2 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, De 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, De under next 7, 5 chain, Dc under next 7, 5 chain, 5 long under next 7, repeat from.* 2nd Row.-Next shade, De into 2nd loop, 5 chain,* De on 1st long, 5 chain, De 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. NO. XII. K K VOL I. SUMMER IS COME! SUMMER is come !-let God's light fall Let its beams find a way to the home of the poor, And as on the vallies it falls from above, Unite Rich and Poor in one chain of Love. Summer is come !-the fruit-pledge of flowers The seed-casting winds-and the corn-raising showers, But herald the burst of the glorious sun: And God's children are cared for-the Year's work is done. And let deeds of Charity bless the land That the Nation's heart may find its voice Summer is come-and shall it depart, And the harvest-sun shed no light in our heart? Hath the smile of our Father-that cleaves like a wand Not taught us yet that the God of Good F. C. Essays on SHAKESPERE'S FEMALE CHARACTERS. No. VI. OPHELIA. ALL that surrounds Ophelia is so sudden and shadowy, even to the melting cadence of her musical name, that we can only regard the character as introduced to soften, by its gentler grief, the darker melancholy of Hamlet. She is so quiet, so childlike, so yielding, to all, keeping her brother's monitory counsel, as Watchman to her heart. And although we dare not doubt the depth of her love— when her father Would not have her slander any moment's leisure By giving words or talk to the Lord Hamlet, answering with full obedience. The lesson told by this brief Episode is so obvious-every home having some commentary for it-that it needs scarce a word to direct attention to it, and yet to all of us it comes with such mournful force, so sadly speaking the experience of everyday life, that we linger over the theme. As with all minds of which aught of effort is required, Hamlet no sooner holds "the commandment" of the ghost. Within the book and volume of his brain than he at once blots all record of his love from "the tablet of his memory. And his acted madness is assumed in part, to effect this purpose; but he little recks how faithfully her woman's nature takes up the color and distraction of his thoughts, and how, like a disturbed echo, it carries his simulation into the very heart of her grief. This scene, with which we begin, is so beautiful that we transcribe it entire. Ophelia describes the meeting to her father: My Lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,- POLONIUS. Mad for thy love? OPHELIA. My Lord, I do not know; POLONIUS. What said he? OPHELIA. He took me by the waist, and held me hard; Then goes he to the length of all his arm, And with his other hand thus o'er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face, As he would draw it. Long staid he so; At last, a little shaking of mine arm, And thrice his head thus waving up and down, The whole of this passage-whatever commentators may say -must have been carefully elaborated. Nothing but a close and most nicely balancing judgment could have so well chosen epithet after epithet-and the description is so distinct as well as delicate; so comprehensive, so clear; and in how few lines. compressed. Hamlet comes before Ophelia with exaggerated performance of his madness-in disordered dress. But soon grief takes the place of madness, and the rest of the picture is all the unfeigned bitterness of earnest passion. The idea in the last two lines is fine for the boldness of its simplicity. Ophelia's father tries the force of this love farther and makes Hamlet's disguise of motive to his madness, necessary. And here comes in the famous Love Letter-and if ever the blind Divinity loved doggrel, he must have loved the homely music to which the vows of Hamlet are set. "To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia." All to this point is simulation and "beautified" is, truly, as Polonius says, "a vile word." In her excellent white bosom these: A lover's turning of a state phrase. Doubt that the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love. O, dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have O most best, believe it. Adieu. Thine evermore, most dear Lady, whilst this machine is to him, Hamlet. In the concluding line, as in the continued interview, the passion overcomes the acting, and the grace of the last thought is in strict consonance with the truthful bearing of Hamlet. To find confirmation of his assured idea, the father plays the spy on the two lovers. But this, Hamlet is prepared for, as is evident from the tone of the whole scene, which comes after that fine soliloquy, that has been, not only the greatest test of genius on the stage, but one of the sublimest solutions of the impotency of man's despair that the world has. But a word ere we pass to the scene-the one which so abruptly closes the lovepassages in this Tragedy-for the wild, strange introduction to it. The difficulty Hamlet has to keep up his part with Polonius and the way in which, with most reluctant purpose, he touches on his love, is broken by the utterance of truths-however epigrammatically given-so glorious in their expression, that we would ask the student of Shakespere to pause much longer than is usual over this part of the Play. But as we have not Hamlet's character before us now-a study for a life-but his flitting shadow, the fearful echo of his lamenting love, we must pass to the scene where he meets Ophelia. There is a second interruption by Polonius introduced by the Dramatist to lead us up to the parting. Ophelia overhears the self-commune of Hamlet, his fierce impatience that is so -his native hue of resolution sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought that it prevents, as in other great minds-or Biographers liethe coward crimes of suicide and murder. As his vent of self-reproach runs from anger into sorrow, he sees Ophelia, who, by her father's orders, feigns reading: That show of such an exercise may color Her loneliness. He cannot at once recal his adopted part: The fair Ophelia ! Soft you now, His commencement, although on the surface a merely graceful salutation, has earnestness in its pleading: Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd! She passes the courtesy: Good, my lord! How does your honor for this many a day? |