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IN MEMORIAM,

Government, with also, as regards such | Gone in an instant like a breath of wind, matters as slavery, a course of conduct Leaving the dead dumb instrument behind on our part which, while not disputing Through which the spirit, with such wondrous the rights of other nations to their own art, social and domestic arrangements, shall Thrilled its fine harmonies of sense and mind. not make it appear that our own muchvaunted moral professions are nothing Gone? - what is gone, and whither has it fled? more than shams.

What means this dreadful utterance – he is

dead! What is this strange mysterious tie called

Life,

That bindeth soul to sense by such slight From Blackwood's Magazine.

thread? TO CHARLES SUMNER.

Love's grasp is strong, and yet it could not

hold For years, dear friend, but rarely had we met, The somewhat that it loved ; and thought is Fate in a different path our feet had set,

bold, Space stretched between us, yet you still were Yet strove in vain to follow where it fled, near,

And sank to earth, the secret all untold. And friendship had no shadows of regret.

Where and what are you now? what do you The ocean drear divided us, but nought

know, Obscured the interchange of word and thought; See, feel? Is all that was so dark below The unbroken line of sympathy still throbbed, Cleared up at last ? Does memory still reAnd unto both its constant message brought. main, And so I felt you were not far away,

And do you long for us who loved you so ? The mere material distance seemed to lay Brief barrier to our meeting, and I dreamed In this new life does human feeling last ? That some day we should meet; ay, any day - Or has oblivion blotted out the Past,

All the glad joys of this warm life of sense, That we again should clasp each other's hand, And all the lights and shadows o'er it cast? Speak as of old, and face to face should stand; Renew the past, and plot and plan again,

Or are you nothing now? - gone like a tone As in years past we plotted and we planned.

That dies to silence - or a light that shone

One gleaming moment, swift to disappear, That hope is vanished now — a sudden change By death's cold breath to utter darkness Hath borne you from me far beyond the range blown? Of that familiar life that here we knew Into a region dim and far and strange.

To all these questions comes a silence drear ;

Stretched o'er Life's utmost verge with longA vaster sea divides us now- a stretch

ing ear Across whose space we vainly strive to reach, The still soul listens, but no answer comes Whose deeps man passes never to return, Save the low heart-beats of its hope or fear. Fron, whose far shores there comes no human speech.

So we return to earth — we laugh and weep, In one swift moment you have passed and Love, hope, despair. Time in its silent sweep gone

Bears us along — till, tired out at last, Out on the blind way all must tread alone, Gladly we lay us down in death's deep sleep. Uncompanied, unfriended, none knows where, Gone out into the vague and vast unknown. No matter what it brings - at least it wears

A peaceful charm of Xest from all our cares. Gone where no mortal sense can track your Why should we wish to toil and struggle more? flight

Is not sleep sweet if no dark dreams it bears? Gone where Faith casts a weak and wavering light,

Look at this face where death has laid its hand, Where trembling Hope and Fear bewildered How calm it looks !- how sorrowless, how stray,

grand ! Lost in the pathless silent shades of night. Life's fever over, all the passions fled,

All the lines smoothed they burned as with a Vanished forever from this world away,

brand. From all the accidents of Night and Day, The season's chance or change, the voice of Not Joy's glad smile in happiest hours it bore, man,

Not Love's enchanted look that once it wore, And all Life's passion, joy, hope, pain, and Could lend a grace so noble, so refined, play.

As now it wears when Joy and Love are o'er.

And yet - that peace will never soothe our And if 'tis all a dream - so let it be ; pain;

Who shall decide when all is mystery? He whom we loved is lost. Come back again, And yet I rather choose this heavenly dream Come back, we cry: no, never ! - all our love Than death's dark horror of inanity. And all our grief cry out for him in vain.

At least your noble thoughts can never die -That pictured memory graced with treasures They live to stir and lift humanity – fair,

They live to sweeten life and cheer us on : That stored experience rich with learning rare, If they are with us, surely you are nigh. Those garnered thoughts and those affections fine

Yes, in our memory, long as sense remains, Are they all squandered, lost, dispersed in air ? That stalwart frame shall live, that voice

whose strains Seek as you will — blind creature — never eye To lofty purpose pitched, struck like a fire Of mortal man shall pierce this mystery. Into our blood, and thrilled through all our This, this alone we know, that nought we veins.

know; And yet we feel — life surely cannot die. That full sonorous voice, whose high-strung

key Change it may suffer - vanish from us here, Was tuned to Justice and to Liberty In forms beyond our ken to reappear. That sounded like a charge to rouse the world Pass up the finite scale of seed, stalk, flower, From the deep slumber of its apathy. To odour - then exhale beyond this sphere.

Nor these alone ;- we shall remember too But death – blank nothing! at the very The kind familiar tones of love we knew, thought

The genial converse and the storied lore, Reason recoils — Faith shudders — Hope, dis- The cultured charm that every listener drew.

traught, Reels back aghast ; no wild imagining

The gladsome smile, the gleam of quick surCan shape a shapeless empty void of naught. prise,

That thrilled the face and lightened through To somewhat, vague and dim howe'er it be,

the eyes ; The soul must cling — mere blank inanity The uplifting brow, the utterance frank and Defies our utmost stretch of wildest thought, clear, And here at least Hope, Reason, Faith agree. And all that sullen death to sight denies. Then why with nightmare dreams our spirits How poor the tribute on your grave we lay!

Alas ! how idle are the words we say ! scare? If we will dream — how sweeter and more fair Nor praise nor blame shall cheer or trouble

more Hope's promise of a loftier life beyond, With larger loving and an ampler air !

The parted spirit or the insensate clay.

Vain friendship's voice, and vain the loud Of vaster regions lifted from the sphere

lament Of doubt and struggle that harass us here, A nation breathed as o'er your bier it bent; Where the freed spirit, moving ever on, Vain unto you, that as you passed away Breathes a diviner, purer atmosphere. A shadow darkened down a continent. So will I dream, since nothing we can know,

Rest, then, brave soldier, from the well-fought Your soul, enfranchised, wanders to and fro

fight! On some Elysian plain beyond our sense, Rest, genial scholar, from the dear delight Communing with great spirits as you go. Of arts and books! Rest, steadfast, stainless

friend ! That oft a tender memory, turning, strays Forever ours — though lost to sense and To us who tread below these earthly ways,

sight. Not mourning for us as we mourn for you, But seeing clear above this cloudy maze. Stern Duty's champion, at thy bier we bow !

Brave, honest, faithful to the end - thy vow That, purged of Time, your spirit larger grows To God and Freedom kept - unbribed, unIn that new being – asking not repose,

bought : But with new aims and more expanded powers, Rest thee or rise to loftier labours now. On, on, forever with glad purpose goes.

W. W. STORY

WHAT THE HESSIANS OF 1776 WERE says, after several unsuccessful attempts, at THOUGHT OF BY THE FATHER OF Their last “I succeeded in securing an uninjured Country. — The prince of Hesse-Cassel sent captive, which to my inexpressible delight the following letter, dated Feb. 8, 1777, to the proved to be one of the ruby-throated species, commander of the Hessian troops in America : north of Florida. It immediately suggested

the most splendid and diminutive that comes Baron Hohendorff — At Rome, on my re- itself to me that a mixture of two parts of loaf turn from Naples, I received your letter of the sugar with one of fine honey, in ten of water, 27th December of the past year. With inex- / would make about the nearest approach to the pressible delight I learned of the courage dis- j nectar of flowers. While my sister ran to played by my troops at Trenton, and you can prepare it, I gradually opened my hand to look imagine my joy when I read that of 1950 Hes at my prisoner, and saw, to my no little amusesians engaged in the fight, only 300 escaped. ment as well as suspicion, that it was actually According to this, exactly 1650 have been playing possum,' feigning to be dead most slain, and I cannot recommend to your atten- skilfully. It lay on my open palm motionless tion too much the necessity of sending an for some minutes, during which I watched it exact list to my attorneys in London. This in breathless curiosity. I saw it gradually care is necessary, because the list sent to the open its bright little eyes to peep whether the English minister shows a loss of only 1455. way was clear, and then close them slowly as In this way I should suffer a loss of 160,050 it caught my eye upon it. But when the manflorins ! According to the account rendered ufactured nectar came, and a drop was touched by the lord of the treasury I should receive upon the point of its bill, it came to life very but 483,450 florins instead of 643,500 florins. suddenly, and in a moment was on its legs, You will see at once that it is their intention drinking with eager gusto of the refreshing to make me suffer a loss by an error in calcu- draught from a silver teaspoon. When sated lation, and therefore you must take the utmost it refused to take any more, and sat perched pains to prove that your list is correct and with the coolest self-composure on my finger, theirs false.

and plumed itself quite as artistically as if on The English Government objects that one its favorite spray. "I was enchanted with the hundred are wounded only, for which it can- bold, innocent confidence with which it turned not be expected to pay the same price as for up its keen black eyes to survey us, as much killed.

as to say, “Well, good folks, who are you?' Remember that of the three hundred Lace- By the next day it would come from any part dæmonians who defended the pass of Ther- of either room, alight upon the side of a white mopylæ, not one returned. I should be happy china cup containing the mixture and drink if I could say the same of my brave Hessians. eagerly, with its long bill thrust into the very

Tell Major Miedorff that I am extremely base. "It would alight on my fingers, and seem displeased with his behavior, to conduct into to talk with us endearingly in its soft chirps.” camp the three hundred which fled the battie. Mr. Webber afterward succeeded in taming field at Trenton. During the whole campaign several of the same species. He gave them he has not lost ten of his whole command. their liberty occasionally, and they returned

regularly. At the time for migration they left As a commentary to this outrageous letter, for the winter ; but the next spring they sought which indirectly asks the major to see that their old quarters, and accepted the delicious his men are butchered, it is necessary to state nectar kindly provided for them, and by de. that the count [landgraf] of Hesse-Cassel grees brought their mates. received for every man furnished by him

Popular Science Monthly. thirty thalers (about $21.00) and for every man killed in battle twenty pounds sterling, a sum which one hundred years ago equalled The Municipal Council of Geneva has at at least $140.00. This money was not devoted last decided on the question of paying legacy to the care of the unfortunate ones left desti- duty to the canton on the Brunswick bequest. tute by the death of their protectors, but it The cantonal authorities demanded twelve per went into the private purse of their illustrious to no less than 2,471,401f. This was com

cent. on the succession, which would amount lord.

bated by a section of the council, who argued A similar state of affairs existed in Braun- that the law exempting public institutions schweig, Hanau, Anspach, Waldeck and from paying a tax on legacies barred the claim Zerbst. According to Schlotzer's statistics of the canton. The matter then resolved itself there were 29,166 men sold, of whom 11,843 into a question if a municipality could be were killed.

termed "a public institution.” In its sitting Transcript.

of Saturday the council resolved, by 16 votes to 14, to pay the sum demanded. One member

abstained from voting, and nine were absent. TAMING THE HUMMING BIRD. — The ruby A third debate on the subject was, however, throat has sometimes been tamed. Mr. Web- demanded by M. Turritini on behalf of the ber, in his “Wild Scenes and Song Birds,” Administrative Council of the town.

Fifth Series,

No. 1583. — October 10, 1874.

From Beginning,
? Vol. CXXIII.

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VI.

From The Cornhill Magazine. A little respite for a little while,
MELANCHOLIA.

Knowing all fair things brief,

And ours most brief, seeing our very smile, I.

'Mid these our fates forlorn, Saidst thou, The night is ending, day is near? And unto grief returneth, hardly born.

Is only child of grief,
Nay now, my soul, not so;
We are sunk back into the darkness drear,

v.
And scarcely soon shall know
Even remembrance of the sweet dead day;

We will not have desire for the sweet spring, Ay, and shall lose full soon

Nor mellowing midsummer The memory of the moon,

We have no right to her The moon of early night, that cheered our The autumn primrose and late-flowering sunless way.

Pale-leaved inodorous

Violet and rose shall be enough for us :
II.

Enough for our last boon,

That haply where no bird belated grieves, Once, from the brows of Might,

We watch, through some November afternoon,
Leapt with a cry to light
Pallas the Forefighter;

The dying sunlight on the dying leaves.
Then straight to strive with her
She called the Lord of Sea
In royal rivalry

Ah, heard I then through the sad silence fallFor Athens, the Supreme of things,

ing The company of crownless kings.

Notes of a new Orpheän melody, A splendid strife the Queen began,

Not up to earth but down to darkness calling, In that her kingdom making man

Down to the fair Elysian company, Not less than equal her own line

Ah then how willing an Eurydice Inhabiting the hill divine.

The kindly ghosts should draw, with noiseless Ah Fate, how short a span

hand, Gavest thou then to god and godlike man !

My shadowy soul into the shadowy land; The impious fury of the stormblasts now

For on the earth is endless winter come, Sweeps unrebuked across Olympus' brow;

And all sweet sounds, and echoes sweet, are

dumb. The fair Forefighter in the strife

ERNEST MYERS. For light and grace and glorious life They sought and found not; she and hers

Had yielded to the troublous years; No more they walked

with men, heaven's high interpreters.

I KNEW A FACE.

I KNEW a face, though now I know it not ; III.

'Tis gone, but not the love that linked it to Yet, o'er the gulf of wreck and pain, How softly strange there rose again, It used to smile on me, but now its smile Against the darkness dimly seen,

Ne'er lights my dreary soul, and my lone heart Another face, another queen,

the while The Maiden Mother, in whose eyes Lives on its image. Once those sparkling The smile of God reflected lies;

eyes Who saw around her gracious feet

Had e'er a loving glance for me — each look a The maddening waves of warfare meet,

prize! And stretching forth her fingers fair

But now the sunshine's gone that beamed in Upon the hushed and wondering air

them; Shed round her, for man's yearning sight, And gone is all the daylight from my eyes, A space of splendour in the night.

which seem Are her sweet feet not stayed ? As though afflicted with the shading blight Nay, she is also gone, the Mother-maid :

Which coldly shades the colours warmed by And with her all the gracious company.

beauty's light. That made it hope to live, and joy to die. Those lips, which breathed of bliss — twin The Lord is from the altar gone,

rubies they His golden lamp in dust o'erthrown, Are sealed and cold; no thrilling accents The pealing organ's ancient voice

softly stray Hath wandered to an empty noise, From them as once they did. She is no more ! And all the angel heads and purple wings are Beauty hath called her sweetest image to its flown.

shore;

And all that dimpled symmetry of grace,
Iv.

Ovalled by Nature into such a perfect face
Wherefore in this twice-baffled barrenness, Too fair, alas, to bloom on mortals' eyes —
This unconsoled twice-desolate distress, Now blossoms in the rip’ning light of native
For our barc world and bleak

skies. We only dare to seck

Tinsley's Magazine.

my lot.

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