on the whole, produce something very much better: we should be very weak if we disparaged our own elaborate plans for gaining the same ultimate ends in order to admire his wonderful skill.

and apparently ascribes it to their want of faith. Now, we never could see why people were to be judged according to the quantity of things they believe, especially irrespective of the quality of the 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 poeman 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 simple enough to be concentrated in one man, and those of shoemakers, shepherds, and manufacturers in another, society was much less complicated, the whole range of ideas was infinitely narrower, and people's minds were much less active, because fewer impulses stirred them. Nobody would be bothered or stimulated by the puzzles of political economy, or historical philosophy, or dogmatic theology. We were like the beast or plant, whose whole body is stomach, and lungs, and legs, and feet all at once. He is not a bad kind of beast in his own sphere; but he is, on the whole, decidedly inferior to the human animal. People had at that time the kind of superiority which a savage frequently has over a civilized man. They could use a few simple elements so as to produce the utmost possible effect. The Arab can make use of the various products of a palm-tree for his clothes, and his house, and his kitchen. We could not do so well with his means; but with our highly complicated apparatus we can,

labors of the scientific botanist? Simple shepherds and huntsmen class together the whole feathered race, with a few exceptions, under the sweeping head of "small birds." In the same way, many people, after roses and lilies, consider the rest of their tribe as purely and simply "flowers." They may possibly go so far as to divide them afterwards into red, blue, and yellow flowers. Now, although the botanist examines flowers with a different aim proximately, he calls our attention incidentally to an infinite number of beauties, which we should otherwise have passed. His knowledge gradually filters through to unscientific people; the mere increase of nomenclature passes to some degree into popular language, and multiplies the categories under which we arrange flowers. We become daily conscious that it is worth attending to a number of spots, and streaks, and forms, and that there is a variety of relations between the different parts of a plant, the very conception of which would have been impossible formerly. It is indeed a very

It would un

common observation, that the knowledge view considered by itself. of 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 would be necessary to complete the subject. Those emotions which the Alps excite in every one are generally powerful, but are also neutral. They are neither pleasant nor the reverse. The more recondite sources of satisfaction, upon which we have touched, are far fainter, and more delicate. When weighted with the astonishment and awe which mountains produce in minds not actually obtuse, they become the source of the greater part of the keen pleasure that mountain scenery confers. They are, to use a rather vulgar metaphor, the dross of sugar that sweetens and renders palatable the strong liquor of the Alps.

We have now only one detached remark to offer in conclusion; it is, however, the most practical, and that which we feel most deeply-What Alpine traveler has not been goaded by the incessant repetition of the following dialogue? So you have been up Mont Blanc? Yes. And did the view from the top "repay" you? The only answer practicable is a half-suppressed groan, and silent hope for the speedy repentance of the offender. The theory implied is, that the ascent is a toilsome undertaking, the only answerable motive for which is the hope of enjoying a view from the top. Now we have already protested in favor of this

The essential point is, that your mind should be thoroughly saturated with the associations that crowd the cliffs, glaciers, and ridges, like the witches on the Brocken. You require to become a part of all that you have met; to know the precipices, not as pleasing objects for a middle distance, but as close personal friends; to know them by heart, and to taste them crag by crag, and gully by gully. We utterly disbelieve that any human being who creeps along carriage roads, and does not penetrate into their deepest recesses, can feel the true poetry of the Alps. The arbitrary way in which the word beauty is used is the cause of men generally overlooking the fact, that to appreciate properly any scenery, and especially Alpine scenery, you should grapple your mind to it by every chain of association, arbitrary or otherwise, that can be formed. We do not care to value the appreciation of clouds or mountains, possible to one who has not watched them as the real Alpine enthusiast should do, in all weather, in every point of view, and from the loftiest and most retired, as well as the more hackneyed places. To conclude with the accustomed formula: If one such traveler has been saved but from one repetition of this most vexatious question, our paper will not have been written in vain.

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

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 delarity 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 two hours in the grounds. Why did he not return at once to the house of Mr. Topham? (where it appears that he was staying). For what-or for whom-was he waiting? If he were in the park at the time of the murder, how came it that he heard no cries, gave the unhappy gentleman no assistance, and offers no suggestion or clue to the mystery beyond the obstinate denial of his own guilt, though he confesses to have been in the grounds during the whole time of the deadly struggle, and though he was found alone with scratched hands and bloodstained clothes beside the corpse of his avowed enemy? We leave these questions to the consideration of our readers, as they will be for that of a conscientious and impartial jury, not, we trust, blinded by the wealth and position of the criminal to the hideous nature of the crime.

"A younger sister of the deceased appears to have formed a matrimonial engagement with George Manners, Esq., of Beckfield. It was strongly opposed by Mr. Lascelles, and the objection (which at the time appeared unreasonable) may have been founded on a more intimate knowledge of the suitor's character than was then possessed by others. The match was broken off, and all intercourse was suspended till the night of the murder, when Mr. Manners gained admittance to the hall in the absence of Mr. Lascelles, and was for some hours alone in the young lady's company. They were found together a little before nine o'clock by Mr. Lascelles, and a violent scene ensued, in the course of which the young lady left the apartment. (Miss Lascelles has been ill ever since the unhappy event, and is so still. Her deposition was taken in writing at the hall). From the young lady's evidence it appears, 1st, that the passions of both were strongly excited, and she admits having felt sufficient apprehension to induce her to twice warn Mr. Manners to self-control. 2ndly, that Mr. Manners avowed himself prepared to defy Mr. Lascelles's authority in the matter of the marriage; and 3rdly, the two sentences of their final conversation that she overheard (both Mr. Manners'), 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. Lascelles' hand, but take it.' The diabolical character of determined and premeditated vindictiveness thus given to an

"The funeral is to take place to-morrow. George Manners is fully committed to take his trial for willful murder at the ensuing assizes."

The above condemning extract only too well represented the state of public feeling. All Middlesex-nay, all England -was roused to indignation, and poor Edmund's youth and infirmities made the crime appear the more cowardly and detestable.

CHAPTER IV.

DRIFTING TO THE END.

My misery between the time of the murder and the trial was terrible from many causes: my brother's death; George's position; the knowledge of his