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altar of him who had opened his eyes to see that glory, and softened his heart till it could feel that bond ?

And let us not be hard with him, if at that moment his soul is fuller of the tomb and him who lies there, than of the altar and Him of whom it speaks. Such stages have to be gone through, I believe, by all young and brave souls, who must win their way through heroworship to the worship of Him who is the King and Lord of heroes. For it is only through our mysterious human relationships, through the love, and tenderness, and purity of mothers, and sisters, and wives, - through the strength, and courage, and wisdom of fathers, and brothers, and teachers, that we can come to the knowledge of Him, in whom alone the love, and the tenderness, and the purity, and the strength, and the courage, and the wisdom of all these dwell forever and ever in perfect fullness.


Dinah Maria Mulock was born at Stoke-upon-Trent in 1826. Her father was a man of considerable literary ability. She is the author of several novels of more than ordinary merit ; chief among them is John Halifax, Gentleman. The titles of the others are, The Ogilvies, Olive, Agatha's Husband, The Head of the Family, Alice Learmont, Nothing New. She has written several children's stories, also A Woman's Thoughts about Women, and a volume of poems. Her traits as a writer are intensely feminine ; the scenes and characters she describes are minutely, faithfully depicted, but in a diffuse style. Her poems have genuine religious feeling, and are graceful and refined in expression.

Miss Mulock was married in 1865 to Mr. George L. Craik,


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Who bears upon his baby brow the round

And top of sovereignty."
Look at me with thy large brown eyes,

Philip my king,
Round whom the enshadowing purple lies
Of babyhood's royal dignities :
Lay on my neck thy tiny hand
With love's invisible sceptre laden;
I am thine Esther to command
Till thou shalt find a queen-handmaiden,

Philip my king.
O the day when thou goest a wooing,

Philip my king!

When those beautiful lips 'gin suing,
And some gentle heart's bars undoing
Thou dost enter, love-crowned, and there
Sittest love-glorified. Rule kindly,
Tenderly, over thy kingdom fair,
For we that love, ah ! we love so blindly,

Philip my king

Up from thy sweet mouth, - up to thy brow,

Philip my king!
The spirit that there lies sleeping now
May rise like a giant and make men bow
As to one heaven-chosen amongst his peers :
My Saul, than thy brethren taller and fairer
Let me behold thee in future years ;
Yet thy head needeth a circlet rarer,

Philip my king.

A wreath not of gold, but palm. One day,

Philip my king, Thou too must tread, as we trod, a way Thorny, and cruel, and cold, and gray: Rebels within thee and foes without, Will snatch at thy crown. But march on, glorious, Martyr, yet monarch : till angels shout As thou sitt'st at the feet of God victorious,

“Philip the king ! "

O, how beautiful is Morning!
How the sunbeams strike the daisies,
And the kingcups fill the meadow
Like a golden-shielded army

Marching to the uplands fair!
I am going forth to battle,
And life's uplands rise before me,
And my golden shield is ready,
And I pause a moment, twining
My heart's pæan to the waters,
As with cheerful song incessant

Onward runs the little stream ; Singing ever, onward ever,

Boldly runs the merry stream.

O, how glorious is the Noonday !
With the cool large shadows lying
Underneath the giant forest,
The far hill-tops towering dimly

O'er the conquered plains below;
I am conquering - I shall conquer
In life's battle-field impetuous :
And I lie and listen dreamy
To a double-voiced, low music,
Tender beach trees sheeny shiver
Mingled with the diapason

of the stony, deep, joyful stream, Like a man's love and a woman's ; So it runs the happy stream!

O, how grandly cometh Even,
Sitting on the mountain summit,
Purple-vestured, grave, and silent,
Watching o'er the dewy valleys,

Like a good king near his end :I have labored, I have governed ; Now I feel the gathering shadows Of the night that closes all things : And the fair earth fades before me, And the stars leap out in heaven, While into the infinite darkness

Solemn runs the steadfast stream ; Onward, onward, ceaseless, fearless,

Singing runs the eternal stream.


William Edward Hartpole Lecky was born in Ireland in 1828, and was educated at Trinity College, Dublin. The only further information respecting him that is accessible is contained in the following paragraph in Appleton's Journal, September 11, 1869.

“Mr. Lecky first became known by the publication, in 1865, of his interesting and elaborate work on the History of the Rise and Influence of Rationalism in Europe. The English public were slow to perceive its merits, several months having passed away, after its publication, before there were any symptoms of its being appreciated. It, however, received an early recognition in this country, was promptly republished, and immediately accorded the position of an original and standard historical disquisition upon a subject never before so ably developed. Except a lecture before the Royal Institution, on the Influence of the Imagination in History, the only other work we have from Mr. Lecky is his recently published History of Morals. Mr. Lecky is a gentleman of a tall and commanding figure, with a very pleasant and youthful expression. He is understood to be a man of fortune, of recluse and studious habits, an Irishman, unmatrimonial, who divides his time chiefly between his well-stocked library, in Albemarle Street, London, and travelling on the Continent."



(From History of European Morals. ] MORALLY, the general superiority of women over men is, I think, unquestionable. If we take the somewhat coarse and inadequate criterion of police statistics, we find that, while the male and female populations are nearly the same in number, the crimes committed by men are usually rather more than five times as numerous as those committed by women ; and although it may be justly observed that men, as the stronger sex, and the sex upon whom the burden of support ing the family is thrown, have more temptations than women, it must be remembered, on the other hand, that extreme poverty which verges upon starvation is most common among women, whose means of livelihood are most restricted, and whose earnings are smallest and most precarious. Self-sacrifice is the most conspicuous element of a virtuous and religious character, and it is certainly far less common among men than among women, whose whole lives are usually spent in yielding to the will and consulting the pleasures of another.

There are two great departments of virtue : the impulsive, or that which springs spontaneously from the emotions, and the delibera. tive, or that which is performed in obedience to the sense of duty; and in both of these I imagine women are superior to

Their sensibility is greater, they are more chaste both in


thought and act, more tender to the erring, more compassionate to the suffering, more affectionate to all about them. On the other hand, those who have traced the course of the wives of the poor, and of many who, though in narrow circumstances, can hardly be called poor, will probably admit that in no other class do.we so often find entire lives spent in daily persistent self-denial, in the patient endurance of countless trials, in the ceaseless and deliberate sacrifice of their own enjoyments to the well-being or the prospects of others. In active courage women are inferior to men. In the 'courage of endurance they are commonly their superiors; but their passive courage is not so much fortitude which bears and defies, as resignation which bears and bends. In the ethics of intellect they are decidedly inferior. To repeat an expression I have already employed, women very rarely love truth, though they love passionately what they call “the truth,” or opinions they have received from others, and hate vehemently those who differ from them. They are little capable of impartiality or of doubt ; their thinking is chiefly a mode of feeling ; though very generous in their acts, they are rarely generous in their opinions, and their leaning is naturally to the side of restriction. They persuade rather than convince, and value belief rather as a source of consolation than as a faithful expression of the reality of things. They are less capable than men of perceiving qualifying circumstances, of admitting the existence of elements of good in systems to which they are opposed, of distinguishing the personal character of an opponent from the opinions he maintains. Men lean most to justice, and women to mercy. Men are most addicted to intemperance and brutality, women to frivolity and jealousy. Men excel in energy, self-reliance, perseverance, and magnanimity; women in humility, gentleness, modesty, and endurance. The realizing imagination which causes us to pity and to love is more sensitive in women than in men, and it is especially more capable of dwelling on the unseen. Their religious or devotional realizations are incontestably more vivid ; and it is probable that, while a father is most moved by the death of a child in his presence, a mother generally feels most the death of a child in some distant land. But though more intense, the sympathies of women are commonly less wide than those of men. Their imaginations individualize more, their affections are, in consequence, concentrated rather on leaders than on causes; and if they care for a great cause, it is generally because it is represented by a great man, or connected with some one whom they love. In politics, their enthusiasm is

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