Then, the aged man, leaning on his son's
arm, rejoined the family at the supper-table;
and the peace of God rested on the solitary
home. Edward Harvey had faithfully kept
within his heart, the memory of his mother's
dying commands.

Martin, his father, had nobly effaced the
one Black Spot.

CHEAP PLEASURES—A GOSSIP

PLEASURES of any kind, be they ever so
harmless, are nowhere so unpopular as in
Great Britain. In Scotland especially,
recreation is more or less associated with
idleness and dissipation. This notion is,
doubtless, a legacy left us by the Puritans, and
is strengthened by the hard struggle that is
kept up amongst the majority for the means of
existence, or for the accumulation of wealth. The
best words—the mildest definition bestowed
by modern Puritans—a large class—upon any
sort of amusement is, that it is "a loss of time."
When a man does anything by which he ceases
to increase his earnings, or to husband his
estate, he is said to be "losing time." The mind,
according to this creed, is a clock; which,
provided it be regularly wound up, can go on
continually without rest, and without
lubrication by the amenities and enjoyments of
life. Young men, who now and then indulge in
a visit to the theatre, are shunned by their
more staid acquaintances as persons likely to
lose caste and character, and to borrow money.
A country walk on Sunday evening, after a
day's devotion, is, in Scotland, considered a
crime; though drinking whisky in private
at home, is deemed almost a necessity.
Even in England, on a week day, if a man of
business be seen in a public garden, he always
believes an apology for himself imperative.
He seldom owns he is there for his own
proper pleasure; he was passing the gates
and "turned in for a stroll," or he happens
to be going to Bayswater, and Kensington
Gardens, like Sir Harry Blunt's treason,
"lay in his way." When he goes to Vauxhall
Gardens, it is "by the merest accident in the
world." He must have a pretence, even, for
taking his family to the Great Exhibition.
If he give a dinner, it is less for the sake of
social enjoyment than "to keep his connection
together." If he be newly married, and
neither a lord nor a landed gentleman, and
entertain his friends more than once a year,
his ruin in a year is confidently predicted.

If the middle-class Englishman thus becomes
censor deliciœ of his equals, how much
more rigidly does he apply his censorship to
his inferiors. A mechanic with his wife and
family in a tea-garden present to his
darkened perception the incarnation of
Imprudence. A vision of idleness looms lazily
forth before his eyes from a group of factory
children playing at marbles; and the
work-house stares him in the face when he sees
a party of labourers stumping, and batting,
and bowling, and scouting, and shouting at
cricket.

In this commercial community, everything
is estimated by its cost—even recreation. No
one is thought to have any right to any sort
of amusement, who is not able to pay for it
out of a surplus of income. The poor, having
no money, have no title to be amused;
consequently, the opportunities afforded them
for wholesome relaxation are fewer in this
country than in any other. We are lamentably
deficient in Cheap Pleasures; and this
deficiency influences materially our national
character. The demeanour and manners of
most British Islanders are neither attractive
nor conciliating. To correct this, we want
more pleasant intercourse with each other
than is now enjoyed.

The scantiness and costliness of intellectual
public amusements, again, is partly the source
of our inferiority to several other nations of
Europe as artists. We were struck, some
time since, on passing through Berlin, by
some very exquisite tableaux vivants, mostly
representations of ancient subjects, either
mythological or biblical. They were given
at Tivoli, a kind of Vauxhall Gardens, in the
Thier Garten, outside the town gates, in the
open air, by daylight. Admission to the inner
circle, including a seat, costs twopence
or threepence; but the whole might
be very well viewed, from without, gratis.
The attendance was large and, not only
respectable, but some of the spectators were
people of distinction. Thus the commonest
of the Prussian people are civilised and
enlightened by the influence of art, which
meets him at every turn. National education
gives the humblest Prussian a familiarity with
the classics that might shame an Oxonian;
and he sups to the sound of finer music than is
heard in our palaces, and passes his hours of
leisure in refined recreations, almost unknown
with us.

Unhappily the uncertain climate of this
country debars us from what the Germans
call "The Summer Theatre." In Vienna the
actors engaged at the Summer Theatre are of
the highest order of talent, and the pieces
of the first class of excellence. The
representations are often attended by the
Court. The prices of admission are, of course,
lower than at other theatres, because the
expense saved in lighting is great. In Austria,
where purse pride has not yet been allowed to
flourish, the cheapness of admission does not
exclude respectable persons. In some
respects the Summer Theatre has a great
advantage over performances given at night;
the pieces produced being often rendered
charmingly natural. The chief decoration is
flowers; and we may, perhaps, not be thought
ungallant in adding, that ladies, diffident of
their attractions in the vulgar and garish
daylight, may find very important allies in
a judicious arrangement of draperies and
hangings, well studied effects of light and