She is refreshed by wine that was made by Christabel's mother. Then Christabel undresses and lies down "in her loveliness: " but looking up soon from the bed sees the unclothed body of Geraldine—“ a sight to dream of, not to tell," an old withered corpselike horror. Geraldine is filled with dismay at being perceived, but recovers herself, and lying down beside Christabel presses her to her bosom, and mutters spells over her, which have the effect of producing horrible dreams. But these pass, and a calm sleep falls on her. She is awakened by the chiming bells, and fancies that all she has seen must have been illusion beholding Geraldine so fair and sweet again. The two descend into the hall, and Sir Leoline discovers that Geraldine's father, Sir Roland de Vaux is an old friend of his youth with whom he had quarrelled. He embraces her-at which moment the vision of the hag revives in Christabel's mind; but the thought of her dead mother comforts her as she lifts her eyes in prayer. Sir Leoline bids his Bard go to Sir Roland and acquaint him with the safety of his daughter. The Bard begs to be excused on account of a dream, in which he had seen a snake killing a dove. The Baron smiles disdainfully at the Bard, and again kisses Geraldine ; whereupon Christabel again sees her disenchanted,

this time with small snaky eyes glancing askance at her, and not only sees her, but through some "forced unconscious sympathy" she is obliged herself to assume for a moment that "look of dull and treacherous hate." But, with an unuttered prayer, she falls at her father's feet and begs him by her mother's soul to send the woman away from her. He is enraged at what he fancies is a freak of feminine jealousy, and rejecting the better thoughts that the memory of his dead wife suggest to him, orders the Bard forthwith to set out on his journey.

Here the story of "Christabel" suddenly terminates, only two of the five intended parts having been written. There is a conclusion to the second part, which I will speak of later.

Now, to me, the meaning of this story, put into a different form, is somewhat as follows.

Christabel is our human nature in its purest and fairest form. She derives her spiritual existence from her sainted mother, who, though in heaven, watches over her, will hear the bells on her wedding-day, and protects her mind from all baleful influences. Notice, in passing, that this spiritual presence is perhaps recognized even by the animal creation in the shape of the faithful old mastiff :—

“Some say he sees my lady's shroud."

Sir Leoline is the source of her lower fleshly life, the dull unspiritual sensuous nature, unaffected by the

influence of the supernatural, unconscious of the true nature of Geraldine. Geraldine is vice, in a lovely and glittering exterior. She is found by Christabel when thinking of her absent lover. Her father is one who was dear to Sir Leoline, the fleshly nature, in his youth. She has been brought to Christabel by five warriors, namely the five senses. As Geraldine passes towards the bedchamber the animal creation, even when asleep-nay, even lifeless nature -recognizes her :—

"Outside her kennel the mastiff old

Lay fast asleep in the moonshine cold;
The mastiff old did not awake,

Yet she an angry moan did make.

They passed the hall, that echoes still

Pass as lightly as you will.

The brands were flat, the brands were dying,

Amid their own white ashes lying;

But when the lady passed, there came

A tongue of light, a fit of flame."

The vision that Geraldine sees in the bedchamber is that of the guardian mother, which appears when Christabel exclaims

"O mother dear, that thou wert here!"

In the terrible sight of Geraldine's withered body, the innocent maiden recognizes the foulness of the sin which her mind has harboured. The muttered spells and evil dreams are the suggestions of this sin that has found entrance into her mind. But

the sinfulness of sin disappears with the consciousness of it, and she finds Geraldine next morning fair to her innocent mind.

The Baron recognizing Geraldine as the daughter of his once-loved friend,-pleasant memories of past sin filling his old mind, which has never lost the marks of "what once has been,”—and, good easy man, seeing nothing but silly sensitiveness in his pure daughter's horror of evil passions, despatches the Bard to acquaint his quondam friend of what has happened, and to renew their friendship; making use, that is, of the excitements of æsthetic pleasures, such as music and all art may afford to those who abuse them, for the purpose of reviving his acquaintance with old and pleasant sins. Art, in the person of the Bard, refuses this hateful mission, and would fain deter the old sensualist by a dream-an imaginative picture in which evil is represented in his true form, as a serpent. But the fleshly is too strong for the spiritual, the "Baron rich" too powerful for the poor Bard, and, in spite of his daughter's piteous entreaties "by the soul of her sainted mother," and in spite of memories that even his own fleshly organism of a brain brings to him, which only "swelled his rage and pain, and did but work confusion there," he has his way.

I don't know if this seems all nonsense to others -I would not lay much stress on it, even for myself; but these thoughts have occurred to me, and such

as they are I have given them. When, however, I next read Christabel I shall try to forget them all, and look upon the poem as a reality and not an allegory.

One point more. I often used to wonder what was meant by the conclusion, and could see no connection between it and the rest of the poem. But I think that now I see some, and this has also thrown light on certain lines in the first part, the meaning of which was a puzzle to me before. The lines are especially those in which he describes (1) the dream, (2) the unconscious sympathy which made Christabel assume the very look of hateful sin that she saw in Geraldine.

First let me state what I think is the idea, and then I will quote the lines. I said that Christabel seemed to me to represent our human nature. This human nature is combined of two elements, spiritual and fleshly; and therefore it has bonds of sympathy with both, the fleshly standing in as near and dear a relationship as that of father, and by the influence of these dear bodily relationships-that is, by our dearest and sweetest affections-sin finds an entrance and a harbourage in the mind. But that is not all. Christabel is not only bound by ties of affection to her father, but has inherited a portion of his nature. She, in all her purity and innocence, has in her the innate germ at least of evil, the taint of natural sin; and the muttered spells of Geraldine, besides their