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valier, has been formed in Paris for the purpose of go fifteen miles an hour without the least fatigue. organizing a new expedition to the North Pole. Some grand races will be organized during next The route to be pursued is one discovered by a autumn, the course to be gone over extending French hydrographer, M. Gustave Lambert, and from the Rond-Point of the Champs Elysées to has not yet been tried by previous explorers. A Saint-Cloud. Several trials have already been subscription has been opened for the expenses of the made, and the distance has been accomplished in proposed expedition, which are estimated at 600,000 thirteen minutes. Considerable bets were made on francs at least, and it is announced that if the total these occasions. These gentlemen are about of the sums collected by the committee does not form a Velocipede Club, to be devoted solely to this reach that amount by the end of next July, all sub- new sport.” scriptions will be returned in full. It is added that the Emperor has given his entire approval to the

AUGUST BOECKH, the veteran classical philoloproject.

gist and archæologist, the Public Orator of Berlin

University, and a man of great mark in the learned The Paris correspondent of the London Morn

world, died lately in the eighty-second year of his are ing Star says: “The Revue des Deux Mondes is

August Boeckh was born at Karlsruhe, on the now 37 years old, and so great is the respect at-|

24th of November, 1785. He first studied theolotached by the public to its talented criticisins, that

gy at Halle, but was induced by Friedrich Augs no man can pretend to a lasting reputation or celeb-|

| Wolff to devote himself to the study of philolog rity unless his name has appeared in its columns.

In the year 1806 he became teacher at the Gre It is now looked upon as the livre d'or of all con

I con- Convent at Berlin, and in 1807 Professor at Heides! temporary celebrities.”

berg. In 1809 he followed an honorable summons "MR. SOTHERN," says a correspondent of one of to Königsberg as professor of ancient literature and the London papers, " recently received an ovation eloquence. În 1811 be accepted an invitation to such as the fastidious Parisian public seldom bestows the newly-founded University of Berlin, since which on any artist. It is true that the Emperor was on time he uninterruptedly remained a citizen of the that evening present at the performance of Lord | Prussian capital. His numerous sterling works to Dundreary, and that his Majesty's efforts not to secure to Boeckh a lasting name in German scient laugh too loud or too much were enough to set the whole house in a roar. The Empress was there also, and appeared very much amused. I doubt,

AMARANTH. however, whether she was quite able to understand

"Έλθε Κύπρι fully the jests, jokes, and the “ wa-wa-what " of my

χρυσίαισιν εν κυλικεσσιν αβρως lord. That she experienced some difficulty in follow

συμμεμιγμένον θαλίαισι νέκταρ ing the chain of ideas expressed by Mr. Sothern was

oινoχoευσα. evident, inasmuch as her Majesty kept consulting the French libretto, which contains an analysis of every O LOVE! the dearest theme of all, scene and act of Our American Cousin.'”

The oldest of the world's old stories,

No fairer fate can e'er befall Some information touching the Shakespeares of

A poet than to sing thy glories. Rowington, - a branch of the family rendered illus

And, as Anacreon confest, trious by the great man of Stratford-on-Avon, - is

In verses full of power and passion, published in a recent number of Notes and Queries,

His lyre would always praise love best, on the autority of certain documents recently dis

The world has followed in the fashion. covered among the records of the Court of Star Chamber. Rowington is a village in Warwickshire,

Old Horace, in the classic days, about nine or ten miles due north from Stratford ;

Sang sweetest of Love's fatal arrow; and there can be no doubt that the Shakespeares of

Catullus wrote an ode in praise the former place were related to those of the latter,

Of Lesbia, and her pretty sparrow; though whether nearly or distantly is a moot ques

Beranger sang of his Lisette ; tion. The documents printed by Notes and Queries

And Burns to Mary brimmed the chalice; unfold a rather interesting story of family feuds;

There's Beatrice, — Dante's pet : but they throw no actual light on the ancestry or

The Laureate's Adeline, and Alice. position of our great dramatist. They bear date 1618 (two years after the death of the poet), and

And still to love the lyre is strung, the principal person concerned is a William Shake

Still Eros rules our modern measures ; speare. Mr. George Knight is the discoverer of the

There's not a maiden's name unsung, papers, the substance of which is communicated to

No phase of Love's eternal pleasures. the public by Mr. John Bruce.

Love beckons in the painter's dream, THE Sport gives some curious details as regards

Makes music in the poet's metre, a new sort of amusement lately set in fashion by O'er youth and age he rules supreme: some of the members of the highest circles in Paris.

Can any otber sway be sweeter ? This new kind of recreation consists in what is called locomotion by velocipede. “From nine to

And still the songs of all the world eleven in the forenoon," writes the Sport, * the space Shall celebrate Love's endless blisses around the Cascade in the Bois the Boulogne is

While on a neck a tress is curled, crowded by amateurs and spectators of these races. And while a red lip pouts for kisses. Among the most assiduous and skilful competitors In verse, by any poet planned, are Prince Joachim Murat, Prince de Sagan, Mr. The praise of Love the sweetest line is, Blount, Count Onesimo Agnado, Count George Until Fate takes the pen in hand, d'Orgeval, Count de Saint-Sauveur, and several And on the page of life writes * Finis.“ others. Many of these have become so expert as to


Printed at the University Press, Cambridge, by Welch, Bigelow, & Co., for Ticknor and Fields

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strength and candor; his greeting was courtesy it

self, and seeing the young lawyer, his neighbor, BY JULES JANIN.

holding a tragedy in his hand, Reynaud said to him, [Translated for EVERY SATURDAY from Le Journal des Débats.] " 0. do be good enough to read one act of it to

We would willingly say of François Ponsard that me." He got down from his horse and took a seat no one could extol too much the first part of his by the poet's side. After hearing the first act he inlife, or congratulate him too much on his death. sisted upon hearing all the rest of the tragedy, and He was longer in dying than in meriting fame: his then worthy Reynaud, delighted by his discovery, glory advanced more rapidly than his death agony. exclaimed, “To Paris! to Paris !” as Regulus in At the start there was no obstacle. Everything the olden time cried, “ To Carthage! to Carthage! ” succeeded admirably well with him. A child of – “To Paris ! to Paris ! come with me! I carry beautiful Dauphiné, one of the most enchanting ye up; bring with you Lucrèce and her crimson provinces of France, he was from his childhood the gown and throw your lawyer's gown into the object of a precocious admiration and the utmost ten- Rhone.” Off they started, full of hope. When derness. He grew rapidly, and in his early youth they reached Lyons they stumbled, on the quay of began to prattle verse. He began like Corneille the Rhone, between a Virginie written at Macon his master. He argued his first case at the age and an Ayrippine composed at Chalon-sur-Saône, when Corneille was entered on the roll of advocates they stumbled on a Lucrèce printed at Lyons in of the great Parlement of Normandy. Corneille | 1842 (this adventure occurred in 1843) and signed had already written his gentle Maite at the age by M. P— , advocate. It was an unlucky omen. when Ponsard was still studying Le Cid, La Mort | An old Roman would have returned home. Frande Pompée and Le Menteur. He did not know he çois Ponsard, discouraged by the incident, was half was ambitious, though he was ambitious and his tempted to leap into the river to fish out his lawyer's ambition was immense. In his twentieth year he gown. Reynaud said, “ O, it has reached the ocean dreamed of dramatic honors and of a resurrection by this time, and doubtless, like its master, 't is hangof the grandeur of the olden time. His middle-class, ing upon some rose-laurel of the Eurotas !” Thererustic house overlooked Mont Salomon, all the neigh- fore despite the Virginie, the Lucrèce, and the Agripboring landscapes and all the banks of the Rhone, pine of the Lyons quay, they reached, this one encourthat river with beautiful water, a stream in summer- aging the other, the square in front of the Odeon tide, a torrent in winter. To crown all, the mo- Theatre, where are incessantly to be met tragedy at ment he wished an intelligent friend to lend an at- | its aurora, comedy in swaddling-clothes, novels, tentive ear to his first lays, he met the most marvel- poems, and criticisms in undress. In that square lous listener of that neighborhood. As bold as everything begins and nothing is accomplished. Ponsard was timid, a poet at times, he had even By Jupiter! how little fruit there is for so many then seen many cities and many countries; he was flowers! Our two travellers were at first somewhat rich; his name was Reynaud ; he united in himself astonished by the noise, crowd, and vanities of this all the graces and all the goodness of a wealthy epic world. Reynaud himself, who was surprised child of a good family whose native city looked on at nothing, was really astounded that nobody had with hopeful eye. Charles Reynaud was the first seen them enter Paris. Ponsard was so alarmed, person in Vienne, the agreeable capital of Dauphiné, he hid his Lucrèce as carefully as if the Judge of until he discovered the genius and the talents of the Vienne Court might have seen it. They were François Ponsard. As soon as Reynaud had walking pensively under the arcades of the Odeon brought out Ponsard's Lucrèce, he was no longer when they were discovered by Achille Ricourt, aught but second in Rome, and Heaven knows how the most Parisian of all the Parisians, the great proud he was of the decline his own hands had judge and master of all works of the fine arts, a Wrought. A more devoted and faithful friendship sort of good-natured Diderot, who throws at whothan that which united Ponsard and Reynaud has ever will take them his time, eloquence, and exrarely been seen. How both of them used to de- cellent intellect. A glance enabled him to divine scribe their first meeting! One day, while the these errant spirits. He recognized the trembling moet was seated on the banks of his beloved river, Lucrèce by the sacred bandlets of her head-dress.

reading for the twentieth time, perhaps, his cher-He said to them, “ Friends, whither bear you that had and terrible Lucrèce, young Reynaud passed Roman matron of the heroic age? To see your

e thorough-bred horse on his way to some timid, fearful mien, one would vaticinate some unichboring festival. He was the incarnation of lawful immolation. Come, be bold, speak frankly!


you have written a tragedy and would have it, hood. Ile spoke of it a few dar p played?” At this apostrophe of an excellent man and these musical names, - Saine Coon! and thorough Parisian, the boldest of the two trav-Condrieux, Annonay, Malleval, all the ellers (he was indeed the boldest, for it was not he islands, those joyous Cyclades, mieli ti! who wrote the tragedy) replied, " Friend, this poet at the caprice of the running Winter!. by my side, more ashamed than if he had written expressible charm in his mouth. Dapito some wretched vaudeville, is none other than Spu- elegance of his person, he was born a patis rius Lucretius Ponsard, the father of Lucrèce; and I soul was Roman and his body was a litt am his comrade and his second in this illustrious taineer's. He rose at daybreak, and wi . catastrophe, vilelicet Publius Valerius, son of Va- on his shoulder walked incredible dist! lerius, and your servant. We have come, not to cover a hare, or with his notedy mi ? murder Lucrèce, that crime was perpetrated as When night came he brought back ! long ago as A. U. C. 214, but to open some intel- better still, some admirable lines of ?*n*y ligent theatre with good, solid poetry in her praise.” Three years after Lucrice there i " So be it,” replied Achille Ricourt, “ we shall find e Jeranic at the same Odeon, and i, in this turbulent square minds which can compre- standing the trouble and contusion of ', hend us."

formance, judues perceived that the They did not go far to find an audience, and had made progress in the art vi narr". from the audience to the adoption was near enough. assembled men. The terror wrou" Of a truth the time was well selected. It belonged than ever. We remember the gener !!!! to tragedy. The theatre was in the height of the duced by the great scene in lines . Revival.' An immense failure (Les Burgrares) had Augustus alone in the midst oilinin marked the last effort of the Romantic School. A the impotent spectator of great inn new star had appeared in Racine's and Corneille's a loud, haughty voice the better 11 heavens, - its name was Rachel

M. Ponsard never failed to use tive!

of political history; even in his 1, It is incredible that Lucrèce's first advisers failed like a second Montesyuien tie veiller to speak of it to Mlle. Rachel ; but they trusted of power and the institution of the implicitly to the beauty of the work.* They renewed. We may use it is in were impatient to appear before the final judge, admirable parallel between the line the young men of the public schools. They found and despairing Agnes's teri the door of the Odeon open. The manager of this sard's second success t alleres theatre was a young man, an adventurer in the best of his actors failed buil, i ansi, sense of the word. In less than three days the play could not do without Vlle Roi, was distributed among the actors for study, and the queen of Paris lov her iremini, jeerers and parody-writers had even then begun to the dream and lore vi poti ridicule Lucrèce. “Whence comes this Lucretia ?” | Phire, Hermione', kila as said they. “ Pray where did you discover Tarquin? | Moreover, she replitera They are dead and gone and we'll none of them.” | to that risin gluri One of these jeerers even composed in two days a acanthus or of laurel tarii Lucrèce in five acts and in verse, and his friends Rachel and France, l'ours ! applauded this wonderful parody. True enough ; understanding. 1.4 " ; but when the curtain rose on the first performance, opened (tilt !!

!! from the very first scene, from the moment the hero- the tragie chw ili ine expressed in such admirable language- it seemed write a like a noble echo of Livy -- the lotty sentiments, eight talia.1.,' ; of a Roman matron, suddenly there was profound her best m?s. silence throughout the touched and charmed theatre. lle Went hem Evidently a new poet had arisen. No one had heard troti, and has al.,. since Casimir Delavigne's reign ended more ingeni- with all the line ous and brilliant poetry. As soon as the first doubts man's litimi were dissipated, the whole audience belonged to this all the map reactionist party; and resistance was not so much an uncert, 13?' as dreamed of after the admirable scene between useillais Brain Tullia and her husband Brutus. There were not he wroti d i lacking people who even said that André Chenier / whicin herceg himself was not more antique and more new.

The battle was won. The greatest, most legiti Willit ti ". mate, most merited success crowned this eloquent faiibt, il est work. The next day people everywhere in Paris with is said “the author of Lucrèce," as they had said the Irlory it i!iso author of Hernani ! The most learned houses and, di primo po the most lettered drawing-rooms disputed the com- in spate pany of the young man who yesterday was to objasni scure. As he had been very simple when he enterprise Paris, so he was very modest in his triumph. ile ! '. quitted town as soon as he could tear himstif trun! thout its praises, and hastened to return home to carry toil,!1 his mother, father, and maternal uncle his weil-wujt , palm. He instinctively loved his native nedelmi

* In my presentation ropy there written it so "To her first heat. Lucrs ce. Ponaard."


14, 1867.)

who would not think himself fortunate had he written as soon as marriage had reunited him to life, to them. But it was especially in that terrible fourth hope, to happiness, to all those faithful and respectact, imperishable as a chapter of Tacitus, that emo | able ties of man's heart, he returned proud and tion rose to the greatest heights. We do not believe confident to the paths he had forgotten, and he the ancient masters, Euripides and Sophocles, ever found unchanged his two friends, his two supporters, assembled in ten minutes more terror, more death- — poetry and invention. So we saw him write in rattles, than are contained in this fourth act of Char- admirable, perhaps his most admirable verse, Le lotte Corday. It is impossible to be more faithful to Lion Amoureux and Galilée, writing them one afNature than was that Marat, panting, hideous, rotten, ter the other, from one year to another, and, so to wearing on his head that old rag of the color of the say, at the same hour. Alas, poor wretch ! he was scaffold. This fourth act still vibrates in the ears of to find in this double triumph all the rarest and the affrighted audience. They heard the thud of a most charming guerdons of glory, together with all head as it fell, at every line. There was a sigh at the most atrocious pangs of pain. He returned to every hemistich, teeth gnashed at every word. The the Art which had glorified and charmed him just poet was not crushed by this Sysiphus's mountain. as slow, implacable death destined him to an imHe came intact out of this terrible trial, although mense agony. Nevertheless, at the first performMlle. Rachel had failed to keep her word. She was ance of Le Lion Amoureux, there were some men of afraid of Marat. She left her part to Mlle. Judith, our own profession who insisted that the illness was who lacked, if not talents, at least authority. feigned, and that the doomed man summoned it to

Ulysse and the gentle elegy entitled Horace et his aid as he had done a hireling claqueur! We Lydie gave the poet some repose from the terrors do not exaggerate. Man to his fellow man, or worse of 1793. He was exhausted by all those emotions. still, poet to his brother poet, is a ferocious animal. One does not forget Athens and Rome and Athe- | The doomed man was absent from the thrilled aunian art with impunity. So he returned as fast as he dience when the young member of the Convention could to the divine Iliad, to Octavia's portico, to invoked with irresistible cries the fourteen armies Homer's temple, and to the age of Augustus. Ulysse of the Republic ! His noble friend Emile Augier is a poem rendered enchanting by the music of the said : “ He may live long, but he will never hear the composer, who was soon to write Margaret's song just and indignant uproar of that triumphant and the love of Romeo and Juliet. Horace et night." He was absent from Galilée, and so ill he Lydie reconciled Mlle. Rachel and her poet. She had not strength enough to open one of the three was fond of this gentle part. I do not pretend she notes sent him, which announced at each act apever thoroughly understood the charms and en- plause constantly on the increase. So pitiless is chantments of the exquisite ode in which Molière disease. It crushes you, lacerates you, pulls you three times found Le Dépit Amoureux; but Mlle. asunder, quits, environs, dislocates, breaks, destroys Rachel was so pretty under her fresh crown, and sometimes this, then another portion of the body, she took so much pleasure to hold in her hand — or the hand of annihilation lies heavy, implacable, not a cup or a poignard, but — one of those mirrors and trembling on the wretch who in vain craves which would easily have fetched all the dowry of pardon and pity. If you knew how gentle and Aristides's daughter. She recited her part a great tender Ponsard was with death, how he implored it deal better than had been hoped. She knew how to make him suffer less, “ever so little less." He to smile, she knew how to please; she was as co-concealed himself in an austere obscurity, out of quettish sometimes as she was sometimes terrible. pity for his young and trembling wife. He was One cannot repress regrets when one considers all averse from leaving to his dear wife and his young the beautiful things the tragic actress and the poet child the distressing souvenir of their husband's, lost by living sullenly apart.

father's sad face, the prey of pains which had no Pierre Corneille wrote Le Menteur, uniting in respite either by day or by night. Death came an immortal circle both extremities of great Dra- to him in all its forms and at its very slowest pace. matic Art; so indeed Ponsard also must write his The most skilful physicians could only weep to see comedy. This first attempt at comedy obtained themselves impotent to give him a single hour's inthe approbation of the public. It was rejected by sensibility to pain. He was silent that he might the expert judges of French comedy ; but the dis- not disturb solitude as long as day lasted. He could missed and very wretched poet returned to his first be heard groaning at midnight. Everything tremcountry, and all at once recovered the great ap- bled, everything was silent, and the little garden plause which had at first greeted him. I had the under his window recovered its infinite murmurs great honor (why shall I here.conceal it?) of find- only after he had breathed his last sigh. ing the true title of this admirable piece, namely, He was tenacious of his glory. He thought of L'Honneur et l'Argent. This was the reason Pon- posterity. Amid all his horrible tortures he did not sard used to say, “ Our piece,” in his joking hours. fail to revise all his works; and quite recently his In the happy remarks of M. Edouard Thierry in complete works were published noiselessly and the presence of François Ponsard's coffin, he made without parade. He said, pointing to them, “ This the judicious observation that between L'Honneur is my last will and testament.” et l'Argent and the less fortunate comedy, La Bourse, François Ponsard, worthily praised in the elothe author was for eight years the victim of dis-quent discourse of M. Cuvillier Fleury, which was couragement and lassitude. It seemed as if, negli- suitable to his talents and authority, would espegent of the Muse, he was forgotten by her.* But cially have been touched by the passage in which discovery, anl no one suspected it. For three thinking. Margaret, you Dere will get a legs months they were both infinitely happy.

M. Cuvillier Fleury spoke of “ an august solicitude." This merits an explanation. We find it in one of our exchanges :

14 Ponsard, the classic writer of calm verses, lived the life of the heart, and tasted all of earth's chalices. His life is a romance. wildest disciple of the Romantic School. Victor Hugo, whom one He had for thirty years a burning fever, and saw a hundred times sees in dreams living in fire like salamanders, staking his life upon the sun rise on him as he sat at the gaming-table. He wrote poems the haucard of a eard, ever rattling dice with his right hand, seal- full of serenity, and of classical moderation while steeped to the iner balconies, blowing the born like Hernani, leads (although he has lips in the sulphurous lake of Dante's Inferno. He had melted eowed some wild oats !) a Philistine's quiet life ; while Ponsard, lead in his head, poison in every vein, and consuming love in his who wrote Lucrèce, has had every storm that agitates life in his l heart, but his poetry never revealed his life's agitations."

you live, but what do you think the postunan truagh Eren in the scbool during these months there was me bere this morning?" improvement. Margaret's power over Mr. Langton - Wbat, mother?* As she spoke Margues was very gre]:; one word or one look from her, one whole face firshed. tooch of Ex: band, call subdue him in his angries: - 0, you may well ask what. I tell you and hartiet moois: and, rendered pliable by his; never guess. Why, be brought a letter from the love io ber, b etrore, api oftea strore successfully, Uncle Tom, in Ameria, - bo might have been to ber bis prie and curb his temper. Thus, for a , dead and buried, for anything I re brown, time, ail thirds went wonderfully well. But this , five years, -and he's seat us money to gooch bobo kipi of peace was not a thing to last Mar. him Ys- be says were to go out to see garet could not be aisay by his side, or in his ; one of us, and be 'll keep us a long vesse aght; and one day at length, in an unlucky bour.' Why, Margaret Mrs. Morton cred - Margare suddenly, without warning, the three months' tran-, God bless the girl. are you going to faint? qality expired.

i - Mother, come in. Mocher, come in a Mr. Lanton quarreiled with the rector. The ! the door." rector was really wrong in the ground of quarrel, White and trenbling, Margaret passed into the and Philip right: but Pail.p. in his indignation, for kitchen. She let her mother join her there, an. got all deterince due to him as his emplorer, stood grasping ber hands tight within her own, she bege up before him as equal to oural, and the end of to speak hurriedly, in a lor, constrainei, that dar's bosiness as, that when the school-bouse band tone was closed in the afternoon, the key of it went into - Mother, I cannot go; I cannot leave Engian the rector's pocket.

she said. - If you go, you must go alone. He had written the sentence of their separation. Do- doa't look like taat at me. I bare bais Margaret koes ibat, but she did not reproach bim. too, to-day. 0. mother! she cried, all karkas They met tacether that evening for the last time, at suddenls breaking down as sbe Case Mr. Ir tbe foot of a cliff beside the sea, which had wit-'ton's hands upon her breast. - pai ently to Dessed man a Deeting of theirs before, with the look kindly on me. Dear mother: des mahal calon wile water stretching from their feet

am going to be Philip Langton's wife. -I nast have come sooner or later," he said. Mrs. Jorton stood before he dançatez, faze - Do not grieve so for it, my darling. I Tas Tasting face, and caught ber by ber arts time bere. My going now will only bring me back: You are going to be shar* barst from her iz to you the sooner.”

1 - Going to be not?" she cried She looked up ristfolly to his face.

1 -I am going to be his wide* Har ansver - The future is all so dark," she cried; -me car- i almost triomphantly now. I promised biri Dot see into it. I feel as if I was holding the last before he went He wrote to me today to te link of a golden chain; and to-night-to-night be, that be coali marry me And he is coming fore I sleep-it wil bave fallen from me

cried, the Eght lashing up into ba face -So; it will not bare fallen ! *he answered.cheer Is was the last flash of gadness that lighted fills. - Your hand grasping one end, mine bolding poor face for many a day to come. Margaret wat fast the otber, it will remain stretched out between told her secret, and what follored was a stand es until the bour that I come back. Margaret. I tears and passionate represebes so violent as to di

I work for you; I i struggle for you; I will haust all the small stock of strength that Ms. Ir rise for you. And you," be criei, - ruit for me! for, toa bad, and force her, bezore many bours Tot DO power, but the power of God taking my afe. I over, to her bed, where she lay and sobbed on! shall keep me from coming back.

I moaned all night, and by morning bad worn berec I will wait," she said I will wait reas and iil enorch to make Margaret unable to leave t years I you die before I ever see you again I bouse. Throughout that whole day, from T. wait for you till we meet in bearen."

to night, her danghter sat beside ber, Istente her reproaches, ani her self-berailings, and be *

sionate entreaties For years past, indeed fa She did wrong to keep their engagement from her nigh bez whole life long, Mis Morice bad beca motha. Poor Margaret knew that, and was troad very well aware that ber strength lay in her frila led by the knowledge; but she bad Dot courage to pertinacity, and her deadnes to every otha ce awaken the storm of abase which she knew well. ture's comfort bat her om. In former dans vooli fs] onoa ber head sboald sbe divolge it. so bad raled her husband bs ber querdloos selishda sbe let time pass onand told her mother nothing. for rear she had ruled be danghter by the same Sbe kert bet rret for two year, bearing from ber 'Deans: selfishness was to be ber armor of proof, 24 lorer occasioary, bat not often, and lining on her she had resorted to it in woontlas strasts betting silent trest in him

so she resorted to it Don. Margaret had wonen After these two years vere ended, one day, a for ber, and devoted besef to bar, and har bright summer afternoca, Vrs Morton stood at her ber, and Mrs Morton ick that it voeli bebes cottage door. shaiaz ber eyes from the strong sun. now to do witboat this final care; and feeling light s sbe looked eagerly towards the school-base. Thusterer a generous and noble nature could tell

bence the school chiren Tere coming pouring i bear to have itself accused of these things dd9 out and swarming down the road, and whence prese i mother launch at her danghter's head. Sbe ently, with a step that ras slower than theirs, came i berself as a dead weight round Warganet's neck, Margaret. Mis Morton's tongue was loosed as she then, wringing ber Sands called every one

Dess bow Margaret ras abost to throm ber el - 0. dear me! what a time that school does er och keep yoa: *she ejaculated. Such a state I've been for two days Margaret bore this persecutire! in sil dari my poor bead's just worn out with us in silence, sitting bour attar bour br bar


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