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chair or bench, that came in their way. Only one or two foreigners were left in the Córtes, and they were courteously escorted home by some of the troops, with their band playing the Marcha Real (Royal March) down the thronging

streets.

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ON THE DECAY OF FAITH IN SPAIN."
FROM a communication sent to the

Editor of Macmillan's Magazine, and forwarded by him to the author of Castelar was summoned to appear, and "Spanish Life and Character," it would was asked by General Pavia to form a appear that some of the leading members Ministry, which of course, he could not of the committee of the "Spanish Chrisundertake. Marshal Serrano then ap- tian Church" have taken exception to peared, coming from the house of the the following statement in the letter Russian ambassador. above-mentioned: "He who leaves the Outside the Córtes the streets were one fold in Spain has no place to flee lined with troops. At the head of other unto, and no man cares for his soul. In streets cannon frowned. Every volun- his reading, in his thought, in his hope, teer was ordered to render up his arms in his prayer, in his belief-for him at certain depôts named, and that order there is simple, sheer, utter loneliness; was acted upon quietly and instantly. it is chacun pour soi in everything." Volunteers were hurrying, arms in hand, to the depôts, and giving up their insignia in the greatest haste.

The Marshal, it is said, rode through one or two of the principal squares and shouted, "Viva la Republica Española !" and it is also said, that people, foregoing their favourite term "democratica federal," took up the cry "Viva la Republica de España !

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Perhaps the populace are weary of all this long-continued unrest, of trade suspended, and lines cut, and posts stopped, and are glad to espouse the first hope of a settled Government. At any rate, the soldiers will be glad of the turn things have taken, and will follow their Generals.

Non, si male nunc, et olim
Sic erit,

we have been saying for a long time, and,

it may be, the nunc "has passed, and

the "olim" is at hand; at any rate, we all thirst for order, justice, and peace, and perhaps these are near at hand.

But there has already been twelve hours' fighting at Zaragoza, between the volunteers and the regulars, resulting in a victory for the latter!

Jan. 6th, 1874.

The writer of the statement complained of here begs to assure the members of the "Spanish Christian Church" that he intended neither to disparage nor to ignore their generous and devoted efforts to spread evangelical truth. Before writing his Paper, he had not only made himself acquainted with parts of their good work, but he had also attended some of their places of worship, and joined in the services there performed with sincere gratification.

His reason for not mentioning their labours is simply this: that the centres of Protestant Church life and work are so few and far between that they can hardly be considered as havens for the majority of the Spaniards who have broken with their old faith. What, the writer would ask, is one room set aside for service in one of the largest towns of Spain?

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IN particulars recently published, of the | for the salt district occupies about twenty-six production of salt in Cheshire, we learn that, square miles, of which not more than five have in 1871, a million and a half tons of salt were hitherto been worked. As a single square sent out of that country to foreign lands and yard of surface is reckoned to cover one hunthe home market. The demand increases, dred and twenty tons of salt, it will be underand the supply as yet shews no sign of failure, | stood that the total quantity is amazing.

That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
With chases.

66

Football we should fancy to be too rough a
game for gentle Shakespeare. A man who
has brains hardly cares to be kicked and
knocked down for nothing. We have traced
one allusion to the game in "King Lear."
Kent, tripping up the heels of Oswald, cries,
Nor tripped neither, you base football-
player." That he was a practised sportsman,
our knowledge of the busy engrossing nature
of his career forbids us to believe; but he had
a keen appreciation of the pleasures of the
chase. Witness these lines in the "Mid-
summer Night's Dream," hackneyed and yet
ever fresh, where he describes those hounds of
Sparta :

Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheered with horn.
Belgravia.

SHAKESPEARE'S GAMES.- Primero-a game of the same family as piquet-trump, or ruff, the parent of whist- and gleek were the card games chiefly played in England during the age of Shakespeare. But in his youth the playing of cards, except at Christmas, was confined to the upper classes of society. John Heywood, the epigrammatist of Shakespeare's age, was accustomed, according to Camden, to say "that few men played at cardes but at Christmasse, and then almost all, men and boyes." It is quite evident that some such simple foolish game as "noddy" or "beggar my neighbour" would be the highest attainable flight to those who played cards "but at Christmasse." For this reason, and for no natural disinclination to games of chance, we must ascribe Shakespeare's ignorance of cards. For these are things that, if not acquired young, men rarely care to acquire in after life. Had he lived in our days, Shakespeare would have played whist. Our Shakespeare is no dicer either. He mentions the pastime here and there, but brings in none of the slang expressions familiar to dramatists of a similar period. Dicing and card-playing, indeed, came not to full flood in England till the Stuarts THE annual Report of the Director of the came in, and with them a general change of Imperial Mint at Osaka, Japan, has been pubmanners and modes of feeling. Shakespeare lished with details, shewing that the Japanese only saw the opening scenes of this new are as active in improving their coinage as in drama of national life. We find no indica- adapting themselves to the new circumstances tions that Shakespeare was a player at tables brought into existence by railways and under-our backgammon or draughts. We are sea telegraphs. The number of gold and silpretty certain that he was not a chess-player. ver pieces coined in 1873 was more than The sole reference we can find to chess is in twenty-six million, worth more than twentythe "Tempest," act v. scene 1. Ferdinand nine million dollars. The value of the silver and Miranda are discovered in the cell of pieces is indicated by Japanese characters on Prospero playing at chess. Miranda says: one side, and by Roman numerals on the other. "Sweet lord, you play me false." Ferdinand Excellence of quality and workmanship are replies: "No, my dearest love, I would not for alike cared for; and by order of the Imperial the world" No chess-player would have put Minister of Finance, specimens of the metals into the mouths of other players such phrases. were sent to England with a request that they "Playing false" at chess has ever been un- might be tested at the Royal Mint. The known; and a writer conversant with the leading places in the Japanese mint are filled game would have had no difficulty in finding by thirteen Englishmen, who direct the native some pleasant technical allusion for the lovers. workmen, and find them apt to learn. Besides Shakespeare seems to have known something coining, they make assays of all kinds of minof tennis, but does not admire the game, erals, including coal; and we are informed which was somewhat of a modern French im- that laboratories are in successful operation, portation. The travelled courtiers are called and that sulphuric acid and nitric acid are upon to put away "The faith they have in manufactured in quantities which will soon tennis and tall stockings" ("Henry VIII." act render importation from Europe unnecessary. i. scene 3). "There falling out at tennis" It seems clear that ere long Japan will play an ("Hamlet," act ii. scene 1). "The old orna-important part in the commerce and arts of ment of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis the world. balls" ("Much Ado," act iii. scene 2). goes somewhat deeply into the technical terms of the game in his "Henry V.," but he is rather driven to that by the traditionary account of the origin of Henry's invasion. The Dauphin sends the young king, in answer to his claim to certain dukedoms of France, a ton of treasure, which turns out to be-tennis balls. Henry rejoins:

When we have match'd our rackets to these balls,
We will in France, by God's grace, play a set
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler,

He

THE German Polar Navigation Society has bought a station on the island of Averö, on the west coast of Norway; this harbour, named Kristvig, is commodious enough to protect all the largest ships of the Society, and will in future be the starting-point for the German scientific expeditions to the Arctic Regions. Academy

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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY
LITTELL & GAY, BOSTON.

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TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION.

For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. But we do not prepay postage on less than a year, nor when we have to pay commission for forwarding the money; nor when we club the LIVING Age with another periodical.

An extra copy of THE LIVING AGE is sent gratis to any one getting up a club of Five New Subscribers. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & GAY.

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And tender curling fronds of fern, and grasses, And crumpled leaves from brink of babbling rills,

With cottage-garden treasures pale narcissi, And lilac plumes, and yellow daffodils.

Open the doors, and let the Easter sunshine Flow warmly in and out, in amber waves; And let the perfume floating round our altar Meet the new perfume from the outer graves.

And let the Easter "Alleluia!" mingle

With the sweet silver rain-notes of the lark; Let us all sing together! - Lent is over, Captivity and winter, death and dark. ADA CAMBRIDGE. Good Words.

TIRED.

O FOR wings, that I might soar,
A little way above the floor-
A little way beyond the roar

A little nearer to the sky! To the blue hills, lifted high, Out of all our misery.

Where alone is heard the lark, Warbling in the infinite arc, From the dawning to the dark.

Where the callow eaglets wink On the bare and breezy brink, And slow pinions rise and sink.

Where the dim white breakers beat Under cloud-drifts at our feet, Singing, singing, low and sweet.

Where we see the glimmering bay
Greyly melting far away,
On the confines of the day.

Where the green larch-fringes sweep
Rocky defiles, still and steep,
Where the tender lichens creep.

Where the gentian-blossoms blow,
Set in crystal stars of snow;
Where the downward torrents flow

To the plains and yellow leas,
Glancing, twinkling, through the trees,
Pure, as from celestial seas.

Where the face of heaven has smiled,
Aye on freedom, sweet and wild,
Aye on beauty, undefiled.

Where no sound of human speech, And no human passions reach; Where the angels sit and teach.

Where no troublous foot has trod; Where is impressed on the sod Only Hand and Heart of God! ALICE CAMPBELL. Sunday Magazine.

REVENANT.

You ask me why at our first meeting
A sudden dimness seemed to veil
My eyes, and why they shunned your greeting,
And why my lips were strangely pale?
Who sees the shade of a lost lover,

May well be pale for hope or fear;
You seemed a ghost from days gone over
When first I looked upon you, dear!

Because, before a word was spoken,
And almost ere I saw you plain,

I thought you her whose heart was broken,
The day that mine was snapped in twain.

Now, like a ghost let loose from prison,
And strange below the common skies,
You see my dead youth re-arisen,
To meet the magic of your eyes

Macmillan's Magazine.

AFTER HEINE.

I'VE written couplets to my lady's eyes,
Her foot I've sung in half a score romances,
And on her little hand, bewitching prize!
I've lavished dozens of poetic fancies.

I've sung her little cheek, in verse apart, Her little mouth, what rhymes I've made upon it!

And if my lady had a little heart,

Why, I would celebrate it in a sonnet.

Macmillan's Magazine.

323

From The Fortnightly Review.
ON WORDSWORTH.

BY WALTER H. PATER.

alien element in Wordsworth's work, which never coalesced with what is really delightful in it, nor underwent his special SOME English critics at the beginning power. Who that values his writings of the present century said a great deal most has not felt the intrusion there from concerning a distinction, of much import-time to time of something tedious and ance, as they thought, in the true esti- prosaic? Of all great poets, perhaps he mate of poetry, between the Fancy and would gain most by a skilfully made ananother, profounder faculty, the Imagina- thology. Such a selection would show tion. This metaphysical distinction, bor- perhaps not so much what he was, or to rowed originally from the writings of himself or others seemed to be, as what German philosophers, and perhaps not by the more energetic and fertile tenalways clearly apprehended by those who dency in his writings he was ever tendtalked of it, involved a far deeper and ing to become; is, therefore, to the immore vital distinction, with which indeed aginative reason. And the mixture in his all true criticism more or less directly has work, as it actually stands, is so perto do, the distinction namely between plexed that one fears to miss the least higher and lower degrees of intensity in promising composition even, lest some the poet's perception of his subject, and precious morsel should be lying hidden in his concentration of himself upon his within, the few perfect lines, the phrase, work. Of those who dwelt upon the the single word even, to which he often metaphysical distinction between the works up mechanically through a poem, Fancy and the Imagination, it was Words- almost the whole of which may be tame worth who made the most of it, assuming enough. He who thought that in all creit as the basis for the final classifi-ative work the larger part was given pascation of his poetical writings; and it sively to the recipient mind, who waited is in these writings that the deeper so dutifully upon the gift, to whom so and more vital distinction which, as I large a measure was sometimes given, have said, underlies the metaphysical had his times also of desertion and redistinction, is most needed and may best lapse, and he has permitted the impress be illustrated. of these too to remain in his work. this duality there, the fitfulness with which the higher qualities manifest them

And

of a power not altogether his own, or under his control, which comes and goes when it will, lifting or lowering a matter poor in itself; so that that old fancy which made the poet's art an enthusiasm, a form of divine possession, seems almost literally true of him.

For nowhere is there so perplexed a mixture as in Wordsworth's own poetry, of work touched with intense and indi-selves in it, gives the effect in his poetry vidual power, with work of almost no character at all. He has much conventional sentiment, and some of that insincere poetic diction against which his most serious critical efforts were directed; the reaction in his political ideas, consequent on the excesses of 1795, makes him at times a declaimer on moral and social This constant suggestion of an absotopics; and he seems sometimes to force lute duality between higher and lower an unwilling pen and write by rule. By moods, and the work done in them, stimmaking the most of these blemishes it isulating one always to look below the surpossible to obscure the real aesthetic value of his work, just as his life also, a life of much quiet delicacy and independence, might easily be placed in a false focus, and made to appear a somewhat tame theme in illustration of the more obvious parochial virtues. And those who wish to understand his influence, and experience his peculiar savour, must bear with patience the presence of an

face, makes the reading of Wordsworth an excellent sort of training towards the things of art and poetry. It begets in those who, coming across him in youth, can bear him at all, a habit of reading between the lines, a faith in the effect of concentration and collectedness of mind in the right appreciation of poetry, an expectation of things in this order, coming to one in the way of a true discipline

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