He, therefore, goes about the country, taking counsel of every one as to whether he had better marry. To consult Fortune he adopts several methods in vogue at that time, dice, dreams, sorcery, and "pricking

the book." Each successive oracle threatens with all the evils of matrimony. But, with laudable ingenuity, he tortures every denunciation with a favorable answer, and persists in interrogating the future. He consults a sybil, and next, a deaf and dumb individual. The account of his interviews with those two personages is comical in the extreme, and we only refrain from inserting it, for fear of offending the strait-laced morality of the day. At last he calls at the chamber of a dying poet, under the popular impression that there are revelations of the future attendant upon deathbeds. The good old man delivers his verdict in writing, and dismisses his visitors with a touching, though sarcastic farewell: Go, children; I commend you to the great God of Heaven; annoy me no more with this, or any other business. I have, this day, which is the last day of May, and of me, turned out of my house, with great fatigue and trouble, a crowd of ugly, unclean, and pestilential beasts, black and dun, white, grey, and spotted, that would not let me die in peace, but with their treacherous stingings, their harpylike filchings, and waspish teasings, weapons, forged in the smithery of I know not what insatiability, roused me from the soft thinkings whereunto I had yielded myself, already contemplating, seeing, touching, and tasting the weal and felicity, which the good God hath prepared for his faithful and his elect in the other life, and in the state of immortality. Turn ye from their ways; be not like unto them; no more molest me, and leave me in peace, I beseech you."

The following chapter, where Panurge, issuing from the dying poet's chamber, pretends to take the part of the monks, is the one for which the monks sought to bring Rabelais to the stake:

*

by two celestial counterpoises, the whole autonomatic matagrobolism of the Roman Church, whenever it feels pothered with any gibberish of error, or heresy quivers homocentrically. But what, in all the devil's names, have those poor devils, the Capuchins and minims, done unto him? Are they not suffi ciently smoked and embalmed with misery and calamity, those wretched objects, mere extracts of fish diet? On thy faith now, Brother John, is he in a state of salvation? By the Lord, he is going damned, as a serpent, to thirty thousand loads of devils. To speak evil of those good and valiant pillars of the Church! Is that what you call poetic frenzy? I cannot stand it; he sinneth villainously; he blasphemeth religion. I am scandalized. I,' said friar John, don't care a button. They abuse everybody, and if everybody abuses them, I am indifferent. Let us see what he wrote. Panurge attentively read the good old man's writing, and said to the rest: He is delirious, the poor toper. I excuse him, however. I think he is near his end. Let us go make his epitaph. By his answer, I am no wiser than I was before. Hearken here, Epistemon, my darling, dost thou not think that he answered most resolutely? By sophist. Sdeath! how cautious of speaking the Lord, a subtle, rampant, and palpable amiss! He answereth only by disjunctives. He can but speak the truth, since it is enough that one part be true. · The same was practised,' remarked Epistemon, by Tiresias, the great soothsayer, who, ere he began to prophecy, openly said to those who consulted him: what I shall say, may or may not happen. Such is the style of prudent prognosticators.' 'Nevertheless,' said Panurge, Juno put out both his eyes. True,' answered Epistemon, for having decidedly better than herself, the dubious point mooted by Jupiter.'"

The remainder of the third book is devoted to the many attempts of Panurge to solve his problem, and presents a lively satire of Divination in all its forms. Among the various answers he receives, one of the wittiest is the apologue of the ring of Hans Carvel, which the poet Prior borrowed.† If foreign writers have

+ The researches of the Jesuits have proved that this anecdote, as well as many other popular stories, was known in China and Hindostan thousands of years ago. There is nothing new under the sun."

obsolete expressions. This was only a consequence of his determination to champion the genuine vernacular in opposition to innovators. The writings of his contemporary Ronsard are more modern by half a century than his own. He, likewise, delighted in eccentric turns of phrase. Whenever he broached a subject, he ex

This is not the place for us to enlarge upon the philosophy of Rabelais. A kind of practical Democritism, made applicable to human concerns was surely a leading feature of his mind as it is of his writings. But he alone is competent to expound his own doctrines. There is a volume of Pantagruelic wisdom in the following remark of Panurge "All the weal which Heaven covers, and which the earth contains in all its dimensions, height, depth, longitude and latitude, is not worthy to move our affections and disturb our senses and spirits.' As a writer, Rabelais has exerted immense influence on the world. He was the first to bring out the real wealth of the French tongue. He was the first of a long chain of writers who have handed down to each other, as by a kind of intellectual conductor, that thorough command, which he first possessed of the difficult idioms of that language. Moliére, La Fontaine, Voltaire, Gresset, Le Sage, Beaumarchais, and a few others, may be considered as the lineal descendants of that great author. The sole surviving representative of that glorious line is Béranger, whose fate it is to witness the decline of his country's literature. For, through all the glitter of the modern school of France, we can discern, at best, but misdirected genius. The national taste has become perverted. Gaudy exotics have been engrafted upon the original stock. But they are like parasites that rob the tree of its sap, while their verdure is that of decay.

In his style, Rabelais affected to use

sidered as an encyclopedia of the knowledge of his age. His boundless command of expression sometimes betrayed him into unmeaning accumulations of epithets, mere catalogues of words, the point of which is not often evident to us. Such was the candor of his cynicism, that he hesitated as little to trifle with his own fame as with the patience of his readers.

We would, in conclusion, proffer a word of extenuation in behalf of the moral character of the writings of Rabelais. True, they contain many obscene passages. But remember their date. Will it be credited that he borrowed some of his most immodest anecdotes from contemporary sermons of orthodox preachers? Squeamishness was hardly the prevailing sin of the age, since Luther himself was prone to write in a style which we could adequately qualify only by borrowing some of his own epithets-and these we will not venture to quote, although they are clothed in a learned language.

Besides, we deny that the tendency of our author's writings is immoral, except, perhaps, in so far as they may inculcate too great a disregard for human concerns. Although the perusal of any single page might revolt the most indulgent, by the great freedom of expression, still, as you proceed, you enter more and more into the spirit of the author. His apparent licentiousness no longer scares your propriety, and you surrender up your judgment to him, feeling like a child in the hands of an intellectual giant, or like a candidate for initiation at the mysteries of Eleusis, following your guide through passages and labyrinths of dismal obscurity, yet never doubting that you will soon emerge into the broad light of Heaven.

EARLY in the winter, Richard Somers was called by business to a distant part of the State. He had begun to think of returning, when he fell sick, and was detained a month or two longer. At last, sufficiently convalescent to relish his morning's toast and coffee, and to be able to direct his thoughts without fatigue to certain octavos bound in well-thumbed lawcalf, which gave dignity to the walls of a snug apartment situated some four degrees nearer the rising sun; he opened letters bearing a Redland superscription, with no great annoyance, though each was sure to remind him of a huge arrear of labor.

He received one letter of very peculiar tenor; yet, like most of the rest, it came from a client :

"DEAR SIR:

It gives me gratification to have it in my power to inform you that papers have been discovered which seem to remove all doubt of the suit's being decided otherwise than in our favor. That you, sir, who have supported our cause so ably in its darkest hours, should conduct it to the prosperous issue which is dawning before it, would be our first and most earnest desire, did we not know what honorable reluctance you feel to having any agency in Mr. Everlyn's disappointment. As it is, we rejoice that circumstances now allow us to relieve you of the painful duty which you are too upright and generous to throw off yourself. Are we mistaken, sir, in supposing that the best return we can make for your steadfast

adherence to us so long as our interests required it, is to dispense with your aid the moment we can do so with safety? Nearly by the time this note reaches you, a jury will probably have been impanneled and a decision rendered. Thus you will escape all occasion to reproach yourself for having injured your friend, whilst yet you have secured the warm and lasting gratitude of your clients.

Truly rejoiced to hear of the improvement of your health, and trusting that it has been ere this perfectly restored,

I am with the deepest respect, &c.,

SYLVESTER NEWLOVE."

A singular epistle, thought the lawyer; and he subjected it to a second reading. Satisfied then that he did not mistake its purport, he felt vexed. It is pleasant to entertain a conviction of one's own importance, and Somers, though it had cost him much pain to cleave to the New Yorkers, was not unnaturally chagrined to be told that they, being able to get along of themselves, were quite content to part company, The very act of self-sacrifice is attended with a degree of enjoyment, and it is hard to be balked of the luxury. A sensation of mortification, too, is mingled with the disappointment. To find no use for all the moral nerve which by much forethought and diligence has been provided for some desperate endeavor, is attended with a discomfiture like that experienced when one rushes with prodigious momentum against a door which gently opens of its own ac

cord the instant the shoulder of the assailant is about to impinge upon it. In such a predicament, not only is there a waste of carefully collected vigor, but an awkward tumble is very apt to follow, with possibly the coincidence of a contusion. Besides, however desirable any object, no man is fully contented, unless the attainment of it be the result of duly appointed means. A zealous lawyer identifies himself with his client; the suit is not another's struggle, but his own, and there is no person from Cæsar to the juvenile engineer who drains a mud-puddle or dams a gutter, but prefers to owe his triumph altogether to his own exertions.

But if Somers' services in the suit were to be dispensed with, who was to supply his place. He was not at a loss to conjecture. It will be remembered that Caleb Schrowder had in vain applied to him to conduct the controversy with the squatter Foley. The headstrong Northerner, not frightened by a phenomenon so strange and ominous as a lawyer's refusal of a case, looked about for another and less reluctant attorney. Such an one was found in Mallefax, who, after securing to himself a sufficiently respectable amount of fees, conducted his client in the end to the very same result that Somers had declared to be necessary-a compromise with Foley. Mallefax, however, managed the affair with such adroitness, that Schrowder not only loosened his purse-strings promptly at every summons, but expressed himself perfectly satisfied with his lawyer. He even urged the propriety of giving him something to do in the more important suit. Somers at first would not listen to the suggestion, but finding himself exposed to continual importunity, subsequently yielded the point. Well aware, indeed, that the candidate was a sharp fellow, he thought that if strictly watched he might, perhaps, be made serviceable. Mallefax, after being thus retained, appeared very active and earnest, so much so that all three of the New Yorkers came-in spite of the dry hints of Somers to repose considerable confidence in him. There could be little doubt accordingly to what hands the Newloves had been induced to commit themselves. That they were likely to be led into mischief, was equally clear, and this consideration, if Somers had been dis

posed to harbor malice on account of the abrupt dismission, was capable of affording ample consolation. I will not venture to deny that such a sentiment might have passed through his mind, but it is certain it did not abide there. The prospect of his late clients suffering from their hasty measure only aggravated his uneasiness.

A whole afternoon was spent in grumbling at the self-sufficiency which had presumed to act independent of counsel. The next morning, he began to look at the matter from a different side. If Everlyn could no longer regard him as the agent of ruin, and if he was henceforward to be exempt from every office conflicting with the unreserved manifestation of his attachment to Sidney, why need such a happy result cause him discomposure? As to any damage threatening Newlove et alt, he was not responsible for it. No lack of fidelity on his part had betrayed them into bestowing undue trust upon a knave. And moreover, the letter told him the matter was irrevocably settled. Perhaps there had really been a discovery. The New Yorkers may have gained the day and been put in condition to impose what terms they pleased on their competitor. If so, he might well congratulate himself that he was not obliged to be the go-between who should tell Everlyn it was not permitted him to trespass any more upon the soil of another.

Before the close of that second day's meditations, our lawyer became not simply resigned to the new disposition of affairs but joyful and elate. And so refreshing proved the ensuing night's rest that he deemed himself well enough to start on his journey towards Redland.

As he crossed the western border of the county, he was very curious to learn what decision had been made by the jury, but met no one capable of giving the information. He hesitated awhile what point to strike first. Munny's store suggested itself as the natural centre of intelligence. But to go thither, the habitations of the New Yorkers would have to be passed, and he had small inclination at that moment to hold a conference with them. No; love demanded as its tribute that he should direct his unshackled steps first to Everstone. He had now the opportunity to show Sidney that no sooner was the stern