morning. But though in this, and other things, he somewhat annoyed the ladies from Stow ness - has no business habits whatever. see the lad till midnight, or till to-morrow However, we must make the best of him; I don't repent anything I've done for him." "I hope not," said Miss Leaf, gravely. And then there ensued an uncomfortable bury, no one could say he was not civil to pause, which was happily broken by the them-exceedingly civil. He offered them opening of the door, and the sweeping in of a large, goodly figure. 66 My sister, Mr. Ascott; my sister Selina." The little stout man actually started, and, as he bowed, blushed up to the eyes. Miss Selina was, as I have stated, the beauty of the family, and had once been an acknowledged Stowbury belle. Even now, though nigh upon forty, when carefully and becomingly dressed, her tall figure, and her well-featured, fair complexioned, unwrinkled face, made her still appear a very personable woman. At any rate, she was not faded enough, nor the city magnate's heart cold enough, to prevent a sudden revival of the vision which-in what now seemed an almost antediluvian stage of existence-had dazzled, Sunday after Sunday, the eyes of the grocer's lad. If there is one pure spot in a man's heart-even the very worldliest of men-it is usually his boyish first love. Botanical Garden tickets-Zoölogical Garden tickets; he even, after some meditation and knitting of his shaggy gray eyebrows, bolted out an invitation for the whole family to dinner at Russell Square the following Sunday. "I always give my dinners on Sunday. I've no time any other day," said he, when Miss Leaf gently hesitated. "Come or not, just as you like." Miss Selina, to whom the remark was chiefly addressed, bowed the most gracious acceptance. The visitor took very little notice of Miss Hilary. Probably, if asked, he would have described her as a small, shabbily dressed person, looking very like a governess. Indeed, the fact of her governess-ship seemed suddenly to recur to him; he asked her if she meant to set up another school, and being informed that she rather wished private pupils, promised largely that she should have the full benefit of his "patronage among his friends. Then he departed, leaving a message for Ascott to call next day, as he wished to speak to him. So Peter Ascott looked hard at Miss Selina, then into his hat, then, as good luck would have it, out of the window, where he caught sight of his carriage and horses. These revived his spirits, and made him recognize what he was-Mr. Ascott of Rus- "For you must be aware, Miss Leaf, that sell Square, addressing himself in the char- though your nephew's allowance is nothing acter of a benevolent patron to the fallen a mere drop in the bucket out of my large Leaf family. "Glad to see you, miss. Long time since we met-neither of us so young as we have been-but you do wear well, I must say." Miss Selina drew back; she was within an inch of being highly offended, when she too happened to catch a glimpse of the carriage and horses. So she sat down and entered into conversation with him; and, when she liked, nobody could be more polite and agreeable than Miss Selina. So it happened that the handsome equipage crawled round and round the Crescent, or stood pawing the silent Sunday street before No. 15, for very nearly an hour, even till Hilary came home. It was vexatious to have to make excuses for Ascott; particularly as his godfather said with a laugh that "young fellows would be young fellows," they needn't expect to income-still, when it comes year after year, and no chance of his shifting for himself, the most benevolent man in the world feels inclined to stop the supplies. Not that I shall do that—at least not immediately: he is a fine young fellow, whom I'm rather proud to have helped a step up the ladder, and I've a great respect "-here he bowed to Miss Selina-"a great respect for your family. Still there must come a time when I shall be obliged to shut up my purse-strings. You understand, ma'am ?" "I do," Miss Leaf answered, trying to speak with dignity, and yet patience, for she saw Hilary's face beginning to flame. "And I trust, Mr. Ascott, my nephew will soon cease to be an expense to you. It was your own voluntary kindness that brought it upon yourself, and I hope you have not found, never will find, either him or us ungrateful." "Oh, as to that, ma'am, I don't look for gratitude. Still, if Ascott does work his way into a good position-and he'll be the first of his family that ever did, I reckon but I beg your pardon, Miss Leaf. Ladies, I'll bid you good-day. Will your servant call my carriage?" The instant he was gone, Hilary burst forth, "If I were Ascott, I'd rather starve in a garret, break stones in the high-road, or buy a broom and sweep a crossing, than I'd be dependent on this man, this pompous, purseproud, illiterate fool!" "No, not a fool," reproved Johanna. "An acute, clear-headed, nor, I think, badhearted man. Coarse and common, certainly; but if we were to hate everything coarse or common, we should find plenty to hate. Besides, though he does his kindness in an unpleasant way, think how very, very kind he has been to Ascott." "Johanna, I think you would find a good word for the de'il himself, as we used to say," cried Hilary, laughing. "Well, Selina, and what is your opinion of our stout friend ?" Miss Selina, bridling a little, declared that she did not see so much to complain of in Mr. Ascott. He was not educated certainly, but he was a most respectable person. And his calling upon them so soon was most civil and attentive. She thought, considering his present position, they should forget -indeed, as Christians they were bound to forget that he was once their grocer's boy, and go to dine with him next Sunday. "For my part, I shall go, though it is Sunday. I consider it quite a religious duty -my duty towards my neighbor." "Which is to love him as yourself. I am sure, Selina, I have no ohjection. It would be a grand romantic wind-up to the story which Stowbury used to tell-of how the 'prentice boy stared his eyes out at the beautiful young lady; and you would get the advantage of my house in Russell Square,' 'my carriage and servants,' and be able to elevate your whole family. Do, now! set your cap at Peter Ascott." Here Hilary, breaking out into one of her childish fits of irrepressible laughter, was startled to see Selina's face in one blaze of indignation. "Hold your tongue, you silly chit, and don't chatter about things you don't understand." And she swept majestically from the room. "What have I done? Why, she is really vexed. If I had thought she would have taken it in earnest, I would never have said a word." But Miss Selina's fits of annoyance were so common, that the sisters rarely troubled themselves long on the matter. And when, at tea-time, she came down in the best of spirits, they met her half-way, as they always did, thankful for these brief calms in the family atmosphere, which never lasted too long. It was a somewhat heavy evening. They waited supper till after ten; and yet Ascott did not appear. Miss Leaf read the chapter as usual; and Elizabeth was sent to bed, but still no sign of the absentee. "I will sit up for him. He cannot be many minutes now," said his Aunt Hilary, and settled herself in the solitary parlor, which one candle and no fire made as cheerless as could possibly be. There she waited till midnight, before the young man came in. Perhaps he was struck with compunction by her weary white faceby her silent lighting of his candle, for he made her a thousand apologies. "Pon my honor, Aunt Hilary, I'll never keep you up so late again. Poor dear auntie, how tired she looks!" and he kissed her affectionately. "But if you were a young fellow, and got among other young fellows, and they over-persuaded you." "You should learn to say, No." "Ah"-with a sigh, "so I ought, if I were as good as my Aunt Hilary." From The London Review. until they are justified by success, sound simply vain and ridiculous. He has a lofty enough to find. During the latter portion of his boyhood he supported himself by tuition, and contrived at the same time to attend the lectures of the Glasgow University. For some time he seems to have thought of the Church as a profession, but his tastes soon drew him towards purely literary pursuits. Scotch theology has little to attract a sentimentalist, and some verses written later in life attest the young poet's distaste for the controversial metaphysics with which religion north of the Tweed seems so inseparably allied. THIS little volume derives its main inter-idea, which he knows not how to realize. est and pathos from the biography with "Such minds," says Mr. Monckton Milnes, which it opens. Never is the rule which in an introduction with which he has prefenjoins respectful mention of the dead more aced the work, "feel themselves to be, as strictly applicable than in the case of those it were, exceptional creatures in the moral whose very abilities are akin to disease, world in which they happen to be placed ; whose energetic spirits and daring designs and it is as unreasonable to expect from over-tax and imperil a feeble frame, and them a just appreciation of their own powers, who are cut off in the midst of some ambitious as it would be to require an accurate notion endeavor, before experience has taught them of distance from a being freshly gifted with the real nature of their powers, or criticism sight." When David Gray accordingly pruned away the too luxuriant growth of a talked of being buried in Westminster Abyouthful imagination. Genius, courage, an bey, and ranged himself with the leaders of enterprising temperament, and a resolute English literature, the foolish bombast will, must have secured for David Gray, had should be regarded rather with pity and his life reached its natural limits, an honora- consideration than with the sarcasm which ble position among the writers of his age. it at first sight seems to merit. Such friendly He died, however, while still a mere boy, consideration the young poet was fortunate and the few verses which he has left behind him must be regarded less as finished pieces of literary workmanship than as the first rude essays of a really poetical nature, goaded into exertion by the consciousness of strength, seizing with avidity on the material which most readily presented itself for composition, forcing its way against difficulties and discouragements, which would have crushed a less determined purpose, and struck down by death at the very outset of a career, of which the earliest and most difficult stages had just been successfully achieved. The deep melancholy which breathes in almost every line of Gray's poems Of doctrine, creed, and theory; from vague, is natural enough in a man who, longing for Vain speculations; the detested plague reputation, and instinct with energy, found Of spiritual pride, and vile affrays Sectarian, good Lord, deliver me." his bodily powers daily decreasing, and a fatal disease coming slowly but surely upon He had several good advisers, but his him. It is natural, too, that a clever lad, means were feeble, and he began to feel the born of laboring parents in a Scotch cottage, necessity of a patron; he applied accordand deprived of most of those educational ingly, with characteristic eccentricity, to Mr. appliances by which men are able to gauge Sydney Dobell, who appears to have been their powers, should often use language struck with his productions, and to have which good sense, humility, and refinement given him the "precious balms" of some would alike condemn. Such a man is almost very sound and not particularly flattering certain to miscalculate his resources. He is criticism. Gray's inordinate vanity was conscious of tastes, sentiments, and wishes, soon rebuked: "I tell you," he said, "that to which those amongst whom he lives are perfect strangers; he is certain that he can rise, but to what precise point neither he nor his instructors can say. He has great aspirations, and magnificent schemes, which, The Luggie and other Poems. By David Gray. Macmillan and Co. 1862. "From this entangling labyrinthine maze if I live, my name and fame shall be second to few of any age, and to none of my own." Mr. Dobell replied with a letter of which the words "mad," "drunk," "idiot," and "saddest paroxysm," alone remain to us, and they are sufficient to assure us of the nature of its contents. Gray instantly A morning with no noon, a rose unblown, All its deep rich vermilion crushed and killed I' th' bud by frost." : "O winter! wilt thou never, never go; assumed an humbler attitude, explained away | The sweet beginning of a tale unknown, his boastful language, and Mr. Dobell began to be encouraging. Livelihood in Scotland was meantime a matter of difficulty, and, in the spring of 1860, Gray and another young writer started suddenly for London. Here Gray had come home to die, and, though the usual disappointments awaited him. He a Scotch winter is, of course, unfavorable began that painful and discouraging search for a pulmonary malady, his friends agreed for employment which has tried the spirits that the evils of any other residence would of so many a literary aspirant. Gray, how- be too serious to encounter. He began to ever, refused to despair, and fortune threw long for spring with all the natural impaa good friend in his way. Mr. Monckton tience of an invalid :Milnes heard the young man's story, read his verses, convinced himself of his powers, and determined to assist him. Mr. Gray's biographer has retaliated by describing Mr. Milnes as "occupying a place among those who add the grace of letters to the dignity of statesmanship," and by other unctuous expressions of compliment, which, in a book Meantime, feeling his days numbered, he prefaced by Mr. Milnes himself, it would began to press eagerly for the publication have been perhaps more graceful to omit. of his work. Several of his friends interNeither advice, however, nor assistance ested themselves about it, and the day becould avail against the enemy, whose apfore his death a portion of it reached him. proach, before many weeks, became alarm- He said that it was good news," and acingly perceptible. A violent cold was suc- cepted it for his appearance in print as the ceeded by distinct pulmonary disease, and realization of all his hopes. His friends do medical opinions only confirmed the alarm not seem to have felt the same anxiety which Gray and his friends had begun to feel. with grateful fervor, and Mr. Dobell seems The remainder of his life is merely the to.have actually discouraged it. The presfamiliar melancholy story of hopes against ent poems present, however, such unmistakhope, fruitless experiments, the weary rest-able evidence of ability that, with all their lessness of compulsory inactivity, the slow imperfections, they deserve preservation. but certain ebb of strength, that invest con- Thomson and Wordsworth appear to be the sumptive maladies with so especial a melan- models which most attracted the young choly. Some of the most touching of Gray's writer's fancy, and upon which he endeavpoems were written with a view to his rap-ored to form his own style. His principal idly approaching end, and of the ruined poem on "The Luggie," a stream on whose hopes which it entailed: : "Is it not sad-is it not sad-my heart, 66 banks he lived, contains several descriptions of rural scenery which show that he studied both his masters to good effect. There is an account of a ploughing match, and of an expedition undertaken by the poet and a friend to court two neighboring beauties, which are remarkably graphic and spirited. He had a quick eye for little natural details, and his careful observation gives a great air A The same idea is still more elaborated in of truthfulness to his country scenes. another sonnet: long description of a snow fall is extremely "Softly, with delicate softness-as the light With indecisive motion eddying down, ceited or over-aspiring, it attracts us by the The white-winged flakes, calm as the sleep of uniform honor, refinement, and simplicity sound, Dim as a dream." which characterized every phase of his career. Once, when he wanders further Here, again, is a careful painting of a win- than usual into the region of material ter evening "When the shortened day Dejected dies in the low streaky west, The rising moon displays a cold blue night, And keen as steel the east wind sprinkles ice. Thicker than bees about the waxing moon Gather the punctual stars: huge, whitened hills Rise glimmering to the blue verge of the night, Ghostlike, and striped with narrow glens of firs Black-waving solemn." A single passage in David Gray's writings assures that he had a full share of animal sensibility, and that, had a chastened taste and pure feeling not guided his pencil, he could easily have delineated any of those lower phases of passion with which amatory poets are frequently content. His mind, however, seems to have been singularly pure and delicate, and if his intercourse with his friends sometimes displays him as self-con pleasures, he checks himself as if conscious of approaching danger, and resolves in the language of a noble passion, to regard physical charms as the mere expression of a moral loveliness : "And as the rose, that opens to the sun Such is not the language of a disordered, gross, or intemperate attachment; and it is not among the least of Gray's claims to our regard, that, writing at an age when extravagant language or conduct would meet with the readiest excuse, he has left behind him no line that offends against the dictates of the strictest good taste or the most delicate sobriety. SHOOTING STARS.-M Quételet has lately read some instructive observations on the origin of shooting stars before the Brussels Academy. Formerly the illustrious secretary of the Belgian Academy believed that these so-called meteors were external to the earth's atmosphere and were projected from lunar volcanoes; now he is inclined to an opinion which makes these shooting stars a meteoric phenomenon difficult to reconcile with the received ideas of the weight and nature of our atmosphere. Mr. Ed. Herrick, of New Haven (U.S.), on the contrary, does not hesitate to admit that these, the bolides and aerolites, are of an astronomical nature, identical in their origin, but variable in their chemical constitution and modes of aggregation. He does not consider it likely that the shooting stars exercise any influence on the climate of our globe, as the collective number of them seen every day in our atmosphere, with the naked eye, probably exceeds two millions.-London Review. PERSECUTION OF MR. PEABODY.-Mr. Peabody is literally persecuted with beggars. His noble deed of charity to the poor of London has sent a thrill through the ranks of the unfortu "The nate, and the whole army of needy, dissolute, improvident, and rapacious people-deserving and undeserving alike—throng around the man, and deafen him with their clamor for gifts. His privacy is invaded, his business interrupted, his peace disturbed, his very means of enjoying life and doing good made, in some measure, a discomfort to him; he is the well-fed and well-disposed house dog, who fell into the company of a pack of hungry wolves, and the howling of the pack warns him that he is to be torn to pieces. The only means of replying to appli cants for charitable assistance is by a printed circular, in which Mr. Peabody says, immense number of letters daily arriving at his address renders it difficult for him to read them even partially; and a written reply to each would take up the time of a dozen persons. To those who ask pecuniary relief Mr. Peabody will say that if his means would allow him to assist all in adversity nothing would give him more pleasure; but as they are not, applicants must take the will for the deed. To give one-tenth that ask would deprive Mr. Peabody of the means of support in one month." We venture to say that this is the most curious of all the curiosities of benevolence, and we do earnestly hope there will be no occasion to inscribe on Mr. Peabody's tomb the short epitaph, "Worried to death."-City Press (London). |