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that Colin proposed to Alice, who was beginning to lift her head again like a flower after a storm, and to show symptoms of awakening from the first heaviness of grief, to go out with him and visit those ilex avenues, which had now so many associations for the strangers. She went with a faint sense of pleasure in her heart through the afternoon sunshine, looking wistfully through her black veil at the many cheerful groups on the way, and cling ing to Colin's arm when a kind neigh. bour spoke to her in pity and condolence. She put up her veil when they came to the favourite avenue, where Lauderdale and Colin walked so often. Nothing could be more silent, more cool and secluded than this verdant cloister, where, with the sunshine still blazing everywhere around, the shade and tho quiet were equally profound and unbroken. They walked once or twice up and down, remarking now and then upon the curious network of the branches, which, out of reach of the sun, were all bare and stripped of their foliage, and upon the blue blaze of daylight at either opening, where the low arch of dark verdure framed in a space of brilliant Italian sky. Then they both became silent, and grew conscious of it; and it was then, just as Alice for the first time began to remember the privileges and penalties of her womanhood, that Colin spoke,
“I brought you here to speak to you,” he said. “I have a great deal to say. That letter that Lauderdale showed you did not vex you, did it? Will you tell me ? Arthur made me one of your guardians, and, whatever you may decide upon, that is a sacred bond.”
“Yes, oh yes,” said Alice, with tears, “I know how kind you both are. No, it did not vex me, except about papa. I was rather glad, if I may say so, that she did not send for me home. It is not -a-home-like what it used to be," said Alice ; and then, perhaps because something in Colin's looks had advertised her of what was coming ; perhaps because the awakening sense sprung up in a moment, after long torpor, a sudden
change came upon her face. "I have given you a great deal of trouble," she said ; “I am like somebody who has had a terrible fall—as soon as I come to myself I shall go away. It is very wrong of me to detain you here."
“You are not detaining us,” said Colin, who, notwithstanding, was a little startled and alarmed; "and you must not talk of going away. Where would you go? Are not we your friendsthe friends you know best in Italy? You must not think of going away.”
But even these very words thus repeated acted like an awakening spell upon Alice. “I cannot tell what I have been thinking of,” she said. “I suppose it is staying indoors and forgetting everything. I do not seem to know even how long it is. Oh yes, you are my kindest friends. Nobody ever was so good to me; but, then, you are only gentlemen,” said Alice, suddenly withdrawing her hand from Colin's arm, and blushing over all her pallid face. "Ah! I see now how stupid I have been to put off so long. And I am sure I must have detained you here."
“No," said Colin, “ do not say so ; but I have something more to say to you. You are too young and too delicate to face the world alone, and your people at home are not going to claim you. I am a poor man now, and I never can be rich, but I would protect you and support you if you would have me. Will you trust me to take care of you, Alice, not for this moment, but always ? I think it would be the best thing for us both.”
“Mr. Campbell, I don't understand you,” said Alice, trembling and casting a glance up at him of wistful surprise and uncertainty. There was an eager, timid inquiry in her eyes besides the bewilderment. She seemed to say, “What is it you mean?” “Is that what you mean?” and Colin answered by taking her hand again and drawing it through his arm.
“Whether you will have me or not," he said, “there is always the bond between us which Arthur has made sacred, and you must lean on me all the
same. I think you will see what I to him, and by the tender dependence mean if you consider it. There is only of the clinging arm. He set her one way that I can be your true protector doubts at rest almost as eloquently, and guardian, and that is if you will con- and quite as warmly, as if she had sent to marry me, Alice. Will you? indeed been that woman who had You know I have nothing to offer you; disappeared among the clouds for ever, but I can work for you, and take care and led her home to Sora Antonia with of you, and with me you would not be a fond care, which was very sweet to alone.”
the forlorn little maiden, and not irkIt was a strange way of putting it, some by any means to the magnanicertainly—very different from what Colin mous knight. Thus the decisive step had intended to say, strangely different was taken in obedience to the necessities from the love-tale that had glided through of the position, and the arrangements his imagination by times since he became (as Colin had decided upon them) of
man ; but he was very earnest and Providence. When he met Lauderdale sincere in what he said, and the innocent and informed him of the new event, the girl beside him was no critic in such young man looked flushed and happy, matters. She trembled more and more, as was natural in the circumstances, and but she leaned upon him and heard him disposed of all the objections of prudence out with anxious attention. When he with great facility and satisfaction. It had ended, there was a pause, during was a moonlight night, and Colin and which Colin, who had not hitherto been his friend went out to the loggia on the doubtful, began himself to feel anxious; roof of the house, and plunged into a sea and then Alice once more gave a wistful, of discussion, through which the young inquiring look at his face.
lover steered triumphantly the frailest "Don't be angry with me," she said; bark of argument that ever held water. "it is so hard to know what to say. If But, when the talk was over, and Colin, you would tell me one thing quite truly before he followed Lauderdale downand frankly—Would it not do you a stairs, turned round to take a parting look great deal of harm if this was to happen at the Campagna, which lay under them as you say "
like a great map in the moonlight, the "No," said Colin. When he said old apparition looked out once more the word he could not help remember from the clouds, pale and distant, and ing, in spite of himself, the change it again seemed to wave to him a shadowy would make in his young prospects, but farewell. “Farewell! farewell! in heaven the result was only that he repeated his nor in earth will you ever find me," negative with more warmth. “It can sighed the woman of Colin's imagido me only good,” said Colin, yielding nation, dispersing into thin white mists to the natural temptations of the moment, and specks of clouds; and the young " and I think I might do something for man went to rest with a vague sense of your happiness too. It is for you to loss in his heart. The sleep of Alice decide — do not decide against me, was sweeter than that of Colin on this Alice," said the young man; “I cannot first night of their betrothal; but at that part with you now."
one period of existence, it often happens "Ah! -” said Alice with a long that the woman, for once in her life, breath. “If it only would not do you has the advantage. And thus it was any harm," she added a moment after that the event, foreseen by Lauderdale once more with that inquiring look. on board the steamer at the beginning The inquiry was one which could be of their acquaintance, actually came to answered but in one way, and Colin pass. was not a man to remain unmoved
To be continued. by the wistful, sweet eyes thus raised
THE CAMBRIDGE “APOSTLES.”
BY W. D. CHRISTIE.
A WRITER in the July number of Fraser's Magazine, who has described most of the living Judges of England, has, under a mistake about one of them, introduced an allusion to a Cambridge Society to which, not by itself, the name of “Apostles” has been given. He says of Mr. Justice Blackburn that “he was educated at Eton and Trinity College, where he took a creditable degree in mathematics. His friends thought highly of him, and he was enrolled a member of the club or society called *The Apostles,' which boasts of having worked wonders in the domains of thought and imagination. It may lay claim to a man of genius or two, and several men of talent, as having belonged to the fraternity; but, as regards national thought or progress, its annals might be cut out of the intellectual history of England without being missed."
Mr. Justice Blackburn was eighth wrangler in 1834, and was not a member of the Society to which his name has served as a pretext for this allusion. His abilities are accredited to the world by something stronger than his college honours or the opinion of friends, for there is probably no more remarkable instance of a high appointment given entirely from disinterested conviction of ability and learning than the selection by Lord Campbell, when Lord Chancellor, for the first judgeship he had to give, of Mr. Blackburn, a political opponent, known to him only as a member of the bar, and not suggested for promotion by precedence, for he was not a Queen's Counsel, or by popular opinion, for to the general public he was unknown. It so happens, however, that the learned Judge did not belong to the fraternity which, according to this writer, “boasts of having worked wonders in the domains of thought and
imagination,” and whose annals, strange to say, though the writer asserts that it has comprised one or two men of genius and several of talent, might yet, he thinks, be “cut out of the intellectual history of England without being missed.” The mistake has perhaps originated in a confusion with a younger brother of the Judge, the Professor of Mathematics at Glasgow, who was a member of the Society
This Society has existed for forty-four years in the University of Cambridge. Its own name is Conversazione Society. It is limited in number to twelve actual members in residence, undergraduates or bachelors of arts. Hence the name of “ Apostles,” given at first in derision. Thirty years ago, the fame, then already considerable, of one, of whom few would now say that his works, if lost, would not be missed, or that he had not done wonders in the domains of thought and imagination,-the fame of Alfred Tennyson, and a band of his friends and contemporaries, all members of the Society, among whom may be named Arthur Hallam, Milnes, Trench, and Alford, had made for the Society in Cambridge a name which has never since departed from it. Poetry was not its sole or special pursuit. In 1834, the actual members had the advantage of the continued presence in Cambridge, and friendly counsel, and familiar companionship, of a large number of college tutors and lecturers, who had taken high University honours, and had already, according to the rules of the Society, become honorary members. Among these were W. H. Thompson, the present Regius Professor of Greek, Blakesley, now a Canon of Canterbury, Charles Merivale, the historian of Rome, G.S. Venables, and Edmund Lushington, the Professor of Greek at Glasgow. In this year, 1834, an agitation and controversy having arisen about the admission of Dissenters to degrees in the Universities, and great fears having been expressed by Mr. Goulburn in the House of Commons, and by Dr. Turton, then Regius Professor of Divinity, in a pamphlet, of mischievous theological controversies among undergraduates, that giant in learning and intellect, Connop Thirlwall—then an assistanttutor of Trinity, soon after made Bishop of St. David's—scouted the alarm with a reference and a tribute to this Society. Addressing Dr. Turton, Mr. Thirlwall said, “If you are not acquainted with
inform you that there has long existed in this place a society of young men, limited indeed in number, but continually receiving new members to supply its vacancies, and selecting them by preference among the youngest, in which all subjects of the highest interest, without any exclusion of those connected with religion, are discussed with the most perfect freedom. But, if this fact is new to you, let me instantly dispel any apprehension it may excite, by assuring you that the members of this Society, for the most part, have been and are among the choicest ornaments of the University, that some are now among the ornaments of the Church, and that, so far from having had their affections embittered, their friendships torn and lacerated, their union has been one rather of brothers than of friends."
Names have been mentioned which may already suggest that this Society might have been spared the remarks by which an anonymous writer, led to mention it by mistake, has accompanied his admissions of praise. “ It may lay claim to a man of genius or two, and several men of talent, but, as regards national thought or progress, its annals might be cut out of the intellectual history of England without being missed.” Well, genius does not grow on hedgerows, and rare always have been the spirits which are, in Tennyson's words, “ full-welling fountain-heads of change," governing national thought and progress.
Among those who, in academic youth,
were members of this Society, are three distinguished living ornaments of the House of Commons, to two of whom it has been given to be members of the Cabinet, or again as Tennyson says, “To mould a mighty state's decrees
And shape the whisper of the throne,” and the other of whom is one of our ablest parliamentary orators. The three are Mr. Walpole, Lord Stanley, and Mr. Horsman.
Of a fourth who attained eminence in public life I will speak more at large, for death has closed his distinguished career, and in his last years I had peculiar opportunities of knowing him. The name of Charles Buller, by several resemblances—by his wit, by his death at a moment when his fame was culminating and higher political honours had begun to come to him, by many qualities described in Burke's famous eulogy on Charles Townshend-involuntarily recalls to mind that more eminent but less estimable politician. For of Charles Buller it might have been as truly said in the House of Commons, when he had ceased to adorn it, as it was said by Burke of Charles Townshend: “In truth, he was the delight and ornament of this House, and the charm of every private society which he honoured with his presence. Perhaps there never arose in this country, nor in any country, a man of a more pointed and finished wit, and of a more refined, exquisite, and penetrating judgment. If he had not so great a stock as some have had, who flourished formerly, of knowledge long treasured up, he knew better by far than any man I ever was acquainted with, how to bring together. within a short time all that was necessary to establish, to illustrate, and to decorate that side of the question he supported. He stated his matter skilfully and powerfully. He particularly excelled in a most luminous explanation and display of his subject. His style of argument was neither trite and vulgar, nor subtle and abstruse. He hit the House just between wind and water.” Burke qualified his praise of Towns
hend's judgment by a few words which the prudence of his character. He was I have omitted " where his passions the eldest of three children of a rewere not concerned.” These words do tired civil servant of the East India not apply to Charles Buller, and here Company, who was still alive, and who lay one point of superiority. Charles indeed survived him; and, though he Buller also was not a trimmer or a might have looked forward in the ordiwaverer. He was an earnest, single- nary course of nature to a not remote minded, consistent politician. It is possession of a fortune which to him, believed that his political advancement whose ways were frugal and unostentawas for some time retarded by the tious, would have been a complete comcharacter which he had acquired of a petency, and though he had in his ready joker; but whoever thought that under and happy pen a source of income on that bright pleasant surface of playful which from experience he might count, humorousness there was a character he preferred to waive a rank which is wanting in solidity or strength of pur the general object of honourable ambipose, was greatly mistaken. He was tion, that he might preserve the security never a seeker of office; for a con- of an additional means of pecuniary insiderable time, indeed, while it was dependence. He used to like to call within easy reach, he avoided it. The himself a “political adventurer;” and, secretaryship of the Board of Control being not a man of wealth or title, but was offered to him by Lord Melbourne, a man of talent and political convictions, in 1839, when Lord Melbourne's he belonged to that class of "advengovernment was strong, and he declined turers ” from which the House of Comit. Later, in 1841, after Lord Mel- mons and the great aristocratic parties bourne's government had taken the first of England have derived lustre,—the step towards free-trade by proposing a class of Burke, Sheridan, Canning, Hormoderate fixed duty on corn, and the ner, Praed, and Macaulay. In the early fall of the Ministry was certain, autumn of 1847, he received from Lord the very same office was offered to John Russell an offer, which he declined, Charles Buller, and he accepted it, but the handsome terms of which gave casting in his fortunes with a falling him great satisfaction. It was the offer Ministry. When the Liberal party of the seat of Legislative Member of the returned to power in 1846, under Indian Council, which had been first Lord John Russell, as Premier, held by Macaulay, and was then vacaCharles Buller was appointed Judge- ted by Mr. Cameron, whose term of Advocate. This is never a Cabinet office had expired. Lord John Russell office, and many thought that there wrote to him that he could not allow should have been then an ampler the office to be offered to anyone else recognition of Charles Buller's abilities, before giving him the refusal, and that long-tried political steadfastness, and it was with regret he should lose him self-made parliamentary standing. But from England, where high office must his was not a grasping or self-asserting soon present itself for him. He was nature, and he himself was contented. chiefly moved to decline this office by He took the office of Judge-Advocate, his unwillingness to separate himself but he declined its usual accompaniment from his father and mother, neither of the rank of Privy Councillor. He was whom, if he went to India, he could by profession a barrister, and had latterly expect to see again. On the meeting of been often employed in cases before the the new Parliament in November, 1847, Privy Council, and he desired to retain he was appointed President of the newly the power, when he might lose his office, constituted Poor Law Board. In a short of practising as a barrister, which would twelvemonth he was dead. His fame have been contrary to rule or usage, was rapidly ripening when he died at if he were a Privy Councillor. And the early age of forty-two. It had been here appeared both the simplicity and finally arranged very shortly before his