The Sun.
London, England, 1864-01-02 00:00:00

that 'll be on earth and in heaven, too—and I'm sorry
for theVast—l'd die—to—wipe it—all—away I"
" Forgiven," whispered my wife, opening her eyes again,
"The past is over—Canute and I have outlived it, and are
happy in forgetting it. My poor misguided woman, I pray
that God will forgive you, as I do."
" As you do I" she cried, seizing Mary's hand, and then
dropping it, and falling forward suddenly. "As—YOU—
do I"
There was a long silence, broken by Janet making two
strides towards Mrs. Ray, leaning over, and then lifting
ber up in her arms.
" Lie doon, Maly moire, and dinna think ony mair o'
this," said she. " She hae fainted, as I kenned she wud
lang since. I'll carry her doon, and gie her some coold
water. Mrs. u ear, wull ye stay and Booth the lassie—
Mister Canute, I'm thinking ye'd better coom doon
minit and help me."
She bore Mrs. Ray into her own room, in lieu of de-
scending the stairs. She had placed her on the bed, and
was standing on the landing waiting for me, ere my lin-
gering steps had brought me from the room.
"Close that door," she said to me.
I closed the room door, and Janet lay her bead upon
my arm.
"Ye can bear a shock—but it's awfu' suddculike. We
maun keep it frae the lassie, for a weel."
" Keep what ?" I exclaimed.
" She came just in time—Lord be guile to her I" said
Janet, not answering my question, " She's dead."
The principal portions of the tale are laid in the
most desolate regions of Cumberland, some glimpses
of which are very effectively described :

A PLEASANT JOURNEY,
I had walked ten miles at least, without experiencing the
least fatigue ; I was good for the other seven or eight, as
though I had just began my morning's walk. The even-
ings were light till half-past eight o'clock ; I should be in
Needlewood long before the daylight flitted away behind
the range of mountains. I scaled the first hill, and found
another beyond it, shut in, as it were, behind two taller hills
or mountains—this was the White Gap, evidently. The
path became rather less distinct ; once or twice ended abruptly
in grass, and began again fifty yards in advance. It was a
long, uphill progress to the top, but I was rewarded by
looking back at the valley beyond, and the fair expanse of
landscape stretching out before me. The cottage at which
I had inquired was a speck in the vale below; there was a
stiff breeze on the high land whereon I stood and looked
about me—there were some flying clouds coming up over
the third hill, which had appeared before me when the second
was surmounted.
The flying clouds trooped over the hill with remarkable
celerity; when I set my face towards the old route, they
seemed coming down the hill to meet me, and hiding its
summit in a vale of mist. Then, presto I there was a full
charge at me; the mist and clouds were driven on me by
the wind, the rain came pattering down in heavy drops, the
path became dim and indistinct, then vanished altogether
—I was shut in on the mountain-path, and getting wet
through rapidly.
I imagined that the mist would soon clear off if the wind
continued, so I plodded along carelessly, and was rewarded
for my perseverance by a break of sunshine—finally, by the
hill-top becoming once again perceptible. l set forth, then,
at a brisker pace ; the advantage of society began to suggest
themselves; I had not so much confidence in my own
powers of perspicacity. If I could overtake the stranger
journeying in the same direction as myself so much the
better. The path was very faintly traced now—:presently
I felt convinced it would soon cease altogether.
The third hill, a sudden dip in the land almost to a valley,
and then a fourth hill looking unpleasantly grim and stony.
Save the soughing of the wind between the hills—a curious
murmur, as of some one in pain, it seemed—all still and
solemn and depressing, and no one ahead of me yet. Toil-
ing up the fourth hill, whereupon, to my satisfaction, the
path appeared more strongly marked, and then met again
by mist and rain and heavy banks of clouds—suddenly
blinded for a while by the II ish of lightning which darted
past me and lit, up the mountains. When the thunder
followed this, and seemed leaping from one hill to another,
and rolling itself down them, I sat down, under cover of a
huge friendly boulder, and began to shiver. Kennington •
road appeared very lovely in the distance then, and Cum-
berland scenery fell to a discount. Nothing like the bustling
London streets, where there was ever life, and comfortable
faces, and one could ask the way, and find it too I
The rain continued, and I was getting wet through
wondrously fast ; I was inclined to collapse with cold and
inaction--I had heard of such cases—might be death. On
to Nettlewood with a dash, irrespective of the storm—on
over the hill, fighting my way to a friendly shelter. The
rain kept on, but the storm abated somewhat ; the sky be-
came less dense, and I could still keep the path in sight.
The path had transformed itself into a rivulet by;this time,
and it was not difficult to follow if I kept ankle-deep in

water.
The fourth hill was ascended and descended ; half-way
down I caught sight of a green valley beneath, with a river
meandering through its midst. Three quarters of the
descent, I became aware of some one toiling up the path to
meet me. It was a pleasant sight to encounter a human
being then, and I hastened downwards in better spirits.
Five minutes afterwards I recognised Mr. Wenford.
The hero of the story, Canute Gear, who is also its
narrator, is a mere nobody. The principal interest
is concentrated upon Herbert Vaughan, who cer-
tainly is not worthy of the honour. The secondary
heroines, Letty Ray and Ellen Gear, are somewhat
extravagant creations, and Joseph Gear, the brother
of Canute, is miserly and covetous to an inprobable
degree. In the creation of this story the author
of " Grandmother's Money" has exercised a great
deal of ingenuity with very insufficient results.

The story which Mr. Thackeray has left un-
finished naturally excites much curiosity, which
the editor of the Cornhill Magazine will gratify, it is to
be hoped. Every page that this great writer penned has
some touch of genius, of grace, of humour in it; and,
finished or unfinished, his last day's work, has another
interest beyond its own excellence. A late Lounger
in these columns announced that this novel
was cast in the age of " the Danes and Saxons."
Unluckily, the journalist stumbles on false information
sometimes, and it must be confessed that our own Lounger
was wrong. The scenes of the story lie near our own time ;
and, if it be true that Mr. Thackeray finished four parts be-
fore his death, a considerable portion of the tale must be writ-
ten, for he did not propose to go to three-volume length on
this occasion, but to write a story of brisk incident which
should be completed in seven or eight numbers of the Corn-
hill. We may. therefore, expect to see, not a mere frag-
ment (though that would be precious), but a handsome
torso from the delicate and mighty hand which ended its

work on it.—lllustrated Times, Jan. 2, 1864.
NOBLE-HEARTED DR. THACKERAY
fortune and fame enabled the author of " Vanity
Fair" to visit Imperial Paris in imperial style, and W. M.
Thackeray put up generally at the Hotel Bristol, in the
Place Vendome. Never was increase of fortune more
gracefully worn or more generously employed. The strug-
gling artist and small man of letters, whom he was sure to
find at home or abroad, was pretty safe to be assisted if he
learnt their wants. I know of many a kind act. One morn.
ing, on entering Mr. Thackeray's bedroom, I found him
placing some Napoleons in a pill-box, on which was writ-
ten, " One to be taken occasionally." " What are you
doing f" " Well." he replied, " there is an old person
hers who says she is very ill and in distress, and 1 strongly
suspect that this is the sort of medicine she wants. Dr.
Thackeray intends to leave it on her himself. Let us walk
out together," Thackeray used to say that he came to
Paris for a holiday and to revive his reeollections of French
cooking. But he generally worked, especially when edit-
ing the Cornhill Magazine. And so the grand head and
the big heart are lost and gone I No, only dead.—. Paris
Correspondent of the Morning Post.
COLONIAL PHOTOGRAPHY.—Kyneton,dtiring the
last few weeks, has been favoured with a visit from
a party of Ballarat blacks. The party numbered seven—
three men, with their lubras, and a boy. One of the men,
Jamie, spoke English very well, and seemed an intelligent
man for an aboriginal. He is a fine specimen of the Aus-
tralian savage, evidently proud of his personal appearance.
as he called it at the photographic studio of Mr. Gleny, and
reversed the order of things by asking him, " How much
you give me to take my likeness ?" The photographer took
the gentleman's carte de visite, who, on seeing the nega-
tive, fairly rolled off his chair, convulsed with laughter at
the whiteness of the appearance, the action of the sun being
just the reverse of what it would have been with a white
man. A group of four were afterwards taken in the open
air.—Syneton Guardian.
WHISKERS.—It has been asked, Who does not
recollect the pathetic scene described in Punch,
where the smooth-cheeked young gentleman tremulously
asks the barber what hopes there are of whiskers ? where
the barber, with a candour unusual in his race (so hope-
ful are they generally of the propagation of hair), gives
absolutely none; where the whiskerless rejoins with a whine
of despair, "but my pa has lots of whiskers ;" and when the
sympathising barber, with a flash of inspiration adds, ",but
perhaps, sir, you take aster your ma?"
LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC MEETINGS FOR THE
ENSUING WEEK.—Monday.—Eutomotogical, at 7 ;
Architects, at 8. Tuesday.—Anthropological, at 4 (anni-
versary) ; Photographic, at 8 ; Royal Institution, at 5,
" Electricity iu Rest awl in Motion," Professor Tyndall
(juvenile lectures). IVednesday,—Geological, at 8, " Re-
cent Geological Changes, Somersetshiro," Mr. Poole;
" Beds superior to the Eocene in Suffolk and Essex," Mr.
Wool, jun. ; Society of Literature, at SI. Thursday.—
Royal Academy, at 8, " Architecture," Professor Smirke ;
Royal, at 81„ letter from Pr. Otto Torell to General
Sabine, " Hourly Observations of Magnetic Declination al
Port Kennedy, Arctic Sea, 1853.59," General Sabine ;
Royal Institution, at 3, " Electricity at Rest and in
Motion," Professor Tyndall (juvenile lectures). Friday.—
Arehseological Institute, at 4 ; Astronomical, at S.—
etenceum.
bTEAAI _ENGINES EXPORTED.—In eleven monk ha
ended November last, the value of steam engines exportt
was £1,426,628, being an increase on former years,