TABLE TALK.

MODERN PISCICULTURE.

S a question of food supply, and as a means of testing our scientific knowledge, which is, I fear, with regard to fishes, far from exact, the Fish Culture Exhibition to be opened this month by Her Majesty at Kensington has the highest interest. A complete revolution in our method of fish supply may be expected as an outcome of the proceedings, and will probably be accompanied by a reduction in the price of fish that will be especially grateful in presence of the prospects with regard to meat. It does not come within my province to impart information with regard to this exhibition with which I have been supplied, more especially as this must soon be public property. Besides, however, the inmates of the tanks, and the processes of breeding that will be shown, there will be a curious display of the various birds and animals that live chiefly upon fish. The Marquis of Bute has thus contributed a dozen beavers, and other animals are arriving from India, Canada, and elsewhere.

STR

MR. DUTTON COOK'S REPUBLISHED CRITICISMS.

TRIKING testimony to the augmented interest that is inspired in intellectual circles by the stage is supplied in the appearance of the collected criticisms of Mr. Dutton Cook, entitled Nights at the Play. During the last half-century no work of this class has seen the light. George Henry Lewes reprinted a few scattered papers upon actors of past times whose performances he had seen, and Professor Morley gave, in a volume which is without an index and is in other respects incomplete, a selection of notes upon matters theatrical and musical. Following the example of Théophile Gautier, whose six volumes on "L'Art Dramatique" constitute the most precious possession the lover of the stage can boast, Mr. Cook supplies a practical history of the stage during fifteen years. I assign his volumes, for practical utility, a place next those of Gautier, since the collected criticisms of Jules Janin treat of everything except the stage of his day, and those of M. Monselet and other writers of less

The only fault I feel

reputation are lacking in consecutiveness. disposed to find with Mr. Cook is the omission of notices of foreign performances on the English stage. His book, I am aware, claims to be a history of the English stage. To the presence of foreign companies, and the influence they exercised, I am inclined to ascribe the marvellous renaissance which theatrical art has witnessed. First among the agencies to which our stage is indebted is the appearance of the Dutch comedians. Far behind this, though still potent, comes the influence of the Comédie Française and the SaxeMeiningen Company. On the accuracy of Mr. Cook's verdicts, and the picturesque accessories with which they are expressed, I have not attempted to dwell.

A

THE PROMISE OF MAY.

MONG the superstitions which are now exploded, and of which it is time to get rid, must surely be counted Spring. To the dwellers on the Riviera, Spring may possibly present some of the attractions on which poets love to dwell. To the Londoner, who finds the November fog lasting into mid April, who watches leaf and blossom shrivel before the spring frosts, who knows that the east wind is a deadlier foe than any wind of mid-winter, and who finds, by prolonged experience, that its dominion is over the entire spring quarter, the praise of Spring sounds a little ironical. To the influence of classic models rather than to any change in the seasons, must be attributed the mistake of our poets, who copy Theocritus and forget to be taught by their own experience. That things were not different in days gone by is attested in the poems and proverbs concerning}May which form a portion of northern folk-lore :Till May's gone out

Cast not a clout,

is one record of Yorkshire experience; another, from a description of the various months, is even more suggestive ::

Then comes May,

Whose withering sway

Drives all April flowers away.

Of all delusions in which men hug themselves, the Promise of May is the most baseless.

I

LITERARY FUND PENSIONS.

WISH to join in a protest, already heard from several quarters, against the misappropriation of the small sum chargeable upon

the Consolidated Fund for the relief of those following the professions of literature and art. The amount, £1,200 per annum, is discreditably small. So trenched upon is it, however, on behalf of those who, whatever their claims, do not belong to the professions indicated, its exiguous proportions become absolutely contemptible. While those accordingly for whom, as the widow of my valued friend Professor Palmer or Miss Burke, the nation should provide are thrust upon the pension, literary men, with claims absolutely the highest, are rejected by successive Governments under circumstances of absolute cruelty. In no other country are matters of imperial interest treated in so niggardly and parochial a fashion.

IT

CHINESE IMPRESSIONS CONCERNING ENGLAND.

T is pleasant to be told by an educated visitor of Eastern origin that we have learned how to treat the masses. Such an assertion may be received with a smile not wholly devoid of incredulity by those who know how far we yet are from any scheme of ideal government. Quoting, however, the words of Mencius, next to Confucius the greatest thinker of China, to the effect that "If the people are made to share in the means of enjoyment, they will cherish no feelings of discontent," His Excellency Tseng-'HouYeh, late Chinese Minister in London, expresses his opinion that we are successful in carrying out the views they express. In common with less observant travellers, his Excellency has, I fear, seen only the show portions of London, in which some attempt to provide recreation grounds is visible. A more intimate acquaintance with the capital would leave him very much in doubt as to whether enough enjoyment to keep him contented reaches the average worker in Eastern London.

The fact, however, that our management of parks and recreation grounds commends itself to a singularly enlightened and observant visitor trained in a civilisation other than our own, is a subject for congratulation. The diary from which the views in question are taken is being translated into English in the China Review of Hong Kong. Of the first Chinese visitor whose utterances were held worthy of note, it is recorded that on being asked what he thought of our dancing, he simply said, "In China we make our servants do that kind of thing for us." No less perplexed with the aspect of our social proceedings than was the first visitor appears to be the latest, who cannot repress his surprise at the spectacle of "men and women skipping and gambolling together."

SYLVANUS URBAN.

THE

GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE.

JUNE 1883.

THE NEW ABELARD.

A ROMANCE.

BY ROBERT BUCHANAN,

AUTHOR OF "THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD," "GOD AND THE MAN," ETC.

GE

CHAPTER XV.

THE COUSINS.

Madam, our house's honour is in question!
I prithee, when you play at wantonness,
Remember that our blood flows clean and pure,
In one unbroken and unmuddied line,

From crystal sources. I'm your champion,
Madam, against yourself!

The Will and the Way.

EORGE CRAIK was not the man to let the grass grow under his feet when he was moving with set purpose to any

object.

As we have already hinted, he possessed a certain bull-dog tenacity, very dangerous to his opponents. And now all the suspicions of a nature naturally suspicious, all the spitefulness of a disposition naturally spiteful, being fully and unexpectedly aroused, his furious instinct urged him to seek, without a moment's breathingtime, the presence of his refractory cousin.

Coupled with his jealous excitement was a lofty moral indignation.

The family credit was at stake-so at least he assured himself— and he had a perfect right to demand an explanation. Had he reflected a little, he might have known that Alma was the last person in the world to give any explanation whatever if peremptorily demanded, or to admit her cousin's right to demand it; her spirit was VOL. CCLIV. NO. 1830

stubborn as his own, and her attitude of intellectual superiority was, he should have known by old experience, quite invincible.

Quitting the theatre, he leapt into a hansom, and was driven direct to Alma's rooms. It was by this time about five in the afternoon, and he made certain of finding his cousin at home.

He was mistaken. Miss Craik was out, and had been out the greater part of the day.

"Do you know where I can find her?" he asked of the domestic, a smart servant maid.

"I don't know, sir," was the reply. "She went out in the morning with Mr. Bradley, and has not been home to lunch."

"Does she dine at home?"

"Yes, sir-at seven."

"Then I will wait for her." And so saying he walked into the drawing-room and sat down.

He had cooled a little by this time, and before Alma made her appearance he had time to cool a good deal more. Fidgetting impatiently in his chair, he began to ask himself how he could best approach the subject on which he had come. He regretted now that he had not called for his father and brought him with him ; that, no doubt, would have been the most diplomatic course to adopt. The more he thought over the information he had received, the more he questioned its authenticity; and if, after all, the actress had made a mistake, as he began to suspect and fear, what a fool he would be made to look in his cousin's eyes! The prospect of being made to appear absurd sent a thrill of horror through his blood; for this young person, as has already been seen, dreaded, above all things in the world, the shaft of ridicule.

Time slipped by, and George Craik grew more and more uneasy. At last seven o'clock struck, and Alma had not appeared.

Growling to himself like an irritable dog, the young man rose and touched the electric bell.

"My cousin is very late," he said to the servant when she appeared.

"Yes, sir; she is very

uncertain."

"It is seven o'clock. You said she dined at seven."

"Yes, sir. But sometimes she does not return to dinner. If she is not here at the hour we don't expect her."

George Craik uttered an angry exclamation.

"Where the deuce can she be?" he cried, scowling ominously.

"I can't say, sir," returned the servant smiling. "Miss Craik is