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the humiliating fashion termed “all-fours"-to the He was an ugly little English terrier-harmlesshighest point, and looking down upon the Atlantic, masterless—who had contracted an extraordinary which to-day lies so quiet, rocking harmlessly on affection for the horses of the coach, following them its bosom a multitudinous fleet of sea-birds, pro- day after day, from stable to stable, running beside bably young gulls. How happy they are — the them the whole distance, quietly enough, unless they creatures!-fluttering and tumbling, ducking over were urged uphill. Then he would show his symhead, a swimming about in lazy circles, gradually pathy and affection for them in the noisiest manner, stretebing so far out to sea that they appear a barking and jumping about their feet, trying to mere cloud of moving dots on its surface; while, lick their noses, then turning round to the coachman

bf and then, some wise old bird leaves the flock, with an indignant, entreating, protesting “bowli and, rising up on his broad white wings, goes wow-wow," that was quite comical in its way. And !! Peering round and round the cliffs with his shrill “Jack's ” fidelity was not unappreciated. Many a

scream. Truly, of all blithe bird-lives, the blithest bone he got at inn-doors, and many a pat and kind most be that of a sea-gull on the coast of Cornwall. word from the honest coachman. Though be was

An hour goes swiftly by, especially a final hour, an ugly beast-à very ugly little beast-he had And now good-by- is it for always ?— to this a fond dog-heart in his rough bosom, and if it grand, desolate coast; this smooth half-circle of wee bestowed vainly upon his big equine friendsgrey, mysterious, limitless sea. It will always be who took very little notice of him—why, such to w a dream of solemn content, speaking of that things often happen, and the loving ones, bipeds or | Infinite which rounds all mortal life, and calms all quadrupeds, have rather the best of it after all. : mortal cares. They would be less, we fancy, if we We can understand, now, what a pleasant thing, , could come here sometimes, and drop them with the in its palmy days, coach-travelling must have been, Hidropping sun into the bosom of the wide Atlantic. and what a character was, almost necessarily, the 1 Friday --On the top of the coach. A leaf taken true stage-coachman of old,-sober, intelligent, equal

eat of the book of our forefathers, and a very crum- to emergencies, much enduring and kindly, careful pled leaf too; not by any means to be recommended over his horses, chatty and obliging to his pas

to those Sybarites who are ready to “die of a rose in sengers. For to drive a mail-coach team day after · aromatic pain." A very different thing from the easy | day, and year after year, and to maintain au

railway carriages where you loll in padded laziness, thority over the many uncomfortable varieties of with your newspaper, rug, and hot-water footstool, | passengers, jammed so long into such close contact -is this lofty cushionless perch, where you are pro with him and with one another, must have required tected only by a low iron rail from toppling over, as no ordinary amount of temper, patience, and skill. does not seem unlikely in these terrible Cornish roads. We had not traversed a dozen miles before we began Still, it is inevitable, and is but a little of that to feel a certain respect for the gone-by, almost bodest wholesome “roughing it," the best strength extinct, race of English stage-coachmen.

Englishmen, and English women. For, most! Ours was a very good specimen of the genus. valuable to women as to men, is the power that His round rosy Devon physiognomy beamed with makes the mind master of the body, so that physical good-nature; he seemed to know everybody we inconvenience do not ruffle it. It is good,—not to be met; and to be on the best of terms with all. indiferent to luxuries, but to take them at their just He had a nod and a smile, and a caressing wind value, being able either to enjoy them, or do without of the whip, for even the roly-poly urchins who them. Undoubtedly, in many points, the last climbed on every cottage gate to see the coach go generation which travelled from London to York on by. And when, after awhile, he picked up another the top of a coach, day and night, winter and sum- passenger, his whole face glowed with satisfaction, niet, was a finer race than ours, which goes every and the two talked straight on to the journey's end. where in hansom cabs, and grumbles even in its This young man-we will do nothing to identify The class railway carriages, if it cannot be allowed him, though he need not be ashamed of being “put to defile them with cigars.

into print," quite the contrary!-hailed the coach The first shock over, that coach journey of from the door-step of an old-fashioned house, on y-six miles was, not a martyrdom, but a keen which stood a family group, evidently gathered

ment. One could thoroughly understand how there to see him off. The women-kind were redce: ancestors appreciated the like. How grand eyed ; one of them urged him, in a choky voice, to 1. Tutte feeling, almost school-boy like, of being at “ be sure to write!” A little girl hung about him,

the tap of everything; as high as a hay-cart, and and an old man lifted his carpet-bag himself to the able to see far and wide across country, mile upon top of the coach. | ke How deliciously fresh was the grey October “Good-by, father !” said the young fellow,

morning, scarcely past sunrise, as we dashed along cheerfully; and, honourable to relate, though some ,' here with the topmast blackberry-bunches in the young fellows might laugh him to scorn, he put Tankea lanes- for a few miles, and then startled a his arm on the old gentleman's shoulder, and kissed py town by rattling down it with our three him! Ay, in the open road, and in face of the

coach and its passengers! then leaped on to the est dog was one of the personages of the day. box-seat, and we were off.

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The new-comer was some little time in settling He spoke, as heretofore, in the broad westhimself, tying his warm “ comforter" and button- country accent, but with the most gentlemanly ing his coat-he had no great-coat; and at first, courtesy did he help the old body out, baggage and from bis broad accent and general provincial air, all, and set her on a cross road leading to some we took him to be some young shopman, bound to retired cottages. “see life" in Exeter or Plymouth. But when he “Thank 'ee kindly, sir. I'm giving 'ee a peck of turned round, having taken out a cigar, civilly to trouble.” inquire “if smoking were disagreeable,” he showed “Not a bit; for I know you're rather weak on

THE a face and manner decidedly above the country one of your legs.” shop-keeper, and then he and the coachman fell in “On both, sir, on both. Eh! Mr. Thomas, is

3 P conversation.

that you? You that was a going up to London to Going to London, sir?"

the cholera ?" “Yes, for the twenty-third time; and I hope the “So I am ; and you're going to your piece's last. Shall be back in about two months, for good. wedding. Give her my best wishes, and I hope

Ca sĩ Didn't mean to have gone up again, but I hear the she'll save me a bit o' the cake.” cholera is very bad there. I want to take a few “Eh, Mr. Thomas,” said the poor lame old weeks at the cholera hospitals." (So our friend was woman, looking at him almost with tears in her evidently a medical student.)

eyes, “never mind about my piece ; it's you I'm 'The coachman looked sideways at the fine strap- thinking of now. And 'ee's really going up to ping young fellow. “I heard you was a goin', sir, London, and the Lord knows if ee'll ever come back Beant'ee afraid ?”

again." “Not I. I've been in it before, and never got "Oh, we'll hope for the best.” any harm. Besides, it's a great matter to me before. “Eh, yes !" clasping her hands, and looking I settle down here, to pick up all I can.”

after him as he re-mounted. “May the Lord “It's reached here, sir. They say cholera's very preserve 'ee, and send 'ee safe home again, with a bad at Zeal Monachorum."

pocket full o' love, a pocket full o' love," repeated “So I understand. Let's hear all you know the old creature, as she still stood lingering, while about it."

the coachman cracked his whip. And then ensued minute details, probably “Thank’ee, thank’ee. Good-by!” called out exaggerated enough, of the state of things in the the young fellow, as we dashed on. But he was 2011 small Devon village, which, if it were like west- unusually silent for the next half-mile. country villages in general as to its sanitary The question, “Which of the London hospitals arrangements, would no doubt be decimated before are you going to ?” opened a conversation in which the cholera was cleared out of it. The alarm was it was almost comical to see how the provincial spreading fast; scarcely a hamlet or even roadside youth changed into the educated, gentlemanly public-house did we pass, but some one asked for young man, adding London breadth and polish and news about the “poor folks at Zeal.” That insane intelligence to his honest country ways-a rearing terror of “cholera morbus," which in its first visi, which has always produced the finest men, both in tations everybody had, lingers still in full force in bis profession and every other. His very tone Devon and Cornwall. One poor woman, after altered, and from a dialect became the merest listening with white face to many ghastly par-soupçon of an accent-rather an advantage than ticulars, turned round to her neighbour with a not to most speakers. His round, youthful, sunpathetically resigned air :-"Eh, we're in the burnt face, when you really looked into it, had a Lord's hands !" True; but if she had used her own manly decision and energy which fully accounted hands to clean her dirty floor, and sweep away for the twenty-three journeys, and this last one, the dung-heap that the pigs were routing in close up to London. Frank as he was, there was not an under her cottage window, it would have been at atom of forwardness in him, or of self-consciousness. least as pious, and not less beneficial.

Though listening to him, one could not but have a Our medical friend was of course appealed to on suspicion that a young fellow, coming out of the every hand. Every one seemed to know him and all wilds of Cornwall to work as he had worked for his affairs, after the true pattern of provincial pub- nine years in that tempting metropolitan isolation, licity. Most of the women greeted bim with, that dangerous independence which is the making “And so 'ee be off to London, sir? The Lord send of strong souls, and the ruin of weak ones-must ’ee safe back again ! ”.

| be, necessarily, rather a fine young fellow in his way. "Oh yes! no fear,” he would answer, with a “Yes; it was a hard grind,” he said; “ but I laugh ; though afterwards he was sometimes silent passed all right: and now I am going to start as a for a minute or two.

general practitioner. I did not intend to go up to Some miles further on, an old woman poked her London again, but settle down here this autumn." head out from the inside of the coach, hallooing (Was he thinking of “settling” in any particular vociferously.

way?) “However, I must take a turn at that cholera “Hold hard !” shouted the medical student. work; and, since I am up, I think I shall go in for “Shall I jump down and let 'ee out ?”

my M.D.-it's a great help to a man even in the

country. I may be plucked—very likely I shall ; youths, who looked as if they already repented of still I can but try for it."

the bunch of ribbons on their caps, and began to And, whatever he thought of himself, his inter- doubt if after all it would be so very pleasant, to locutor could not help thinking that many men have stand still and be shot at. Poor boys ! a worse chance of success. May he have won it! And now the coast-journey was over. We were

We were now going through the rich Devonshire in the midst of fertile smiling Devon. Left far country, nooky villages, crossed by streams and behind us, perhaps for ever, was King Arthur's glens and ancient bridges, churches and parsonage. Land. houses, which were a picture to behold; while in Our last sight of our medical friend was at the the distance, a long winding horizon line, blue little branch railway, which will one day, ere long, and fair, lay the Dartmoor hills. A lovely land stretch over to the north Cornish coast, and con. scape, rich with life, and all that was pleasant in nect Bude itself—dear innocent place—with the life !—and to think of this young fellow going forth Great Metropolis. “Mr. Thomas" had settled his from it to—what? Yet he was only doing his small luggage in a second-no, to his credit be it daty, and as he said himself, in answer to the old told, I believe a third-class carriage—and was woman's pathetic benediction—“We'll hope for the walking up and down the platform, blue with best.

cold, but with a firm stride and a cheery counteHe was evidently a social personage, for he nance, let fall many a fact about concerts, and dinners, | “Chilly work, rather," he said ; “six hours on and dances, hereabout, which he was now leaving the top of a coach. But one soon gets warm ; behind, and he was eager to send a message to good morning.” some school-fellow whom the coachman knew, but He lifted his hat and passed on, politely nonwhom he himself had not seen for many years. intrusive : and we never saw him more. And, as lack would have it, a few minutes later this But that young doctor will long stand to us as a identical person came driving past, highly respect type of his countrymen, carrying out in these able, in a pretty chaise, being now a well-to-do common-place modern days exactly the same spirit married man.

which looked so romantically beautiful in Arthur “Hollo! don't you know me?" cried our young and his knights,-whom we behold, in shapes doctor, quite excited. And greetings were ex gigantic, through the dim mists of old. Yet their changed between the coach and the phaeton, creed was no more than this—which he was prac. friendly but brief.

tically acting out--tenderness to parents ; chivalry "Are you often in these parts now?”

to women-all women, young or old ; indifference "Sometimes. I'm off to London now; when I to personal care and luxury; steadfast following of come back I'll look you up."

| duty for duty's sake, apart from all picturesque “All right, don't forget. And how are you all pomp or conceited self-consciousness. And, above home? Mother alive,

all, courage to defend

the weak and resist "Yes, mother's alive,

the strong as a good and father too, and all

knight should. of 'em; all well and

As the train moved

on we could not help * Delighted to hear it.

repeating to ourselves, I'll expect you when you

with a better undercome back from London,

standing of it now, the Good-by.”

bold ballad about Tre“Good-by, and glad

lawny, convinced that in to see you, old fellow !”

any case of dire oppresSo the two school-fel

sion there might still be lows parted, the doctor

found “thirty thousand aying meditatively:

Cornishmen” who would No, I shouldn't have

“know the reason why." known him. It's queer,

Also, that there was not meeting in this way; I

such a vital difference, haven't seen that fellow

as might at first appear, for thirteen years."

between King Arthur of This was the last in

Tintagel and his good cident of the journey,

knights all, and the mo. except the picking up of

dern medical student, a berjeant and three re

quitting his merry life cruits, slouching, stolid,

here to go up to London chubby-faced Devon Bude Haven.- Back View, under the Storm Tower. to the cholera hospitals.

[graphic]

jolly."

NOTE.—THE JEWS OF SAFED.

THERE was published by me in Good Words for December, 1865 (page 915), and afterwards republished in my "Eastward,” the following statement:

“One terrible story was to the effect that the punishment of death had been inflicted on a Spanish Jewess the dav before we reached Safed, for a crime in which one of the Rabbis who tried and condemned her was himself notoriously implicated. We begged the Consul to make further inquiries on the subject. This he did, assuring us that all he heard was confirmed by an intelligent Jew, who, though he hated the proceeding, feared to speak. Such is the reign of terror.”

This was narrated as a fact to me and my friends by the Austrian Consular Agent, Mr. Miklasiewicz, in his own house. Sir Moses Montefiore—whose name is associated with all that is true and lovely and of good report-addressed a courteous letter to me contradicting the report as being, from his knowledge of Jewish law and customs, manifestly false. Since then Sir Moses has for the sixth time visited Palestine, and when there he received at Jerusalem two deputies, with whom he had corresponded for thirty years, from the Safed congregation, who recounted to him tbe true facts of the case, concluding their statement by saying, “There has been no trial, no punishment of death, nor was the Rabbi in the slightest degree implicated. Indeed, no Jewish authority in the Holy Land, por in any part of the world, has ever passed sentence of death since the close of the great Sanhedrin in Jerusalem." Sir Moses has embodied the whole evidence received from Safed in pp. 40-42 of a published Report on his mission to the Holy Land. Tae following statement on the same subject has also been received by me from the English Consul, Mr. Rogers:“ Copy of a Letter to the Rev. the Chief Rabbi of Safed.

“DAMASCUS, August 4, 1866. “SIR,-I have received your letter dated July 23, in which you inform me that Sir Moses Montefiore has required from you an explanation regarding some charges brought against the Rabbis of Palestine in general, and against those of Safed and Tiberias in particular, in an article written by the Rev. Dr. Macleod in last December's number of the periodical entitled Good Words, and which you now ask me to refute.

“The first point in the quotation you select from the article alluded to, is, that a Jewess had been condemned to death by the Rabbis of Safed. You inform me that the woman referred to was suspected of adultery with a Moslem, and that she was banished to Damascus.

“I know nothing of this case, but I certify that a few days ago you brought to my Consular Office a Jewess who stated her name to be Romanos, and that you declared her to be the woman referred to in the article by Dr. Macleod. She also stated that she had been accused of adultery and that you had banished her from Safed, and that she is now married and living in Damascus.

“As the name of the woman is not given by Dr. Macleod, I cannot certify that this is the person alluded to; though I may add that I think it very probable that she is the person of whom some ill-disposed Jew of Safed informed the Austrian Consular Agent, stating that she had been put to death by your orders. And furthermore I may state, that during a residence of more than eighteen years in this country I never heard of any one having been put to death by order of the Rabbis. The Turkish Government, in giving to the spiritual heads of the various religious communities a certain limited jurisdiction over their respective followers, did not vest in them the power of taking the life of a fellow-creature; and I do not believe that the jurisdiction granted has ever been so construed.

“ The second point complained of, is, that a Jew came from Austria with his son :--that he died in Tiberias, and that the Rabbis sought to appropriate his money; and with that view shut up the dead father with the living son in a cave during sultry weather, to induce the latter to give up the money.

“ That abuses frequently oocur in the appropriation by the Rabbis of the property belonging to those Jews who die in either of the four Holy Cities, I cannot deny. The anecdote related by Dr. Macleod of what occurred to me when I was Cancelliere in her Majesty's Consulate at Jerusalem, is a proof that I have had some experience on the subject. On that occasion the Secretary of the Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem called out to the Sheikh of Siloam to prevent the burial of a British Jew, because the money and property were sealed up under the Consular seals; and the Sheikh came with many peasants and drove us away under a shower of stones with which they pelted us, and obliged us to leave the corpse until a reinforcement was obtained from the city. This case was fully reported at the time of its occurrence by Mr. Consul Finn, and the offending parties punished, though those who instigated the movement went scotfree. Still I think that the case of the young man having been locked up with the corpse may probably have been related to Dr. Macleod in a very exaggerated form. * “In conclusion I would observe, that I think that the ends of justice would be fully satisfied in these cases by your inquiring strictly from the original informant, and if the cases be untrue, the informant should be made either to retract his statements or to state the ground of his assertions.-I am, &c. &c. &c.,

“E. T. ROGERS." With these statements before him, the Editor of Good Words and the Author of “Eastward” has no hesitation in stating his conviction, even without the cross-questioning of witnesses, and without the Consul being heard in his own defence, that the first story is false. The Consul must have been misinformed or imposed upon with reference to the death of the woman, which is the main point in dispute. The writer has much pleasure in giving publicity to refutations of the charge made against the Rabbis. He will watch with anxiety lest the Consul should in any way suffer for stating what the writer firmly believes was his honest conviction regarding the character and conduct of the Rabbis. But he ventures to express the hope that, for the sake of the poor Jews in Palestine, and in order to elevate them physically, morally, and socially, a commission, or committee, of a few sagacious Jews from Europe and America should calmly and patiently investigate the real condition of their brethren in the Holy Cities, and obtain full evidence regarding itnot from the Jews only, but also from the Gentiles—and not from the Rabbis only, but from the people and in such a form as would ensure protection to life and property to those whose evidence might be against “the powers that be" within the Synagogue. In saying this he does not for one moment insinuate that the Jews in Palestine are in any degree worse than

in any degree worse than Christians, or Scotch Presbyterians, would be if placed in the same peculiar circumstances; but he humbly thinks that these circumstances have a tendency from their very nature to foster tyranny on the part of the rulers, and a slavish spirit on the part of the ruled, with greed, sloth, deceit, and selfishness on the part of all. He believes also that those who minister charity so liberallyand who are more liberal and charitable than the rich Jews in Europe and America ? --to their poor brethren in Palestine, may make this almsgiving a greater instrument than it has hitherto been for effecting needful economic and social reforms. No man living has done so much for his brethren in Palestine as Sir Moses Montefiore, and no man has more unselfish longings for their good; but it is quite possible that many evils may exist which even he may not suspect or dream of, and that just because of the very purity of his own intentions, the nobleness of his own nature, and his character as “an Israelite indeed in whom there is no guile.” EDITOR OF " GOOD WORDS."

GUILD COURT.

a London Story.
BY GEORGE MAC DONALD, Author of "David Elginbrod,” “ Alec Forbes,”' &c.

CHAPTER V.-MORE ABOUT GUILD COURT. there was Dick-such a gentleman to be sure ! and Mrs. BOXALL was the mother of Richard Boxall, John, third mate already! and Cecil Burton sought the "governor" of Thomas Worboise. Her John after in London, to give his lessons as if he were had been the possessor of a small landed property, one of the old masters! The only thing was that which he farmed himself, and upon which they the wind blew harder at night since Ned went to brought up a family of three sons and one daughter, sea ; and a boy was in more danger than a grown of whom Richard was the eldest, and the daughter, | man and a third mate like John. Lucy, the youngest. None of the sons showed the And so it proved; for one night when the wind least inclination to follow the plough, or take any blew a new hayrick of his father's across three relation more or less dignified towards the cultiva parishes, it blew Edward's body ashore on the west tion of the ancestral acres. This aversion when coast. manifested by Richard occasioned his father con Soon after this, a neighbouring earl, who had the siderable annoyance, but he did not oppose his desire year before paid off a mortgage on his lands, proto go into business instead of farming; for he had ceeded in natural process to enlarge his borders ; found out by this time that he had perpetuated in and while there was plenty that had formerly his sons a certain family doggedness which he had belonged to the family to repurchase, somehow-orinherited from one ancestor at least-an obstinacy another, took it into his head to begin with what which had never yet been overcome by any argument, might seem more difficult of attainment. But however good. He yielded to the inevitable, and John Boxall was willing enough to part with his placed him in a merchant's office in London, where small patrimony-for he was sick of it-provided Richard soon made himself of importance. When he had a good sum of ready money, and the house his second son showed the same dislike to draw his with its garden and a paddock, by way of luck. livelihood directly from the bosom of the earth, and penny, secured to him for his own life and that of revealed a distinct preference for the rival element, his wife. This was easily arranged. But the late with which he had made some acquaintance when yeoman moped more than ever, and died within

at school at a sea-port at no great distance from his a twelvemonth, leaving his money to his wife. As 1 bone, old John Boxall was still more troubled, but soon as he was laid in his natural inheritance of i save his consent-a consent which was, however, land cubical, his wife went up to London to her

nerely a gloomy negation of resistance. The cheer- son Richard, who was by this time the chief fultess of his wife was a great support to him under manager of the business of Messrs. Blunt and what he felt as a slight to himself and the whole Baker. To him she handed over her money to use race of Boxalls; but, he began, notwithstanding, for the advantage of both. Paying her a handsome to look upon his beloved fields with a jaundiced eye, percentage, he invested it in a partnership in the and the older be grew the more they reminded him firm, and with this fresh excitement to his energies, i of the degenerate tastes and heartlessness of his soon became, influentially, the principal man in the | boys. When he discovered, a few years after, that compauy. The two other partners were both old

his daughter had pledged herself, still in his eyes a men, and neither had a son or near relative whom mere child, to a music-master who visited her pro. he might have trained to fill his place. So in the fessionally from the next town, he flew at last into course of a few years, they, speaking commercially, a terrible rage, which was not appeased by the girl's fell așleep, and in the course of a few more, elopement and marriage. He never saw her again. departed this life, commercially and otherwise. It Her mother, however, was not long in opening a was somewhat strange, however, that all this time communication with her, and it was to her that Richard Boxall had given his mother no written Edward, the youngest son, fled upon occasion of a acknowledgment of the money she had lent him, quarrel with his father, whose temper had now be- and which had been the foundation of his fortune. come violent as well as morose. He followed his A man's faults are sometimes the simple reverses of second brother's example, and went to sea. Still his virtues, and not the results of his vices. , the mother's cheerfulness was little abated; for, When his mother came first to London, he had of

23 she said to herself, she had no reason to be course taken her home to his house and introduced | ashamed of her children. None of them had done her to his wife, who was a kind and even warm|| anything they had to be ashamed of, and why should hearted woman. But partly from prudence, partly

she be vexed ? She had no idea Lucy had so much from habit, Mrs. Boxall senior would not consent spirit in her. And if it were not for the old man, to be the permanent guest of Mrs. Boxall junior, who was surely over-fond of those fields of his, she and insisted on taking a lodging in the neighbourcould bold up her head with the best of them ; for hood. It was not long, however, before she left

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