3991 S8M A = CI _____ 73 A ~ ^n n ~^^^"" o ^^^^^» — * ~~~~~s ■ ■■ 1 —————— 2 '— Z3J 1 11111 ■■— ■ - j 3 — CD 7 ==5= > 9 ^— r - 1 1 OD 1 9 ■-■——— jo | 4 ^^^= 3> 1 ==_== o 1 5 ^^E=B ^h I ~~~~ZTZ -< 1 9 ■ <•* THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES • TO MY CHILDREN THESE FOOTPRINTS OF A LIFE DEAR TO THEM ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 8G6757 CONTENTS. lovbd ones who've passed away . . i Sonnets : Kersall Cell 3 The Btteial at St. Bees . . 4 Memory 5 Patience . . . . . .6 To a Statesman 7 Bath 8 Christmas 9 Gennesareth (a Hymn) . . . .10 The Resolve 12 Home 13 Scutari 16 The Grave • 18 The Poet-Debtor 20 Parkgate 22 With a Bouquet 23 Twilight 24 VI 11 PA 1 A Vaientine .... ^G In 1: Moon ... ... 27 Oxford Logic 3° Fob an Album 3 1 The Bath Waters 3' The Portico Catalogue . . . ■ 3 2 To F. W 3 2 The Sixty- eighth Psalm .... 33 Shakspere 3 6 To a Photographer 36 The Winds 37 A Contrast 37 Gossip 3 s Night • • 4 6 Metaphysics 47 FOOTPRINTS Loved Ones who've passed away And from beyond To-day Beckon to me, Whose eyes of living light In the long sleepless night So oft I see, A few faint Footprints more And on your friendly shore I too shall be. Loved Ones I leave behind Chill with the clammy wind From graveyards cast, As ye the Footprints trace Of him whose earthly place Is in the Past, Bless God amid your tears That from sin, griefs and fears He rests at last 1R60. KERSALL CELL. Strange is the world whereof we are a part With marvellous changes. Lo ! the quiet town Where Byrom walked, to a vast city grown, Incessant throbbing like a mighty heart, Pours forth from whirring loom and humming mart The streams of a world's traffic. Yet the while Unchanged thy beauties, gentle Kersall, smile. As fair, as peaceful, as retired thou art, As when the Scholar, Sage and Poet came Hither for quiet converse, or to frame A sportive lay, or muse on ages gone. And still his spirit fills thy valley green, His virtues still within thy walls are seen Brightening the honoured name of Atherton. THE I! TRIAL AT ST. BEES, Feb. 3j 1858. ' The day was culd, rainy and very miserable, almost, as some felt it . expressive of the gloom -which settled on the minda of so mauy." — Manchester Courier, Feb. 6, 1858. The day is dark and cold with mist and rain ; The winds are moaning round thy tower, St. Bees ; With grief- like murmurs bend the leafless trees; And from the troubled and unresting main There comes a voice again and yet again Like human sorrow ; whilst the conscious vale Throbs with the death -song of the bell, whose tale Makes the wide air an all -surrounding pain. True friend, guide, counsellor, oh ! fare thee well ! The unbidden tears will spring, the heart will swell That we shall see thy face on earth no more ; Yet may we not repine ; — Life's trial past, The good and faithful servant rests at last, His task well done, on God's eternal shore. MEMORY. Memory is Life, dear Cousin ; for the Hours Of the long -lost and unregarded Past Though they sleep die not ; waking they will cast The influence of their wondrous spiritual powers O'er all our conscious being. And as showers Falling upon the bare and parched earth With a miraculous virtue bring to birth The hidden glories of its grass and flowers ; So, touched by Memory's mystic sympathies, The Past becomes the Actual ; Time and Space Loose their all-binding fetters; and I stand Again with you beneath fair Surrey's trees, Read the pure language of your eloquent face, And feel the pressure of your gentle hand. PATIENCE. Patience unwearied unsubdued by pain, High-hearted courage, resolution strong; These virtues woke the minstrel's loftiest song In old Provence ; these are the deathless gain — Though earth-born, deathless — the pure priceless gems That sparkle in the martyrs' diadems : And these are thine, dear lady; still in thee Lives the heroic spirit of the past. All calmly thou endur'st the icy blast From Azrael's hovering wings ; as tranquilly Liest on thy couch of suffering and unrest As a meek child upon its mother's breast. Still, still endure ; the clouds roll dark above, But through them beams on thee thy Father's pitying love. 7 TO A STATESMAN. The Chamois' course is to a competent eye The most direct. With strong and daring leap He clears each gulf; now right now left his sweep Springing from cliff to cliff tow'rds where on high Nearest to Heaven of all beneath the sky Rises the mountain's snowy peak. Below The wondering gazers gape to see him go, And call his course strange, tortuous and awry. He heedeth not their censure ; nor wilt thou, Gladstone, great chief of intellectual fight, Heed the dull critics of the stern debate. Be it thine, Truth's seal upon thy thoughtful brow, To lead the undying battle for the Right, And be the Hope and Glory of our State. 8 BATH. Here ancient times still live ; all round our feet Lie traces of the Caesars; and the tread Of the old Roman warrior stern and dread Still echoes in this quiet modern street. Muse up the Hollow Way, and thou may'st meet The conquering legions, see that Eagle fly Whose victor wing from the far Indian sky To where the Atlantic waves round Thule beat Ranged with unresting sway. And here's a sight Makes Caesar modern ; river -like in size Up -pours in ceaseless flood a wondrous stream, God's healing waters. So they rose to light es ere Rome had birth, and so shall rise When England's glory is like Rome's a dream. 9 CHRISTMAS. Christmas is come. Once more is heard the song Which woke the wondering echoes of the night On Judah's hills, what time the heavenly light Shone round the Hebrew shepherds, and the strong Chorus arose of an innumerous throng Of angels praising God with solemn mirth : " Glory to God on high ; to men on earth Peace and good will !" The centuries roll along, And still at each returning Christmas-tide Is heard that strain of heavenly harmony, That light is seen far flashing o'er the land. What light 1 What strain ? — Alas for human pride ! We boast of light with eyes that cannot see, And hearing hear not, neither understand. JO GENNEZARETH. (A Hymn.) Hope of our fathers, hear ! Thou who, in ages past, Upon Gennezareth's mere Didst awe the raging blast ; And, when the wild lake reared Its waves of darkest dread, Spake — and the waters heard And cowered within their bed. We dread not now the wave, Nor the wind's fiercest hour, For taught by Thee we brave The tempest in its power : Yet not the less to Thee For help with tears we cry, Not less on bended knee We pray till Thou reply. 1 1 Madly on every side Passion's dark billows roll ; Fierce winds of wrath and pride Thy labouring Church control ; O'er her with deadly sweep The whelming waters break ; We perish in the deep — Saviour, awake ! awake ! Why are ye thus afraid, O ye of little faith? Christ, your unfailing Aid, Is nigh — why fear ye death l His Voice shall burst the cloud, His Arm shall still the wave ; Trust iii the Lord your God Omnipotent to save. 1 2 THK RKSOLVK O'kr my soul, my soul to prove, Swept the passion -gust of Love, And beneath its tyrannous power Virtue bowed in that dim hour. But the hour has passed away, Reason reassumes her sway, God's still Voice doth in me speak : - Though the heart within me break, Though its cords be torn away, Yet I will the Voice obey. Fear not, fear not, all is o'er, Fear my passion's power no more ; Though the battle must be hard I will earn its high reward, Will regain thy lost esteem, Nor, even in my wildest dream, Again be more than might a brother kind beseem. T 3 HOME. Dear Jane, the leaves are falling fast On every side, And through the trees the Autumn blast Pours like the tide When, chafing with the tempest's wrong It meets the shore, And smites the granite cliffs with long Continuous roar. At such a time, when all without Is cold and drear, And Nature glooming seems to flout The parting year, 'Tis sweet from outward scenes to haste, To cease to roam, And by one's own fireside to taste The joys of Home ; 14 Where Peace for ever dwells beside The pious hearth ; Where smile true Faith and Friendship tried And innocent Mirth ; Where rests the choicest blessing given By God above, The holy radiance poured from Heaven On wedded love. Such home, I pray, dear Jane, be thine While life shall last; Heaven's radiance round thee ever shine No evil cast Its shadow o'er thy loving heart And gentle mind ; Rut Joy and Love for aye impart Their influence kind Rut fragile as my trifling gift Is earthly joy ; Love is eternal, and can lift ' Bove earth's annov. i5 Such Love, unsoiled by selfish stain, Still watch o'er thee ; Such Love to my dear sister Jane Is sent by me. 1 6 SCUTARI. "The curse of gold is on the land. All generous feeling dead ; Not as our fathers stood we stand, Nor bled we as they bled." Such was the cry ! — Clear, loud and high Rang out the trumpet blast ; With eager tread and kindling eye Our warriors onward past To guard the weak, to brave the strong, To battle for the Right, To vindicate from slanderous tongue Our old ancestral might. " Our faith is dead — an empty form, A temple mouldering down ; Who now will brave the martyr-storm To win the Christian crown [" r 7 Such was the cry ! — For all reply Stood forth a maiden mild, Put wealth, friends, home and country by, Looked up to Heaven and smiled ! Scutari knows that lady's name ; Far times shall tell the tale Which hallows the undying fame Of Florence Nightingale. Now sinks the clarion peal of war, The sounds of battle cease, And borne on dovelike wings afar The angels whisper Peace. Their labour o'er, from Crimea's shore Returns each gallant band ; Our hero -saint returns once more To her loved native land. To rest 1 — To tread with reverent feet The path her Saviour trod, Making her life an offering meet Of worship to her God. d i8 THE GRAVE. (From the German of Salis.) The Grave is still and deep, Men by it shuddering stand, Its fearful wrappings keep Concealed an unknown land. Vainly the song-birds call, No tones can thither thrill; And Friendship's roses fall Outside the mossy hill. Forsaken brides in vain Wring their pale hands around ; Sad orphans' cries of pain Pierce not the abysmal ground. r 9 Yet in no other place Men rest nor weary roam ; Through the dark doors we pace Unto our only home. The poor heart, fain to cease From the world's fret and roar, Findeth its certain peace But where it beats no more. 20 THE POET-DEBTOR. (A Dialogue.) " Good Sir, you owe me money." — " Sir, I do, And I will pay you when it suits me." — " Sir, You'll pay me sooner; and I'll tell you why. You are a poet ; therefore you are one Can sympathise with human miseries, And would not for your life's worth pour one drop Of bitterness into another's cup ; Which drop you pour if you delay to pay The wherewithal he lives by. You are a poet, And that doth mean, you are a man of honour, Of high and noble courage, one who'd die Sooner than palter with the Right or keep Wrongly another's due; which due" "Enough! T am a poet, that I feel, and feel You know the way to test one; what's your claim?" 21 — " There is the bill ; 'tis but a petty sum ; But petty sums, by numbers multiplied, Cramp a man's labours sadly." — "They shall be No longer cramped by me ; there is the money." — " Bis dat qui cito dat ; said I not rightly, You are a poet, therefore you will pay me 1 ?" 22 PARKGATE. In the storm-light foaming, flashing, Heaves and plunges the wild sea; O'er the sand banks hurrying, splashing ; On the shingle fiercely crashing ; 'Gainst the sea wall madly dashing Its waves to fragments in its play ; Weltering, roaring, hissing, lashing The wide shore with sheeted spray ! Such the scene I view to-day By thee, Parkgate, the while I force my way Along the margin of the furious Dee. 23 WITH A BOUQUET. Lady ! thine eyes' dark power Doomed us to death. This morn each delicate flower Drank heaven's pure breath. Meekly for thee we bowed Beneath the knife ; Ah ! had we known thee, proud And blest to be allowed For thy dear sake to yield our innocent life. Now powers before unknown Within us dwell ; Love o'er each leaf has thrown His wondrous spell. Let thy sweet lips impart One kiss to me, And, with a sudden start, Will thrill the conscious heart Of one who fondly thinks and dreams of thee. 24 TWILIGHT. Lady, dear lady ! hast thou never felt A strange o'ermastering power Bidding the heart within thy bosom melt, At Twilight's mystic hour, When in successive folds of duskier brown The veil of Night from heaven drops slowly down O'er hill and tree and tower ; Nor thought, how sweet in such an hour to stand Listening to one beloved, One privileged to clasp thy priceless hand, To press it unreproved, One from whose passion -lit yet truthful eyes Beam changeless faith, and love that never dies, Pure, radiant, unremoved ? 25 Dear lady ! if such dream were ever thine, May it prophetic prove, For, of things mortal, nearest the Divine On earth is wedded love. And ah ! if with such wish I dare avow A wish — a hope more selfish, — say, wilt thou Listen and not reprove 1 26 A VALENTINE. Sweet is the morn that wakes the flower to life, The bird to glee ; But sweeter, from the stir of business strife One hour with thee. Lovely the bow that spans the watery sky With arch divine ; But lovelier far to my delighted eye One smile of thine. Oh ! sad and painful is our earthward way When trod alone, O'ergrown with thorns and strewed with ashes grey And pointed stone : Love waves his wand : — behold ! where gloomed the road An Eden stand, Where lovers, gladdening in the smile of God, Walk hand in hand. 2 7 THE AH) ON The Moon was shining bright, And the stars their twinkling light Were scattering o'er the earth, as I and Charlie went our way ; Through Neston swift we walked, And as we went he talked, But sadly to myself I sighed and said, " That dearest la- dy ! I wonder much if she, The charming Mrs. D., Is thinking now of me and the perils of the way ! Whereat out spoke the Moon, Said to me, "You awful spoon!" — (I thought she spoke, but p'rhaps I was misled by sprite or fay) — "Why she's sound asleep in bed, "On her pillow rests her head; "Don't you wish your head was resting there?" — Said I, "Ah! well -a -day!" 28 Old Neston soon was passed, And with steps resolved and fast Through Hinderton I dragged at each remove a lengthening chain ; And, grinning all the while A most sardonic smile, The Moon kept poking fun at me and mocking at my pain. Yet on the Common's height She shed such silvery light, Such pearly splendour threw o'er hamlet, road and plain, That, witched as by a spell, I felt my bosom swell With the rare beauty of the hour, the raptured spirit's gain. But, as we slowly strode Down the hill into the road, The vision melted like a dream or chateau en Espagne. 2 9 Now Willaston's behind, And keener blows the wind, And brighter 'midst the diamond stars sails on the queenly Moon, When Charlie says to me, " My dear papa," says he, " Don't you think that we shall get to Hooton station very soon?" Says I, "Why, what's o'clock?" Says he, "Papa, I'll look; "Why, it wants a quarter yet to nine, we've walked to a good tune." — Here bursts in Mrs. D. : " Oh ! stop this trash," says she, " Why write you such vile stuff to me ? do you think Fm a spoon?" — " Ah ! dearest Mrs. D. ! "Your parting words to me, " Remember, were, ' I wish you'd write some lines about the Moon!'" 3° OXFORD LOGIC. Now High Church and Low Church Together unite ; And Denison's aided By Stowell to fight ; And Bennett and Beresford Lovingly greet ; And Lempriere's "true statements" Are hawked through the street ; And black gown and surplice No more fear collision ; And union is closest Where most was division : — And all for what end ? Shade of Aldrich, forfend ! O Wallis and Whately ! in vain you have penned Your rules about majors and minors ; they blend, This motley array, to denounce — Coalition. 1853- 3i FOR AN ALBUM. How easy 'tis on this fair page Idly to scrawl ; How hard to write a thought that's sage Or worth recal : In life thus easily we lose The golden hours ; Thus hardly train our souls to use Their deathless powers. THE BATH WATERS. The Springs Gush up from depths unknown : but at their source In the deep caves of earth a Spirit dwells, Who, like Bethesda's angel, to the water Gives a most healing virtue. 32 THE PORTICO CATALOGUE. Small light, I ween, from Learning's torch Hath helped to print these pages ; The sages of Mancunium's Porch Are no Athenian sages : Yet are they of the Porch 'tis plain ; For easy 'tis to see, They never went, their lore to gain, To the Academy. TO F. W. True wife, true mother, friend most true and sage ! Take from a brother's love our Wordsworth's page. Look ! 'tis a mirror ; in this volume see The love, the truth, the faith, the constancy Would make this earth a heaven, were all like thee ! 33 THE SIXTY-EIGHTH PSALM: vv. r-14. (Prayer-Book Version.) Let God arise and let His foes Overthrown and scattered be; Let them that hate Him and oppose Before His coming flee ! Like smoke Thou drivest them away; Like wax before the fire Perish the ungodly in the day Of Thy consuming ire. But let the righteous before Thee Exultingly rejoice, Sing to the Lord with sacred glee And shout with merry voice. Yea! let them magnify His fame That on the heavens doth ride, And in the great Jehovah's Name Rejoicingly abide. 34 For He the fatherless befriends, Our God who shows us grace ; And He the widow's cause defends From heaven His holy place. He gives the lone a peopled home; He sets the prisoners free; But runagates He letteth roam In pain and scarcity. When God our guide for Israel's sake The hungry desert trod, The heavens did drop, the earth did shake, Even Sinai's hill did heave and quake At presence of our God. He sent His rain in time of need, The desert blossomed wide ; He did His congregation feed, And for His poor provide. He gave the word — straight numbers spread His summons to the toil ; Kings with their armies broke and fled ; Our women shared the spoil : And they among the pots that lay Were glorious to behold 35 As doves with wings of silver spray And feathers rough with gold. Yea ! when the Almighty scattered kings And laid the lofty low, Then were they bright with precious things And white as Salmon's snow. 36 SHAKSPERE. Du uleichst dem Geist den du begreifst, Nicht mir.— Goethe : Fuust. Shakspere you fully know? Do you suppose Your favourite dog his master fully knows ? He knows his person, knows he's good and kind ; What knows he of his master's powers of mind 1 Fully to know a Shakspere is to be Almost as great a genius as he. TO A PHOTOGRAPHER. O gossip H***** ! photograph no more; This dialogue I heard before your door : "Why do these portraits as abortions strike?" "Because they're H*****'s; like produces like." — " Who said so 1 who ?" you ask. Ah ! gossip, wit By wit is known ; you'll ne'er discover it : Cudgel not then your brains with vain intreating, For your dull ass ne'er mends his pace for beating. 37 THE WINDS. From the .Eneid of Virgil. Iii the high citadel ^Eolus sitteth Grasping the sceptres, and tempers their mood and their fury allayeth ; Which did he not, the seas and the lands and the high empyrean Rapid they'd bear with them onward, wild wandering through aether. A CONTRAST. A Stream of the Mountain resistless pours on in his strength Garibaldi, Down to the Stream of the Plain, deep -flowing, winding Cavour. 38 GOSSIP. Dear Mrs. L*****, The thought hath seized me to write you a letter. Long and in vain have I waited for one from your husband — the slow coach ! He who complained so sore of the want of mental excitement ; He who sent forth a challenge to me in affairs meta- physic, Called me the slave of words, and told me I thought I was thinking ; He who of old would have rushed to the fray as the war horse to battle, Shouted Ha ! ha ! to the trumpets, and charged where the spears were the thickest; He is deserting the lists of the combat he challenged, and hangs up His logical armour to rust by the shores of the dreamy Pacific. 39 Turn we to pleasanter topics than war or the lan- guage of warfare Can possibly be to a lady. Even the struggle with Russia To one that loves not strife must make of the Times a great nuisance, Filled with the details of sieges and movements of armies and navies. Yet in the female heart there is ever a chord sym- pathetic Stirs when a tale is told of noble and chivalrous emprize, And well do I know that you must have read with a thrilling emotion Nasmyth's account of the brave and protracted defence of Silistria, And dropped a tear o'er the grave of young Butler its gallant defender. Matters domestic go on very much as they did in the old time. Manchester stands where she stood, but she's grown a little bit stouter. 4° Still in its well-known place stands constant the name of the W*******; And though in Strangeways now no welcome I find, yet in Brook -street S***** the bien-aimee, p*****, M*»**, and Ay * ***** H*** ever meet me with words of kind and affectionate greeting : Thither comes Fred, who is fast growing into a pro- mising young man ; Thither comes Harry, the meek -eyed student, observant and thoughtful. X******** is where he was, and once a week I go to him Taking a lesson in French : rare is the chat we have after, Smoking our quiet cigars and imbibing a glass of eau sucree. Sometimes I see his wife, who is gentle and courteous always ; Sometimes I see his boy — I wish he were stronger and stouter. 4* What shall I say of p****** that fine and excel- lent fellow? What shall I say of his wife, who with a noble devotion Battles 'gainst head -aches and illness to keep up the heart of her husband, Which wants no keeping up — the chap is all pluck and high spirits, Never says die, not even when the doctors put on a grave face, And, I sometimes hope, will see them all laid in their coffins Ere he budges a jot? — what can I say but that heartily Hope I that both will live to laugh at all drugs and all doctors, Still to laugh with me when I call at their house of an evening, Ever to laugh as now from the depths of a heart pure and childlike, So that, as wrinkles come, their lines in the plea- santest places May fall, and all shall say, "What a couple of nice happy faces " ! G 4 2 N****, vir nobilis, doctus, — pardon the pun and the Latin Since they enclose a truth — is growing in wealth and in honour : Proud is the stand that he takes among his profes- sional brethren ; Great is the deference paid him alike by the press and the public. Sometimes, but not very often, I spend an evening with him Various matters discussing, but mostly the views psychologic Given in his Lectures, of which he's preparing a second edition. On that tongue of land which divides the Dee from the Mersey, Facing the coast of Flint, and screened by the shel- tering Heswell Hills from the north and north-east winds the village of Parkgate Looks o'er the restless waters, now rolling in from the ocean, 43 Refluent now and leaving nought but a wide waste of sand -banks. There my two girls are stopping at school contented and happy : Happier far than their sire, who oft in his severed seclusion Longs for his daughters' kiss and the lively voice of his children. Thither I often go to pay them a Saturday visit, Snatching a brief delight; — then back to the scene of my labours. Charlie is still at school at Chester ; but soon after Christmas Hope I to have him here and placed in a Man- chester warehouse, Where he may make his first essay on Life's turbu- lent billows, And learn, in battling with them, to guide his own bark through the Future. q***** j g marr i e d again, and a very good wife he has got too, That is, if one may presume to judge on so short an acquaintance : 44 Gentle the lady seems and kind, Unassuming and quiet, Yet with an under current of keen and satirical humour Not ill-naturedly used: she's good-looking, lady -like, clever, Well -educated, and brings him moreover a nice little dowry ! Ah ! if on me now some altera eadem would but look kindly, Smile and say to me, "Will you]" I'm sure I should never say, " No, ma'am ! " Thus, my dear Mrs. L*****, I've told you the news ; and dont murmur Though I have told it you after a strange and un- usual fashion. Harsh are my English hexameters, yet do they faintly re-echo Tones which enchanted the world in the far off twilight of nations. Homer sang in this measure of Troy and the wan- dering Odysseus ; Virgil sang in it of Juno's vindictive and pitiless anger ; 45 Goethe chose it to tell the sweet idyll of fair Dorothea ; Longfellow tells by its aid Evangeline's beautiful story. Why should not I select it to tell to a friend loved and valued How my heart yearns to the past with a fond and undying remembrance ; How I regard her and hers with warm and unchanging affection, Though years have passed since we met and oceans are rolling between us? 46 NIGHT. TO \p7][ia TU>y l-VKTUll' 0(701' airtpamov. ov&tiroff rjfxepa yevrjtreTai; AEisTOPn.: The Clouds. Now the traveller's toil is ended, And the labourer's work is done ; Clouds of gloom and glory blended Gather round the setting sun : But he sets in vapours dreary, On the blackening shadows sweep ; Worn and faint and very weary Traveller, labourer, sink to sleep. Very still and calm they're sleeping, Changeless, moveless seems the Night ; I alone am waking, weeping For the hours of vanished light. Will the silence ne'er have ending 1 ? Will the blackness ne'er decay] Surely Heaven's hid slopes ascending Comes the dawning of the Day. 47 METAPHYSICS. * * * But what a bore these long intervals between letter and reply are. You write to a friend a gossiping letter, in which sense and nonsense are blended in such proportions as it shall please Heaven. You have been unbending your mind perhaps, indulging in a little light and amusing reading, such as the Kritik der reinen Vernunft or the Phtznomeiwlogie des Geisies, or some queer nonsense of that sort ; and as Falstaff in his unconscious moments babbled o' green fields, so you babble of subject and object, of ich and nicht-ich, of the reality of thought and conscience and God and the unreality of the ever -changing sense -picture of the external world, of temporal and eternal, of the seen and the unseen ; — of all this, you, perhaps thinking that you are thinking, perhaps too idle and dreamy even for that, pour out some five or six drams (post- master's weight), and adding some other fribbles and 4» frabbles pack all up in a nice clean sheet of foreign post, and send them off as you would a two-headed butterfly, or the prediction of a clairvoyant, or a chip from the leg of a real turning table, just pour amuser l'ami and as salt for his nuts, and to encourage him to do the like; and then, feeling you have done your duty — for that mail anyhow — as a man, a Briton and a correspondent, you smoke your pipe in the pleasant sunshine of an approving conscience, and straightway forget all about it. Well, Sir, would you believe it 1 when your packet gets to its destination down below, on the under side of the globe, where every thing is of course upside down ; where the people walk with their feet above their heads; where to talk plain English is to be unintelligible ; where a treeless, grassless mountain range is christened The Vale of Paradise; where the country, being plaguy hot, is called Chili ; where the natives are Indians, though the wide Pacific rolls between them and India; where people must get used to earth- quakes in order to be frightened at them ; where a revolution every year or so is the settled state of things, and the leader of a suppressed rebellion gets place 49 and preferment ; where they invite dead children to a ball and give them the post of honour ; where, climax of all climaxes ! printers and stationers make such profits and lead such jolly lives that they are the envy of merchants and the admiration of New-Yorkers; — there, why there of course the rule of contrary begins to work, the gift horse is looked at in the mouth, the salt is found to be an unsavoury thing, and the innocent and oblivious sender of the little billet d' amitie is suddenly roused up some four months after- wards by having a pot of porter flung at his head, with a demand to know whether that is a real thing or only phenomenal? also, whether he would'nt like to have a swig at it 1 and, if he says, " No," why then, d his conclusions ! Now this is a hard measure — I dont mean the pew- ter one, but the other — and has riled me accordingly. Only let me catch you on this upper crust of the earth again, mein Werther, with your head and legs in their right relative positions, and see if I dont pitch a little logic into you. I'll lam you that tasting and relishing are as phenomenal as the thing tasted ; and that to assert a thing to be phenomenal is not to deny but H 5o to define its existence. Are not pots of porter and the relishing thereof transitory and evanescent things, O thou antipodal logician ! Where are thy eatings and drinkings of bygone years ? thy beefsteaks and porter i thy venison and champagne ? Have they not all melted away like the baseless fabric of a vision? Are they not all to thee as the ages before the Flood ? as a forgotten melody? as the dreams of thy unbreeched, blubbering boyhood ? Thou hast changed — aye, many times — thy skin and thy hair and thy flesh and thy bones since then ; they all, dear as they once were to thee, have slipped away, and thou knewest it not, and gone, with thy old breeches and boots, into the dark kingdom of Annihilation, the nethermost abyss of Chaos and ancient Night. For they were phenomenal only ; they were not thee. Thou art, for thou art a living power ; thou art, for thou wast ere Time was, and wilt outlive him. Proh pudor ! that one should have to reteach to thee these first lessons from the grammar of Thought ; that a man who has relished Sartor Resartus should write like a correspondent of the Zoist; that a student of Mill's Logic should need instruction in the classification of categories ! But it all comes, 5 1 as I have before said, from the mad fashion down below there of walking topsy-turvy ; thou art veritably Chili -fied, and wilt never be thyself again till the chill is taken off, or thou takest thyself off from Chili ; — I care not which way thou takest it. Manchester Charles Simms and Co. THE LIBRARY Y OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-5wl2,'55(B6339s4;444 UC SOUTHERN RtblUNAL UbKAKY r auu i r Footprints. "399T 53F7 AA 000 379 945 9 PR 3991 S3F? «H "»