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Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, 18 cents,
MY DREAM-LOVE. THROUGH the sweet early morning doth she
When, dim with dew, and tremulous with sleep,
The scented flowers give out their sweetest sighs;
When nature wakes, and standing peaceful, dumb,
Upon the hill-top, knows not if to weep,
Or smile upon us from the changeful skies.
Sweet dream-love that I never see when day Drives all our finer thoughts from earth in haste,
Lest they should be entangled by the world, I would not have thee 'mid this misery stay, I would not have thee of my life's cup taste, Nor would I that thy sweets were all unfurled.
Thou art mine own, when night's worst hours have fled,
And faint with fighting phantoms do I lie,
Waiting for that the dawn shall truly bringThy sweet calm eyes that tears may never shed, Thy pretty hands that touch me silently,
Thine arms that fold me like some angel's wing!
What does it matter that thou canst not tell Of all thou know'st, nor whisper of thy bliss, Or kiss me on the lips that speak thy praise? Words - sweetest words could only break the spell;
Thou canst not now betray me with a kiss,
So leaving me in sorrow all thy days.
Thou art my own; mine only; none can share, Thy touch, thy presence, none may hear thy voice,
Nor twine thine hair, nor press thy small white hand.
'Tis but to me thou art so wondrous fair, 'Tis but my heart that thou dost bid rejoice, 'Tis but beside me thou canst take thy stand.
I will be true to thee, mine own, my dream;
FAIRYLAND IN MIDSUMMER. SHALL I tell you how one day Into Fairyland we went? Fairy folk were all about,
Filling us with glad content; For we came as worshippers Into Nature's temple grand, And the fairies welcome such
With the freedom of the land.
SONG OF THE SNOW. FAR up in the depths of the sky, In the loft of the zenith on high, Under the top of the dome, Is the feathery snow's high home. It is there that garments of white Are suddenly made in the height And dropped on the sorrowing throng Who cry to the Lord "How long?" And heads that are bowed and old Grow white as the sheep of the foldAs crowns of the purified throng Who reign with the Lord- how long! Transcript. TIMOTHY OTIS PAINF
I first saw Pattison one October morning seven years ago, when, with forty or fifty others, I presented myself in the hall of Lincoln College as a candidate for a scholarship. Each candidate had to provide himself with certificates of good conduct; and Pattison's first remark to me was provoked by the sight of a bundle of some half-dozen of these certificates, with which I had armed myself to meet all contingencies. Taking them from me, and turning them over with a half-puzzled, half-amused look, he said, "What! All this?" I could not help being struck at once with the rector's appearance, with those remarkable features that I had many opportunities of studying during the ensuing years. He was at that time sixty-four. His face was pale with the pale cast of thought, and the deep lines with which it was marked were the result rather of hard thinking than of age. The thin, reddish moustache and beard, and the short, slightly curling brown hair, showed little or no trace of grey; but the somewhat sunken mouth, with the consequent convergence of nose and chin, helped to give the face an aged appearance. This served, however, to bring into prominence the singular brightness of the grey eye, which, whether "glittering," as it has been well described, with the light of some fresh thought, or fixed, as it occasionally was, in the compassionless rigidity of a " stony glare," or mild, almost melting at times, with sympathy, was always deep and searching, and must be regarded as his most striking feature. His voice, in unconstrained conversation, was soft and pleasant; but in official intercourse, or
when he was severe, the utterance accompanying the stony glare," would become harsh and nasal; and there were some who, as they expressed it, had only heard the rector "snarl." Once, but only once, so far as I can remember, was a "snarl" given to me. It was when I had, at the end of the scholarship examination, been summoned to the common-room, where all the college authorities were in conclave assembled to examine the selected candidates viva voce. I had read out a set sentence of Livy, and was pondering on the best way of turning an idiom, when the silence was broken by a nasal "Translate!" which roused me from my reflections, and made me plunge, without fur. ther delay, in medias res. In stature, Pattison might have been slightly above the middle height, had he walked erect; but the spare figure was bent, and, in repose, his head often rested on his chest. His step, however, was surprisingly quick and elastic, and his gait retained, nearly to the last, something of almost youthful wiriness and vigor.
My next meeting with Pattison was also purely official. I had to call upon him, after my election, to have the conditions under which my scholarship was held explained to me, and to be assigned as pupil to one of the college tutors. I found him, with the tutors, in his study on the ground-floor of the rector's lodgings. The walls of the room were covered with books, and the two windows, in front of one of which was his writing-table, looked out upon the quadrangle, with the hall and library. On the mantelpiece, in a small frame, was a photograph of John Henry Newman. After I had listened to the rector's explanations, I hazarded a few questions as to some of the domestic arrangements of college life. The rector referred to either one or the other of the tutors, each of whom, in turn, referred to his colleague, thus giving me an early impression, which I have not been able to forget, of the unwillingness of the Oxford man to commit himself. After that about a week elapsed, when one day the rector's Flemish servant came up to my attic, to ask, with the rector's compliments, whether I would take a walk with him to-morrow,
Sunday, at two o'clock. I received this | about that." He always gave plenty of message not without alarm, for I had time for reflection, never interrupted, and meanwhile heard the usual more or less exercised an almost painful suspension of mythical stories of the difficulties various judgment until you had finished all you undergraduates had encountered on those had to say. The more I learnt to know occasions, arising mainly from the rec- the rector, the more the notion grew upon tor's alleged aversion to conversation. me that this remarkable patience of his in One of those stories, which I knew to be listening was only one symptom of an alltrue, I remembered in particular. One pervading desire to carry out the maxim afternoon, Pattison went to the lodgings Know thyself;" and in that search of a Scotchman, a scholar of the college, after truth he seems to have thought even to ask him to come for a walk. "Are you trivial data of consequence, regarding ready to go?" said the rector. The them as aids by way of collation or of conScotchman replied, rather sardonically, trast. On the day in question (October that he thought he was. The rector 28, 1877) we had not got far from the colwaited in silence. After an interval of lege gates before Pattison had quite disfive or ten minutes: "Are you ready pelled my misgivings. I had seen in his now?" "Yes." And so they started. study a folio "Shakespeare," and I now Their walk seems to have been a practi- asked him whether it was an original or a cal illustration of the maxim that silence is golden; for until the parting "goodafternoon," neither of them said a word. Since then, the Scotchman had not been invited to take a walk again. Such a walk as that, in unbroken silence, was a possibility I did not like to contemplate. I knew that I did not possess the Scotchman's imperturbability, and fearing that the rector might be indisposed to descend to my sphere, I determined to make a desperate effort to rise to his, or rather to provide myself with some subject on which he might possibly be inclined to converse. So, in all haste, I obtained a copy of "Essays and Reviews," and read therein the essay on "Tendencies of Religious Thought in England, 1688-1750." The event showed that my anxiety and my precautions had been equally superfluous. A very short time sufficed to convince me that the rector was far from objecting to conversation in itself; what he seemed to hesitate to do, was to start a subject; and therein, perhaps, lay the cause of all the difficulties of which I had heard. This first impression my own subsequent experience tended to confirm fully. He began a conversation occasion ally, but rarely; on the other hand, he was ready to talk on most questions suggested by his companion; only, if a subject was started in the form of a question, he would almost invariably say: "Ah, now I should like to know what you think
fac simile. This led to the subject of books and bookstalls; we found that we had gone to the same shops in London, and Pattison was interested to hear of a tolerably large number of old editions of the classics I had collected in that way, especially of a folio Seneca, described by Dibdin as having been printed typis argenteis, and of a very early edition of Laurentius Valla's translation of Thucydides, without title-page, date, or paginal numbering. "I should like to see your typis argenteis," he said. Unfortunately the Seneca was not at Oxford; but I subsequently sent him the Thucydides, which he kept for some time, and described as "certainly a very good specimen." I went on to ask him about his own library. He said, "I have the larg est private collection in Oxford - about sixteen thousand volumes; and, after speaking of the delight he took in gathering the books about him, added: "There actually are many men with incomes of £500, who don't spend as much as £50 on books." I could not help smiling, and thought there were very many. This and similar topics had brought us to the ferry at Hincksey. We crossed, and wandered on into the fields beyond, towards South Hincksey. It was a sunny afternoon, one of the perfect Oxford autumn days, and the trees were still laden with that wealth of color, from palest yellow to blood-red, which the atmospheric conditions of the
you must give that up at once. It is merely a race to get through the examinations; you have time for nothing else. We have bought you, and we're running you for two plates. Yes, we've bought you; tell your father so; tell him you don't belong to him now, and that until you have got your classes in the examinations, you have no time for reading what is not connected with them." I suppose I looked incredulous, for he added, rather more seriously: "Of course
neighborhood seem specially fitted to pro- | eral reading. Knowing of Oxford, and of duce in unrivalled beauty. One row of the importance necessarily, and to a great trees in particular, to the left of the path, extent justly, attached to examinations, struck us on that day, and the rector what I now know, I can well understand stood still for several minutes to admire the rector's undisguised astonishment at them. After remarking on the loveliness hearing this. But I saw, even then, that of the scene, he said, “Now, why is it the don was shocked, but the man was that nature in her changes has this pecul- pleased. It was, however, when I told iar effect upon us?" I said it seemed to him that by my father's desire I had beme to be because we were reminded there- gun Sanscrit, that the last straw was by of the transitoriness of all things, of added ; and he said (these were his words): beauty, of our own lives, and of how every-"My young friend, I am very grieved to thing is taken from us, and becomes a tell you that if you have come up to Oxportion and parcel "of the dreadful past; "ford with the idea of getting knowledge, and we thus looked upon nature with the sympathy awakened by a fate which we deemed similar to our own. And so forth. The rector listened with his usual patience, and continued to gaze at the trees while I spoke. When I had finished, he turned to me, looked me full in the face with an expression of mingled inquiry and interest which I remember to this day, and said, "Ah!" after which we walked on for some time in silence. It was interesting to me to observe, of what a variety of shades of meaning that characteristic I don't want you to think that I disapejaculation of Pattison's "Ah!" was capable. Many times it was his sole answer; mostly it signified that something had aroused his interest; sometimes it conveyed approval, sometimes surprise, sometimes doubt; sometimes it was said in a way that indicated that he did not wish to express himself on the point in question. In time, experience enabled me to put the right interpretation upon it at once, and it frequently served me as an indication of what it was desirable to discuss, and what to pass over. It was Pattison who first spoke again. He made some inquiry as to my examination work, and wished to hear whether I had made any progress with my reading for moderations. I replied that, having been only a week or two in Oxford, I had as yet scarcely thought of moderations, and that, moreover, I had come to Oxford rather with a view to escaping from examinations of which I had had enough in London, and reading my classics more from a literary point of view than for the schools; that, altogether, I was pleased to have at last found an opportunity for some gen
prove of general reading; on the contrary. But what I say I mean. You must stick to your work, if you want to do well in the schools." As an instance of his memory for small incidents, I may mention that I heard him repeat our conversation almost literally, in his lecture, "What is a Col. lege?" given before the Ascham Society more than four years later.
Ten days after this, Pattison sent for me one morning, and invited me to take part in a poetical reading which was to be held at his house that afternoon. He sug gested that I should read a German piece, upon which I expressed my fear that I should not do the poem justice. "Well, then you shall do it injustice," he an swered. When I came in the afternoon, I found him with one elderly and four young ladies in his drawing-room, and the reading soon began. One of the young ladies, at Pattison's request, also gave us a song in Chinese, the pathetic, if some. what monotonous strains of which were much admired, the abrupt ending, expressing that the hero or heroine is suddenly drowned, being especially striking. The