Among the poems published with these unquestioned rule of right and wrong, or idylls is one called " Wages," which em- some equally unquestioned article of good bodies the first of Arthur's principles- manners, is the subject of his ironical that action is the first duty, and dreaming, raillery. if a duty at all, only secondary. Virtue has no wages; if she aim at glory she is not virtue at all:

"She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet seats of the just,

To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in a summer sky,

Give her the wages of going on. and not to

tude:

die."

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It is clear that "The Window," Mr. Tennyson's last publication, though not his last work, was not intended to weigh for much in the estimate of his poetry. It was written for music, and consists of a cyclus of a dozen lyrics, expressing the progress of a lover's feelings, as he contemplates his mistress's window, through the course of a successful suit. It is a This confession cuts away all supposition of "Maud" and the old ballad with its cross between the lyric of the middle part that Mr. Tennyson attributes any real goodness to the quietude which from "The pictorial or interjectional burden, like Lotos-Eaters" to his last poem, "Lucre- Heigh-ho to the green holly," or "Green tius," he attributes to the highest beati-grow the rashes, O." On similar orthodox principles does Mr. Tennyson construct his 66 When the winds are up in the morning," "Vine, vine, and eglantine," "Bite, frost, bite," and the rest of the present series. Perhaps the old burdens sounded as affected to those who first heard them as these new burdens may to the present generation. By the nature of the case, such interjectional phrases are more cherished for the associations with which familiarity surrounds them than for what they directly denote. There is no reason why Time may not dress up these songs with similar feelings, and carry them down to posterity in the good company to which they evidently aspire.

"the great life which all our greatest fain
Would follow, centered in eternal calm . . .
. . The gods, who haunt

The lucid interspace of world and world
Where never creeps a cloud, or moves a wind,
Nor ever falls the least white star of snow,
Nor ever lowest roll of thunder moans,
Nor sound of human sorrow mounts to mar
Their sacred everlasting calm! and such,
Not all so fine, nor so divine a calm,
Not such, nor all unlike it, man may gain
Letting his own life go."

It is a characteristic conclusion that Mr.
Tennyson should at last put the most fin-
ished utterance of his own youthful creed
into the mouth of Lucretius, and should
have corrected, not to say contradicted it,
by the mouth of Arthur, his ideal knight,
"Who reverenced his conscience as his king."

The "Northern Farmer, New Style," is not so successful as the first of the series. The chief reason is that the humour of the first consisted in the old man's frank contradiction to the most elementary principles of morals, and his justification of his breach of the minor virtues by his asserted observance of the greater ones. After so successful an effort, Mr. Tennyson was not able to resist the temptation of making his northern farmer not exactly an apostle of his evangel, that no young man or young woman is to be thwarted in love or forced to resist the impulse to marry not exactly an apostle, but a Helot, warning others from the vice by his own hard and remorseless doctrine that a man should marry, not for love, but for "proputty." In showing up a maxim so partially acknowledged and capable of such foolish applications, no humourist could achieve the same success as when the

Of all the characteristics of Mr. Tennyson's poems, perhaps the most general and most comprehensive is its youthfulness. It is not merely the poetry which the mature guardian would judge to be harmless virginibus puerisque, for youths and maidens, but it is the poetry which is calculated to go most directly to the heart of such unsophisticated readers. It is youthful in its metaphysics, in its religious views, in its views of nature, in its politics, in its social theories, and in its pathos. As for the metaphysics, there can be no philosophy more naturally grateful to the young mind than the notion that matter is a dream; that it is only by some inexplicable necessity, which it is our happiness to represent as a duty, that we are bound to matter, and made dependent on food and raiment and air and shelter; but that, our mere duty once accomplished, we are free as air to question the reality of all that we have been doing, and to advance the supreme reality of our visions by denying the reality of our sensations. Then again, the union of a general Christianity with an imaginary and merely sentimental pantheism is a youthful phase of religiosity;

this too stands in close connection with the | Tennyson's politics have all the graceful superstitious reliance on presentiments, characteristics of the youth. Indeed, with on the fatal significance of random words, a poet's tact, he very often puts his polition chance omens and their mystical sense. cal utterances into the mouths of young Even the religious difficulties which the university men. There is in these utterpoet encounters and controverts are those ances, not the union, but the mixture, of which specially strike the youthful imag- three qualities-the refinement which ination, but hardly live in the reason of keeps a man apart from violent action in the grown man. They are imaginary diffi- the present, the dreamy faith in the past, culties. He is quite right in implying that and the unborn movement within which there is no arguing against the argument: whispers of a better future; all these are "The solar system is one in an inconceiv- found fermenting in the young heart and able multitude of similar systems; there- brain, as well as in Mr. Tennyson's poetry. fore Christianity, which makes man the Then his politics have in them the sympamoral centre of the universe, is false." thetic enthusiasm of youth, and all its Such fancies can only be evicted by the admiration, not for the hidden great, same door by which they gained posses- whom the want of research disables the sion, that of the feelings. There is no rea- young from comprehending, but for the soning a man or boy out of an opinion he main actors on the world's stage, for the was never reasoned into. The poetry too acknowledged great, especially when they is youthful in its appreciation of time. are in temporary disfavour. He has also, The boy has all life before him; and he to the full, the patriotic confidence which has no idea how little is that all. He is might be so graceful and becoming in the ready, with the Greek scholasticus, to ac- young midshipman; and, with all his overcept the custody of a raven in order to flowing disgust at the sordid knaveries of see whether it really lives a hundred a life given up to trade, he grows dithyyears. He can therefore put up with the rambic over the greedy gripes who beslow motion, molecular, and not mechani- comes a determined patriot when his councal, which Mr. Tennyson assigns to the try is in danger, and over the dissolute passions and development of men. "Had drawler who in the battle can face his we but world enough, and time," says the enemy like a hero. Such sudden resurrecold poet, tions of his countrymen out of the mud into the clear firmament seem to give the Vaster than empires and more slow." poet a new confidence in the surpassing excellence of the clay out of which EngHowever contradictory this tardy action lish nature is moulded; and he has more may be to the hot blood of youth, it falls joy over such repentances than over any in with the workings of the youth's brain, amount of steady excellence, wearisome in and with the metaphysics appropriate to its sameness. In all this there is a youthhis age. He can muse upon the idea, how- fulness of sentiment, which must carry ever impatient he might be of having to with it all the youthful sympathies left act upon it. Then the very monotony even in mature readers. Such readers and narrowness of range in Mr. Tennyson's will also recognize a wealth of imagination poems have their strict analogues in the and illustration which could only be looked youthful intelligence. The young intellect for from the mind of the grown man, and is the home of formal logic of that logic a versatility and familiarity with the which carries out the few principles it technical resources of his art which are knows into all their deduced results, with-incompatible with an artist literally youthout check from the exceptional facts and ful. But the satisfaction of the mature modifying conditions which only a mature reader with Mr. Tennyson will hardly experience can supply. To such an intel-stand the test of too much repetition, and, ligence the very perfection, however mo- still less, of comparison with profounder notonous, with which Mr. Tennyson has carried out his ideal, and shed the phosphorescence of dreamland round the images of fact, must be a source of keen pleasure. If it is not logical, it is at least the dreamy substitute for logic, and therefore hyperlogical. For the poet may claim as fairly to be super logicam, as the Emperor supra grammaticam. Again, Mr.

My vegetable love should grow

poets. His characters come out not as real men, but as boys and girls acting the parts of men and women in their Christmas games. The words he puts into their mouths are full of beauty and refinement; but they illustrate only a narrow segment of that humanity which it is the privilege of poetry, at its highest power, to exhibit in myriad-sided completeness.

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*CHAPTER XXIX.

Rudolph were there; and Mother had said he ought to be ashamed of himself, he was still a young fellow; and father had said, Well, he would manage a little longer; but it was the beginning of the final blessedness, and the thing was a little hook for her hopes to hang upon.

IN Jochen Nüssler's house, there was great joy and pleasure: Gottlieb was elected, was really chosen to be a pastor, and whom had he especially to thank for it? Who else, but our good, old, simple Pomuchelskopp; he gave the decisive vote. With Lining, however, all was settled "Hanning," said our old friend, in the and arranged, and the outfit was purchurch, while the three young candidates, | chased, and Frau Nüssler's living-room in anguish and fear, were taking their turns looked like a spinning-room and cotton in the pulpit, contending for the parish; factory; here was spinning, and there was Hanning," said he, as Gottlieb concluded, knitting, there was sewing and embroiderand wiped the sweat from his pale face,ing, and twisting and reeling, and skeins Klucking, we will choose this one, he is were wound on and wound off, and every the stupidest." one had his share, even young Jochen, and "If you are only sure of it," said his young Banschan. Young Jochen was emdear wife, "how can you tell one block-ployed as yarn-winder, and sat up stiffly, head from another?" with his pipe in his mouth, and held out "Küking," said Pomuchelskopp, taking | his arms with a skein of yarn, and his wife no notice of his wife's pleasantry, perhaps stood before him and wound it off, and because he was so accustomed to it, per- when he believed he was to have a little haps because Gottlieb's sermon had touched relief, there came Lining, and then Mining, him, for Gottlieb had preached from the and he was a conquered man; but young text, "Forgive your enemies," "Han-Banschan had his share, also, they were ning, the first, the one with the red face, is a son of old Pächter Hamann, and like goes to like, you should see, he would farm it himself; and the second, see! he is a sly one, Gustaving saw him looking at the field, a little while ago, and he asked the Pastor's coachman who took care of the Pastor's barn, the thing was tumbling to pieces. Neither of them would do; the rector's son is our man."

"He who reckons wrong, reckons twice," said Hänning.

always treading on his toes, and no one had so much reason to curse this wedding as young Banschan, till, at last, he retired from the business altogether, esteeming the rubbish-heap in the farm-yard a more comfortable place than a room where an outfit was being prepared.

"So," said Frau Nüssler one evening, folding her hands in her lap, "Bräsig, for all I care, they may be married to-morrow, I am ready with everything."

"Well," said Brasig, "then make your preparations, for the Pietist and Lining are sure to be ready too.”

"I am not reckoning wrong," said Pomuchelskopp, "the Herr von Rambow and Nüssler have declined the business, in writing, the young man cannot farm it himself, he is too stupid, and I need not allow an under-pächter; he must rent the field to me, and I have it in my own hands, I can say, 'So much, and not a shilling more!"" And so Gottlieb was elected, for nearly all the votes were given for him, only a couple of day-laborers from Rexow voted for their master, Jochen Nüssler. It was merely a mistake, for they believed it was all the same, and it was done in friendship. And in Jochen Nüssler's house, there was great joy and pleasure, and the two little twin-apples were floating in bright sunshine, down a clear brook, and nestled close to each other, and Mining floated joyously with her sister, although her own prospects were not so brilliant. But she had a little personal ground of rejoicing; her father, young Jochen, had come in from the field one day, and said this everlasting by me." working was too hard for him, he wished "What did it cost?"

"Ah, Brasig, how you talk! The principal thing is still wanting, the government has not given its assent to the parish— What do you call the thing?"

"Ah yes, I know. You mean the vocation, as it is generally called, but I think vocations is the right word, because the blessed Pastor Behrens, in my younger days, always said vocations."

At this moment, Krischan the coachman came in at the door: "Good evening, Madam, and here are the papers."

"Are there no letters?" asked Frau Nüssler.

66

Yes," said Krischan, "there was a letter."

"Why didn't you bring it then?" "Well," said Krischan, tossing his head, as if such stupidity could not be laid to his charge, "there was some trespassmoney charged for it, and I hadn't so much

[ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by Littell & Gay, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.]

"Now just think of it, eight thalers! | Lining, after supper, if she would take a And they said there was a post-express or glass of fresh water up to his room, she a post-payment, or something of that sort, told him Lining had something else to do, - perhaps it was brought with post-horses, and when Gottlieb turned to Marik, the and it was for a young Herr, who is our waiting-maid, she told him he might go to bridegroom." the pump himself, he could do it as well as Marik. And so she speedily drew a magic circle around him, over which no woman might pass.

"Good gracious, Krischan, such an expensive letter as that! From whom could it be?"

"I know something," said Krischan, "but I daren't say it," and he looked at Bräsig.

"Before the Herr Inspector, you may say anything," said Frau Nüssler.

"For all I care!" said Krischan. "It was from some woman-creature, but I have forgotten the name."

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From a woman!" exclaimed Frau Nüssler, to my son-in-law and eight thalers to pay!"

66

Everything comes to light!" said Bräsig, "even the Pietists get found out!" 'Yes; it all comes out!" said Krischan, going out of the room.

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66

Krischan," Frau Nüssler sprang up, "you must go to Rahnstadt to-morrow with the rye; ask particularly about the name, and I will give you eight thalers, I must have the letter."

Good, Madam," said Krischan, "I will get it."

"Bräsig," cried Frau Nüssler, throwing herself into her arm-chair, so that the poor old thing groaned with her weight, "what has my son-in-law to do with a woman?"

"I don't know," said Bräsig. "I am wholly unacquainted with his affairs, since I don't trouble myself about secrets. Hear to the end, says Kotelmann, to-morrow we shall know."

"But this Gottlieb, this quiet man!" exclaimed Frau Nüssler.

Bräsig!" cried Frau Nüssler, and the old chair shrieked aloud, as she sprang up, "if there is something concealed here, I shall take back my child. If Rudolph had done it, I could have forgiven him, for he is a rough colt, and there is no secrecy about him; but Gottlieb? No, never in my life! One who can set himself up for a saint, and then do such a trick- don't come near me! I want nothing to do with such people!"

And when Gottlieb came to the table that evening, his future mother-in-law looked at him askance, as if she were a shop clerk, and he were trying to cheat her with a bad groschen. And when he asked

As they sat at table next morning, Krischan came to the door, and beckoned to Frau Nüssler; "Madam, Oh, just a word.” And Frau Nüssler motioned to Brasig, and the two old lovers went out with Krischan into the hall.

"Here it is," said Krischan, pulling out a great letter, from his waist-coat pocket," and I know the name of the woman, too."

"Well?" asked Frau Nüssler.

"Yes," whispered Krischan privately into Frau Nüssler's ear. "Mine is her own name, and Sterium is her father's name."

66

"What? Is her name Mine Sterium ?" "Hoho!" cried Brasig, snatching the letter from Frau Nüssler's hand, that comes from ignorance of outlandish names, that is the vocation of the Ministerium," and he opened the door, and shouted into room: "Hurrah! You old Pietist, you! Here it is, and next week is the wedding!"

And Frau Nüssler fell upon old Gottlieb's neck, and kissed him, and cried, "Gottlieb, my dear Gottlieb, I have done you a great wrong: never mind, Gottlieb, Lining shall take up water for you, every evening, and the wedding shall be whenever you please."

"But what is it?" asked Gottlieb.

"No, Gottlieb, I cannot tell you yet; it is too shameful, but when you have been married three years, I will tell you all about it."

The wedding was celebrated, and a great deal might be told about it, how Mining and her sister Lining wept bitterly after the ceremony, how Gottlieb looked really handsome, since Lining had cut off the long locks, like rusty wheel-nails, out of his neck. But I will tell nothing about this wedding, but what I saw myself, and that was, the next morning, at half-past three, the two old friends young Jochen and young Banschan, lying on the sofa, arm in arm, asleep.

Habermann was at the wedding, very silent, his Louise was there also, her inmost heart full of love for her little Lining, but she was also silent, quietly happy; Frau Pastorin had declined her invitation,

but when the guests were crowding about to another, over the gulfs which the world the bride and bridegroom, and Jochen, has torn open, and such a bridge was afterwards, was trying to say a word built between the little, round Pastors' also, the door opened, and the Frau wives, Lining of Rexow, and Frau PasPastorin came in, in her widow's mourn- torin of Rahnstadt; and when the key ing, into the bright marriage joy, and stone was dropped into place, exactly over she threw her arms around Lining's neck the parsonage at Gurlitz, they fell into saying: each other's arms, and held so fast together that to their life's end they were never parted.

"I bless you, I bless you from my heart, and may you be as happy there as I have been. You are now the nearest to him." and she kissed and caressed her, and then turned quickly away, and went, without greeting any one, to the door; there she said, "Habermann!"

But she need not have spoken, for he stood by her already, and when she was in the carriage, he sat by her side, and they drove back to Gurlitz.

And our old Gottlieb ! He did his share, he brought stones and mortar, — he had but a brief experience in the pastoral office; but I must say that, when he preached his entrance sermon, he thought less of himself than of his faithful predecessor, the old Pastor Behrens.

"He sticks to common sense," said Bräsig, as he came out of the church, and he patted Lining's cheek, and gave Mining a kiss. "The pietists often become very reasonable people; but they think too much of the devil. I have a very good pietist acquaintance, that is the Pastor Mehlsack, a really clever man, but he is so

At Gurlitz, they got out of the carriage, the pastor's coachman, Jürn, must wait, and went to the churchyard, and they held each other by the hand, and looked at the green grave, on which bright flowers were growing, and as they turned away, she said with a deep, deep sigh, as when taken up with the devil that he says one has drained a full cup, "Habermann, I am ready," and he placed her in the carriage, and drove with her to Rahnstadt.

They stood for a long time at the window, then Habermann pressed her hand, and said, "Frau Pastorin, I have a favor to ask, I have given notice to Herr von Rambow, and shall leave next Christmas; can you spare me the little gable room, and will you take me at your table?"

At a less agitated moment, she would have had much to ask, and much to say; but now she said merely.

"Where Louise and I live, you are always the nearest."

Yes, so it is in the world, what is one's joy is another's sorrow, and weddings and graves lie close together, and yet the distance between them is wider than between summer heat and winter cold; but there is a wonderful kind of people in the world, if one seeks one can find them,

scarcely anything about the Lord; and there is the pastor in the beautiful Krakow region, who has paddagraphically discovered that there are three hundred, three and thirty thousand different devils running about the world, not counting the regular devil and his grandmother. And you see, Lining, what an inconvenience it is for us: you sit down in Rahnstadt with your good friends around a punch bowl, and you drink to this one, and to that one, and then to another, and at your side sits a gentleman in a brown dress-coat, - for the devil always wears a brown dress-coat, he must, that is his uniform, and he talks, the whole evening, very friendly things to you, and when you wake up next morning there he stands before you, and says, "Good morning! you signed yourself to me last evening," and then he shows you his cloven foot, and if he is polite he takes out his tail, and slaps you over the ears with it, and there you are, his rightful property. So it is with the honest Pietists, the others are a great deal worse."

And so Gottlieb and Lining were settled in the pastor's house, and Mining was naturally much with them, and it often happened that good old Gottlieb embraced Mining. in the twilight, and gave her a kiss, instead of Lining; but it was all in friendship, he had no other design.

But Pomuchelskopp had a design, when he came with his wife and Malchen and Salchen to make their first call on the