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all around us; we and our officials must diligently fulfil our public and private duties, and, taking warning from these appearances in the firmament, entreat Heaven's favor. Respect this!"

PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH.

AT the head of this number of THE ECLECTIC we have placed quite a life-like portrait of Goldwin Smith, the able and learned Regius Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford. Many of our readers, we are confident, will give a cordial welcome to this portrait, inasmuch as his person and character secured to him a very flattering reception in this city and country some months since. His warm interest in, and bold advocacy of, the Federal government in its efforts to put down the rebellion, has won for him many friends and admirers. The Union Club in this city gave him a warm reception, and treated him with distinguished consideration. He was invited to address the New-York Historical Society, which he did to a very intelligent and crowded assembly, on the origin and history of the great family of English universities at Oxford. It was a masterly presentation of the leading facts, which he gave without preparation, as he remarked, and without a word written upon which to rely. His lecture was received with marked attention and interest. The press of this city announced his arrival in this country in flattering terms.

Professor Goldwin Smith was born at Reading, England, in 1823. His father, who still lives, has been for many years engaged in the practice of medicine. Goldwin Smith was sent to school at Eton, and afterwards was entered at Christ Church, Oxford, where he remained until he was elected to a Demy-ship at Magdalen College. In 1845 he took his B. A. degree, having gained the Ireland and Hertford Scholarship and the Chancellor's Prize for writing the best Latin verse. His next step in promotion was his election to a tutor's chair in University College. Having made himself acquainted with law, he was called to the bar at Lincoln's Inn in 1847, but being disinclined to practice his profession, he ac-|

cepted the post of Assistant Secretary to the first Oxford Commission, (that of inquiry,) and as Secretary to the second. He was also chosen member of the Education Commission of 1859. His published works embrace lectures on historical and other subjects. He is now Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford. He incurred the displeasure of some un-American journals because he had the courage and honesty to defend our struggling nation against the assaults made by the University with which he is associated. His clear and forcible tract on American slavery, and his letter on Southern independence, show him in the light of the true friend of freedom. His opinions have the true ring, and will cause his visit to this country to be long remembered. He returned to England about the first of February, 1865.

A CITY FLOWER.

"Il-y-a des fleurs animées."-Polite Colloquialism.
To and fro in the City I go,
Tired of the ceaseless ebb and flow,
Sick of the crowded mart;
Tired of the din and rattle of wheels,
Sick of the dust as one who feels

The dust is over his heart.

Again and again, as the sunlight wanes,
I think of the lights in the leafy lanes,
With the bits of blue between;
And when about Rimmel's the perfumes play,
I smell no odor of "Ess Bouquet,"

But violets hid i' the green;

And I love how I love!-the plants that fill The pots on my dust-dry window-sill

A sensitive sickly crop

But a flower that charms me more, I think,
Than cowslip or crocus, or rose or pink,
Blooms in a milliner's shop.

Hazel eyes that wickedly peep,
Flash, abash, and suddenly sleep
Under the lids drawn in;
Ripple of hair that rioteth out,
Mouth, with a half-born smile and a pout,
And a baby-breadth of chin;
Hands that light as the lighting bird
On the bloom bent bough, and the bough is
stirred

With a delicate ecstasy;
Fingers tipped with a roseate flush,
Flicking and flirting a feathery brush
Over the papery bonnetry-

Till the gauzy rose begins to glow,
And the gauzy hyacinths break and blow,
And the dusty grape grows red;

And the flaunting grasses seem to say,
"Do we look like ornaments-tell us, I pray-
Fit for a lady's head ?"

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