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 over small private perils, and for the time gives them something like largeness of views; but, as little doubt have I, that convulsive revolutions put back the world in all that is good, check civilisation, bring the dregs of society to its surface; in short, it appears to me that insurrections and battles are the acute diseases of nations, and that their tendency is to exhaust, by their violence, the vital energies of the countries where they occur. That England may be spared the spasms, cramps, and frenzy-fits now contorting the Continent, and threatening Ireland, I earnestly pray. With the French and Irish I have no sympathy. With the Germans and Italians I think the case is different; as different as the love of freedom is from the lust for license."

Her birthday came round. She wrote to the friend whose birthday was within a week of hers; wrote the accustomed letter; but, reading it with our knowledge of what she had done, we perceive the difference between her thoughts and what they were a year or two ago, when she said "I have done nothing." There must have been a modest consciousness of having "done something" present in her mind, as she wrote this year:—

"I am now thirty-two. Youth is gone—gone,—and will never come back: can't help it It seems to me, that sorrow must come some time to everybody, and those who scarcely taste it in their youth, often have a


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610 Ruahine Range, Colenso (Handbook). Marlborough and Nelson—Mount Stokes, J. H. Macmahon! Torrent Bay, Sandy Bay, Kingsley! Maitai Valley, Mount Owen, Wangapeka, T.F.C.; Mount Rochfort, W. Townson! Otago—Dusky Bay, Forster, Menzies, Enys! Sea-level to 4000ft. December–January.

Very close to P. buxifolia, but always to be distinguished by the glabrous branches.

3. P. Traversii, ''Hook. f. Handb. N.Z. Fl.'' 243.—A small very stout usually erect densely branched shrub 6–24 in. high; branches stout, often tortuous, prominently tubercled at the insertion of the fallen leaves, glabrous or slightly pubescent, usually with a tuft of silky hairs in the axils of the leaves; bark blackishbrown. Leaves closely quadrifariously imbricated, sessile, ⅙–⅓ in. long, oblong or obovate-oblong to suborbicular, obtuse, thick and coriaceous, quite glabrous, midrib evident or obscure, veinless, margins often edged with red; floral leaves larger and broader, often Twice or thrice as large, sometimes drying a peculiar verdigrisgreen. Flowers numerous, densely capitate, white or pinkish-white, polygamo-diœcious. Perianth densely silky-villous, ¼–⅓ in. long, the females shorter and broader than the males. Anthers in the male flowers almost reaching the top of the lobes, in the female flowers small and empty and on very short filaments. Ripe fruit not seen.

4. P. buxifolia, ''Hook. f. Handb. N.Z. Fl.'' 243. —A small stout erect compactly branched shrub 1–5 ft. high; branches stout, densely clothed with coarse short greyish hairs; bark brownish-black, muricated. Leaves quadrifariously imbricated, shortly petioled, ¼–¾ in. long, oblong-ovate or elliptic-oblong, acute or obtuse, coriaceous, glabrous, keeled, much wrinkled beneath, lateral veins conspicuous or obsolete, often verdigris-green when dry; floral leaves usually larger and broader. Flowers numerous, densely capitate, white or pink, polygamo-diœcious. Perianth silky-villous, ¼–⅓ in. long; females shorter and broader. Anthers in the male flowers on long filaments, almost reaching the top of the perianth-lobes; in the females minute, empty. Ripe fruit not seen.—P. stylosa, Col. in Trans. N.Z. Inst. xx. (1888) 205. P. subsimilis, Col. l.c. xxviii. (1896) 609. P. montana, Col. l.c. xxxi. (1899) 279.

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 more brimming and bitter cup to drain in after life; whereas, those who exhaust the dregs early, who drink the lees before the wine, may reasonably hope for more palatable draughts to succeed."

The authorship of "Jane Eyre" was as yet a close secret in the Brontë family; not even this friend, who was all but a sister, knew more about it than the rest of the world. She might conjecture, it is true, both from her knowledge of previous habits, and from the suspicious fact of the proofs having been corrected at B, that some literary project was afoot; but she knew nothing, and wisely said nothing, until she heard a report from others, that Charlotte Brontë was an author—had published a novel! Then she wrote to her; and received the two following letters; confirmatory enough, as it seems to me now, in their very vehemence and agitation of intended denial, of the truth of the report.

1em

"Write another letter, and explain that last note of yours distinctly. If your allusions are to myself, which I suppose they are, understand this,—I have given no one a right to gossip about me, and am not to be judged by frivolous conjectures, emanating from any quarter


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 whatever. Let me know what you heard, and from whom you heard it."

1em

"All I can say to you about a certain matter is this: the report—if report there be—and if the lady, who seems to have been rather mystified, had not dreamt what she fancied had been told to her—must have had its origin in some absurd misunderstanding. I have given no one a right either to affirm, or to hint, in the most distant manner, that I was 'publishing'—(humbug!) Whoever has said it—if any one has, which I doubt—is no friend of mine. Though twenty books were ascribed to me, I should own none. I scout the idea utterly. Whoever, after I have distinctly rejected the charge, urges it upon me, will do an unkind and an ill-bred thing. The most profound obscurity is infinitely preferable to vulgar notoriety; and that notoriety I neither seek nor will have. If then any B—an, or G—an, should presume to bore you on the subject,—to ask you what 'novel' Miss Brontë has been 'publishing,' you can just say, with the distinct firmness of which you are perfect mistress, when you choose, that you are authorised by Miss Brontë to say, that she repels and disowns every accusation of the kind. You may add, if you please, that if any one has her confidence, you believe you have, and she has made no


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 drivelling confessions to you on the subject. I am at a loss to conjecture from what source this rumour has come; and, I fear, it has far from a friendly origin. I am not certain, however, and I should be very glad if I could gain certainty. Should you hear anything more, please let me know. Your offer of 'Simeon's Life' is a very kind one, and I thank you for it. I dare say Papa would like to see the work very much, as he knew Mr. Simeon. Laugh or scold A out of the publishing notion; and believe me, through all chances and changes, whether calumniated or let alone,—Yours faithfully, "C. ."

The reason why Miss Brontë was so anxious to preserve her secret, was, I am told, that she had pledged her word to her sisters that it should not be revealed through her.

The dilemmas attendant on the publication of the sisters' novels, under assumed names, were increasing upon them. Many critics insisted on believing, that all the fictions published as by three Bells were the works of one author, but written at different periods of his development and maturity. No doubt, this suspicion affected the reception of the books. Ever since the completion of Anne Brontë's tale of "Agnes Grey," she had been labouring at a second, "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall." It is little known; the subject—the


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 deterioration of a character, whose profligacy and ruin took their rise in habits of intemperance, so slight as to be only considered "good fellowship"—was painfully discordant to one who would fain have sheltered herself from all but peaceful and religious ideas. "She had" (says her sister of that gentle "little one"), "in the course of her life, been called on to contemplate near at hand, and for a long time, the terrible effects of talents misused and faculties abused; hers was naturally a sensitive, reserved, and dejected nature; what she saw sunk very deeply into her mind; it did her harm. She brooded over it till she believed it to be a duty to reproduce every detail (of course, with fictitious characters, incidents, and situations), as a warning to others. She hated her work, but would pursue it. When reasoned with on the subject, she regarded such reasonings as a temptation to self-indulgence. She must be honest; she must not varnish, soften, or conceal. This well-meant resolution brought on her misconstruction, and some abuse, which she bore, as it was her custom to bear whatever was unpleasant, with mild steady patience. She was a very sincere and practical Christian, but the tinge of religious melancholy communicated a sad shade to her brief blameless life."

In the June of this year, "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" was sufficiently near its completion to be submitted to the person who had previously published for Ellis and Acton Bell.


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 In consequence of his mode of doing business, considerable annoyance was occasioned both to Miss Brontë and to them. The circumstances, as detailed in a letter of hers to a friend in New Zealand, were these:—One morning, at the beginning of July, a communication was received at the Parsonage from Messrs. Smith and Elder, which disturbed its quiet inmates not a little, as, though the matter brought under their notice was merely referred to as one which affected their literary reputation, they conceived it to have a bearing likewise upon their character. "Jane Eyre" had had a great run in America, and a publisher there had consequently bid high for early sheets of the next work by "Currer Bell." These Messrs. Smith and Elder had promised to let him have. He was therefore greatly astonished, and not well pleased, to learn that a similar agreement had been entered into with another American house, and that the new tale was very shortly to appear. It turned out, upon inquiry, that the mistake had originated in Acton and Ellis Bell's publisher having assured this American house that, to the best of his belief, "Jane Eyre," "Wuthering Heights," and "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" (which he pronounced superior to either of the other two) were all written by the same author.

Though Messrs. Smith and Elder distinctly stated in their letter that they did not share in such "belief," the sisters were impatient till they had shown its utter groundlessness, and set themselves perfectly straight.


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This remarkable species can be known at once by the elytra of the male, each having a distinct umboniform tubercle just before the middle and at inner third; the absence of cephalic carinæ and rather wide truncate mesosternal process are also conspicuous distinctive characters.

The elongate form, shining integuments, rather small and transversely oval prothorax, feeble male sexual characters, thick and incrassate antennæ and sternal structure will render the identification of this species comparatively easy.

The following thirteen species are small forms, apparently inhabiting fungi, having pale elytra and legs, the abdomen more of less evidently paler basally, the antennæ moderately stout and subparallel except basally, or, at most, very moderately incrassate, and with the sixth tergite of the male auriculate at the sides of the apex, with the intervening edge in no case crenulate. These are


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 With rapid decision, they resolved that Charlotte and Anne should start for London that very day, in order to prove their separate identity to Messrs. Smith and Elder, and demand from the credulous publisher his reasons for a "belief" so directly at variance with an assurance which had several times been given to him. Having arrived at this determination, they made their preparations with resolute promptness. There were many household duties to be performed that day; but they were all got through. The two sisters each packed up a change of dress in a small box, which they sent down to Keighley by an opportune cart; and after early tea, they set off to walk thither—no doubt in some excitement; for, independently of the cause of their going to London, it was Anne's first visit there. A great thunderstorm overtook them on their way that summer evening to the station; but they had no time to seek shelter. They only just caught the train at Keighley, arrived at Leeds, and were whirled up by the night train to London.

About eight o'clock on the Saturday morning, they arrived at the Chapter Coffee-house, Paternoster Row—a strange place, but they did not well know where else to go. They refreshed themselves by washing, and had some breakfast. Then they sat still for a few minutes, to consider what next should be done.

When they had been discussing their project in the quiet of Haworth Parsonage the day before, and planning the mode of setting about the business on which they


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 were going to London, they had resolved to take a cab, if they should find it desirable, from their inn to Cornhill; but that, amidst the bustle and "queer state of inward excitement" in which they found themselves, as they sat and considered their position on the Saturday morning, they quite forgot even the possibility of hiring a conveyance; and when they set forth, they became so dismayed by the crowded streets, and the impeded crossings, that they stood still repeatedly, in complete despair of making progress, and were nearly an hour in walking the half-mile they had to go. Neither Mr. Smith nor Mr. Williams knew that they were coming; they were entirely unknown to the publishers of "Jane Eyre," who were not, in fact, aware whether the "Bells" were men or women, but had always written to them as to men.

On reaching Mr. Smith's, Charlotte put his own letter into his hands; the same letter which had excited so much disturbance at Haworth Parsonage only twenty-four hours before. "Where did you get this?" said he,—as if he could not believe that the two young ladies dressed in black, of slight figures and diminutive stature, looking pleased yet agitated, could be the embodied Currer and Acton Bell, for whom curiosity had been hunting so eagerly in vain. An explanation ensued, and Mr. Smith at once began to form plans for their amusement and pleasure during their stay in London. He urged them to meet a few literary friends at his house; and this was a strong temptation to Charlotte,


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 as amongst them were one or two of the writers whom she particularly wished to see; but her resolution to remain unknown induced her firmly to put it aside.

The sisters were equally persevering in declining Mr. Smith's invitations to stay at his house. They refused to leave their quarters, saying they were not prepared for a long stay.

When they returned back to their inn, poor Charlotte paid for the excitement of the interview, which had wound up the agitation and hurry of the last twenty-four hours, by a racking headache and harassing sickness. Towards evening, as she rather expected some of the ladies of Mr. Smith's family to call, she prepared herself for the chance, by taking a strong dose of salvolatile, which roused her a little, but still, as she says, she was "in grievous bodily case," when their visitors were announced, in full evening costume. The sisters had not understood that it had been settled that they were to go to the Opera, and therefore were not ready. Moreover, they had no fine elegant dresses either with them, or in the world. But Miss Brontë resolved to raise no objections in the acceptance of kindness. So, in spite of headache and weariness, they made haste to dress themselves in their plain high-made country garments.

Charlotte says, in an account which she gives to her friend of this visit to London, describing the entrance of her party into the Opera-house:—

"Fine ladies and gentlemen glanced at us, as we stood by the box-door, which was not yet opened, with


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 a slight, graceful superciliousness, quite warranted by the circumstances. Still I felt pleasurably excited in spite of headache, sickness, and conscious clownishness; and I saw Anne was calm and gentle, which she always is. The performance was Rossini's 'Barber of Seville,'—very brilliant, though I fancy there are things I should like better. We got home after one o'clock. We had never been in bed the night before; had been in constant excitement for twenty-four hours; you may imagine we were tired. The next day, Sunday, Mr. Williams came early to take us to church; and in the afternoon Mr. Smith and his mother fetched us in a carriage, and took us to his house to dine.

"On Monday we went to the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, the National Gallery, dined again at Mr. Smith's, and then went home to tea with Mr. Williams at his house.

"On Tuesday morning, we left London, laden with books Mr. Smith had given us, and got safely home. A more jaded wretch than I looked, it would be difficult to conceive. I was thin when I went, but I was meagre indeed when I returned, my face looking grey and very old, with strange deep lines ploughed in it—my eyes stared unnaturally. I was weak and yet restless. In a while, however, these bad effects of excitement went off, and I regained my normal condition."

The impression Miss Brontë made upon those with whom she first became acquainted during this visit to London, was of a person with clear judgment and fine


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 Tindall, Nicholas, s. John, of Plymouth, Devon, cler. ., matric. 6 March, 1706-7, aged 19, B.A. 1710, M.A 1713; born at Plymouth 25 Nov., 1688, rector of Hatford, Berks, 1716, and vicar of Great Waltham, Essex, 1721, served the donative of Pleshy 1722, master of the royal free school, Chelmsford, 1731, chaplain in ordinary at Chatham 1732, and to the royal hospital at Greenwich 1739, and of a regiment of marines 1740; rector of Calbourne, Isle of Wight, 1740, and of Alverstoke, Hants, 1740. See Gutch MS. 430; & Rawl. xix. 138, and xxi. 150.  Tindall, Simon; B.A. from ., Cambridge, 1596-7, M.A. 1600; (incorporated 11 July, 1606), junior proctor 1606, minister of St. Andrew-the-Great, Cambridge, 1605. See Foster's Graduati Cantab.  Tindall, William (alias Hitchins), B.A. 4 July, 1512, licenced M.A. 26 June, 1515. and created M.A. 2 July, 1515, from ; canon of. 1525, translator of the Bible. See.  Tindale, William, s. Walter, of Kingswood, Wilts, pleb. , matric. 19 May, 1702, aged 15, B.A. 7 March, 1705-6, M.A. 1708; vicar of Elmstone-Hardwick 1712-21, rector of Coates 1721-63, vicar of St. Mary-de-Lode, Gloucester, 1722-62, rector of Charfield (all co. Gloucester), 1750-63. See Foster's Index Eccl.  Tingcombe, John. s. Philip, of Lansallos, Cornwall, sac. ., matric. 17 March, 1636-7, aged 18, B.A. 15 Oct., 1640; ejected from Truro, Cornwall, 1662, for nonconformity. See Calamy, i. 371.  [5]

Tincombe, Nathaniel, sacerd. fil. ., matric. 13 Feb., 1648-9; rector of Lansallos, Cornwall, ejected 1662 for nonconformity. See Calamy, i. 354.  Tingcombe, Nathaniel, s. N., of Foy, Cornwall, cler. ., matric. 17 Dec., 1700, aged 19, B.A. 1704; vicar of Davidstow, Cornwall, 1708. See Foster's Index Eccl.  Tingcombe, Philip, of Cornwall, cler. fil. ., matric. 16 Oct., 1607, aged 18, B.A. 4 June, 1611, M.A. 28 May. 1614; rector of Lansallos, Cornwall, 1618; father of John 1637. See Foster's Index Eccl.

Tincombe, Thomas, of Devon. , matric. 12 Oct., 1610, aged 17.

Tingle, Thomas, of Yorks, pleb. ., matric. 10 Feb., 1603-4, aged 19, B.A. 11 July, 1606. M.A. 6 July, 1610.
 [10]

Tinker, Henry (Tincker), of co. Worcester, pleb. ., matric. 2 Nov., 1621, aged 18.

Tinker, James, "ser." ., matric. 31 July, 1658, B.A. 1662; vicar of Droitwich St. Peter 1681, and of St. Andrew 1692. See Foster's Index Ecclesiasticus.

Tinker, Philip (Tincker), subscribed 2 Nov., 1621; B.A. from. 21 June, 1625, M.A. 3 July, 1628; a petty canon (10th) of St. Paul's 1632, rector of Old Radnor 1636-40, and vicar of Overbury, co. Worcester, 1640-3, chauntor of Westminster abbey 1661, and gentleman of the Chapel Royal at the coronation of Charles II., and confessor of the King's household 1661, keeper of the Westminster abbey register; buried there 12 May, 1673. See Chester, 180; & Foster's Index Eccl.

Tinker, William, "ser." , matric. 12 Dec., 1648, B.A. from. 17 July, 1656.

Tinkbar, John, s. William, of Swindall, Westmorland, p.p. ., matric. 14 July, 1665, aged 17.

Tinley, Charles (Tynley), B.A. from. 2 March, 1602-3.
 [16]

Tinley, Cornelius, of Kent. pleb. ., matric. 8 June, 1604, aged 20, chorister 1594-7, demy 1597-1610, B.A. 12 Dec., 1604, M.A. 8 July, 1607; rector of Southwick, Sussex, 1608. See Bloxam, i. 27; & Foster's Index Eccl.

Tinleye, Joel, of Kent, pleb. ., matric. entry under date 1571, aged 19, demy 1571-74, B.A. 1 April, 1573, fellow 1574-84, M.A. 1 July, 1577; vicar of Washingborough 1581-2, and rector of Skirbeck, co. Lincoln, 1582. See Bloxam, iv. 186; & Foster's Index Eccl.

Tinley, Martin (Tynley), s. Robert, of Glemsford, Suffolk, doctoris. , matric. 24 July, 1624, aged 19, student from Westminster, B.A. 13 June, 1626; archdeacon of Stafford 1636, and vicar of Walden St. Paul, Herts, 1642. See Al. West. 91; & Foster's Index Eccl.

Tinley, Robert (Tynlie), of Kent, pleb. , matric. entry under date 25 Feb., 1580-1, aged 19, fellow. 1582, B.A. 3 Nov., 1582, M.A. 22 June, 1587, proctor 1595; licenced to preach 13 March, 1595-6, B.D. 15 Dec., 1597, D.D. 10 July, 1600; vicar of Witham, Essex, 1607-16, archdeacon 1600, and canon of Ely 1603, canon of St. Paul's 1608, rector of Glemsford, Suffolk, 1602, and of Duxford St. Peter 1601, and rector of Cottenham, co. Cambridge, 1602, until his death in 1616. See Ath. ii. 191; Lansdowne MS. 983, f. 281; & Foster's Index Eccl.
 [20]

Tintiney, Thomas, of Somerset, pleb. ., matric. 10 Oct., 1617, aged 18; B.A. from 7 July, 1620.

Tippet, John, B.A. 11 Feb., 1568-9.

Tipping, Bartholomew, of Bucks, gent. , matric. entry under date 20 Dec., 1577, aged 14; son of Thomas, of Draycott, and father of the next; brother of George 1577.

Tippinge, Bartholomew, of Oxon, gent. ., matric. 15 June, 1604, aged 16; of Stonechurch, Oxon; father of the next; brother of John 1620; died in 1656.

Tippinge, Bartholomew, s. Barthol., of Stokenchurch, Oxon, gent. ., matric 8 May, 1635, aged 17, B.A. 1 Feb., 1638-9. M.A. 18 Nov., 1641; brother of John 1635.
 [25]
Tipping, (Sir) George, of Bucks, gen. fil. , matric. entry under date 20 Dec., 1577, aged 16; of Whitfield and Draycott, Oxon, (son of Thomas, of Draycott); knighted 30 July, 1605; buried at Whitfield 4 May, 1627; brother of Bartholomew, father of John 1604, and of Samuel 1615.

Tipping, George, 2s. Thomas, of Whitfield, Oxon, equitis. ., matric. 12 Aug., 1673, aged 18, B.A. 1677. M.A. 14 Tan., 1680-1; bar.-at-law. Middle Temple, 1686; brother of Thomas 1669. See Foster's Judges and Barristers.

Tipping, George, s. G., of Draycott, Oxon, gent. , matric. 6 April, 1682, aged 16.

Tipping, George, s. Joh., of Weston Turvill, Bucks, cler. ., matric. 18 March, 1713-14, aged 16, B.A. 1717, M.A. 1720; rector of Little Kemble 1725, and vicar of Shabbington, Bucks, 1729; brother of John 1703. See Foster's Index Ecclesiasticus.

Tipping, Henry, s. Thomas, of Warwick (town), p.p. ., matric. 7 July, 1705, aged 19; B.A. from 1709.
 [30]

Tippinge, John, of Oxon, arm. ., matric. entry 10 Feb., 1603-4. aged 14, B.A. 8 July, 1606; of Whitfield, Oxon, student of Lincoln's Inn 1608 (s. of Sir George), buried in Whitchurch 25 Dec., 1618, brother of Samuel 1615, and father of Thomas 1631. See Foster's Inns of Court Reg.
 [ 1489 ]


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 sense; and though reserved, possessing unconsciously the power of drawing out others in conversation. She never expressed an opinion without assigning a reason for it; she never put a question without a definite purpose; and yet people felt at their ease in talking with her. All conversation with her was genuine and stimulating; and when she launched forth in praise or reprobation of books, or deeds, or works of art, her eloquence was indeed burning. She was thorough in all that she said or did; yet so open and fair in dealing with a subject, or contending with an opponent, that instead of rousing resentment, she merely convinced her hearers of her earnest zeal for the truth and right.

Not the least singular part of their proceedings was the place at which the sisters had chosen to stay.

Paternoster Row was for many years sacred to publishers. It is a narrow flagged street, lying under the shadow of St. Paul's; at each end there are posts placed, so as to prevent the passage of carriages, and thus preserve a solemn silence for the deliberations of the "Fathers of the Row." The dull warehouses on each side are mostly occupied at present by wholesale stationers; if they be publishers' shops, they show no attractive front to the dark and narrow street. Half-way up, on the left-hand side, is the Chapter Coffee-house. I visited it last June. It was then unoccupied. It had the appearance of a dwelling-house, two hundred years old or so, such as one sometimes sees in ancient country towns; the ceilings of the small rooms were low, and had heavy beams running across them; the walls were wainscotted breast


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 high; the staircase was shallow, broad, and dark, taking up much space in the centre of the house. This then was the Chapter Coffee-house, which, a century ago, was the resort of all the booksellers and publishers; and where the literary hacks, the critics, and even the wits, used to go in search of ideas or employment. This was the place about which Chatterton wrote, in those delusive letters he sent to his mother at Bristol, while he was starving in London. "I am quite familiar at the Chapter Coffee-house, and know all the geniuses there." Here he heard of chances of employment; here his letters were to be left.

Years later, it became the tavern frequented by university men and country clergymen, who were up in London for a few days, and, having no private friends or access into society, were glad to learn what was going on in the world of letters, from the conversation which they were sure to hear in the Coffee-room. In Mr. Brontë's few and brief visits to town, during his residence at Cambridge, and the period of his curacy in Essex, he had staid at this house; hither he had brought his daughters, when he was convoying them to Brussels; and here they came now, from very ignorance where else to go. It was a place solely frequented by men; I believe there was but one female servant in the house. Few people slept there; some of the stated meetings of the Trade were held in it, as they had been for more than a century; and, occasionally, country booksellers, with now and then a clergyman, resorted to it; but it was a strange desolate place for


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 the Miss Brontës to have gone to, from its purely business and masculine aspect. The old "grey-haired elderly man," who officiated as waiter, seems to have been touched from the very first with the quiet simplicity of the two ladies, and he tried to make them feel comfortable and at home in the long, low, dingy room up stairs, where the meetings of the Trade were held. The high narrow windows looked into the gloomy Row; the sisters, clinging together on the most remote window-seat, (as Mr. Smith tells me he found them, when he came, that Saturday evening, to take them to the Opera,) could see nothing of motion, or of change, in the grim, dark houses opposite, so near and close, although the whole breadth of the Row was between. The mighty roar of London was round them, like the sound of an unseen ocean, yet every footfall on the pavement below might be heard distinctly, in that unfrequented street. Such as it was, they preferred remaining at the Chapter Coffee-house, to accepting the invitation which Mr. Smith and his mother urged upon them; and, in after years, Charlotte says:—

"Since those days, I have seen the West End, the parks, the fine squares; but I love the City far better. The City seems so much more in earnest; its business, its rush, its roar, are such serious things, sights, sounds. The City is getting its living—the West End but enjoying its pleasure. At the West End you may be amused; but in the City you are deeply excited." (Villette, vol. i. p. 89.)


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Rh

…It is not well, friend, to go to a craftsman upon all matters, nor to resort unto another man in every business, but rather to make you a pipe yourself; and ’faith, ’tis not so hard, neither…

Love call the Muses, and the Muses bring Love; and may the Muses ever give me song at my desire, dear melodious song, the sweetest physic in the world.

…’Tis said a continual dripping will e’en wear a hollow in a stone…

…I pray you leave me not without some reward; for even Phoebus is paid for his music, and a meed maketh things better… Rh


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 Their wish had been to hear Dr. Croly on the Sunday morning, and Mr. Williams escorted them to St. Stephen's, Walbrook; but they were disappointed, as Dr. Croly did not preach. Mr. Williams also took them (as Miss Brontë has mentioned) to drink tea at his house. On the way thither, they had to pass through Kensington Gardens, and Miss Brontë was much "struck with the beauty of the scene, the fresh verdure of the turf, and the soft rich masses of foliage." From remarks on the different character of the landscape in the South to what it was in the North, she was led to speak of the softness and varied intonation of the voices of those with whom she conversed in London, which seem to have made a strong impression on both sisters. All this time those who came in contact with the "Miss Browns" (another pseudonym, also beginning with B), seem only to have regarded them as shy and reserved little country-women, with not much to say. Mr. Williams tells me that on the night when he accompanied the party to the Opera, as Charlotte ascended the flight of stairs leading from the grand entrance up to the lobby of the first tier of boxes, she was so much struck with the architectural effect of the splendid decorations of that vestibule and saloon, that involuntarily she slightly pressed his arm, and whispered, "You know I am not accustomed to this sort of thing." Indeed, it must have formed a vivid contrast to what they were doing and seeing an hour or two earlier the night before, when they were trudging along, with beating hearts and high-strung courage, on the road between Haworth and Keighley, hardly thinking of the thunder-storm that beat about


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 their heads, for the thoughts which filled them of how they would go straight away to London, and prove that they were really two people, and not one impostor. It was no wonder that they returned to Haworth utterly fagged and worn out, after the fatigue and excitement of this visit.

The next notice I find of Charlotte's life at this time is of a different character to anything telling of enjoyment.

1em

"Branwell is the same in conduct as ever. His constitution seems much shattered. Papa, and sometimes all of us, have sad nights with him. He sleeps most of the day, and consequently will lie awake at night. But has not every house its trial?"

While her most intimate friends were yet in ignorance of the fact of her authorship of "Jane Eyre," she received a letter from one of them, making inquiries about Casterton School. It is but right to give her answer, written on August 28th, 1848.

"Since you wish to hear from me while you are from home, I will write without further delay. It often happens that when we linger at first in answering a friend's letter, obstacles occur to retard us to an inexcusably late period. In my last, I forgot to answer a question which you asked me, and was sorry afterwards for the omission. I will begin, therefore, by replying to it, though I fear what information I can give will come


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66* simple worship was followed by the much wiser later Church, matured in her rituals and refined in her sacraments, splendid and beautiful.

The original Church was stupid because she worshipped without vestments and without altars and without church buildings, and knew naught but to say the Lord's Prayer. The present church knows how to honor God because she built great and costly cathedrals and altars out of stone, she ordered rich vestments and blessed everything, she produced many prayers and songs at masses; she honored God bountifully with ornamented churches, walls painted and dressed up with tapestries, with lights, bells, organs, with singing in high voices and with plainsongs, and melodies with polyphonic notes. All this has the wise Church secured for the honor of God! For he yearns so much to be honored; yea, He is sad if there is not enough wax to burn and if the walls do not shine with resplendent colors! This is why he (the Auditor) scorned so much the stupid Church during his lecture. But his new Church has elaborated long rituals for every occasion and sacrament, with proper incantations and benedictions intoned by powerful bishops. And when they are done with all these sacramental invocations they sell the sacraments for money to common people. What a grand way to honor God, indeed, with

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67* all these sacraments, with these simoniacal and sacrilegious customs! The wiser Church decidedly excels the stupid Church in her blasphemous inventions! The blunt-witted Church distributed sacred things foolishly without charge, while the wise Church knows how to strike a profitable bargain with them.

Moreover, says this master, the Original Church was poor. But I say that she was not bad in poor times! From the time of Christ's death to the days of Emperor Constantine, all those who worshipped in the name of Christ lived frugally even though they were greatly tempted by both Jews and Gentiles, so that the name of Christ and his followers was damned by all; faithful Christians were tortured to death by all other nations. For these happenings, undoubtedly, the original Church was poor and unwise, in a sad estate. The present Church is wise in Christ, while the original Church is foolish and poor for Christ. The matured Church has prospered with riches and with honors of this world; she rests in peace while others carry the sword of temptation for her. Prosperous is she, sweetly singing praises to God in her chapels, reclining behind plenteous tables and on soft couches, prosperous and wise in Christ. Thou hast chosen the Savonarola's dictum, "In the original Church the chalices were of wood, the prelates of gold; in these days the Church hath chalices of gold and prelates of wood."

I-Cor.1:20–27 and Matt.10:9–10.

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68* better part, until it shall be taken away from thee!

Again, says this master, all wise things taught by the present Church – particularly those concerning the temporal power – are based on the teachings and practices of the early apostles. Were this not a lie, truly an enormous number of people would be saved and the glory of God would increase, so rich is the Church in possessions! (But God will not accept the offerings of this ugly Church, rich in things displeasing His eye). But to go on, this doctor asserts in his speech that Christ and the Holy Spirit having established himself in the Church at Basel, directs through her the salvation of mankind. And, indeed, this is the manner in which the Council calls itself in its documents:

Luke 10:42.

Meaning: if possessions were as much worth as salvation, what a treasury of salvation the Church would have!

In the ( p.63, n.1 the following allocutions are found:"Sacrosancta generalis synodus basiliensis, in spiritu sancto legitime congregata, universalem ecclesiam repraesentans; Spiritus Sanctus paracletus, hujus sacri concilii gubernator et director qui cum Patre et Filio regnat in secula"

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69* If he did not lie, surely this would make a beautiful song! And his Church, possessing the Holy Spirit, is supposed to direct and bring about the salvation of mankind! She is infallible in her judgment, and she could not cease honoring and praising God even if she would, because the Holy Spirit has descended upon her, depositing his treasures in her vestry, intending to establish his good pleasure in her tents more abundantly than in the apostles, for ever and ever. What a lie! Who could be equal in his fabrication and what devil could gloat more shamelessly and wallow in falsehood more impudently but he who opposes and exalts himself against everything that bears the name of God?

Let him who can understand see and behold the signs by which this multitude is encompassed as by a deluge, all this luxury and glory usurped in the name of the Holy Spirit, this domination in his name, this infallible dispensation of salvation, and this presumption that the Holy Spirit is making his eternal abode in the Church! Who dares – from among this befuddled people – to jump over the mountain? They crawl after signs and they are dragging about more sparkling ornaments than the whole half of the open heavens could give, scaring all the drunken people of this earth with their gaudy theatre. 2-Thes. 2:4.

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70* Let him who is humble come and behold the vainglorious haughtiness! For a congregation of fornicators has entered into a covenant with the Holy Spirit and the Holy Spirit reigns over them who are an assembly of harlots, assassins of righteous men, and transgressors of all commandments of God. But he, this shameful nude, refused to put on anything less than the raiment of the Holy Spirit, and he rules over the good things of Christ, not stupidly but cleverly, in the disguise of the Holy Spirit, and is more generous and wise than the apostles. The devil who dwells among us under a shadow as it were, has a rich accoutrement indeed, And who shall unveil his face which he hides by the shadow of the Holy Spirit?

The Auditor mentioned here is Juan Palomar, a Spanish doctor of law and archdeacon of Barcelona. In the documents of the Basel Council he is identified as "Johannes de Palomar, decretorum doctor, Papae capellanus, sacri palatii apostolici causarum auditor, archydyaconus Barcinonensis." (., ed. Francis Palacky̍ and Ernst Birk, Vienna: Imperial Academy of Sciences, 1857). During the early days of the council Palomar defended the right of the clergy to have temporal possessions and attacked the Czech position in a long "filibustering" speech lasting from February 23rd till February 28th, 1433, with additional comments made public on April 7th and 8th of the same year. For details of the proceedings see the highly interesting diary of a Hussite eye-witness, Peter of Zatec, "Petri Zatecensis Orphanorum sectae presbyteri liber diurnus de gestis Bohemorum in Concilio Basileensi," included in the above, vol.I, pp.317–348. In Jacques Lenfant's unsympathetic account,, vol.I, p.372 (Utrecht:LeFebure, 1731), we read that Pope Eugenius IV appointed Cardinal Julian to preside over the Council in Basel. But because of his other preoccupations during the period of the initial sessions, Julian sent to Basel two men as his official representatives, Juan Palomar and John of Ragusa.

The rediscovery of the cup, in 1414, was the chief contribution of Jakoubek of Str̄i̍bro, based on accurate historical research. With it, Jakoubek can be legitimately called the second founder of the Hussite Reformation. This was a revolutionary discovery by which Jakoubek renewed, of his own initiative, the form of serving bread and wine at the sacrament of communion. And this more than anything else led to the separation of the Hussite movement from the Church of Rome and to the establishment of the independent Hussite Church, of which Jakoubek became the chief theologian. F.M. Bartos̄,, ("Master Jakoubek of Str̄i̍bro, Associate of Hus and Restorer of the Chalice"), Ta̍bor: Jihočesky̍ sborni̍k historicky̍, vol.XII, 1939. Also his, ("The Spiritual Father of Taboritism"), Ta̍bor: JSH, vol.II, 1929, pp.75–84. "The practice of the communion in both kinds is the chief contribution of the Bohemian Reformation to the Protestant world." Bartos̄, ," ("The Seeking of the Essence of Christianity in the Czech Reformation"), Prague: Kalich, 1939, p.2.

Exodus 26:14.

Matt. 28:20.

Savonarola's dictum, "In the original Church the chalices were of wood, the prelates of gold; in these days the Church hath chalices of gold and prelates of wood."

I-Cor.1:20–27 and Matt.10:9–10.

Luke 10:42.

Meaning: if possessions were as much worth as salvation, what a treasury of salvation the Church would have!

In the ( p.6363* [sic], n.1) the following allocutions are found:"Sacrosancta generalis synodus basiliensis, in spiritu sancto legitime congregata, universalem ecclesiam repraesentans; Spiritus Sanctus paracletus, hujus sacri concilii gubernator et director qui cum Patre et Filio regnat in secula"

2-Thes. 2:4.

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All this having been said and done I shall return to the beginning, that is, to Peter's net which is the net of faith and with which he has been sent out for the spiritual fishing. (We read of) how he inclisedinclosed [sic] a multitude of fishes; we also described how that great shoal was organized by the fisher-apostles. And now we shall speak about how it happened that the net, filled with many fishes, began to break.

No one at the time of fishing knew that the net of faith had inclosed also a great number of adverse fishes because they remained quiet in the net for a long time after Peter and other apostles. However, after a certain period of time, when men were sleeping and lulled into security, their enemy came in the night and sowed weeds among the wheat. So when the plants came up, and bore grain, then the weeds appeared also.

Where else could this heavy slumber have befallen except here among the priests showered with riches and domains by the Emperor? Those men slept, benumbed by a heavy dream, (intoxicated by their newly won wealth) after a poverty to which they Matt. 13: 25–26,

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72* had held by faith. Formerly they preached about the poverty of Christ and his disciples and other faithful priests after them; now they reject poverty having accepted domains and imperial honors and even precedence over imperial authority. (In their former estate) they accepted poverty as (a part of faith) commanded by Christ and his example. It shows that the priest must have been stunned in dream and have a blackening of his heart to be able to make this quick and easy change: after poverty, to plunge into such luxury and such an exalted position in the world. In the beginning he hid in caves, among rocks and in forests for Christ's name, and behold, now the Emperor guides him around Rome, seating him on a white mare – or was it a white horse? No matter! It always was a 'bird of ill omen'. – paying him homage ostentatiously before the whole world. That is the way it was recorded by those who wrote down what they saw for future generations: multitudes in Rome ran to behold In the Czech original an anacoluthon; here adjusted.

A reference to the first horse or the Apocalypse (war), Rev. 6:2 ("And I saw, and behold, a white horse, and its rider had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer."). –

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24 only a small proportion of the very confusing host of such species inhabiting various species of fungi:

The auriculæ of the sixth male tergite are rather better developed in this species than in any of the following:

Very distinct from the last in its larger and more anteriorly narrowed prothorax, larger eyes and less parallel abdomen.


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Beeswaxcandle (talk) 22:49, 5 February 2024 (UTC)

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73* that wonder shouting, "Papa, Papa! The Pope! What is it? What goes on? Look there, the Emperor himself saddled the horse and, seating the Priest, he leads him through town!

Inasmuch as he has done this, it seems to me that he has desecrated the purity and innocence of the apostolic state and that he has not followed properly and sincerely the true faith. Probably he (later) regretted the time when he had to hide in caves and in forests before pagans; for in those days they were killed for the faith in Christ, therefore hiding wherever they could. And that is very hard to the priests of sensuality and comfort of today; they have become accustomed to honors and to physical licentiousness. They could hardly go back to be again the despised of the earth, to administer the legacy of the apostles, to be hunted like dogs and to hide before Constantine. Reference to Sylvester I, (Saint), Pope ( 314–335). He was made Pope after the death of Melchiades ("Miltiades"). At an early date legend brings him into close relationship with Constantine, the first Christian Emperor, but in a way that is probably contrary to historical fact. These legends were introduced especially into the (Duchesne,, Introd. cixff), which appeared in the East and has been preserved in Greek, Syriac, and Latin in the "Constitutum Sylvestri," an apocryphal account of an alleged Roman council which belongs to the Symmachian forgeries and appeared between 501–508, and also the  (Funk, , vol.I, pp.501ff). The legend of the Donation of Constantine was exploded by the humanist Lorenzo Valla. Concerning the story of Emperor Constantine holding the bridle of Pope Sylvester's horse, there is an interesting twelfth century mosaic depicting the theme in the Chapel of St.Sylvester, of the church of the Santi Quattro Coronati, in Rome.

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 a little late. You said Mrs. had some thoughts of sending to school, and wished to know whether the Clergy Daughters' School at Casterton was an eligible place. My personal knowledge of that institution is very much out of date, being derived from the experience of twenty years ago. The establishment was at that time in its infancy, and a sad ricketty infancy it was. Typhus fever decimated the school periodically; and consumption and scrofula, in every variety of form bad air and water, bad and insufficient diet can generate, preyed on the ill-fated pupils. It would not then have been a fit place for any of Mrs. 's children; but I understand it is very much altered for the better since those days. The school is removed from Cowan Bridge (a situation as unhealthy as it was picturesque—low, damp, beautiful with wood and water) to Casterton. The accommodations, the diet, the discipline, the system of tuition—all are, I believe, entirely altered and greatly improved. I was told that such pupils as behaved well, and remained at the school till their education was finished, were provided with situations as governesses, if they wished to adopt the vocation, and much care was exercised in the selection; it was added, that they were also furnished with an excellent wardrobe on leaving Casterton The oldest family in Haworth failed lately, and have quitted the neighbourhood where their fathers resided before them for, it is said, thirteen generations Papa, I am most thankful to say, continues in very good health, considering his age; his sight,


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74* We understand that there are two people in Bohemia who would like to be priests with this burden of the priestly office. But a dissipating and inactive life pleases much better the majority of the priesthood. It was, indeed, very agree able to Sylvester of a corporeal heart and an incomplete faith to see the Emperor beneath him, leading the horse. In that moment he did not fear him though he was afraid before.

It was then and there that the net became greatly torn, when the two great whales had entered it, that is, the Supreme Priest wielding royal power with honor superior to the Emperor, and the second whale being the Emperor who, with his rule and offices, smuggled pagan power and violence beneath the skin of faith. And when these two monstrous whales began to turn about in the net, they rent it to such an extent that very little of it has remained intact. From these two whales so destructive of Peter's net there were spawned many scheming schools by which that net is torn that nothing but tatters and false names remain. They were first of all the hordes of monks in all manner of costumes and diversified colors; these were followed by hordes of university students and hordes of pastors; after them came the unlearned hordes with multiform coats-of-arms, Sentence not clear in the original.

This is one of Chelc̄icky̍'s technical terms. In the original the word is "rota" which has always a derogatory connotation. Literally meaning "horde," this expression sometimes connotes a profession, a caste, privileged class, an exclusive group, a faction.

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75* and with them those of the wicked burghers; and so the whole world and its wretchedness has entered Peter's net of faith with these evil hordes.

And the multitude of these wretched hordes arrogate to themselves pagan and worldly rule, every one of them endeavoring to have dominion over the others. They try to embrace as much of the earth as they are able, using every means and every ruse or violence to get hold of the territory of the weaker, sometimes by money and at other times by inheritance, but always desiring to rule and to extend their realm as far as they can. And in order to rule they divide: some are lords spiritual and some lords temporal. The spiritual lords are: the Pope who is the lord over lords; the lord cardinal; the lord legate; the lord archbishop; the lord patriarch; the lord pastor; the lord abbot; the lord provost (and there are as many abbots and provosts as there are monasteries and orders endowed with estates); the lord provincial; the lord prior, the lord magister universitatis. And the temporal lords are: the lord Emperor; the lord king; the lord prince; the lord magnates; the lord burgrave; the lord knight; the lord page; the lord judge; the lord councillors; the lord mayor; the burghers.

And all these lords draw power to themselves so strenuously that not only have they torn the net between them but

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76* they tore and divided among themselves earthly kingdoms, that the sovereign, the king, has no one to rule over, nor has he enough income to maintain himself and his retinue. For the ruling abbots have taken over wide areas of land, the canons and nuns took possession of cities, castles, regions, villages. And of the other party, the noblemen and their pages have possessed the remainder so that in this whole area there isn't in many a mile a single village left for the king to rule over. The country squires would like to have had a foreign king, a rich German, who would add alien countries to his own; for they, having received the king's dominion, will not give it up but would prefer to obtain additional lands from those he has conquered.

It is clear that a royal realm fares better among pagans than among these confused Christians who have appropriated to themselves dominions. For among the pagans there are no such ecclesiastical lords, so increased in numbers and so useless as sores on a body, for pain is the only thing they give. Really, pagan kings rule much easier since they have no ecclesiastical authority, a nobility richer than royalty and greedy to add king's possessions to their own domains. Nor had the Jews to contend with such (feudal) domains; there was only one chief lord among them, to with, the king. There were no peers but only a greater or lesser number of warriors and brave men

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77* which the king had at his disposal, making out of them his officials. But the Jewish priests were not supposed to have any temporal power nor inherited land grants, for God granted them only tithes from the people for their livelihood. For these reasons a Gentile or Jewish earthly kingdom could carry on much easier than among these befuddled men who imagined to count something in Christ's eyes, and yet cannot attain to the least pagan justice – they who themselves sprang from the pagans, making themselves into nobility in spite of Christ's intentions!

And, just as temporal government cannot exist properly with too great a number of lords, similarly and more so, Christian faith cannot stand and be preserved with a multitude of wicked hordes and a crowd of lords, so useless and destructive of faith, men who cause division, inequality, haughtiness, oppression, hatred, conflicts and violence of some against others. Even though they boast of being of one faith, they are far behind the pagans in respect to unity which is rent by their wicked machinations.

Our faith can encompass a great number of people for salvation, but they all must be of one heart and of one spirit, and nothing is further than that from the divided parties. Numbers 18:20.

An anacoluthon.

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78* Their acting is far removed from the spirit of Christ, they are far removed from one another; the people are removed from the lords, who constantly clamor to be promoted in order to have dominion over others, and they are proud as peacocks, which pride is a most abhorrent thing to faith. And all these wicked hordes and multitudinous lords try to be different from one another and it is with those differences that they measure faith, tearing up Peter's net. The se hordes, each one of them being established under different laws and special human justice of their own choosing, behave as if they were superior to and truer than the law of Christ. By this attitude they deviate completely from faith, and in doing so they rend and tear the net of faith.

And as they depart from the law of Christ on account of their own special laws, there results division of one horde against another because every one of them glories in its own laws, regarding them superior to the laws of other hordes; (among the ecclesiastical hordes, for instance) one thinks to be superior because of its law ordering the wearing of cheap garments, or because they must eat no meat, or because they must not talk, or because they must sing sad tunes, or because they must get up early, or because they must fast a great deal, or because they must keep long matins. These and other particularisms of their laws split

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Rh

Distinguishable by its less transverse prothorax, with the parallel sides very feebly arcuate.


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 too, rather, I think, improves than deteriorates. My sisters likewise are pretty well."

But the dark cloud was hanging over that doomed household, and gathering blackness every hour.

On October the 9th, she thus writes:—

"The past three weeks have been a dark interval in our humble home. Branwell's constitution had been failing fast all the summer; but still, neither the doctors nor himself thought him so near his end as he was. He was entirely confined to his bed but for one single day, and was in the village two days before his death. He died, after twenty minutes' struggle, on Sunday morning, September 24th. He was perfectly conscious till the last agony came on. His mind had undergone the peculiar change which frequently precedes death, two days previously; the calm of better feelings filled it; a return of natural affection marked his last moments. He is in God's hands now; and the All-Powerful is likewise the All-Merciful. A deep conviction that he rests at last—rests well, after his brief, erring, suffering, feverish life—fills and quiets my mind now. The final separation, the spectacle of his pale corpse, gave me more acute bitter pain than I could have imagined. Till the last hour comes, we never know how much we can forgive, pity, regret a near relative. All his vices were and are nothing now. We remember only his woes. Papa was acutely distressed at first, but, on the whole, has borne the event


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79* these orders, embuing them with predilection for their own exclusive law and an inclination to disparage, hate, and speak ill of the laws of others. And this contempt breeds dissolution of that unity which faith favors and maintains; by losing true unity they offend and wound faith. All the temporal lords who, begotten by Constantine and established through deception in the name of faith, enjoy pagan ruling and pagan sodomitic living; they put themselves apart from Christ and cannot be partakers of his fellowship; they feel contempt for one another, are prouder than the devil, oppress through power and throttle the weak through violence. All of them offend faith with their destructive particularities, tearing the net in the degree in which they are contrary to faith.

Therefore, when we try to appraise the spiritual situation we cannot compare the body of Christ with the Roman Church which divides (society) into three groups:

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 well. Emily and Anne are pretty well, though Anne is always delicate, and Emily has a cold and cough at present. It was my fate to sink at the crisis, when I should have collected my strength. Headache and sickness came on first on the Sunday; I could not regain my appetite. Then internal pain attacked me. I became at once much reduced. It was impossible to touch a morsel. At last, bilious fever declared itself. I was confined to bed a week,—a dreary week. But, thank God! health seems now returning. I can sit up all day, and take moderate nourishment. The doctor said at first, I should be very slow in recovering, but I seem to get on faster than he anticipated. I am truly much better."

I have heard, from one who attended Branwell in his last illness, that he resolved on standing up to die. He had repeatedly said, that as long as there was life there was strength of will to do what it chose; and when the last agony came on, he insisted on assuming the position just mentioned. I have previously stated, that when his fatal attack came on, his pockets were found filled with old letters from the woman to whom he was attached. He died! she lives still,—in May Fair. The Eumenides, I suppose, went out of existence at the time when the wail was heard, "Great Pan is dead." I think we could better have spared him than those awful Sisters who sting dead conscience into life.

I turn from her for ever. Let us look once more into the Parsonage at Haworth.


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 But then it's as full of Drollery as ever it can hold: 'tis like an Orange stuck with Cloves, as for conceipt. Come, where are you? This Scene will make you die with laughing, if it be well acted: it is a Scene of sheer Wit, without any mixture in the world, I gad.

This, Sirs, might properly enough be call'd a prize of Wit; for you shall see 'em come in upon one another snip snap, hit for hit, as fast as can be. First one speaks, then presently t'other's upon him slap, with a Repartee; then he at him again, dash with a new conceipt: and so eternally, eternally, I gad, till they go quite off the Stage.

Smi. What a plague, does this Fop mean by his snip snap, hit for hit, and dash?

Johns. Mean? why, he never meant any thing in's life: what dost talk of meaning for?

Bayes. Why don't you come in?

Pret. But pr'ythee, Tom Thimble, why wilt thou needs marry? If nine Taylors make but one man; and one woman cannot be satisfi'd with nine men: what work art thou cutting our here for thy self, trow we?

Bayes. Good.

Thim. Why, an't please your Highness, if I can't make up all the work I cut out, I shan't want Journey-men to help me, I warrant you.

Bayes. Good again.

Pret. I am afraid thy Journey-men, though, Tom, won't work by the day, but by the night.

Bayes. Good still.

Thim. However, if my wife sits but cross-leg'd, as I do, there will be no great danger: not half so much as when I trusted you for your Coronation-suit.

Bayes. Very good, i'faith.

Pret. Why, the times then liv'd upon trust; it was the


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80* If the body of Christ is divided by such an order of things, what inequalities are there present! Naturally, this order is agreeable to the first two classes who loaf, gorge and dissipate themselves. And the burden for this living is shoved onto the shoulders of the third class which has to pay in suffering for the pleasures of the other two guzzlers – and there are so many of them! When the weather is sultry and hot, pilgrims look for rest under a cool roof, and in the same way they hurry anxious to become lords. When they cannot be lords, they ask to be at least their lackeys a in order to be, in some way, partakers of their abundant tables and luxuries, getting up and sitting down in emptiness. Yes, the priests too, hurry, anxious to be knighted, and they even like to lackey for the princes' because of their overburdened rich tables. It is these two groups of lazy gluttons who, for their own pleasures, drain the working people of their blood, and tread on them contemptuously as if they were dogs.

If this were the true body of Christ or his Church, how improbable would then sound the words of Saint Paul who speaks of the spiritual body and the different dispositions of its members, a body in which there is no discord and no inequality and in which one member does not oppress another against its will; he says about them: Chap.XXX, p.140*.

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 fashion. You would not be out of time, at such a time as that, sure: A Taylor, you know, must never be out of fashion.

Bayes. Right.

Thim. I'm sure, Sir, I made your cloath in the Court-fashion, for you never paid me yet.

Bayes. There's a bob for the Court.

Pret. Why, Tom, thou art a sharp rogue when thou art angry, I see: thou pay'st me now, methinks.

Thim. I, Sir, in your own coyn: you give me nothing but words.

Bayes. Admirable, before gad.

Pret. Well, Tom, I hope shortly I shall have another coyn for thee; for now the Wars come on, I shall grow to be a man of mettal.

Bayes. O, you did not do that half enough.

Johns. Methinks he does it admirably.

Bayes. I, pretty well; but he does not hit me in't: he does not top his part.

Thim. That's the way to be stamp'd your self, Sir. I shall see you come home, like an Angel for the Kings-evil, with a hole bor'd through you.

Bayes. That's very good, i'faith: ha, ha, ha. Ha, there he has hit it up to the hilts, I gad. How do you like it now, Gentlemen? is not this pure Wit?

Smi. 'Tis snip snap, Sir, as you say; but, methinks, not pleasant, nor to the purpose, for the Play does not go on.

Bayes. Play does not go on? I don't know what you mean: why, is not this part of the Play?

Smi. Yes, but the Plot stands still.

Bayes. Plot stand still! why, what a Devil is the Plot good for, but to bring in fine things?

Smi. O, I did not know that before.

Bayes. No, I think you did not: nor many things more, that I am Master of. Now, Sir, I gad, this is the bane of all us Writers: let us soar never so little above the common pitch, I gad, all's spoil'd; for the vulgar never understand us, they can never conceive you, Sir, the excellencie of these things.


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81*

They love one another; if they have something good, they divide equally; if something bitter befalls them, they drink it together comforting one another. But in that three-cornered body, some are sadly weeping while others make fun of them; some sweat in terrible labors while others loiter in pleasant coolness. All these inequalities, so offensive to truth, have been brought about by the sundered wicked hordes. And they forget especially the words which he spoke preparing himself for death and praying for his disciples that they might remain faithful and for those chosen for salvation. In that prayer he said:

In that passage it is declared that the people who went to please God and be saved through the death of Christ – a salvation for which Christ prayed here – must be united in this divine unity and be perfect in it so that all those who believed in him through apostolic preaching until our own day might be one, remaining in the unity 1-Cor. 12: 26.

John 17:20–23,.

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82* in perfection, and in equality. Like members of one body, they, too, must have equality in grace, obedience, mutual help, long-suffering befitting those who have one God, one Lord and Father or all, one faith, and one law for all their doing.

When all are one the things of God belong to all; otherwise they could not be one, dividing the things which are of God, usurping to themselves special divine rights, and elevating themselves at the expense of others, in violence.

Such a unity we are given in Christ's faith, for our conduct. Anything that deviates from that faith is sin. The above mentioned hordes which distinguish themselves from one another by peculiar laws and pagan administration, are not included in Christ's prayer, not one of them, because they are not united in his spirit and in his law, with him.

To be sure, the wicked men have entered into all kinds of unions, but Christ's disciples cannot be in them, since these unions cannot bear comparison with the law of Christ which is based on true honest goodness and in which the people of God are ruled by the truth of his word, in faith and in grace, like the household of one husbandman, standing in true obedience before God aside from whom there is no other lord. There can be no greater unfaithfulness to the rule of God than the division and sundering caused by these factions and their arrogation to themselves of

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83* laws apart from His law. The law of God will not as sent to their conflicting peculiarities; indeed, every horde tries to draw God down to itself, desiring to have its distinctive peculiarities sanctioned by the law of God. God can sanction only those things which grow out of His law; he cannot approve of anything which grows out of foreign roots. And there is only one law of God, perfect in itself, and so good that all can confirm themselves in it, that they "may become perfectly one" in Christ. This law will bring about an equality of all, they shall love one another as they love themselves, they shall carry each other's burden and each shall do to others as he wishes that they would do to him.

This commandment could make one multitude out of a thousand worlds: one heart and one soul! There can be no better administration for mankind sojourning in this world; it will lead man into the fullest life, it will make man most precious to God, and man will become a gain to man. Who becomes acquainted with the law of God cannot create nor recognize nor obey any other law, for no other law is right. If there be one right law descended from God, any other law must needs be contrary. And the contrariness of human laws is made manifest to the law of God by creating multiform hordes under one "faith" (coupled) with Luke 6:31.

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 Johns. 'Tis a sad fate, I must confess: but you write on still?

Bayes. Write on? I, I gad, I warrant you. 'Tis not their talk shall stop me: if they catch me at that lock, I'l give 'em leave to hang me. As long as I know my things to be good, what care I what they say? What, they are gone, and forgot the Song!

Smi. They have done very well, methinks, here's no need of one.

Bayes. Alack, Sir, you know nothing: you must ever interlard your Plays with Songs, Ghosts and Idols, if you mean to a

Johns. Pit, Box and Gallery, Mr. Bayes.

Bayes. I gad, Sir, and you have nick'd it. Hark you, Mr. Johnson, you know I don't flatter, a gad, you have a great deal of Wit.

Johns. O Lord, Sir, you do me too much honour.

Bayes. Nay, nay, come, come, Mr. Johnson, Ifacks this must not be said, amongst us that have it. I know you have wit by the judgement you make of this Play; for that's the measure I go by: my Play is my Touch-stone. When a man tells me such a one is a person of parts; is he so, say I? what do I do, but bring him presently to see this Play: If he likes it. I know what to think of him; if not, your most humble Servant, Sir, I'l no more of him upon my word, I thank you. I am Clara voyant, a gad. Now here we go on to our business.

Ut what's become of Volscius the great? His presence has not grac'd our Court of late.

Phys. I fear some ill, from emulation sprung, Has from us that Illustrious Hero wrung.

Bayes. Is not that Majestical?

Smi. Yes, but who a Devil is that Volscius?


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84* superstitions and with the art of differentiation and particuliarization, with dissensions, with iniquitous thoughts which increase like tares springing up from bad seeds, tarnishing the whole crop. But the law of God is untarnished and enlightening souls. It is so effective and perfect that – no matter what tarnish and sins it finds on men – if men attach themselves to it believing, it will cleanse them from all sins, maintain them in innocence and keep them from being overcome by temptations. It can improve or do away with whatever dissenting heretical hordes it finds, that is, he will join them into one people, one faith, one interpretation of the faith, one love, one hope, if they but will believe the divine law. It will do this to fulfill the things for which our Lord prayed, "that they may be one as we are," as the Father and the Son are one.

The divine law is able to convert a sinful man to God, and to cleanse him from his sins; only the will of God can do this, not human statutes. M an can excel in perfection in accordance with human statutes, but if they have no goodness expected of God in fulfillment of His law, they count for nothing and remain apart from Him and His law. It has pleased Matt.13:25–26.

Psalm 19:8.

Isa. 1:18.

I-Cor. 13:3.

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85* God to choose only one perfection, sufficient to all people, and He has not established nor chosen any other laws under which the many hordes could justify their divisions and customs and interpretations and deeds.

We have spoken about the many hordes existing under the disguise of faith, which have strayed from the law of God and torn the net of faith, only by lip-service professing their belief, hiding behind sacred symbols of the glory of faith and so completely covered up by them that they appear like Christians when, in fact, they are the domestic enemies of faith and of the chosen ones of God.

Matt. 13: 25–26,

In the Czech original an anacoluthon; here adjusted.

A reference to the first horse or the Apocalypse (war), Rev. 6:2 ("And I saw, and behold, a white horse, and its rider had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer."). –

Reference to Sylvester I, (Saint), Pope ( 314–335). He was made Pope after the death of Melchiades ("Miltiades"). At an early date legend brings him into close relationship with Constantine, the first Christian Emperor, but in a way that is probably contrary to historical fact. These legends were introduced especially into the (Duchesne,, Introd. cixff), which appeared in the East and has been preserved in Greek, Syriac, and Latin in the "Constitutum Sylvestri," an apocryphal account of an alleged Roman council which belongs to the Symmachian forgeries and appeared between 501–508, and also the  (Funk, , vol.I, pp.501ff). The legend of the Donation of Constantine was exploded by the humanist Lorenzo Valla. Concerning the story of Emperor Constantine holding the bridle of Pope Sylvester's horse, there is an interesting twelfth century mosaic depicting the theme in the Chapel of St.Sylvester, of the church of the Santi Quattro Coronati, in Rome.

Sentence not clear in the original.

This is one of Chelc̄icky̍'s technical terms. In the original the word is "rota" which has always a derogatory connotation. Literally meaning "horde," this expression sometimes connotes a profession, a caste, privileged class, an exclusive group, a faction.

Numbers 18:20.

An anacoluthon.

Chap.XXX, p.140*.

1-Cor. 12: 26.

John 17:20–23,.

Luke 6:31.

Matt.13:25–26.

Psalm 19:8.

Isa. 1:18.

I-Cor. 13:3.

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User talk:Toast for Teddy

--EncycloPetey (talk) 23:35, 5 February 2024 (UTC)

EB 1911
The template you wanted is EB1911 link, not EB1911 article link. --EncycloPetey (talk) 23:35, 5 February 2024 (UTC)

 * Gotcha. Thanks. — Toast for Teddy (talk) 23:37, 5 February 2024 (UTC)

title: User talk:Toast for Teddy


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Page:The family kitchen gardener - containing plain and accurate descriptions of all the different species and varieties of culinary vegetables (IA familykitchengar56buis).pdf/222

 .—The common practice of picking the fruit with the footstalks attached, is one of the very worst sys. tems, causing them to be handled and re-picked before they go to the table. Early in the morning take a vessel, basket, or box, of convenient size, and pick the fruit before it is softened by the sun. Lay hold of the calyx or cup at the base of the fruit, with the nail of the first finger and thumb of the left hand, and with the first finger of the right, give the fruit a gentle but quick draw, and it will come off into the hand without the least bruise or damage of any kind—and thus proceed till your vessel is full. Strawberries should go to the table without being turned or handled in any way, when the full, rich aroma of the fruit will be preserved. Those that are carried to market to be retailed for family use, should all be in portable boxes, in the same way as Raspberries. The present mode is disgusting in the extreme; large tubfuls, bruised and crushed, spooned into quart measures from vessels of very questionable character, in both color and appearance. The denizens carrying home their quantum of mashed matter, under the name of Strawberry, from such a mixture, can know little of the delicious aroma and rich flavor of the pure fruit called.


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4 ::To Kaunos if you will: for Athens' sake,
 * Back must you, though ten pirates blocked the bay!

Second Syracusan.—We want no colony from Athens here,
 * With memories of Salamis, forsooth,
 * To spirit up our captives, that pale crowd
 * I' the quarry, whom the daily pint of corn
 * Keeps in good order and submissiveness.

Captain.—Oh! Save the innocent on traffic bound,
 * Or, may be, some Athenian family,
 * Perishing of desire to die at home,
 * From that vile foe, still lying on its oars,
 * Waiting the issue in the distance.

Syracusans (shouting).—Vain! First Syracusan.—Words to the wind! 'Tis vain to supplicate! Second Syracusan.—We'll have no colony from Athens here. Balaustion (beseechingly).—You force us face the foe, like some tired bird
 * Barbarians pelt at, drive with shouts away—
 * From shelter in what rocks, however rude
 * She makes for, to escape the kindled eye,
 * Split beak, crook'd claw o' the creature, cormorant
 * Or ossifrage, that, hardly baffled hangs
 * Afloat i' the foam, to take her if she turn.

First Syracusan.—Back! Second Syracusan.—Back! First Syracusan.—Though twenty pirates blocked the bay! Captain.—Alas! We're at destruction's edge! Syracusans.—Wait! Wait! (They gather in a group and discuss among themselves, while those on the boat watch anxiously.) First Syracusan.—That song was veritable Aischulos!
 * Familiar to the mouth of man and boy.
 * Old glory! How about Euripides?
 * The newer and not yet so famous bard?

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CONTENTS

Five Poems William Butler Yeats

The Mountain Tomb—To a Child Dancing Upon the Shore—Fallen Majesty—Love and the Bird—The Realists

Sangar John Reed

Three Poems George Sterling

A Legend of the Dove—At the Grand Cañon—Kindred

Two Poems Clark Ashion Smith

Remembered Light—Borrowing of Winds

Four Poems Alice Corbin

America—Symbols—The Star—Nodes

Poems Rabindranath Tagore

Editorial Comment

A Perfect Return—Tagorte's Poems—Reviews

Notes and Anouncements


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General William Booth Enters into Heaven Nicholas Vachel Lindsay

Two Poems Madison Cawein

Two Poems Anita Fitch

Love Songs of the Open Road Kendall Banning

Sympathy Edith Wyatt

A Song of Happiness Ernest Rhys

Helen Is Ill Roscoe W. Brink

Three Poems H. D., "Imagiste"

Editorial Comment

Status Rerum—Reviews


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 1em

"I think I have now nearly got over the effects of my late illness, and am almost restored to my normal condition of health. I sometimes wish that it was a little higher, but we ought to be content with such blessings as we have, and not pine after those that are out of our reach. I feel much more uneasy about my sister than myself just now. Emily's cold and cough are very obstinate. I fear she has pain in her chest, and I sometimes catch a shortness in her breathing, when she has moved at all quickly. She looks very thin and pale. Her reserved nature occasions me great uneasiness of mind. It is useless to question her; you get no answers. It is still more useless to recommend remedies; they are never adopted. Nor can I shut my eyes to Anne's great delicacy of constitution. The late sad event has, I feel, made me more apprehensive than common. I cannot help feeling much depressed sometimes. I try to leave all in God's hands; to trust in His goodness; but faith and resignation are difficult to practise under some circumstances. The weather has been most unfavourable for invalids of late; sudden changes of temperature, and cold penetrating winds have been frequent here. Should the atmosphere become more settled, perhaps a favourable effect might be produced on the general health, and these harassing colds and coughs be removed. Papa has not quite escaped, but he has so far stood it better than any of us. You must not mention my going to this winter. I could not, and would not, leave home on any


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Seven Poems Arthur Davison Ficke

Swinburne, An Elegy—To a Child—Twenty Years Hence—Portrait of an Old Woman—The Three Sisters—Among Shadows—A Watteau Melody

Seven Poems Witter Bynner

Apollo Troubadour—One of the Crowd—Neighbors—The Hills of San Jose—Grieve Not for Beauty—The Mystic—Pasing Near

Reviews and Comments

Masefield's Poems—Presences—The Poetry Society of America

Notes and Announcements

543 Cass Street, Chicago

Subscription one dollar and fifty cents

Copyright 1912 by Harriet Monroe. All rights reserved


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HE autumn dusk, not yearly but eternal, Is haunted by thy voice. Who turns his way far from the valleys vernal And by dark choice Disturbs those heights which from the low-lying land Rise sheerly toward the heavens, with thee may stand And hear thy thunders down the mountains strown. But none save him who shares thy prophet-sight Shall thence behold what cosmic dawning-light Met thy soul's own.

unmelodious singing Must build thy praises now.


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 account. Miss has been for some years out of health now. These things make one feel, as well as know, that this world is not our abiding-place. We should not knit human ties too close, or clasp human affections too fondly. They must leave us, or we must leave them, one day. God restore health and strength to all who need it!"

I go on now with her own affecting words in the biographical notice of her sisters.

"But a great change approached. Affliction came in that shape which to anticipate is dread; to look back on grief. In the very heat and burden of the day, the labourers failed over their work. My sister Emily first declined Never in all her life had she lingered over any task that lay before her, and she did not linger now. She sank rapidly. She made haste to leave us Day by day, when I saw with what a front she met suffering, I looked on her with an anguish of wonder and love. I have seen nothing like it; but, indeed, I have never seen her parallel in anything. Stronger than a man, simpler than a child, her nature stood alone. The awful point was that, while full of ruth for others, on herself she had no pity; the spirit was inexorable to the flesh; from the trembling hands, the unnerved limbs, the fading eyes, the same service was exacted as they had rendered in health. To stand by and witness this, and not dare to remonstrate, was a pain no words can render."

In fact, Emily never went out of doors after the


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POETRY: Master of vision! vainly come we, bringing Words to endow Thy silence,—where, beyond our clouded powers, The sun-shot glory of resplendent hours Invests thee of the Dionysiac flame. Yet undissuaded come we, here to make Not thine enrichment but our own who wake Thy echoing fame.

Looked in thy living eyes. Nor wintry blossom shall we come to sever Where thy grave lies. Let witlings dream, with shallow pride elate, That they approach the presence of the great When at the spot of birth or death they stand. But hearts in whom thy heart lives, though they be By oceans sundered, walk the night with thee In alien land.

That thou art of the dead. No lamp extinguished when the bowl is broken, No music fled When the lute crumbles, art thou nor shalt be; But as a great wave, lifted on the sea, Surges triumphant toward the sleeping shore,


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was rarely that Derek Kettering allowed his temper to get the better of him. An easy-going insouciance was his chief characteristic, and it had stood him in good stead in more than one tight corner. Even now, by the time he had left Mirelle's flat, he had cooled down. He had need of coolness. The corner he was in now was a tighter one than he had ever been in before, and unforeseen factors had arisen with which, for the moment, he did not know how to deal.

He strolled along deep in thought. His brow was furrowed, and there was none of the easy, jaunty manner which sat so well upon him. Various possibilities floated through his mind. It might have been said of Derek Kettering that he was less of a fool than he looked. He saw several roads that he might take—one in particular. If he shrank from it, it was for the moment only. Desperate ills need desperate remedies. He had gauged his father-in-law correctly. A war between Derek Kettering and Rufus Van Aldin could end only one way. Derek damned money and the power of money vehemently to himself. He walked up St. James's Street, across Piccadilly, and strolled along it in the direction of Piccadilly Circus. As he passed the offices of Messrs. Thomas Cook & Sons his footsteps slackened. He walked on, however, still turning the matter over in his mind. Finally, he gave a brief nod of his head, 67


text:
Author talk:W. H. Warren

Warren was from Wellington: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/EP19061016.2.53

Walter Warren: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/EP19070704.2.36

Walter Warren is an expert bugle player and accomplished musician https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/TPRSNZ1905-38.2.7.1.22

Wellington North Electoral roll 1905 (via Ancestry) Walter Holdsworth Warren, clerk. Wainuiomartian (talk) 00:30, 6 February 2024 (UTC)

title: Author talk:W. H. Warren


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 Sunday succeeding Branwell's death. She made no complaint; she would not endure questioning; she rejected sympathy and help. Many a time did Charlotte and Anne drop their sewing, or cease from their writing, to listen with wrung hearts to the failing step, the laboured breathing, the frequent pauses, with which their sister climbed the short staircase; yet they dared not notice what they observed, with pangs of suffering even deeper than hers. They dared not notice it in words, far less by the caressing assistance of a helping arm or hand. They sat, still and silent.

1em

"I told you Emily was ill, in my last letter. She has not rallied yet. She is very ill. I believe, if you were to see her, your impression would be that there is no hope. A more hollow, wasted, pallid aspect I have not beheld. The deep tight cough continues; the breathing after the least exertion is a rapid pant; and these symptoms are accompanied by pains in the chest and side. Her pulse, the only time she allowed it to be felt, was found to beat 115 per minute. In this state she resolutely refuses to see a doctor; she will give no explanation of her feelings, she will scarcely allow her feelings to be alluded to. Our position is, and has been for some weeks, exquisitely painful. God only knows how all this is to terminate. More than once, I have been forced boldly to regard the terrible event of her loss as possible, and even probable. But nature shrinks from


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 such thoughts. I think Emily seems the nearest thing to my heart in the world."

When a doctor had been sent for, and was in the very house, Emily refused to see him. Her sisters could only describe to him what symptoms they had observed; and the medicines which he sent she would not take, denying that she was ill.

1em

"I hardly know what to say to you about the subject which now interests me the most keenly of anything in this world, for, in truth, I hardly know what to think myself. Hope and fear fluctuate daily. The pain in her side and chest is better; the cough, the shortness of breath, the extreme emaciation continue. I have endured, however, such tortures of uncertainty on this subject that, at length, I could endure it no longer; and as her repugnance to seeing a medical man continues immutable,—as she declares 'no poisoning doctor' shall come near her,—I have written, unknown to her, to an eminent physician in London, giving as minute a statement of her case and symptoms as I could draw up, and requesting an opinion. I expect an answer in a day or two. I am thankful to say, that my own health at present is very tolerable. It is well such is the case; for Anne, with the best will in the world to be useful, is really too delicate to do or bear much. She, too, at present, has frequent pains in the side. Papa is also


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 turned sharplyso sharply as to collide with a couple of pedestrians who were following in his footsteps, and went back the way he had come. This time he did not pass Cook’s, but went in. The office was comparatively empty, and he got attended to at once.

"I want to go to Nice next week. Will you give me particulars?"

"What date, sir?"

"The 14th. What is the best train?"

"Well, of course, the best train is what they call 'The Blue Train.' You avoid the tiresome Customs business at Calais."

Derek nodded. He knew all this, none better.

"The 14th," murmured the clerk; "that is rather soon. The Blue Train is nearly always all booked up."

"See if there is a berth left," said Derek. "If there is not" He left the sentence unfinished, with a curious smile on his face.

The clerk disappeared for a few minutes, and presently returned. "That is all right, sir; still three berths left. I will book you one of them. What name?"

"Pavett," said Derek. He gave the address of his rooms in Jermyn Street.

The clerk nodded, finished writing it down, wished Derek good morning politely, and turned his attention to the next client.

"I want to go to Niceon the 14th. Isn’t there a train called the Blue Train?"

Derek looked round sharply.

Coincidencea strange coincidence. He remembered his own half-whimsical words to Mirelle, "Portrait of a lady with grey eyes. I don’t suppose I shall ever see


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 her again." But he had seen her again, and, what was more, she proposed to travel to the Riviera on the same day as he did.

Just for a moment a shiver passed over him; in some ways he was superstitious. He had said, half-laughingly, that this woman might bring him bad luck. Supposesuppose that should prove to be true. From the doorway he looked back at her as she stood talking to the clerk. For once his memory had not played him false. A ladya lady in every sense of the word. Not very young, not singularly beautiful. But with somethinggrey eyes that might perhaps see too much. He knew as he went out of the door that in some way he was afraid of this woman. He had a sense of fatality.

He went back to his rooms in Jermyn Street and summoned his man.

"Take this cheque, Pavett, cash it first thing in the morning, and go around to Cook’s in Piccadilly. They will have some tickets there booked in your name, pay for them, and bring them back."

"Very good, sir."

Pavett withdrew.

Derek strolled over to a side-table and picked up a handful of letters. They were of a type only too familiar. Bills, small bills and large bills, one and all pressing for payment. The tone of the demands was still polite. Derek knew how soon that polite tone would change ifif certain news became public property.

He flung himself moodily into a large, leather-covered chair. A damned holethat was what he was in. Yes, a damned hole! And ways of getting out of that damned hole were not too promising.


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 pretty well, though Emily's state renders him very anxious.

"The s (Anne Brontë's former pupils) were here about a week ago. They are attractive and stylish-looking girls. They seemed overjoyed to see Anne: when I went into the room, they were clinging round her like two children—she, meantime, looking perfectly quiet and passive I. and H. took it into their heads to come here. I think it probable offence was taken on that occasion,—from what cause, I know not; and as, if such be the case, the grudge must rest upon purely imaginary grounds,—and since, besides, I have other things to think about, my mind rarely dwells upon the subject. If Emily were but well, I feel as if I should not care who neglected, misunderstood, or abused me. I would rather you were not of the number either. The crab-cheese arrived safely. Emily has just reminded me to thank you for it: it looks very nice. I wish she were well enough to eat it."

But Emily was growing rapidly worse. I remember Miss Brontë's shiver at recalling the pang she felt when, after having searched in the little hollows and sheltered crevices of the moors for a lingering spray of heather—just one spray, however withered—to take in to Emily, she saw that the flower was not recognised by the dim and indifferent eyes. Yet, to the last, Emily adhered tenaciously to her habits of independence. She would suffer no one to assist her. Any effort to do so roused the old stern spirit. One Tuesday morning, in December,


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 Pavett appeared with a discreet cough.

"A gentleman to see yousirMajor Knighton."

"Knighton, eh?"

Derek sat up, frowned, became suddenly alert. He said in a softer tone, almost to himself: "KnightonI wonder what is in the wind now?"

"Shall Iershow him in, sir?"

His master nodded. When Knighton entered the room he found a charming and genial host awaiting him.

"Very good of you to look me up," said Derek.

Knighton was nervous.

The other's keen eyes noticed that at once. The errand on which the secretary had come was clearly distasteful to him. He replied almost mechanically to Derek's easy flow of conversation. He declined a drink, and, if anything, his manner became stiffer than before. Derek appeared at last to notice it.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "what does my esteemed father-in-law want with me? You have come on his business, I take it?"

Knighton did not smile in reply.

"I have, yes," he said carefully. "II wish Mr. Van Aldin had chosen some one else."

Derek raised his eyebrows in mock dismay.

"Is it as bad as all that? I am not very thin skinned, I can assure you, Knighton."

"No," said Knighton; "but this"

He paused.

Derek eyed him keenly.

"Go on, out with it," he said kindly. "I can imagine


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 she arose and dressed herself as usual, making many a pause, but doing everything for herself, and even endeavouring to take up her employment of sewing: the servants looked on, and knew what the catching, rattling breath, and the glazing of the eye too surely foretold; but she kept at her work; and Charlotte and Anne, though full of unspeakable dread, had still the faintest spark of hope. On that morning Charlotte wrote thus,—probably in the very presence of her dying sister:—

1em

"I should have written to you before, if I had had one word of hope to say; but I have not. She grows daily weaker. The physician's opinion was expressed too obscurely to be of use. He sent some medicine, which she would not take. Moments so dark as these I have never known. I pray for God's support to us all. Hitherto He has granted it."

The morning drew on to noon. Emily was worse: she could only whisper in gasps. Now, when it was too late, she said to Charlotte, "If you will send for a doctor, I will see him now." About two o'clock she died.

1em

"Emily suffers no more from pain or weakness now. She never will suffer more in this world. She is gone, after a hard, short conflict. She died on Tuesday, the very day I wrote to you. I thought it very possible she