He reads my daily paper through He talks about his fragile health, Of which he ne'er complains; He tells me of the carping words He thinks the writer did me wrong; When'er he comes — - that dreadful man I know that, like an Autumn rain, I recollect the tutors all As freshly now, if I may say so, As any chapter I recall In Homer or Ovidius Naso, I recollect, extremely well, "Old Hugh," the mildest of fanatics; I well remember Matthew Bell, I recollect the prizes paid For lessons fathomed to the bottom; (Alas that pencil-marks should fade !) I recollect the chaps who got 'em, The light equestrians who soared O'er every passage reckoned stony; And took the chalks, but never scored A single honour to the pony! Ah me! - what changes Time has wrought, And some as politicians bicker; For jury-verdicts, or for liquor. And some on Trade and Commerce wait; And some in schools with dunces battle; And some the Gospel propagate, And some the choicest breeds of cattle; And some are living at their ease; And some were wrecked in "the revulsion;" Some serve the State for handsome fees, And one, I hear, upon compulsion! Wild Nick, whose oaths made such a din, And Mullion, with that monstrous chin, And Darrell studies, week by week, Mr. Saxe's imitation of Praed's School and Schoolfellows' is the more remarkable, because he makes no mention of the brilliant Etonian when, with an air of scrupulous honesty, he names the writers to whom he is indebted for thoughts or language. Praed, it should moreover be observed, is not the only poet whose music and wit are reproduced by the American imitator, who in turn reminds his English reader of Byron, Barham, and other familiar writers. Sometimes the imitation is obviously meant for the reader's notice; but in several places it seems to be unintentional on the part of the author. ENGLISH KNOWLEDGE OF AMERICA. to put an end to the lectureship, and providing The surprising ignorance of American af- that in such a case the endowment should refairs, not only on matters of current inter-vert to the donor or his representatives. But est, but of geographical and statistical in- Mr. Thompson suggests that, before the offer formation, which has been manifested in the is accepted, or deed of endowment is drawn, most learned English circles, has been, before now, the occasion of much comment. It seems that there is a prospect of light in some dark places. The London Times one preliminary trial of the scheme should be made. The Vice-Chancellor invites the attendance of members of the Senate on Saturday, for the discussion of the above-mentioned subjeet. Some members seem afraid to accept Mr. Thompson's liberal offer lest the lecture should be merely republican declamations, and others "The Vice Chancellor of the University of fail to see that it will be of any benefit to CamCambridge has informed the Senate that Hen-bridge." says: ry Yates Thompson, M. A,, late scholar of By way, probably, of reassuring those Trinity College, has offered to endow a lecture- timid souls who are afraid of the influence ship for the purpose of having delivered at of "republican declamations," the Times Cambridge during one term biennially a course of lectures on the history, literature, and insti- proceeds to remark that "those who have tutions of the United States of America. Mr. any knowledge of Harvard College, which Thompson proposes that the lectureship should contains probably the most polished society be founded at Harvard College, Cambridge, in America-certainly the cream of the U. S.; that the lecturer should be appointed men distinguished in science or literature biennially by the President and Fellows of in the United States will not be likely to Harvard College (subject to the veto in case of feel any such fears. The authorities of the Vice-Chancellor ), and that his sole quali- Harvard College are certain, for their own fications should be American citizenship, and the opinion of his appointers that he is a fit sakes, to send a lecturer who will represent person to deliver such a course of lectures." If them well, and the interchange of ideas the lectureship is ultimately accepted, Mr. with such a man resident here could not fail Thompson thinks that the endowment deed to be a benefit, even if we had nothing to should contain a clause giving to either Univer- learn about the history, literature, or instisity the power at any time, of its own free will, tutions of his country." PART XIII-CHAPTER XLV. WHEN the first whisper of the way in which she was-as people say"left," reached Lucilla, her first feeling was incredulity. It was conveyed to her by aunt Jemima, who came to her in her room after the funeral with a face blanched with dismay. Miss Marjoribanks took it for grief; and, though she did not look for so much feeling from Mrs. John, was pleased and comforted that her aunt should really lament her poor papa. It was a compliment which, in the softened and sorrowful state of Lucilla's mind, went to her heart. Aunt Jemima came up and kissed her in a hasty excited way, which showed genuine and spontaneous emotion, and was not like the solemn pomp with which sympathising friends generally embraced a mourner; and then she made Lucilla sit down by the fire and held her hands. "My poor child," said aunt Jemima "my poor, dear, sacrificed child! you know, Lucilla, how fond I am of you, and you can always come to me — "Thank you, dear aunt Jemima," said Miss Majoribanks, though she was a little puzzled. “You are the only relative I have, and I knew you would not forsake me. What should I do without you at such a time? I am sure it is what dear papa would have wished". "Lucilla," cried Mrs. John, impulsively, "I know it is natural you should cry for your father; but when you know all, you that never knew what it was to be without money that never were straitened even, or obliged to give up things, like most other young women. Oh, my dear, they said I was to prepare you, but how can I prepare you? I feel as if I never could forgive my brother-in-law; that he should bring you up like this, and then ". "What is it?" said Miss Marjoribanks, drying her tears. "If it is anything new tell me, but don't speak so of-of- What is it? say it right out." "Lucilla," said aunt Jemima, solemnly, "you think you have a great deal of courage, and now is your time to show it. He has left you without a farthing - he that was always thought to be so rich. It is quite true what I am saving. He has gone and died and left nothing, Lucilla. Now I have told you; and oh, my poor, dear, injured child," cried Mrs. John, with fervour, "as long as I have a home there will be room in it for you." But Lucilla put her aunt away softly when she was about to fall upon her neck. Miss Marjoribanks was struck dumb; her heart seemed to stop beating for the moment. "It is quite impossible-it cannot be true," she said. and gave a gasp to recover her breath. Then Mrs. John came down upon her with facts, proving it to be true-showing how Dr. Marjoribanks's money was invested, and how it had been lost. She made a terrible muddle of it, no doubt, but Lucilla was not very clear about business details any more than her aunt, and she did not move nor say a word while the long, involved, endless narrative went on. She kept saying it was impossible in her heart for half of the time, and then she crept nearer the fire and shivered and said nothing even to herself, and did not even seem to listen, but knew that it must be true. It would be vain to attempt to say that it was not a terrible blow to Lucilla; her strength was weakened already by grief and solitude and want of food, for she could not find it in her heart to go on eating her ordinary meals as if nothing had happened; and all of a sudden she felt the cold seize her, and drew closer and closer to the fire. The thoughts which she had been thinking in spite of herself, and for which she had so greatly condemned herself, went out with a sudden distinctness, as if it had been a lamp going out and leaving the room in darkness, and a sudden sense of utter gloom and cold and bewildering uncertainty came over Lucilla. When she lifted her eyes from the fire, into which she had been gazing, it almost surprised her to find herself still in this warm room where there was every appliance for comfort, and where her entire wardrobe of new mourning—everything, as aunt Jemima said, that a woman could desirewas piled up on the bed. It was impossible that she could be a penniless creature, left on her own resources, without father or supporter or revenue; and yet. good heavens! could it be true? "If it is true, aunt Jemima," said Lucilla, "I must try to bear it; but my poor head feels all queer. I'd rather not think any more about it to-night." "How can you help thinking about it, Lucilla?" cried Mrs. John. "I can think of nothing else; and I am not so much concerned as you.' Upon which Lucilla rose and kissed aunt Jemima, though her head was all confuse and she had noises in her ears. "I don't think we are much like each other, you know," she said. "Did you hear how Mrs. Chiley was? I am sure she will be very sorry; and with that Miss Marjoribanks softened and felt a little comforted, and cried again—not for the money, but for her gest noises hummed in her ears. She felt ashamed of her weakness, but she could not help it; and then she was weak with grief and excitement and comparative fastings which told for something, probably, in her inability to bear so unlooked-for a blow. father. "If you are going down-stairs, Iness and self-possession in almost any cirthink I will come down to tea, aunt Jemi-cumstances, but now the blood seemed to be ma," she said. But after Mrs. John had running a race in her veins, and the strangone away full of wonder at her philosophy, Lucilla drew close to the fire again and took her head between her hands and tried to think what it meant. Could it be true? Instead of the heiress, in a good position, who could go abroad or anywhere and do anything she liked, was it possible But Miss Marjoribanks thought it was best that she was only a penniless single woman to go down to the drawing-room for tea, as with nobody to look to, and nothing to live she had said. To see everything just as it on? Such an extraordinary incomprehen- had been, utterly indifferent and unconscious sible revolution might well make any one of what had happened, made her cry, and feel giddy. The solid house and the com- relieved her giddiness by reviving her fortable room, and her own sober brain, grief; and then the next minute a bewilderwhich was not in the way of being put off ing wonder seized her as to what would beits balance, seemed to turn round and come of this drawing-room, the scene of her round as she looked into the fire. Lucilla triumphs; who would live in it, and whom was not one to throw the blame upon her the things would go to, which made her sick father as Mrs. John had done. On the con- and brought back the singing in her ears. trary she was sorry, profoundly sorry for But on the whole she took tea very quietly him, and made such a picture to herself of with aunt Jemima, who kept breaking into what his feelings must have been, when he continual snatches of lamentation, but was went into his room that night, and knew always checked by Lucilla's composed that all his hard-earned fortune was gone, looks. If she had not heard this extraordithat it made her weep the deepest tears for nary news, which made the world turn him that she had yet shed. "Poor papa!" round with her, Miss Marjoribanks would she said to herself; and as she was not have felt that soft hush of exhaustion and much given to employing her imagination in grief subdued which, when the grief is not this way, and realizing the feeling of oth- too urgent, comes after all is over; and ers, the effect was all the greater now. If even now she felt a certain comfort in the he had but told her, and put off a share of warm firelight and the change out of her the burden from his own shoulders on to own room where she had been living shut hers who could have borne it! but the Doc-up, with the blinds down, and the black tor had never done justice to Lucilla's qual- dresses everywhere about, for so many ities. This, amid her general sense of con- dreary days. fusion and dizziness and insecurity, was the John Brown, who had charge of Dr. Maronly clear thought that struck Miss Marjori- joribanks's affairs, came next day and exbanks; and that it was very cold and must plained everything to Lucilla. The lawbe freezing outside; and how did the poor yer had had one short interview with his people manage who had not all her present client after the news came, and Dr. Marjoriadvantages? She tried to put away this banks had borne it like a man. His face revelation from her, as she had said to aunt had changed a little, and he had sat down, Jemima, and keep it for a little at arm's which he was not in the habit of doing, and length, and get a night's rest in the mean drawn a kind of shivering long breath; and time, and so be able to bring a clear head then he had said, " Poor Lucilla!" to himto the contemplation of it to-morrow, which self. This was all Mr. Brown could say was the most judicious thing to do. But about the effect the shock had on the Docwhen the mind has been stimulated by such tor. And there was something in this very a shock, Solomon himself, one would sup- scanty information which gave Lucilla a pose, could scarcely, however clearly he new pang of sorrow and consolation. might perceive what was best, take the ju-" And he patted me on the shoulder that dicious passive way. When Lucilla got up last night," she said, with tender tears; and from where she was crouching before the felt she had never loved her father so well fire she felt so giddy that she could scarce- in all her life - which is one of the sweeter ly stand. Her head was all queer, as she uses of death which many must have experihad said, and she had a singing in her ears.enced, but which belonged to a more exShe herself seemed to have changed along quisite and penetrating kind of emotion with her position. An hour or two before, than was common to Lucilla. she could have answered for her own steadi "I thought he looked a little broken |
