ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL.

Lady Jane, and rarer Roger Ascham. Thus they were FACTS FROM THE COUNTY HISTORIES. ever together from day to day; and none tended the

BY DUGDALE, THE YOUNGER.

BLOMEFIELD'S NORFOLK.

THE HEIRESS OF THE SPALDINGS. In the south-eastern part of the county of Norfolk, and on the banks of the Waveney, lie the village and manor of Brockdish. The Spaldings (originally from Lincolnshire) were considerable owners here, in the early part of the seventeenth century; and both ancient documents and tradition tell this strange old tragic story of the manor-hall.

garden so thriftily as the clerkly tutor and the little child.
Beside this, the buttery, the great stone kitchen, and a
little wainscoted parlour looking to the dolphin-fountain
and the court, held other loving friends to Frances.
Fransham, her nurse, and now housekeeper, Tibb the
without
a half witted lad, who waited in the kitchen;
cook, Doll, a sort of laundry and housemaid, and Goosey,
speaking of other servants employed upon the farm.
Thus Fransham's whole thought was to tend and dress
her little mistress, to concoct medicines and soothing
make nice cakes of saffron and aniseed, and surprise
drinks for her when she was ill; old Tibb's best service, to
her with dainties for dinner; whilst Doll not only took
care that Mistress Frances' chamber was the cleanliest
sweetest lavendered, but was always moreover secretly
and daintiest in the house, that her linen was fairest and
distilling rose-water, honey-water, cowslip-water, may-
dew, with which to fill the great silver ewer basin; and
ravished likewise the garden for the richest scented
flowers, to make sweet pockets, and balls, and bags,
for "lady bird." Goosey, the scullion-lad, played no
mean part in this small household of the heiress; he
"cushbirds" nests, tamed owls and
brought his "lady" squirrels from the woods, young
doves from the
ravens, and gathered her the first blackberries from the
neighbouring moorland, and hazel nuts from the woods,
In the old wood which joined the orchard was an
all because he "loved Mistress Frances bravely."
ancient heronshaw, and from this place poor Goosey had
brought a young unfledged heron; and so, in process of
time, reared and tamed it, as to make it the wonder
of the country round. This bird, as it grew, being much
with Frances, became infinitely fond of her; it clapped
its wings, and made hoarse noises for very gladness,
when the child was glad; it roosted solemnly by in grave
meditation when the books were open; and when she
walked, its tiny silver bells were ever heard in some near
neighbourhood.

This hall was an ancient place, built centuries before; and full of huge buttresses, old galleries, broad staircases, and secret chambers, was now fallen partly into decay; for the owner, being town-clerk of Cambridge, came rarely hither, except at certain seasons to hold his courtleet. Many an ivied gable, round the great stone court, leant droopingly with age; the vanes, towards east and west, creaked with the rust of years; the belfry-tower was overgrown with moss, and sent a world of fragrance on the summer-air, from the great bunches of wall-flower which flourished, like sweet saints within their niches, in the fissures and crevices of the grey old stonework; yet, looking southward, towards the garden (daintily trimmed) were four or five chambers with deep oriels, through which the faintest sunlight ever shone, and gilt the oaken floors. One of these pleasant chambers was very rich in rare and costly books, not only piled on great carved oaken presses, but lying heaped upon the broad old oriel seats; and in the other hung a wealth of pictures of the early masters, (for the inhabitants of these eastern counties of England had, through their proximity to Holland, easy access to the Continent,) sweet scenes and sweeter faces, expressive of both human and angelic goodness. And there they hung-sweet symbols of the innocence they gazed on. Within this chamber, too, was a sort of clavichord or organ; It was an autumn day, and all the domestics, even singing birds in cages so large as to be like liberty itself; flowers, growing in old porcelain jars; a little tapestry frame; a work-table of costly ebony; a very rare Turkey to the rare matter of the stay-at-home Fransham, The carpet beneath and round it; and many other things had asked holiday, and gone to a fair in a neighbouring which ministered to happiness and thought; for this was township, leaving no one in the buttery and kitchen the home of Frances, the heiress and only child of the but Goosey, to tend the fires, and milk the cows. Spaldings. She was a girl about eleven years old, bright day had waned on pleasantly, till evening was living mostly here at this old manor-house, under the now sinking into night; yet, still Le Grice and the care of an old tutor, named Le Grice, and a few domes- child lingered beneath the orchard-trees, for the night tics, for the sake of country air. Wisely had the parents air blew cool and refreshingly, and was laden with chosen this old man; for learned, even in an age of the scent of flowers. Thus they sat on the turfed scholars, and with no ambition beyond books, and a fer- bank, busily talking, as they had been doing for a long vent desire to minister to the piety and good of others, while, till the bright harvest moon, stealing from the this old man had quitted a high position in the uni- clouds, cast into shade the old ivied gables, as if to versity, to undertake the charge of this sweet heiress of shroud their grey antiquity, and glinting its dancing light the Spaldings: for sweet she was, if gentleness, and upon the tinted panes of the mullioned oriels, gave semtruth, and warmth of heart, and comprehension, can make blance of quaint heraldry upon the green sward stretching a human creature genuine and good. So thus, knowing to their feet. Suddenly some thought seemed to cross the rare soil in which he tilled, this second Roger Ascham the child's mind, for just as their merry conversation had, through the three years of his tutorship, taken ended, she drew her hand quickly from that of the old infinite pains with the large soul of this little child; and man, and bending her car, as if to catch some well-known as rich fruit of promise grew and ripened beyond all sound, rose up, and tripping lightly from his side, expectancy, his love grew as much near idolatry as good though looking back a time or two, was in an instant lost men's love can grow. So loving in this noble purity of in the broad shadows of the gables. That instant, as the giving and receiving the knowledge which bringeth all of little form was dimly lost within the darkness, a strange us a little nearer to the heavens, scholar and master were and unutterable feeling crossed the old man's heart. It ever together. In the shaded holts of the park, in the old was agonizing, yet he could not define it; it prompted monkish apple orchard, in the wide garden beside the sun-him immediately to call her back, but she was gone, and dial, on which was carved in Latin, the sweet monkish legend, Horas non numero nisi serenas, "We count no hours unless they be screne," under the avenues of thick spread walnut-trees, beside the green-banked fish-pool, the lessons in summer-tide were given; and through the winter, in the oriel most warmed by the cheering sun, or on the broad marble hearth, where crackled the glowing faggots, learning was made delight by this new

nothing left before his sight but the solemn shadows of
the gables. As he was given to contemplation (and truth
mostly dwells with such a vein of humour) he might
liken that young, happy child, seen and gone, to the best
hopes of human life, viewed in all beauty and anticipation
for a time, then gone, we know not how, or where.
was hidden in her sweeping veil of clouds; the belfry
sat awhile; she came not; the silver queen of neaven

He

from the Waveney's bight; no little cushats brought
from the budding woods; and now the heron never
clapped its wings, or rang its solitary bell; it moped
upon the window-ledge, and knew it was alone.
As I have noted, by the fragrant lilies and the unfledged
cushats, the spring was come. The apple-trees in the
mossied orchard were pink with blossoms, and the old
walnut-boughs had just put on their loveliest garniture of
leaves, to make a verdurous roof against the golden
arrows of the summer's sun. And day by day upon the
daisied bank, from which he had last seen the precious
footfall of the child, the moping idiot sat from sun-
rise till sun's close; ever looking wistfully, as if the
shadows of the gables would, at this point of time, give
up what they had so long remorselessly devoured, of love,
and life, and hope. For some days (it was a curious'thing)
the heron was missed; then came again, and then again
was missing, At length it came one day, and hopping
to the old man's side upon the grassy bank, held in its
beak a piece of tattered rag. The old man observed
this, took it from the bird, wept over it, and hid it in his
bosom. The bird brought other pieces; the old man
took them, and hid them as the first. At length the bird
was noticed by poor Goosey, and what it did told by him
to Fransham, who tended the old man. Marvellous as
the thing was, the piece of tattered rag was instantly
recognised by the quick eyes of the loving nurse to be a
fragment of the poor child's dress.

clock rung out the hour of nine, and he hurried to the house. First, to lean through the open casement of an oriel of the summer-parlour; but Frances could not be seen through the length and breadth of the polished floor. He next hurried through the hall, into the winter-room, where always burnt a fire in the chill of evening; but not even here, where he thought to find her, was the sweet "lady-bird." He searched the ancient buttery, the wide kitchens, Fransham's parlour, and the still-room; many unused places running either way; each nook upon the basement floor; he called out with husky voice, till her name rung on each rafter, and was echoed back from the ruined belfry-tower. "But Frances was a silly child," the old man said, at length, "and loved to tease." Then he hummed the tune of some old madrigal, to let her hear, if she had hidden herself away for fun, that he knew it, and treated the thing as quite a joke. Then he peeped round quaint old presses, and into antique closets, as large as modern rooms, and merrily cried, "Ah! ah! I see you now." But she was not there, or here, or anywhere; the very heart of the old man seemed turned to stone-he knew not why. In her bed-chamber, made and left so dainty by Doll's loving hands, she was not; in the wide galleries, nor on the antique staircases; poor Goosey, called from beside the kitchen fire, where he sat weaving "lady-bird" a little basket, shouted louder than the old man; and, blind with tears, and trembling like an infant, climbed to the ruined gables and along the broken floors; but Miss Frances neither spoke, nor called, nor On its next disappearance, the bird was watched, traced made a sign: so the time passed by. Together the witless to the roof, and was seen to enter a narrow aperture, lad and the old man searched the orchard, the heron-made seemingly by time, in the lichen-covered basement shaw, the dove-cot. When the servants came home from their day of jollity, each one was amazed and agonized by the strange tale, and then, with anxious care, sought far and wide. The night was dreary, and of mortal agony to all. Never did bell ring out from ivied tower hours so lengthened with the dull deadening sense of pain.

of an ancient stack of chimneys. The aperture was immediately made larger; and lo! in a narrow ruined chamber, built in the th ckness of the wall, lay the Heiress of the Spaldings, shrivelled, and long dead; whilst, in mute solemnity, sat the faithful heron. The child's right hand still grasped the tiny bell; but it was evident she had passed long fevered hours of mortal suffering; for the fragments of her dress, bits of which the bird had carried off, lay strewed around, in a confusion which told a fearful tale.

Towards midnight, perched on the balustrade of a ruined gallery, most remote from the uninhabited parts of the house, the heron was found, so strangely, too, that all wondered. It seemed drooping, and moped as if it knew the desolation and the stillness, and sat there as the sign of grief and coming woe. One of the tiny silver bells was gone from off his foot; all wondered more and more; for it seemed, from the listening of the child before she tripped away, as stated by Le Grice, her pur-That her purpose was to seek the bird, when she tripped pose was to seek the bird.

The morrow came; no work was done by country hind nor wealthy yeoman, within bounds far wider than the manor, for it was a day of whispered anxiety and grief. The pastoral Waveney was dragged; cunning masons were brought to search each nook in the old hall; hill and dale were trod; suspicious characters arrested (amongst them a distant kinsman of the Spaldings, a spendthrift vagabond, who had an interest in the child's death); but nothing could be proved against him, though he confessed to have seen her on the day of her disappearance.

It was not till all hope had fled that the parents of the child were made acquainted with the strange mystery. Le Grice, as a last hope, fancied that the child might have sought her parents, or been led to them by some stranger. But when this last hope died, when he beheld the mortal agony of the childless father and mother, when he remembered what was lost, his reason fled, and all he uttered, night and day, and day and night, was one low, melancholy, beseeching, piteous cry for her-the last hope of the Spaldings!

The autumn passed away-winter too. The old man was removed to Cambridge, from the scene of his despair; but he escaped from the watchful custody placed over him, and wandering back to the old hall of Brockdish, moped about its now deserted gardens and chambers, ever in one stupor of melancholy madness. The witling, and the heron, too, drooped side by side, and day by day. No little baskets now were weaved, no lilies gathered

A small secret door, bitten and torn by the poor child's teeth and hands, was found to open on to the ruined gallery, where the moping heron was first discovered; but how she got within this secret place no one ever knew.

from the old man's side, no one ever doubted; and that she had found it, was evident by the bell. Many imagined that the kinsman before spoken of had pushed her within the secret place, but this is doubtful; though it seems probable that some imaginary fear of his presence in this deserted part of the house, to which she had run, had terrified her into flight, and that, accidentally pushing against the spring which closed this unknown door, she had fallen forward, and was thus shut out for ever from the living world. It was clear that the heron had not discovered the body till decay had commenced, and to gain access to it, it had enlarged the aperture in the ruined roof with its bill.

Le Grice lived but a very few weeks after this discovery; for they told him that the poor child was thus found, and he seemed to comprehend them. He died about that same time of evening as that on which the child was lost, and saying he was happy, begged those around his bed to pray for both, for in death, as well as life, the old man and the child were one.

The estates of the Spaldings, in this parish, were sold some three years after, and the old manor-hall of Brockdish levelled to the ground. But the register of the burial of Frances Spalding still remains in the old vestry books; and her effigy, representing her clad in a winding sheet (as was the custom of the age), was in existence when Sir Francis Blomefield, knight, made his great ecclesiastical, manorial, and antiquarian collections for his well known County History of Norfolk.

can see

ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL.

THE GREAT KING OF SWEDEN. BECAUSE, nowaday, true kingship is nowhere to be found on earth, and only the sham of it lingers, a melancholy semblance of the past among us, earnest, but no beauty in genuine ill-judging minds monarchy; but having an eye to the crowned impostures To such the that exist, condemn all kingship as abhorrent to human nature, and hostile to the welfare of man. following rapid survey of the life of a real king, and no be-sceptred nonentity, will perchance have a deeper lesson than its surface shows:

between two rival candidates-Eric Trolle, on the
part of the clergy, and Prince Stephen, son of the
deceased Administrator, on that of the nobles. The
latter were the victors. But the reign of Stephen was
destined to be unhappy. To conciliate his rival's faction,
he bestowed the archbishopric of Upsal, a more than king-
ship, on the son of Eric Trolle, his unsuccessful oppo-
nent. No sooner was that prelate invested, than he
his elevator and benefactor. He intrigued with the King
turned all the influence of his see to effect the ruin of
of Denmark, and after much covert conspiracy, war was
Sweden. It was in the earliest stage of the campaign that
declared and commenced between that monarch and
followed, that Gustavus Vase, the hero of this sketch,
first prominently appeared.

Let the reader figure to himself two ravenous hounds He was descended from one of the most illustrious fighting together for a helpless bone that lies between them, and which in turn each enjoys, with growls of satisfaction, for a brief season, until it is snatched from houses, and several of his ancestry had been elected to him by the other; and let him call the bone the peasantry, the kingship. But he was far from requiring any hereand the belligerent hungry hounds the priesthood and ditary dignity to augment his innate, personal nobility. the nobility, and he will have a vividly correct idea of the With a form of giant proportions, he blended the utmost state of Sweden from its first appearance in history, to suavity of disposition, and refinement of manners; and the close of the fourteenth century. The government had been selected by the young administrator for his was ostensibly an elective monarchy; but, in reality, confidential friend, from amid the crowd of the young there was no king at all. In peace, the so-called king nobility. When the war first broke out, Gustavus was had no power whatever-his income was less than the entrusted with the command of a regiment of cavalry, majority of noblemen and beneficed church dignitaries; in though not without hesitation, as it was feared his war he was commander-general; but as wars were seldom affability and courtly polish were incompatible with the undertaken-save when the deposition or election of a sterner requirements of the camp. He soon, however, king was concerned, the power so afforded him was vindicated the appointment, for in the skirmishes, sieges, seldom enjoyed. In fact, the monarch was the tool of and battles that ensued in swift succession, his valour the church or the nobility, as one or the other were and military talent shone so conspicuously as to spread In those days, the people themselves his name with terror among the Danish army, and to predominant. were not even cajoled by a show of representation. In warrant his promotion to the office of grand standardDefeated upon land, but power, the nobility and priesthood were nearly ba-bearer. So formidable did he become to the Danes, that lanced. The former had the advantage in personal the unprincipled Christian determined to gain possession prowess, number of vassals, and landed property; the of his person at any cost. latter, large landowners, also more wealthy in treasures, master of the sea, his fleet rode at anchor within sight over the superstitious com- of Stockholm. Under the pretext of a wish for peace, possessed an influence mon people, at times exceedingly formidable to their he proposed to go in person to Stockholm to arrange enemies. The priesthood, moreover, had a clear supe- preliminaries, provided seven hostages. Gustavus to be riority in the senate. Whenever diplomacy and logical one, were sent on board his fleet. This was complied argument were required, the nobles were impotent before with; but no sooner were the hostages on board his them. The election of a king was, however, one of arms, vessel, than Christian weighed anchor, and set sail for and not of argument; and the nobles generally carried Denmark, bearing Gustavus along with him. At first, the day. But the priesthood always found an efficient blandishments of flattering and large promises were emultimatum, in calling in the aid of the kings of Denmark; ployed to win his favour; but Gustavus remaining firm who, ever the bitter enemies of Sweden, were always in his hatred to the Danish cause, he was imprisoned, and ready to acquire a footing in the kingdom. For two treated so vigorously, that a nobleman, named Banner, centuries the history of Sweden is little else than one succeeded in prevailing upon Christian to transfer him to lamentable series of wars and tumults. Distracted his custody. Banner treated his captive as one of his within itself-with ferocious enemies on all sides, ever own family, and the life of Gustavus might have been ready to join in, and to augment those distractions- happy could he have rested in slothful ease, when the in the politics of Europe Sweden was not felt; happiness cries of his unhappy country were wafted, thousandwas slain-the Swedes defeated, and the whole country and steady progress never found a place in the annals of tongued, across the seas unto him. The Administrator semi-barbarous existence, until one supremely able man arose, who, by his own indomitable spirit, and consum- prostrate at the feet of an implacable and foreign tyrant. mate ability, raised himself to the hereditary monarchy This was an irresistible call to action. Gustavus eluded of the land, healed the wounds of his suffering country, the kind custody of Banner, escaped from Denmark, and of their leader, and not from inaction or impotence, and bound together all her discordant elements into one from Lubec, arrived at Calmar. Defeated, from the death powerful and harmonious whole. Gustavus imagined that when another arrived they would rally in thousands round him. He trusted, also, that the terror of Christian's coming, which was announced, would excite a fever of patriotism and courage among his countrymen. He found only the paralysis of fear. Wherever he went he was received coldly or openly repulsed. Some advised him to fly, others threatened to deliver him to the Danes. None were found to succour, to support him. From a general, landing openly in his native land, and expecting soon to head an army, he speedily became a moneyless outcast, wandering footsore and hungry, in all manner of disguises, with the Danish blood-hounds, their appetite whetted by promise of a great reward, scouring the country everywhere to capture him. In the meantime, Christian had arrived a

About the year 1380, the King Alfred having been deposed, the crown was given to Margaret Valdemar, surnamed the "Semiramis of the North." She was already Queen of Denmark and Norway, and thus for the first time the three northern crowns were enjoyed by one monarch. Her son Eric was elected by all three on her decease; but retiring into Denmark, and governing Sweden as a conquered province, an unsuccessful rebellion took place. Christian I. succeeded Eric, and though only elected by the Danes, assumed the triple crown as a matter of right. A successful revolution now occurred, and the Marshal Cavertson succeeded in gaining the headship, under the title of administrator, that of king being abolished. Several administrators followed each other, until 1501, when the senate found itself called upon to decide

Stockholm; and by way of inspiring terror among the the thickest of the conflict he was ever found; in the Swedes, had perpetrated a huge massacre, worthy to take hour of triumph he was in the midst of his followers, rank beside St. Bartholomew and the other great atro- appeasing their vindictiveness and restraining their excities of power. Every senator and nobleman who had cesses. But his reverses were not ended. Just when opposed the Danish interests was publicly beheaded, and Sweden was his own, a concentrated vigorous attack on the city of Stockholm given over unreservedly to the bru- Stockholm only needed to accomplish his labour, the tality of the soldiery. The men were murdered and the Dalecarlians, in number and courage the bulwarks of women ravished. Christian was styled the "Nero of the his cause, demanded to return home for a while to reap North," in consequence. A wild delirium of terror and the harvest. A weaker man would have been overdismay took possession of all classes. Gustavus was not thrown by this. Not so Gustavus. He at once granted safe in any disguise among the urban people; and so, after their request, and retiring into Lepsall, put himself on numerous and miraculous escapes, and the experience of the defensive till their return. Faithfully after harvest they ingratitude and recreant selfishness, sufficient to have re-appeared; and now flocked the remnant of the nobility broken a weaker heart than his, he succeeded in reaching to his standard. He was pressed to assume the crown, but Dalecarlia. This was the wildest of all the Swedish he felt, that while the metropolis was not his, such would provinces, abounding in huge mountains and impene- be an empty honour. To the capture of Stockholm he trable forests, and peopled chiefly by miners. These proceeded with renewed energies; it resisted stoutly, were of such a rugged independent nature, that a mere but at length it fell, and the Danes had no longer a nominal sovereignty was all the Senate dare assert over footing, however insignificant, in Sweden. Again he them; and even Christian had not ventured upon sending was pressed to take the crown, but again he declined. his soldiery among them. Habited in peasant's garb, For a couple of years he consolidated the power and Gustavus obtained employment as a common miner. He augmented the efficacy of his rule, until order being concealed his rank, and bending before inexorable neces- established and prosperity returning, he accepted the sity, as none but an heroic man could have done, laboured, throne he had proved himself supremely capable over all unfainting and undespairing, deep in the dark abysses of a other men in Sweden to uphold. Not only did he copper mine. The broidered fineness of his linen at length prove himself capable of upholding the throne, but he revealed his rank to the woman he lodged with. She disclosed demonstrated to the last day of his twenty years' reign, it to the governor of the district, who sent for Gustavus, how regally, how like a true king, he could discharge its and on learning who he was, received him with all the de-offices. He dispersed the pirates that infested the ference and sympathy his valour and misfortunes claimed. Baltic; he maintained honourable peace with all foreign But when, after a little time, Gustavus disclosed his plans powers; he increased the foreign influence with Sweden for exciting a revolt among the Dalecarlians, the governor so much, that he was offered the headship of the league grew timid, and Gustavus thought it expedient to fly. of Smalkalde; he vindicated the freedom of Swedish Peterson, a landed gentlemen, received him into his commerce against the Hanseatic towns, and swelled the house, and cordially, to Gustavus, espoused his cause; opulence and prosperity of his cities, both agricultural but, privately, he sent a message to the Danes to come and commercial; he banished gothic splendour from his and capture him. The bumane, generous soul of a woman court, and introduced rational courtesy and refinement saved the fugitive. Peterson's wife warned Gustavus of there instead; he tamed the nobility into an illustrious his danger; he fled, and found shelter with a poor old and useful class, from a mere series of guerilla chiefpriest, who, more faithful than all his wealthier neigh- tains; by the most legitimate means he contrived the bours, concealed him in his church, and bore him food Lutheran religion to supersede the Catholic, and so upand information day by day. While thus concealed, the rooted the temporal power of the priesthood, so long the great annual fair at Mora was at hand; Gustavus de- national curse; and, finally, at the good age of seventy, termined to take advantage of that mighty gathering of in full possession of his faculties, without pain or active Dalecarlians to commence his meditated crusade of sickness, he died in the arms of his dearest friends, calmly, liberty and independence. Accordingly, emerging from as though lapsing into slumber. the village sanctuary, he appeared among them. In fervid, unstudied eloquence he addressed them. He pointed out the ancient independence of Sweden and its present degradation and distress. With horrible vividness he detailed the Danish enormities at Stockholm and elsewhere. Then, with all the fire and energy of a patriot made desperate, he painted how it were possible for a few valiant, sincere men, fighting unmercenary for their country and their brethren, to strike terror into the guilty heart of Christian, and to hurl back the proud invaders from the land they cursed. The effect was electric. Unanimously the people flew to arms, and in a few days Gustavus found himself at the head of a small, but noble band, prepared to follow him, without pay or recompense, whithersoever he might will to lead them. By a most masterly stratagem, he took the castle of the governor of the province, garrisoned it with friends, and then, having secured Dalecarlia behind him, poured down like a river of flame upon the open country. As he marched along, the people thronged to him in thousands; castles and cities were stormed and captured, the Danes slain, or driven in flight before him, the imposts of Christian removed, and, in less than a year, nearly all Sweden, except Stockholm, was re-conquered by his ability and prowess. He was no less a master of the art of war, than a personal combatant. His keen insight and stern volition planned, instantaneously, the siege or battle-order, and his chivalrous daring contributed more than whole regiments to carry out the design. In

All classes of Swedish men alike lamented him. They knew that their king, their guide and ruler, had departed from them; they knew, also, that long years must clapse ere another such as he would rise up amongst them. And it was felt throughout all Sweden, and, indeed, throughout all Europe, that there had appeared a man who was no mere world server, but in the face of heaven and eternity, brave and upright as immortal men should alone ever be; one who had not shirked his labour, but had ever endeavoured to realize a substantial life, had realized accordingly the Herculean task which destiny assigned; and having done that, had gone, as a true man should do, uncomplaining to his rest. J. S. S.

WE are all of us dust and ashes. True! but in some, we recognise the dust of gold, and the ashes of the phoenix; in others, the dust of the gateway, and the ashes of turf and stubble. With the greatest rulers upon earth, head and crown drop together, and are overlooked. It is true, we read of them in history; but, we also read in history of crocodiles and hyænas; with great writers, whether in poetry or prose, what falls away is scarcely more or other than a vesture. The features of a man are imprinted on his works; and more lamps burn over them, and more religiously, than are lighted in temples or churches. Milton, and men like him, bring their own incense, kindled with their own fire, and leave it unconsumed and unconsumable; and their music, by day and night, swell along a space commensurate with the vault of heaven.

ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL.

THE CHRONIC COMPLAINT.

whole world was conspiring to do her (the individual
Mrs. Rasper) some bodily harm. It was to this ima-
ginary crusade against her that she imputed the rapid
falling off of her customers-perhaps being aware of her
complaint, they were afraid of being contaminated, as
many nervous persons are of entering a shop with
mourning shutters before the window; but, however, Mrs.
Rasper thought that this had nothing to do with it, and
imputed her loss of custom to the new bakers in the
same street, whom she declared had been sent there by
her evil genius, for the express purpose of persecuting her,
and nothing else.

In the immediate vicinity of that vast emporium of
fever-breeding alleys, marine store shops, and unwashed
atoms of humanity, "Drury Lane," stood, some few
years since, one of those manufactories of the staff of
One morning, having had what is
life-a baker's shop.
commonly called a "few words" (which, in reality, means
great many, and very big words too) with my landlady,
en route to my office I passed this shop. A little bill
Mrs. Rasper had had two sons, both of whose non-
was suspended in the window for the information
of that unfortunate portion of the public, lodging-
might there be success in life had been brought about in consequence of
hunters, that "a single gentleman
"done for." The windows were particularly clean. their parent's unfortunate complaint. In the novitiate of
I am a great admirer of clean windows, and notwith-life, school existence, they had been placed with due care
standing the great risk of being parboiled from the steam
of fermenting bread, I recklessly plunged into the very
bosom of shelved and manufactured dough.

The proprietress, Mrs. Rasper, was sitting at a small desk, making entries in an immense volume, the pages of which were divided into countless parts by black and red lines, forming a cabalistic species of angloarabesque. The lady was of tall, but spare form, and attired in widow's weeds; she was not wanting in dignity, but it was of an inferior kind. On asking to see her apartments, she slowly lifted her head, and after scrutinizing me from head to foot, as if mentally taking my dimensions, in order to be sure that I should fit the rooms, she threw some bread-raspings over the leaves of the book, arose, and desired me to follow her to a back-door, leading to a narrow and almost perpendicular staircase, at the summit of which was a quaintly furnished apartment, decorated and fashioned as the drawing-room of the late Mr. Rasper.

While engaged in the study of the defunct Mr. Mr. Rasper's portrait, I was startled by a deep groan; it arose from the depths of the heart of Mrs. Rasper, who had "I can never sit down seated herself in an arm-chair. "Indeed, Ma'am, are without sighing," said that lady. you not well?"-"No, Sir, I never am well," she sharply "I am very replied, as if astonished at my ignorance. sorry for you, Ma'am."-" Nobody is sorry for me, Sir; I am a persecuted, poor, lone widow; yes, i am a marked woman-my poor husband's dead. My protector's gone, Sir, or he would never have allowed my feelings to have been wounded by having to let apartments. He, poor man, little knows how I am worried to death. But I am sinking fast-the world wo'nt be troubled with me long. "No, Oh, this complaint will kill me." I became seriously alarmed, and suggested water or eau de cologne. Sir, leave me alone, do let me have a little of my own way, it will end my persecutions." This was the most unfortunate position I was ever in in my life. She looked really very ill; were she to die suddenly, what would be the consequences; the contemplation was horrible, and I resolved to get out of the house as soon as possible. I "Dont be was going, but Mrs. Rasper, apparently guessing at my resolution, suddenly grew calmer, and said, afraid, Sir, I have had an attack of my old complaint, and my doctor tells me it was born with me, and he says it is a chronic disease of the spleen, which is much commoner than most people imagine; but I am better

now."

Not having the most robust health myself, I sympa-
thized with the lady, and easily forgetting her oddity of
temper (as no doubt it arose from internal pain,) I
settled with her the necessary preliminaries, and soon
entered upon my new abode.

During the first week or two, I had many opportu-
The very
nities of seeing, or rather hearing, of my landlady's
One
sufferings from this "chronic complaint.'
slightest contradiction would produce an attack.
of her symptoms was the mono-maniac idea that the

and expense, at a "respectable school," where they
Walkingame, and obtained the reputation of "smart
remained till they had got "rule of three" deep in
When the school-master called on Mrs. Rasper
"Sir Pedagogue,"
boys."
with his bill, some extra charges caused a violent
paroxysm of this terrible disorder.
not liking to risk a relapse the following quarter,
expelled them from under his educational wing.
On leaving school, one after the
The rest of their school boyhood was passed in so
many different establishments, that they acquired a
The natural
distaste for letters.
and the other killed in "India,"
other was apprenticed to their mother, and ran away
almost as soon as they were bound; one was drowned
at "sea
support of her old age was sapped in the bud, through
her "chronic complaint," which, like rheumatic gout,
was a "bug-bear," even to the kindest and nearest of
her children, they were victims to her "chronic com-
her friends. Notwithstanding that, Mrs. Rasper loved
plaint;" nothing could stand against its paroxysms,
One evening, Mrs. Rasper, entered my room, sans
which fell upon the members of her family like avalanches.
ceremonie, and drawing her tall spare figure up to its
utmost altitude, with a tragic-comic smile, ironically
exclaimed, "Well, Sir, I was in your room while
you were out" (supposing that it must have been for
the purpose of dusting); I tendered her my thanks.
"Dust the room, me dust the room, Sir, No; I came to
look after my furniture, and see how it was treated. I
was astonished-yes, Sir, I wo'nt allow it, never did, and
what's more, I wo'nt have it, Sir!" Being perfectly
innocent of having, at least to my knowledge, given
Pray, what is it you will neither allow nor
any offence, I reiterated, "wo'nt allow it," "wont
have, Mrs. Rasper?" Looking towards the side-board
Why, Sir,
have it."
(which in my opinion, I had decorated with a couple of
handsome busts), she snappishly replied,
the top of my side-board made into a common image-
board; I wo'nt have them two ugly old men's heads
(ye gods! Shakspere and Milton); if I had let the room
to a common foreign vagabond of an Italian image-boy, it
It shan't be, Sir! my best mahogany side-
does, Sir.
could not have been worse off-it breaks my heart, it
I had hitherto borne my landlady's trifling ebullitions
board shan't be disgraced.
of temper patiently, thinking them but mere safety-
But this dictatorial and impertinent address of hers
valves of her constitution, and common to all invalids.
aroused my choler, and she evidently perceived it, for
before I could reply, she pathetically, and in a much
lower key, said, "Oh, Sir, if you did but know how very
not be cross at my seaking, for 'tis only speaking
hard we worked for every stitch of furniture, you would
I am afraid I shall never be better; no cure,
after all. You know my way; you see I am quiet as a
upon me.
lamb, except when I feel the pains of my "complaint"
and I do like a little my own way-we all do, Sir;
and you will please to remember you are not in a common