Page images
PDF
EPUB

parelli has made some admirable re marks in this very connection. Speak ing of Martian "geminations," he says:

The geometry of nature is manifested in many other facts, which entirely exclude the idea of artificial labor. The perfect spheroids of the heavenly bodies and the ring of Saturn were not constructed in a turning-lathe, and not with compasses has Iris described in the clouds her beautiful and regular arch. And what shall we say of the infinite variety of those exquisite and regular polyhedrons in which the world of crystals is so rich! In the organic world also, what wonderful geometry presides over the distribution of

foliage on certain plants, orders the nearly symmetrical star-like forms of flowers and marine animals, and produces in the shell a perfect conical spiral excelling the finest masterpieces of Gothic architecture! In all these objects the geometrical figure is the simple and necessary consequence of the principles and laws which govern the physical and physiological world. That such principles and laws are but an indication of a higher intelligent Power we may admit; the admission has, however, noth

ing to do with the present argument.

There is, then, no compulsion upon us to regard the surface of Mais as modelled to suit their vital needs by the industry of rational creatures. Irrigation hypotheses, inland navigation hypotheses, and the like, are superfluous, and, being superfluous, are inadmissible. Not that they are, in all shapes, demonstrably false, but that they open the door to pure license in theorizing. The admission of vegetable growth and decay as an element of visible change is less objectionable, and is apparently capable of being justified spectroscopically; but. until that or some other kind of definite evidence is forthcoming, the subject invites only nebulous conjecture. In any case, Martian seas cannot be abolished, their presence being indispensable to the

systematic and rapid circulation of water, which is the most obviously executed process of the planet's internal economy.

We venture to disclaim, on behalf of humanity, the extramundane jealousy imputed to it by Mr. Lowell. At the close of this nineteenth century, after so many poignant disillusions, amid the wreck of so many passionate hopes, it is not enamoured with its own destinies to the point of desiring to impose them as a maximum of happiness upon the universe. Rather, men cherish the vision of other and better worlds, where intel

ligence, untrammelled by moral disabilities, may have risen to unimaginable heights, and sense and reason alike are dominated by incorrupt will. But it is improbable that the vision can ever be located in any one of the disseminated orbs around us. The problem of universal life is an enticing, yet insoluble one. That inorganic nature has, everywhere and always, for its designed and appointed final cause the production of organic life may be true, but can scarcely be assumed as a matter of course; while, on the other hand, the thought that millions of globes roll through space tenantless for all time revolts our sense of the rational in creation. Science can only declare that a given planet appears, so far as physical investigation can tell, to be habitable; nihil obstat is its last word on the subject. The word "habitable" has, however, a very wide implication. The hierarchy of life has endless gradations. The "roof and crown of things" in some remote worlds may be a race as far be low the genus homo as it is above it in others. Could the veil be lifted, incomprehensible diversity would, without doubt, be found to prevail here as elsewhere in the works of Infinite Wisdom. For "one star differeth from another star in glory."

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY

THE LIVING AGE COMPANY, BOSTON.

546

[blocks in formation]

FOR SIX DOLLARS remitted directly to the Publishers, THE LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage.

Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of THE LIVING AGE Co.

Single copies of THE LIVING AGE, 15 cents.

GEO. A. FOXCROFT, Manager Advertising Department, 36 Bromfield St., Room 3.

COME YE APART.

Thou say'st, "The work is great-the night draws nigh,"

And feverishly thy tired hands grasp the plough,

Panting "The rest comes after-here

Strange and unequal seems the deadly fray

"Twixt wrong and right;

Steep climbs the road thro' the dull glare of day,

And Heaven itself seems very far away, Close hidden from our sight.

and now God must be served before the daylight Frail is the web the tired worker weaves. die." Left incomplete; And so the trampling feet and strenuous Fair was life's promise, scanty are its sheaves,

cry

Drown the sweet voice that with most What are its laurels but a few sere leaves, loving grace

Rebukes the energies which would efface

The finer sense, and cloud the inward eye.

Listen, O worker, faint and overwrought, It is the voice that called the Twelve of old,

And led them where upon their feet of thought

Peace from the lake's calm and the sunset's gold

Withering beneath our feet.

Not as the Reaper who the sickle wields In fruitful years—

Rather we toil as gleaners in Thy fields, Poor is the harvest that our labor yields, Albeit sown in tears.

Yet still we strive, because the way is sure,

O God, our friend!

Hast Thou not told us, blessed are the poor,

Slid softly, and the hillside whispers Blessed are they who suffer and endure taught Unto the very end!

Deep things of God that words could Nay, we rejoice, tho' often sore afraid,

ne'er unfold.

Sunday Magazine. HORACE G. GROSER.

[blocks in formation]

"FAINT YET PURSUING."

With tired hearts and toil-worn empty

hands,

We journey home;

Oppress'd with griefs that no man under

stands,

Foot-sore and travel-stained from many lands,

Behold, O Lord, we come!

Short is the day-the night is dark and long,

When none may see;

Faint and far off the Victor's triumphsong,

Sharp is the fight, and fierce the foe and strong,

Helpless and weak are we.

On rolls the world, amid its stress and strain

Men sleep and wake;

Thirsting for pleasure, hungering after gain,

Heedless full oft o human woe and pain, Careless of hearts that break.

UNSPOKEN.

Ah, never doubt my love is true
That not in speech it flows,
For, dear, I cannot tell it you,

My heart no language knows,
And still can only yearn and ache
In silence, though it break.
But not by any speech is known

The hidden lore of deep and height; The sea has nothing but a moan,

The dark is silent, and the light: The grandest music needs no word To make its meaning heard. You dwell amidst my daily strife, A thing apart, divine, And all that's noblest in my life Is incense at your shrine, For every worthy deed I do Is done for love of you.

A. ST. JOHN ADCOCK.

Chambers' Journal.

THE BULLY,

BY IVAN TOURGENIEFF.

Translated for THE LIVING AGE by Mary J.

Safford.

CHAPTER V.

Kister had gone to bed when Lutschkoff entered his room. The latter's face never expressed a single emotion. Feigned indifference, coarse delight, the consciousness of his own superiority, and many other feel ings might now be read in his features.

"Well, well?" Kister asked hurriedly.

"What do you mean by 'well, well!' I was there. They sent their regards to you."

"Didn't they ask why I did not come too?"

"I believe so."

Lutschkoff stared at the ceiling and began to hum a tune in his falsetto voice. Kister closed his eyes and fell into a sort of reverie.

"Yes, yes," Lutschkoff suddenly exclaimed in a sharp, blustering tone, "you're a very clever, learned man, but sometimes-permit me to saysometimes you make tremendous blunders."

"How so?"

"Why, about women for instance. How you raise them to the skies! You have read me whole poems about them! Honor women, etc. In your eyes they are all angels-yes, fine angels!"

"Yes, I love and honor women, but-"

"Of course, of course!" interrupted Lutschkoff. "I don't wish to argue with you. How could I! I'm only a very commonplace man."

"I was going to say- But why do you happen to speak of women on this particular uay, and at SO late an hour?"

"There's a reason for it," rejoined Lutschkoff, with a significant smile. "There's a reason for it."

Kister looked steadily at his friend. The innocent young fellow imagined

[merged small][ocr errors]

Lutschkoff laughed loudly.

"Well, I think I can endure such hurts," he replied, stroking his moustache complacently. "No, you see, Fedor," he continued in an instructive tone, "I merely wanted to tell you that you are mistaken about women, entirely mistaken, my dear friend. Believe me, Fedor, they are all alike. It isn't worth while for a man to take much trouble about them or WOO them long. For instance, there's Marja Perekatoff."

"Well?"

Lutschkoff stamped his foot and shook his head.

"Well, what do you think-is there anything remarkably attractive about me? I don't believe so. And yet I'm to meet her to-morrow!"

Kister raised himself on his elbow and stared at Lutschkoff in amazement.

""Towards evening-in the little grove," Lutschkoff calmly added.

[ocr errors]

"But don't imagine anything on that account! Intentions-that's tiresome! The girl is pretty, well, that's no misfortune. Marry-no! But we'll have one more jolly time in our old age! Bring up children-brrr! But a little fun-aha! We'll stroll through the grove together and listen to the nightingales. That's our business now. Eh! what do you think, am I not a wonderful lady-killer?"

Lutschkoff talked on a long time in this tone, but Kister did not hear him. His brain reeled. He had grown very pale, and from time to time passed his hand across his face. Lutschkoff's eyes twinkled as he rocked to and fro in his chair, and, attributing Kister's emotion to jealousy-he could scarcely contain his delight. But it was not jealousy that tortured the young German; it was not the confession which shocked him, but the coarse indifference, that the contemptuous tone Lutschkoff employed in speaking of

Marja. He still stared fixedly at the bully-and it seemed as if he now saw him for the first time. So this was the man whom he had so warmly praised! The man to whom he had sacrificed his own feelings! This was the ennobling influence of love.

"Lutschkoff-don't you love her?" he murmured at last.

"Oh, innocence! A shepherd from Arcadia!" replied Lutschkoff with a spiteful smile.

Even now the noble-minded Kister would not trust his own senses. "Perhaps," he thought, "Lutschkoff is only boasting after the old fashion-he has not yet found new words for the new feelings. And so far as he himself was concerned-might not his indignation arise from a different feeling? Might not Lutschkoff's confession have affected him unpleasantly because it related to Marja? Who knows, perhaps Lutschkoff was in love with her after all? Yet no, no, a thousand times no! That man in love! That repulsive fellow with his sallow, malignant face, his jerky, catlike movements, his throat which appeared to be actually swelling with joy. Repulsive, hideous! No, not in such words would Kister have revealed the secret of his love to a faithful friend. In the excess of his happiness tears would have filled his eyes, and, silent with rapture, he would have thrown himself upon his breast.

"Come, my friend," Lutschkoff continued, "own that you wouldn't have expected it. And now we're angry and envious-eh? Why, yes, of course to see such a fine girl unexpectedly snapped up under one's nose."

Kister was about to speak, but turned his face towards the wall.

"Reveal my thoughts and feelings to this man? At no price!" he murmured. "He doesn't understand mewhat do I care! He supposes I have the same ideas he cherishes-let him!" Lutschkoff rose.

"I see you want to sleep," he said with feigned sympathy; "I won't disturb you any longer. I wish you a

good night's rest, my friend, a good night's rest."

And, perfectly satisfied with himself, he strode away.

Kister could not fall asleep until dawn. With feverish obstinacy he pondered incessantly over one thought -an employment familiar to unhappy lovers; it affects the mind as the bellows kindles smouldering coal.

"Even if he is indifferent to her," thought Kister; "even if she had thrown herself at him, he ought not to have spoken of her to me in a way so contemptuous, so insulting. What has she done? Ought not the poor inexperienced girl to be pitied rather than scorned!

"Yet could she actually have made an appointment with him? Of her own free will, without any sort of compulsion? Lutschkoff doesn't lie, no, he never tells a lie. Perhaps it is only a whim of hers

"But she doesn't know him at all. He is capable of insulting her. After all I've heard to-night, I'll no longer answer for anything. Yet haven't you yourself praised and extolled him, Kister? Didn't you yourself arouse her curiosity? But who could know that? Who could foresee it?

"I-I might have foreseen it! Had he not ceased to be my friend long ago? Ay, has he ever been my friend at all. What a disappointment! What a bitter lesson!"

The whole past rushed before his memory as if borne on the wings of a whirlwind.

"Yes, I liked him," he murmured at last. "But why has my affection for him been so quickly extinguished? Yet is it really extinguished? Why did I like him-I alone?"

His kind heart had attached itself to Lutschkoff precisely because all the others held aloof from him. But the young fellow did not suspect his own greatness of soul.

"It is my duty to warn Marja," he continued. "Yet how? What right have I to meddle with things, with a love affair that doesn't concern me? Merely because I know of what sort

« PreviousContinue »