IV. Bright and soon next morning Mrs. Billy mounted her horse, and rode over to the widow's. On the way she met Dick, who had actually spent the night there. She said nothing but a cheerful goodmorning. Arrived there, Mrs. Billy, after taking off her bonnet, said that, ef it were entirely convenient, she would like to have a few minutes' conversation with Mrs. Brinkly, providing it were entirely convenient, and ef not, she could wait ontwill it were. went along. The twins had barely spoken together the whole morning. Mrs. Brinkly was overjoyed to welcome the visitors. Dressed in unmixed white, she showed them the dairy, the poultryyard, the young calves, the garden, and pointed to the corn and cotton. The fact was that Mrs. Brinkly, widow as she was, was one of the best managers in the neighborhood. "Wonderful!" thought Mr. Billy, "that Bob wouldn't be willin' at the first offstart to let Dick have the young gal, and Lottie rose with a slight blush, and im- him take the widder, and their plantations mediately left the room. Many words passed between the ladies, but the information resultant therefrom to Mrs. Billy must be reserved until tomorrow. Though pressed to remain to dinner, Mrs. Billy left, but with the promise to accept that honor upon the following day. 66 'Oh," Mrs. Billy reflected, as she rode along home-"oh, the ways, the ways of these men--and wimming too, as to that!" "Billy Beazley," she said, on arriving at home, "you and me and brother Bob and Dick is all invited to eat dinner with Mrs. Brinkly to-morrow, and we got to go." "Is anything come out of it, Patsy? Do Bob take the widder, and leave the young gal for Dick ?" "Never you mind!" answered Mrs. Billy. "I'm not goin' to tell you, because of I did, you'd blab it out, and maybe mout spile it. All I'll say now is this: they are two monst'ous fine wimming and girls -or whatsomever you might call 'em both." "I calls one of 'em the widder, and the t'other the young gal." a-jinin', and a creek-line betwixt 'em at that. Wonderful! I'm glad Patsy's settled it that way." By eleven o'clock Mr. Bob rode up. He came in with none of his old gayety, but looked dignified and reserved, and tried to look unconcerned. He shook hands all around, and all sat down. There was evident embarrassment, more or less, on all faces, except that of Mrs. Billy. Even Mr. Billy was hoping that some person would start a topic of conversation that would be interesting to all parties. Lottie glanced timidly at her cousin, who responded with a re-assuring glance. They understood each other fully, but had not fully until yesterday. Mrs. Billy looked around for a few moments, then rose, and walked slowly to the middle of the room. "Will you come here a minute, brother Bob, if you please?" Mr. Bob rose, and went inquiringly, but as firmly as he could, to his sister-in-law. "Come here to me, Dick," she said, in a tone of command, to that gentleman. Dick advanced as if he intended such obeThe next morning, when they had call-dience as conditional, and not to commit ed by for Mr. Bob, he was at first reluc-him to further orders. She placed them tant to go. He had not been at the wid- on either side of herself, and looked alternately at one and the other as she spoke: ow's for a week. "Come 'long, brother Bob; you know you're safe with me. Give your hat a bresh, and come 'long,” urged Mrs. Billy. Mr. Bob, after some remonstration, consented to come on after a while. Mr. Billy longed to tell him what he suspected, that his wife had a direct offer for him from Mrs. Brinkly of herself and all she had; but having promised to keep his mouth shut, he actually pushed up with his hand his lower jaw, and so held it during the delay there. Dick, though somewhat abashed at the prospect of being with his aunt Patsy at the Brinklys', yet 66 You two has always been friendly— been, I may say, more like brothers than like uncle and neffy; and as your brother Billy say, and your Uncle Billy say, it's wimming that's parted you, and nothin' but wimming or death could 'a parted you. And I wants to fetch you both together agin, providing it can be did. ain't none o' my business, but yit I wants to fetch you together, providing it can be did." It Oh, how Mr. Bob did tremble, and wish he was at home, and how rigid Dick's jaws did become! "P'int out, pint out," persisted Mrs. | other judicial process, intended for some Billy, inflexibly. Uncle Billy couldn't stand it. "Patsy, as they don't seem to be able to p'int, possible the female finger mout, as it were, straighten itself out, and-" imaginary person, or some person at a "Won't you keep your mouth shet, The cousins rose, and advanced slowly toward the middle of the room. When they had gotten there, the two crossed, Mrs. Brinkly, cool, white as steel, placed her arm within that of Dick, while Lottie, red and quivering, held out her hand toward Mr. Bob, and said, "If he wants it." gal got no prop'ty, but she got industry, and Bob got a plenty for both. Bob ain't nothin' but a boy, nohow. It's all right.” Some writers attempt things beyond their strength. Warned by their fate, I shall not essay a description of that double wedding. Yet I will say that when the two couples stood up, everybody felt, Mrs. Billy stepped forth, and Mr. Bob and so expressed himself, that each was and Dick looked upon each other. full fairly matched; and I will only "Oh, Dick! Dick! Dick! was that the add that Mr. Billy, such was the exuberway of it?" ance of his feelings, though often request 66 Oh, Uncle Bob! Uncle Bob! Uncle ed thereto by his wife, persistently, all Bob! was that the way of it?" during the festivities, and even on the way home, and until stretched upon his bed for sleep, refused to keep his mouth Then Mr. Bob, even before taking Lottie's extended hand, and Dick, dropping the arm of the widow, fell upon each oth-shut, and the burden of his talk was, that er, and hugged and cried, the uncle the tightest and the heartiest. "ef them wimming, or them young gals, or whatsomever they might call theirselves-ef ary one of them had been a Patsy Clark, them boys never would 'a Then Mr. Billy rose, his eyes streaming with happy tears. "I can't stand that," | said Mr. Billy. "Jes' them two a-hug- settled it a-during of oak and ash." gin', and them male persons at that!" He seized Lottie's arms, put them around Mr. Bob's neck, seized the widow's, put them around Dick's neck, put one of his THOMAS CARLYLE. own arms around his wife's neck, hud-world is fortunate in that these dled all of them together in a bunch, and reaching his other arm around, shouted: "Let EVERYBODY run here and jine in the huggin'! And then"-when, after a few moments, they had gotten loose from his embrace to think that Patsy found it all out yisteday, and never told me!" 'Because I knowed you couldn't keep your mouth shet." "In case I couldn't, and wouldn't, and shouldn't, and mightentest, couldentest, or wouldentest shouldentest, as Betsy says when she gittin' her grammar lesson. And to think that them boys has been a-growlin' at one another without knowin' t'other from which of the wimming both was arfter! It beat our day, Patsy." Mr. Billy thus went on, until Mrs. Brinkly brought in the julep pitcher. It was a glorious dinner-sucking-pig, pea-fowl, chicken, broiled, fried, and pied, and home-cured ham; as for vegetables and preserves, it would have bothered to count them. Riding along home in the evening, Mr. Billy looked over into the widow's bottom corn field, so rank and green as to be almost black, and said to his wife: "Dick's right, Patsy. He take the settled 'oman, and the managin' 'oman, and the plantation. Blamed ef she ain't got a better crop 'n mine! Bob's right too. The young many years there was at the side of Thomas Carlyle a great historian-one who, of all living men, perhaps, has most profoundly studied the relation of individual minds and characters to events of world-wide import, and who in this particular case can combine for the true presentation of a great man the fine apprehension of the scholar with the insight gained by long and intimate friendship. In the hands of James Anthony Froude, Carlyle long ago placed his autobiographical essays and personal sketches, the old familiar letters that told the homely story of the early life of the family and himself, and the still more precious letters-matchless of their kind-written by his wife, containing the simple and grand story of his advance to fame. When these see the light, the world will know as much as any one man can contribute to a right knowledge of the mighty spirit which so long and so faithfully sat at its task during strange and eventful times. But the real record of Carlyle's life will be a long task, employing not only many human hands, but even the hand of Time itself. While writing his history of Friedrich the Great, the author had prepared―as, indeed, the growth of the work had demanded-a special study at the top of his house in Chelsea, in which only that pa THOMAS CARLYLE. [FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY ELLIOTT AND FRY, LONDON.] per, book, or picture was admitted which | Fuller, Harriet Martineau, Faraday-but was in some way connected with the subject in hand. One side of the room was covered from floor to ceiling with books; two others were adorned with pictures of persons or battles; and through these several thousand books and pictures was distributed the man he was trying to put together in comprehensible shape. I used to feel when in that study that even more widely was the man before me distributed. In what part of the earth have not his lines gone out and his labors extended? On how many hearts and minds, on how many lives, has he engraved passages which are transcripts of his own life, without which it can never be fully told? To report this one life, precious contributions must be brought from the lives of Goethe, Emerson, Jeffrey, Brewster, Sterling, Leigh Hunt, Mill, Mazzini, Margaret how go on with the long catalogue? At its end, could that be reached, there would remain the equally important memories of lives less known, from which in the future may come incidents casting fresh light upon this central figure of two generations; and were all told, time alone can bring the perspective through which his genius and character can be estimated. In one sense, Carlyle was as a city set upon a hill, that can not be hid; in another, he was an "open secret," hid by the very simplicity of his unconscious disguises, the frank perversities whose meaning could be known only by those close enough to hear the heart-beat beneath them; and many who have fancied that they had him rightly labelled with some moody utterance, or safely pigeon-holed in some outbreak of a soul acquainted with grief, will be found to have measured of some other materials obtained by perthe oak by its mistletoe. It has been the happy fortune of the writer of these sentences to have enjoyed friendly and unbroken intercourse with Thomas Carlyle since early in the year 1863. Those who have listened to the wonderful conversation of this great man know well its impressiveness and its charm: the sympathetic voice now softening to the very gentlest, tenderest tone, as it searched far into some sad life, little known or regarded, or perhaps evil spoken of, and found there traits to be admired, or signs of nobleness; then rising through all melodies in rehearsing the sonal inquiries made in Scotland and in London. I realized many years ago that my diary contained a statement which might some day be useful to my own countrymen in forming a just estimate and judgment on one whose expressions were often unwelcome among them, and this conviction has made me increasingly careful, as the years went on, to note any variations of his views, and his responses to criticisms made so frequently upon statements of his which had been resented. I do not in the least modify or suppress, nor shall I set forth these things in such order or relation as to illustrate any deeds of heroes, and anon breaking out with illumined thunders against a special baseness or falsehood, till one trembled before the Sinai smoke and flame, and seemed to hear the tables break once more in his heart: all these, accompanied by the mounting, fading fires in his cheek, the light of the eye, now serene as heaven's own blue, now flashing with wrath, or presently suffused with laughter, made the outer symbols of a genius so unique that to me it had been unimaginable, had I not known its presence and power. His conversation was a spell; when I had listened and gone into the darkness, the enchantment continued; sometimes I could not sleep till the vivid thoughts and narratives were noted in writing. It is mainly from these records of conversations that the following pages are written out, with addition theory of my own. He who spoke his mind through life must so speak on, though he be dead. Thomas Carlyle was born on the 4th of December, 1795, in the parish of Middlebie, near Ecclefechan, Dumfries-shire. The plain stone house still belongs to the family, and has often in later years been visited by the great man who was born beneath its humble roof. It was a favorite saying of his that great men are not born among fools. "There was Robert Burns," he said one day; "I used often to hear from old people in Scotland of the good sense and wise conversation around that little fireside where Burns listened as a child; notably there was a man named Murdoch who remembered all that; and I have the like impression about the early life of most of the notable men and women I have heard or read of. When a great |