and then Paul awoke,-awoke mind and body,—and sat upright in his bed. He saw them now about him. There was no gray mist before them as there had been sometimes in the night. He knew them everyone and called them by their names. 'And who is this? Is this my old nurse?' asked the child, regarding with a radiant smile a figure coming in. Yes, yes. No other stranger would have shed those tears at sight of him; called him her dear boy, her pretty boy, her own poor blighted child. No other woman would have stooped down to his bed, and taken up his wasted hand, and put it to her lips and breast, as one who had some right to fondle it. No other woman would have so forgotten everybody there but him and Floy, and been so full of tenderness and pity.

'Floy! this is a kind good face; I am glad to see it again. Don't go away, old nurse! stay here. Goodbye!'

Goodbye, my child!', cried Mrs. Pipchin, hurrying to the bed's head, 'not goodbye!'

Ah, yes; goodbye! Where's papa ?'

He felt his father's breath upon his cheek before the words had parted from his lips. The feeble hand waved in the air, as if it cried goodbye!' again.

'Now lay me down; and Floy, come close to me, and let me see you!'

Sister and brother wound their arms around each other, and the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon

them locked together.

'How fast the river runs between its green bank and the rushes, Floy! But it's very near the sea; I hear the waves! They always said so!'

Presently he told her that the motion of the boat upon the stream was lulling him to rest; how green the banks

118.

were now; how bright the flowers growing on them; how tall the rushes! Now the boat was out at sea, but gliding smoothly on. And now there was a shore before him.

Who stood on the bank?

He put his hands together as he had been used to do at
his prayers. He did not remove his arms to do it, but
they saw him fold them so behind his sister's neck.
'Mamma is like you, Floy! I know her by the face. But
tell them that the picture on the stairs at school is not
divine enough. The light about the head is shining on
me as I go.'

The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and
nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion,
the fashion that came in with our first garments, and
will last unchanged until our race has run its course and
the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old
fashion Death.

Oh! Thank God, all who sce it, for that older fashion yet of immortality. And look upon us, angels of young children, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift river bears us also to the ocean!" (Dickens).

As in attempting Sublimity we are liable to fall into Bombast and Frigidity, so in aiming at Pathos we may become merely sentimental or maudlin if our language exceeds the occasion, if the so-called Pathos consists of mere words, phraseology, and figures, without originality, keeping, or alternation and relief. Sometimes, in humorous writing the maudlin combined with the ridiculous is purposely made use of, as in the lover's lament (from the Ingoldsby Legends);

"There's somewhat on my breast, father,

There's somewhat on my breast!

The livelong day I sigh, father,
And at night I cannot rest.

I cannot take my rest, father,
Though I would fain do so;
A weary weight oppresseth me--
This weary weight of woe!
'Tis not the lack of gold, father,
Nor want of worldly gear;

My lands are broad and fair to see
My friends are kind and dear.
My kin are leal and true, father,
They mourn to see my grief;

But oh! 'tis not a kinsman's hand
Can give my heart relief;

'Tis not that Janet's false, father,

'Tis not that she's unkind;

Though busy flatterers swarm around

I know her constant mind.

'Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast;

It's that confounded cucumber

I've eat and can't digest."

Now this is, of course, an extreme case of the maudlin; only let students beware that, in attempting the Pathetic with trivial subjects, they do not unintentionally produce a composition as ridiculous as the above is intentionally made. A common fault of many writers is to attempt to express pathos that they do not feel, and particularly to overload their compositions with empty declamation about passion, instead of encouraging the true feeling where it should exist, and expressing it in simple language.

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EXAMPLES OF BEAUTIFUL PASSAGES.

I.

THE GOLDEN AGE.

Thompson.

The first fresh dawn then waked the gladdened race

Of uncorrupted man, nor blushed to see

The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam:
For their light slumbers gently fumed away;
And up they rose, as vigorous as the sun,
Or to the culture of the willing glebc,
Or to the cheerful tendance of the flock.
Meantime, the song went round; and dance and sport,
Wisdom and friendly talk, successive, stole

Their hours away; while in the rosy vale

Love breathed his infant sighs, from anguish free,

And full replete with bliss; save the sweet pain,

That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more.

Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed,

Was known among those happy sons of Heaven;
For reason and benevolence were law.
Harmonious nature too looked smiling on.
Clear shone the skies, cooled with eternal gales
And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun
Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds
Dropped fatness down; as, o'er the swelling mead,
The herds and flocks, commixing, played secure.

II.

EVE'S FIRST AWAKENING TO CONSCIOUSNESS,

AND HER MEETING WITH ADAM.

Milton.

That day I oft remember, when, from sleep,

I first awaked, and found myself reposed
Under a shade, on flowers; much wondering were
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.
Not distant far from thence, a murmuring sound
Of waters issued from a cave, and spread

Into a liquid plain; then stood unmoved,
Pure as the expanse of heaven: I thither went,
With unexperienced thought, and laid me down
On the green bank, to look into the clear
Smooth lake, that, to me, seemed another sky.
As I bent down to look, just opposite,

A shape within the watery gleam appeared,
Bending to look on me. I started back;
It started back;-But, pleased, I soon returned;
Pleased, it returned as soon, with answering looks
Of sympathy and love. There I had fixed.

Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire,

Had not a voice thus warned me :-" What thou seest;
What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;
With thee it came and goes:--but follow me!
And I will bring thee where no shadow stays
Thy coming and thy soft embraces; he

But follow straight, invisibly thus led;
Till I espied thee, fair indeed, and tall,
Under a plantane :-yet, methought, less fair,
Less winning soft, less amiably mild,

Than that smooth watery image. Back I turned:
Thou following, criedst aloud:-"Return, fair Eve!
Whom fliest thou? Whom thou fliest, of him thou art

His flesh, his bone; to give thee being, I lent,
Out of my side, to thee, nearest my heart,