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SECOND SESSION— EIGHTH MEETING. TOPIC. " The portrait of a great man." Members to paint (briefij) the portrait of some great man whose influence in history, humanity, art, or literature entitles him to a, place in the Cosy Corner Club's " Gallery of Great Men." My dear Comrades, — I think you will agree ■irith me that our gallery of great men is a tihGroughly representative one ; indeed, I am ijlelighted with its broad scope and wide range. • .What a variety of portraits hang upon its 'trails. Soldiers, sailors, statesmen, poets, , iphilanthropists, authors, and clergymen, a ' j-tbrave powder monkey, and a great inventor. pi was afraid that there might be many duj plicate portraits, just as in our former meet;dng many members made choice of the same ihero, the same author, the. same incident — but ,'on this occasion we are most fortunate. So fortunate, indeed,' that if our club meets aga^n next year x and -I am still president, I think we must add to our ''Gallery of Great Men" a "Gallery of Noble "Women." I must congratulate you each and all upon your papers : ask you to join me in welcoming Taffy, Juvenis, and Doe, and expressing ottr pleasure at seeing Dolores again. Then, too, we must spare a moment to regret the absence oi li'lrlandais, whose happy laugh and genial humour we can ill afford to miss. The club is now so large that those who havo fcpaeial calls on their time no doubt feel that they may, without disloyalty, be absent sometimes — but whoever else is present, I always remember the absent! ' Now to the opening of our gallery — in Kipling's words : — Let us now praise famous men, Men of little showing ; For their work continuetn, And their work continucth, Broad and deep contmueth, Greater than their knowing. I)ear Emmeline, — My choice lies to-day between two widely-different lives — the man of peace and the man of war. For, I think, William Perm and General Wolfe have equal right io a plp.ee in your gallery, and vhen I chco3e the latter it is with the hope that some one else will remember the nameless grave m'the English village, and that William Perm will aaot be forgotten at our meeting to-day. In appearance, Wolfe was hardly soldierlike. Narrow shoulders, receding forehead and chin, a. nervous manner, and chronic ill-health are i.oot parts which aid a, military man, and yet, through all those drawbacks flashed a genius, n power, a magnetic influence v. ith men, a.zc. «i quenchless spirit; and 1 these gifts o'ercai. " 1 4he physical defects, and gave England 'general worthy of the fame which surioiu.de ihis-'name. Some doubt seems to rest on Wolfe's earlier life. Humour says he was with Cumberland at Culloden, and behaved as badly as his commander; but facts prove otherwise, for it is a Major Wolfe who is mentioned, and the future general was but 19 when Culloden was fought. 'Southey, who had all Wolfe's letters to his iarnily for the sake of compiling a memoir, states that he spent that year in Newcastle, and did not go to Sentland until four years later. An adjutant at 16, and only 33 when he lell at Quebec, Wolfe's" career was aa brilliant as it was short, and the Heights of Abraham, the scene of his final success, is a gloiious -name in England's warfare.
forbidding heights. Wolfe was calm and composed as the boats crept down, stilling his tense nerves by quietly repeating "Gray's Elegy" — but when the boa.ts touched the land he was the fir3t to leap ashore, and lead his men up the narrow path where it was impossible- even for two men to go abreast — up to those heights where victory and death alike awaited him.
Dear Emmeline, — How can we be content with one man out of thousands.'' From David and Snorro Sturlcson to Tennyson and Browning, from Harold Harfagre to Lord Roberts, I'd like to praise them all! But, as it must be one great man, I choose "Chinese Gordon" — Gordon of Khaitourn. Indirectly, he did an immense amount of good for England. Directly, he left the example of a true, brave, Christian soldier, and I do not think r.ny lank can be higher than that. His work inChina was hard, slow, and often petty, but he won through it steadfastly, ond gained the love and rcspsct of his Chinese soldiers. They are brave men, in their way, and they knew Gordon for a brave men, and obeyed him a?> master. Perhaps, had he still lived "lo hold them in and keep them," this terrible slaughter now might have been, m pait, avoided. We all l-now_ the story of that last stand at Khartoum. How he desired, commanded, his soldiers to leave hmi while there was time, ond how they would' not. How he fed the thousand widows and children of Hick& Pasha's annihilated o.'my, though he was halfstarved himself. How kind and fatherly he was to his rative soivants, and how he would not tell a he concerning the coining oi the steamers, although ho knew that to tell the tmlh wcukl m«,l\C the natives doubt him. Thsy did doubt him, and tliiough that came his death. We lmov now that his ■jeivant, who fought with him, tells truth when he ssys that nordon lid not die with his back to the Toe; but rather', with pistol in blackened ieft hind, and duppmg owoid m :kht, fought liis way down ihc slops to his men — dying for &un in the cciirtynrd beneath. He never leached them, but he died as a shculd, though it wo 15 ycsr&'bpfoio "lie received the honoars of a soMicr's "uncial. The "Last Post" sounded acro-s his grave; the Union Jr=k oivttlu.ig; the i silks of Englishmen standing mound, and the tears m the eyes of the grave Sirdar, who had been Gordon's comrade and subordinate in many a bloocly fight. But "be thou . . , chaste as scow, thou shalt not escape calumny," and Gordon had many de-ttactoL-s. This, perhaps, is human nature, though 'the "Gordoi Boys' Home, erected near. Alderahofc ia memory of his death, ia 1885;'
of tall palms ; on the bank was a crowd of ! natives, curiously like.the'backsheesh-hunters j who gather to greet the Nile steamers. . . . The troops formed up before the palace in three sides of a rectangle — Egyptians to our left, as -we looked from the river, British to the left. . . . Thft, on the roof, almost on the very spot where Gordon fell, though the steps by which the butchers mounted have long since vanished, we were aware of two flagstaves. . . . The Hirdar raised his hand. A pull on the halliards ; up ran, and out flew, the Union Jack, tugging eagerly at his reins, dazzling gloriously in the sun, rejoicing in his strength and hi-; freedom." . v . Then follows the scene when helmets leaped in the air, and, the melancholy ruins echoed to " three cheers' for the Queen." the "Egyptian flag was run up ; " the bands pealed forth the pride of country; the 21 guns banged forth the strength of war. . . . The Guards were playing the Dead March in Saul. . . . Next fell a deeper hush than ever, except for the solemn minute guns that followed the fierce salute. Four chaplpins — Catholic, Anglican, Presbyterian, and Methodist — came slowly forward and ranged themselves with their backs to the Palace, just before the Siidar. The P> e^bytcrian- read the Fifteenth Psalm. The Anglican led the rustling whisper of the Lord's Prayer. Snow-haired Father Brindlc," best-beloved of piieats, laid his helmet at his feet, and read a memorial piaycr, bare-headed in the sun. Then came the pipers, and wailed a dirge, and the Sox>clanoso played 'Abide with Mo.' . . • Thsio were those who said the cold feirdar himself could hardly speak or see, as General Hunter and the rcr,t stepped out according to their rank, and shook his hand. "What wonder? Ec lias, tiedden this road Lo Khartoum foi 14- years, paid 'ie stood at the goal at last. -v '"Thus, with Maxim-^oidcafoldt and Bible, we buried Gordon after the manner of his lace." Dear Emtndinc,- Led Hob or to is the great man whoP po -trail 1 send you His ''influence m litfnrmitY," I thmk, veil entitles mm to a. plai-e in the Cosy Comer Club's "Gallery of Great Men. Lo-.d Roberts' s eyes aip bright and piercing, yet full of knidncis and benevolent sympathy; his voics is clear and rrrasical ; he is entirely without affectation. Ho is the best and noblest man who ever led an array. He :a an pxarnplo to all m lus regular attendance at public worship and in lrsting on the Lord's Day. However busy he may
he attention, and fascinating the minds ol l!s readers. Nor was he jealous of other wiiteis if his time. He gieatly admired Jane Austen's vorks, and of her delicate style he said: — "The jig bow-wow strain I can do myself, like any low going; but the exquisite touch which renlers ordinary commonplace things and eharacicrs interesting from, the tiuth. of the description and tho sentiment, is denied to me." He vas also scrupulously honest, and, as we shall :ee later on, his conscientiousness led him to seriously impair his health by too much attention to work. The son of a Scotch at torley, he was born .in Edinburgh in 1771, and eceived his oducation at the High School and :ollege of that town. In 1792 he was called ;o the Bar. During his boyhood he had had several long illnesses, one of which left him .ame for life. Through these long periods cf sickness and convalescence he studied Percy's "Rehques of Ancient Poetry,' and read almost all the loraances, old plays, and epic poems n the English language. These gave his mind I and imagination a. set which they never lost illjurough life. H±s nisi vvo.'ks were tiansiu'iions of German poems, hut in ]805 he published an original pcern, ''The Lay of the Last Minstrel," which ivas favciu ably received by the public, and incualled him. as a popular lavonrite. At thorl intervals iollowed "'Marmion," "The Lady of the LcVc," and other poems ; but with ( tho ?.dvent of Byron in 1814, Scott thought it was time to stop writing poetry, and "to devote his uttantion to novel-writing,. Then he published !iis historical lomances, which have made him uimous in all lands. "Wavcrley, the first of Hit Waverley Novels, appeared anonymously in 18!U, quickly followed by ' Guy Ma.mer.ing, "Old Mentality, and otheis. He -was made baionet by George LV in 1820. His desire to acquire land, a.ad his exooi-ses m building bis famous home, ''Abbotßford, ' led him to go into pa, txiership with his printer snu with Ins pubhslier. "Both films failed m the crisis of 1526, and Scott's liabilities amounted to £147,000. He was not ciushed even by this blow, but at or.cc eel to work to paj off hi-o debts, tie etivrendej ctl a! 1 his piopoitj . Lcok a small hou-e m Loni?ca, and v.or^d m<- e^santly, po -Ki'j by the eiicl ol five years he had riaid oil £l3o,Co'i .Out tho ptrpi i had been loo" much, Uio task wes too ie-iib l^, and he win struck flown by paralysis. Nothing daunted, he again went io v/ork, but another uttac 1 .;: obliged him to give up. Ho went to Italy, but the climate did him no good, and ho returned to AbbotsCorel, ' where ho died in 1532. His poetry is the poetiy of action, and. Homer and Shakespeare alone rival him in imaginative pjswer. ■ Much _cf his work was thought out o2"*"h.or&eback,' wLiie k. was p-alia^u."* over
the country, hence his free and brilliant style. His prose is noted chiefly for its narrative and pictorial power. His boyhood was passed ia the Borderland of Scotland, that beautiful country where eveiy field has its battle and every rivulet its song; and re was thoroughly; at home in every part of Iris native countryr His prose works are full of power, literary skill, knowledge of men and women, and strong; sympathy with past ages. His best novels are "Old. Mortality" and "Kenilworth" ; his greatest romance is "Ivanhoe. ' JUVENIS. "You^ give us a strong- and vivid portrait to hang in our gallery, Juvenis, and to the bold, free outlines you have added the tender; touches of loving detail which we all prize in a portrait. I shall never forget the delight with which — as a very small child, indeedi delicate, and living in a world of dreams andi imagination— l first read Scott's novels. H hopo you will not think me disloyal or weak if I confess that I would not read them again noV, lest some of the magic which held'niQ then enthralled should prove itself vanished with "the tender grace of a day that is dead."? The memory of "Ivanhoe," "The Pirates,'" Mannering,"- "Old Mortality," and "Peveril of the Peak " is one whose associations I cannot bear to run the risk? of changing. Dear Emmeline,— William Ewart Gladstone was the fourth son of Sir John Gladstone, Bart., one of the merchant princes of Liverpool, and was born on December 29, 1809. At the age of 11 he^ was sent to Eton, and that great school, with its incomparable associations, cast its spell wholly over Thim, and he never_ ceased to be an enthusiastic Etonian. His record while there and at Oxford was of the very highest. Living in a political age, hs was obliged to -choose a political career, of which I shall say nothing. He was a man; of great chivalry, courage, and magnanimity to opponents. The conviction that there is a divine purpose in all things, and that each, of us has a solemn responsibility in relation to our part in serving that purpose, for tho use we make of our time and our gifts, tine-: tured all his conduct, both public and private, and all his utterances. He was a brilliant conversationalist — in the true sense — one who could listen as well as talk. He had a deep reverence for God and the Bible, and a firm hold on Christ. His was a long, useful, and noble life, and he earned for himself the title of the ''Grand Old Man. ' His memory will be ever green, though he passed away to The shores where tidele3s sleep the -seas of time, Soft by the city of tho saints of God. DOE. In your estimate of Mr Gladstone as a man, we shall stirely all welcome his portrait, Doe, for that he was a great man is unmistakable as that he was a geed man. Whatever we may think of his policy as a statesman — and I, for one, thoroughly disagree with it-Aye must aclmiie his private character as a Christian and a gentlcrr.?n,_ his scholarly gifts, his culture, and his family life. Such men are a gain to all humanity — General Gordon, Mr Gladstone, Lord Roberts. "What examples to their fellow men, what ideals for every mother to associate in her sons' minds with the words honour, moial courage, and loyalty ! Full many a gem oi richest ray serene - The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear. Dear Ernmeline, — The Co3y Corner .Gallery is-stii-e to possess a portraic of Admiral Lord Nel- ' son, so I purpose submitting a sketch oi \ friend who was always near the great hero, , •from his middy days till that solemn day when England" commanded her sailor -warriors,' to don the black silk scarf of mourning ; which, emblem they still retain. While the lords and ladies of the land were farewelling their hero — when that vast tide of Imperial enthusiasm was at its flood — when Britain was giving its heart to Nelsoa, and Freedom was preparing herself for Trafalgar, this friend of the Admiral's was soraev.-here, almost out of sight, saying good-bye to the girl of hiis heart, a. jovial, hopeful good-bye, only interrupted time after time to permit of his joining in the loud; hurrahs which rent the air. How proud she %vas oi his careless style. She called him her boy, but, Portsmouth behind, v/ith the Admiral's signal flying at the masthead, there was no room for even one boy in the British squadron, so, v/ith the sailor cap on the back o>f his head, and his bare feet pattering on the &nov/y deck he felt himself a man. - What a, chase they had — the might oi England flushing to anticipate the scene. He had no telescope, hka his friend, the Admiral, but his heart sank when he heaid that their Victory was ordered, out of action, but up it went again like a rocket when he saw the telescope at the-blind eye of his friend. How he chuckled vath delight; they were to have a brush after all. The admiration for his friend grew greater every time he thought of it. A blind eye for Reason! Who cared for reason that day ? Freedom did not, anyhow ; neither did the Admiral, nor .the Admiral's "friend — the .blood of each Was up. What a day it was. From the locker to the gun, from tha gun to the locker, his pants rolled up, his cap no where, his hair everywhere tho wand willed it! What a busy day— sponging-,-ramming, firing, manning, and re-manning; f lorn the gun to the cockpit, from the cockpit to the mighty deep. Oh! the uproar of battle, the cheering of victory, the price of - glory. Then, whilst some were attending to the Admiral on deck, others were carrying his friend — dreaming, perchance, of a dear girl waiting for him on Portsmouth quay— to the cockpit. 'Twas here the Admiral and his friend parted — the one to sleep in the bosom of his beloved country, the other in the bo3om o£ the mighty deep. Let those who have the power paint our gloiious hero, the Admiral ; all I claim is a place somewhere near for a dim portrait of his sincere fiiend, the powder monkey.— YouT3 truly, BOY FRIEND. Yes, my Boy Friend (after all, I cannot relinquish the "my,"" you see !), someone has painted Nelson's portrait for our" gallery — and how she will enjoy your picture of the powder monkey ! It is so like you to have remembered what everyone else iorgets. "Naught common on this earth" — you did i>ot need Kipling to find the Itey of the real tieasurc for you. Dear Emmeline. — I have only contributed on one other occasion to tho C.C.C.,. and must ask your pardon fo-- venturing again at the last meeting of the year. 1 hope to contribute, as far as lies r.i my power, next year. The individual whose portrait I am about to tiy to paint is my favourite poet, Tennyson. Alfred Lord Tennyson was born on August 6, 1309, at Somersby in Lincolnshire. On th- w death of "Wordsworth in 1850 Tennyson succeeded him as Poet Laureate. He stands alone as the Miif; of :.-iot'!--;rix poet=!. Perhaps the secret of his success lies hi the fact fchit at tho founds tion of all his work is Tennyson the man. To thoroughly, understand his poems it is necessary to understand, the man himself. The nobility of his
'Twa.s a daring deed. The dieary three months of inactivity or reverses, the sickness of his men (whose stnall number of 9000 was fast lessening), his own illness, and the inaccessible nature of his goal were**not light difficulties to face, but his brave spirit bore him thiough, and before the bullet which cut him off in. the midst of his fame had completed its work, he knew that victory was his, though 'ere England _rang with his praises he had died a soldier's death on the Heights of Abraham. GNIB. I am sorry that your wish to see William Perm's portrait hung in our gallery to-day is not fulfilled, Gnib. He was a man whom we cannot help admiring, and the shadows of calumny and misrepresentation which darkened the closing years of his life must always awaken regret and sympathy. The bitter prejudice of Lord Macaulay's treatment of his career has always seemed to me a blot on that rash, but brilliant, writer's reputation. Perm's grave may indeed be nameless, but his epitaph is written in the State which he founded, and the quaint and gentle religiotis sect to whose interests he dedicated his life. Is there any more charming atmosphere than that of a' Quaker household? The reverent silences which form such an integral part of their grace, thanksgiving, and prayers ; the dignified sympathy of their address, giving to old and young alike the possession of their Christian and surname, shorn of all prefix ; the tender "thee" and "thou" which renders their speech so quaint — can anyone who has evei stayed in a Quaker household forget its peculiar charm? . You actual choice of a> portrait is a happy one, I think. How nobly Wolfe indicated the high opinion which Pitt had formed of him ! What an eerie picture is that of the long line of boats dropping silently down the St. Lawrence, under cover of the friendly darkness. The men, worn with sickness and suspense, strung to this last supre-ne effort, and prepared to follow the wasted figure of their general in his desperate attempt to take those
testifies that die good ho did lived after him. For Gordon was a special friend to boys, and many a lad from the London streets has cause to thank Gordon, inasmuch as he took them from the perils of their life, and led them in the ways of tiuth and honesty The Boys' Home abounds in memorials to brave soldiers who had part with Charles Gordon. 'I he large gymnasium, the sunny little chapel, the very home itself are all proofs — if such were needed —that The souls of our heroes die not In the land that they adore. TED. Yours is a splendid 2hoice, Ted. -A man, a soldier, and a gentleman, in whose life and death the world may read a nineteenth century gospel. You, I know, have read "With Kitchener to Khartoum," but there will be many of our : lembers who have not done so, and who will be interested in ,the description of Gordon's funeral, following a few days after the great victory of Omdurman. "It was Sunday morning, and that furious Friday seemed already half a lifetime behind us ... and to-day v/e were going to the funeral of Gordon. After nearly 14 years the Christian soldier was to have Christian burial. . . . Fourteen years next January — yet even through that humiliating thought there ran a whisper of triumph. We may be slow; but in that very slowness we show that we do not forget. Soon or late, we give our own their due. Here were men that fought for Gordon's life while he lived — Kitchener, who went disguised and alone among furious enemies to get news of him; Wauchope, who poured out his blood like water at Tamai and Kirbekan ; Stuart- Wortley, who missed by but two days the chance of dying at Gordon's side. Here, too, were boys who could hardly lisp when their mothers told them that Gordon was dead, grown-up, and appearing in the fulness of time, to exact eleven thousand lives for one. . . . "The boats stopped plugging, and there was silence. We were tying up opposite a grove
be he always finds time to show kindness to children. During the last few months several letters which ho has addressed to child corlespoii'deiiies have been published in the papers, showing that this busiest of men, with the | responsibility and burden of a great army upon ] his shoulders, can make leisure lo- rerjly to his | unknown litile admirers, and in some cases to give them good advice. An acting-chaplain of the forces in the Transvaal, in a recently-published letter, referred to Lord Roberts' s wonderful influence as due to the simple overflowing of the milk of human kindness. Lord Roberts has always been a favourite, but the war seems likely to make an idol of him, and never, perhaps, was heroworship better justified. These are a. few extracts from the Outlook, but the papers have been full of the praises of Lord Roberts. 1 - SWEETBRIAR. You have chosen the noblest qualities in the 'hero of the time whereon to fix our atj tfntion, my dear friend. lam just as sini cere in ray admiration for Lord Roberts as I yo\i are, and only tho fact that his name ie on all men's lips, and his whole life so well known iii a light cf fame and glory that rivals "the whits light that beats before a throne," keeps me from adding at more length to your sincere .tribute. I would just like to say that nothing in all the course of a noble life has seemed to me more noble than Lord Roberts's brave resignation and entire selfabnegation in the grief involved in the loss of his son in South Africa. Dear Emmeline, — In choosing Sir Walter ! Scott as my representative in the Cosy Corner i Ciub's "Gallery of Great Men," I am guided by ! my appreciation of his strong, rugged force of ■ character. We can trace this throughout the | whole of his works, for though his sentences pie sometimes loose and itngrammatical, the rush of a strong- and large life -goes through | them and carries the reader along, forgetful of ] minor blemishes. Right well does he deserve , the title of "The Wizaid of the North, ' on ■ account of his marvellous power of enchaining
• mind is shown in the character of his poetry. Some of the chief features of his writing are: 1. His sense of Law, shown in his ideas, (a) of Nature, (b) of Freedom^ ' (c) of Love, 1 (d) of Scenery. 2. His nobility of thought. 3. His simplicity of emotion. To turn to the substance of his poems, we find that the chief causes of Tennyson's popxilarity are that he is a representative English poet, a thorough artist, and a keen observer of Nature; in all the workings of which he traces the great works of God. That Tennyson can Well claim to be a representative of his age is seen on the perusal of such poems as "St. Simeon Stylites" and the "Palace of Art," in which latter he condemns those EBsthetic, spirits whose only religion is the worship of beauty and knowledge for their own sakes. In the former, "St. Simeon Stylites," the evils of self-centred aesthetic religion are condemned. "The Brook, ' with its melody of diction and true details of natural scenery, is one example of his power as an artist, among the elements of such powers being that minute observation of Nature which provides him with a store of poetic description. We feel that he has seen all he describes, as when he speaks of air, In gloss and hue the chestnut, "wfien the shell Divides threefold to show the fruit within. —The Brook. In conclusion, let us glance at those of his poems which ami at presenting a type of character such a's Sir Galahad and Ulysses. How severe and full of energy is the latter poem! How beautiful are those words which Tennyson puts into the mouth of Ulysses! "Yet all experience is an arch where thro' G-leams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades "For ever and for ever when I move." How full of undaunted courage are those lines of Ulysses: It may be that the gulfs will wash us down, It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And sfce the v great Achilles, whom wo knew; Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' We are. not now that strength which m old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are., , One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in wiii, To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. DOLORES. It is, we know, no longer the -fashion to admire Tennyson, but like you, Dolores, 1 love his poems. Is he too obvious, as the cultured school of later years, sittiug at the feet of Browning, declares ? Well, I love him for it. He has sounded the depths and the shallows of humanity, glorified the commonplace — think of his poem, "The Grandjnother" — entered into the very heart of "life, death, and that great hereafter," "as we men and women of a work-a-day world know it — and so it' is that he comes so near to our hearts. He' is so obvious — without a moment's doubt or hesitation — heart to heart, soul to soul: in joy and in sorrow, in success or failure, Tennyson is the poet we remember, we quote, we think". "The Brook" is indeed a perfect sylvan picture — "The Palace of Art" a great ' truth — and, with Ulysses, do you not equally admire the Lotus-eaters? Could the same hand have written the "Lady of Shalott" and "The Grandmother"? Think of all that lies folded in those few linos called "Circumstance" — and, greatest 'of all, let us remember Mm as tho Poet who gave us "The Idylls of the King." I am go glad you chose Tenryson, Dolores! Emmeline, — My reason for choosing Milton is that he seems to unite in his person a power of intellect, a nobleness and purity of character, an indomitable determination beyond that of any man in our country's history. From childhood his mind was set on the serious realities of life,' and tho earnestness and determination he showed then are characteristic of him to the end. He was blessed with wise and good parents, who gave him every educational advantage; but he was one who, had he been cast adrift on the, street to fa<ce the worst temptations of life, would have passed through them unscathed, and climbed Mgh on the ladder of fame. There is something very fascinating in the picture of the pure-souled, beautiful child eagerly Searching after knowledge; always with one aim, one fixed resolve to do something lasting for the benefit of humanity. See him again just entered \ipon his manhood. What a glorious career appears to be before him, what fame, wealth, and position seem to lie ensily within his grasp. _ Now turn to another picture. His domestic life was never happy, but in latter years there were constant quarrels between his wife and Her step-daughter. He is blind now. One has only to read "Samson Agonistes" to know what a frightful calamity this was to him. What intense passion is m those lines : Dark, dark, dark, amidst the blaze of noon; Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse, . without all hope of day. And these : Blind among enemies, oh, worse Than chains, dungeon, imprisonment, or decrepit age. The calamity of his blindness was followed by another, to him hardly Jess terrible. This was the Restoration. He saw on the throne a wicked and licentious king, surrounded by an equally licentious court. He had to stand by powerless and see the reinstating of a corTupt ( and weak Government, and know that the cause of liberty, truth, and purity for •which he had laid aside his beloved art, and spent the best days of his life, was lost. Himself almost destitute, scoffed at, and derided, his friends all dead or exiled, what must have been the meek endurance and forti-^ tude of the man who in the midst of all these^ calamities could write such lines as these : IWhere I consider, how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and w"de, , And that one talent, which is death to hide, Xiodged with "me, useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide. "Doth God exact day labour, light denied?" ,1 fondly asked; but patience to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve Him best; his state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait.
DISCIPULA. Thank you, Disoipula, for the' picture of one of the "world's greatest men. Over and above the remembrance of nobility and genius —of a life of high resolve, and courage' never surpassed — it is good to recall the adversities which fell to the share of Milton, as to so ljiany of our greatest men. What a sombre colour is the reverse of glory's dazzling shield ! —think of Wolfe's ill-health, disappointmentSj
and death ere he could taste the gratitude J bf his country. What clouds of man's ingratitude, siispicion, and injustice rise to obsoure the sunshine of success and rob achievement of its sweetness — thinly of the closing years of William Perm's life ! What loss and physical deprivation" to counterbalance great gifts — think of Milton as you have pictured him in his old age ! Is it, after all, true that "Whom He loveth, He chasteneth"? And is it our only consolation to remember, gentle and simple, wise and foolish alike, even though the "Waters of Marah" have laid waste our dearest hopes, that others, greater, lesser, nobler a thousandfold than we are, were not only called on to suffer, but forced in the grey twilight of dull inaction to learn They also serve who stand and wait?. It is here that Lives of great men all remind us j We may make our lives sublime; From them we may learn all that perhaps we are allowed to learn — "To suffer, and be" strong." • <• • i • Dear Emmeline, — Ralph Waldo Emerson, descendant of eight generations of cultured, conscientious ministers. Emerson believes in heredity, that "people are born with the moral 1 or with the material bias." We can. well believe in it, for it has done much in his behalf. Broad and generous culture, a strong love of moral excellence, high and pure thoughts he inherited from his forefathers. Burroughs says: "His culture is ante-natal, and it is certain that hiß ancestry had in it the promise of much which is life has fulfilled.', At school and later^at college, he kept aloof, like Arthur Stanley at Rugby, from his companions, preferring to look on as a quiet observer. In manhood he had always the twin sisters, Society and Solitude, asking for his hand, but he favoured the latter. He is described as "a spiritual-looking boy in blue nankeen.'" He thus early put into practice his characteristic and favourite doctrine of self-reliance, and exemplified from the first hia subsequent teaching on fuendship. "The coudition%which high friendship demands is ability to do without it." His father died when he was eight years old, and his widow and family were forced to be careful and frugal Miss Moody Emerson, an aunt whom Ralph greatly respected, and took counsel' with, came to live with them, and one day, when the children were short of bread, was found consoling them with heroic 'tales. His mother, one of the best of women, could only afford to give him good counsel. Ralph knew her tendsrness, and she, in her letters, never complained ot hei own condition, seldom mentioned them, was constantly admonishing him to do well, but affectionately and naturally. She writes : "What most excites my solicitude is your moral improvement and progress in virtue." Such hardy upbringing supplies the key to numerous passages in Emerson's writings. "Honour to the house," he exclaims, "where they are simple tot the verge of hardship, so that tbere the intellect is awake, and reads the 'laws the soul worships : truth and Ibve, honour and courtesy flow mto all deeds." In a letter I rceived, the late Dr James Martineau told me he knew Emerson, and greatly admired and loved him, though differing much fiom him in opinion in some respects. Miss Martineau adds: "I well remember him and the influence of- his gentle, winning presence- when he came to my father's house in Liverpool. He gave his lectures on great men, to which. l remember listening with great delight, though probably with imperfect understanding, as I was hardly out of my childhood." ' v - ■ LEX. Tour portrait of Emerson is the wurk of love which I expegted from one' whom I first knew as "a disciple of Emerson.' Ilis philosophy of life, as you quote it, is beautiful, and I am indeed the more glad to follow your loving delineation of his character because I must still, in truth, con fogs that I know very little of his wrifciag. f?nan after your first brief tribute to ms merits in the "Oosy Corner Club" last year, I met a :;ui(leman whose admiration for Emerson lenvnled me of yours, and of my determination to better acquaint myself with his works. In my busy life and many interests, however, it is perilously easy to forget — current events and the literature of the journalist's life demand so much from one. Unless you really possess the works of an author their study is ant to be postponed. So it comes about, Lax, that I at least have been only too delighted to welcome your picture of a winter of whose works I regret that I know so Mile. Dear Emmeline, — Having neglected so long to respond to your kind invitation I feel ashamed to do so now. I assure you I was not insensible to the honour conferred upon me, but was — and am still — very doubtful of my own powers. However, the Critic Club have decided that I shall at least try, but when I asked for some help the only satisfaction I could get was "Write on? Why, on paper, of course, and only on one side of it." The role of artist is a new one to me, but I hope my picture will not be skied. A glance thiough history, both past and present, shows us that tho number of great men is unlimited. This is, above all, an age of invention, and I think I cannot do better than say a few words about Thomas Edison. It is unnecessary for me to say anything of his inventions, for all arc quite familiar with them. Yet the man himself, apart from his inventions, is worthy of admiration. His early years were by no means toe pleasant. His education was very limited, as he was forced, while but a boy, to earn his own living. From an early age Providence seemed to be directing his footsteps, causing him to arrive at the right place in ' the right time. Extremely good-natured, he can easily forgive ono who defrauds him of just payment, but is particularly sensitive where his own honour is concerned. He is sociable, yet greatly averse to going into society. The qualities one most admires in him are his perseverance under difficulties, his desire to benefit mankind by his inventions (and who has not been benefited by one or other of them), and his great working capacity. In fact, his energy is such as makes one tired even to think of it. Mr Edison is without doubt a genius. He is a total abstainer — in fact, moderate in all things, except work, and where that is concerned he is greedy. Yet I am pleased to learn that on one occasion he ran at full speed to get his breakfast. . TAFFY. I remember, when reading a very interesting article on Edison, I too was s-rruck, "Taffy," with his untiring capacity for work and extraordinary energy. His face is such a pleasant one, I think), and I like his simplicity of life and tastes, which, appear to one very charming intone who has risen from an inferior position to an eminence where he could enjoy all the ostentation of society. Then, too, I have read that Edison has a keen sense of humour, and enjoys a joke immensely, which makes one sure of a fellow-feeling even with such a genius ; for there is no quicker bond of union than a hearty laugh. I daresay ■ he enjoyed the run for his breakfast, though I could not help wondering why he was not a.
martyr to indigestion when I read how he hurried through hi& meals ! Dear Emmeline, — If I may draw the portrait I would contribute with the pen of another, I should like to send you a few brief extracts from an article I have by me on William Pitt, a man whose inarvelloiis abilities were amply proved in the dark and troublous period in which, he lived— those great gifts so unflaggingly bestowed upon his country in her hour of direst need. This article touches but lightly upon his character — a mere sketch, and nothing more; yet I have read it roany times, and always feel I know a great man the better for the reading.
"The portrait we have here is of Pitt in his domestic policy, and specially of Pitt in his relations with the government of Ireland. . . . It is needless to say, in spite of the attempt made by a late distinguished statesman, who tried to spoil the great work of Pitt, to characterise those transactions as 'blackguardly,' that nothing which appears of fiesh evidence but tends to increase our respect for Pitt's character and genius — for the purity of his patriotism, and the wisdom and foresight of his statesmanship. . . . Indeed, if we regard the whole work of the two Pitts, the great father and the greater son, we may well have cause to prize their memory as of the men who have helped the most to gild* our island story. If England is now gieat, feared, and envied of all the nations, to whom but to the two Pitts do we owe that proud position in the world? Consider how much of our Empire has been built up between the year when the 'Great Commoner,' the fiery 'Comet of Horse/ assumed the reins of power and the year when his son gave up his weary breath. The period, though it covers less than half a centiiry, marks the transitio.i between England a secondrate power, doubtfully waging a contest for existence, and that Greater Britain which dominated America and Asia, that founded hermighty Empire in the Pacific, and was unchallenged mistress of the seas. The roll stretches from Plassey to Ivafalgar — Wolfe, Clive, Hawke, Rodney, Cook, Luncan, Nelson. The most glorious names en the record are those of the men whom the Pitts inspired — the founders of our Empire in the East and the West and the South, who made England what she is to-day. . . . Let us reflect how much of all this splendid recoid is associated with the wise, far-seeing, and patriotic policy of the two Pitts. Of these, the son was perhaps the greater of the two— as an orator scarcely less, as a patriot equally pure, as a Parliamentary leader superior, and as a statesman more sagacious, patienjt^ devoted, and unselfish. It is a just and eloquent tribute which Lord Ashbourne offers to the memory of William Pitt, who is the one figure in our history which the mists •of time and the clouds of faction seem to be unable to obscure -that 'unequalled statesman and entirely faultless man,' as one of his contemporaries called him, in language scarcely hyperbolical. Wilberforce, a judge equally honest and capable/ said : 'For personal purity, disinterestedness, integrity, and love of his country, I have never known his equal.' "
Carlyle observes: — "Nature does not produce many Pitts," and as a fitting ciose, I draw the following from another source: — "We would recommend all> 'hero-worshippers' to lodk at the fact that political heroes, at least, arise in times of national adversity, and are trained,' in great measure, through means of the exigencies of such times. We may, grumble, and sometimes, reasonably, on account of the shortcomings ot our statesmen, but we. can still boast of some men of thought and action whose names would not have disgraced a heroic age." GABRIELLE.
To the admirable extracts by which you accomplish your portrait of William Pitt, Gabrielle, T cannot add — indeed it would seem superfluous for me to add. — anything. I may just say, personally, that it'has always seemed to me as though the two Pitts possessed an extraordinary £>ower of discerning the latent .possibilities ol heroism, devotion, talent, loyalty; all the higher qualities, indeed, of those associated with them or serving under them in whatever capacity, and of drawing out the best effort of which each man was capable. It is an unusual and priceless gift for either man or woman to possess, that subtle nameless, personal magnetism. Fortunately for the human race it is usually, given to noble characters to exercise it. Dear Emmeline, — There are some great men whose greatness lies in stirring deeds alone, whose work may command our admiiation, though the private life and character of the man himself we find unsatisfying. Not -such a one was he whose -portrait I desire to place in the gallery of our clvb — Stonewall Jackson, a man great alike in public :md in private life, one of those characters of whom, not only his own country, but the whole world, may feel proud, and of whom it is good to feel that such men have existed, leaving the memory of noble lives as a common heritage for all. The materials which I have at hand for my portrait are very slight, and having only my memory to rely upon for the quotations taken froni a review of, Colonel Henderson's recent biography, 1 trust that all inaccuracies will be forgiven. On Stonewall Jackson's deeds which form part of the world's history I shall touch buii lightly — it is the man himself that I would draw. As a soldier everyone has heard of him; of his genius and hip daring; his biilliant flank movements, and the confidence he inspired in his men. How they trusted in him! How they loved and admired him, while they laughed at "Old Jack " and his ways ! We are told:— "His soldiers laughed at his peculiarities, at his shabby uniform and his battered cap, his punctilious courtesy, his great lespect for clergymen, and lis blushes. They took delight in his confusion when he galloped through the shouting camps.'' His xoatriotlsrn was unquestionable. Whatever differences of opinion there may be us to the righteousness of the cause for which lie fcraght, even his most bitter opponents cannot deny the genuineness of his belief in that cause, or his love for the south and Virginia, his native State and his home. He wrote:— "lf I know myself, all I have and all 1 am is at the service of my country," and for his country he gave nil his ability and energy, his sword, and his life. But, great as Stonewall Jackson was outwardly, great as a leader of men, great in genius and in modesty, he was only truly great because a truly good man. His religion ruled his life, and entered into it all. At home, in his domestic life, which was "singularly happy, we read of him teaching his Sunday school class of negro children; on the battlefield at night his veterans gathered in his"!ent to pray to the "God of Battles" ; at camp-fire meetings he was often seen among his men, and he rode to battle with a prayer upon his lips. What greater instance is there of a life lived near to God than the stoiy of his death-bed? Tragic, indeed, was the way in which he received the wounds which caused his death, but steadfast the faith which enabled him to answei quietly when told that he must die- "Very good; it is all right." His dying words are well worthy of remembrance — the words of the soldier, battles over, victory won— "Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees." General "Lee speaks of him as "the good and great Jackson. ' Who will not echo his words? EVE. Dear Eve, it is indeed the portrait of a hero which you have hung, and there is no fear of your picture being "skied," dear, for the warm flesh tints, the lifelike expression,
[ the vitality of the portrait, ensure its place in our affectionate regard. I don't know why, but I should like myself to' hang your picture' of Stonewall Jackson, "his shabby uniform, his battered cap," next to "Boy Friend's portrait of the powder monkey — both are so real, both go straight to the heart. • . « • ;~~~»; ~~~» Dear Emmeline, — I hope you will agree with me that Horatio Nelson deserves a place in 'our corner for his bravery in defending his country. He was born in Norfolk in September, 1755. He showed a love of adventure and a daring spirit from his earliest years. When quite a child he was missed from home until late in the evening. When a search -was made he was discovered sitting composedly •by the side of a brook which he was unable to cross. "I wonder, child," said his grandmother, "fear did not drive you home." "Fear, grandma," he replied. "I never saw fear; what is it?" When he went to sea he displayed the same fearless spirit, which occasionally led him into positions of great danger. Two ships, the Racehorse and the Carcass, were bound on an exploring expedition to the Arctic Seas, and in one of these 'Nelson was a midshipman. One night during the nndwatch young Nelson stole from the ship with one of his comrades, and set out over the ice in pursuit of a bear. It was not long before they were missed. A fog came on, and the captain became alarmed for their safety. Between 3 and 4 in the morning the weather cleared, and the two adventurers were seen at a considerable distance attacking a bear. The signal was given' for them to return. Nelson's comrade called on him to obey, but in vain, until his ammunition became exhausted. "Never mind," he cried, "do let me get a blow at him with the butt end of my musket." The captain fired and frightened the bear away. He was sent to the Mediterranean, and though his vessel was one_ of the worst, he received great distinction. c At the battle of Cadiz he lost an eye. At the battle of Cape St. Vincent, February, 1797, Nelson, . by disobeying orders, greatly contributed towards the defeat of the Spaniards. In the battle of the Nile he destroyed the fleet of Napoleon, which threatened our fellow countrymen in India. The northern Courts of Europe, with Denmark at their head, had formed an "armed neutrality" after Bonaparte's victory at Marengo, and it was felt that this league was a great danger to England. Nelson engaged the ' Danish fleet at Copenhagen, where a truce was made. "The signal to withdraw being made, Neison, who did not wish to leave until something like victory was attained; put the telescope to his blind eye on being told of it, and called those around him to witness that he had not seen the signal, thus again disobeying orders, but justifying his action by the result." Then he kept the French fleet under Bonaparte, who "meant to invade England," two years in the Mediterranean. They then escaped, and crossed the Atlantic, Nelson in pursuit, and England added another victory on their return at Trafalgar. The last victory was dearly bought by the life of the illustrious admiial. DAPHNE.
All the club will unite in warmly applauding your choice of a portrait, . Daphne, for Nelson has ever been, will always be, o,ne of the most popular heroes on the world's roll of deathless dead. Beside your picture must hang "Boy Frienfl's'' spirited sketch of the "powder monkey" — whom we should never have remembered.
Dear Emmeline, — For the gallery I choose Napoleon the .great, "who, in spite of obstacles such as no other mortal man ever conquered, 'stands forth the most -amazing phenomenon of human achievement, personal magnetism, and mortal greatness." These extracts are taken from Lydia H. Farmer's "The World's Famous Rulers." „
As everyone is faniiliai with Napoleon as a general and a ruler, I have chosen extracts regarding him as a man. "Though the aristoracy of Europe denounced him as an odious despot and an insatiable conqueror, in the hearts of his people — the artisan, the labourer, and the solider — he is still cherished as the •'man of' the people, as the personificatin of that spirit which pervaded both his administration and the camp." His name is still religiously respected by the peasant in his cottage. His tomb is still cherished as the most sacred spot on earth by the French people. Never did mortal man inspire such love and adoration in the hearts of his soldiers." . . . "On one occasion a mathematical problem of great difficulty was given to his class. Napoleon secluded himself in his room for 72 hours, and solved the problem. Napoleon did not blunder mto greatness. His achievements were not accidents. That he possessed native genius cannot be denied; but he also possessed that perseverance and application which alone can win the success which genius aspires to, but which only energy and perseverance can make possible." "Napoleon did not blunder into greatness. ±±is fligacy and dissipation, which ever disgrace an army To the defamations of his enemies who endeavoured to malign his character by accusing him of immorality, let his own words answer: 'When I took command of the army of Italy, my extreme youth rendered it necessary that I should evince great reserve of manners and the utmost severity of morals. My supremacy could be retained only by proving myself a better man than any other man m the army. Had I yielded to human weakness, I should have lost my power." "Napoleon was temperate in the extreme, and manifested the strongest disapproval of gain- . "As he passed over the gory field of Eylan after the awful carnage, he exclaimed, with deep emotion, "To a father who loses his children victory has no charms. ... A dragoon, dreadfully shattered and bleeding from the effects of a cannon ball, raised his head from the blood-soaked snow, and faintly said, 'Turn your eyes this way, please, your Majesty. I believe that I have got my death-wound. I shall soon be in the othei world; but no matter for that: Vive I'Empereur! 1 "Napoleon immediately dismounted from his horse, and to.ok the hand of the wounded man, telling his aides to carry him to the ambulance. Large tears rolled down the cheeks of the dying dragoon as he fixed his eyes on that loved face, fervently exclaiming, "I only wish I had a thousand lives to lay down for your Majesty. ," Upon this dreadful battlefield, though it was after midnight, he wrote this fond note to Josephine : — "My Love, — There was a great battle yesterday. Victory remains with me, but I have lost many men. The loss of the enemy, still more considerable, does not console me. I write these two lines myself, though greatly fatigued., to tell you that I am well, and that I lova' you. — Wholly thine, Napoleon." There are many other passages I should like to quote, but I fear I have already taken up too much space; therefore, adieu. — Your comrade, SHEILA. Your appreciative portrait of Napoleon the Great brings out his finest qualities, Sheila, and touches his defects so tenderly that they pass unnoticed. A great man Napoleon most certainly was— in many respects a human phenomenon — so overpowering was his personality, so intense his personal magnetism. I do not admire him, and yet the very magnificence of his triumphs and the depths of hia downfall, the bitter fate of that sunbi-
tion which wn6W no bounds, caged, &Qwerle6s{ on solitary St. Helena, cajfnpt fail tq appeal' •to one most powerfully, When tj^o Knight-i Ferrar Company was/ here last year^ tfrejsl played "The. Roya). Divqrce to orowdedn houses. Julius Knight inside ah ideal Na-i §oleon— it was wonderful, tpo, with alj the,'' isadvantages Qf our 'little theatre to ov'^r-f oome_, what splendid pictures, complete atil once in their realism and artistic merit-, were\ put before us. Napoleon, wrapped, in liis-J old grey overcoat, inarching at the Wad qiy the broken remnant of the Grand Army,' onu .the disastrous Retreat from Moscow, his face set and white, .the blinding snowfiakes eddying; about him; the starving, w orn .*out soldiery).' stumbling through, the 6now, was a wonder-, ful tableau — so, too, was the last sad scenoi of the caged conqueror, standing alone on' the rooky heights of his island prison. Oh; ' yes ! Napoleon was a great man in a sense, I •know— but where is such a man beside the selfless Gordon? _ • « 5 «i Dear Emmeline, — There are so many grealj men whose portraits I should like to see in the C.C.C. picture gallery that I hardly Know; which to choose, especially from so wide a raii"ge as history, humanity, art, and literature offer, but think, by choosing Ireland's greati philanthropist, the Eev. Father - Theobald 1 Mathew, commonly known as. Father ' Mathew, to add to the gallery the portrait of a man of singularly charitable and benevolent dis- . position, whose gentleness and affability, whose simple and effective eloquence, and whose zeal and assidiiity in discharging all the duties of his^ministry won for him the universal love and respect of both rich and poor alike. He was bom in Tipperary, Ireland, in the year 1790, and was educated at s Maynoath College. He aided the cause of education by founding schools; and he effected numerous reforms in other ways. His charities were unbounded, but his greatest work was the moral reformation he effected in the habits of the people with regard to the vise and abuse of intoxicating drinks, and it is here we see the true nobility of the man. He could have derived a large income from the breweries and distilleries belonging to his family, but ho _ sacrificed his own interests to the cause of humanity. So great was Jus success in the cause he had undertaken that he wa-s called the '"Apostle of Temperance, ' and a large propoition of the population of Ireland, without distinction of rank, creed, or sex, joined his association, which advocated the doctrine of total abstinence. He then extended his labours to England and Scotland and America, and was rewarded by marked success in his mission. But in the evening of his days he was so poor that the Crown granted him £300 as a pension for his eminent public services, and a private subscription was raised to keep him from want. He died in 1856, leaving the general tone of the public mind completely revolutionised. The effects of his labours are to be seen to this day, and those who knew him still speak of him with love and admiration. VAL. Your choice is an' excellent one, Val; a §ood man, whose goodness made him great, heila and I have just been discussing her portrait of Napoleon — Napoleon the Great, 4he World's Conqueror — the man whose armies- - devastated Europe, the comet whose tail of fire and rapine lit up the civilised world with ; its lurid glare — and yet to his adoring sol- [ diery, "Le petit Coporal," for whom each. t man accounted it an honour to die ! What a contrast to turn from that magnificent egotist to the self-denial, the patience, benevolence, and philanthropy of such a life as Father Mathew's ! Yet both are the portraits of great men. Our gallery" has proved itself a marked success in the wide scope, the varied choice, and the bioad conception of the term "great men." I have read much on the subject of Father Mathew's life and work, and the appalling conditions in which his work began, the dirt, drunkenness, and immorality under which the peasantry existed were enough to sicken even the highest resolve. Yet what he accomplished ! Is it not marvellous what one life consecrated to a great a ; m can do? Dear Emmeline, — As I am of an inventive turn of mind it is only natural that I should choose Mr T. A. Edison for my ideal of a, great man. He has done a great deal for the advancement of the human race. He was born, in 1847, and began the battle of life as a barefooted newsboy on the Grand Trunk railway. When he was 16 years * old he invented ail automatic telegraph repeater, and by his ownexertions and his extraordinary perseverance under difficulties in pursuit of knowledge, he^, gradually raised himself from the position of newsboy to that of one of the greatest inventors m the world. The phonograph, the carbon telephone, electric railway; and the "Edison system" of lighting bta a few of hi 3 hundreds of useful inventions. After reviewing his inventions, and seeing what they have done" towards the advancement of science, art^ and industry, who will say that- Mr Edison is' not worthy a place in history as a great man? - - CRANK. ( You will see that you are not alone in youi* appreciation of Edison, and the conviction that he is entitled to a place in 1 " our "Gallery of Great men," Crank. Edison's has indeed been a wonderful career, such an inventive genius as he not only benefits mankind by his individual inventions, but by the stimulus his discoveries affords to other inventive minds al l over the world. But, Crank, you don't always fee.l grateful to the inventor, of the telephone, "do youV What about living in a suburb where you have the doubtful pleasure of being , "an old identity" whom nobodyminds troubling, and your telephone is a centre of attraction to the neighbours? What about the "ting, ting," which incessantly summons you to ask if you will kindly let Mrs Smith know this and Miss Brown knowthat? What about the hours you spend in "ringing-up" doctors who won't come to patients who won't pay? — in ordering Mrs Jones's fish fo.r her, and arranging about Mrs Toinpkins's cab? What about the friends and neighboxirs who "run in" morning, noon, and night to "ring up" their dearest friends? Or is this all more than compensated Jiy the little chat you manage to have at a 'certain hour every evening with that "Beloved Object " whose voice is so familiar? Deai Emmeline, — Dr ' "Norman Macleod, D.D.,' was born at Cainpbelltown in Argyllshire, June 3, 1812. His grandfather was minister of the Highland parish of. Morven. His father, Dr Norman Macleod, was also a minister of the Established Clmrch, chaplain to the Queen, and one of the best Gaelic scholars oi his time. In 1838, Norman Macleod was called to the parish of Loudon, in Ayrshire, and five years later, soon after the disruption of the Church of Scotland, he was called to the parish, of Dalkeith, in' the vicinity of Edinbuigh. In 1851, -he was called to the Barony Church, in Glasgow. He had to work among LOO,OOO people "of different classes. Re preached" frequently three times on Sunday, also conducted;, a Bible Class. Once a week he presided at a^ meeting of his Suriday school teachers, pre,M paring them for their work. He took a great') interest is missionary work, and devqted &
great deal of time among the poorer classes of Ihe city. . It was Dr Macleod who h.liodueed penny, savings banks in Glasgow. He was never happier than when tplking or preaching to the foundry boys,_ or the labouring people. The greatness of -Or Norman Macleod lay in Ins largeness of heart and strong common-sense, j ■rather than in mental grasp or breadth of culture. . It was in October 1854, and at Crathie * that "the Queen first heard him. pi each. In her ■"Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in the Highlands," she -writes: — "We went to kirk as usual at 12 o'clock. The service was periormed by the Rev. Norman Macleod, of 'Glasgow, and anything finer I never heard. IThe sermon, entirely extempore, was quite admirable — so simple and &o eloquent, and so beautifully aigued and put. . . . The isecond prayer was \ery touching; his allusions -to us were so simple, saying after his mention , of us, 'bless their children.' It gave me a lump in my throat. ..." Before this time he was widely known as a j jioweiful preacher: but aflsr the publication j of the sermon her Majesty heard he began to , jbe recognised as the representative man of | ■the Scottish Church. He had previously been | appointed Dean of the Chapel Royal, and chaplain to the Queen; and in 1869, at her Majesty's special request, he was nominated \ •Dean of the Order of the Thistle. In 1867 he ■undertook a journey to India na connection ■with the Indian Mission. In India, and at any j jplace he called, he was received with open arms by the peode. Outside the church Dr Macleod was best 3mown as editor of Good Words. His first ■. ibook of importance was called "The Earnest j Student." He had a tall, commanding figure, j and a strong, stalwart frame, but his journey , :to India interfered seriously with his health. Dffe clieel in Glasgow on June 16, 1872. During his life" he had gained the affection of thousands of people, the admiration and friendship of many cultured men, and the sincere confidence of his Queen. IRIS. Dr Norman Macleod's name is one which was beloved by all who knew s him personplly, | and respected by all who heard him as _ a preacher, knew him as a writer, or came in •contact with him as an earnest worker. I think, Iris, that your choice of a great man's j portrait for our gallery is amply justified by | the large heartedness, practical ability, and ] -warm humanity which marked the life of Dr. j Norman Macleod. Dear Emmeline, — "The portrait of a great man eminent in history, humanity, art, or literature" affords such wide possibilities of chcice that I think this meetirg oE the Cosy Comer Club ought to be exceptionally well attended. For my r>art I have chosen Sir Walter Scott as ihe subject of a short sketch. He was born in Edinburgh a little more than 129 years ago, but owing to delicate health in his younger years he spent most of his childhood at his grandfather's faim on Tweedside. His father was a well-to-do attorney, the -Jescer.dant of an old Border family of cattle-lifters and rievers, and his mother was Anne Rutherford, the daughter of an Edinburgh University piofessor. On attaining his majority lie was called "to the Bar, but gave all his time and energy to litciatuie. His peiu^al of Percy's "P.eliques of Ancient Poetry" influenced him greatly, and led to the production of sonic cf liis finest ballads. The results' of his 'sxhptistivo study of Border lea-ends, minstrelsy, and scenery arc evidenced alike m his prose and metrical lomtmces. Thi "Lay of the Last Minstrel," "Marmion, and "The Lady of the Lake " are generally conceded to be his mo&u notable poems, for they fopst exhibit his powers of ■vivid narration pnd picturesque description •of scDTjery. Tako as an example of the lastnamed faculty a few lines from the description cl Loch Katrine: — Gleaming with the setting sun, One burnished sheet of L'ving gold, Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled ; In all her length far winding lay^ "With promontory, creak, and bay. And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light; And mountains that like giants stand To sentinel enchanted land-
Scott married in 1779 a lady of French extiaction, named Charlotte Carpenter. Some years later he obtained the fulfilment of a dei sire he had always cherished*— the possession of land on his beloved Tweedside, and there he built the beautiful mansion known as "Abbotsford." . In 1814, his "Waverley, or 'Tis Sixty Years Since," 'took the reading public by storm, although published anonymously. It is said that the manuscript was somehow mislaid some eight years before, when its accidental discovery among a quantity of fishing tackle in an old cabinet reawakened its author's desire to become a writer of fiction. One of Scott's characteristics was his marvellous rapidity of production, in evidence of which we have the fact that "Guy Mannering" was written- in six weeks and the "Bride of iiamrnermoor" in two. The, latter work was written under great mental 1 strain, and Sir Walter did not recognise it as the offspring of his brain, when reading it long afterwards. The mention of many of the characters in Scott's works — such as Lucy Ashton, Flora M'lvor, Dominie Sampson, Meg Merrilees, ; the Baron of Bradwardine, and Caleb I Balderstone — calls up before the eyes of our imagination no mere wraithlike beings, but very distinct personalities. Besides these fictional characters, Scott introduces in his novels many persons who figured largely on the real stage of life, and whom he invests with a charming halo of romance. Six years before his death Scott experienced a serious reverse of fortune through the failure of the publishing firm of Ballantyne and Co., which left him indebted to the extent of "Time and I against any two," he exclaimed, end forthwith set himself to the task of freeing himself from such a load. His health broke down under the strain, and he died at "Abbotsford," September 2], 1832, surrounded by friends who sorrowed greatly at the loss of one so gifted, so benevolent, so happy in his large-hearted enjoyment of life. LOIS. * + * * Dear Emmeline, — I am sorry I have not time to send you a carefully-prepared paper this month, but, at least, I know that brevity is not an unpardonable sin in the eyes of an editress. Among the many great names that present themselves for choice that of John Bunyan can lay claim to real greatness, I think, on the following grounds : — He was possessed of extraordinary talents. In order to make the best use of his gifts he overcame what seemed to be insurmountable difficulties, d the poor and illiterate tinker becoming the author of classic books that are "a well of English undented," and will probably continue to be read as long as the language lasts. He exercised an immense influence for good on his fellowmen, I one of his books, "The Pilgrim's Piogress," having been more universally read than any other in our language, the Bible excepted. Indeed, in former generations the Bible and "The j Pilgrim's Progress" formed the entire library of many families. Lastly, he endured privations, ! persecution, and imprisonment with a patience that was truly heroic ; not repining, but making use of his enforced leisure to produce the masterpieces that have made his name im- ( mortal. COUNTRY MOUSE. j My post-bag is such a full one this time, I my* comrades, that I must make my adieux to you all as brief as possible, only expressing the hope that you will all meet me on -De- ' cember 6, and let me know afterwards what you thinki of the entertainment provided for ! you. — Yoxu- comrade, j EMMELINE. 1^ The 1900 session of the Cosy Corner Club will close on November I|| but I "Emmeline" invites all members to meet ' her at a little entertainment which she has j prepared for their special amusement on December 6. " Emmeline," AT HOME, December 6: 3 p.m. to 6 p.m. Cosy Corner Club. L Magic Mirror will be shown. EMMELINE'S POSTBAG. C.C.C. CORRESPONDENCE. L Cbane raitoa; "The last two meetings h9sn
been yery gcod, and I, for one, have derived both plea-sure and benefit from them. Boy Friend's paper 1 on the topic of 'Friendship' was. very good. I agreed with every word. 'Eldeily Young Man,' -I think, is a bii'of a wag — I fancy I see him smiling as he wrote that paper! The last meeting elicited a great variety of topics— and good ones, too. Starlight, especially, pleased me, and ha 3 set me thinking what my ideal should" be. Ted's advice was good, but I seldom look a,t the gloomy side of life. Rowan Tree's' contribution was what I should like to live up to. I Margaret also interested and impressed me with those extracts from Dean Farrar's lecture on 'Books' — I have noticed myself how little good is got from j eading sensational novels, etc." | 'Lex, — I heartily reciprocate all your kind wishes for our vacation, Lex, but I hope you will not say good-bye until alter my "At home" next month ; for you may be sure I shall, like every hostess, vranu to know ! how you enjoyed our "breaking up, and shall expect a line from you. The idea of the roses is delightful — you won't forget, will you? lam writing an article on the "Queen of Flowers," and shall postpone it 3 completion until I have one more association to add to it. Iris. — I am tiuly glad that you will try to join us as often as you can, and that you consider the club "a complete success." As you can imagine, a summer vacation is necessary for me on account of the large .amount of extra work entailed by the presidency of the club, but I think we shall all look forward with pleasure to the opening of our next session. I shall not say adieu, Iris, for I hope you will be one of my guests next month. Doe. — Your two kind letters have given me much pleasure, and I trust that you will often feel inclined to join us in future, Doe. Let me heartily wish you a veiy pleasant trip. It is strange that I have so many friends whom I have never seen — but it is also very beautiful, dear. I shall like to think of your reading your Witness in far-away places, and perhaps saying, "Now, what does Emmeline say ?" Sweetbeiar. — How good of you to join us, my dear friend, when you were so busy! That is indeed true loyalty to our club. Indeed, with Christmas and a- hundred cares, duties, and changes impending, a rest fiom even Cosy Corner will seem welcome. Jttvenis writes: "I think the club is a vei'y useful institution: teaching us, as it does,' how to express ourselves with fluency, and giving an opportunity to those whose literary field is small" — I hope the.t next year's session will find yoxi a, constant contributor, Juvenis. A late arrival at our meeting today — Lois — has, you see, chosen the same great author as your choice. fell iipon. Ikconnu writes: "I do sincerely congratulate you on the success of the C.C.C. It certainly posses&es some very able members."— And from me, dear Inconnu, accept the assurance that, silent or not, I feel we are really friends, but silence makes one feel a long way off sometimes! I once had a somewhat similar experience to your recent one, and know the delights of "a few repairs" under, such circumstances. The whole affair gets on 'one's neives frightfully, does it not? The deutzia, though scentless itself, can carry a sweet thought, and the papers are here to remind me of you as soon as this C.C.C. meeting is over, and I have time to read them. • *" Discipula sends "just a few lines to congratulate you on the success of yoiir club. I think you are quite right in instituting a holiday during the summer months. We shall all appreciate the meetings better when they start again, and I am sure you must need a rest" — Thank you, Discipula. Of course, there is a lot of work connected with the chib, but its full and brilliant success repays me. The topic you suggest is one which promises well, and I shall make a note of it. Lois. — Your paper is too late, dear, for me to comment on — the papers are all sent in ; but lam glad it is not too late to appear". lam glad you specially enjoyed Gnib's, Lex's, and Daphne's papers last time." Val. — I missed your customary little note, Val — my own private share of the C.C.C. — but was sure you had some good reason, for you are always po orderly in all you do. I hope none of you will feel that the summer vacation of the club, debars .you from writing to me at any time that you feel inclined to do so. I shall always pnjoy having letters from those who, though personally strangers, have grown to be mentally and sympathetically friends. Daphne wishes me to thank all our members for the pleasure she has derived from their papers throughout our session. She also fervently hopes that next j ear may find us all spared. to meet and do good work: "For my part I shall do my best." — Indeed, Daphne, none of our members deserve more credit than you yourself. You have worked well and patiently, contending with many difficulties, and have improved immensely in your contributions. Sheila.. — Indeed, Sheila,. I should have been disappointed had you not joined us to-day, and even though I do not admire Napoleon as you do, I thoroughly enjoyed the delightful portrait you painted of one of the most remarkable men the world has even seen. Dear, il is so nice of you t> say you are "looking forward to your 'At home,' and am going to have a lovely time with our hostess." I only wish you had joined us earlier, as your interest would have Leen deeper in my "Modem Magic Mirror." Elderly Youn& Man. — Sheila says : "I beg to socend that motion of yours re Elderly Young Man's norn dc plume. He is such a delightful writer that he 'ought to have a name to match." Gabhielle. — I am so glad you were in good time, dear; I always hate to miss my little chat, and is it not a charming meeting? Such delightful variety and capital portraits. Eve. — I think your portrait, all disadvantages to the contrary, is as vivid and lifelike as any in our gallery, Eve. Your remaiks, "I have enjoyed this last session of the club immensely, and I think it has been thoroughly successful. May it prove even more successful in the future. lam both loth and anxious to see the closing meeting, ' are very pleasant to ma. Sometimes, when I am very tired, I feel I need these little "pick-me-ups." Alpha. — I feav you have been too busy to join us to-day, for which I am so sorry, but I shall hope to hear from you after my "At home" next month. Boy Friend writes: "In bidding Cosy Corner good-bye for a. season, I do so with deep legret — that sort of r&giet one always feels when leaving 'a cosy corner.' I should liko to thank all the writers by name, and tell them how each in their own way gladdens me, but space does not permit. Suffice it to say that my former high opinion of the possibilities of women has been materially strengthened, for surely our Cosy Corner is not an isolated community, and with many such how soon would disappear th*->£ scoffers who see nothing bvit~the toy of an hour in the noblest woman." — Our session will indeed soon be over, Boy Friend, but I shall feel disappointed if you do not sometimes find a spare moment to send me a line — "all for my own self," as the children say. Love to my Girl Friend and to the "Master of the House"— and my warm thanks
— to you for your help and your kindly appre- •■ ciation of all I have tried to do. Gnib. — Thank you so much for the nice things you say, dear, about my comments at our meetings. I think it is just splendid of you all to be so kind to me. And you are going for a. little change? I'm so glad, dear; it does one so much good. You will see that there is more variety than even you dared expect at this meeting, I am sure — I consider it a delightful meeting in every sense. So glad you are looking forward to my "At home. ' You are one of those who wih find it very interesting. And did you get the parcel, dear ? Ted tells me something which will interest one and all of our CiC.C. members. " has just been over horn Brisbane. He tells us that he described our Cosy Corner Club to a. lady there, who has written asking for directions, rules, etc., as she wishes to start one. "We are going to send her the next meeting (that will be this one). It is sure to be a good one. What with 'I assing Notes,' Dot's Page, and Enrmeline's C.C.C, the Otago Witness can hold its own with any paper soiith of the line." Countby Mouse. — So sorry your paper, like that 'sent by Lois, came tdo late for comment, dear. Thank you vciy, very much for your dear litle note and its delightful invitation; should other plans permit, I should indeed like to accept it, b\it so far as I know at present my next holiday will take me in the long-coveted direction of a South Sea Island trip — which means a lot of "saving up." Yes, I thoroughly enjoyed Miss Marianne G-rant's paper on Jane Barlow's work — it was worthy of the theme, and the theme of Jane Barlow's work is one I love to have known and appreciated, her books are so dear to me. Violet and &ra.nd>ioth3r are mentioned with kindly sympathy and thought by Ted and Country Mouse — both regretting the shadows that have fallen on our two comrades, both hoping that the sun may soon shine through the clouds and dispel them. ps^" Descriptions of balls, &c, must he endorsed uy ither the Witness correspondent for the district or by the secretary to the ball committee. The MS of any j correspondents who do not comply with lips rule, ivill ' be sent- to ihe secretary for endorsement prior to I appearing.— BUM BLINE. To ensure publication in the forthcoming issue, \ etters should reich the Witness office it possible on I Saturday night, but on no account later than Monday nighti ght BACHELOBS'. B.'iLL AT HEBTOT. Dear Emmelinej-^A. most successful and enjoyable dance was given by the Heriot bachelors on Friday, October 19, in Mr Perry's large grain store, which was beautifully decomted for the occasion. The music, which was supplied by Miss Bundle (piano), was all that could be desired. The following were some of the dresses worn; — Misses Kerse, white spotted muslins, with red velvet trimmings ; Miss Sim, while dress relieved with pink flowers ; Miss I. Adams, pink nun's veiling; Miss Ballantyne, white; Miss S. Sim, grey lustre; Misses Foster, pretty white spotted muslins; Miss Barren, pink relieved with black velvet ; Miss R. Shanks, cream with black velvet; Miss C. Shanks, pale blue; Mrs G-. JEdie, creani blouse, black lustre skiit; Miss" Wilkinson, pink lustre; Mrs S. Ottrey, black with pink; Miss J. Robertson, blue blouse, black skirt; Misses Barclay, cream; Miss Sector, pink; Miss S. Harvey, cream; Mrs Kerr, pale pink lustie; Miss Wilson, pink 'silk blouse, black skirt ; Miss Logan, cream lustre blouse, black skirt; Miss. M. Barron, cream, old gold trimmings ; Miss Bundle, white; Miss Collins, white; Miss Milligan, blue; Misa Adams, pink nun's veiling, with pink fIowers.— SNOWDEOP. WEDDING AT OTAMA. Dear Emmeline, — Otama and surrounding districts displayed unusual enthusiasm, last week, in consequence of the marriage of Miss Nellie Cross, of this district, to Mr B. J. Kee, of Canterbury. The ceremony was performed at the home of the bride's mother, "Crossdenc ' Farm," on the 23rd inst., the Rev. Mr Ramsay officiating. Miss Cross is exceedingly well known, and was very popular, as was evinced by the number and value of the wedding presents which were showered upon her when it became- known that the happy day was finally fixed. The morning broke somewhat cloudy, with p sharp easterly wind, but improved considerably as the day advanced, and the afternoon was bright and sunny, quite in keeping with" the occasion. The bride was led into the large sitting room, accompanied by Miss Lena Cross and Miss M. Walker, the bridesmaids, while the triumphant notes of a grand march sounded from the piano. When the, at all times, solemn ceremony was duly performed congratulations were showered upon bride and bridegroom alike with many kisses and much hand-shaking. Tears, too, were not wanting/ although every one appeared to be so happy. Mr F. ■Cross acted a3 best man, while' Mr G-. Cross gave the bride away. The bride was charmingly dressed in pale fawn, trimmed with cieam -flowered chiffon vest and epaulettes, a long veil and wreath of orange blossom. The bridesmaids, in white and blue, looked very handsome. They carried large white bouquets, similar to that of the bride. Mr Clayton was in attendance with his photographic appliances, and took the happy pair, also a group of all th? friends assembled. The wedding breakfast was laid in a large barn adjoining, and was partaken of by about 50 guestS, each one vying with his neighbour in endeavouring to' say pleasant things to the bride and each other, thus making the time fly on wings of happiness, with all the cares of the world forgotten for the time being The bride's health was drunk amid cheers, and if good wishes go for anything they certainly had a promising commencement of their married life. Mrs Cross had also issued over 200 invitations to her friends and neighbours to a wedding ball in ths evening, to be held in the Otarna Public Hall. Each and all heartily responding, merriment carried the hours along fast and furiously amid excellent music, refreshments galore,, and each one bent on bringing pleasure to' his neighbour. The bride appeared at the ball for a few hours, and led off the Grand March and waltz on the aim of her husband. Mr Horrell, in a few happily-chosen sentences, thanked the hostess of the evening, and wished the happy pair long life and prosperity on behalf of the assembled company. In the course of his speech he said that Mr and Mrs Kee were to be congratulated, envied, and imitated, which sentiment, judging from the vociferous applause accorded him, was heartily endorsed by all those present. This wedding will not be forgotten for many a long day. The presents were both useful end costly, and too numerous to appear in print, even did your mles permit of it.— LOYAL.
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Otago Witness, Issue 2433, 31 October 1900, Page 58
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14,420cosy mmm club. Otago Witness, Issue 2433, 31 October 1900, Page 58
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cosy mmm club. Otago Witness, Issue 2433, 31 October 1900, Page 58
Using This Item
No known copyright (New Zealand)
To the best of the National Library of New Zealand’s knowledge, under New Zealand law, there is no copyright in this item in New Zealand.
You can copy this item, share it, and post it on a blog or website. It can be modified, remixed and built upon. It can be used commercially. If reproducing this item, it is helpful to include the source.
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