Oh, how perilously winning was that ready, intelligent talk to Pleasance, coming upon her as if with the revival of old equal intercourse, which was no sooner heard than it filled her with a yearning sense of the vacancy and isolation that had preceded the unlooked-for experience! It came upon her with the sharp joy of surprise and the bliss of wonder. Yet Joel Wray was saying no more than did she not think spare old Miles Plum— now that he had finished his poetic praise There was not much leisure, to be sure, of his grey mare, and was whetting his to look around and see how the "field" scythe was like the figure of death on a employed itself. After having cleared tombstone? And were not the shapes away the victuals with the magic celerity of healthy appetites set on edge by a long morning's work, the lad Ned and some of

ters, in reality drawn by the universal at- must teach them many things very delighttraction of the harvest-field, well matched fully." with the scene?

He wondered if she were laughing at

guessed that while she might have a little book-knowledge, of which she had made the most, she was in a delusion about the theatre, supposing it a place where historical dramas and moving moral tragedies were acted for the instruction and im

One of the children, a pretty little tod-him, and if there were not only native indling boy, belonged to the daughter of telligence so far cultivated, but sarcasm the bailiff-the last, a stout figure in in the thoughtful eyes. But she was farmer's garb of grey coat and grey hat, looking at him quite simply, and he with a resolute mottled face and wiry whiskers, had just come on the field, to see how the work was progressing. The daughter, somewhat more refined than the ordinary women around her, half way between a rustic and a lady, had followed her father with a letter which had ar-provement of the poople. rived for him and required an answer. Her child seeing his grandfather, ran and clasped the familiar knees, holding up the little fists clenched upon all the flowers which they were able to hold.

Pleasance's and Wray's eyes fell simultaneously on the group, and simultaneously they turned with a flash of pleased recognition to each other. "Dora," exclaimed Wray. "Grandpapa's Flowers," exclaimed Pleasance.

"I saw the play acted in one of the theatres before I left London; it is very popular," said Joel, clearing his throat.

"I read the story first by Mary Russell Mitford, and then by Tennyson. I used to read Miss Mitford's stories, and I have Tennyson's earlier poems," said Pleasance, quite naturally and easily, so long accustomed to the discrepancies between her education and her position, that she had quite forgotten how they would strike a stranger.

He looked amazed and stared for a moment, and then said

"Oh, I suppose you have good working-people's libraries in the country, as well as in the town."

"No," she said, "I am sorry to say there are not, and I should be sorrier, but that grown-up people in our class hardly read at all in the country, at least that is my experience. The vicar has a Sunday

school library which serves the boys and girls as long as they continue at school; after they leave it they mostly give up reading."

he ventured and paused. She did not seem to look upon the observation as a liberty, though a little reserve stole over her in her answer.

He did not wish to undeceive and disappoint her, he felt instinctively that she would be disappointed if he told her, that the theatre was a place where people went only to be entertained. She might say next, was not instruction-instruction not in science and art, but in greater human truths, struggles and conquests, the highest and best entertainment, or make some other equally wise, unanswerable speech. There was no wise speech with which he would not credit those flexible yet firm lips.

He preferred to say evasively, where her last sentence was concerned, "The Dora' that I saw played, was neither written by Miss Mitford nor by Tennyson, but by one Charles Reade."

"How odd that they should all three choose the same simple little text!" she said. "But don't you think that writers must all go back to first duties as well as to first feelings?"

He was saved an answer by the signal for the harvest work to recommence.

From The Athenæum. LIFE, LETTERS, AND JOURNALS OF GEORGE TICKNOR.*

THIS "Life of George Ticknor" will be welcomed by many Englishmen who have travelled in the United States, for it will houses, and one of the kindliest of hosts. bring to mind one of the pleasantest of They will recall the street that faced the green elms on the Boston Common, the well-known door, the hospitable greeting. They will see once more that noble library, rich in its stores of English and of Spanish literature, in its gift-books from Byron, Southey, Wordsworth, and many others, in its folios of historical and liter

"I was not educated here, and I have a number of books - they seem a number in this quarter," she corrected herself with a little laugh, "I read them still when I have spare time. The theatre must stand Life, Letters, and Journals of George Ticknor. in the place of books to many people, and 2 vols. (Boston, U.S., Osgood & Co.)

ary autographs; and, best of all, they will hear again the conversation of George Ticknor himself, so varied, so full of in-| formation and of soundest sense.

up the law, and in 1815 he comes to Europe in order to study at Göttingen.

On reaching Liverpool, his first introduction is to Roscoe, and then, on his way to London, he stops at Hatton to visit Dr. Parr, who astonished him not a little by observing, "Sir, I should not think I had done my duty if I went to bed any night without praying for the success of Napoleon Bonaparte.

Elsewhere in Boston they might, perhaps, find a more ostentatious luxury, but nowhere greater cultivation or a more exquisite refinement. Elsewhere they might meet with more boldness in the formation of opinions, or greater brilliancy in their expression, but nowhere such a In London, Mr. Ticknor formed a balanced judgment or an intellect trained friendship with Lord Byron; two men more carefully. Nor was anything more more unlike in every respect can hardly delightful than Mr. Ticknor's readiness to be conceived of, and it is amusing to think assist by his information or advice any one of Byron impressing his visitor as being who might ask his aid. It was the same" simple and unaffected," or of his speakfor all. It might be merely that some young ing "of his early follies with sincerity," travelling Englishman was consulting and of his own works "with modesty." him as to the best tour, or the political It is amusing, too, to hear that, as Lady relations of the various States. It might Byron is going out for a drive, “Lord be that some great statesman, like Daniel Byron's manner to her was affectionate; Webster, was going to make a speech, he followed her to the door, and shook and (the note lies now before us) begs hands with her, as if he were not to see Mr. Ticknor to write out for him "those her for a month." The following curious verses in Virgil, in which he so beautifully anecdote shows that Byron was no less describes the motions of the heavenly unpatriotic in his views than Dr. Parr bodies." Or, again, Lord Stanhope is himself. Mr. Ticknor is calling upon him, editing his "Miscellanies," and it is to and Byron is praising Scott as the first Mr. Ticknor that he turns for information man of his time, and saying of Gifford about Washington and André. It was that no one could have a better disposiunlikely that the special knowledge would tion, when — be wanting. It was impossible that the kindly willingness should fail.

Those of us who have known Mr. Ticknor only through his great work, the "History of Spanish Literature," or as the biographer of Mr. Prescott, will feel something of surprise in the discovery that the interest of these memoirs lies less in their literary than in their social aspects. But Mr. Ticknor was no mere student. He was a man of society and of the world. He travelled much, and he went nowhere without making the acquaintance of the most remarkable men of each country that he visited. He kept the most careful diaries, noting down the descriptions and the conversations of those he met, and these diaries form no inconsiderable portion of the book before us. At Boston he was busy as professor at Harvard, or in founding the Boston Library, or engaged in his own literary work. In Europe he was scarcely less busy, collecting and arranging his materials, learning all that could be learnt, seeing all that could be

seen.

He was born at Boston in 1791, was a student at Dartmouth College, and was then admitted to the bar, but, after a year's experience, he resolves on giving

Sir James Bland Burgess, who had something to do in negotiating Jay's Treaty, came suddenly into the room, and said abruptly,

My lord, my lord, a great battle has been fought in the Low Countries, and Bonaparte is entirely defeated.". -"But is it true?" said Lord Byron, "is it true?" Yes, my lord, it is certainly true; an aide-de-camp arrived Street this morning, and I have just seen him in town last night; he has been in Downing says he thinks Bonaparte is in full retreat as he was going to Lady Wellington's. He towards Paris." After a moment's pause, Lord Byron replied, "I am d-d sorry for it;" and then, after another slight pause, he added, “I didn't know but I might live to see Lord Castlereagh's head on a pole. But I suppose I sha'n't now." And this was the first imthe news of the battle of Waterloo. pression produced on his impetuous nature by

But Byron is not Mr. Ticknor's only London friend, and we read of a breakfast with Sir Humphry Davy, "a genuine bookseller's dinner" with Murray, and a visit to the author of "Gertrude of Wyoming."

Göttingen, however, is the object of his journey, and at Göttingen he remains for the next year and a half. If he does not learn to scorn the delights of society, he has at least the resolution to live the la

borious days of the earnest student. He works at five languages, and works twelve hours in the twenty-four. Greek, German, theology, and natural history seem chiefly to claim his attention, but he is also busy with French, Italian, and Latin, and manages at the same time to keep up his English reading. He is much amused with the German professors, and describes them with no little humour. Michaelis, who asks one of his scholars There is for some silver shoe-buckles, in lieu of a fee. There is Schultze, who "looks as if he had fasted six months on Greek prosody and the Pindaric metres." Blumenbach, who has a sharp discussion at a dinner-table, and next day sends down three huge quartos all marked to show his authorities and justify his statements.

There is

During a six weeks' vacation there is a pleasant tour through Germany, and at Weimar Mr. Ticknor makes the acquaintance of Goethe, who talked about Byron, and "his great knowledge of human na

ture."

And now, in the November of 1816, there came an intimation that Harvard College wished to recall Mr. Ticknor to his old home, and give him the professorship of French and Spanish literature. It was a matter of difficulty for him to make a final decision, and a year passes before he determined to accept the charge, and a year and a half more before he enters upon its duties.

Meanwhile he leaves Göttingen, visits Paris, Geneva, and Rome, and then goes on to Spain. In Paris he sees Madame de Staël, but she is ill and dying. She

tells him:

Il ne faut pas me juger de ce que vous voyez ici. Ce n'est pas moi, ce n'est que l'ombre de ce que j'étais il y a quatre mois, et une ombre, qui peut-être disparaîtra bientôt.

He meets Madame Récamier, and Chateaubriand, and Humboldt, and has something interesting to tell of each.

At Rome he sees much of the princess Borghese (Pauline Bonaparte), with whom he is somewhat astonished:

At Lucien's, where a grave tone prevails, she is demure as a nun; but in her own palace, where she lives in great luxury, she comes out in her true character, and plays herself off in a manner that makes her as great a curiosity

as a raree-show.

When in Spain, Mr. Ticknor is busy learning Spanish, and collecting Spanish books, and here he lays the groundwork for that special literary distinction, for

which he is now so widely known. One of the most beautiful descriptions in the whole book is his description of the Alhambra. It is too long for the quotation of more than a single sentence :

and elms, whose size and regularity prove to Here you pass under superb rows of oaks you that they are the same where those proud kings walked, who claimed to themselves the ther on you find yourself in a thicket as wild title of emperor and sultan; and a little furtimes you meet with a fountain that still flows as the original fastnesses of nature. Someas it did when tales of Arabian nights were bubbling over the ruins of the palaces, or told on its borders, and sometimes you find the waters burst from their aqueducts, and pouring in cascades from the summit of the crumbling fortifications.

who was afterwards Madame de Montijo, At Malaga he met Madame de Teba, the mother of the empress of the French. Mr. Ticknor was greatly charmed with her, and considered her

woman in Spain. . . . Young and beautiful, the most cultivated and the most interesting educated strictly and faithfully by her mother, a Scotchwoman, who, for this purpose, carried her to London and Paris, and kept her there between six and seven years, extraordinary talents, and giving an air of possessing originality to all she says and does, she unites, in a most bewitching manner, the Andalusian manners, and a genuine English thoroughness grace and frankness to a French facility in her knows the five chief modern languages well, in her knowledge and accomplishments. She and feels their different characters and estimates their literature aright; she has the foreign accomplishments of singing, playing, painting, etc., and the national one of dancing, liant and original; and yet, with all this, she in a high degree. In conversation she is brilis a true Spaniard, and as full of Spanish feeling as she is of talent and culture.

and meets Talleyrand, who says of Amer-
On his way home he stops at Paris,
ica (what would he say now?), "C'est_un
luxe est affreux."
pays remarquable, mais leur luxe, leur

Again in London, he is a frequenter of Holland House, where "there was no alcomes known to Mackintosh, Sydney loy but Lady Holland," and where he beSmith, and Brougham. Then there are visits to Hatfield and to Woburn. In short, there is no one so eminent as not to feel drawn to this cultivated and pleas are few places among the stately homes of ant scholar of the New World, and there England where he would not be a wel come guest.

But all this social success failed to