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abstract and absolute sense; for where this is want

O sword and shield of Arthur! you are found

A crooked sword, I think, that leaves a scar ing, all is wanting; without this there can be no

"On the bearer's arm so be he thinks it straigt, work of art at all. I speak of that secondary excel

Twisted Malay's crease, beautiful bloe-gay, lence always necessary to the perfection, but not

Poisoned with sweet fruit, - as be found too la always indispensable to the existence of art.

My husband Arthur, on some bitter day! These first poems of Mr. Morris were not mal "O sickle cutting harvest all day long,

That the husbandman across his shoulder hands. formed; a misshapen poem is no poem; as well

And going homeward about evensong, might one talk of unnatural nature or superhuman

Dies the next morning, struck through by the face inanhood; but they are not well clad ; their attire

- all these points and phases of passion PE now and then has been huddled on; they have need

truly and nobly rendered. I have not mean sometimes of combing and trimming. Take that

poem for years, I have not the book at hand a one for example called King Arthur's Tomb. It

cite from memory; but I think it would be has not been constructed at all; the parts hardly hold

swear to the accuracy of my citation. Such together; it has need of joists and screws, props and

are not forgetable. They are not, indeed. ratters. Many able writers of verse whom no mira

the Idyls of the King, - the work of a deste cle could endow with competence to do such work, would have missed the faults as surely as the merits;

craftsman in full practice. Little beyond dent

a rare eloquence, and a laborious patience of would have done something where the poet has cared to do nothing. There is scarcely connection

has been given to the one or denied to the

These are good gifts and great; but it is bere here, and scarcely composition. There is hardly a

want clothes than limbs. trace of narrative power or mechanical arrangement.

The shortcomings of this first book are port There is a perceptible want of tact and practice,

es traceable in the second now lying before 3 which leaves the poem in parts indecorous and cha

nine years' space does not lie between them in ve otie. But where among other and older poets of his

enough has been learned and unlearned, reina time and country, is one comparable for perception

and attained. Here, indeed, there is not the story and expression of tragic truth, of subtle and noble,

variety, the lyric ardor of the first book; tha terrible and piteous things? where a touch of pas

not the passion of the ballads, the change of s sion at once so broad and so sure? The figures

and diversity of power, all that fills with life and here given have the blood and breadth, the shape

vigorates with color the artist's earlier design and step of life; they can move and suffer; their re

not all of this is here needed. Of passion pentance is as real as their desire ; their shame lies

humor, of impulse and instinct, he had given 37 as deep as their love. They are at once remorseful

and sufficient proof in manifold wars Bus for the sin and regretful of the pleasure that is past.

USt Jason” is a large and coberent poem, compley The retnspective vision of Launcelot and of Guen

ne as conceived; the style throughout on a levelek ever is as passionate and profound as life. Riding the invention. In direct narrative power, in es towanis her without hope, in the darkness and the forthrisht mas

the forthright manner of procedure, not seerste heat of the way, he can but dirert and sustain his trou

troubled to select, to pick and sift and wionom, spirit by necollection of her loveliness and her love, sen long since asleep and waking, in another place iarning: in these high qualities it resembles /

never superfinous or rerbose, never stragglinzi than this on a distant night.

work of Chaucer. Eren against tbe great 932 Nik in the gran sky were the stars, I am Beause the main shore like a tear she shed,

his pupil may fairly be matched for simple sere :)

right, for grace and speed of step, for paris Asl ralad alt things beat God."

justice of color. Hermapers and rision, natural memories and spirit. In all the poble rol of our poets there has ** wal, here coulse: and bow exquisite is the retro since Chaucer no xoond telle of tales. Do sa S**t and bow awionate the rison. of rast light rhapsode comparable to the first, till the adres! andi lor in the skr, past emotion and conception this one. As with the Greeks, so with us; wel in the pal? or in the serie sbol sa chond' had in bea of them a litis and a tragie school;" over strak, a note orer sounded, tender and sub i have also had the sebontaste sebooks goonro S. tle as this pain, ben Guenerere has maddenedi c, domestic and distic. Bat the door hers ami hina with wild anis or retouch and signs the old Sess-ben, we have no more beri T o al borrence and attrata, ber seard and as soon mishi we tare looked for a fresh sendien memurrokhts and pants and plen-'er from southwani, a fresh Fa's from north it irerri dars is wird and form not let ni nis 20 tier school has beg to forth Tay

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c o the first the ani

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ing it will not bear. A late romance is a hot

“There comes a murmur from the shore, se daffodil.”

And in the place two fair streams are,

Drawn from the purple hills afar, und so indeed it must usually be. But so it is

Drawn down unto the restless sea, here ; and the proof is the poem. It could not

The hills whose flowers ne'er fed the bee,

The shore no ship had ever seen, done, no doubt, only it has been. Here is a poem

Still beaten by the billows green, in of itself, sprung from no alien seed, cut after

Whose murmur comes unceasingly alien model; fresh as wind, bright as light, full

Unto the place for which I cry." the spring and the sun. It shares, of course, the All this song of a nymph to Hylas is full of the melditions of its kind; it has no time for the subtle- ody which involves color and odor, but the two lines s and hardly room for the ardors of tragic poe- marked have in them the marvel and the music of a • Passion in romance is of its nature subordinate dream. Compare again this of Orpheus, in his conaction; the flowing stream of story hushes and test with the Sirens, — Is the noise of its gurgling and refluent eddies

“O the sweet valley of deep grass, th a still predominance of sound. To me it seems

Wherethrough the summer stream doth pass, at there has here been alınost too much of this.

In chain of shallow, and still pool,

From misty morn to evening cool ; nly by rare and brief jets does the poet let out the

Where the black ivy creeps and twines e of a potent passion which not many others can

O'er the dark-armed, red-trunked pines,

Whence clattering the pigeon flits, ndle and direct. For the most part, the river of

Or, brooding o'er her thin eggs, sits, mance flows on at full, but keeping well to its

And every hollow of the hills Tannel, unvexed by rains and undisturbed by

With echoing song the mavis fills.

There by the stream, all unafraid, hirlpools. In a word through great part of this

Shall stand the happy shepherd maid, bem there is no higher excellence attempted than

Alone in first of sunlit hours ;

Behind her, on the dewy flowers, at of adventurous or romantic narrative couched

Her homespun woollen raiment lies, i the simplest and fittest forms of poetry. This ab

And her white limbs and sweet gray eyes tinence is certainly not due to impotence, possibly

Shine from the calm green pool apd deep,

While round about the swallows sweep, ot to intention, more probably to distaste. Mr.

Not silent; and would God that we, lorris has an English respect for temperance and

Like them, were landed from the sea." eserve ; good things as drags, but not as clogs. He

Not more noble in color, but more fervent, is the s not afraid to tackle a passion, but he will not

next picture, — nove an inch from his way to tackle it. Tragedy

Nigh the vine-covered hillocks green, can never be more than the episode of a romance,

In days agone, have I not seen and romance is rather to his taste than naked trage

The brown-clad maidens amorous, dy. He reminds us of the knight in Cbaucer, cut

Below the long rose-trellised house,

Dance to the querulous pipe and shrill, ting sharply short the monk's tragic histories as too

When the gray shadow of the hill piteous for recital, or the very monk himself break

Was lengthening at the end of day? ing off the detail of Ugolino's agony with a reference

Not shadowy or pale were they,

But limbed like those who 'twixt the trees to Dante for those who can endure it.

Follow the swift of Goddesses.
The descriptive and decorative beauties of this

Sunburnt they are somewhat, indeed,

To where the rough brown woollen weed romance of “ Jason ” are excellent above all in

Is drawn across their bosoms sweet, this, that, numberless though they be, they are al

Or cast, from off their dancing feet; ways just and fit. Not a tone of color, not a note

But yet the stars, the moonlight gray,

The water wan, the dawn of day, of form, is misplaced or dispensable. The pictures

Can see their bodies fair and white are clear and chaste, sweet and lucid, as early Ital

As Hers, who once, for man's delight,

Before the world grew hard and old, ian work. There are crowds and processions, battle

Came o'er the bitter sea and cold ; pieces and merry-makings, worthy of Benozzo or

And surely those that met me there, Carpaccio; single figures or groups of lovers in

Her handmaidens and subjects were ;

And shame-faced, half-repressed desire flowery watery land, worthy of Sandro or Filippo.

Had lit their glorious eyes with fire, The sea-pieces are like the younger Lippi's ; the

That maddens eager hearts of men. best possible to paint from shore. They do not

O would that I were with them when

The risen moon is gathering light, taste salt or sound wide ; but they have all the

And yellow from the homestead white beauty of the beach. The romance poets have

The windows gleam ; but verily

This waits us o'er a little sea." never loved the sea as have the tragic poets ; Chaucer simply ignores it with a shiver; even Homer's Nor is any passage in the poem pitched in a highmen are glad to be well clear of it. Ulysses has no er and clearer key than the first hymn of Orpheus sea-king's impulse ; he fights and beats it, and is as Argo takes the sea, glad, and there an end ; necessity alone ever drives

" O bitter sea, tumultuous sea, him off shore. But Æschylus loves the Oceanides;

Full many an ill is wrought by thee! and Shakespeare, landsman though he were, rejoices

Unto the wasters of the land

Thou holdest out thy wrinkled hand; in the roll and clash of breakers.

And when they leave the conquered town,
For examples of the excellences we have noted, -

Whose black sinoke makes thy surges brown,

Driven between them and the sun the chastity of color and noble justice of composition,

As the long day of blood is done, the fruitful and faithful touches of landscape inci

From many a league of glittering waves

Thou smilest on them and their slaves." dent, - almost any page of the poem might be turned up. Compare the Hesperian with the Cir- The rest is not less lofty in tone and sure in touch, cean garden, the nameless northern desert lands but too long for an excerpt. As noble is the song with the wood of Medea's transformation, or the of triumph at p. 217, which should be set by the seaward bent where Jason “died strangely.” No side of this, to which it is in some sort antiphonal. flower of the landscape is slurred, but no flower is But the root of the romance lies of course in the obtrusive; the painting is broad and minute at once, character of Medea ; and here, where it was needlarge and sure by dint of accuracy. And there are fullest to do well, the poet has done best. At her wonderful touches on it of fairy mystery; weird lights first entrance the poem takes new life and rises out pass over it and wafts of mystical wind ; as here, - of the atmosphere of mere adventure and incident.

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How far your motor who diurely bier

The subdued and delicate ardor of the scene in Rarely but in the ballad and romance period Jason's chamber, following as it does on the ghastly such poetry been written, so broad, and a beauty of that in the wood of the Three-formed is simple, so full of deep and direct fire, certaiz is proof enough and at once with how strong and soft aim, without finish, without fault. The per a touch the picture will be completed. Her incan- from hence fills and burns to a close ; the voi, tations, and her flight with Jason, have no less of a little is as the garment of Medea steep fanciful and tender power. The fifteenth book, strange moisture as of tears and liquid dane i where she beguiles Pelias to death at the hands of kindled by the sun. his daughters, is a sample of flawless verse and no

"O sons, with what sweet counsels and what teas ble imagination unsurpassed by any here.

Would I have hearkened to the hopes and fears For dramatic invention and vivid realism of the of your first loves : what rapture had it been impossible, which turns to fair and sensible truth

Your dear returning footsteps to have seen

Amidst the happy warriors of the land ; the wildest dreams of legend, there has been no

But now -- but now - this is a little kand, poet for centuries comparable. But the very flower Too often kissed since love did first begin and crest of this noble poem is the final tragedy at

To win such curses as it yet shall win,

When after all bad deeds there comes a sorse; Corinth. Queen, sorceress, saviour, she has shrunk Praise to the Gods ! ye know not how to carie or risen to mere woman; and not in vain before en

"But when in some dim land we meet again,

Will ye remember all the loss and pain ? tering the tragic lists has the poet called on that

Will ye the form of childrea keep for aye great poet's memory who has dealt with the terri With thoughts of men? and Mother, will ye say, ble and pitiful passion of women like none but

. Why didst thou slay us ere we came to know

That men die ? hadst thou waited until now, Shakespeare since.

An easy thing it had been then to die,

For in the thought of immortality “Would that I

Do children play about the flowery meads, Had but some portion of that masters

And win their heaven with a crown of weeds.' That from the rose-hung lanes of woody Kent

"O children ! that I would have died to save, Through these five hundred years such songs have sent

How fair a life of pleasure might ye have, To us, who, meshed within this smoky net

But for your mother:-Day, for thee, for thee, Of unrejoicing labor, love them yet.

For thee, O traitor! who didst bring them here And thou, O Master! - Yea, my Master still,

Into this cruel world, this lovely bier Whatever feet have scaled Parnassus' hill,

Of youth and love, and joy and happiness,
Since like thy measures, clear, and sweet, and strong.

That unforeseeing happy fools still bless."
Thames' stream scarce fettered bore the bream along
Into the bastioned bridge, his only chain,
O Master, parlon me, if yet in vain

It should now be clear, or never, that in Thou art my Master, and I fail to bring

poem a new thing of great price has been cast I Before men's eyes the image of the thing

the English treasure-house.Nor is the cutting = My heart is filled with : thou whose dreamy eyes Beheld the flush to Cressid's cheeks arise,

setting of the jewel unworthy of it; art and iretom i As Troilus role up the praising street,

have wrought hand in hand to its perfection. O As clearly as they saw thy towasmen meet Those who in vineyards of Poictou withstood

and various fields await the workman who has be The glittering horror of the steel-topped wool."

approved himself a master, acceptable into y Worthy, indeed, even of the master-hand is all guild of great poets on a footing of his own to be that follows. Let the student weigh well the slight shared or disputed by no other. Strained clear but great touches in which the fitfal fury and pity

guided straight as now, his lofty lyrical power * and recret of the sufferer are given; so delicate and keep all its promise to us. Diffusion is in the latest accurate that only by the entire and majestic har

of a romance, and it cannot be said that here t mony of tragedy will he discern the excellence and

stream has ever overflowed into marsbland or the justice of every component note.

nated in lock or pool. Therefore we do not blame

the length and fulness of so fair a river; but some * Ah! shall I, living underneath the sun, I wonder, wish for anything again,

thing of barrier or dam may serve to concentrai Or ever know what pleasure means, and pain!

and condense the next. Also, if we must note the And for these deeds I do ; and thou the first,

slightest ripples of the water-flies that wrinkle it O woman, whose young beauty has so cursed, My hapless life, at least I sare thee this,

us set down in passing that there are certain sligt The slow descent to misery from bliss, " &e.

laxities or perversities of metre which fret the 49 To come upon this part of the poem is as the and perplex the eye, noticeable only as the case change from river to sea (Book XII.), when wind / shortcoming is noticeable in great work. Elise and water had a larger savor in lip and nostril of/ for example, is a necessity, not a luxury, of mele the Argonauts Note well the new and piteous

This law Chaucer, a most loval versifier, Dereito beauty of this,

allows himself to slight after the fashion of his für

lower. But into these straits of technical art * * Kindly I deal with me, mine enemy : Sirxce swift fargedraluess to thee I sad.

need not now steer. So much remains unremarken But the shalt die, - his eyes shall see thine eel,

so much unsaid ; so much of beauty slighted, of u Ah! if the death alone could eat it all! But ve, - salil bold gou kden deares fall,

commended excellence; that I close these inade I sai minning of the auttide?

quate and hurried notes with a sense of grare . Or shall I have rud sitting by my side

justice done. To the third book of Mr. Jorris Te Amidst the feas, so that folk stare and say. Sure the gray wolf has seen the queen today!

look now, not for the seal of our present judgment What when I kneel in temples of the Gods

but for the accomplishment of our highest hopes: 1

a fresh honor done to English art, a fresh delight to And her a voice sar: Mother, will tha aucune And see os resting in our e-made me,

us, and a fresh memory for the future.

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mons from his landlord, who lived at a distance last results of a great wash. The ornamental ground

only visited his estate in the hills from time to had all been dug up and planted with vegetables, 2 on business, and was now at the old manor- but there still remained a sort of raised flagged terse for a few days.

race at the upper end, sheltered by a great yew Th' auld squire have a sent for me to see him hedge, flanked with what had once been pyramids ictial some time to-day at the • Knob house,' and and "shapes " cut out in yew, which had grown all inna go to Youlcliffe; ye may tell ’um a' down awry and deformed, for nobody at Stone Edge had re. And you mind to be home betimes, German, any time for garden decorations. And here Geryou 'll catch it,” he called out as the boy went off. man betook himself directly to deliver his unaccusThe friends and neighbors collected for the tomed budget of news and give his opinion on fameryin'” looked upon this message as a mere ex- ily affairs of moment. e, and public opinion declared itself strongly " Well-a-day !” said Lydia, sadly; "it mun ha' inst old Ashford.”

been a sore sight to see yer aunt laid i' th' ground, ** Sure ill will should ha' died wi' death,” said one; and hur took so sudden; but she were a well-livin' ind hur a leavin' sich a lot o' money to his daugh- | 'ooman as ivir were, and set her trust and her heart i, too.”

steadfast i' th' Lord.” "'T will hurt nobody but hisself; his room 's bet- “To be sure she did,” replied the lad. And after r nor's company any time is Ashford's," said an- a pause he went on, “'T were a gran' dooment anyher.

how” (he was very fond of his aunt, but he could The world was likewise scandalized at Roland's not help enjoying what, to him, had been a great sence. " She were like a mother to un," said so- entertainment). " There were a sight o vittles and ety; "he should a strove to come home for to do drink, to be sure, and heaps o' folk was there to do er respect; he know'd she'd a had a fit, Nathan her respect; and Martha Savage (as Uncle Nathan

had in for to help) a takin' on herself and wagging The old woman was buried under the shadow of her tongue as uppish as mid be! And dunno ye ne spire which she was so proud of. "'Tis a cheer- sit there,' and Dunno ye bide so long there,' says al pleasant place, like hersen," said Nathan to his she, catching everybody up like anythink. I raly nephew, as they came away together, "and hur will didna know the place, and aunt Bessie, who 'd iver se close to the pathway where her friends can come the welcome i' her face, and the welcome i her high her, and alongside o’her father for company like, hand, and now she lay there so quiet, and could n't ill I come; 't won't be long first. I've a ordered a so much as say a word !” headstone," ended the old man, sadly, and it says, “ And how did uncle Nathan abide Martha's

takin' on herself so ? ” said Cassie, rather indig* All you young men as passes by, Throw a look and cast an eye ;

nantly. As you is now, so once was I,

“I dunno think he see'd or heerd owt as were a Prepare to live, as you must die,

goin' on, he were so sore put about to have lost her for to learn um how they 're here one hour and shed as was gone. He sot there i’his chair quite lost the next, like a poppyhead," sighed be, picking one like when they'd a' left but me, and then he telled as he passed. Then, as German was taking his me about Cassie's money. He wouldna let me go, leave, he called him back. “ The money for Cassie but he says, Bide wi' me a bit, my lad ; ye was her is a lent to Jones, and I shall put in her name im- nevvy, and she held to ye both at Stone Edge a mediate and mak' it all right. Anyhow 't ain't mine, very deal.' And when Martha put in her word, he and I wunna' ha' thy feyther cryin' out like as if he just tuk his hat silent, and come on wi' me a bit o' were burnt, and going about callin' o' me and say the road home out o' the way o' her tongue." ing as how I'd choused Cassie. “But ye may mak' At this point in the discourse Ashford's loud as though I'd ha' said it shouldna be done till such harsh voice was heard ; he had just come home, and times as he'd gied his consent to her marrying wi' was calling on his womankind. “I'll go in to your Roland. If yer aunt hadna been tuk so sudden as feyther," said Lydia; “thee canst stop and hear all there is n't a mossel o' paper about it, I'm sure about it." she'd a left it so. It's queer, too, about Roland," German bad climbed, parenthetically as it were, the old man went on. “I canna think what ails during the interval, on to the top of a high wall, him to kip away so long. I've got it set in my mind whence his long legs hung down as a sort of fringe. it's about thae York lassies, for young uns is won- He went on : " Arter a while uncle Nathan talked derful soon took up wi’ a pretty face, - and they wi' me a deal about Roland, Cassie, - what for had fa's into love and out again like as if it were a one see'd him this ever such a while ? and that And 't ain't allus such a clean one either," moralized he'd a sent up a purpose for to tell him as aunt Nathan ; " a lot o' muck they picks up whiles. Bessie had a fit afore he went away. And Dick the

Therefore I dunna mak' sich a stand-up fight for joiner and the young man from the forge would ha' Roland as I mid ha' done a while back till I sees my it Roland was agone courtin' down to York, and ways more plain. Man is but flesh, and flesh is her name it were Mitchell, and she'd such cows and wonderful weak by times," said Nathan the wise, pigs to her portion as niver were.” (Indeed rumor, skilled in human nature, * and you 'd best say Cas- assisted by Joshua, had worked so hard that it was sie's to have him as she wishes to wed wi' an she's only wonderful that Roland was not married alto get her aunt's money."

ready, in public report, to "the lass t'other side German returned home big with the importance | York.") of bis mission, and entered the house with a sense Cassie was silent, taking the dry clothes from off the of dignity as the protector and arbiter of his sister's line.And Dick laughs and says, " Ah, Roland's a future. He found to his great relief that he was deep un; be's just kippin' away till he sees whether beforehand with his father, who had not yet re- yer uncle gies Cassie her aunt's money or no.'” turned from the squire; the kitchen was empty and|“ I dunna believe that,” said Cassie, with rising he passed through to the garden on the other side, color. “It's no more like Roland than as a fish where he found the women busy hanging out the can fly."

"And then another he says as Roland were sum- the winter months by most of the aristocracy mat changeable, and that ye must not trust to his abouts — to come and dwell among these into father's son," said the lad, insisting on his point, and ble hills. He treated the property as a thing quite unconscious of the sharpness of the thrusts money out of, and having been very comfortable : which he was driving into his sister's heart.

to say rich, upon his small annoity, was posil "I'm sure we 've no reason for to think him suaded of his extreme poverty on coming is changeable," answered the poor girl, turning away | large estate. He killed off the deer; cut doen as she clutched an armful of linen spasmodically to timber, and would have let the old house it her breast."

could ; but as no one could be found to hire is a * Ye dunna no nowt about it, Cassie. How what dreary walls, he had turned it into an a should ye? They says as how one time he were all tional farm-house, only reserving a couple of so much for short-horns, and sich like, and now he's for himself wben he came there on business. all for them heifers from Durham. Thee hastna Not a word, however, did Ashford voucbsris seen him this age; how canst thee tell ? ” said the his family concerning his interview at the grea lad, with an air of superiority, from the top of the when he returned that evening. Ever since: wall where he had perched himself, and picking off rent-day he had been even more moody and little bits of stone and mortar, which he shied with than his wont, snapping at his wife and snart great justness of aim at an old sow in the straw his children; but to-night his visit to his las yard commanded from his lofty position. “I hit seemed to have brought things to a crisis. Er hur that time i th' left ear," added he, in an under thing that was said and done served only to tone, with a satisfied nod of his head.

matters worse, and at last he became so insus It irritated poor Cassie's nerves to that degree to able that one by one they all took refuge i have her fate, as it were, and Roland's principles cheese-room under some pretence or other. B discussed in the intervals of the sow's complaints, cheese was kept in the - Bower-room," the that she could not contain herself any longer. ment of ceremony of Stone Edge, which in its * You ’ve a tore poor Roland's character to rags had evidently been beautifully fitted up; the 4 among ye anyhow," she said, as an old shirt of her panelling still remained on the walls, and a pl brother's came to pieces in her hands, which she had projecting chimney-piece with coats of arms 1 taken off the line more vehemently than its age and twisted monograms supported by griffins, and *ia circumstances demanded. “And I wunna stay for tua vita mea" engraved round a rude emblema to hear ve ballaragging one as has iver been kind picture in the centre, set round with rays of the of and true to us all." And she went hurriedly back and a man standing beneath it in point of art into the house with her load of linen, her lips quir- like the forked radishes in Quarles's Emblems. I ering and her eyes flashing, and with the greatest a particle of furniture remained in the room. ditficulty restrained a great burst of tears.

old pillion lay in one corner, on which Ca "Well, surely!" said the boy, wonderingly to mother used to ride behind her husband to lo himself, as he came down from his throne. What cliffe in happier dars (Lydia had never rett. iver has she a took that so queer for I've a said such a pitch of dignity, or even desired it), a nowt she should take amiss! On's warning of her the floor was strewed with cheeses in different states like, and telling of her what ther thinks at Youl- of perfection. cliffe, as is mr duty. How's she to know what's Lrdia stood close up to the window, tryin* what an her brother doesna look arter her when catch the last gleams of the fading light on the gre?! ferther's no good at all : ” solilozuized German to blue stocking which she was mending, while C himself with much dignitr, striding acnes the cab- sat near her on a low cricket (a three-legged sto bagres with his hands in his pockets and kicking an which she had brought in with her, and repeate unotiending head of "early spruts * from him as be sadly what German had told her. pondering gTit spoke.

loosir orer his words Still, though Cassie oppond oatwarllr a firm front! The secluded bome in which she dwelt gare be to the enemy, she was cut to the heart within, and! so little clew to the circumstances in which Roland ber confident trust sink when she found berseli lite was passed, that her imagination almost reba. alone. The strife seems so unequal when you have to follow him among the perils of deep Fiters! only a conviction in your own mind to oppose to which he seemed to ber to be engulfed. Right 12 ! facts and general public opinia; it is like drawing wrong might be quite different in the great work supplies out of a single well, when your foes hare as she thought it, in which be lived, as she pas. I the command of a while river. Her rerr malestrimodestly to her it. concerning her if made her le doubual as ia ber! - Seems as if prape iber mi ha a different per claims uroa Roland

arrorth nor ourn down i' ibi town," sbe esplaint

le sther has for pot-berts and cotton three

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Var ise, syzet Lrsa: - I canna tia The piangere bai inserite the estate 231 R


'yo mnyebe towards the

tis free fail ? ... I tak Te rba letters 15. menew, we are reaning the rolerert things aro

. xa the auld Saar

to dars res s

lepiace, santai dan

* sbor Gods tere to skine

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