CHAPTER XIX.

Otago Witness, Issue 559, 16 August 1862, Page 7

CHAPTER XIX.

I AM KIJSUSCITATKD. We remained in London for some weeks Katty had employed a icspectable solicitor in my behalf and there appeared to be so many declarations and affidavits necessary to prove that I was alive, that I declare in' the end I began in reality to doubt my own existence. Ka'tty made light of this— and indeed lam not quite certain whether she did not rather enjoy it than otherwise. She looked upon herself in the light of a public character, and every fresh step that was taken for the establishment of my identity, appeared to imbue her with additional exultation. " Come along, Chris, my dear," she would say, "we've got to make another afferdavey. We'll show 'em what's what ;"' and she would dress herself in her best, and altogether comport herself as if thedestinies of the entire peerage werehanging upon the evidence. It was a great sight to" see her, bible in hand, ask knotty questions as to f.ie meaning of any particular word, aud the determination with which she insisted upon the elimination of any term, the meaning of which could not be satisfactorily explained to her comprehension. After every such errand she would exclaim " We've bothered 'em this time, Chris," or "Now we've settled em," and her honest eyes would light up with innocent exultation. There are many like thee dear old Katty, witli coarse rough hands and plain — i™v, # ugly face?, but with tender honest tiuth shining in their eyes' There are many like thee. living their common, homely lives in this motly world, needing no grammatical grace to prove the goodness and the love that nestle in their hearts !

But no immediate good came of our endeavours. It was certainly a satisfactory point lo arrive at when our lawyer announced to us that the verdict which had declared Christopher Congleton to be drowi c 1 had been set aside. and the words " some person unknown" su'. - stituted for my name. That was certain I}'1 }' satisfactory . •' But goodness bless me !" r's Katty remarked after the receipt of this intelligence. "• That ain't of much u«e to us, Chris. No one couldn't make me believe that you weren't my own Jittle boy that I nursed from a baby. But where's all the property Chris ?'" And she would gaze about her in a perplexe.l confused manner, as if she were not quite certain that it was not concealed in the ceiling, or the carpet, or in .some part of the >vnin"coating. The day following the announcement ofthi« piece of intelligence, Mr Ridcards, our lawyer, requested us to accompany him to ih, ■ offices of Messrs. Swale and Sollery, for the purpose of endeavoiii g to extract from f lose gentlemen some clue a* to the whereabouts of Mr. Quarry. They were very polite to us, in fact, as Katty said, rather too polite after the fright she had given them upon our last visit. Did they know where Mr. Quarry lived ? Yes, they did know; that is to say they knew where that gentleman's residence was, up to within a fortnight of the present time. Would they favor Mr, Richards with the address? With the greatest pleasure in life. Was not Mr Quarry a client of theirs? Well, although this was not a question to which courtesy co lid demand an answer, they had no objection to state that Mr. Quarry had been a client of theirs, but the business upon which he had employed them was concluded, and all accounts squared up. Of course they were aware that 1 was not drowned, and that I stood before them, well and hearty? They had heard something of it, but this did not alter their privf ti opinions in the least. As they stoqd befoie us, the one twitching at the skin of his throat, and the other grinding away at his nails, I bethought myself of the paper they had made me fci;;n as to their getting fifty per cet.t of all pi operty received by them, and I wbis^red to Katty that perhaps it would be best to get back the document. 'She, communicating the circumstances to Mr. Rickarck he asked Messis. Swale and Sollery if tiny would be kind enough to return it, to which they replied they should have been most happy, but they had m slaid it, probably it was burnt. Having concluded which interrogations, there

was a pause. " Have you anything more to ask?" asked Mr. Sewell, mildly. " Nothing more, gentlemen, nothing more. I am obliged to you," replied Mr. Rickards. "Have you anything more to ask?" asked

Mr. iSevvdi, turning rouni suddenly upon Kartv.

"(Oh no," said Katty, contemptuously, she did'itt want to ask nothing mo'e. " Very well mi'ain," then cried Mr. Scwell, ferociously. >■ Air. Sollery, oblige me by goin» for a iioliecnm. Now, ma'am, if you trespass upon my promises two minutes longer F will srhd you to tho lock-up." I've got two distinct ecu it; against you — a---«ult nnd trc*p:iss Have the kindness to remain here unt'l Mr. Sollery comes, and I'll lm\c you dra^al along the streets to the watch house."

We had to prevent Katty's indignation bursting out, and I would not have given a great deal for the little rascal's chance of a whole skin if Mr. Richard had not restrained her.

( "Keep her off— keep her off!" cried Mr. Swale, dodting behind a chair. " Keep her off, Mr. Rick mis. I take you to witness I am i.i (Linger of my life. I'll swear the peace against her."

"Only let me get at the little villain," gasped Katty. "If \ou do," screamed Mr. Swale, keeping the chair well before him, "I hold you responsible. Ah] would you?"

Laugh uu hiartilv all the time, Mr. Richards managed to ! get Katty into the pas -.age, and thence into the s'leaf.* When «=he l,al cooled down .she joined in the merriment, and, in the best of sp-.ritF. we wended oik way towards the Minoiies, which w.is the ail dress siren by I Mes-rs Swale and Sollery as the rej-idence of Mr. Quarry. The hou*e was situated in a large quiet-looking square, but at the time of our vN t rendered jolly and boisterous by the performances of Punch and Judy and 'their dog Toby. I may here remark that probably no portion of the British diatna has enjoyed more popularity than the simple and unique tragedy enacted by these personages. Certainly no representation upon the sta^e Ins ever evoked one tithe of the merriment produced by the glorbim institution of Punch and Judy. The sympathies of the audience arc thoroughly r.nd completely enlisted, and there is not the slightest doubt tint these performances have given a hi^ly healthful tone to British digestion. Exception hivy probably be taken to the satisfaction invariably exp.essed by the audience when Punch is making preparations to hang his faithful spouse; but can there be a nobler vindication of this passing feeling than the liilarous enjoyment of the multitude, when, by a simple mistake, Punch hangs himself instead of Judy? There we have typified the noble conclusion of most of our melodramas, virtue -triiunph.'iit anl \iee defeated. Punch is dead, hanging from the gallows, and as his lifeless form swings about the scaffold, there are crowing of voices and chipping of hands. Punch is cut down, and the prc| arations that are bein<j made for his interment are watched with breathless interest by the crowd. The drama is concluded, and the audience saunter away, listless and melancbo'y, deaf even to the pleadings of the showman. Can there be more satisfactory tokens of the healthy sentiment cn/endered by this remarkable performance ? While I am thus moralising, however, we are waiting at the door, which Avas opened by an infant of tender age, who told us to walk into the parlor, and then went screaming all over the house in quest of her maternal parent While this precocious baby was screaming, the mietrc^s of the house entered. She was a pile, weakly looking woman, with a jaded look in her lace, as if "she felt life to be too grenr a burden for her. In answer to our inquiries, she toll us that a gentleman of j the name oi Quarry Ind been living in the house for some time, and when I asked her if he had a little girl with him, she said, " Yen, and a beautiful young lady she was." I had almost lost sight of the fact that she was now budding into womanhood, and had no doubt lost the chilJish appearance of the days when we were living together.

"Are they at home now, ma'am" inquired Mr. Rickards.

'• At home, sir !" exclaimed the woman, with a jaded look of a-touishiucnt.

- They have been «one this fortnight. Be quiet you little teaze !" This last observation was addressed to the precocious infant, who, hangingon by her mother's apron, was standing on jut own axis and describing a circle round her form. Thus atlmoni-hed, however, the juv_L,iie oflender went into a corner, and endeavored to extract some consolation find nourishment from the sucking of her dirty limici s. '•(ione!" exclaimed Katty. " Gone !" echoed Mr. Rickards. " Gone where ?"

" Well, I can't exactly say, sir," wearily returned the woman. " But I think they have gone abroad. All their boxes— upon my word, sir," she exclaimed, looking despairingly round at her littie girl, who having mounted a chair was endeavoring to swarm up her mother's back, "these children will bring me to an early grave." Without expressing any rympathy with her probable melancholy end, Mr. Rickards said, —

" Well, all their boxes "---

"We -c highly packed and corded. I can't stnnel it any longer, sir. You will pleasj excuso me for a moment."

Whereupon she dragged her offspring into the passage, and then and there administered a series of slaps on apparently a very tender portion of the pi eco<:iou3 infant's anatomy.

Wh;n slu returnded, we learned that her lodgers had gone abroad — thousands and thousands of miles over the water, she said. The young lady, she tuld us, was very lowspirited at the idea of quitting England, and cried very much for days before she went au-iiy. That was all Hie satisfaction she could dye n", and with this information we were fiiti to be content. Leaving the precocious bnby venting her sonows on the door-step, and pin) ing a species of tatoo upon the flagstones with her heels, wo retraced our steps to our abode.

During the who'e of thu time we had bjen living in puvate apartments in Pimlico, Katty and her John hu\ ing -i decided objection to hotel li f c. Samuel i,ad remained with us for a week, and after his departure, she had rented the entire first floor of a verdant cottage, the bosom of which was covered with creepers of m> particular use or ornam-nt, but which at all events were serviceable in giving a title to the abode, which was designated the Vine Tree Cot. The apartments consisted of a parlor, the view from which was much impede I by these selfsame creepers, — a bedroom for Katty and her John, looking straight down into the water butt, and a smaller one for myself, from the windows of which I generally beheld a perspective of sheets, shirts, and various unmentionable articles of female attire in the process of drying. The worst of it was they never appeared to be dried ; they were always hinging up, inviting this desirable consummation, but nerer attaining it. For a change, sometimes, I would see them being taken do >vn from the lines by bony females who tortured themselves into such extraordinary contortions, now standing on tip-toe, now on one leg, now on another, that I wondered how on earth they managed to keep their equilibrium. But they were no sooner down than they were up again, and I may safely assert that my existence, as seen from my bedroom w;ndow during our residence in Pimlico, was one huge washing-day. Katty had also engaged the service of the kitchen below, wherein she cooked o ur meate, in the process of which she had many severe tiffs with the second floor lodger, an old maid, who was always going out with an umbrella, and always coming in with a small parcel of meat in her hand, neatly done up to represent a pound of tea or coffee. The right to the kitchen fire at certain intervals during the day was always hotly contested, but I opine that in the main Katty was vicj torious, as we were never kept waiting a monient for. our meals,

We led a very dissipated life, visiting the theatre regularly once in every week. In the daytime, we went to the British Museum, to the picture galleries, U the public gardens, and <hkv to tho Monument. [ shall never forget Katty's fright and terror on this latter occasion. Two or three timvs she stopped as we stepped round and round the stairs, and declared she w.is jioiitive there were no more () f them, aiul that we photil I presently fill clown aud be di-hed to pieces. Even the new from the tip of the lilliputian world beneath us, and the great river winding along in its tortuous course, with (miles :.\vay) tiny co\\3 rubbing their noses in the iuxuiiant grass, had no ■charms for her ; and, when we issued again into the open street, she took a long breath, and vowed no temptation on earth should ever induce her to go up again. And to the best of my knowledge, she never did.

{To he continued.)

Ami;iucax Notions of the British avisTocnvcv. — The sjnguior mi-.ipprelieriMons ns to the vnht'j_ and influence of mn- politic tl and social institiiriim% which piwail even among intelligent Ainfiiiciiis, Invefivquoiulv evited a smile, occasionally n.uch meiriinent on this side, of the Atlantic. It ',"'■■-1' known that the cl.n, of misapprehensions reiorre.l to, luvo ix'wm rise ti accu.sati )iis on the part of our American friends uhu h hive c.vatcl astonishment li -le CmisDH'iious among (,he»e is a persevering ('i-uduiih. in rhc ai iso •ja'ic bo-.rinjrs or our institution;-, ai ! t!ie ov rwli'lmiivj power of oin' nvistociacy. These mi-A ikon opinions have fivq-tuntlv, aud partiiMlai'y simcp *-!ie commencement of iho present intun-fiip wi; f.ken the foini of quern lous and indignant co.upi lint, and in not a ftnv instances have iipu.Mr. ,1 i,i the .-hap. 1 of bitter v« vi'iius and un-i\.n-on;ible nVm.wds. A new phase ot this mala ly hasevimcliN. jf lately, in Mic shape of a TOmiuii'ncuiontat'ie Xar York Jounvtl of Comrn'rce, a id w'lich !iw b.-n quotal m the BoJoh Liberator ofihe 28ttiot M.nch it is in urFepf aicviewof the p>-o-cjcdinp-, of :.[r. GcTm'T'ioinpsjn, in his American a!ifi-s':ue;'' en-it!- wf 18*J>. The writer in que<ti.>n quote-, -.^veivil »ta f ( ment-, /Vom Amei "can jounnls of tli'timc-, and other aniho'irL';, \\.th w.iich there may not b» mm h reason to qirnr, 1 .is lar as nallr ntitMty h eoih-eniL I. The ,<v ivtiuen o> tlu ehat<>e against Mr. T1i..mp.,,.i is Mar h '.\asa l)jh! and eloqiiput—as they *•}, a ia-h, tVv.Ji ,s, and i-iitat'-u 1 — anta,v> ist of-Uvo.y i. ir e <i- e-l in the Unit-d titat s, nndt.ut n? w.is thus sowliu di-.v.-u-.i.u bjlwejn the tieuM.ih-,0: the Xoilh and tl,e sl lv( ho'diu^ state; if the .So-ith. Tiiai Mr. T.i inp mw.ish iWii-V^s advocate ot u.um ver eau<o Ik' n ivui- d iew who are acquainted with lus hsrory wi.J d", mrc ; that he strioissly oiHuup'.it'jrlthe tbinpiiiifiu of civil war bet.vecn the u\ > divi«io.isuf tie Amaici.n Republic probab'ypwu hi-, onemij, - v lest on this •side of the wal/.'L'-w.-m -1 h sitate to bJi-vn • biu here, at all eyiN, hot hi-uK and f> will lea.iily acquit him of hem;; il,< tool o f t'.e \) i»i,'i n-Uooiaey in his eu-ik-avo s to 1] mi ab)iit m:< '' a con^uniipatioi!, v that wp..- ii.d.-n, 1 hU luruut"', l. Thu wiiier in the j\Vw \orl; pa]KV. howe\er. >■'(«' r'; and eacraetica'ly inaint lins tint r ■ v.a. a l i\, 'it of our ar^toeiMe'y in hi-i crusule a»a. ist AuierieMii in4itulijn«. Nay, more tlnn tint, thathiwi lU i ,j<\ ivw.ir.l ior this «,er\uv ww a s,'.it in t!ic Hi'iiish !.'!ii-!anirn, aud the writer (io»'.vJ,y .onti'iilo that My. Tiioiiijbons elccrion as pailia-uuitary repivs-MiNiii',-} of the Tower Hamlets was the jiaymc.it ioi- the v^ Vt ' ■* he tl.u-; rendered to tie aris,.iciv.cy. Pro''ab \ in no part of the world would t!u. n--,ertion e\ciio more i^toiiishment than amo'ij t'.j el. olo:-, of the district re.erred to. It will b? new-, lor (him to be to 1 f that they are puppet? in t ! .3 Irn- 1 -. of their IH< n 'iHv.nu iicighl) uirs; and it will prohal)ly be pio lv -.five of scarcely les, amazement in I'iecluh! aid v n.ievvousot the " upper ten thousand" to be to! 1 that tiiev <-;:cvch e unlimited sway over the radical constituency of the Tower ilunlets. People have- to go abroad for intelligence coiicernin"themselves, and it is more than probable that the fanciful hiotoiy of this ineidrit in his life will reach j Mr. Thompson through the medium of an American nGwsp<ip n i\ |

A Nmv A-unRTPAN- Ixvi-XTiox.— An American invention, for which a Vu 1 " inn patent has bern securul, i. ; represented by a machine we have lately hii'lanosipoiciinitvof in«pec;ing at Mr. Uencratt's mill, Flinders lane we'-c. This machine is said to be cap ible of crushing qu irlK ;;? well as any kind of fVraiu whatever. It is a novel application of a wellknown machine. In «hape it, AjMjmbles exactly a fan for blasting an iron furnace. Yfithin an iron ease, about 'hree feet in diameter aud a few inches wide, there .ire placed sivptrongirou beaters fixed to a horizontal axle, vsluc.li is driven at a >i ; gh speed by means of a pully and belt. The inner surface of the iron case around the circumference is not smooth, but consists of coi; a,:.' 1 i )ns itbn-.i ;jn inch deep. The strong iron arms do not come info contact, with the case, the wholPcriKjhing-powcr is derived by the anus striking the nuptial to bj cni^hu'l a.i'l driving it against the inner surface of the case. Un the one side of the c.v=e, by the u\lo, there is an open'msr, with a slnot f<r admitting the m-itjrial to bo cru'hel, and on the opposite .side th< re is another opcniiu above the a\le, fioin which opening a tub- nm» up through the floor above. Up this .spout all the pulverised stuff is carried by the current of air produced. As dust only is i. irrie.l up the si.out, until the material is reduced to this stue it musl, remain in the machine. WeuniUistind that tin patent rh;ht has been sold for £1,01)0, i-o fur a^ivtlrsto this colony and '"la patjnt laws.— f fa aid.

Poi'ULAH j\lo\ i:\Il-NTS A>.D WaULIKE I.MPROVEhj:.\t>. -l'opu.V mu\eiiieitt;; limit change their e!i:uaoior, and the people adopt new means of iesistiincj, for CiovomuKUte avj growing inconceivably str«ng. None bub an organized Government can employ or even construct the iiidhpjnsable engines of war. GaiibuMi might purchase a sk'nmoi 1 and man her with followers who >c coinage made her as formidable us a regular hliip-of-war. But what will oouiMsO avail against an iron chid cupola fhip ! it will not step ji .steam -i am, or keep horoes from drowniiiTwlicn slip hiisi&u uuk them and boardinc i* henceforth impossible. Even despair could not i'.icu the sho-Acrof bteain two e«i.\ipe-pipos would eu;i!>l • tho Monitor to pour suddenly over her dock. On l.i .dtliu disparity *•, equally meat. A people may obtain rifle-, or forge bayonets, or in &ome cases buy c union. But only a Government can provide s\dh which cost £5 a-piece, and cannon which dematvi separate mi!K mid elaborate processes to enable them t ) be ir the cSmnrc. Yet without these, battle will ,s >on be a waste of life. The M.igu.) is aie as bnu e as a h'shti.ig population can be, 'bnt, what can fifty thousond Maayus do against even half their number ot Aiihtruns equipped uith artiilory, wh'cli .Je-stroya them before thuycau leach the gun's" The people, like tho barbuians, luue only numbers. ..ad ih> power of uumben is at an end. Its only utility now is to enable the Government f> .strik'; many points at once, lo move 1 1 my bimill but seinrate armies at one and tho nuno hour. If the sjldiws obey, slavery, as far a-, nrmud usi-jtance is concerned, may become perpotual, an I Europo fall once more under a military caste. IL was gunpowder w.'iieh introduced freedo 11, butuie ("■overiniiPiits oan no v clothe themselves wit'i an ■irmour to which that of the knights was weak, an armour which rays out dealh, and keeps its owners as safe wiihiu its range as the magicians of ancient legend wi hin their enchanted hulls. We uiidit a 1 mo td> ur of free loin, bub that, fortunately lor niuikini!, ip invention i)ri;i«s its own cure. The now avLilli v doublus tin- military effect of passive re-ibtanc.\ Every invention increases the neces-sity fora vast icvenue, ai.d a y.i«fc lovenue cannot be r.ii t<l will' tut the consent of the payers. They have only to r-ituse the taxes, aud Government falls to pieces. — Spectator.

Ax Kagmj's ririur.UiKM,— As the mountains around the Konig, See abound in chamois, the uwxle \ery nttiirally rcorts thero, and opportunity is frequently nlUmled of withering hi; tactic, modified by ciivuinst uic_s. Tlw following account gives an instance of* mo-ifc cunnitisr slrar:i;>-oni. but it also show* how impotent fiv atfc.uk fie oagle is whsn his victim i-not ei.rir-Jy exposed. A goo i sized chamois buck had c^o! up hi a lodge of a rock, and \va> gazing downwaid and about him as these animals like to do. An eagle p;reei\eil him, but its the bird cou'd not approach clo>e to th rock on account of his breadth of wing, In resolved to obtain the prize he had m-irked &■$ liL own in another manner. So he sailed by the chamois on Ills path a^ near as he dared come ; then, ngaiu and again; and as the animal retreated, in order to quit his perilous position, the ragle, wheeling round hi a small circle, meant instantly to hem him in and cut oft" his retreat. By thus rushing past within a few kcl of him, and filling him with terror, he hop?rl in the end to bewilder th" chamois, and cause him to fill over the precipice, in which case he would lnve but to descend and carry olf his booty. Aud, in fact, the chamois, from trepidation, in turning a corner, slipped with one hind foot over the ledge. lie lost his balance, and fell headlong over the rocks, as the eagle intended that he should. But after lodging for a short time on an intervening slope, tho carcase rolled oh* 7 , and came toppling clown into the lake The whole proceedings had been watched by two persons from a boat. They now rowed across to get the chamois widle the eagle, disappointed of his victim, wiioeleil above them, watching all they did.— Forest Crratuns

How it Ought to End.— "Madame," said ahu«barid to hid young wife, in a little altercation, which will sometimes spring up ia tho "best of families '' when a man and his wife have quarrelled, and each considers the other at fault, which of the two ought to be the finst to advance towards a reconciliation?"' ' I'm best he.u ted sui'l wisest of the two,'' s»id the wife, putting up her rosy mouth for a khs, which Wit 1 * <,'iv n with uii'tion. She had conqucied ! A _ Catkgomoaii Rnni,Y. — A French marquis meet'pig Voltaire, said to him "Is it true, sir, that in a house where I am thought to be witty, you said that I had no wit at all ]" f> My lord," answeiel Voltaire, " there is not a word of truth in all the matter. I never was in a house where you were thought to be witty ; and I never had occasion, to tell anybody you liai uq wit at ftll,"

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

The famous poetess whose " Last Poems " it is now our sad duty to notice, has certainly never been equalled by any of her sex. Sappho was far below her ; Myro, and Anyte, and Nossis, of whose writing's we possess few fragments, considerably farther. Mrs Ilemans may be named as a possible rival in modern times ; but the fair and fated Felicia, while she excelled Mrs. Browning in grace and elegance, fell far below her in passion and in strength. There was something manly in the power of Mrs. Browning's intellect— in the fire of her imagination. She wrote much that was abominable trash, while Felicia Hemans wrote no line that was not charming. One poetess exhibited the perfection of taste ; the other the eccentricity -of power. Mrs. Browning's political poems have always been her worst. There is something curious in this. One expects no logic from poet or from poetess : and the worse the cause the better should be the poetry. Nothincr more unhappy could happen to Ireland than severance from this imperial island of Great Britain, yet nobody can deny thak the lyrics in which Irish bards demand such severance are real poetry, and of a high order. But Mrs. Browning— though she lived in Italyland of melody— though the cause she had to chant was Italy's freedom — always wrote thereof in sadly prosaic fashion. This has always perplexed us. Not expecting common sense from a poet, we may, at any rate, expect inspiration; but Mrs. Browning's political rhymes are miserably devoid of both. Who has not laughed sardonically at her Napoleonic refrain —

Emperor ! Evermore ? But when she forgot her politics how exquis'te a poetess was she ! How tender— how subtle —how passionate ! And these "Last Poems" are in no degree inferior to those which preceded them. Every lover of Mrs. Browning's poetry will read them with avidity. If in any respect they differ from her earlier writings, it is that they are more melancholy. Perhaps some sad presentiment of premature death weighed upon her heart. Why else should she be sad ? Herself the greatest poetess the world has yet produced— married to a poet who will for posterity dispute the laurelled crown with Mr. Tennyson— why should she be sad ? Yet is there real sadness in such a stanza as tins :—: — So tired, si tired, my heart and 1 1 It Wits not thus "in the oH time, When Ralph s it with me 'neath the lime, To watch the mnset from the sky, " Dear love, you're looking tired," he said. I smiling at him, shook my head. 'Tis now we're fired, my heart and I. There is a sadness, a weariness, more than ideal, more than poetical, in the verses whence we have quoted. Was it the coming of death which made it so ? There are some beautiful poems in this volume. " Little Mattie," first published in the Cornhill Magazine, is somewhat harsh and unnatural. The poem which follows, "A False Step," is in Mrs. Browning's best vein —

Sweet, tliou hast trod"on a heart. Pass ! there's a world full of men ; And women as fair as thou art Must do such things now and then. Thou only has stepped unaware— Malice, not on* can impute, Aud why should a heart have been there, In the way of a fair woman's foot? Surely this is a very pleasant view of the question— for the ladies. One sees the charming creature, filled with fatal fascination, treading upon masculine hearts in the real feminine fashion. Ah ! but the poetess has her retributive prophecy : — Thou 'it sicrh, very like, on thy part, " Of all I have known or can know, I wish I had only that heart I trod upon ages ago !" So that, after all, ladies, by the showing of your chief Cassandra, treading on hearts, though pleasant pastime enough, does not answer in the long run. " Lord Walter's Wife " is a very fine poem ; completely to exhibit its excellence we should have to quote too freely. But we must quote the best and subtlest couplet : — "Oh that," she said, "is no reason. The angels keep out of the way ; And Dora, the child, "observes nothing, although you should please me and stay." "Amy's Cruelty" is extremely charming, and shows how much humour was mingled with Mrs. Browning's sterner endowments :—: — Fair Amy of the terraced.house, Assist me lo discover Why you, who would not hurt a mouse, Can torture so your lover. You give your coffee to the eat, You stroke the dog for coming. And all your face grows kinder lit The little brown bees humming 1 . But when hj haunts your door (the town Marks coming and marks You seem to have stitched your eyelide down To that long" piece of sewing. We shall not injure the poem by quoting Amy's justification of herself, which is perfectly satisfactory. Less satisfactory are the political rhymes which follow. Much as we desire to see Italy a great nation, we cannot quite follow our poetess in her enthusiastic admiration for that subtle intriguer, Louis Napoleon, for that stolid adventurer, Victor Emmanuel, for that marvellous bandit, Garibaldi. It would have been well for literature if less of Mrs. Browning's later verse had been wasted upon politics. Some admirable translations close the volume. Mrs. Browning owed much of her superiority to having penetrated the adyta of Greek and Roman poetry. She had in her joyous youth read Greek in a subdued voice — Somewhat low for ais and ois. Not many women have inhaled as she did the old Greek tether, which was the very essence of poetry. Although we do not chance to have Anacreon at hand, we feel sure that Mrs. Browning has done justice to'the old bard's "Ode to the Swallow:— Thou indeed, little Swallow, A sweet yearly comer, Art building a hollow New nest every summer. And straight dost depart Where no gazing can follow. Past Memphis, down Nile f Ah ! but love all the while Builds hi; nest in my heart Through the cold winter weeks. Anacreon, however, we have always held, ought to be translated to Irish airs. There was something prophetically Celtic about him. Here is an ode to the air of "The Widow Malone :" — An old woman was changed to a stone, ochone, At which all her relations did groan, ochone, King Pandion's daughter, When her governor sought her, In the shape of a swallow had flown, ochone. But I'd be thy looking-glass clear, my dear, Or a soft robe thy form to insphere, my dear, Or water cool flowing, To circle thee glowing, And embrace thee without any fear, my dear, A perfume thy beauty to greet, my sweet, A scarf on thy bosom to beat, my sweet, The pearl that's reclining Where tre c ses are twining, Or the slipppr that's under thy feet, my sweet. Well, Earth's greatest poetess is dead — having left behind her complete proof of her unassailable superiority. Never again, perhaps, will woman write as wrote Elizabeth Browning. She was the Shakspeare of women. She lived to prove that women's highest achievement cannot reach to what mediocre men may do. Her husband is perhaps our greatest living poet,- at any rate, our second— a greater poet than his wife assuredly ; yet, how far below Earth's greatest poets! Mrs. Browning s Avntings should be of infinite value to all women who make literature their pursuit. Beyond her they cannot hope to rise ; let them : judge what she has done by what men, have done,— Me Press, sth April,