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Isles, especially in Scotland and the North of England, where it is regarded as the herald of snow and frost. Here again it is remarked that last winter, which passed with scarce any frost or snow, brought us comparatively few of these feathered visitors. The winter before that, with its great frost, brought them in large numbers. This year they are arriving in greater numbers than ever, the marsh-lands of the Eastern and Fen Counties being full of their twittering. What can this forecast but a severe winter?

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To the believer in weather-lore there is no answer but one. But to the scientific observer these are but popular fallacies. It may not be generally known that there is in connection with the Royal Meteorological Society a department of phenological observation. Some hundred and twenty observers are continually engaged in noting down facts connected with the fauna and flora of the country as regards the seasons and the weather. In this way a complete record is being formed of the weather, its effects on vegetation, on flowers, crops, and trees, the arrival and departure of birds, the prevalence or absence of insects, and so on, throughout every department of nature. copious report is published every year. At first sight the last issue of this report would seem to lend some corroboration to the claims of the weather-lorists. Granted that hips and haws were plentiful at the beginning of the 189495 winter. The succeeding winter was particularly severe. Large numbers of our native birds perished of starvation through their usual supplies having been cut off for weeks together. Those most frequently mentioned as found among the victims of the frost are starlings, thrushes, blackbirds, rooks, and larks. During January and February gulls and sea-birds flocked inland, and became so tame that they went boldly to houses in towns to be fed. Rabbits

and hares suffered severely; and the deer in the Highlands were driven from their usual haunts. Birds seldom to be seen at other times visited our shoresamong them the little auk, thousands of which arrived on the north-east coast. Then, as though lending still more confirmation, it is recorded that at the beginning of the mild winter of 1895-96 the hips on the wild roses were abundant, but there were scarcely any berries at all on the hawthorn or holly.

The scientific observer admits the facts, but declares the popular deduction erroneous. At the head of the phenological department is Mr. Edward Mawley, F.R.H.S., who has made a life study of these matters, and who is responsible for the annual report from which we have quoted. He has favored us with the views he has formed and he declares the idea of winter birds and hawthorn berries being indications of severe winter to be "popular fallacies." First, with regard to the birds, he says that they come to our shores from the north during the winter months in unusual numbers only when their supply of food is cut off by heavy snow or intense cold. So that their arrival here is simply an indication of severe weather in those regions from which they have been driven, and by no means

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certain sign that similar severe weather will extend to the British Isles. Secondly, with regard to the hawthorn berries he points out that berries are numerous one year and not another for the same reason that the crop of apples, or any other tree or bush fruit, is abundant or scanty. Given a favorable autumn for maturing the shoots of a hawthorn bush, followed by any but an exceptionally sharp winter, and a genial flowering period in the spring, hawthorn berries are certain to be singularly plentiful later in the year. It has been, he says, these conditions which have produced the remarkable crop of haws this year.

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I. LIFE'S SECRET. By Henryk Sienkiewicz, Cornhill Magazine,
II. LIFE AND LETTERS OF ARCHBISHOP

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ANDORRA. By Harold

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V. THE ROMANTIC SIDE OF MONTAIGNE,
VI. PAGES FROM THE DIARY OF PARSON
PARLETT. By R. PARDEPP,

VII. WHERE THE QUEEN WORSHIPS.
Arthur H. Beavan,.

VIII. ANIMAL LIFE IN ARCTIC REGIONS. By
F. W. Headley,

IX. THE INDIAN FAMINE,

Longman's Magazine,

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From The Cornhill Magazine. LIFE'S SECRET.1

Caius Septimus Cinna was a Roman patrician. He had passed his youth in the midst of the legions, sharing their difficult life. Later, he had returned to Rome to enjoy his fame, and taste all the pleasures he could procure with his still large, though already diminished fortune.

Although not belonging to the school of sceptics, his life was one long act of scepticism. He did not understand the true Epicurean doctrine, but for that very reason he liked to proclaim himself an Epicurean. As a whole, he considered philosophy only a sort of intellectual exercise. Whenever discussions annoyed him he went to the

circus to see blood flow.

He denied all faith in gods, virtue, truth, and happiness, but he believed in omens; he had his superstitions, and the mysterious religions of the East roused his curiosity.

During the first years of his worldly life it amused him to astonish Rome by his excesses, and sometimes he succeeded; later on he tired of this kind of

success.

Finally he became ruined. His creditors divided the remains of his fortune and nothing was left to him but an overwhelming apathy, satiety of every thing, and a curious feeling of perpetual unrest. Nothing had remained unknown to him. He had exhausted the resources of wealth, of love (such as the world then understood it), earthly joys, military glory, the fascination of danger; he had studied all within the power of man-science, poetry, and art. He could therefore only conclude that he had drawn from life all its secrets, and yet he had the feeling that there existed in reality something else, and that thing, the most important of all, had escaped him.

What was it, that which he did not know, and tried so desperately, but in vain, to discover? This besetting thought pursued him. He drove it

away; it returned without fail, and his

1 An abridged version by Ella M. Tuck, by permission of the author.

inward trouble increased daily. He envied sceptics their unbelief, and, nevertheless, he considered them fools that they did not dare to seek after truth. In him were two men-one who laughed at his hopes of a future; the other who imperiously demanded to be satisfied.

Soon after the loss of his fortune he was enabled, thanks to family influence, to obtain employment in Alexandria. It was hoped, in the centre of wealth, he would be able to arrange his affairs. His distressing thoughts embarked with him at Brindisi and followed him during all the voyage. He told himself once in Alexandria, amongst other surroundings, distracted by his business, by a thousand new impressions, he would be cured of his fixed idea, but in this he was mis

taken.

At first he tried to distract himself by adopting the kind of life he had led in Rome. Alexandria was a town of pleasure. At every step one met beautiful Grecian women with pale golden hair, and transparent skin that the Egyptian sun had darkened to an amber shade. Cinna took refuge in their society to find consolation.

But this remedy also failed, and then he contemplated suicide. Several of his companions had rid themselves of the trouble of living by this means, and for less serious motives than he could

plead, simply through disgust of life, weariness of its pleasures. And how? He had only to throw himself on his sword, and if the hand that held it did not tremble, in a moment he would he no more. The thought of escaping so easily from all his troubles seized his imagination, but at the critical moment a strange dream stopped him.

He dreamed he had crossed the banks of the Styx, and that on the opposite shore he saw his own evil spirit in the shape of a slave in rags, who leaning towards him cried, "I have only preceded thee that I may seize thee again."

For the first time Cinna knew fear. He understood, by the terror that overwhelmed him, that all is not ended by

death, and he shrank back horrified before the solemn mystery of the tomb. At last he decided to meet the sages who were assembled in the Serapeum. They, perhaps, might solve the mystery for him.

The chief among the sages of Alexandria was Timon of Athens, a great man and a Roman citizen. He had resided for many years in Alexandria with the object of searching into the mysteries of Egyptian science. It was said of him that there was not a document nor a papyrus in the library that he had not examined, and that he was possessed of all human knowledge. He was besides this of a kind and amiable disposition. Cinna soon discovered him among the crowd of dried-up pedants and commentators and made his acquaintance, which sympathy soon ripened into friendship. What the young Roman admired in the old man was the force of his words, the eloquence with which he discussed the highest subjects-those which treated of the destiny of man and of the world; but what struck him the most was the inexpressible sadness which pervaded all his teachings. The more they got to know each other, the greater became Cinna's wish to ask his new friend the cause of his sadness. thirsted also to open his own heart to him. At last he decided to speak.

He

One evening, at the end of an animated discussion upon the transmigration of souls, they were left alone upon the terrace looking over the sea. Cinna, putting his hand in Timon's, revealed to him all the trouble that overwhelmed him, and the still unrealized hope that had induced him to join the philosophers of the Serapeum.

"I have had, nevertheless, the priceless gain of knowing thee, Timon, and I am convinced now that if thou art unable to give me comfort in my trouble it is forever incurable."

"Is it not true that for some time past thou hast not believed in the gods?" asked Timon.

"At Rome," Cinna said, "they are honored publicly, and they have even imported new ones from Asia and

Egypt; but the only people who believe in their hearts, are the vegetable sellers who come at daybreak from the country to the town."

"And do those, Cinna, possess peace?" "Doubtless, but a peace resembling that of an animal, whose only desire is to sleep after eating."

"Truly, noble Cinna, and is life worth living for that?"

"I should say no if I knew what death would bring us.”

"Well, then, what is the difference between thy doctrine and that of the sceptics?”

"The sceptics are satisfied in their unbelief-anyhow pretend to be satisfied. For me it is a martyrdom." "And thou seest no hope?"

Cinna was silent a moment, then he said hesitatingly:

"I wait for it."

"And from whence will it come?" "I know not."

He hid his face in his hands and, as if soothed by the silence of the twi light, he began again to speak in a dreamy voice.

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"It is a strange impression, but I have often said to myself that, if the world did not contain more than knew of, if we were not intended to be something greater than what we are, there would not be in us this restless longing. It is, in fact, the evil that gives me hope of cure, of something better. The faith in Olympus is dead, philosophy is shaken to the very root, but help will come to us through some new teaching that at present we are ignorant of."

This conversation was a strange comfort to Cinna. The knowledge that he was not fighting alone, but that all humanity was struggling with him, made him feel that a friendly hand had delivered him from the crushing burden by throwing its weight on thousands of other shoulders.

From that moment the friendship between Cinna and the old Greek became still greater. They often met, sharing all their thoughts, and Cinna found a thousand charms in this intimacy. He

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