Ecclesiastical law calls condonation. And by she did return to her sister's house instead of this act of love and mercy she deprived herself her own home, for, her husband, enraged at of even the small amount of protection afforded by the law to English wives of the nineteenth century. They had now three children who made up the sole summer time of her heart. Only those who know what sunshine the love of young and innocent children creates in the misty darkness of an unhappy life, can appreciate her love for hers-three bright, noble, boys. How she loved them! How passionately and how tenderly! Their lisping voices charmed away her griefs, and their young bright eyes and eager love made her forget that she had ever cause for regret or fear. For their sakes she endeavoured to be patient. Her love for them was too strong to be sacrificed even to her outraged womanhood. and that she might remain near them, and caress them, and educate them, she bore her trials now coming fast and thick upon her, with forbearance, if not with silence. But, matters came at last to a climax; though sooner and on different grounds than might have been expected. She and her husband parted on a trivial question of itself, but with grave results: a mere dispute as to whether the children should accompany their mother on a visit to one of her brothers, who was avowedly (very extraordinary that he should be so, after the married life, she had led!) unfriendly to her husband. It was at last decided that they should not go, and after a bitter struggle. Far more was involved in this question than appears on the surface; her right to the management of her sons, even in the most trifling matters, was the real point of contention; the mother was obliged to yield, and she went alone; the children remaining at home with the father. The day after she left she received a message from one of the servants to tell her that something was wrong at home; for, the children had been taken away with all their clothes and toys, no one knew where. In a storm of terror and agony she gave herself up to the trace, and at last found out their hidingplace. But without any good result. The woman who received them, under the sanction of the father, refused to deliver them up to her, and met her prayers and remonstrances with insults and sarcasms. She was obliged to return widowed and childless to her sister's home in the country; like a wounded panther tearing at the lance in his side, a fearful mixture of love and beauty, and rage and despair. It was well that her persistence in visiting her brother against his consent, ordered the servants to refuse her admittance should she present herself, and "to open the house door only with a chain across." After balancing between reconciliation and prosecution, a divorce suit was decided on by her husband; expressly undertaken "because his wife would not return to him," By this suit, he attempted to prove that an old friend and patron, to whom he owed his present position and his former fortune, was the seducer of his wife. But, the case broke down; and the jury, without leaving their box gave, a verdict in favour of the defendant: a gentlemen of known honor and established reputation. The crowded court rang with cheers, such as it had rarely echoed to before, as the verdict was pronounced; friends in every degree of life, old friends and friends hitherto strangers, supported her with their warmest sympathy; and if the readiness of the world in general to be kindly honest, and to set right a proved wrong, conld have acted directly upon the law, or could have essentially served her without its aid, she would have had ample redress. But it is the peculiar hardship of such a case that no aid but the aid of the law itself, remote and aloof, can give redress. The feelings may be soothed, but the wrongs remain. And now began the most painful part of the sad epic, whose initiatory hymns had glided into a dirge: a dirge for ruined hopes and wasted youth, for a heart made desolate, and a home destroyed; a dirge for the shattered household gods and the fleetings of the fond visions of her heart. The suit was ended and the law had pronounced the accused wife innocent. But the law also pronounced the innocent mother without a claim to her own children. They were the father's property; absolutely and entirely. He placed them with his sister a lady who shared his propensity for corporeal punishment; and who flogged the eldest child, a sensitive and delicate boy of six years old, for receiving and reading a letter from his mother. 6. Το impress on his memory," she said, "that he was not to receive letters from her"! The yet younger was stripped naked and chastised with a riding-whip. Yet the law held back these children from their mother's love, and gave them to the charge of those who thought their education fitly carried on by such means. Time passed, and still the quarrel and separation continued. She received in exchange a deed drawn up and By a small alteration in this same law of ours -this idol made by our hands, then deified and worshipped-she was at length permitted to see her boys. But only at stated times, and at certain hours, and in the coldest manner. It was her husband's privilege to deny her all maternal intercourse with her sons, and he stretched his privilege to the utmost. No touch of pity dissolved the iron bars of the law, and no breath of mercy warmed the breast of the husband and master. Against the decree of the law, what was the protesting cry of nature? A hollow whistling among the reeds of a sandy waste, which no man heeded-which no voice answered. Years trailed wearily on. Long years of taming down her proud heart, laden almost beyond her strength; long years of battle with the wild sorrow of her childless life; long years when the mother's soul stood in the dark valley of death where no light and no hope were. But the criminal law swept on the beaten track, and no one stopped to ask over whose heart this great car of our Juggernaut passed. The mother-she to whom God has delegated the care of her young-she on whom lie shame and dishonour if she neglect this duty for any self-advantage whatsoever; she,-a man's wife, and a man's lawful chattel,-had no right to those who had lain beneath her heart, and drunk of her life. The law in this respect is now changed; mainly, because this sufferer laboured hard to show its cruelty. The misery inflicted upon her maternal love will be endured by no other English mother. signed by a lawyer and her husband, securing her the stipulated five hundred pounds a year for life. Three years after, her mother died, and the husband inherited the life-interest of his wife's portion from her father. At the same time a legacy of almost five hundred a year, carefuly secured from her husband by every legal hindrance possible, fell to her also from her mother. When her husband knew of this legacy, he wrote to her, telling her that he would not continue his former allowance, which had been secured, as she believed, by solemn legal agreement. She objected to this novel manner of benefiting by a legacy; and refused to entertain the proposition of reduction. Her husband quietly told her that she must either consent to his terms, or receive nothing; when she urged the agreement, he answered her with the legal poetic fiction "that, by law, man and wife were one, and therefore could not contract with each other." The deed for which she had exchanged her power over the trust-fund was a mere worthless piece of paper. This shameful breach of contract was followed by another law suit where judgment was given in open court to the effect not only that the agreement in her behalf, signed by her husband and a legal witness, was valueless according to that stanza of the marriage idyl which proclaims that man and wife are onenot only that she had no claim on the allowance of five hundred a year-but that her husband could also seize every farthing of her earnings, and demand as his own the copyrights of her works and the sum paid for them. No deed of separation had been executed between them, and no divorce could be sued for by her. For, she had once condoned or pardoned her husband, and had so shut herself out from the protection of the laws. And all this is in the laws; the laws which throw a woman helplessly on the mercy of her husband, make no ways of escape and build no cities of refuge for her, and deliberately justify her being cheated and entrapped. All these are doings protected and all owed by our lawsand men stand by and say, "It is useless to complain. The laws must be obeyed. It is dangerous to meddle with the laws!" Pecuniary matters came in next, as further entanglement of this miserable web. By the marriage settlements a certain sum of money had been secured to the children; the principal of which, neither the husband nor his creditors could touch. It belonged to the children and the mother, emphatically and exclusively. After many years of separation, the husband applied to his wife for her consent to his raising a loan on this trust-fund for the improvement of his estate. She promised that consent, if he, on his part, would execute a deed of separation, and make her a certain allowance for life. Hitherto she had mainly supported herself by authorship. After the demur of This is a true story; those who run may reducing the allowance she proposed, the agree-read it-have read it more than once, perhaps, ment was entered into; and she then gave her before now. As an exemplification of some of consent that a loan should be raised on the the gravest wrongs of women and as a proof how trust-fund for her husband's sole advantage. much they sometimes need protection even too soon; Whose sun sinks in darkness long ere it is noon; Or the bard who still hopes for, mid sorrow and pain, against those whose sworn office it is to cherish Then thou'rt like the youth, who grasps pleasure and support them; it is very note-worthy, indeed, in this country of Great Britain. Surely there is work waiting to be done in the marital code of England! Surely there are wrongs to be redressed and reforms to be made that have gone too long unmade! Surely we have here a righteous quarrel with the laws-more righteous than many that have excited louder cries. The "good time that's coming," love's long looked for reign. He's come far owre early, my poor bird, like thee; strain, Justice to women. No fanciful rights, no unreal advantages, no preposterous escape from womanly duty, for the restless, loud, and vain ; no mingling of women with the broils of For there's something sae mournful and sad in thy political life, nor opening to them of careers which nature herself has pronounced them incapable of following; no high-flown assertion of equality in kind; but simple justice. recognition of their individuality as wives, the recognition of their natural rights as mothers, the permission to them to live by their own Like thine, my bright visions were all overcast; honourable industry, untaxed by the legal Right and moral Wrong of any man to claim as his own that for which he has not wroughtreaping where he has not sown, and gathering where he has not strawed. Justice to women. This is what the phrase means; this is where the thing is truly wanted; here is an example of the great Injustice done to them, and of their mal-treatment under the eyes of a whole nation, by the Law. I could sit and greet wi' you till spring comes The Like thee, my puir bird, I was tempted to roam, THE EARLY BLUE BIRD. You're come far owre early, my bonnie wee bird; There's nae signs o' green leaves, o' simmir nae word. What tempted you here, frae the green sunny bowers, Like thee, I must stoop 'neath the cauld chilly blast. I'm thinking, my wee bird, in sorrow and pain, same. But ah! my poor bird, tho' our prospects are bare, We'll still cling to hope, nor give up to despair. In the deepest, the darkest, its beams brightest shine; Without them, this heart wad hae broken lang AN INELIGIBLE SUITOR.-An old soldier with only one arm, being reduced to mendicancy to obtain a livelihood, made acquaintance with a brother beggar, who had grown rich by the craft. O' the sweet smiling south ?—the bright region. I should be happy," said the soldier, "to ally o' flowers. There's cauld days to come yet, and deep drifts o' snaw; wa'. Thou type o' the herald, who comes to proclaim myself with so distinguished a member of our profession: you shall give me your daughter." "Hold! my dear sir," replied the warm old gentleman, you cannot think of such a thing. She must And storms frae the bleak north, ere winter gae have a better match than you will make. You are not half lame enough. My son-in-law must be a miserable looking object, who would draw blood out of a stone." "Do you think, then, that you will find one worse than I am ?” "To be sure! why, you have only lost one arm; and ought to be absolutely ashamed of yourself to expect that I will give you my daughter. I would have you to know, that I have already refused a fellow without legs, and who goes about the city in a bowl." Wast love of the unknown, for which we pay dear? here? Wast this blink o' sunshine, this short gleam o'joy ROSE." The AMERICA PAINTED "COULEUR DE her arrival in New York, she sees beyond the large fountain and the "beautiful green plot" in front of the house, "long lines of The United States of America have now white and gilded omnibuses," "beautiful been painted in all manner of colours. Mrs. houses," "splendid shops," and so on. Trollope painted them very black; Captains haven of New York is "beautiful," the bay Hall and Hamilton painted them in gall- is surrounded with "green hills and groups stone or bilious yellow; Dickens painted of beautiful villas," and the authoress's arthem in striped vermilion, blue, and black; rival in the bay was "festively beautiful.” Mackay and Buckingham painted them in Miss Bremer was immediately inundated sober drab; Stewart and Sheriff painted with visitors requesting autographs; and she them in vivid green; and now Miss Bremer shook hands with from seventy to eighty has painted them in bright rose-pink. persons in a day; but she seems to have Miss Bremer's Homes of the New World* liked it. A Mr. Downing invites her to his cloys one by its sweetness. Think of the house up the Hudson, and she praises her entertainment of supping a jar of honey at entertainer at such length and in such glowa sitting. In a literary way, Miss Bremer's ing terms, that the gentleman cannot but book is something of the same sort. Every- feel uncomfortable under the infliction, if he thing she sees is beautiful, delicious, sweet, be a gentleman of modesty and good sense. ambrosial, divine, and so forth. Ordinary Mrs. Child, the authoress, waits upon her, personages are "beautiful souls." Nearly and is described as "a beautiful soul;" and all the children at the houses she visits are Miss Lynch, the poetess, "an agreeable, angels. The men are all noble, the women pretty, and intellectual young lady." Mr. all handsome and intellectual. There is not Hart, the editor of Sartain's Magazine, fola genuine Yankee in her pages-no chewing lows the authoress to Mr. Downing's, and nor spitting-no vulgar questioning nor with an eye to trade, "monopolizes" her for rudeness, but everywhere a beautiful "re- his magazine during her stay in America; dundancy of young life." In fact, the book and "there was so much gentlemanly refineis a romance; and the authoress admits that ment in his manner, and a something so her first idea was to write a romance about benevolently good and agreeable in his pale, America: and though she resolved on giving delicate countenance, that I could not help to the world her experiences, they are mostly taking a fancy to him, and giving him my pervaded by the romantic roseate hue. Miss word that if I should write anything for Bremer has so obviously wished to please, publication in America, I would leave it in that she has flattered; and she so studiously his hands." labours not to give offence, that her descrip- Here is a brief sketch of her life on the tions are divested of that character and con- banks of the Hudson:-"I have greatly entrast in which so much of the interest of a joyed this period of my new life, and the book of travels consists. In short, the book Hesperian fruits; and whether it is the is all light, and no shade,—all brilliant rose- effect of these or of the New World's youthcolour, without any cool greys and browns ful lively atmosphere (we have had for some to give the eye rest and satisfaction. time the most beautiful weather), or of the This, no doubt, shows the amiable cha- new impressions which daily flow in upon racter of the writer, but it is, nevertheless, me, but I feel the strings of life vibrate, as a serious defect in the book. Miss Bremer it were, more strongly, and my pulse beat at is determined to be pleased with everything, times almost feverishly. I feel myself to be and to see everything in its most brilliant drinking nectar spiritually and bodily; it is aspect. When she looks out of the windows a divine drink, but almost too potent for a of the Astor Hotel, the first morning after weak mortal—at least in an every-day beverage. The excess of social intercourse is * The Homes of the New World; Impressions of America also too exciting, however charming and agreeable it may be. Mr. and Mrs. Down By Frederika Bremer. Translated by Mary Howitt. In 3 vols., Hall, Virtue, and Co. ing, who have no children, seem to live for in this neighbourhood. 'It belongs,' said the beautiful and agreeable in life amid a he, 'to a man who, in the day, drives cartselect circle of friends and neighbours, who, loads of stone and rubbish for making the for the most part, reside on the lovely banks roads. In this is the working man of the of the Hudson, and cheerful and unembar- New World superior to him of the Old. He rassed social intercourse seems to character- can here, by the hard labour of his hands, ize the life of this circle. They are continu- obtain the more refined pleasures of life, a ally visiting one another. The banks of the beautiful home, and the advantages of eduHudson are now in all the pomp of autumn, cation for his family much more quickly. and the foliage of the woods which clothe And here he may obtain them, if he will. the shores and the heights, and which consist In Europe the greater number of work-people of a great variety of trees, is now brilliant cannot obtain them, do what they will." with the most splendid variation of colour, At another "beautiful home" Miss Bremer from light yellow to intense scarlet; but it meets Washington Irving, a veteran in liteis too gorgeous and chaste a splendour to be rature, whom she cleverly and elaborately truly agreeable to my eye, which requires describes. He is "a man of about sixty, more uniformity of colour. Of fruit there is with large, beautiful eyes, a large wellhere the greatest abundance: the most beau-formed nose, and countenance still handsome, tiful peaches, though their season is properly in which youthful little dimples and smiles over; pears, plums, grapes,-that is to say, bear witness to a youthfully fresh and huhot-house grapes, and many others. The morous disposition and soul." Miss Bremer Downings' table is ornamented every day made a profile portrait of the "universally with a basket filled with the most glorious beloved author," while he sat to her; and it fruit-really Hesperian-and beautiful fla- is described as "one of the best and most vour, arranged with the most exquisite taste." characteristic portraits that has ever been Everything described by Miss Bremer is taken" of him. Next day she visits him at equally “beautiful.” "his home or villa, which stands on the The most interesting descriptions are those banks of the Hudson, and resembles a peaceof individuals well known on this side the ful idyl; thick masses of ivy clothe one Atlantic. But here, too, there is a want of portion of the white walls and garland the shade. They are nearly all painted en beau. eaves. Fat cows fed in a meadow just before Of Miss Sedgwick (the authoress of Home) the window. Within, the room seemed full Miss B. says, "She is between fifty and of summer warmth, and had a peaceful and sixty, and her countenance indicates a very cheerful aspect. One felt that a cordial sensible, kind, and benevolent character. spirit, full of the best sentiment of the soul, The figure is beautifully feminine, and her lived and worked there." whole demeanor womanly, sincere, and frank, A young gentleman asks Miss Bremer to without a shadow of affectation. I felt my ascend a lofty church tower with him, on soul a little slumberous while with her for which she observes: "Nothing strikes me the first few days; but this feeling was, as so much as the youthfulness of this people— it were, blown quite away in a moment by I might almost say childish fervour and love a touching and beautiful expression of cor- of adventure. They hesitate at nothing, and diality on her side, which revealed us to each regard nothing as impossible." Every little other; and since then I have felt that I could incident thus furnishes an opportunity for live with her as with a heavenly soul, in praise. A lady makes a present of a bracewhich one has the most undoubting trust." let, and forthwith the authoress takes the Here, however, is a picture of the life of lady to her heart. This is no doubt very an American working man, which is worth amiable, but not very entertaining to read. much more than the average of Miss Bremer's Mr. Putnam, the publisher, next obtains descriptions:-"Mr. Downing has called my possession of Miss Bremer, and engages her attention to a beautiful little house, a frame for a complete edition of her works. Mr. house, with green verandah and garden just Putnam's form is " 'beautiful," his wife |