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dently its success in missing. You may fire 440 of discovery was given up; when several years aftertimes in the direction of a body of men, and fire wards they were found in some obscure house in wide 439 times for the once that you hit anybody. London, stowed away in secrecy as still unsalable. The probability is that the rapidity of the fire ex They had really been taken from their frames by cited the men too much to allow of their taking any one of the servants of Charlton House, and cleverly aim.

hidden in the house itself, until some favorable oppor

tunity occurred for carrying them off to London. A Paris letter-writer gives the following descrip-The moral of the story was satisfactory to all owners tion of the new building constructed for the accom of valuable works of art. It had been found imposmodation of the Petit Journal. The edifice must be sible to dispose of them without revealing the theft, nearly as beautiful as a barber's pole: “The building even with all the machinery for selling now at the is five stories in height; the space between the fourth command of clever scoundrels. There is also a and fifth is adorned by a monster copy of the Petit further moral for the benefit of the possessors of art Journal, held by Fame and Literature, surmounted treasures which they should weigh well, — the more by a bust of M. Millaud crowned with gilt sun-generally they allow their possessions to be seen by beams. The arms of Paris in blue, silver, red, and connoisseurs, the more numerous will be the body of gold decorate the plinth on which rests the bust, detectives ready to identify them if they fall into the and immediately beneath the copy of the Petit hands of the receivers of stolen goods." Journal is a gigantic sou executed in bronze, and measuring some three feet in circumference, signify- | THE London Leader thus speaks of Miss Kellogg: ing that coin to be the price of the paper. Two of “Donizetti's work was revived once more at Her the windows of the second and third stories recede Majesty's Theatre, this time for the behoof of Miss considerably from the front, and form a sort of re- Clara Louise Kellogg, the clever American whom cess exquisitely adorned with fresco paintings in the Mr. Mapleson has been fortunate enough to secure. Egyptian style. Along the façade runs a cut stone It will be remembered that Linda was brought out balcony, on which rest torchères in bronze of eight at the same house two or three years ago, when or ten feet in height, the balcony itself being sup- Malle. Ilma de Murska, who seemed to have pecuported by four, Caryatides, the work of one of the liar qualifications for playing mad parts, had reached first artists of the day. One of these figures is oc- the height of her popularity. Recollections of that cupied in reading Le Petit Journal, a second is lis- eccentric lady's performance must have been vivid tening to the news of the city, and looks out into enough in the minds of Miss Kellogg's audience, and the street, a third is tracing notes on a scroll, whilst undoubtedly placed her at a disadvantage. That she a fourth holds several copies of the paper in his achieved an unqualified success is therefore all the right hand. The expression of each of these figures more to her credit. The fair American's voice and is admirable, and at once conveys an idea of their general qualifications were appreciated from the first. occupation. The wide porte cochères are on each As regards her special powers time and opportunity side of the building, surmounted by medallions bear-are making them equally clear; no inconsiderable ing the initial “M” in purple enamel. The build- part of the work being done when she assumed the ing is not yet completed, but the novelty of its dec- part of Donizetti's heroine. Miss Kellogg's Margueoration, as well as the popularity of Le Petit Jour-ritę was forced to contend against the ideal which nal, attracts the attention of all the passers-by." everybody had previously found in Patti, Lucca, or

Nilsson ; in La Traviata, the new-comer enjoyed only “THE late theft of the Roman gem from the muse- the opportunity of showing her vocal skill and the um at Shrewsbury," says the Pall Mall Gazette, good taste with which she could present a repulsive * recalls a robbery of pictures on a large scale which picture, while her Marta could be nothing but gay, took place some five-and-twenty years ago, and lightsome, and, finally, lovesick. In Linda, therewhich served to show the difficulty which attends fore, — and just when she had become familiar with the sale of such ill-gotten goods. On the occasion her position and her audience, - Miss Kellogg found in question some of the most valuable of the pictures the best and fairest chance of showing the full exin Lord Suffolk's house at Charlton, in Wiltshire, tent of her powers. The part demands great and were found one morning to be missing. The frames varied ability to do it justice ; above all does it call were in their places, but the paintings were gone. for pathos and passion of no common order, without The closest investigations failed to give any clew to which, indeed, any attempt at its impersonation the thief or thieves. Workmen had been at work must result in a travesty. To say that Miss Kellogg in the house on the day before the robbery, and of satisfied every one of these requirements is only to course strong suspicion attached to them, but noth- do a simple act of justice, while it is also to award ing could be brought home to any one of them, and high praise. Her share in the love scene of the first in like manner nothing was discovered to incriminate act we may pass to notice the truth to nature maniany of the servants of the family. The pictures fested during the remarkably sudden leave-taking stolen were further so large in size that it seemed al between Linda and her parents. It was in this most impossible that they could have been appropri scene that Miss Kellogg gave the first earnest of ated and carried off with the speed with which they what was to follow, infusing into her acting a degree had certainly disappeared. Then followed the of genuine feeling which thoroughly realized the sitquestion how the thieves could turn them into mon- uation. Throughout the second act she was equally ey without furnishing some history of their previous successful. The natural pride of Linda in showing owners, which could not have been given without Pierotto her brilliant future was well portrayed; and making the crime public. It was supposed as the in the interview with the old Marquis she gave a best guess that could be hit upon, that they had been natural and forcible expression to her indignation carried abroad, either to America or to the Continent, which, though not harmonizing with the surroundwith a view to private sale to rich men who would ings, was just what might have been expected from not be too curious as to the truth of the story with a simple village girl not accustomed to conventional which they would be accompanied. At last all hope self-restraint. But it was in the trying scene with


her indignant father that the new Linda best dis

VII. played her power. The passionate agony with o dust and ashes, once thought sweet to smell! which she protested to him her purity, her horror- / With me it is not, is it with thee well? stricken deprecation of the curse he was about to sea-dritt blown from windward back to lee! pronounce, and the pathos of her madness were in Couldst thou not watch with me? the highest degree striking without being in the slightest degree overdone. The same remark applies to Miss Kellogg's performance in the last act,

The old year's dead hands are full of their dead where, under the influence of the presence and

flowers, voice of her lover, the demented Linda's reason re

| The old days are full of dead old loves of ours, turns. The change from one condition to the other

Born as a rose, and briefer born than she; was vividly depicted, but, at the same time, with

Couldst thou not watch with me? such entire naturalness that it was accepted, without question, as true. Taking the impersonation as a whole, it must be set down as thoroughly successful; Miss Kellogg's vocal powers, undoubted from the

Could two days live again of that dead year, first, were all that could be wished on this occasion.

on. One would say, seeking us and passing here, To mention only a single instance, - her execution

| Where is she and one answering, Where is he? of · () luce di quest 'aniina'-- emphatically de

Couldst thou not watch with me ? served the hearty encore it obtained for a brilliancy and dash of style not often found in combination

X. with such perfect mechanism. Miss Kellogg has Nay, those two lovers are not anywhere ; now safely established her position among the fore. If we were they, none knows us what we were, most lyric artistes of the day.”

Nor aught of all their barren grief and glee.

Couldst thou not watch with me?

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Dawn skims the sea with flying feet of gold,

XII. With sudden feet that graze the gradual seas ;

As a new moon above spent stars thou wast;
Couldst thou not watch with me?

But stars endure after the moon is past.
Couldst thou not watch one hour, though I watch

three ? What, not one hour ? for star by star the night

Couldst thou not watch with me?
Falls, and her thousands world by world take flight;
They die, and day survives, and what of thee?

Couldst thou not watch with me?

What of the night? The night is full, the tile
Storms inland, the most ancient rocks divide;

Yet some endure, and bow nor head nor knee;

Couldst thou not watch with me?
Lo, far in heaven the web of night undone,
And on the sudden sea the gradual sun;

Wave to wave answers, tree responds to tree;

Since thou art not as these are, go thy ways ;
Couldst thou not watch with me?

Thou hast no part in all my nights and days.
Lie still, sleep on, be glad, -- as such things be;

Thou couldst not watch with me.
Sunbeam by sunbeam creeps from line to line,

Foam by foam quickens on the brightening brine;
Sail by sail passes, flower by flower gets free;
Couldst thou not watch with me?

“ ANTOINE," said Mirabeau, returning gar

From the Assembly, "on and from this dar
Last year, a brief while since, an age ago,

Nobility 's abolished, - men are men, A whole year past, with bud and bloom and snow,

| No title henceforth used but Citizen ! O moon that wast in heaven, what friends were we! A new thrice-glorious era dawns for France ! Couldst thou not watch with me ?

And now, my bath.” “ Yes, Citizen." A glance

Of flame the huge man at his servant shot ;

Then, wallowing sea-god-like, " Antoine ! more liot,"

He growls. “ Here, Citizen." A hand of wrath Old moons, and last year's flowers, and last year's Gript Antoine's head and soused it in the bath. snows!

He spluttering, dripping, trembling, — "Rascal! Who now saith to thee, moon? or who saith, rose ? know," O dust and ashes, once found fair to see!

His master thundered as he let him go, Couldst thou not watch with me?

* With you I still remain Count Mirabeau !"

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

J Journal of Choice Reading,





Act II.

PAGE THE OVERTURE . . . . . . . . . . . 1 VENDALE MAKES LOVE . .


Аст І. UY RISES THE CURTAIN RISES . . . . . . . . . . 3 IN THE VALLEY. . . . . . . . . . . .

. 5 | ON THE MOUNTAIN . . . . . . . . . ENTER THE HOUSEKEEPER . . . . . . .



OBENREIZER'S VICTORY ......... 38 EXIT WILDING . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 | THE CURTAIN FALLS ...


. . . . 41


| two vistas of reflection or experience? As her

footprints, crossing and recrossing one another, have Day of the month and year, November the made a labyrinth in the mire, so may her track in thirtieth, one thousand eight hundred and thirty-life bave involved itself in an intricate and unravelfive. London Time by the great clock of Saint able tangle? Paul's, ten at night. All the lesser London churches The postern-gate of the Hospital for Foundling strain their metallic throats. Some flippantly begin Children opens, and a young woman comes out. before the heavy bell of the great cathedral; some The lady stands aside, observes closely, sees that tardily begin three, four, half a dozen strokes be the gate is quietly closed again from within, and hind it; all are in sufficiently near accord to leave follows the young woman. a resonance in the air, as if the winged father who Two or three streets have been traversed in sidevours his children had made a sounding sweep lence before she, following close behind the object with his gigantic scythe in flying over the city. of her attention, stretches out her hand and touches

What is this clock lower than most of the rest, her. Then the young woman stops and looks and nearer to the ear, that lags so far behind to- round, startled. night as to strike into the vibration alone? This “ You touched me last night, and, when I turned is the clock of the Hospital for Foundling Children. my head, you would not speak. Why do you folTime was when the Foundlings were received with-low me like a silent ghost ? out question in a cradle at the gate. Time is when “It was not,” returned the lady, in a low voice, inquiries are made respecting them, and they are “ that I would not speak, but that I could not when taken as by favor from the mothers who relinquish I tried.” all natural knowledge of them and claim to them “What do you want of me? I have never done forevermore.

you any harm ? " The moon is at the full, and the night is fair with “ Never." light clouds. The day has been otherwise than fair, “ Do I know you?” for slush and mud, thickened with the droppings of "No." heavy fog, lie black in the streets. The veiled lady “ Then what can you want of me?" who flutters up and down near the postern-gate of “ Here are two guineas in this paper. Take my the Hospital for Foundling Children has need to be poor little present, and I will tell you.” well shod to-night.

Into the young woman's face, which is honest She flutters to and fro, avoiding the stand of and comely, comes a flush as she replies : “ There backney-coaches, and often pausing in the shadow is neither grown person nor child, in all the large of the western end of the great quadrangle wall, establishment that I belong to, who has n't a good with her face turned towards the gate. As above word for Sally. I am Sally. Could I be so well her there is the purity of the moonlit sky, and thought of, if I was to be bought?” below her there are the defilements of the pavement, “I do not mean to buy you; I mean only to reso may she, haply, be divided in her mind between | ward you very slightly."

Sally firmly, but not ungently, closes and puts of the Hospital — the lady would drop in her pasback the offering hand. "If there is anything I sionate entreaty, but that Sally prevents her. can do for you, ma'am, that I will not do for its “Don't! Don't! You make me feel as if I was own sake, you are much mistaken in me if you setting myself up to be good. Let me look in your think that I will do it for money. What is it you pretty face again. Put your two hands in mine. want?”

Now, promise. You will never ask me anything “ You are one of the nurses or attendants at the more than the two words?" Hospital ; I saw you leave to-night and last night.” “Never! Never !”. “ Yes, I am. I am Sally."

“ You will never put them to a bad use, if I say “There is a pleasant patience in your face which them ?” makes me believe that very young children would “Never! Never!” take readily to you."

“ Walter Wilding." “God bless 'em! So they do."

The lady lays her face upon the nurse's breast, The lady lifts her veil, and shows a face no older draws her close in her embrace with both arms, than the nurse's. A face far more refined and ca- murmurs a blessing and the words, “ Kiss him for pable than bers, but wild and worn with sorrow. me !" and is gone.

"I am the miserable mother of a baby lately received under your care. I have a prayer to make Day of the month and year, the first Sunday in to you."

October, one thousand eight hundred and fortyInstinctively respecting the confidence which has seven. London Time by the great clock of Saint drawn aside the veil, Sally — whose ways are all Paul's, half past one in the afternoon. The clock ways of simplicity and spontaneity - replaces it, of the Hospital for Foundling Children is well up and begins to cry.

with the cathedral to-day. Service in the chapel " You will listen to my prayer?" the lady urges. is over, and the Foundling children are at din“You will not be deaf to the agonized entreaty of ner. such a broken suppliant as I am ? "

There are numerous lookers-on at the dinner, as "O dear, dear, dear!" cries Sally.' “ What shall the custom is. There are two or three governors, I say, or can I say! Don't talk of prayers. Pray- whole families from the congregation, smaller groups ers are to be put up to the Good Father of All, and of both sexes, individual stragglers of various denot to nurses and such. And there! I am only to grees. The bright autumnal sun strikes freshly into bold my place for half a year longer, till another the wards; and the heavy-framed windows through young woman can be trained up to it. I am going which it shines, and the panelled walls on which it to be married. I should n't have been out last strikes, are such windows and such walls as pervade night, and I should n't have been out to-night, Hogarth's pictures. The girls' refectory (including but that my Dick (he is the young man I am going that of the younger children) is the principal atto be married to) lies ill, and I help his mother and traction. Neat attendants silently glide about the sister to watch him. Don't take on so, don't take orderly and silent tables ; the lookers-on move or on so!”

stop as the fancy takes them; comments in whispers “O good Sally, dear Sally," moans the lady, on face such a number from such a window are not catching at her dress entreatingly. “ As you are unfrequent; many of the faces are of a character to hopeful and I am hopeless, — as a fair way in life is fix attention. Some of the visitors from the outbefore you, which can never, never, be before me,- side public are accustomed visitors. They bave esas you can aspire to become a respected wife, and tablished a speaking acquaintance with the oceuas you can aspire to become a proud mother, as pants of particular seats at the tables, and halt at you are a living, loving woman, and must die, — for those points to bend down and say a word or two. God's sake bear my distracted petition !”.

It is no disparagement to their kindness that those “Deary, deary, deary me!" cries Sally, her des points are generally points where personal attracperation culminating in the pronoun, " what am I tions are. The monotony of the long spacious ever to do? And there! See how you turn my rooms and the double lines of faces is agreeably own words back upon me. I tell you I am going to relieved by these incidents, although so slight. be married, on purpose to make it clearer to you A veiled lady, who bas no companion, goes that I am going to leave, and therefore could n't among the company. It would seem that curiosity help you if I would, Poor Thing, and you make it and opportunity have never brought her here before. seem to my own self as if I was cruel in going to be She has the air of being a little troubled by the sight, married and not helping you. It ain't kind. Now, and, as she goes the length of the tables, it is with is it kind, Poor Thing?"

a hesitating step and an uneasy manner. At length "Sally! Hear me, my dear. My entreaty is for she comes to the refectory of the boys. They are no heln in the future. It applies to what is past. so much less popular than the girls, that it is bare of It is on.y to be told in two words."

visitors when she looks in at the doorway. “There! This is worse and worse," cries Sally, But just within the doorway chances to stand, in“supposing that I understand what two words you specting, an elderly female attendant,- some order mean."

of matron or bousekeeper. To whom the lady ad“You do understand. What are the names they dresses natural questions, as, How many boys? At have given my poor baby? I ask no more than what age are they usually put out in life? Do that. I have read of the customs of the place. He they often take a fancy to the sea ? So, lower and has been christened in the chapel, and registered lower in tone, until the lady puts the question : by some surname in the book. He was received " Which is Walter Wilding?" last Monday evening. What have they called Attendant's head shaken. Against the rules. himn ?"

“ You know which is Walter Wilding?" Down upon her knees in the foul mud of the by- So keenly does the attendant feel the closenes way into which they have strayed - an empty street with which the lady's eyes examine her face, that without a thoroughfare, giving on the dark gardens she keeps her own eyes fast upon the floor, les by her.

wandering in the right direction they should betray | or three stumps of piles and a rusty iron mooring

ring were all that remainer of the departed Break" I know which is Walter Wilding, but it is not Neck glories. Sometimes, indeed, a laden coal my place, ma'am, to tell names to visitors." barge would bump itself into the place, and certain

* But you can show me without telling me." laborious beavers, seemingly mud-engendered, would

The lacly's hand moves quietly to the attendant's arise, deliver the cargo in the neighborhood, shove hand. Pause and silence.

off, and vanish ; but at most times the only commerce "I am going to pass round the tables," says the of Break-Neck-Stairs arose out of the conveyance lady's interlocutor, without seeming to address her. of casks and bottles, both full and empty, both to “ Follow me with your eyes. The boy that I stop and from the cellars of Wilding & Co., wine merat and speak to will not matter to you. But the chants. Even that commerce was but occasional, hoy that I touch will be Walter Wililing. Say and throngh three fourths of its rising tides the nothing inore to ine, and move a little away." dirty, indecorous drab of a river would come solita

Quickly acting on the bint, the lady passes on rily oozing and lapping at the rusty ring, as if it into the room, and looks about her. "After a few had heard of the Doge and the Adriatic, and moments, the attendant, in a staid official way, walks wanted to be married to the great conserver of its down outside the line of tables commencing on her filthiness, the right honorable the Lord Mayor. lett hand. She goes the whole length of the line, Some two hundred and fifty yards on the right, turns, and comes back on the inside. Very slightly up the opposite hill (approaching it from the low glancing in the lady's direction, she stops, benils for ground of Break-Neck-Stairs), was Cripple Corner. wiiril, anıl speaks. The boy whom she addresses | There was a pump in Cripple Corner; there was a lists his head and replies. Good-bumoredly and tree in Cripple Corner. All Cripple Corner casily, as she listens to what he says, she lays her belonged to Wilding & Co., wine merchants. Their lanil upon the shonliler of the next boy on his cellars burrowed under it, their mansion towered right. "That the action may be well noted, she kccps over it. It really had been a mansion in the days ber hand on the slioukler wlule speaking in return, when merchants inhabited the city, and had a cereand puts it twice or thrice before moving away. She monious shelter to the doorway without visible completes her tour of the tables, touching no one support, like the sounding-board over an old pulpit. else, and passes out by a door at the opposite end It had also a number of long narrow strips of of the long room.

window, so disposed in its grave brick front as to Dinner is done, and the larly, too, walks down ont render it symmetrically ugly. It had also on its side the line of tables commencing on ber left hand, roof a cupola with a bell in it. goes the whole length of the linc, turns, and comes

“When a man at live-and-twenty can put his hat back on the inside. Other people have strolled on, and can say, • This bat covers the owner of this in, fortunately for her, and stand sprinkleid about. property and of the business which is transacted on She lifts her veil, and, stopping at the touched boy', this property,' I consider, Mr. Bintrey, that, without asks liow old he is.

being boastful, he may be allowed to be deeply "I am twelve, ma'am," he answers, with his thankful. I don't know how it may appear to you, bright eyes fixed on hers.

but so it appears to me." " Are you well and happy ? "

Thus Mr. Walter Wilding to his man of law, in “ Yes, ma'am.”

his own counting-house, - taking his hat down from "May you take these swectmeats from my its peg to suit the action to the word, and hanging hand ? "

it up when he had done so, not to overstep the "If you please to give them to me."

modesty of nature. In stooping low for the purpose, the lady touches | An innocent, open-speaking, unused-looking man, the boy's face with her forehead and with her bair. Mr. Walter Wildling, with a remarkably pink and Then, lowering her veil again, she passes on, and white complexion, and a higure much too

| white complexion, and a figure much too bulky for passes out without looking back.

so young a man, though of a good stature. With crispy curling brown hair, and amiable bright blue eyes. An extremely communicative man, a man

with whom loquacity was the irrestrainable outpourACT I.

ing of contentment and gratitude. Mr. Bintrey, on TIE CURTAIN RISES.

the other hand, a cautious man with twinkling beals

of eyes in a large overhanging bald head, who Is a court-yard in the city of London, which was inwarılly but intensely enjoyed the comicality of No Thoroughfare either for vehicles or foot-passen- openness of speech, or hand, or heart. gers, - a court-yard diverging from a steep, a slip- *Yes," said Mr. Bintrey. “Yes. Ha, ha!” pery, and a winding street connecting Tower Street A decanter, two wineglasses, and a plate of big. with the Middlesex shore of the Thames, - stood the cuits stood on the desk. place of business of Wilding & Co., wine merchants. “You like this forty-five-year-old port wine ?" Probably as a jocose acknowledginent of the ob- said Mr. Wilding. structive character of this main approach, the point “Like it?" repeated Mr. Bintrey. “Rather, sir !" nearest to its base at which one could take the river " It 's from the best corner of our best forty-live(if so inodorously minded) bore the appellation year-old bin," said Mr. Wilding. Break-Neck-Stairs. The court-yard itself had like- “Thank you, sir," said Mr. Bintrey. “It 's most wise been descriptively entitled, in old time, Cripple excellent." Corner.

He laughed again, as he held up his glass and Years before the year one thousand eight hundred ogled it, at the highly ludicrous idea of giving away and sixty-one, people had left off taking boat at such wine. Brcak-Neck-Stairs, and watermen bad ceased to “And now," said Wilding, with a childish enjoyply there. The slimy little causeway had dropped ment in the discussion of affairs, “I think we have into the river by a slow process of suicide, and two I got everything straight, Mr. Bintrey.”

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