f the
victim (can it be more than one?) agree that, after encouraging her to
unbridled license, Mr. Dexter turned round and attacked her with a poker--
whether above or below the belt is surely immaterial. 'Tis true,
'tis pity, and pity 'tis 'tis true; but not once or twice, I fear me, in
'our fair island-story' has a similar thing occurred. The unique (I hope)
feature in this case is the man Dexter's open boast that the incident is
closed, and it is now 'too late in the day' to reopen it. 'Too late,'
indeed! There is an American poem describing how a young woman was raking
hay, and an elderly judge came by, and wasn't in a position to marry her,
though he wanted to; and the whole winds up by saying that 'too late' are
the saddest words in the language--especially, I would add, in this
connection. But, alas! that men's memories should be so short! Is the
reflection of:

"A MOTHER OF SEVEN."

[This correspondence is now closed, unless Mr. Dexter should wish to reply
to his numerous critics. We do not propose to open a subscription list,
at any rate for the present.--Ed. _Daily Post._]

FEBRUARY.

"O That I were lying under the olives!"--if I may echo the burthen of
a beautiful little poem by Mrs. Margaret L. Woods. I have not yet
consulted Zadkiel: but if I may argue from past experience of
February--'fill-dyke'--in a week or so my window here will be
alternately crusted with Channel spray and washed clean by lashing
south-westerly showers; and a wave will arch itself over my garden wall
and spoil a promising bed of violets; and I shall grow weary of
oilskins, and weary of hauling the long-line with icily-cold hands
and finding no fish. February--_Pisces?_ The fish, before February
comes, have left the coast for the warmer deeps, and the zodiac is
all wrong. Down here in the Duchy many believe in Mr. Zadkiel and
Old Moore. I suppose the dreamy Celt pays a natural homage to a
fellow-mortal who knows how to make up his mind for twelve months
ahead. All the woman in his nature surrenders to this businesslike
decisiveness. "O man!"--the exhortation is Mr. George Meredith's, or
would be if I could remember it precisely--"O man, amorously
inclining, before all things _be positive!_" I have sometimes,
while turning the pages of Mrs. Beeton's admirable cookery book,
caught myself envying Mr. Beeton. I wonder if her sisters envy
Mrs. Zadkiel. She, dear lady, no doubt