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Lord Salisbury reminded us in his it is hardly possible to imagine. Yet admirable address at Oxford) "design" it is in spite of and against even these, is represented as an idea absolutely that a reaction is setting in on all sides, fatal to any biological hypothesis. It largely promoted indeed by men who has been declared to be so by that most appear to be unconscious of the outnotable framer of gratuitous hypoth- come of their own efforts. Victory eses, Professor Weismann, who has so over such opponents as have upheld stretched the theory of natural selec- the cause of natural selection may well tion that it is visibly cracking on every result in once more setting on one side side. the doctrines of Democritus and EmThe ancient struggle between those pedocles, for another series of centuwho uphold a mechanical conception ries. Vast indeed will be the gratitude of the universe and those who regard due to Darwin for having by his hyit as veiling the activity of a super-pothesis of natural selection occasioned human intelligence, the existence of so triumphant a demonstration of that which it yet reveals, has been now and profound teleology and manifest "deagain temporarily decided by some sign," which are present not only at memorable pronouncement. Such an the root and origin of nature, but one was that made by Aristotle, when, throughout the whole of her activities. by his philosophy of nature, he refuted The ideas promulgated by Owen, his those mechanical materialists and" ordained becoming" of organisms, amongst them notably Empedocles - his belief in "final causes," the eviwho had anticipated and enunciated dent realization in nature of "divine the principle of natural selection.prototypal ideas," and the facts that Citing their contention, he says: "For the physiological phenomena of each when the very same combinations hap- living being are the results of an impened to be produced which the law of manent and individual force dominatfinal causes would have called into be- ing it, will not only be justified but ing, those combinations which proved recognized as necessary truths. to be advantageous to the organisms in due time, there will doubtless arise were preserved; while those which a master in both science and philosowere not advantageous perished, and phy who will be able to gather together still perish like the Minotaurs and and present to our gaze the main facts Sphinxes of Empedocles." This was of inorganic, organic, and rational life the practically Darwinian position in one harmonious picture. Such a which Aristotle, like his follower, man-a new Aristotle will be able Owen, considered and rejected, main- to put before us a conception of the taining the doctrine of final causation, universe which shall accord with the and the omnipresent existence of de- evidence of our senses, our intellectual sign in nature. intuitions, our ethical perceptions, and It is that same conviction of purpose our highest conceptions of what is in creation which in our century has good, beautiful, and true. Of such a undergone an almost total eclipse, ow- philosopher, the venerable anatomist ing to the objections and arguments whose views we have here endeavored directed against it drawn from the facts to describe, will be hereafter regarded of geology, geography, variation, hered- as a prophetic precursor. He, though ity, the struggle for life, sexual prefer- always eagerly seeking for fresh light, ences, rudimentary structures, mimicry, stood firmly "in the old paths," in organic interrelations (e.g., of flowers spite of the flood which would fain and insects), and the evident affinities have carried him away. For this firmrecognized in classification. More ap- ness he has for a time suffered disparently convincing arguments, sus-esteem, but, as in many previous tained by more capable men of science,

1 Arist., Phys. ii. c. 8.

Then,

instances, that which his contempora-
ries least appreciated will, we are per-
suaded, hereafter largely add to his

fame, if it does not even constitute his | His sister was tall and spare too, but greatest glory. However this may be, there her likeness to her brother all those who have a knowledge of the ceased. For she possessed nothing of science of our age must agree in accord- his impetuosity and cross temper, none ing to him a high meed of praise, and of his prejudices and limitations. in recognizing that for the mere dis- It was a question in the neighborcovery and enunciation of scientific hood whether the general's bluster facts, apart from the higher influence governed Miss de Laury, or whether they exerted on their contemporaries, the world will be ever deeply indebted to the persevering labors of William Buckland and Sir Richard Owen.

66

From Temple Bar.

THE PROOF OF THE PUDDING.

Miss de Laury's composure and little shafts of satire governed the general. But the general's son, Arthur, and the servants knew, and they consequently possessed their happy souls in peace.

Miss de Laury did not immediately answer the general's question, and he therefore grumbled on.

"I never liked Brakespear," he said. "It was he who ruined Arthur's career, and I've never forgiven him, and I never shall. A fool and a maniac! What did he mean by poking his head into a disease that no man under

"BUT what do you want to do?" demanded the general angrily. "What is the good of a ten-pound note to a pauper? I ask you that, Matilda, and you can't answer me. If you could | stands ? " give the girl a thousand pounds. something that could be invested and give her a fraction of an income-it would be all very well. But what in the name of fortune is the use of stav-ered how to prevent cancer, he would ing off the workhouse for two or three weeks with a dole of a ten-pound benefactors." note ?"

"My dear William, you have totally missed the mark," replied his interlocutrix calmly. "There is no talk of a ten-pound note, for Theodora wouldn't accept money; nor of the workhouse, for she would sooner take service as a kitchen-maid than think of such a thing. But the poor child is in great grief; and even if she had the heart to walk from her father's grave into a governess's situation, it wouldn't be decent. All I want is to see her in a place of shelter till she is a little more fitted to cope with the world."

"It is very much to be regretted that Dr. Brakespear died before his researches were complete," remarked Miss de Laury. "If he had discov

have been one of the world's greatest

“Humph! A man has no business to set up for a public benefactor when he has burdened himself with a private family. What did the fellow mean by leaving his orphan on the parish? He was not only a fool and madman he was a scoundrel!" cried the general.

"Theodora is not on the parish," observed Miss de Laury. "She has £500.

"Five hundred pounds!" exclaimed the general. "How can any woman live on the interest of £500 ? I ask you, Matilda, whether you could "And may I ask what asylum is go-live on the interest of £500? I tell ing to have the honor of receiving Miss you, the man was a scoundrel!" Brakespear?" asked the general.

"I certainly could not live on the He was a tall, spare man; his face interest of £500, nor can Theodora," was like a lion's face, and he had the said Miss de Laury. "But luckily qualities which are usually supposed to she is young, and when her first sorrow belong to lions. He was brave to au- is past she will be able to work. dacity, and on occasions he could be sides, there are other possibilities." generous to a fault; but he was nar- "I know; you refer to Arthur. row-minded, and prone to be irritable. Once for all, Matilda, let me assure

Be

you that if Arthur is ever ass enough | to Jessie Thurton? A bright, pretty, to marry Miss Brakespear, I cut him piquante creature like that. One would out of my will. Isn't it enough that think a young man would jump at such the father has turned my own boy into a girl! " a medical man? He shall never marry the girl."

"Arthur is enthusiastically fond of his profession, William."

66

Exactly. He is going to follow in Brakespear's footsteps and ruin himself in research. But I'll put my foot down upon it at once. Brakespear's influence was pernicious enough. He shall never marry Brakespear's daughter. Do you hear?"

"I hear. But I can't promise that Arthur will heed. Young men usually go their own way."

"Do you mean to imply that Arthur is seriously attached to Miss Brakespear?"

"Very seriously, I believe."

66 Matilda, do you mean to insinuate that they are engaged?"

"Not at all. Arthur would do nothing dishonorable; and it would hardly be honorable of him to propose to a girl before he has finished his education."

"But you imply that he means to propose to her as soon as he is settled in life?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Then they may both go to the devil!" cried the general.

"I don't think there will be any need," said Miss de Laury. "Arthur will have his mother's money when he is five-and-twenty, and you cannot rescind your promise of buying him a practice. They will be poor, but poor people are often very happy."

The general sank down in a chair with a groan. His arms hung down; his legs fell apart; there was an air of defeat about his melancholy face and about his long limbs that seemed unable to bear their own weight.

Miss de Laury went on knitting. "Tea will be here in a minute," she said, as if tea were her only thought.

"It's so maddening to see one's son throw himself away one's only son," said the poor general pathetically. "Why couldn't he have taken a fancy

"Yes; the vagaries of love are very strange," said Miss de Laury.

"I can't think how he ever looked at that girl of Brakespear's?" "She is pretty, William."

66

Pretty! She is the most awkward woman I ever saw."

"You make her nervous; you stare at her, and glare at her, and ask her abrupt questions; and she is shy and sensitive, and can't bear it. She is exceedingly clever, and very good."

"She can't be good," asserted the general.

"Car je le dis et le répète,

On n'est pas bon quand on est bête," he quoted.

"Do you call her bête?" said Miss de Laury sweetly.

"Yes, I do," maintained the general. "You may try to frustrate me as much as ever you like, Matilda; but I tell you plainly I shall not leave my money to the possible children of Miss Brakespear."

"I don't ask you to do so. All I want is a little breathing-time for this poor child."

"Ah, I forgot. You were going to tell me of some asylum where she could be temporarily received."

"Yes, William. I want her to come here."

The general sprang to his feet. "Here!" he ejaculated.

His voice sounded like a roar. He was more leonine than ever. "Yes here," repeated Miss de Laury.

"No," thundered the general.

"I wish to have her close to me, so that I may advise and help her." "She shall not come, I tell you." "And she wants a woman's care, which I can give her."

"But I won't have her!"

"And, in fact, I have set my heart upon it."

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'Matilda, I ask you, is this house yours or mine?"

"Yours, certainly. mistress of it and regulate its affairs." "From henceforth I mean to do that myself."

But I am the | geous to himself, making, however, a mental reservation to break the said articles when the need should arise. For the moment, however, she bore her honors meekly, without elation or contempt. She was one of those who can conquer and not boast.

"Oh, indeed! Well, I wish you joy of it. I often get tired of counting out the dirty table-clothes, and giving out the rice, and ordering your gruel when you have a cold, and

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"Be quiet, Matilda! Of course I don't mean all that. I mean I intend to settle who stays under my roof."

"That you can't do absolutely. You can keep people from coming, you can't keep them from going. If you won't have Theodora here, I shall take rooms for myself and her at Simpson's farm."

"You will do nothing of the sort, Matilda. You cannot create a scandal."

"Then I must have Theodora here." "She will worry me to death." "You need only see her at meals." "She will break everything in the house.'

"Not if you treat her kindly."

"Well!" he groaned, "I suppose I must endure it. You are a very unfeeling woman, Matilda, but you never had the slightest sympathy for me. But look here! One thing I do insist upon," he said, beginning to stride up and down the room. "What day does Arthur come home ?"

"The 1st of August."

Soon after this passage of arms, in which the gallant general was utterly discomfited by one imperturbable woman, Theodora Brakespear was introduced into the general's household. The poor girl was in deep mourning and in still deeper grief. Not only had she lost her father and her home, but she was suddenly foiled in her ambition. Dr. Brakespear had been but forty-five, and it had seemed to him and to his daughter that, long before he was old, he must have wrested from the terrible disease, to which he had devoted his whole mind, all its secrets, and not only poured upon the world incalculable benefits, but raised himself to the highest pinnacle of fame. It was not to be. A fall from his horse, serious internal injuries sustained, death rapidly ensuing; such was the history of the gifted man who had given his life to science. Dr. Brakespear's genius lay buried in the grave, and nothing was left to Theodora and the world but a mass of confused notes, which the doctor in the prime of life and rejoicing in his vigor

had never even attempted to collate. It was small wonder that the child who had sympathized with him all through her life; who had stood at his elbow and followed his reasonings; who had known his aim and believed in his capa

"Very well then. Miss Brakespear may come here till the 31st of July, but on that day she must go, if I turn her out of the house with my own hands." "Just so," said Miss de Laury bility and looked forward to his recogquietly.

nition in the future, should be entirely She never celebrated her victories cast down by his sudden death. It with flags and drums. True, she al- seemed to her as if her beloved and ways told her confidantes that she noble father had lived in vain. His fought with her brother not in order to life was but as a footprint on the sand; get her own way but to make him do his researches were as if written in as he should; so it is to be presumed water. There was nothing left of all that the contemplation of the general's his toil in the name of science and for virtue delighted her sufficiently. At the sake of humanity; no glory, no all events, when her adversary had usefulness, not even stepping-stones by retired from the field, baffled and de- which another man might climb to the feated, she always suffered him to draw ultima Thule that he had missed. The up articles of peace not disadvanta- girl sank down beneath her sorrow and

her disappointment.

There was no Arthur that she thought continually while she sojourned under the roof of Arthur's father.

one to record her father's undertaking, or to complete it. Who could disentangle his ideas and pursue his endeavor? True, there was Arthur de Laury, who, notwithstanding his youth, had been her father's friend and the recipient of his confidence; but then Arthur had his own way to make, and would it be likely that the general, who had strongly opposed his son's entering the medical profession at all, would ever sanction his devoting his life to pathological research? Theodora folded her hands and tried to be patient, but her cup was very full, and her only comfort in these days lay in a letter which she kept near her and read constantly.

This was Arthur de Laury's simple and manly note : —

It is

"DEAR MISS BRAKESPEAR, impossible for me to say in words how much I sympathize with you, but I think you know what a great personal loss your father's death is to me, and that I have always revered him as the noblest man I have ever known, and regarded him as my best friend. I wish the honor were mine of being able to comfort you.

"It is a grievous thing that Dr. Brakespear's labors have been cut short, and who will follow him? I am unluckily very inferior to him intellectually, yet I have an ardent desire some day to pursue his investigations, with your permission and help.

"I hope to see you in a few weeks' time. Meantime, my thoughts are always with you.

"Believe me ever

"yours most entirely,

Sometimes, when Theodora thought of her dead father and the blighted past, her eyes were dimmed with tears; but at other times they were radiant with a light that made her pale, grave face beautiful. At such times the general, who had a keen eye for beauty, was obliged to admire her, and this forced admiration irritated him. He would like to have found out that she was crooked, or that her abundant hair was false; but there was nothing against her except her shyness, which at times made her awkward. When she was seated and at her ease, she was graceful, pretty, and attractive.

"It passes my comprehension how a girl so slight as that can be so clumsy," said the general, one afternoon, when Theodora had spilt a cup of tea into her lap.

"You offered her cake as if you were giving the word of command," said Miss de Laury. "I assure you, William, accustomed as I am to your don't wonder Theodora was terrified.” eccentricities, you made me jump. I

"But why is she terrified? Jessie Thurton would have chaffed me."

"Jessie Thurton is a very different headed girl; and, moreover, you are person. She is a light-hearted, emptyalways very kind to her."

66 How can I help being kind to her, with her rosy cheeks and her dimples ?"

"Theodora has much lovelier features. She can't help having a less brilliant complexion."

"But she never laughs."

"My dear William, her father hasn't been dead a month."

"I don't care. She has no business to be so gauche. Why last night she knocked down the chess-table! "

"ARTHUR DE LAURY." Theodora's heart bounded as she read and re-read these words. But she was young, and she reproached herself that, at this moment, she should care for this young man's tenderness. She could never be happy again, and how could she ever think of love or mar- "And pray would you have had me riage? Nevertheless, it was because sit down to shake hands with a lady ? of Arthur that she accepted the invita- Matilda, the girl is an uncompromising tion of Arthur's aunt, and it was of blunderer. She is spilling things or

"I don't wonder. When she came to say good-night, you stood up as if you were going to salute."

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