It all comes of my poor impatient temper, and complaining as I do, and my misery; but O, Mrs. Julaper, you could not think I ever meant to trouble him by law, or any other annoyance! I'd like to see a stain removed from my family, and my name restored; but to touch his property, O, no !-0, no! that never entered my mind; by heaven! that never entered my mind, Mrs. Julaper. I'm not cruel; I'm not rapacious; I don't care for money; don't you know that, Mrs. Julaper? O, surely you won't think me capable of attacking the man whose bread I have been eating so long! I never dreamed of it; I should hate myself. Tell me you don't believe it; O, Mrs. Julaper, say you don't!'

And the gentle feeble creature burst into tears, and good Mrs. Julaper comforted him with kind words; and he said,

'Thank you, ma'am ; thank you. God knows I would not hurt Bale, nor give him one uneasy hour. It is only this: that I'mI'm so miserable; and I'm only casting in my mind where to turn to, and what to do. So little a thing would be enough, and then I I'll go; not in any anger, Mrs. Julaper— don't think that; but I can't stay, I must be gone.'

shall leave Mardykes.

'Well, now, there's nothing yet, Master Philip, to fret you like that. You should not be talking so wild-like. Master Bale has his sharp word and his short temper now and again; but I'm sure he likes you. If he didn't, he'd a-said so to me long ago. sure he likes you well.'

I'm

Hollo! I say, who's there? Where the devil's Mr. Feltram ?' screamed the voice of the Baronet, at a fierce pitch, along the passage. 'La! Mr. Feltram, it's him! Ye'd better run to him,' whispered Mrs. Julaper.

'D-n me! does nobody hear? Mrs. Julaper! Hollo! ho! house, there! ho! D-n me, will nobody answer?'

And Sir Bale began to slap the wainscot fast and furiously with his walking-cane with a clatter like a harlequin's lath in a pantomime. Mrs. Julaper, a little paler than usual, opened her door, and stood with the handle in hand, making a little curtsey, enframed in the door-case; and Sir Bale, being in a fume, when he saw her, ceased whacking the panels of the corridor, and stamped on the floor, crying,

6

Upon my soul, ma'am, I'm glad to see you! Perhaps you can tell me where Feltram is ?'

He's in my room, Sir Bale. Shall I tell him you want him, please?'

6

'Never mind; thanks,' said the Baronet. I've a tongue in my head;' marching down the passage to the housekeeper's room, with his cane clutched hard, glaring savagely, and with his teeth fast set, like a fellow advancing to beat a vicious horse that has chafed his temper.

LIMONCINA

BACK in the marvellous fairy days,
Which shine upon us through golden haze,

As bright eyes shine through love's sweet tears,
There was a sprite who used to be

Queen of the limoncina-tree,

By the mystic hills and meres.

She loved a mortal-was't not so?

Her passion divine was changed to woe:

Yet woe can a strange wild sweetness wear.

Whoso crushes that magic leaf,

Let him know that its odour tells of grief,
Or it were not half so rare.

NEW YORK IN 1870

THE tone and habits of American society vary so rapidly in sympathy with the fluctuations in the affairs and constitution of the nation, that pictures of life and opinion drawn from the observation of visitors or residents at intervals of a few years present features of remarkable and almost inconceivable difference. The New York of to-day is hardly to be recognised by the visitor who has been a few years absent. Its moral and social aspects change as rapidly as the actual physical characters of the city; and the views and statements of various sections of men easily lead observers from divers points of view to precisely opposite conclusions. New America, as seen by Mr. Hepworth Dixon, is agitated and convulsed by theological and philosophical dissent; by Mr. Dilke, it is seen to be in the perpetual throes of social, political, and commercial development, and heaving with incessant changes of disintegration and re-formation; to Mr. Sala, it is the scene of oddly-contrasting refinement and coarseness, the lacquer of Parisian dissipation overlying the coarseness of native rowdyism and the eccentricities of an unfinished and particoloured nationality. To the foreign resident, mixing with all cliques and belonging exclusively to none, there is a verisimilitude in all these portraitures which the native American would perhaps be loath to admit; they err only by their incompleteness and by the inevitable errors attaching to a partial survey of so multiform and far-spreading a superficies, beneath which are at work forces of singular energy, rapidly varying, frequently clashing, and betraying a fitful and feverish activity. Whoever speaks of New York, speaks now of a society which intimately sympathises with and reflects the feelings and habits of all the cities of the world, for it is a city which is made up of the natives of all others. Its population receives daily accessions from all the capitals of Europe. London, Liverpool, Paris, Amsterdam, Frankfort, are as familiar to a large proportion of New Yorkers as to their own inhabitants. On the one hand there are the ebb and flow of travel, which never ceases; the constant tide of an immense emigration, still on the increase; the accession of foreign capital; and the repeated visits of European capitalists and men of business: on the other, the habitual and prolonged visits to the seats of fashion and of commercial activity by a large proportion of the residents; their foreign correspondence and connections. Such causes continue to give to American society vivid. sympathies with all the forms of European thought, and to introduce imitations and reflections of all the habits of the Old World. These

are curiously modified by the ever-present conditions of rapid growth and change, which are inherent in the natural progress of this great continent towards more complete settlement and the fuller development of its resources. What may be the ultimate form which will grow up out of the abundant and struggling elements now in course of vital evolution, it would indeed be difficult to say. Meantime the scene is one of vivid and ever-fresh interest. The observer of religious phenomena finds here in Brooklyn a city of churches. Along the Fifth-avenue he passes in review a noble Catholic cathedral in course of erection in white marble, of which the unfinished glories are only rivalled by those of the noble Mauresque edifice within a few hundred yards of it, which testifies to the wealth, piety, and prominence of the Hebrew population, who have chosen the most fashionable site-the Belgrave-square of the Manhattan Island-for their synagogue. Nearly facing it is now the church which, next to Mr. Beecher's, is perhaps the most popular and numerously attended in New York that of Dr. Chapin, a Universalist. The wealth and endowments of the ancient cathedrals of the old country' are already emulated by Trinity Church, which owns vast blocks of houses, and some acres of real estate whose value is already calculated by the inch, the original endowment having been a small farm or two in what, a few score of years since, was an agricultural district, and is now the busiest part of New York. The absence of all connection between church and state, the absolute freedom and equality of religious sects, and the rivalry thus induced, has given to New York in its most fashionable localities an abundance of fine religious edifices of all denominations which only reflects the real vitality of religious belief among the masses. The large influx of Irish population, however, into this and other great cities of America, and the overwhelming influence which, owing to the present municipal constitution, the poorer class of Irish voters exert in municipal government, has given something of a political character to the relations of the Catholic institutions. A frequent fear is now expressed, and is growing in the minds of observant men, that serious social troubles will arise from the efforts to secure a predominant influence to Roman Catholic views in the matter of free public education and legislation as to Sunday observances. It follows from the peculiar relations of the religious sections of American society, that all that concerns theological opinion and development in the Old World is the subject of watchful attention and interest. The proceedings of the Ecumenical Council at Rome are reported and debated with the most minute interest in the daily papers, but not more faithfully, though at greater length, than the debates of the Jewish consistories of Paris or Frankfort, or the preparations for Wesleyan or Baptist anniversaries. Every Monday morning the New York Herald-the Times of America-gives lengthened re

ports of the sermons and discourses in all the principal churches, chapels, and synagogues. It is contrary to etiquette to speak of a man as a Jew: he is always a Hebrew or an Israelite.) The tone and literary character of these reports are highly characteristic of American journalism. Not only are the leading topics of the discourse reported, and the best passages quoted, but the manner of the preacher, his dress, action, and personal peculiarities are freely handled. The leading members of his congregation are referred to by name; the music, the general aspect of the congregation, and their style of costume are not omitted: and these reports supply a singular mixture of theology, philosophy, and frivolous small-talk.

In all this may be found the key to one of the peculiarities of society in the empire city of America - the complete equality of religious professions. To which must be added the cosmopolitan tolerance that arises from the commingling of nationalities, and the fluctuations of opinion arising out of violent national changes and repeated financial crises. The class of lettered, wealthy, fashionable, or luxurious idlers-nati consumere fruges-is almost unknown. There is only one word in use to express the class of unoccupied men: men not employed in business are 'loafers.' Those who wish to occupy a position such as that of the upper ten thousand' in European cities, must perforce expatriate themselves: they find neither sympathy nor companionship. They are loafers,' and have no place in American civilisation. The clubs are empty, except of a few elderly men, during the middle part of the day. Early in the morning, and after business hours in the afternoon, the wealth and fashion of the city may be surveyed-the gentlemen riding or driving with their wives, or speeding' fast-trotting horses along Harlem-lane, and returning more leisurely to their homes through the Central-park. This park is finely situated, having great natural advantages of rock, hill, valley, garden, and greensward. It is not yet fully timbered, and lacks age-that great desideratum of New York-to excel Hyde-park, and display the finest features of the Phoenix-park and the Bois de Boulogne, of which it unites many of the contrasting beauties. Swept by the sea-breeze, situated between two broad rivers, of which it commands fine views, picturesquely varied by rocky elevations and grassy slopes, including a fine lake covered by a little fleet of boats, decorated by some striking architectural works, and already embellished by sculptured works of art, furnished with gymnasia, restaurants, and conveniently laid out for public musical promenades-this park, the offspring of a few years' effort and expenditure of the city funds, is a just source of pleasure and pride to the citizens, and in the season it is a great resort of the most and the least fashionable classes. Here on a fine afternoon may be seen and studied some of the most marked of the external characteristics of society in New York.