master that overpowering hope? Estrangement of families,
political disagreement, a separated loyalty, all melt away,
are fused together in the warmth of girlish love. Taxes,
representation, what things are these to come between two
hearts? No Tory, no traitor is her lover, but her own brave
hero and true knight. Woe! woe! the eager dream is broken by
mad war-whoops! alas! to those fierce wild men, what is love,
or loveliness? Pride, and passion, and the old accursed hunger
for gold flame up in their savage breasts. Wrathful, loathsome
fingers clutch the long, fair hair that even the fingers of
love have caressed but with reverent half-touch,--and love and
hope and life go out in one dread moment of horror and despair.
Now, through the reverberations of more than fourscore years,
through all the tempest-rage of a war more awful than that, and
fraught, we hope, with a grander joy, a clear, young voice,
made sharp with agony, rings through the shuddering woods,
cleaves up through the summer sky, and wakens in every heart
a thrill of speechless pain. Along these peaceful banks I see
a bowed form walking, youth in his years, but deeper furrows
in his face than can plough, stricken down from the heights of
ambition and desire, all the vigor and fire of manhood crushed
and quenched beneath the horror of one fearful memory.

Sweet summer sky, bending above us soft and saintly, beyond
your blue depths is there not Heaven?


"We may as well give Dobbin his oats here," said Halicarnassus.

We had brought a few in a bag for luncheon, thinking it might