For the Circles 1st Row. With the lightest shade of Scarlet, work a chain of 11 stitches, unite the ends and work a row of De, making only 11 stitches, draw the Wool to the back, tie it securely and cut it off, this must be done at every row, then work 11 long stitches, one into every loop, making 2 chain between each. 2nd Row.-2nd shade, De under the 2 chain, 5 chain, repeat. 3rd Row.-3rd shade, De into the centre stitch of the 5 chain, 6 chain, repeat. 4th Row.-4th shade, De under the centre of the 6 chain, 7 chain, repeat. 5th Row.-5th shade, D° on Do, 3 chain, 3 long under the 7 chain, 3 chain, repeat. This forms one Circle. There should be 24 circles, the diameter of each being about 21 inches, join 12 of these circles on one side of a stripe, and 12 on the other, then sew the other stripes on each side of the circles, work some chain stitches from one Green edge to the other of the stitches at each end of the covering, catching up the points of the circles, about 24 stitches will be found sufficient, fasten in the ends securely into the cotton stripes, then with the Green Wool work a row of long stitches, one stitch into every loop, to correspond with the sides, then commence at one end and work up the side thus, 1 long, 2 chain, miss 2 loops, repeat this 44 times more, then turn back, work 1 long on long, 2 chain, repeat, work forwards and back till there are 4 rows, do this on both sides. For the Border on both ends. 1st Row. Take the Green, make 7 chain, D into 6th loop, then with the darkest Scarlet commence on the 1st De stitch of the Green, 5 chain, 5 long under the 7 chain,* 5 chain, D under next 7, 5 chain, D° under next 7, 5 chain, 5 long under next 7, repeat from.* 2nd Row.—Next shade, D° into 2nd loop, 5 chain,* Do on 1st long, 5 chain, D on last long, 5 chain, 5 long under the 5 chain, 5 chain, repeat from.* 3rd Row. Next shade, De into 2nd loop, 5 chain,* 5 long under the 5 chain, 5 chain, De under 5 chain, 5 chain, De under 5 chain, 5 chain, repeat from.* 4th Row. Next shade, same as 2nd row. 5th Row.-Lightest shade, same as 3rd row. Pull the work well, damp and lay it open between a cloth with a weight upon it for some hours, then sew it up at the sides, take an oz. of shaded Scarlet Wool, cut it twice, divide it once and tie each portion into the 5th bar at each side, as in Engraving. Song. My own love! my own love! why art thou sleeping! My own love! my own love! why art thou sleeping! My own love! my own love! why art thou sleeping! F. C. NO. X. BB VOL. I. Essays on SHAKESPERE'S FEMALE No. V. CHARACTERS. LEAR'S THREE DAUGHTERS. WE pause in our labors. To ask excuse of all who know Shakespere better than ourselves for there is a dignity about this Drama, that stills our admiration into awe: we hesitate lest we should lose or underrate a beauty, or a moral-and they sparkle thick as starlight in this mystery of wisdom. Not a line in Lear but trumpets truth or whispers poetry. Every character is full of heart-knowledge--the weak, old King: the manly Kent: simple Edgar: generous France: truthful Cordelia. The darker groups are as life-like-for Life, as Shakespere always shews us, is a "mingled yarn of good and ill"—the cruel daughters: hard Goneril and fierce Regan: the arch-traitor, Edmund foolish Cornwall. And the links of the two groups -credulous Gloster: and Albany-so nicely poised between interest and duty, connect the whole harmoniously. Shakespere's Dramas are always pictures of Life: always natural. Here the very highest Art is manifest. Indeed, we hold this to be the loftiest of his creations. We need excuse for treading on such ground. Our aim is our apology: we ask Women-more than all-to study these works of their best friend their truest painter. He is thoroughly practical, thoroughly human; every lesson he teaches may be learned easily: remembered long: acted on. A word in our way-or out of our way-for the Fool. Was ever knowledge in so kindly a guise? For delicacy of outline, for the spirituality in which his vision-wit is veiled, we prefer him to Ariel or Puck. His proverbs, how curtly they come upon the familiar ear: and his songs-those snatches of our villagelore-how freshly they gush over the darker scenes of the Play. The story itself-almost as old as our hills-seems familiar to us. Filial Ingratitude — why it is an every day story, and the under plot of Gloster and his two sons, although more intricate, scarce needs recital. It is told in a glance. Would it were less easily understood. But the Drama-potent as it is—like the loftier Teacher, often fails here. There are Lears enough still: "foolish, fond old men," who from the idlest caprice on the strong tension of their self-love, beat from the door of the heart those who most love and respect them. Eloquent of the falsehood of all lip service is the conduct of the elder daughters of the old King: a shrewd sentence on the much-professing of all ages; and with what pleading earnestness does the Drama take the part of those whose love is the love of thought and deed: that cannot, if it would, expend itself in words, whose affection, although silent, is ever-during. There are many such. We have seen them ere now, shrinking into the dark corners of crowded rooms, with the deep, quiet eyes full upon the face of the loved one: in rough paths raising its shoulder for the hand of the aged: resting its warm and soothing palm in the grasp of the sorrowing: nestling with its upward smile on the tear bedewed bosom of motherhood; and everywhere silent-or with its low rich tones-unfrequent and remembered-appealing with its self-respecting, yet selfdenying love to the sufferer or the suppliant. But we must to the Play itself-and we begin with the scene in which the old King determines To shake all cares and burdens from his age and resigns his kingdom into the hands of his daughters, whose suitors wait to hear the dower of their destined brides. For Cordelia, the youngest, France and Burgundy are rivals. Now comes the great error of the King, on which the whole Play turns: Tell me, my daughters, Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most, That we our largest bounty may intend Where nature doth with merit challenge-Goneril, How unnatural this looking for love's expression-this forcing it into language. It is a glorious truth that "love begets love,' but this is a widely different feeling from the anxiety to have the love others bear us worn in the cap, ever rising on the tongue. Goneril replies Sir, I Do love you more than words can wield the matter, Beyond what can be valued rich or rare; No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor; As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found; A love that makes breath poor and speech unable; She has exhausted all her invention for comparisons and the "so much" is intended to shew that it cannot be courted or measured. But the love is, at a glance, unholy: unnatural: impossible. She is about to be married to another, and one must be robbed of all is thus yielded. The exclamation of the youngest sister breaks in very naturally What shall Cordelia do? Love and be silent. Lear having rewarded Goneril's liberal love with a third of his kingdom; he next appeals to who answers Our dearest Regan I am made of that self metal as my sister, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart Only she comes too short: that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys, Which the most precious square of sense possesses; In your dear highness' love. Cordelia sees at once these words are so extravagant that the language of her own honest heart must seem weak beside them. Like Coriolanus, she has an instinctive dislike to this parade of service and loyalty. Then poor Cordelia ! And yet not so, since I am sure my love's More ponderous than my tongue. Regan receives the same share as Goneril and then Lear, with even more assured confidence, addresses Cordelia: Our joy! what a history in the expression of the solace of her sweet voice-the sunshine of her glad eye. There is more than self-love in the old man's heart. His pride warms into affection-his dignity becomes simple. There is no test of real feeling like the abrupt use of simple words. The next few paragraphs we dare not mutilate. The daughter's quiet reproof is a lesson for doting fathers for ages to come. What can you say, to draw LEAR. A third, more opulent than your sisters? speak CORDELIA. Nothing, my lord. |