off half his fortune, had no ear for the protest of Mrs. Burtonshaw. The philosopher spurred his new Rosinante with the greatest ardor, and Mrs. Cumberland, so far from objecting, was struck with the romantic beauty of the idea. "So like those delightful feudal times," said Mrs. Cumberland, "when of course the grateful dependants had a right to the shelter of their superior's threshold. That beautiful connection between the different classes which we all ought to promote; it is never so well advanced as by kind contrivances like these." "Do you think it is a kind contrivance to fill the house with workmen," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, "to have the furniture spoiled with dust, and our things not fit to put on, and quite impossible to ask any one here? You never think of the good of the family, or the pleasure of these dear children, Maria Anna. People cannot come in through the window. Perhaps even the windows will not be left to us, my dears. I think we had better go away." "The window left, sister Burtonshaw ? I promise you the window shall not be left." said the philosopher. "The rest of the house is simply ugly, but this is detestable. No, we must have truth of form-that is the fundamental principle and beauty of ornamentation follows; just as, in the moral world, pleasure comes when necessity is served. Architecture is not merely the art of building, sister Elizabeth. Architecture is a severely moral science: her mission is not so much to build churches and houses, as to form and reform the principles of her time. A square is a heathen ideal-pure paganism, Sylvo. Christian art rejects squares. You shall see, you shall see." "Do you?" said the artist. It was evidently quite satisfactory, since what Sylvo made out could not be very abstruse. All this while Steele was scribbling at that pretty porch of Mr. Cumberland's. It was a grievous trial to the temper of the philosopher. "T'll tell you a thing that happened to me," said Mr. Steele, without looking up from his work of mischief. "I saw a picture in a window the other day-a little sketch of my own - so I went in. Who's that by?" says I. Can't tell sir,' said the dealer; said to be a Steele; but I don't pretend it's a Steele; you shall have it for six pounds.' Well, I knew my name was on it, so I turned to the back-There's George Steele on it,' says I. Yes, to be sure, anybody could put that on,' says the dealer, so I gave him six pounds, and brought off the picture. Next day I sold it for a hundred. Now, do you know," said the artist, looking up with a face which had suddenly subsided, out of the satisfaction with which he had repeated this dialogue, into doubt and irresolution, "I can't rest since. I think I ought to go and give him half. What do you say?" "Such beautiful disinterestedness!" said Mrs. Cumberland, holding up her hands. "Eh?" said Mr. Steelo. He was a great deal too much in earnest about what he said to notice that this was commendation. "I know where it "You may say so, if you like, Mr. Cumberland came from; it had gone for next to nothing at a sale. - but a great many artists live in squares," said The dealer had his profit of course; catch one of Mrs. Burtonshaw. "Do you say your friend Mr. them selling a picture without a profit. Now, Steele is not a Christian?" for his house is in Fitz-what do you think I should do?" roy Square, I know. There he is, I believe. I was sure it was him when I heard the door open; and of course John will be doing all he can to keep from laughing when he brings Mr. Steele here." "Of course," as Mrs. Burtonshaw said, John was in a state of extreme anguish from suppressed laughter when he ushered Mr. Steele into the drawing-room. The maids in the house pronounced Mr. Steele " a very funny gentleman;" but John anathematized him when he retired to explode in private. John did not like making his appearance with all his laughter, painfully restrained, bursting in his face. "I wish I could do it half as well," said Mr. Steele, lifting his eyebrows as Mr. Cumberland placed his sketch of a porch before him. "What is it for? Break out a light here," and the artist mercilessly scribbled on the porch which the philosopher had been at so much pains with and you'll make it a famous painting-room. I've got a picture to paint now for the Duke of Scattergood; it's full of leafage and fruitage, and running to seed. What would you advise me to call it, eh? — the hardest thing in a picture is the name.” "Call it After the Harvest," said Mary. "After the Harvest. Let's see, now that "You are spoiling my drawing, Steele," said Mr. Cumberland at last, worn out of patience; "how do you think any man is to work from it after all your flourishes? Let me have it here." "I am working from it myself," said the artist, throwing out a succession of fanciful branches from Mr. Cumberland's Gothic porch. "See now, because I'm ornamenting his shabby bit of outline, how he keeps in his counsel. I had rather work from it than for it, I can tell you Don't let him begin to build; he'll never be done : he'll cumber the land with his porches and his pinnacles, if he once begins." "That is just what I say," said Mrs. Burtonshaw. You are a painter; you are always doing ornaments. Do ornaments make you happy, Mr Steele ?" Mr. Steele looked with some doubtfulness at Mrs. Burtonshaw. She who had once brought the reproaches of his own conscience upon him was somewhat of an awful personage to this acute yet simple spirit. "Now, what do you say I ought to do?" said the artist. He was convinced this must be a very conscientious person-a mind still more upright than his own. "Do?-why, give me back my drawing, to be sure," said Mr. Cumberland. "Eh! why, Steele, what's this you've been about?" It was still "Poor dear!" said Mrs. Burtonshaw, lovingMr. Cumberland's porch, but it was a porch lux-ly, smoothing Zaidee's beautiful hair, and thinkuriantly mantled over with the fantastic wreath- ing of the refractory Sylvo, who could not now work of a vine. The bit of paper was henceforth be induced to devote himself to Zaidee. Sylvo not an idea of Mr. Cumberland's, but a thing had his repulse fresh in his mind yet, but did called, in the dialect of picture-dealers, "a Steele." Mary seized upon it eagerly for the album, in which already Percy Vivian figured, and Mr. Steele threw down his pencil. not condescend to inform his mother why he regarded her recommendation so little; so Mrs. Burtonshaw expended a great deal of sympathy upon Zaidee's unfortunate attachment, and constantly called her "poor dear!". "Come in and see my picture, will you?" said the artist; "I'll introduce you to Shenkin Pow- Mr. Shenkin Powis was a man of some note is, who makes all that row about architecture. [in the world. Mrs. Cumberland had a luncheon That's his book, is it ?—it's all along of him you prepared for him, and waited to receive him with are going to build. Does ornament make me a very pretty compliment; while old Jane Wilhappy, Mrs. Burtonshaw ?-now, when do you see an ornament on me? Ask him with his moustache there. Are you 'appy, young gentleman? He has a better right, his young squireship, than a poor old fellow like me." CHAPTER XVI.-IMPROVEMENT. liams lingered on the staircase, anxious to waylay the visitor, and inspeet him, to discover what relationship he bore to the house of Powisland. The disappointment of both these watchers was great, when Mr. Shenkin Powis shook hands with Mr. Cumberland on the lawn, and left this hospitable mansion undemolished and unvisited. "I have sent Parkins to drive him to Richmond," said Mr. Cumberland, as he came in; "he could not wait-he had an appointment. I am a little disappointed in him, sister Burtonshaw-clever undoubtedly, but a crotchety man-a crotchety man. The fact is, my genius will not go in leading-strings. Think of the man trying to con vince me that, unless I pulled it down and rebuilt it from the foundations, it would be better to leave the house as it is. He does not approve of rounding an angle by thickening the masonry; it is not sincere. I grant the necessity of truth in form-that it is the beauty of it; but think of a sincere wall, sister Burtonshaw! No: I find I must originate and execute by myself; the result will show." But though Mr. Cumberland's design had passed out of his hands, and become "a Steele," his intention was unchanged. Our philosopher drove into London, was introduced to Mr. Shenkin Powis, and drove out again, bringing with him that luminary of architectural morality, while Mary's pretty face, full of sunny mirth, looked out from the bow-window, and Zaidee, reserved and silent, her ears tingling once again to the stranger's familiar name, sat behind. Mr. Cumberland stood on the lawn with his visitor, dooming to destruction this hapless square house, with its four corners, and projecting a Gothic castle in its stead. Mrs. Cumberland, reclining on her sofa, comforted herself that it was a "beautiful idea;" but the whole feminine population of the house, except herself, watched the "Then you will go on, Mr. Cumberland," said two gentlemen on the lawn as they might have Mrs. Burtonshaw, "though even Mr. Shenkin watched an invading army, with earnest hostili- Powis knows better! Well, I am sure I have ty and eager vigilance. I wonder how they told you what I think, and if you will not hear can look at all these pretty innocent trees," said common sense I cannot help it. But we must Mrs. Burtonshaw," and that grass that is like go away, you know; we cannot stay when you velvet, and everything so settled and comfort-have workmen all over the house. The children. able; I wonder they have the heart to look at want a change, too; they want change of air, them. Maria Anna! and to think that, in a day poor dears. We will go to Sylvo's place, Mr. or two, there will be nothing but dust, and ham- Cumberland; and when you have cut up all the mers, and masons, and all sorts of people. What poor pretty lawn, and destroyed everything, you does Mr. Cumberland mean by a square being a will send for us to come home." heathen institution? We are not living in a square; and I am sure there is Belgravia, and Grosvenor Square, and all the rest of them, which are just the very best places one can live in; but Mr. Cumberland, of course, will never be like other people. Mary, my love, we will have to go away." But Mr. Cumberland was quite beyond the reach of Aunt Burtonshaw's innocent sarcasm, He was measuring, and planning, and making very rude sketches with a great pencil which one of the workmen, brought here on an errand of investigation had left this morning. Mr. Cum berland made his design for the Gothic porch "I would rather not go away, Aunt, Burton- over again, putting particular emphasis on its shaw," said Mary. "Papa's new freak became roof and its benches. "We would want to resomewhat more serious if it involved this neces-fuge for the destitute, no great indiscriminate gity. "But, my love, we cannot help ourselves," said Aunt Burtonshaw. "I think we will go to Sylvo's place, Elizabeth; you would like to see Sylvo's place, my dear child; now I am sure you would, though you do not like to say it." "But I do like to say it," said Zaidee, with a smile of wonder; "I should like very well to see Sylvo's place, Aunt Burtonshaw, if we must leave home." shelter for the houseless poor, if this plan were universally adopted," said Mr. Cumberland; "the greatest possible incentive to private charitybest plan that could be adopted for giving each family a little community of friendly dependents. Depend upon it, sister Burtonshaw, you will hear of this before the year is out." But Mrs. Burtonshaw had gone to seek Sylvo, to prepare him for the honor about to be done to This place. Sylvo received the proposal some what gruffly, but not without satisfaction. He, himself for the most joyous hospitality; he felt was pleased to have "a regular beauty," to make that he would rather astonish Mansfield, when his place famous among his neighbors; and per- that excellent savage came to visit him, on his haps Sylvo had an idea that he had been suffi- arrival. Two beautiful cousins do not fall to the ciently rude and resentful, and that now it might lot of every man; the curve of Sylvo's mousbe time to melt a little towards Zaidee, and give tache relaxed, and those admirable teeth of his her another chance. "People say you should slightly revealed themselves; he tried a pun after never take a woman at her first word," muttered the fashion of Mr. Steele, and made such a deSylvo, as he lounged with his cigar among the plorable failure that the attempt was followed by trees, and recalled with complacency his moth- infinite plaudits; and on the whole he could not er's flattering explanation of Zaidee's silence and help a comfortable conviction of his own attracthoughtfulness." Why can't she be honest, and tions, mental and physical. Sylvo was returnsay as much?" said Sylvo; "but I suppose it's ing to his place improved by the society of gewoman's way." He was very well satisfied with nius and feminine refinement, in the best temper this conclusion. The young gentleman was not and best hopes imaginable. It was quite a brilof an inquiring mind in general-and he gra- liant day for Sylvo, the day which made him sole ciously resolved upon giving Zaidee another cavalier of this little travelling party; he grew chance. quite elated with his important position as he drew nearer home. Sylvo's place! where the only society is the gentleman savage whom Aunt Burtonshaw is so And Sylvo was not disappointed in his expecmuch afraid of," said Mary; and Mary shrugged tations. Mr. Mansfield was astonished when he her shoulders, and pouted her red lip. "Yes, I stalked in, in his morning costume, redolent of shall be very glad to see Sylvo's place, my dear cigars, and was ushered into a drawing-room Elizabeth," said Mrs. Cumberland; we will full of ladies. Mr. Mansfield's astonishment was carry female influence, and, I trust refinement, so extreme indeed that he well-nigh made a there: it will do Sylvo good, I am sure." Only quarrel with Sylvo, who "might have let a man Zaidee said nothing either of satisfaction or ap- know before he went right in among them," Mr. proval. "She thinks the more, poor dear," said Mansfield thought. The beautiful cousins made Aunt Burtonshaw. a great sensation in the neighborhood of Sylvo's And it was a very fortunate change for Zaidee place, where they shook off his attendance rather this removal; it carried her away from the daily unceremoniously, and wandered by themselves excitement-the secret anxiety, which constant-through the flowery lanes and fields. It was a ly had fresh fuel added to raise it higher. Mary great refreshment to each of these young hearts; might pout, but she could not help herself; and they expanded once more to each other, and from perhaps it was no harm to Mary either, this go- this little pause and moment of observation ing away. The preparations were made very looked back upon the time which had just hastily, for Mr. Cumberland was taking vigorous passed. It was a time of infinite interest and measures. The door was impassable before the importance to both of them: to Mary the crisis little party were ready; they had to make their of her life; to Zaidee a great and strange trial, escape by the window, after all, according to Mrs. by means of which the crisis of her life also was Burtonshaw's prophecy; and even the window to come. While Mr. Cumberland's porch rose would not have been left to them had they stay- with its odd Gothic pinnacles on the square gaed another day. From the noise and dust and ble, which it was his intention to mould into disturbance of Mr. Cumberland's improvements, conformity with the lines of nature. Mr. Cumthey went gratefully through the bright country, berland's household found a very pleasant change on their short summer's day's journey to Sylvo's in Sylvo's place; and Sylvo had quite made up place. Sylvo was quite in great spirits, laughing his mind, by this time, when and how he was to great "ha, ha's" from under his moustache, no offer to Zaidee "another chance." one could tell for what reason, and preparing REMARKABLE DISCOVERY.-James Crabtree, disinterred was saturated with water; and probapit-sinker to Messrs. Ackroyd, of Burkinshaw bly from this circumstance, combined with close Bottom, in sinking a pit at Morley, near Leeds, confinement, it had been enabled to sustain its last Monday, found a live frog in the centre of a half-torpid life through countless ages.-Leeds large coal, 78 yards below the surface, consider- Mercury. ably below the Morley tunnel, to which it is close adjoining. The frog is still very lively. FULL FIG.? May not this term, applied to dress, When found it was very dark in color, but was owe its derivation to the costume of fig-leaves on Wednesday becoming like the common every- adopted by our first parents? The slang characday species. The eyes are very bright, and sur-ter of the phrase inclines me to hazard this conrounded with a gold ring. It has four claws on its fore feet, and five (webfooted) on the hind While I am on the subject of dress, I should feet. Its mouth is closed, or firmly shut, but it like to have an explanation of the term "dressed has two vents, apparently nostrils, on the top of to the nines," common in some parts of the its nose. The seam of coal from which it was country. Notes and Queries. jecture. From the Times. MISS NIGHTINGALE. wards, the most terrible of human abodesthose who know that all thought of amusement or even of relaxation was banished from We have been requested to publish the her mind; that all conversation, save on the following correspondence : "London, July, 1855. "Madam,-Knowing your admiration for Miss Nightingale, will you be kind enough to tell me what kind of testimonial would be most accept able to her, as we are most anxious to present her with some lasting proof of our affectionate admiration, and gratitude for her devoted services to our sick and wounded soldiers? "I remain, Madam, yours faithfully, "The Hon. Mrs. Herbert." "H. one subject of her mission, was deemed by her vain and useless, are convinced not only of the sincerity and devotion of her character, but also of her rare gifts of intellect and moral strength, which place her among the few who have conferred a lustre on her sex. But even enthusiasm and devotion would have done little at Scutari without a practical ability and an innate power of influencing those around her. Miss Nightingale landed in the Bosphorus, and was, of course, distrusted. The temper of inspectors and deputy-inspectors may be "49, Belgrave-square, July, 1855. judged of from their contemporary reports "Madam,-There is but one testimonial which and conduct. We are happy to remember would be acceptable to Miss Nightingale. that her earliest labors were rendered success"The one wish of her heart has long been to ful through the material assistance of the Sick found a hospital in London, and to work it on and Wounded Fund, while we acknowledge her own system of unpaid nursing. For this purpose money will be needed. and I have sug- the benefits of her advice and help in rendergested to all who, like yourself, have asked for ing it more widely useful. For some time my advice in this matter to pay any sums that she labored almost unaided, but soon her sucthey may feel disposed to give, or that they cess had disarmed opposition at the scene of may be able to collect, into Messrs. Coutts's her labors, while it had made her celebrated bank, where a subscription list for the purpose is at home. We need not say that she then reabout to be opened, to be called the Nightin-ceived the countenance of the magnates of gale Hospital Fund,' the sum subscribed to be presented to her on her return home, which will enable her to carry out her object-i. e., the reform of the nursing system in England. "I remain, Madam, yours faithfully, the Anglo-Perote world, who made the disSince those gloomy days Miss Nightingale has covery that she was an excellent person. labored with equal courage and success in the hospitals of the Crimea, and has had the gratification of watching the returning health of our army, and those great improvements_in medical and sanitary administration which Dr. Sutherland has described. It was not till her work was done that illness prostrated a frame always somewhat feeble, and compelled her to cease from exertions now happly little needed. In November last, when the first news of the horrors which attended the reception of the wounded from the Crimea thrilled through the hearts of the nation, a lady landed at Scutari on a mission of mercy and devotion, from which through many long months of trial she has never shrunk. There are reputations We know not whether it be Miss Nightinwhich have suddenly sprung up, no one knows gale's intention to return immediately to Enghow; there are individuals who, as it were, land. She may, perhaps, believe that for one through some popular mania have suddenly earnest spirit there is always work where the become celebrated, while those conversant with causes of calamity are so various; perhaps a their career and character have had to rest recurrence of new disasters may be present content with listening silently to the gregarious to a mind too sensitive in its apprehensions. enthusiasm of the world and the ludicrous eu- But, as her arrival in her native country and logies poured forth on the favorite of the her return to labors of more ordinary benevohour. Such characters are to be met with lence must take place at no distant period, always, and during the present war they have some persons who honor her character, and abounded exceedingly. We believe that not wish to commemorate her exertions, are anxonly the cynical by disposition, but even men ious to present her with a testimonial of a of the world in general, were at first slow to kind on which her heart is set. A letter give their tribute of praise to Miss Nightin- from Mrs. Sidney Herbert, which we publish gale's labors, for fear that false enthusiasm or to-day tells us that Miss Nightingale has been a love of the world's applause should prove to long anxious to found a hospital in London, be the weak basis of what seemed a noble and to work it on her own system of uncharacter. But all such doubts have now paid nursing. As the recompense for past passed away. Those most intimate with this labors which this lady most values is the gifted lady-those who have watched her in opportunity for future exertion, it has been her quiet and unobtrusive toil by day, and determined, if possible, to supply the funds her nightly wandering through those long for such a hospital by private contributions; DXCIV. LIVING AGE. VOL. XI. 8 and for this purpose a subscription is to be opportunity offers, urge them to similar works opened at Messrs. Coutts's, the sums collect- and a similar life. Till of late there has been ed to be presented to Miss Nightingale on little scope in England for any philanthropy her return, to enable her to carry out a plan of a higher kind than the giving away of which cannot now be said to be untried. At money. Individuals made isolated efforts to Scutari the ladies who accompanied Miss relieve the suffering, to raise the fallen, to Nightingale labored with a constancy almost help those struggling to rise; but they labored as untiring as her own; and, though much or in obscurity and with indifferent success, and most of this devotion may be due to her influ- were far less honored by the charitable world ence and example, yet the fact is proved that than the chairmen of the great societies who such gratuitous services are to be obtained, vicariously benefited their kind through the not for a few days or weeks, but for the steady medium of an office, a committee, a secretary, labor of many months, in a distant land, amid and a yearly meeting in May. Now there the terrors of strange diseases and hateful are signs of a deeper benevolence, a more forms of death. We believe that, encouraged earnest devotion, a more seated conviction of by the success of Scutari, many ladies would the necessity of personal labor, and, above all, be willing to devote themselves to the labors a freedom from the miserable fear of the of such an institution as it is proposed to world's criticism or ridicule. That there will found. In neighboring countries the Sisters be plenty of unpaid nurses ready to join Miss of Charity are useful and honored visitors in Nightingale's work of mercy we feel fully every hospital. It is not, indeed, desirable to sure; that the example they will have before have any servile mimicry of the usages of other them will be a high and noble one the world lands and creeds. There is nothing so barren will not doubt. The services of the lady who as imitation, for all true excellence must have is still toiling in the East have been so great, an originality. We may therefore rejoice that and her success so conspicuous, that the pubthe system of Miss Nightingale is a new one, lic might well intrust her with the means of and requires in its votaries no unnecessary promises, and only such an amount and duration of service as they may feel disposed to yield. Yet the same spirit which prompts the Sisters of Charity in other lands must live in the hearts of Englishwomen, and will, when carrying out her views, even without a close examination of their feasibility; but from such an examination we think that she and those who advocate the institution we have recommended need not shrink. From The Athenæum. IS IT COME? Is it come? they said on the banks of Nile, With the desert's sands and the granite gray. We vainly ask for her wisdom's plan; They tell of the slave and tyrant's dread,Yet there was hope when that day began. The Chaldee came with his starry lore, That built up Babylon's crown and creed; The rule of the old East's empire spread, With human gods and with godlike men, To eyes that looked through her laurels then. The Roman conquered and revelled, too, As wave after wave the Goth came on. The gown was learning, the sword was law, Poet and Seer that question caught Above the din of life's fears and frets; And statesmen trifle, and priests deceive, |