In the City of the Saints. By IZA DUFFUS HARDY Kean, Charles. By DUTTON COOK. Kernel, A Perished. By ALEX. C. EWALD, F.S.A. . PAGE 233 712 159 Kingsley, Charles, as a Fisherman. By Rev. M. G. WATKINS, M.A. 671 Moon, The, and its Folk-Lore. By T. F. THISELTON DYER New Study, A, of "Love's Labour's Lost." By S. L. LEE By W. E. NORRIS Parliament and the Press. By THE MEMBER FOR THE CHILTERN 464 544 242 159 Perished Kernel, A. By ALEX. C. EWALD, F.S.A. Philosophy, The, of Fasting. By BENJAMIN W. RICHARDSON, M.D. 348 Rachel Felix. By DUTTON COOK. Relic, A, of Dryden. By ALGERNON C. SWINBURNE St. John's Gate in 1880, Hospitaller Work at. By Major FRANCIS DUNCAN IFFUS Saints, In the City of the, By IZA DUFFUS HARDY Science Notes. By W. MATTIEU WILLIAMS, F.R.A.S.: The Photophone-London Fogs-A Novelty in Leather-Prac- Science of Likenesses, The, and its Meanings. By ANDREW WILSON, Scotch Holiday, A. By Rev. M. G. WATKINS, M.A. Shakespeare as a Prose Writer. By J. CHURTON COLLINS 735 447 Study, A New, of "Love's Labour's Lost." By S. L. LEE Table Talk. By SYLVANUS URBAN :— The late Mr. Planché-The Use of Small Birds-Unfortunate A Fresh-water Jellyfish-M. Sarcey and Mdlle. Sarah Bernhardt 602 117 380 on English Acting-Dutch Players in London-Fairies and their Size-Professor Mommsen's Calamity-Tom Taylor's Plays 251 The Jesuits and Theatricals-Dr. Horace H. Furness and the Animal Sympathy with Humanity-"Where Ignorance is Bliss," its Origin-A Story of a Judge-Teetotal Literature-Merciful Death for Animals-"The City of Dreadful Night"-The Indian Romance "Ramáyana "—" Parliament Joan”—Sugges- Table Talk-continued. Actors' Blunders-The Tower and its Visitors-Mr. Dobson's PAGE . 637 THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE. JULY 1880. QUEEN COPHETUA. BY R. E. FRANCILLON. CHAPTER XVII. I am the Knight of Malavis : And all my comfort keeps therein— No lore have I of maiden's kiss,— And I will keep her, when I find A maid whose lips may mate my mind: I am the Knight of Malavis. ER son robbed of the love which was his true chance of HER manhood, and driven to do what was not his duty in a sphere of life to which he had not been called-her daughter driven among the rocks and shoals of concealment, deceit, and unscrupulous scheming a well-intentioned clergyman frightened out of his witsan innocent man tricked by the phantom of a fortune-these were what Mrs. Reid's plan for the correction of Providence had to show for itself hitherto. And these were all, if we omit its probable result in its advantage to Gideon Skull; for in so far as it was likely to be of some sort of good to somebody, it cannot be looked upon as VOL. CCXLVII. NO. 1795. B wholly in vain. If Mrs. Reid could have lifted the least corner of the cloth that hid from her eyes everything that was going on just under them, and seen the maze of loss, corruption, and peril that was growing from the seed she had sown with such good intentions, she would have been horrified at what she had been the means of doing; she certainly would not have let Helen go out alone the next morning. Helen did not feel good as she left the house to keep her appointment with Gideon Skull. It felt like doing a great thing— like visibly and consciously cutting her life in two. It had been easy enough, in solitude, to dream of rising to great, vague crimes, and of descending to the meanest depths, and to triumph in them beforehand because they would be all for Alan. But none of her enthusiasm helped her when the time came for action, and when she found herself obliged, not to plunge a dagger into somebody's heart, but only to hide from her mother the real object of her walk that morning. Her imagination had never led her to the point of having to do anything so wretchedly small-so small that not even its being for Alan's sake could give it dignity. She was only a sly girl, with a lie in her heart and almost on her lips, creeping out to meet a man whom her mother had forbidden her to know; and it was all the worse because there was no hint or dream of love in the affair, and because it was for a brother who would have given up even his dreams of Bertha rather than believe his sister capable of anything so un-Reid-like and so mean. But what could she do-being she? She had committed herself to this appointment, or thought so; and supposing that she lost a chance for Alan by not keeping it, how would she ever forgive herself all her days? Her mother's daughter, who grew more and more like her mother every day, was not likely to give up any sort of design which might lead to a good end, through whatever rocks and bogs the road to that end might lead her. She did not doubt or waver in the depth of herself even in such a miserably little matter as keeping a secret tryst with Gideon. She felt, in her extreme way, that she was closing the street-door upon her ladyhood; and she felt, too, that she was making the first step down that road of which the first step alone is hard. But— well, it might prove better for Alan, in the long-run, that she should teach herself as soon as possible not to be ashamed of little things. She had no doubt of being able to trust herself in great ones. What lay before her, whatever course it might take, was not to be work for a lady's hand. It could only have been a very invisible and deeplying instinct indeed which told her how much a first secret meeting |