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it through. He was quite a fine up- cowslips. And when they come in, standing man then-but he gets so there 'e was a trying to make a cowslip very bent. Of course Nat's wife is a ball for the children-but bless ye, 'ard woman. She's a splendid wife- his fingers have go so fumbly he she's that clean, and such a manager, couldn't do it, and at last 'e give it up. she turns every threepence into six- "Oh dear,” 'e says, “oh dear, I can't do pence, the saying is—but her it, for I think I've forgot how. And tongue's like a razor. It's my belief I'd use to do 'em for my little lads-she's sharpened it on the old gentleman but that's so long ago," 'e says-"so till she can't speak without cutting 'im. long ago." And little Willy says, “Oh
I'm sure many's the time I've 'eard mammie, do look at granfer, he's cry'er say things to 'im that I shouldn't
ing"; and I says, "I'll make 'iin a cup like to 'ave said to me. And Nat's no o'tea presently, I daresay he's a bit good with 'er. He's as meek as a tired." lamb when she begins on 'im. Of And there, after he'd 'ad 'is tea, he course she's very 'ard-working, and says, "Do you think as you could put they say as 'er butter's the best for
a stitch in my coat, I've torn it, and miles round. My 'usband says 'e won- Nat's wife don't like me to make rents ders the sight of 'er don't turn it sour, in my things." but, as I tell 'im, he'd be the very Well, of course, I was only too glad last to say so to 'er face. They're to do it for 'im, the poor old fellow, such poor-spirited creatures, men are. and you should ’ave seen how grateful They're up in a moment if they get a 'e was! You'd ’ave thought that I'd blow, but a cut with a tongue soon done 'im ever such a favor, And I sends 'em off with their tail between
says to 'im, “Jane's very sharp, but their legs. Well, as my poor mother she's very good to you," I says, "and used to say, "The Almighty provides makes you very comfortable”-for I for women creatures by giving 'em a didn't want 'im to get it into 'is head as tongue to ’ave ready when it's wanted." he'd be better off with me.
The old gentleman can't do no work “Yes, yes," he says, “oh yes. It's now. Of course it was very bitter for
very 'ard 'aving an old fellow about 'im at first to keep on at a place the place as has been so unfortunate. where he'd been master. I think as
I hope you'll none of you live to be Nat would 'ave let 'im go on ruling it,
Willy, my little lad," he if it 'adn't been for 'er. But she said
says, “if your daddy gets old like me, --and I dare say it was true—that if be good to 'im,” he says. The child he'd managed it right he wouldn't 'ave did stare at 'im, I can tell ye. been bankrupted, and they didn't want "Oh, as for that," I says-I always no more disgrace in the family. Well, make a point of speaking very cheerful of course she didn't want 'er money to him, you know-"we must all expect thrown away.
You can understand to get old if we lives long enough. that. But 'e's got SO shaky he And I'm sure no one would be any the couldn't do anything now. He comes better for being told as they're going to down 'ere at times when he can walk
It's so discouraging. And as far. It was only last Tuesday he after all," I says, "you've a deal to be was 'ere. I was busy with the wash- thankful for”-for he's apt to get a bit ing, and I couldn't 'ave 'im sitting grumbling—"and when I'm past work," about when I was at work, it worries I says, "I only 'ope I shall 'ave as good you so. So I just sent 'im off with a 'ome as you. And I'm sure," I says, little Willy into the meadow to pick “nobody 'ud think of saying anything against you on account of your mis- regular big girl: “Here, Mary, you fortunes. I dare say as you did your ’aven't put the newspaper down.” I best, though it did turn out so bad." couldn't think what she meant, and the
And there was Willy a beginning girl got red, and 'er said, “I didn't think again, “Don't cry, Grandfer,” and the as you'd 'ave it with company," and baby setting on too, "Don't ky.” She Nat, he looked as confused as possible, is a funny little creature, and ever so but she would 'ave it. And what forward for 'er age. The old gentle do you think it was? Why it was a man's very fond of them, and they're newspaper put on the table where the very fond of him too. But fancy them poor old man sat, as she said, "She a noticing 'im crying! It only shows wasn't going to 'ave the cloth slopped you how sharp they are.
all over." But it did seem 'ard for 'im. One day he come down here, and When we was going 'ome, Mrs. Gask really I couldn't keep from laughing, did go on about it. She says she for he'd got something under 'is coat, couldn't abear to think of 'er father beand he brought it out so secret-like, and ing put upon like that, but, as she said, there it was nothing but a paper of it was no use a-saying nothing, for it'd sweeties for 'ein! And he says, “Nat's only make it the worse for 'im. “If wife 'd say I was a regular old fool only we lived in the country," she says, wasting a penny, but,” he says, “it's "he should ’ave a home with us. But," only for once in a way.” “Why,” I she says, “I know what my father is, says, “I thought after all that fuss as and if he was took off the farm it'd you'd got a watch-and-chain, or some- break his 'eart." thing grand a-coming out."
That's where it is. Of course, as I “I 'aven't nothing left," 'e says. always say, you've got to put up with “But now and again I can get a penny, something wherever you be, and I and little folks like sweeties." I don't daresay he'd rather be on the old place. believe as Nat's children takes much You see, it would be very hurtful to notice of 'im. Once when I was up Nat if we 'ad 'im with us, and Will and there, he'd got the little boy on 'is knee, Nat 'ave always been very good brothand she says, “You put that child ers. And she'd be very vexed. It'd down," and then she says quite out make such a talk! They'd say as she'd loud to me, “I can't abear 'im holding drove 'im out. So all considered, he'll the children, he gets so shaky he'll let ’ave to stay. And of course, as I al'ein fall some day.”
ways tells him, he's got every comfort, I'm sure be heard, for he put 'is hand and nothing to pay for it.
I dare say up to his face, and I saw he was all of he feels 'is age, and it makes 'im lowa tremble. Nat walked off out of the spirited, and take more notice where kitchen. He isn't man enough to stand any one else wouldn't pay no heed. up for 'im, so he goes out of hearing. But, as I say, we all get old in time, You see, when a woman's got the and it's no use being mopey over it, money, it makes her that masterful. after all. It's what we've got to come
I did think as she was harder than to. Now hark at that old Stray barkneed be when we were there for the ing at nothing! Well, he's for all the baby's christening. There was a tea, world like Grandfer for that—and he'd and there was Will and me, and our save `imself some trouble if he'd let two, and Mrs. Gask and her husband. things pass by. And as we was a sitting down to tea And when you've lost your teeth and she calls out to the girl—they keeps a can't bite, no one heeds your bark. The National Review.
Ellen L. Grazebrook.
THE APOCALYPTIC STYLE.
The student who from some far-off ing from other evidence, they do not epoch looks back upon our twentieth- lack intelligence; they are not playing century life, will find one phenomenon a part, with tongue in cheek, but actto perplex him. The age, he will de- ing in some kind of way on some kind cide, was more critical than construc- of principles. Their disease is more tive, more expository than original. subtle than grandiloquence: it is not But when, being learned in precedents, quite what the French call grandeur; he looks for the familiar traits of a perhaps it may be best described as a rational and pedestrian era, he will be suburban sublimity. All the essentials amazed to discover something very of the sublime are there, except the much the contrary in several impor- great occasion and the commanding tant departments. He will find sec- character. The observer, comparing it tions of the Press and groups of politi- with other journalistic and platform cians thinking, speaking, and writing vices, will probably describe it with in a style which he will correctly de- Plato as the “lie in the soul" as against scribe as “apocalyptic.” It is not false the more venial lie on the lips. And, rhetoric, or vulgar derelictions of taste; having some knowledge of history, he for these in any democracy he will be will wonder how we have so comprepared. The phenomenon will be pletely forgotten the teaching of our rather a tremendous solemnity in triv- own eighteenth century. ial things, a never-ceasing appeal to It was the fashion in Victorian days the most grave and ultimate sanctions, to say hard things of the eighteenth the swinging of the prophet's tattered century, since every era is apt to unmantle from inadequate shoulders. In derrate its predecessor. The age in all ages great men on great occasions which the British Empire was created, have used such appeals. The distinc- which produced Marlborough and Rodtion of our age is that little men on ney, Clive and Wolfe: which was domlittle occasions see fit to parody the
inated by Chatham; which saw the practice. In the phrase of Burke, the Highlanders march to Derby and the extreme medicine of the Constitution hopeless loyalties of Culloden,--that has become its daily bread. Our ob- age was condenined as lacking in roserver will be a little puzzled by it all. mance. The truth is that in no epoch He will find our journalists and poli- in our long history has the romance of ticians dragging in high Heaven to ar- deed and fact been more conspicuous. bitrate in some petty social problem, The eighteenth century saw that for which is rather one of administration the romantic to flourish it must be than of ethics. He will find a contest nourished and strengthened by what between Mr. A and Mr. B at some we are accustomed to call commonbye-election presented in colors which sense. The true Romantic is not the would befit the strife of Ormuzd and vaporing young gentleman with odd Ahriman. Some tremendous ultimate clothes and exuberant hair, but some issue for human nature will appear such type as those Georgian sea-capto be cloaked under the prosaic surface tains who wore woollen under-clothing of a struggle between two statesmen and loved food and wine and the solid for office, or two religious sects for a comforts of the hearth when they were privilege. The men who make these not about their business of fighting. appeals are in the main sincere; judg. This spirit of high enterprise based on sound calculations, of chivalry with- cient to note the fact that that great out pose and eloquence without gush, and splendid movement, the Romantic is the romance which is peculiarly Revival, which has so profoundly ineighteenth-century and peculiarly Eng. fluenced our modern thought and ex: lish. Our forefathers are said to pression, tended also to make the have distrusted "enthusiasm," and world forget a truth which is essenthey would have gladly admitted the tially romantic, the eighteenth-century charge. They did distrust whatever doctrine of the appropriate style. The was opposed to good sense and sane doctrine is old as Aristotle, and indeed human instinct. They were not afraid is no more than the belief that facts of the intellect, and saw no cause to are the foundation of everything, and forego the exercise of their native wits that literature as well as statesmanmerely because a dogma was presented ship must keep close to them. It asks with Sinaitic solemnity. They did for a style organically related to the not respect earnestness unaccompanied facts, and maintains that sublime by intelligence, and why should they? imaginings and exalted rhetoric, being The lesson of the eighteenth century addressed to a human audience, must both in literature and politics was that be in accord with the ancient human for every matter there is an appropri- sense of fitness. ate style. It could admire the heroics The degeneration of the romantic of Chatham while it laughed at the movement is one source of the apocarhetoric of Beckford. We call a man lyptic style, but many other springs well-bred whose manners are nicely combined to fill the channel. One was adapted to the varying situations of the influence of Mr. Gladstone, for life. The eighteenth century de- foolish things come frequently from manded breeding-which is to say that splendid origins. To Mr. Gladstone a it asked for a manner adequate to the grave and prophetic style was the natsubstance, and rejected what fel! ural medium of thought. He had the short or exceeded.
great character and, repeatedly, the The so-called Romantic Revival is great occasion which we have laid often described as a revolt from eight down as the necessary preliminaries eenth-century standards. It was, more for the exercise of this manner. But correctly, in its best form a natural he had no humor, and in consequence development. It demanded an expres- he would expound the trivial in a style sion in literature for a side of life which only his amazing gifts of voice which had never been forgotten by the and presence saved from being comic. plain citizen. But the danger of a His devout followers imitated him in movement which is mainly literary is his vices. A certain type of Gladston. that it is apt to go beyond the justifi- ian donned the giant's robe with sad cation given by the living world. Ro- results. It was easy to copy his somance now and then forgot reality, lemnity, his incongruous appeals to and instead of being a tremendous morality and religion, his lack of comfact became a literary pose. Della- mon perspective. What could not be cruscans and Spasmodics revelled in copied were the fire, the imagination, wild verbiage; emotion turned to sen- the withering passion which accomsibility; idealism slipped into transcen- panied them. There being but one dentalism; the truths of democracy Gladstone and many Gladstonians, the became the whimsies of revolution. foibles of a great personality became We are not attempting a history of the the eagerly sought virtues of a politi. pathology of literature, so it is suff- cal school. Much is due, also, to the
conditions of our modern cheap jour- ways put their case, as a mathematinalism. Half-educated writers in the cian would say, several powers too better sort of cheap paper, having to high. The fashion has been recogdeal with matters about which they nized since first men herded into comare imperfectly informed but more or munities, and the exaggerations, being less sincerely convinced, fall into the known for what they are, are innocuapocalyptic style as the easiest. When ous. Wilkes once told Lord Sheffield you are short of arguments it is so that he thought Lord Bute a good much simpler to fulminate and proph- statesman, but that it was his game esy. But the main source is to be to abuse him; and if Wilkes's virile lifound, perhaps, in the considerable bels were conceived and taken in this part which Non-conformity has played spirit, how much more the decorous of late in both literature and politics, depreciations of our own day! The In dissent the pulpit and the platform men who thundered against Mr. Fox have rarely been distinguishable. The dined with him at Brook's and willfashion which began with the Puritans ingly pocketed his losings. It is allowof making the august words of Scrip- able to describe every measure of the ture the counters of ordinary conver- Government to which you are opposed sation has been maintained, perhaps as the last word in human folly, and out of a belated sense of romance, by every amendment of your own party those who believe themselves to be as a shining instance of human wistheir spiritual desceendants.
dom. It is perfectly fair for one class cess is that which we have already ob- of paper to portray Mr. Asquith as a served. Stern men engaged in a con- brigand without a redeeming virtue, test of life and death may fittingly use and for another class to show us Mr. the speech of high tragedy; but the Balfour in colors which would have same accent becomes comic on the lips shamed Iago. It is the rule of the of comfortable persons busied with game, and nobody takes it seriously. some less vital struggle.
Every one is aware that the much Whatever the cause,-and we leave abused public man is as respectable a the analysis to some pathologist a few
citizen as the rest of us. The fashion centuries hence,—the fact is before us. is harmless, because each side knows We do not believe that England has that it is exaggerating and that the lost her traditional phlegm. A Conti
other side knows that it knows this. nental observer from a brief study of The sin is only against good taste, and some of our newspapers might imagine
that is not very important. that the nation to a man had been Nor is the apocalyptic style the false converted to the worst kind of Rous- emphasis and gross rhetoric which disseauism. Of course it is not true. The figure so much of our modern journalaverage Englishman is as solid and ism and oratory. That incurable rosensible as he ever was. But he has manticist, the public, hankers after got as his official interpreters a num- splashes of color, and those who cater ber of gentlemen who are resolved to for its taste provide them.
The young make the world believe that he is a lions of “The Daily Telegraph," with feckless neurotic being, living in a
whom Matthew Arnold was so angry, whirl of confused primary emotions. were very innocent people after all. Let us be very clear, however, about They murdered the King's English and what we mean by the apocalyptic style. jangled the nerves of Culture, but in It is not the ordinary exaggeration of their own crude way they ministered party warfare. Politicians must al. to an ancient and honorable craving.