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70 "But it isn't addressed to me," objected Mrs. Hardy.

"Fiddlesticks! It's addressed to your husband, isn't it? You have as much right to open it as he has. More. It's a wife's duty to help her husband as much as she can and look after his affairs for him. Man and wife are one, aren't they? Open the letter."

Mrs. Hardy, with some misgivings, slit open the envelope and Aunt Gertrude, who was possessed of an insatiable curiosity, immediately seized the letter.

"I'll read it for you!" she offered.

Fenton Hardy—Bayport, she began. Dear Sir: We wish to inform you that we have—' My goodness! What's this? What's this? Gracious me!" She lapsed into unintelligible mutterings as she read the rest of the letter to herself, frequently giving vent to exclamations of surprise while her eyes widened with astonishment.

Mrs. Hardy and the boys could hardly contain their impatience until at last Aunt Gertrude laid down the letter and peered triumphantly at them over her spectacles.

"Didn't I say so?" she demanded stridently. "Didn't I say there was bad news in this letter? Didn't I tell you I dreamed of haystacks last night? Haystacks always mean bad news." She looked at the letter again. "Although for

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 the chateau, instead of this rusty sword, to defend you; though, after all, what would avail my single arm against a whole gang? Heaven help us if they meet us! poor Colin may then go whistle for his horses; though upon recollection my Lady would certainly recompense him for their loss."

"Drop this dreadful subject I entreat you," said Madeline, in a tremulous voice.

"Come cheer up, Mademoiselle (exclaimed Lubin, who was now thoroughly convinced he had alarmed Madeline) we will keep as near as possible to the extremity of the forest, and if we ride fast we shall soon reach the house."

As fast as the intricacies of the path would permit them to go, they went, and at last reached in safety their destined goal.

Here Madeline, who had hitherto with difficulty kept her seat, alighted; but how impossible to describe her disappointment, and the disappointment of her companion, when

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 after repeatedly knocking at the door they were at length convinced that the house was uninhabited. They stood for some minutes looking at each other, in a consternation that deprived them of speech.

Lubin was the first who broke silence.

"What's to be done, Mademoiselle?" said he.

"I am sure I can't tell," answered Madeline in a faint voice, and leaning against the wall.

"Faith, (cried Lubin) I have a good mind to break open the door and obtain shelter for the night, though, to my sorrow, I can't get a good supper; I meant to have ordered a nice omelet, the moment I arrived."

"For heaven's sake do not attempt to break open the door, (exclaimed Madeline) the consequences of such an action might be dreadful."

"What's to be done then I again ask? (said Lubin) you would not wish, I suppose,


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 stories of ghosts and murderers, they scamper through the echoing rooms, and the gnawing of their teeth is heard behind the wainscot, and their gleaming eyes peer through the holes in the worm-eaten tapestry, and they scream in shrill, unearthly notes in the dead of night, while the moaning wind sweeps, sobbing, round the ruined turret towers, and passes wailing like a woman through the chambers bare and tenantless.

And dying prisoners, in their loathsome dungeons, see, through the horrid gloom, their small red eyes like glittering coals, hear, in the death-like silence, the rush of their claw-like feet, and start up shrieking in the darkness, and watch through the awful night.

I love to read tales about rats. They make my flesh creep so. I like that tale of Bishop Hatto and the rats. The wicked Bishop, you know, had ever so much corn, stored in his granaries, and would not let the starving people touch it, but, when they prayed to him for food, gathered them together in his barn, and then shutting the doors on them, set fire to the place and burned them all to death. But next day there came thousands upon thousands of rats, sent to do judgment on him. Then Bishop Hatto fled to his strong tower that stood in the middle of the Rhine, and barred himself in, and fancied he was safe. But the rats! they swam the river, they gnawed their way


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 to sit down here without any shelter for the remainder of the night; neither would you, I suppose, like to mount your horse and go ten miles farther in search of another habitation, and nearer you need not expect to find one that would receive you."

"I am not able to go in search of another, (replied Madeline) the shocks I received and the fatigue I have gone through this night have quite overpowered me."

"Lord (cried Lubin, starting) perhaps the Marquis of Montmorenci may be come to his castle, only you were afraid Mademoiselle of that part of the forest, we might have past it, and been able perhaps to have discovered."

"And even if we had (said Madeline) what benefit should we have derived from that circumstance?"

"Why we should certainly have obtained a lodging in his castle."

"I should be afraid to disturb the family at this late hour," cried Madeline hesitatingly.


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 "Lord I am sure (cried Lubin) it is better to disturb them than run the risque of being murdered here."

"But suppose they are not there?" said Madeline.

"Why then, Mademoiselle, (cried Lubin hastily) we will try to find some niche about the wall where we can shelter ourselves for the night, since you are so scrupulous about the door of this house."

"But, (said Madeline) though the family may not be come to the castle, there may be inhabitants in it."

"Oh! I understand you, Mademoiselle, (interrupted Lubin) you are afraid that some of the banditti I was telling you of may have taken up their quarters there; but of that I am sure there's no danger, the castle was too well secured for them to gain admittance; so that except we find the right inhabitants in it, I am confident we shall not find any: come, Mademoiselle, let's lose no time, will you accept my arm, or would you choose to mount again?"


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Rh the life of me I can't imagine what the man means. Hum! Kidnapped!" She looked up suddenly at the Hardy boys and glared at them.

"You boys haven't been kidnapped lately? No. Of course not. What nonsense! Has any one tried to kidnap you?"

"No, Aunt Gertrude," said Frank, utterly mystified.

"Then," demanded Aunt Gertrude, pushing the letter across to Mrs. Hardy and folding her arms as though prepared to wait until doomsday for a satisfactory answer, "what does this letter mean?"

Mrs. Hardy picked up the letter and read it aloud, while an expression of amazement crossed her face.

"Fenton Hardy—Bayport," ran the letter. "Dear Sir: We wish to inform you that we are holding your two sons in a safe place and that we will not return them to you unless you agree to the following conditions: You must pay us the sum of $5000 as ransom, you must agree to refuse to give evidence in the Asbury Park bank robbery case, and you must further agree to give up your pursuit of our leader, Baldy Turk. These are our conditions. It will do you no good to attempt to find your sons, for we will not hesitate to put them out of the way if you attempt to discover our hiding

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 through the thick stone walls, and ate him alive where he sat.

Oh, it's a lovely tale.

Then there is the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin, how first he piped the rats away, and afterwards, when the Mayor broke faith with him, drew all the children along with him, and went into the mountain. What a curious old legend that is! I wonder what it means, or has it a meaning at all? There seems something strange and deep lying hid beneath the rippling rhyme. It haunts me, that picture of the quaint, mysterious old piper, piping through Hamelin's narrow streets, and the children following with dancing feet and thoughtful, eager faces. The old folk try to stay them, but the children pay no heed. They hear the weird, witched music, and must follow. The games are left unfinished, and the playthings drop from their careless hands. They know not whither they are hastening. The mystic music calls to them, and they follow, heedless and unasking where. It stirs and vibrates in their hearts, and other sounds grow faint. So they wander through Pied Piper street away from Hamelin town.

I get thinking sometimes if the Pied Piper is really


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Rh work, or he would rather say the pleasurable pastime; for he is fain to acknowledge that the eighteen months which were occupied by the actual translation embraced some of the most agreeably spent hours of a long life.

The task of translating the “Romance of the Rose” in its entirety has often been referred to as a gigantic undertaking, but it contains only eight thousand lines more than the “Divina Commedia,” which has been translated into English innumerable times. The file of a newspaper for eighteen months, set aheap, would be an appalling task indeed to peruse with mode-rate attention; but taken in daily portions, one makes little of the business, dreary though it be—so has it been that the two-and-twenty thousand six hundred and eight lines of “The Romance of the Rose” have melted imperceptibly as the days followed on, the work of each presenting some pleasant variety.

The extreme popularity enjoyed by this famous book from the last quarter of the thirteenth to the close of the fifteenth century is attested by the fact that not less than two hundred manuscript copies of it have survived the waste of centuries (while of the “Canterbury Tales” no more than fifty-nine are known), and printed editions followed in rapid succession from about 1480 till 1538. But, strange to say, except the translation made by Chaucer, and


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 dead, or if he may not still be roaming up and down our streets and lanes, but playing now so softly that only the children hear him. Why do the little faces look so grave and solemn when they pause awhile from romping, and stand, deep wrapt, with straining eyes? They only shake their curly heads, and dart back laughing to their playmates when we question them. But I fancy myself they have been listening to the magic music of the old Pied Piper, and, perhaps, with those bright eyes of theirs, have even seen his odd, fantastic figure, gliding unnoticed, through the whirl and throng.

Even we grown-up children hear his piping now and then. But the yearning notes are very far away, and the noisy, blustering world is always bellowing so loud, it drowns the dream-like melody. One day the sweet sad strains will sound out full and clear, and then we too shall, like the little children, throw our playthings all aside, and follow. The loving hands will be stretched out to stay us, and the voices we have learnt to listen for will cry to us to stop. But we shall push the fond arms gently back, and pass out through the sorrowing house and through the open door. For the wild strange music will be ringing in our hearts, and we shall know the meaning of its song by then.

I wish people could love animals without getting maudlin over them, as so many do. Women are the


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 most hardened offenders in such respect, but even our intellectual sex often degrade pets into nuisances by absurd idolatry. There are the gushing young ladies who, having read David Copperfield, have thereupon sought out a small, long-haired dog of nondescript breed, possessed of an irritating habit of criticising a man's trousers, and of finally commenting upon the same by a sniff, indicative of contempt and disgust. They talk sweet girlish prattle to this animal (when there is any one near enough to overhear them), and they kiss its nose, and put its unwashed head up against their cheek in a most touching manner; though I have noticed that these caresses are principally performed when there are young men hanging about.

Then there are the old ladies who worship a fat poodle, scant of breath and full of fleas. I knew a couple of elderly spinsters once who had a sort of German sausage on legs which they called a dog between them. They used to wash its face with warm water every morning. It had a mutton cutlet regularly for breakfast; and on Sundays, when one of the ladies went to church, the other always stopped at home to keep the dog company.

There are many families where the whole interest of life is centred upon the dog. Cats, by the way, rarely suffer from excess of adulation. A cat possesses a very fair sense of the ridiculous, and will put her


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72 place. Furthermore, unless you agree to what we ask, it will go hard with them. You may signify your agreement to the terms of this letter by dropping a package containing the money and a signed statement to the effect that you will drop your pursuit of Baldy Turk and that you will not give evidence against our associates in the robbery case from the 5:15 express from Bayport next Thursday afternoon as it passes the grade crossing at the North Road."

The letter was unsigned.

"What on earth does it mean?" asked Mrs. Hardy.

Frank and Joe looked at one another in astonishment. Frank reached over for the letter and examined it. The strange document was typewritten on an ordinary quality of white paper. The envelope bore the Bayport postmark, indicating that it had been mailed from the city post-office early that morning.

"It must be a practical joke of some kind," said Mrs. Hardy, in perplexity.

"Practical joke, nothing!" scoffed Aunt Gertrude shrewdly. "Did Fenton Hardy go to Chicago after some criminal?"

"He went to arrest Baldy Turk," replied Frank.

"There!" Aunt Gertrude pounded the table.

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 paw down kindly but firmly upon any nonsense of this kind. Dogs, however, seem to like it. They encourage their owners in the tomfoolery, and the consequence is, that in the circles I am speaking of, what "dear Fido" has done, does do, will do, won't do, can do, can't do, was doing, is doing, is going to do, shall do, shan't do, and is about to be going to have done is the continual theme of discussion from morning till night.

All the conversation, consisting, as it does, of the very dregs of imbecility, is addressed to this confounded animal. The family sit in a row all day long, watching him, commenting upon his actions, telling each other anecdotes about him, recalling his virtues, and remembering with tears how one day they lost him for two whole hours, on which occasion he was brought home in a most brutal manner by the butcher boy, who had been met carrying him by the scruff of his neck with one hand, while soundly cuffing his head with the other.

After recovering from these bitter recollections, they vie with each other in bursts of admiration for the brute, until some more than usually enthusiastic member, unable any longer to control his feelings, swoops down upon the unhappy quadruped, in a frenzy of affection, clutches it to his heart, and slobbers over it. Whereupon, the others, mad with envy, rise up, and, seizing as much of the dog as the


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 "No, (replied she) I would rather walk."

"Go before me then, (said he) and I will lead the horses."

Madeline obeyed him though with difficulty, for she felt so agitated that she could scarcely drag her weary limbs along. As she approached the castle her eyes were anxiously fastened on it, in hopes of discovering a light or some other sign of inhabitation, but all was dark and dreary around.

"I am afraid, Lubin, (said she, stopping and mournfully shaking her head) I am afraid the family have not yet returned."

"I do not quite despair about that, Mademoiselle, (replied Lubin); at so very late an hour as this you know we could not expect to have found any of them up."

"How shall we make ourselves heard by them then?" asked Madeline.

"Why I suppose we shall find a great bell at the gate, which I shall ring."


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viii either one or two other contemporary hands, of seven thousand six hundred and ninety-eight lines, no attempt has been made to present it in any other European language, with the single exception of a German rendering into verse of the first part, by H. Fahrmann, printed in 1839.

The new literature which arose in France, when once the renaissance had taken firm hold, effectually clouded the fame of the “Romance of the Rose” for close upon two hundred years; but in 1735 a new edition was given by L. du Fresnoy, followed in 1737 by a volume of notes by M. Lantin de Damerey. In 1798 appeared a second edition of Du Fresnoy’s text accompanied by the notes, and in 1814 M. Méon published a new text from better MSS. in four volumes, which was reproduced in 1865 under the editorship of M. Francisque Michel. In 1878-80 Mons. Croissandeau (under the pseudonym of Pierre Marteau) put forth an edition at Orleans, accompanied by a translation into modern French, in five volumes. Now happily we may look forward to the critical edition which is to be published in 1901 under the able editorship of M. Ernest Langlois.

Mr. Hallam in his “History of the Literature of Europe” has no more to say of so great a landmark in the field he is earing than that “a very celebrated poem, the ‘Roman de la


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 greed of the first one has left to them, murmur praise and devotion.

Among these people, everything is done through the dog. If you want to make love to the eldest daughter, or get the old man to lend you the garden roller, or the mother to subscribe to the Society for the Suppression of Solo-cornet Players in Theatrical Orchestras (it's a pity there isn't one, anyhow), you have to begin with the dog. You must gain its approbation before they will even listen to you, and if, as is highly probable, the animal, whose frank, doggy nature has been warped by the unnatural treatment he has received, responds to your overtures of friendship by viciously snapping at you, your cause is lost for ever.

"If Fido won't take to any one," the father has thoughtfully remarked beforehand, "I say that man is not to be trusted. You know, Maria, how often I have said that. Ah! he knows, bless him."

Drat him!

And to think that the surly brute was once an innocent puppy, all legs and head, full of fun and play, and burning with ambition to become a big, good dog, and bark like mother.

Ah me! life sadly changes us all. The world seems a vast horrible grinding machine, into which what is fresh and bright and pure is pushed at one end, to come out old and crabbed and wrinkled at the other.


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Rh "That explains the whole thing. The companions of this Baldy person sent that letter in the hope that it would bring Fenton Hardy back from Chicago by the next train."

"But the letter is addressed to Bayport."

"Certainly! Why not? They wouldn't know where to reach him in Chicago, so they sent the letter here and trusted that it would be forwarded to him. And if I hadn't been here," said Aunt Gertrude, "it very probably would have been forwarded to him. Am I right?"

"I usually forward his personal mail," admitted Mrs. Hardy.

"There! Didn't I know it? And look what would have happened. Fenton Hardy would have fallen right into the trap. He would have come back home, thinking his precious sons were kidnapped, and that would have given this Turk person time to get away. It's a blessing I was here, I tell you. I hope this will be a lesson to you, Laura Hardy. Always open your husband's mail! Always!"

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 Look even at Pussy Sobersides, with her dull sleepy glance, her grave slow walk, and dignified, prudish airs; who could ever think that once she was the blue-eyed, whirling, scampering, head-over-heels, mad little firework that we call a kitten.

What marvellous vitality a kitten has. It is really something very beautiful the way life bubbles over in the little creatures. They rush about, and mew, and spring; dance on their hind legs, embrace everything with their front ones, roll over and over and over, lie on their backs and kick. They don't know what to do with themselves, they are so full of life.

Can you remember, reader, when you and I felt something of the same sort of thing? Can you remember those glorious days of fresh young manhood; how, when coming home along the moonlit road, we felt too full of life for sober walking, and had to spring and skip, and wave our arms, and shout, till belated farmers' wives thought—and with good reason, too—that we were mad, and kept close to the hedge, while we stood and laughed aloud to see them scuttle off so fast, and made their blood run cold with a wild parting whoop; and the tears came, we knew not why. Oh, that magnificent young ! that crowned us kings of the earth; that rushed through every tingling vein, till we seemed to walk on air; that thrilled through our throbbing brains, and told us to go forth and conquer the whole world; that welled up in our


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 young hearts, till we longed to stretch out our arms and gather all the toiling men and women and the little children to our breast, and love them all—all. Ah! they were grand days, those deep, full days, when our coming life, like an unseen organ, pealed strange, yearnful music in our ears, and our young blood cried out like a war-horse for the battle. Ah, our pulse beats slow and steady now, and our old joints are rheumatic, and we love our easy chair and pipe, and sneer at boys' enthusiasm. But oh! for one brief moment of that god-like life again.


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Rh Rose,’ had introduced an unfortunate taste for allegory into verse, from which France did not extricate herself for several generations.” The reproach of allegory might with equal justice be applied to all the romantic and religious poetry of the Middle Ages, including the “Divina Commedia,” the author of which can scarcely be supposed to have been influenced by Jean de Meun, who in truth merely adopted the style already in vogue. It is probable that the learned historian did not trouble himself to look at the book he so curtly condemned. He appears but to echo in one short sentence the dictum of Sismondi, in whose day the revival of interest in mediæval literature had hardly begun. The charge of dulness once made against this highly imaginative and brilliant book, successive English writers, until quite recent times, have been content to accept the verdict, though Professor Morley and others have of late ably repelled the charge. If further testimony were necessary as to the falsity of the accusation, and the opinion of one who has found a grateful pastime in translating it might be considered of any weight, he would not hesitate to traverse the attribution of dulness, and to assert that it is a poem of extreme interest, written as to the first part with delicate fancy, sweet appreciation of natural beauty, clear insight, and skilful invention, while J. de Meun’s continuation is distinguished by vigour, brilliant invention, and


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x close observation of human nature. The thirteenth century lives before us.

How greatly Chaucer was indebted to his French predecessor can only be appreciated by those who will be at the pleasurable pains of studying the work of both poets; but as we read the earlier of the two, the conclusion forces itself upon us that Chaucer’s mind was, so to speak, permeated with the “Romance of the Rose.” It must not, however, be forgotten that both Chaucer and Jean de Meun were diligent students of Boethius “De Consolatione Philosophiae” and Alanus de Insulis “De Planctu Naturae.” Here and there Chaucer has appropriated passages from the “Romance”; notably in the description of the refined and dainty manners of the lady prioress, which is found under another guise in Chapter LXXIII. of the “Romance.” Nor is it easy to read Jean de Meun’s dramatic picture of the jealous husband without feeling that it suggested to Chaucer the prologue to the wife of Bath’s tale by way of a counterblast.

In considering the remarkable place that the “Romance of the Rose” holds in European literature, it is well to bear in mind that the first part was written more than a hundred years, and the second part seventy years, before Chaucer was born. When we turn to English literature contemporary with the work of Guillaume de


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 "But if the Marquis's family (cried Madeline, shuddering at the very idea) should not be in the castle, may not the ringing of that bell expose us to destruction? Do you forget the banditti you told me infested this forest?"

"Lord (said Lubin) that's true, the bell would certainly alarm them—well Mademoiselle, I'll tell you what we can do: I recollect taking notice last spring as I passed this castle, of the very bad repair in which the court wall was, so we will search about it for some gap to clamber through."

He accordingly fastened the horses to the gate, and had not long searched about 'ere he found a place which Madeline easily got over.

Immediately opposite this spot was an arched gateway, which led through a wing of the building to another court; to this Lubin conducted Madeline, who trembled so she could scarcely stand, but the moment she


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 entered it she shrunk back, affrighted at the desolation she beheld, and fancied in the hoarse murmurs of the wind that sighed thro' the shattered buildings surrounding it, she heard portentous sounds.

On each side of the gateway were several doors; Lubin perceived one of them open, and through this he led his trembling companion: they then found themselves in a spacious stone hall, light with one gothic window, through which the twilight now cast a dim religious light, and opposite to which was a folding door, of heavy workmanship: there was a damp smell in this hall, which proclaimed it long deserted, and struck cold to the very heart of Madeline.

"Shall I go now, Mademoiselle, (asked Lubin) and try whether there is any one within the castle?"

"Not yet, (replied Madeline, sitting down upon a little bench which ran round the hall) "not yet," said she in a faint voice, and in-


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 voluntarily leaning her head against his arm for support.

Lubin was terrified, he almost believed her dying.

"Dear, dear, Mademoiselle, (said he) cheer up, I shall not be long absent; and whether there is or is not any one in the castle, we are secure for the night."

Madeline grew a little better, and no longer opposed his going. It was some time 'ere he could open the folding door; when he did it disclosed to his view a long dark passage, down which the anxious eyes of Madeline pursued him till slowly closing, the door hid him from her view.

Scarcely was she left to herself 'ere she regretted not having accompanied him, for as her eye timidly glanced around, she shuddered at the profound gloom in which she was involved; never had she felt more for-


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 lorn, scarcely ever more disconsolate: the manner in which her first journey had been taken recurred to her recollection, and the contrast she drew between her situation now and then, heightened all the horrors of the present: so true is it, that the remembrance of past joys aggravates our present miseries.

From her melancholy retrospection she was roused by the opening of the door, tho' expecting Lubin, her spirits were so weak she involuntarily started from her seat.

"Don't be frightened Mademoiselle, (cried Lubin, in a whispering voice, as he softly closed the door after him) 'tis only I."

"Well, Lubin, (said Madeline, almost gasping for breath through agitation) what intelligence—did you see any one?"

"I can't tell you now, Mademoiselle, (cried he) we must be gone."

"Oh, heavens! (said Madeline) is there any danger."


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 "This is no time to ask questions, (replied Lubin) no place I can assure you to answer them; I again repeat it—we must be gone!"

To move was scarcely in the power of Madeline, so much was she overpowered by the terror Lubin's words had given her, she gave him her hand however, and he led her from the hall: but scarcely had they proceeded a few yards down the gateway, 'ere he started, suddenly stopped, and in a low voice exclaimed,

"There are some of them!"

"Gracious heaven! (cried Madeline) what do you mean?"

To repeat her question was unnecessary, for at that instant she beheld two men crossing the court. Lubin now drew, or rather carried her back to the hall, for her tremor had increased to such a degree that she could not stand, and he was compelled to support her upon the seat on which she sunk.


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 In a voice of agony she now conjured him to tell her what they had to fear, declaring that no certainty almost of danger could be more dreadful than the suspense she at present endured.

"Since you must know, Mademoiselle, (said he) we have nothing more to fear than being robbed and murdered!"

"Good heaven! (exclaimed Madeline) do you think the men we just beheld are murderers?"

"Yes," replied Lubin, ruefully shaking his head.

"What reason have you for so horrible a suspicion?" asked Madeline.

"Why you must know, Mademoiselle, I had not proceeded far down the dark passage 'ere I heard a noise, which sounded to me like the clattering of arms. A sudden panic instantly seized me, and I had a great mind to return directly and lead you from the castle: this, however, was but the thought of


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Rh Lorris and Jean de Meun we cannot but be struck, with a sense of humility at the wide gulf in human interest that lies between the two. A doubt steals over one whether there is not ground for the assertion sometimes heard made, that we were indebted to the inspiration of northern French architects and artists for the glories of our architecture, glass painting, and miniature painting in the thirteenth century.

Though the “Romance of the Rose” is commonly described and spoken of as one book, its two parts are in truth only nominally linked together by the names of the characters being carried on from the one to the other. The two parts are, in fact, the outcome of two widely differing minds, and though Jean de Meun professes to continue the work of his forerunner, his portion is altogether different from it, both as to style and purpose. Guillaume de Lorris sets out to write a love pastoral or idyll, and Jean de Meun, seeing its popularity, takes advantage thereof to give expression to the heterogeneous thought with which his brain teems.

Of the history of Guillaume de Lorris we know no more than the slight indications given by his continuator (Cap. LX. ll. 10991—11158). All that is known of Jean de Meun is likewise derived from the passage indicated above—namely, that he was born at Meun sur Loire, and was surnamed Clopinel (the Halt)


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 a minute, for when I reflected there was no probability of getting a lodging elsewhere, and how dismal a thing it would be to pass the remainder of the night in the open air, I resolved on going forward and trying to discover whether there were friends within.

"I accordingly proceeded till I came to the foot of a narrow flight of stairs, down which a faint light glimmered; up these I softly ascended to a half open door, from which the light issued, and peeping in I beheld a large ill-furnished chamber, with half a dozen men in it, as ill looking dogs as ever I beheld, before a huge fire, cleaning some fire arms: but that was not all—in one corner of the chamber lay the body of a man dreadfully mangled. The dogs laughed as they pursued their work, and talked of the exploits they had achieved and still hoped to achieve with their arms; in short, it was soon evident to me, that the banditti I had mentioned to you had thought proper to make free with the castle in the Marquis's absence, so I made the best of my way back to you,


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 in order to take you directly from it; an intention which the rogues have disappointed."

"The horses will betray us," said Madeline in an agony.

"Aye, so I fear, (cried Lubin) it was devilish unlucky my fastening them to the gate."

"Hark! (exclaimed Madeline) do you not hear a noise?"

Both were instantly silent, and then clearly heard a violent shouting in the outer court. The dreadful fears it excited were soon however a little appeased by its growing fainter, as if the persons it came from had moved to a greater distance.

"I think, (cried Lubin, after the silence of a few minutes, and gasping for the breath he had before suppressed) I think I will now have another peep to try whether or not the coast is clear."


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 Madeline rising declared she would accompany him, that if there was an opportunity for escaping, not a moment might be lost.

Again therefore they quitted the hall, but had scarcely done so 'ere they once more retreated to it with precipitation, on hearing the shouting in the court renewed with double violence.

"The horses have, I am sure, as you feared, betrayed us; (cried Lubin) and I make no doubt search is now making for us."

"Oh! Lubin, (said Madeline) is there no way of escaping the impending danger?"

"None that I know of, (answered he) but don't be so frightened Mademoiselle, I promise you (he continued, grasping his rusty sword) those that attempt to harm you shall pay dearly for doing so: the villains perhaps may not be such villains as you imagine, they may have some little mercy in their hearts."


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 As he spoke the gateway resounded with the shouting, and a light glimmered beneath the door opening from it.

Madeline turned her eyes with dreadful expectation towards it; the next minute it was flung open, and several men entered: Her first impulse was to fall at their feet, and supplicate their mercy, but as she attempted to rise her senses totally receded, and she fell fainting upon the out stretched arm of Lubin.

When her reason returned she found herself supported between two women, and surrounded by men, amongst whom Lubin stood talking with earnestness. She looked round her wildly, too much disordered to understand the words of Lubin, or observe whether the appearance of the men was calculated to remove or confirm her fears.

Her clear perception was however soon restored by Lubin, who almost as soon as he saw her senses restored, exclaimed


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 "Come, cheer up, Mademoiselle, after all our fright we are in no danger; the noble owner of the castle has returned to it, and the fine fellows I saw cleaning the fire-arms, and whom I took, humbly begging their pardons, for robbers, which to be sure was a great wonder, seeing what honest countenances they have, were some of his Lordship's servants."

Madeline raised her eyes in thankfulness to heaven, and Lubin proceeded to inform her that the body he had seen had been one of the banditti, who the night before had made an unsuccessful attempt upon the castle, and that the tumult in the court originated from the domestics suspecting, in consequence of finding the horses fastened to the gate, that they were again lurking about it.

"Now that you find yourself in no dishonorable hands, I hope, Madam, you will speedily recover your spirits," said an elderly man, whose looks and manner denoted a con-


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 scious superiority over the rest of his companions.

Madeline thanked him for the hope he had expressed, and was going to explain the cause of her coming to the castle, when Lubin hastily interrupted her by saying, he had already explained every circumstance.

"My Lord (cried the man who had before addressed her, respectfully bowing as he spoke) has been already apprised of your situation, and has commissioned me, Madam, to present his compliments to you, and to entreat you to have the goodness to excuse his not doing the honors of his house himself, which the weak state of his health and spirits prevents: he also desired me to request you would honor his servants by your commands, and not think of quitting the castle till perfectly recovered from your late fatigue and fright."


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 Madeline felt truly grateful for this politeness, and rather happy than otherwise at not being introduced to the Marquis de Montmorenci, as her exhausted strength and spirits left her little inclination or ability to converse with a stranger.

The housekeeper, who was one of the women that had supported her, now conducted her down the passage, Lubin had before explored, to a large apartment near its termination; where, in a few minutes, a table was covered with refreshments. Lubin was taken to the servants hall, and Madeline, somewhat cheered by the knowledge of her safety, partook of the things provided for her: she found her companion extremely loquacious, and so she talked, not much caring whether it was questions she asked or answered.

Madeline inquired how long the Marquis had been indisposed.


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 "Many, many years, (replied the housekeeper, with a melancholy shake of the head) after the heavy afflictions he has sustained, it would be a wonder indeed if he had retained either his health or spirits."

Madeline, who perfectly recollected the account she had already heard of him, now made no inquiry concerning the nature of those afflictions; but of her own accord the housekeeper gave her a narrative of them.

"The Count St. Julian, his son, (continued she) was certainly one of the finest youths I ever beheld; his death undoubtedly caused that of my Lady Marchioness: 'tis generally imagined he fell by the hands of banditti, but some people have their doubts about that, and I own I am one of them."

"Good heaven! (cried Madeline) who but banditti could be suspected of murdering him?"


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 The housekeeper shook her head—

"There were people, Mademoiselle, but"—as if suddenly recollecting herself, "it does not become me to tell family secrets."

The curiosity of Madeline was highly raised, but into secrets which indeed she thought properly withheld, she could not think of prying.

"Would not the sympathizing society of friends be of some service to your Lord?" asked Madeline, after the pause of a minute.

"I scarcely think it would, Madam, (answered the housekeeper) but at any rate he will not try whether it would have any effect upon him; he lives the most strange and solitary life imaginable, rambling about from one seat to another, and never admitting any one to his presence, except his attendants, and now and then a kinsman, who lives some leagues from this, and will be his heir. This castle, in the life time of my Lady, was one of the finest and gayest places perhaps you


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xii —except that, as I learn through an obliging communication from M. Ernest Langlois, it has now been ascertained that he died at Paris in the Rue S. Jacques.

The work of G. de Lorris ends somewhat abruptly at line 4202. It will be seen that it is a simple allegory of the love of a young man for a beautiful girl, and while the poet introduces some charming descriptions of the country in spring-time, redolent of fresh air and sunshine, and gives some forcible characterisations of human passions and vices, he keeps within the plan of a romance, conjoined with instructions in the art of love, drawn from Ovid’s poem “De Arte Amandi,” in accordance with the title of his book.

The question whether the earlier author completed his work or not is left an open one by Mons. E. Langlois, who has fully discussed it in his masterly account of the whole work printed in the second volume of “Histoire de la langue et de la litterature Française,” edited by M. Petit de Julleville. Paris, 1878-1900. He notes that among the two hundred manuscripts of the book that have come down to us, two only give the eighty lines, manifestly spurious, which round off the story, but he hesitates to say that it may not have had an ending which the continuator suppressed.

The work of Jean de Meun or Clopinel is


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 can conceive; and 'tis a grievous thing to any one who knew it in it's glory, to see it now going to rack and ruin for want of a little repair, its courts full of rubbish, and its fine old towers mouldering away; but my Lord seems pleased at beholding its decay."

"Does he never go about the domain?" asked Madeline.

"No: he generally confines himself to a great lonely apartment, where he scarcely suffers a ray of the blessed day-light to enter, and frequently passes whole nights within the chapel, where he has caused a magnificent monument to be erected to the memory of his lady and son."

The conversation into which she had entered cast an involuntary gloom over the mind of Madeline, and by again depressing her spirits made her soon betray symptoms of languor and weariness.

The housekeeper then offered to conduct her to her chamber, an offer which she


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 gladly accepted, and was accordingly led up a flight of stairs, at the end of the passage, to a gallery immediately over it; here she found a comfortable room prepared for her.

Too much fatigued to converse any longer with pleasure, Madeline would have been pleased if her companion had now retired, but the good woman was so fond of talking that she declared she would not leave her till she had seen her to bed.

Madeline had scarcely begun to undress when she missed her father's picture. Struck with consternation and regret at its loss, she threw herself on a chair, with a countenance so full of concern, that the housekeeper hastily demanded what was the matter: On being informed, she begged Madeline not to be so much distressed, at least till convinced she could not find it, declaring there was every probability of its being dropped in the hall at the time they were trying to recover her.


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 Madeline instantly started up with an intention of going in quest of it, but was prevented by the housekeeper, who assured her, that she herself would make a diligent search after it. This assurance however was not sufficient to prevent Madeline from wishing to join in it, till told that if she went now to the hall, she would run the chance of encountering the Marquis, who always passed through it in his way to the chapel, which he frequently visited at this hour.

As the housekeeper spoke somebody tapped at the door; she demanded who it was, and a voice which Madeline immediately recollected to be that of the Marquis's valet, who had so politely addressed her in the hall, replied,

Tis Lafroy.—My Lord presents his compliments to the young lady, and begs she may have the goodness to come to him for a few minutes."


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 "Lord have mercy upon me! (exclaimed the housekeeper, with uplifted hands and eyes) what can be the meaning of this?—Why, Lafroy (eagerly opening the door) you have quite astonished me!"

The surprise of Madeline, if possible, surpassed her companions; besides, with her's was intermingled something like fear.

"Aye, (cried Lafroy, in reply to the housekeeper) I don't wonder, indeed, Mrs. Beatrice, at your being astonished, 'tis quite a marvel to have my Lord desire to see a stranger, when he won't permit his own friends to come to him."

"But, pray, Lafroy, did he give no reason for desiring to see the young lady?"

"Why as I was lighting him to the chapel which, according to his usual custom, whenever he finds himself in very bad spirits, he was going to, he found in the hall a little picture, which he directly concluded must belong to the young lady; so instead of re-


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 pairing to the chapel, he immediately returned to his apartment, declaring he must himself restore it to her."

"Dear heart, (cried Mrs. Beatrice) well, I protest he is very complaisant."

'Twas a complaisance, however, which Madeline would gladly have excused, and which she wondered a mind so afflicted as his could ever have thought of.

"I never saw my Lord more disturbed than he was just after finding the picture, (said Lafroy) I thought when he returned to his apartment he would have fainted."

"Since so disordered 'tis a greater wonder than ever that he should desire to see a stranger," cried the housekeeper.

"Aye, so I think too," said Lafroy.

Madeline saw he was impatient to conduct her to his Lord, and, though with a reluctance she could scarcely conceal, she did not hesitate to accompany him immediately.


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 He led her through a circuitous gallery to a very magnificent one, as well as she could discern by the faint light which glimmered through it; at the extreme end of which was the apartment the Marquis sat in: the moment he introduced her to it he retired, closing the door after him.

The Marquis sat at the head of the room; he bowed without rising at her entrance, and motioned for her to take a chair on his right hand.

Tremblingly, Madeline approached him, and obeyed his motion. It was some minutes 'ere he spoke, and as his eyes were bent upon the ground the timid ones of Madeline surveyed a form which inspired her with mingled reverence and pity, and which, though bent by age and sorrow, still retained traces of majesty and captivating beauty.

"Young lady, (said he, at last, raising his eyes to hers) I hope you had the goodness


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Rh widely different from that to which it professes to be a complement. Leaving the idyllic strain, the author takes occasion to introduce a variety of episodes which afford him the opportunity of disburdening his mind of his views on most subjects which occupy the attention of men, while he brings the story to a conclusion, after a fashion which would have amazed his predecessor, could he have foreseen it.

But if he wanders again and again into by paths apart from the main road of the story, it is to these digressions that we owe the lifelike pictures which throw light on his surroundings, in the dramatic episodes of the jealous husband (Chapters XLVIII.-LII.), the duenna’s tale of her own wasted life (Chap. LXXII.), and elsewhere.

Jean de Meun is commonly censured for his depreciation and abuse of women; but may not that censure have been too freely applied from the reading of isolated passages, without taking into account the fact that he is writing dramatically, and is in truth rather representing the views of a jealous and angry husband than expressing deliberately his own? What can be more tenderly pathetic than the picture he draws in Chap. LII. ll. 9901-9948 of a woman’s position before and after marriage?

In the same way, might not the communistic doctrines charged against our author with equal


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 of characters, minds, and hearts, to make up a tolerably respectable world; that every man has his "mission;" that consequently Mrs. Grundy, with all her imperfections on her head, has been intrusted with one of the most important "missions," and that the garrulous old lady, who exerts such unbounded power in regulating the affairs of the universe, instead of being denounced and hunted out of "good society," ought to be canonized as a public benefactress.

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E believe it is generally admitted that the most agreeable associates, in the everyday intercourse of society, are those who put us in a good humor with ourselves. Tactless people have a wonderful faculty of effecting the very opposite. However well tuned may be the instrument they touch, their rough, inconsequent fingers always strike some jarring string. Wounded sensibility exaggerates their bluntness into insult; Confusion enters the doors where they pass in; Discord follows in their steps.

There is an anecdote told of a certain officer who, having lost an arm in battle, ever after judged of the high breeding and good nature of the persons. presented to him, by noticing whether their eyes wandered to the empty coat-sleeve. He knew that those who appeared perfectly unconscious of his loss, were influenced by considerate delicacy; while those whose eyes were constantly turned to the former locality of the deficient member, had souls of a rude texture, insensible to fine perceptions or sympathetic emotions. Tactless people

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 trifles"? If politeness be the offspring of good feeling evinced in social minutiae, tact as certainly springs from the amiability which is thoughtful to spare others pain.

Many a woman, endowed with noble attributes, and rich in sterling virtues, has passed through life little beloved, little appreciated, and seldom sought after, because she was lamentably deficient in this one conciliating, harmonizing quality of tact; because she always rendered those with whom she associated discontented with themselves, and that engendered discontent with her.

A writer who has evidently weighed the importance of the social art of making one's-self acceptable to others, by rendering others pleased with themselves, jocosely advises a man who has failed in inspiring a woman with love for him, "to fill her above the brim with love for herself," assuring him that all which "runs over will be his." That counsellor understood the value of the word "tact."

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UT forth an original book, an original play, an original achievement in art, an original invention of science, and what a clamorous welcome echoes throughout Vanity Fair! What grandiloquent praises are trumpeted from the lips of its graceful booth-keepers! Taking their cue from some outside oracle, what enthusiasm, what powers of appreciation, what critical acumen they display! But, usher into the presence of "Good Society," (the presiding genius of that polite mart), "an original person"—oh! that is quite different; an intolerable innovation, a social nuisance! "Good Society" is shocked that the intruder bears so little resemblance to the charming creatures whom she has stamped and moulded, and curtailed of too luxuriant physical and mental proportion. She scans the singular individual with questioning and disapproving eyes; and of what a number of crimes, according to her code, she finds him guilty! His fervid nature has melted the smooth, waxed mask of polished simulation, and revealed strongly marked lineaments, deep lines.

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 of the most charming duplicate, of the most perfect model "Good Society" ever stamped with her superlative praise of "uneccentric, unexceptionable!"

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 top. Ranged along the sea-wall to dry, they might at some distance be mistaken for habitations or huts of some sort. Then you see great wooden anchors, shaped like ploughshares, and shod with metal; iron anchors, with four flukes; prodigious wooden mallets, used for driving stakes; and various other implements, still more unfamiliar, of which you cannot even imagine the purpose. The indescribable antique queerness of everything gives you that weird sensation of remoteness,—of the far away in time and place,—which makes one doubt the reality of the visible. And the life of Yaidzu is certainly the life of many centuries ago. The people, too, are the people of Old Japan: frank and kindly as children—good children,—honest to a fault, innocent of the further world, loyal to the ancient traditions and the ancient gods.

I happened to be at Yaidzu during the three days of the Bon or Festival of the Dead; and I hoped to see the beautiful farewell ceremony of


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 the third and last day. In many parts of Japan, the ghosts are furnished with miniature ships for their voyage,—little models of junks or fishing-craft, each containing offerings of food and water and kindled incense; also a tiny lantern or lamp, if the ghost-ship be despatched at night. But at Yaidzu lanterns only are set afloat; and I was told that they would be launched after dark. Midnight being the customary hour elsewhere, I supposed that it was the hour of farewell at Yaidzu also; and I rashly indulged in a nap after supper, expecting to wake up in time for the spectacle. But by ten o’clock, when I went to the beach again, all was over, and everybody had gone home. Over the water I saw something like a long swarm of fire-flies,—the lanterns drifting out to sea in procession; but they were already too far to be distinguished except as points of colored light. I was much disappointed; I felt that I had lazily missed an opportunity which might never again return,—for these old Bon-customs are dying rapidly. But in another moment it occurred to me that I could very well venture to swim out to the lights. They were moving slowly. I dropped my robe on the beach, and plunged in. The sea was calm,


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 with the confirmation and consent of the Navy, and those persons must also have the following characteristics and qualifications, namely—

having been conferred with the rank of junior lieutenant or higher;

having been ship commanding officers, or having been, for not less than three years, chief mates of the ships for which they are to be selected as commanding officers;

having been in the public service for a period not less than eight years.

shall be selected by the CSSC of the Ministry of Economic Affairs from amongst the persons who are regular or retired naval officers of any type in the General Line of the Royal Siamese Navy, with the confirmation and consent of the Navy, and those persons must also have the following characteristics and qualifications, namely—

having been conferred with the rank of junior lieutenant or lieutenant;

having been in the public service for not less than eight years.

shall be selected by the CSSC of the Ministry of Economic Affairs from amongst the persons who are regular or retired naval officers of any type in the Engineering Line of the Royal Siamese Navy, with

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 and beautifully phosphorescent. Every stroke kindled a stream of yellow fire. I swam fast, and overtook the last of the lantern-fleet much sooner than I had hoped. I felt that it would be unkind to interfere with the little embarcations, or to divert them from their silent course: so I contented myself with keeping close to one of them, and studying its details.

The structure was very simple. The bottom was a piece of thick plank, perfectly square, and measuring about ten inches across. Each one of its corners supported a slender stick about sixteen inches high; and these four uprights, united above by cross-pieces, sustained the paper sides. Upon the point of a long nail, driven up through the centre of the bottom, was fixed a lighted candle. The top was left open. The four sides presented five different colors,—blue, yellow, red, white, and black; these five colors respectively symbolizing Ether, Wind, Fire, Water, and Earth,—the five Buddhist elements which are metaphysically identified with the Five Buddhas. One of the paper-panes was red, one blue, one yellow; and the right half of the fourth pane was black, while the left half, uncolored, represented white. No kaimyō was


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ERVES—weak nerves, excitable nerves, unstrung nerves,—what an absurdity they appear to granite minds and iron frames! Muscles, bones, and sinews are hard realities; but nerves have only a vapory and unsubstantial existence, in the estimation of men and women of nerve. Very paradoxical in sound, but not less veritable! You remind them that through these delicate conductors the sovereign brain transmits its will to the subject body, and they gravely admit that nerves are actually the fine, intangible media of this vital communion; but try to convince them that the disturbance of the electric current conveyed through the channel of the nerves produces that painful condition styled nervousness, and they start back to their former skeptical standpoint, and maintain that nerves are imaginary nuisances, and that nervousness is merely the fanciful, hypochondriacal state to which feeble intellects are prone. Consequently, all phases of nervousness excite in these insensate unbelievers impatience, ridicule, or anger.

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 written upon any of the transparencies. Inside the lantern there was only the flickering candle.

I watched those frail glowing shapes drifting through the night, and ever as they drifted scattering, under impulse of wind and wave, more and more widely apart. Each, with its quiver of color, seemed a life afraid,—trembling on the blind current that was bearing it into the outer blackness. … Are not we ourselves as lanterns launched upon a deeper and a dimmer sea, and ever separating further and further one from another as we drift to the inevitable dissolution? Soon the thought-light in each burns itself out: then the poor frames, and all that is left of their once fair colors, must melt forever into the colorless Void. …

Even in the moment of this musing I began to doubt whether I was really alone,—to ask myself whether there might not be something more than a mere shuddering of light in the thing that rocked beside me: some presence that haunted the dying flame, and was watching the watcher. A faint cold thrill passed over me,—perhaps some chill uprising from the depths,—perhaps the creeping only of a ghostly fancy. Old


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 seen—but why multiply examples of hourly occurrence? Every one who pauses to note, will find them scattered in abundance around him. But can any kindly spirit, who is once induced to search out the causes of the grievous condition styled nervousness, ever regard its most tormenting phases as a theme for skepticism, anger, or mirth! As well might we pronounce the knell-like cough of the consumptive unreal, vexatious, or absurd!

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 of the coast recurred to me,—old vague warnings of peril in the time of the passage of Souls. I reflected that were any evil to befall me out there in the night,—meddling, or seeming to meddle, with the lights of the Dead,—I should myself furnish the subject of some future weird legend. … I whispered the Buddhist formula of farewell—to the lights,—and made speed for shore.

As I touched the stones again, I was startled by seeing two white shadows before me; but a kindly voice, asking if the water was cold, set me at ease. It was the voice of my old landlord, Otokichi the fishseller, who had come to look for me, accompanied by his wife.

“Only pleasantly cool,” I made answer, as I threw on my robe to go home with them.

“Ah,” said the wife, “it is not good to go out there on the night of the Bon!”

“I did not go far,” I replied;—“I only wanted to look at the lanterns.”

“Even a Kappa gets drowned sometimes,” protested Otokichi. “There was a man of this


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 village who swam home a distance of seven ri, in bad weather, after his boat had been broken. But he was drowned afterwards.”

Seven ri means a trifle less than eighteen miles. I asked if any of the young men now in the settlement could do as much.

“Probably some might,” the old man replied. “There are many strong swimmers. All swim here,—even the little children. But when fisherfolk swim like that, it is only to save their lives.”

“Or to make love,” the wife added,—“like the Hashima girl.”

“Who?” queried I.

“A fisherman’s daughter,” said Otokichi. “She had a lover in Ajiro, several ri distant; and she used to swim to him at night, and swim back in the morning. He kept a light burning to guide her. But one dark night the light was neglected—or blown out; and she lost her way, and was drowned. … The story is famous in Idzu.”

—“So,” I said to myself, “in the Far East, it is poor Hero that does the swimming. And what, under such circumstances, would have been the Western estimate of Leander?”


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LMOST with their earliest breath the tortures of the sensitive begin; in the very dawn of their existence, the first foreboding signs of shrinking and of suffering are apparent. The bright eye of infancy will suddenly fill with tears, the rosy lip curl and quiver, the soft cheek flush through wounded feeling. A chiding word, a mocking laugh, has pierced the tender soul; it recoils instinctively from blame or ridicule, ay, even before the child knows the meaning of the words. Who can note these touching indications of acute sensibility, without a sigh at the thought of the rude blasts, the beating rain, the pinching frosts, that must blow about, and prostrate, and wither that delicate shoot of humanity, in its upward struggle through life?

Now and then these sensitive natures are dulled and hardened by contact with the world; now and then, through severe self-discipline, they learn to resist the cruel blow; or to draw, with resolute hands, the veil of seeming indifference over the bleeding wound, and hide the throes of anguish

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Usually about the time of the Bon, the sea gets rough; and I was not surprised to find next morning that the surf was running high. All day it grew. By the middle of the afternoon, the waves had become wonderful; and I sat on the sea-wall, and watched them until sundown.

It was a long slow rolling,—massive and formidable. Sometimes, just before breaking, a towering swell would crack all its green length with a tinkle as of shivering glass; then would fall and flatten with a peal that shook the wall beneath me. … I thought of the great dead Russian general who made his army to storm as a sea,—wave upon wave of steel,—thunder following thunder. … There was yet scarcely any wind; but there must have been wild weather elsewhere,—and the breakers were steadily heightening. Their motion fascinated. How indescribably complex such motion is,—yet how eternally new! Who could fully describe even five minutes of it? No mortal ever saw two waves break in exactly the same way.


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 And probably no mortal ever watched the ocean-roll or heard its thunder without feeling serious. I have noticed that even animals,—horses and cows,—become meditative in the presence of the sea: they stand and stare and listen as if the sight and sound of that immensity made them forget all else in the world.

There is a folk-saying of the coast:—“The Sea has a soul and hears.” And the meaning is thus explained: Never speak of your fear when you feel afraid at sea;—if you say that you are afraid, the waves will suddenly rise higher. … Now this imagining seems to me absolutely natural. I must confess that when I am either in the sea, or upon it, I cannot fully persuade myself that it is not alive,—a conscious and a hostile power. Reason, for the time being, avails nothing against this fancy. In order to be able to think of the sea as a mere body of water, I must be upon some height from whence its heaviest billowing appears but a lazy creeping of tiny ripples.

But the primitive fancy may be roused even more strongly in darkness than by daylight. How living seem the smoulderings and the


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 want of care-taking of me, and a fever I felt coming on besides—(Poor soul! said my uncle Toby) all together, an' please your honour, was more than I could sustain.

I was telling my sufferings to a young woman at a peasant's house, where our cart, which was the last of the line, had halted; they had help'd me in, and the young woman had taken a cordial out of her pocket and dropp'd it upon some sugar, and seeing it had cheer'd me, she had given it me a second and a third timeSo I was telling her, an' please your honour, the anguish I was in, and was saying it was so intolerable to me, that I had much rather lie down upon the bed, turning my face towards one which was in the corner of the room—and die,


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 the confirmation and consent of the Navy, and those persons must also have the following characteristics and qualifications, namely—

having been conferred with the rank of junior lieutenant or higher;

having been ship chief engineers;

having been in the public service for a period not less than eight years.

In a special event where selection cannot be carried out in accordance with the selection method and criteria specified in section 4, the CSSC of the Ministry of Economic Affairs shall, if the public service requires persons to be instated in any of the mentioned positions during this initial period, select them from amongst those who have suitable qualifications and abilities for the functions and work characteristics, and their appointment can take place only upon the approval of the CSC.

The Minister of Economic Affairs shall have the duty to be in charge of the execution of this Royal Decree.

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 of the fide on nights of phosphorescence!—how reptilian the subtle shifting of the tints of its chilly flame! Dive into such a night-sea;—open your eyes in the black-blue gloom, and watch the weird gush of lights that follow your every motion: each luminous point, as seen through the flood, like the opening and closing of an eye! At such a moment, one feels indeed as if enveloped by some monstrous sentiency,—suspended within some vital substance that feels and sees and wills alike in every part,—an infinite soft cold Ghost.

Long I lay awake that night, and listened to the thunder-rolls and crashings of the mighty tide. Deeper than these distinct shocks of noise, and all the storming of the nearer waves, was the bass of the further surf,—a ceaseless abysmal muttering to which the building trembled,—a sound that seemed to imagination like the sound of the trampling of infinite cavalry, the massing of incalculable artillery,—some rushing, from the Sunrise, of armies wide as the world.


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 than go onwhen, upon her attempting to lead me to it, I fainted away in her arms. She was a good soul! as your honour, said the corporal, wiping his eyes, will hear.

I thought love had been a joyous thing, quoth my uncle Toby.

'Tis the most serious thing, an' please your honour (sometimes) that is in the world.

By the persuasion of the young woman, continued the corporal, the cart with the wounded men set off without me: she had assured them I should expire immediately if I was put into the cart. So when I came to myself—I found myself in a still quiet cottage, with


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 Then I found myself thinking of the vague terror with which I had listened, when a child, to the voice of the sea;—and I remembered that in after-years, on different coasts in different parts of the world, the sound of surf had always revived the childish emotion. Certainly this emotion was older than I by thousands of thousands of centuries,—the inherited sum of numberless terrors ancestral. But presently there came to me the conviction that fear of the sea alone could represent but one element of the multitudinous awe awakened by its voice. For as I listened to that wild tide of the Suruga coast, I could distinguish nearly every sound of fear known to man: not merely noises of battle tremendous,—of interminable volleying,—of immeasurable charging,—but the roaring of beasts, the crackling and hissing of fire, the rumbling of earthquake, the thunder of ruin, and, above all these, a clamor continual as of shrieks and smothered shoutings,—the Voices that are said to be the voices of the drowned. Awfulness supreme of tumult,—combining all imaginable echoings of fury and destruction and despair!

And to myself I said:—Is it wonderful that the voice of the sea should make us serious?


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 no one but the young woman, and the peasant and his wife. I was laid across the bed in the corner of the room, with my wounded leg upon a chair, and the young woman beside me, holding the corner of her handkerchief dipp'd in vinegar to my nose with one hand, and rubbing my temples with the other.

I took her at first for the daughter of the peasant (for it was no inn)—so had offer'd her a little purse with eighteen florins, which my poor brother Tom (here Trim wip'd his eyes) had sent me as a token, by a recruit, just before he set out for Lisbon

I never told your honour that piteous story yet—here Trim wiped his eyes a third time.


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 Consonantly to its multiple utterance must respond all waves of immemorial fear that move in the vaster sea of soul-experience. Deep calleth unto deep. The visible abyss calls to that abyss invisible of elder being whose flood-flow made the ghosts of us.

Wherefore there is surely more than a little truth in the ancient belief that the speech of the dead is the roar of the sea. Truly the fear and the pain of the dead past speak to us in that dim deep awe which the roar of the sea awakens.

But there are sounds that move us much more profoundly than the voice of the sea can do, and in stranger ways,—sounds that also make us serious at times, and very serious,—sounds of music.

Great music is a psychical storm, agitating to unimaginable depth the mystery of the past within us. Or we might say that it is a prodigious incantation,—every different instrument and voice making separate appeal to different billions of prenatal memories. There are tones that call up all ghosts of youth and joy and tenderness;—there are tones that evoke all phantom pain of perished passion;—there are


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 The young woman call'd the old man and his wife into the room, to shew them the money, in order to gain me credit for a bed and what little necessaries I should want, till I should be in a condition to be got to the hospital—Come then! said she, tying up the little purse—I'll be your banker—but as that office alone will not keep me employ'd, I'll be your nurse too.

I thought by her manner of speaking this, as well as by her dress, which I then began to consider more attentively—that the young woman could not be the daughter of the peasant.

She was in black down to her toes, with her hair conceal'd under a cambrick border, laid close to her forehead: she


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 tones that resurrect all dead sensations of majesty and might and glory,—all expired exultations,—all forgotten magnanimities. Well may the influence of music seem inexplicable to the man who idly dreams that his life began less than a hundred years ago! But the mystery lightens for whomsoever learns that the substance of Self is older than the sun. He finds that music is a Necromancy;—he feels that to every ripple of melody, to every billow of harmony, there answers within him, out of the Sea of Death and Birth, some eddying immeasurable of ancient pleasure and pain.

Pleasure and pain: they commingle always in great music; and therefore it is that music can move us more profoundly than the voice of ocean or than any other voice can do. But in music’s larger utterance it is ever the sorrow that makes the undertone,—the surf-mutter of the Sea of Soul. … Strange to think how vast the sum of joy and woe that must have been experienced before the sense of music could evolve in the brain of man!

Somewhere it is said that human fife is the music of the Gods,—that its sobs and laughter,


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 was one of those kind of nuns, an' please your honour, of which, your honour knows, there are a good many in Flanders which they let go loose—By thy description, Trim, said my uncle Toby, I dare say she was a young Beguine, of which there are none to be found any where but in the Spanish Netherlands—except at Amsterdam—they differ from nuns in this, that they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry; they visit and take care of the sick by profession—I had rather, for my own part, they did it out of good-nature.

—She often told me, quoth Trim, she did it for the love of Christ—I did not like it.—I believe, Trim, we are both wrong, said my uncle Toby—we'll


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 its songs and shrieks and orisons, its outcries of delight and of despair, rise never to the hearing of the Immortals but as a perfect harmony. … Wherefore they could not desire to hush the tones of pain: it would spoil their music! The combination, without the agony-tones, would prove a discord unendurable to ears divine.

And in one way we ourselves are as Gods,—since it is only the sum of the pains and the joys of past lives innumerable that makes for us, through memory organic, the ecstasy of music. All the gladness and the grief of dead generations come back to haunt us in countless forms of harmony and of melody. Even so,—a million years after we shall have ceased to view the sun,—will the gladness and the grief of our own lives pass with richer music into other hearts—there to bestir, for one mysterious moment, some deep and exquisite thrilling of voluptuous pain.


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 Containing as much of the Birth of the Foundling as is neceary or proper to acquaint the Reader with in the Beginning of this Hitory.  The Introduction to the Work, or Bill of Fare to the Feat.

N Author ought to conider himelf, not as a Gentleman who gives a private or eleemoynary Treat, but rather as one who keeps a public Ordinary, at which all Perons are welcome


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 : Chapter 200

Contents


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, Third Edition


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, Third Edition Chapter 200 : 3


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2 for their Money. In the former Cae, it is well known that the Entertainer provides what Fare he pleaes; and tho’ this hould be very indifferent, and utterly diagreeable to the Tate of his Company, they mut not find any Fault; nay, on the contrary, Good-Breeding forces them outwardly to approve and to commend whatever is et before them. Now the contrary of this happens to the Mater of an Ordinary. Men who pay for what they eat, will init on gratifying their Palates, however nice and even whimical thee may prove; and if every Thing is not agreeable to their tate, will challenge a Right to cenure, to abue, and to dn their Dinner without Controul.

To prevent therefore giving Offence to their Cutomers by any uch Diappointment, it hath been uual, with the honet and well-meaning Hot, to provide a Bill of Fare, which all Perons may perue at their firt Entrance into the Houe; and, having thence acquainted themelves with the Entertainment which they may expect, may either tay and regale with what is provided for them, or may depart to ome other Ordinary better accommodated to their Tate.


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text: Talk:The Conquest of Syria, Persia and Egypt/Letter of protection to Christians


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Whereas, after the adoption of agreements between the Ministry of Economic Affairs with the CSC, it is found appropriate to amend the rate of minimum and maximum monthly salaries for civil officials holding certain positions in the Marine Department according to the dispositions of section 6 of the Act on Rules for Civil Officials, 2476 Buddhist Era;

Therefore, the Council of Regency, in His Majesty's name, orders that the following Royal Decree be enacted:

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text: The Works of Abraham Cowley/Volume 1/Elegy upon Anacreon, who was choaked by a grape-stone


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 : Chapter 200

201 What This Chapter Covers

This Chapter provides a general overview of the copyright system and the practices and procedures for submitting an application to register a work created or first  on or after January 1, 1978. For a chart that illustrates the entire registration process at a glance, see.

For a detailed discussion of the U.S. Copyright Office’s registration practices, see the following chapters:
 * For the practices and procedures for examining copyright, see.
 * For the practices and procedures for registering certain groups of works, see.
 * For a general discussion of filing fees and applications, including the Single Application, which may be used to register a single work by a single author, see.
 * For the practices and procedures for correcting or amplifying the information in an existing copyright registration and for asserting an adverse claim to copyright, see.
 * For the practices and procedures for the of copyright claims, see.

For a detailed discussion of the Office’s practices and procedures for specific types of works, see the following chapters: Chapter 200 : 4
 * For, see.
 * For, see.
 * For visual art works, see.
 * For websites and website content, see.
 * For, see.
 * For, see.
 * For, see.


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 '''5. Conferment of powers under the Code of Civil Procedure, 1908, and the Code of Criminal Procedure, 1898, on the Regional and District Councils and on certain courts and officers for the trial of certain suits, cases and offences.'''—(1) The Governor may, for the trial of suits or cases arising out of any law in force in any autonomous district or region being a law specified in that behalf by the Governor, or for the trial of offences punishable with death, transportation for life, or imprisonment for a term of not less than five years under the Indian Penal Code or under any other law for the time being applicable to such district or region, confer on the District Council or the Regional Council having authority over such district or region or on courts constituted by such District Council or on any officer appointed in that behalf by the Governor, such powers under the Code of Civil Procedure, 1908, or, as the case may be, the Code of Criminal Procedure, 18981, as he deems appropriate, and thereupon the said Council, court or officer shall try the suits, cases or offences in exercise of the powers so conferred.

(2) The Governor may withdraw or modify any of the powers conferred on a District Council, Regional Council, court or officer under sub-paragraph (1) of this paragraph.

(3) Save as expressly provided in this paragraph, the Code of Civil Procedure, 1908, and the Code of Criminal Procedure, 1898, shall not apply to the trial of any suits, cases or offences in an autonomous district or in any autonomous region to which the provisions of this paragraph apply.

[(4) On and from the date appointed by the President under sub-paragraph (5) of paragraph 4 in relation to any autonomous district or autonomous region, nothing contained in this paragraph shall, in its application to that district or region, be deemed to authorise the Governor to confer on the District Council or Regional Council or on courts constituted by the District Council any of the powers referred to in subparagraph (1) of this paragraph.]

[6. Powers of the District Council to establish primary schools, etc.— (1) The District Council for an autonomous district may establish, construct, or manage primary schools, dispensaries, markets, [cattle pounds], ferries, fisheries, roads, road transport and waterways in the district and may, with the previous approval of the Governor, make regulations for the regulation and control thereof and, in particular, may prescribe the language and the manner in which primary education shall be imparted in the primary schools in the district.

(2) The Governor may, with the consent of any District Council, entrust either conditionally or unconditionally to that Council or to its officers functions in relation to agriculture, animal husbandry, community projects, co-operative societies, social welfare, village planning or any other matter to which the executive power of the State *** extends.]

7.District and Regional Funds.—(1) There shall be constituted for each autonomous district, a District Fund and for each autonomous region, a Regional Fund to which shall be credited all moneys received respectively by the District Council for that district and the Regional Council for that region in the course of the administration of such district or region, as the case may be, in accordance with the provisions of this Constitution.

[(2) The Governor may make rules for the management of the District Fund, or, as the case may be, the Regional Fund and for the procedure to be followed in respect of payment of money into the said Fund, the withdrawal of moneys therefrom, the custody of moneys therein and any other matter connected with or ancillary to the matters aforesaid.


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Ch. 1. As we do not didain to borrow Wit or Widom from any Man who is capable of lending us either, we have condecended to take a Hint from thee honet Victuallers, and hall prefix not only a general Bill of Fare to our whole Entertainment, but hall likewie give the Reader particular Bills to every Coure which is to be erved up in this and the enuing Volumes.

The Proviion, then, which we have here made is no other than Nor do I fear that my enible Reader, though mot luxurious in his Tate, will tart, cavil, or be offended, because I have named but one Article. The Tortoie, as the Alderman of Britol, well learned in eating, knows by much Experience, beides the delicious Calibah and Calipee, contains many different Kinds of Food; nor can the learned Reader be ignorant, that in Human Nature, tho’ here collected under one general Name, is uch prodigious ariety, that a Cook will have ooner gone through all the everal Species of animal and vegetable Food in the World, than an Author will be able to exhaut o extenive a Subject.


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 to excuse my not doing the honors of my house myself; affliction, (added he, with a deep sigh) has long rendered me unable to perform the rites of hospitality, to fulfil the claims of society."

"The rites of hospitality were so amply fulfilled towards me, my Lord, (cried Madeline) that I should deem myself highly remiss if I neglected this opportunity of assuring your Lordship of my heartfelt gratitude."

"Does this picture, young lady, (said he, displaying her father's, which he had hitherto concealed within his hand, and looking earnestly at her) belong to you?"

"It does my Lord," replied Madeline.

"Will you be so obliging (said he, still retaining it) as to inform me how it came into your possession?"

The strangeness of this question, and the look which accompanied it, threw Madeline into an agitation that made her tremble, and took from her all power of replying.


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 "You are surprised at my question, (proceeded he) nor do I wonder at your being so, but I trust you will excuse it, when I inform you I have important reasons for it: tell me therefore, I entreat, I conjure you, (he continued, with a vehemence Madeline did not think him capable of) how this picture became your's?"

"My father gave it to me, my Lord," answered Madeline.

"Your father!Gracious heaven!—(He paused, as if overcome by strong emotions, but almost immediately recovering his voice, ) his name I entreat!"

"Clermont, my Lord," said Madeline, with increasing wonder.

"Clermont! (repeated he, with a look strongly expressive of disappointment; then after the silence of some minutes) do you know by what means he obtained it?"

"It is his own, my Lord," replied Madeline.

"His own! (repeated the Marquis, with a wild and eager look) his own!—All gra-


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 This Royal Decree shall be called the "Amendment to the Royal Decree Designating the Rate of Monthly Salaries for Ordinary Civil Officials in the Ministry of Economic Affairs (No 1), 2477 Buddhist Era".

This Royal Decree shall come into force from the day of its publication in the Royal Gazette on.

The text of section 3 of the Royal Decree Designating the Rate of Monthly Salaries for Ordinary Civil Officials in the Ministry of Economic Affairs (No 1), 2477 Buddhist Era, which deals with the rate of minimum and maximum monthly salaries for navigation officers in the Navigation Section, Port Inspection Division, Marine Department, shall be repealed and replace by the following text:

"Nagivation officers"

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 cious powers!" he arose and walked with disordered steps about the room.

Madeline amazed at all she saw and heard, remained trembling on her chair.

The Marquis suddenly stopped before her, and looked at her with an earnestness that made her droop her head.

"Yes, (cried he) I see traces in that face of one—which no time can wear from my remembrance."

He resumed his seat.—

"In what manner does your father live?" asked he.

"He lives in obscurity, my Lord," replied Madeline.

"What is his family?"

"It consists but of me, my Lord."

"You are acquainted I suppose with his real name, and the misfortunes which drove him to obscurity?"


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62 and looking at the bishop of Vannes, who, booted like a cavalier, dressed in gray and sword at side, kept talking of his hunger and testifying the liveliest impatience. M. de Baisemeaux de Montlezun was not accustomed to the unbending movements of his greatness, my lord of Vannes, and this evening Aramis, becoming quite sprightly, volunteered confidence on confidence. The prelate had again a little touch of the musketeer about him. The bishop just trenched on the borders only of license in his style of conversation. As for M. de Baisemeaux, with the facility of vulgar people, he gave himself up entirely upon this point of his guest's freedom.

"Monsieur," said he, "for indeed to-night I dare not call you monseigneur."

"By no means," said Aramis; "call me monsieur; I am booted."

"Do you know, monsieur, of whom you remind me this evening?"

"No, faith!" said Aramis, taking up his glass; "but I hope I remind you of a capital guest."

"You remind me of two, monsieur. François, shut the window; the wind may annoy his greatness."

"And let him go," added Aramis. "The supper is completely served, and we shall eat it very well without waiters. I like extremely to be tête-à-tête when I am with a friend."

Baisemeaux bowed respectfully.

"I like extremely," continued Aramis, "to help myself."

"Retire, François," cried Baisemeaux. "I was saying that your greatness puts me in mind of two persons: one very illustrious, the late cardinal, the great Cardinal de la Kochelle, who wore boots like you."

"Indeed!" said Aramis; "and the other?"

"The other was a certain musketeer, very handsome, very brave, very adventurous, very fortunate, who, from being abbé, turned musketeer, and from musketeer turned abbé." Aramis condescended to smile. "From abbé," continued Baisemeaux, encouraged by Aramis' smile—"from abbé, bishop—and from bishop"

"Ah! stay there, I beg!" exclaimed Aramis.

"I say, monsieur, that you gave me the idea of a cardinal."

"Enough, dear Monsieur Baisemeaux. As you said, I have on the boots of a cavalier, but I do not intend, for all that, to imbroil myself with the church this evening."

"But you have wicked intentions, however, monseigneur."

"Oh, yes, wicked, I own, as everything mundane is."

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 "No, my Lord, I am not; I never knew he had a right to any name but that of Clermont; never knew he had been in a situation different from his present one."

"Tenderness to you made him, I suppose, conceal his misfortunes, (said the Marquis.) I see, (he continued, gazing upon Madeline, whose pale countenance was expressive of terror as well as agitation) that I have disturbed you; a curiosity raised as to your's has been, yet ungratified, is sufficient indeed to give you uneasiness; be satisfied, however, by an assurance that the present mystery shall perhaps, when least expected, be explained."

The too evident uneasiness of Madeline however was not solely owing to the cause he imputed it to. Ignorant of her father's connexions in life, she knew not whether to consider the Marquis as a friend or foe, and her uncertainty threw her into agony.

"No, my Lord, (she cried, determined if possible to terminate her suspense) 'tis not


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 the pain of ungratified curiosity that now distresses my mind; 'tis the fear—she paused, trembled, and bent her eyes to the ground,—'tis the fear—resumed she in a few minutes, and summoning all her courage to her aid—that my father perhaps may have reason to regret the discovery of his residence."

"Never! (said the Marquis warmly) never will he have reason to regret my discovering it; no, never will he have reason to regret your seeking shelter beneath the roof of Montmorenci Castle. Accept my hand, (continued he, offering it to her) accept it as a pledge of friendship to you and your father."

Madeline received the proffered pledge with transport, and the Marquis, after gently pressing her hand between his, restored her father's picture.

He now told he would no longer detain her from the rest she appeared so much to require, and expressed his hopes, that 'till


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 perfectly recovered from the effects of her late fright and fatigue, she would not quit the castle.

Madeline thanked him for his kind consideration about her, but said she was pretty sure she should be able to re-commence her journey the ensuing day.

The Marquis rung for Lafroy to reconduct her to her chamber, and cautioned her against mentioning the conversation which had passed between them to any one but her father.

Lafroy appeared in a few minutes, and Madeline on returning to her chamber found the housekeeper still there, all amazement and curiosity.

"Well, Mademoiselle, upon my word, (she exclaimed, the moment Madeline entered) you have had a long conversation with my Lord."


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 "Yes," said Madeline, who scarcely knew what she uttered, so much was her mind engrossed by wonder.

"And pray, Mademoiselle, how do you like him?" asked the inquisitive Mrs. Beatrice.

"Very well," replied Madeline, beginning to undress in order to get rid of her troublesome companion.

"Aye, (said Mrs. Beatrice) he is even now sometimes to be liked; in his youth there could not be a finer gentleman; he was so complaisant, and one of the best dancers I ever beheld."

She continued to extol what his Lordship had been 'till Madeline was in bed, she then bade her good-night, and desired her, when she chose to rise, to ring for a servant.

But solitude could not calm the agitation of Madeline's mind; the more she reflected on the conversation that had passed between her and the Marquis, the more her perplex-


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 ity increased; she at last, however, endeavoured to compose herself by reflecting on the promise she had received from him of having the mystery explained, and his assurance of friendship to her father.

"Should that friendship (she cried), be something more than bare profession; should it have power to mitigate the sorrows he too visibly labours under, for ever blessed shall I consider the hour in which I entered Montmorenci Castle."

Exhausted by mental as well as bodily fatigue, she at last sunk to repose, from which she did not awaken till the morning was far advanced: she was ready to leave her chamber 'ere she rung for a servant, a maid immediately obeyed her summons, and informed her breakfast was already prepared for her by the housekeeper.

Through a number of winding passages Madeline was conducted to the grand stair-


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 case, which she descended to the hall. Here she involuntarily paused to examine the ancient ornaments surrounding her, which spoke of the splendour and the taste of other days: but with the admiration they excited, was intermingled a degree of sadness at the neglect and even desolation so every where apparent; the shields and other war-like trophies which hung upon the stately pillars of the hall, were covered with dust and cobwebs, the fine historical pictures which stretched from the side of the staircase to the ceiling, were discoloured by damp and dropping from the walls; and a great folding door half open, discovered the inner court strewed with rubbish, and encompassed by decaying buildings, before which the high grass waved in rank luxuriance, unbent by any foot.

"How dreary, how desolate, (said Madeline to herself) is this scene; but to this state every work of man sooner or later comes: who then should vaunt of possessions, which, like the


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 hand that raised them, are doomed to swift decay? Like the Poet she said,

"Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day, yet a few years and the blast of the desert comes; it howls in the empty court, and whistles round thy half worn shield."

The voice of Lubin roused her from her melancholy meditation. He came to inquire whether she was able to continue her journey that day. She immediately assured him she was, and desired him to have the horses ready against she had breakfasted.

She was then shown into a parlour adjoining the hall, where she found the housekeeper waiting at the breakfast-table to receive her. Mrs. Beatrice apologized for her Lord's not appearing, but said, for many years past he had not risen till the day was far advanced.


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 Directly after breakfast Madeline bade an adieu to Montmorenci Castle; as she did so, she requested Mrs. Beatrice to present her sincere acknowledgments to the Marquis for the politeness and hospitality she had received beneath his roof.

Lubin would gladly have chatted as they travelled, but the mind of Madeline was too much agitated to permit her to converse, and he was forced to amuse himself by whistling and singing.

The nearer Madeline drew to the habitation of her father, the more her agitation increased; all the scenes she had gone thro' since her separation from him recurred to her memory, and she feared his inquiries concerning them would be too minute; she trembled lest she should discover, notwithstanding all her precaution, the real state of her heart, discover that its affections were abused, its pride mortified, its expectations


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