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Again, in 1872, he writes after his return from of being laid away at Auvers, but it was espea visit to Cauterets, taken in the interest of his cially desired that he should go to Père-lahealth.

Chaise. The services were held at the church

of Notre Dame de Lorette, February 21, 1878, I was not able to work in the several excur- amid a large following of his friends, pupils, and sions and ascensions made in the neighborhood, admirers. Geffroy-Dechaume, Steinheil, Laviwhere it was very beautiful. One is so surprised eille, and Vollon were pall-bearers. In finishing by these grand aspects that it would be necessary his discourse at the cemetery, the Marquis de to remain a long time before finding the interpre- Chennevières, Director of Fine Arts, said, after tation capable of rendering them. I am going to finish the season at Auvers. There is nothing referring to Daubigny's forerunners: “Of those like one's natural every-day surroundings where whom I have named, Daubigny came the last, one really takes pleasure. The pictures we do but was neither the least convinced, the least then feel the effect of our home-life, and the sweet in love with nature, nor the least sincere.” sensations we experience in it.

Brilliant technicians have been and are

plentiful in French art, but the intellectual Thus the fields and orchards amid which power and the original force of such a painter he opened his life were alike the inspiration as Daubigny arequalities thatcannot be transof his noblest works, and the peaceful ac- ferred, and no one has since filled the place companiments of its close. He had spoken his death left vacant.

Robert J. Wickenden.

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LONELY sail in the vast sea-room,

I have put out for the port of gloom.
The voyage is far on the trackless tide,
The watch is long, and the seas are wide.
The headlands blue in the sinking day
Kiss me a hand on the outward way.
The fading gulls, as they dip and veer,
Lift me a voice that is good to hear.
The great winds come, and the heaving sea,
The restless mother, is calling me.
The cry of her heart is lone and wild,
Searching the night for her wandered child.
Beautiful, weariless mother of mine,
In the drift of doom I am here, I am thine.
Beyond the fathom of hope or fear,
From bourn to bourn of the dusk I steer,
Swept on in the wake of the stars, in the stream
Of a roving tide, from dream to dream.

Bliss Carman.

VOL. XLIV.-45.


ways, and in business matters, no one is more

shrewd; and if he were a man of eminence and ST. CLAIR'S tea was post- force, she would give up once for all. She has

poned, and as the weeks no real fight in her, none at all.”
ran by I often saw Miss I smiled.
Leigh at Mrs. Vincent's, “Oh, you may laugh.”
and now and then at her "I only smiled.”
own house. No more was “Yes, I know." And she set her large eyes
said by me as to her on me watchfully. “Now, suppose by any

plans. Í less and less liked chance our friend St. Clair were to lose his the subject, and when she approached it I heart to my friend Miss Alice ?" merely put the matter aside, saying that it “ Impossible." was too late to consider it this year because “Not at all. He comes here every day to the college courses were half over, and would talk about her. Now, with Alice's good sense she let it rest for a time? But at last Mrs. and efficiency, and her mother's—” Leigh, who was irrepressible, urged me to “Pardon me, what?" speak again to her daughter, and, seeing that “Oh, her mother's desire to settle Alice, and it was as well to make an end of it, I put her then Alice's fortune. Now do you not see how off until I could talk once more with Mrs. very wise a thing it would be ?” Vincent.

“Are you jesting ?" I said seriously. I learned, of course, that Miss Leigh's plan “I? Not at all. I lent Alice his last book, for a fresh departure in life had become widely and she is delighted with it. Yesterday she known through her mother's freedom of talk, quoted the whole of that poem of his about and I did what I could to contradict the gos- the storm. If he could only hear her recite it, sip. Yet, somehow, the thing haunted me. Į I-I fancy he would propose on the spot.” seemed to see this handsome, high-minded “May I be there to see!” girl with her exquisite neatness and delicacies “ And he is so handsome," she returned. of sentiment and manner amidst the scenes and “ The dear fellow would make any woman work which belong to the life of the student of hopelessly wretched in a year. If I were you (if medicine. And was I not also a man essentially you are in earnest, which I doubt a little), I refined and sensitive? Had it hurt me? I knew would meddle no more with this matter. I it had not. But it is terribly true that a man never thought you less reasonable.” may do and be that which is for him inconsis- “And I think I have annoyed you. Why, I tent with his ideal of the highest type of woman- cannot quite see. Am I forgiven?” hood. He may puzzle himself mad with the “What is there to forgive? Let us talk logic of the thing, and be beaten utterly by its about the doctor matter. I told her what I poetry.

thought." At last I found leisure to see Mrs. Vincent. “ All?" “Do not forget St. Clair's tea," she said; "and “No; not all. There are things one cannot come early. It will be amusing. I really made discuss fully. But I said I did not believe it him do it. And the Leighs. Mrs. Leigh told was best either for the sick or for society for me of your talk. Do you like her ? ” women to be doctors; that, personally, women

“ Yes and no. May I speak? She did seem lose something of the natural charm of their to me hard and—”

sex in giving themselves either to this or to the “Oh, only in talk. If one has any real trou- other avocations until now in sole possession ble, she is angelic. She likes you. But, then, of man.” she likes success, as I do. Yes, strange as it “And I am to think that you mean what may seem to you, she would make an admira- you have last said ? " ble mother-in-law."

“Yes; most honestly." I should be pitiful of the man,” said I. • My own mind is hardly clear about it. At No. If he were morally weak she would all events, it would not trouble Alice Leigh. nim for his good, because in all worldly At least, I don't think it would.”


“No; nor any other woman, nor any woman Two of the statues, now finished in marble, doctor. They fail to realize what they have were uncovered, but not that of the Roman lost. The man who is sensitive to womanly lady striking with the cestus. Around this St. ways sees it. It is worse than nursing the sick, Clair had wrapped a vast sheet of worn purple for even nursing makes some women hard. silk heavy with gold fleurs-de-lis. I knew that Were you with us when we discussed the in- he was proud of this work, and I wondered a litfluence of avocations upon men? Their effect tle why it was hidden, but checked myself as upon women is yet to be written."

I was about to speak. Whether Mrs. Vincent " I think Alice will study medicine. What noticed it I did not know. Few things escaped men think of her will in no way disturb her. her, but she too said nothing. What the one man thinks, or will think, may “Well,” exclaimed St. Clair,“ do you like be quite another thing. I believe I could stop it all? Is n't it pretty ? And these flowers ? her short by showing her some duty as imper- Who sent them? And what shall we do with ative. And you laughed at me, too. But women them?” have, over and over, given their lives, and lov- “ That is easy,” cried Mrs. Vincent, and beingly too, to reclaim a sot. Why were it not a gan to throw them on to the white marble bases better task to keep straight a man of genius of the statues, and upon the chairs, and around like St. Clair? If you fail to convince her — the tent of heavy crimson stuffs, within which

“Fail! I do not mean to try. Who cares St. Clair's athletic figure of Saul leaned in prowhether one pretty woman more or less studies found dejection against the tent-pole. On the medicine? I talked to her and to her mother inner walls of the tent, which filled all the end because you desired it, but, really, it is of no of the studio, were Eastern weapons and spears, great moment."

swords and shields, of which he had a curious Mrs. Vincent was playing with a paper-knife. collection. When we had finished, St. Clair Now she put it down with a certain resolute- drew the folds of the tent together, and Clayness in the small action, and returned: “Of borne and Vincent presently came in. course; that is all true, and let us drop it.

“ And

you really have come,” said St. Clair. What is Alice to me or to you."

“I?” said Clayborne. “ Tea unlimited, and There was a false ring in her phrase, and I Mrs. Vincent ? Of course I came.” said, “ You do not mean that.”

Why did you not uncover the Roman * Nor you what you said just now. I don't lady?” I said, in an aside to the sculptor. understand you, and we are both a trifle an- “I do not know. I did not." noyed, and that is the reason why you must “ It is not the nude that troubled you ? ” go away. And remember to be early at Mr. “Oh, no! We come to be utterly indifferent St. Clair's; we must make it a success." as to that even in the living, and wonder at the " And the Leighs ?"

feelings of others about it." “ They will come; and now go and repent “ Then why was it?” of your having been cross to Fred Vincent's “Would you uncover it? You may.” wife.”

“ No.” I looked at her reproachfully.

“ And why not?” “ Oh, but you were, and you would have “I do not know." liked to be still more unpleasant. Good-by.” Then his guests began to drop in, men and

At this I did go, and, passing a florist's shop, women, society folks, for every one liked him, repented in the form of a basket of lilies to my and no one took his social failings very serifriend, and ordered a bushel of cut roses to be ously. There were half a dozen artists too, and sent to St. Clair's on the Tuesday after. by and by, to my amusement, Mrs. Leigh and

her daughter. What Mrs. Vincent had said to the elder woman I never knew, but she was ex

ceeding affable to her host. She put up her It was a brilliant snow-clad day near to the eye-glasses, and with a glance at St. Clair, who dusk of early twilight as I met Mrs. Vincent was faultlessly dressed, began to admire everyat the door of the studio, a little before the thing and to be largely gracious to everybody. hour set for St. Clair's tea.

As to St. Clair, he was at his best. His Hugue* The lilies were enough,” she said; “ but not blood had long since lost the gravity it never, never be so bad to me again.”

brought out of persecution, and there were only “Never. I promise.” And we went in. the French grace and ease along with the in

St. Clair had opened his stores of Eastern dividualized charm which made him always a stuffs, and all the dingy chairs and lounges, delightful companion. the camp-stools and benches, in the molding- Vincent and I, of course, did our best, and room were covered with brocades, priests' robes, a happy company wandered about and approand superb Moorish rugs and embroideries. priated the roses, drank St. Clair's Russian tea



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and Turkish coffee out of tiny cups, and chat- “Yes. A Western city has ordered it for a tered around the statues, or recognized medal- memorial of the dead it lost in the war." lions of familiar faces.

She looked at the group in silence, and said Mrs. Leigh soon fell to my share. “Show presently, “ Did you know my elder brother, me the things,” she said. “I had no idea of the one who fell at Antietam ?" Mr. St. Clair's force as a sculptor, and yet I Yes; I knew him well. I may say he was remember De Visne in Paris spoke of him with of earth's best.” great respect, oh, even with enthusiasm. And She made no answer. Her eyes were full; what lovely stuffs! Is n't he rich ?"

her face flushed. I said nothing, but moved I glanced at the woman. No; he is as quietly away to a corner as if to show her some wasteful as a boy. He could easily make rugs from Fez, and talked volubly until, lookmoney. He does not care to."

ing up, she said, “Thank you. And now the “What a pity. He needs some strong, sen- statues. What is the one covered up?" sible woman."

“It is a Roman lady. St. Clair does not unIt appeared to me that I had heard this cover it.” before.

“Why?" · He is not made for Benedict, the married “He is not pleased with it." man." Then I repented. “It might depend “ But I might be. I shall ask him. Here upon the woman. He is a dear old fellow, and he comes." amiable past belief."

“No; do not. It is disagreeable." “ I have great faith in the capacity of women “ But I want to see it," she continued. to manage men.” This, too, did not sound “ You will not, must not. Pardon me.” home-made, and as I soon learned, Mrs. Leigh “ Must not ?" And she looked at me stead. liked to repeat phrases which pleased her. “And ily a moment. Then she turned to St. Clair. now,” she said, “a chair, and a cup of tea, and I was annoyed. I did not want her to see the some time pray talk again to Alice about that sensual, cruel abandonment of the woman to fad of hers. An old doctor has so much influ- the brute man's pose. ence; not that you are so very old either, but, “What is your covered statue ?" she said. you see, as your cousin I can take liberties. “A woman aping a man. A woman gladiThanks. Where does the man get his tea ? I ator." must ask him."

“ And Dr. North does not like women to Presently I got away, and found Miss Leigh imitate men. If I want to see it, will you not talking with Clayborne. She was saying, “I show it?” have just finished your book on the • Influence “And why not?" cried St. Clair, gaily. of the Moor on European Civilization. We “I am satisfied,” she said. “I do not want were in Spain two years ago, and now I wish I to see it," and then to me, aside,“ Was I very had read it earlier."

wicked?" “And you liked it?" inquired Clayborne. “No; I did not think you would persist.

“ Liked it? I liked it very much. I envied Be satisfied with your victory." you the power to do it, the pleasure of the “I am. Be generous, and never remind me search, the joy there must be in such a re- of my weakness.” view of historic or heroic lives. You must " It was strength, not weakness." have learned Arabic and Spanish.”

“I am half sorry already. Would you have “ Yes; that was easy enough. But I ought thought worse of me if I had persisted ? " to tell that

my friend North says my defect “ Yes." is that I am not a worshiper of heroes." “ You are very frank.”

“No; I saw that sometimes you were cold, “And you do not like that? If you had when I wanted you to be warm. And Dr. been my—my sister, I should have been anNorth - I should scarcely take him for a wor- noyed with St. Clair and much more imperashiper of heroes. You might improve under tive.” criticism," she added, smiling.

“ You have no sister ? " “ I will remember next time," he said with No; I am alone in the world. Come, I rare graciousness.

shall reward you. Ask St. Clair to open the At this moment a woman asked him some tent." absurd question about the statue beside us. I “And your lordship permits that ? " took advantage of it to call Miss Leigh's at- “ Please don't, Miss Leigh." tention to a piece of embroidery, and began She regarded me with a briefly attentive to wander with her to and fro.

glance, but said no more until we were beside “Tell me something," she said, “about the the sculptor. statues. These Greeks. What a poem the “ I should like to see your tent," she said.

“ You can ask me nothing I shall not be


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