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triumph. Glancing more closely at the seemed to startle him considerably. badly-printed table, I had made a dis- Indeed, my first question was rather covery of prime importance. The eight- abrupt. forty-five was a local train, and did not I beg your pardon," I said. "Can run farther than Hinton Jun ion, half- you tell me what kind of diamond is way to Boltport. The next through called a rose diamond ?" train would not pass Leachester until The jeweler slipped his keys into his midnight-to be exact twelve-seven. pocket, and stared at me in such an Mr. Charles Ashdon and the diamonds astonished way that I found it neceswould have to wait for it at Hinton sary to explain. Junction!

“I have just been reading," I said, This was enough. I thrust the time- “the account of the London jewel-robtable into my pocket and ran down- bery. One of the stones lost is destairs. A moment after I was hurry- scribed as a rose diamond, and I am ing down Queen Street, looking out curious to know the meaning of the eagerly for a cab. Before one came in term." sight I reached the office of the Echo, The man's face cleared up considerand that jewelry establishment near it ably, though he still seemed surprised. which I had noticed half an hour ear- Without further hesitation, however, lier. The shop was now in darkness, he gave me a reply. and the proprietor was on the point of "The name,” he said, "describes, partleaving for the night. In fact, he was ly, the shape of the stone. It is someengaged in locking the door in the iron thing like a rose in form, the under side shutters which completely protected his being flat and the upper side rounded window and front entrance. When I and cut in facets to a point. There are saw this I stopped.

usually twenty-four facets." Then, as The Echo report had mentioned one though he had often been asked the diamond in particular as having been same question before, he added carepart of the stolen set-the Lenstoi Rose lessly, "The term has nothing to do Diamond. I knew nothing of the with the color. It can be a colorless different classes of jewels; but my idea stone." of a rose diamond would be simply That was quite enough. I muttered that it was a rose-tinted stone. There a hasty “Thank you!" and hurried had been no such stone in Mr. Ashdon's away, leaving him to look after me bag, for they were all colorless. I with renewed astonishment. A little suddenly remembered this, and saw farther down the street I met an empty its significance. It would be just as cab. At my signal the driver stopped, well to make inquiries before going and I got in. farther.

"The chief police station," I cried. The jeweler was a small man in a “Quick!" heavy greatcoat, and my conduct

W. E. Cule. Chambers's Journal.

(To be continued.)

A MIND AND A MIND.*

In her first chapter Mrs. Meynell the quantity of the biographer's mind; speaks of this book as a “handbook of and the resolve to walk with a Master, Ruskin,” and similarly in her last chap. yet not be dragged by him, to record ter, as an attempt toward a "Uttle his conclusions, but always to under. popular guide." These descriptions stand them, to set free his messages, may stand if we are allowed to suggest but to give them the accent and effecthat the bandbook is for those who are tiveness of the hour, becomes notable returning from Ruskin, rather than for when it is made by a mind competent those who are going to him; that the for the task in hand, and sensible of guidance is more suited to readers who all the risks. Such a book, we think, is are perplexedly filled with the Master, Mrs. Meynell's. It expounds a known than to those who are about to fill mind by its effect on a known mind, themselves in a girlish hope of "lilies.” and we watch the impact. It is imposAgain, some readers may feel generous- sible to read her acute exposition and ly indignant with Mrs. Meynell for put- not be thinking almost as much about ting the name of handbook to a work of the author of "The Rhythm of Life" as exhaustive thought and beautiful lite- about the author of "Modern Painters." rary fibre. We feel no such concern. In This is not to diminish the expository an age when trash comes with trumpet, value of the book, but to describe it. a piece of literature may as well swim In approaching her task Mrs. Meyinto our ken as Number Three in a nell might, it is obvious, have quickly series of handbooks.

pronounced for the notion that Ruskin In its preparation and building this was a true seer of nature, but a mud. monograph is a work of unusual solici- dle-beaded instructor in Art, and so tude-solicitude of the heart as well as have been free to interpret and emulate of the head; for when we have reck- his fine words about Sun, Cloud, Shad. oned up the books that have been mas- ow, Reed, Blade of Grass and the tered, and the long dissectings, relat- Winds of the World. For on these ings and comparings which alone could things she also has thought intently, unify that reading, and the writer's and on all could say unusual things pains to spare us the processes which again. But it has not been her way she would not spare herself-there re- thus to use Ruskin's best. She has main a crowd of instances where not undertaken nothing less than a study the faculties but the loyalties of her of the whole body of his work, and its mind have had to bear their strain, painful exposition. Painful is the where the burden of dealing justly by word; we have rarely seen a mind in a dead man's work has been heavy, such lengthy travail, imposing such and where reverence, though it never exactness on every decision. The esfailed, has had to make itself felt in say on "Rejection" had prophetic senthe tone of "I do not agree," or in tences: “We are constrained to such the tone of "I do not understand." It vigilance as will not let even a magmay be said that these are simply the ter's work pass unfanned and unpurged. pains of critical biography. Yes, but Our reflection must be alert and the quantity of such pains depends on expert. . . . It makes shrewder

than we wish to be." It is this help• Modern English Writers. - Joha Kushin. By Mrs. Meyre!l. (Blackwood. 26 p.)

lessness to be the bland disciple that

us

makes this book so vital. The warm- by the average public, who... are as est praise of the Master is there, and ready with their applause for a sen

tence of Macauley's, which may have yet courteous alarm-bells are rung on

no more sense in it than a blot pinched every page.

between double paper, as to reject one This doctrine of rejection compels of Johnson's, ... though its symmetry Mrs. Meynell to be a vigilant critic of be as of thunder answering from two hori. Ruskin's style. Yet there is an eager,

zons. almost laughing, recognition of the fine things. Thus, from some pages

Of censure there is some, too, and it

is in this direction that we encounter “beautiful beyond praise" in "Unto this Last,” Mrs. Meynell gives:

with distinct regret, what we may call

Mrs. Meynell's ukase method of critiAll England may, if it chooses, be

cism. Page after page passes, and the come one manufacturing town; and criticism is gracious, experimental, or Englishmen, sacrificing themselves to proven; then comes a ukase, an emanathe good of humanity, may live dimin

tion of opinion, decisive in inverse proished lives in the midst of noise, of

portion to its needlessness. These darkness, and of deadly exhalation. But the world cannot become a factory

ukases are in your hands before you or a mine. Neither the avarice nor recover speech. You would exclaim, the rage of men will ever feed them.

you would summon assistance, but So long as men live by bread, the

Mrs. Meynell passes on in the gentle, far away valleys must laugh as they

deaf autocracy of her mood. The cereare covered with the gold of God, and the shouts of the happy multitude ring

mony of delivering a ukase cannot be round the winepress and the well. better illustrated than by her remarks

on one of the most famous passages In the chapter on the fifth volume of in the "Seven Lamps of Architecture." “Modern Painters” we have: "How ex

She says: quisitely is this written of the Venetian citizen, with its allusions to cer- Ruskin's description of that land, tain Greeks to Anacreon, to Aristo scape ... is a finished work, exquisite phanes and to Hippias Major:”

with study of leaf and language but yet not effective in proportion to its

own beauty and truth. Ruskin wrote No swallow chattered at his window,

it in youth, in the impulse of his own nor, nestled under his golden roofs,

discovery of language, and of all that claimed the sacredness of his mercy;

English in its rich modern freshness no Pythagorean fowl brought him

could do under his mastery-and it is the blessings of the

poor, nor

too much, too charged, too anxious. did the grave spirit of poverty

Some sixty lines of “word-painting" are rise at his side to set forth

here, and they are less than this line the delicate grace and honor of lowly of a poetlife. No humble thoughts of grasshopper sire had he, like the Athenian; no

"Sunny eve in some forgotten place." gratitude for gifts of olive; no childish

This refraining phrase is of more avail care for figs, any more than thistles.

to the imagination than the splendid

subalpine landscape of The Seven From "Præterita” “this magnificent

Lamps. image of the great balance of Johnson's style:"

That is a ukase. How civilly you I valued his sentences not primarily

would have accepted the whole judg. because they were symmetrical, but be

ment up to the words "too anxious"! cause they were just and clear. ... It But this line of poetry-torn from some is a method of judgment rarely used antipodean context, flicked into the wit

ness-box unnamed, unsworn, unremembered, and crucially irrelevant to the case—this pet lamb in court, or this rabbit from counsel's hat, how shall we accept it? how be happy if we do not accept it?

And yet this is a mild example. On another page, after quoting a few sentences of Ruskin's, Mrs. Meynell writes, in parenthesis:

(Ruskin, at this time and ever after, used "which" where “that" would be more correct and less inelegant. He probably bad the habit from him who did more than any other to disorganize the English language-that is, Gibbon.)

That is the perfect ukase. Note the intensification of authority by the with. holding of Gibbon's name until the air has been darkened with his sin. But is it fair, or quite in the scheme of things, thus to ban Gibbon in a casual breath; to flout en passant, the reader's probable cherished opinion of Gibbon as if it were nothing? We picture Gibbon's own astonishment when this judgment is whispered along “the line of the Elysian shades." He may have expected it, may have humbled himself for its coming; but the manner of its coming he could not have foreseen. “In parenthesis!" we hear him gasp, as he sinks back on his couch of asphodel.

Well, but it is not enough that an interpreter should have prayed three times a day “in his chamber toward Jerusalem," or that he should pronounce the handwriting on the wall elegant or not-the question is, Can he translate its meaning? In this case the question may be hard to answer. Our own difficult, incompact impression of Mrs. Meynell's interpretation of Ruskin-itself necessarily difficult and incompact-fies to phrase, rather to two words, which Mrs. Meynell brings into vital relation with Ruskin – Mystery and Lesson. She shows that, when dealing

with the Mystery, Ruskin is great; but, “if ever he has explained in vain, registered an inconsequence, committed himself to failure, it has been in the generous cause of possible rescue-it has been in the Lesson.” The nobility of her exposition of Ruskin dwells centrally in the fact that, while she is sometimes doubtful about the Lesson, or is obliged to show (by its arduous compilation) that it was not too clearly or consistently delivered, or is constrained to deny it as a working precept, she makes us feel how glorious were those dealings with the hidden Mystery which issued in the peccant Teaching. And the vision of Ruskin which she leaves in the mind, in the mind of the present writer, is that of a man who spent his life in turning over with his great clean band-first in hope, and at last in weariness—the whole assembled result of human art, and the registers of its origins. Anon he rose, like one drunken with beauty, afflicted with more purpose than he could contain or control, to teach from a full, but too particular, inspiration. And because in its divine frenzy the Lesson was not aimed, shaped, timed, proved, peptonized-it was laughed into the st eet by men whose hands stayed in their coat-tails. It would be easy for us to show again and again how Mrs. Meynell, having wrestled with and reluctantly confuted Ruskin's Lesson, has convinced us of his hold on the Mystery. And one comes to be very grateful for these long compensating swings of the pendulum, and for the smaller reparations. One notes how, after some pages of particularly destructive criticism "The Two Paths," a dainty justice hastens to offer this:

on

a

or

If I have treated this book with controversy, it was impossible to do otherwise. But out of its treasures of wisdom take the page in praise of Titian, which ends in the passage: "Nobody

cares much at heart about Titian; only fesses them one by one, in extremities there is a strange undercurrent of ever- of soul. And he is aghast at the indiflasting murmur about his name, which ference not of the vulgar only, but of means the deep consent of all great poets. The seers themselves have palmen that he is greater than they." tered with the faculty of sight. Mil

ton's history of the fall of the angels And surely with this quotation went is unbelievable to himself, told with a tact in its choice, for Ruskin's fate artifice and invention, not a living truth and Titian's are not alike. Ruskin's

presented to living faith, por told as

be must answer it in the last judgment bitter disappointment when he found

of the intellectual conscience. “Dante's that the Turner water-colors in the

The indifference of the world National Gallery, which he bad ar

as to the infinite question of religion, ranged with incredible labor, had been

the indifference of all mankind as to absolutely forgotten by the public and

the purpose of its little life, of every

man as to the effect of his little lifeallowed to fade by Providence, pro

in an evil hour these puzzles throng the duces a fine comment. Ruskin had

way to the recesses of thought. said: “That was the first mystery of life to me,” and Mrs. Meynell says: We have shown the temper and ten

dency of Mrs. Meynell's book. If we The reader will remember that Turner's pictures were not only neglected

asked whether she has by men, but also irreparably injured evolved from Ruskin's teaching a clear and altered by time; to witness this resultant that one may copy into one's was to endure the chastisement of a

pocket-book, and say, "At last this is hope whereof few men are capable.

Ruskin's eaching," we answer that Surely it is no obscure sign of great

she has failed to do this-because it liess in a soul-that it should have hoped so much. Ninety-and-nine are

was not possible. All the more is one they wbo need no repentance, having impressed by the patience which footed not committed the sin of going thus in every inch of the way to a foreseen front of the judgments of heaven

vagueness. But Mrs. Meynell has set heralds-and have not been called back to rebuke as was this one. In what

many things in order, and has put some has so often been called the dogmatism

things in a bright light; she has greatly of Ruskin's work appears this all noble distinguished Ruskin's failure from his fault.

success; and she has written an inUpon the discovery of this mystery trinsically fine book, of which the labor crowd all the mysteries. Wbo that has

and truthful speaking adumbrate the suffered one but has also soon suffered all? In this great lecture ("The Mys

labor and truthful speaking of the tery of Life and its Arts”] Ruskin con

Master. The Academy.

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FORGIVE OUR DEBTS, AS WE DO NOT

FORGIVE.

Ere yet thy heart be hard and dry,

Make haste to pardon and atone;
One hoarded hate shuts all the sky,
And turns the Father's heart to stone.

Frederick Langhridge.

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