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wants ? " " Forgiveness," whispered the spirit, "pity, “ What made you come, Linda ? charity that is love." And her soul above its wreck “ Remorse." of life cried for help that it might still have strength to " Oh, Linda ! ” aid another whose ruin was more utter than her own. “ Remorse, remorse, remorse ! Do you know what

As if help could come down to her from out the it is like? It" — bending forward with a hissing whisvastness of the spheres, she drew her curtain and per — " it is hell! There is no other hell. I am sure pressed her face against the pane to look up into the of it. I don't know where it ends, but it begins here,” night. Lo! The great hollow of the firmament was and she struck her heart. ablaze with red, fleecy flame. The curtain of gray was “ Linda,” said Agnes calmly and earnestly,“ you are withdrawn from the immaculate earth, and its inviolate not strong enough to bear any excitement of feeling, snows throbbed and blushed rose-red beneath the cor- The slightest will bring on that dreadful cough. Let uscating glow of the overhanging heaven. Above, on the past go! Let it all go,” she said with visible emoa field of molten white, advanced and retreated the au- tion. “ We cannot bring it back, we cannot change it, roral bosts. Armies gleaming in prismatic hues, with we cannot ever forget it. But we can forgive it. We streamers of green and rose, violet and gold, far afloat, can forgive it, Linda.” were marshalling toward the zenith. Giant figures " Can you forgive it?” rushed onward like clouds driven before the wind, yet “ Yes. Now I can say yes with my heart and soul. only to disperse and to fly back with trackless speed I am not sure, not sure that even yesterday I could bare and banners amain into the infinite azure from whence said so without a single pang of reservation. I am so they came. Through the ever-shifting phantasmagoria human, I - I loved him so much, Linda. shone the steadfast stars. Ariadne’s Crown was set in that I see you, I forgive everything, everything; and silver nimbus ; Cassiopea's Chair was panoplied with if I have ever wronged you by even a thought, may violet lights; Capella, red and lurid, looked forth from you forgive me, and may God. But we must not talk a yellow aureola; spears of fire shot through and through about it. Even I am not strong enough for that the “mild influence” of the Pleiades ; while the blaz- and you, it will kill you.

You must not." ing arch of the zenith cast its projecting splendor south- “ I will," and the thin lips closed tight as of old. ward till it spread like a veil of enchantment before “ I came here to talk. If it kills me, let it. It is the the eyes of Orion.

only chance of righteous death left to me. It's

my

last Was this phantasmal commotion but the outermost chance to cast off this load this awful load here;” and throb of an omnipotent solar storm that moment raging she again put her hand on her heart. more than ninety millions of miles away? Did it flash"}} you could know what I suffered when I did not from that central sphere to her vibrating sight in the know where you were, when I thought that I should twinkling of her eyelid ? Then it was not difficult to never know, you would be glad now that I have this discern in matter the promise and potency of all ter- chance to cast my burden off.”. restrial life,” in matter thus quickened, poised, and “How did you find out, Linda ?” upheld by unerring law and omnipotent Love! “ And “ By Mary Ben. And she would never have told what are we?” she asked, looking inward upon the me, for I had met her many times before and she gave sleeping women on the bed. “ What are we but atoms

no hint, but she saw how I felt, how I looked ; she of that matter kindled by a spark of the Divine Flame? knew it was my last chance, and told me.

And Capheld by immutable law, and saved by illimitable Love!” | tain Ben brought me to Boston. It was a dreadful And human passion, human sorrow, even the mighty night; but the waves were smoother than the railroad. ache of a human heart, seemed to dwindle before the I thought the motion of the cars would kill me, but it significant blaze of elemental splendor. No less the did not. I was to live to reach here, and you. Why morning dawned low and gray. There was the opaque don't you ask me a single question ?” sky. There was the wintry earth. There was the "I cannot think of one that is not too full of pain, leaden atmosphere. There was the racking cough. Linda, to us both.” There was life, as it is, and there, waiting but a “ Pain ! I expect pain. What else have I ever had little farther on, was Death.

on earth? I like it, compared with remorse. “ Why did I run the fearful risk of such a journey never know how much I did to hurt you, to injure you. now?” repeated Linda in the comparative respite of That's what I've come to tell, so I can die easy.”

of Agnes', wrapped in shawls and propped by pillows, she all, I could not bear it. I might not be able to forgive leaned back into the pale sunshine which later in the you,

Linda. Than that, I would rather never know day stole into Evelyn's little front window. “I knew what I had to forgive." I must come now, or never. I had just learned where If you know and don't forgive, the burden will be you were.

I kuew I should not live to see another yours. Till I confess and ask forgiveness, 'tis mine. I winter ; no, nor through another spring."

can bear it no longer. I must roll it off. You must “ Don't say so,” said Agnes from the depths of her take it. You are full of life. I am almost dead.” pilying heart.

“ The journey in such weather was • Forgive me, Linda! It is only when I think of enough to kill you. But you have survived it, and him, that I fear I may not be strong enough to fornow — when the south wind comes, the sunshine, and give.” the wood flowers"

“ It is only when I think of him that I know I have “I shall go," said Linda without emotion. “I know sinned enough to curse my soul forever !” it. Now I am here I can say I wish it. Not but what “Oh, Linda, why didn't you leave us to each other? life looks pleasanter to me than it has” since I lost We were everything to each other at first! How could him, and knew it, she thought; but she said — “since you come between us ? He was all I had ! ” you went away. But I am done with it, done; I know “ How could you come between us? He was all I

had, - all, all, all,” and the sunken eyes flamed in their

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him up

sockets. “ Didn't I nurse him when he was a baby? “I did. I was given over to the devil. Where do Didn't I beg food for him when he would have starved, you think I found them? Under the blotter, between else? Didn't I worship him as a god, and drudge for it and his desk-cover. They were so thin, they made him like the slave that I was, - only that you, with no perceptible rise in the thick paper, yet I felt them your soft eyes and soft voice and soft hands, when under my finger-ends. Of course I was searching. mine were as hard as horns, might lead bim away from Something was going on, I knew, and I was determined me into the moonlight under the maples at Ulm, while to know just what it was for my own ends. She I sat and waited and waited alone, or followed you alone ? never could have married him if it had not been for me. How desolate I was. How I hated you. How I vowed I told her so. Her thanks were, when she got him, that I would avenge my loss ; that I would work your she turned me out of doors.” woe ; that as you took him from me, so he should be “ Linda, do you realize the full import of what you are taken from you; that if I had him not, neither should telling me — how it wrings my heart to sit here and

listen to it?" “ Was there no difference, Linda ? He was like a “ Yes, I do. But I must tell it, and I must tell you. brother to you.

He was my husband. I loved him I can't die with it all in me, can I ? I must confess. when I was a little girl. I never dreamed of taking I am not a Catholic, to go to a priest. If I went to a him from you. I would have been willing, glad that thousand, I could not roll all the burden off till I he should be your devoted brother always.”

came to you. • Brother ! You never knew, you never can know, “I felt full of triumph when I saw you go down the what he was to me! He was everything. I wor- lawn path with Vida that night. Of course I saw you. shipped him. My life began in him and ended in him. I put my poison on the bureau. I was not so stupid I had no other thought. I was glad to be his slave. I as not to watch the effect. I knew at tea that you had would have done anything he told me to do, no matter read the letters. How still Vida was, how softly you how wicked because I loved him. I would do any went out; but I heard you. I watched you till your thing, be anything, but give him up. Yet I had to give figure was lost, down by the Sound.” at last. It killed me.

“ Did you feel no compunction, no pity, Linda ?” " He was never the same to me after you went, “ Not then. I was too busy securing my end; too even before he married her. She would not have me hopeful of gaining it. Fool! In spite of her, I did in the house when she was married, but it was not all not believe that he would marry. I thought that he the thought of her that made him shrink from the sight never could ; that the law would prevent. Her lover of me.

I made him think of you. I knew it. I wished he might be, but I-I would be the mistress of his him reminded of you when I saw what power she had house, with the power I wanted over him. I soon disgained. You were never a match for me, not in my covered that if you staid away he could get a divorce way ; she was. She could not conquer me, but she in two years. Then I depended on her aversion to could kill me by inches.

marriage. It didn't amount to a straw, in the end. It “ Her power was not all of love. He loved you, I came that my last chance was to make peace with her. always knew it, loved you all that he could love any I told her about the letters, as if my only motive in

He was fascinated by her. You know how doing it was to get you out of her way. vain he was.

Think what it must have been to him to “What do you think she said ? She looked me be so flattered and followed by such a woman so steadily in the eyes and answered in the sweetest voice, pretty, so rich, so tempting every way. She beguiled I understand you perfectly. I read your face the first him the more, because she was fascinated by him. I time I saw it. I felt sure that there was no end to the really think she was at first. She got over it ; too late trouble you made, and always made, between Mr. and she thought, for she had married him, and you know Mrs. King. Now I can find more agreeable employ. she never intended to marry any man. But her power ment than watching you. You know what I mean did not go with her fascination. She had too much when I say that in the whole world there is not a house money for that. Think what that money brought him! big enough to hold you and me. You must go. You Everything that he wanted most that he had always shall have all the money that you need, but live where wanted most. And with his temperament all that I am you cannot !' splendid ease was the dearer and the harder to give up “It was then he chose between me and his pleasure. becau-e he was not born to it, and had wanted it all his • It can't be helped, Linda,' he said. “We are not deallife more than anything else. When he had to choose ing with Agnes now, but with a woman whose slightest between me and his pleasures, he chose his pleasures. wish has been a law ever since she was born.' He would have been false to himself if he hadn't.”

“I spurned her money

I hated it. And yet the “I don't think that I understand you,” said Agnes. time came at last when I could not live without it — or “I never knew you to be in the way of his pleasures, his; he took pity on me, and always sent it in his own Linda.”

I went back to Ulm to my trade; but at last “ Of course I never should have been if she had con- I could not work. Yet it's not three months since I sented to live with me. But when she declared that stopped.” I should not stay in any house where they were, he "You were not able to work three months ago!was compelled to choose between me and what she gave said Agnes with compassion. him. He knew very well that she would not continue No, I was not able to work one year ago ; but I to give it if he set his authority against her will. Au- did. The gnawing at my heart (I have a heart) was thority! He never had any authority with her! I worse than all the pain in my lungs. I did not want deserved better treatment of her. I sold my soul to to think of you. The more I tried to forget you the work out her ends. ]- put those two letters on the more distinctly you came back, till at last you staid with bureau that made you go away!”

me all the time. If I shut my eyes, I saw you; if I “ Linda!”

opened them, I saw you. I saw you in the light, I saw

woman.

name.

you in the dark,

As I
grew
weaker I had one thought

him ? Could

you
look
upon

her hour by hour, see her only, how I had tried to injure you."

possessing all you desired, possessing your idol — the “ You tried to help me once, Linda. I should have husband, the child, the home, all hers, while

you

stood died in that fearful sickness if it had not been for your without, tolerated, but not desired, endured, but not nursing."

needed, and not feel your heart harden within you to “Yes. But it was my instinct for nursing, rather hate? If I could have nothing, why should you have than any desire that you should live, that made me do everything? • You shall not,' I said. Would you not it. I brought you back to life about as cat does a have said it ? I said it, and I did it. And I have lived mouse, to have one chance more to maul it.”

to repent, and am here. When I came to see her, to “ Linda, you could not have been so deliberately know her, then I realized how little you had been to cruel!”

blame for anything that I ever endured. Then I real“ Yes, I was. Just as I loved him, I hated you. I ized how cruel I had been to you how wicked. I wanted to harm you because you had taken him. If have been a wicked woman; I know it; I might have you had not, I should never have meddled with you. been a better one if I had tried. I was too wretched to You'll never know in how many ways I harmed you. try. Life had wrought me a hideous wrong, I thought. I used to give him false impressions about you. II wreaked my injury upon the innocent. knew just how to do it. I knew him better than he “ It was all for the want of a little love. Think knew himself. I could touch a spring that would what it would have been to you, in all your life never, change the whole current of his thought and feeling, never to have been truly loved once. What would it and he never dream what did it. So I barmed you all have made you !” and the woman's voice went out in the time. You knew you were harmed, but in how one long wail of anguish. many ways you never imagined. You would have “ I will love you, Linda, as long as you live," said had some trials, no doubt, if you had been left alone; Agnes, taking the white face within her tender hands, any woman would, in being his wife ; but it was I who the tears from her tender eyes falling upon it as she destroyed your married life. It was I who prepared bept and kissed the cold forehead and then the quiverthe way, and made triumph not only possible but easy ing lips. to Circe Sutherland. I did it I did it.”

“ Vida!” she called ; and the susceptible child, as she “ I have prayed over and over that I might be shown entered the room, feeling the atmosphere about these wherein I erred, wherein I might have made all differ- two women, and moved by the sight of their tears and ent,” said Agnes. “Of some things I am certain. If I especially by the attitude of her mother, went straight had been less sensitive to his careless moods, more to them, and stretching her arms about both, said: sunny, less silent and sad, less severe in my mental “ Dear mamma! dear Auntie Linda, I love you too.” judgment on him, things would have gone better with Thus the old life was buried beyond the possibility of us, I feel sure now. Then I was too young, too weak resurrection. to know.”

Athel Dane found a new object of interest in the “ You were not perfect,” said Linda.

“ You moped

log-house beneath the Pinnacle, a woman sick unto too much took everything too much to heart, that is death, who was yet unreconciled to fate, and who certain ; but if you hadn't - if

you
had been any-

faced eternity with a stoical apathy more appalling thing, everything that you were not, under the same than fear. conditions you would have been no match against such “ She has loved and suffered much, and has been a nature, experience, and purpose as mine.”

most unhappy. Show her tenderly as you can the 6 What makes me sorriest is to have you say “pur- dawn of the Hereafter,” said Agnes to bim with a pose,' Linda. The being overcome of evil I know all voice full of tears; and this was the only allusion that about; but the purpose, the fixed, cruel purpose to she ever made to Linda's past. Thus with gentle eyes work another's harm I cannot understand. If you and tender voice the rector of Dufferin, into whose would only not say that, Linda.”

breast it seemed had come the heart of a little child, “I must. · Understand'? You will never understand! talked with this unfortunate daughter of earth, of the Can you understand a whole life that has been one long final transition from death unto life which the Father hunger for love never satisfied ? What do you know grants his beloved children. He helped her to see about such a life? Nothing. Do you know what it that she “ would not die in dying, any more than the is to long with the first longing of your childish heart plants die that wither in the later summer and shake for a home — a true home; to grow gray, to die, yet out their seeds to send them flying on the wind, to never to have one! Do you know what it is to cry in light and spring and blossom again in the heart of your inmost being for a child, your very own; cry to another summer ;” that God's Hereafter would be hear a baby voice say mother, to feel baby lips cling- granted her for love and peace no less than his Now. ing to your own, to feel that there is something in the If in solemn unction he intoned with her the church's world bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh; to cry prayers for the contrite, with enkindled vision he for this child in silent anguish — to see it, all these, pointed out to her the promise of help, growth, and another's — never, never yours?

fruition whose harvest awaits the justified beyond the “Do you know what it is to love one with your

first sowing of these brief and stormy earthly years. consciousness, to nurse him with almost holy hands, to Many and many an hour of peace stole in unaware go hungry for him, to slave for him, to bear poverty, between the hours of weariness and pain. Linda ignominy for his sake, to sin for him, to live for him breathed in a new atmosphere of forgiveness, love, with no thought or desire in which he is not, only to see trust, and of tender pity. Her last days were her best him go farther and farther froin you, till wholly lost? days, to a degree of content that but a short time beOuly to see him possessed by another, living a life with fore she would have believed impossible. Aihel Dane her in which you have no share; to know that while had been sitting long by her bedside one day, when he is all the world to you, you are next to nothing to Agnes entered the room. As she met his eyes there

were enormous.

was something in their sympathy which she had never adventure with less promising prospects. Any sensible seen before, which made her heart beat faster.

adviser would have told bim to prefer starvation in his " Agnes,” said Linda, “I have told Mr. Dane the

native village to starvation in the back lanes of London. story of your past all of it. He knows everything.

The adviser would, perhaps, have been vexed, but would

not have been confuted by Crabbe's good fortune. We I have kept nothing back. My sin is ever before me should still recommend a youth not to jump into a river, - I have confessed my fault not to him, but to God. I though, of a thousand who try the experiment one may want to drop all of my burden that I may, day by day, happen to be rescued by a benevolent millionaire, and be as I go on. It is but right that he should know how put in the road to fortune. The chances against Crabbe you have loved and suffered.”

Literature, considered as a trade, is a Athel Dane uttered not a word óf sympathy. In good deal better at the present day than it was towards that one swift, measureless glance his spirit told what opportunity of comparing the failures to the successes, no word could express. Mental communion, intellect

would be more apt to quote Chatterton than Crabbe as a ual companionship, she had shared with him for months precedent for youthful aspirants. Crabbe, indeed, might now. They had given a new value to her life. But say for himself that literature was the only path open to this glance held something more — the recognition in

him. His father was collector of salt duties at Aldborsympathy of an awakening human heart. What bad ough, a position, as one may imagine, of no very great not her life measured of weariness, loneliness, sorrow,

emolument. He had, however, given his son the chance

of acquiring since such a glance was hers! Now like dew from

smattering of scholarship,” in the sense in

which that word is used by the less educated lower classes. heaven it fell upon her soul. When she prayed that To the slender store of learning acquired in a cheap counnight, she thanked God for it as for a heavenly good. try school, the lad managed to add such medical training

The swift glory of the Northern latter May burst in as could be picked up during an apprenticeship in an a single night upon the world. “Agnes," said Linda apothecary's shop. With this provision of knowledge he suddenly, as propped in her arm-chair she looked out tried to obtain practice in his native town. He failed to upon the Pinnacle, a mountain of emerald transfigured

get any patients of the paying variety. Crabbe was clumsy in the gold of the setting sun," Agoes, you will see

and absent-minded to the end of his life. He had, moreCyril sometime, perhaps before very long. I know Aldborough, with that perverse tendency to draw infer

over, a taste for botany, and the shrewd inhabitants of you will. You are his wife. When you do see him, ences which is characteristic of people who can't reason, try to tell him how I loved him. Because I loved him argued that as be picked up his samples in the ditches bé too much, I grew wicked, cruel. I feel now the mean- ought to sell the medicines presumably compounded from ing in the Litany of “From all inordinate and sinful them for nothing. In one way or other, poor Crabbe had affections, good Lord, deliver us. Inordinate, that ex

sunk to the verge of distress. Of course, under these cirpresses my love for him. Could I help it? I do not

cumstances, he had fallen in love and engaged himself at know. I do not know how to love him less, even now.

the age of eighteen to a young lady, apparently as poor as

himself. Of course, too, he called Miss Elmy “Mira," and I am happier because I see him in the face of his child.

addressed lier in verses which occasionally appeared in the My heart cries now with the want that he should know poet's corner of a certain Wheble's Magazine. My Mira, how much I loved him. He was my all. Tell him, said the young surgeon in a style which must have been Agnes. I am glad I am going. If I lived, I might be rather antiquated even in Aldborough just as wicked to you again. I do not know. I know

My Mira, shepherds, is as fair
I love you now.
You are sure, quite sure, that you

As sylvan nymphs who haunt the vale ; have forgiven — everything ?”

As sylphs who dwell in purest air,

As fays who skim the dusky dale. “Sure, Linda. You have grown very dear to me." * * Through our Lord, who giveth us the victory.'

Moreover he won a prize for a poem on Hope, and com

posed an How strange, Agnes, that I should understand these

Allegorical Fable" and a piece called " The

Atheist Reclaimed ;” and, in short, added plentifully to words through my own heart at last.”

the vast rubbish-heap old-world verses, now decayed beVida came and laid her cheek against Linda's. Her

yond the industry of the most persevering of Dryasdusts. golden head touched the head of snow.

Nay, he even succeeded by some mysterious means in My darling, my own darling!”

getting one of his poems published separately. It was The after rays of the sun shot upward as at its ris- called " Inebriety," and was an imitation of Pope. Here ing. Wood, lake, Pinnacle — the new earth in the

is a couplet by way of sample:breathing freshness of its tender bloom, took on a swift

Champagne the courtier drinks the spleen to chase, overflowing radiance. Old things had passed away.

The colonel Burgundy and Port his Grace. All had become new.

from the satirical the poet diverges into the mock he“ It is morning. How glad I am,” said Linda with a long sigh and with uplifted eyelids, which slowly

See Inebriety ! her wand she waves closed in peace.

And lo! her pale, and lo! her purple slaves. “My darling,” said Agnes, drawing the golden bead

The interstices of the box of clothing which went with away with tender awe, “your Auntie Linda has gone

him from Aldborough to London were doubtless crammed home.”

with much waste paper scribbled over with these feeble echoes of Pope's Satires, and with appeals to nymphs,

muses, and shepherds. Crabbe was one of those men who CRABBE'S POETRY.

are born a generation after their natural epoch, and was as little accessible to the change of fashion in poetry as in costume. When, therefore, he finally resolved to hazard

his own fate and Mira's upon the results of his London It is nearly a century since George Crabbe, then a young adventure, the literary goods at his disposal were already man of five-and-twenty, put three pounds in his pocket somewhat musty in character. The year 1780, in which and started from his native town of Aldborough, with a he reached London, marks the very nadir of English poebox of clothes and a case of surgical instruments, to make try. From the days of Elizabeth to our own ihere bas his fortune in London. Fow men have attempted that never been so absolutely barren a period. People had

roic :

BY LESLIE STEPHEN.

resources

become fairly tired of the jingle of Pope's imitators, and / pursued what Chesterfield's correspondent would have the new era had not dawned. Goldsmith and Gray, both thought the most hopeless of all courses. He wrote to recently dead, serve to illustrate the condition in which Lord North, who was at that moment occupied in contemthe most exquisite polish and refinement of language has plating the final results of the ingenious policy by which been developed until there is a danger of sterility. The America was lost to England, and probably consigned “ Elegy” and the “Deserted Village" are inimitable Crabbe's letter to the waste-paper basket. Then he tried poems: but we feel that the intellectual fibre of the poets the effect of a copy of verses, beginning :has become dangerously delicate. The critical faculty Ah! Shelburne, blest with all that's good or great, could not be stimulated further without destroying all

Tadorn a rich or save a sinking state. spontaneous impulse. The reaction to a more masculine and passionate school was imminent; and if the excellent

He added a letter saying that as Lord North bad not an* Crabbe could have put into his box a few of Burns's lyrics, swered him, Lord Shelburne would probably be glad to or even a copy of Cowper's “ Task,” one might have supply the needs of a starving apothecary turned poet. augured better for his prospects. But what chance was

Another copy of verses was inclosed, pointing out that there for a man who could still be contentedly invoking Shelburne’s reputed liberality would be repaid in the the muse and stringing together mechanic echoes of Pope's usual coin :couplets ? How could he expect to charm the jaded facul- Then shall my grateful strains his ear rejoice, ties of a generation which was already beginning to heave His name harmonious thrilled on Mira's voice; and stir with a longing for some fresh excitement ? For a Round the reviving bays new sweets shall spring, year the fate wbich bas overtaken so many rash literary

And Shelburne's fame through laughing valleys ring! adventurers seemed to be approaching steadily. One tem- Nobody can blame North and Shelburne for not acting the porary gleam of good fortune cheered him for a time. He part of good Samaritans. He, at least, may throw the first persuaded an enterprising publisher to bring out a poem stone who has always taken the trouble to sift the grain called “ The Candidate, ” wbich had some faint success, from the chaff amidst all the begging letters which he though ridiculed by the reviewers. Unluckily the pub- has received, and who has never lamented that bis benevolisher became bankrupt, and Crabbe was thrown upon his lence outran his discretion. But there was one man in

the poor three pounds and box of surgical England at the time who had the rare union of qualities instruments aforesaid. How he managed to hold out for a

necessary for Crabbe's purpose. Burke is a name never year is a mystery. It was lucky for him, as be intimates, to be mentioned without reverence; not only because that he had never heard of the fate of Chatterton, who had Burke was incomparably the greatest of all English politpoisoned bimself just ten years before. A journal which ical writers, and a standing refutation of the theory which he wrote for Mira is published in his life, and gives an couples rhetorical excellence with intellectual emptiness, account of his feelings during three months of his cruel

but also because he was a man whose glowing baired of probation. He applies for a situation as amanuensis all injustice and sympathy for all suffering never evapooffered in an advertisement, and comforts himself on fail

rated in empty words. His fine literary perception enabled ing with the reflection that the advertiser was probably a him to detect the genuine excellence which underlay the sharper. He writes piteous letters to publishers and gets, superficial triviality of Crabbe's verses. He discovered of course, the stereotyped reply with which the most amia- the genius where men like North and Shelburne might ble of publishers must damp the ardor of aspiring genius. excusably see nothing but the mendicant versifier; and a The disappoinıment is not much softened by the pub- benevolence still rarer than his critical ability forbade him lisher's statement that "he does not mean by this to insin- to satisfy his conscience by the sacrifice of a five-pound uate any want of merit in the poem, but rather a want of When, by the one happy thought of his life, Crabbe attention in the public.”. Bit by bit bis surgical instru- appealed to Burke's sympathy, the poet was desperately ments go to the pawnbroker. When one publisher sends endeavoring to get a 'poem through the press. But he his polite refusal poor Crabbe has only sixpence-farthing owed fourteen pounds, and every application to friends as in the world, which, by the purcbase of a pint of porter, poor as himself, and to patrons upon whom he had no is reduced to fourpence-ballpenny. The exchequer fills claims, had been unsuccessful. Nothing but ruin was beagain by the disappearance of his wardrobe and his watch; fore bim. After writing to Burke he spent the night in but ebbs under a new temptation. He buys some odd pacing Westminster Bridge. The letter on which his fate volumes of Dryden for three-and-sixpence, and on coming hung is the more pathetic because it is free from those home tears bis only coat, which he manages to patch questionable poetical flourishes which had failed to contolerably with a borrowed needle and thread, pretending, ciliate bis former patrons. It tells his story frankly and with a pathetic shi't, that they are required to stitch to- forcibly. Burke, however, was not a rich man, and was gether manuscripts instead of broadcloth. And so for a

at one of the most exciting periods of his political career. year the wolf creeps nearer to the door, wbilst Crabbe

His party was at last fighting its way to power by means gallantly keeps up appearances and spirits. And yet be of the general resentment against the gross mismanagement tries to preserve a show of good spirits in the Journal to of their antagonists. A perfunctory discharge of the duty Mira, and continues to labor at his verse-making. Perhaps. I of charity would have been pardonable ; but from the indeed, it may be regarded as a bad symptom that he is moment when Crabbe addressed Burke the poor man's forreduced to distracting bis mind by making an analysis of a

tune was made. Burke's glory rests upon services of much dull sermon.

“There is nothing particular in it,” he ad- more importance to the world at large than even the presmits, but at least it is better, he thinks, to listen to a bad ervation to the country of a man of genuine power. Yet sermon than to the blasphemous rant of deistical societies. there are few actions on which he could reflect with more, Indeed, Crabbe's spirit was totally unlike the desperate unalloyed satisfaction ; and the case is not a solitary one in pride of Chatterton. He was of the patient enduring Burke's history. A political triumph may often be only iribe, and comforts bimself by religious meditations, which bastened a year or two by the efforts of even a great are, perhaps, rather commonplace in expression, but when leader ; but the salvage of a genius which would otherwise read by the light of the distresses he was enduring, show a have been hopelessly wrecked in the deep waters of povbrave and unembittered spirit, not to be easily respected erty is so much clear gain to mankind. One circumstance too highly. Starvation seemed to be approaching; or, at may be added as oddly characteristic of Crabbe. He least, the only alternative was the abandonment of bis always spoke of his benefactor with becoming gratitude ; ambition, and acceptance, if he could get it, of the post of and 'many years afterwards Moore and Rogers thought druggist's assistant. He had but one resource left; and

that they might extract some interesting anecdotes of the that not of the most promising kind. Crabbe, amongst bis great author from the now celebrated poet. Burke, as we other old-fashioned notions, had a strong belief in the tra

know, was a man whom you would discover to be remarkditional patron.

Johnson might have given him some able if you stood with bim for five minutes under a hayhints upon the subject; but luckily, as it turned out, be

stack in a shower. Crabbe stayed in his house for months

note.

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