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You should draw up a different testi

IX. monial for those of us who travel thirdclass, omitting the word "courtesy.” I

Mr. Jabez Copley to the leading resi.

dents of Great Burley and Neigham, Yours faithfully,

borhood. Aylmer Penistone.


THE MISSENDEN TESTIMONIAL Mrs. Lyon Mounteney to Mr. Jabez

Mrs. Mounteney is very pleased to

Dear Sir (or Madam),-I beg to inform

you that at an influential and represensee, from Mr. Copley's letter, that a

tative meeting held last evening at the spirit of friendliness and comradeship

"King's Arms” it was decided with is abroad in Great Burley. Would that all English towns had the same

much regret not to take any further

steps with regard to the testimonial to generous feelings! Not having used

Mr. Missenden, and to return to the the railway for several years, owing to

several donors the £4 178. 6d, which the her poor health, Mrs. Mounteney does

united efforts of myself and two of my not feel that she could with propriety identify herself with so personal a

assistants have been able to collect in

the past month, minus an amount of testimonial, but she wishes it every

one guinea 'to Miss Millie Feathers for success. Mrs. Mounteney does not care

work already done on the illuminated for preserved fruit.

address, which cannot, we fear, owing VIII.

to the peculiar nature of the wording Mr. Murray Collier, L.R.C.P., to Mr.

and its reference to Clapham Junction, Jabez Copley.

be adapted to suit any other person.

If anything is now done to indicate Dear Mr. Copley,-A difficulty with to Mr. Missenden that Great Burley regard to the boys' boxes, which occurs

appreciates his services, which is very regularly at the end of each term, and doubtful, it will be done by a few perwhich brings out Mr. Missenden's

sonal friends, at the “King's Arms." native churlishness like a rash, makes I may say here that I have decided it impossible for me to support your

under no conditions to ever again unappeal. After what I have had to say dertake the duties of Secretary or and write to the Station-master it

Treasurer of a Testimonial, whether would seem pure pusillanimity to give hon. or even well paid. Believe me. him money and praise. May I however Dear Sir (or Madam). suggest the emendation of one small

Yours obediently, oversight in your otherwise tasteful

Jabez Copley. address? By no possible means can our little wayside station be described P.S.-As I am now laying down for as a "terminus,” which is a Latin word ever the pen of the testimonial prosignifying the end, as I fancy your son moter, I may return to my true vocaHarold (whom we all find a very tion as a purveyor of high-class propromising and attractive boy) would be visions by saying that I have received able to ratify. I am,

this morning a consignment of sardines Yours sincerely, of a new and reliable brand, which I

Murray Collier. can do at 6%d. the box.

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The biographical dictionaries say sus,” which, however, is too near flatlittle about Louise Michel,-perhaps tery to be pleasant. But possibly she they never will, for legally recognized gained her greatest praise from Laposition or official rank is often thought rousse, who described as "not without better worth chronicling than sheer merit” her “Livre du Jour de l'An,"upside-down careers such as hers. But a number of short stories written for what an amazingly interesting life it children. Would she ever have been was which began no one seems to heard of if it had been possible for her know exactly when-probably at some to go on living in her home in the coundate between 1830 and 1836–and ended try? It is difficult to suppose that such at Marseilles on the 9th of January. a character would not have burnt a Look at the queer, wild picture with mark somewhere; but if anything is which it opens,—the illegitimate child certain, it is that it was the iron of of a maid-servant and a dissolute noble poverty actually felt which turned her playing with the menagerie of animals furious against the perpetual laws that at the ruined château; walking with make poverty possible. When the her arm round the neck of a tame owner of the château died, and his rewolf or deer; loving the boars and tainers were dismissed, it was only a hounds, owls and quails, mice and bats, few months before the small legacy horses and cattle, which went in and left to the Michels was exhausted. out of the château as they pleased, so After that the stages in her life move much that for years she would not quickly, but how strangely the scenes touch cooked flesh; actually collecting change. It was the same girl who toads to throw at the heads of people petted the wolfhounds and the deer, she hated, until one day it struck her wandering in and out of ruined buildthat she ought not to be cruel even to ings, who succeeded in establishing in toads. Something of the wit of her Paris a school of a hundred and fifty wild father, perhaps, she inherited; for pupils, many of whom loved her deeply; she was very young when she began and who, when the Commune broke to write poetry good enough to be pub- out, decided that the right thing to do lished in a local journal, and was only was to get Thiers killed,-imagine doca girl when she wrote an ode to Victor trine of that kind eating its way into Hugo, then in exile, and another to the minds of the young girls she Lamartine. It may not have been very taught. To the end of her life she is considerable work, but it was good said to have hated to think that she enough for Hugo to write back, "Beau took Ferré's advice, and did not have comme votre âge," and to send her a Thiers shot or stabbed. A great deal finely bound copy of "Notre Dame de of the history of the Commune has not Paris.” (Was she, perhaps, born in been written, and never will be writ1831, which was the year in which ten, even if only because in fevers men “Notre Dame de Paris” was published? become delirious and cannot remember; She evidently stated her age in her but, at all events, Louise Michel-she letter to him, and he may have thought was not afraid of speaking the truththat particular book appropriate.) never denied that it was she who Lamartine told her that she was “a taught the scarlet-petticoated pétroleuses veritable Thalia from Mount Parnas- to pump oil on the floors of the Tuileries. She admitted, indeed,-no, she while other richer men were apparently proclaimed, rather-in open Court that happy, made her rebellious against she desired “to oppose a barrier of exerted authority as, in its essence, flame to the invaders from Marseilles.” grinding and cruel. She was always Somewhere in her Memoirs she writes on the side of the man against his that, dressed in the képi and the trou- master, no matter how kind the master sers of the National Guard, fighting at might be. the barricades, she stopped firing her Women have never led Englishmen rifle to catch a cat and take it out of as Louise Michel led, and was admired danger. And it was she, as she act- by, Frenchmen. Perhaps, for that matually boasted, who originated the idea ter, the conditions of life among the that until the demands of the Com- English poor-it is only the poor who mune were accepted a hostage should throw up characters of her kind-have be killed every twenty-four hours,-she nearly always during the last halfwho could not bear the idea of hurt century been sufficiently comfortable to ing a toad. Only a woman, surely, prevent any torch from setting fire to could have the strength to carry such the straw. Louise Michel, at all events, a notion about with her day after day. doubted whether she would ever have

But if the girl who played with the led the poor of London as she did the animals at Vraincourt, and the woman poor of Paris, or have had occasion to who drew deep affection from her do so. She was taken, not long ago, school pupils, and the revolutionary over one of the great London Unions, who got riflemen to follow her when -buildings which, above all so-called they would follow no one else, was es “homes," the reduced working-class sentially feminine--they called her the man loathes to think of entering. But Red Virgin—what was the emotional she, whether or not she realized why mainspring which, as it were, drove the Englishman hates the idea of the her? It was by no means irresponsible workhouse even though it means remadness, for she was at least sane spite from starvation, looked at what enough to be consistent in her methods. she was shown with wonder and adMost certainly it was not desire for miration. "If we had had that in notoriety, for if any one stood to gain France," she said, “there would have anything by what she said and did been no Commune." If that means throughout her life, it was not Louise anything, it means that she deeply Michel. If she had money she gave realized what every stirrer of revolt it away, and there were a hundred has come to know,-that if men can obscure forms of suffering which, if get bread, even if it is bad bread, they she thought she was helping on her will keep quiet; but that if they canwhirling notions, she had no hesitation not get bread of any kind, they will in accepting. If the chief driving go, in their rage, far beyond mere murenergy which impelled her to wild der. They will not move in a cholerarevolution against governing power—to camp, will merely ask "What is it?” the consuming idea that existence but they will never starve in masses under authority is only another phrase without trying to kill. She had not for corporate disease--can be diag- only seen starvation at work, but she nosed, it can be summed up, perhaps, had herself felt its pain, and in her as a monstrous sense of pity. She was monstrously exaggerated pity for those clearly sincere, but the notion that a whom she saw to be suffering she section of her fellow-creatures were preached hideous remedies. Would suffering, no matter from what cause, such preaching ever take root if the seed were dropped among ourselves ? thority in France, and may yet alter That depends, perhaps, less upon the its nature in Russia, though the Rusvitality of the seed than upon the na- sian peasant is as slow to resent bullyture of the ground. It is not essentially ing with violence, and is perhaps nat. difficult to imagine some English labor urally as good, as the English. The revolutionary overwhelmed-over-bal- English character takes fire slowly, and anced, rather--with a sense of the it may be that it has only been the general unfairness of things, which Poor Law which has saved the counplaces this or that man in apparently try from revolution among the hungry certain prosperity, free at all events poor before now. But if that is true, from fear of hunger, and which sets it is none the less true that revolution other men day after day and year after in England has always been led by year wondering where the next meal men, and that an English Louise is to come from. Why, he might ask, Michel is never likely to arise, simply should these great strong laborers earn because she would be laughed at if so little? Honest men whose sons, she suggested violence. She would maybe, are soldiers, and whose daugh- only be followed with enthusiasm it, ters, maybe, breed soldiers,—why like Florence Nightingale, she preached should it not be possible for them to the immediate alleviation rather than earn more than eighteen shillings or the creation of pain,-even though the twenty shillings a week? Such ques- creation of pain were a means to an tions, answered in one way, mean revo- end. lution such as has twice crushed au

The Spectator.


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"Peter Pan; or,” adds Mr. Barrie, turity; for here he has stripped off from “The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up." himself the last flimsy remnants of a And he himself is that boy. That pretence to maturity. Time was when child, rather; for he halted earlier than a tiny pair of trousers peeped from most of the men who never come to under his "short-coats," and his sunny maturity-halted before the age when curls were parted and plastered down, soldiers and steam-engines begin to and he jauntily affected the absence of dominate the soul. To remain, like a lisp, and spelt out the novels of Mr. Mr. Kipling, a boy, is not at all un- Meredith and said he liked them very common. But I know not anyone who much, and even used a pipe for another remains, like Mr. Barrie, a child. It is purpose than that of blowing soapthis unparalleled achievement that in- bubbles. But all this while, bless his forms so much of Mr. Barrie's later little heart, he was suffering. It would work, making it unique. This, too, have been pleasant enough to play at surely, it is that makes Mr. Barrie the being grown-up among children of his most fashionable playwright of his own age. It was a fearful strain to time.

play at being grown-up among grownUndoubtedly, "Peter Pan" is the best up persons. But he was forced to do thing he has done-the thing most this, because the managers of theatres, directly from within himself. Here, at and the publishers of books, would last, we see his talent in its full ma have been utterly dumfounded if he

had asked them to take him as he was. lord it over logic who lords it over her Tlie public, for all its child-worship, all day long. She laughs, and leads was not yet ripe for things not written him a dance all through the night. ostensibly by adults. The managers, Sometimes, if we wake suddenly in the the publishers, the public, had to be night, so suddenly that we remember educated gradually. A stray curl or a dream clearly, logic in us is forced two, now and again, an infrequent to admit that romance is no mere madsoap-bubble between the fumes—that cap-that there is, at least, a method was as much as could be adventured in her madness, and that, as man to just at first. Time passed, and man woman, he is no match for her at her kind was lured, little by little, to the best. Yes, sometimes, remembering a point when it could fondly accept Mr. dream, we marvel at the verisimilitude Barrie on his own terms. The tiny of it, marvel at the soundness of inventrousers were slipped off, and under tion in the dialogue that we were wagthe toy-heap were thrust the works of ing, or in the adventure that had beMr. Meredith. And everyone sat fallen us. And, with a sigh, we conaround, nodding and smiling to one fess that we could not compass conanother rather fatuously, and blessing sciously so admirable an effect. Even the little heart of Mr. Barrie. All was when, as usually happens, the rememnot yet well, though-not perfectly bered dream is but a tissue of foolishwell. By force of habit, the child oc- ness, how amusing the foolishness is! casionally gave itself the airs of an Why cannot we be amusingly foolish adult. There were such moments in the manifold follies of our hours of even in “Little Mary.” Now, at last, vigil? On the whole, certainly, our we see at the Duke of York's Theatre minds work to better effect when we Mr. Barrie in his quiddity undiluted— sleep than when we wake. Why canthe child in a state of nature, un- not we sleep for ever? Or, since the abashed-the child, as it were, in its mind of a man sleeping is equivalent to bath, splashing, and crowing as it a child's mind, why cannot we be for splashes.

ever children? It is only the man of The first of all differences between genius who never experiences this vain the minds of a child and an adult is regret-never hankers after childhood, the vividness and abundance of a with all its material and moral dischild's fancy. Silently in solitude, or comforts, for sake of the spiritual orally among its peers, a child can magic in it. For the man of genius is weave an endless web of romance that rare creature in whom imaginaaround itself and around all things. tion, not ousted by logic in full growth, As a child grows into boyhood, this abides, uncramped, in unison with fulldelicate faculty is dimmed. Manhood, grown logic. Mr. Barrie is not that in most cases, destroys it utterly. For, rare creature, a man of genius. He is as we come to manhood, the logical something even more rare-a child who, side of our brain is developed; and the by some divine grace, can express faculty for logic is ever foe to the through an artistic medium the childfaculty for romance. It is only in our ishness that is in him. sleep, when the logical side of the Our dreams are nearer to us than our brain is at rest, that the romantic side childhood, and it is natural that “Peter is at liberty to assert itself. In our Pan” should remind us more instantly dreams we are still fluently romantic, of our dreams than of our childish fertile in curious invention. In our fancies. One English dramatist, a man dreams romance rises up, laughing, to of genius, realized a dream for us; but

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