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And the butterfly wakes to a wiry life,
Like an elderly gentleman taking a wife,

Knowing he must be gay;
And all the bonnets nid-noddle about
Like chattering chaperones set at a rout,

Quarrelling over their play.
How can I otherwise choose than look
At the beautiful face like a beautiful book,

And learn a tiny part ?
So I feel, somehow, that every day
Some flake of the dust is brushed away,

That had settled over my heart.
-Temple Bar.

H. A. D.

The voices of the friends they love,

The bird's song, and the thunder too; And the fierce diapason's roar, Like storms upon a rocky shore. And now to-day I yield me up

The dusky seat, my old loved throne, Unto another; and no more

Shall come here in the dusk alone, Or in the early matin hour, To hear my old friend's voice of power. And yet methinks, that centuries hence,

Lying beneath the chancel floor, In that dark nook I shall delight

To hear the anthem's swell once more, And to myself shall quietly smile When music floods the vaulted aisle.

TIME AND LOVE.

Or mocking gravely at some hand

Less skilful than my own was once,
In my snug nest I'll lie, and mark

The blunders of the foolish dunce;
But to myself the secret keep,
And turn me round again to sleep.

- Chambers's Journal.

The wheel of Time turns whirring on,

It never varies, never stays ; Somewhiles we watch, somewhiles we shun,

But it nor lingers nor delays.
And if perchance Love seize the wheel,

And seek to stop it in its flight,
He only learns the more to feel

He cannot lengthen Life's delight. Yet Love will strive to change its course,

And with a soft hand grasps it fast; Though whirled by its resistless force,

All things must leave it at the last. Love sometimes holds, and while it turns

Faint with the speed yet faithful dies; But oftener, when his hand it burns, He quits at once and distant flies. Fraser's Magazine.

F. G. F.

THREE MAIDENS.

I HEARD three maidens laughing merrily,

All three were young, and one was very fair; Except in jest they had not breathed a sigh,

And save the name, they nothing knew of care. As I came by, they rose and clasped me round: “Tell us," they said, "for you have older

yearsWhat is this Love that each of us has found;

Is it a thing for laughter, or for tears?" One held my band-she would not let me go

The fairest whispered softly, “ Answer me;" The third said lightly, “Ah, she does not know;

Love never came so near that she should see !" I could not speak the truth, I could not lie,

And so without a word I passed them by. - Temple Bar.

A, M.

THE OLD CATHEDRAL ORGANIST

A CHILD ASLEEP,

'Tis forty years ago since first

I climbed these dusty, winding stairs To play the Dean in: how I spurned

Beneath my feet all meaner cares, When first I leant, my cheek on fire, And looked down blushing at the choir. Handel, and Haydn, and Mozart

I thought they watched me as I played; While Palestrina's stern, sad face

Seemed in the twilight to upbraid; Pale fingers moved upon the keysThe ghost-hands of past centuries. Behind my oaken battlement

Above the door I used to lean, And watch, in puffing crimson hood,

Come stately sailing in the Dean; On this, the organ breathing low, Began to murmur soft and slow,

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I used to shut my eyes, and hear

The solemu prophecy and psalm Rise up like incense; and I loved

Before the prayer the lull and calm, Till, like the stream that bursts its banks, Broke forth brave Purcell's “Ogive Thanks." I knew those thirteen hundred pipes

And thirty stops, as blind men do

Heaven-flowers, rayed by shadows golden

From the palms they sprang beneath,
Now perhaps divinely holden,

Swing against him in a wreath-
We may think so from the quickening of his

bloom and of his breath,

summer sun,

Vision unto vision calleth,

Narrow their world, but sunny its airs, While ihe young child dreameth on, Full of small joys that were great to them, Fair, O drearner, thee befalleth

Transient sorrows and simple cares
With the glory thou hast won !

(Burs on youth’s glittering raiment-hem); Darker wert thou in the garden, yestermorn, by And innocent hopes, that loomed so large

Through the purple mist of their morning-prime,

That a kingdom's fate or an empire's charge We should see the spirits ringing

Had laid less weight on the busy time.
Round thee--were the clouds away! Living their life-dreaming their dream-
'Tis the child-heart draws them, singing Thus flowed the golden hours away,
In the silent-seeming clay-

Shining and swift as the lapsing stream Singing !-Stars that seem tho mutest, go in In the sand-glass turned by a child in play.

music all the way. As the moths around a taper,

They had a language that mocked at rules, As the bees around a rose,

A foolish tongue that was all their own;

Its words had values unknown to schools-
As in sunset, many a vapor

Dear for the sake of a look or tone.
So the spirits group and close
Round about a holy childhood, as if drinking its Learned it was not, nor was it wise,

Yet it had purport earnest and true,
repose.

Full of such playful metonymies ! Shapes of brightness overlean thee,

Figures—which love and the hearer knew; With their diadems of youth

Gay ellipsis—that left to the guess
Striking on thy ringlets sheenly-

Tender half-meanings; metaphor bold;
While thou smilest-not in sooth

Fond hyperbole—saying far less
Thy smile — but the overfair one, dropped from

Than the heart held or the kind eyes told; some ethereal mouth.

Strange pet-names that were nouns unknown,

Epithets--mocking the love-charmed ears, Haply it is angels' duty,

Verbs—that had roots in the heart alone,
During slumber, shade by shade

Jests—whose memories now bring tears.
To fine down the childish beauty
To the thing it must be made,

For the "strong hours” came, that come to all, Ere the world shall bring it praises, or the tomb Bearing away on their stormy wings shall see it fade.

All the poor treasures, great and small,

Love had amassed as his precious things; Softly, softly! make no noise !

All the rare joys, on the path they trod,
Now he lieth dead and dumb-

And the cares that look so like joys, when pastNow he hears the angels' voices

When one great grief-like the serpent-rodFolding silence in the room

Hath swallowed all lesser griefs at last: Now he muses deep the meaning of the heaven. All the rich harvest of mutual thought, words as they come.

The sweet life-memories-reaped in vain, Speak not! he is consecrated

And last—the language that Love had taughtBreathe no breath across his eyes.

Ne'er to be uttered nor heard again.
Lifted up and separated

One was taken-the other left;
On the hand of God he lies,

Where was the use of that idle lore?
In a sweetness beyond touching — held in clois- Bury it deep in the heart bereft,
tral sanctities.

Ne'er to be uttered, nor needed more! Could ye bless him-father-mother!

“What doth it matter? solemn and sweet Bless the dimple in his cheek?

Is the communion the True Life brings; Dare ye look at one another,

Love needs no symbols where next we meet And the benediction speak?

Hath it not put away earthly things ? Would ye not break out in weeping, and con How should we want these foolish wordsfess yourselves too weak?

Dear as they were to the mortal heart,

Burdened with love whose weakness affords He is harmless—ye are sinful

No way else its strength to impart ?
Ye are troubled-he, at ease !

Was it not thus we had longed to be-
From his slumber, virtue winful

Heart and spirit and feeling bare,
Floweth outward with increase

True thought to true thought springing free, Dare not bless him! but be blessed by his peace As flame leaps to flame in the fervid air ? and go in peace.

So shall our spirits meet, unbound,
-Mrs. Browning. Freed from the clog of this stifling clay-

Knowing the depths we had sought to sound,

Sure of the love we had tried to say."
THE DEAD LANGUAGE.

So the heart reasons, and reasons well,
BY THE COUNTESS OF GIFFORD.

Knowing its bitterness, owning its gainTaking sweet counsel, heart from heart,

(Ah! must the pressure-pain linger still, Walking life's by-road, with Love for guide All that is left of a broken chain ?) All the good gifts he alone can impart,

-Restless, rebellious, it " asketh signs," Grew, like the flowers, their path beside. Blind to the fire-cross o'er us hung,

And-deaf to the quiring angels-pines
For one poor word of that lost Love-Tongue !

-Dublin University Magazine.

No charm to him, no solemn sound,

Had waves, or winds, or clouds, or starsHis range of thought the cloister bound,

And in his soul he wore its bars.

THE CROAKERS.

FROM GOETIIE, BY REV. DR. HEDGE. The pond in the meadow was frozen tight, The frogs beneath, in a doleful plight, Could no more leap as they had doneTheir gambols stopped, and all their fun. Half numb, they murmured dreamily What they would do when they were free. Once clear of winter's icy yoke, They promised never more to croak; No more in concert would they rail, But each should sing like a nightingale. The south wind blew, the ice gave way, The frogs once more could frisk and play; They stretched their limbs, they leaped ashore, And they-croaked as drearly as before.

Perchance, some mind of finer mould

Has gazed up that clear, starry air, And seen the golden gates unfold,

And wings of angels waving fairIn trance beheld the Virgin nigh,

Heard voices sweet and heavenly soundsWhile, smiling on his votary,

St. Francis showed his mystic wounds. One, with a heart of slumbering power,

Once scathed by passion's fiery glow, Mav here have stood and blessed the hour

His lips pronounced the awful vow. From envy, pride, and care, release

He may have found in cloistered walls, And fancied he had grasped the peace

That is no guest in pleasure's halls. How many felt, through blighted years,

The writhing pangs of inward strife, And mourned with unavailing tears

The error which had poisoned lifeThe bondage of a vow at war

With nature frenzied by control, As if the cord* and scapular

Could chain the fiends that haunt the soul !

LEISURE.
Grand is the leisure of the earth;
She gives her happy myriads birth,
And after harvest fears not dearth,

But goes to sleep in snow-wreaths dim.
Dread is the leisure up above,
The while he sits whose name is Love,
And waits, as Noah did, for the dove,

To wit if she would fly to him.
He waits for us, while, houseless things,
We beat about with bruised wings
On the dark floods and water-springs,

The ruined world, the desolate sea:
With open windows from the prime,
All night, all day, he waits sublime,
Until the fulness of the time

Decreed from His eternity.
Where is our leisure ? give us rest!
Where is the quiet we possessed?
We must have had it once-were blest

With peace, whose phantoms yet entice.
Sorely the mother of mankind
Longed for the garden left behind;
For we still prove some yearnings blind
Inherited from Paradise.

-Jean Ingelow.

Their minds roamed sadly through the past

To youth, with hope's bright fancies fushed, Ere clouds the prospect overcast,

Ere care life's opening blossom crushed; Then weary days and nights forlorn,

The struggling mind, the sickening heart, Till, in the conflict overborne,

All earthly ties they rent apart.

They sought the fenced, the holy ground

Behind them died the world's vain dinBut soon, alas ! too soon, they found

That they had brought the world within. Beyond its outward range they passed,

And vainly hoped its power to foil; Out from the heart the world to cast

This was the duty, this the toil.

LINES WRITTEN IN A FRANCISCAN

CONVENT.

How oft from this small casement high,

When chanted was the vesper-psalın, The lonely monk has raised his eye

Toward that heaven so pure and calm, And watched the moonlight showering pale

Upon the church and trees below, And heard the soft and wandering wail

Of waters in perpetual flow! One looked, but sight so beautiful

Awoke no answering thrill in him ; And, with a heart benumbed and dull,

He saw as if his eye were dim.

So Jerome through the streets of Rome

Could wander with undazzled eyes, In lordly mansions seek no home,

And all its pomp and pride despise; But in the wilds, the singing bird

Brought back Rome's voice on every wind, And every leaf, that idly stirred,

The thought of friends left far behind. Some died in hoary age, some young,

Their hearts grief-cankered at the coreAnd bells were rung, and psalms were sung,

When opened was the chancel floor; They moulder there, that ghastly band

Their shadows glimmer through the gloomAnd I, a stranger in the land, Muse mournfully above their tomb.

-J. D. Burns,

1

* The distinguishing badge of the Order of St. Francis.

BRIEF LITERARY NOTICES.

fervent worshipper can discover, his comments

often throw light upon obscure allusions which Notice of Anthony Stradivari, the Celebrated have escaped preceding annotators. He quotes Violin-Maker. By F. J. Fétis. Translated by

the canon of criticism laid down by a brother Jous Bisuor. London: Robert Cocks & Co., Dantophilist, Professor Carl Witte, of Hulle, to 1864. The name of Dr. Barlow has long been the effect that, in judging of the genuineness of familiar to the student of Dante; and the hand

a text where two readings occur, one easy and

the other difficult, it is always safe to consider some volume he has recently published bears ample testimony to the extent of his researches, and the latter as the most authentic. Dr. Barlow the ardor of his devotion to the study of the great of the “Vita Nuova,” which makes it a mere

discards as untenable on all grounds the theory Florentine, whom he designates, “ Poeta, Teologo, rhapsody of love. It was written shortly after e Filosofo, sempre sommo.” For fourteen years Dante's marriage, and cannot, he avers, be the and upwards the author has been accumulating materials, examining and comparing the various history of a childish attachment to Beatrice, the codici of the “Divina Commedia" preserved in daughter of Folce Portinari, and the wife of Si

. the public libraries of Europe, and studying the which the name of Beatrice only stands for the

mone de' Bardi, but as an allegorical vision, in writings of the long series of critics and commentators who have preceded him. Few are the

ideal idol of his inner life-a being whom he ad. great writers who have suffered so little from the dresses in strains of mystic adoration, and to

whom alone such language as that in the thirlapse of centuries as Dante. A blaze of light encircles him. Five of the codici now extant date teenth canto of the “ Paradiso" could apply. The from within thirty years of his death; and we

appearance of this valuable and learned work is have not only the commentaries of his contem- well timed, for in May next Florence will be poraries, Boccacio and Jacopo della Lana, but called upon to celebrate the six hundredth anni. that of his own son, Jacopo di Dante. Nearly versary of Dante's birth; and Dr. Barlow dedi

. five hundred codici of the Divina Commedia" cates his labor of love to this approaching day of

commemoration.- Westminster Review. are now in existence, of which about three hundred and fifty contain the whole poem, and of A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on this large number between sixty and seventy are the Pastoral Epistles. With a Translation. By in English libraries, the Bodleian containing four- Rt. Rev. CHARLES J. Ellicott, D.D., Lord Bishteen, and the British Museum twelve. Our col- op of Gloucester and Bristol. Warren F. Dralection is larger than that of any other country, per, Andover. Hurd & Houghton, New-York. Italy excepted, where, naturally, the greatest 1865. Mr. Draper deserves great credit for the number are preserved, the Italian codici amount. excellent character of the books which he pubing to nearly three hundred and ninety, of which lishes. They are standard works, and of great two hundred are in Florence and other cities of value, especially to the theologian. The ComTuscany. The Laurenziana Library alone con- mentary of Bishop Ellicott on the Epistles ranks tains eighty-seven codici, eight of which are of among the best. It is learned, critical, and sound especial value and authority in deciding doubtful in doctrine. The author is evidently a master readings; but the most beautiful codici probably of the original Seriptures, and of German biblical in existence, and the one which Dr. Barlow con- literature. To those who understand the Greek siders to be without a rival, is that known as the language, this is a work that cannot fail to render “ Urbinato," No. 365 of the Vatican, a folio of important aid in a correct and critical under296 leaves, written on vellum in neat, slightly standing of the sacred text. Gothic characters, and enriched with above one hundred elaborate miniature paintings.

A Treatise on the History and Structure of the The various readings to which the greater tive View of the Forms of their Words and the

different Languages of the World, with a Comparapart of Dr. Barlow's volume is devoted are many style of their Espressions. By J. Wilson, A. M. of them of but slight importance; and the render. With Photograph and full Index. Albany: ings which critics have chosen are not always J. Munsell. This is a work which well deserves those that are supported by a majority of read the attention of all who are interested in the ings, or corroborated by the testimony of the study of language as a science. It is a work earliest manuscripts. Dr. Barlow states shortly which so good a critic as Tayler Lewis, LL.D., the number of codici for and against the received affirms "shows profound thought and extensive text, the opinions of different crities, and some study." The author has spent many years of patimes his own conclusions. lle mentions that tient toil in the preparation of this work, and dethe largest number of codici he has himself con

serves the thanks and patronage of the public for sulted for any one reading is one hundred and the good service he has rendered. Comparative sixty, and that the collections of manuscripts Philology is yet in its infancy among us; but that he has examined are those of Rome, Flor- such contributions as the author here renders, ence, Venice, Milan, Paris, London, and Oxford. and those of Dr. Benjamin W. Dwight, will be More than two hundred passages have been inFestigated in this manner, and the result is a col / eminently serviceable. The work makes 384 oc

tavo pages, and is sent, postage paid, for $3.50. lection of readings and authorities which must be sought in vain in any other book in the lan George Geith of Fin Court. A Novel. By guage. Nor are Dr. Barlow's labors at all con- F. G. TRAFFORD, author of “ Too Much Alone," fined to mere technicalities of the text. His etc. Boston: T. O. H. P. Burnham. 1865. Pp. notes upon religious and philosophical questions 555. A quiet, well-told English story, without are well worth reading, and though he is rather much plot or incident, yet healthful in tone and inclined to see more in some passages than a less / readable to the end. It possesses quite the aver

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age interest and ability of the better class of our or the Dawn-animal of Canada.-Chambers's Journovels.

nal. Jenkins's Vest-Pocket Lexicon. An English Dic- has been for some time in progress, and will prob

Formation of the Alps.-A geological debate tionary of all except Familiar Words; including ably have a long career, for the debaters are the principal Scientific and Technical Terms and Sir Roderick Murchison, Professor Ramsay, late Foreign Mo Weights, and Measures, omit- president of the Geological Society, and Professor ting What Everybody Knows. Philadelphia: J. Tyndall. The subject is the mode of formation B. Lippincott & Co., 1865. A neat, unique, and of the Alps. Sir Roderick argues that the mounhighly convenient pocket dictionary.

tains were formed by upheaval and subsequent which is about to start in this city, with the well

. this water, operating through long ages, has Hours at HOME, is the name of a new monthly fracture. The two professors contend that Switz

once covered by water, and that known house of Charles Scribner and Co. as pub- fashioned the mountains and hills, valleys and lishers, and Rev. J. M. Sherwood as editor. It ravines. The debate is exciting; and Professor is designed to stand among the monthlies as the Tyndall

, who has climbed many an alp to observe representative of the religious element in Americe and 'snow, and the effects of light and temican literature. It will be earnest and catholic, perature, has now a reason for climbing them all not denominational; less scientific than our quaragain, to gain facts and evidence in support of his terlies, but of a high literary character, embracing reviews of books, tales, poetry, history and biog- last summer's journey to Switzerland was under

new geological argument. It was for this that his raphy, travels, papers on popular science, and es- taken; and looking forth from the heights, he consays, brief and condensed, on miscellaneous sub cludes that water, ice, and wearing away have, to jects. No pains or expense, we are assured, will

use his words, sculptured the Alps into their be spared to make it just such a religious and literary magazine as a Christian family would present form; and he says, “ that such is their like to possess. Its list of contributors embraces genesis and history, is as certain as that erosion a very large number of the most eminent writers produced the Chines in the Isle of Wight. The belonging to all Christian denominations. We erosion theory ascribes the formation of Alpine cannot doubt that the religious community will valleys to the agencies here referred to. It inwelcome such a monthly and sustain it liberally. by which its work is performed are still there,

vokes nothing but true causes. The artificers It is matter of surprise that this field has re- though it may be in diminished strength ; and if mained till now virtually unoccupied.

they are granted sufficient time, it is demonstrable that they are competent to produce the effects

ascribed to them.” SCIENCE.

Of course there is a good deal to be said on the

other side of the question, especially as regards Geologists have made many startling discover mountain ranges in countries where there are no ies since the Geological Society was formed, but snow, ice, or water. In what way did they beperhaps none more so than that mentioned by come fissured? And the long straight fissure now Sir Charles Lyell in his address to the British filled by the Red Sea, might be adduced as an Association - namely, the discovery of a fossil example of the fracture theory on the largest animal which must have lived thousands of ages scale.Ditto. before the period usually assigned by geologists Structure of the Thumb in A pes. This subject, themselves to the beginning of life upon the earth. which has had such an important bearing upon Heretofore, as is well known, an immense series the semi-theological discussion as to man's place of rocks below the Silurians, have been termed in nature, has lately received the attention of azoic, as exhibiting no remains of animal life; but that distinguished brain-anatomist, M. Gratiolet. this term must now be dismissed.

This savant declares that according to his dissecThe history of this discovery may be told in a tion the differences between the hands of man few words. It is well known ihat a staff of com- and apes are far more striking than has been petent geologists, under the direction of Sir Wil- supposed. In the latter the thumb is moved toliam E. Logan, one of the ablest of our public ward the palm by an oblique division of the tenfunctionaries, have been engaged for some years don of the common flexor muscle of the fingers; in a geological survey of Canada. The oldest hence it is drawn in during all movements of rocks in that country are granite, described as flexion on the part of the fingers, and has no inUpper and Lower Laurentiaa, their inickness trinsic or special power of motion. The same being 40,000 feet, with bands of limestone inter- type of structure is observed in the gorilla and vening. In one of these bands in the Lower chimpanzee; but the small tendon which should series of rocks, which are the most ancient, there move the thumb is reduced in these species to a were discovered in 1858 certain flattish rounded mere tendinous thread, which has no action, for masses, which seemed to be of organic origin. , at its origin it is lost in the synovial folds of the These were examined under the microscope by flexor tendons of the other digits, and it does not Dr. Dawson, of Montreal, who, from their struc- terminate in a muscular fasciculus; the thumb ture, declared them to be Foramenifera, similar therefore has its typical power very much dimin. in character, but very different in size, to the ished in these animals. In none of them is there Foramenifera living at the present day in vast the faintest trace of that powerful and indepenmultitudes at the bottom of the sea; and to this dent muscle which moves the human thumb, and, newly-discovered and wonder-exciting creature so far from being of a complete form, this phahe gave the significant name Eozoon Canadense, lanx (so characteristic of the human hand) ap

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