Journal can now say with truth, doctor, that there is asked. had first apologised for the disorder of her temporary abode. Poor James! He was once very fond of me. It was many years ago. We should have married, you know, but for an unfortunate circumstance. Perhaps you have heard of it?' I was slightly annoyed at the tone in which she spoke of her dead benefactor. 'I have heard of it, Lady Raven,' I returned seriously. 'But it did not spoil his success in life,' she continued with a slight laugh; and now, at last, he has made restitution. Well, it is only what we deserve! He robbed my late husband, you know; and it is fitting that we should be his heirs is it not?' 'Never!' he returned. 'I might, perhaps, have made a second endeavour to prove it long ago; but I could not bring myself to make her unhappy-unhappier, that is, than he has made her. As I have told you, she became Lady Raven. You cannot expect me to be able to tell you that the man who so cruelly swore away my liberty made her a good husband. He systematically ill-treated her; and although she bore him several children, and was, I have heard, an exemplary wife, until she was crushed I was beginning to feel angry. Even if Sir by his brutality, he behaved to her as he would James had been guilty, she had no right to speak not have behaved to his dogs. Do you know, of him now in so light and scornful a tone. doctor, that I preserve my love for her still? Already, I saw, she was recklessly spending her I have never ceased to love her, although she newly acquired wealth, though she had not believed evil of me, and never sent me a single actually entered into possession of it, the will word of sympathy; and I have left everything not having then been proved. Her misfortunes I have to her eldest son, who by this time has had not made a good woman of her. She was sons of his own. But I do not know whether or gaudily dressed. Instead of being in mourning, not she is dead. I have, however, provided that, she was covered with jewelry. Surely it was should she be living, she is to have a life-interest well for poor Sir James that this vain woman in my estate. Poor thing, she deserves it; for had never been his wife! sadly did she suffer, and not unfrequently, I expect, did she want.' And he?' I asked. What became of Raven?' 'In time, he deserted her, and plunged into the lowest depths of drunkenness and dissipation. He had wasted his fortune; and not very long ago, I read that he had been picked up in a fit in the streets of Paris and had died before his removal to the hospital.' 'I am shortly going to England, Sir James,' I said; and if I can be of any use in discovering this poor lady's whereabouts, I shall be glad to do my best.' 'You are going to England? I am happy to hear it. You then can do what I feared would have to be done for me by a third party. I want you to find Lady Raven and tell her what I have told you. Tell her that, although we have been separated for more than forty years, I still think of her; that I die thinking of her; and that I forgive her; and- Yes, doctor, tell her, too, that I forgive him. I must forgive him. Yes; I do, fully.' I I need not go on to describe the painful hours spent at Sir James's side ere death released him from his sufferings. Suffice it to say that he bore himself, even in his moments of greatest agony, with becoming resignation. Until the last, he was thoughtful for all about him, rather than for himself; and when the long sleep at last closed his weary eyes, I turned away, feeling that Australia had lost a man the memory of whom she might justly cherish. Two or three months afterwards I returned to England. Lady Raven, who for some time had been in impoverished circumstances, had meanwhile been discovered by my late patient's solicitors; and before I saw her, she had been apprised of the provisions of Sir James Reilly's will. I introduced myself to her as his friend; and found her occupying a pleasant but not very well furnished house in one of the best squares in Bayswater. 'It is all a mystery,' she said to me, when she 'Lady Raven,' I said sternly, 'we may as well end this. Sir James Reilly never injured you or any other living creature. It was your husband who was the criminal! He wrote his own name to that cheque which led to Sir James's transportation. He denied the facts, and caused your benefactor to be sent to the antipodes ! And do you think that I, knowing all this, will suffer Sir James's fair name to be slandered?' She turned pale, and clung for support to a chair. 'Gracious powers!' she exclaimed; 'is it -can it be true? I knew it, then-I knew it! My husband once told me all, when he was delirious with drink. God forgive me!' and she fell like a corpse to the floor. I summoned the servants, who carried her to her room. I then sent for a physician, and in the meantime did what I could to revive her. But my efforts were in vain, and soon after my colleague arrived, she expired. An examination subsequently disclosed the fact that she had long been a sufferer from heart-disease. I am glad to be able to say that her son, who is now enjoying Sir James Reilly's munificent bequest, is worthy of the legacy. A week or two ago he sailed with his family for Victoria, and it is his ambition there to follow in his benefactor's footsteps. THE EDELWEISS-THE SWISS BRIDAL FLOWER. It will be a great consolation for young ladies to know that the Edelweiss, associated with mystery, matrimony, and maidens, and rejoicing in the name of Leontopodium Alpinum, has been making quite a sensation in the Standard newspaper. This Edelweiss, so familiar to tourists in the Alps, and to young ladies fresh from the newest novel, has always been thought to belong exclusively to the Alpine regions of Switzerland; but the range of its geographical distribution has been widely extended, and it is now found to belong to various other altitudes besides those of the Switzers. Much romance attaches to the favourite plant, so nearly allied to our cudweeds and gnaphaliums, and so very near and charming a relation of our pretty Centennaria dioica, the Mountain Everlasting, found upon our heaths. The Edelweiss is the bridal flower of the Swiss girls, being used by them, as we use orange blossoms, in the hair and in bouquets at their weddings. It is a plant 'far fetched, dear bought, and good for ladies,' and they will be glad to learn that they have no need to spend anxious hours in seeking it in its Alpine fastnesses in order to possess it. The writer got some seed-just a pinch-of Freemans, of Norwich. It was put in a cold frame, by way of protection; it came up beautifully and flowered well in the open garden, in Yorkshire sunshine. The Edelweiss is a hardy perennial, and succeeds well in bog soil with plenty of sun; and when sown in spring, every lady may watch it grow for herself in England, and decorate her tresses with it in the autumn. All budding maidens and blushing brides will, we hope, be thankful for this idea. The romantic plant about which they have thought and read so often, and about which such long yarns have been spun, is in reality no more difficult of cultivation than ordinary forget-me-nots,' or mustard and cress. We have great hopes that, after this succinct statement, when we look up at drawing-room windows, and when we go into our friends' conservatories, we shall be sure to see the Edelweiss, with its round head of silvery, white, fluffy, downy flowers and leaves. And when we see them, we shall also be quite sure that some fairy fingers have been at work, that some tender heart is beating fast, that some romance is being played out under those very eaves, and that some happy maiden is cultivating the delicious Edelweiss for no other purpose in the world except an early wedding. And may good luck attend her! It is too much to believe, of course, that the plant will be grown simply as a botanical rarity, or to send out as souvenirs, or to place in herbariums and albums. Depend upon it, if you see the Edelweiss growing and blooming, the next thing is to look out for a pair of white gloves, and a sweet, fluffy bridal cake, as white and chaste and ornate as the Edelweiss itself. IN YARROW. BY ALEXANDER ANDERSON. A DREAM of youth has grown to fruit, Made rainbows of each morrow, And now my heart has had its wishI stood to-day in Yarrow. And as I stood, my old sweet dreams Took back their long-lost brightness; My boyhood came, and in my heart Rose up a summer lightness. I heard faint echoes of far song Grow rich and deep, and borrow The low, sweet tones of early years- O dreams of youth, dreamt long ago, When every hour was pleasure! O hopes that came when Hope was high, I could not find your marrow; That touch of sorrow when our youth To frame its gentle madness, Till I was left with only That pleasure which is almost pain, The sense of being lonely. The haunting sense of love, that now Nor joy nor sadness wholly, In pleasing melancholy. Why should it be that, as we dream, A tender song of passion, Of lovers loving long ago In the old Border fashion, Should touch and hallow every spot, Until its presence thorough Is in the very grass that throbs With thoughts of love and Yarrow? We know not; we can only deem The heart lives in the story, A lover's tearful glory, The light of that far morrow That touched the ridge on Tinnis Hill, Then fell on winding Yarrow. Ah, not on Yarrow stream alone Yes! we may walk by Yarrow stream With speech, and song, and laughter, But still far down a sadness sleeps, To wake and follow after. And soft regrets that come and go, The light and shade of sorrow, Are with me still, that I may know I stood to-day in Yarrow. Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH All Rights Reserved. POPULAR LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART Fifth Series ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832 AT AN EASTERN DINNER-PARTY. IN Mohammedan countries generally, there is a greater gravity, a greater appearance of austerity in public, and a more apparent mortification of the flesh, than with us. Grave faces are seldom seen to smile; the corners of the mouth are more often drawn down than up. But this apparent solemnity is much produced by the numerous rules of etiquette, a breach of any of which would cause a serious depreciation in the social position of the man who was guilty of it. As a rule, the Oriental, more particularly the higher-class Persian, has two entities-one of the silent and solemn pundit, speaking only in whispers, and with either the Spartan brevity of Yes and No, or launching out into complimentary phrases, as insincere as they are poetic -a being clad in long flowing garments of price, behatted or beturbaned, according to his class, and with a knowledge of the little niceties of form and phrase that would do credit to an experienced Lord Chamberlain. Priests, lawyers, merchants, the courtier and soldier classes, all are thus; for a single public slip from the code of ceremonial and etiquette would cause at once a loss of caste. In fact, at first, to the newcomer they seem all Pharisees, and wear their phylacteries broad. Such are the upper-class Persians outside their own homes, and from sunrise to sunset. It is of the Oriental in his other phase, and among his friends, or 'cupcompanions' as Lane in his Arabian Nights translates the word, that I have to tell-in fact, the Persian at home. PRICE 1d. of the party, is eating in a corner the bread of charity, blind and poor; one young fellow, then a penniless parasite, little more than a servant without pay, who handed pipes and ran messages, is now in high employ, and likely to become a minister. Others of that party would now be glad to hand his pipes and run his messages for the mere sake of his protection. It was this young fellow who brought me my invitation—a verbal one. 'Mirza M- Khan sends you his salaams, and hopes you will eat your dinner at his house at an hour after sunset to-night. Will your honour come?' 'Please to sit. I hope you are well. Who is to be there? Any Europeans?' 'No; only yourself. At least, there is onethe Dutch doctor; and as he has been so many years here, he is more a Persian than ourselves. And hakim-sahib [European doctor], will you, the Khan says, bring two packs of cards?' 'Ah, Mirza, the secret's out; it's not me they want, but my two packs of cards.' 'No, hakim-sahib. By your head, it's not so. You don't know the Khan-at least, not in private. He is good-nature itself; and he wants you to come to eat his dinner, to taste his salt. Besides, Gholam Nahdi is to be there, and there will be dancing. Ba! an entertainment to dwell in the memory.' Now, the fact of the dancing intrigued me. I knew that Mirza M— Khan did not merely invite me for the sake of the cards, as he could have had them for the asking. I was anxious to see an entertainment in the house of a rich man, so I resolved to go. 'On my eyes, Mirza.' This is the current expression for an affirmative, a respectful affirmative, meaning that I would certainly do myself the honour. Some years have elapsed since I went to the little dinner I am about to describe; the giver and some of the guests have submitted to the irony of fate-two dead in their beds, a noteworthy thing among the grandees or wealthy in Persia; one executed for so-called high-treason, really murdered, after having surrendered himself to the king's uncle under an oath of safety for I had gladly accepted, for I wished to see his life; another judicially done to death because the dancing, of which I had heard much, and he was rich. One, then the greatest and richest also the performance of impromptu farces or The Mirza declined a pipe, as he had other errands to fulfil; asked leave to depart, as is the custom, and bowed himself out. favourite plant, so nearly allied to our cudweeds and gnaphaliums, and so very near and charming a relation of our pretty Centennaria dioica, the Mountain Everlasting, found upon our heaths. The Edelweiss is the bridal flower of the Swiss girls, being used by them, as we use orange blossoms, in the hair and in bouquets at their weddings. It is a plant far fetched, dear bought, and good for ladies,' and they will be glad to learn that they have no need to spend anxious hours in seeking it in its Alpine fastnesses in order to possess it. The writer got some seed-just a pinch-of Freemans, of Norwich. It was put in a cold frame, by way of protection; it came up beautifully and flowered well in the open garden, in Yorkshire sunshine. The Edelweiss is a hardy perennial, and succeeds well in bog soil with plenty of sun; and when sown in spring, every lady may watch it grow for herself in England, and decorate her tresses with it in the autumn. All budding maidens and blushing brides will, we hope, be thankful for this idea. The romantic plant about which they have thought and read so often, and about which such long yarns have been spun, is in reality no more difficult of cultivation than ordinary forget-me-nots,' or mustard and cress. We have great hopes that, after this succinct statement, when we look up at drawing-room windows, and when we go into our friends' conservatories, we shall be sure to see the Edelweiss, with its round head of silvery, white, fluffy, downy flowers and leaves. And when we see them, we shall also be quite sure that some fairy fingers have been at work, that some tender heart is beating fast, that some romance is being played out under those very eaves, and that some happy maiden is cultivating the delicious Edelweiss for no other purpose in the world except an early wedding. And may good luck attend her! It is too much to believe, of course, that the plant will be grown simply as a botanical rarity, or to send out as souvenirs, or to place in herbariums and albums. Depend upon it, if you see the Edelweiss growing and blooming, the next thing is to look out for a pair of white gloves, and a sweet, fluffy bridal cake, as white and chaste and ornate as the Edelweiss itself. IN YARROW. BY ALEXANDER ANDERSON. A DREAM of youth has grown to fruit, Made rainbows of each morrow, And now my heart has had its wishI stood to-day in Yarrow. And as I stood, my old sweet dreams I heard faint echoes of far song The low, sweet tones of early years I stood to-day in Yarrow. O dreams of youth, dreamt long ago, When every hour was pleasure! O hopes that came when Hope was high, That touch of sorrow when our youth Till I was left with only The haunting sense of love, that now Nor joy nor sadness wholly, In pleasing melancholy. Why should it be that, as we dream, A tender song of passion, Of lovers loving long ago In the old Border fashion, Should touch and hallow every spot, Until its presence thorough Is in the very grass that throbs With thoughts of love and Yarrow? We know not; we can only deem The heart lives in the story, A lover's tearful glory, The light of that far morrow That touched the ridge on Tinnis Hill, Then fell on winding Yarrow. Ah, not on Yarrow stream alone Yes! we may walk by Yarrow stream With speech, and song, and laughter, But still far down a sadness sleeps, To wake and follow after. And soft regrets that come and go, The light and shade of sorrow, Are with me still, that I may know I stood to-day in Yarrow. Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH All Rights Reserved. POPULAR LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART Fifth Series ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832 CONDUCTED BY R. CHAMBERS (SECUNDUS) AT AN EASTERN DINNER-PARTY. Is Mohammedan countries generally, there is a greater gravity, a greater appearance of austerity in public, and a more apparent mortification of the flesh, than with us. Grave faces are seldom seen to smile; the corners of the mouth are more often drawn down than up. But this apparent solemnity is much produced by the numerous rules of etiquette, a breach of any of which would cause a serious depreciation in the social position of the man who was guilty of it. As a rule, the Oriental, more particularly the higher-class Persian, has two entities—one of the silent and solemn pundit, speaking only in whispers, and with either the Spartan brevity of Yes and No, or launching out into complimentary phrases, as insincere as they are poetic -a being clad in long flowing garments of price, behatted or beturbaned, according to his class, and with a knowledge of the little niceties of form and phrase that would do credit to an experienced Lord Chamberlain. Priests, lawyers, merchants, the courtier and soldier classes, all are thus; for a single public slip from the code of ceremonial and etiquette would cause at once a loss of caste. In fact, at first, to the newcomer they seem all Pharisees, and wear their phylacteries broad. Such are the upper-class Persians outside their own homes, and from sunrise to sunset. It is of the Oriental in his other phase, and among his friends, or 'cupcompanions' as Lane in his Arabian Nights translates the word, that I have to tell-in fact, the Persian at home. Some years have elapsed since I went to the little dinner I am about to describe; the giver and some of the guests have submitted to the irony of fate-two dead in their beds, a noteworthy thing among the grandees or wealthy in Persia; one executed for so-called high-treason, really murdered, after having surrendered himself to the king's uncle under an oath of safety for his life; another judicially done to death because he was rich. One, then the greatest and richest PRICE 1d. of the party, is eating in a corner the bread of charity, blind and poor; one young fellow, then a penniless parasite, little more than a servant without pay, who handed pipes and ran messages, is now in high employ, and likely to become a minister. Others of that party would now be glad to hand his pipes and run his messages for the mere sake of his protection. It was this young fellow who brought me my invitation-a verbal one. 'Mirza M- Khan sends you his salaams, and hopes you will eat your dinner at his house at an hour after sunset to-night. Will your honour come?' 'Please to sit. I hope you are well. Who is to be there? Any Europeans?' 'No; only yourself. At least, there is onethe Dutch doctor; and as he has been so many years here, he is more a Persian than ourselves. And hakim-sahib [European doctor], will you, the Khan says, bring two packs of cards?' 'Ah, Mirza, the secret's out; it's not me they want, but my two packs of cards.' 'No, hakim-sahib. By your head, it's not so. You don't know the Khan-at least, not in private. He is good-nature itself; and he wants you to come to eat his dinner, to taste his salt. Besides, Gholam Nahdi is to be there, and there will be dancing. Ba! an entertainment to dwell in the memory.' Now, the fact of the dancing intrigued me. I knew that Mirza M Khan did not merely invite me for the sake of the cards, as he could have had them for the asking. I was anxious to see an entertainment in the house of a rich man, so I resolved to go. 'On my eyes, Mirza.' This is the current expression for an affirmative, a respectful affirmative, meaning that I would certainly do myself the honour. The Mirza declined a pipe, as he had other errands to fulfil; asked leave to depart, as is the custom, and bowed himself out. I had gladly accepted, for I wished to see the dancing, of which I had heard much, and also the performance of impromptu farces or |
