CALNE	HUNDRED.
	465
	C'ALTON.
	parts	of	Bluckland	and	Calstonc-	Wellington	;	containing
	together	a	population	of	5,151,	according	to	the	census
	of	1801,	against	5,195	in	1851,	showing	a	decrease	of
	44	in	the	decennial	period.	The	local	government
	is	vested	under	the	Reform	Act	in	a	mayor,	4	alder-
	men,	and	12	councillors,	with	the	style	of	the	"	guild,
	stewards,	and	burgesses	of	the	borough	of	Calne."
	Gallic	is	the	seat	of	a	Poor-law	Union,	and	the	head
	of	a	County	Court	district.	There	are	a	Local	Board
	of	Health,	established	by	Act	of	Parliament,	15	and	16
	Viet.,	cap.	42	;	two	branch	banks,	and	a	savings-bank.
	The	Union	poorhouse	is	at	Northfield	;	it	is	a	handsome
	structure	in	the	Italian	style.	The	living	is	a	vie.*	in
	the	dioe.	of	Salisbury,	val.	769,	in	the	patron,	of	the
	bishop.	The	church	is	dedicated	to	St.	Mary.	It	is	a
	largo	and	handsome	structure	partly	in	the	early	English
	style,	but	exhibiting	also	the	Norman	and	other	styles,
	with	a	fine	embattled	and	pinnacled	tower	on	the	N.	side.
	The	latter	was	erected	by	Inigo	Jones.	In	the	church	are
	several	monuments,	including	one	to	a	gipsy	king.	The
	register	dates	from	the	year	1-529.	There	is	a	chapel	of
	ease,	dedicated	to	the	Holy	Trinity,	the	cur.	of	which	is
	annexed	to	the	vie.	Christ	Church	is	a	new	district
	church,	founded	about	1840,	at	Derryhill,	the	living	of
	which	is	a	perpet.	cur.,*	worth	130,	in	the	gift	of	the	vicar
	of	the	paiish.	The	Society	of	Friends,	Baptists,	and	Wes-
	leyau	Methodists	have	chapels	in	the	town.	There	is	a
	free	school,	founded	and	endowed	by	John	Beutley	in
	1660,	in	connection	with	which	are	two	exhibitions	at
	Queen's	College,	Oxford,	founded	in	1730	by	Sir	Francis
	Bridgman.	The	income	of	the	school	is	about	50	per
	annum.	A	training	school	for	domestic	servants	is
	established,	and	there	are	also	National	and	infant
	schools,	and	a	children's	hospital.	The	parochial
	charities	amount	altogether	to	about	160	a	year.	A
	literary	institute	has	been	founded	in	the	town,	and	a
	friendly	society,	under	the	patronage	of	the	Marquis	of
	Lansdowne.	Bowood,	adjoining	this	parish,	contains
	the	fine	scat	of	the	Marquis	of	Lansdowno,	who	holds
	the	manor	of	Calne,	anciently	belonging	to	the	Cantilupes
	and	the	Zouches.	Cherhill,	with	the	gigantic	figure	of
	a	horse,	cut	about	1780	on	the	side	of	a	chalk	hill,	is
	3	miles	from	Calne.	In	the	neighbourhood	many	in-
	teresting	fossils	are	found.	Tuesday	is	the	market	day,
	and	fairs	for	the	sale	of	cattle	and	sheep	are	held	on
	IV	Oth	May	and	the	29th	September.
	CALNE	"HUNDRED,	one	of	the	29	hunds.	or	sub-
	divisions	of	the	co.	of	Wilts,	situated	in	the	north	par-
	liamentary	div.	of	the	co.,	and	bounded	on	the	N.	by
	the	hund.	of	Kingsbury,	on	the	E.	by	the	hund.	of
	Selkley,	on	the	S.	by	the	hunds.	of	Swanborough	and
	Potterne,	and	on	the	W.	by	the	hund.	of	Chippenham.
	It	contains	the	pars,	of	Berwick-Bassett,	Blackland,
	Calne,	Calstone-	Wellington,	Cherhill,	Compton-Bassett,
	Heddington,	and	Tatesbury.	The	hund.	comprises	an
	area	of	about	21,540	acres.
	CALOORT,	a	hmlt.	in	the	par.	of	Clonca,	bar.	of
	Innishowen,	in	the	co.	of	Donegal,	prov.	of	Ulster,	Ire-
	land,	5	miles	to	the	N.	W.	of	Malin.	It	is	on	the	sea-
	coast,	near	Malin	Head.
	CALOW,	a	tnshp.	in	the	par.	of	Chesterfield,	hund.
	of	Scarsdale,	co.	of	Derby,	2	miles	E.	of	Chesterfield,
	which	is	a	station	on	the	Midland	railway.	The	inha-
	bitants	are	employed	in	the	neighbouring	coal-works.
	CALRY,	a	par.	in	the	bar.	of	Carbury,	in	the	co.
	of	Sligo,	prov.	of	Connaught,	Ireland,	not	far	from
	Sligo.	It	lies	in	a	fertile	district,	near	Lough	Gill,	on
	the	banks	of	the	river	Garvogue,	and	contains	part	of
	the	town	of	Sligo,	and	the	vils.	of	Ballytivnan	and	New-
	town	Anderson.	It	formed	part	of	the	old	district	called
	by	the	Irish	Calruidhe.	Limestone	is	quarried	in	the
	par.	The	living	is	a	vie.	united	with	that	of	St.	John's,
	Sligo.	There	are	several	pleasant	residences	of	the	gentry.
	CALSHOT	CASTLE,	an	ext.	par.	district,	in	the	lib.
	:	Dibden,	Southampton	div.	of	the	co.	of	Hants,	6	miles
	1	the	S.	of	Southampton.	The	castle,	which	stands
	on	a	point	of	land	running	out	into	Southampton	Water,
	was	built	by	Henry	VIII.	There	are	a	lighthouse	and
	a	coastguard	station.
	CALSTOCK,	a	par.	in	the	middle	div.	of	the	hund.
	of	East,	in	the	co.	of	Cornwall,	5	miles	to	the	E.	of	Cal-
	lington.	Tavistock	is	its	post	town.	It	is	pleasantly
	situated	on	the	borders	of	Devonshire,	on	the	banks	of
	the	navigable	river	Tamar,	across	which	is	a	ferry,	and
	is	crossed	by	the	Tavistock	canal.	Granite	is	the	pre-
	vailing	rock	in	the	neighbourhood,	and	there	are	mines
	of	copper,	tin,	lead,	and	manganese.	The	Tamar	con-
	tains	abundance	of	salmon	trout.	Calstock	is	a	port
	subordinate	to	the	port	of	Plymouth.	The	living	is	a
	rect.*	in	the	dioc.	of	Exeter,	val.	510,	in	the	patron,	of
	the	Prince	of	Wales.	The	church	is	dedicated	to	St.
	Andrew.	It	is	built	of	granite,	with	a	lofty	pinnacled
	tower,	and	contains	a	chapel	of	the	Edgecumbe	family,
	and	several	old	monuments.	The	Baptists	have	a	chapel
	in	the	town.	The	rect.	was	held	by	Launcelot	Black-
	burn,	afterwards	Archbishop	of	ifork,	by	whom	the
	parsonage	was	built	in	1720.	There	is	a	mineral
	spring	near	the	church.	In	this	parish	is	Cothele,	or
	Cotehele,	a	curious	and	interesting	old	mansion,	the	seat
	of	the	Earl	of	Mount	Edgecumbe.	It	stands	on	a	slope
	near	the	Tainar,	and	was	in	part	built	about	the	time	of
	Henry	VII.	The	structure	is	quadrangular,	with	a
	gatehouse	on	the	S.	side,	and	a	lofty	massive	tower
	at	one	of	the	angles	of	the	N.	front.	It	contains
	a	hall	with	a	lofty	arched	roof	of	timber,	and	a	chapel
	with	a	fine	turret	and	an	ancient	font.	The	house	is
	stored	with	curiously	carved	furniture,	old	armour	and
	weapons,	and	various	antiquities.	Charles	II.	once
	visited	it,	and	the	bed	is	shown	in	which	he	slept;
	in	August,	1788,	it	was	visited	by	George	III.	and
	Queen	Charlotte,	with	several	of	the	royal	children.
	Other	seats	in	the	neighbourhood	are	Harewood	and
	Sandhill.
	CALSTONE,	a	tythg.	in	the	par.	and	hund.	of	Calne,
	in	the	co.	of	Wilts.
	CALSTONE	-WELLINGTON,	or	CALSTONE-
	WILLINGTON,	a	par.	in	the	hund.	of	Calne,	in	the	co.
	of	Wilts,	3	miles	to	the	S.E.	of	Calne,	its	post	town.
	The	manor	was	anciently	held	by	the	Cantilupes,
	Zouches,	and	Willingtons.	The	living	is	a	rect.*	in
	the	dioc.	of	Salisbury,	val.	192,	in	the	patron,	of	the
	Marquis	of	Lansdowne.	The	church	is	dedicated	to
	St.	Mary.
	CALTEGFA,	a	tnshp.	in	the	par.	of	Llanfwrog,	hund.
	of	Ruthin,	in	the	co.	of	Denbigh,	North	Wales.
	CALTHORPE,	a	hmlt.	in	the	tnshp.	of	Neithrop,
	par.	and	hund.	of	Banbury,	in	the	co.	of	Oxford.	The
	principal	residence	is	Calthorpe	Hall,	originally	part	of
	an	ancient	hospital.
	CALTHORPE,	a	par.	in	the	southern	div.	of	the
	hund.	of	Erpingham,	in	the	co.	of	Norfolk,	3	miles	to	the
	N.	of	Aylsham,	its	post	town,	and	7	S.	of	Cromer.	It	is
	situated	on	the	banks	of	the	river	Bure.	The	living	is
	a	rect.*	in	the	dioc.	of	Norwich,	val.	143,	in	the	patron,
	of	Sir	W.	Foster,	Bart.	The	church	is	dedicated	to	St.
	Margaret.	The	register	dates	from	the	year	1544.	The
	Earl	of	Orford	is	lord	of	the	manor,	and	impropriator	of
	the	rectoiy.	The	charitable	endowments	consist	of	the
	produce	of	the	town	lands,	amounting	to	23	a	year,
	given	by	unknown	donors	for	the	payment	of	the	war
	tax	in	former	times.
	CALTHWAITE,	a	tnshp.	in	the	par.	of	Hesket-in-
	the-Forest,	Leath	ward,	in	the	co.	of	Cumberland,	7
	miles	to	the	N.	of	Penrith.	It	is	seated	on	the	W.
	bank	of	the	river	Petterill,	here	crossed	by	a	bridge,
	and	is	a	station	on	the	Lancaster	and	Carlisle	railway.
	CALTON,	a	district	par.	formed	out	of	the	pars,
	of	Blore,	Croxden,	Mayfield,	and	Waterfall,	hund.	of
	Totmonslow,	in	the	co.	of	Stafford,	8	miles	to	the	N.E.
	of	Cheadle.	Leek	is	its	post	town.	It	is	near	the	river
	Dove.	The	living	is	a	don.	cur.*	in	the	dioc.	of	Lich-
	field,	val.	86,	in	the	patron,	of	the	Vicar	of	Mayfield.
	The	church	is	dedicated	to	St.	Mary,	and	is	situated
	within	the	parish	of	Mayfield.
	CALTON,	a	tnshp.	in	the	par.	of	Kirkby-Malham,
	wap.	of	Staincliff	and	Ewcross,	in	the	West	Riding	of	the
	co.	of	York,	7	miles	to	the	N.W.	of	Skipton.	It	is	on
	the	E.	bank	of	the	Airc,	near	the	north-western	branch


POETRY:	A	NOTE
	To	distinguish	Poetry	from	Prose	it	is	not	sufficient
	to	say	that	the	one	is	rhythmical	expression,	the	other
	expression	without	rhythm.	One	knows	quite	well
	that	it	is	not.	Turn	a	leader	from	a	daily	newspaper
	into	octosyllabics	and	it	is	still	prose	;	we	can	recognise
	passages	in	Homer	as	poetry	even	when	we	have	to
	read	them	in	the	beautiful	prose	of	Mr.	Lang.
	Prose	and	Poetry	are	the	forms	man's	expression
	takes	according	to	his	state	of	mind	at	the	moment	of
	utterance.	Prose	is	the	normal	language	of	man	;
	Poetry	is	his	normal	language,	too,	when	he	is	in	an
	abnormal	state.	Prose	and	Poetry,	equally	normally
	and	naturally,	give	expression	to	two	different	sides
	of	man's	being.
	A	beast	cannot	speak	in	prose	;	that	is	left	to	mortal
	man.	It	is,	however,	the	immortal	in	him	that	speaks
	in	poetry.	In	poetry	he	voices	the	soul	and	is	a	part
	of	the	spirit	that	breathes	in	everything.
	Prose	is	the	language	of	cool	reason,	Poetry	that	of
	ecstasy.	It	follows	that	Prose	is	the	language	of
	speech,	normal,	without	rhythm,	balanced,	like	a	high-
	way	road,	a	straight	line,	a	stick,	the	sentences	coming
	to	an	end	and	joining	into	one	another	imperceptibly	;
	and	that	Poetry	is	the	language	of	song,	at	least	of
	rhythm	for	utterance,	when	excited,	takes	to	itself	a
	A


2	POETRY	AND	PROSE
	rhythmic	quality.	1	Poetry	is	what	man	utters	when
	he	loses	his	balance,	his	normality	the	high	and	low
	notes	of	emotion.
	Prose	is	an	expression	of	the	intellect	;	Poetry	the
	language	of	feeling.	Prose	addresses	itself	to	an
	audience	;	Poetry	utters	what	she	feels	'	without
	thought	of	a	listener.'	If	Prose	is	humanity	talking,
	Poetry	is	humanity	'overheard.'	2
	The	best	prose	conveys	to	us	what	is	already	in	the
	1	As,	for	example,	'	Generation	after	generation	takes	to	itself
	the	Form	of	a	Body;	and	forth-issuing	from	Cimmerian	Night,	on
	Heaven's	Mission	APPEARS.	What	Force	and	Fire	is	in	each	he
	expends	:	one	grinding	in	the	mill	of	Industry	;	one	hunter-like
	climbing	the	giddy	Alpine	heights	of	Science	;	one	madly	dashed	in
	pieces	on	the	rocks	of	Strife,	in	war	with	his	fellow	:	and	then	the
	Heaven-sent	is	recalled	;	his	earthly	Vesture	falls	away,	and	soon
	even	to	Sense	becomes	a	vanished	Shadow.	Thus,	like	some	wild-
	flaming,	wild-thundering	train	of	Heaven's	Artillery,	does	this
	mysterious	MANKIND	thunder	and	flame,	in	long-drawn,	quick-
	succeeding	grandeur,	through	the	unknown	Deep.	Thus,	like	a
	God-created,	fire-breathing	Spirit-host,	we	emerge	from	the	Inane	;
	haste	stormfully	across	the	astonished	Earth	;	then	plunge	again
	into	the	Inane.	Earth's	mountains	are	levelled,	and	her	seas	filled
	up,	in	our	passage	:	can	the	Earth,	which	is	but	dead	and	a	vision,
	resist	Spirits	which	have	reality	and	are	alive?'	Sartor	Resartus
	(1838),	p.	276.
	8	See	Mill's	Thoughts	on	Poetry	and	its	Varieties	{Dissertations
	and	Discussions,	vol.	i.).	The	statement	that	poetry	is	'	overheard	'
	is	Mill's,	and	what	is	here	said	of	Prose	he	had	formerly	said	of
	Eloquence.	But	as	he	is	distinguishing	not	between	Poetry	and
	Prose	but	between	Poetry	and	Eloquence,	to	avoid	confusion	I	do
	not	quote	him	here.	His	actual	words	will	be	found	on	page	137.
	The	process	of	Mill's	essay	is	as	follows	:	Denying	as	of	course
	that	the	essence	of	poetry	is	to	be	found	in	metre,	he	goes	on	to
	distinguish	shortly	between	poetry	and	matter	of	fact	or	science
	(terms	he	prefers	to	prose),	'the	object	of	poetry'	being	'	confessedly
	to	act	upon	the	emotions.'	But	this	also	is	the	object	of	the	novelist
	and	orator.	He	therefore	goes	on	to	distinguish	between	the	poet
	and	the	novelist,	and	enters	at	length	upon	the	distinction	between
	eloquence	and	poetry	a	distinction	most	beautifully	carried	out	by


Introduction	xi
	and	then	Chancellor	of	the	Exchequer	(1614),
	a	Privy	Councillor,	and	a	Gentleman	of	the
	Bedchamber.	In	162,0	he	was	created	Lord
	Brooke	of	Beauchamps-Court	;	and	the	Calen
	dars	of	State	Papers	show	that	in	spite	of	his
	advanced	age	'	Age	and	sickness,	the	gentle
	men	ushers	of	death,'	as	he	writes	with
	regard	to	himself	in	Kfey	1	he	was	an	active
	member	of	the	House	of	Lords	and	of	the
	administration.	A	long	letter	which	he
	wrote	to	the	Duke	of	Buckingham	in	1623,
	reads	like	a	piece	of	the	Life	of	Sidney,	the
	ambition	and	intrigues	of	Spain	and	the
	Papacy	are	denounced	in	the	same	picturesque
	language.	Lord	Brooke	lived	on	into	the
	reign	of	Charles	I.	On	Sept.	i,	1618,	he
	was	stabbed	in	the	back	by	a	body-servant,
	Mr.	Ralph	Haywood,	who	was	apparently
	enraged	by	being	unmentioned	in	his	master's
	will,	and	who	'	to	consummate	the	Tragedy,
	went	into	another	roome,	and	having	lock't
	the	dore,	pierced	his	own	bowells	with	a
	sword	'.*	A	contemporary	lampoon	gives	the
	1	Grosart,	vol.	iv,	p.	310.
	2	Dugdale's	Warwickshire,	pp.	57	1-3	;	much	the	same
	account	of	Greville	is	given	by	Dugdale	in	his	Baronage^
	vol.	iij	pp.	44Z	3.	These	passages	form	the	main
	source	of	information	about	Greville's	career.	The
	facts	are	given	more	fully	and	with	much	comment	of
	doubtful	value	in	Dr.	Grosart's	Memorial-Introduction,
	Lord	Brookes	J^orkr	}	vol	i.
	dead


SIR	WALTER	SCOTT.
	;	s<
	WAKKS,	lord*	and	Indies	gny,
	On	tin-	mountain	dawn*	l!ie	day;
	All	the	jolly	chase	is	here.
	With	hawk,	and	horse,	and	hunting-spear;
	Hound*	art-	in	their	couples	yelling,
	Hawks	are	whistling,	horns	are	knelling,
	Merrily,	merrily	minirlo.	they,
	11,	lorda	and	ladies	gay."
	Waken,	lords	and	ladies	gay,
	The	mist	has	left	the	mountain	gray,
	Springlcts	in	the	dawn	are	streaming,
	Diamonds	on	the	brake	are	gleaming	;
	And	foresters	have	busy	been,
	To	track	the	buck	in	thicket	green	;
	Now	we	come	to	chant	our	lay,
	Waken,	lords	and	ladies	gay."
	Waken,	lords	and	ladies	gay,
	To	the	green-wood	haste	away	;
	m	show	you	where	he	lies,
	Fleet	of	foot,	and	bill	of	size;
	We	can	show	the	marks	he	made,
	When	'gainst	the	oak	his	antlers	fray'd	;
	You	shall	see	him	brought	to	bay,
	"	Waken,	lords	and	ladies	gay."
	Louder,	louder	chant	the	lay,
	Waken,	lords	and	ladies	gay	!
	Tell	them,	youth,	and	mirth,	and	glee,
	Run	a	course	as	well	as	we.
	Time,	stern	huntsman!	who	can	balk,
	Staunch	as	hound,	and	fleet	as	hawk	?
	Think	of	this,	and	rise	with	day,
	Gentle	lords	and	ladies	gay.
	THE	CYPRESS	WREATH.
	O	LADY,	twine	no	wreath	for	me,
	Or	twine	it	of	the	cypress	tree	!
	Too	lively	glow	the	lilies	light,
	The	varnisti'd	holly	's	all	too	bright	;
	The	May-flower	and	the	eglantine
	May	shade	a	brow	less	sad	than	mine	;
	But,	lady,	weave	no	wreath	for	me,
	Or	weave	it	of	the	cypress	tree	!
	Let	dimpled	Mirth	his	temples	twine
	With	tendrils	of	the	laughing	vine;
	The	manly	oak,	the	pensive	yew,
	To	patriot	and	to	sage	be	due	;
	The	myrtle	bough	bids	lovers	live,
	But	that	Matilda	will	not	give	;
	Then,	lady,	twine	no	wreath	for	me,
	Or	twine	it	of	the	cypress	tree	!
	Let	merry	England	proudly	rear
	Her	blended	roses,	bought	so	dear	;
	Let	Albin	bind	her	bonnet	blue
	With	heath	and	hare-bell	dipp'd	in	dew;
	On	favour'd	Erin's	crest	!>e	seen
	The	flower	she	loves	of	emerald	green
	But,	lady,	twine	no	wreath	for	me,
	Or	twine	it	of	the	cypress	tree	!
	Strike	the	wild	harp,	while	maids	prepare
	Tin-	ivy	meet	for	minstrel's	hair;
	And,	while	his	crown	of	laurel-leaves
	With	bloody	hand	the	victor	weave:-,
	Let	the	loud	trump	his	triumph	ttll	;
	But	when	you	hear	the	passing	bell,
	Then,	lady,	twine	a	wreath	for	me,
	And	twine	it	of	the	cypress	tree.
	Yes	!	twine	for	me	the	cypress	bough	;
	But,	O	Matilda,	twine	not	now	!
	Stay	till	a	few	brief	months	are	pavt,
	And	I	have	look'd	and	loved	my	last	!
	When	villagers	my	shroud	bestrew
	With	pansies,	rosemary,	and	rue,
	Then,	lady,	weave	a	wreath	for	me,
	And	weave	it	of	the	cypress	tree.
	LOCHINVAR.
	THE	young	Lochinvar	is	come	out	of	the	west,
	Through	all	the	wide	border	his	steed	was	the	best	;
	And	save	his	good	broadsword	he	weapon	had	none,
	He	rode	all	unarm'd,	and	he	rode	all	alone.
	So	faithful	in	love,	and	so	dauntless	in	war.
	There	never	was	knight	like	the	young	Lochinvar.
	He	stay'd	not	for	brake,	and	he	stopp'd	not	for	stone,
	He	swam	the	Eske	river	where	ford	there	was	none	;
	But,	ere	he	alighted	at	Netherby	gate,
	The	bride	had	consented,	the	gallant	came	late	:
	For	a	laggard	in	love,	and	a	dastard	in	war,
	Was	to	wed	the	fair	Ellen	of	brave	Lochinvar.
	So	boldly	he-enter'd	the	Netherby	Hall,	[and	all	:
	Among	bridesmen,	and	kinsmen,	and	brothers,
	Then	spoke	the	bride's	father,	his	hand	on	his	sword,
	(For	the	poor	craven	bridegroom	said	never	a	word,)
	"	O	come	ye	in	peace	here,	or	come	ye	in	war,
	Or	to	dance	at	our	bridal,	young	lord	Lochinvar	1	"
	"I	long	woo'd	your	daughter,	my	suit	you	denied	;
	Love	swells	like	the	Solway,	but	ebbs	like	its	tide
	And	now	I	am	come	with	this	lost	love	of	mine
	To	lead	but	one	measure,	drink	one	cup	of	wine.
	There	are	maidens	in	Scotland	more	lovely	by	far,
	That	would	gladly	be	bride	to	theyoung	Lochinvar."
	The	bride	kiss'd	the	goblet	;	the	knight	took	it	up,
	He	quaff'd	off	the	wine,	and	he	threw	down	the	cup.
	She	look'd	down	to	blush,	and	she	look'd	up	to	sigh,
	With	a	smile	on	her	lips,	and	a	tear	in	her	eye.
	He	took	her	soft	hand,	ere	her	mother	could	bar,
	"	Now	tread	we	a	measure	!"	said	young	Lochinvar.
	So	stately	his	form,	and	so	lovely	her	face,
	That	never	a	hall	such	a	galliard	did	grace;
	While	her	mother	did	fret,	and	her	father	did	fume	;
	And	the	bridegroom	stood	dangling	his	bonnet	and
	plume;
	And	the	bridemaidens	whisper'd,	"	'T	were	better
	by	far
	To	have	match'd	our	fair	cousin	with	young
	Lochinvar."


n
	SIR	WALTER	SCOTT.
	Far	adown	the	long	aisle	sacred	music	is
	streaming,
	Lamenting	a	chief	of	the	people	should	fall.
	But	mecter	for	thee,	gentle	lover	of	nature,
	To	lay	down	thy	head	like	the	meek	mountain
	lamb	;
	When,	wildcr'd	he	drops	from	so:	re	cliff	huge	in
	suture,
	And	drawn	his	last	sob	by	the	side	of	his	dam.
	And	more	stately	thy	couch	by	this	desert	lake
	lying,
	Thy	obsequies	sung	by	the	gray	plover	flying,
	With	one	faithful	friend	to	witness	thy	dying,
	In	the	arms	of	Hellvcllyn	and	Catchedicam.
	A	SCENE	IN	BRANKSOME	TOWER.
	MAMT	a	valiant	knight	is	here;
	But	he,	the	chieftain	of	them	all,
	His	sword	hangs	rusting	on	the	wall,
	Beside	his	broken	spear	!
	Bards	long	shall	tell,
	How	Lord	Walter	fell	!
	When	startled	burghers	fled,	afar,
	The	furies	of	the	Border	war	;
	When	the	streets	of	high	Dunedin
	Saw	lances	gleam,	and	falchions	redden,
	And	heard	the	slogan's	deadly	yell
	Then	the	Chief	of	Branksome	fell	!
	Can	piety	the	discord	heal,
	Or	stanch	the	death-feud's	enmity	?
	Can	Christian	lore,	can	patriot	zeal,
	Can	love	of	blessed	charity	1
	No	!	vainly	to	each	holy	shrine,
	In	mutual	pilgrimage,	they	drew;
	Implored,	in	vain,	the	grace	divine
	For	chiefs,	their	own	red	falchions	slew,
	While	Cessford	owns	the	rule	of	Car,
	While	Ettrick	boasts	the	line	of	Scott,
	The	slaughter'd	chiefs,	the	mortal	jar,
	The	havoc	of	the	feudal	war,
	Shall	never,	never	be	forgot	!
	In	sorrow	o'er	Lord	Walter's	bier,
	The	warlike	foresters	had	bent	;
	And	many	a	flower	and	many	a	tear,
	Old	Teviot's	maids	and	matrons	lent	:
	But,	o'er	her	warrior's	bloody	bier,
	The	Layde	dropp'd	nor	sigh	nor	tear!
	Vengeance,	deep-brooding	o'er	the	slain,
	Had	lock'd	the	source	of	softer	wo	;
	And	burning	pride,	and	high	disdain,
	Forbade	the	rising	tear	to	flow	;
	Until,	amid	his	sorrowing	clan,
	Her	son	lisp'd	from	the	nurse's	knee
	"	And,	if	I	live	to	he	a	man,
	My	father's	death	revenged	shall	be	!"
	Then	fast	the	mother's	tears	did	seek
	To	dew	the	infant's	kindling	cluvk.
	FAREWELL	TO	THE	MUSE.
	,	farewell	!	who	so	oft	has	decoy	"d	me,
	At	the	close	of	the	evening	through	woodlands
	to	roam,
	Where	the	forester,	lated,	with	wonder	espied	me
	Explore	the	wild	scenes	he	was	quitting	for	home.
	Farewell	!	and	take	with	thee	thy	numbers	wild
	speaking,
	The	language	alternate	of	rapture	and	wo;
	Oh	!	none	but	some	lover,	whose	heartstrings	are
	breaking
	The	pang	that	I	feel	at	our	parting	can	know.
	Each	joy	thou	couldst	double,-	and	wh?n	there
	came	sorrow,
	Or	pale	disappointment	to	darken	my	way,
	What	voice	was	like	thine,	that	could	sing	of	to
	morrow,
	Till	forgot	in	the	strain	was	the	grief	of	to-day	!
	But	when	friends	drop	around	us	in	life's	weary
	waning,
	The	grief,	queen	of	numbers,	thou	canst	not
	assuage	;
	Nor	the	gradual	estrangement	of	those	yet	re
	maining,
	The	languor	of	pain,	and	the	dullness	of	age.
	'Twas	thou	that	once	taught	me,	in	accents	be
	wailing,
	To	sing	how	a	warrior	lay	stretch'd	on	the	plain	;
	And	a	maiden	hung	o'er	him	with	aid	unavailing,
	And	held	to	his	lips	the	cold	goblet	in	vain	:
	As	vain	those	enchantments,	O	queen	of	wild
	numbers,
	To	a	bard	when	the	reign	of	his	fancy	is	o'er,
	And	the	quick	pulse	of	feeling	in	apathy	slumbers,
	Farewell	then,	enchantress	!	I	meet	thee	no	more	!
	MELROSE	ABBEY.
	IF	thou	wouldst	view	fair	Melrose	aright,
	Go	visit	it	by	the	pale	moonlight	:
	For	the	gay	beams	of	lightsome	day
	Gild,	but	to	flout,	the	ruins	gray.
	When	the	broken	arches	are	black	in	night,
	And	each	shafted	oriel	glimmers	white;
	When	the	cold	light's	uncertain	shower
	Streams	on	the	ruin'd	central	tower;
	When	buttress	and	buttress,	alternately,
	Seem	framed	of	ebon	and	ivory	;
	When	silver	edges	the	imagery.
	And	the	scrolls	that	teach	thee	to	live	and	die;
	When	distant	Tweed	is	heard	to	rave,
	And	the	owlet	to	hoot	o'er	the	dead	man's	grave	;
	Then	go	!	but	go	alone	the	while
	Then	view	St.	David's	ruin'd	pile	!
	And,	home	returning,	soot	lily	sm;ir,
	Was	never	scene	so	sad	and	fair	!


LEIGH	HUNT.
	Y.	t	how	it	was	she	knew	not,	but	that	day,
	She	seera'd	to	feel	too	lightly	borne	away,
	Too	much	relieved,	too	much	inclined	to	draw
	A	careless	joy	from	every	thing	she	saw,
	And	looking	round	her	with	a	new-born	eye,
	As	if	some	tree	of	knowledge	had	l>ecn	nigli,
	To	taste	of	nature,	primitive	and	free,
	And	bask	at	ease	in	her	heart's	liberty.
	Painfully	clear	those	rising	thought*	appear'd,
	With	something	dark	at	bottom	tint	she	fear'd	;
	And	turning	from	the	fields	her	thoughtful	look,
	.Siic	rt-ich'd	o'er	head,	and	took	her	down	a	book,
	And	tell	to	reading	with	as	fix'd	an	air,
	As	though	she	had	been	wrapt	since	morning	there.
	'	T	w;i	Launcelot	of	the	Lake,	a	bright	romance,
	That,	like	a	trumpet,	made	young	pulses	dance,
	Yet	had	a	softer	note	that	shook	still	more	;
	Sin-	lud	begun	it	but	the	day	before,
	And	re;nl	with	a	full	heart,	half-sweet,	half-sad,
	How	old	King	Ban	was	spoil'd	of	all	he	had
	But	'>-,}(	fair	castle:	how	one	summer's	day
	With	his	fair	queen	and	child	he	went	away
	T'>	t^k	the	great	King	Arthur	for	assistance;
	How	reaching	by	himself	a	hill	at	distance,
	He	turn'd	to	give	his	castle	a	last	look,
	And	saw	its	far	white	face	:	and	how	a	smoke,
	As	he	was	looking,	burst	in	volumes	forth,
	An	1	.'iiinl	King	Ban	saw	all	that	he	was	worth,
	And	his	fiir	castle,	burning	to	the	ground,
	So	that	his	wearied	pulse	felt	over-wound,
	And	he	lay	down,	and	paid	a	prayer	apart
	For	those	he	loved,	and	broke	his	poor	old	heart.
	Then	read	she	of	the	queen	with	her	young	child,
	How	she	came	up,	and	nearly	had	gone	wild,
	And	how	in	journeying	on	in	her	despair,
	S'.ie	reach'd	a	lake	and	met	a	lady	there,
	Who	pitied	her,	and	took	the	baby	sweet
	Into	her	arms,	when	lo,	with	cl.ising	feet
	She	sprang	up	all	at	once,	like	bird	from	brake,
	And	vanish'd	with	him	underneath	the	lake.
	The	mother's	feelings	we	as	well	may	pass	:
	The	fairy	of	the	place	that	lady	was.
	And	Launcelot	(so	the	boy	was	call'd)	became
	Her	inmate,	till	in	search	of	knightly	fame
	He	went	to	Arthur's	court,	and	play'd	his	part
	So	rarely,	and	display	'd	so	frank	a	heart,
	That	what	with	all	his	charms	of	look	and	limb,
	The	Queen	Geneura	fell	in	love	with	him	:
	And	here,	with	growing	interest	in	her	reading,
	The	princess,	doubly	fix'd	was	now	proceeding.
	Ready	she	sat	with	one	hand	to	turn	o'er
	The	leaf,	to	which	her	thoughts	ran	on	before,
	The	other	propping	her	white	brow,	and	throwing
	Its	ringlets	out,	under	the	skylight	glowing.
	80	rat	she	fix'd	;	and	so	observed	was	she
	Of	one,	who	at	the	door	stood	tenderly,
	Paulo,	who	from	a	window	seeing	her
	Go	straight	across	the	lawn,	and	guessing	where
	Had	thought	she	was	in	tears,	and	found,	that	day,
	His	usual	efforts	vain	to	keep	away.
	May	I	come	in	?"	said	he	:	it	made	her	start,
	That	smiling	voice;	she	colour'd,	press'd	her
	heart
	A	moment,	as	for	breath,	and	then	with	free
	And	usual	tone	said,	"O	yes,	certainly."
	There	's	wont	to	be,	at	conscious	times	like	these,
	An	affectation	of	a	bright-eyed	ease,
	An	air	of	something	quite	serene	and	sure,
	As	if	to	seem	so,	were	to	be	secure	:
	With	this	the	lovers	met,	with	this	they	spoke,
	With	this	they	sat	down	to	the	self-same	book,
	And	Paulo,	by	degrees,	gently	embraced
	With	one	permitted	arm	her	lovely	waist	;
	And	both	their	cheeks,	like	peaches	on	a	tree,
	Lean'd	with	a	touch	together,	thrillingly	;
	And	o'er	the	book	they	hung,	and	nothing	said,
	And	every	lingering	page	grew	longer	as	they	read.
	As	thus	they	sat,	and	felt	with	leaps	of	heart
	Their	colour	change,	they	came	upon	the	part
	Win	iv	fond	Geneura,	with	her	flame	long	nurst,
	Smiled	upon	Launcelot	when	he	kiss'd	her	first:
	That	touch,	at	last,	through	every	fibre	slid	;
	And	I	'.ui	1.	1	turn'd,	scarce	knowing	what	he	did,
	Only	he	felt	he	could	no	more	dissemble,
	And	kiss'd	her,	mouth	to	mouth,	all	in	a	tremble.
	Sad	were	those	hearts,	and	sweet	was	that	long	kiss	:
	Sacred	be	love	from	sight,	whate'er	it	is.
	The	world	was	all	forgot,	the	struggle	o'er,
	Desperate	the	joy,	That	day	they	read	no	more.
	KOSCIUSKO.
	'Tis	like	thy	patient	valour	thus	to	keep,
	Great	Koseiusko,	to	the	rural	shade,
	While	freedom's	ill-found	amulet	still	is	made
	Pretence	for	old	aggression,	and	a	heap
	Of	selfish	mockeries.	There,	as	in	the	sweep
	Of	stormier	fields,	thou	earnest	with	thy	blade,
	Transform'd,	not	inly	alter'd,	to	the	spade,
	Thy	never-yielding	right	to	a	calm	sleep.	[wit
	Nature,	't	would	seem,	would	leave	to	man's	worse
	The	small	and	noisier	parts	of	this	world's	frame,
	And	keep	the	calm	green	amplitudes	of	it
	Sacred	from	fopperies	and	inconstant	blame.
	Cities	may	change,	and	sovereigns;	hut	'tis	fit,
	Thou,	and	the	country	old,	be	still	the	same.
	ARIADNE.
	A	FRAGMENT.
	TUB	moist	and	quiet	morn	was	scarcely	breaking,
	When	Ariadne	in	her	bower	was	waking;
	Her	eyelids	still	were	closing,	and	she	heard
	But	indistinctly	yet	a	little	bird,
	That	in	the	leaves	o'erhead,	waiting	the	sun,
	Seem'd	answering	another	distant	one.
	She	waked,	but	stirr'd	not,	only	just	to	please
	HIT	pillow-nestling	cheek	;	while	the	full	seas,
	The	birds,	the	leaves,	the	lulling	love	o'ernight,
	The	happy	thought	of	the	returning	liiriit,
	The	sweet,	self-will'd	content,	conspired	to	keep
	Her	senses	lingering	in	the	field	of	sleep;
	And	with	a	little	smile	she	seem'd	to	say,
	"	I	know	my	love	is	near	me,	and	't	is	day."


LORD	BYRON.
	219
	The	vivid	thought	still	flashes	through	my	frame,
	And	for	a	moment	all	things	as	they	were
	Flit	by	me	;	they	are	gone	I	am	the	same.
	And	yet	my	love	without	ambition	grew	;
	I	knew	thy	state,	my	station,	and	I	knew
	A	princess	was	no	love-mate	for	a	bard	;
	I	told	it	not,	I	breathed	it	not,	it	was
	Sufficient	to	itself,	its	own	reward	;
	And	if	my	eyes	reveal'd	it,	they,	alas!
	Were	punish'd	by	the	silentness	of	thine,
	And	yet	I	did	not	venture	to	repine.
	Thou	wert	to	me	a	crystal-girded	shrine,
	Worshipp'd	at	holy	distance,	and	around
	Hallow'd	and	meekly	kiss'd	the	saintly	ground	;
	Not	for	thou	wert	a	princess,	but	that	love
	Hath	robed	thee	with	a	glory,	and	array'd
	Thy	lineaments	in	beauty	that	dismay'd
	Oh	!	not	dismay'd	but	awed,	like	one	above	;
	And	in	that	sweet	severity	there	was
	A	something	which	all	softness	did	surpass
	I	know	not	how	thy	genius	master'd	mine
	My	star	stood	still	before	thee	;	if	it	were
	Presumptuous	thus	to	love	without	design,
	That	sad	fatality	hath	cost	me	dear	;
	But	thou	art	dearest	still,	and	I	should	be
	Fit	for	this	cell,	which	wrongs	me,	but	for	thee.
	The	very	love	which	lock'd	me	to	my	chain
	Hath	lighten'd	half	its	weight;	and	for	the	rest,
	Though	heavy,	lent	me	vigour	to	sustain,
	And	look	to	thee	with	undivided	breast
	And	foil	the	ingenuity	of	pain.
	It	is	no	marvel	from	my	very	birth
	My	soul	wus	drunk	with	love,	which	did	pervade
	And	mingle	with	whate'er	I	saw	on	earth;
	Of	objects	all	inanimate	I	made
	Idols,	and	out	of	wild	and	lonely	flowers,
	And	rocks,	whereby	they	grew,	a	paradise,
	Where	I	did	lay	me	down	within	the	shade
	Of	waving	trees,	and	dream'	d	uncounted	hours,
	Though	I	was	chid	for	wandering;	and	the	wise
	Shook	their	white,	aged	heads	o'er	me,	and	said
	Of	such	materials	wretched	men	were	made,
	And	such	a	truant	boy	would	end	in	wo,
	And	that	the	only	lesson	was	a	blow;
	And	then	they	smote	me,	and	I	did	not	weep,
	But	cursed	them	in	my	heart,	and	to	my	haunt
	Return'd	and	wept	alone,	and	dream'd	again
	The	visions	which	arise	without	a	sleep.
	And	with	my	years	my	soul	began	to	pant
	With	feelings	of	strange	tumult	and	soft	pain,
	And	the	whole	heart	exhaled	into	one	want,
	But	undefined	and	wandering,	till	the	day
	I	found	the	thing	I	sought,	and	that	was	thee	;
	And	then	I	lost	my	being	all	to	be
	Absorh'd	in	thine	the	world	was	past	away
	Thou	didst	annihilate	the	earth	to.	me	!
	I	loved	all	solitude	-but	little	thought
	To	spend	I	know	not	what	of	life,	remote
	From	all	communion	with	existence,	save
	The	maniac	and	his	tyrant	;	had	I	been
	Their	fellow,	many	years	ere	this	had	seen
	My	mind	like	theirs	corrupted	to	its	grave,
	But	who	hath	seen	me	writhe,	or	heard	me	rave?
	Perchance	in	such	a	cell	we	suffer	more
	Than	the	wreck'd	sailor	on	his	desert	shore	;
	The	world	is	all	before	him	mine	is	here,
	Scarce	twice	the	space	they	must	accord	my	bier.
	What	though	he	perish,	he	may	lift	his	eye
	And	with	a	dying	glance	upbraid	the	sky
	I	will	not	raise	my	own	in	such	reproof,
	Although	'tis	clouded	by	my	dungeon	roof.
	Yet	do	I	feel	at	times	my	mind	decline,
	But	with	a	sense	of	its	decay:	I	see
	Unwonted	lights	along	my	prison	shine,
	And	a	strange	demon,	who	is	vexing	me
	With	pilfering	pranks	and	petty	pains,	below
	The	feeling	of	the	healthful	and	the	free;
	But	much	to	one,	who	long	hath	suffer'd	so,
	Sickness	of	heart,	and	narrowness	of	place,
	And	all	that	may	be	borne,	or	can	debase.
	I	thought	mine	enemies	had	been	but	man,
	But	spirits	may	be	leagued	with	them	all	earth
	Abandons	Heaven	forgets	me	;	in	the	dearth
	Of	such	defence	the	powers	of	evil	can,
	It	may	be,	tempt	me	further,	and	prevail
	Against	the	outworn	creature	they	assail.
	Why	in	this	furnace	is	my	spirit	proved
	Like	steel	in	tempering	fire	7	because	I	loved	?
	Because	I	loved	what	not	to	love,	and	see,
	Was	more	or	less	than	mortal,	and	than	me.
	I	once	was	quick	in	feeling	that	is	o'er;
	My	scars	are	callous,	or	I	should	have	dash'd
	My	brain	against	these	bars	as	the	sun	flash'd
	In	mockery	through	them	;	if	I	bear	and	bore
	The	much	I	have	recounted,	and	the	more
	Which	hath	no	words,	'tis	that	I	would	not	die
	And	sanction	with	self-slaughter	the	dull	lie
	Which	snared	me	here,	and	with	the	brand	of	shame
	Stamp	madness	deep	into	my	memory,
	And	woo	compassion	to	a	blighted	name,
	Sealing	the	sentence	which	my	foes	proclaim.
	No	it	shall	be	immortal!	and	I	make
	A	future	temple	of	my	present	cell,
	Which	nations	yet	shall	visit	for	my	sake.
	While	thou,	Ferrara	!	when	no	longer	dwell
	The	ducal	chiefs	within	thee,	shall	fall	down,
	And	crumbling	piecemeal	view	thy	heartless	halls,
	A	poet's	wreath	shall	be	thine	only	crown,
	A	poet's	dungeon	thy	most	far	renown,
	While	strangers	wonder	o'er	thy	unpeopled	walls	!
	And	thou,	Leonora	!	thou	who	wert	ashamed
	That	such	as	I	could	love	who	blush'd	to	hear
	To	less	than	monarchs	that	thou	couldst	be	dear,
	Go	!	tell	thy	brother	that	my	heart,	untamed
	By	grief,	years,	weariness	and	it	may	be
	A	taint	of	that	he	would	impute	to	me
	From	long	infection	of	a	den	like	this,
	Where	the	mind	rots	congenial	with	the	abyss,
	Adores	thee	still;	arid	add	that	when	the	towers
	And	battlements	which	guard	his	joyous	hours
	Of	banquet,	dance,	and	revel,	are	forgot,
	Qr	left	untended	in	a	dull	repose,
	This	this	shall	be	a	consecrated	spot	!
	But	thou	when	all	that	birth	and	beauty	throws
	Of	magic	round	thee	is	extinct	shall	have
	One	half	the	laurel	which	o'ershades	my	grave.
	No	power	in	death	can	tear	our	names	apart,
	As	none	in	life	could	rend	thee	from	my	heart.
	Yes,	Leonora	!	it	shall	be	our	fate
	To	be	entwined	for	ever	but	too	late	!


LORD	BYRON.
	221
	Who	did	not	love	her	better	:	in	her	home,
	A	thousand	leagues	from	his,	her	native	home,
	She	dwelt	begirt	with	growing	infancy,
	Daughters	and	sons	of	beauty,	but	behold	!
	Upon	her	face	there	was	the	tint	of	grief,
	The	settled	shadow	of	an	inward	strife,
	And	an	unquiet	drooping	of	the	eye,
	As	if	its	lid	were	charged	with	unshed	tears.
	What	could	her	grief	be	1	she	had	all	she	loved	;
	And	he	who	had	so	loved	her	was	not	there
	To	trouble	with	bad	hopes,	or	evil	wish,
	Or	ill	repress'd	affliction,	her	pure	thoughts.
	What	could	her	grief	be?	she	had	loved	him	not,
	Nor	given	him	cause	to	deem	himself	beloved	;
	Nor	could	he	be	a	part	of	that	which	prey'd
	Upon	her	mind,	a	spectre	of	the	past.
	A	change	came	o'er	the	spirit	of	my	dream.
	The	wanderer	was	return'd.	I	saw	him	stand
	Before	an	altar,	with	a	gentle	bride	:
	Her	face	was	fair,	but	was	not	that	which	made
	The	starlight	of	his	boyhood	!	as	he	stood
	Even	at	the	altar,	o'er	his	brow	there	came
	The	selfsame	aspect	and	the	quivering	shock
	That	in	the	antique	oratory	shook
	His	bosom	in	its	solitude	;	and	then,
	As	in	that	hour,	a	moment	o'er	his	face
	The	tablet	of	unutterable	thoughts
	Was	traced,	and	then	it	faded	as	it	came	;
	And	he	stood	calm	and	quiet,	and	he	spoke
	The	fitting	vows,	but	heard	not	his	own	words	;
	And	all	things	reel'd	around	him!	he	could	see
	Not	that	which	was,	nor	that	which	should	have
	But	the	old	mansion,	and	the	accnstom'd	hall,	[been	;
	And	the	remember'd	chambers,	and	the	place,
	The	day,	the	hour,	the	sunshine,	and	the	shade,
	All	things	pertaining	to	that	place	and	hour,
	And	her	who	was	his	destiny,	came	back,
	And	thrust	themselves	between	him	and	the	light:
	What	business	had	they	there	at	such	a	time	1
	A	change	came	o'er	the	spirit	of	my	dream.
	The	lady	of	his	love,	oh	!	she	was	changed
	As	by	the	sickness	of	the	soul	:	her	mind
	Had	wandered	from	its	dwelling,	and	her	eyes,
	They	had	not	their	own	lustre,	but	the	look
	Which	is	not	of	the	earth	:	she	was	become
	The	queen	of	a	fantastic	realm	;	her	thoughts
	Were	combinations	of	disjointed	things	;
	And	forms	impalpable	and	uriperceived
	Of	others'	sight	familiar	were	to	hers,
	And	this	the	world	calls	frenzy	!	but	the	wise
	Have	a	far	deeper	madness	;	and	the	glance
	Of	melancholy	is	a	fearful	gift	:
	What	is	it	but	the	telescope	of	truth	!
	Which	strips	the	distance	of	its	fantasies,
	And	brings	life	near	in	utter	nakedness,
	Making	the	cold	reality	too	real	!
	A	change	came	o'er	the	spirit	of	my	dream.
	The	wanderer	was	alone	as	heretofore	;
	The	beings	that	surrounded	him	were	gone,
	Or	were	at	war	with	him	!	he	was	a	mark
	For	blight	and	desolation,	compass'd	round
	With	hatred	and	contention	:	pain	was	mix'd
	In	all	which	was	served	up	to	him,	until,
	Like	to	the	Pontic	monarch	of	old	days,
	He	fed	on	poisons,	and	they	had	no	power,
	But	were	a	kind	of	nutriment	:	he	lived
	Through	that	which	had	been	death	to	many	men,
	And	made	him	friends	of	mountains	:	with	the	stars
	And	the	quick	spirit	of	the	universe
	He	held	his	dialogues	;	and	they	did	teach
	To	him	the	magic	of	their	mysteries	;
	To	him	the	book	of	night	was	open'd	wide,
	And	voices	from	the	deep	abyss	reveal'd
	A	marvel	arid	a	secret	be	it	so.
	My	dream	was	past	;	it	had	no	further	change.
	It	was	of	a	strange	order,	that,	the	doom
	Of	these	two	creatures	should	be	thus	traced	out
	Almost	like	a	reality	the	one
	To	end	in	madness	both	in	misery.
	THE	PRISONER	OF	CHILLON.
	SONNET	ON	CHILLON.
	spirit	of	the	chainless	mind	!
	Brightest	in	dungeons,	Liberty	!	thou	art,
	For	there	thy	habitation	is	the	heart
	The	heart	which	love	of	thee	alone	can	bind	;
	And	when	thy	sons	to	fetters	are	consign'd
	To	fetters,	and	the	damp	vault's	dayless	gloom,
	Their	country	conquers	with	their	martyrdom,
	And	Freedom's	fame	finds	wings	on	every	wind.
	Chillon	!	thy	prison	is	a	holy	place,
	And	thy	sad	floor	an	altar	for	't	was	trod,
	Until	his	very	steps	have	left	a	trace
	Worn,	as	if	thy	cold	pavement	were	a	sod,
	By	Bonnivard	!	May	none	those	marks	efface	!
	For	they	appeal	from	tyranny	to	God.
	Mr	hair	is	gray,	but	not	with	years,
	Nor	grew	it	white
	In	a	single	night,
	As	men's	have	grown	from	sudden	fears:
	My	limbs	are	bow'd,	though	not	with	toil,
	But	rusted	with	a	vile	repose,
	For	they	have	been	a	dungeon's	spoil,
	And	mine	has	been	the	fate	of	those
	To	whom	the	goodly	earth	and	air
	Are	bann'd	and	barr'd	forbidden	fare	;
	But	this	was	for	my	father's	faith
	I	suffer'd	chains	and	courted	death;
	That	father	perish'd	at	the	stake
	For	tenets	he	would	not	forsake	;
	And	for	the	same	his	lineal	race
	In	darkness	found	a	dwelling-place	;
	We	were	seven	who	now	are	one,
	Six	in	youth	and	one	in	age,
	Finish'd	as	they	had	begun,
	Proud	of	Persecution's	rage	;
	One	in	fire,	and	two	in	field,
	Their	belief	with	blood	have	seal'd	;
	Dying	as	their	father	died,
	For	the	God	their	foes	denied	;
	Three	were	in	a	dungeon	cast,
	Of	whom	this	wreck	is	left	the	last.
	T2


342
	ROBERT	POLLOK.
	And	open'd	new	fountains	in	the	human	heart.
	Where	fancy	halted,	weary	in	her	flight,
	In	other	men,	his,	fresh	as	morning,	rode,
	And	soar'd	untrodden	heighU,	and	seem'd	at	home
	Where	angels	bashful	look'd.	Others,	though	great,
	Beneath	their	argument	seem'd	struggling	whiles	;
	He	from	above	descending	stoop'd	to	touch
	TheloftiesUhought;	and	proudly	sloop'd,	as	though
	It	scarce	deserved	his	verse.	With	Nature's	self
	He	seem'd	an	old	acquaintance,	free	to	jest
	At	will	with	all	her	glorious	majesty.
	He	laid	his	hand	upon	"	the	ocean's	mane,"
	And	play'd	familiar	with	his	hoary	locks;
	Stood	on	the	Arps,	stood	on	the	Apennines,
	And	with	the	thunder	talk'd,	as	friend	to	friend	;
	And	wove	his	garland	of	the	lightning's	wing,
	In	sportive	twist,	the	lightning's	fiery	wing,
	Which,	as	the	footsteps	of	the	dreadful	God,
	Marching	upon	the	storm	in	vengeance,	seem'd	;
	Then	turn'd,	and	with	the	grasshopper,	who	sung
	His	evening	song	beneath	his	feet,	conversed.
	Suns,	moons,	and	stars,	and	clouds,	his	sisters	were	;
	Rocks,mountains,meteors,seasand	winds	andstorms
	His	brothers,	younger	brothers,	whom.	he	scarce
	As	equals	deem'd.	All	passions	of	all	men,
	The	wild	and	tame,	the	gentle	and	severe	;
	All	thoughts,	all	maxims,	sacred	and	profane	;
	All	creeds,	all	seasons.	Time,	Eternity	;
	All	that	was	hated,	and	all	that	was	dear;
	All	that	was	hoped,	all	that	was	feared,	by	man	;
	He	toss'd	about,	as	tempest,	wither'd	leaves,
	Then,	smiling,	look'd	upon	the	wreck	he	made.
	With	terror	now	he	froze	the	cowering	blood,
	And	now	dissolved	the	heart	in	tenderness;
	Yet	would	not	tremble,	would	not	weep	himself;
	But	back	into	his	soul	retired,	alone,
	Dark,	sullen,	proud,	gazing	contemptuously
	On	hearts	and	passions	prostrate	at	his	feet.
	So	ocean	from	the	plains	his	waves	had	late
	To	desolation	swept,	retired	in	pride,
	Exulting	in	the	glory	of	his	might.
	And	scern'd	to	mock	the	ruin	he	had	wrought.
	As	some	fierce	comet	of	tremendous	size,
	To	which	the	stars	did	reverence,	as	it	pass'd,
	So	ho	through	learning	and	through	fancy	took
	His	flight	sublime,	and	on	the	loftiest	top
	.Of	fame's	dread	mountain	sat	;	not	soil'd	and	worn,
	As	if	he	from	the	earth	had	labour'd	up	;
	But	as	some	bird	of	heavenly	plumage	fair,
	He	look'd,	which	down	from	higher	regions	came,
	And	perch'd	it	there,	to	see	what	lay	beneath.
	The	nations	gazed,	and	wonder'd	much,	and	prais'd.
	Critics	before	him	fell	in	humble	plight,
	Confounded	fell,	and	made	debasing	signs	[selves
	To	catch	his	eye,	and	stretch'd,	and	swell'd	them-
	To	bursting	nigh,	to	utter	bulky	words
	Of	admiration	vast:	and	many,	too,
	Many	that	aim'd	to	imitate	his	flight.
	With	weaker	wing,	unearthly	fluttering	made,
	And	gave	abundant	sport	to	after	days.	[much,
	Great	man	!	the	nations	gazed,	and	wonder'd
	And	praised	;	and	many	call'd	his	evil	good.
	Wits	wrote	in	favour	of	his	wickedness,
	And	kin^s	to	do	him	honour	took	delight.
	Thus,	full	of	titles,	flattery,	honour,	fame,
	Beyond	desire,	beyond	ambition,	full,
	He	died.	He	died	of	what?	Of	wretchedness;
	Drank	every	cup	of	joy,	heard	every	trump
	Of	fame,	drank	early,	deeply	drank,	drank	draughts
	That	common	millions	might	ha	vc	quench'd;	then
	Of	thirst,	because	there	was	no	more	todrink.	[died
	His	goddess,	Nature,	wooed,	embraced,	enjoy'd,
	Fell	from	his	arms,	abhorr'd	;	his	passions	died,
	Died,	all	hut	dreary,	solitary	pride	;
	And	all	his	sympathies	in	being	died.
	As	some	ill-guided	bark,	well	built	and	tall,
	Which	angry	tides	cast	out	on	desert	shore,
	And	then,	retiring,	left	it	there	to	rot
	And	moulder	in	the	winds	and	rains	of	heaven	;
	So	he,	cut	from	the	sympathies	of	life,
	And	cast	ashore	from	pleasure's	boisterous	surge,
	A	wandering,	weary,	worn,	and	wretched	thing,
	Scorch'd,	and	desolate,	and	blasted	soul,
	A	gloomy	wilderness	of	dying	thought,
	Repined,	and	gfoan'd,	and	wither'd	from	the	earth.
	His	groanings	tiil'd	the	land,	his	numbers	fill'd	;
	And	yet	he	seem'd	ashamed	to	groan	:	Poor	man	.'
	Ashamed	to	ask,	and	yet	he	needed	help.
	Proof	this,	beyond	all	lingering	of	doubt,
	That	not	with	natural	or	mental	wealth
	Was	God	delighted,	or	his	peace	secured	;
	That	not	in	natural	or	mental	wealth
	Was	human	happiness	or	grandeur	found.
	Attempt,	how	monstrous,	and	how	surely	vain	!
	With	things	of	earthly	sort,	with	aught	but	God,
	With	aught	but	moral	excellence,	truth,	and	love
	To	satisfy	and	fill	the	immortal	soul	!
	Attempt,	vain	inconceivably	!	attempt,
	To	satisfy	the	ocean	with	a	drop,
	To	marry	immortality	to	death,
	And	with	the	unsubstantial	shade	of	time,
	To	fill	the	embrace	of	all	eternity	!
	THE	MILLENNIUM.
	THE	animals,	as	once	in	Eden,	lived
	In	peace.	The	wolf	dwelt	with	the	lamb,	the	bear
	And	leopard	with	the	ox.	With	looks	of	love,
	The	tiger	and	the	scaly	crocodile
	Together	met,	at	Gambia's	palmy	wave.
	Perch'd	on	the	eagle's	wing,	the	bird	of	song,
	Singing,	arose,	and	visited	the	sun	;
	And	with	the	falcon	sat	the	gentle	lark.
	The	little	child	leap'd	from	his	mother's	arms
	And	stroked	the	crested	snake,	and	roll'd	unhurt
	Among	his	speckled	waves,	and	wish'd	him	home;
	And	sauntering	school-boys,	slow	returning,	play'd
	At	eve	about	the	lion's	den,	and	wove,
	Into	his	shaggy	mane,	fantastic	flowers.
	To'meet	the	husbandman,	early	abroad,
	Hasted	the	deer,	and	waved	its	woody	head	;
	And	round	his	dewy	steps,	the	hare,	unscared,
	Sported,	and	toy'd	familiar	with	his	dbg.
	The	flocks	and	herds,	o'er	hill	and	valley	spread,
	Exulting,	cropp'd	the	ever-budding	herb,
	The	desert	blossom'd,	and	the	barren	sung.
	Justice	and	Mercy,	Holiness	and	T.me.
	Among	the	people	walk'd.	Messiah	reign'd,
	And	earth	kept	jubilee	a	thousand	years.


ROBERT	BLOOMFIELD.	153
	farm,	his	mother	communicated	with	his	brother
	George,	a	shoemaker,	then	living	in	London	;	and
	arrangements	were	made	for	Robert	to	proceed	to
	the	Metropolis	and	learn	his	brother's	trade.	In
	June	1781,	the	journey	was	taken,	Mrs.	Bloomfield
	accompanying	her	son	and	handing	him	over	to	his
	brother's	keeping.	George	Bloomfield,	who	met	the
	pair	at	the	inn,	describes	Robert	as	"	a	little	boy	not
	bigger	than	boys	generally	are	at	twelve	years	old,"
	and	"	dressed	just	as	he	came	from	keeping	sheep,
	pigs,	etc.	his	shoes	filled	full	of	stumps	in	the
	heels."
	George	Bloomfield	was	a	journeyman,	and	at	this
	time	was	associated	with	several	others	of	his	craft
	who	worked	together	in	a	garret	which	they	rented
	at	No.	7,	Pitcher's	Court,	Bell	Alley,	Coleman
	Street.	Robert	joined	the	party,	and	became	at
	once	a	general	help,	and	a	general	pupil.	In	a
	short	time	he	became	reader	to	the	company,	spell
	ing	out	the	speeches	of	Burke	and	Fox	from	the
	columns	of	the	daily	paper,	borrowed	from	a
	public-house,	when	one	day	old.	A	dictionary,
	much	the	worse	for	wear,	which	his	brother	George
	bought	at	a	bookstall	for	him	for	fourpence,	helped
	him	to	the	understanding	of	such	words	as	were
	new	to	him,	while	attendance	at	lectures	and	ser
	mons,	by	the	best	speakers	within	his	reach,	gave
	him	some	idea	of	style	and	pronunciation.	The
	little	party	at	Pitcher's	Court,	moreover,	took	in
	"The	History	of	England,"	"The	British	Traveller,"
	and	a	work	on	"	Geography,"	in	numbers,	and
	George	Bloomfield	became	a	subscriber	to	the
	London	Magazine.	This	latter	work	seems	to
	have	given	Robert	the	cacoethes	scribendi	which	was


1	64	THOMAS	GORDON	HAKE.
	His	tack	is	steady,	slow,	and	sure	:
	He	plucks	it	out,	despite	the	howl,
	With	gentle	hand	and	look	demure,
	As	cunning	maiden	draws	a	fowl.
	He	knows	the	job	he	is	about,
	And	pulls	till	all	the	lie	is	out.
	"	Now	steadfastly	regard	the	man
	Who	wrought	your	cure	of	rust	and	rot
	You	saw	him	ere	the	work	began	:
	Is	he	the	same,	or	is	he	not	?
	You	saw	the	tinker	;	now	behold
	The	Envoy	of	a	God	of	old."
	This	said,	he	on	the	forehead	stamps
	The	downward	stroke	and	one	across,
	Then	straight	upon	his	way	he	tramps	;
	His	time	for	profit,	not	for	loss	;
	His	task	no	sooner	at	an	end
	Than	out	he	cries,	"	Old	souls	to	mend	!	"
	As	night	comes	on	he	enters	doors,
	He	crosses	halls,	he	goes	upstairs,
	He	reaches	first	and	second	floors,
	Still	busied	on	his	own	affairs.
	None	stop	him	or	a	question	ask	;
	None	heed	the	workman	at	his	task.
	Despite	his	cry	"	Old	souls	to	mend	!	"
	Which	into	dull	expression	breaks,
	Not	moved	are	they,	nor	ear	the}	7	lend
	To	him	who	from	old	habit	speaks	;
	Yet	does	the	deep	and	one-toned	cry
	Send	thrills	along	eternity.


PROSPICE.
	ROBERT	BROWNING.
	FEAR	death	?	to	feel	the	fog	in	my	throat,
	The	mist	in	my	face,
	When	the	snows	begin,	and	the	blasts	denote
	I	am	nearing	the	place,
	The	power	of	the	night,	the	press	of	the	storm,
	The	post	of	the	foe	;
	Where	he	stands,	the	Arch	Fear	in	a	visible	form,
	Yet	the	strong	man	must	go	:
	For	the	journey	is	done	and	the	summit	attained,
	And	the	barriers	fall,
	Though	a	battle's	to	fight	ere	the	guerdon	be	gained,
	The	reward	of	it	all.
	I	was	ever	a	fighter,	so	one	fight	more,
	The	best	and	the	last	!
	I	would	hate	that	death	bandaged	my	eyes,	and	forbore,
	And	bade	me	creep	past.
	No	!	let	me	taste	the	whole	of	it,	fare	like	my	peers
	The	heroes	of	old,
	Bear	the	brunt,	in	a	minute	pay	glad	life's	arrears
	Of	pain,	darkness	and	cold.
	For	sudden	the	worst	turns	the	best	to	the	brave,
	The	black	minute's	at	end,
	And	the	elements'	rage,	the	fiend-voices	that	rave,
	Shall	dwindle,	shall	blend,
	Shall	change,	shall	become	first	a	peace	out	of	pain,
	Then	a	light,	then	thy	breast,
	O	thou	soul	of	my	soul	!	I	shall	clasp	thee	again,
	And	with	God	be	the	rest	!
	342


Cfte	poe	Cult
	he	is	so	posed	as	to	give	the	effect	of	great
	fullness	to	the	brows.	Mrs.	Whitman,	who	re
	membered	Poe	as	distinctly	as	any	person	who
	had	seen	him	in	life,	said	the	engraved	por
	traits	of	the	poet	have	very	little	individuality	;
	that	prefixed	to	the	volumes	edited	by	Dr.
	Griswold	suggests,	at	first	view,	something	of
	the	general	contour	of	his	face,	but	is	utterly
	void	of	character	and	expression;	it	has	no
	sub-surface.	The	original	painting,	now	in
	possession	of	the	New	York	Historical	So
	ciety,	has	the	same	cold,	automatic	look	that
	makes	the	engraving	so	valueless	as	a	portrait
	to	those	who	remember	the	unmatched	glory
	of	his	face,	when	roused	from	its	habitually
	introverted	and	abstracted	look	by	some
	favorite	theme	or	profound	emotion.	Perhaps,
	from	its	peculiarly	changeful	and	translucent
	character,	any	adequate	transmission	of	its
	variable	and	subtle	moods	was	impossible.	By
	writers	personally	unacqauinted	with	Poe,	this
	engraving	has	often	been	favorably	noticed.
	Hannay,	in	a	memoir	prefixed	to	the	first	Lon
	don	edition	of	Poe	s	Poems,	calls	it	an	interest
	ing	and	characteristic	portrait:
	A	fine,	thoughtful	face,	with	lineaments	of
	delicacy,	such	as	belong	only	to	genius	or	high
	blood	the	forehead	grand	and	pale,	the	eye
	dark	and	gleaming	with	sensibility	and	soul
	197


POEMS	OF	OCCASION
	Of	ministrants	whom	evil	times	perturb,
	To	wrath	and	melancholy	changed	their	guise.
	Yet	this	was	he	whose	swift	imaginings
	Engirt	fair	Liberty	from	clime	to	clime,
	From	Alp	to	ocean	with	an	eagle	s	wings
	Pursued	her	flight,	in	Harold	s	lofty	rime.
	Where	the	mind	s	freedom	was	not,	could	not	be,
	That	bigot	soil	he	rendered	to	disdain,
	And	sought,	like	Omar	in	his	revelry,
	At	least	the	semblance	of	a	joy	to	gain.
	Laughter	was	at	his	beck,	and	wisdom	s	ruth
	Sore-learned	from	fierce	experiences	that	test
	Life	s	masquerade,	the	carnival	of	youth,
	The	world	of	man.	Then	Folly	lost	her	zest,
	Yet	left	undimmed	(her	valediction	sung
	With	Juan	s	smiles	and	tears)	his	natal	ray
	Of	genius	inextinguishably	young,
	An	Eos	through	those	mists	proclaiming	day.
	How	then,	when	to	his	ear	came	Hellas	cry,
	He	shred	the	garlands	of	the	wild	night	s	feast,
	And	rose	a	chief,	to	lead	alas,	to	die
	And	leave	men	mourning	for	that	music	ceased	!
	America	!	When	nations	for	thy	knell
	Listened,	one	prophet	oracled	thy	part	:
	Now,	in	thy	morn	of	strength,	remember	well
	The	bard	whose	chant	foretold	thee	as	thou	art.
	Sky,	mount,	and	forest,	and	high-sounding	main,
	The	storm-cloud	s	vortex,	splendor	of	the	day,
	Gloom	of	the	night,	with	these	abide	his	strain,
	And	these	are	thine,	though	he	has	passed	away	;
	200


CHILD'S	GARDEN	OF	VERSES.	385
	If	I	could	find	a	higher	tree
	Farther	and	farther	I	should	see,
	To	where	the	grown-up	river	slips
	Into	the	sea	among	the	ships,
	To	where	the	roads	on	either	hand
	Lead	onward	into	fairyland,
	Where	all	the	children	dine	at	five,
	And	all	the	playthings	come	alive.
	V.MY	SHADOW.
	I	HAVE	a	little	shadow	that	goes	in	and	out	with	me,
	And	what	can	be	the	use	of	him	is	more	than	I
	can	see	;
	He	is	very,	very	like	me	from	the	heels	up	to	the	head	;
	And	I	see	him	jump	before	me,	when	I	jump	into	my	bed.
	The	funniest	thing	about	him	is	the	way	he	likes	to
	grow
	Not	at	all	like	proper	children,	which	is	always	very
	slow.
	For	he	sometimes	shoots	up	taller	like	an	india-
	rubber	ball,
	And	he	sometimes	gets	so	little	that	there's	none	of
	him	at	all.
	He	hasn't	got	a	notion	of	hew	children	ought	to	play,
	And	can	only	make	a	fool	of	me	in	every	sort	of	way.
	He	stays	so	close	beside	me,	he's	a	coward	you	can	see	;
	I'd	think	shame	to	stick	to	nursie	as	that	shadow
	sticks	to	me	!
	One	morning	very	early,	before	the	sun	was	up,
	I	rose	and	found	the	shining	dew	on	every	buttercup;
	But	my	lazy	little	shadow,	like	an	arrant	sleepy-head,
	Had	stayed	at	home	behind	me	and	was	fast	asleep
	in	bed.
	25


THE	BUILDERS	171
	IV
	Well	did	the	wise	in	heart	rejoice
	To	hear	the	summons	of	that	Voice,
	And	patiently	begin
	The	builder	s	work	within,
	Houses	not	made	with	hands,
	Nor	founded	on	the	sands.
	And	thou,	Revered	Mother,	at	whose	call
	We	come	to	keep	thy	joyous	festival,
	And	celebrate	thy	labours	on	the	walls	of	Truth
	Through	sevenscore	years	and	ten	of	thine	eternal	youth-
	A	master	builder	thou,
	And	on	thy	shining	brow,
	Like	Cybele,	in	fadeless	light	dost	wear
	A	diadem	of	turrets	strong	and	fair.
	I	see	thee	standing	in	a	lonely	land,
	But	late	and	hardly	won	from	solitude,
	Unpopulous	and	rude,
	On	that	far	western	shore	I	see	thee	stand,
	Like	some	young	goddess	from	a	brighter	strand,
	While	in	thine	eyes	a	radiant	thought	is	born,
	Enkindling	all	thy	beauty	like	the	morn.


AGRICULTURE.	S3
	Arable,	and	one	part	meadow,	chiefly	consists	of
	strong	loam,	with	a	small	part	gravel.	The	soil
	of	the	parish	of	Harmondsworth	and	Drayton,	con-
	sists	chiefly	of	light	loam	and	gravel,	and	is	almost
	entirely	devoted	to	the	purposes	of	the	plough.
	The	parishes	of	Northolt,	Hayes,	Southall,	and
	.Northcott,	consist	of	a	soil	partaking	of	a	strong
	loamy	clay	and	gravel.
	In	the	hundred	of	Spelthorne,	the	parishes	of
	Teddington	and	Hampton,	which	are	chiefly	occu-
	pied	by	gentlemen,	together	with	those	of	Sunbury
	and	Shepperton,	consist	of	a	lean	gravel,	and	of	a
	light	loam	;	Littleton,	Laleham,	Staines,	and	Stanwell,
	of	a	lean	gravel	and	strong	loam	;	Bedford,	Fel-
	tham,	Ashtord,	and	Hanworth,	of	a	lean	gravel
	and	light	loam.	The	whole	of	the	lands	of	these
	districts	is	chiefly	arable.
	Garden	Ground.
	The	kitchen	gardener	spares	neither	labour	nor
	expence	to	procure	manure.	It	consists	of	new
	horse	dung	brought	in	hot	from	the	stables,	and
	thrown	lightly	into	a	heap,	so	as	to	afford	an	oppor-
	tunity	for	the	air	to	penetrate	from	the	surface	to
	the	centre.	In	this	situation	it	is	prevented	from
	drying,	by	being	constantly	kept	watered,	and
	turned	every	two	or	three	days,	until	it	becomes
	quite	black,	and	all	its	smell	is	evaporated.	When
	this	progress	is	completed,	which	usually	occupies
	the	space	of	fourteen	or	sixteen	days,	the	dung	is
	made	into	a	hot	bed,	in	the	form	of	a	ridge,	a
	square	or	an	oblong,	according	to	the	nature	of
	the	seeds	or	plants	intended	to	be	raised	there-
	on.
	This	manure	having	thus	performed	its	first	office,
	and	thereby	become	quite	rotten,	is	spread	thickly
	over	the	ground,	and	made	to	maturate	the
	plants,	which,	iu	its	former	state,	it	contributed	to
	raise.
	The


44	The	Poets	of	the	Old	Testament
	Wisdom	of	Solomon	we	hear	the	actual	words	of
	the	roysterers,	as	they	encourage	each	other	to	*	fill
	themselves	with	costly	wine	and	ointments,	and	let
	no	flower	of	the	spring	pass	by	them	;	crown	them
	selves	with	rosebuds	before	they	wither	;	and	leave
	tokens	of	their	jollity	in	every	place	they	pass
	(ii.	6ff.),	in	the	very	spirit,	and	almost	the	language,
	of	the	Persian	epicure,	Omar	Khayyam.
	These	foolish	drinking-songs	might	even	degen
	erate	into	coarse	jests	at	the	expense	of	the	poor
	and	unfortunate.	Thus	in	Job	s	crown	of	sorrow
	not	the	least	cruel	thorn	was	the	reflection	that	he
	was	now	become	the	song	and	byword	of	those
	who	once	held	him	in	honour	(xxx.	9).	And	other
	suffering	saints	have	the	same	lament	to	make	;
	They	are	the	song	of	drunkards	(Ps.	Ixix.
	12)	;	even	to	all	peoples	a	derision	their	song	all
	the	day	(Lam.	iii.	14).
	In	Israel,	too,	the	silence	of	death	was	broken	by
	the	mournful	strains	of	lamentation.	True	pictures
	of	Oriental	mourning	are	preserved	in	such	texts
	as	Gen.	1.	10,	where	the	children	of	Israel	lament
	for	their	father	with	a	very	great	and	sore	lamenta
	tion	;	I	Judg.	xi.	40,	where	the	virgins	of	Israel
	yearly	lament	the	daughter	of	Jephthah	the	Gilead-
	ite	;	and	2	Chron.	xxxv.	25,	where	the	singing	men
	and	women	of	Judah	celebrate	the	death	of	good
	king	Josiah	even	to	this	day.	In	the	prophetic


POETIC	SPIRIT	OF	LINCOLN
	into	several	shorter,	more	direct	ones,	and	change	of
	general	and	vague	terms	in	rhetorical	figure	to	concrete
	and	picturesque	words.	He	wrote:
	"I	am	loth	to	close.	We	are	not	enemies,	but	friends.
	We	must	not	be	enemies.	Though	passion	may	have
	strained,	it	must	not	break	our	bonds	of	affection.
	The	mystic	chords	of	memory,	stretching	from	every
	battle-field	and	patriot	grave	to	every	living	heart	and
	hearth-stone	all	over	this	broad	land,	will	yet	swell	the
	chorus	of	the	Union	when	again	touched,	as	surely	they
	will	be,	by	the	better	angels	of	our	nature."
	More	than	the	persuasive	argument	and	gentle	yet
	determined	spirit	of	the	address,	it	was	the	chaste
	beauty	and	tender	feeling	of	these	closing	words	which
	convinced	the	people	that	Lincoln	measured	up	to	the
	high	mental	and	moral	stature	demanded	of	one	who
	was	to	be	their	leader	through	the	most	critical	period
	that	had	arisen	in	the	life	of	the	nation.
	The	second	inaugural	address,	coming	so	shortly
	before	the	President	s	death,	formed	unintentionally
	his	farewell	address.	It	has	the	spirit	and	tone	of
	prophecy.	The	Bible,	in	thought	and	expression,	was
	its	inspiration.	The	first	two	of	its	three	paragraphs
	ring	like	a	chapter	from	Isaiah,	chief	of	the	poet	seers
	of	old.	The	concluding	paragraph	is	an	apostolic	bene
	diction	such	as	Paul	or	John	might	have	delivered.
	"With	malice	toward	none;	with	charity	for	all;
	with	firmness	in	the	right	as	God	gives	us	to	see	the
	right,	let	us	strive	on	to	finish	the	work	we	are	in;	to
	bind	up	the	nation	s	wounds;	to	care	for	him	who	shall
	have	borne	the	battle,	and	for	his	widow	and	his	orphan
	to	do	all	which	may	achieve	and	cherish	a	just	and
	lasting	peace	among	ourselves,	and	with	all	nations."
	*3


13-2	The	Physician	s	Professional	Rights	and	Duties.
	upon	the	skill,	diligence,	and	attention	bestowed	"
	(pp.	3	and	4).
	Further	details	on	this	point	belong	more	properly
	to	the	lecturer	on	Medical	Law.	We	are	now	con
	cerned	with	the	principles	underlying	special	legisla
	tion.	The	main	principle	regulating	all	compensation
	is	that	there	shall	be	a	sort	of	equality	between	the
	services	rendered	and	the	fee	paid	for	them.	Igno
	rant	people	sometimes	find	fault	with	the	amount
	charged	as	a	Doctor	s	fee.	There	may,	of	course,	be
	abuses	by	excess;	but	men	have	no	right	to	complain
	that	a	Doctor	will	ask	as	much	for	a	brief	visit	as	a
	common	laborer	can	earn	in	a	day.	This	need	not
	seem	unfair	if	it	be	remembered	that	the	physician
	had	to	prepare,	during	many	years	of	primary,	inter
	mediate,	and	professional	studies,	before	he	could
	acquire	the	knowledge	necessary	to	write	a	brief
	prescription.	Besides,	it	may	be	that	his	few	minutes
	visit	is	the	only	one	that	day;	and	yet	he	has	a	right
	to	live	in	decent	comfort	on	his	profession	together
	with	those	who	depend	on	him	for	support.
	"We	must,	however,	remember,	on	the	other	hand,
	that	excessive	fees	are	nothing	else	than	theft;	for
	theft	consists	in	getting	possession	of	another	s
	property	without	just	title.	The	following	rules	of
	Dr.	Ewell	are	sensible	and	fair:


Sad	was	the	situation	of	the	fair,
	Long,	while	a	BOLINGBROKE,	or	a	PLANTAGENET
	Was	king	in	London,	(a	great	lord	elsewhere,)
	When	one	short	week	had	stupor	for	an	age	in	it,
	To	"	ladies	gay,"	who	spent	the	livelong	year,
	Remote	from	town,	and	truly	would	imagine	it
	Extravagant	to	give,	in	their	own	halls,
	During	that	livelong	year,	one	dozen	balls.
	Then	was	the	ton,	indeed,	a	weighty	matter,
	Which	fancy	moved	but	every	hundred	years
	To	a	new	pressure	!	Then	a	lady,	at	her
	First	coining	out,	wore	the	same	woman	s	gears
	W	T	hich	she	wore	on,	(unless	she	grew	much	fatter,)
	Till	she	was	going	out	;	when	lo,	appears
	Her	daughter,	decked	in	the	same	antique	millinery,
	With	much	manslaughter	and	intent	to	kill	in	her	eye.
	T	was	better	with	them,	as	historians	tell	us,
	In	bluff	King	HAL	S	reign,	and	some	time	before	him	;
	Though	wives	dared	seldom	flirt	with	civil	fellows,
	In	presence	of	their	husbands,	just	to	bore	em.
	They	feared	to	make	the	horrid	creatures	jealous,
	And	females	were	taught	notions	of	decorum,
	Stiff	as	their	stomacher	s	tight	elongation,
	Or	neck-cloths	of	this	stiff-necked	generation.
	Oh,	could	they	have	made	books	like	lady	M	N,
	What	patch	work	had	we	seen	of	feudal	foolery,
	Each	lady	s	head,	like	that	of	lady	GORGON,
	Had	left	us	hard	examples	of	their	drollery,
	And	we	had	known	the	centuries	afore-gone,
	From	banquet-hall	quite	downward	to	the	scullery	!
	Would	that	our	dear	ancestresses	had	been	crazy,
	W	r	ith	some	diverting	kind	of	idiosyncrasy.
	I	bit	my	nails	and	pens,	and	then	besprent	all
	My	paper	o	er	with	ink,	in	thought	oppressed	;
	Next,	I	resolved	to	write	an	Oriental
	Tale,	and	set	out	in	"	Travels	to	the	East,"


THE	NATIVE	PERSIMMON.	23
	PERSIMMON	BREAD.
	1	cup	of	persimmon	pulp.	Yeast.
	1	cup	of	water.	Shortening.
	\	teaspoonful	of	soda.	Flour	to	make	a	stiff	dough.
	Set	to	rise,	mold,	and	bake	like	other	bread.
	PERSIMMON	CRUMPETS.
	Take	1	pint	of	the	sponge	of	persimm'on	bread	which	has	been	set	over	night,	add	one
	egg	and	enough	milk	to	make	a	thin	batter,	set	to	rise	for	one	hour,	then	bake	on	a	hot
	griddle	like	griddlecakes.	Serve	hot	with	butter	or	sirup.
	PERSIMMON	GRIDDLECAKES.
	1	cup	of	persimmon	pulp.	1	teaspoonful	of	baking	powder.
	1	egg.	\	teaspoonful	of	soda.
	1	cup	of	flour.	Milk	to	make	a	thin	batter.
	Bake	and	serve	as	above.
	PERSIMMON-PEANUT	GRIDDLECAKES.
	1	cup	of	persimmon	pulp.	1	teaspoonful	of	baking	powder.
	1	tablespoonful	of	peanut	butter.	\	teaspoonful	of	soda.
	1	egg.	Milk	to	make	a	thin	batter.
	1	cup	of	flour.
	Bake	and	serve	as	above.
	PERSIMMON-PEANUT	MUFFINS	(A	GOOD	RECIPE	FOR	CAMPERS).
	\	cup	of	persimmon	pulp.	1	teaspoonful	of	baking	powder.
	1	tablespoonful	of	peanut	butter.	\	teaspoonful	of	soda.
	1	cup	of	flour.
	Press	or	cut	in	pats	\	inch	thick	and	bake	in	a	quick	oven.
	COFFEE	FRUIT	CAKE.
	Boil	together	1	cup	of	molasses	and	\\	cups	of	minced	dried	persimmons	for	five
	minutes.	Cream	1	cup	of	sugar,	\	cup	of	butter	and	1	egg,	and	add	to	the	above.
	Stir	in	three-fourths	of	a	cup	of	strong	coffee	and	place	on	a	warm	stove.	Add	2	cups
	of	flour;	\\	teaspoonfuls	of	mixed	ground	spice;	\\	teaspoonfuls	of	a	phosphate	baking
	powder,	or	if	preferred,	1	teaspoonful	of	baking	powder	and	\	teaspoonful	of	soda.
	Bake	in	a	moderate	or	slow	oven	40	minutes	to	1	hour.
	PERSIMMON	CAKE.
	1	cup	of	persimmon	pulp.	1	cup	of	flour.
	%	cup	of	sugar.	1	teaspoonful	of	baking	powder.
	I	e	gg	teaspoonful	of	soda.
	Butter	of	size	of	a	walnut.
	Bake	40	minutes	in	a	moderate	oven.	For	a	soft	pudding	leave	out	the	eggs.	For
	a	custard	leave	out	the	flour	and	the	baking	powder.
	PERSIMMON	PUDDING	(CAKE	OR	PONE).	1
	1	pint	of	fine	persimmon	pulp.	3	cups	of	flour.
	1	cup	of	sugar.	1	teaspoonful	of	ground	cinnamon.
	1	quart	of	sweet	milk.	2	teaspoonfuls	of	baking	powder.
	The	American	persimmon.	Indiana	Experiment	Station	Bulletin	60,	pp.	43-54,	189C.


i	io	POETS	OF	ESSEX	COUNTY.
	Ere	yet	he	seeks	his	far	Pacific	bed	;
	And	from	the	copses	on	the	mountain-side
	The	rabbit	leaps,	a	living	streak	of	dun.
	Upon	the	Old	Man	s	brow	one	lingering	ray
	Still	clings	caressingly,	as	if	God	s	hand
	In	radiant	benediction	rested	there	;
	And	on	the	breezes	eddying	currents,	day
	Drifts	out	beyond	the	dim	horizon	strand,
	And	night	swims	softly	down	the	purple	air.
	GEORGE	LUNT.
	MR.	LUNT	was	born	in	Newburyport,	Mass.,	Decem
	ber	31,	1803,	and	was	son	of	Abel	and	Phebe	(Tilton)
	Lunt.	He	graduated	at	Harvard	College	in	1824,	and
	after	studying	law	was	admitted	to	the	Essex	bar	in
	1831.	He	opened	an	office	in	his	native	town,	where
	he	practised	but	a	few	years.	He	was	for	a	considera
	ble	period	principal	of	the	Newburyport	high	school	;
	and	served	several	years	in	both	branches	of	the	state
	legislature.	He	removed	to	Boston	in	1848,	and	the
	next	year	was	appointed	by	President	Taylor	United
	States	attorney	for	Massachusetts.	He	resigned	when
	the	administration	was	changed,	and	returned	to	his
	practice	and	the	literary	work	for	which	he	was	already
	famous.	He	had	begun	to	write	and	publish	poetry	at
	an	early	age.	From	185	7	to	1862	he	was	editor	of	the
	Boston	Daily	Courier,	the	leading	democratic	paper	of


CARLOS	W1LCOX.	59
	A	grateful	smell,	exhaled	by	warming	rays.
	Each	daj	1	are	heard,	and	almost	every	hour,
	New	notes	to	swell	the	music	of	the	grov*	s.
	And	soon	the	latest	of	the	feathered	train
	At	evening	twilight	come	;	—	the	lonely	snipe,
	O'er	marshy	fields,	high	in	the	dusky	air,
	Invisible,	but	with	faint,	tremulous	tones,
	Hovering	or	playing	o'er	the	listener's	head	;	—
	And,	in	mid-air,	the	sportive	night-hawk,	seen
	Flying	awhile	at	random,	uttering	oft
	A	cheerful	cry,	attended	with	a	shake
	Of	level	pinions,	dark,	but,	when	upturned.
	Against	the	brightness	of	the	western	sky,
	One	white	plume	showing	in	the	midst	of	each,
	Then	far	down	diving,	with	loud	hollow	sound	;	—
	And	deep	at	first	within	the	distant	wood,	-
	The	whip-poor-will,	her	name	her	only	song.
	She,	soon	as	children	from	the	noisy	sport
	Of	whooping,	laughing,	talking	with	all	tones,
	To	hear	the	echoes	of	the	empty	barn,
	Are	by	her	voice	diverted,	and	held	mute,
	Comes	to	the	margin	of	the	nearest	grove	;
	And	when	the	twilight,	deepened	into	night,
	Calls	them	within,	close	to	the	house	she	comes,
	And	on	its	dark	side,	haply	on	the	step
	Of	unfrequented	door,	lighting	unseen,
	Breaks	into	strains	articulate	and	clear,
	The	closing	sometimes	quickened	as	in	sport.
	Now	animate	throughout,	from	morn	to	eve
	All	harmony,	activity,	and	joy,
	Is	lovely	Nature,	as	in	her	blest	prime.
	The	robin	to	the	garden,	or	green	yard,
	Close	to	the	door	repairs	to	build	again
	Within	her	wonted	tree	;	and	at	her	work
	Seems	doubty	busy,	for	her	past	delay.
	Along	the	surface	of	the	winding	stream,
	Pursuing	every	turn,	gay	swallows	skim	;
	Or	round	the	borders	of	the	spacious	lawn
	Fly	in	repeated	circles,	rising	o'er
	Hillock	and	fence,	with	motion	serpentine,
	Easy	and	light.	One	snatches	from	the	ground
	A	downy	feather,	and	then	upward	springs,
	Followed	by	others,	but	oft	drops	it	soon,
	In	playful	mood,	or	from	too	slight	a	hold,
	\Vhen	all	at	once	dart	at	the	falling	prize.
	The	flippant	blackbird,	with	light	yellow	crown,


412	POETS	OF	NEW	HAMPSHIRE.
	To	watch	in	agon}	T	the	parting	breath
	Till	the	fond	eyes	are	closed,	the	dear	voice	still	;
	And	know	that	not	the	wildest	pra}	r	er	can	thrill
	Thee	to	awake	them,	but	our	grief	must	fill
	Alike	the	rosy	morns,	the	rain)-	eves.
	Ah	!	thou	dost	see	;	and	not	a	pang	is	vain	!	—
	Some	joy	of	ever}'	anguish	must	be	born	;
	Else	this	one	planet's	weight	of	loss	and	pain
	Would	stay	the	stars	in	s}-mpathetic	woe,
	And	make	the	suns	move	pale,	and	cold,	and	slow,
	Till	all	was	black	and	void,	thy	throne	below,
	And	night	shut	down	without	a	gleam	of	morn.
	But	mark	!	the	sun	goes	radiant	to	his	goal
	While	winds	make	music	on	the	laughing	sea	;
	And,	with	his	set,	the	starry	host	will	roll
	Celestial	splendors	over	mead	and	main	;
	Lord	!	can	thy	worlds	be	glad,	and	death	enchain?
	Nay	!	'tis	but	crowning	for	immortal	reign
	In	the	pure	realm	where	all	abide	with	thee.
	What	star	has	seen	the	sun	at	cloudless	noon	?
	What	chrysalis	knows	aught	of	wings	that	soar	?-
	O	blessed	souls	!	how	can	I	hope	the	boon
	Of	look	or	word	from	you,	the	glorified,
	Until	for	me	the	shining	gates	swing	wide?	—
	Welcome	the	day	when	the	great	deeps	divide,
	And	we	are	one	in	life	for	evermore	!
	ISfctoarti	EuQtistus	Jenfcs.
	E.	A.	Jenks	was	born	in	Newport,	Oct.	30,	1830.	He	received	an	academic	educa
	tion	at	Thetford	academy,	Thetford,	Vt.	In	185-2	he	formed	a	copartnership	with
	Joseph	C.	Abbott,	and	purchased	the	Manchester	American.	In	1856	he	sold	his
	interest	in	the	American,	and	went	to	Lowell,	Mass.,	where	he	resided	two	years.
	In	1858	he	became	a	resident	of	New	York	city,	and	was	"proof-reader"	in	some
	of	the	largest	publishing	houses	there.	In	1862	he	went	to	Cincinnati,	Ohio,	and
	became	connected	with	the	tlrm	of	Alexander	Swift	and	Company,	Iron	manu
	facturers,	and	contractors	for	the	building	of	the	monitors	Cata'wba,	Oiieota,
	Klamath,	and	Yuma,	for	the	government,	where	he	remained	until	their	com
	pletion	and	delivery	to	the	Navy	Department.	At	the	conclusion	of	the	war	he
	•went	to	Vicksburg,	Miss.,	as	an	agent	for	the	purchase	of	cotton	for	shipment	to
	Northern	markets.	The	prosecution	of	his	business	took	him	to	nearly	all	parts
	of	the	state,	by	rail,	steamboat,	and	horseback,	as	well	as	to	many	of	"the	neigh
	boring	states.	In	1871	he	was	called	to	the	head	of	the	Kepublican	Tress	As
	sociation,	of	Concord,	publishers	of	the	Daily	Monitor	and	the	Independent
	Statesman,	as	its	treasurer	and	business	manager.	Since	holding	this	position	he
	lias	three	times	been	elected	state	printer.	In	1877.	a	vacancy	occurring	in	the
	office	of	State	Reporter	(reporter	of	the	decisions	of	the	Supreme	Court),	he	was
	appointed	to	that	office.	He	has	made	many	contributions	to	current	literature.
	Poems	of	his	are	found	in	Bryant's	new	"Library	of	Poetry	and	Song,"	Dr.
	Kendrick's	"Our	Poetical	Favorites."	Harpel's	"Foeti	and	Poetry	of	Printerdom."
	and	S;irgent's	"Cyclopaedia	of	English	and	American	Poetry."	Mr.	Jeuks	resides
	in	Newport.


STEPHEN	H.	THAYER.	585
	S.	H.	Thayer	was	born	in	the	town	of	New	Ipswich,	December	16,	1839.	His	early
	life	was	spent	in	his	native	place	where	he	attended	school	at	New	Ipswich	Apple-
	ton	Academy,	one	of	the	oldest	institutions	of	the	kind	in	New	Hampshire,
	from	which	he	graduated	in	1857.	He	left	his	home	early	the	following	year,
	and	after	spending	a	year	or	more	in	a	counting	house	in	Boston,	removed
	to	New	York	city,	where	for	six	years	he	was	employed	in	a	banking	house
	connected	with	the	New	York	Stock	Exchange.	In	1864	he	was	elected	a	member
	of	the	Exchange	and	very	soon	after	united	with	others	in	organizing	a	banking
	and	commission	house	in	which	he	has	been	a	partner	for	seventeen	years.	He
	owns	a	beautiful	suburban	residence	near	Tarrytown	on	the	Hudson	River,	on
	an	elevation	overlooking	fifty	miles	of	river	view,	and	in	the	midst	of	the	Sleepy-
	Hollow	region	made	famous	by	Washington	Irying's	legendary	tales,	as	well	as
	classical,	by	the	Provincial	and	Revolutionary	history	of	our	country.	In	spite	of
	the	most	exacting	attention	to	his	business	interests,	Mr.	Thayer	has	contributed	a
	lai-ge	number	of	poems,	during	the	past	ten	years,	to	various	periodicals	here	and
	abroad,	and	is	still	writing	_with	the	intention,	at	an	early	day,	of	collecting	his
	Eoetic	work	for	publication	in	book	form.	Several	of	his	poems	may	be	found	in
	ongfellow's	collection	of	"Poems	of	Places"	published	a	few	years	ago.
	ON	THE	BANKS	OF	THE	SOWHEGAN.
	The	summer	air	is	sweet	with	balm,
	The	river	like	a	mirror	lies,
	Reflecting	back	the	tranquil	calm
	Of	Hampshire's	golden	sunset	skies.
	The	waters	murmur	on,	the	same,
	Their	melodies	of	ages	long	;
	The	hills,	so	often	called	by	name,
	Still	answer	back	the	voice	of	song.
	The	forest	trail	that	in	the	days
	Of	youth	I	roamed,	the	sinuous	stream
	Along	whose	marge,	by	devious	ways,
	I	wandered	in	my	earlier	dream	;
	And	all	the	slumberous	solitude
	Within	the	old	familiar	glen,
	Are	as	they	were	of	yore,	and	brood
	AVithin	my	spirit	now	as	then.
	I	hear	the	sylvan	voices	break
	Far	in	the	deeps	of	birch	and	pine,
	Where	summer's	winged	songsters	wake
	To	thrill	again	with	notes	divine.
	I	stroll	along	the	pebbly	strand,
	Or	wander	o'er	the	drowsy	steep	;
	The	meadow,	lake,	and	slope	expand
	In	hazy	harmonies	of	sleep.
	And	on	the	grassy	ledge	I	lie,
	Unmindful	of	the	world	beyond,


THE	KING'S	CLASSICS	i,
	Editor,	G.	H.	POWELL.	With	frontispiece	from	the	original
	edition,	representing	Queen	Elizabeth	in	a	state	procession,	with
	the	Earl	of	Monmouth	and	others	in	attendance.
	19.	THE	GULL'S	HORNBOOK.
	By	THOMAS	DEKKER.	Editor,	R.	B.	MCK.ERROW.	Frontis
	piece,	The	nave	of	St.	Paul's	Cathedral	at	the	time	of	Elizabeth.
	29.	SHAKESPEARE'S	SONNETS.
	Editor,	C.	C.	STOPES.	Frontispiece,	Portrait	of	the	Earl	of
	Southampton.
	4.	THE	LIFE	OF	SIR	THOMAS	MORE,
	Knight.
	By	his	son-in-law,	WILLIAM	ROPER.	With	letters	to	and	from
	his	famous	daughter,	Margaret	Roper.	Frontispiece,	Portrait	of
	Sir	Thomas	More,	after	Holbein.
	33.	THE	HOUSEHOLD	OF	SIR	THOMAS
	MORE.
	By	ANNE	MANNING.	Preface	by	RICHARD	GARNETT.	Frontis
	piece,	"	The	Family	of	Sir	Thomas	More."
	40.	SIR	THOMAS	MORE'S	UTOPIA.
	Now	for	the	first	time	edited	in	modern	spelling	from	the	first
	English	edition,	with	notes	and	bibliography	by	ROBERT	STEELE.
	Frontispiece,	Portrait	of	Sir	Thomas	More,	after	an	early
	engraving.
	44.	THE	FOUR	LAST	THINGS,	by	SIR	T.
	MORE,	together	with	A	Spiritual	Consolation
	and	other	Treatises	by	JOHN	FISHER,	Bishop	of
	Rochester.
	Edited	by	DANIEL	O'CONNOR.	Frontispiece	after	two	designs
	from	the	"	Daunce	of	Death."


94
	Field:	I	would	stir	up	a	cake	because	he	didn't	seem	to	know	much	about
	making	cakes.	He,	like	all	the	other	helpers	we	had	in	the	house,
	had	come	over	from	India.	He	didn't	seem	to	know	what	a	cake	was.
	So	I	said,	"Well,	I	have	my	cookbook	and	I'll	stir	it	up	and
	bring	it	down	to	you	at	the	cookhouse."	The	cooking	was	done	in
	a	separate	little	house	away	from	the	main	quarters	because	you
	couldn't	have	anything	done	in	your	living	quarters	that	heated
	them.	It	was	all	you	could	do	to	stand	the	heat	as	it	was.
	Even	in	the	so-called	cool	season	it	would	be	around	in	the
	nineties,	and	certainly	never	out	of	the	eighties.
	Well,	I	stirred	the	cake	and	just	unfortunately	left	on
	the	table	on	which	I	had	stirred	it	evidently	a	few	little
	droppings	of	the	sweet	batter.	And	when	I	came	back	from	taking
	it	down	to	the	cookhouse	—	because	I	wished	to	show	him	how	to
	make	it	—	there	was	a	line	of	ants	an	inch	wide,	an	army	of	them.
	They	had	smelled	it	out,	come	from	some	of	their	ground	homes,
	crawled	up	the	posts	that	held	the	house	up,	and	got	into	that
	sweet	batter.
	Fry:	In	that	length	of	time!
	Field:	I	had	to	call	all	the	other	helpers,	the	paniwallah	and	the
	sweeper	boy,	in	to	help	me	exterminate	them.	And	they	knew	what	to
	do.	They	poured	some	kind	of	liquid	on	them	that	killed	them.
	Fry:	I	was	wondering	if	they	had	any	anti-	insect	—	?
	Field:	Oh	yes,	they	did.	They	had	to	have.	But	it	shows	you	how	smart
	they	are	[the	ants]	and	how	fast	they	are,	that	in	that	little
	time	that	I	was	gone	they	could	have	smelled	those	few	little
	drops	of	sweet	batter	and	had	made	for	it	from	way	down	below.
	Fry:	This	makes	me	wonder	what	did	you	use	for	furniture?
	Field:	You	had	to	use	teakwood.	That	was	the	one	wood	they	couldn't
	penetrate.	They	didn't.
	Fry	Oh,	I	see.	How	beautiful.
	Field:	Yes,	it	was	very	beautiful.	I	have	to	say	that	we	didn't	buy
	any.	The	house	that	the	Missionary	Union	assigned	to	us	had
	belonged	to	another	missionary	and	the	necessary	furniture,
	sparse	and	lean,	but	fulfilling	my	needs,	was	there	and	it	was
	all	of	teakwood.	Oh,	you	couldn't	use	any	lighter	wood	than
	than	and	resist	these	ant-eaters.


OUR	WHITE	VIOLET.	1	3
	Alice	had	slipped	away	to	go	to	look	at	Baby
	Bud.	The	doctor	said
	'	Come,	let	us	see	your	shoulder.'	He	found
	that	it	was	badly	sprained.	'	You	must	stay
	where	you	are	for	to-day,'	he	said,	and	he
	helped	Edmund	to	bed,	talking	kindly	to	him
	the	while.
	The	day	passed	sadly	for	the	poor	boy.	His
	little	comforter	Alice	came	back	to	her	post
	after	her	visit	to	the	nursery.
	'	Poor	Baby	Bud	is	on	a	pillow	on	mamma's
	lap,'	she	said.	'	And	she	makes	such	a	sad	little
	cry,	the	darling!	She	won't	go	from	mamma
	for	a	minute.'
	'	Is	mamma	very	unhappy	?	'	asked	Ed-
	mund.
	'	She	cries	a	great	deal,	and	looks	very	white,'
	said	Alice.
	'	Oh	dear	!	'	moaned	Edmund	;	'	I	wish	she
	could	come	to	me.'
	'	I	daresay	she	will	soon,'	said	Alice,	'	when
	Baby	Bud's	asleep,	perhaps.	Shall	I	tell	you	a
	story,	Eddy	dear	?	'
	'	Yes,	do/	said	Edmund,	glad	of	anything	to
	divert	his	mind;	and	though	it	was	only	the
	rambling	invention	of	a	child	of	five	years	old,


INDEX
	371
	Coll,	Thompson	and	Wright's,	285
	Tissandier's,	119
	Trough	Daniell,	203
	Trouve's	blotting-pad,	208
	Turton's,	254
	Tweedale's,	241
	Upward's,	263
	Using	nitrate	of	soda,	241
	Varley's,	209
	Velvo-carbon,	105
	Walker's,	98
	Walker	Wilkins',	273
	Weymersch's,	254
	Williams'	"Excelsior,"	252
	Willrants',	256
	Wirt's,	276
	with	iron	for	zinc,	241
	Wollaston's,	84
	Wright's	bichromate,	194
	Wnnderlich	and	Eigele's,	133
	Ce	s,	dry,	307
	double	fluid,	54
	making,	338
	paper,	331
	secondary,	65
	single	fluid,	52
	storage,	70
	Centimetre,	25
	C.G.S.	system,	25
	Chain,	Pulvermacher's,	96
	"Charging"	accumulators,	75
	Chemic,	28
	Children's	cell,	84
	Chlorate	of	potash,	135
	Chloris	Baudet's	cell,	247
	Choice	of	batteries,	361
	Chrome	alum,	detrimental,	119
	Chromic	acid,	135
	Chromium	double	oxalate	depolarizer,
	193
	Chutaux's	recipe,	125
	Circulatory	cell,	198
	diamond	and	Gaiffe's	cell,	234
	Clarke's	cells,	156,	157
	Cliff's	modified	Grove's	cell,	237
	Commercial	zinc,	45
	Connections,	337
	Constancy,	115
	Contact	theory,	16
	Copper	oxide	as	depolarizer,	178
	Copper	sulphate,	91
	Coppering	carbons,	336
	Coppinger's	cell,	199
	Coupling	best,	37
	,,	in	parallel,	32
	,,	,,	series,	33
	,,	up	cells,	33
	"	Couronne	de	tasses,"	79
	Courtenay's	battery,	129
	,,	recipes,	135
	Cruickshanks'	trough,	82
	Daniell,	213
	Cubic	nitre,	143
	Cupron	cell,	185
	D'	Arson	val's	cell,	240
	Dahl's	cell,	304
	Dale's	cell,	244
	Daniell's	cell,	93,	202,	341
	Davy's	trough	battery,	81
	Dawson's	dry	cell,	324
	De	la	Rive's	water	battery,	112
	De	la	Rue,	160,	165
	Decomposition,	electrical,	57
	Deflagrators,	88
	Delaurier's	recipe,	125
	Depolarization	by	bichromates,	116
	bromine,	265
	chlorine,	263
	chromic	acid,	135
	chromium	oxalate,
	193
	copper	oxide,	178
	electro-motor,	133
	ferric	chloride,	193
	ferric	oxide,	324
	haloids,	263
	heat,	133
	iodine,	266
	lead	peroxide,	160
	manganese	di-
	oxide,	219
	nitrate	of	soda,
	241
	nitric	acid,	136


SLOTHS,	ANT-EATERS,	AND	ARMADILLOS.	185
	placed	close	together	and	the	claws	are	of	nearly	equal	length,	they
	collectively	form	a	hook-like	organ	not	unlike	the	foot	of	a	sloth.	Prom	the
	other	ant-eaters	this	species	differs	in	the	uniformly	foxy-red	hue	of	the	short
	silky	fur.	In	its	skeleton	it	differs	from	the	other	two	members	of	the	group
	in	possessing	collar-bones,	in	which	respect	this	species	once	again
	approximates	to	the	sloths.	In	other	ant-eaters	the	ribs	are	unusually
	broad,	but	in	the	present	species	this	character	is	so	exaggerated	that	they
	almost	come	into	contact	with	one	another,	and	thus	nearly	enclose	the
	body	in	a	solid	bony	casque.	Thoroughly	arboreal	in	its	mode	of	life,	and
	furnished	with	a	highly	prehensile	tail,	the	two-clawed	ant-eater	is	restricted
	to	the	hottest	regions	of	America,	ranging	from	Northern	Brazil	through
	Peru	and	the	Guianas	to	Central	America.
	The	development	of	a	bony	shield	composed	of	isolated	plates	welded
	together	by	their	edges,	or	overlapping	like	tiles	on	a	roof	over	moro	or	less
	of	the	upper	surface	of	the	body,	serves	to	differentiate	the
	armadillos	and	their	tiny	relative	the	pichiago	not	only	Armadillos,
	from	all	other	existing	edentates,	but	likewise	from	other
	mammals.	All	these	animals	collectively	constitute	the	family	Dasypodidce,
	which	is	sufficiently	distinguished	by	the	aforesaid	bony	armour.	In	ordinary
	armadillos	the	armour	is	divided	into	two	solid	shields,	one	of	which	pro.-
	tects	the	shoulders,	and	the	other	the	haunches,	while	between	these	are	a
	variable	number	of	movable	transverse	bands,	permitting	the	animal	to	bend
	its	back	to	a	smaller	or	greater	extent,	and	in	one	case	even	allowing	the
	assumption	of	a	completely	ball-like	form.	Both	in	the	front	and	hind
	shield	the	constituent	plates	are	polygonal	in	form,	and	articulate	with	one
	another	immovably	by	their	edges	;	but	in	the	movable	bands	they	are	tile-
	like	and	overlapping.	The	fixed	shields	and	movable	bands	collectively
	constitute	the	carapace.	The	component	plates	are	marked	by	a	characteristic
	sculpture,	which	varies	much	in	the	different	genera,	and	may	consist	either
	of	raised	pustules	or	minute	punctures	;	and	each	plate	is	overlaid	by	a	thin
	horny	shield.	More	or	less	abundant	hairs	grow	from	the	skin	at	the	junction
	of	the	plates	of	the	carapace	;	and	occasionally	these	are	so	abundant	and
	luxuriant	as	practically	to	conceal	the	latter	from	view.	A	small	shield
	of	polygonal	bony	plates,	with	their	edges	in	apposition,	serves	to
	protect	the	upper	surface	of	the	head	;	while	the	tail	is	usually
	defended	by	a	similar	type	of	armour,	which	may	either	take	the	form	of
	oblique	rows	of	plates	or	tubercles,	or	of	a	series	of	rings	of	gradually
	decreasing	diameter,	severally	composed	of	the	same	plates.	Irregular	bony
	plates	likewise	protect	the	short	and	powerful	limbs,	of	which	the	front	pair
	are	provided	with	strong	claws	adapted	for	digging.	In	the	fore-limbs	the
	claws	may	vary	in	number	from	three	to	five,	whereas	the	much	smaller	and
	weaker	ones	of	the	hind-foot	are	always	the	latter	number.	Armadillos
	have	moderately	long	and	more	or	less	depressed	heads,	sharply	pointed
	in	front,	and	armed	with	a	rather	small	number	of	simple	peg-like	teeth.
	They	have	long	tails,	fully	developed	collar-bones	;	and	the	bones	of	the
	arm	and	fore-arm	are	specially	expanded	and	modified	for	the	purpose
	of	digging.	Their	tongues,	although	relatively	long,	have	not	the	extreme
	elongation	characterising	the	ant-eaters.	Armadillos	have	a	much	more
	extensive	geographical	range	than	either	of	the	preceding	families	of	edentates,
	ranging	from	Patagonia	to	Central	America,	and	one	species	at	least	reaching
	as	far	northwards	as	Texas.	Although	different	species	or	genera	are	confined
	to	different	localities	and	situations,	members	of	the	group	are	to-	be	met	with


26	TOWER	OF	IVORY
	for	any	length	of	time.	He	had	glanced	at	the	programme
	handed	to	him	at	the	conclusion	of	dinner	and	knew	that
	the	songs	were	to	end	the	night's	performance.
	Ordham,	constitutionally	shy,	albeit	with	the	audacity
	which	so	often	accompanies	that	weakness,	possessed	also
	what	Napoleon	called	two	o'clock	in	the	morning	courage.
	He	had	felt	sure	that	were	he	suddenly	to	be	introduced
	to	the	mysterious	Styr	he	should	turn	cold	to	his	marrow
	and	long	to	bolt.	But	to	meet	her	formally	might	prove
	impossible.	To-night	was	his	opportunity.	He	made	up
	his	mind	that	he	would	talk	to	her	did	she	invoke	the
	vengeance	of	the	gods.
	He	hastily	made	his	way	out	of	the	castle	by	the	main
	entrance,	ran	down	the	slope	of	the	great	rock,	skirted	its
	base,	and	ascended	through	the	forest	to	the	bridge.	He
	believed	that	the	King	would	retire	as	soon	as	the	concert
	was	over,	and	that	the	singer	would	remain	for	a	few	mo-
	ments	to	enjoy	the	extraordinary	beauty	of	the	night.
	And	so	it	happened.	Styr,	her	engagement	finished,
	but	still	exalted	with	the	intoxication	of	song,	after	one
	long	look	about	her,	leaned	both	hands	on	the	railing	of
	the	bridge	and	stared	down	into	the	wild	depths	below.
	The	grip	of	the	bridge	on	the	rocks	was	none	too	secure	;
	a	landslip,	such	as	occurred	daily	in	the	Alps,	and	she
	would	lie	shattered	below.	But	she	enjoyed	the	hint	of
	danger	and	might	have	stood	motionless	for	an	hour,	warm
	as	she	was	in	her	white	woollen	draperies,	had	not	a	foot-
	step	made	her	move	her	shoulders	impatiently.	She	sup-
	posed	it	to	be	a	lackey	with	a	superfluous	wrap,	and	did	not
	move	again	until	aware	that	some	one	stood	beside	her	on
	the	bridge.	Then	she	turned	with	a	start	and	faced	Ordham.
	She	knew	at	once	who	he	must	be;	Princess	Nachmeister
	often	talked	of	her	favourite,	and	had	told	her	that	he	was
	a	guest	at	the	castle	to-night.	His	audacity	in	approaching
	her	and	in	such	circumstances	took	away	her	breath.	But
	only	for	an	instant.	She	drew	herself	up	with	a	majesty
	few	queens	have	had	sufficient	practice	to	attain.	Her
	height	nearly	matched	his	not	quite;	he	thanked	his
	stars	that	she	was	compelled	to	look	up	at	him	;	and


PLANNING	THE	HOME	GROUNDS]
	countries	where	the	inhabitants,
	almost	to	a	man,	appreciate	the	ele-
	gancies	of	gardening,	the	little	places
	exhibit	the	utmost	variety	of	charac-
	ter	in	their	composition.
	It	is	all	too	true	that	thousands
	of	gardens	and	grounds	all	around
	our	American	homes	are	bare	to	de-
	solation.	The	democratic	idea	and
	feeling	against	planting	of	hedges
	and	the	lining	off	of	one's	property
	makes	for	deadly	uniformity.	The
	arguments	that	unhedged	or	unfenced
	grounds	would	be	contrary	to	the
	best	artistic	conception	and	treat-
	ment	of	a	city	or	suburb	as	a	whole,
	ought	not	to	be	allowed	to	sway	the
	property	owner	from	making	the
	most	and	the	best	of	his	own	place.
	There	is	a	school	of	landscape	gar-
	deners	and	city	planners	who	seem
	to	set	their	face	against	this,	encourag-
	ing	the	open	community	type	of
	home	grounds.	The	latter	will	never
	get	us	anywhere	as	a	nation	of
	garden	lovers,	and	almost	entirely
	precludes	the	practice	of	the	finer
	gardening.	We	plead	rather	to	see
	places	nicely	hedged	or	railed	off,	so
	that	stray	dogs	and	unceremonious
	persons	may	be	kept	at	a	proper
	distance,	but	most	of	all	for	the	sake
	of	the	enjoyment	and	encourage-
	ment	of	that	quiet	privacy	without
	which	the	true	pleasures	of	garden-
	nig	cannot	be	attained.
	Which	is	the	best	to	have	a
	big,	bare	lawn	and	a	few	trees,	or	an
	odd	group	of	shrubs	here	and	there,
	or	the	trimly	hedged	and	fenced
	grounds,	with	flower	borders,	speci-
	men	trees	and	shrubs,	beds	and
	belts	of	Roses,	arches	of	Roses	and
	Suburbanllot	fenced,	on	40x100	ft.
	A	low	hedge	divided	off	the
	vegetable	garden.	Fruit	trees	and
	bushes	were	lined	by	the	side	of
	this,	while	pillar	Roses,	dwarf
	Roses,	neat	shrubs	and	beds	of
	flowers	were	elsewhere	well	disposed.
	The	vegetable	plot	was	a	model	of
	good	cropping,	containing	Toma-
	toes,	Corn,	Beans,	Beets,	Celery,
	Carrots,	Spinach,	herbs	and	salads.
	Raspberries	lined	the	fences.	This
	ran	east	and	west


TREES	IN	TOWNS	35
	Cypresses	or	Retinisporas,	the	foliage	of	which	is	graceful	and	the
	habits	charming.	The	Arborvitses,	especially	the	Chinese	species,	are
	very	handsome.	For	mass	planting,	the	Hemlock	is	admirable;	the
	foliage	is	most	dainty;	the	trees	merge	into	one	another	very	nicely.
	Recause	of	the	handsome	cones	and	the	soft	foliage,	the	Douglas	Fir
	is	to	be	admired.	The	Rocky	Mountain	forms	are	hardy,	but	the
	Coastal	Plain	form	is	not	best	for	planting	in	the	East.	The	Irish
	Juniper	is	most	slender	and	vertical.	Winter	snows	often	get	into
	this	tree,	spreading	the	branches	and	often	breaking	them.	It	would
	seem	well	to	tie	the	trees	up	a	little	before	Winter.
	STREET	TREES.	All	trees	are	not	adapted	for	street	planting.
	Some	of	them	are	too	rapid	growing,	so	that	the	wood	is	soft	and	the
	trees	short	lived.	The	Poplars	well	illustrate	this	class.	They	are
	miserable	trees,	for	they	break	easily	in	storms;	their	roots	enter	the
	sewer	pipes	and	they	heave	up	sidewalks.	Cities	which	have	good
	forestry	control	are	making	the	planting	of	this	tree	a	misdemeanor.
	The	soft	Maple,	the	Sycamore	Maple,	the	European	Ash,	Rirches,
	Willows,	Tulip	Tree	and	the	Rox	Elder	come	in	this	class.	Other	trees
	are	objectionable	because	their	attractive	fruits	and	flowers	are	apt
	to	be	picked.	In	this	case,	the	form	of	the	tree	is	usually	spoiled.
	Examples	of	trees	of	this	class	are	Chestnut,	Hickory,	Horse	Chestnut,'
	Catalpa,	black	or	common	Locust,	Magnolia,	Dogwood,	Mountain
	Ash.	The	Catalpa	and	Horse	Chestnut	are	really	objectionable	be-
	cause	of	their	mussy	habit	of	dropping	flowers,	young	fruits	or	bud
	scales.
	Good	street	trees	stand	adverse	conditions,	are	more	or	less	free
	from	insects	and	diseases	and	furnish	shade,	but	not	too	dense;	they
	are	long	lived,	and	those	which	are	arching	are	preferred	by	many	to
	the	more	formal	globular	forms.	Prof.	Curtis	of	Cornell	University
	advises	the	following	trees	for	various	widths	of	street.
	For	narrow	streets	(less	than	sixty	feet	between	buildings),	the
	trees	should	be	planted	alternately	and	spaced	forty	feet	apart	and
	the	following	may	be	used	:
	PIN	OAK.	A	tree	of	medium	size,	more	slender	than	most	Oaks;	one	of
	best	trees	for	narrow	streets.	Especially	likes	moisture,	but	will	adapt
	itself	to	other	conditions.	,
	GREEN	ASH.	A	small	but	hardy	tree.	It	is	the	species	Fraxinus	penn-
	sylvanica,	var.	lanceolata.
	HONEY	LOCUST	(Gleditschia	triacanthos).	A	very	hardy	tree;	grows	well
	in	a	variety	of	soils.	The	foliage	is	light	and	does	not	cast	a	dense
	shade.	It	is	the	Locust	with	the	huge	thorns.
	TREE	OF	HEAVEN	(Ailantus	glandulosa).	This	tree	is	excellent	for	dry
	paved	tenement	sections	of	cities,	enduring	smoke	and	dust.	The
	wood	is	brittle	and	the	trees	are	dangerous	when	they	are	old.


42	GARDEN	GUIDE
	Vinca	minor	is	also	useful;	it	is	cheaper,	but	the	leaves	are	not	so	large.
	The	common	Juniper	(Juniperus	communis	adpressa)	is	also	valuable;
	it	requires	sun.	All	of	these	three	plants	are	evergreen.	Several	ex-
	cellent	low	deciduous	shrubs	for	ground	cover	in	the	sunshine	are	the
	aromatic	dwarf	Sumach	(Rhus	aromatica),	Yellow	Root	(Xanthorrhiza
	apiifolia),	which	spreads	rapidly	by	underground	stems;	it	does	not
	thrive	in	limestone	soils.	Sweet	Fern	(Myrica	asplenifolia)	will
	thrive	on	the	driest,	sunniest	slopes;	Memorial	Rose	(Rosa	Wichur-
	aiana)	is	excellent,	bearing	numerous	white	flowers	in	late	June	or
	July;	English	Ivy	and	Euonymus	radicans	var.	vegeta	may	also	be
	used.	The	English	Ivy,	though	very	beautiful,	is	often	rather	tender;
	it	enjoys	a	moist	soil	and	shade	in	Winter.
	Low	GROWING	SHRUBS	FOR	VARIOUS	PURPOSES*
	Deciduous.
	Cotoneaster	horizontalis.	For	edging;	semi-evergreen.
	Daphne	Mezereum.	Flowers	light	purple,	appearing	in	early	April	before	the	leaves.
	There	is	a	white	variety.	An	erect	shrub	3	feet	high,	with	stout	branches,	which	are
	flexible	and	leathery	like	those	of	Leatherwood	(Dirca	palustris).
	Hypericum	Buckleyi.	Forms	neat,	compact	mats.	The	earliest	of	the	Hypericums.
	Flowers	yellow,	early	July.
	Lonicera	spinosa	[	L.	Albertii].	Has	slender	twigs	and	narrow	linear	leaves.	Flowers
	pink,	late	May.	Plant	low,	from	1	to	2	feet	high.
	Rhododendron	canadense	(Rhodora).	A	slender	shrub,	2	feet	high.	Is	good	in	a	rock
	garden	with	a	ground	cover	of	the	following	species.	Flowers	rosy	purple,	appearing
	before	the	leaves	in	late	April	and	early	May.
	Vacdnium	pertnsylvanicum	(Early	Low	Blueberry).	From	6	to	12	inches	high.	Should
	make	good	dwarf	edging.	Flowers	white	in	early	May.
	Evergreen.
	Arctostaphylos	Uva-Ursi	(Bearberry).	A	creeping,	vine-like	shrub	with	small	leaves,
	abundant	in	Canada,	forming	broad	mats	over	rocky	ledges	and	slopes.	Berries	red.
	Bryanthus	(See	Phyllodoce).
	Calluna	vulgaris	(Scotch	Heather).	Flowers	pink,	July	and	August.	There	is	a	white
	variety.
	Chimaphila	umbellata	(Prince's	Pine,	or	Popsissewa).	Somewhat	resembles	Pachysandra,
	Cotoneaster	adpressa	and	(7.	microphylla.	Resemble	C.	horizontalis,	mentioned	above,
	but	are	more	dwarf	and	evergreen.	Both	have	a	neat	habit	and*	glossy	foliage.	May
	not	be	hardy	everywhere,	but	should	be	tried	for	low,	stiff	edging.
	Daphne	Cneorum	(Garland	Flower).	Dense	and	compact.	Pink	flowers	in	May.
	Excellent	for	edging.	From	6	to	12	inches	high.	Twigs	flexible	and	leathery,	as
	those	of	D.	Mezereum,	described	above.
	Dendrium	[	Leiophyllum]	buxifolium	(Sand	Myrtle.)	A	dense	shrub,	to	3	feet	high.
	There	is	a	low,	tufted	form,	var.	prostratum.	Flowers	w,hite	or	blush	in	May.
	Empetrum	nigrum	(Black	Crowberry).
	Erica	carnea	(Hardy	Spring	Heath.)	Pink	in	April	and	May.	From	6	to	12	inches	high.
	Gaultheria	procumbens	(Wintergreen,	or	Checkerberry.)	Red	berries.	Leaves	have	good
	flavor.
	Gaylussada	brachycera	(Box	Huckleberry).	Very	dwarf	and	compact.
	Juniperus	chinensis	var.	procumbens.	An	excellent	low	Juniper.
	Juniperus	Sabina	var.	tamariscifolia.	A	very	neat	Juniper	for	edging.
	Leiophyllum.	(See	Dendrium.)
	Lycopodium	obscurum	(Ground	Pine).	A	native	Club	Moss	related	to	Trailing	Christmas
	Green	(L.	complanatum],	but	with	stems	erect	and	treelike,	to	12	inches	high.
	Mitchella	repens	(Partridge	Berry).	This	and	the	preceding	are	two	creeping,	vine-
	like	plants	excellent	for	the	rock	garden.	Moneywort	has	bright	yellow	flowers	in
	June,	and	Partridge	Berry	has	handsome	red	berries	all	Winter.
	Pachysandra	terminalis.
	*List	revised	from	Curtis,	Cornell	Bulletin	361.


THE	ROSE	GARDEN	53
	form.	Another	is	Ophelia,	a	more	decided	pink	salmon	than	Sunburst,
	and	a	variety	which	has	been	received	throughout	the	Rose	world
	with	enthusiasm.
	It	is	difficult	to	know	where	to	place	some	Roses,	sueh	as	the	in-
	comparable	Mme.	Edouard	Herriot,	the	"Daily	Mail"	Rose,	which	is
	described	by	its	introducer,	Pernet-Ducher,	as	"coral	red,	shaded	at
	the	base	with	yellow."	Another	has	described	the	color	as	appearing
	like	"sunshine	upon	a	copper-red	metal."	It	is	a	splendid	variety	and
	worthy	of	acquaintance.	One	variety,	a	rich	yellow,	suffused	carmine,
	commands	the	attention	of	all;	it	is	Marquise	de	Sinety,	a	semi-double
	and	very	fragrant.
	SOILS.	The	soil	best	suited	for	Roses	is	usually	considered	to	be
	a	medium	heavy	loam,	especially	for	hybrid	perpetuals,	briers	and
	climbers.	The	hybrid	teas	and	teas	prefer	a	lighter	soil,	a	sandy	loam.
	The	hybrid	perpetuals,	hybrid	teas	and	teas	require	perfect	drainage.
	WIDTH	OF	BEDS.	Roses	are	best	planted	in	beds.	If	they	are	to
	be	worked	from	both	sides,	five	or	six	feet	is	wide	enough	and	three	feet
	is	the	proper	width	for	beds	against	the	walls.	Beds	that	are	too	wide
	necessitate	stepping	in	them	when	picking	the	blooms	or	when	culti-
	vating.	Narrow	beds	are	poor	because	of	the	intrusion	of	grass	roots
	upon	the	nourishment	which	would	otherwise	go	to	the	Roses.	If
	possible	it	is	best	to	reserve	the	Rose	beds	for	Roses	alone	and	not
	attempt	growing	many	other	things.
	PREPARATION	OF	SOIL.	Dr.	Huey	of	Philadelphia,	a	noted
	veteran	rosarian,	says	that	it	is	much	better	to	put	a	fifteen-cent
	Rose	bush	hi	a	fifty-cent	hole	than	to	put	a	fifty-cent	Rose	bush
	in	a	fifteen-cent	hole.	The	preparation	of	the	beds	should	take
	place	in	the	Fall	in	order	that	the	soil	may	have	an	opportunity	to
	settle.
	All	Rose	beds	should	be	dug	eighteen	inches	or	two	feet	deep.	The
	subsoil	should	be	loosened	and	thoroughly	manured,	then	fill	in	to	over
	half	the	depth	with	manured	top	soil	over	which	spread	a	good	layer
	of	compost.	By	compost	we	mean	soil	which	has	been	thoroughly	en-
	riched	by	manure	(one	barrow	of	manure	to	three	of	soil)	and	bone-
	meal;	this	should	be	allowed	to	become	thoroughly	incorporated	with
	the	soil,	piling	alternate	layers	of	soil	and	manure	and	allowing	to
	remain	for	a	few	months	or	a	year.	Lastly,	the	top	layer	may	be
	any	good	soil.	When	the	bed	is	finished	it	should	be	two	or
	three	inches	above	the	normal	level.	The	main	secret	of	successful
	Rose	growing	lies	in	the	proper	preparation	of	the	bed.
	TIME	TO	PLANT.	Spring	is	the	best	time	to	plant	the	hybrid
	teas	and	teas.	If	the	beds	have	been	carefully	prepared	the
	previous	Fall,	the	soil	will	get	into	good	condition	quickly.	The


THE	ROSE	GARDEN	55
	DISTANCE	APART.	Teas	are	best	planted	fifteen	inches,	hybrid
	teas	eighteen	inches,	hybrid	perpetuals	three	feet,	and	rugosas	or
	Moss	Roses	four	feet	apart.	Varieties	will	differ	greatly	as	to	the
	amount	of	space	needed.
	SUMMER	TREATMENT.	Keep	the	soil	continually	cultivated	to	re-
	tain	as	much	moisture	as	possible;	the	stirring	need	not	be	deep,.	other-
	wise	roots	are	injured.	A	mulch	of	lawn	clippings	is	beneficial.	Each
	time	a	new	supply	is	ready	the	other	will	have	been	dried	and	worked
	into	the	soil.	After	every	rain	the	soil	should	be	loosened.	A	good
	syringing	of	water	every	day	from	the	start	of	the	season	will	go	a	long
	way	toward	keeping	the	insects	off.	The	time	for	syringing	is	morning
	or	evening.	At	midday	it	is	rather	injurious	to	the	foliage.	All
	through	the	Summer	watch	for	suckers;	they	usually	have
	more	leaflets	five	to	seven,	the	garden	varieties	having	but
	three	to	five.	They	should	not	be	broken	off	but	cut	out	down
	to	the	roots.
	ROSE	INSECTS.	The	Rose	plant	louse	or	aphis	is	one	of	the	com-
	monest	pests;	it	appears	on	the	young	growths	and	reproduces	with
	great	rapidity,	soon	covering	the	plants.	The	tips	of	branches
	are	stunted	and	the	buds	only	produce	deformed	flowers.	The	daily
	syringe	advocated	elsewhere	will	do	much	to	lessen	the	attacks,	for	the
	insects	will	be	washed	off	the	plants.	Whale	oil	soap	(one	pound	to	ten
	gallons	of	water),	or	some	nicotine	preparation,	will	surely	kill	them	if
	one	keeps	at	them.
	There	are	several	Rose	slugs.	In	each	case	they	are	worms	which
	skeletonize	the	leaves	and	even	attack	the	plant	when	the	leaves	first
	unfold.	Arsenate	of	lead	(one	pound	arsenate	of	lead	to	twenty-five
	gallons	of	water)	is	effective,	but	even	water	will	check	them	if	applied
	with	force.	Hellebore	is	good	dusted	on	the	leaves;	it	should	first	be
	diluted	to	half	its	weight	with	flour	or	plaster.
	The	leaf	hoppers	can	be	controlled	by	spraying	with	tobacco	ex-
	tract	on	the	under	side	of	the	leaves.	The	Rose	leaf	roller	can	be
	controlled	with	arsenate	of	lead.	There	is	also	the	Rose	scale,	which
	can	easily	be	washed	from	the	canes	by	using	a	coarse	brush	and	a
	solution	of	corrosive	sublimate,	or	on	a	large	scale	sprayed	with	lime
	sulphur,	or	the	canes	burned.
	The	Rose	beetle	is	especially	prevalent	on	sandy	soils.	It	is	a
	slender	beetle,	thickly	clothed	with	hairs,	yellow;	its	legs	are	long,
	slender,	and	pale	red	in	color.	It	appears	in	early	Summer,	feeding	on
	leaves	and	flowers.	A	spray	with	a	poison	does	little,	but	by	some	it	is
	thought	that	they	can	be	poisoned	with	arsenate	of	lead	if	it	is	mixed
	with	molasses	and	sprayed	on	the	foliage.	Hand	picking	is	really	neces-
	sary.	They	should	be	dropped	into	oil.	The	white	and	light	colored


HARDY	FLOWERS
	sum	rubrum	and	album,	is	good;	the	Peonies	will	have	finished
	flowering	before	the	Lilies	begin.
	Huge	beds	of	German	Iris	of	one	variety	are	shown	by	themselves,
	but	since	they	are	out	of	bloom	before	July	1st	it	is	well	to	have	some-
	thing	to	maintain	the	beauty.	A	few	attractive	shrubs	are	then
	useful.	Especially	decorative	because	of	their	berries	are	Viburnum
	Opulus	or	some	of	the	Honeysuckles.
	Coreopsis	lanceolata	and	a	deep	violet	blue	Delphinium	make	an
	excellent	contrast.
	Another	yellow	and	blue
	combination	is	Speedwell
	(Veronica	spicata)	with	Even-
	ing	Primrose	(GEnothera	mis-
	souriensis).	The	slender	spikes
	of	the	Speedwell	contrast	nicely
	with	the	large,	brilliant	yellow
	flowers	of	the	Evening	Prim-
	rose.
	Probably	no	flower	of	the
	Autumn	is	so	graceful	and
	welcome	as	the	lovely	Japanese
	Anemone.	Excellent	white	and
	pink	varieties	are	available.
	As	they	make	no	effect	till
	near	August	they	are	best	com-
	bined	with	a	tall,	ornamental
	grass	which	will	give	a	good
	back-ground.
	The	large	group	of	peren-
	nial	Asters,	or	Michaelmas
	Daisies,	should	not	be	forgot-
	ten;	they	are	the	charm	of	the
	real	late	Fall	garden.	Planted
	at	the	rear	of	borders	they
	make	an	excellent	foliage	back-
	ground	for	the	earlier	flowering	plants.	Especially	noteworthy	is	the
	Aster	ptarmicoides,	a	very	erect,	strong-growing	white	species	which
	blooms	a	trifle	earlier	than	some	of	the	others.	A	truly	beautiful	light
	blue	is	the	Beauty	of	Golwall	and	a	good	pink	is	A.	novi-belgii	St.
	Egwin.	A	very	late	species,	five	to	six	feet	tall,	is	A.	tataricus;	it
	possesses	excellent	clean	foliage	and	bluish	violet	flowers.	One	of
	the	largest	flowering	sorts	is	A.	grandiflorus.
	The	Larkspurs	and	Monkshoods	(Aconitum)	are	planted	to
	Long	borders	of/	hardjrT	flowers	growing
	freely	and	in	great	luxuriance.	The	arch
	in	the	garden	wall	focuses	the	view.	No
	straight	trim	edges,	yet	there	is	abundant
	room	to	walk.	These	borders	run	right
	up	to	the	dwelling	house


HARDY	FLOWERS
	63
	Irises,	Peonies,	Violas	;and	other	hardy	flowers	and	shrubs	in	a	garden
	in	northern	New	York	State