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versed with Lord Wellesley and others with have to live ?' When the physician hesitatunabated vigour on subjects of public inter- ed, and muttered something, that it was est. But the excitement was too much, and certain he was much indisposed, but that he fainted away. From that day, the 14th many had recovered who had been as ill, of January, he kept the house. The physi- and he might yet perhaps be restored to cians at first buoyed themselves with hopes health, Pitt fixed bis penetrating eye on that their skill might save him. But on the him, and quietly asked him to leave the 19th a typhoid fever set in, and all hope dis- room. He then turned himself to the side appeared. We borrow what remains of the on which the bishop was standing, and looked story from the narrative given by the Bishop steadily at him. The bishop renewed his of Lincoln at the time to the Dean of Carl- offer to read a prayer suited to so solemn an isle. * “ The bishop had often pressed the occasion. Pitt replied, “I have lived so physicians to allow him to inform' Mr. Pitt much in the habitual neglect of prayer, that of his danger; but he had been constantly I think it almost unbecoming, and, I fear, refused by them. At length, on Wednes- unavailing to pray now.'

The bishop day, January 22nd (Pitt died on the 23rd), answered this remark, and read some of the bis physicians told the bishop that it was prayers of our Liturgy. There was then a nearly over, and that he might say what he long and deep silence; and after this Pitt pleased. On this the bishop desired admit- said, I am sure I have had great infirmities, tance into Mr. Pitt's room, and he and one and done many things that I wish I had not of the physicians entered it together. «Mr. done ; but I have tried to follow God's will, Pitt,' the physician said, the Bishop of and,' clasping his hands with great energy, Lincoln is here.' Pitt opening his eyes, I cast myself on the mercies of God, said, “Well?' in a tone that expressed, through the merits of Jesus Christ."" "What is there in that?' The bishop then On the following day Pitt died; and it said, “Mr. Pitt, I am sorry to find you so is said that a servant, sent the same day from poorly this morning : I should much wish to Wimbledon to inquire after his health, findread a prayer to you.' In an instant Pitt ing no one to answer his inquiries, wandered turned to the other side of the bed, and said into the house, went from room to room, till, to his physician, · How long do you think I in the bedroom upstairs which looks with its

bow-window to the west over the heath, he * The bishop toned down this narrative in his found the body of him, who a few hours biography, and Lord Stanhope has nat adopted before had filled England with hope and his account; but ours comes from contemporary France with fear, stretched in that deep sources remarkable for their accuracy, and there is no doubt that the scene occurred as here described. stillness which gives to death its awful power.

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And the spotted giraffes fled wildly

In a yellow cloud of fear.
I sucked in the noontide splendor,

Quivering along the glade,
Or yawning, panting, and dreaming,

Basked in the tamarisk shade,
Till I heard my wild mate roaring,

As the shadows of night came on, To brood in the trees' thick branches

And the shadow of sleep was gone ; Then I roused, and roared in answer,

And unsheathed from my cushioned feet My curving claws, and stretched me,

And wandered my mate to greet. We toyed in the amber moonlight,

Upon the warm flat sand, And struck at each other our massive arms

How powerful he was and grand ! His yellow eyes flashed fiercely

As he crouched and gazed at me, And his quivering tail, like a serpent,

Twitched curving nervously.
Then like a storm he seized me,

With a wild triumphant cry,
And we met, as two clouds in heaven

When the thunders before them fly.
We grappled and struggled together,

For his love like his rage was rude; And his teeth in the swelling folds of my neck

At times, in our play, drew blood.

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Often another suitor

For I was flexile and fair — Fought for me in the moonlight,

While I lay crouching there, Till his blood was drained by the desert;

And, ruffled with triumph and power, He licked me and lay beside me

To breathe him a vast half-hour. Then down to the fountain we loitered,

Where the antelopes came to drink ; Like a bolt we sprang upon them,

Ere they had time to shrink. We drank' their blood and crushed them,

And tore them limb from limb, And the hungriest lion doubted

Ere he disputed with him.

I will lie and dream of the past-time,

Æons of thought away,
And through the jungle of memory

Loosen my fancy to play ;
When, a smooth and velvety tiger,

Ribbed with yellow and black,
Supple and cushion-footed

I wandered, where never the track Of a human creature had rustled

The silence of mighty woods, And, fierce in a tyrannous freedom,

I knew but the law of my moods. The elephant, trumpeting, started

When he heard my footstep near,

That was a life to live for!

Not this weak human life,
With its frivolous bloodless passions,

Its poor and petty strife !
Come to my arins, my hero,

The shadows of twilight grow, And the tiger's ancient fiereeness

In my veins begins to flow. Come not cringing to sue me !

Take me with triumph and power, As a warrior that storms a fortress!

will not shrink or cower. Come, as you came in the desert,

Ere we were women and men, When the tiger passions were in us,

And love as you loved me then ! Blackwood's Magazine.

W. W. 8.

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From the Spectator. him either a decided man or a decided genAUTOGRAPHS.*

tleman, he is allowed to pass for a very genThe love of collecting autographs, if

tlemanlike man. Again, some scholars and it has sometimes been pursued without afford time to write legibly. We see hands

gentlemen are always hurried, and cannot much taste or meaning, has never sunk to mania of the seventeenth and the postage- plate of youth becoming the reckless seribthe rank of a mere mania, like the tulip going through a gradual change under in

pressure, and the beautifnl copperstamp mania of the nineteenth century. ble of manhood. Charles Knight describes There is always a pleasure in contemplating the undignified rush of Lord Chancellor the handwriting of persons whom you respect or admire, and the mind is led on in- Brougham from his robing room to the woolsensibly to associate certain characteristics after him. The characteristics of Brough

sack, with grave officials puffing scandalized with handwriting from reading those same am's handwriting, as we see it here, are just characteristics in lives or faces. We do not the same; it is a hasty, dashing scrawl; the speak of the art of cheiromancy, which, words have been thrown at the paper, inthough practised with apparent success by stead of being written upon it, and have individuals, seems to us rather random and stuck there as they best could without asuncertain. Like phrenology, it presents some good facts and some basis to go upon, but it hand of Croker, the Quarterly with the Ed

sistance. Compare with this the ladylike is too much exploité by people who are ig- inburgh. And yet Croker was hardly ladynorant of its first rules, and only care to like, except in the qualities of spite and petmake it agreeable to their customers. But leaving this out of the question, and treat

tishness, which are always assigned to woing a man's handwriting as something be- man by her enemies. In cases like these longing to him, and therefore some index to business hand in the case of Rogers. Often

the official hand explains much, as does the his character, it is impossible not to be struck there is a family hand, and sons write like by its peculiarities. The most careless reader, in turning over the lithographed leaves

their fathers, however unlike they may be of this handsome volume, would see the dif- in character. It is difficult to avoid conference between a hand like Thackeray's structing a theory of character and handand one like the late Duke of Cleveland's. writing from a comparison of the letters of A comparison between the neat hand of

Chatham and William Pitt; we seem to Rogers and the scraggy sprawling hand of read at once their likeness and their differByron, has much the same effect as reading

But when we enlarge the field of Lara and Jacqueline together must have had comparison, and take in several nationaliwhen they were first published in one vol- ties, as we must in examining this volume,

That “joint concern summut like we find another qualifying influence. There Sternhold and Hopkins," as it was described

is a distinct nationality in handwriting, as by a passenger in the Brighton coach, would

distinct as in speech and manners. Of course no doubt have looked still more unnatural

the Germans, who use a character of their in autograph. Rogers’ hand is as calm, la- own, write differently from all other Euroboured, and regular as his poetry, Byron's pean nations, but the French, the Italians, as uneven, dashing and unlovely as his life. the Spaniards, the English, have their pe

culiar In many cases, however, this sort of par. We do not pretend to any knowledge of the

ways of forming the same character. allel does not hold good. There are many East, but a volume of prayers in twentykinds of handwriting which do not accord with what we know of their authors. We Armenian Convent at Venice, seemed to

four languages, which we bought at the must allow for so many influences, in some men for so many moods. One man is the convey an instructive comment on the ways

of the various Eastern nations. There is slave of his pen, ink, and paper, writing a beautiful hand with his own, an abominable the Chinese writing, every word or every hand with any one else's. There is a hand- letter like a picture, or rather a puzzle,

The writing which looks actually artistic, while single squares painfully elaborated. it is really nothing but the product of Chaldæan is black and bold, and seems the ample leisure and the best materials. And type of manly vigour, upright and courathis may be described as a very gentlemanly geous, representing to our (perhaps prejuhand, just as when a man has no character diced) minds the perfection of English handor intellect of his own, not enough to make writing. The Hebrew is a more limited

character,

more precision, less show of The Autographic Mirror. Vol. II. London. The Siriac is small and twisted, and to us

sternness and energy, still order and dignity.

ence.

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1805.

represents French handwriting of the low- tion, differing at onee from the ladies of er order. The Arabian, the Turkish, the Mary and those of Victoria - a hand that Persian are very similar in their character- runs yet cannot be read, so fluent and so illeistics, except that each seems more flowing, gible. If we glance distantly at the late Duke more graceful, more effeminate than the of Cleveland's letter, we take it for the proother. Perhaps the Persian is best en- duction of a Cavalier during the interregtitled to this character. There is something num. But by degrees we miss the old inmore rugged in the Arabian, something cision and deliberateness, we see how the blacker in the Turkish ; the Persian flows lines crowd each other, and we know that like a woman's letter, like the poetry of "schoolboy hand” of Thackeray, a hand Moore.

which is to be seen grown up on so many When we come to examine more deeply sheets of club paper. One of the best hands into national handwriting, we find of course we have in this volume is Southey's, and this that it is much qualified by individual char- curiously enough preserves the old characacter. Take the French autographs we have teristics. It is not modern English writing, in this volume. The best of the purely but a modernization of old English writing: French is perhaps that of Murat, à fine Several of these contemporaries are placed manly hand, without any ostentation. Per- near each other, but there. is little to be signy's hand is also of the pure type, neat gained by comparing them. Moore, who and tripping. Napoleon III.'s is a lower comes next to Rogers, is not much inferior sample of the same type, has a mean look, in neatness, but seems to write with the and is entirely devoid of elevation. Thiers is point of a fine pen, and sometimes he falls inquite illegible, though some kind slave who to the fault of thinness. Scott's handwriting has devoted himself to the work of unravelling has a cramped look, which seems unnatural the web of black strokes says that it contains from the pen of such a ready writer. Anoththe following allusion to Guizot's reception er sort of comparison may be made between of Lacordaire at the Academy :- “ A monk Mrs. Hemans and Miss Mitford; no one received by, a Protestant is a spectacle would take the first for a woman of talent, which is turning the brain of Paris.” Louis the second for a woman at all. Equally Blanc writes a splendid hand, extremely strange is the contrast between Bright and clear and orderly, with just a tinge of Cobden. Mr. Bright writes a small, neat, French formation to stamp its nationality. and orderly hand. Cobden's hand is that Of passed generations, Madame Récamier's of the Northern man of business, on which letter to Miss Edgeworth bears witness to a is based the genuine American hand, as we hand of anything but "incomparable beau- see it here in Stonewall Jackson. Neither ty:”.. There is nothing remarkable in Vol- Washington nor Franklin possess it. taire's handwriting Rousseau's is small We frankly confess that to us the Gerand perfectly legible, as if it was engraved man hand is an abomination. There is a on a copper plate. Corneille's hand is good, long letter in it here from Heine to Dr. Simand bears a certain resemblance to Milton's, rock, and an epigram on Schleswig-Holstein if we allow for the difference of nation. in 1847 and 1865 by Arnold Riige, which But just as there is a national hand, so ought to call a blush to the face of Dr. Simthere is a contemporary hand. People of rock. But viewing these writings from the the same, or nearly the same, period write orthographie, and not the autographic, point more alike than people of the same char- of view, we find little to remark in them. acter. The resemblance between the Niebuhr's hand is perhaps the best of German hands of Milton and Charles I. is the most hands. Rückert seems to write with a pin and striking instance that we can adduce, but a German pin into the bargain. Best of all the Duchess of Marlborough is not altogeth-is Wilhelm Grimm, who has the grace to er unlike Milton. There is a certain affini-write in Roman characters, and whose elety between Shelley and Byron, yet what gant precision, void as it is of all affectation two men could be less alike? A good proof of caligraphy, is not to be surpassed. The of the way handwritings run in generations finest Italian hand is that of Ariosto, which is furnished in this volume by the juxtapo- may be compared to the Chaldæan.. It is sition of Lady Jane Grey and the late difficult to say under what nationality we Duchess of Gloucester. Look at the close are to class the writing of Napoleon. blackness of the first, the compression of France has certainly no claim to it. But every kind, the lines so near together, and there is a very curious letter of his from the words scarcely separate, and yet such Egypt to his brother Jerome, the more culabour expended on every letter, and then rious that it fell into the hands of Nelson, turn to the lady's hand of the last genera- I and is endorsed by him, « Found on the per

son of the courier.” Nelson's endorsement you cut sticks, they skedaddled.”. But on is in his left-hand writing ; Napoleon's let- asking for a repetition of it the German ter is scratchy and impetuous, with uneven found that it varied every time, and he had lines and black patches, and most careless at last to give it up in despair as a grammatin spelling. " Tu vaira dans les papiers pub- ical Proteus. lics,” he begins, and adds in a later place, " je suis annuié de la nature humaine." He commissions Joseph to buy him “une campagne, soit prés de Paris, ou en Bourgogne ;

From the Spectator. je compte y passer l'hiver et m'y enterrer. MAURICE JOLY'S “MACHIAVEL ET MONJ'ai besoin de solitude et d'isolement; la

TESQUIEU.” * grandeur m'annuie; le sentiment est des

M. MAURICE JOLY is a writer who has seché; la glorie est fade, à 29 ans j'ai tout succeeded so well in hiding the merits of epuissé, il ne me reste plus qu'à devenir bien his work, that they have scarcely been disvraiment Egoiste.” But he soon found that covered by any but its legal accusers and this laudable object could be accomplished in a better way than by becoming a hermit. suppressors. It needs a robust reader to As a rule there are not very many char- travel through the first third of his

Dialogue, acteristic passages or bits to quote in this without feeling that it contains by far the

and yet it is impossible to close the volume volume. Some of the longer letters, take most searching analysis of the policy of the them for all in all, confirm our old impres- Second Empire which has yet appeared. sions of their writers, without giving us any The author's misfortune has been that he sudden insight into their characters. Among has chosen a dramatic form, which he was curiosities, independent of handwriting, we may place the reproduction of a manuscript which should be even tolerable for the gen

quite incapable of working out in a manner page of Armadale, which must, we think, eral public. If he did so in the hope of eshave given trouble to the printers. Erasures

caping the Argus glance of the French litare numerous, and are effected with a jealous completeness, as if Mr. Wilkie Collins erary police, he was wofully mistaken, since

he has been condemned without mercy for was loth to let others see what his first

an almost unread book. Whereas, had he thoughts had been. Another curiosity is Douglas Jerrold's receipt for 101. for the per- like that of De Tocqueville on American de

adopted the ordinary form of a disquisition, petual copyright of the Rent Day. The handwriting of this differs materially from mocracy, the incisive and penetrating vigthe later specimens of the same author, to fasten public attention, at no higher cost

our of his criticism would have been certain which have what we may call a “twang” in

to himself. them. Another is the original MS. of Thackeray's Litile Billy, showing many departures ble des Matières,” or “ Contents.” This,

The real sting of the work lies in its “ Tafrom the text at present received. As we which in ordinary cases is a mere reproduchear it sung now, and as we believe Thack- tion of chapter-headings by the printer, beeray sang it himself at the horseshoe dinner given him when he left for America in 1855,

comes in M. Joly's hands a real treatise of the ship is not loaded, but“ wittled,” “ Lit

some fourteen pages, four-fifths of which tle Billy” has just got to the end of the might be transcribed almost literally as twelfth commandment when he catches and the reader who wishes to understand

summary of the Napoleonic policy, sight of land, and the commander of the the book should be careful to consult this in British fleet is “ Admiral Lord Nelson, K.C. the first instance, so as to be able to take up B.,” whom we have seen quoted in that the thread of the writer's argument at the guise in the leading articles of the Daily point at which he may feel it to become Telegraph. The future literary historian will have to compare this first version with really interesting, — the dulness of the the later one, and trace the successive ad- opening matter being in very truth almost ditions inspired by various convivialities. little before the first dialogue on the Con

unsurpassable. Beginning in this way a We hope that he will not find the same difficulties as the German in search of the one time to time the clumsy compliments of the

stitution, and skipping judiciously from English irregular verb. The story is that two illustrious shades to each other, or the an American was teaching English to a weak objections of Montesquieu (as the German, and on being asked if there were no irregular verbs in English, replied by * Dialogue aux Enfers entre Machiavel et Montesgiving one solitary example. It was, “ I go, Par un Contemporain. Bruxelles : Mertens et Fils.

quieu ; ou, la Politique de Machiavel au 19e siècle. thou wentest, he departed, we made tracks, I 1805.

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