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Leader (1850-1860), 20th December 1851, Edition Town of 2, Page 1213, fnrtfntiiL

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      probable ; it might have been made profoundly affecting , had the authoress seized the occasion for painting woman ' s love overriding moral judgment . It is impossible that Clara should have ^ br a moment been blind to the moral obliquity of her husband , the more so as his crime had its impulse in a motive she could never sympathize with . He must have stood guilty before her eyes . But it is < iuite possible that she should love him

      nevertheless ; love him in the face of all that he had done to destroy her affection . Loving him she might perform these sacrifices . But the art of the novelist would have been to paint these two contending impulses—the moral impulse and the affectionate impulse—and to make us feel the nature of the struggle and understand the victory . The picture so painted would have had reality . As it is , every one must feel that it is a mere fiction .

      In the treatment of the characters there is little individuality . Dr . Weston and Leonora are the merest lay figures . Sir Frederick Buckton is outrageously unlike life , and his visit to Clara is the sort of thing we expect to find in a very bad farce every accent is false . Lady Ashford is the bestdrawn character in the book , and she reveals something like genuine dramatic power . But we end as we began , the book has its charm , let criticism say what it will .

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      BOOKS ON OUR TABLE . The Cabinet of Reason : a Library of Freethought , Politics , and Culture . Vol . I . The Task oj To-day . By Evans Bell . J . Watson . "Waiting the time when we can notice at length this bold expression of opinion , we may announce the existence of a new shilling library , which every friend to complete freedom of opinion should warmly support , without inquiring too narrowly into the particular views any one work in the series may advocate . It is desirable that all sincere convictions should gain utterance and attention . Nothing but evil , and bitterness , and error , can ensue from the opponents of freethought and democracy persisting in misrepresentation , or in that unworthy strategy which lays hold of a nameless and unrecognized advocate , and proclaims his opinions to be the opinions of all . The object of the Cabinet of Reason , which Mr . Holyoake edits , is to bring together in a portable form such works as may take the place of accredited expressions of the " extreme left" of politics and religion . The Museum of Classical Antiquiiie . i . A Quarterly Journal of Architecture and the Sister Branches of Classic Art . Vol . I . J . W . Parker and Son . It is little creditable to our lettered and artistic circles that Periodicals like the present are so few and so ill-supported . In Germany , in France , even in Italy where books are so few , there can always be found a sufficient public for works of this grave kind . There are assuredly as many persons in England , who interest themselves in these studies ; but somehow they never managed to keep a good periodical in existence . The Museum of Classical Antiquities is the latest attempt . It is a handsome work , with valuable illustrations , and some good , though unequal , contributions . A press of matters more cogent , ami of more passing interest , has prevented our reading all these contributions ; and we must defer till a more leisure period any tiling like an estimate of their contents , for the present restricting ourselves to an announcement of its existence as a quarterly journal .

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      PATIENT LOVE . My weary heart is sorely tried—I long , I long for rest ! The darkest shadows by me glide , For eyes and lips do frown and chide , Till my poor soul , like timid Bride , Steals softly to my dear Lord ' s side , And weeps upon his breast ! Our household deities retire , And strife and discord rage ; My words add fuel to the fire — My gentlest ways are spurn'd in ire , Till hope and love almost expire , And stricken faith doth halt and tire , As if oppress'd with age ! I gaze out on the evening skies , So calm—so grand—so fair : — A subtle influence through me flies , A new light dances in mine eyes ; And to my soul's half-utter'd cries Pure spirit-echo quick replies , And undulates the air . In sacred words , it seems to say ( While breathing on my brow ) , " With Patient Love pursue thy way , The hearts that now are led astray , Instinctive feel thy gentle sway ; Endure a while—a holier day Is dawning , ay , e ' en nom ! " Glad voice of hope ; with soul subdued , I bend me to thy will ; — Impatient thoughts no more intrude , Upon this sweet dilating mood , Uut olden memories , gentle , good , Around my central life are strew'd , And joys my being fill ! I think me of the ancient time , When one brought me reproof—Then wildest passions were in prime , And blinded pride would madly climb ; When to each soft and pleading chime , I answer'd with a frosty rime , And kept my heart aloof ! Yet , patiently , tin ; loving look . Uento'er me when ; I stood ; It would not let me be forsook , ISut read my soul as ' t were a book : JJeneath its shade my life it took And in that bless ' el , secluded nook Have grown all things of good ! Turn back , strong heart , turn back again , In patient love abide ; ; Thy words of peace ; are ¦ not in vain , The pent up good , that long hath lain , Will one diiy burst , like summer rain , And water all thy life ' s broad plain , Till " harvest home" betide : - Turn back , brave heart , turn back again , In patient love abide ! Chorlcy . Maiuk .

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      TUN NKW DRAdON OK WANTLKY . A iiOCIAl , KKVI'XATION . J am a young man of domestic habits , studious tendencies , and commercial occupations ; or , in other words , 1 live with my mother , dote on natural history , and { j ; e : l , my bread in an ollice . My se-ienl . i ( ic researches ( the- innocent , cause of all J have now to relate . ) are exclusively directed to the

      subject , of reptiles . I have studied alike the anatomy of the Asiatic boa constrictor and the Ilrj | . it : h eft ; and am ready at a moment ' s , notice to calculate , the exact , poison-power of any serpent in any part of the world you choose to mention . My t , ant , e may Hcem an odd one ; but , I can ' t , help it , and can ' t , account , for it . All I know is , that , 1 am passionately attached to reptiles , and that , I have a tremendous social grievance in connection with

      them to make public . Without further preface , here it is : — I live in the pastoral village of Stoke Muddleton , which , as everybody knows , is within easy omnibus distance of London . The other evening , while I was taking a walk , a labouring man accosted me , and asked if I would like to buy a live snake . Of course I would !—if he had offered a live boa constrictor for sale I would have mortgaged a quarter ' s salary to get it . The reptile in this case was only a common , harmless , English snake , between two and three feet long—one of a large familyresiding , if I may use such an

      expres-, sion , in a wood near our neighbourhood . The man asked four shillings for it : I gave him the money . He recommended me to carry it home wrapped up in my pocket-handkerchief : I took his advice . I felt a calm sense of triumph as I walked back to the house with the first live specimen I had ever possessed—with the nucleus of the great reptile menagerie I was now determined to form , coiled snug in my own bandana , and lightly pendant from my own finger and thumb . Little did I then think that I had tied up in that one small bundle the requisite materials for producing the public misery of all Stoke Muddleton .

      That night I said nothing to my mother about the snake . I stealthily took him up to my bedroom , arid put him into an empty hatbox , humanely cutting an air-hole in the lid before I shut it down . Then I went to sleep , full of trust and tranquillity . In the middle of the night I awoke ; and , experiencing a strong , but unaccountable desire to have a look at my snake , got up and struck a light .

      When I state that my mother ' bedroom is under mine , that she is a light sleeper , and that I took particular pains not to wake her , it is , perhaps , unnecessary to say that I knocked down everything within my reach in searching for the match-box . However , I lit the candle at last , eagerly opened my temporary snake-cage , and the next instant found myself sitting on my bed , covered with a cold perspiration of horror— -the reptile was gone !

      I believe I was frantically rolling about in the flue under my bed , feeling for the runaway snake , when I heard my mother ' s voice , hysterically desiring to know whether I was not taken dangerously ill , and casually adding that she was frightened out of her wits at the noise I was making . I calmed the maternal anxiety , bounced into bed again in despair , dropped asleep , and had frightful dreams , which , however , fell so far short of the reality that was soon to follow them as to be not worth mentioning . Let me pass on to the next morning .

      Shortly after sunrise I began to search the bouse—no snake . Then I went into the garden , and there I found him , apparently breakfasting on snails . How lie had got out of the room 1 had not the slightest idea ; but now ho was in the garden , the next thing to do was to fix him there . This I fondly imagined I could died by turning over him an old cage that had been used to keep hant : ims in , and covering the cage with a cloth . That done , 1 went in to breakfast , told my mother all about it , and set oil" to business , feeling pretty . sure of the snake ; till 1 got back again . Fatal security !

      And now let us shift the scene to next door , the house of Mr . 1 'Vostick , of the well-known fiini of i'Vostick , Vjixley , and I ' rostick . Mr . l'Yostick is at business : Mrs . I'rostick , a most charming person , is upstairs in the nursery , fondling her first child . She has been amusing herself with that kind of thing for the last three hours , and is not tired yet . She is so loud of her baby , she hardly knows what to do with it next . Something of this sort , is passing through her mind in reference to the infant at ; the present moment ,. " What , shall I do with my baby now ? I have washed my baby , kissed my baby , suckled my baby , dressed my baby , dandled my baby , st nek a pin by accident , into my b ; ibv , hud my baby on the tloor , the bed , the nil / , the

      chair , and my own knees ; made my baby laugh , and cry , and go to sleep , and wake up again . Nothing , I imagine , is now leil . lor me to do hut . to air my baby . " Acting on this sweet and sanitary impulse ; , Mrs . I'Vostick advances with the miaul , to the window , and , buoyant with maternal bliss , smartly throws it open . What , starts up on the parapet , before ; her ? What , erect , and hissing shape of terror ( lies out like a jack-in tbe-box before , her eyes I Horror ! unspeakable horror ! It , is my snake , my infernal , gadabout snake , that no crafiy imprisonment , whatever can confine to his propcr prcmises ! l . s it , necessary to nay that , Mrs . I'Yostick uttered a piercing . scream , and , clasping the baby to hei

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      A Sai ; nti : iu : r . —The words " saunter" and " sauuterer" are singular records of media : val praetiee . s and feelings . " Saunterer , " derived from "la sainte terre , " is one who visits the Holy Land . At first a deej ) and earnest conviction drew men thither , drew them to visit , — in the beautiful words which Shalefcpean ; puts into the mouth of Henry IV ., and which explain so well tin ; attractions that at ; one time made it the magnet of all Christendom , —to visit , 1 say , " those holy fields , Over whose acres walke-d those bh'Sfo'l l « ' ( 't , Which fourteen hundred yours age > were nailed , Ji ' or our advantage : on the hitter cre > sn . " Hy degrocH . however , the ; making of this pilgrimage elegeuerateel into a mere worldly fashion , and e : very idle person that liked strolling about bette'r than performing the ; duties e ) f bin ( railing , assumed the pil tfrim ' . s utidf , anef proe'laimed himself bound for the : Holy L-ind ; to which very ofl . e ; n he never in earnest Net . mil . Anel thus this word forfeited the : mure : honourable ; meaning it may enure : have : possessed , and 'he ; " Hauiite-rcr " came to signify erne ; idly and nnpi ' olitably wasting his time ; , loitering here : and there , with no fixed purpe > , se e > r aim . — 'I ' rcnrh on the Study « . / ' Words . IIohhu 1 ' i . av . —A horse : belonging to one ; of the : huge brewing establishments in Londem , at which a tfreat number of pigs we're : kept , useel hvejuently te > nc . utt . er tin ; grains on the ground with his mouth , undas noon as a pig came within Ins reach , he : would seize it without , injury anel plunge : it into the water-trough . — ¦ Thompson ' s I'anaions of Animals .

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      Dec . 20 , 1851 . ] %%$ fLttiittt . 1213

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      TO ALEX . SMITH , " THE GLASGOW POET , " ON HIS SONNET TO " FAME . " Not vainly doth the earnest voice of man Call for the thing that is his pure desire ! Fame is the birthright of the living lyre ! To noble impulse Nature puts no ban . Nor vainly to the Sphynx thy voice was raised ! Tho' all thy great emotions like a sea , Against her stony immortality , Shatter themselves unheeded and amazed . Time moves behind her in a blind eclipse : Yet if in her cold eyes the end of all Be -visible , as on . her large closed lips Hangs dumb the awful riddle of the earth ; — She sees , and she might speak , since that wild call , The mighty warning of a Poet ' s birth . George Meredith .

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      We should do our utmost to encourage the Beautiful , for the Useful encourages itself . — Goethe .

  • Citation
    • Leader (1850-1860), Dec. 20, 1851, page 1213, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1914/page/17/