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She lay listless the greater part of the time, side of the cage and then return immediand, when she did move, appeared to do. ately to her food. Her face never assumes so with difficulty. The little ones recu- the ugly snarl of a wolf, but always bears perated more quickly than their mother, a blank, stupid expression, from which one and tried to engage her in their sport by might judge that the intelligence is of a jumping upon her back and rolling down much lower order than that of the wolf. her sides. She is now beginning to take a The call is a peculiar coughing sound, livelier interest in things, and will occa- which, until recognized as a note of affecsionally run with the cubs, and leap in tion, gave the keepers grave concern rethe air much as a kangaroo would do. At garding the condition of her lungs. The first the little ones traveled around in their sound was easily understood when it was mother's pouch, sometimes with their heads observed that the mother, in giving vent stuck out, as if they were curiously inves- to it, was immediately answered by her tigating the country as they went along. cubs. Often when sleeping she will rouse They entered it also frequently when feed- for a moment, and, after making this pecuing, and at such times there was always a liar cry, listen expectantly until she hears scramble for first place.

the diminutive counterpart, whereupon she Though these animals are said to be very will let fall her head and rest content. vicious, this particular one is perfectly harm- When lying in this way, with her face less and wholly indifferent to the presence of toward you, nursing her little ones, she man. The keeper enters the cage to treat her gives the impression of a wolf suckling wounds when she is feeding, and the only tiger cubs, as the black stripes on her back notice she takes of him is, when stung by in this position are entirely hidden, while the application, to walk quietly to the other shown conspicuously upon the young ones.






Y American friends assure me that children, all of them perhaps endowed

gotten by the American than by the Eng- richly inheriting the gifts and characterislish public. They are confident that his tics of their parents. This article is inintellectual and moral influence still per- tended to gather together a few memorials sists on their side of the water as on ours, concerning especially the early life of and, moreover, that much the same, mutatis Thomas Arnold the younger, the doctor's mutandis, may be said of the brilliant and second son, separated only by eleven taking figure of Dr. Arnold's eldest son. months from his elder brother Matthew. Matthew Arnold, indeed, whether in Eng- He himself published a short autobiogland or in America, is only now slowly but raphy called “ Passages from a Wandering surely coming to his right place. As he him- Life" not long before his death. But there self wrote of others in “The New Age": is much else to be told, and among the

papers left to his children at his death Now strifes are hush'd, our ears doth meet, there are many letters which seem to them Ascending pure, the bell-like fame

of public interest, especially for those who

already know and love his father and broof one who was well content to leave his ther. In youth “Tom Arnold” was a work to the ripening judgment of time. delicate and thoughtful child, whom his

But Matthew Arnold was one of nine father cherished with special tenderness.

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Later on he was described by one who I knew.” In Clough's“ Bothie" the demoknew him well as "a man of the thirteenth crat, Philip Hewson, who "rounded the century astray in the nineteenth." His sphere to New Zealand,” though in some ideas were not those of his country and respects very different from my father, was generation, and he was never content with suggested by his career and his opinions, out carrying his ideas into some sort of and in one of the letters from which I am action. Hence much conflict and disillu- about to quote, found among my father's sion, hence also much apparent vacilla- papers at his death, Judge Coleridge tells tion and failure. At any critical juncture him that he is “spoken of as the hero" of in his life his course could have been gen- the poem. Dr. Arnold's favorite son, and erally foretold by asking which line of Matthew Arnold's close friend as well as conduct was likely to serve his worldly brother, was also “Clough's Philip.” It is interests least. Naturally, such a character then natural to hope that whoever cares does not make the best of this world, but for any one of these three may also care it wins the warm affection of spirits kin- for him. dred to itself, and what Dean Stanley wrote My grandfather died when the younger of him in his middle life was often said or Thomas Arnold was nineteen, and the rethought by others whose good opinion was lations between them, therefore, were not not less worth having. At a time when my those of man to man, but of child and boy father was a candidate for one of the As- to a famous and puissant father. There are sistant Commissionerships of Endowed no letters of this period, but two poems, Schools, Dean Stanley wrote to one of those written in the son's eighth and ninth years, who were to decide the appointment: attest the father's affection, reveal that

tender side of the man which neither StanWill you allow me to speak to you strongly ley's Life nor“ Tom Brown's School Days” in his behalf? He is, as you are perhaps aware, has adequately brought out, and, for all the second son of Dr. Arnold of Rugby, who their old-fashioned simplicity, suggest a is associated in his father's life as being with

hitherto unsuspected origin for Matthew him at his death. He was afterwards my pupil

Arnold's faculty. One of the poems was at University College, and is now, after a wandering life, both physically and intellectually

in a sense prompted by the child himself, (not morally, for he remained from first to last who, recovering from one of childhood's what I will presently describe), settled as pri- illnesses, had asked his father to write vate tutor at Oxford.

something for him which should be his He is and was one of the gentlest, purest, ' very own.” The father complied, with and most ingenuous characters I have ever this result: known, full of ability and of information, to me always instructive and interesting, - not so

You bid me write in Verse or Prose quick or brilliant as his brother Matthew, but

Something to be your very own: without the qualities which in Matthew cause

Ah! were I but as one of those so much alarm to many, and certainly (as I

Whose verses you and I have knownhave heard it well described by one who knows

If high the thought and sweet the line, him well) belonging (to use his brother's

If flowed the measure bold and free, words) to

Then gladly should such strain be thine

As suits the Love I bear to thee.
That small transfigur'd band
Whom the world cannot tame."

Time was- but that was long ago,

And you, my child, were yet unborn I have written this in a style not usual in When readily and oft would flow testimonials, because I cannot half describe The current of my Verse-For Morn him otherwise.

Was breathing then,--and all was new;

And Thoughts were stirring at such Hour My father was also the most intimate But melted in the Morning Dew friend that Arthur Clough possessed, and

And vanished is my Fancy's Power. of Arthur Clough the late Archbishop

Thou art the self-same Race beginning,of Canterbury has borne witness that "he seemed to me, when first I knew him,

Like Thoughts are pressing on thy Heart:

To thee Earth wears a Face as winning the ablest and greatest man I had ever And thou must see that Face depart. come across, and the one from whom I

Now from thy little Bed thy Smile had learned more than from any other man How sweet it gleams when I draw nigh



'T is sweet, - but let us pray the while

So the delicate child grew up into a tall To smile as sweetly when we die.

man, never overflowing with vitality like

his brother Matthew, but still sound in wind Thy Father's Love, thou know'st it true;

and limb, and exceptionally handsome. Thou know'st how dear thy Mother's Kiss:

He was wonderfully like his Cornish And so whene'er we meet thy View It fills thy little Heart with bliss :

mother (herself a Penrose, with Trevenen Now from thy Bed thine Eyes still turn

kin), and his brother wrote to their mother Thy Parents' loving Glance to crave

from Paris in 1859: May'st thou that better Parent learn Whose Glance of Love can cheer thy Grave. I could not but think of you in Brittany,

with Cranics and Trevenecs all about me, and Our Care revives thee,-- thou may’st rise the peasantry with their expressive, rather

To Health and all of Childhood's Glee- mournful faces, long noses, and dark eyes, reAnd Hope may paint thee to our Eyes minding me perpetually of dear Tom and In Manhood, all we'd have thee be

Uncle Trevenen, and utterly unlike the But yet again that Health must fade,

Thy youthful Glee to Sickness turn, -
Others than we shall tend thy Bed

The Breton peasant figured in Joanne's When we can neither love nor mourn. “ Dictionnaire Topographique de la

France" (sub voce Bretagne) is certainly like So be it :-- yet for us, for thee,

enough to my father to justify the parallel. In Youth and Age alike at Hand, One Love shall ever present be,

Contemporaries at Oxford and elsewhere One Parent by our Sick Bed stand,

noticed his looks, and an old Oxford man Whose look is Peace and Joy; - whose Care

once told me that a friend, meeting him in Can to Eternal Health restore.

the High street in the summer of 1845, May we, my Child, His Blessing share advised him to look in at the Schools, Where Age and Sickness vex no more.- where the viva voce for “Greats” was going T. Arnold. April 5th, 1832. on, as he would there see “the handsomest

don in Oxford examining the handsomest The child was fragile, but grew up into undergraduate.” The don was Henry Lidhealthy boyhood under the customary dell, afterward dean of Christ Church, English influences. He went first to Win- and the undergraduate, Thomas Arnold chester, then to Rugby. His brother Matt the younger. reminds him, in 1855, when they were both Dr. Arnold hoped for great things from in their thirties, “how I disfigured your “Tom's career at Oxford." "That ever nose when we were boys,” and in 1884 dear and beloved one; that too trusting and the sexagenarian, writing in December, sanguine nature, rated me much too highly," recalls "old Rugby days":

writes the son, in a fragment of journal, This is the season when you and I, Edward twenty years later. Yet Oxford, too, rated and Willy, used to play our little football in

him highly. He got his first-class, and won the field behind the Close, with old Sam, his

the devoted affection of a small band of milk-pails on his shoulders, on his way to the friends: Arthur Stanley, his tutor at Unifarmyard, pausing to look on. Edward and versity College, then a haunt of Rugby Willy are gone-and how soon may we not men; Arthur Clough — “ Citizen Clough follow! Still, so long as we are here, “haec - of Oriel, doubter, democrat, and poet; meminisse juvat!”

F. T. Palgrave, the future editor of “The

Golden Treasury"; Shairp; Tom Hughes; So again, at the same season, two years

Theodore Walrond ; above all, his brother later:

Matt, at Balliol. Those were years of How I wish we had you here to-day, you

Sturm und Drang at Oxford, the years dear old boy! What a long way back it is to

of Tract 90, of Newman's withdrawal to the school field at this season, and the withered Littlemore, of the famous convocation in elm-leaves, and the footballs kicking about 1844, which deprived “Ideal Ward” of his and the November dimness over everything! degrees and was prevented from censur

ing Newman only by the veto of the two Almost an epilogue to the poet's “Rugby dauntless proctors, of Pusey's suspension Chapel."

from preaching within the university, and 1 " Letters of Matthew Arnold,” edited by G. W. E. Russell, I, 85.

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