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the conditions are actually so far revers- / and diligences. It is the difference beed. We had before remarked that the tween Macbeth in the play, and Macbeth impression produced by the savage wild- as Macduff' thought of him in real life. ness of the Alps has in itself a neutral We will only speak shortly of one more character; we have now shortly pointed element of the question, and that with a out the most obvious circumstances view to an ulterior object. Few things which have converted what must once are more striking in reality than those have been decidedly unpleasant into one great panoramic views, of which it is the of the most delightful sensations that can fashion to speak contemptuously. We be produced by the sight of scenery. It always admired the view expressed in the would perhaps require a more refined lineanalysis to point out how the same holds Twelve fair counties saw the blaze from Maltrue of the other peculiarities at which vern's lonely height. we have glanced. Thus, for example, It is an eminently satisfactory thing to the mighty cliffs that plunge down thou- see twelve fair counties all at once. It is sands of yards from our feet, produce, still pleasanter to see the cloudy panoas we have hinted, an emotion which, rama stretched beneath your feet from when combined with real terror, may be the summit of Mont Blanc, and feel that painful; if combined only with that faint you overlook a circle that would be visireflection of terror with which our imag- ble on a map of Europe. The theory we inations delight to play, may be exqui- have laid down explains this sufficiently sitely delightful. The awe with which for the present. The imagination is stimmany people regard the precipices of the ulated by the sense of vast extent in Matterhorn or the Aiguille Dru, is in- all cases. But whilst a vast extent of deed mingled with the satisfaction of a Alp calls up to our mind no counterballower instinct. There is a vulgar curios- ancing images of danger or discomfort, ity which induces guide-books to lead a a vast extent of grizzly bears and red Inyearly stream of tourists to admire rocks dians is a highly discouraging prospect. balanced on disproportionately small ped We have dwelt at more than sufficient estals, natural archways and stalactites length upon this part of the subject. It that imitate pulpits on the floor of cav- would be impossible to discuss it all in a erns. Why it should be a source of un- really satisfactory manner without introspeakable pleasure to a rational being to ducing much wider considerations. And see a hill shaped like the late Duke of it is scarcely possible to do more than Wellington's nose, is an inscrutable prob- hint at what follows without, to some delem. But, apart from this, there is a gree, taking those considerations into achigher emotion produced in every man's count. We may indeed remark, that, mind by looking down the rocky ribs of when we have made peace with the mounthe Monte Rosa or Finster Aarhorn, tains, our minds will be set at liberty to which, powerful in every case, may be admire those delicate shades of color and transmuted from a painful stimulus to the form, of which Mr. Ruskin has so eloimagination into a delightful one. It may quently discoursed. Our minds, when be an occult sense of the incredible force unoccupied by more pressing emotions that has apparently lifted the foundations (and when not reduced by fatigue to the of the earth into mid air, or of the stu- level of associating with ants), will bependous weight that rests so quietly sup- come sensitive to hitherto unnoticed imported upon the green meadows below. pulses. But we shall not be able to exThe modern traveler, who is seeking re- plain the degree to which they affect us lief among wildernesses that only play without shortly hinting at some more at being savage to him, will find it pleas- intricate problems. ant. The Swiss peasant, to whom the Mr. Ruskin (whose remarks are apt to precipice is an enemy in earnest, with, be instructive almost in proportion to the perhaps, the blood of his relations and degree in which we differ from them) is the ruin of his fields upon its hands, will very fond of reproaching modern sentinot be able to look with complacency ment for what he calls its tendency to upon such a terrible antagonist any more “general cloudiness.” He falls foul of than the traveler before carriage roads various poets and painters for this failing,

and apparently ascribes it to their want on the whole, produce something very of faith. Now, we never could see why much better: we should be very weak if people were to be judged according to we disparaged our own elaborate plans the quantity of things they believe, espe- for gaining the same ultimate ends in cially irrespective of the quality of the order to admire his wonderful skill. things. There is a deal of faith in “honest The bearing of these obvious considdoubt.” We don't believe that a gentle- erations upon questions of taste and poe man in the middle ages was in any respect try is very interesting and very difficult better because he implicitly swallowed a to work out. We must be content with great many articles, on which Scott or simply expressing our opinion, that what Tennyson have their doubts. It only is, on the whole, a progressive condition shows that he was either more stupid or of the intellect, may for a time be prejumore uneducated. Dante might, for any- dicial to art. Our knowledge, and conthing we can tell, have been quite as noble sequently the means of affecting our faca character if he had lived now, though ulties, may multiply so fast as to overhe would probably have modified his power and bewilder the poet or painter views about the infernal regions. But who has to combine them into new harthis by the way.

We only wish to re- monious wholes. We can only hope that mark that this tendency to cloudiness" is he will ultimately get abreast of those a most natural result of the intellectual who provide his materials—as the critiprogress of the age, and in no degree cism, which at first seems to throw doubt whatever a mark of an unhealthy mind. upon everything, will ultimately succeed In every possible department of thought, in constructing a theory more comprewhat seemed simple a few centuries ago, hensive and more tenable. The general has grown to be highly complex. When bearing of this upon our subject is plain. people believed in the four elements they To follow it out in detail would be exhad a far narrower range of thought than tremely difficult. Mr. Ruskin, we have has been opened by modern chemistry. seen, expresses great admiration of the When society consisted of a patriarch narcissus and the oxalis as small items in and his family; when all the various the sum total of mountain beauty. How functions, now exercised by judges, law- much of this appreciation is due to the givers, generals, and bishops, were sim- labors of the scientific botanist? Simple ple enough to be concentrated in one shepherds and huntsmen class together man, and those of shoemakers, shepherds, the whole feathered race, with a few exand manufacturers in another, society ceptions, under the sweeping head of was much less complicated, the whole “small birds.” In the same way, many range of ideas was infinitely narrower, people, after roses and lilies, consider the and people's minds were much less active, rest of their tribe as purely and simply because fewer impulses stirred them. No- "flowers." They may possibly go so far body would be bothered or stimulated as to divide them afterwards into red, by the puzzles of political economy, or blue, and yellow flowers. Now, although historical philosophy, or dogmatic theol- the botanist examines flowers with a difogy. We were like the beast or plant, ferent aim proximately, he calls our atwhose whole body is stomach, and lungs, tention incidentally to an infinite number and legs, and feet all at once. He is not of beauties, which we should otherwise a bad kind of beast in his own sphere; have passed. His knowledge gradually but he is, on the whole, decidedly inferior filters through to unscientific people; the to the human animal. People had at that mere increase of nomenclature passes to time the kind of superiority which a sav- some degree into popular language, and age frequently has over a civilized man. multiplies the categories under which we They could use a few simple elements so arrange flowers. We become daily conas to produce the utmost possible effect. scious that it is worth attending to a numThe Arab can make use of the various ber of spots, and streaks, and forins, and products of a palm-tree for his clothes, that there is a variety of relations between and his house, and his kitchen. We could the different parts of a plant, the very not do so well with his means; but with conception of which would have been our highly complicated apparatus we can, impossible formerly. It is indeed a very

common observation, that the knowledge view considered by itself. It would unof botany wonderfully increases the plea- doubtedly “repay much labor, if the lasure of the mountain scenery, or (as we borer wanted to be "repaid.” The preshould express it if we were at all bota-judice against it is probably attributable nists) makes them far more beautiful. And to the unjustifiable jealousy of painters, thus a cultivated mind like Mr. Ruskin's, who suppose that if they can't put a view even if he has not made a special study of into a picture, it can't be a good one. The botany, is naturally attracted to beauties, fact is, that the view infinitely exceeds which in former ages he would have passed anything that can be put into a picture. unobserved if he had been Homer, and Pla- To any one, in whose composition the to, and Apelles rolled into one. If we had poetic element has not been altogether space to pursue this into other subjects, the omitted, no pleasure of its kind can be results would accumulate indefinitely. keener than being thus elevated above

Our former remarks tended to show, the world, and occupying for the time the that in the progress of society certain position of an intelligent eagle. But that new wants had been generated, which against which we most vehemently profound their appropriate satisfaction in the test, is the tacit assumption that the labor fastnesses of the Alps. We now have of the ascent is in itself useless. We do tried to point out how the intellectual not speak of the great physical enjoyprogress involved in the other develops ment, of the keen air, and the sense of new faculties, or at least makes them victorious struggle. These exist; but sensitive to an infinite variety of harmo- they are not the real secret of the charm. nies previously unnoticeable. We will The fact is, that scenery is not to be aponly repeat what we have already assert- preciated by a mere succession of views. ed, a statement, the elaboration of which the essential point is, that your mind would be necessary to complete the sub- should be thoroughly saturated with the ject. Those emotions which the Alps associations that crowd the cliffs, glaciers, excite in every one are generally power- and ridges, like the witches on the ful, but are also neutral. They are nei- Brocken. You require to become a part ther pleasant nor the reverse. The more of all that you have met; to know the recondite sources of satisfaction, upon precipices, not as pleasing objects for a which we have touched, are far fainter, middle distance, but as close personal and more delicate. When weighted with friends; to know them by heart, and to the astonishment and awe which moun- taste them crag by crag, and gully by tains produce in minds not actually ob- gully. We utterly disbelieve that any tuse, they become the source of the great- human being who creeps along carriage er part of the keen pleasure that moun- roads, and does not penetrate into their tain scenery confers. They are, to use a deepest recesses, can feel the true poetry rather vulgar metaphor, the dross of of the Alps. The arbitrary way in which bugar that sweetens and renders palata- the word beauty is used is the cause of ble the strong liquor of the Alps. men generally overlooking the fact, that

We have now only one detached re- to appreciate properly any scenery, and mark to offer in conclusion; it is, how- especially Alpine scenery, you should ever, the most practical, and that which grapple your mind to it by every chain we feel most deeply-What Alpine trav- of association, arbitrary or otherwise, eler has not been goaded by the inces that can be formed. We do not care to sant repetition of the following dialogue? value the appreciation of clouds or mounSo you have been up Mont Blane? Yes. tains, possible to one who has not watched And did the view from the top repay" them as the real Alpine enthusiast should you? The only answer practicable is a do, in all weather, in every point of view, half-suppressed groan, and silent hope and from the loftiest and most retired, as for the speedy repentance of the offender. well as the more hackneyed places. To The theory implied is, that the ascent is conclude with the accustomed formula : a toilsome undertaking, the only answer- If one such traveler has been saved but able motive for which is the hope of en- from one repetition of this most vexatious joying a view from the top. Now we question, our paper will not have been have already protested in favor of this written in vain.

CHAPTER III.

THE TIME OF TRIAL.

answer.

London Society.

Mr. Lascelles was last seen alive a little THE MYSTERY OF THE BLOODY HAND. after ten o'clock on Friday night, at [Concluded from page 441).

which time he left the house alone, and was not seen again living. At the in

quest on Saturday, James Crosby, a farm MEANWHILE he was waiting for my laborer, gave the following evidence:

I stepped forward, intending “I had been sent into the village for to take his hand, but the stains drove some medicine for a sick beast, and was me back again. Where so much depends returning to the farm by the park a little upon a right—or a misunderstanding, before eleven, when near the low gate I the only way is to speak the fair truth. saw a man standing with his back to me. I did so; by a sort of forced calm hold. The moon was shining, and I recognized ing back the seething of my brain. him at once for Mr. George Manners, of

"George, I should like to touch you, Beckfield. When Mr. Manners saw me but-I cannot! I beg you to forgive the he seemed much excited, and called out, selfishness of my grief--my mind is con- “Quick! help! Mr. Lascelles has been fused—I shall be better soon. God has murdered." I said, “Good God! who sent us a great sorrow, in which I know did it ?” He said, “I don't know; I you are as innocent as I am. I am very found him in the ditch; help me to carry sorry—I think that is all.” And I put him in.” By this time I had come up, my hand to my head, where a sharp pain and saw Mr. Lascelles on the ground, was beginning to throb. Mr. Manners lying on his side. I said, “How do you spoke emphatically

know he's dead ?” He said, “I fear “God bless you, Doralice! You know there's very little hope; he has bled so I promised. Thank you forever!” profusely. I am covered with blood."

“ If you fancy you have any reason to I was examining the body, and as I thank me,” I said, “do me this favor. turned it over I found that the right hand Whatever happens, believe that I be- was gone. It had been cut off at the lieve!”

wrist. I said, “Look here! Did you I could bear no more, so I went out know this ??? He spoke very low, and of the kitchen. As I went I heard a only said, “How horrible!” I said, “Let murmur of pity run through the room, us look for the hand; it may be in the and I knew that they were pitying—not ditch.” He said, “No, no! we are the dead man, but me; and me--not for wasting time. Bring him in, and let us my dead brother, but for his murderer. send for the doctor.” I ran to the ditch, When I got into the passage, the mist however, but could see nothing but a that had still been dark before my eyes pool of blood. Coming back, I found suddenly became darker, and I remem- on the ground a thick hedge-stake covber no more.

ered with blood. The grass by the ditch When my senses returned, Harriet had was very much stamped and trodden. I come home. From the first she would said, “There has been a desperate strugnever hear George's name, except to ac- gle.” He said, - Mr. Lascelles was a cuse him with frantic bitterness of poor very strong man.” I said, “Yes; as Edmund's death; and as nothing would strong as you, Mr. Manners.” He said, induce me to credit his guilt, the subject “Not quite; very nearly though.” He was as much as possible avoided. I can said nothing more till we got to the hall; not dwell on those terrible day I was then he said, " Who can break it to his very ill for some time, and after I had sister ?” I said, “They will have to come down stairs, one day I found a know. It's them that killed him has newspaper containing the following para- brought this misery upon them.” The graph, which I copy here, as it is the low gate is a quarter of a mile or more shortest and least painful way of telling from the hall.' you the facts of

poor
Edmund's death. “Death seems to have been inflicted

by two instrumentsma wounding and a Universal horror has been excited in cutting one. As yet, no weapon but the the neighborhood by the murder of Ed- stake has been discovered, and a striet mund Lascelles, Esq., of Crossdale Hall. search for the missing hand has also

THE MURDER AT CROSSDALE HILI..

proved fruitless. No motive for this otherwise unaccountable outrage upon wanton outrage suggests itself, except his victim, goes far to take away the that the unhappy gentleman was in the feeling of pity which we should otherhabit of wearing on his right hand a wise have felt for the murderer, regardsapphire ring of great value. (An heir- ing him as under the maddening influloom; it is on my finger as I write, dear ences of disappointed love and temporary Nell. Oh! my poor boy). All curiosity passion. Perhaps, however, the most is astir to discover the perpetrator of this fatally conclusive evidence against Mr. horrible deed; and it is with the deepest Manners lies in the time that elapsed beregret that we are obliged to state that tween his leaving the hall, and being every fresh link in the chain of evidence found in the park by the murdered body. points with fatal accuracy to one, whose He left the house at a quarter past nineposition, character, and universal popu- he was found by the body of the desarity would seem to place him above ceased a little before eleven; so that suspicion. We would not willingly in- either it must have taken him more than trude upon the privacy of domestic in- an hour and a half to walk a quarter of terests, but the following facts will too a mile-which is obviously absurd-or soon be matters of public notoriety. he must have been waiting for nearly

“A younger sister of the deceased ap- two hours in the grounds. Why did he pears to have formed a matrimonial en- not return at once to the house of Mr. gagement with George Manners, Esq., Topham? (where it appears that he was of Beckfield. It was strongly opposed staying). For what—or for whom-was by Mr. Lascelles, and the objection (which he waiting? If he were in the park at at the time appeared unreasonable) may the time of the murder, how came it that have been founded on a more intimate he heard no cries, gave the unhappy genknowledge of the suitor's character than tleman no assistance, and offers no sugwas then possessed by others. The match gestion or clue to the mystery beyond was broken off, and all intercourse was the obstinate denial of his own guilt, suspended till the night of the murder, though he confesses to have been in the when Mr. Manners gained admittance to grounds during the whole time of the the hall in the absence of Mr. Lascelles, deadly struggle, and though he was found and was for some hours alone in the alone with scratched hands and bloodyoung lady's company. They were found stained clothes beside the corpse of his together a little before nine o'clock by avowed enemy? We leave these quesMr. Lascelles, and a violent scene ensued, tions to the consideration of our readers, in the course of which the young lady as they will be for that of a conscientious left the apartment. (Miss Lascelles has and impartial jury, not, we trust, blinded been ill ever since the unhappy event, by the wealth and position of the crimiand is so still. Her deposition was taken nal to the hideous nature of the crime. in writing at the hall). From the young "The funeral is to take place to-morlady's evidence it appears, 1st, that the row. George Manners is fully committed passions of both were strongly excited, to take his trial for willful murder at the and she admits having felt sufficient ap- ensuing assizes.” prehension to induce her to twice warn The above condemning extract only Mr. Manners to self-control. 2ndly, that too well represented the state of public Mr. Manners avowed himself prepared feeling. All Middlesex-nay, all England to defy Mr. Lascelles's authority in the —was roused to indignation, and poor matter of the marriage; and 3rdly, the Edmund's youth and infirmities made the two sentences of their final conversation crime appear the more cowardly and dethat she overheard (both Mr. Manners”), testable. were, what can hardly be interpreted otherwise than as a threat, that their next meeting should be a different one,' and that then he would not ask for Mr. My misery between the time of the Lascelles' hand, but take it.' The diaboli- murder and the trial was terrible from cal character of determined and premedi- many causes : my brother's death; tated vindictiveness thus given to an George's position; the knowledge of his

CHAPTER IV.

DRIFTING TO THE END.

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