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with this precious burden, fled away towards the place | Gery had brought over to the true faith, and whom he where she had left her young. She knew that by so had baptized under the name of Etienne, lived there. doing she would be able to draw thither the hermit This Etienne had a daughter, pretty, pious, and chariwho had protected her. The spot was a charming and table, with whom the buyers and sellers of fish, etc., picturesque one, afterwards called Ursidong, or the placed the alms which the early Christians were wont Bear's Grove, situated in the forest, on the border of to devote to the relief of poor pilgrims and travellers. the river Haine, which has given its name to Hainault. One day a renowned brigand, named Stock, having

As the bear had calculated, Ghislain followed her; seen the young maiden, was so smitten with her that but, impelled by the desire to join her little ones, she he resolved, during the night, to force an entrance into went so fast that the saint in a very short time lost her father's house, to carry off the treasure which he sight of her. He found himself bewildered in the knew was kept there for the help of the poor, and midst of the vast forest, where the foot of man had to possess himself of the beautiful girl—with violence never yet traced a path, when an eagle appeared be- even, should she resist; a common exploit with the fore him, fluttering to attract his attention. Ghislain, ferocious villain, who was the terror of the country, seeing something extraordinary in all this, suffered and whom no one had ever been able to vanquish. himself to be guided by the eagle, and presently arrived By chance the good Saint Ghislain, on his return at the Grove of the Bear.

from Antwerp, had come at nightfall to demand shelter This spot he found to be so attractive and convenient of old Etienne. At one o'clock, when all the world that he transported thither his dwelling. His new was sleeping, except the saint, who was reciting his friends, the eagle and the bear, never quitted him. matins, the atrocious Stock noiselessly entered the Numerous anchorites, drawn by the reports of these house. Before thinking of looking for the money marvels, came and placed themselves under the disci- which he proposed to carry off, he turned an eager gaze pline of the saint. They built a grand monastery, upon the beautiful form of the sleeping virgin. Unhearound which, in process of time, grow a town, which sitating in his diabolical purpose, he moved towards was called 'Saint Ghislain. It is two leagues from her, but as he did so he felt himself seized from behind; Mons and four from Condé. The Abbots of Saint two powerful hands held him as in a vice; his prodi. Ghislain were lords spiritual and temporal.

gious strength, which nothing had ever before overUp to the end of the last century, when the monas- come, was exerted now in vain. In the efforts which tery was suppressed, an eagle and a she bear were con- he made to turn and face his antagonist, he distinstantly kept there in memory of the saint, who died guished the head of an enormous bear. He uttered in 670.

a horrible cry. But before dying, he desired to visit Saint Armand, The maiden awoke, terrified, and scarcely conscious who was preaching the true faith at Antwerp, and on of what was passing before her. The bear of Saint his way thither, Saint Ghislain stopped for a time near | Ghislain, carrying the stifled brigand, opened a window Brussels, in a part of the forest of Soignes, which now at the back of the house, which overhung the Senne, forms part of the city. He there effected many con- and threw him into the river, which bore his body versions, and built, to the honor of Saint Peter, a helplessly away towards the sea. small chapel; the road which conducted to it, and The fair girl, after falling on her knees, and rendering which now leads from the Rue des Tanneurs into the thanks to heaven, went and aroused her father; and at Rue Haute, is still called the Rue Saint Ghislain. break of day the saint, blessed by all, departed with his

The city of Brussels was then in its infancy, being faithful companion the bear. almost entirely enclosed within the Grande Ile of Above old Etienne's door was sculptured the figure Saint Gery. By the side of a bridge, defended by a of the animal which had at once saved his daughter and wooden gate, which led into the city, stood, just where delivered the country of the horrible Stock. At the the Marché-aux-Eufs now stands, a small house, built present time, the same house, many times rebuilt, is an at the edge of the Senne. An old man, whom Saint | estaminet, the sign of which is a bear.

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“It is a private opinion of mine," says a writer in He is not true nor strong, whose functions for pleas“ Household Words,” that the dull people in this country ure dry up; whose capacity for enjoyment declines ; who are the people who govern the nation.” Of course by does not preserve intact and pure his sense of the beautiful, “this country " the writer means England, but we discover and with that sense, for they are twin and inseparate, his love so much application in his remarks to “this country” for the lofty and the noble. And in behalf of the beautiful, (meaning America), that we shall proceed to quote him. in behalf of all graceful and true things, in behalf of human“By dull people,” he continues, “I mean people of all ity in all its loftiest aims, Fiction has its mission—misdegrees of rank and education, who never want to be sion which the dull people cannot always impede, and which amused. I don't know how long it is since these dreary eventually shall claim and secure a recognition broad, just, members of the population first hit on the cunning idea- and liberal. the only idea they ever had, or will have--of calling themselves Respectable ; but I do know that ever since that - One of our contemporaries is in a sad way. It is very time, this great nation has been afraid of them-afraid in much troubled by the acting at some of our theatres of the religious, in political and social matters. *

* play called “ Camille.” Once a week (it is a weekly), it has The dull people decided years and years ago, as every one

a fling at this unhappy production. If it has anything to say knows, that novel-writing was the lowest species of literary about the stage, it begins and ends with a philippic against exertion, and that novel-reading was a dangerous luxury, and “Camille.” If it has occasion to moralize, it moralizes an utter waste of time. They gave, and still give, reasons for about “ Camille.” It seems to think that “ Camille” is just this opinion, which are still very satisfactory to persons born as much in everybody else's mind, as it is in its own. It without Fancy or Imagination, and which are utterly inconclu- declares that all the old English stock-pieces have been sive to every one else. But, with reason or without it, the dull driven off the stage by this “ Camille," and plays of its kind. people have succeeded in affixing to our novels the stigma It asserted this at the very moment when a revival of the of being a species of contraband goods. Voyages and old comedies was drawing splendid houses at one theatre in travels are the delight of the dull people. How they hug our city, and Shakspeare's “Winter Tale” was upon the them to their bosoms! How they turn their intolerant stage of another; of such inconvenient facts, it could take backs on novels! Every man (or woman) who has voyaged no notice. It can only see

" Camille” whichever way it and travelled to no purpose, who has made no striking ob- looks. It seems to believe that the whole art of acting has servations of any kind, who has nothing whatever to say, and been given up to the representation of this unfortunate and who says it at great length in large type and on thick paper, much-abused play. with accompaniment of frowsy lithographic illustrations, is

The Dame aux Camélias is, undoubtedly, a very bad play. introduced to their hearths and homes as a most valuable Ii ought never to have been put on an American stage. But guest, philosopher and friend !" So proceeds our author at there is a great deal of nonsense uttered about it; and length. We take up the lance, and tilt at the dull people a great deal of unnecessary solicitude about a supposed by his side. It is time their formidable ranks were broken; growth of licentiousness in our literature. Immoral plays it is time the world was rid of their cant, dullness and false are by no means new things under the sun ; nor can any teachings. “ Facts, sir! facts, sir!" is the incessant cry of period be found when a censorship upon literature has not these Gradgrinds. They seem to think, in their intense been wise and necessary. But within a few months the devotion to one-sided, narrow-minded utilitarianism, that public and the press have become unaccountably moral. granite is the only wear ; that a hard, unvarying, stern, Papers not very pure in their antecedents, have suddenly unpromising aspect is the only religious, philosophical and turned zealots and moralists of the severest kind. The natural one, which nature and human nature are designed public has been virulently seized with a sort of moral epito present; they practically ignore the ten thousand appeals demic. To hear many talk, one would think that improper to fancy and imagination, which nature, in its colors of sky literature had never been heard of before—that we are sinand earth, and its myriad forms of grace and beauty, so ning to a degree in this particular so much beyond anything clearly and forcibly inducts as the philosophy and the wis- in the past experience of the world, that we should be held dom of Providence. To this practical lesson, reflected up as a humiliating spectacle of depraved taste and fallen whichever way we look, upon sky, carth and sea, they are

If this sudden sensitiveness arise from a growing persistingly blind. They see nothing but granite-feel purity in the popular mind, why we applaud it with all our nothing but granite. So feeling and thinking, they would might. But we do not believe it. It is only one of those make the world as dull and blind as themselves; feed it only explosions of virtue to which, as Byron said, the English on chips and thistles—"facts, sir! facts !"-and vigor- public are periodically addicted. We have too much hope ously crush out and trample down every fair or tender in the future, too much faith in the inevitable progress of growth, every flower of fancy, that would fain spring up all things human to higher and purer destinies, to sympathize and flourish in the human heart.

with this incessant upbraiding of the new and passing age ; We give all honor to learning; we exalt the sciences; we this senseless clamor about an imaginary vitiation of our delight in the spread and growth of true knowledge. But tastes. We suggest to all those who indulge in this clamor, we have no right to sacrifice to these our instincts for the who are lamenting over the good old English undefiled, to beautiful. The human mind is only healthy and vigorous go back to the gods they worship, and see what clay they when all its functions and capacities for happiness are deve- are made of. We suggest, for instance, to that ubiquitous loped. The Ideal has its claims no less imperative than the individual who is incessantly talking about his wife and Real. If the imagination withers, the whole system weak- daughters in the newspapers--all men have wives and daugh

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ters, for whose morals they are loudly solicitous—to take and “Lovely day,” of every chance encounter. It success. home to the bosom of his family the good old works of Tom fully rivals the “weather," as a means of entertaining and Jones, Roderick Random, Tristram Shandy—the works of instructive discussion at all social gatherings, and even Fielding, Smollett, Sterne, Steele, and Swift ; and, as a sometimes ousts that time-honored subject of conversational wholesome contrast to the French drama, we recommend | dissection from its venerable stool; and it fortunately the comedies of Congreve, Farquhar, and Colley Cibber. affords brain-exhausted editors a new text whereupon to The refining and ennobling influence of these authors upon hang wise platitudes and mild generalities. The astronohis “ wife and daughters,” will enable them to encounter mers, of course, disagree as to the fact ; just as wise gentlethe moral shortcomings of modern literature with impunity men of other professions are apt to do whenever it is necesand success.

sary for them to be positive and certain. One cannot,

therefore, depend upon them, and all that can be done is to -Last month we had occasion to mention the appearance hope for a slight mistake in the calculations of those who of Elephants in Drama at a theatre in this city. In London, promise the spectacle. If it does occur, we shall be prewe observe, they have outdone us in the way of quadru- vented from making our July bow to our friends, and if pedal acting. At Astley's Amphitheatre they have produced any of our distant readers should miss our coming at the Shakspeare's Henry IV., “with all the aids and appliances'

proper time, they may depend upon the collision as a fact. of-horses! Stable scenes, street scenes, and battle scenes,

But there appears to be some discrepancy as to the day. The were all illustrated with horses. Think of it! Shakspeare 13th of June say all the European astronomers—the 16th of in the ring—Shakspeare down amid the sawdust—Shaks. June say writers this side of the ocean. How is this? Is peare in the hands of the circus-riders! Do they intend to it that the world in truth falls due on the 13th, but enlarge upon the idea ? Are we to have Hamlet and that our trans-Atlantic friends, not so business-like and Othello on horseback? Shall Ophelia sing, and Constance practical as ourselves, forgot to allow the legal three days mourn, and Desdemona weep-all equestrianly ?

grace, customary in all matters payable? If so, why of But, it is said that Henry IV. was well done-imposingly, course the event cannot legally come off before the 6thwith all pomp and splendor. Certainly but few plays are so

for which respite we hope we are duly thankful. well adapted for equestrian effect. Conceive of that splendid description of Prince Harry on horseback, being even —The address of the Rev. Dr. Bellows in behalf of the to a slight degree realized :

stage, naturally enough has been a prolific subject of discus

sion with town-people. The stage has been defended and " I saw young Harry with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed,

upheld by worthy people many times, but we believe this to Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,

be the first instance of a divine publicly appearing, surAnd vaulted with such ease into his seat,

rounded by actors and actresses, and addressing the sober As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,

and religious element of the community in defence of amuseTo turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship."

ment as a principle, and the stage as a necessity. Our

readers know that, unlike some of our contemporaries, we -Nothing is too quaint, too absurd, or too whimsical for have never, in these pages, ignored the theatre. We have a Frenchman. At Paris there has just been organized even run some risk of offending that portion of our readers a club pledged to the encouragement, support, and coun

who adhere to the ancient prejudices against the theatre; tenance of the blonde style of beauty ! This movement but we acted after deliberation, and with a belief that it was was projected under the apprehension that blue eyes and not our privilege to shut our eyes to the existence of a fact golden hair were disappearing—that the brunettes were so palpable as that of the theatre-of an institution so absorbing and exterminating this more delicate and spirituelle important and prominent in our social organization. We cast of female loveliness. The members of this club are realized, too, those truths so eloquently set forth by pledged to marry only blondes; and to sincerely devote Dr. Bellows, that the recognition, support, and censorship themselves to the interests of the fair-haired creation. The of the stage by the discriminating and respectable classes of emigration of blondes is to be encouraged, and means taken society, alone could lift it to that elevation and purity so to promote their introduction. What a rush into Paris long the ideal of all true admirers of the drama. We, there will be of Saxon beauties! How even the red-haired indeed, a few months ago, pointed out some of the benefiwill take hope! What a passion for going abroad will seize cial results that had followed a growing popular taste in our upon one moiety of our young women ! We advise fathers midst for the theatre, and showed how absolutely the puband guardians to look with suspicion upon sudden rhapso- lic controlled it in all its moral and ethical aspects. The dies for Old World sights—to resist with all their might the stage has been in existence for over two thousand years. importunities of blue-eyed demoiselles, “ dying " for beauti- It will exist for two thousand years more, unless it end ful France and classical Italy. But guardians and fathers sooner with all other mundane things. It cannot be extermiwill probably be deluded ; and we shall not be surprised to nated nor ostracised. It will live, in spite of fulminations or see it duly chronicled how ship-load after ship-load of philipics-wisely, truly, ethically, if with the countenance of brown-haired, auburn-haired, red-haired, Saxon-haired, and the intelligent and moral public; licentiously, badly, vilely, golden-haired beauties, have left our shores; how they have if its predominant support come from the vulgar and the rolled and poured into Paris wave upon wave ; how the dark- low. Which shall it be? The American public is to answer eyed have taken the alarm; and how a grand war has sprung for America. Our own convictions upon the matter are up, to be known forever in history as the War of the Blondes' firm and unwavering. We believe it to be our public duty, and Brunettes !

in so far as our influence extends, to act our little part, as

censors and critics, to do what we can towards the eleva-The coming of the comet is still the event most talked tion of the drama into that pure and lofty atmosphere of. It is sandwiched between the necessary “How to do,” | wherein all art and all poetry should alone exist

The new comedy of Alexandre Dumas, fils, called completed, and discover in the poet a resemblance to "The Money Question,” has some sharp hits, of which Dante. He is of a large build, they say, and his predothe following is a good specimen :

minant expression is “an august sadness.” August Jean. Why, you see, this is a tough bit of business for sadness is good—but it is probably nothing more than him. If he be sharp enough, he will make his fortune. dyspepsia.

Réné. Of his sharpness I know nothing ; but he is a man of probity.

The positive and comparative degree of wrong.

headedness : Jean. Well, in business give me sharpness—the one thing needful.

The Spanish caricaturists, to give an idea of the obstinacy Réné. What do you call business, M. Giraud ?

of the Biscayans, represent a. man knocking a nail into Jean. What do I call business? The simplest thing in life a wall by butting at it with his fore head; but when they -other people's money.

want to express the extent to which perverseness is carried June, the fair and beautiful, is most exquisitely tude, but with the head of the nail against the wall, and the

by the Arragonese, they sketch a person in the same attilimned in these lines, whose we know not, but called, point turned to the performer's forehead. "A Quiet Hour:” It was an hour of stillness,

A few curious Chinese aphorisms, culled from a book In the leafy month of June,

called “The Book of the Way and the Truth," by LaoMidway between the cool eve

toen, a philosopher who lived six hundred years before
And the sultry ray of noon,
Thin clouds were idly floating,

And with his changing rays

Men of superior virtue are ignorant of their virtue. Men
The playful sun bedabbled

of inferior virtue do not forget their virtue. Men of supeThe green and ferny braes. The birds were chirping faintly,

rior virtue practise it without thinking of it. Men of infeIt scarcely was a song;

rior virtue practise it with intention. But the breath of green creation

Great passions necessarily expose their possessor to great And fragrant life was strong.

sacrifices. The lazy trees were nodding,

He who knows how to suffice to himself is safe from disThe flowers were half awake,

honor. He who knows when to stop, never stumbles or And toilsome men were basking

Like the serpent in the brake.
The Borean winds were sleeping,

There is no greater calamity than the desire of acquiring.
Asleep was ocean's roar,

The sage relishes what is without savor. He avenges the And ripple was chasing ripple

injuries he receives by benefits. He begins by easy things On the silver-sounding shore.

when he meditates difficult things; by small things when he The countless ocean daughters

meditates great. Were weaving from the waves

A tree of large circumference sprang from a root as deliBright webs of scattered sunlight,

cate as a hair; a tower of nine stories arose out of a handTo deck their sparry caves;

ful of earth ; a journey of a thousand lis began by a step. And in her sapphire chamber or lucent beauty rare,

Be attentive to the end as well as to the beginning, and The sea-queen Amphitrite

then you will not fall. Was plaiting her sea-green hair.

To know, and to think that we know not, is the highest

pitch of merit. Not to know, and to think that we know, Punch has a hit at the infant prodigies of some of our

If you are afflicted at this

is the common malady of men. novelists, who are usually “ translated” (that's the

malady you will not be infected with it. term, we believe) to another sphere upon pathetic

Beware of thinking your dwelling too small for you; death-beds, in the very midst of their transcendent beware of becoming disgusted with your lot. goodness. “Don't you be a good boy, Johnny,” says one

The net of heaven is immense ; its meshes are wide, and lad to another. “Why not, Rob?"

“ 'Cause in books yet nobody escapes. the good boys all die, you know !"

The sage fears glory as much as ignominy. Glory is Gallant to the last :

something low. When a man has it he is filled with fear;

when he has lost it, he is filled with fear. Fontenelle was ninety-eight years of age, when a young You may intrust the government of the empire to the man lady asked him at what period of life men lose all taste for who fears to undertake to govern the empire. gallantry? Indeed,” replied the old gentleman, “you The most excellent arms are instruments of misfortune; must ask that question of some one older than myself.”

they are not the instruments of the sage. He uses them A grand, old fellow Fontenelle must have been, cer- only when he cannot dispense with them, and places above

all things calm and repose. tainly; and we commend his reply to blasé Young America, who, at the age of twenty-two, affect to have

We all like to read Sheridan's jokes, even when they got beyond such boyish inclinations.

get to be old friends : The English papers speak of a bust of Tennyson, just Sheridan never gave Lewis any of the profits of the Castle

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Spectre. One day, Lewis, being in company with him, satisfied, he would coase his importunities. He had said:

contrived, with the assistance of the painter, to thrust “Sheridan, I will make yon a large bet.”

his own face tþrough a canvas hung where the picture The wit, who was always ready to make a bet, however had before been placed; but she, on perceiving it

, perinconvenient he might find it to pay, if lost, asked eagerly, sisted in asserting that it was no more like than before. " What bet?"

Upon this the marshal could not keep his countenance, “ All the profits of my Castle Spectre,” replied Lewis.

“I will tell you what,” said Sheridan, who never found but, by laughing aloud, discovered at once his stratagem his match at repartee, “I will make you a very small one

and her obstinacy. namely, what it is worth !"

Painter's anachronisms : An anecdote from Dr. Doran's “Monarchs Retired

It is very amusing to find in the early illuminated chronifrom Business :"

cles, the Israelites besieging Canaanitish cities with cannon

and mortars, and still more so to see Abraham about to offer A Spanish grandee in comparing himself with Louis XIV., his son' Isaac as a sacrifice by shooting him with a horseexclaimed: “I am equal with Bourbon-and more.” pistol, which an angel prevents by wetting the prime !

“Good Heavens !" cried the French ambassador, "you do not mean to put yourself above the head of the House of A timely and interesting fact, which the rose cultivaBourbon?”

tors among our readers will thank us for placing before You forget," said the Spaniard, with a scornful smile— them: “yon forget that I am a Castilian !"

It is said, that onions certainly increase the fragrance of

flowers, and that if a large onion is planted near a rose-bush, “The people," says Dr. Doran in another place,“ are

so as to touch its roots, the odor of the flowers will be wonseldom flatterers. When Marcus Antonius declared

derfully increased, and the water distilled from those roses a levy of a double tax, his subjects replied, they would far superior to any other. pay it when he would give them two summers, two harvests, and two vintages in one year!' Well The following joke, current in Paris circles, is cerand boldly spoken, was it not ?"

tainly entitled to a good laugh:

At a ball, a group, among which was the secretary of A new litany :

Feruk Khan, were discussing the merits of the Euphrates From tailors' bills, doctors' pills, western chills, and other Valley Railroad. “Your country," said a lady to the secretary, ills-deliver us.

“will then be very near to us.” “ Yes, if the project should From want of gold, wives that scold, maidens old, and by be accomplished.” “Do you doubt its accomplishment ?" sharpers “sold "-deliver us.

“ The difficulties of execution are very great and numerous." From stinging flies, coal black eyes, bakers' pies, and “ Certainly, but the English engineers will surmount them." babies' cries-deliver us.

Oh," replied the young Persian with an air of cunning, From seedy coats, protested notes, sinking boats, and ille- “there is one against which their science must fall; all these gal votes-deliver us.

deserts are peopled with ostriches."

" Well ?” “Well, From modest girls, with waving curls, and teeth of pearls those birds, you know, digest iron; they will eat the road -never mind.

General exclamation, in which the Persian was

declared a spirituel farceur ! The master of a certain grammar school declared that "he never taught a boy in his life : he whipped, and Have you read Barry Cornwall's last volame? Fail they learned !"

not, if you confess to No, and let us stimulate your

desire by this exquisitely fine extract : Those who have read Charles Reade's “Peg Woffington,” will not have forgotten one of its most striking

Tread softly by this long, close-curtained room!

Within, reposing on her stateliest bed, situations—the scene of poor Triplet's triumph, where

Lies one embowered in the velvet gloom ! the despised portraits of Peg Woffington, after having

A creature-dead! . been satisfactorily demonstrated to be a mere daub, and Lately how lovely, how beloved, how young! not the least likeness in the world, is proved to be the Around her beauteous mouth, sweet eyes, and golden hair very reality—the lady herself stepping in propria per- (Making the fair thrice fair),

A poet's first and tenderest verse was flung. sonâ from behind the canvas, through a hole in which

Now she lies ghastly pale, stone cold, quite hid she had exhibited her face. The author appears to

From balmy April and the fragrant air, have derived this very striking and novel situation from Upon the dark, green, silken coverlid; a French source ; for it is recorded of the Marshal Lux

Her limbs laid out to suit the coffin's shape; embourg, that he took his mistress to the house of

Her palms upon her breast

At rest ! a celebrated Parisian artist, in order that she might see

What cries escapethe likeness of the marshal, and sit for her own. When,

What sounds come moaning from the chamber near? however, she saw the portrait, she declared that she Small voices, as of children, smite the ear had never seen any person like it. The marshal know With pity: and grave notes of deeper grief

And sobs, that bring relief that this was mere prejudice, and persuaded her to go

To hearts which else might break with too much woeonce again to the painter's house, after the last sitting,

With thoughts of long ago,
Assuring her that if she should not then be perfectly Loss of all earthlyjoy, and sweet love's overthrow!


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