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the wolf, or at any rate for his expulsion. The question was one of public interest. There was the risk for the passengers. And, to crown all, they appealed to the Faculty. They cited the opinion of the eighty London doctors, a learned body which dates from Henry VIII., who have a seal like the State, who elevate rich people to the dignity of being under their jurisdiction, who have the right to imprison those who infringe their law and contravene its ordinances, and who, amongst other useful regulations for the health of the citizens, have put beyond doubt this fact acquired by science : if a wolf sees a man first, the man becomes hoarse for life. Besides, he may be bitten.
Homo, then, was the pretext.
Ursus heard from the hotel-keeper these menaces. He was uneasy. He feared these two claws—the police and the justices. To be afraid of the magistracy,-it was enough to be afraid, -it is not necessary to be guilty. Ursus had little desire for contact with sheriffs, provosts, bailiffs, and coroners. His desire to make their acquaintance amounted to nothing. He had as much curiosity to see the magistrates as the hare has to see the greyhound.
He began to regret that he had come to London. “Better' is the enemy of 'good,'” murmured he apart. “I thought the proverb was ill-considered. I was wrong. Stupid truths are true truths.”
Against the coalition of powers—the merryandrews taking in hand the cause of religion, and the chaplains indignant in the name of medicine,-the poor Green Box suspected of sorcery in Gwynplaine, and hydrophobia in Homo, had but one thing in its favour—but one of great power in England-municipal inactivity. It is to the letting things take their course that Englishmen owe their liberty. Liberty in England behaves much as the sea that surrounds England. It is a tide. Little by little manners surmount the law. A frightful legislation is swallowed up by the force of custom. A ferocious code of laws is yet visible under the transparency of universal liberty. This is England.
The Grinning Man, “Chaos Vanquished," and Homo might have against them mountebanks, preachers, bishops, the House of Commons, the House of Lords, Her Majesty, London, and all England, and rest quiet, so long as Southwark permitted.
The Green Box was the favourite amusement of this suburb, and the local authorities seemed indifferent. In England, indifference is protection. So long as the sheriff of the county of Surrey, to the jurisdiction of which Southwark belongs, did not interfere, Ursus breathed freely, and Homo could sleep on his two wolfish cars.
So long as this hatred did not come to acts of violence, it increased
The Green Box was none the worse. On the contrary; it got abroad in the public mind that it contained something mysterious. Hence the Grinning Man became more and more popular. The public follow with gusto the scent of anything contraband. To be suspected recommends. The people adopt by instinct that which the finger menaces. The thing which is denounced is like the savour of forbidden fruit; we are in a hurry to cat it. Besides applause, which irritates some one, especially if that some one is in authority, is sweet. To make, whilst passing a pleasant evening, an act of kindness to the oppressed, and of opposition to the oppressor, was agreeable. They protected at the same time that they were amused. We may add that the theatrical caravans of the bowlinggreen continued to howl and to cabal against the Laughing Man. Nothing could be better for his success. Enemies make a useful noise, which give point and vitality to the triumph. A friend is sooner weary of praising than an enemy of abusing. To abuse does not hurt. Enemies do not know that. They cannot help insulting us; and in this consists their utility. They are unable to hold their tongues, and thus keep the public awake.
“Chaos Vanquished " drew even greater crowds.
Ursus kept to himself what Master Nicless had said of intriguers and complaints in high places, and did not tell Givynplaine, so as not to trouble the ease of his acting by any extraneous thought. If evil was to come, he would know it soon enough.
(To be continued.)
HE summer fades into the falling year,
The forest sheds her canopy of green,
And leaflets flutter to a nameless grave;
The style and worth of such a high-souled EarlIn green old age, and full of honoured years, Gathered to God from these brief presents learn.
Write him upon the scroll of lasting fame
Write him a statesman in the purple born,
His the true gift of conscious eloquence
Write him a scholar, elegant, refined;
Last, write him father of a son, who sure
S. T. F.
THE PRINCE CONSORT'S FARMS.
I was only on that cheerless Sunday, when the Prince
Consort's name first passed from our litany, that England seemed to awake to a full and abiding knowledge of what
she had lost. None had more reason to mourn him than the agriculturists. He had united himself more closely with them that very autumn by becoming the President of the Royal Agricultural Society, and taking the chair at the first council meeting in the session of 1861-2. Agriculture held a high place among the subjects to which that broad heart and piercing intellect had been applied. Those who knew him best, said that you could not take a country ride with him and fail to see that his mind was ever at work, thinking out some useful problem on farm stock, land, or tree. The last person, Mr. Menzies, who sought an interview with his Highness, by appointment, and was obliged to be denied, brought him his notes and drawings for a history of Windsor Forest. In his six farms he took especial delight, and each new invention and mode of culture was tested there without fear or favour. He also determined that they should be the neutral ground, on which farm stock, whose merits are so magnified or depreciated by local prejudice, should have an impartial trial, as well as the head centre, to which the first agriculturists of all nations should freely resort and exchange minds on food for the million, and the labourers' welfare.
The history of the six farms, including those at Osborne and Balmoral, has been done so fully and so ably by Mr. Chalmers Morton, that it is beside our purpose to enter into descriptions of soils, farm buildings, and modes of cropping. We may simply say, that the four farms in “the royal county” comprise 2400 acres, of which 700 are arable. In the full enjoyment of a little freedom from “the desk's dull wood,” we saunter down the elm avenue towards the Shawe Farm on a sunny day in October. The stream of London visitors has just set in for the day. Some are toying in the shade, or sitting down to apply themselves betimes to their provision baskets. Others make a point of sallying into the open park, to test the full meaning of “Beware of the red deer in October," and the rest charter flys, and start in high holiday spirits for a drive in the