some steepish stairs introduced us to quite other scenes. Here nor red light glared, nor nine-pins whirred. These were pleasant places, illumined by a cheerful gaslight, and made musical by the buzz of female voices. In the place of grimy artisans and slovenly factory hands appeared groups of smart young women, either squatted in circles on the floor, as if they were playing at "Hunt the slipper," or side by side on tables, one and all apparently intent on embryo crinolines, in various stages of forwardness. I say apparently, because I am not quite ready to take affidavit that an occasional eye may not have wandered afield, while Ham, going through a selection of his most imposing attitudes, explained to me the not very abstruse processes by which sewing machines joined the pieces and the ordinary needle and thread secured the ribs in their destined apertures in those pieces. Whether the eyes of the young ladies wandered or not, I know that Ham's eyes did. He even went so far as to try to prolong our stay by the pretence of imparting a few facts, such as, that the number of hoops in an ordinary skirt varies from six to sixteen, though some contain as many as fifty; that there are stuff skirts and skeleton skirts, the latter consisting merely of ribs, without any stuff at all; that the goodness of a crinoline depends partly on the quantity of steel in it, partly on the perfection of the temper; and lastly, mirabile dictu! that the length of the steel contained in a skirt may amount to no less than one hundred and fifty yards, a distance which has ere now severely taxed the powers of long-winded pedestrians. This was a climax. Ham could not get beyond this. True, he hum'd and ha'd for a minute or two, as if casting about for some even more astounding assertion, but it was of no use. We had seen all, and, what was more important to him, his stock of facts was used up; so, darting one Parthian glance around, he jauntily led the way to the door, which was to close upon our last and brightest experience of the Montmorency Crinoline Works and Patent Crinoline Steel and Skirt Manufactories.
THE STORY OF SIR ARNULPH.
[Matt. xxii. 37-39.—"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself."]
I.
An earnest man, in long-forgotten years,
Relieved the maladies and stanched the tears
Of pining multitudes, who sought his aid
When death their homesteads threatened to invade.
II.
Blest with one only son (a gentle youth,
Trained in the fear of God, and love of Truth,)
He fondly hoped that Arnulph might aspire
Disease and death to baffle, like his sire.
III.
But the boy, musing gloomily apart,
Avowed at length the impulse of his heart:
"To some calm cloister, father, I would go,
And there serve God." His father answered, "No."
IV.
"Thou doest well to wish to serve the Lord,
By thine whole life imperfectly adored;
But choose thy work amid the world, and then
Thou canst serve God, and bless thy fellow-men."
V.
The boy, still yearning to achieve his plan,
Spake,—"It were better to serve God than man."
"Pray God for help," the father said, "and He
Will solve the riddle of thy doubt to thee."
VI.
So Arnulph to his chamber went, and prayed,
That in his doubts the Lord would send him aid;
And, in a vision of the silent night,
A phantom stood before him, clothed in white—
A form for earth too beautiful and grand,
With crimson roses blooming in each hand.
VII.
And Arnulph asked the Angel, "Are these flowers
Fresh culled from Eden's amaranthine bowers?"
He answered, "Nay: these offerings are from all
Whom God the doers of His will doth call."
"And can I offer nothing?" sighed the boy;
"May I not also serve the Lord with joy?"
"Surely thou mayst," replied that Seraph fair,
"In my left hand, behold, thy gift I bear."
VIII.
Then Arnulph said, "I pray thee, tell me why,
In thy left hand the flowers all scentless lie,
But in the right they breathe a gracious smell,
Which long within the haunted sense doth dwell?"
IX.
The Angel answered, with pathetic tone,
"In my left hand I bear the gifts alone
Of those who worship God, the Sire above,
But for His children testify no love;
While these sweet roses, which shall ne'er grow wan,
Come from the lovers of both God and man."
X.
The vision faded. Arnulph cried, "Alas!
My soul was blind!" And so it came to pass,
That the changed boy a cloister entered not,
But with God's working-men took part and lot.
