You'll see, some day or other, he's a great son- | clergy and multitudes of faithful to back and benet, Sir, I'm sure of that. Milton wrote in bronze;lieve them? Thus you shall kiss the hand of a I am sure Virgil polished off his Georgics in mar-priest to-day, who has given his to a friar whose ble-sweet calm shapes! exquisite harmonies of bones are already beginning to work miracles, line! As for the Eneid; that, Sir, I consider to who has been the disciple of another whom the be so many bas-reliefs, mural ornaments which Church has just proclaimed a saint-hand in hand affect me not much. they hold by one another till the line is lost up in heaven. Come, friend, let us acknowledge this, and go and kiss the toe of St. Peter. Alas! there's the Channel always between us; and we no more believe in the miracles of St. Thomas of Canterbury, than that the bones of His Grace, John Bird, who sits in St. Thomas's chair presently, will work wondrous cures in the year 2000: that his statue will speak, or his portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence will wink. I! "I think I have lost sight of St. Peter's, haven't Yet it is big enough. How it makes your heart beat when you first see it! Ours did as we came in at night from Civita Vecchia, and saw a great ghostly darkling dome rising solemnly up into the gray night, and keeping us company ever so long as we drove, as if it had been an orb fallen out of heaven with its light put out. As you look at it from the Pincio, and the sun sets behind it, surely that aspect of earth and sky is one of the grandest in the world. I don't like to say that the façade of the church is ugly and obtrusive. As long as the dome overawes, that façade is supportable. You advance toward it through, O, such a noble court! with fountains flashing up to meet the sunbeams; and right and left of you two sweeping half-crescents of great columns; but you pass by the courtiers and up to the steps of the throne, and the dome seems to disappear behind it. It is as if the throne was upset, and the king had toppled over. "There must be moments, in Rome especially, when every man of friendly heart, who writes himself English and Protestant, must feel a pang at thinking that he and his countrymen are insulated from European Christendom. An ocean separates us. From one shore or the other one can see the neighbor cliffs on clear days: one must wish sometimes that there were no stormy gulf between us; and from Canterbury to Rome a pilgrim could pass, and not drown beyond Do ver. "So, you see, at those grand ceremonies which the Roman church exhibits at Christmas, I looked on as a Protestant. Holy Father on his throne or in his palanquin, cardinals with their tails and their train-bearers, mitred bishops and abbots, regiments of friars and clergy, relics exposed for adoration, columns draped, altars illuminated, incense smoking, organs pealing, and boxes of piping soprani, Swiss guards with slashed breeches and fringed halberts-between us and all this splendor of old-world ceremony, there's an ocean flowing and yonder old statue of Peter might have been Jupiter again, surrounded by a procession of flamens and augurs, and Augustus as Pontifex Maximus, to inspect the sacrifices-and my feelings at the spectacle had been doubtless pretty much the same. "Shall I utter any more heresies? I am an unbeliever in Raphael's Transfiguration-the scream of that devil-possessed boy, in the lower part of the figure of eight (a stolen boy too), jars the whole music of the composition. On Michael Of the beautiful parts of the great Mother Angelo's great wall the grotesque and terrible are Church I believe among us many people have no not out of place. What an awful achievement! idea: we think of lazy friars, of pining cloistered Fancy the state of mind of the man who worked virgins, of ignorant peasants worshiping wood and it-as alone, day after day, he devised and drew stones, bought and sold indulgences, absolutions, those dreadful figures! Suppose in the days of and the like com non-places of Protestant satire. the Olympian dynasty, the subdued Titan rebels Lo! yonder inscription, which blazes round the had been set to ornament a palace for Jove, they dome of the temple, so great and glorious it looks would have brought in some such tremendous like heaven almost, and as if the words were writ- work: or suppose that Michael descended to the ten in stars, it proclaims to all the world that Shades, and brought up this picture out of the this is Peter, and on this rock the Church shall be halls of Limbo. I like a thousand and a thousand built, against which Hell shall not prevail. Under times better to think of Raphael's loving spirit. the bronze canopy his throne is lit with lights As he looked at women and children, his beautithat have been burning before it for ages. Round ful face must have shone like sunshine; his kind this stupendous chamber are ranged the grandees hand must have caressed the sweet figures as of his court. Faith seems to be realized in their he formed them. If I protest against the Transmarble figures. Some of them were alive but yes- figuration, and refuse to worship at that altar beterday: others, to be as blessed as they, walk the fore which so many generations have knelt, there world even now doubtless; and the commission- are hundreds of others which I salute thankfully. ers of heaven, here holding their court a hundred It is not so much in the set harangues (to take years hence, shall authoritatively announce their another metaphor), as in the daily tones and talk beatification. The signs of their power shall not that his voice is so delicious. Sweet poetry, and be wanting. They heal the sick, open the eyes music, and tender hymns drop from him he lifts of the blind, cause the lame to walk to-day as they his pencil, and something gracious falls from it did eighteen centuries ago. Are there not crowds on the paper. How noble his mind must have ready to bear witness to their wonders? Isn't been! it seems but to receive, and his eye seems there a tribunal appointed to try their claims; ad-only to rest on, what is great, and generous, and vocates to plead for and against; prelates and lovely. You walk through crowded galleries, VOL. IX.-No. 53.-S s where are pictures ever so large and pretentious, most ever since he was born. All his family were models. His mother having been a Venus, is now a Witch of Endor. His father is in the patriarchal line: he has himself done the cherubs, the shepherd-boys, and now is a grown man, and ready as a warrior, a pifferaro, a capuchin, or what you will. and come upon a gray paper, or a little fresco, bearing his mark—and over all the brawl and the throng you recognize his sweet presence. I would like to have been Giulio Romano,' J. J. says (who does not care for Giulio's pictures?), 'because then I would have been Raphael's favorite pupil.' We agreed that we would rather have seen him and William Shakspeare than all the men we ever read of. Fancy poisoning a fellow out of envy-as Spagnoletto did! There are some men whose admiration takes that bilious shape. There's a fellow in our mess at the Lepre, a clever enough fellow too-and not a bad fellow to the poor. He was a Gandishite. He is a genre and portrait painter by the name of Haggard. He hates J. J. because Lord Fareham, who is here, has given J. J. an order; and he hates me, because I wear a clean shirt, and ride a cockhorse. tor. "I wish you could come to our mess at the Lepre. It's such a dinner! such a table-cloth! such a waiter! such a company! Every man has a beard and a sombrero: and you would fancy we were a band of brigands. We are regaled with woodcocks, snipes, wild swans, ducks, robins, and owls and oiwvoioi te não for dinner: and with three pauls worth of wines and victuals, the hungriest has enough, even Claypole the sculpDid you ever know him? He used to come to the Haunt. He looks like the Saracen's head with his beard now. There is a French table still more hairy than ours, a German table, an American table. After dinner we go and have coffee and mezzo-caldo at the Café Greco over the way. Mezzo-caldo is not a bad drink-a little rum-a slice of fresh citron-lots of pounded sugar, and boiling water for the rest. Here, in various parts of the cavern (it is a vaulted, low place), the various nations have their assigned quarters, and we drink our coffee and strong waters, and abuse Guido, or Rubens, or Bernini, selon les gouts, and blow such a cloud of smoke as would make Warrington's lungs dilate with pleasure. We get very good cigars for a bajoccho and half-that is very good for us, cheap tobacconalians; and capital when you have got no others. M'Collop is here: he made a great figure at a cardinal's reception in the tartan of the M Collop. He is splendid at the tomb of the Stuarts, and wanted to cleave Haggard down to the chine with his claymore for saying that Charles Edward was often drunk. "Some of us have our breakfasts at the Café Greco at dawn. The birds are very early birds here: and you'll see the great sculptors-the old Dons, you know, who look down on us young fellows, at their coffee here when it is yet twilight. As I am a swell, and have a servant, J. J. and I breakfast at our lodgings. I wish you could see Terribile our attendant, and Ottavia our old woman! You will see both of them on the canvas one day. When he hasn't blacked our boots and has got our breakfast, Terribile the valetde-chambre becomes Terribile the model. He has figured on a hundred canvases ere this, and al "After the coffee and the Café Greco we all go to the Life Academy. After the Life Academy, those who belong to the world dress and go out to tea-parties just as if we were in London. Those who are not in society have plenty of fun of their own--and better fun than the teaparty fun too. Jack Screwby has a night once a week, sardines and ham for supper, and a cask of Marsala in the corner. Your humble servant entertains on Thursdays: which is Lady Fitch's night too; and I flatter myself some of the London dandies who are passing the winter here, prefer the cigars and humble liquors which we dispense, to tea and Miss Fitch's performance on the pianoforte. "What is that I read in Galignani about Lord K- and an affair of honor at Baden? Is it my dear, kind, jolly Kew with whom some one has quarreled? I know those who will be even more grieved than I am, should any thing happen to the best of good fellows. A great friend of Lord Kew's, Jack Belsize commonly called, came with us from Baden through Switzerland, and we left him at Milan. I see by the paper that his elder brother is dead, and so poor Jack will be a great man some day. I wish the chance had happened sooner if it was to befall at all. So my amiable cousin, Barnes Newcome Newcome, Esq., has married my lady Clara Pulleyn; I wish her joy of her bridegroom. All I have heard of that family is from the newspaper. If you meet them, tell me any thing about them. We had a very pleasant time altogether at Baden. I suppose the accident to Kew will put off his marriage with Miss Newcome. They have been engaged, you know, ever so long-And-do, do write to me and tell me something about London. It's best I should stay here and work this winter and the next. J. J. has done a famous picture, and if I send a couple home, you'll give them a notice in the Pall Mall Gazette,' won't you? for the sake of old times, and yours affectionately, "CLIVE NEWCOME." A TRUE STORY, THOUGH A FAIRY TALE. THERE are few who reside in Ireland, and who have mixed much with the poor of that country, who do not see the truth of what is so often said, that "they are a most superstitious race." If any thing extraordinary occurs in a family, immediately it is said, "The fairies did it." If a child is left with one not half old enough to take care of it, and any accident happens to it, the fairies did it; if a cow is going to calve, a piece of red worsted must be tied round the tail to prevent the "good ladies" taking the butter; if that animal gets sick, the owner must go to the nearest fairy lake, to offer a piece of rope that has been used with the cow, and some prints of butter, which are thrown upon the water. In fact, they as firmly believe in the tradition of the good spirits, as they do in the existence of a God. I was most forcibly struck with this fact while witnessing a scene which I will endeavor to describe. When sitting one morning at breakfast during my stay at Park, in the county of Mayo, I was disturbed by the entrance of the servant, who informed me that one of the tenants was most anxious to see me; but as this was no uncommon event, from the circumstance of my being constantly in the habit of visiting among the poor people on my uncle's property, and administering to their bodily wants in sickness, I merely told the man to say I was at breakfast, and begged the applicant to wait in the hall until I had finished. The servant left the room, but soon returned, saying that Thomas Gardiner was in a state of great excitement, and hoped I would not lose a moment in coming to him. Accordingly I left the table and hurried to the hall, where I found the poor old man with his hair hanging about his shoulders, and looking quite distracted. This person was one of that class of men so often styled in Ireland "a bettermost farmer” — -one who is able to hold a farm of twenty acres of land, keep his horse and cart, his three cows, and some pigs; in short, what is most generally termed by the people "a snug man.' He was always to be seen on Sunday, with his good frieze coat and felt hat, seeming quite content with himself and the whole world besides; he was to be seen also on the rent days, punctually paying his half year, and was always spoken of as one of the best tenants on the property. To see him, therefore, in this state of mind was, of course, a matter of great surprise to me. It is true that I know Tom had not been without his trials; he had early been deprived of a thrifty wife, who left him with three fine children, two boys and a girl; but after bringing them up respectably under the guidance of a good, steady woman-servant, he had married his daughter to a wealthy farmer near Westport, and placed his eldest boy Charles in the police force. Then, with his youngest son, he thought himself happy at home; but this happiness did not long continue. Tom the younger took a violent fancy to go to America, and wrote to his brother begging of him to come home and take his place at the fireside, which, accordingly, he did; and it was about three months after this event that the circumstance which I am about to relate occurred. The youngest son had sailed, and although the old man was not left without one to console him, he still mourned the departure of his favorite child. "Well, Gardiner," I exclaimed, on entering the hall, "what is the matter? I am sorry to see you look so agitated." 66 Oh, nonsense, man! Come, you must rouse yourself, and tell me what has happened." "Oh, it is a hard task; but how can I begin? Sure you will give me your advice. I know you will, as you are always kind and good to us poor people. It is a sad story I have to tell; but ye know the lake which is just behind our house, about which those beings dwell called the fairies. Well, sure enough, they have been busy of late, and now they have taken away my fine son Charles-one I thought strong enough to fight them all down, and beat even Finmacool itself;* he went out as well as I am this blessed day, and a good deal better, by the same token, for troth I am not fit for much after all I have gone through the last forty-eight hours. Well, as I was saying, he went out riding on the mare, just to drive the cows to the field and let out the beast, without his coat and with a straw rope round the head of the animal; but he did not come back to us either to breakfast or dinner; so Peggy and I went out over the brae, calling him till we were tired, but no answer came. There was the mare, with the halter on, and the cows grazing in the field, but no trace of Charles. We went to the neighbors' houses to inquire for him, but not a bit could we see or hear of him. Well, it was soon known abroad, and some of the neighbors said "the ladies" were seen with their golden coach out that night, and the noise of wheels were heard round the road we used to go; but sure I would not give in to all this, and said he had gone out fowling with a neighbor's boy he used to go over the hills with. But sure I found his fowling-piece was in the corner at home, and I felt quite bewildered. In vain we searched; and when it grew dark, poor Peggy and I had nothing to do but sit by the fire and cry all the night long. Well,' says Peggy, by the first light I will be off to the priest and see what his reverence will do to get him back from "the ladies;" for sure if they had not got him hard and tight he would have been back before this. Oh! oh! but they are wonderful people.' Well, the night seemed a month to us; but as the first dawn of morning appeared, we bounded up from our seats and opened the door. Well,' says Peggy, 'his reverence won't be in good humor if I disturb him too early; but come, let us have another look over the hill toward the lake side, but be sure not to make any noise to alarm "the good folk." Do you take one side of the hill, and I will take the other.' Off we set, and just as we reached the brow of the hill, and were going to separate, Peggy saw the figure of a man sitting on one of the hillocks among the rocks, his arms stretched out toward us. We ran up, and there he was, but not himself at all: his eyes glaring, his cheeks swollen, and not a word could he speak, but he roared like a bull. He made an effort to rise, but, sinking back, he groaned heavily. Oh, Peggy dear, what will we do?' said I, what will we do?' 'Here,' said she, let us take him to the house, for sure he is stone-cold after being out all night, and maybe they have * Finmacool, the Irish giant. 6 done with him now.' So up we took him, she now and then. Two men stood by his bedside holding the feet and I the body, till we got him to prevent him from throwing himself out on the up to the cottage, at the sight of which he bel-floor. lowed again. When we tried to make him stand, it was all to no use; but, crawling on hands and knees, he made his way into the sleeping-room, signing to us that he wished to get into bed; so we put him in, and then he fell to snoring that you could hear him a mile off, and now betimes he is fighting with his arms at a great rate, and I don't know what to think; perhaps you will step over and see him." "To be sure I will, Gardiner," I exclaimed; "but have you sent for a doctor yet?" "Oh no, madam, I was ashamed that any one should see him in the state he is in; and I thought after the sleep he would be better a bit; but he is just as bad this morning, and I am fretted to death." It struck me at once that the poor patient was suffering from concussion of the brain, and I urged them to send for medical assistance immediately. The whole house was up in arms; they would have no such thing as a doctor; he could do no good. However, being determined to have my own way (and what woman has not?), I made my exit, and, hastening to the barn, got a youth, on promise of a shilling, to ride for the doctor. Being glad of the opportunity to reason with those present against the existence of such beings as fairies, I endeavored to show them, from the word of God, the falsity of such things, and how wrong it was to pray to and believe in fairy spirits. I told them that God in his providence ruleth over all things, and even as a sparrow could not fall to the ground without his permission, I trusted they would yet be enabled to "Well, Tom, just go to the stable and order out my pony, and I will see what can be done for the poor fellow, though I do not clearly un-trace the accident to its true and proper cause. derstand what is the matter yet; we must try and trace this unfortunate circumstance to its true cause, and not attribute to the power of fairies what has certainly a natural origin." Poor Tom left me to return to his sad home, and as soon as the pony was ready, without waiting to finish my breakfast I started for the scene of this adventure. The cottage was situated in a distant part of the parish, on a rocky eminence toward those beautiful lakes which travelers never fail to visit, called the Pontoon. While waiting for the arrival of the doctor, I wandered to the spot where the young man was discovered, and there the mystery was soon explained. The horse having evidently made a false step, had slidden some length down from the top of the hill, and thrown its rider on a large rock which lay at the bottom, for marks of hair and blood were on the rock. After striking the stone, he rolled over into some high heather, which grew near the spot, and thus he was hid Iden from view. Stopping at a small lane called a "bohreen" On the doctor's arrival my opinion was conwhich ran from the public road, I left the car-firmed; and after the usual remedies were reriage in charge of the servant and pursued my way to the cabin. I was soon followed by numbers of the country people, all anxious to know what I thought of the affair. 'Oh," said one, "she will not believe in the good people; but sure it is no other than them that has got him, and it's not himself there that is in it at all; but Peggy will be back shortly, and I'll be bound, if it is any one gets him back, it's the priest that will; the holy cross be between us and harm! Sure it was a terrible thing to take so fine a lad from his father. The train increased until we reached the cabin, on entering which I was surprised to see a house full of people. A number of old women sat on stools round the fire, all going through various antics; some, with their hair white as snow, hanging about their shoulders, with beads in their hands, sorted to, much against the consent of all present but myself, the young man was restored to health again, and was able in a short time to leave his native shores, with his father, for America, to join the youngest son. Many were the prayers offered up, and the blessings invocated for me; but I could not help thinking how sad it was to see the hearts of those confiding people drawn away from the true God, and left in such gross darkness. Much of that darkness has, I know, been removed from the west by the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, and aided, I will say, by many valuable books distributed among the poor; and I trust the exertions may not be slackened for the Irish peasantry, whom all must allow to be a thinking and a reading people. MY BROOCH. HAVE in my possession an article of jewelry were praying most earnestly; some with pieces which costs me many an uncomfortable twinge, of old nails, red cloth, and horse-shoes, were speaking as if to themselves, while others were singing a low ditty to put the queen of the fairies in good humor. though it was certainly not stolen. Neither was it begged, borrowed, given, or bought; yet looking at it, I often feel myself in the position of Who are these, and what are they doing?" I the old man in the nursery tale, who, having inquired. peculated from some churchyard a stray ulna, or clavicle, was perpetually haunted by the voice of its defunct owner, crying, in most unearthly tones, Give me my bone." Now, the ornament that has unluckily fallen to my lot-I picked it up in the street-is a miniature-brooch, set with small garnets, in heavy antique gold. It is evidently MY BROOCH. GENERAL University 637 ing in kindly courtesy to the painter as he drew a portrait of somebody or other's great-grand- the observant artist would fain have immortalized, It was moonlight, of course; and her silvery majesty was so powerful that I had drawn the "draperies of my couch" quite close, to shut her out; nevertheless, as I looked on the white curtains at the foot of the bed, I saw growing there I can find no better word-an image like -what shall I say?-like the dissolving views now so much the rage. It seemed to form itself out of nothing, and gradually assume a distinct shape. Lo it was my miniature-brooch, enlarged into a goodly-sized apparition; the garnet setting giving forth glimmers of light, by which I saw the figure within, half-human, half-etherial, waving to and fro like vapor, but still preserving the attitude and likeness of the portrait. Certainly, if a ghost, it was the very prettiest ghost ever seen. There was a hasty summons from the Earl, "That himself and Sir Anthony desired the presence of the Lady Jean." An expression half of pain, half of anger, crossed her face, as she replied, "Say that I attend my father. I believe," she added, "we must end the sitting for to-day. Will you leave the miniature here, Mr. Bethune?" The artist muttered something about working on it at home, with Lady Jean's permission; and as one of the attendants touched me, he snatched me up with such anxiety that he had very nearly destroyed his own work. I believe it is etiquette for apparitions only to speak when spoken to; so I suppose I must have "Ah! 'twould be unco like her bonnie face addressed mine. But my phantom and I held no gin she were as blithe as she was this morn. distinct conversation; and in all I remember of But that canna be, wi' a dour father like the Earl, the interview the speech was entirely on its side, and an uncomely, wicked wooer like Sir Ancommunicated by snatches, like breathings of anthony. Hech, sir, but I am wae for the Leddy Eolian harp, and thus chronicled by me: How was I created, and by whom? Young gentlewoman (I honor you by using a word peculiar to my day, when the maidens were neither "misses" 66 nor 'young ladies," but essentially gentlewomen), I derived my birth from the two greatest Powers on earth-Genius and Love; but I will speak more plainly. It was a summer day such summers one never sees now-that I came to life under my originator's hand. He sat painting in a quaint old library, and the image before him was the original of what you see. Jean!" I know not why Norman should have listened to the "auld wife's clavers," nor why, as he carried me home, I should have felt his heart beating against me to a degree that sadly endangered my young tender life. I suppose it was his sorrow for having thus spoiled my half-dry colors that made him not show me to his mother, though she asked him, and also from the same cause that he sat half the night contemplating the injury thus done. Again and again the young artist went to the castle, and my existence slowly grew from day to day; though never was there a painting whose infancy lasted so long. Yet I loved my creator, tardy though he was, for I felt that he loved me, and that in every touch of his pencil he infused into me some portion of his soul. Often they came and stood together, the artist and the Earl's daughter, looking at me. They talked, she dropping the aristocratic hauteur, which hid a somewhat immature mind, ignorant less from will than from circumstance and neglect. While he, forgetting his worldly rank, rose to that which naMany a time during that first day of my exist- ture and genius gave him. Thus both unconence I heard the sweet voice of Lady Jean talk-sciously fell into their true position as man and A look at myself will explain much; that my creator was a young, self-taught, and as yet only half-taught, artist, who, charmed with the expression, left accurate drawing to take its chance. His sitter's character and fortune are indicated too though she was not beautiful, sweetness and dignity are in the large dark eyes and finelypenciled eyebrows; and while the pearls, the velvet, and the lace, show wealth and rank, the rose in her bosom implies simple maidenly tastes. Thus the likeness tells its own tale-she was an Earl's daughter, and he was a poor artist. |