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the attention of the happy girl was ngain attracted | toward him, ho was some distunce on his way to the raansion.

‘They never saw him more. His sudden disappear- ance was accounted for that evening by a note directed to Kate, which he hed penned hurriedly ere he left the house. ‘The epistio ran thus:

“Alast dear Lady Katharine, my first decision was correct, and thouslt, through mistaken kindness, you have striven to change it, I feel that it would he of no avail. To not blame you, but oh! can I remain and see you auother's, however worthy he may be of you? ‘Phis day's lesson has convinced me that I cannot, and Igo, never to see you more, When you hear of my death, on some hotly contested field, drop a tear for your unfortunate relutive und lover,

Hesur De Siryzurox.

“Poor Silverton,” kindly anid Sir Edward, a he pressed Kate to his bosom and dried her (ears, for sho had already told him all, “my heart bleeds for him.

A few months later he died, as he had prophesied, fon the field of battle, And none wept more sincerely for him than Sic Edward and his happy bride.

WHERE IS THE POET’S REST.

BY W. J, congan, ‘Whene is the Poet's reat? in Beauty's slumbers Mingles his spirit with the form divine, Or with the chords of Pasaion’s fecblest numbers, Mopos he to soothe his ardur at Love's shrine?

Where is the Poet's rest? in woodlands lonely Charmed into peace by innocence of scenc? ‘The habbling streams unto his goul speak only Of Nature's realras ’ere Man or War had bees,

Whore is the Poet's rest? ’mid wildwood bowers, Or gardens choice with arts more prized array, Nestles his heart within the odorous bowers, Or musing wends upon his morning way,

Where in the Poet's rest? in aisles so hoary Religious forms are sculptured to the sight, And names are thero—bul not the tminatrel'a glory— The gems of chivalry have ditmroed that light!

Not in the thoughts of Beauty truly keeping Vigila of faith o’er his young day of t2mo, Not in ambition’ pictures to the sleeping, Liew the deep charun his restlcsa heart 10 tame,

Where is tho Poet's rest? his bosom heaving With aspirations of another sphere— Where is hie rest —the immortal silent leaving The doubt—the eorrow—and the longing here?

THE MAGICIAN’S HALL. BY FRANK ELNORE.

An I was one duy, about three or font years ago, taking a solitary ramble on the outskirts of the city, I saw lying in my path a singular looking package, com- posed to all appearance of papers wrapped in an envelope of parchment, and secured by a etout cord, the knots of which were covered with huge seals.

Attracted by the peculiarity of itsappearance, I stooped, and having picked it up, proceeded most unceremoui- ously, with the sid of my knife, to remove the fasten- ings which bound it, ‘This accomplished, T unrolled its parchinent covering, and tho following wild unearthly story, written in the peculiar style of a century back, tho time at which it was dated, and ina hand which seemed more like the German cheracter than any other mot my eye. With no little difficulty I perused it, and having modernized tho style, though I lil) retained nearly the reading of every sentence, I ofler it to you, thinking it may serve to while away an unoccupied hour.

The numerous chandeliers that hung around that dread hall were suddenly extinguished, and a pitchy and almost palpable darkness, which seemed to weigh down the souls of that mighty concourse, succesded to the glare of light which had shown the paraphernalia of the Musician's Hal, in which they sat. Thick waa the darkness as that of the grave, and the silence of death's dark caverns reigned over all. Each held his breath, leat its sound might wake tho dread master of this black and accutt art, A suiphurous smell pervaded the apartment, while tow, rambling and discordant sounds seemed to arise from the caverned carth; wild, anearthly, and thrilling music bore concert to these sounds, aud froze the heart’s blood of all who came within its influence. None knew what was to follow ; but while all wished tho fearful pageant to proceed, each feared lost its first step might be his own immolation. Bat suspense reigued not long. The sable curtain that hail veiled tho farther ond of the apartment from view, suddenly seemed agitated, and a bright, ruddy glow moved slowly over its troubled surfuce, while from be- ind it streamed the lurid lightning, disclosing at every flash that picrced the gloom, the deadly pallor of the auditors’ countenances, rendered still more so by the awful thunder that pealed forth incessantly the attend ant of every flash, and rumbled echoing through the extended hall and corridors of the Magician's palace. Flash followed flash in quick succession, and peal after peal burst forth until it seemed os if be had commanded all that was dreadful in the elements to show ita power.

Now appeared a luminous ring of dazzling tight, forming upon the centre of that curtain which veiled

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 About noon of an ashen autumn day some years ago I was standing outside the station at Oxford intending to take the train to London. And for some reason, out of idleness or the emptiness of my mind or the emptiness of the pale grey sky, or the cold, a kind of caprice fell upon me that I would not go by that train at all, but would step out on the road and walk at least some part of the way to London. I do not know if other people are made like me in this matter; but for me it is always dreary weather, what may be called useless weather, that stings into life a sense of action and romance. On bright blue days I do not want anything to happen; the world is complete and beautiful, a thing for contemplation. I no more ask for adventures under that turquoise dome than I ask for adventures in church. But when the background of man's life is a grey background, then, in the name of man's sacred supremacy, I desire to paint on it in fire and gore. When the heavens fail man refuses to fail; when the sky seems to have written on it, in letters of lead and pale silver, the decree that nothing shall happen, then the immortal soul, the prince of the creatures, rises up and decrees that something shall happen, if it be only the slaughter of a policeman. But this is a digressive way of stating what I have said already—that the bleak sky awoke in me a hunger

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 insincerity of the man to his own heart; and that fine-spun airy theory of friendship, so devoid, as I complained, of any quality of flesh and blood, a mere anodyne to lull his pains. The most temperate of living critics once marked a passage of my own with a cross and the words, "This seems nonsense." It not only seemed; it was so. It was a private bravado of my own, which I had so often repeated to keep up my spirits, that I had grown at last wholly to believe it, and had ended by setting it down as a contribution to the theory of life. So with the more icy parts of this philosophy of Thoreau's. He was affecting the Spartanism he had not; and the old sentimental wound still bled afresh, while he deceived himself with reasons.

Thoreau's theory, in short, was one thing and himself another: of the first, the reader will find what I believe to be a pretty faithful statement and a fairly just criticism in the study; of the second he will find but a contorted shadow. So much of the man as fitted nicely with his doctrines, in the photographer's phrase, came out. But that large part which lay outside and beyond, for which he had found or sought no formula, on which perhaps his philosophy even looked askance, is wanting in my


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 for some change of plans, that the monotonous weather seemed to render unbearable the use of the monotonous train, and that I set out into the country lanes, out of the town of Oxford. It was, perhaps, at that moment that a strange curse came upon me out of the city and the sky, whereby it was decreed that years afterwards I should, in an article in the Daily News, talk about Sir George Trevelyan in connection with Oxford, when I knew perfectly well that he went to Cambridge.

As I crossed the country everything was ghostly and colourless. The fields that should have been green were as grey as the skies; the tree-tops that should have been green were as grey as the clouds and as cloudy. And when I had walked for some hours the evening was closing in. A sickly sunset clung weakly to the horizon, as if pale with reluctance to leave the world in the dark. And as it faded more and more the skies seemed to come closer and to threaten. The clouds which had been merely sullen became swollen; and then they loosened and let down the dark curtains of the rain. The rain was blinding and seemed to beat like blows from an enemy at close quarters; the skies seemed bending over and bawling in my ears. I walked on many more miles before I met a man; in that distance my mind had been

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bier, on which lay the remains of the departed Matthoso, The gravo dump was on his mouliering shroud, and the vile worm crept unmolested across tho sunken face of the dead. The torch lights burned dim and blue, and the suffocating stench of the charnel house overcame the strength of the perfumes, which hail cast their rich odor around, Slowly tramped the Magician three times around the body, and slowly moved his atill burning wand eround the head of the corpse, till with a slow and steady motion he touched the comers of the bier, and turning dashed upon the brazier his potent charm. Then came his spell, helf-sung, holf-spoken, imploring heaven, commanding bell, to aid hizn; and drawing bim- self to his fuil height, and still waving his wand, be called thrice tho name of the dead, and waited the effect, of bis weird spells. First dim grew the grave lights, and flickered and flared, till with one mighty ellort to bum, the light leaped high and loft the socket. The elow mournful nots of tho music gradually became moro quick and lively. The pit’s gaping mouth again cloved ant relieved tho eye and ear from ite appalling attend~ ant, Sweet, luscious perfumes again filled the ai-—the ice-bound rills leapt glailly forth, and the wild bird ear- olled amid the grove more gaily than before, while the elements were cowposed to soft and peaceful rest.

Bright grew the sorccror’s eye as he saw tho ruddy color of health dow back to the cheek of the dead, tho crumbling dust that was once human flesh, return to its pristine state, the bluo veins agoin flow with the living fluid, and tho full black eye open and sparkle with life, Again fell upon the ear the eweet syron song of tho Eastern Sorcerer, and wild burst of Sura- eenic music tuok the place of the soft soothing oir which had preceded it; and as the song proceeded, the heavy burst told that the vital spark retenanted tho body. When tho sorcerer ceused, and threw upon the censor the choicest guin of Araby, which spread ite pageant clouds of fragrant incense over the altar of the magician, the late dead man rose, in all the strength, beauty and vigor of manhood’s prune, and giving thrilling shout for victory over the grave, he drew his bright blade, aod kneeling by his bier devoted his life to religion and to Gov. Scarce had the last word passed his lips, ere the avwful thunder again reverherated through the hall, and tho flashing lightning, lurid aud red, pierced the murky and sulpburous gloom around, Tho body was again a corpso upon the bier. ‘The flaming bands sank the bier back into tho flaming gulph, and the mighty fabric rocked to its foundation.

‘The total darkness around was alone relieved by a bright fame which glared so fierce as to be unsuppor- table to human eyes, Whero tho Magician had stood, a clarion’s loud note pierced the ear, removing the spell which had hound tho thousands present. As they turned mviselessly to leave the bull, the cold. pale moon shewed them that no walls restrained their passage, for the Magician and his palace bud passed away forever.

Here ended the manuscript !

LINES TO A HUSBAND ON THE FIRST MARRIAGE ANNIVERSART,

Turrce welcome, now, this May day fair, With all its Heaven-born charms;

1 minds mo of that happy day "Phat gave me to your arms,

Our earth, its yearly course around "Phe contrat orb of light,

Has moved in majesty, since frat felt the calm delight

To know that I was all your owa— Your chosen, wedded wife;

And thou, bound by most holy ties, Wast mine, mine own for sife.

Nauure has bloomed in gay attire ‘Through vernal Summer's bloom,

And hand-in-hand we've sipped their ewects,
 * Till lost in Autumn's gloom,

Kind Autuma, too, with plenty round, And golden sheen go gay,

On Time's unceasing pinivn caine, And blest each paswing day.

‘Till Autumn lost in Winter's chill, Her ficlda disrobed and bare,

Our chicerfil froside then we sought, ‘And found sweet comfort there.

‘Now beauteous Spring agaia is here, With all itn Jealy bower:

Returning birds, with wurblings sweet, Green leaves, and bursting tlowere.

And thou, my friend, art with me still, More loved this sunny May,

‘Than whea we breathed our nuptial vows, ‘Twelve months ago this day,

Our hopes, our views, our wishes ono Bach in the other blest—

We pass cach day in tranquil joy, ‘Then sweetly sink to rest,

More worthy of thy loving heart ‘Phy wife would gladly be,

And while thy love and care aro mine, May Heaven care for thee,

May perfect love and harmony Still make our joys increase, And when our Father calls us hence.

May we depart in peace, Sesas, �


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 made up; and when I met him I asked him if anywhere in the neighbourhood I could pick up the train for Paddington. He directed me to a small silent station (I cannot even remember the name of it) which stood well away from the road and looked as lonely as a hut on the Andes. I do not think I have ever seen such a type of time and sadness and scepticism and everything devilish as that station was: it looked as if it had always been raining there ever since the creation of the world. The water streamed from the soaking wood of it as if it were not water at all, but some loathsome liquid corruption of the wood itself; as if the solid station were eternally falling to pieces and pouring away in filth. It took me nearly ten minutes to find a man in the station. When I did he was a dull one, and when I asked him if there was a train to Paddington his answer was sleepy and vague. As far as I understood him, he said there would be a train in half an hour. I sat down and lit a cigar and waited, watching the last tail of the tattered sunset and listening to the everlasting rain, It may have been in half an hour or less, but a train came rather slowly into the station. It was an unnaturally dark train; I could not see a light anywhere in the long black body of it; and I could not see any guard running beside it. I was reduced to walking up to the engine and calling

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 study, as it was wanting in the guide I followed. In some ways a less serious writer, in all ways a nobler man, the true Thoreau still remains to be depicted.

Villon.—I am tempted to regret that I ever wrote on this subject, not merely because the paper strikes me as too picturesque by half, but because I regarded Villon as a bad fellow. Others still think well of him, and can find beautiful and human traits where I saw nothing but artistic evil; and by the principle of the art, those should have written of the man, and not I. Where you see no good, silence is the best. Though this penitence comes too late, it may be well, at least, to give it expression.

The spirit of Villon is still living in the literature of France. Fat Peg is oddly of a piece with the work of Zola, the Goncourts, and the infinitely greater Flaubert; and, while similar in ugliness, still surpasses them in native power. The old author, breaking with an éclat de voix, out of his tongue-tied century, has not yet been touched on his own ground, and still gives us the most vivid and shocking impression of reality. Even if that were not worth doing at all, it would be worth doing as well as he has done it; for the pleasure we take in the author's skill repays us, or at least


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day he signed NSAM 288 approving Secretary McNamara's visit report, the President sent the first of two closely spaced messages to Ambassador Lodge that could have set the tone for the planning ahead. (Presumably the President's views were communicated to the principal officials in the agencies involved in planning for Southeast Asia.) Commenting on Lodge's critique of the McNamara report, he indicated favor for the Ambassador's expressed preference for "carrot and stick" pressures short of overt military action, and specifically "reserved [d] Judgment on overt U.S. measures against North Vietnam." Three days later he cabled confirmation that actions being studied with North Vietnam as a target were regarded strictly as contingency planning.

Principal focus for the planning during April was OSD/ISA, with assistance from the Far Eastern Bureau and the Vietnam Committee, in the Department of State, and from the JCS. During the first three weeks of April, it developed three or four versions of scenarios of political actions "to set the stage and to develop support both at home and abroad." for different categories of military action against North Vietnam. Initially, the categories, and their scenarios, were regarded separately, although the first "Covert svi action against the North (with U.S. covert support)," was recognized as the stage of political-military activity in which the United States was currently engaged. The others, (1) covert U.S. support of overt GVN aerial mining and air strike operations and (2) overt joint U.S. end GVN serial reconnaissance, naval displays, naval bombardments and air attacks, would necessarily have to follow. In subsequent versions, the planning evolved more explicitly toward continuous scenario in three sequential phases.

In each version, however, the "current" scenario included such political measures as: (1) a speech by General Khanh stating GVN war aims; (2) a briefing for "friendly" senators and congressmen on our aims in Southeast Asia and the problem of DRV directions of the VC (3) public explanations of U.S. policy toward South Vietnam; and (4) diplomatic discussions with the United Kingdom and the North Atlantic Council. Each of the second scenarios, which came to be characterized by GVN-USAF/FARMGATE air operations, contained similar actions but placed emphasis on political initiatives that would surface in Saigon rather than in Washington, "so as to maintain the credibility of the sovereignty of the GVN." This stage also included such measures as: (1) another trip to Saigon by Secretary McNamara for the specific purpose of obtaining General Khanh's agreement to begin overt G actions against the North; (2) consultations with Thailand and the Philippines; (3) Presidential consultations with key congressional leaders; and (4) public release of a new State Department White Paper on North Vietnamese involvement in the Insurgency. Back, of the final scenarios, which came to be associated with our overt responses to DRV/CHICOM escalations, included diplomatic and political preparations for direct U.S. actions. Significantly, the scenarios also incorporated Initiatives leading to an international conference on Vietnam at Geneva.

The evolution toward a continuous sequential scenario reflects the influence of the JCS. Their response to the 31 March draft: (1) called Rh


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THE INFIDEL LOVER.

BY A. W. NONEY.

" Do you see that lady who is just crossing Fifth street ?" asked a rather elderly looking gentleman of his companion, as they sat gazing listlessly upon the crowd, passing and re-passing up and down Chesnut street.

"What ! that red-haired old maid, uncle, in a dark dress ?"

Pshaw, Charles, do not speak in so disrespectful a tone of one in whom the very fact of her being an old maid is a virtue, and a bright one among many others of pure and radiant lustre.”

" You know her then, do you ? Pray, who is this very virtuous maiden lady ?”

66 Her name is Charlotte Hamilton."

66 Well, uncle ! will you not continue, like an author of romance, to tell me her past history ?"

"If you wish it, Charles, I will endeavor to relate a short story of the circumstances, which doubtless formed the principal reason of her present unmarried condition in life."

"Miss Hamilton, when I first became acquainted with her, was not far from eighteen years of age. She was at that time somewhat better looking than at present, though never very celebrated for beauty, as the sweet and modest expression, which ever graced her pleasant features, formed their principal attraction, although each, when viewed separate, might have seemed to be almost perfect in itself. Yet their arrangement did not exactly harmonize, and then her red hair (though in olden time such was a favorite hue ) did not in the least add to their effect. Her figure, you might have observed, is even now full and graceful, and was much more elegant in her youth. For sweetness of disposition, for intellectual capacity, and for purity of soul, however, she was, and is now eminently distinguished among those who know her ; and these worthy qualities, in connection with her large fortune, rendered her an object of regard, particularly to the young unmarried men of her acquaintance.

"You smile rather distrustfully at this. Why, Charles, although she is now an old maid, I can vouch to the fact of at least six capital offers of marriage, made by different worthy young gentlemen, and each proposal pressed upon her acceptance with all the ardor of true and fervent passion. But then her heart was not her own, although her hand was free, and she hesitated to dispose of the one unaccompanied by the first, even while the possessor of the treasure of her young, pure love was all unworthy of either. Yet such is the nature of woman. Her heart is as true and constant in its affection, when once formed, to even the meanest of creatures, as when its devotion is reciprocated by the idolatry of a high and noble nature.

"Still I do not wish to be understood that the envied object of her love was in any manner degraded, in the common acceptance of the term, although utterly unworthy the possession of such an angel as was, and doubtless is Charlotte Hamilton. To illustrate this fact, it is scarcely necessary to state more than that she is a pure-hearted and professing Christian, while he was utterly reckless of his own principles, and careless of her solicitude and anxiety after the welfare of the immortal part of one so dear to her as himself ; and yet he passionately loved her, and she knew it, although others might have imagined his affection to be of a more mercenary nature than it really was. 66 ' But, before I proceed with her story, I will just describe to you a circumstance in relation to my first acquaintance with her. I attended, one evening, at Dr. B.'s Church, and listened to a lecture of deep and peculiar interest. The subject was upon the beauties of true Christianity, pure and unadorned, as inculcated by the doctrines of its divine founder, the meek and lowly man of Nazareth. The learned and reverend doctor likened religion to a young and lovely femalebeautiful exceedingly, and endowed with every elegant attribute which imagination could devise, or fancy portray. And truly, did she seem a goddess worthy the love and adoration of an enlightened and unenthralled world. Simple, artless and unassuming, clothed in modesty as with a garb of light, and shielded by the dovelike innocence of her nature from rude assault, for

'It is said the lion will turn and flee From the maid in the pride of her purity ;' she moves along, winning with her smiles the reluctant admiration of even those who would oppose her blissful progress, and subduing all hearts by her native goodness, her artless simplicity, and by the divine truth and poetic beauty of the inspired sentiments she utters in a voice of Eolian softness. " Who can refuse to worship at such a shrine ?' asked the speaker, with thrilling emphasis, as he finished his glowing metaphor : ' and insensate and cold indeed must he be !' I doubt not was the voiceless response of every beating heart around. 66"The church was crowded to overflowing, and in the press and confusion attendant upon the egress from it, a claiming its protection, while passing through the mass then pouring like a flood out of doors. I gave a hasty glance at her personal appearance, and then elbowed our way with an air of increased importance, into the street, where I could but suppose, my voluntary protegee would, after thanking my gallantry, modestly decline all farther escort, even though I might then freely offer it. To my increased surprise, however, such did not seem her intention, for she still clung as familiarly to my arm as if she had been acquainted with me for years,
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 out to the stoker to ask if the train was going to London. "Well—yes, sir," he said, with an unaccountable kind of reluctance. "It is going to London; but" It was just starting, and I jumped into the first carriage: it was pitch dark. I sat there smoking and wondering, as we steamed through the continually darkening landscape, lined with desolate poplars, until we slowed down and stopped, irrationally, in the middle of a field. I heard a heavy noise as of some one clambering off the train, and a dark, ragged head suddenly put itself into my window. "Excuse me, sir," said the stoker, "but I think, perhaps—well, perhaps you ought to know—there's a dead man in this train."

Had I been a true artist, a person of exquisite susceptibilities and nothing else, I should have been bound, no doubt, to be finally overwhelmed with this sensational touch, and to have insisted on getting out and walking. As it was, I regret to say, I expressed myself politely, but firmly, to the effect that I didn't care much so long as the train took me to Paddington. But when the train had started with its unknown burden I did do one thing, and do it quite instinctively, without stopping to think, or to think more than a flash. I threw away

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. desire after conviction, I am assured the time must not be far distant when its purity would become blissfully evident to you, and you could then exchange the uncertainty and doubt of disbelief for that of faith and hope in a pure and eternal reward. And then we might be happy. There would be no bar to our union-there would be no drawback upon our enjoyments. We could both of us rejoice in the same gladness-we could both partake of the same comforts under affliction without despairing-and most of all, in the fulfilment of the invaluable trust reposed in us by heaven, we could then rear up any offspring in the true knowledge of him who is our Creator and King-our Lord and Saviour through Jesus Christ his crucified son.'

"In this manner would she endeavor to reason with him upon the subject which formed the bar between them, as much for the safety of his soul as for the end it would be likely to attain with regard to their earthly happiness ; until at length he became fully convinced that his only hope of ever winning her rested upon a conversion to her principles of faith. And such seemed unto him but a mockery of hope, for how could he learn to believe that which through life he had been convinced was nothing but bigotry and superstition . He could not do it. The idea seemed desperate, and he strove for a time to resign himself to his fate-but unavailingly, for true love is of too powerful and buoyant a nature to submit calmly to disappointment, and it ever re-acts and strives with despair, even when hope is irrevocably fled. But still Charlotte's manner toward him was ever the same-cheerful in her assurance of affection, though firm in her filial resolution never to wed him without her parents' consent, which she knew would only be given upon his reformation.

"After a time in this position of affairs Perry resolved to leave his native city, and endeavor to wean his heart from her, amid the scenes and novelties of some distant land, where he would neither see her or hear from her -and doubtless, thus deeming he might forget his unavailing passion.

"His departure had a great effect upon Miss Hamilton's feelings, for she felt that he was driven away by wretchedness to seek relief from utter despair. And she also grieved deeply for his absence, though she deemed it was all ordered for the best, and, therefore, placed implicit reliance in this assurance of faith, while she strove to bear her sorrow with meek resignation . There were still some hopes faintly flickering within her breast, that through the goodness of a bountiful Providence a change would overtake the blind wilfulness of his stubborn heart, and then he would return again to woo her, and not in vain. Yet such a hope seemed too blissful to be cherished, for she feared his eyes might never be opened to a knowledge of their blindness, except through the merciful interposition of the God whom he denied.

Whither was his destination she knew not, or when to look for his return again ; for he left her, as well as his friends, unexpectedly, and in doubt even as to his perfect soundness of mind. 66 During the absence of Perry, other suitors came forward and aspired to the honor of her hand, for her loveliness and many estimable qualities, rendered her a prize worth seeking in the opinion of every one who knew her, while her amiable fascinations and sweetness of disposition captivated the hearts of all who came within the sphere of her attractions. Yet she never sought for conquest, but strove ever to avoid giving the slightest encouragement to the hopes which her unaffected kindness of manner could not help but enkindle. And when impelled forward by the strength of their passion, her admirers ventured, in spite of discouragement, to unbosom their feelings and sue for her favorthough they were sometimes earnestly seconded by her beloved parents, she could not yield her consent, but was firm, though kind in her steadfast affection for him to whom she had given her true heart fully and irrevocably. 66 'It was nearly three years afterward, when she heard of him for the first time since his departure, and then news came that he was on his return home ; and with it came also a rumor that he had, during his absence, been awakened to the divine truths of that gospel he hitherto disavowed, and was at length convinced of the errors under which he had so long labored. These were glad tidings to Charlotte, for she had long mourned him as lost to her forever, and they re-animated the hopes that for a time lay dormant within her breast. If he was still constant- and she could not doubt it-there existed now no obstacle to their union-no impediment in the way of their future happiness. How sweet was the reflection that bright days were yet in store for her, after such a long continuance of clouds and darkness ! and how dear were her anticipations of the blissful communions they might hereafter enjoy while heart beat responsive to heart with the same pure and holy rapture, allied to the exquisite thrillings of requited affection. Those only who have had their dearest hopes, after lying cold and inanimate for years, as if lost and dead, suddenly re-illumined with an unexpected turn of fortune, can imagine or realize the wild excitement which seized upon her ; she seemed almost beside herself in the extravagance of her delight as she thought upon the double gratification his return would afford her. There was ecstasy in the fond anticipation of hearing him, who had so often profaned the name of his omnipotent Creator, acknowledge that He, in his divine mercy, had deigned to interpose his grace in behalf of a rebel and outcast, and had blessed him with a change of heart. And as he would say this, he might, perchance, also add, in those sweet, low tones of passion to which she had often


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 my cigar. Something that is as old as man and has to do with all mourning and ceremonial told me to do it. There was something unnecessarily horrible, it seemed to me, in the idea of there being only two men in that train, one of them dead and the other smoking a cigar. And as the red and gold of the butt end of it faded like a funeral torch trampled out at some symbolic moment of a procession, I realized how immortal ritual is. I realized the origin and essence of all ritual. That in the presence of those sacred riddles about which we can say nothing it is often more decent merely to do something. And I realized that ritual will always mean throwing away something; destroying our corn or wine upon the altar of our gods.

When the train panted at last into Paddington Station I sprang out of it with a suddenly released curiosity. There was a barrier and officials guarding the rear part of the train; no one was allowed to press towards it. They were guarding and hiding something; perhaps death in some too shocking form, perhaps something like the Merstham matter, so mixed up with human mystery and wickedness that the law has to give it a sort of sanctity; perhaps something worse than either: I went out gladly enough into the streets and saw the lamps shining on the

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. glance cowered beneath hers, and the blush of guilt burnt deeply over his face.

" Do not you mock me, sir !' at length she replied with all the stern energy of her nature.

" I do not. It is true what I have rashly betrayed !'

" Then who, sir, is she whom you call your wife ?'

" She knows not the title !'

Forgive him Heaven !' was the scarce audible prayer she murmured, while she raised her eyes with an imploring expression of astonishment toward the sky.

"For a few minutes neither spoke, and both seemed waiting with painful anxiety, for the other to proceed. Charlotte broke the silence. " Listen to me, Perry, for a few moments, and these will be the last words I shall ever say to you upon the subject. You have long known how dearly I loved, and you have fully understood also the reason why we could not be united ; and now do you come to me with deceit and infamy added to your error, with the hope to -win me ? Insulting, degenerate mán ! have you no respect for one whom you profess so passionately to love ? Does this evince the purity of your affection ? Is this the change that has been effected within your heart ? Degraded man ! crouch down, and crave humbly for pardon and mercy from Him you have so wickedly defied ; for it is not me alone you have striven to deceive ; and may He, in his infinite goodness, forgive you. Go, sir, leave me ; and know that from henceforth I banish every thought of you from my breast forever !' "He turned away from before her just anger, awed and unable to reply ; yet ere he reached the door, she called to him in a voice husky with intense emotion, to come back and pray with her for divine mercy. But he heeded her not, for his heart was too deeply oppressed with shame at her reproaches, and he left her to struggle with the deep and painful grief of her soul, which was so powerful as to overcome, for a time, the weakness of her physical nature. But she shortly recovered, and is now doubtless much happier than she would have been, had she married with Edward Perry, or with one whom she did not love." "And what become of Perry ? Is he an old bachelor?" "He was struck with remorse by Charlotte's last words to him, and ultimately became a better man. He married her whom he had estranged from the paths of virtue, as an atonement in part for the sins he had committed ; and strives now to act a wiser part than that which degraded him heretofore. The deceit which he attempted to practice upon her whom he loved, overreached itself, for in endeavoring to incite regret in her breast at his supposed marriage with another, he found himself incapable of sustaining the fictitious part he had thought proper to enact." SHUN THE BOWL.

THE DYING INEBRIATE TO HIS SON.

BY EDWARD WEBSTER. SHUN the bowl, oh! touch it never, As thou livest heed me, boy ; There a demon lurks, will sever All thy hopes of peace and joy. On the pledge thy name enrol, Shun, oh! shun the poisoned bowl. Boy, thou hadst an angel mother, But of broken-heart she died ; Boy, thou hadst a loving brother, He is sleeping by her side. Soon the bell for me will toll, Shun, oh! shun the poisoned bowl. In life's journey, if it lures thee, Fly it as thou wouldst be blest ; If of safety it assures thee, With the lie upon its crest. Haste beyond its dark control, Shun, oh! shun the poisoned bowl. Shun it, or disease and sorrow Will obscure thy brightening sun ; And being night that knows no morrow, E'en life's sands may half be run. As thou hast a living soul, Shun, oh ! shun the poisoned bowl.

STANZAS. As fades the twilight in the sky, Or softly as zephyr floating by, Thy happy soul has fled ! We thought not one so full of grace, So soon should end its earthly race, So early join the dead. Daily we watched thy sad decline, As lingering on the brink of time, Thy spirit paused a while And often would'st thou lift thine eye And say " I do not fear to die," With that seraphic smile !

Loved one ! my only hope on earth, All owned thy purity and worth, Nor mortal deemed thee thenBut now I feel thy spirit near, Sweetly it whispers in mine ear, That we shall meet again. This weary life full soon shall close, And though I mourn, ' t is not as those To whom no hope is given. That when our earthly cares are past, In glory we shall meet at last, And ever love in heaven.

W.


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 laughing faces. Nor have I ever known from that day to this into what strange story I wandered or what frightful thing was my companion in the dark.

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N THAT little white house, — far away, lives a sad old woman, over seventy years old. Poor thing! She's at the end of her life, and she's shivering and catatonic, without a single tooth in her mouth — downcast and melancholy... Everyone pities her: — How sad to live alone in the middle of the woods...

Well, they're wrong. The old woman lives happily and contentedly, thanks to a little granddaughter, orphaned by her father and mother, who has lived there since she was born. She's a dark-haired girl with eyes as black as two jabuticabas grapes — and as playful as you can imagine! Her name is Lucia, but nobody calls her that. She has a nickname. Yayá? Nenê? Maricota? Not at all. Her name is "Narizinho Rebitado" (Little Turned Up Nose) — no need to say why. In addition to Lucia, there is Aunt Anastacia, an excellent


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Ciara Elton was a spoiled child of fortune. Her parents were wealthy and worldly, With them the two great principtes were riches and rank, and they could not separate the idea of respectability from 8 man who kept an account ina bank, and had @ corriage and farm. T’o thom the doctrine that “wealth makes the man,” though very good on paper, was not so good in practice ; and however sweet a period it makes in the abstract, in real life it was a stumbling block. Mr. Elton had risen from almost the lowest grade, to his present high station in the business world, but, once having got thera, he did as people usually do—he de- spised the means that enabled him to arrive at the honor, Mrs. Elton was a woman, and loved her hus band, and-as a matter of course be was the focus of all her knowledge. If Mr. Elton had said the banks hed rained the country, every thing evil from the ruin of a community to the burning of a church, would be attri- ‘uted (o that source. If Mr, Elton said that Mr. So and. ‘So was not respectable, he could not havo beon admilted to the house. But Mr. Elton never did sey that a rich man was not respectable, and consequently that was the open sesame to the hearts and doors of this worthy couple.

Clara Elton presonted what at this age of the world ia not an uncommon character among this class of females—a being tight in feelings but wrong in prin- ciples, ‘To all the calla of charity che was ever ready. No one could accuse ber of stepping in the least from the paths of duty, be that whet it may. This was tho result of untaught native feelings; and thus far she was right, thus far the stream of the affections had not been turned out of the right channel by a fateo system of edu- cation, but she had been taught to revere and look up to wealth as the basis of all that was true and good in principles and actions. ‘This wae the fault, From her fathor she had cought all her contempt for the useful classes, and the tendency to cringe to any thing that partook of the show and giitter of wealth, without sn ‘attempt to strip off the guise and appreciate, if possible, the real character of the individual. This trait in her character, moreover, had beon strengthened by the members of the circle in which she usually moved. As wealth was the magnet of attraction with her parents—the means to secure a welcome reception to the dwelling of Clara Elton, all that visited there were either wealthy or made up tho deficiency in the real article by a dauble portion of pretension. Being ‘an heiress, and the daughter of one of the elite of the land, she lived in an atmosphere of flattery—a state of being where all the finer and better feelinga of the human mind are overrun by the rank weeds of pride and avrogance. All bowed to tho shrine of Clara Elton, and all, while they howed, saw in the distance the golJen visions of a father's wealth, Thas surrounded by the idlers of the season, and the hangers on of the latest French fashions, no marvel that she became haughty and vain in principle, and looked upon the different orders of society as far beneath tho station of Clara Elton.

Among the early associates of Clara had heen Ellen Lester. Mr. Lester was not so ich as hie neighbor, still he had enough at hie death to leave his widow in competency. Elten bad been the companion of Clara at school, and when she hed beon separated from that mother to enjoy the benefits of a superior system of instruction, she had accepted the proffered kindness of Claca to make her residence @ homo. At the desth of her mother, Ellen became the possessor of property sufficient to meet all her most lavish wants, and in obedience to her mother's will she took up her residence with her matronal aunt in a different part of the city. In the characters of the friends there was @ marked differ. ence. Ellen had been taught to look upon society av it is, to judge of mankind by the plain rule of truth, and not hy extraneous circumstances. This made her look deeply into the characters of the persons who consti- tuted the circle into which she entered, and, in her estimate, she was seldom mistaken. Plain and unas- summing in her manners, sho waa not dazzled or led astray by the display and assumption of little minds, or lured aside after the fleeting phantoms of fashions and extravagance. She had resided long enough with the Elton’s fully to appreciato the frst wish of the family— a splendid alliance for their daughter. ‘To the attainment of this hope she had seen thera bend all the energies of their minds, and often had her pure mind been shocked by theic conduct, Step by step she saw Clara being drawn into the vortex of fashionable life, anil inductod into the schemes of her family. In private she knew Clara to bo the kindest of creatures, but the web of the tempter had been set, and the vietim was now about to commence the struggle for life, Tt is the first etep in our career that decides our fate, and that had now been taken by Clara under the guidance of her father.

Among the early friends and companions of Ellen Lester was Edward Davi His father was in comforta- ble circumstances, but still thought it necessary to instit into his son habits of industry. Asa matier of course he was tought the business in which hie father had acquired both character and competency. Whilst the father was anxious to train up his son in the pathe of industry—he did not neglect his mind, and young Davis carly in life displayed marks of talent and genius. In character he was frank and open, and free from deceit and treachery, He soon gained the confidence and Jove of all who knew him, ond of none more than of Ellen Lester, who saw in him all that, in her opinion, consti- tuted the great trai truth, houor, and fidelily—and thus their young hearts

n the sum of a man’s character— �


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 reconciles us to the baseness of his attitude. Fat Peg (La Grosse Margot) is typical of much; it is a piece of experience that has nowhere else been rendered into literature; and a kind of gratitude for the author's plainness mingles, as we read, with the nausea proper to the business. I shall quote here a verse of an old students' song, worth laying side by side with Villon's startling ballade. This singer, also, had an unworthy mistress, but he did not choose to share the wages of dishonour; and it is thus, with both wit and pathos, that he laments her fall:—


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 The Perfect Game

E have all met the man who says that some odd things have happened to him, but that he does not really believe that they were supernatural. My own position is the opposite of this. I believe in the supernatural as a matter of intellect and reason, not as a matter of personal experience. I do not see ghosts; I only see their inherent probability. But it is entirely a matter of the mere intelligence, not even of the emotions; my nerves and body are altogether of this earth, very earthy. But upon people of this temperament one weird incident will often leave a peculiar impression. And the weirdest circumstance that ever occurred to me occurred a little while ago. It consisted in nothing less than my playing a game, and playing it quite well for some seventeen consecutive minutes. The ghost of my grandfather would have astonished me less.

On one of these blue and burning afternoons I found myself, to my inexpressible astonishment,

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Seated at a table in that room were the two friends Ellen Lester and Clara Elton, though each now bore a different name ; and in the appearance of the two there was a marked and perceptible difference. Both were still beautiful, but in the subdued and melancholy expression that would steal over the features of Clara, could be read a tale of suffering, well calculated to fade the rose from the cheek, and the fire from the eye of beauty. Yet still traces of her former loveliness lingered, " like the beams of the parting day." She was clad in a robe of plain black, a color well fitted to her pale and chastened features. From the page on which she was reading, she would occasionally raise her eyes and fix them upon the face of Ellen, who, engaged in some of the many occupations of a mother, sat opposite to her ; and in that glance what volumes of the feelings and thoughts of the woman were told Ellen Davis presented a different picture. In her sweet face, slightly touched by the hand of time, were to be seen hope and joy fulfilled, a youth not spent in dreams for the unattainable, nor a womanhood consumed in longings for all the visionary romance of a girl's desires. She was a wife and mother, and as she bent her gaze upon her child, sleeping by her side, tears would roll up into her eyes ; but how different from these that filled those of her friend. Both were silent. Clara's thoughts were with the past she was again a girl, innocent and happy, at home amid the flowers and joys of youth and the friends that she loved, before the world with its chilling blasts nipped all the warmer and holier feelings of the young affections, and gave her in return a blighted and withered existence. And Ellen was in the present, calm and contented, blest with the love of a husband, who cherished in each expiring year all the depth and intensity of his young aspirations -surrounded with the love of her children-conscious of being the means of cheering the drooping spirits of one to whom through every vicissitude she still clung to with a wife's deep love. No wonder that, on her beaming countenance , no traces of sorrow could be seen. But as the hours flew by, and still no familiar knock was heard, (and all day had that husband been absent) impatience began to be manifest in the eager listening for each noise, and the frequent risings to catch, even through the gloom , a glimpse of the husband and father. But the anxiety was soon rewarded, as, flushed with the attainment of a cause in which more than ordinary ability had been engaged, Edward Davis entered the room. And now he recounted the labors of the day, and in his glowing and forcible manner gave to his listeners a brief and simple account of the few past hours. Then the toils of the office forgotten, he took up a volume of Hemans, and, in the best tones of a rich and manly voice, read aloud. This poetry of Home, this copy of the affections, and what a family circle was gathered there ! When the time of rest came, each retired with the love of peace resting upon the household altar, and among the many prayers that ascended from the shrine of Faith to the throne of Love that night ; none was more pure or sincere than that of Clara Elton for the happiness of Ellen Davis.

Kind reader ! one more move on the table of the past and we are done. As stated in the preceding part of this tale, after the nuptials of Clara Elton and the Count Trejaney, they began life on the most magnificent scale. All that wealth could lay upon the altar of fancy was procured. Ball followed ball, and parties succeeded each other in rapid succession. All was glare and show, fashion and extravagance ; and the beautiful wife of the Count was every where the theme of admiration and envy. Thus passed a year. But at the end of that time, Clara saw a visible change in the manner and appearance of that husband, and in his habits came also a change. Home to him was no longer a source of attraction ; he was often absent all night. To the remonstrance of his wife he at first presented an evasive answer, but now came the harsh look and the cutting reply. Under the pretence of delayed remittances, he procured large sums of money from the father of Clara to be expended secretly in gambling. Clara bore up against the tide of coming misfortunes with a woman's strength and resolution. She saw one after another of her long cherished dreams fade away, and bitterly did she repent the wrong impressions of men and things that she had entertained in early life. She saw now the true standard of worth, but alas ! too late. For some time after the marriage, her family gave themselves up to vain and delusive dreams of the alliance, but as the requests for means to keep up the course of living in which the Count indulged became more frequent and pressing, doubts would suggest themselves to the mind of the worldly man, and these were every day strengthened by the reports that began to be circulated as to Trejaney's pretension to the title of Count. More than one boldly hinted that he was a foreign adventurer, in quest of money ; and this became the settled belief of many. At this crisis of affairs came the derangement of the business matters of our country, and as Mr. Elton was deeply engaged in the moneyed institutions, he of course was a heavy suff rer. Whilst he was writhing under the losses that must reduce him to absolute dependence, the Count still continued to solicit large sums of money. Seeing that there was now no possibility of concealment, Mr. Elton gave up his effects, and retired to a small residence some distance from the city, the property of a friend. This was a severe blow to poor Clara. But a still heavier one awaited her. She was accustomed to the protracted visits of her husband to other cities ; but he had now been absent still longer than usual, when she received a letter


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 But our illustrious writer of ballades it was unnecessary to deceive; it was the flight of beauty alone, not that of honesty or honour, that he lamented in his song; and the nameless mediæval vagabond has the best of the comparison.

There is now a Villon Society in England; and Mr. John Payne has translated him entirely into English, a task of unusual difficulty. I regret to find that Mr. Payne and I are not always at one as to the author's meaning; in such cases I am bound to suppose that he is in the right, although the weakness of the flesh withholds me from anything beyond a formal submission. He is now upon a larger venture, promising us at last that complete Arabian Nights to which we have all so long looked forward.

Charles of Orleans.—Perhaps I have done scanty justice to the charm of the old Duke's verses, and certainly he is too much treated as a fool. The period is not sufficiently remembered. What that period was, to what a blank of imbecility the human mind had fallen, can only be known to those who have waded in the chronicles. Excepting Comines and La Salle and Villon,


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THE WIDOW.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.

BY BENJAMIN B. THOM.

I was once journeying between Tours and Poictiers. The day was hot, and the road one I had often travelled before. I had been alone in the diligence for many miles, when we took up a young man, of extraordinary manly beauty, and having the air of a Spaniard. We soon fell into conversation and became intimate. Among other things he whiled away the tediousness of our journey by the following story :

Mr. Delaunay was a merchant of Poictiers, with two children who were the pride of his heart. These were a son and a daughter. The son's name was Mauricethe daughter's Mariette. Without stopping to draw for you a portrait of the son, let me present you with a slight sketch of the daughter. Mariette was exceedingly beautiful. But why, when I say that, enter into particulars ? How can I attempt to do so, when her large, full black eyes, beamed a tenderness and kindness that no painter could copy-and her rich, long chesnutcolored hair fell over her shoulders in thick ringlets, and were so abundant that they could have shaded her neck and shoulders like a mantilla ? What need to tell you that she had the smallest feet and the prettiest little hands in the world that her forehead was broad and fair-that on her mouth rested a bewitching smile, or that in its very repose, there was mind and eloquence ? At the age of seventeen, Mariette was the soul of the family. Each was eager to oblige her, without her commanding or ordering any body. They saw her wishes in her looks, and unspoken they were executed. Her intellect was as inexhaustible as her charity. She cast here and there money and ideas- as if she were the prodigal child of nature and of fortune-in short she was an absolutely perfect creature.

"Now, could you think it, Sir, that there was nothing in the miraculous beauty of Mariette that had enchanted the heart of a young man named Pascual- he was almost insensible to the charms of her face, her figure, and her manners. He did not conceive an inordinate affection for Mariette, by reason of her natural graces. He disdained to admire in her that which all the world, in common with himself, could admire. He preferred to all the outward attractions of this most lovely girl, her firmness, her enthusiasm, her happy turn of mind, and the noble resolution of her character. But now I think of it, you do not as yet know any thing of Pascual himself. I did, indeed, forget what the exigencies of every tale require- namely, a hero ; and, therefore, I must tell you of Pascual, and where he comes from, what he has to do with the story, and what too happened to him.

"Pascual, then, had come into France from Spainthat unhappy country. There he had been the President of a Royal Court, and at the age of twenty-three years he was required by the Political Governor of his province to condemn by the most summary process, his countrymen, who were suspected of being opposed to the new order of things-to rid the soil of Carlists that they were not able to surprise with arms in their hands. Pascual refused to obey an order which required from judges a sentence, and not an investigation. It appeared to him that a court of law ought not to be converted into a slaughter-house, where men, principles, and humanity, were to be all massacred together. He tore to pieces the patient conferring upon him his office, he stripped the ermine from his shoulders, and he bade adieu to the rash zeal of the legal tribunals of Spain, and betook himself as an exile to France, where, in the town of Poictiers he waited for better days, and the return of justice to his own country. " Once at Poictiers, Pascual was introduced to the family of Mr. Delaunay ; for that introduction he was indebted to chance, which may be designated the Providence of the unhappy. Mr. Delaunay deigned to receive him with a truly paternal goodnesss. He gave him clothes, food, and money- the very best advice for the wretched- and he also gave him the situation of a clerk in his counting-house. At last, Pascual had the happiness of being educated, if I may so say it, by the friendship, the cares, and the intelligence of Mariette ; she taught him to read, to write, and to think in French. What followed, think you ? In the exuberance of his gratitude the pupil profited so well by the advantages conferred upon him by his enchanting instructress, as to reverence, to adore, and to love her. "Mariette and Pascual were young, handsome, ardent, full of spirits and generosity -were they not formed to appreciate, to esteem, and to fall in love with each other ? They did so, and that with an ardor, an intoxication, it might be said of affection, that yielded only to a sense of duty, and a hope of the future. "You have learned that it was not the admirable beauty of Mariette that had captivated particularly Pascual ; and, on the other hand, it was neither the aspect nor the personal bearing of the young Spaniard that presented attractions to her. That which most pleased the young girl was the courage, the reckless daring, the poetic imagination of her lover. She admired in him, with a species of respect, his disinterestedness, his bravery, that alike despised death and life ; his eloquence when he spoke of the wicked, of traitors, of cowards, and, above all, of his country. "What a strange circumstance occurred ! Mr. Delaunay, in learning of the mutual love that existed between Pascual and Mariette, had not the courage to employ against them either complaints, or menaces, or any of


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 I have read no author who did not appal me by his torpor; and even the trial of Joan of Arc, conducted as it was by chosen clerks, bears witness to a dreary, sterile folly,—a twilight of the mind peopled with childish phantoms. In relation to his contemporaries, Charles seems quite a lively character.

It remains for me to acknowledge the kindness of Mr. Henry Pyne, who, immediately on the appearance of the study, sent me his edition of the Debate between the Heralds: a courtesy from the expert to the amateur only too uncommon in these days.

Knox.—Knox, the second in order of interest among the reformers, lies dead and buried in the works of the learned and unreadable M'Crie. It remains for some one to break the tomb and bring him forth, alive again and breathing, in a human book. With the best intentions in the world, I have only added two more flagstones, ponderous like their predecessors, to the mass of obstruction that buries the reformer from the world; I have touched him in my turn with that "mace of death," which Carlyle has attributed to Dryasdust; and my two dull papers are, in the matter of dulness, worthy additions to the labours of


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yet were a secrot to the entire city. He looked like man who was asking a favor, when he argued that, owing to a change of circumstances, he must ask for some alteration in the settlement that he intended to make.

“Entirely absorbed in the desperate part which he had been called upon to play by Mariette, Pascual began to reject with an assumed arrogance the views and the reasonable offers of Mr, Delaunay. Trembling he pre- tended to require the lnst farthing that had been first anentioned should be paid to him! and he inflicted upon himself the misery—the poor wretch !—of higgling about the most paltry details, about shillings, pence, and even farthings, and he did this 20 well, that the merchant at last started out of bis chair, rashed toward him and said in a terrible passion-

“God forgive me, Sir, but you seem to me to chaffer about the hand of my daughter?

“Sit) replied Pascual, while cold drops of agony poured down his face, ‘marriage I have always looked upon asa matter of business, and F want, therefore, to make the best bargain I can.’

“Very well, Sir. observed Delaunay ; ‘but this T have to ay, that this is a merchanilize in which T do not deal, and therefore I ean strike no bargain with you. Begone, Sir!”

T go,’ stammered forth Poscual,

“ At the same moment Maurice, the brother of Mas riette, ran toward him, either for the purpore of striking, him, or of preventing him from leaving the room, when the young maiden stopped him, by crying out in a feigned tone of indignation, mixed with contempt—

“Do not touch him, Maurice. He is neither worthy of your anger, nor of mine. Let him go; for I now love him no more.”

«Pascual ran from the hatl of Mr. Delaunay to betake himeclf to a amall hotel in the environs of Poictiers, The next morning he recived a message from Maurice, and, as he never thought of defending bimsclf, was wounded. It was intimated to him that, wounded as he waa, he should instuntly quit Poictiers,

“One night, and « few hours before hie departure, a ‘woman vcited, and followed by an old nurse, entered seeretly into his chamber. The young man, astonished by this mysterious visit, uttored first a cry of fear, and then of joy—and then he knelt down in toars at the fect of Mariette!

“+Pascunl,’ said Mudemoiselle Delaunay, ‘swear to me that you will have palience and courage."

“61 owear it,’ answered Pascual.

“<Bwear always to love, and without secking ever again to see me.”

“eT swear it?

«+ Farewell, then, and haste away, You are a noble being, and [love you,” “Mariette? timidly asked the wretched young man, ‘+ will our sacrifice repair the wrongs that fortune has done to your father 2"

«Yen

««« Will your hand save his honor?”

 * Ves.’

«¢ And will it make your mother’s future life hoppy ?”

“Yon!

 * « Will your brother’s name be respected 1”

«Yen!

“«« And will you atl yet esteem me?

“Yes!

¢You have then no more need of me, T go?

« Aa Marictte was about ta depart she stopped at the threshold of the door, and turned toward Pascual, whose sobs of grief reached her ear.

«+« Pascual, friend, said she, ‘long since, you heard from me the first whisper of lovereceivo to-day my first and my last kiss of affection.”

Pascual knelt before her, and he kissed the forchead of the noophyte, ‘he two martyrs embraced.

“The following week Marictte became the Baroness Grandet. The wife, or rather the nurse, of a husbend, whose only struggle in life was to postpone, amid pains and sickness, the final moment of his departure for another workl. Pascual, however, kept the frightful promise be had made; he never again saw her, be never sought to sce her aguin. And this Pascual— about whom I have told you such a long and tedious story is—mysclf!”

“Yous and what then brings you back to Poictiers ?””

“For the first time for three years—three long yenrs, I received yesterday a letter—ono single word from Mariette. She has deigned to write to me, * Come,’ and. here Lam, She suflers, perhaps. She in unhappy. In short, Mariette, calls me, and T am—kere.”

We arrived at the moment in the town of Poicticrs. Tho horses advanced with slow paces up the street of the Deux-Pilicrs; in that pretty street in which Pascual had adored Mariette. I began to look at the number on each house, and I was not long in decyphering “No. 15.” At that moment there occurred something very extraordinery. A young lady of ravishing beauty op- peared on a sudden at one of the open windows of the habitation of which I epeuk, and the first sight of this angelic being made my fellow traveller tremble with emotion.

“Mariette!” It was Mariette, who was dressed in black, and who wore the weepers of a widow. What a misfortune! what happiness!

Poor Pascual wept with joy. Atmost motionless from astonistunent and delight, he placed his band upon his eyes, upon his mouth, and then stretched it tuward Marictte, as if he would send to her a kiss impregnated ‘hb his (ears, At the same i: nt the lovely widow

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 and one evidently the abode of the teacher. I thank the Bible-reader and say that I will pay him for the house, and I and the men go in streaming, and my teeth chatter with cold as the breeze chills my saturated garment while I give out the rations of beef, rum, blankets, and tobacco to the men. Then I clear my apartment out and attempt to get dry, operations which are interrupted by Kefalla coming for tobacco to buy firewood off the mission teacher to cook our food by.

Presently my excellent little cook brings in my food, and in with it come two mission teachers—our first acquaintance, the one with a white jacket, and another with a blue. They lounge about and spit in all directions, and then chiefs commence to arrive with their families complete, and they sidle into the apartment and ostentatiously ogle the demi-john of rum.

They are, as usual, a nuisance, sitting about on everything. No sooner have I taken an unclean-looking chief off the wood sofa, than I observe another one has silently seated himself in the middle of my open portmanteau. Removing him and shutting it up, I see another one has settled on the men’s beef and rice sack.

It is now about three o'clock and I am still chilled to the bone in spite of tea. The weather is as bad as ever. The men say that the rest of the road to Buea is far worse than that which we have so far come along, and that we should never get there before dark, and "for sure" should not get there afterwards, because by the time the dark came down we should be in "bad place too much." Therefore, to their great relief, I say I will stay at this place—Buana—for the night, and go on in the morning time up to Buea; and just for the present I think I will wrap myself up in a blanket and try and get the chill out of me, so I give the chiefs a glass of rum each, plenty of head tobacco, and my best thanks for their kind call, and then turn them and the expectorating mission teachers out. I have not been lying down five minutes on the plank that serves for a sofa by day and a bed by night, when Charles comes knocking at the door. He wants tobacco. "Missionary man no fit to let we have firewood unless we buy em." Give Charles a head and shut him out again, and drop


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 M'Crie. Yet I believe they are worth reprinting in the interest of the next biographer of Knox. I trust his book may be a masterpiece; and I indulge the hope that my two studies may lend him a hint or perhaps spare him a delay in its composition.

Of the Pepys I can say nothing; for it has been too recently through my hands; and I still retain some of the heat of composition. Yet it may serve as a text for the last remark I have to offer. To Pepys I think I have been amply just; to the others, to Burns, Thoreau, Whitman, Charles of Orleans, even Villon, I have found myself in the retrospect ever too grudging of praise, ever too disrespectful in manner. It is not easy to see why I should have been most liberal to the man of least pretensions. Perhaps some cowardice withheld me from the proper warmth of tone; perhaps it is easier to be just to those nearer us in rank of mind. Such at least is the fact, which other critics may explain. For these were all men whom, for one reason or another, I loved; or when I did not love the men, my love was the greater to their books. I had read them and lived with them; for months they were continually in my


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 black woman adored by everyone, and the Excellent Mrs. Emilia, a rag doll, made by the black woman and very ugly, the poor thing, with her eyes of black retrós sewing lines and her eyebrows so high that you can see a witch's face. But despite this, Narizinho loves Mrs. Emilia very much. She talks to her all the time and never goes to bed without first tucking her into a hammock set up between two chair legs. Apart from this witch in a pannier, Narizinho's other interest is a stream that runs through the back of the orchard, with water so clear that you can see the rocks at the bottom and all the small fish.

Not a day goes by without Lucia sitting by the water's edge, at the root of an old ingázeiro tree, staying there for hours, listening to the sound of the current and feeding the fish. And they know her! As soon as the girl arrives, they all come running from afar, their heads held high, hungry beyond belief. First come the piquiras, the pot-bellied dusky millions fish with their eyes popping out; then come the risky red-tailed wrasses; and finally one or two suspicious parapitinga. And the little girl stays in this amusement until Aunt Anastacia appears at the gate of the orchard and shouts in her soothing voice: — Narizinho! Grandma's calling!

And so those three creatures lived, deep in the hollow of the ground, very content with life, with no worries or annoyances.

Once, when the little girl was by the river with her doll, she felt heavy-eyed and felt a great ache in her body. She stretched out on the grass and soon fell asleep, lulled by the murmur of the stream. She was already dreaming


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 off to sleep again for a quarter of an hour, then am aroused by some enterprising sightseers pushing open the window-shutters; when I look round there are a mass of black heads sticking through the window-hole. I tell them respectfully that the circus is closed for repairs, and fasten up the shutters, but sleep is impossible, so I turn out and go and see what those men of mine are after. They are comfortable enough round their fire, with their clothes suspended on strings in the smoke above them, and I envy them that fire. I then stroll round to see if there is anything to be seen, but the scenery is much like that you would enjoy if you were inside a blanc-mange. So as it is now growing dark I return to my room and light candles, and read Dr. Günther on Fishes. If this sort of weather goes on I expect I shall specialise fins and gills myself. Room becomes full of blacks. Unless you watch the door, you do not see how it is done. You look at a corner one minute and it is empty, and the next time you look that way it is full of rows of white teeth and watching eyes. The two mission teachers come in and make a show of teaching a child to read the Bible. I, having decided that it does not matter much what kind of fins you wear as they all work well, write up my log. About seven I get cook to make me some more tea, and shortly after find myself confronted with difficulties as to the disposal of the two mission teachers for the night. This class of man has no resource in him, and I think worse of the effects of mission-teaching than usual as I prepare to try and get a sleep; not an elaborate affair, I assure you, for I only want to wrap myself round in a blanket and lie on that plank, but the rain has got into the blankets and horror! there is no pillow. The mission men have cleared their bed paraphernalia right out. Now you can do without a good many things, but not without a pillow, so hunt round to find something to make one with; find the Bible in English, the Bible in German, and two hymn-books, and a candle-stick. These seem all the small articles in the room—no, there is a parcel behind the books—mission teachers' Sunday trousers—make delightful arrangement of books bound round with trousers and the whole affair wrapped in one of my towels. Never saw till now advantage of Africans having trousers.


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Rh

III. Different. Policy Perceptions in Planning

A. Iwo basic approaches: JCS and State-ISA

The principal planning agencies responding to the President's directive regarding Recommendations 11 and 12 were the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Department of State together with OSD/ISA, and the two efforts took rather different approaches. The JCS responded literally to the instructions and tasked CINCPAC to prepare an action program of border control and retaliatory operations with 72-hour responsiveness and one of "graduated overt military pressure by CVN and U.S. forces" against North Vietnam with 30-day responsiveness. The JCS preparation for near-term implementation of these recommendations went beyond the usual contingency planning as Indicated by their Instruction that CINPAC's plan "permit sequential implementation" of the three actions. The JCS approved the CINCIAC submission, as OPLAN 37-64, on 17 April 1964.

The State-ISA planning activity proceeded under the apparent belief that the actions included in Secretary McNamara's Recommendation 12 vere approved as contingency options, one or more or none of which might be selected for implementation at some time in the future. In fact, State believed the Secretary's categories of action were not in keeping with likely developments _- "that" [cross-border] actions against Cambodia and Laos are dependent heavily on the political position in these countries at the time, and that, in general, it seems more likely that we would wish to hold off in hitting Cambodia until we had gone ahead hard against North Vietnam itself...there appear to be reasons not to open up other theaters until we have made clear that North Vietnam is the main theatre and have not really started on it." Further, it questioned the utility of tit-for-tat retaliatory actions because of (1) the difficulty of responding in kind, or in a fitting manner, to the most likely -- terrorist - variety of VC provocations and (2) their inappropriateness for conveying. "the picture of concerted and steadily rising pressures that reflect complete U.S. determination to finish the job." Accordingly, the State-ISA effort began by developing a political scenario designed to accommodate only the graduated military pressures referred to in Recommendation 12. These were divided into three major categories: (1) covert GVN action against North Vietnam with covert U.S. support; (2) overt GVN action with covert U.S. support; and (3) overt joint GVN and U.S. action. The two categories involving overt activities were conceived of as possible future developments, contingent upon a presidential decision that clearly had not been made.

B. Different Approaches: Perceptions of the Strategic Problem in Southeast Asia

The differences in approach taken in the two planning efforts cannot be explained simply by the-obvious military and political division of labor. It is clear from documents of the period that there was considerable coordination between the two groups, with the JCS planners looking to State and ISA for political guidance and the latter group looking to the former for recommendations for appropriate military actions. More fundamental was the existence of different perceptions of the strategic Rh


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 a beautiful dream when she felt an itch on her face. She opened her eyes and, with great amazement, saw a little fish standing on the tip of her little nose. Dressed, yes! It was wearing a red coat, a top hat and a flower on its chest: it was beautiful! The little animal looked at her face with the air of someone who doesn't understand anything.

The girl was so amazed by the marvelous scene that she held her breath for fear of frightening the curious creature, and remained that way for some time until the buzz of an insect distracted her. It was a beetle that was flying over her head and, after a few turns, landed on her forehead. Narizinho, shivering, was about to swat it away with a good blow, when she noticed that it too was dressed like a person, with a coat, glasses and a cane. She stopped herself and stood still to see what would happen. The beetle, noticing Mr. Fish's presence, put his hand up to his hat and greeted him kindly:

— Hello, Master Scaly! How's your health?

— Something like this, my friend Thick Skin. I chipped three scales off my back yesterday and the doctor prescribed me some country air. I came to take the treatment, but here I found this hill that I don't recognize, and I'm wondering what the hell this white, smooth earth is. Is it marble?" he said, tapping Narizinho on the nose with the umbrella's toe.

The beetle, who knows a lot about dirt because he's


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Rh

for approximate tine-phasing of the various steps in "the scenario"; (2) urged a fusion of the scenario with CICPAC operational planning (OPIAN 37/64); and (3) attempted to Incorporate Secretary Nearera's requested border control operations into the political actions recommended for the current time period. Moreover, the JCS developed a "political/military scenario" for graduated overt military pressure against North Vietnam, as called for in Secretary NcNamara's Recommendation No. 12, 16 March 1964. Within this scenario the JCS Included "expanded U.S. overt military pressures" against the DRV, In effect, they outlined a continually intensifying program of military pressures which Increasingly involved U.S. military participation.

Complementing the thrust of JCS advice; the next draft, 8 April, removed current political actions from the list of political scenarios and treated them in a section entitled "Steps Which Should be Taken Now." The current scenarios included: (1) GN/FARMGATE graduated overt military pressures against North Vietnam; (2) separate Laotian and Cambodian border control actions; (3) separate GVN retaliatory actions against North Vietnam; and (4) overt U.S. graduated military pressures against North Vietnam. The detailed scenario. for the GVN/FARMGATE operations was reviewed by Mr. McNaughton with William Sullivan of the Department of State and Michael. Forrestal of the White House staff. The scenario version resulting from this conference, contains the JCS-recommended time-phasing, in terms of D-Day minus X approximations. It also incorporates specific military actions recommended by the JCS submission. Apparently, only this scenario and the detailed description of "Steps Which Should be Taken Now" were circulated. for comment by other agencies. Apparently, this draft provided the basis for scenario discussions held in Saigon among Secretary Rusk, Assistant Secretary William Bender CJS Wheeler, Ambassador Lodge and certain military and civilian members of the Country Team on 19-20 April 1964}}

A later version was prepared on 20 April and forwarded to the Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff, on 23 April. Significantly, it contained only three scenarios: I. "Uncommitting" steps which should be taken now; II. GVN/FARMGATE graduated overt pressures on DRV; III. Contingency Plan for U.S. overt response to DRV/CHICOM reactions. It also carried the following comment concerning their relationship:

""It should be noted that carrying out Scenario I does not necessarily commit the U.S. to commence Scenario I; and that Scenario II may be carried out without requiring resort to Scenario III. Moreover, since Scenario II cannot be launched without our being prepared to carry out Scenario III, you should assume that It may be necessary for the D-Dey of Scenario III to occur as soon as 10 days after the D-Day of Scenario II. Scenario III is a contingency plan of action which we would contemplate putting into effect only if the DRV's or Chicon's reaction to Scenario II was judged by the President to require overt U.S. response."" Rh


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 always digging holes, crouched down, put his glasses in his beak and, after examining the "dirt", said:

— It's not marble. It's more like rubber or cheese!...

— What about these leafless plants?" asked Scaly, showing his eyebrows.

— They must be wicker rods or fins, don't you see how flexible they are? I'm going to take a bundle of them to my friend the Cricket so that he can make me a sewing rack.

— And I'll take another for Mrs. Spider, the seamstress, to put in the corsets.

And the two of them set about pulling strands out of Narizinho's eyebrows. Each "fin" they pulled out was a sharp little pain, and the "land" felt like sweeping them away with a slap, but it endured everything, without the slightest grimace, so interesting was it finding this singular adventure. And she remained motionless, spying on the antics of the curious little animals engaged in harvesting the fin sticks, thinking to herself:


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 playing a game called croquet. I had imagined that it belonged to the epoch of Leech and Anthony Trollope, and I had neglected to provide myself with those very long and luxuriant side whiskers which are really essential to such a scene. I played it with a man whom we will call Parkinson, and with whom I had a semi-philosophical argument which lasted through the entire contest. It is deeply implanted in my mind that I had the best of the argument; but it is certain and beyond dispute that I had the worst of the game.

"Oh, Parkinson, Parkinson!" I cried, patting him affectionately on the head with a mallet, "how far you really are from the pure love of the sport—you who can play. It is only we who play badly who love the Game itself. You love glory; you love applause; you love the earthquake voice of victory; you do not love croquet. You do not love croquet until you love being beaten at croquet. It is we the bunglers who adore the occupation in the abstract. It is we to whom it is art for art's sake. If we may see the face of Croquet herself (if I may so express myself) we are content to see her face turned upon us in anger. Our play is called amateurish; and we wear proudly the name of amateur, for amateurs is but the French for Lovers. We accept all adventures from our Lady, the most disastrous or the most dreary. We wait

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Page:Travels in West Africa, Congo Français, Corisco and Cameroons (IA travelsinwestafr00kingrich).pdf/605

 Civilisation has its points after all. But it is no use trying to get any sleep until those men are quieter. The partition which separates my apartment from theirs is a bamboo and mat affair, straight at the top so leaving under the roof a triangular space above common to both rooms. Also common to both rooms are the smoke of the fire and the conversation. Kefalla is holding forth in a dogmatic way, and some of the others are snoring. There is a new idea in decoration along the separating wall, Mr. Morris might have made something out of it for a dado. It is composed of an arrangement in line of stretched out singlets. Vaseline the revolver. Wish those men would leave off chattering. Kefalla seems to know the worst about most of the people, black and white, down in Ambas Bay, but I do not believe those last two stories. Evidently great jokes in next room now; Kefalla has thrown himself, still talking, in the dark, on to the top of one of the mission teachers. The women of the village outside have been keeping up, this hour and more, a most melancholy coo-ōoing. Those foolish creatures are evidently worrying about their husbands who have gone down to market in Ambas Bay, and who, they think, are lost in the bush. I have not a shadow of a doubt that those husbands who are not home by now are safely drunk in town, or reposing on the grand new road the kindly Government have provided for them, either in one of the side drains, or tucked in among the lava rock.

September 21st—Coo-ōoing went on all-night. I was aroused about 9.30, by uproar in adjacent hut: one husband had returned in a bellicose condition and whacked his wives, and their squarks and squalls, instead of acting as a warning to the other ladies, stimulate the silly things to go on coo-ōoing louder and more entreatingly than ever, so that their husbands might come home and whack them too, I suppose, and whenever the unmitigated hardness of my plank rouses me I hear them still coo-ōoing.

No watchman is required to wake you in the morning on the top of a Cameroon foot-hill by 5.30, because about 4. the dank chill that comes before the dawn does so most effectively. One old chief turned up early out of the mist and dashed me a bottle of palm wine; he says he wants to


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 — That's a good one! I feel like I've become a whale!

Then the little fish, with the bundle of fins under his arm, climbed down and began to examine the girl's lips and cheeks attentively. Before her nose, it stopped and, pointing at her nostrils, said:

— Well, here's a very nice burrow for a couple of beetles. Two rooms, one for the husband, one for the lady beetle. Great!...

— It's a good place, said the beetle, but I hope some damned scorpion doesn't live here!...

— I don't think so, replied the little fish. The scorpions have moved to the other side of the river, where there are lots of old termites.

— Nevertheless, added the beetle, "the word on the street is that one of them is here, ravaging these parts. And it may well be that he's hiding in this very cave.

— I don't think so, said the little fish. I have a good police force that informs me of the slightest steps of these monsters.

— In any case, let's see," said the beetle prudently, shaking his cane inside the "burrow":

— Hu! Hu! Get out, you devil!

But it happened that the cane tickled the girl's nostrils and she couldn't stop herself from sneezing: "Atchin!"


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Rh

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 which was enacted on the 15th day of December 2515 Buddhist Era, from the day of this announcement onwards.

May all the Thais be of one mind and be united unanimously in defending and protecting this Constitution of the Kingdom of Thailand, so as to maintain the democratic regime and sovereign power of all the Thais throughout the land of this Realm, bringing about prosperity, glorious glory, thriving triumph, various favourable outcomes, and immense and immortal fame to the people under His authority in accordance with His great royal wish in every respect!

Thailand is one and indivisible kingdom.

Thailand is administered under a democratic regime with Monarch as Head [of State].

The sovereign power belongs to all the Thais. The Monarch, who is the Head [of State], exercises such power by virtue of the provisions of this Constitution only.

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 By ascending one of the glens, south of Ballaugh, but still in that Sheading, (so called,) we are soon in a different kind of country—in the heart of the hilly part of the island, quite sub-alpine in character. Here the mosses are not low and flat, but commonly high and inclined, becoming constant feeders to the rivulets. They abound with the usual plants—Drosera rotundifolia, Pinguicula, Anagallis tenella, Scutellaria minor, Hypericum elodes, Waldenbergia, Aspidium Oreopteris, Lycopedia, Bryum punctaten, and, no doubt, others. Frequent waterfalls are here formed, where the streams flow down their rocky beds, and especially whores they leave the slate rock for the boulder clays, which the water more easily scoops out. Such is the case at the Spoogt-vane, a pretty cascade, situated in a retired amphitheatre, south of Ballaugh. It is less frequented than Rhenass or Glen Meay, and to some, therefore, perhaps as pleasing, though these are certainly romantic, the last even approaching the grand, where the river finally trends through the rocky ravine to the sea. There are the remains of a Treen Church in the wood, near the Spoogt-vane Cascade. The river abounds with a small dark-coloured trout.

As the principal object of our Union is to promote the study of Natural History, I venture to bring before its members the claims which these admirable Societies have ta their sympathy and support.

Perhaps no better illustrations could be given of the successful combination of numbers in effecting results, which are equally beyond the reach of private means on account of their costliness, and of public enterprise on account of the risk and uncertainty of sale, which many of the publications—mostly of a technical nature—would involve.

It is, therefore, not toe much to say that, except for the existence of these Societies, many most valuable works in Natural History—on which the talented authors have devoted years of labour as well as much expense—would never have been published.

Having, at the request of my friend, Mr. Wm. Mathews, jun., M.A., F.G.S., (who held the office of local honorary secretary to both Societies for upwards of twenty years,) undertaken to succeed him in the duty of collecting the subscriptions and distributing the volumes, and thus feeling more than an ordinary interest in the welfare of the Societies—this circumstance must be my apology for introducing the subject to the notice of the members of our Union, many of whom are doubtless more familiar than I am with the splendid works which they have issued.


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 dash me a fowl, but I decline, and accept two eggs, and give him four heads of tobacco.

The whole place is swathed in thick white mist through which my audience arrive. But I am firm with them, and shut up the doors and windows and disregard their bangings on them while I am dressing, or rather redressing. The mission teachers get in with my tea, and sit and smoke and spit while I have my breakfast. Give me cannibal Fans! I do not believe Blue Jacket is a teacher at all, but a horrible Frankenstein parasite thing on White Jacket. He takes everything away from White Jacket as soon as I give it him: White Jacket feebly remonstrating. I see as we leave that he is taking the money I gave the latter vi et armis out of his pocket.

It is pouring with rain again now, and we go down the steep hillock to the path we came along yesterday, keep it until we come to where the old path cuts it, and then turn up to the right following the old path's course and leave Buana without a pang of regret. Our road goes N.E. Oh, the mud of it! Not the clearish cascades of yesterday but sticky, slippery mud, intensely sticky, and intensely slippery. The narrow path which is filled by this, is V-shaped underneath from wear, and I soon find the safest way is right through the deepest mud in the middle.

The white mist shuts off all details beyond ten yards in any direction. All we can see, as we first turn up the path, is a patch of kokos of tremendous size on our right. After this comes weedy plantation, and stretches of sword grass hanging across the road. The country is not so level as—or rather, I should say, more acutely unlevel than—that we came over yesterday. On we go, patiently doing our mud pulling through the valleys; toiling up a hillside among lumps of rock and stretches of forest, for we are now beyond Buana’s plantations; and skirting the summit of the hill only to descend into another valley. Evidently this is a succession of foot-hills of the great mountain and we are not on its true face yet. As we go on they become more and more abrupt in form, the valleys mere narrow ravines. Evidently in the wet season (this is only the tornado season) each of these valleys is occupied by a raging


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 outside her iron gates (I allude to the hoops), vainly essaying to enter. Our devoted balls, impetuous and full of chivalry, will not be confined within the pedantic boundaries of the mere croquet ground. Our balls seek honour in the ends of the earth; they turn up in the flower-beds and the conservatory; they are to be found in the front garden and the next street. No, Parkinson! The good painter loves his skill. It is the bad painter who loves his art. The good musician loves being a musician; the bad musician loves music. With such a pure and hopeless passion do I worship croquet. I love the game itself. I love the parallelogram of grass marked out with chalk or tape, as if its limits were the frontiers of my sacred fatherland, the four seas of Britain. I love the mere swing of the mallets, and the click of the balls is music. The four colours are to me sacramental and symbolic, like the red of martyrdom, or the white of Easter Day. You lose all this, my poor Parkinson. You have to solace yourself for the absence of this vision by the paltry consolation of being able to go through hoops and to hit the stick."

And I waved my mallet in the air with a graceful gaiety.

"Don't be too sorry for me," said Parkinson, with his simple sarcasm. "I shall get over it in

title: Page:Tremendous Trifles.djvu/31


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372 To march when the signal appears; On the opposite side of the stream Prince Chara has mustered his force; In the gorge Charamuni I post Ten thousand armed Antis on watch; Another such force is in wait On the left, in the vale of Pachar. We are ready to meet our foes, We await them with resolute calm; They will march in their confident pride Until their retreat is cut off, Then the trumpet of war shall resound, From the mountains the stones shall pour down, Great blocks will be hurled from above. The Huancas are crushed or dispersed, Then the knife shall do its fell work, All will perish by blows from our hands, Our arrows will follow their flight.
 * People and soldiers. It is well! It is very well!

 * (Cheers and martial music.)

[Exeunt.

''A wild place in the mountains. Distant view of Ollantay-tampu.''

 * (Enter, torn and ragged, and covered with blood, with two attendants.)

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 time. But it seems to me that the more a man likes a game the better he would want to play it. Suppose the pleasure in the thing itself does come first, doesn't the pleasure of success come naturally and inevitably afterwards? Or, take your own simile of the Knight and his Lady-love. I admit the gentleman does first and foremost want to be in the lady's presence. But I never heard of a gentleman who wanted to look an utter ass when he was there."

"Perhaps not; though he generally looks it," I replied. "But the truth is that there is a fallacy in the simile, although it was my own. The happiness at which the lover is aiming is an infinite happiness, which can be extended without limit. The more he is loved, normally speaking, the jollier he will be. It is definitely true that the stronger the love of both lovers, the stronger will be the happiness. But it is not true that the stronger the play of both croquet players the stronger will be the game. It is logically possible—(follow me closely here, Parkinson!)—it is logically possible, to play croquet too well to enjoy it at all. If you could put this blue ball through that distant hoop as easily as you could pick it up with your hand, then you would not put it through that hoop any more than you pick it up with your hand; it would not be worth doing. If you could

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 No amnesty shall be granted to a person who has committed an act of overthrowing the Monarchy or Constitution.

The Thai people, irrespective of their origins or religions, are equally under the protection of this Constitution.

A provision of any law whose text is contrary or repugnant to this Constitution is inapplicable.

The person of the Monarch dwells in the position of revered worship and inviolability.

No person shall institute an accusation or litigation against the Monarch in any manner.

The Monarch is a devotee of the Buddha and is the supreme patron of religions.

The Monarch exercises the legislative power through the National Assembly.

The Monarch exercises the executive power through the Council of Ministers.

The Monarch exercises the judicial power through the courts.

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