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once, à la becquée,'" which, forwant of a better phrase, we translate "chicken fashion."
M. Delbruck, with commendable zeal, at once toils up the hill of Montmartre, and finds there one Madame Vandervin, who makes him witness of her mode of procedure, which was to gather the children about her lap, and feed them in turn. Duly armed with precedent, our projector descends, returns, and conquers.
It is worthy of note, that the little half-moon benches are divided by partitions into stalls. It is, no doubt, useful in securing each his due space, and avoiding cause of quarrel; but it is amusing to see the French system of order applied on so minute a scale. This system of stalles especially is found in Paris, in every place of amusement, and in every omnibus, down to the little one drawn by four goats, which runs, with juvenile passengers, up and down the Champs Elysées.
THE TABLE It must be borne in mind that the institution novelty, the costlier plaything, or the cheaper offwe have described is the model, not the actual hand contrivance to divert the child, the prattled crèche. It is, however, in its main features, nonsense (best sense to it), the wise impertifounded on fact; the garden, the cage of sing-nences, the wholesome lies, the apt story intering-birds, the uniform of the nurses, and one or posed, that puts a stop to present sufferings, and two other subordinate, although important mat- awakens the passions of young wonder. It was ters, being all that distinguishes most of the insti- never sung to; no one ever told to it a tale of the tutions in operation from the standard we have nursery. It was dragged up, to live or die as it presented. These could be added, with the ex- happened. It had no young dreams-it broke at ception, perhaps, of the garden, at inconsiderable once into the iron realities of life. A child exexpense.
ists not for the very poor as any object of dalliCharles Lamb, in one of his Essays, gives a ance; it is only another mouth to be fed, a pair picture of the children of the poor, drawn in dark- of little hands to be betimes inured to labor. It er colors than it seems to us needful to use in is the rival, till it can be the co-operator, for food treating the same topic here. Among the ex- with the parent. It is never his mirth, his divertremely destitute, however, of our large cities, the sion, his solace: it never makes him young again, sketch may, we fear, be often realized.
with recalling his young times. The children of “Poor people,' said a sensible old nurse to us the very poor have no young times." once, do not bring up their children; they drag | How happy a contrast does the crèche present them up. The little careless darling of the to this sad, though exquisitely touched picture! wealthier nursery, in their hovel is transformed There, as the statistics of these institutions prove, betimes into a premature reflecting person. No the child is happy and contented. It has its cheap one has time to dandle it, no one thinks it worth little toys, and better amusement in play-fellows while to coax it, to soothe it, to toss it up and of its own age. If it cries, its wants are relieved, down, to humor it. There is none to kiss away its troubles soothed ; if it is tired, it is gently sung its tears. If it cries, it can only be beaten. It and swung to sleep. Its mother may come to has been prettily said that a babe is fed with nurse it, or if she do not, others will supply the milk and praise.' But the aliment of this poor kindly office of providing nourishment. Its babe was thin, unnourishing—the return to its chances of life are as good, the statistics show, little baby tricks, and efforts to cngage attention, as those of children brought up at home in afflubitter, ceaseless objurgation. It never had a toy, ence, and it is probably quite as happy. The paor knew what a coral meant. It grew up with rental tie is not weakened, for it is only at the out the lullaby of nurses; it was a stranger to the hours when it can not be supplied that the crèche patient fondle, the hushing caress, the attractive proffers its aid.
MEMOIRS OF THE NEWCON
| he was tipsy every night : that he was engaged, MEMOIRS OF A MOST RESPECTABLE FAMILY.
in his sober moments, with dice, the turf, or worse BY W. M. THACKERAY.
amusements : and that his head was so turned by living with Kew and Belsize, that the little rascal's pride and arrogance were perfectly insufferable. Ethel would indignantly deny these charges; then perhaps credit a few of them; and she looked at Clive with melancholy eyes when he came to visit his aunt; and I hope prayed that Heaven might mend his wicked ways. The truth is, the young fellow enjoyed life, as one of his age and spirit might be expected to do; but he did very little harm, and meant less; and was quite unconscious of the reputation which his kind friends were making for him.
There had been a long-standing promise that Clive and his father were to go to Newcome at Christmas : and I dare say Ethel proposed to re
form the young prodigal, if prodigal he was, for CHAPTER XXI.
she busied herself delightedly in preparing the IS SENTIMENTAL BUT SHORT.
apartments which they were to inhabit during W ITHOUT wishing to disparage the youth of their stay-speculated upon it in a hundred pleas
W other nations, I think a well-bred English ant ways, putting off her visit to this pleasant lad has this advantage over them, that his bearing neighbor, or that pretty scene in the vicinage, is commonly more modest than theirs. He does until her uncle should come and they should be not assume the tailcoat and the manners of man- enabled to enjoy the excursion together. And hood too early : he holds his tongue, and listens before the arrival of her relatives, Ethel, with one to his elders: his mind blushes as well as his of her young brothers, went to see Mrs. Mason ; cheeks: he does not know how to make bows and introduced herself as Colonel Newcome's and pay compliments like the young Frenchman; niece; and came back charmed with the old lady, nor to contradict his seniors as I am informed and eager once more in defense of Clive (when American striplings do. Boys who learn nothing that young gentleman's character happened to be else at our public schools, learn at least good called in question by her brother Barnes), for had manners, or what we consider to be such-and, she not seen the kindest letter, which Clive had with regard to the person at present under con- written to old Mrs. Mason, and the beautiful drawsideration, it is certain that all his acquaintances, ing of his father on horseback and in regimentals, excepting perhaps his dear cousin Barnes New waving his sword in front of the gallant -th come, agreed in considering him as a very frank, Bengal Cavalry, which the lad had sent down to manly, modest, and agreeable young fellow. My the good old woman?-He could not be very bad, friend Warrington found a grim pleasure in his Ethel thought, who was so kind and thoughtful company; and his bright face, droll humor, and for the poor. His father's son could not be altokindly laughter, were always welcome in our gether a reprobate. When Mrs. Mason, seeing chambers. Honest Fred Bayham was charmed how good and beautiful Ethel was, and thinking to be in his society; and used pathetically to in her heart, nothing could be too good or beautiarer that he himself might have been such a ful for Clive, nodded her kind old head at Miss youth, had he been blest with a kind father to Ethel, and said she should like to find a husband watch, and good friends to guide, his early career. for her—Miss Ethel blushed, and looked handIn fact, Fred was by far the most didactic of somer than ever ; and at home, when she was Clive's bachelor acquaintances, pursued the young describing the interview, never mentioned this man with endless advice and sermons, and held part of her talk with Mrs. Mason. himself up as a warning to Clive, and a touching But the enfant terrible young Alfred did : anexample of the evil consequences of early idle- nouncing to all the company at dessert, that Ethel ness and dissipation. Gentlemen of much higher was in love with Clive--that Clive was coming rank in the world took a fancy to the lad. Cap- to marry her—that Mrs. Mason, the old woman tain Jack Belsize, introduced him to his own at Newcome, had told him so. mess, as also to the Guard dinner at St. James's; “I daresay she has told the tale all over Newand my Lord Kew invited him to Kewbury, his come !" shrieked out Mr. Barnes. “I daresay it Lordship's house in Oxfordshire, where Clive will be in the Independent next week. By Jove, enjoyed hunting, shooting, and plenty of good it's a pretty connection--and nice acquaintances company. Mrs. Newcome groaned in spirit when this uncle of our's brings us !” A fine battle she heard of these proceedings; and feared, feared ensued upon the receipt and discussion of this very much that that unfortunate young man was intelligence: Barnes was more than usually bitter going to ruin ; and Barnes Newcome amiably and sarcastic: Ethel haughtily recriminated, losing disseminated reports among his family that the her temper, and then her firmness, until, fairly lad was plunged in all sorts of debaucheries: that bursting into tears, she taxed Barnes with mean* Continued from the May Number.
ness and malignity in forever uttering stories to
his cousin's disadvantage; and pursuing with than he had—the society of his son, for the presconstant slander and cruelty one of the very best ent; and a prospect of quiet for his declining of men. She rose and left the table in great trib- days? Binnie vowed that his friend's days had ulation--she went to her room and wrote a letter no business to decline as yet; that a sober man to her uncle, blistered with tears, in which she of fifty ought to be at his best; and that Newbesought him not to come to Newcome.-Per- come had grown older in three years in Europe, haps she went and looked at the apartments which than in a quarter of a century in the East-all she had adorned and prepared for his reception. which statements were true, though the Colonel It was for him and for his company that she was persisted in denying them. eager. She had met no one so generous and He was very restless. He was always finding gentle, so honest and unselfish, until she had business in distant quarters of England. He seen him.
must go visit Tom Barker who was settled in Lady Ann knew the ways of women very well; | Devonshire, or Harry Johnson who had retired and and when Ethel that night, still in great indigna- was living in Wales. He surprised Mrs. Honeytion and scorn against Barnes, announced that man by the frequency of his visits to Brighton, she had written a letter to her uncle, begging the and always came away much improved in health Colonel not to come at Christmas, Ethel's mother by the sea air, and by constant riding with the soothed the wounded girl, and treated her with harriers there. He appeared at Bath and at peculiar gentleness and affection; and she wisely Cheltenham, where, as we know, there are many gave Mr. Barnes to understand, that if he wished old Indians. Mr. Binnie was not indisposed to to bring about that very attachment, the idea of accompany him on some of these jaunts—"prowhich made him so angry, he could use no better vided,” the Civilian said, “you don't take young means than those which he chose to employ at Hopeful, who is much better without us; and let present, of constantly abusing and insulting poor us two old fogies enjoy ourselves together." Clive, and awakening Ethel's sympathies by mere Clive was not sorry to be left alone. The faopposition. And Ethel's sad little letter was ex- ther knew that only too well. The young man tracted from the post-bag: and her mother brought had occupations, ideas, associates, in whom the it to her, sealed, in her own room, where the elder could take no interest. Sitting below in young lady burned it : being easily brought by his blank, cheerless bedroom, Newcome could Lady Ann's quiet remonstrances to perceive that hear the lad and his friends talking, singing, and it was best no allusion should take place to the making merry, overhead. Something would be silly dispute which had occurred that evening; said in Clive's well-known tones, and a roar of and that Clive and his father should come for the laughter would proceed from the youthful comChristmas holidays, if they were so minded. But pany. They had all sorts of tricks, by-words, when they came, there was no Ethel at Newcome. waggeries, of which the father could not underShe was gone on a visit to her sick aunt, Lady stand the jest nor the secret. He longed to share Julia. Colonel Newcome passed the holidays in it, but the party would be hushed if he went sadly without his young favorite, and Clive con- in to join it—and he would come away sad at soled himself by knocking down pheasants with heart, to think that his presence should be a sigSir Brian's keepers : and increased his cousin's nal for silence among them; and that his son attachment for him by breaking the knees of could not be merry in his company. Barne's favorite mare out hunting. It was a We must not quarrel with Clive and Clive's dreary entertainment; father and son were glad friends, because they could not joke and be free enough to get away from it, and to return to their in the presence of the worthy gentleman. If own humbler quarters in London.
they hushed when he came in, Thomas Newcome's Thomas Newcome had now been for three years sad face would scem to look round-appealing to in the possession of that felicity which his soul one after another of them, and asking, “why don't longed after; and had any friend of his asked him you go on laughing ?" A company of old comif he was happy, he would have answered in the rades shall be merry and laughing together, and affirmative no doubt, and protested that he was the entrance of a single youngster will stop the in the enjoyment of every thing a reasonable man conversation-and if men of middle age feel this could desire. And yet, in spite of his happiness, restraint with our juniors, the young ones surely his honest face grew more melancholy: his loose have a right to be silent before their elders. The clothes hung only the looser on his lean limbs : boys are always mum under the eyes of the usher. he ate his meals without appetite : his nights There is scarce any parent, however friendly or were restless : and he would sit for hours silent tender with his children, but must feel sometimes in the midst of his family, so that Mr. Binnie first that they have thoughts which are not his or hers; began jocularly to surmise that Tom was crossed and wishes and secrets quite beyond the parentai in love ; then seriously to think that his health control: and, as people are vain, long after they was suffering, and that a doctor should be called are fathers, ay, or grandfathers, and not seldom to see him ; and at last to agree that idleness fancy that mere personal desire of domination is was not good for the Colonel, and that he missed overweening anxiety and love for their family ; the military occupation to which he had been for no doubt that common outcry against thankless so many years accustomed.
children might often be shown to prove, not that The Colonel insisted that he was perfectly the son is disobedient, but the father too exacting. happy and contented. What could he want more / When a mother (as fond mothers often will) vows that she knows every thought in her daughter's, Ulysses he could understand ; but what were heart, I think she pretends to know a great deal these prodigious laudations bestowed on it? And too much ;-nor can there be a wholesomer task that reverence for Mr. Wordsworth, what did it for the elders, as our young subjects grow up, mean? Had he not written Peter Bell, and naturally demanding liberty and citizen's rights, been turned into deserved ridicule by all the rethan for us gracefully to abdicate our sovereign views? Was that dreary Excursion to be compretensions and claims of absolute control. There's pared to Goldsmith's Traveler, or Doctor Johnmany a family chief who governs wisely and son's Imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal ? gently, who is loth to give the power up when If the young men told the truth, where had been he should. Ah, be sure, it is not youth alone the truth in his own young days; and in what that has need to learn humility! By their very ignorance had our forefathers been brought up? virtues, and the purity of their lives, many good —Mr. Addison was only an elegant essayist, and parents create flatterers for themselves, and so shallow trifler! All these opinions were openly live in the midst of a filial court of parasites— uttered over the Colonel's claret, as he and Mr. and seldom without a pang of unwillingness, and Binnie sat wondering at the speakers, who were often not at all, will they consent to forego their knocking the gods of their youth about their autocracy, and exchange the tribute they have ears. To Binnie the shock was not so great ; been won't to exact of love and obedience for the the hard-headed Scotchman had read Hume in willing offering of love and freedom.
his college days, and sneered at some of the gods Our good Colonel was not of the tyrannous, even at that early time. But with Newcome the but of the loving order of fathers : and having admiration for the literature of the last century fixed his whole heart upon this darling youth, was an article of belief: and the incredulity of his son, was punished, as I suppose such worldly the young men seemed rank blasphemy. “You and selfish love ought to be punished (so Mr. will be sneering at Shakspeare next," he said : Honeyman says, at least, in his pulpit), by a and was silenced, though not better pleased, hundred little mortifications, disappointments, when his youthful guests told him, that Doctor and secret wounds, which stung not the less se- Goldsmith sneered at him too ; that Dr. Johnson verely, though never mentioned by their victim. did not understand him, and that Congreve, in
Sometimes he would have a company of such his own day and afterwards, was considered to gentlemen as Messrs. Warrington, Honeyman, be, in some points, Shakspeare's superior. “What and Pendennis, when haply a literary conversa- do you think a man's criticism is worth, sir," tion would ensue after dinner; and the merits cries Mr. Warrington, “who says those lines of our present poets and writers would be dis- of Mr. Congreve, about a churchcussed with the claret. Honeyman was well
How reverend is the face of yon tall pile, enough read in profane literature, especially of
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, the lighter sort ; and, I daresay, could have To bear alon its vast and ponderous roof, passed a satisfactory examination in Balzac,
By its own weight made stedfast and immovable ; Dumas, and Paul de Kock himself, of all whose
Looking tranquillity. It strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight'-et cæteraworks our good host was entirely ignorant,-as indeed he was of graver books, and of earlier what do you think of a critic who says those lines books, and of books in general-except those few are finer than any thing Shakspeare ever wrote ?" which we have said formed his traveling library. | A dim consciousness of danger for Clive, a terror He heard opinions that amazed and bewildered that his son had got into the society of heretics him. He heard that Byron was no great poet, and unbelievers, came over the Colonel-and though a very clever man. He heard that there then presently, as was the wont with his modest had been a wicked persecution against Mr. Pope's soul, a gentle sense of humility. He was in the memory and fame, and that it was time to rein- wrong, perhaps, and these younger men were state him : that his favorite, Dr. Johnson, right. Who was he, to set up his judgment talked admirably, but did not write English : against men of letters, educated at College? It that young Keats was a genius to be estimated was better that Clive should follow them than in future days with young Raphael : and that a him, who had had but a brief schooling, and that young gentleman of Cambridge who had lately neglected, and who had not the original genius published two volumes of verses, might take of his son's brilliant companions. We particurank with the greatest poets of all. Doctor John- larize these talks, and the little incidental mortison not write English! Lord Byron not one of fications which one of the best of men endured, the greatest poets of the world! Sir Walter a not because the conversations are worth the repoet of the second order! Mr. Pope attacked membering or recording, but because they presfor inferiority and want of imagination! Mr. ently very materially influenced his own and his Keats and this young Mr. Tennyson of Cam-son's future history. bridge, the chief of modern poetic literature! In the midst of the artists and their talk the What were these new dicta, which Mr. Warring- poor Colonel was equally in the dark. They aston delivered with a puff of tobacco-smoke: to saulted this academician and that; laughed at which Mr. Honeyman blandly assented and Clive Mr. Haydon, or sneered at Mr. Eastlake, or the listened with pleasure? Such opinions were not contrary-deified Mr. Turner on one side of the of the Colonel's time. He tried in vain to con- table, and on the other scorned him as a madman strue Enone; and to make sense of Lamia. —nor could Newcome comprehend a word of
their jargon. Some sense their must be in their can't I love the things which he loves ?” thought conversation : Clive joined eagerly in it and took Newcome; “why am I blind to the beauties one side or another. But what was all this rap- which he admires so much-and am I unable to ture about a snuffy-brown picture called Titian, comprehend what he evidently understands at his this delight in three flabby nymphs by Rubens, | young age ?" and so forth? As for the vaunted Antique, and So, as he thought what vain egotistical hopes the Elgin marbles-it might be that that battered he used to form about the boy when he was away torso was a miracle, and that broken-nosed bust in India-how in his plans for the happy future, a perfect beauty. He tried and tried to see that Clive was to be always at his side ; how they they were. He went away privily and worked were to read, work, play, think, be merry toat the National Gallery with a catalogue : and gether—a sickening and humiliating sense of the passed hours in the Museum before the ancient reality came over him: and he sadly contrasted statues desperately praying to comprehend them, it with the former fond anticipations. Together and puzzled before them as he remembered he they were, yet he was alone still. His thoughts was puzzled before the Greek rudiments as a were not the boy's: and his affections rewarded child, when he cried over ó kal in ảanons KaL TO but with a part of the young man's heart. Very danes. Whereas when Clive came to look at likely other lovers have suffered equally. Many these same things his eyes would lighten up with a man and woman has been incensed and worpleasure, and his cheeks flush with enthusiasm. shiped, and has shown no more feeling than is He seemed to drink in color as he would a feast to be expected from idols. There is yonder of wine. Before the statues he would wave his statue in St. Peter's, of which the toe is worn finger, following the line of grace, and burst into away with kisses, and which sits, and will sit ejaculations of delight and admiration. “Why eternally, prim and cold. As the young man