her sister in 1784, "and we flirt together
prodigiously; it is the famous General Oglethorpe,
perhaps the most remarkable man of his time.
He was foster-brother to the Pretender, and is
much above ninety years old; the finest figure
of a man you ever saw. He perfectly realises
all my ideas of Nestor.  His literature is great;
his knowledge of the world is extensive, and
his faculties as bright as ever.  He is one of
the three persons still living who was mentioned
by Pope; Lord Mansfield and Lord Marchmont
are the other two.  He was the intimate friend
of Southern, the tragic poet, and all the wits of
his time.  He is, perhaps, the oldest man of a
gentleman living.  I went to see him the other
day, and he would have entertained me by
repeating passages from Sir Eldred (Sir Eldred of
the Bower: a Legendary Poem.  Hannah More's
first original work, published in 1775).  He is
quite a preux chevalier, heroic, romantic, and
full of the old gallantry."

Early in 1785, Samuel Rogers, then a young
man of twenty-one, met General Oglethorpe at
the sale of Dr. Johnson's library.  He says he
was "then very, very old, the flesh of his face
like parchment.  He amused us youngsters by
talking of the alterations that had been made
in London, and of the great additions it had
received within his recollection.  He said that he
had shot snipes in Conduit-street."

And Walpole, in the same year, speaks of
him to Sir Horace Mann as youthful at ninety-
five, when compared with himself, twenty years
his junior.  "His eyes, ears, articulation, limbs,
and memory would suit a boy, if a boy could
recollect a century.  His teeth are gone; he is
a shadow, and a wrinkled one; but his spirits
and his spirit are in full bloom.  Two years and
a half ago he challenged a neighbouring gentleman
for trespassing on his manor."

There was no gradual decay of this abundant
vitality—no sinking down into the childishness
and helplessness of old age.  He died as he had
lived, in full vigour; carried off unexpectedly by
a violent fever; thus keeping, to the last, the
same energy and power that had distinguished
him throughout.

This then was General Oglethorpe, whom
Mr. Robert Wright has disinterred from the
neglect and dust of the past, "the finest figure
of a man we have ever seen," and one who
did honour to his country and his time.

HEART'S-EASE AND FORGET-ME-NOTS.

  OH, wherefore dost thou mock my grief
     With such sweet gifts as these?
  For me, if I forget thee not,
     There can be no "heart's ease."

  To think of thee is still to love,
     In vain to hope, to pine,
  To dream a dream of blissful life
     That may be never mine.

  That heart doth scarcely live whose life
     Is in the past, the lost—
  The motions of a living death
     Are all that it can boast.

  The heart that glows with vigorous warmth
     A living love doth need—
  A quickening, ever-during hope
     Its energies to feed.

  Be not unkind, to bid me go,
     Yet bid me not forget;
  Remembering thee, my life will be
     But one long lone regret.

  Thou would'st not wound my soul past cure,
     Then rack me not with aught
  That can bring back my grief and thee
     To fancy, sense, or thought.

  Take back thy flowers; if near thee, no
     Forget-me-nots I need,
  For in thine eyes, as blue as they,
     The sweet request I read.

  Take back thy flowers; for by thy side
     The dreariest scene can please;
  And, parted from thee, Eden's self
     For me hath no heart's ease.

  Oh, take them back, and give to me
     Thine own sweet self in place;
  I seem to feel their meaning most
     When gazing on thy face.

THE SCHOOLMASTER AT HOME.

PROBABLY, fifteen years ago, the national-
education mania was at its height. In some
curious way, scarcely now to be traced, that
part of the nation consisting of the upper and
middle classes had suddenly awakened to
the necessity of educating the lower class.
Though made late, the discovery was startling,
and so were its results.  Whether or not the
movement took a proper form, was properly
directed, and has borne good fruit, may be
matter of opinion.  Whether, also, it aimed
too high, and failed in proportion, may be
again matter of opinion; perhaps we cannot as
yet arrive at any very accurate judgment.  Of
this, however, there can be no doubt—too much
was made of the children who were to be
educated.  The class of children hitherto
almost utterly neglected suddenly assumed
a fictitious value.  Their importance being
rated, results were expected which the
circumstances of the case did not warrant.  The
village children were no longer to pass their days
in idleness and enjoyment, for the squire or
clergyman had established a school, engaged a
certificated master, and the school must be
filled.  The master furnished himself with
pupil- teachers, and the work went on.  He
lectured on English history, geography, natural
history, grammar, and "common things;" did a
little Greek and Latin, and extremely little in
reading, writing, and arithmetic.  The clergyman
was only a little less proud of his school
than the master; it was a thing to be made
much of and exhibited, and every one he could
lay his hands on must visit the school, whether
they cared for it or not.  Thus, the children
were trotted out to their own, and generally
their visitors' entire satisfaction; the wonderful