ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL. No one, even at the first glance at the name, could dream for a moment that it told of sighs still unsmothered, of tears undried. There was an air of order and tranquillity, the very reverse of abandonment, apparent at the first step into the long low parlour, with its neatly sanded floor, its wide chimney decked with evergreens, its bow window at the far end, looking out into the cool fresh garden behind the house; and in the first impression of its pleasant sober cheerfulness, I found myself involuntarily conjuring up a different and yet corresponding scene; when trial surmounted, sorrow overcome, with happiness not mirthful but chastened, the homely welcome that had awaited the wanderer and haply assisted her to settle once more by the old fire side, was returned on the spot, and the festival commemorated by the name. Thus, though fully prepared to sympathize with the struggles which had at last found so quiet a haven, and no less prepared to contribute my mite to its continued well-being, I was utterly unprepared for the appearance of its mistress, when she entered the room to enquire as to my wants; blooming, youthful as a Hebe; no mourn ing or second mourning about her, either in lip, eye, or garb. Fancy had led me so far astray, that I was really startled by the bright reality, and stammered out my requests in such unintelligible form, as evidently to impress my fair hostess with the conviction that it was not the first way-side house I had visited that day, while she quickly availed herself of her husband's entrancethere was a husband, too-to make her retreat. "Ah, some old-world name, belonging to other owners and bygone days; well, that is nearly as good, Thus I soliloquized, reconif I can only trace it out." ciled by an excellent dinner to the present order of things, and quite satisfied that my hostess, instead of a care-worn widow, should turn out a happy wife, with a soldier husband just sufficiently wounded to entitle him to contribute to the entertainment of his own fire-side, by "fighting his battles o'er again" for the amusement of his guests. But my curiosity as to the origin of the name was as lively as ever, though I felt some doubts as to whether I should apply to host, hostess, or village gossip as in the evening they dropped in one by onefor its gratification. How long I took to decide on this point, and which of the parties was victimized in the end, shall be left to the reader's sagacity, the tale itself giving internal evidence of its narrator; for who else could have been present one evening many years ago, when Marian Holmes stopped short on the threshold of her own little cottage parlour, exclaiming, with a bright and approving smile, "Oh, thank you, Ally, a thousand times; in all my fuss of preparations, I never once thought of that one, the greatest embellishment of all;" and then stooped to inhale the perfume of a gay bunch of flowers, just arranged in a glass for the centre of the table, by a young girl who still held it smilingly in her hand. to turn to the large old-fashioned glass, hanging in its Yes, a sort of betrothing party, those affairs in Marian's class being conducted in a manner both more and less formal than in more polished circles; but in this case there were special reasons for a slight degree of ceremony, Marian being an orphan, and in a small way It was thought advisable an heiress-owner of the cottage in which she resided, and its few surrounding acres. that two or three of her next-of-kin, and her guardian, should meet in a social way on this evening, and thus ratify their approval of her choice. It was a choice that had been long in fixing, and seemed at last to have been yielded as much in deference to her guardian's wish as from any impulse of her own. He, valuing her as she truly deserved, had long entertained the hope of seeing her the bride of his only son, and by dint of bringing the young people together, with the sundry other little devices usual on such occasions, had at last the satisfaction of finding himself on the eve of accomplishing the first wish of his heart. The evening passed off slowly enough. To be on such an occasion the observed of all observers, is not exactly conducive to general agreeability, and individual enjoyment was for the time out of the question; not but that young Martin Dalton did his part more officiously than Marian might have desired before so many witnesses, while with her there evidently was none of that self-forgetfulness, the accompaniment of engrossing affection, which might have made her also forgetful of the little absurdities of their position. And though she received Martin's elaborate attentions with a sort of gentle indulgence, and, with perfect good-humour, now and then intercepted a smiling glance, or whispered joke, not intended for herself, amidst the little circle, there was still a sense of relief as from a wearisome effort, when she stood for a moment in the clear moonlight at the door, after receiving the last farewell from the last of her guests-and that one was Martin. And pushing back her dark hair from her brow as she turned in again to her own pleasant dwelling, her passing thought was unlike her wonted hospitality-"I am glad they are gone." But where was Ally all the evening? A poor relation, and almost a stranger, nobody much cared, or would care, if they never had seen her again, except Marian, who "And you, yourself Ally, how pretty you look, just as in the fellowship of orphanhood, inviting her to share her fair a flower as any; who could ever recognise in that home, had learned to love her as a younger sister, and to rosy cheek the pale wasted one that six months ago had know that she was loved again. Now, as she turned back never been fanned by a country breeze?" Then, anti-into the room, her first impulse was to continue the cipating the grateful reply that sprang to the listener's lip, she added, still more gaily, "I never saw you dressed How so nicely, though I often saw you wear that dress. is it? One would think you were expecting your lover too." A little fluttering sigh and passing paleness succeeded But the one to whom it was addressed understood as girlish confidence interrupted in the earlier part of the evening, and to talk over their mutual impressions of the last few hours, so important to her. Now that all was settled, she might tell her all, and break through the reserve her own hesitation, and Ally's extreme youth, had hitherto imposed. Finding the parlour empty, she passed into another Surroom, and yet another, softly calling her by name. prised at not receiving any answer, she turned into the kitchen, half ready to chide her young cousin for troubling herself with household cares at that late hour, but still no Ally; the old servant had not seen her, and startled now in earnest, she returned to the parlour, closing the hall-door as the breeze swept in, and wonder ing in her own mind, if she had not fastened it already after bidding Martin good night. But she paused in dismay ere she had taken one step into the room she had left empty a few minutes before, there, on the floor, directly across the path, lay Ally, pale, cold, and lifeless, as if life indeed had fled. in the offence was apparently forgiven, and the visits and care of her guardian renewed, his anger against his son and daughter-in-law seemed inveterate as ever; their names never passed his lips, but more than once he was heard to mutter to himself, "The scoundrel-the fool-neither one or the other shall ever be aught to me." Thus Martin and his youthful bride were heard of no more, curiosity gradually slackened, except when fed from time to time by the arrival of letters, few and far between, for Marian, which the post-mistress averred must be from the absent ones, as such dispatches had never reached her until after their departure; at first they bore the post-mark of a distant part of England, then another, and another, and at last they came from over the seas; the hieroglyphics were unintelligible, but all agreed that Marian could tell about them if she would. Mr. Dalton had been for many years a widower, proprietor of the little secluded village inn, where his father, and, for aught we know, his grandfather too, had done the ambition to be succeeded by his son, when growing years should warn him it was time he should resign his post. To fly towards her, to raise her up, to feel that her white dress, her long fair hair, were damp with the dews of night, as she folded her arms round her; to ascertain that she had no visible heart, that she was still alive, though inanimate; was all the work of an instant; and then a quick misgiving, sending a chill through her own heart; to decide on not calling any help, was almost as prompt a thought. Tenderly she laid her on the old substantial sofa, ran for a warm cloak which hung in the little hall, fastened the door behind her, and quietly removing the damp dress, replaced it with the warm covering, folding her arms round her again; then breathing kisses and endearing words on her pale lips and cheeks, she gradually recalled her to animation, admi-honours of the place, and in which it had been his great nistered some restorative, bore her to their mutual apartment, and then lay down beside her in her own snug bed. The sufferer slept more soundly for some hours than her comforter; then came the slow awakening-slow and sad-with many a start and broken word; then the weeping confidence, poured forth without reserve, the young fair face hidden in the sister bosom all the while. A night of thought and resolution had prepared Marian both for word and deed; and though her first glance at her mirror, presenting a countenance, oh! so different from the brightness of the evening before, testified even painfully to herself, how much that night had cost her; she still descended to her promised interview with her betrothed, with a heart calm and courageous, though the pale, worn face, looked as if that courage had been the fruit of long and trying years. Martin was startled at the change, and though he evidently expected some inquiry, perhaps reproaches, he was not prepared for the uncomplaining calmness with which her decision was announced. What passed exactly at the interview none may know. He left the house with hurried step, and flushed and downcast look; but not many days had elapsed when the news flew through the village, that Marian Holmes, with all her pride and her beauty, had been jilted by her lover; supplanted by her cousin; though, as a proof of her indifference, she had insisted on attending their otherwise secret marriage herself. Marian's independence of character, and perhaps also her beauty and other advantages, had made her an object of jealousy and remark on more occasions than one; but never before had such grounds for condolence or triumph been afforded to the gossips of the place, and never either had freedom been baffled by greater composure of demeanour. They could make out nothing from Marian; though, when they changed their ground, and told of her guardian's fury against his son, his determination never to see him again, never to receive his wife, never to forgive herself for the part she had acted, her colour did heighten and her lips tremble slightly, but beyond those passing evidences of emotion, nothing was gleaned; she drew herself up proudly, and answered once for all," I am justified to God and to myself, and no one else shall call me to account for what I have done." Whether Marian adhered to this resolution, when some time after, accidentally encountering her former guardian, and about to accost him affectionately as ever, had he not turned gloomily away, to repent of his anger and visit her in solitude that evening; whether she made him an exception, and with a heart deeply pained at his evident sorrow, entered into details refused to all others, during that prolonged interview, is more than we have been told; one thing was certain, that while Marian's share But this hope now cut off, the place seemed changed, the owner's occupation gone, and all the old customers, who still resorted there from habit, for their evening bowl or gossip, shook their heads, prophesying sagely, that it would soon fall to the ground, unless it fell into other hands; and many a hopeful speculation began to arise as to the reversion, when to the surprise of all, matters at once assumed a brighter aspect, and the oracle of the village, who was also village-clerk, doubly privileged by character and office to lay down the law, electrified his audience one evening in accounting for the absence of their host, by announcing that, in his opinion, he was about to commit a most unchristian act, "for though marriage is surely honourable (see chapter and verse), still to enter into that holy state for the sake of disinheriting one's child, is clearly a breach of christian duty, or I know nothing of the same." never Further explanation was prevented by the entrance of the principal party, the group became less convivial, and gradually withdrew early; his thoughts agreeably preoccupied, their host noticed nothing unusual; guessed that they had tacitly adjourned to the village green, there to gather again round old Sandy, and hear the full particulars; and could he afterwards have been a listener, he might well have afforded a smile at the torrents of indignation poured forth from the lips of many a village dame, whose wrathful curtain-lectures at her spouse's late return were turned into another channel, by the news, that Mr. Dalton was actually about to be married to Marian Holmes. Great was the clamour-"now the murder is out;" Miss Marian knew well what she was about all along; that foolish young Dalton was no match for her-by the way she was three or four years older than him too; nothing like getting rid of him and her poor young cousin together, and so making a clear tage for herself. "And poor, broken-hearted Mr. Dalton, didn't we all see the way she made up to him, in this very street, in the height of his trouble; poor man, he could not bear the sight of her face, and turned away, though she soon managed to come round him." "Yes; brought him to the very house; no knowing what story she made up. Ah! time will tell." And vain was it for Marian's friends-confidants in this case she had none-to offer excuse or apology for what seemed, even to them, an extraordinary step. She, indifferent to opinion, or unconscious of its censures, with the same serene brow as ever, followed out her own purposes, while her assailants, vainly watching for some flaw, were obliged, with many a mysterious shake of the head, to content themselves with the remark, more true than intelligible, "She has her own reasons; time will tel'.' ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL. Marian never took any prominent part in the business there; the soldier adding, "And you too, Ally, and the of her new home; she had her own quiet parlour at the children, had better remain until I send some conveyance to bring you all." "And miss the first meeting ?-oh, rear of the house, her garden bower, her chosen associates, and except for a more thoughtful brow and a rarer Martin, don't be so cruel," replied the girl, in a lively smile, was little different from the Marian of former years. tone, that proved she was less accustomed to cruelty Among the few advocates she possessed, beyond her inti-than to the indulgent smile that granted her request. mate acquaintances, was old Sandy, the village clerk. As an orator, he was fond of proving how much may be said on both sides of a question, and found a continual fund of argument, in blaming Mr. Dalton's act, and applauding his choice; while Mr. Dalton himself, as though he had taken a new lease of life and of happiness, bid fair to realize the often-expressed and charitable hope of Sandy, "that he might find time for repentance;" while the speakers on the adverse side as invariably exclaimed, "Never fear, Mrs. Dalton will take care of that." "But the children;" for once, they were secondary objects with their mother; with an eager volubility that almost defeated her object, she commended them for an hour's care to the sympathizing cottager, in whose face shone a gleam of recognition all unheeded by the young stranger, who, half wild with excitement, now seized her husband's arm, and just turning to kiss hands to her little ones, led him quickly in the direction of the village Whatever her companion's footsteps might do, his road. some sadder thought appeared to feelings hardly seemed to keep pace with the joyous animation of hers; temper the smile with which he looked down now and then at her glowing features, and listened to her almost childish expressions of delight; when suddenly pausing, as if the remembrance of its cause just flashed across her mind also, she coloured deeply, and looking up with contrite eyes, exclaimed, "Oh forgive me, Martin, that They paused before they reached the entrance of the my heart was full of nothing else but joy." "village, and found their home; expected guests were they, though their coming was only known to themselves and one beside; and now, in the garden bower, the first excitement of meeting over, all witnesses withdrawn, Martin himself strolled out to see old haunts and old familiar faces, let us hear what two such long and strangely-parted friends have each to say, though many an unrecorded word has already passed. All their anticipations were brought to a sudden issue. Returning from market, poor Mr. Dalton was thrown from his horse, and almost instantly expired; and nothing now remained but conjectures as to his will, and an occasional sneer at the self-command which, now become habitual to Marian, enabled her, with apparent calmness, to meet the blow. Thus varied were the interpretations placed on the air of quiet dejection with which Marian, attending the summons to hear the reading of the will, took her place with downcast eyes and hands meekly crossed upon her knee; "she has her own reasons,' again reiterated the gossips; and when slightly starting, as the date of the will showed it to have been drawn a few weeks after her marriage, the deepened sadness of her countenance revealed that some faint hope had died away; all eyes were fixed on her inquisitively, and a slight smile exchanged between two or three; but no other indication of feeling escaped her, except, indeed, one or two bright tears welling slowly through her drooping eyelashes, as the will harshly stated the testator's disagreement with his son, and his determination to disinherit him in favour of his present wife. The smiles ceased; the old clerk blew his nose vehemently, and took snuff; Marian's composure returned; with an air still dejected, but unmoved, she heard the document to the end, found herself the sole legatee, and, without waiting for congratulations, which would probably have been out of place, she quietly rose and left the room. Poor Sandy was sadly perplexed; at the close of the reading he was about to utter an habitual amen! but remembering that might bestow a sanction at variance with his better feelings for the absent, hastily checking himself, he coughed as the word stuck in his throat, and spat upon the ground; then equally apprehensive that watchful eyes might interpret this as a mark of contempt for the equivocal conduct of the widow, he hastened to obey a chivalrous impulse, and starting up to open the door for Marian, and bowing respectfully as she passed out, he committed himself thoroughly, and left himself for evermore without a word on the other side of the question. He never had reason to regret his gallantry; some months after all this, the London coach, which used to pass within little more than a mile of the village, drew up one evening at the turn to let down a family group, consisting of a fine soldierly-looking man, with a sedate, sun-burned, handsome countenance, and one of his arms in a sling, and a fair slight girl, whom he assisted with great care and tenderness from her place on the roof; she, apparently, preferring his help, though disabled, to the more secure and practised arm of the guard; then came two little delicate shivering children, looking as if the roses had been both scooped and scorched out of their cheeks, in some tropical land; and then came a box and a bag, a grey coat and a knapsack; a modest allowance of luggage, but still too great a burthen for our pedestrians, who, as the coachman drove off, turned to a little cottage hard by, asking leave to deposit it "But tell me, Ally, how is it that after all you suffered, want, privation, doubt, anxiety, change of climate, weary watchings, all you have been describing, that I see you still so blooming, so child-like, so bright, as if hardly A still brighter colour rose into Ally's cheek, as she "It is, a day had passed over you since last you were here." hid her face in Marian's bosom, and murmured, Then after a little pause she raised her head, and looking it must be, that I am so happy." earnestly at her companion, she added, while the colour "But it has not been always so; oh, Marian! faded away, there was a time since we parted, that my cheek was pale and wan; a breath could blow me away, and I longed but for the grave; the dark thoughts that possessed me on that fearful evening when I so suddenly discovered that Martin had broken his plighted faith to me for you you that I loved so well-the thoughts that prompted me to learn the worst in that one wild interview with him after he had parted from you that night, and that then would have hurried me into self-destruction, had he not forcibly seized me and carried me back inside your my own wedded husband, came back again and again, for door; yes, Marian, those thoughts, even after he was I knew how much worthier of his love you were; how much better it would have made him; happy and honoured in his father's home; and I felt myself the only barrier, and I wished myself away. Marian," continued she, still more solemnly, "did my letters betray that feeling? oh, Marian, did they influence your after life?" and she paused with a gasp as if afraid of the effect such a question might produce. Then what a sweet calm stole over her agitated features, as Marian's clear candid eyes looked down into hers, shewing that to the very depths of her heart no thought was concealed; as her gentle voice unhesitatingly replied, "Yes, my own poor Ally, I read them truly, felt the throbbing of that fluttering heart, even as I do now; and in making all the atonement in my power to my valued and early friend, for the part I had felt called on to bear in rendering him so unhappy, I felt doubly urged to take the step, by knowing it was a certain means to put your fears and doubts for ever and ever at rest. Oh, Ally, it is a serious thing to act between a parent and his child; no wonder all have suffered,-nothing but a deep sense of the duty that Martin and I myself owed to you would ever have induced me to insist on that unsanctioned marriage; but I felt that in my blindness, in the very deadness of my own heart, I had unconsciously done you deepest wrong; knowing little of the feeling of love, I had not recognised its symptoms in you; and as to Martin-" "Oh, say nothing of him," exclaimed Ally, hastily; "remember his temptation," and she looked at Marian admiringly and smilingly as of old. But Marian gravely shook her head, and then went on: "I thought, knowing Mr. Dalton so long and so well, that he could not retain anger, when once the step I deemed inevitable was irretrievable also; but I was wrong; even after my influence became paramount in all else, it was long, long before it reached that one obdurate spot. Oh, Ally, the joy I now feel that it did succeed at last, that those letters of forgiveness and penitence were exchanged before all was over, and that the latest wish he expressed was to see you both again." She paused in solemn thought for a few moments, then in a livelier tone continued, "And now, Ally, there is one more question lingering in those eyes, How could Marian ever have married Mr. Dalton, loving Martin once ?" “Oh, no, no, dear Marian, that is not my thought; the moment I heard of your marriage, I was convinced you never loved Martin-I knew you too well to think otherwise as you truly said, that was at rest for ever: I knew that you had mistaken your own feelings in the first instance; but I was thinking," added Ally, hesitatingly, "how could you have loved Mr. Dalton either ?" Marian answered calmly, but in a very low voice, "I loved him, Ally, dearer far than I could ever have loved Martin;" then half-smiling at her companion's look of undisguised astonishment, she added, "Remember, he was ever the kindest and best of friends to me; I had grieved him, I was grateful for his forgiveness; I had always loved and reverenced him, and with me the two feelings are inseparable; besides," continued she, hastily turning off the implied slight to which her own consciousness made her more sensitive than Ally, you know I was at least three years older than Martin, and when we both were younger than now, that made me feel very superior indeed." 66 "Oh, yes," exclaimed the young wife, with a sigh of relief, this reasoning seeming completely conclusive to her; then smiling through sweet tears she added, "No one would think so now, but Martin too well deserves my reverence, as well as the love that was his always: if you only knew his courage, his fortitude in suffering, his gratitude for my poor care, his unbounded love—” "I know it all, dear Ally," interrupted Marian, as she closed the conference with a kiss, "you need not say another word, one has only to look in your happy face, and know it all." A few more weeks saw Marian once more a resident in her own cottage home; the village inn, with the rest of his father's property now belonged to Martin, by Marian's free gift: she would hear of nothing else, declaring she had only held it in trust; but she made it a point with Martin that in justice to his father's memory, as well as for his own sake, the proofs of their reconciliation should be made as public as their unhappy difference had been. For her own vindication she took no step, nor was it needed; the facts spoke for themselves, they were the grateful Ally's constant theme, and Martin gave his silent but more enduring testimony, as he placed over the door of the little inn the name it now bears,-"The Widow's Return," and did any one in the village question the appellation, or profess ignorance of its meaning, old Sandy, true to his allegiance, was always ready with text and commentary, "She restored that which she took not away." PUBLIC LIBRARIES. IT is gratifying to observe that, in some respects, the Government is working in advance of the people, and is quietly doing many useful things without any popular pressure, sometimes even in the face of pretty active opposition. Thus, they have succeeded in carrying into effect a system of national education in Ireland, which is perhaps destined to do more for the elevation of the Irish people than any other public measure that could have been devised. They are also carrying out a system of education throughout England, partial and imperfect it is true, but still to an extent beyond the demands of the people generally. Their Act for the establishment of baths and washhouses-a measure which, if fully acted upon, is eminently calculated to increase the sense of self-respect among the mass of the people, and to prevent the insidious underworkings of epidemical poisons-has proved to be considerably in advance of the popular requirements, for it has only been made use of as yet, to a very limited extent, in densely crowded localities, where it is most needed. The Act for the Removal and Prevention of Nuisances, and the Public Health Act, both exceedingly valuable measures, are yet, to a great extent, a kind of dead letter; and in the face of the ravages of cholera and typhus, little or nothing is done to put their provisions in force throughout the country. The number of towns that have yet applied to be placed under their benefits, is exceedingly limited in number. The Act for the establishment of Free Galleries and Public Museums for the people is also a dead letter; Warrington and Salford alone having, we believe, taken any measures to carry its provisions into effect. Some active members of the House of Commons have it also in contemplation to introduce another measure likely to prove of great public benefit if fully carried into effect, though we fear it may, like those already named, prove to be in advance of the popular demands: we mean the establishment of Public Libraries in all large towns. A committee on this subject sat during the last session, Mr. Ewart acting as Chairman, and the evidence which they have taken is now before the public in a rather bulky blue book, which we here introduce to the notice of our readers. It appears that Continental nations, as well as the people of the American States, enjoy great advantages as regards Public Libraries freely accessible to all classes. Thus, France has 107 Public Libraries, containing 4,000,000 volumes; Belgium 14, containing 538,000 volumes; the Prussian States 44, containing 2,400,000 volumes; Austria (with Lombardy and Venice) 48, containing 2,400,000 volumes; and so on with the other Continental states. The United States have already above 180 similar institutions, containing about 1,290,000 volumes, for the most part entirely free and open to the public. Almost every State has its Public Library, supported by a vote of the State Legislature. Contrast these with England, where almost the only libraries, freely accessible to the people, are the British Museum, in London, and Cheetham's Library, in Manchester; but neither of which are open in the evenings,—and it will be confessed that we have little reason to congratulate ourselves on our privileges in this respect. Many of the Continental and American libraries are also lending libraries; another great public advantage, which need scarcely be insisted on. The libraries of Paris are greatly rescrted to by the working classes; that of Ste. Genevieve is open in the evenings, and is 7 is provided. The grants of the State to these libraries is dividual contributions. generally in proportion to the amounts raised by in often crowded by artisans reading their books. M. Guizot, who was also examined, says that "the libraries in France are accessible in every way; they are accessible for the purpose of reading, and also for the purpose of borrowing books. In a great many of them the library is accessible to every one who comes to read, and the books are lent to every one who is a known person in the town, who has some public recommendation, or whose name and mode of living are known to the librarian." Only the very precious books are not lent out of the library. are open during the day and in the evening, and are The States Libraries, as for instance, that of New York, frequented by large numbers of readers. The College Libraries are equally open to the public for the purpose of School Libraries are free and open to the whole public, nearly all classes in America read,-first, because they and the books are lent out to be read at home; and children, and next, because books are cheap, and libraries are thoroughly educated at the public schools when easily accessible to all classes of the people; also, doubtless, because the peculiar institutions of the Free States stimulate to the cultivation of all the intellectual powers. Mr. Stevens, formerly Librarian of Yale College, U. S., states in his evidence, that the working classes, and persons who are engaged in active business through the M. Guizot attributes the best results to this system. Much of their leisure time is spent in reading. Works day, are the chief readers in Public Lending Libraries. He says: "There are two good results. general regard in the mind of the public for learning, class, are those chiefly read by them; and when he came The first is, a on physical science, history, biography, and of a superior for literature, and for books. That complete accessibility to England he stated he could not help being struck by to the libraries gives to every one, learned or unlearned, a the "little reading that there is among the labouring general feeling of good-will for learning and for knowledge; and business classes" of this country as compared with and then the second result is, that the means for the United States. This is succinctly explained in the acquiring knowledge are given to those persons who are evidence given by Mr. George Dawson, wherein he says: able to employ them. It is, of course, quite impossible for a private man to have in his own possession all the this country is a very great hindrance to the demand for "The quantity of people who cannot read and write in books he wants. He finds them, however, in the Public books. Libraries with the greatest facility. That has been of Mr. Edwards, one of the officers of the British Museum, We have eight millions who cannot write yet." the greatest use to France, and productive of very good also points to the same defect of elementary education. results to the general literature of the country.” French libraries are supported partly by Parliamentary ing on the part of large numbers of the population who The "In addition," he says, "to the positive want of schoolgrants, and in the municipal districts their expenses are partly defrayed out of the local funds of the borough or tion, habitually neglect to improve what they get, from are now growing up, those who do get some partial educabooks are made accessible to the people, this is very the want of cultivating a taste for reading. Unless good likely to continue to be a cause-even where education, by Sunday schools, and other efforts of that kind, have been brought within the reach of a considerable number of the population-why the good effects of education have not been continued in after life." commune. M. Van de Weyer, the Minister of Legation from the Belgian Government, also speaks to the highly beneficial effects of the Public Libraries of that country on the mind and character of the population. He says, "Good results will proceed from good tools being put in the hands of the people who want to make use of them; the better the tools, the better the character of the work. We have experienced that the Public Libraries, having been put under the care of literary men, have increased in the number of good books, and those good books have been instrumental in giving a much higher character to the publications. I should positively say, on principle, that the first-rate books ought to be put in the hands of the people, instead of the inferior publications prepared for them. They generally object to books being manufactured for them, and they enjoy and feel the beauties of the higher class of literature, I should say, as deeply as any literary men." The Public Libraries of Belgium, in the provinces, are mainly supported out of the funds raised by the annual budget of the town; and they are superintended and controlled by Committees of the Municipal Council. The Public Libraries of the United States are exceedingly numerous, and are increasing more rapidly in value and in the number of volumes added to them, than those of any other country. Governments support them liberally by annual grants, The respective States and private individuals of wealth also contribute both books and funds. These libraries are nearly all of them open to the public, some as reading, others also as lending libraries. The interest in these institutions increases yearly. Not only do the States Governments support the Public Libraries, but they also vote money for the formation of Academy Libraries, and Common School Libraries, for the use of the people at large, for whom also a thoroughly efficient system of elementary education out England, would, in our opinion, be a measure of The establishment of Public Lending Libraries throughgreat public utility, next in value to the establishment of an efficient system of popular elementary instruction. It would afford facilities to the rising generation for carrying on that education which may have been commenced in their youth; but which, for want of sufficient opportunities of reading good books, they run so much risk of forgetting. It would enable them to carry on their own instruction in adult years. working man being enabled to carry home an interesting We like the idea too, of a book to his fire-side, and reading it there for his own instruction, as well as for that, it may be, of his wife and family. Reading-rooms, as in the United States, might also form part of such institutions, where young men how much more delightfully and advantageously than in might profitably spend their spare time in the evenings,the public-house, we need not say. science-such libraries would be of great value. The say mathematics, mechanics, or any department of To any one studying some special branch of study— generality of men cannot afford to buy the best books on such subjects: they are altogether beyond their reach. Works on design, which are generally expensive, might well form part of such public libraries in those districts where the art of design is required in manufactures. Who knows but that the superiority of the French artisan in all the arts connected with design, may be in a great measure owing to the superior opportunities he has of cultivating his taste in the Public Libraries of |