THE CROSSED SWORDS.

On seeing the swords of Col. Prescott and Capt. Linzee, now crossed through a carved wreath of olive-leaves, in the hall of the Massachusetts Historical Society.

SWORDS crossed, but not in strife!

The chiefs who drew them, parted by the space

Of two proud countries' quarrel, face to face
Ne'er stood for death or life.

Swords crossed that never met

While nerve was in the hands that wielded them;
Hands better destined a fair family stem

On these free shores to set.

Kept crossed by gentlest bands!

Emblems no more of battle, but of peace;

And proof how loves can grow and wars can cease,
Their once stern symbol stands.

It smiled first on the array

Of marshalled books and friendliest companies;
And here a history among histories,

It still shall smile for aye.

See that thou memory keep,

Of him the firm commander; and that other,
The stainless judge; and him our peerless brother,-
All fallen now asleep.

Yet more: a lesson teach,

To cheer the patriot-soldier in his course,

That Right shall triumph still o'er insolent Force:
That be your silent speech.

Oh, be prophetic too!

And may those nations twain, as sign and seal

Of endless amity, hang up their steel

As we these weapons do!

The archives of the Past,

So smeared with blots of hate and bloody wrong,
Pining for peace, and sick to wait so long,

Hail this meek cross at last.

Edward Hitchcock.

BORN in Deerfield, Mass., 1793. DIED at Amherst, Mass., 1864.

THE LUMINIFEROUS ETHER.

[The Religion of Geology. 1852.]

NOW, the question arises, Do we know of any form of matter in the

present world which remains the same at all temperatures, and in all circumstances, which no chemical or mechanical agencies can alter? -a substance which remains unchanged in the very heart of the ice around the poles, and in the focus of a volcano; which remains untouched by the most powerful reagents which the chemist can apply, and by the mightiest forces which the mechanician can bring to bear upon it? It seems to me that modern science does render the exist ence of such a substance probable, though not cognizable by the senses. It is the luminiferous ether, that attenuated medium by which light, and heat, and electricity are transmitted from one part of the universe to another, by undulations of inconceivable velocity. This strange fluid, whose existence and action seems all but demonstrated by the phenomena of light, heat, and electricity, and perhaps, too, by the resistance experienced by Encke's, Biela's, and Halley's comets, must possess the extraordinary characteristic above pointed out. It must exist and act wherever we find light, heat, or electricity; and where do we not find them? They penetrate through what has been called empty space; and, therefore, this ether exists there, propagating its undulations at the astonishing rate of two hundred thousand miles per second. They emanate in constant succession from every intensely heated focus, such as the sun, the volcano, and the chemical furnace; and, therefore, this strange medium is neither dissipated nor affected by the strongest known heat. Both light and heat are transmitted through ice; and, therefore, this ether cannot be congealed. The same is true of glass, and every transparent substance, however dense; and even the most solid metals convey heat and electricity with remarkable facility; and, therefore, this ether exists and acts with equal facility in the most solid masses as in a vacuum. In short, it seems to be independent of chemical or mechanical changes, and to act unobstructed in all possible modifications of matter. And, though too evanescent to be cognizable by the senses, or the most delicate chemical and mechanical tests, it possesses, nevertheless, a most astonishing activity.

Now, I am not going to assert that the spiritual body will be composed of this luminiferous ether. But, since we know not the compo

sition of that body, it is lawful to suppose that such may be its constitution. This is surely possible, and that is all which is essential to my present argument.

Admitting its truth, the following interesting conclusions follow:

In the first place, the spiritual body would be unaffected by all possible changes of temperature. It might exist as well in the midst of fire, or of ice, as in any intermediate temperature. Hence it might pass from one extreme of temperature to another, and be at home in them all; and this is what we might hope for in a future world. Some, indeed, have imagined that the sun will be the future heaven of the righteous; and on this supposition there is no absurdity in the theory. Nor would there be in the hypothesis which should locate heaven in solid ice, or in the centre of the earth.

In the second place, on this supposition, the spiritual body would be unharmed by those chemical and mechanical agencies which matter in no other form can resist.

The question has often arisen, how the glorified body, if material, would be able to escape all sources of injury, so as to be immortal as the soul. In this hypothesis, we see how it is possible; for though the whole globe should change its chemical constitution, though worlds should dash upon worlds, the spiritual body, though present at the very point where the terrible collision took place, would feel no injury; and safe in its immortal habitation, the soul might smile amid "the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds."

In the third place, on this supposition, the soul might communicate its thoughts and receive a knowledge of events and of other minds, through distances inconceivably great, with the speed of lightning. If we suppose the soul, in such a tenement, could transmit its thoughts and desires, and receive impressions, through the luminiferous ether, with only the same velocity as light, it might communicate with other beings upon the sun, at the distance of one hundred million miles, in eight minutes; and such a power we may reasonably expect the soul will hereafter possess, whether derived from this or some other agency. We cannot believe that, in another world, the soul's communication with the rest of the universe will be as limited as in the present state. On this supposition, she need not wander through the universe to learn the events transpiring in other spheres, for the intelligence would be borne on the morning's ray or the lightning's wing.

Finally, on this supposition, the germ of the future spiritual body may, even in this world, be attached to the soul; and it may be this which she will come seeking after on the resurrection morning.

Ο ΝΕ

Samuel Griswold Goodrich.

BORN in Ridgefield, Conn., 1793. DIED in New York, N. Y., 1860.

THE MEETING-HOUSE OF 1830.

[Recollections of a Lifetime. 1857.]

NE thing strikes me now with wonder, and that is, the general indifference, in those days, to the intensity of winter. No doubt, as I have said before, the climate was then more severe; but be that as it may, people seemed to suffer less from it than at the present day. Nobody thought of staying at home from church because of the extremity of the weather. We had no thermometers, it is true, to frighten us with the revelation that it was twenty-five degrees below zero. The habits of the people were simple and hardy, and there were few defences against the assaults of the seasons. The houses were not tight; we had no stoves, no Lehigh or Lackawanna coal; yet we lived, and comfortably too; nay, we even changed burly winter into a season of enjoyment.

Let me tell you a story, by the way, upon the meeting-houses of those days. They were of wood, and slenderly built, of course admitting somewhat freely the blasts of the seasons. In the severe winter days, we only mitigated the temperature by foot-stoves; but these were deemed effeminate luxuries, suited to women and children. What would have been thought of Deacon Olmstead and Granther Baldwin, had they yielded to the weakness of a foot-stove!

The age of comfortable meeting-houses and churches, in county towns, was subsequent to this, some twenty or thirty years. All improvement is gradual, and frequently advances only by conflict with prejudice, and victory over opposition. In a certain county town within my knowledge, the introduction of stoves into the meeting-house, about the year 1830, threatened to overturn society. The incident may be worth detailing, for trifles often throw light upon important subjects.

In this case, the metropolis, which we will call H., had adopted stoves in the churches, and naturally enough some people of the neighboring town of E. set about introducing this custom into the meeting-house in their own village. Now, the two master-spirits of society-the Demon of Progress and the Angel of Conservatism-somehow or other had got into the place, and as soon as this reform was suggested, they began to wrestle with the people, until at last the church and society were divided into two violent factions-the Stove Party and the Anti-stove Party. At the head of the first was Mrs. Deacon K. and at the head of the latter was Mrs. Deacon P. The battle raged portentously, very much like the

renowned tempest in a teapot. Society was indeed lashed into a foam. The minister, between the contending factions, scarcely dared to say his soul was his own. He could scarcely find a text from "Genesis to Jude," that might not commit him on one side or the other. The strife -of course-ran into politics, and the representative to the assembly got in by a happy knack at dodging the question in such wise as to be claimed by both parties.

Finally, the progressionists prevailed-the stove party triumphed, and the stoves were accordingly installed. Great was the humiliation of the anti-stoveites; nevertheless, they concluded to be submissive to the dispensations of Providence. On the Sabbath succeeding the installation of the stoves, Mrs. Deacon P., instead of staying away, did as she ought, and went to church. As she moved up the broad aisle, it was remarked that she looked pale but calm, as a martyr should, conscious of injury, yet struggling to forgive. Nevertheless, when the minister named his text-Romans xii. 20-and spoke about heaping coals of fire on the head-she slid from her seat, and subsided gently upon the floor. The train of ideas suggested was, in fact, too much for her heated brain and shattered nerves. Suddenly there was a rush to the pew, and the fainting lady was taken out. When she came to the air, she slightly

revived.

"Pray what is the matter?" said Mrs. Deacon K., who bent over her, holding a smelling-bottle to her nose.

"Oh, it is the heat of those awful stoves," said Mrs. Deacon P.

"No, no my dear," said Mrs. Deacon K.; that can't be: it's a warm day, you know, and there's no fire in them."

"No fire in the stoves?" said Mrs. Deacon P.

"Not a particle," said Mrs. Deacon K.

"Well, I feel better now," said the poor lady; and so bidding her friends good-bye, she went home, in a manner suited to the occasion.

TH

A CONNECTICUT BEAUTY.

[From the Same.]

HIS gentleman [Jonathan Ingersoll] had a large family—sons and daughters: the names of the former are honorably recorded in the official annals of their native State,-nay, of the United States. The daughters were distinguished for personal attractions and refined accomplishments. One of them claims a special notice-Grace Ingersoll: how beautiful the name, how suggestive of what she was in mind, in person,

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