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many and varied combinations, and At first the writer or scholar was give to our imaginations the means of obliged to make an effort in order to exercising it very pleasantly. This is affirm his originality, that is to say, in exercise. Real work, on the contrary, order to study the phenomena of life would be that of evoking these images according to his temperament and inin the mind without the exterior means tellectual iuclivations ; he was obliged of poetry, painting, sculpture, etc., to create his style, if an artist, and his exactly as the poet, painter, and sculp- method and system, if a scholar; in tor create the works which later set to brief, he was obliged to accustom his work the imagination of men. Every- mind to work in a certain way. When body reads books, but very few write the intellectual habits are formed, work them ; and of those who do write, very becomes much easier, but also less few really work, that is, write original original. The work is better done, things, which are the result of personal more rapidly, but everything has a mental associations ; the others imitate common character. Take the series of or copy, which, again, is but mental Spencer's works, “First Principles," exercise. Receptivity, that is, the “ Principles of Biology,” “Psycholfaculty of comprehending and assim- ogy,” “Sociology,” etc. You find bere ilating ideas, is very common; but true the same fundamental principle, that creative power, on the contrary, is of evolution, applied to different phevery rare.

nomena, and the same simple style, a But there is another, and still more little hard, but of a precision which decisive proof, in support of the theory has never been surpassed. Take all of the least effort. Not only is almost the romances of Balzac or of Zola; the all that which is commonly called work general construction, the framework, simply exercise, but real work tends the fundamental type of characters, the to become transformed into exercise. method of psychological analysis, the Every mental act, several times re- style, are the same. A few writers of peated, becomes automatic; thus, for more powerful genius have succeeded example, certain associations of ideas, in creating several types of art, as, for which become established in the mind, example, Shakespeare ; but in general, finish, if often repeated, by being so all great writers have the one form of closely united, that one of these ideas art. Those who succeed in making an evokes all the others, without the least original creation of each work, write mental effort. Every one knows that very little and leave few works. Great each writer and each scholar has his philosophers remain prisoners of their own particular character; it would be systems, because, having once created impossible to confound a romance of a grand theory, they are not capable of Zola with one of Dickens ; a drama of another creative effort, and observe Shakespeare with one of Goethe ; a facts according to the theory to which book of Spencer with one of Hegel. their minds are accustomed. The artist Now the character of a writer is only ends by having mannerisms, because the result of the transformation of accustomed to see and represent things creative work into mental exercise. in a certain way.

GUILLAUME FERRERO.

LONG DISTANCE SEEING MACHINE. - tended to any distance desired. Professor It is said that Professor Andrew Graham Bell insists that the fact has already been Bell is now engaged in experiments looking demonstrated, and that it only remains to to the perfecting of a machine harnessing construct the apparatus necessary to bring electricity to light, so to speak, so that it the possibilities of the discovery into actual will be possible for one's vision to be ex- and practical use.

Sixth Serios,
Volume VII.

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No. 2669. – August 31, 1895.

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From Beginning,

Vol. COVI.

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515 536 538

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546

CONTENTS. I. ROBERT BURNS,

Belgravia,
II. AT THE WATERLOO BANQUET,

Cornhill Magazine,
III. THE DEFENCE OF FORT CHITRAL, . Fortnightly Review, .
IV. OLD ITALIAN GARDENS. By Vernon
Lee,

Longman's Magazine,
V. MY NATIVE SALMON RIVER. By Archi-
bald Forbes,

Nineteenth Century,
VI. THE RIVALS OF "PUNCH.” By M. H.
Spielmann,

National Review,
VII. RELIGIOUS MOVEMENTS IN INDIA. By
Banda Khuda,

Spectator,
VIII. CRANFORD SOUVENIRS. By Beatrix L.
Tollemache,

Temple Bar,

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TO JEM.

Perhaps I'd better start again ! GOOD-BYE! That word how oft we have Let's see, where was I? Oh, Park-lane ! repeated

(The trees were white with rime and In idleness, without a passing thought

hoary.) As to its ancient sense- that deeper hidden Alas ! ten years ago 'twas there meaning

I asked Hypatia if she'd care With tenderness, and longing blessing

To be Oh ! that's another story! fraught.

Well, as I gaily strolled along, Good-bye! May God be ever with thee, Chanting a Bacchanalian song bless thee,

(Excuse the "shop") rotundo oreGuide thee, console thee, bring thee safe That phrase reminds me of a joke again

I made (ev'n now it makes me choke !). Oh ! such the prayer, that as some unsealed Oh, hang it ! that's another story ! fountain

A. A. S. Rises spontaneous from a heart of pain. Good-bye ! Though far in distant lands

thy duty call thee, Though far from friends, from home, and Thou and I for many a day, loving care

Care, have trudged the self-same way. Oh, may his arm preserve thee in all dan- Fast companions, I and thou, ger,

Like the bullock and the plough. His mercy shield, his love protect thee I could toil, but at my back there.

Thou wert coming in the track ;

All the fruit my labor bare
Good-bye! With aching heart, and tones To force a furrow for the share.

that shake and falter,
And tears that rise, and will not be con- Like one that all too faithfully

Hard fellowship — rough constancytrolled

Clings in ill days, yet hath no art And yet with joy, an almost painful sweet-To put an unction to the heart. ness,

But coming often speaks alone Full often times that little word is told.

In dull reproach's numbing tone, Good-bye! And we are left in sudden des- So Care, as youth and fortune fly, olation !

As time writes records at the eye, One pressure of the hand one look

More oft, an uninvited guest, and he is gone.

Thou comest not to be repressed, A deathly blankness wraps our souls in And with the privilege of kin, darkness

Who lift the latch, and pass within The light of day is fled — we are alone! Unchecked, the straight way thou dost find Queen, V. A. S. Into the chambers of the mind.

E. C. H.

you

ANOTHER STORY.
The other night ('twas after dark)
I sauntered home close by the park -

The moon shone full in all her glory ;
I'd just been dining out with Joe -
He was “sent

down,” because
know
However, that's another story!
We'd had a very festive time,
Discussing, in a style sublime,

Wine, songs, and women con amore !
Joe always was a trifle wild
He ran away, when quite a child,
With Miss Oh! that's another

story!

RAIN VOICES.
OVER the midnight hills I heard

The whisper of welcome rain,
And the dusty jessamine faintly stirr'd,

And brushed on the open pane.
And swiftly the chiming showers draw nign

And sing on the thirsting eaves,
And the jessamine utters a fragrant sigh

That thrills through her whitened leaves.
To earth's parched lips the low clouds give

A far-drawn balm from above;
And the jessamine weeps “I live, I live,"

And the murmuring shower "I love."
Speaker.

CUTUBERT McEvoy.

From Belgravia. Mount Oliphant, and all the years the ROBERT BURNS.

family spent there were one long, sore It has been said that “great men, battle with untoward circumstances, great events, and great epochs, grow as ending in defeat. Yet education was we recede from them, and the rate at not neglected, for Robert and his which they advance in the estimation brother Gilbert were taught by a young of men is in some sort a measure of man named Murdoch, who was paid a their greatness." Burns must be great small salary by Burness and four of his indeed, tried by this standard, for dur- neighbors to instruct their children. ing the time that has elapsed since his At that time Murdoch would have predeath, men's interest in the poet and dicted that if either of the two boys their estimate of his genius have been ever became a great poet, Gilbert steadily increasing. If the attainment would be the one. " His were the of success most insures the sympathy mirth and liveliness,” he says, while of the public, Burns would have won Robert's countenance generally wore a but little notice ; for in all save his grave and thoughtful look.” Robert's poetry his was a sad and unsatisfactory voice was especially untunable, and his life.

ear so dull, that it was with difficulty He was born on the 25th of January, he could distinguish one note from an1759, about two miles from the town of other. Yet this was he who was to Ayr, in a clay-built cottage, reared by become the greatest song-writer that his father's own hands. A few days Scotland - perhaps the world has after his birth, a storm blew down the known. When Murdoch's duties were gable of the cottage, and the poet and over for the day, the father undertook his mother were carried in the morning the education of his children, and carto the shelter of a neighbor's roof, ried it on at night. The readings of under which they remained until their the household were wide and various. own house was repaired. In after Some one entering the house at mealyears he would often say, “No wonder time found the whole family seated, that one ushered into the world amid each with a spoon in one hand and a such a tempest, should be the victim of book in the other. Above all, they stormy passions."

had a collection of songs, of which His father, William Burness, or Burns says, This was my vade meBurnes, for so he spelt his name, was cum. I pored over them driving my a native of Kincardineshire, where he cart or walking to labor, song by song, had been brought up on a farm belong. verse by verse ; carefully noting the ing to the estate of the noble but at- true, tender, or sublime, from affectalainted house of Keith-Marischal. Attion and fustian. I am convinced I nineteen he left this place and settled owe to this practice much of my criticin Ayrshire, and at the time when Rob- craft, such as it is.” The books which ert was born, he rented some land, fed his young intellect were devoured about seven acres, near the Brig o' only during intervals snatched from Doon, which he cultivated as a nursery- toil. That toil was no doubt excessive, garden. He was a man of stern prin- and this early over-strain showed itself ciples, strong temper, and thoughtful soon in the stoop of his shoulders, in piety. His wife was much younger nervous disorder about the heart, and than himself, and had a memory stored in frequent fits of despondency. with old ballads, songs, and traditions, In 1777, William Burness removed which she told or sang to amuse her from Mount Oliphant to Lochlea, an children.

upland, unaulating farm, on the river Three places will always be known Ayr. This was the home of Burns and as the successive homes of Burns; his family from his eighteenth till his these were Mount Oliphant, Lochlea, twenty-fifth year. For a time their and Mossgiel. Robert was in his sev- life was more comfortable than before, enteenth year when his father left probably because several of the children were able to assist their parents | ful love-lyric “ Mary Morison," and in in farm labor. Here the poet wrote these lines the lyric genius of Burns “The Death and Dying Words of Poor was for the first time undeviably reMailie,'

,“My Nannie, 0," and one or vealed :two more of his most popular songs. Yestreen, when to the trembling string, It was at Lochlea that Burns first fol

The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', lowed the promptings of his social To thee my fancy took its wing, instincts, and he resolved to attend a I sat, but neither heard nor saw ; dancing-school, that he might there Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, meet companions of either sex, and And yon the toast of a' the town, give his rustic manners “ a brush," as I sigh'd, and said, amang them a', he called it. The next year he went to

Ye are nae Mary Morison." learn mensuration and surveying from Oh, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, the schoolmaster of Kirkoswald, and Wha for thy sake wad gladly die ? there he was introduced to smugglers Or canst thou break that heart of his, and adventurers, in whose society he Whase only faut is loving thee? visited scenes of what he describes as If love for love thou wilt na gie, “swaggering riot” and “roaring dissi

At least be pity to me shown ; pation."

A thought ungentle canna be From this time for several years to

The thought o' Mary Morison. come, love-making was the chief Irvine was at this time a centre of the amusement, or rather, the most serious flax-dressing art, and as Robert and business of Robert Burns. There was his brother raised flax on their farm, not a comely girl in Tarbolton on they hoped that if they could dress, as whom he did not compose a song, and well as grow flax, they might double then he made one which included all. their profits. Burns started for Irvine “When he was thus inly moved,” says at midsummer, 1781, but unfortunately his brother Gilbert, “the agitations of there “he contracted acquaintances of his mind and body exceeded anything a freer manner of thinking and living of the kind I ever knew in real life. thau he had been used to, whose soHe had always a particular jealously of ciely prepared him for over-leaping the people who were richer than himself, bounds of rigid virtue which had or had more consequence. His love hitherto restrained him.” The migrawas, therefore, rarely settled on per- tion to Irvine was the descent to Aversons of this description.”

nus, from which he never afterwards, But these first three or four years at in the actual conduct of life, however Lochlea, if not free from peril, were often in his hours of inspiration, still with the poet times of onocence, escaped to breathe again the pure and “his conduct was governed by the upper air. strictest rules of virtue and modesty, Burns was robbed by his partner, his from which he never deviated till he flax-dressing shop was burned to the reached his twenty-third year." At ground during the carousal of a New last he set his affections on a young Year's morning, and he returned, poor woman named Ellison Begbie, the and broken down by misfortune, to daughter of a small farmer, and asked find his father lying on his death-bed. her to be his wife ; but he could not Consumption had set in, and as the old prevail on her to marry him, and this man's last hour arrived, he said that disappointment had a malign influence there was one of his children of whose over the poet. Long afterwards, when future he could not think without fear. he had seen much of the world, Burns Robert, who was in the room, came up spoke of this girl as, of all those on to his bedside and asked, “Oh, father, whom he ever fixed his fickle affec- is it me you mean ?" The old man tions, the one most likely to have made said it was. Robert turned to the wina pleasant partner for life. It was to dow, with tears streaming down his her he addressed the pure and beauti- I cheeks, and his bosom swelling, from

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