petually suggested without being able to fill up the blanks, and imagine what it actually was. It is like seeing the very corpse of the Past." Ida felt guilty;;she had forgotten all but the enjoyment of the moment; and she now hastened to accompany Agnes, in spite of the remonstrances of Cannot you construct a living character out of the gentlemen. As they descended the stairs, she these autographs?" asked Godfrey, smiling as he laid dropped her sketch-book, and Agnes picked it up for his hand on the summit of a roughly ornamented and | her. "Ah!" said she, "Godfrey was very mysteoverhanging buttress; "I do not think it would be arious about his present." very difficult task." He stopped, and Ida looked earnestly in his face as though she wanted him to continue. "An easy one, I should say," observed Alexander. "Human nature is always the same in detail as well as in outline. We have a distant twilight view of the man of the middle ages, and he looms upon us huge and grand and vague, till our imagination bows down before him, and refuses to approach and examine more closely. But if we do approach we shall find him flesh and blood after all, perhaps differing only from ourselves in the unavoidable peculiarity that he was a good way behind us in the march of time. He ate and drank, was weary, slept and was refreshed, loved and hated like the rest of us. And all those foibles and follies, littlenesses and meannesses which distress us in our own day because they are close under our own eyes, were just as rife in the Past, if we could only see them." "Very true," replied Godfrey; "depend upon it, it was all the same five hundred years ago, just as truly as it will be the same a hundred years hence. The Baron Drogo de Bracy could never obtain the entrée to the highest society, because it was noticed that he did not always pronounce his H's, and the dame Eleonora de Montauban frowned sorely upon her daughter the lovely Lady Adelicia because she had engaged herself for three polkas to a younger son! Don't be romantic, Ida! Don't fancy that an external development totally different from that of our own age betokens that there was any difference at all in the inner life-why should it? Don't we all know that Dr. Johnson was as great a dramatist as Shakspeare, only somehow or other he didn't manage to write such good plays ?" "You are a worshipper of the Past, I perceive," said Alexander coolly, as he seated himself at Ida's feet, and looked expressively into her face, though he addressed Godfrey, as for me, I live in the Present." I hope the climate suits you," replied Godfrey, with an emphasis too marked to be perfectly polite, and which called the colour to his cousin's cheek. Ida felt uncomfortable, and it was quite a relief to her that Agnes joined them at that moment. "Do come down, Ida," said she, "aunt Melissa is so cross. She is unpacking the baskets, and she says it is a shame that we should leave it all to her, and go away to amuse ourselves. For my part, I thought we came here for amusement, such as it is. She is very hungry, and she says we must dine before we do anything else; and she wants you, but not Alexander or Godfrey; because, she says, gentlemen are of no use. She had just upset something when I came away, and that was one reason why I hurried." VOL. VIII. "Godfrey!" repeated Ida, surprised. "This was Frederick's present." "I beg your pardon," replied Agnes, who took a sour kind of pleasure in thwarting any little scheme that came under her notice, whether she understood it or not. "I was in the room when Godfrey brought it; and he told Frederick it was for you, and begged him, as a particular favour, to give it as if from himself." There was no time for Ida to express the astonishment she felt, as they had now reached the spot where Melissa was awaiting them. She had overset the basin of powdered sugar into a dungeon, and was vehemently insisting that her brother John should descend in search of it, a service which he did not appear to relish, though he made many apoplectic efforts to reach it by stooping over the edge. She was making a solemn business of dinner; putting herself into a fretful bustle about all the adjuncts necessary and unnecessary, being sentimental about finger-glasses, and highly dignified in regard to saltspoons. It was all to be done in a regular, grand way, as unlike a pic-nic as possible; and the feeding was the main object and purpose, evidently, of the whole party-they came not to see but to eat. It was sad waste of time indeed to be sketching and staring about, when the cold chickens were still unpacked, and the damask napkins undistributed. Ida ran lightly to and fro under her orders, restoring her to good-humour by the force of her alacrity and readiness, and greatly cheering the spirits of the depressed maid, who had been vainly endeavouring to do right in the eyes of her mistress for the last twenty minutes. Agnes moved heavily and awkwardly, never understood anything that she was expected to do; and, in making an unwonted effort to be useful, finally set her foot upon a cherry tart. They were a contrast, certainly.. Poor uncle John, glad to be released, hastened away, and tried to make the agreeable to Mr. Woodley, who was thoroughly tired both of him and of the party, and who responded but feebly to his charitable efforts. Queer old place, this!" said uncle John, who had a vague idea that Mr. Woodley was a politician of the modern school, and wished to propitiate him by some congenial remark. Now, they wouldn't tolerate such a place in these days. If any one were to run up such a place, public opinion would have it down again in five minutes." "Well-I don't know," said Mr. Woodley, with cautious hesitation concerning the vigour of public opinion, looking inquiringly at the stalwart old walls as he spoke. He was a gentleman who spent his H cold to me, Godfrey, for I feel at home with your family as if I were one of yourselves. It is quite curious-the rest are all like strangers, with whom I have to make acquaintance by degrees, though they are very kind; but I can't help fancying that you and aunt Ellenor and Frederick have lived with me all my life, and that we have not been separated at all." Godfrey took her hand between his, and looked at her with an expression of unspeakable gentleness; it was difficult to believe that those were the same eyes which were ordinarily so downcast and so sullen. "Be one of us, then, dear Ida," said he; "my mother loves you as if you were her own child, and you and I will be brother and sister-shall we not ?" "Oh!” said Ida, "that implies so much!" "Too much for you to grant!" cried he, in a tone of disappointment. life in the mild excitement of perpetual expectation- | Ellenor too. I cannot bear that you should be in a kind of permanent astonishment which never rose above the fussy point. Every night in winter he perceived appearances in the heavens which betokened that there would be a fine Aurora Borealis before morning, and frequently suggested that his daughter, who had never been so fortunate as to see that phenomenon, should sit up, and call him when it began. The watching, the ejaculations, the assurances that there was a light in the north quite unnatural, and which must terminate in coruscations, supplied the substance of his conversation for the evening, and effectually prevented conversation in others. In summer he was equally far-sighted as to the detection of an approaching storm; and has been known to prophesy continuously for six weeks the arrival of one, which seldom failed to come in the end and justify his prediction. He now discovered that the tower beneath which the dinner-party was being arranged, was out of the perpendicular, and would assuredly fall in "Too much, a great deal," returned she, playfully, the course of the next twenty-four hours. He remon- "to be granted on one side only. I never had a brostrated so pertinaciously, that good breeding com-ther, but I can fancy very well what a brother would pelled the unhappy Melissa to consent to the removal of her preparations just as they had attained completion, which put the crowning stroke to her discomfiture for the day. Altogether, I should think, there has seldom been a more disconsolate and dejected repast than that pic-nic. Everything had somehow gone wrong, and nearly everybody was out of sorts. Ida was as silent as the rest: she was thinking about her sketch-book, and determining to elucidate the mystery. An opportunity occurred soon after they had risen from table-cloth. She found herself near Godfrey, and a little apart from the others, and iramediately addressed him." be to me. First, he would be quiet and steadfast in his friendship-there would be no changes, and doubts, and mysteries; then I should know all his sorrows, and he would come to me to console them; and we should tell each other of faults, and help each other to amend them. He would never give me black looks without an explanation, or——” "In fact," interrupted Godfrey, "you think me a savage; and you cannot think too ill of me. But, Ida, I promise to perform my part of the compact, if you will be faithful to yours. I am only afraid that you will repent when you know me better." "If I do I will tell you so," she answered; "but I am not afraid of you, or, at least, only a very little Godfrey, have I done anything to vex you?" afraid sometimes." she spoke timidly, and blushing. "You! To vex me! What could possibly make you think so?" Only," said Ida, "that you change so towards mc,-and-and-I beg your pardon for mentioning it, as you did not wish me to know it, but I find you were so kind as to think of giving me that sketchingapparatus. You must let me thank you for it-and I was afraid I had annoyed you in some manner, as you did not like to give it to me yourself." Godfrey coloured, cast his eyes on the ground, and seemed to find much difficulty in answering this speech. At last he said: "It was such a pleasure to Frederick to give it to you, and he has so few pleasures." "Dear Frederick!" said Ida. "Ah!" cried Godfrey eagerly, "you cannot love him too well; he is absolutely perfect. His intellectual equals his moral nature, though it is not so readily discerned. I have never heard him utter a hasty word, nor known him think an unkind thought; and the whole temper of his mind is so beautiful. You must love him, Ida." 'I do,” replied Ida. "I love him dearly, and aunt "And when were you afraid last ?" asked Godfrey. "When Alexander began Ida, but he inter rupted her immediately. "Oh! I was very rude, I know; but Alexander is perfectly intolerable to me. It's a wonder that I don't insult him every hour of the day; and when he speaks to you in that patronising complimentary tone, I assure you, Ida, it is beyond my powers of endurance to be polite." "But he is very kind," said Ida, thoughtfully, "and I believe he is very clever. I cannot understand why he is not agreeable." Had Alexander been in Godfrey's place he would certainly have told Ida that she was the most piquante person in the world, with her unconscious sarcasmı. Godfrey thought so, but did not say it. It seemed to him that it would have been quite unnatural to pay Ida a compliment. It is curious how little we praise those whom we love best. We are shy about it, as though we were speaking of ourselves; a tone, a look, the mere presence of some unaccountable restraint of mannerthese are indications enough for those who are intended to read them, and bystanders may think it all to receive them. as cold as they like. Our choicest gifts are not for | of the party and less of the place; and it would the world to scrutinize; we put them quietly, and indeed be delightful to come here quite alone, or with averted eyes, into the hand that is stretched out with-with-papa. This seems to me the same sort of thing as the having a regular evening party to read Shakspeare, which you know would be a kind of desecration, unless they were all poets, or thorough lovers of poetry." "Do you like this sort of party, Ida?" asked Godfrey, after a minute's pause. "Yes; I enjoy it excessively," she replied. not you?" "Do "I think," said he, "that it is the most ingenious contrivance ever invented for compressing the greatest quantity of annoyance into the smallest possible compass. What a dinner we had! Nothing seems to me so strange a mistake as that a number of people, whose whole existence is made up of common-places and decorums, should voluntarily put themselves into a position where these are absurdities, and yet try to retain them all the while. It is as if one were to go out shooting in a court-dress, and put pattens over one's pumps, to prove oneself a sportsman. It is so comic to see how we all behave; anybody who didn't know the circumstances would make sure that the pic-nic had been inflicted as a punishment, and that, being compelled by force to submit to it, we were trying to neutralize it in the best manner we could.” "Look there, misanthrope!" replied Ida, laying one hand gently upon his arm, and pointing with the other to the scene before them. A solitary arch stood up, huge, and broken in outline, against the cloudless sky; beneath it, partly veiled by the drooping cloud of ivy which floated about its sides, was visible the smooth soft river, passing through wood and hill, with a steady onward motion, like the flight of a bird, and melting into the vague far distance. A little beyond the arch, at the base of one of those graceful turrets, a group was seated upon the greensward; their figures would perhaps have marred the effect in a picture, but somehow they blended very picturesquely with the reality. Kate Wyllys, with bonnet off, dark braided air, and smiling sunny face, was holding some flowers for Alexander to examine-flirting very prettily under the pretence of botany. Agnes and Miss Woodley stood near, filling the double office of chaperon and back-ground. Godfrey looked at the picture, and then at Ida. "Ah!" said he, "we enjoy this thoroughly now; but how was it with us an hour ago? Is this the mode in which one ought to visit fine scenery or interesting ruins? Is it pleasant to be obliged either to parade your solitary enthusiasm, or else, by suppressing it, to lose all enjoyment? Parties are all very well in ballrooms, and pic-nics in summer-houses, but I don't like coming to boil potatoes and provide small-talk among the reliques of the past, any better than I should like to be taken out into the moonlight to dance a polka." "As to making small-talk," said Ida, laughing, "I can't say you have over-exerted yourself in that particular. But, though I don't agree with you, Godfrey, I do think that one thing which you said is quite true-I have not enjoyed the beauty and grandeur of this place as I expected to do, except just for the first half-hour. I find it is natural to think more Not- began Ida. "Not more than usual," exclaimed he, interrupting her. "Well, perhaps that may be true enough, only I think it is a very severe observation of yours." “Oh, but I was not going to say that," said Ida, "nor anything in the least like it. In the first place, I think you have no right to complain, inasmuch as you were the crossest of the whole party; in the second place, I have no right, because I was rude and went away to enjoy myself and forgot that I was wanted. I don't think," she added archly, " that a pic-nic is at all likely to make everybody perfect-do you ?" "Of course not," answered he, a little startled. "Well," she said, "but isn't that just what you are expecting of it? I think one may have an immense quantity of pleasure in spite both of one's own faults and of other people's, and I should never expect to become faultless because I was at a pleasure-party. Now are you angry?-for I think I am very impertinent." "Only in calling yourself so," answered he; "if your philosophy is impertinent when addressed to me, it can only be because I am not capable of comprehending it; so you see what you make of me." "Was that philosophy ?" asked Ida, "I thought it was only common sense." Godfrey laughed heartily, “You look quite dismayed at being brought in guilty of philosophy," said he: "I suppose you will expect me to call you a blue-stocking next." "Have you the same horror of learned ladies that Alexander has ?" inquired Ida. "Perhaps," replied Godfrey, "but not for the same reason. I hate all things that are false or unnatural in their proportions, and, as I hold that a woman's heart should always be larger than her head, the instances wherein this true proportion is marred are especially distasteful to me. A learned woman ought to be a most loving and gentle one, or else the woman in her is lost; but I am afraid that you and I look at things and people with very different eyes; you see all the good, and I have the habit of looking at the evil; your way is both wise and right, but mine is my own, I might say myself, and I cannot change it." "Can you not?" said Ida simply. He felt the unintentional rebuke, and it so happened that it touched him on a peculiarly sensitive point. "Oh, my dear Ida!" cried he, "who is there in the world that ever radically changes his own character? If I could see one complete transformation, one cha- | to the best point of view, went slipping about over racter wherein the original tendencies had been not the wet stones with a spasmodic and misdirected modified but obliterated, it would do more good to my agility, had three serious falls, and splashed his sister faith than a miracle, which in fact it would be. And Melissa from head to foot. Mr. Woodley made one of if our religion be indeed the divine reality which we the water-party on their return, and never ceased are taught to believe, is it not marvellous that it should making the others change places in order to "trim" not transfigure the human into the divine? But it the boat, which, if his movements were at all effectual, seems impotent in this which is surely its own proper must have rivalled any court dress in the world by the sphere. Just think of what we see; a man is born time it was finished. Alexander steered, and Godfrey with a certain fault of character, say feebleness and drove Agnes; but Alexander was not much delighted instability of purpose. He is an earnest christian, he with his change of position, for he had never yet found confesses this fault, deplores it, strives against it, and Ida so absent. sinks under it! Take him in the prime of his vigour, mental and bodily, and set him beside one born with a strong will, perhaps without faith at all, and-what has his religion done for him? And yet it is his life, his hope, his rule.-But I ought not to talk to you in this way." "But ought you to think in this way ?" exclaimed Ida eagerly. "Is it true? Dear Godfrey, you know it is not true; have not the weakest and most timid been martyrs, the most violent become meek as infants, the proudest humble, and the meanest abundant in charity? Oh, Godfrey, forgive me! I am quite unfit to teach you, but surely when we remember our invisible communion, we can never lose our faith in man. "Such things were," returned he gloomily. "And are and will be,-must be," she replied; but even as she spoke, the glow of enthusiasm died away upon her face, and left it in the shadow of a strange new trouble. She looked sorrowful and bewildered and full of pity. Godfrey once more took her hand into his own. "It is I who should ask you for forgiveness," said he, "I have done, as I always do, wrong. Do not however think worse of me than I deserve—I— This is a strange unsuitable conversation, and I don't know how we came to it; I wish you would forget it as fast as you can. Look, there is Frederick; shall we join him ?" "I think," said Ida, "when such ideas as you have been describing come upon you, it ought to be enough to disperse them only to look at Frederick." He smiled. "But Frederick was born without faults," said he. Ida made no answer, and after a little while Godfrey addressed her again, half playfully, yet with a manner sufficiently betokening that he reproached himself bitterly. "Sister Ida," said he, "I expect you will be more afraid of me than ever now." She looked up into his face with her lovely cloudless eyes that seemed the visible life of a pure spirit. "No," she replied, "not afraid, only sorry. One thing would always keep me from being afraid of you, and that is, the tenderness of your love for Frederick.” He drew his hand from hers with an expression of acute pain, almost of horror, and with a sudden heavy sigh quickened his pace, and in another minute they were at Frederick's side. The rest of the day offers little worthy of record; they walked to the waterfall, and uncle John, in his eagerness to bring each lady of the party in succession THE HEBREW MOTHER'S LAMENT, ON LEAVING HER BABE IN THE BULRUSHES. BABE of my cherishing, Aught that can whisper of danger to thee. Yet deadly perils press Hard on thy feebleness; Nor is there one who to shield thee can dare: Egypt's dark hearts never listed a prayer. To them thy tears would be Is to the rock where unheeded it weeps ; Is to the turret as round it it sweeps. Oh, thou great Uncreate! Thou who regardest the penitent's call; Even while chiding us, LOUIS XIV. AND MOLIÈRE. THE character of Louis XIV. has been variously estimated; and many of his critics have contended that the designation of 'Great," pretty generally applied to him by the writers of his own times, was the result of adventitious circumstances alone, which left but little praise to his personal merit, and which would have equally served to render any other monarch illustrious. Without considering too closely how much of all human celebrity must depend upon accident, and how very differently many heroes must appear as the dark or brilliant phases of their fortune present them to the view, it may be safely affirmed, that few sovereigns are so conspicuous for the influence they have exercised and the prominent position they have enjoyed. There is something peculiarly interesting in contemplating him, through that long course of time during which in our own country royalty was alternately despotic and degraded, presiding over a splendid court, and passing his life amid a magnificence of which the smallest details fixed the regards of his contemporaries and have become matter of curious inquiry to posterity, and preserving, in spite of arbitrary acts and decadence of political importance, the enthusiastic devotion of his subjects. The exclamation, "But the King is safe!" with which the Parisian circles consoled themselves for the reverses of his last campaigns, may contrast oddly enough with the modern cries of our republican neighbours; but it is not unworthy of notice as applied to the ruler whom it shows to have been the object of their love. It is well known that much of the glory of Louis XIV. was derived from his munificence to literary men. Among the most remarkable of these is to be ranked John Baptist Pocquelin, so celebrated under the name of Molière, which he seems to have assumed when going on the stage, either out of regard for his family, or agreeably to an affectation very common among actors at the present day. His career during the first years of his public life is not very clearly ascertained. It is probable that he played with indifferent success in several of the companies which, about the period, appear to have spread themselves over France, and to which the increasing taste for the drama everywhere afforded encouragement in that kingdom. ployed them, together with the pen of their manager, in contributing to the amusement of the court. They had a part in the splendid entertainments at Versailles, in the years 1664 and 1668, when the monarch, flushed with the success of his recent operations in the field, and exulting in the pride of youth and beauty, was fond of showing himself to the eyes of his admiring subjects. In the gardens of this royal retreat, fitted up with costly magnificence, were exhibited various trials of skill, in which Louis and some of the most distinguished nobility took a part, and of splendid masques, in which they appeared in characters suited to the occasion. The superiority of the king, or the tact of his courtiers, gave him the advantage in every encounter; and his vanity was flattered by the admiration which his personation of Apollo, or of some hero of romance, never failed to procure him. But his fondness for display went still further, and induced him to appear among the actors on the stage. It is not without some surprise, that we find Molière distinguishing his little piece, "Le Mariage Forcé," by the additional title of Ballet du Roi," because his royal patron had danced in it publicly on its first representation. The industry of Molière was severely taxed by the impatience of Louis, whose hasty commands frequently left him but little time for preparing the pieces which a desire for novelty was constantly exacting. To this circumstance is to be attributed the want of finish which appears in the "Princesse d'Élide," and others of the lighter compositions: it led him, like our own Shakspeare, to bestow little care upon the state in which his works would appear to the eyes of future generations. Of all the plays for which the French stage is indebted to Molière, "Le Tartuffe" is justly distinguished as the highest effort of his genius. Now that the clamours of discontent have been stilled by the voice of overwhelming approbation, it stands an enduring monument of its author's excellences: yet the opposition to the performance of it was such as might be expected in an age in which the minds of men were shackled by superstition, and in which to attack the abuses of religion was more dangerous than to attempt the destruction of its very essence. The Three acts of "Le Tartuffe" were exhibited, during the festivities of which we have spoken, before the Having the advantage of a thorough classical edu- royal party. The king, on the following morning, cation, which his father, an old retainer of the court, forbade the performance of it, until it should be comhad taken care to bestow upon him, and having still pleted, and examined by persons capable of forming a further improved his taste by a judicious course of just judgment of its merits. He added, that he himreading, he turned to account the resplendent powers self found nothing in it deserving of censure. of his mind, and emerged from the obscurity of his pretenders to sanctimony took advantage of the prohiformer position by assuming the post of manager at bition to raise both the city and the court against the the theatre of Lyons, and bringing forward there, in piece and its author. Even the truly devout took the the year 1653, "L'Etourdi," a piece which was gene-alarm; and, in utter ignorance of the work, united rally well received, and which at once established the reputation of its author. The distinction acquired by Molière's company speedily attracted the attention of the king, who em with the rest to condemn it. A priest, in a pamphlet which he presented to the king, condemned the author as an execrable wretch; and, on his own authority, consigned him to everlasting punishment. |