The Sun.
London, England, 1864-08-08 00:00:00

JOY AND GRIEF.

Now, the 30th of December was my parents' wedding-
day, for I had been born six years exact after their affec-
tionate union. And now that I was ten years old—a notable
hinge on the door of life—how much they made, to be sure,
of each other and of me I At dinner I eat in glory between
them, upsetting all ceremony, pleasing my father and teas-
ing my mother, by many a childish sally. So genial a man
my father was that he would talk to the servants, even on
state occasions, quite as if they were human beings. Yet
none of them ever took the smallest liberty with him, un-
less it were one to love him. Before dessert, I interred my
queen doll, with much respect and some heartache, under
a marble flag by the door, which had been prepared for the
purpose. My father was chief-mourner, but did not cry to
my liking, until I had pinched him well. After this typical
good-bye to childhood, I rode him back to the dining •
table, and helped him and my mother to the last of the
West's Peter grapes, giving him all the fattest ones.
Then we all drank health and love to one another, and I fell
to in earnest at a child's delight. Dearest father kept sup-
plying me with things much nicer than are now to be got,
while my mother in vain pretended to guard the frontier.
It was the first time I tasted Guava jelly; and now, even
at the name, that scene is bright before me. The long
high room oak•panelled, tha lights and shadows flickering
as on a dark hay horse, the crimson velvet curtains where
the windows were gone to bed, the great black chairs with

damask cushions, but hard and sharp at the edge, the
mantel-piece all carved in stone which I was forbidden to
kick, the massive lamp that never would let me eat with-
out loose clouds of hair dancing all over my plate, and then
the great fire, its rival, shuddering in blue flames at the
thought of the frost outside; all these things, and even the
ticking of the timepiece, are more palpable to me now than
the desk on which I write. My father sat in his easy chair,
laughing and joking, full of life and comfort, with his glass
of old port beside him, his wire in front, and me, his" Clari-
crops," at his knee. Moro happy than a hundred kings, he
wished for nothing better. At one time, perhaps, he had
longed for a son to keep the ancient name, but now he was
quite ashamed of the wish, as mutiny against me. After
many an interchange, a drink for father, a sip for Tooty,
he began to tell wondrous stories of the shuts he had made
that day; especially how he had killed a woodcock through
a magpie's nest. My mother listened with playful admira-
tion ; I with breathless interest, and most profound belief.
Then we played at draughts, and fox and goose, and pre-
tended even to play at chess, until it was nine o'clock, and
my hour of grace expired, Throe times Aun naplas came
to fetch me, but I would not go. At last I went submis-
sively at one kind word from coy father. My mother ob-
tained but a pouting kiss, for I wanted to wreak soma ven-
geance ; but my father I never kissed with less than all my
heart and soul, I Hang both arms around his neck, laid
my little cheek to his, and whispered in his ear that I loved
him more than all the world, Tenderly he clasped and
kissed me, and now I am sure that through his smile ho
looked at me with sadness. Turning round at the doorway
I stretched my hands towards him, and met once more his
loving, laughing eyes. Once more and only onee. Next I
saw him him in his cola, white and stark with death.

How that deed WAS done, I learnt at once, and will tell
By whom and why it was done, I have given my life to
learn. The evidence laid before the coroner was a cloud
and fog of mystery. For days and days my mother lay in-
sensible. Then, for weeks and weeks, she would leap from
her bed in fits of terror, stare, and shriek and faint. As fur
the servants, they know very little, but imagined a great
deal, The only other witnesses were a medical man, a
shoemaker, and two London policemen. The servants said
that, between one and two in the morning, a clear, wild
shriek rang through the house. Large as the building was,
this shriek unrepeated awoke nearly all but me. Rushing
anyhow forth, they hurried and huddled together at the
head of the great staircase, doubting what to do. Some
said the cry came one way, some another. Meanwhile Ann
Maples, who slept with me in an inner room at the end of
a little passage, in the courage of terror went straight to
her master and mistress, There, by the light of a dim
night-lamp, used to visit me, she saw my mother upright
in the bed, and pointing towards my father's breast. My
father lay quite still; the bed-clothes were smooth upon
him. My mother did not speak. Ann Maples took the
lamp, and looked in her master's face. His eyes were open,
wide open as in amazement, but the surprise was death.
One arm was stiff around his wife, the other lam upon the
pillow. As she described it in Westecountry phrase, "he
looked all frore." The woman rushed from the room, and
screamed along the passage. The servants ran to her,
flurried and haggard, each afraid to be left behind. None
except the butler dared to enter. Whispering and trem-
bling they peered in after him, all ready to run away.
Thomas Henwood loved his master dearly, being his
foster-brother. He at once removed the bed-clothes. and
found the fatal wound. So strongly and truly was it dealt
that it pierced the centre of my dear father's heart, One
spot of blool and a small three-cornered hole was all that
could be seen. The surgeon, who came soon after, said
that the weapon must have been a very keen and finely-
tempered dagger, probably of foreign make. The murderer
must have been quite cool, and well acquainted with the
human frame. Death followed the blow on the instant,
without a motion or a groan. In my mother's left hand
strongly clutched was a lock of long, black, shining hair.
A curl very like it, but rather finer, lay on my father's
bosom. In the room were no signs of disorder, no marks
of forcible entrance.

Is not this enough and more than enough to justify
our assertion respecting Clara Vaughan. Tha ter-
rible event naturally makes a lasting impression
upon the loving and sensitive child. Hence-
forth, she devotes herself to the dreadful task of
discovering the murderer of her father. The later
portions of the work are inferior to the commence-
ment. So high a pitch of interest could hardly be
sustained, and a melodramatic narrative of the
Corsican Vendetta is brought in as a supplementary
matter of excitement. In relating some of her life's
adventures, Clara forgets her moody vengeance and
assumes a sprightly tone, more especially in regard
to some favourite newly-found friends, Conrad and
Isola, and their dog Guidice, or Judy. In respect
to this quadruped, indeed, she becomes quite
ridiculous, and even disgusting ; for example, here
is an incredible story.

A LITTLE TOO IitICII,

Though by no means a conceited dog, there was nothing
ho loTed better than having his likenora taken; and directly
after breakfast he always assumed the most becoming atti-
tude, and watched intently for the appearance of the pencil.
With his massive head a little on one side, and his dark
brown eyes full of dignified interest, and his great ears curv-
ing down through rasset tufts, like tawny cascades in
autumn, he seemed fit study for a real artist, who should
quicken as well as copy him. However, he was too much
of a gentleman to sneer at my weak efforts, for he saw that
I did my best. Oftentimes he would gaze steadfastly at the
portrait and then at me, and hobble up, and nudge me, and
whine a little, and then sigh in self-abasement at hie want
of speech. Whenever he did this, I knew that he wished
to have something altered; but it was long before I could
discover what that something was. I tried every change
of line or colour that I could think of—nll to no purpose.
At length it struck me that as ha criticised more with nose
than eyes, the defect must must be in the smell. Happy
idea I I satisfied my Giudice at last, and did it thus. After
shading around the nose and mouth, before laying on the
colour, I took a clean dry brush, and passed it lightly round
the hollows of his own sweet saltish nostrils, carefully avoid-
ing.the cut; then one turn of the brush, not on the palette,
but on a dry square of colour, and with that I expressed the
dear dog's nose so well that he would have spoiled it in a
sniffing ecstasy, if I had not pulled it away. His portrait
now possessed the life which he required.
Can anything be at the same time more ridiculous
and revolting. With such blemishes and with
many an extravagance the story of Clara Vaughan
will continue, we doubt not, to interest and en-
thrall many readers not yet sated with the sensa-
tion banquets of the day.

Mr Christopher Katydid (of Casconia). A Tale.
Edited by Mark Heywood. Two vole. Saunders,
Colley and Co.

This story is introduced by a very elaborate
and, what is more, a wholly inappropriate
introduction. " I veritably believe," says the
editor, " the following story was written by
an English emigrant, who undoubtedly visited
what is now called North America for the
purpose of writing a book, but who became so
pleased with the people and country that his satire
softened into panegyric, and what was intended for
traveller's diary grow into a romance. The tales
related by Mr Christopher Katydid seem to have
been made up of the odds and ends of observations
copied from a journal, personal experience's in mar-
ried life, historical sketches of Casconia, and pic-
tures of its society. Like all historians of true
genius and large views of men and things, his ob.
ject appears to have been to give his friends in
Europe a narrative of life in the Southern States,
and a true and faithful account of the rise and pro.
gress of ancient Casconia, sprinkling his pages with
anecdotes of his own invention, and the celebrated
sayings of the worthies of that wonderful little re.
public ; and weaving the whole in a series of
grand philosophical stories, with facts and
scenes sufficiently coloured not to fatigue
the most experienced levers of sensation."
So much for the introduction, which, written in a
lively vein, is intended, of course, to be received
cum grano salis. The narrative consists of a series of
acts of treachery and intrigue on the part of a certain
Count Ballet and the loves and cross-purposes of
Harry Harebrain and Jack Dashwood, with their
fair cousins, Lily Dashwood and Nelly Katydid.
The last scene, in which the denouement takes place,
is more theatrical and improbable tban any upon
which stage curtain ever fell. The intrigues of
Count Ballet have succeeded, and he is to be mar-
ried to the lady-love of Harry Harehrain, when, as
the clergyman is about to begin the ceremony,
enter Harry with the real wife of the
Count. It is in vain for the bridegroom to
deny the charge, seeing that the clergyman recog-
nises the lady—it is he who has united her
to her husband. Another disturbance ensues, when
the Count is arrested for conspiracy, but his part
being played, ho opportunely fails down dead.
Notwithstanding this catastrophe, one or two
matrimonial engagements are arranged, there and
then, between the bystanders; and, as the crown-
ing improbability of all, the clergyman who had
just borne witness to the legal marriage of the
Count and his deserted wife, now proposes to the
widow, himself ! She, " faintly smiling," tale him
she can only give her hand, her heart " still dreams
of a beautiful mirage;" but—pointing to her hue-
band's body—she admits that she is indeed alone,
and will try to be a dutiful wife, fig. An incident

so wildly out of the rango of probability assuredly
requires no comment.

Cardinal Pole ; or, the Days of Philip and Mary.
An Historical Romance. By W. Harrison Ains-
worth. One vol. Pp. 400. Chapman and Hall.
The new volume of Chapman and Hall's Stan..
dard Edition of Popular Authors contains Harri-
son Ainsworth's historical romance of Cardinal
Pole, in which tho principal parts are played by
Queen Mary and Philip of Spain, Having noticed
this work on its first publication, we need only
now briEfly allude to Its appearance in this popu-
lar form.

A Pamphle, on Land Registration. B'7o. PP. 36'
Effingham Wilson.
Under the title of " A Few Plain
Landownen., &z.," Mr. Howard Reed (F.S.S')'
has Lore addressed to that important class of the
community several observations especially decnaa.
ing, as when they come to be read they will be
found also eminently well to deserve, their ('lle
landowners') serious consideration. Words to

---
The Clearing Bankers' Collection of Chequss'
rater:
Bills, 4-c., throughout London (4to, pp. 51 v
low and Sons) has here suggested to Mr. Edward
Jarvis (of the City) one or two rather novel-401rue
of them useful—notions in the way of improve'
ment.

~,v4ll-.
virl,44,t.sp, Y •
I%iltLx"w
7)
01110
efinli f-1-4i-i-og, _1 )

REP, MAJESTY,

OSBORNE, August 6.1
s
The Queen, accompanied by the Princess of WrB;e.
and Princess Louis of Hesse, drove out yesterG4J
afternoon in an open carriage and four, attended bi
Lieut.-Colonel Da Plat.
and
Their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales -
Prince Louis of Hesse, attended by Major Teesdale
and Captain von Westerweller, embarked on board
the Royal yacht Victoria and Albert Yesterdal
morning for a cruise.
The Hon, Florence Seymour has arrived as paid
of honour in waiting.
AUG. 7'
Her Majesty the Queen, accompanied by thee.
Royal Highnesses Princess Beatrice, Princefr
Liam of Prussia, and Princess Leiningen, embark
in the royal yacht Fairy yesterday afternoon, a"d
cruised towards Spithead. et,
The Hon. Florence Seymour, Baroness Dobellena
Lieut.-Gen. the Hon. C. Grey, and Lieut.-C°l'
Plat were in attendance.

Her Majesty returned at eight o'clock.
Wales
Their Royal Highnesses the Princess of
and Princess Louis of Hesse cruised in the °'.;:f
and met the Prince of Wales and Prince LOli°
Hesfe on their return from Torquay, in the 1:48
yacht Victoria and Albert. Biped
Her Royal Highness Princess Leiningen
with the Queen on Friday. hig
Yesterday was the anniversary of the birth °—
Royal Highness Prince Alfred.
The Right Hon. T. Milner Gibson arrived Seater.
day, and had an audience of the Queen.
Divine service was performed to-day at 03bnrne
by the Rev. G. Prothero in the presence of
Majesty the Queen, their Royal Highnesses tbde
Prince and Princess of Wales, and Prince an
Princess Louis of Hesse.
Mr Edward Taylor has had the honour allrif
the past fortnight of having several sittings 'O6l
miniature portraits from their Royal Iliglanessef
the Princess of Wales and Prince Albert Victor oil
Wales, Prince and Princess Louis of
Victoria of Hesse, Princess Beat ice, and PrinCee
Alberta of Leiningen. Hesse, PrilaCCO 0