yet the Bellamonts left a memorial of their occupancy which should
have embalmed their name in history, and kept it sweet and fresh in
the memories of men, had gratitude been as vital or hereditary as a
benefaction.
How many travellers from London, or Oxford, or Leicester, or
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, to Derby, passing in all those centuries over
Swarkstone Bridge, have paused to ask when, or why, or by whom it was
there erected for their convenience?
Tradition is best preserved when crystallised in a story.
There were gay doings in the hall and the villages around Bellamont in
the June of 1258, when a noble party of guests had assembled at the
hall to share the festivities at the forthcoming marriage of the ladies
Idonea and Avice, the twin daughters of Richard Earl Bellamont and his
noble countess.
More than one disappointed suitor was there amongst the party, either
too proud to show his wounds, or gallantly indifferent; for as the
earl's only son had been drowned in his childhood, the fair maidens
were known to be co-heiresses, and not a neighbouring lord or knight
but would have been well pleased to add a slice of the Bellamont lands
to his own estate.
Then report said the sisters were wonderfully fair and virtuous; that
their lady-mother had early initiated them into the mysteries of good
housewifery; and the learned Prior of Burton (John de Stretton) had
opened unto them the still greater mysteries of reading, writing,
accounts, and religion--not least, if last.
No wonder, then, that many a lance was set in rest and broken in tilt
or tourney for one or other of the sisters, seeing they were endowed
with beauty, wealth, thrift, learning, and the Christian graces.
Such prizes are not often offered for the winning.
The Countess Joan would fain have given one of her daughters to a
kinsman, William Harpur, of Ticknall, but fate, and, it may be, Prior
John, had determined otherwise.
Idonea had promised her hand to Sir Ralph de Egginton; and Sir Gilbert
Findern--in whose gardens bloomed the fair blossoms his father had
brought from the Holy Land--was the heart's-chosen of sweet Avice.
"Two as gallant knights, my lady," said the earl to his busy spouse,
"as father could desire for the honour and protection of his girls,
when his own arm grows feeble, or his grey head rests on a stone
pillow. Methinks thy kinsman, Will Harpur, covets most my coffer and
lands, he was so willing to bid for Avice when Idonea said 'nay' to his
suit."
However that might be, both he and the prior joined the gay cavalcade
that issued from the triply arched gateway of the hall, bent on flying
their hawks on Sinfin Moor. Gay, indeed, if brilliant apparel, buoyant
hearts, and bounding steeds might count for gaiety. Luxury in dress was
an enormity of the time, as of this.
The young Ladies Bellamont, considering their rank, made less
ostentatious display of wealth in their attire than any of their
companions that bright June morning. Each wore a cyclas, or tunic of
purple velours (velvet) bordered with gold, over a tawny silken robe,
that hid the long points of their embroidered shoes, as they reined in
their palfreys, gracefully seated on the new high-backed side-saddles,
the observed of all observers.
Yet they did not court undue observation. Indoors the sunny curls
of Avice or the darksome tresses of Idonea flowed freely over their
shoulders, simply confined by a ribbon fillet or a chaplet of fresh
flowers. But then a kerchief of white Cyprus-lawn, cunningly folded
as a wimple o'er the head, and a gorget round the throat, served as
a modest screen alike from the ardent sun and the free glances of
strangers. And, as was their wont when the year was in its prime,
over her wimple Idonea wore a chaplet of rare red roses, Avice one of
blushing white.
The earl was wont to call them his two sweet roses and laughingly
bid their wooers beware the thorns. But little of thorns did their
favoured knights think as down the steep hill they rode together, each
displaying in his velvet cap and cyclas of embroidered silken samite
the colour of his ladye-love.
Deep as the red heart of the rose was the cyclas worn over the
buff-leather surcoat of Sir Ralph de Egginton, and a carbuncle
blazed in his dagger hilt. White as purity was the samite cyclas of
Sir Gilbert Findern, but it was girdled by a leathern dagger-belt,
bestudded with pink coral and pearls, as was the haft of his weapon,
and in either cap or bonnet was his lady's symbol, in token the wearer
laid his life at her feet, and was equally ready to live or die for her.
There was more thought of living than of dying that bright morning, as,
following closely Prior John and the old earl, each knight with his
hooded sacret perched on his hawking-glove, each lady with her merlin,
they laughed and jested merrily, or whispered words of sweetness not
for second ears; and the happiness of the fine young couples, their
means and their future homes were freely discussed behind them in the
midst of arguments on the merits of favourite falcons.
There was a motley following of esquires, yeomen, pages, villeins on
horseback and on foot, with every species of hawk the law permitted;
grooms with dogs in the leash; but chief of all the falconer,
conspicuous in his green cloth surcoat, with the square frame he
held around him, on which were perched and held by silken jesses the
peregrine falcons of his master, and the sparrow-hawk of the prior, who
had doffed his cowl and frock for the occasion, as freely as the earl
and his friends their rough-weather mantles.
On went they all at a gentle trot, with the bright day before them, and
were crossing the common road which ran from Derby to the river, some
of the more eager galloping on ahead to Sinfin Moor, when suddenly the
loud blast of a horn wakened the echoes, and startled speech to silence.
It was not the horn of a huntsman, but a sharp imperative blast that
spoke of emergency.
Again and again it was repeated. Horses neighed, and eyes were turned
to other eyes in silent question. The lips of Avice turned pale, the
cheeks of Idonea flushed crimson as her own roses, her heart beat quick
as that of her gentler sister seemed to stop its beating.
"What can it bode?" rose to the lips of both in different intonations.
"No evil, Avice, rest assured," answered Sir Gilbert, cheerily, "and if
there were, am I not here to guard you with my life?" Yet as he spoke
he bethought him that a dagger was but a sorry trust to warrant such
high words, and longed for his good sword.
The cavalcade had come to a standstill, and the horses pawed the ground
impatiently, the hot-blooded earl chafing almost as impatiently as his
steed.
"Marry!" cried he, "for what are we waiting here, like a brood of
frightened chicks? Let us on and meet the messenger, whatever be his
tidings." And forward he went, with the bold prior by his side, and the
whole hawking party after him--some brave, all curious.
Two minutes more, and a mounted herald came in sight, guarded by four
pursuivants; their horses' limbs and trappings wet, as if they had
forded the river, then lowered by long draughts of the thirsty sun.
"Weareth he not the Earl of Leicester's badge and cognisance?" asked
the earl. "My old eyes are hardly to be trusted."
"Aye, my lord, and he spurs as if in haste," replied the prior.
In haste, indeed! The herald bore a double message from his noble lord,
Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester; first--without the herald's long
preamble--as the mouthpiece of their sovereign lord, King Henry, to
summon his loyal barons and knights to assemble in a parliament at
Oxford on the eleventh of that same month of June; and secondly from
Simon de Montfort's self, to bid those same barons and knights come to
the Oxford parliament armed, and with armed attendants, in order, if
needful, to wrest from the king the ratification of the great charter
they had obtained from his weak predecessor by like means at Runnymede.
They were moreover bidden to meet for conference in Leicester the
following day. Desiring first to learn how many of the county knights
were of the Bellamont company, so as to spare him needless journeying,
the herald then set spurs to his steed, and was off with his followers
in all haste to Derby, urgency serving as his excuse for declining the
proffered hospitality of the good earl.
Here was a summons as startling as it was sudden and peremptory!
The falconer might carry his hawks back to the mews. There was a duty
more imperative than filling the larder under the name of sport.
Back went the gallant hawking party, in more of haste and excitement,
if less of glee, than when they had left the great gateway at a canter
scarce half an hour before, by the sun.
The warder on the watch threw open the great gates in consternation,
certain some mischance had happened.
Lady Joan left her housewifery, and was there in her lap-cloth (or
apron) to receive them, with a face full of apprehension.
"There can be no hawking to-day, Joan," said her lord, "we must don
harness and speed to Leicester. The king hath summoned a parliament to
meet him at Oxford."
"Arm! A parliament! Do parliaments assemble in arms?"
"This will, good Joan, for so hath decided Simon de Montfort. But never
look so scared, my lady. And you, my blooming roses, need not droop;
there will be no bloodshed. You will have your gallant bridegrooms back
ere another week be out," answered the earl, cheerily.
"But the bridal--the banquet?" cried the dame, in dismay.
The young knights helping their downcast fair ones to alight, seemed
each to put a like question in an undertone, pressing the gloved hands
they were so loth to relinquish, even for an hour.
"If the bridegrooms be impatient, and the earl be willing, the
bridal can precede the parliament," suggested the prior. "I am here,
and Father Paul"--referring to his attendant priest--"can have his
vestments and the chapel ready long ere noon. What say ye, Bellamont,
and Lady Joan? And these fair maidens, Idonea and Avice, what say ye?
Shall the church bind ye ere the bridegrooms go?"
The damsels blushed; the two knights looked eagerly for their replies.
Ere they could speak the old earl blurted forth, "Nay, nay, Prior John,
the nation's charter must take precedence of private contracts. And
whoe'er heard of a happy wedding without a feast; a feast to rich and
poor. And, look up, my bonny roses, I will bring your brave knights
back ere this day week. Say I not well? The banquet will not suffer
from delay."
What could they say?
That was the ninth, the twelfth had been appointed for the nuptials.
Great were the preparations. Their lady-mother would be displeased if
aught of state were wanting at the ceremony or the banquet.
"Our private inclinations must give place to duty," answered Idonea,
proudly, red as the roses round her wimple.
"Be it as my good father and Sir Gilbert will," was the response of
Avice, in lower and milder tone.
"Be it as I will, children. And now, on with your lap-cloths and away
to help your busy mother and her handmaidens to provide a hasty meal,
whilst we exchange our hawking-gear for shirts of mail. And you, Prior
John, may say your _Benedicite_ over our hasty repast, to bless our
enterprise. And I pray you, and such of our friends as go not with us,
of your courtesy abide here our return. Will Harpur here will do devoir
for me."
The two knights, conversing earnestly apart, looked at each other with
contracted brows, as if Will Harpur were no favourite with either.
The old earl turned to them. "Lack you aught, sirs, that would call you
to Egginton or Findern ere you ride to Leicester, or go you on with me?"
"With you, my lord," replied Sir Ralph for both. "We but seek to
despatch a trusty messenger to our homes to keep back preparations
there, and cool expectations."
"Friar Paul will do your errand faithfully, sir knights," kindly
volunteered the obliging prior; "he starts in an hour with a scroll of
mine for the monastery, and can take Findern and Egginton by the way."
"Thanks, prior. Our own esquires and foot-pages must follow us."
With that the group dispersed, to add to the general commotion. In the
great hall there was a hurrying of serving men from kitchen and buttery
with large dishes to cover the boards on movable tressels, that did
duty as tables, already spread by dainty handmaids with fair linen
napery, and platters of coarse bread (to serve afterwards as doles to
the poor). Solid joints and lighter dainties, already prepared for the
deferred wedding-feast, were brought forward to grace this parting
meal--a parting meal, indeed, and it seemed to cast a shadow on the
hurried preparations beforehand.
The lady was not pleased to surrender the peacock with his outspread
tail, or the plumed cygnet for aught but the grand occasion, if the
lamb and the salmon had to share the fate of the great joints; and when
the bearer of the great silver saltcellar (set midway on the board to
mark the bounds of rank from dependents) stumbled and shed his precious
condiment upon the floor, she was as much disposed to shed tears as to
rate him for his clumsiness.
There were other moist eyes besides the troubled dame's. In the
maidens' bower the gentle Avice scarcely could cast aside her wimple,
and don her lap-cloth for the tears she shed, and stronger-nerved
Idonea had scarcely self-command to comfort her.
"I feel as if Sir Gilbert was leaving me for ever," said the former,
through her tears, "and there would be no bridal."
"And what of Sir Ralph? Nay, Avice, do not be cast down. We must show
braver faces to our betrothed, or we may dishearten and unfit them for
the work before them. Come, dry your eyes, and haste with me to relieve
our dear mother of her many cares."
There was a clink of metal everywhere, a running to and fro of
foot-pages, with casques or coats of mail, a clank of hoofs and hammers
in the courtyard and the blacksmith's shed, the rivetting of armour,
the nailing of horseshoes, the harnessing of steeds; and then the
clangour of a bell to announce refection ready.
It was a hurried repast, partaken of by mailed knights, lacking only
gauntlets and helmets to be fully armed, as were their attendant
esquires and pages. And as none knew if the parliament so attended
would pass peacefully, it was aught but a gladsome gathering.
As was the custom, the ladies shared the platters of their spouses or
betrothed, and so there were opportunities for hopeful or consoling
words between the lovers; and then with full cups drained to "The King
and Magna Charta!" earl and knights were up with the rest. Idonea and
Avice clasped on the casques of their lovers, and were gallantly repaid.
A fatherly kiss from the earl, and he was off with a goodly train of
armed knights and esquires, two of whom carried symbolic roses in their
casques, the spoil of maidens' chaplets.
A pattering of young feet up the oaken stairs, a straining of eyes and
waving of kerchiefs from the bower-window. Soon the party was seen to
cross the Swarkstone ford, the sun shining on helms of gold and silver
and steel, on lance-heads and waving pennons, and then--and then--came
the waiting, whilst Prior John discoursed to them of Christian hope
and trust, and William Harpur dwelt on the probability of strife and
bloodshed, and my lady called on them for help to entertain such guests
as still remained at Swarkstone Hall.
(_To be concluded._)
[Illustration]
WINTER
[Illustration]
The keen, clear air--the splendid sight--
We waken to a world of ice;
Where all things are enshrined in light,
As by some genie's quaint device.
'Tis winter's jubilee this day
His stores their countless treasures yield;
See how the diamond glances play,
In ceaseless blaze, from tree and field.
The cold, bare spot where late we ranged,
The naked woods, are seen no more;
This earth to fairy land is changed,
With glittering silver sheeted o'er.
O God of Nature! with what might
Of beauty, shower'd on all below,
Thy guiding power would lead aright,
Earth's wanderer all Thy love to know!
ANDREWS NORTON.
AN OLD MAN'S VISIONS IN THE FLAMES.
BY JOS. CULLEN SAWTELL.
Beside a simple hearth I sit alone
To watch the plumes of smoke and fitful blaze,
And here reflecting how the time has flown,
I see in flames the sights of bygone days:
I'm sixty-six, with hair of purest white,
My brow is wrinkled in a thousand creeks,
And dim is now what once was clearest sight,
And hollow what were round and ruddy cheeks.
But stay--a vision in the flame appears:
With flowers a village churchyard path is strewn,
A youth and maiden hale and young in years
Are wedded 'midst the blossomings of June.
Alas! it scarcely seems but yesterday--
For I was that glad youth; and by my side
There stood, from head to foot in white array,
Her face adorned with smiles, my loving bride.
The flames burn low; there comes a change of sight.
I stand, as once I stood, with bated breath
And anxious mind, throughout the lengthened night,
To watch an awful strife 'twixt life and death.
At length the morning broke--outside 'twas gay,
But inside, sad; my wife had sweetly smiled,
And falling back had calmly passed away,
And I was left with Fan, my only child.
There courses down my cheek the usual tear--
I'll brush it back, and find a brighter theme;
See, flames are burning up with ruddy cheer,
And I can now discern a sunnier gleam;
Aye, aye! and 'tis a brighter theme to think
How Fan grew up and was beloved by all,
How never from a duty would she shrink,
Nor scruple to respond to ev'ry call.
Oft would she pluck and save the fairest bloom,
Or gather bunches of the rarest flow'rs,
And decorate a lonely cottage room
To brighten up a widow's dreary hours.
Her form was seen beside the sick man's bed,
To whom she read, and laboured to inspire:
And sanctity was in her as she led
On Sunday morn the simple village choir.
But tears course down, the fire again burns low;
The brighter th' sun, the darker follows shade,
Sweet years flew on--then heaven why was it so?--
I see the open grave where Fan was laid.
* * * * *
This life is sorrow-burdened: yet if bright
And framed of worldly bliss without alloy,
We should not see the worth of true delight,
Nor strive to gain an everlasting joy!
THE SHEPHERD'S FAIRY.
A PASTORALE.
BY DARLEY DALE, Author of "Fair Katherine," etc.
CHAP. VII
JACK'S SMOCK-FROCK
[Illustration]
Fairy's education had been a puzzle to Mrs. Shelley, though at first
Jack had taught her to read and write, until she was five years old,
when the problem had been solved by the rector, Mr. Leslie, who had
always taken a great deal of notice of the pretty child, offering to
let her learn with his girls of their governess, who was a Frenchwoman,
and from that day Fairy's mornings and afternoons till four o'clock
were spent at the rectory, and in the evenings Jack helped her to
prepare her lessons for the next day.
By this means Jack learnt French, and had access to many books which
would otherwise have been impossible for him to get hold of. He made
the most of his opportunities, and was always far ahead of Fairy in all
her studies except French, and in this Fairy was the teacher, and her
silvery laugh was often heard to ring out merrily at Jack's English
accent, for she had begun to learn it so early that her accent was
perfect; indeed, she seemed to have a gift for languages, so quickly
did she pick up French; but then she had a very quick ear and a talent
for mimicry, both of which are great helps in learning a foreign
language.
[Illustration: "WADING ACROSS THE ANGRY BOURNE."]
Once or twice John Shelley--who had a great dread lest his eldest son
should spend too much time over books, time which, unless the book
was the Bible, the simple shepherd thought wasted--had suggested that
Charlie should help Fairy, and Jack look after the sheep, but Fairy
soon settled this; Jack could not follow the sheep in the evenings, and
as for Charlie, he could read and write and do a little ciphering, but
he hated books, and was no use to her at all. The three boys had only
been sent to the village school till they were twelve years old, when
Jack had been taken away to follow the sheep and learn a shepherd's
duties, Willie had gone to sea, and Charlie, for the present, worked in
the garden, looked after the pigs and poultry, and helped his mother in
various ways.
"When will Jack be in, John? I want him to do my arithmetic for me,"
said Fairy, helping herself to a kind of harvest cake, called in Sussex
plum-heavy, a dainty that was heavy by nature as well as by name, and
the way in which the shepherd and his boys devoured them spoke well for
their digestive organs.
"As soon as he has folded the sheep--that is, about eight o'clock,"
said the shepherd.
And a little after eight, just as Fairy, after a deal of puckering of
her pretty brows, had given up her sums in despair, Jack came in. He
was a tall, fine, handsome lad of seventeen, darker than his brothers
and more like Mrs. Shelley than the shepherd in appearance, with a look
of keen, quick intelligence in his brown eyes, and a sweet smile which
lighted up his whole face. He was quick in all his actions, and had
laid aside his hated crook and changed his clothes, and washed and
seated himself by Fairy's side before he had been ten minutes in the
house. Mrs. Shelley looked with pride at her darling son as he bent
his curly brown head over Fairy's slate, and in his clear voice, quite
free from the Sussex brogue in which his parents and brothers spoke,
explained decimal fractions to her.
Jack's manner to Fairy was rather a puzzle to his mother, for while
it was more deferential than the shepherd's and less familiar than
Charlie's, who, when he was clean, Fairy allowed to be on brotherly
terms with her, at the same time he assumed a tone of intellectual
superiority which Fairy quite acquiesced in and seemed to think quite
natural, and yet she ordered him about just as she did the other boys,
and he was certainly never so happy as when in her presence and doing
her bidding.
Sometimes Mrs. Shelley feared for her boy's happiness, for though Fairy
was only a child in age and everything else, Jack was five years older,
and already his mother dreaded lest his affection and admiration should
develop into a stronger feeling, although, for she was very ambitious
for her boy, if she could know that in the far future Fairy would
respond to the feeling, hope, and not fear, would have been the feeling
with which she watched them.
When the sums were finished, Mrs. Shelley laid the cloth for supper,
while Jack and Fairy discussed their plans for the next day.
"Where is father?" asked Jack, suddenly.
"Now coming in to supper; he is cross with you, you naughty boy,
because you have not set the wheatear traps properly, and he only
caught two dozen," said Fairy.
These wheatear traps are excavations in the turf, about a foot long, in
the shape of a T. The birds run up the trenches and get entangled by
the head in a noose.
"Well, that is five or six shillings, and there'll be another two dozen
poor little things snared to-morrow," said Jack.
"More, I expect, Jack; your father has been after the traps himself
this evening; but here he is, so don't mention them unless he does.
Look what Fairy and I have been making for you, Jack. Show him, Fairy,"
said Mrs. Shelley, who was making a huge hasty pudding over the fire
for supper.
"Yes, look here, Jack: a beautiful smock, a real smock! Isn't it
lovely? John insisted on your wearing one, so we made it for your
birthday; but don't look so unhappy, I have got a prettier present for
you to-morrow," said Fairy, holding the heavy smock up in her tiny
fingers.
"But why did you make me such a thing, mother? You might have known I
could not possibly wear it," said Jack, flushing angrily, and ignoring
Fairy's part in the manufacture of the unwelcome garb.
"Not wear it! What do you mean, Jack?" asked the shepherd, as he came
in, followed by the other boys.
"Here's a joke! we shall have a row now," said Charlie, in an
undertone, to Willie, boy-like, rejoicing in the prospect.
"I back old Jack to win this time," whispered Willie.
"Mean, father? Why, what I say. No power on earth shall induce me to
wear a smock frock," said Jack, infusing all the scorn he could muster
into the objectionable name of the still more objectionable thing.
It was some minutes before the shepherd could take in the full meaning
of his son's words. He supposed there was some objection to this
smock in particular, for as he wore a smock himself, and his father
and grandfather and great-grandfather had done the same before him,
it never occurred to him that Jack could object to smocks in general.
Shepherds wore smocks; Jack was of course a shepherd because he, John
Shelley, was a shepherd, therefore Jack must wear a smock.
"What is the matter with this smock? Is it too big, or too small, or
what?" he asked, slowly.
"I don't know, I am sure, what size it is; I only know it is no use to
me."
"But if you have not tried it on, how can you possibly tell? Put it
on and let's see," said the shepherd, taking the smock from Fairy and
handing it to Jack.
"I tell you, father, I won't wear a smock; it is bad enough to have to
be a shepherd; wear a smock I won't," cried Jack, his eyes flashing
dangerously.
John Shelley began to understand now; it was pride which was at the
bottom of it--pride sprung from all this book-knowledge, which he
had always prophesied would lead to no good, and pride which must be
trampled upon at once. John had never understood his eldest son, and he
could no more enter into the feeling which prompted Jack to shrink from
wearing this badge of his lowly calling than he could understand his
objection to snaring wheatears.
"And I tell you, Jack, I will have no more of this folly. It all comes
from the books you are always poring over instead of attending to your
work."
"When have I ever neglected my work? Summer and winter alike, from five
in the morning till sunset, am I following the sheep," interrupted
Jack, passionately.
"Hush, Jack, dear, hush!" whispered Mrs. Shelley.
"Remember you are speaking to your father; and now no more of this.
I order you to put on that smock at once, and sit down and get your
supper in it."
"And I refuse ever to put it on," replied Jack.
The shepherd advanced a step towards the angry lad; but Fairy,
trembling for the consequences, caught hold of John's arm and held him
back, while Mrs. Shelley stood between her husband and Jack, who was
shaking with suppressed passion.
"Do you mean you refuse to obey me?" asked the shepherd.
"Yes, in this I do," answered Jack, fiercely.
"Then leave the house until you know how to behave," said the
shepherd, seating himself quietly at the supper-table.
No need to tell Jack twice to go. Hungry as he was, having had nothing
to eat since his early dinner, he turned at once on his heel, and
muttering something about never entering it again, he went out and
banged the door after him. The next moment Fairy was running after him,
her lovely hair floating in the evening breeze as she hooked her arm in
his and tried to keep up with his great hasty strides.
For ten minutes Jack stalked angrily along, so fast that Fairy had
almost to run to keep up with him. He had turned sharp to the left on
leaving the field in which the shepherd's house stood, and where he
was going Fairy could not think, for the road they were in was only a
kind of cart-drift leading to a stream which sprung out of the chalk
hills, called the Winter-bourne, a mere tiny brook, which Fairy could
leap dry-shod in summer; it was an angry rushing torrent in winter. It
was a lovely July evening; the sun had set, but the after-glow still
lingered in the western horizon; the pale blue sky was cloudless, and
melted away into a delicate green and gold over the purple downs,
which caught the golden reflection, and looked like golden hills in
the evening light. About two miles to the left of Jack and Fairy lay
the picturesque old town of Lewes in an amphitheatre of hills, the
grand old castle and its ivy-covered walls forming the most attractive
object in the picture; behind them, lay the soft rounded outlines of
the range of downs, cold and grey under the darkening eastern sky. But
Fairy was not much given to admiring sunsets or going into raptures
over the Southdown scenery. She was hungry, and wanted to get back to
supper as soon as she could persuade this tiresome angry Jack to come
with her; and how to accomplish this was the problem she was anxiously
trying to solve as she panted along by Jack's side. Her task would be
only half done when she had succeeded in this, but this was the worst
half. If she could only bring Jack to reason, she would soon persuade
the shepherd to capitulate; he had never refused her anything in her
life; many a time had she saved the boys from punishment; she was quite
certain he would listen to her now. But Jack! She was by no means so
sure of him; he required very delicate manipulation.
At last she stopped just as they reached the Winter-bourne, a harmless,
innocent-looking little brook, whose violence in winter would have
seemed incredible to Jack and Fairy if they had not once had a terrible
experience of it.
It was when Fairy and Charlie were eight years old. Charlie having seen
the brook the day before, swollen and rushing wildly along, challenged
Fairy to wade through it; she, unconscious of the change, and
remembering it only as a tiny stream which barely covered her little
feet, accepted the challenge, declaring it was the easiest thing in the
world to do; and the more Charlie protested she would never be able to
succeed, the more determined Fairy was to try. But when they reached
the bourne and Fairy saw, instead of a tiny brook, an angry stream
thirty feet wide, rushing along, and disappearing under the turf, to
rise again further on, and, as Charlie told her, run through the priory
grounds, where it was deep enough to drown a cow, her heart sank within
her.
"I told you so," said Charlie; "I said you could not do it, but you
would not believe me."
"But I will do it. Look here, Charlie, it is not deep here, is it? It
can't be, you know, we have often played at mud pies where it is now
running; it won't come much above my knees," said Fairy, taking off her
shoes and socks.
"You had better not go, Fairy. It mayn't be deep, but it is very rapid;
you may be carried away with it," urged Charlie.
"Bah!" laughed Fairy, dipping her pretty feet into the cold water, and
shrieking with delight.
"Well, wait a minute till I have taken off my shoes, and we'll go
together. It will be up to our waists in the middle, I believe," said
Charlie; and the next minute the two children were wading across the
angry bourne, laughing and screaming with delight, as each step they
took the stream ran stronger and deeper.
But as they neared the centre of the stream the laughter ceased, and
suddenly a wild shriek from Fairy, who was taken off her feet, rent the
air, and, to Charlie's horror, he saw her carried away by the angry
stream towards the spot where it disappeared under the turf, a horrid,
dark-looking ditch. He rushed back to the shore, hoping to have time to
lean over the ditch and catch her before she disappeared under it, but
as his feet touched the dry land Jack, who luckily had seen the pair
going towards the Winter-bourne from the down where he was watching
the sheep, and knowing it to be a dangerous place, had come to order
them home. Jack now rushed to the spot, and leaning over the mouth of
the ditch, caught Fairy before she was carried under it. Luckily for
Charlie, Jack had left his crook behind him, or there is no telling
what harm he might have done to the child in his rage; as it was, he
seized him, and would have beaten him unmercifully only Fairy cried to
him to come and wring the water out of her clothes for her.
She was none the worse for her adventure, since Jack, in spite of all
their entreaties, remorselessly led the culprits home at once, and, in
answer to their fears that Mrs. Shelley would be very angry, only hoped
she would, and was even cruel enough, as Fairy told him, to say it
served them right when the culprits were sent to bed as soon as Mrs.
Shelley heard what had happened.
It was at this bourne that Fairy now stopped Jack, panting, and
exclaiming, "Oh, Jack, do stop; I am so hot and tired, I can't walk
another step."
"Fairy, why didn't you tell me before, child, and why did you come
at all?" asked Jack, reproachfully, though in his heart pleasure at
Fairy's coming was almost stronger than his anger with his father,
which by this time had nearly vanished, for Jack's temper was as
quickly over as it was roused.
"Why did I come? To bring you back to supper, of course; and why didn't
I tell you before to stop? Because you would not have listened if I had
when you were in such a rage, you tiresome, cross boy, you."
"I am not in a rage now, Fairy, only I am not going to wear a smock.
But where is your hat? You will catch cold."
"Of course I shall; I feel rather chilly now. Do take me home, Jack,
before it comes on bad," said the little hypocrite, who never caught
cold by any chance.
"I'll go back to the house with you, Fairy, but I can't come in, you
know. Father has turned me out."
"Oh, I know; John is as bad as you. Between you both you'll bring me
and mother to a sick bed, quarrelling in this way. You ought both to be
ashamed of yourselves, and all about a stupid smock frock. I don't know
which is the silliest about it, you or John."
"I am sure, Fairy, you would not like to see me in a smock,"
interrupted Jack.
"I never said I should, but you need not have put yourself in such a
temper about it, worrying me in this way, and teasing me when I am so
hungry. Aren't you very sorry, sir?"
"Yes, you know I am, Fairy, but I can't and won't wear that smock. I'll
keep it all my life, because you made it, but I will never----"
"Oh, do stop; I am so tired of that 'I won't wear a smock.' We will
write a song for the next sheep-shearing, and that shall be the chorus.
I am sure you will sing it most lustily. Now there's John to manage.
Now, will you promise me faithfully to wait out here in the garden
while I go and talk to him?"
"Yes, I promise," said Jack, as they reached the shepherd's house, and
Fairy, leaving him outside, went in to propitiate his father.
The others were at supper, or at least, Mr. and Mrs. Shelley were
sitting at the table; the boys had gone to bed.
"Where is Jack, Fairy?" asked Mrs. Shelley.
[Illustration]
"He is outside, waiting for John to go and bring him in to supper, and
I am so hungry; do go, John," said Fairy, putting one of her slender
arms round the shepherd's neck.
John put up one of his brown weather-beaten hands, and took hold of
the little delicate white hand resting coaxingly on his shoulder as he
answered, "Fairy, Jack has behaved very badly."
"Perhaps he has, but he is very sorry," whispered Fairy.
"Well, for your sake I'll forgive him, then," said the shepherd, rising
from his seat.
"Yes, but wait a minute, John. He is very sorry, but he won't wear a
smock, so it won't be the least bit of use your asking him," said Fairy.
"I knew he wouldn't, and if Fairy can't persuade him it is no use your
making any more fuss about it. Do, for goodness sake, drop it, John,
and fetch the lad in to supper. You can't force a boy of his age as a
child of twelve, and, after all, he does his work just as well without
a smock as with one, so do let us have peace," said Mrs. Shelley, who
had been arguing the vexed question with her husband during Jack's
absence.
"That is not the point. The question is, who is to be master in this
house, Jack or I?" said the shepherd, seating himself again.
"Nonsense! the only question is, are you going to drive your son,
as good a son as man can have, away from his home to rack and ruin
for the sake of a whim of yours? Times have changed since you were
young; people don't do as they did. My mother followed the sheep in
shearing-time, but that is no reason why I should do the same."
"Times may have changed, but sons still obey their fathers, and a man
is still master in his own house, and if not he ought to be; at any
rate, I mean to be master in mine," said John.
"And I mean to be mistress, and I say Jack shan't wear a smock. I
hate the ugly things, and if Jack goes away I'll go away too," burst
out Fairy, stamping her little foot, and then, as if half-alarmed and
half-afraid of the effect of her words, she threw herself into Mrs.
Shelley's arms, sobbing out, "and you are very unkind to me, as well as
to Jack."
Fairy's violence surprised the shepherd into rising from his seat, but
when she burst into tears he laid his hand on her golden head, and
saying, "Well, well, well, we won't say any more about it," he went out
of the house.
What passed between the shepherd and his son no one ever knew, but they
came in to supper together a few minutes later, both of them rather
grave, but on good terms with each other. And Jack never wore the smock.
(_To be continued._)
VARIETIES.
SELFISH MAN!
"My darling little wife," said a husband, "you will be pleased to hear
I have just insured my life."
"Yes, of course," replied the wife, "there it is again--another proof
of how utterly selfish and inconsiderate men are, always thinking of
themselves. Naturally, it never occurred to you to insure my life."
A LESSON IN COURTESY.--"My child," said a father to his daughter,
"treat everybody with politeness, even though they are rude to you. For
remember that you show courtesy to others, not because they are ladies,
but because you are one."
SNAIL COUGH-MIXTURE.--The following glimpse of an old lady's
pharmacopœia in the middle of last century is got from a letter of Mrs.
Delany's written in January, 1758:--"Does Mary cough in the night? Two
or three snails boiled in her barley-water or tea-water, or whatever
she drinks, might be of great service to her; taken in time they have
done wonderful cures. She must know nothing of it. They give no manner
of taste. It would be best nobody should know it but yourself, and I
should imagine six or eight boiled in a quart of water and strained off
and put in a bottle would be a good way, adding a spoonful or two of
that to every liquid she takes. They must be fresh done every two or
three days, otherwise they grow too thick."
THE TRUTH ABOUT WIVES.
Some wicked wits have libelled all the fair.
With matchless impudence they call a wife
The dear-bought curse and lawful plague of life;
A bosom serpent, a domestic evil.
* * * * *
Let not the wise these slanderous words regard,
But curse the bones of every lying bard;
All other goods by fortune's hand are given--
A wife is the peculiar gift of heaven.
A wife! Oh, gentle deities, can he
That has a wife e'er feel adversity?
Would men but follow what the sex advise,
All things would prosper, all the world grow wise.
--_Pope._
A NOVELIST'S TALE.--Why is a novelist an unnatural phenomenon? Because
his tale comes out of his head.
SUNSHINE AT HOME.--No trait of character is more valuable in a woman
than a sweet temper. Home can never be made happy without it. It is
like the flowers that spring up in our pathway, reviving and cheering
us. Let a man go home at night, wearied and worn by the toils of the
day, and how soothing is a word dictated by a good disposition! It is
sunshine falling on his heart. He is happy, and the cares of life are
forgotten.
"WHAT DOES YF SPELL?"
"Bad spelling," says Benjamin Franklin in one of his letters, "is
generally the best, as conforming to the sound of the letters and of
the words. To give you an instance: a gentleman received a letter in
which were these words, 'Not finding Brown at hom, I delivered your
meseg to his yf.' The gentleman, finding it bad spelling, and therefore
not very intelligible, called his lady to help him to read it. Between
them they picked out the meaning of all but the yf, which they could
not understand. The lady proposed to called her chambermaid, 'because
Betty,' says she, 'has the best knack at reading bad spelling of anyone
I know!' Betty came and was surprised that neither sir nor madame could
tell what yf was.
"'Why,' says she, 'y--f spells wife; what else can it spell?'
"And, indeed, it is a much better, as well as shorter, method
of spelling wife than doubleyou-i-ef-e, which in reality spells
double-uifey."
THE HEIGHT OF WOMAN.--Given sixty-six inches as the average height of
a man, the average height of a woman is sixty-three inches.--_Charles
Blanc._
LITTLE MINDS.--It is the characteristic of little and frivolous minds
to be wholly occupied with the vulgar objects of life.--_Blair._
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
EDUCATIONAL.
TOM.--We think that you might be received as a pupil at a school in
Dresden, before recommended by us. Write to the matron, Frau Johanna
Knipp-Frauen, Industrie Schule, Elias Platz, No. 4, Ecke der Sachsen
Allée, Zu Dresden. Before attempting to teach the English language
she should make herself better acquainted with it. She uses the third
person singular and the second in the plural in the same letter, and in
addressing one and the same individual.
MIDGE.--We think that the College of Preceptors would meet your wishes
better than any other. Write to the secretary, C. R. Hodgson, Esq., 42,
Queen-square, Bloomsbury, W.C. You write very well. We may add, that
this college grants diplomas to teachers of three grades--associates,
licentiates, and fellows--for which persons of both sexes are eligible.
Lectures on the theory of teaching are given in the college rooms.
ADA BELLE.--Write to the secretary or lady superintendent of the
Mildmay Deaconesses' Institution, Mildmay Park, N., of which there is a
branch home at 9, 11, and 15, Effra-road, Brixton, S.W.
LAURA.--1. See our answer to "Chatterbox." The mere question of having
obtained educational certificates does not include all that is required
of a governess. 2. The phrase, to "leave no stone unturned," is taken
from "Euripides," and may be traced to a response of the Delphic oracle
to Polycrates, with reference to the finding of treasure buried by
Xerxes' general, Mardonius, on the field of Platæa. Literally given, it
was "Turn every stone." We think it was a very safe answer, and did not
require supernatural wisdom to dictate it.
GUARDIAN.--We advise you to write to the chaplain of the Rue
d'Aguesseau Church, Paris, the Rev. T. Howard Gill, for information and
advice respecting the education of English girls in France. See answer
to "Anxious Mother."
RENEE VIVIAN.--1. If you refer to our recent answers to such queries as
yours, under the above heading, you will find a reference to a shilling
manual, called a "Directory of Girls' Clubs," educational, religious,
and industrial. The ages of the students vary in many of them, and so
do the other rules. Write for it to Messrs. Griffith and Farran, St.
Paul's-churchyard, E.C. 2. The quotation, "Call us not weeds," etc.,
is from "The Mother's Fables," by E. L. Aveline. Our society (the
Religious Tract Society) has depôts all over the kingdom.
UN VRAI SINGE.--Apply to Miss Leigh for advice and information, Avenue
Wagram, No. 44, Paris.
ART.
WINNIPEG.--The best plan for disposing of valuable pictures is to send
them to Christie and Manson's, King-street, S.W., and put a reserve
price upon them, in case of a small and unsatisfactory competition.
STAR OF THE SOUTH.--1. We do not think it possible for you to obtain a
livelihood by tinting photographs, and must especially warn you against
answering advertisements professing to give remunerative employment to
ladies in this way. 2. There are plenty of pottery works at Stafford,
but they would not teach you pottery painting unless you were one of
their workpeople and gave up your whole time to them. You would receive
very little money at first, and might never become a first-class
proficient at the work. Your better plan would be to take a few private
lessons, and find out what your capabilities were before giving up an
employment of which you are sure.
MUSIC.
ANNIE JAMES.--People are usually asked to sing at concerts. You may
be sure, when they know you can sing, you will soon be asked; but if
you find any occasion when you think it would be an act of kindness
to volunteer to do so, there is nothing to prevent your giving your
assistance.
GERTRUDE MAY.--Certainly, offer your services if you can be of use.
A. ANDREWS.--We are happy to hear that our notices have led so many
to take advantage of your Musical Improvement Association. The fact
that three extra prizes may be gained by those who have practised
the greatest number of extra hours, and that musical soirées are
occasionally given at Queenstown by the members, form distinctive
attractions to your society.
FIDDLESTRING.--Take your compositions to any music publisher's, and
they will give you every information. You will find a list in the
London Directory.
SISTER ELIZABETH could study harmony by herself very well, and make
good progress. The Primers of Messrs. Novello and Co. are very good
indeed.
NARCISSUS.--The Royal College of Music is at Kensington-gore, S.W.;
principal, Sir George Grove; hon. secretary, Charles Morley; fee for
tuition only, £40 per annum. Lodgings for students named if desired.
SNOWDROP, NO. 100.--You have begun singing too early. Get an opinion at
an eye or ear infirmary, or a good experienced doctor. Your writing is
particularly good.
MISCELLANEOUS.
GWEN H. M.--Express your regret at having forgotten yourself and spoken
in temper disrespectfully to your mistress. You can do no more; but
she can be compelled to give you a character, although giving her own
version of the cause of your dismissal.
INQUISITIVE.--The 18th of January, 1872, was a Thursday, and the 14th
of March a Thursday. Reverse the method you have adopted of making
heavy upper strokes and light down ones.
DOTS.--The words "speciality" and "specialty" are synonymous, and may
both be used; but the former is adopted by our best writers--as, for
example, the novelists Bulwer-Lytton, and Dickens, the poet Elizabeth
B. Browning, and the theological historian, Hooker. Nevertheless,
Shakespeare says "specialty," but that may have been the old word of a
former age, and such could not govern modern usages.
REGRETFUL need not feel unhappy about a kindly act of sympathy. The
letter was doubtless written in suitable terms. Her verses have a good
deal of prettiness and sweetness about them; but she needs to study
the rules of metrical composition, as a good many errors appear in her
lines. We direct her attention to previous answers.
A. M. L.--1. We are perpetually telling our girls that it is very
unladylike for them to walk out alone with men unless engaged to them,
and with the knowledge and consent of their parents. Even if you could
not take the trouble of reading out answers to other girls on this
subject, why do you not ask the opinion and advice of your mother or
aunt, or any lady possessing ordinary common sense and acquaintance
with the general rules of propriety. 2. Clean brass with cream of
tartar made into a wet paste; brush off when dry, wash in boiling
water, and rub with a chamois leather.
LITTLE WHITE OSS.--To remove grease from dresses, rub the spots
with benzoline and hang them in the air. The word "catechism" is
derived from the Greek, and signifies a form of oral instruction in
the rudiments of knowledge by way of question and answer. The oral
instructions delivered by the early Christian priests to their converts
were written down first in the eighth or ninth centuries, the present
Church of England Catechism in 1551, and was added to and altered in
1604 by the order of James I. We do not admire your selection of a
name. "White Rabbit" or "White Mouse" would have been preferable.
TWENTY.--Write to our publisher, Mr. Tarn. The Editor has nothing to do
with the publishing department.
CECILIA.--Good Friday is a Bank Holiday, also Easter Monday, Whit
Monday, first Monday in August, Christmas Day, and the day following,
or, if that be a Sunday, then the Monday following. In Scotland the
holidays are different, being New Year's Day, Good Friday, first Monday
in May, first Monday in August, and Christmas Day.
WHITE VIOLET.--September 21st, 1869, was a Friday; June 27th, 1867, was
a Thursday. Your other query has been recently answered.
PICANINNY.--We are glad to hear you have found the G. O. P. so useful.
Use gloves.
IRA.--We are much obliged, and regret we cannot make use of them.
LITTLE WOMAN.--We think you had better let matters take their natural
course. Such a long and intimate acquaintance would be the best
commencement for married life, which is too often hastily entered into,
and thus ends in disappointment from lack of knowledge of each other's
characters and habits.
LIZZIE F.--An answer has been given to your question very lately.
ENGLISH GIRL should wear a veil in the summer if she fears freckles,
and in winter also if her skin be so tender.
AN ANXIOUS ONE (Leeds) should consult a doctor without delay.
H. A. CHART must send to Mr. Tarn, 56, Paternoster-row, E.C., for the
index and plates, 1s. being required, and postage.
TROUBLESOME ONE.--If you meet a funeral procession accompanying a
deceased person, it is in good taste to stop while it passes, and
for a man to take off his hat. You do not stop if it merely overtake
you, travelling the same way, nor need you to stop, whether riding or
driving, if the hearse be empty. The rule is, that all respect be shown
to the dead and the grief of the mourners.
[Illustration]
ISCA WELLESLEY.--How could you so far forget yourself as to send
flowers to a strange man? You cannot bow to any man, "peculiar" or not,
if he have not been introduced to you. Is it possible that you thought
of bowing to a man with whom you were not acquainted? We think your
mother would feel tempted to box your ears if she knew that you did!
A HYBRID LASS(?).--The three days immediately preceding the Feast of
the Ascension were so named because on them litanies were recited by
the clergy and people in procession, a custom of which the "beating of
bounds" is a relic. Their institution is ascribed to Mamertius, Bishop
of Vienna in the fifth century.
CHIESA had better consult a doctor, as such things are dangerous for
unskilled hands to meddle with. We do not recognise the poem.
AZALEA.--Such matters must be referred to the decision of each
individual conscience, for what one person might consider an enjoyable
relaxation another might think wrong. But we must not judge anyone,
only act for ourselves, in the fear and love of God.
EXCELSIOR.--The line--
"Oh, for the touch of a vanished hand"
is by Tennyson.
ANNIE'S verses are very good for ten years old, but she will probably
improve on them before she is twice ten.
A. J. M.--The certificates are all dated Lady Day, 1886. You make a
mistake. We think it unnecessary fault finding.
LITTLE GHERKINS.--1. Although your verses are rather too irregular to
be put into the G. O. P., there is much humour about them, and they
afforded us a good laugh, for which we thank you, and wish you health
to enjoy the paper we provide for you for many a day. 2. Write to the
secretary of the convalescent home at Walton-on-Thames, at the office,
32, Sackville-street, W. Admission is free. Get a letter from your
doctor to recommend you, and they will take you in for three weeks'
change of air.
SCOTIA.--1. It is impossible to make smoke pictures indelible. They
should be mounted in deep mounts and framed if worth preserving. 2. The
origin of acting as "gooseberry" is found in the unsatisfactory office
of a gooseberry gatherer, who undertakes the trouble and bears all the
scratching from the thorns for the delectation of others. Thus, the
"gooseberry" is the person who, for propriety sake, accompanies two
lovers, and is expected to hear, see, and say nothing--_i.e._, have all
the toil and the dulness without the pleasure of companionship.
LOLLO.--The address of the Governesses' Benevolent Institution is 32,
Sackville-street, London. Apply to the secretary for information.
EVANGELINE GRACE.--Gather leaves in the early autumn when touched, but
not faded, by the frost; dry them thoroughly, and preserve them from
decay by giving them a slight coat of varnish.
GRACE NOEL.--We are obliged for your communication about the Colonial
Exhibition, and regret that we have not space to publish it. We
consider it a very creditable production for a girl of twelve years old.
HATTIE is probably diminutive for Harriet. We do not understand your
question.
JANET C.--You had better take your Bible and look out all the places
where dreams are mentioned.
A. E. T.--The present King of Greece ascended the throne, 30th March,
1863, and married, 27th October, 1867, Olga, eldest daughter of the
Grand Duke Constantine of Russia, the present queen. We do not think
there is any such word in the dictionary, or out of it.
TIE.--The Italian for "How do you do" is "_Come sta?_" the French,
"_Comment vous partez-vous?_" the German, "_Wie befinden sie sich?_"
The translation of the Latin, "_De mortuis_," etc., is, "Of the dead
say nothing but good."
KATRINA S.--Some articles on riding were given in the G. O. P. The
dress consists of habit, trousers, and low stays.
ALICE.--Intimate friends and relations give presents at such events as
silver weddings, but no others are expected.
[Illustration: CONVALESCENCE.]
PSEUDO (Worthing).--1. Not less than eight or nine hours' sleep is
needful for young people, so do not stint your rest; get to bed
early, and rise at 6.30 or 7 a.m. 2. A very good book on how to
teach arithmetic is published by Moffat and Paige, 28, Warwick-lane,
Paternoster-row, E.C., price 2s. 6d., as well as other useful manuals
for the teacher.
RUTH (West Indies).--The account you give of the condition of both head
and hair is quite shocking. You had better cut it short, and then wash
your head well with plenty of soap, and keep it clean always. Possibly,
however, not dirt, but some disease of the scalp may be the cause of
the condition you describe. If so, you had better show it to a doctor.
But, in any case, you had better cut it short for a time.
WHITE ROSE (Shepherd's Bush).--You are not too young to be a godmother,
but your services to the child will probably be superfluous, as the
parents--or, at least, the mother--will see that the child is taught
the Lord's Prayer, Creed, and Ten Commandments, and will see that it be
confirmed at a suitable age. But you must take care that while praying
for the child you are also to set it, and all who know you, a good
Christian example of keeping your own vows to God. In ancient times
Christian parents were often martyred, and then the responsibility of
the child's religious education devolved on the godparents.
MATE.--It is not incumbent on a man to call his wife's father and
mother by those titles. Many only address them as "Mr." and "Mrs."
Nevertheless, it is desirable to do all things that tend to make peace
and a friendly feeling rather than the reverse. When a man likes his
mother-in-law he sometimes has a pet name for her, such as "Mum" and
"Mumsey."
MAY.--You seem to work rather beyond the strength of a girl of fifteen;
but, of course, you have not got to "wash for eleven children every
day," nor "clean five bedrooms." The cheap velvet slippers you name
might wear fairly well in the house.
A YOUTHFUL POET finds herself plunged in great difficulties in the
midst of some most obdurate verses, two of which will not accommodate
any last line. She writes about "cricket," and about the necessity of
being "in her place by the hour" at school, or "get punished in some
way not so extreme as a _wacking_." If this youthful poet mistakes us
for her muse, and depends on us to inspire her, or to write her verses
for her, we can only decline, with thanks for the honour done us. In
return, we must strongly recommend her to improve her writing.
BLUEBELL.--In reply to your query, "Why, in sailing round the world
eastward, twenty-four hours are gained?" we may explain the fact thus.
The world's rotation takes twenty-four hours. If, now, a person be
travelling in the direction of rotation, an amount of time is gained
proportional to the distance covered. Therefore, in travelling round
the equator in the direction of rotation, the total time gained will
be proportional to the earth's circumference--in other words, to the
distance travelled. Of course, if travelling much below or above the
line, the circumference would be less and the result affected.
A MALE READER.--You will find our articles on women's Christian names
in vol. iv., the parts for October and November, 1882, and for January
and March, 1883. Harriett, like Henrietta, is the feminine for Henry,
and means "noble," and Emma is the Gothic for "mother."
A. L. W.--Yes, seashells are found far inland and high above the
present sea-level. In Sweden there are great beds of them, and even
barnacles on some of the rocks at Udevalla, fifty miles from the North
Sea and seventy from the Baltic. The whole of Scandinavia is rising,
and North of Stockholm at the North Cape, at the rate of some six feet
in a century.
DOLGELLY.--We should always regret that the smallest annoyance was
caused by any writer in this paper on the characteristics of a
county or province of the United Kingdom, and we are not pledged to
the opinions gathered by our story-writers, formed from their own
experience when resident in such localities. Did "Dolgelly" read the
declarations recently made by one of our judges in a court of assize
held at Chester?
DISCONTENTED should not worry herself over little disadvantages, for
which she is in no way responsible. If so plain as she imagines, it
would be well to cultivate beauty in the character, the temper, and
the manners. Many plain people make themselves most attractive by the
sweetness of their expression and the kindliness of their actions,
small as well as great. See page 348, vol. i. 2. Cut your nails once a
week.
A FOREIGNER.--You should make your arrangements with a German publisher
to translate any English work into German that he may require. Get an
introduction to one or more in Germany.
TYZA WORRALL.--1. If the audience thank you after singing at a village
concert, you should thank them by bowing. 2. To lay the tea-things on
a coloured cloth is only a piece of economy, not fashionable nor nice.
If anything be spilt upon it, it remains dirty, as it cannot be washed
on every such occasion like a white linen one. Better to lay the tea
on the bare mahogany or oak table. Coloured woollen or cotton cloths
have a fusty appearance as connected with meals. We regret your answer
should have been delayed.
H. G. C.--Write to the hon. secretary, Mrs. Paterson, of the Woman's
Protective and Provident League, 36, Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn,
W.C. The league has a register of work and workers, and protects the
trade interests of women.
CAPRICE had better write and inquire about an English translation from
the gentleman who edits the French editions in England. The eagle is
emblematic of St. John the Evangelist, because he looked on "the Sun of
Glory," like the eagle, with undazzled eyes. The eagle was one of the
four figures which made up the cherub (Ezek. i. 10). The two outspread
wings of the eagle represent the two Testaments, and the use of the
eagle to support the lectern was because the eagle is the natural enemy
of the serpent.
"THE CAMPBELLS ARE COMIN'."--The motto of the Campbells is _Ne
obliviscaris_, "You must not forget," or "Do not forget."
* * * * *
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE.
The following changes have been made to the original text:
Page 103: "avoidupois" changed to "avoirdupois"
Page 104: "Pot-au feu" changed to "Pot-au-feu"
Page 111: "Bulwer, Lytton" changed to "Bulwer-Lytton"
Page 111: "d'Ague seau" changed to "d'Aguesseau"