Household friends for every season

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Alfred Tennyson : The Hesperides .... 1 Thomas Hughes : The Ashen Fagot ... 6

Oliver Wendell Holmes : Contentment . . .47 Anna Thackeray : Little Scholars .... 50

I

The golden apple, the golden apple, the hallowed fruit, Guard it well, guard it warily,

* The Laureate of England (whose latest portrait fronts our title-page) has seen fit to ignore many of his earlier productions, some of which he thought well enough of once. The one entitled " Hesperides " is too gen«

2 ALFRED TENNYSON.

Singing airily,

Standing about the charmed root.

Round about all is mute,

As the snow-field on the mountain-peaks,

As the sand-field at the mountain-foot.

Sleep and stir not : all is mute.

If ye sing not, if ye make false measure,

We shall lose eternal pleasure,

Worth eternal want of rest.

Laugh not loudly : watch the treasure

Of the wisdom of the west.

In a corner wisdom whispers. Five and three

(Let it not be preached abroad) make an awful mystery.

For the blossom unto threefold music bloweth ;

Evermore it is born anew ;

And the sap to threefold music floweth,

From the root

Drawn in the dark.

Up to the fruit,

Creeping under the fragrant bark,

Liquid gold, honey-sweet, through and through.

Keen-eyed sisters, singing airily,

Looking warily

Every way.

Guard the apple night and day.

Lest one from the east come and take it away.

II

Father Hesper, Father Hesper, watch, watch, ever and aye, Looking under silver hair with a silver eye.

uine a poem to be left out of his "complete edition," and we print it here because we think it worthy of the bard of " Locksley Hall" and " The Ladv of Shalott."

THE HESPERIDES. 3

Father, twinkle not thy steadfast sight ;

Kingdoms lapse, and climates change, and races die ;

Honor comes with mystery ;

Hoarded wisdom brings delight.

Number, tell them over and number

How many the mystic fruit-tree holds,

Lest the red-combed dragon slumber

Rolled together in purple folds.

Look to him, father, lest he wink, and the golden apple be

stolen away, For his ancient heart is drunk with overwatcliings night

and day.

Round about the hallowed fruit-tree curled : Sing away, sing aloud evermore in the wind, without stop, Lest his scaled eyelid drop.

For he is older than the world.

If he waken, we waken.

Rapidly levelling eager eyes.

If he sleep, we sleep, Dropping the eyelid over the eyes.

If the golden apple be taken, The world will be over wise.

Five links, a golden chain, are we, Hesper, the dragon, and sisters three, Bound about the golden tree.

III

Father Hesper, Father Hesper, watch, watch, night and day,

Lest the old wound of the world be healed.

The glory unsealed,

The golden apple stolen away.

And the ancient secret revealed.

Look from west to east along :

Father, old Himala weakens, Caucasus is bold and strong.

4 ALFEED TENNYSON.

"Wandering waters unto wandering waters call ;

Let them clash together, foam and fall.

Out of watchings, out of wiles,

Comes the bliss of secret smiles.

All tilings are not told to all.

Half-round the mantling night is drawn,

Purple-fringed with even and dawn.

Hesper hateth Phosphor, evening hateth morn.

IV. Every flower and every fruit the redolent breath

Of this warm sea-wind ripeneth.

Arching the billow in his sleep ;

But the land-wind wandereth,

Broken by the highland-steep.

Two streams upon the violet deep :

For the western sun and the western star,

And the low west-wind, breathing afar.

The end of day and beginning of night,

Make the apple holy and bright ;

Holy and bright, round and full, bright and blest,

Mellowed in a land of rest ;

Watch it warily day and night ;

All good things are in the west.

Till midnoon the cool east light

Is shut out by the round of the tall hill-brow ;

But when the full-faced sunset yellowly

Stays on the flowering arch of the bough.

Golden-kernelled, golden-cored,

Sunset-ripened above on the tree.

The world is wasted with fire and sword.

But the apple of gold hangs over the sea.

Five links, a golden chain, are we,

THE HESPERIDES.

Hesper, the dragon, and sisters three,

Daughters three,

Bound about *

All round about

The gnarled bole of the charmed tree.

The golden apple, the golden apple, the hallowed fruit,

Guard it well, guard it warily,

Watch it warily,

Singing airily.

Standing about the charmed root.

THE ASHEN EAGOT.

By THOMAS HUGHES,

AUTHOR OF "TOM BROWN AT OXFORD," ETC.

Chapter I

AT about four o'clock on Christmas Eve, a year or two back, two men trudged briskly up the little village street of Lilburne, in the county of Wilts. They were both dressed in rough shooting-suits, and one carried a conunon game-bag, and the other a knapsack. Each of them had a stout stick in his hand. The elder, who might be six or seven and twenty, wore a strong reddish-brown beard. The rest of his rather broad face was well tanned by exposure to weather ; he had a clear, merry gray eye, and an air of very British self-reliance about him. The younger, in his twentieth year, or ther'&abouts, wore also as much beard as nar ture had yet bestowed on him, and was tanned a ruddy brown. He was darker than his companion, and his complexion would have been sallow, but for the work of sun and air on it. There was the possibility of great nervous irritability and excitableness in the look of him ; but this natural tendency of his constitution and temperament seemed, at least for the present, to be counteracted by robust health.

The two stopped at the door of " The Wagoner's Eest," the only public house of Lilburne village.

" Well, here we are then, at the last stage. How much farther do you say it is ? "

THL AUTHOR OF " Tom Brown at Oaford", and 'Sdiodl Da.ys at Rugbv:'

"Just six miles."

" I 'm never quite at ease about your arithmetic, Johnny. Hullo here. House! landlord! who's at home here?" and he gave a thump or two on the door-post, which brought mine host out with a run.

" How far do you call it to Avenly, landlord ? "

"A matter o' seven miles, sir."

" There, you see, Herbert, I was n't far wrong," said the younger.

" A mile out, Johnny, — never mind. Now what do you say ? shall we push on at once, or stop and feed ? "

" What should you like ? "

" That has nothing to say to it. You 're in command, you know, since this morning."

" Well, I should n't like to be there very early. I 'm sure you would feel yourself — "

" Then we call a halt," interrupted the elder, leading the way into the house ; " this cold air of yours has given me a deuce of an appetite. Now, landlord, what can we have to eat, directly ? Some cold meat, or whatever you can give us at once. Mind, sharp 's the word ! Or, never mind, no, you go and draw us some of your best tap. You '11 help us, ma'am, I can see, about the eatables, and I 'm sure we couldn't be in better hands."

This speech, begun in the street, ended in the tiny bar of

"The Wagoner's Rest," in which the hostess stood, a tidy,

well-looking woman, in Sunday cap and ribbons, donned in

■ honor of the season, and of the rush of guests whom she

was expecting as the day wore on.

She was flattered by the compliment of her off-hand guest, who clearly was not in the habit of letting the grass grow on liis own heels, or on those of any one else with whom he had to do. ^He had sent her bustling off in a minute or two to cook rashers of bacon on toast, and to run romid to the yard in the forlorn hope that one of the hens might have so forgotten herself as to lay in such weather, in that cold, dark little stable of " The Wagoner's Rest." Meanwhile, he had taken possession of the bar, heaped up the fire, seated his companion opposite to him, and, by the time the landlord arrived with a jug of his best ale, was as much at home as if he had been in the habit of taking his meals there once a week for the last ten years.

" I 'm afraid you '11 find it a leetel chilly, gentlemen," said the landlord, as he placed the jug and glasses on the table ; "the cellar ain't altogether as warm as it should be."

" O, never fear ! We shall warm your ale fast enough, I've no doubt. Home-brewed, eh?"

" Ees, whoam-brewed, sir ; I does the maltin' for all the farmers round. 'Tis raal malt and hops, I assure 'ee."

" That 's all right then. Yes, that has the right smack," he went on, pouring out a glass and taking it off, " fine and bright and wholesome tackle. We have n't tasted such ale this many a day, have we, Johnny ? But, as you say, a little chilled ; so we '11 put it on the hob till the rashers come. Real old Christmas weather this, eh, landlord ? "

«Ah, 'tis, sir."

" And when does your mail-cart come by ? "

"At eight o'clock, sir."

"Well, the driver will bring our traps, and there is a carrier from this to Avenly, is n't there ? "

"Ees, sir."

" Does he live here ? "

"Just athert the street, sir."

" Then I should like to see him. You can send over for liim presently. Ah, here come the rashers. They look splendid, ma'am. But no eggs ! "

" Well, sir, you see as our hens gets no het about the place. My master don't kep no beastesses. There 's no 'commodation for 'em here, — and I tells 'un th' hens wunt lay without het."

THE ASHEN FACxOT. 9

" Never mind, ma'am ; the hens are quite right. We shall do famously with that splendid loaf and the cheese. Here, Johnny, hold your plate. We 're not turning you out, ma'am ? Pray, don't go, don't mind us."

The landlady protested that they were quite welcome to the bar, and soon followed her husband, leaving them alone to their meal, to which they proceeded to do ample justice. The worthy pair were soon discussing their guests with one or two village gossips, who had already arrived in the kitchen, — amongst them the village carrier.

The travellers lost no time over their food. The landlady was summoned, complimented, and paid, and came out of her bar again very favorably impressed with the strangers. In another minute they were in the kitchen amongst the circle of the Lilburne quidnuncs, ready for the road. The elder made the necessary arrangement with the carrier to bring on their luggage, and then, after shaking hands with the courtesying landlady, they sallied out into the street, accompanied to the door by the landlord and several of the men. The daylight was fast slipping away. The air was perfectly still and hushed, but a dull heavy curtain of cloud had settled on the village, from which every now and then a crisp flake or two of snow came floating gently down.

" We sha'n't have much light for our walk, Johnny ; are you sure about the road?"

"I should think so. Besides, there is no turn in it except the one at the end of the village, on to the downs."

"Very good. You are pilot. It's a straight road to Avenly, eh ? " he added, turnmg to the carrier.

" Ees ; but 't is a unked road to kep to in a vail, is the downs road," replied the carrier, " by reason as there ain't no hedges, and sech like, to go by."

" You think we 're going to have a fall, then ? "

" It hev looked like nothin' else aal day."

" Then we must make the most of the daylight. The moon will be up in an hour."

" Ees ; but her '11 kep t' other side o' th' fall, zur."

" Small blame to her. Well, good night."

A chorus of " Good nights " from the conclave at the door of " The Wagoner's Rest " followed the two travellers, as they strode away down the village street. Before they were out of sight, the snow began to fall in earnest. The villagers stood gaping after them. Such an event was to them as good as a war telegram to their kindred circles in the neighborhood of St. James's.

" Be 'em gen'l'volk, now, zhould 'ee zay ? " asked the blacksmith, taking his pipe from his mouth.

" Gen'l'volk ! Wut bist thenkin' ov ? " replied the carrier.

"Wut, dost n't thenk so? I'ze.warn'd 'em for gen'l'- volk, that I 'ool," put in the landlord. " Wut dost take 'em for, then ? "

" Zummat in th' engineerin' line, or contractor chaps, med be."

" Noa, noa ! Thaay be too pleasant-spoken, and don't give no trouble."

" But wut dost zaay to them ther' girt beards ? And th' clothes on 'em like zacks, and mwoast as coarse ? "

The beard movement, and modern habits of dress, had not yet penetrated to Lilburne. The carrier's last remark seemed to puzzle the landlord, more or less. . " Wut dost zaay. Muster Gabbet ? " he said, turning to one of the circle, who had not yet spoken ; " be 'em gen'l'- volk, or bean't 'em ? "

The person appealed to had been a groom in his youth, who had seen " Lunnon," and other distant countries. He kept a pony, too, on which he frequented all neighboring meets of hounds, and other sporting gatherings, and was considered a great authority by the Lilburne coterie on any matter involving knowledge of life. From his contact with the outer world the edges of his accent had been rubbed off. He was a man of few and weighty words.

" Gentlemen, to be sure," replied Mr. Gabbet.

" I told 'ee zo," said the landlord, triumphantly, turning to the carrier.

" Wi' beards like bottle-brushes ! haw, haw ! " rejoined that worthy, by no means discomfited.

" That 's no odds," replied Mr. Gabbet. " Last coursin' meetin' ther' was half th' young squires wi' beards."

" And wi' duds on 'em, like galley-crows, I s'poses ! haw, haw ! " said the incredulous carrier.

" What dost go on laaffin' for, thee girt gawney ? " said the landlord ; " that 's how th' gen'l'volk do dress now-a-days, bean't it, Mr. Gabbet? Ther' wur young Squire Mundell passed here only last week, dressed noways different from thaay; only he'd a got zhart wide breeches, and red striped stockin's, he had, and martal queer a did look."

"They calls them dresses nick-and-nockers," said Mr. Gabbet, gravely.

" Nockers or no, / dwont call 'em gen'l'volk," persisted the incorrigible carrier.

" Thee 'st as cam as a peg. 'T ain't a mossel o' use to talk sense to th'."

At this point of the dialogue the objects of the conversation took the turn towards the downs, and disappeared, and Mr. Gabbet retired suddenly into the house. He was followed at once by the rest, and the knotty question was adjourned to the chimney-corner, where it furnished talk for the rest of the evening, and caused the consumption of several extra mugs of beer.