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verification, that "Reason must verify itself" (the approved Hegelian reply). But unhappily Reason has no such power, Mr. Lewes and his school assert; “for if it had, Philosophy would not now be disputing about first principles; and when it claims the who is to answer for its accuracy, quis power, custodiet ipsos custodes?" Bardolph gives his bond, but who will be bond for Bardolph ?

HAUNTED BY A LOOK.

A Cue from Crabbe.

IN one of Crabbe's letters in rhyme on the Poor of the Borough, the story is told of a widow's family sorrows. Three sons she has followed to the grave; and one, by the bad of either sex beguiled, worst of the bad, has come to a felon's death. His mother's last look at him was on his way to the scaffold. His last look at her, was one that haunts her by day and night:

I cannot speak it-cannot bear to tell

Of that sad hour-I heard the passing-bell!

Slowly they went; he smiled and look'd so smart,

Yet sure he shudder'd when he saw the cart,

And gave a look-until my dying-day

That look will never from my mind away:
Oft as I sit, and ever in my dreams,

I see that look, and they have heard my screams.

Taking this cue from Crabbe, plenteous illustrations may be offered to the reader, of haunting looks, that constitute [themselves in the memory of observers an ever-reappearing presence that is not to be put by.

First of all, however, be a brief paragraph set apart, all by itself, in record of a sad and solemn passage in sacred story. It is of One who turned and LOOKED upon Peter, when Peter had denied Him thrice. And the cock crew. And Peter went out and wept bitterly. Quite sure we safely may be that that Look haunted Simon, son of Jonas, to his dying day. Surely in after years, as on the day of apostasy and renunciation, when he thought thereon he wept. Forgiven, he could never forgive himself. Surely, with that impulsive, emotional nature of his, Simon Peter keenly remembered that Look to the last; and when the predicted time came that he should be old, and should stretch forth his hands, and another should gird him, and carry him whither he would not, still when he thought thereon he wept.

Did the soldiers who accompanied the tribune charged with the mission of putting Cicero to death, did they ever, could they ever, forget the last look of that illustrious victim? By Plutarch's account, he ordered his servants to set the litter down, as soon as he caught sight of Herennius and the others in fell pursuit of him; and "putting his left hand to his chin, as it was his custom to do, he looked steadfastly upon his murderers. Such an appearance of misery in his face, overgrown with hair, and wasted with anxiety, so much affected the attendants of Herennius, that they covered their faces while that officer despatched him. But they could

not cover up, stifle, and efface from memory the inexpressible bitterness of the doomed man's latest look.

Justly admired for its wonderful beauty is that passage in one of the old Scotch ballads which describes the Gordon firing the castle of an enemy, whose daughter, as a last hope of escape, being let down from the wall, gets a deadly fall on the point of Gordon's spear:

Then wi' his spear he turned her owre,

O, gin her face was wan!

He said, "Ye are the first that e'er

I wished alive again."

He turned her owre and owre again,

O, gin her face was white!

"I might hae spared that bonnie face
To hae bin some man's delight!"

The one bitter remembrance in la Vie et la Mort du Capitaine Renaud, as related by M. Alfred de Vigny, is that of a night-attack upon a Russian outpost, in which, hardly awakened from sleep, an innocent and beautiful youth, one of the boys of fourteen who sometimes held officers' commissions in the Russian army, fell dead in his grey-haired father's sight, by the unconscious hand of Renaud. The look of the dying boy, and the look of the bereaved father, wrung the soul of Renaud, and haunted him to the end of his days: from that hour he never used sabre more, and was known to the soldiers by carrying ever after a canne de jonc, which dropped from the dying hand of the poor boy.

Félicité Fernig, one of the young amazons (celebrated by Lamartine) who fought under Dumouriez, saved from the enemy's hulans a young Belgian officer, named Vanderwalen; and her look, as she did so, is made much of by the historian, as it deservedly was by Vanderwalen; who, when left in the hospital at Brussels, in due time forgot his wounds, but never the aspect of the heroine that came charging to the rescue in such splendid style. The look of that jeune personne, in the dress of a comrade in arms, precipitating herself into the mêlée for a stranger's sake, firing pistol-shots, and dealing sabre-strokes right and left-and presently again leaning wistfully over his blood-stained bed in the military hospital, no wonder he could never forget it; or that in after years he sought out, discovered, and married Ma'mselle.

Adrastus, King of Argos, in Justice Talfourd's one successful tragedy, thus describes to Ion the last look of the wife on whom he had doted so fondly:

She spake no word, but clasp'd me in her arms,
And lay her down to die. A lingering gaze
Of love she fix'd on me-none other loved
And so pass'd hence. By Jupiter, her look!
Her dying patience glimmers in thy face!
She lives again!

The doomed king has not yet discovered in the foundling youth who stands over him knife in hand, his child, and hers.

Lady Bessborough, in conversation with Thomas Moore, (1821), mentioned that, when a child, she

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