Thirdly, I

a most remarkably fine woman, and because she showed a disposition to be friendly with me a stranger in a strange land confess I made a speech, but what of that? It's not the first time, by a long chalk. I don't know what you mean by " acknowledging As a private citizen I congratulated them on their success, and would do so again. If a crowd cal's on me for a speech, I'm there. The people of Florence dragged me home in a carriage. Well, I don't know why they did so. I can't help it if people will take possession of me and pull me about. Fourthly, and lastly, I had an interview with the Countess, had I? Well, is it wrong for a man to bid good by to a friend? I ask you, what upon earth do you mean by such a charge as that? Do you take me for a puling infant?

Gen. On that occasion she taught you some mysterious words which were to be repeated among the Revolutionists here.

Sen. Never did anything of the kind. That's a full-blown fiction. Gen. I have the very words.

Sen. That's impossible.

You've got hold of the wrong man. Gen. I will read them. It is a mysterious language with no apparent meaning, nor have I been able to find the key to it in any way. It is very skilfully made, for all the usual tests of cipher writing fail in this. The person who procured it did not get near enough till the latter part of the interview, so that he gained no explanation what ever from the conversation. Listen: "Ma ouillina sola ouda ste ensoce fremas dis ansit ansin assalf a oue tu affa lastinna belis."

Sen. Oh dear! Oh de-ar! Oh DEE-AR! OH! Will you allow me to look at the paper? I will not injure it at all.

Gen. Certainly.

Sen. You see, gentlemen, the Florence correspondent has been too sharp. I can explain all this at once. I was with the Countess, and we got talking of poetry. Now, I don't know any more about poetry than a horse.

Sen. Well, she insisted on my making a quotation. I had to give in. The only one I could think of was a line or two from Watts. Gen. Watts? Ah! I don't know him.

Sen. He was a minister · a parson. So I said it to her, and she repeated it. These friends of yours, General, have taken it down, but their spellin' is a little unusual. Listen. Here is the key:

"My willing soul would stay in such a frame as this,
And sit and sing herself away to everlasting bliss."

Cen. Give these gentlemen our apologies. In times of trouble, when States have to be held subject to martial law, proceedings are abrupt. Their own good sense will, I trust enable them to appreciate the difficulty of our position.

Arranged us a dialogue from De Mille.

TWO

ENGLAND AND SWITZERLAND.

Voices

are there, one is of the Sea,

One of the Mountains, each a mighty voice:
In both from age to age thou didst rejoice,
They were thy chosen music, Liberty!

There came a tyrant, and with holy glee

Thou fought'st against him, but hast vainly striven: Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.

- Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft;
Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left-
For, high-soul'd Maid, what sorrow would it be
That Mountain floods should thunder as before,
And Ocean beliow from his rocky shore,
And neither awful Voice be heard by Thee!

TRAY.

Wordsworth.

SING

ye

bards!

ING me a hero. Quench my thirst of soul, Quoth Bard the first: "Sir Olaf, the good knight, did don his helm and eke his habergeon," - Sir Olaf and his bard.

"That sin-scathed brow" (quoth Bard the second), "that eye wide ope as though Fate beckoned my hero to some steep, beneath which precipice smiled tempting Death"-You too, without your host have reckoned.

"A beggar-child" (let's hear this third) "sat on a quay's edge; like a bird sang to herself at careless play, and fell into the stream. 'Dismay! help, you the standers-by!' None stirred. By-standers reason, think of wives and children ere they risk their lives. Over the balustrade has bounded a mere instinctive dog, and pounced plumb on the prize. 'How well he dives!'

"Up he comes with the child, see, tight in mouth, alive too, clutched from quite a depth of ten feet-twelve, I bet! Good dog!

Good

"What, off again? There's yet another child to save? All right! How strange we saw no other fall! It's instinct in the animal. dog!

"But he's a long while under; if he got drowned, I should not wonder-strong current, that against the wall!

"Here he comes, holds in mouth this time-what may the thing be? Well, that's prime! Now, did you ever? Reason reigns in man alone, since all Tray's pains have fished — the child's doll from the slime.'

"And so, amid the laughter gay, trotted my hero off, — old Tray, till somebody, prerogatived with reason, reasoned, 'Why he dived, his brain would show us, I should say. John, go and catch, — or, if needs be, purchase that animal for me. By vivisection, at expense of half an hour and eighteen pence, how brain secretes dog's soul, we 'll see!""

Browning.

PRELUDE TO DRAMATIC IDYLS.

"You are sick, that's sure," they say. "Sick of what?" they disagree. ""Tis the brain," thinks Doctor A; ""Tis the heart," holds Doctor B. "The liver, - my life I'd lay." "The lungs!" "The lights!"

-

"Ah me! So ignorant of man's whole of bodily organs plain to so sage and certain, frank and free, about what's under lock and key-man's soul."

see,

Browning.

THE INQUIRY.

TEL

ELL me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway roar,
Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep no more?
Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west,
Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest?
The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,
And sighed for pity as it answered-"No."

Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play,
Know'st though some favored spot, some island far away,
Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs,
Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies?
The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow,
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer

"No."

THE DREAM OF CLARENCE.

And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely face,
Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace;
Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot,
Where miserable man might find a happier lot?

Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,

And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded "No."

Tell me, my secret soul; -oh! tell me, Hope and Faith,
Is there no resting-place from sorrow, sin, and death? —
Is there no happy spot, where mortals may be blessed,
Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a rest?

329

Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given,
Waved their bright wings, and whispered "Yes, in Heaven!"
Charles Mackay.

THE DREAM OF CLARENCE.

BRAKENBURY. Why looks your Grace so heavily to-day?

Clarence. Oh, I have passed a miserable night,

So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,

I would not spend another such a night,

Though 't were to buy a world of happy days;

So full of dismal terror was the time!

Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me.

Clar. Methought that I had broken from the Tower,

And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;

And, in my company, my brother Gloster;

Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,

During the wars of York and Lancaster,

That had befallen us. As we passed along

Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard
Into the tumbling billows of the main.

O heaven! Methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!

Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon:

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scattered in the bottom of the sea:

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mocked the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Brak. Had you such leisure, in the time of death,
To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?

Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast, and wandering air;
But smothered it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony?

Clar. No, no! my dream was lengthened after life;

Oh, then began the tempest to my soul!

I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,

With that grim ferryman which poets write of,

Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

The first that there did greet my stranger soul
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cried aloud, "What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?"
And so he vanish'd. Then came wandering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud,

"Clarence is come, — false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, -That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury!

Seize on him, Furies! take him to your torments !”
With that, methought a legion of foul fiends

Environed me, and howlèd in mine cars
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling waked, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream