answered; "it does seem to me that I should "Never mind; I know I shall like it," he rejoined, taking the bowl, and beginning to stir the porridge with his spoon. As he did so, Mrs. Anderson gave a slight start, and bent eagerly toward him. Then she sank back in her chair with a sigh, saying, in answer to his questioning look "Ye minded me o' my Malcom, then; just in that way he used to stir his parritch; gieing it a whirl and a flirt. Ah! gin' ye were my Malcom, my poor laddie!" "Weel, then, gin I were your Malcom," said the merchant, speaking for the first time in the Scottish dialect, and in his own voice; "or gin your braw young Malcom were as brown, and bald, and grey, and bent, and old as I am, could you welcome him to your arms, and love him as in the dear old auld lang syne? Could you, mither?" climbing roses and woodbine were but outward signs and types of the sweetness and blessedness of the love and peace within. MAKING UP. BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND. Going by the house that morning, Sydney Powers looked up at the windows, and unconsciously dropped into a slower gait, for the boy did his walking as he did almost everything else, "at a sort of double-quick." There the house stood, looking natural as the face of an old friend that we like all the better for its homeliness-a large comfortable white house, mounted with somewhat faded green blinds, and a white verandah, and a green lawn in front, with a sprinkling of fruit-trees and shrubberies. Sydney Powers listened, too, as much from old habit as anything else. He almost expected to see Joe Ripley's round-cropped head at the window, or in the door, and his loud, hearty shout, "Hallo, there, Syd! Can't you hold up a minute, until a fellow can get up with you?" for Joseph Ripley was habitually slower than Sydney, whether at books, work or play; but he was not lacking in parts, for all that. But this morning there was no shout nor rush of feet along the gravel-walk. How strange, and silent, and almost solemn, it seemed! Perhaps Joe was there peeping behind the blinds. At that thought Sydney straightened himself up, and trudged on. All through this touching little speech the widow's eyes had been glistening. and her breath coming fast; but at that word mither she sprang up with a glad cry, and tottering to her son, fell almost fainting on his breast. He kissed her again and again-kissed her brow, and her lips, and her hands, while the big tears slid down his bronzed cheeks; while she clung about his neck, and called him by all the dear old pet names, and tried to see in him all the dear old young looks. By-andby they came back-or the ghosts of them came back. The form in her embrace grew comelier; love and joy gave to it a second youth, stately and gracious; the first she then and there buried deep in her heart-a sweet, beautiful, peculiar memory. It was a moment of solemn renunciation, in which she gave up the fond materual illusion she had cherished so long. Then looking up steadily into the face of the middle-aged man, who had taken it's place, she asked-pute about respective rights on the play-ground, "Where hae ye left the wife and bairns ?" "At the inn, mother. Have you room for us all at the cottage?" "Indeed I have-twa good spare-rooms, wi' large closets, weel stocked wi' linin I hae been spinning or weaving a' these lang years for ye baith, and the weans." "Well, mother dear, now you must rest," rejoined the merchant, tenderly. "Na, na, I dinna care to rest till ye lay me down to tak' my lang rest. There'll be time enough between that day and the resurrection to fauld my hands in idleness. Now 'twould be unco irksome. But go, my son, and bring me the wife-I hope I shall like her; and the bairns-I hope they will like me." I have only to say, that both the good woman's hopes were realized. A very happy family knelt down in prayer that night, and many nights after, in the widow's cottage, whose There had been a quarrel between these two boys, who had been like brothers from their infancy: it had been a miserable affair, springing out of just nothing at all, as a great many grown people's quarrels do, and take to themselves huge proportions. If people would only hearken to those wise old words, "The beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water"! The trouble commenced in some paltry dis Neither of the boys would give up his side, and the dispute grew into high words. They went from words to blows, and there was more than one black and blue spot on Sydney's limbs, but he felt certain he had dealt as heavy blows as he had received! But to think that Joe and he had quarrelled forever! What frolics they'd had, climbing the trees, and shaking down the heaps of ripe fruit in the golden autumns; what capital sails on the river; what scrapes tossing the fresh-mown hay in the fields, and riding on the great piles to the barn! And to think they would never have any of the dear old times again! While he was thinking of all this he caught sight of a well-known figure coming up the road-a boy's figure, with an easy, lounging sort of gait, a straw-hat, and a blue jacket. Joe Ripley must have caught sight of Sydney at that very moment, for he seemed suddenly con day!" They both stood still, surveying each other: gradually a red glow came into Joe's face. "Did you hear what I said, Syd?" drawing a little nearer. "Yes, and you heard what I said; so I think it's about even !" and Sydney drew closer. The ice was broken now. "Well, then," said Joe, but not without a little internal struggle, "s'pose we shake hands and make it all up?" fused. He straightened up; the half-shambling | "I say, Joe, you weren't the only fool, yestergait was suddenly exchanged for a formality of step and movement which it was apparent enough was not natural, but just assumed for the occasion. So the two went by silently, with averted faces and compressed lips-these boys who had been playfellows from their infancy, who had loved cach other like brothers, and who, now that the strong passion of the moment had cleared away, saw all the folly and wickedness of which they had been guilty, yet neither had the courage or true manliness to confess his share of the fault, and say to the other, "I've done wrong, and I'm sorry for it." But each thought it was nobler and braver to keep up the semblance of anger after the feeling had passed, and each believed that he should sacrifice his own rights and dignity by confessing his fault. Foolish boys! But I have known many men and women not a bit better than they. Joe Ripley had an inveterate habit of talking to himself, which had often afforded a great deal of sport to the boys; but Joe's oddities had a marvellous tenacity about them, which neither argument or ridicule could easily overcome. One is apt to see a quarrel in a different light after sleeping over it. Joe's rose up in his memory in its true colours now, and he saw how foolish and wicked it had all been, and, solemnly shaking his head, uttered the words, loud and emphatically, "You were a great fool yesterday, Joe Ripley!" Sydney Powers heard them: a laugh twinkled suddenly in the boy's eyes, and he shouted out, "I think it's the most sensible thing we can do, Joe," answered Sydney, heartily, and they shook hands warmly, with tears in their eyes. Then they both sat down under a tree by the roadside, in the pleasant summer morning, and talked the whole thing over, and between their talk the lark's song went and came sweetly. Sydney told his friend all the pain and darkness which had been in his heart at the thought of their final separation; and Joe, on his part, had a story to tell of much the same sort. When they rose up at last, Sydney hit his companion a sharp blow on the shoulder. "Joe, old fellow, that habit of talking to yourself out loud proved a lucky thing this morning. We shouldn't have made it up if it hadn't been for that." "Yes," answered Joe, in his honest, solemn way, "I've tried to break myself of it a great many times, but some good has come out of it at last." Joe was right. OUR LIBRARY TABLE. ODD FELLOWS, QUARTERLY MAGAZINE. (Manchester).-In the present part, Miss Meteyard concludes her pleasant little story "Amidst the Corn," but with less than her usual love of detail and careful finishing. It may be that our own desire to lengthen our pleasure in reading it has made it seem a little hurried. "House and other Spiders," by Mrs. C. A. White, aims a blow at the weak terror and aversion with which numbers still regard these (in our country at least) harmless "spinners and weavers." In the Bermudas and on Folly Island, in the Harbour of Charlestown, South Carolina, a species of spider (Epeira clavipes) has been discovered, which produces silk of a fineness and strength surpassing that of the silk-worm. Mr. Jones, the author of the "Naturalist in the Bermudas (1859)," and who, should these insects eventually take the place of the failing Bombyx, deserves the honour of the discovery, had his attention first called to the strength of the silk by coming in contact with the webs in forcing his way through the cedar groves. Gloom and damp appear congenial to several of the epeira (or true net-weaving spider)s, who in this choice of location, are followed by the finest lace-makers, whose exquisitely filmy threads can only be wrought in a humid atmosphere. we In direct contrast with these hermits of the race science, or geometrical spider, as it is often called, find the lively garden spider, the Aranæ riticulata of forming whole colonies of circular nets between the branches of trees, or rock-work, and the ivy-covered walls; anywhere in the bright sunshine of a midsummer day. These nets are formed with the most exquisite precision, but for a long time it remained a mystery how the long lines from which the beautiful fabric depends were carried from tree to tree, or across wide garden paths, till it was discovered that this spider has the power of darting out long threads, so light and fine, as to float on the air till they are caught by some object, and thus form a natural bridge for their constructor. These suspensory threads are sometimes several yards in length. Every thread in the concentrie circles which the garden spider weaves is in reality a rope, and consists of at least four thousand strands. I have read that the threads of some of the smallest spiders are so fine, that it is said millions of them would not exceed in thickness a hair of the human head. Buffon computed that it takes 663,552 spiders to produce one pound of what we call gossamer. "Gleanings in God's Acre," by William F. Peacock, affords some very curious specimens of mortuary poesy. We cull the following, not only for its quaintness, but as possessing some historical interest. The writer does not give the date, but tells us that he copied it in Flamborough Church, and imagines that it will be read with interest after a lapse of nearly four centuries; he has preserved the orthography intact. She scarce could lisp Thy Kingdom come,' One more specimen of the whimsical style of epitaph, which is happily becoming extinct; Marhall Church-yard, Dorset. "In memory of Robert, Mary, and Francis Moore, in "See what Death with spade hath done to we! For here are planted both bud, branch, and tree." A specimen strongly suggestive of the composer of that well-known inscription; "On a father and daughters Who died of too copious libations of Cheltenham waters." Some very interesting information on matters connected with the Manchester Unity and kindred associations occupy a large portion of the current number, which is, as usual, a very agreeable one. POOR LETTER H: ITS USE AND ITS ABUSE. By the Hon. Henry H- (London: John F. Shaw and Co., Paternoster Row.)-The following lines, by a clever contributor, so well describe the purpose of this amusing, useful, and alas! much-needed little book, that we think further notice of it unnecessary : POOR LETTER H * "Poor letter H! its use and its abuse"- For those who don't, and those who should know better; For married, single, and the "budding Miss:" Who does not know the friend, both he and she I will not call it ignorance, and yet The title of a little book, published by Shaw and Co., Paternoster Row, price [pshaw!] sixpence. I hear the letter very much misus'd- Ladies and gentlemen, you're asked to read Defy their laughter and their ridicule Study the book, and go once more to school; There, if your aspirations are acute, You'll learn when "H" should not and should be mute. The habit may be bad to laugh or scoff, But yours is worse; so bad, pray cast it off- Till you have learnt aright your mother tongue; SOCIETY OF PAINTERS IN WATER COLOURS, 5, PALL-MALL EAST. The private view of this Society took place on Saturday, the 24th ult., and was more fully attended than we ever remember to have seen it. In our next we shall have the pleasure of noticing the pictures, for which we are too late this month. THE THEATRES. 'SCHOOL," AT THE PRINCE OF WALES'S THEATRE: "DREAMS," AT THE GAIETY. Having made a sort of study of the comedies of Mr. T. W. Robertson, we now propose to devote a few remarks to this clever dramatist's latest productions, viz., "School" and "Dreams." School," which maintains a highly successful run at the PRINCE OF WALES'S THEATRE, is, in our opinion, the most complete and perfect work of the author, while possessing every element of popularity in addition to its claims as a work of art. This elegant comedy, besides upholding a novel and interesting, although somewhat slight, plot, deals with the manners of the day with much observation, tact, and perception of character. The story of the piece seeks to illustrate, in the form of a modern comedy, the fable and the model of the famous fairy tale of "Cinderella and the little glass slipper." The following is the sketch of the leading incidents of the piece: Two young men-Lord Beaufoy (Mr. H. J. Montagu) and Jack Poyntz-both connected with the family of a country gentleman the ci devant Beau Farintosh (Mr. Hare), being on a shooting excursion, stroll near Cedar Grove House, a boarding-school for young ladies. One of the young fellows having found a lady's morocco slipper, and the other a pair of goloshes, in the fields, they meet the young ladies, to whom they suppose the lost articles belong. The girls are, one after another, accosted by the young men, who desire to return the lost property. Thus a speaking acquaintance is formed with the ladies, which the young men endeavour to improve at every step. Lord Beaufoy professing to feel much interest in Bella (Miss C. Addison), the school girl he has addressed, and Jack Poyntz doing the same by Naome Tighe (Miss Marie Wilton), the young girl in whom he takes a special interest. The second act is devoted to a "breaking-up" holiday at Cedar Grove House, and before which a school "examination" takes place, at which Lord Beaufoy, Jack Poyntz, and the owner of the "shootingbox"-Beau Farintosh-assist. By this means the young men improve their acquaintance still further with the pupils, discover that Bella is a poor dependant in the school; while Miss Tighe is a heiress. The next scene is a "Flirtation" in the grounds of the school, which goes on between the two pairs of lovers. Fast love is made on both sides in the course of the flirtation scene, which is attended, however, with evil consequences in the case of Bella, who is, indeed, dismissed the establishment for having contracted a clandestine engagement with Lord Beaufoy. The next scene finds the love affair between Jack Poyntz going on thrivingly with Miss Tighe, the heiress; they holding their meetings clandestinely in the grounds of the school. But their affair is unfortunately interfered with by Beau Farintosh, who has family objections to any alliance between Poyntz and Miss Tighe-indeed, Beau Farintosh has des tined the heiress in his own mind for Lord Beaufoy. A regular "scene" having occurred on this account, we next meet with a great surprise in Bella returning to the school from her visit to town, and being warmly and generously received by her close friend and fellow-pupil Miss Tighe. Bella imparts to Miss Tighe that she has been privately married to Lord Beaufoy. The last act is devoted to winding up the double love-affair by the celebration of the nuptials of both pairs of lovers. Such is a mere sketch of the plot of the new comedy of "School." We have named only, the leading incidents; but there are numerous subsidiary incidents and characters also which go to fill up and diversify the piece. The boardingschool scenes in and about Cedar Grove House are admirably sketched; although we think the presence of a certain malignant usher (Mr. Krux) might have been dispensed with without the slightest injury to the play itself. But the unpleasantness of Mr. Krux's character is compensated by the genial nature of old Dr. Sutcliffe, the school examiner, latin master, astronomical lecturer, &c.-a part well played by Mr. Addison. The dignified, but straightlaced schoolmistress (another Mrs. Chapone) is represented by Mrs. Buckingham White, than whom no one could have better acted the part. Each act of "School" is in itself a brightlycoloured miniature picture of actual phases of society. The hunting party formed of Beau Farintosh and his family and friends, who assemble to an al-fresco luncheon in the wood appeared a close realization of actual life at a country gentleman's shooting-box. The retinue of sportsmen, the servants in livery bringing in the portable tables and chairs and the other surroundings, are striking actualities, which gratify the eyes of the audience immensely. The scene also serves to introduce an original character in the person of Beau Farintosh: he is the wreck of a London exquisite, and roué, who is now a country gentleman, but who dresses with extreme foppishness, is polite and punctilious in manners, but idiotic in conversation, and being constantly brought up by a shortness of memory, which requires frequent promptings by those about him. This part is ably filled by Mr. Hare, who imparts to the gait of the old beau a sort of St. Vitus's dance. The sentiments uttered by the dramatis person of School" have here and there a tendency to fall from the sublime to the ridiculous. Admiring, as we do, the author's polished dialogue, we object to such fine writing and sentimental talk as that between Bella and Lord Beaufoy in the "flirtation" act, where the lovers, standing in the moonlight, apostrophise their shadows! Apropos of shadows, the ghost in white satin, which appears in the person of Miss Tighe to her lover Jack Poyntz, at the garden-gate, is of course a reminiscence of a similar scene enacted in "Don Juan," Byron's celebrated epic. Of the way in which the fairytale of "Cinderella" is symbolized by the incidents and action of a modern comedy, we cannot say much, as the Cinderella incident of the "little glass slipper" is only typified by the finding of a lady's shoe in the first scene, and the production of a pair of gilt slippers as a wedding present at the end of the piece. In all other respects "School" and "Cinderella" have no affinity whatever. We now proceed to notice another new piece, produced by Mr. Robertson at the new GAIETY THEATRE, once more under a monosyllabic title, viz., that of "Dreams." This novelty is in five acts, and employs the talent of the whole of the Gaiety company, including Mr. Alfred Wigan, Mr. Robert Soutar, Mr. John Clayton, Mr. Maclean (from the Olympic), Mr. Eldred, Miss Madge Robertson, (sister of the dramatist), Mrs. H. Leigh, and Miss Rachel Sanger. "Dreams" is called "a new and original play," and its elements are certainly rather those of melodrama than of comedy. The pervading idea of the author would seem to be to place on the stage a dramatic Lady Vere de Vere, associated with patrician and parvenue surroundings, suggested by the rich ballad of Tennyson. Mr. Alfred Wigan as Rudolphe Harfthal, enacts a rather melodramatic part with discretion, but is not suited with the kind of part to afford a fair display of his finished, polished, and refined style of acting. Mr. R. Soutar, as John Hobbs, has a comic character to sustain, which he does justice to. Mr. Clayton represents the Earl of Mountforestcourt, the great landowner, and Oxfordshire aristocrat, with the requisite dignity, as does Mr. Maclean, the Duke of Loamshire, another county magnate. But the gem of the characters is Old Gray, the peasant, whose lowly condition is contrasted with the grandeur of the venerable peer, his landlord. A scene in which the aged nobleman and the aged peasant converse on their opposite stations in life, is idyllic and full of pathos. Miss Madge Robertson as Lady Clara Vere de Vere is all that could be wished: the patrician beauty full of pride, hauteur, and disdain for parvenues. Miss Rachel Sanger, as Lina, proved herself a promising debutant, and Mrs. H. Leigh was efficient as the Frau Harfthal. The scenery of "Dreams" is beautiful, particularly Mayence, in Act I., Castle Oakwood, near Windsor, Act II., and "Love Lane" in Act V., by Grieve. The lighter pieces, or vaudevilles, which precede and follow the pièce de résistance of the evening at this elegant theatre, are stylishly put upon the stage, and afford the necessary change and variety from the more serious interest of the principal drama. A new vaudeville, entitled "An Eligible Villa," is an agreeable little operetta, eliciting the musical abilities of Miss Loseby, (a good soprano), Miss Tremaine, Mr. Crellin, and Mr. Terrot. The splendidly-mounted burlesque of "Robert the Devil" brings the performances to a conclusion. The acting, singing and dancing of Miss E. Farren is especially dashing in the burleeque, E, H, MALCOLM, |