be appended in a note to the letters which ashamed of their partnership in life.
refer to it.
Elia and Bridget Elia made up but one
As regards arrangement of material, the whole between them, and a more fitting
greatest possible divergence exists be-recognition of this most touching inter-
tween Talfourd's and Moxon's editions. dependence of brother and sister cannot
Talfourd's is divided into two narratives, be found than the combined publication
each intended to be self-contained, the of the literary remains of both. Such an
former excluding all allusions to the in- edition would contain all Mary Lamb's
sanity of the Lambs, the latter over- tales and poems, the Lamb-Stoddart cor-
weighted in the early chapters with the respondence to which Mr. Hazlitt has in-
mention of it. In each case Talfourd's troduced us, and such others of Mary
text and Lamb's letters are interwoven so Lamb's letters as may be recoverable.
as to form continuous histories. Even We are not aware of any systematic at-
could these two narratives be combined, tempt to collect these letters; but it
or the letters pieced together with a fresh would well repay an editor's trouble, and
text, such an arrangement would not suit he will deserve well not only of the liter-
present requirements, and the editors of ary world who in this way produces a
Moxon's edition have printed the bare complete and altogether worthy edition
correspondence under the headings of of "The Works of Charles and Mary
"Letters to Coleridge," "Letters to Lamb."
Southey," &c., all that were not addressed Such a title might have barbed one of
to Lamb's principal friends being included Gifford's brutalities; but brother and
in a chapter of miscellaneous correspond-sister are beyond being hurt by the crit-
ence. This method and Talfourd's have ics, even could one be found to call
their several advantages, but Talfourd's
has the fewest. As to anything in the
shape of disquisition or biography a
strong word may be said for their entire
exclusion from an edition of the works.
The main facts of Lamb's life are widely
known and are becoming more so through
the best and most natural channels
those already indicated. We do not want
any old or new arrangement of them, or
any old or new preface on Lamb's genius.
Moxon's adoption of Mr. Purnell's essay
as preface, and Mr. Procter's memoir as
appendix, is a case of literary hotchpotch
that admits of no defence. Mr. Procter's
memoir and Talfourd's letterpress re-
edited might be printed as uniform and
companion volumes, and such good es-
says as are extant or worth reprinting
would actually or practically form num-
bers of a Lamb series.

Anecdotes or reminiscences scattered over a variety of sources might be worked into a supplementary narrative, or strung together by way of appendix. Mr. Cowden Clarke's two recent articles in the Gentleman's Magazine should certainly be included in such a collection, Mary Lamb's memory having suffered great and unmerited neglect. Mary Lamb was as true a partner of her brother's life as was Dorothy Wordsworth of the late poet's, and in the former case there was a fuller correspondence of intellect and literary ability.

But there is more than a literary reason for combining the works of the Lambs under one title. They were never

Charles a "poor maniac," and Mary per-
haps by a harsher name. At all events
such a posthumous tribute to the common
pursuits and common sympathies of this
pair, knit together by love, rarer and
perhaps more wonderful than that of hus-
band and wife, would have met Charles's
wish. For forty years he lived for her,
and in view of the final separation he
used to say, Mary, you must die first."
They lie in one grave. Death has not
parted their memories; it need not divide
their literary fame.

""

From Blackwood's Magazine.
ALICE LORRAINE.

A TALE OF THE SOUTH DOWNS.

CHAPTER XLIX.

PERADVENTURE the eyes and the heart, as well as the boundless charity of true love, were needed to descry what Mabel at a glance discovered, the "grand nobility" of Hilary's conduct, and the "pathetic beauty of his self-reproach. Perhaps at first sight the justice of the latter would be a more apparent thing; but love (when it deserves the name) is a generous as well as a jealous power; especially in the tender gush of renewal and reassurance. And Lorraine meant every word as he wrote it, and indeed for a good while afterwards; so that heart took pen to heart, which is sometimes better than the wings of speech. Giving

thin

gre

tenacious mind) as one who might be trusted for a dashing job, and deserved to have the chance of it.

Now, while this return to the frontier, and ebb of success created disgust in England and depression among our soldiers, they also bore most disastrously on the fortunes of a certain gallant and very zealous staff-officer. For they brought him again into those soft meshes, whence he had well-nigh made good his escape without any serious damage; but now there was no such deliverance for him. And this was a very hard case, and he really did deserve some pity now; for he did not return of his own accord, and fall at the feet of his charmer; but in the strictest course of duty became an unwilling victim. And it happened altogether in this wise.

comfort thus, he also received the same
from his own conscience and pure reso-
lutions; and he felt that his good angel
was, for the present at least, come back And so they went into winter quarters
to him. How long she would stop was on the Douro and Aguada, after a great
another question.
deal of fighting, far in the rear of their
And he needed her now in matters storms and sieges and their many victo-
even more stirring than the hottest love-ries; because the British government
affairs. For though he had no chance of paid whole millions right and left to
coming to the front in any of the desper-rogues, and left its own army to live with-
ate assaults on the castle of Burgos, being out money, and to be hanged if it stole an
far away then with despatches, he was onion. And the only satisfaction our
back with his chief when the retreat be- men had-and even in that they were
gan; a retreat which must have become generous was to hear of the French-
a rout under any but the finest manage- men in Russia freezing as fast as could
ment. For the British army was at its well be expected.
worst towards the month of November
1812. Partly from intercourse with par-
tidas, partly perhaps from the joys of
Madrid, but mainly no doubt from want
of cash, the Britons were not as they
had been. Even the officers dared to be
most thoroughly disobedient, and to fol-
low the route which they thought best,
instead of that laid down for them. But
Wellington put up with insolent igno-
rance, as a weaker man could not have
deigned to do: he had to endure it from
those above him; and he knew how to
bear with it all around him; and yet to
be the master. His manifold dealings
with everybody and everything at this
time (with nobody caring to understand
him, and his own people set against him;
with the whole world making little of
him because he hated flash-work; and
perhaps his own mind in some doubt of
its powers, because they were not recog-
nized) - these, and the wearisome up-hill
struggle to be honest without any money,
were beginning to streak with grey the
hair that had all the hard brain under it.
Here again was a chance for Hilary;
and without thinking he worked it well.
In his quick, and perhaps too sudden,
way of taking impression of every one, he
had stamped on his mind the abiding
image of his great commander. The
general knew this (as all men feel the
impression they are making, as sharply
almost as a butter-stamp), and of course
he felt good will towards the youth who
so looked up at him. It was quite a new
thing for this great captain, after all his
years of conquest, to be accounted of any
value; because he was not a French-

man.

In the month of May 1813, when the British commander had all things ready for that glorious campaign which drove the French over the Pyrenees, and when the British army, freshened, strengthened, and sternly redisciplined, was eager to bound forward a sudden and sad check arose. By no means, however, a new form of hindrance, but one only too familiar, at all times and in all countries

the sinews of war were not forthcoming. The military chest was empty. The pay of the British troops was far in arrear, and so was their bounty-money; but that they were pretty well used to by this time, and grumble as they might they were ready to march. Not so, however, the Portuguese, who were now an important element; and even the Spanish regulars in Andalusia would do nothing until they had handled dollars.

This need of money had been well foreseen by the ubiquitous mind of Wellington; but what he had not allowed for, Being, however, of rigid justice, al- and what no one else would have taken though he was no Frenchman, Lord Wel-into thought, so soon after Nelson's time, lington did not lift Captain Lorraine over was the sluggishness of the British navy. the heads of his compeers. He only Whether it were the fault of our governmarked him (in his own clear and most ment, or of our admiral on the station,

sion; rena.

certain it is that the mouth of the Tagus | trust unusual for so young an officer. (which was the mouth of the whole Brit- Good-bye, and keep a sharp look-out." ish army) was stopped for days and even Lord Wellington gave his hand, with a weeks together by a few American pri- bow of the fine old type, to Hilary. And vateers. And ships containing supplies he from his proper salute recovered, and for our army (whether of food, or cloth- took it as one gentleman takes the couring, or the even more needful British tesy of another. But as he felt that firm, gold), if they escaped at all, could do it and cool, and muscular hand for a moonly by running for the dangerous bar of ment, he knew that he was treated with the Douro, or for Cadiz. extraordinary confidence; and that his In this state of matters, the "general-future as an officer, and perhaps as a issimo" sent for Captain Lorraine one gentleman, hung on the manner in which day, and despatched him on special duty. he should acquit himself of so rare a "You know Count Zamora,” said Lord trust. In the courtyard he found ColoWellington, in his clear voice of preci- nel Langham, who gave him some "and his castle in the Sierra Mo-written instructions, and his passes and credentials, as well as a good deal of Hilary bowed, without a word, know-sound advice, which the general had no ing well what his chief was pleased with. time to give. And in another hour HilYou also know the country well, and ary Lorraine was riding away in the highthe passes of the Morena. Colonel est spirits, thinking of Mabel, and of all Langham has orders to furnish you with his luck; and little dreaming that he was the five best horses at hand, and the two galloping into the ditch of his fortunes. most trusty men he knows of. You Behind him rode two well-tried troopwill go direct to Count Zamora's house, ers, as thoroughly trained to their work and deliver to him this letter. He will as the best hereditary butler, gametell you what next to do. I believe that keeper, or even pointer. There could be the ship containing the specie, which will found no steadier men in all the world of be under your charge, was unable to steadiness; one was Sergeant-major make either Lisbon or the port of Cadiz, Bones, and the other was Corporal and ran through the Straits for Malaga. Nickles. Each of them led a spare horse But the Count will know better than I do. by the soft brown twist of willow-bark, Remember that you are placed at his steeped in tan and fish-oil, so as to make disposal, in all except one point-and a horse think much of it. And thus they that is the money. He will provide you rode through the brilliant night, upon a with Spanish escort, and the Spaniards fine old Roman road, with beautiful are liable for the money, through Anda- change, and lovely air, and nobody to lusia, and the mountains, until you cross challenge them. For the French army the Zujar, where a detachment from Gen-lay to the east and north, the Portuguese eral Hill will meet you. They begged me not to send British convoy (beyond what might be needful, to authorize the delivery to them), because their own troops are in occupation.

"Never mind that; be as wide awake as if every farthing was your own, or rather was part of your honour. I seldom place so young a man in a position of so much trust. But the case is peculiar; and I trust you. There will be £100,000 in English gold to take care of. The Spaniards will furnish the transport, and Count Zamora will receive half of the specie, on behalf of the Junta of Seville, for the pay of the Spanish forces, and give you his receipt for it. The remainder you will place under the care of General Hill's detachment, and rejoin us as soon as possible. I have no time more.. Colonel Langham will give you your passes and smaller directions. But remember that you are in a place of

were far in their rear, and the Spanish. forces away to the south, except a few guerillas, who could take nothing by meddling with them. But the next day was hot, and the road grew rough, and their horses fell weary; and, haste as they might, they did not arrive at Monte Argento till after sunset of the second day.

The Count of Zamora felt some affection, as well as much gratitude, towards Lorraine, and showed it through the lofty courtesy with which he received him. And Hilary, on his part, could not help admiring the valour, and patriotism, and almost poetic dignity of this chieftain of a time gone by. For being of a simple mind, and highly valuing eloquence, the Count nearly always began with a flourish as to what he might have done for the liberation of his country, if he had been younger. Having exhausted this reflection, he was wont to proceed at leisure

to the military virtues of his sons. Then,
if anybody showed impatience, he always
stopped with a lofty bow; otherwise, on
he went, and the further he went, the
more he enjoyed himself. Hilary, a very
polite young man, and really a kind-
hearted one, had grown into the Count's
good graces-setting aside all gratitude
-by truly believing all his exploits, and
those of his father and grandfathers, and
best of all those of his two sons, - and
never so much as yawning.

"You are at my orders?" said the
Count, with a dry smile on his fine old
face. "It is well, my son; it is glorious.
Our great commander has so commanded.
My first order is that you come to the
supper; and rest, and wear slippers, for
the three days to follow."

"Shall I take those instructions in writing," asked Hilary; "and under the seal of the Junta ?"

"The Junta is an old woman," said his host; "she chatters, and she scolds, and she locks up the money. But enter, my son, enter, I pray you. You are at the very right moment arrived — as is your merit; or I should not be here. We have young boar of the first nobility; and truffles are in him from the banks which you know. You shall carve him for us; you are so strong, and you Englishmen so understand sharp steel. My sons are still at the war; but my daughters-how will they be pleased to see you!"

roaster

ordinary mood, Lorraine might have fallen to these fair Parthians; but knowing what danger he was running into without any chance of avoiding ithe had made up his mind, all along the road, to be severely critical. Mabel's true affection (as shown by a letter in answer to his) had moved him; she had not hinted at any rival, or lapse of love on his part; but had told with all her dear warm heart the pleasure, the pride, and the love she felt. Hilary had this letter in his pocket; and it made him inclined to be critical.

Now it may, without any lese-majesty of the grand female race, be asserted, that good and kind and beautiful and purely superior as they are, they are therewith so magnanimous to men, that they abstain, for the most part, from exhibiting mere perfection. No specimen of them seems ever to occur that is entirely blameless, if submitted to rigid criticism; which, of course, they would never submit to. Therefore it was wrong of Hilary, and showed him in a despicable light, that because the young ladies would not look at him much, he looked at them with judicial eyes. And the result of his observation, over the backbone of the pig, was this.

In physique. a word which ought to be worse than physic to an Englishman - there was no fault of any sort to be found with either of these young ladies. They were noble examples of the At the smell of the innocent young best Spanish type, tall, and pure yet rich for such he was in verity, of tint, with most bewitching eyes, and light curtains rose, and light figures en- classic flexure of luxuriant hair, grace in tered; for all Spanish ladies know well every turn and gesture, and melody in what is good. Camilla and Claudia every tone. Yet even in the most exgreeted Hilary, as if they had been with pressive glance, and most enchanting him all the morning; and turned their smile, was there any of that simple goodwhole minds to the table at once. Andness, loyalty, and comfort, which were Hilary, thoroughly knowing their man- to be found in an equally lovely but less ners, only said to himself, how well they superb young woman? looked!

Herewith the young captain began to In this he was right. The delicate think of his uncle Struan's advice, and grace and soft charm of Camilla set off even his sister's words on the matter; the more brilliant and defiant beauty of which from so haughty a girl-as he young Claudia. Neither of them seemed called her, although he knew that she to care in the least what anybody thought was not that—had caused him at first of her; or whether any thought at all! no small surprise, and at the same time occurred to anybody, upon a subject so indifferent, distant, and theoretical. Captain Lorraine was no more to them than a friar, or pilgrim, or hermit. They were very much obliged to him for cutting up the pig; and they showed that they thought it a good pig.

produced no small effect. And the end of it was that he gave a little squeeze to Mabel's loving letter, and said to himself that an English girl was worth a dozen Spanish ones.

On the following day, the fair young Donnas changed their mode of action. Now, as it happened, these were not They vied with each other in attention the tactics fitted for the moment. In an to Hilary, led him through the well

LIVING AGE.

VOL. IX. 430

66

Lorraine regarded this process with his usual keen interest.

known places, chattered Spanish most | Spaniards in and round about Malaga musically, and sang melting love-songs, condescended to come and see the unlavished smiles and glances on him, and loading of the British corvette, “Cleopanothing was too good for him. He was tra-cum-Antonio." She was the nimgreatly delighted, of course, and was blest little craft (either on or off a wind) bound in gratitude to flirt a little; but, of all ever captured from the French; still on the whole, he behaved very well. and her name had been reefed into For instance, he gave no invidious pref- Clipater first, and then into "Cliperence to either of his lovely charmers; per," which still holds way. And thus, but paid as much heed to poor Camilla in spite of all her money, she had run the (whose heart was bounding with love and gauntlet of Americans and Frenchmen, happiness) as he did to Claudia, who be- and lay on her keel discharging. gan to be in earnest now, that her sister might not conquer him. This was a dangerous turn of events for Hilary; and The scene was so new, and the people it was lucky for him that he was prompt- so strange, and their views of the world ly called away. For his host got des- so original, that he could not have tried patches which compelled him to cut to step into anything nobler and more reshort hospitality; and Captain Lorraine, freshing. There was no such babel of with great relief, set forth the next morn- gesticulation as in a French harbour ing for Malaga. Sergeant Bones and must have been; but there was plenty of Corporal Nickles had carried on hand- little side-play, in and out among the nasomely down-stairs, and were most loath tives, such as a visitor loves to watch. to come away; but duty is always the And the dignity with which the Spaniards guiding star of the noble British corpo- took the money into their charge was ral. Nickles and Bones, at the call of truly gratifying to the British mind. their country, cast off all domestic ties, "They might have said 'Thank you,' at and buckled up their belly-bands. Mer- any rate," thought Hilary, signing the rily thus they all rode on, for their horses bill of delivery, under three or four Spanwere fresh and frolicsome, to the Spanish signatures. But that was no concern ish headquarters near Cordova; and thence again to Malaga.

CHAPTER L.

of his.

One hundred thousand British guineas, even when they are given away, are not to be made light of. Their weight (without

Ar this particular time there was noth-heeding the iron chests, wherein they ing so thoroughly appreciated, loved, admired, and begged, borrowed, or stolen in every corner of the Continent, as the good old English guinea. His fine old face and his jovial colour made him welcome everywhere; one look at him was enough to show his purity, substance, and sterling virtue, and prove him sure to outlast in the end the flashy and upstart "napoleon." Happily for the world, that poor, weak-coloured, and adul- { terated coin now called the "sovereign," was not the representative of English worth at that time, otherwise Europe might have been either France or Russia for a century.

And though we are now in the mire so low-through time-servers, hucksters, and demagogues that the voice of England is become no more than the squeak of a half-penny shoe-black, we might be glad to think of all our fathers did, at our expense, and so grandly and heroically, if nations (trampled on for years, and but for England swept away) would only take it as not a mortal injury that through us they live. At any rate, many noble

were packed in Threadneedle Street) would not be so very much under a ton; and with the chests would be nearly two tons. There were ten chests thoroughly secured and sealed, each containing ten thousand guineas, and weighing about 4 cwt. All these were delivered by the English agent to the deputy of Count Zamora, who was accompanied by two members of the Junta of Seville, and the Alcalde of Cordova; and these great people, after no small parley, and with the aid of Spanish officers, packed all the consignment into four mule-carts, and sent them under strong escort to headquarters near Cordova. Here the Count met them, and gave a receipt to Hilary for the Spanish subsidy, which very soon went the way of all money among the Spanish soldiers. And the next day the five less lucky mules, who were dragging the pay of the British army, went on with the five remaining chests-three in one cart and two in the other-still under Spanish escort, towards the slopes of the Sierra Morena.

Hilary, as usual, adapted himself to