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But on the following day, too, the king's all the victims of the fire-engines. In door was closed against him. He ap- the halls of Versailles, on guard, on the peared to yield to his fate, and the re- parade ground, everybody is coughing. port was soon spread that the duke was Everybody is hoarse, and the young ill.

A court gentleman called twice a gentlemen call the illness the Russian day to inquire into his health, and at last cough.” the king expressed a wish to see him. "Not bad," said Louis XV. “But On the next day the duke had quite re- what good is it to me? I am utterly decovered, and when he appeared at Ver- stroyed for several weeks; I must keep , sailles the pages hastened to open the my room, and I am ennuyé. I did not doors of the royal apartments to him. wish to see you. Kaunitz is ill, the

“Well, what is the matter with you ?" marquise is ill; and do you know why, Louis XV. cried to him, as he entered. Richelieu ? She wishes to punish me for

“Well, what is the matter with you, my adventure. My condition betrayed sire ?" Richelieu asked, as he gazed at Now she believes more than did the king in amazement.

happen, or was intended to happen. She Louis was seated in an arm-chair in a behaves as if she had detected me in an costly dressing-gown of Oriental fabric, infidelity." with thick silk handkerchiefs bound “You were not very far from it round his neck and head. It produced either.” the impression of an old woman, rather The king had a tremendous fit of than of a king of France, the ally of the coughing, and wrung his hands with a great Frederick.

glance at Heaven.

« Mon Dieu! I un“There—there,” the king said, in a faithful!” he cried, as loudly as if he sort of hoarse chant—"it strikes there.” knew the marquise was listening at the And he pointed to his head, neck, and door. “ But the scandalous cold. I chest.

tremble with fury when I think that “What, sire ?"

millions are going about who have no “ The cold; do you not hear it?" He cold, and that all the trouble was in tried several times to cough violently vain. Oh! the world is growing worse while looking at the duke, and shaking daily; the men are suffering from colds his head sadly. “Yes, yes"—here he in the head, and the women from virtue.” wrapped himself up still more tightly in. The adventure, however, was fated to his dressing-gown, and continued, in a cost France more than a royal cold. The complaining voice—" that is what I got Russian lady was an agent of her emby following you: You are the seducer, press, and, recommended in this strange and I am the victim.”. And here the way, she carried through, with Kaunitz's king coughed again violently.

assistance, the alliance of the three "pet“Sire,” the duke answered, “we are ticoats” against Frederick the Great.

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PO E TRY.
THOR AT THE BRIDGE.

Stands on the summit of the mountain,

Here the god Heimdall dwells, the White, t
In old Norse legend have I heard
How Odin, with his sons and daughters,

To keep the way unto the Fountain.
Set out to seek the Fount of Urd, *
And drink its pure, life-giving waters.

Heimdall, whose piercing eye can see

A hundred miles, the gods' wise Warder,

The gateway opens instantly ;
The highest of earth's hills, whose crest
Is lost in clouds, they quick ascended ;

He bids them pass the Bridge in order.
The rainbow on its height doth rest,
That wondrous Bridge, in air suspended.

+ "Heimdall, the White God,” “is the warder
of the gods, and is placed on the borders of heav-

en, to prevent the giants from forcing their way A stately mansion, fair and bright,

over the bridge. He requires less sleep than a

bird, and secs by night as well as by day, a hun*"This water is so holy that everything placed dred miles around him. So acute is his ear that in the spring becomes as white as the film within he can hear the grass growing on the earth, and an egg-shell."-The Prose Edda.

the wool on a sheep's back."-Ibid.

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my stead?

He bids them enter, one by one,

And I snatched this, scorched and yellow, where The youngest first, then all the others,

the fire's breath had passed. Until at last remains alone

I could not let it lie there, for it turned like a The first and strongest of the brothers.

thing in pain;

And I love it for the old time's sake, that never Thor now his giant foot would fain

come again. Set on the Bridge--that glittering wonder! But Heimdall waves him back again ;

They used to call me beautiful; I had nothing “Tarry, thou lover of the thunder.

else beside.

There was none more great or wise than he in all "The Bridge Bifrost was never made

the world wide; For you; that jewelled pavement faëry And it's still a sort of pleasure—very mournful Is for the weak; without its aid

though it beYour strength can ford the abysses aëry.” To know he once could think such thoughts, and

write such words of me. Black grew his brow at Heimdall's word; "Am I, of Odin's seed, I only,

But my poor beauty faded; 'twas the only thing I Forbid to taste the Fount of Urd?

had. Shut out from life? left sad and lonely?" I was always weak and foolish, and my whole life

grew sad, “Nay," then replied wise Heimdall; “nay; For the cruel blighting fever left me pitiful to see See yonder River-clouds that darken!

(Oh, it's true that · Beauty's fleeting!'), and my Their names are Kormt and Ermt; the way

Love no more loved me. Lies straight through them, if thou wilt hearken."

I'd have loved him all the more for that or any Now gazed great Thor, first on the black

grief beside; Cold River-clouds before him spreading. But then he was so different. Oh, if I had only Then, longing, lingering, turns he back

died! To the fair Bridge the rest are treading. And yet how can I wish him to have suffered in " The eldest I"—his musings run

I think it would have grieved him then to hear “Therefore forbid the flowery portal ;

that I was dead. Unfair! and Odin's eldest son Renounces this your life immortal."

I have nothing to forgive him; still, he very soon

forgot. Then Odin spake; “Son Thor," quoth he, Men have much to do and think of, that we girls “Why linger longer on the mountain ?

have not. The Bridge for us, the Clouds for thee,

A man has little thought to spare for his own But both alike lead to the Fountain.

chosen wife;

Women's minds are very narrow, and a girl's love “What matter, when the goal is ours,

is her life. Whether 'twas reached through Bridge or River? Through Bifrost's magic path of flowers,

They say I should forget him, but I can not if I Or Kormt and Erint, with fierce endeavor ?" would,

For since my beauty left me, I have tried hard to Then turned he from the Bridge, no more

be good; He thought, he wavered now no longer, And his name is always on my lips, when I pray Waist-deep into the clouds plunged Thor,

to God aboveIntent to prove himself the stronger,

Oh, surely I may pray for one I can never cease

to love! Beneath, firm-footing found his feet,

He breasts the tide with ne'er a shiver, I was never fit to be his wife, even when my face Blue shone the sky on no defeat,

was fair; He won the Fountain thro' the River!

But every one may pray to Heaven; we are all

equal there. Oh, thou whose life may little know

And God, in His great mercy, will not pass my Of summer sunshine or of flowers,

prayers by. Unmurm'ring, stem the tide of woe!

I have one thing left live for—to pray for him Fight bravely through the black storm showers ! till I die.

-Chamber's Journal.
Birth-right of Elder son be thine!
k. The burden heavier, pathway longer;
What! would'st refuse it? dar'st repine ?

THE GLOVE.
-For this has thou been made the stronger.
-Good Words.

0. P. SINCE you have asked, I needs but tell the history

Of how I gained yon pearly little glove :

Alas! it is the key to no soft mystery,
THE OLD LETTER.

Nor gage of tourney in the lists of love. I BURNED the others, one by one; but my cour- Twas thus I found it,--through the city's bustle age failed at last,

I wandered one still autumn eve, alone :

A tall slight form brushed by with silken rustle,

And passed into a carriage, and was gone.

The sweet Spring blossoms drop and glide, Or whether the dreary snow-flakes only Fall in the winter cold and lonelyWhether we wake or whether we sleep, Thou hastest on to Eternity's deep.

One glance I had, in that I caught the gleaming

Of violet eyes, o'er which the rippling tress Glanced gold, -a face like those we see in dream

ing, As perfect in its shadowy loveliness. And so she passed, a glorious light about her

Clothed, like a summer-dawn, in silver-gray, And left the crowded street as dark without her

As winter skies whose moon has passed away.

This little gauntlet which her hand was clasping,

Fell from her as she reached the carriage door, And floated down, as flutters from the aspen

Some trembling leaflet whose brief day is o'er. And I, - I found it on the pavement lying,

Pale as the marble Venus-missing hand, Or some small flake of foam which Ocean, flying,

Leaves in a furrow of the moistened sand.

'Twas long ago, in my life's sweet May,
My childhood silently floated away;
I hear the noon-bells distinctly chime,
And youth glides by on the stream of time.
My days, though sunny or overcast,
Are stealing away to the changeless past;
But I mark their flight with a smile of cheer,
And not with a sigh or falling tear.
So often, so sadly, the people say,
“ Passing away! still påssing away!”
That the words have borrowed a pensive tone
And a shade of sadness not their own;
And I fain would reclaim their notes again
From their minor key on the lips of men,
And make the refrain of my gladdest lay,
“ Passing away! ever passing away!”

She was so like some queen of the ideal-
With that bright bow, those soft eyes' shadowy

gleamI fain would keep this pledge to prove her real,

To mark her difference from an airy-dream.

1

And though her glove has unto me been donor

Of much sweet thought, yet I can think it well That she should know as little of its owner

As I of her from whose fair hand it fell.

For what is the transient ? and what will last ?
What maketh its grave in the growing past ?
And what lives on in the deathless spheres,
Where nought corrupts by the rust of years ?
Does Time, who gathers our fairest flowers,
Destroy no weeds in this world of ours?
What rises victorious o'er dull decay ?
And what is that which is passing away ?
Our time is flying. The years sweep by
Like fitting clouds in a breezy sky,
But time is a drop of the boundless sea
Of an infinite eternity.
As our seas are spanned by arching skies,
Neath the presence of God that ocean lies,
And though the tides may fall in life's shallow

bay,
Eternity's deep is not ebbing away.

Why should I drag her from her high position, Her niche above this work-day world's long

reach? Hardly a fact, nor wholly yet a vision,

She joins for me the better parts of each.

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A WOMAN'S NO.

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I said my love was deep and true;

She only answered with a jest,

A mocking word, a smile at best, As one who nought of passion knew. How earnestly I tried to plead !

Her eyes roved idly here and there,

Her fingers toyed with chain or hair, She scarcely seemed my words to heed.

At last I said, “then is it so ?

My darling, must I go away?

Have you no word of hope to say?" She answered firmly, proudly, “No!” I turned to go and leave her free;

When on my arm a hand was Haid,

And in my ear a whisper said, “I love you; oh, come back to me!”

- Temple Bar.

MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. ‘My mother's grave, my mother's grave!

Oh! dreamless is her slumber there, And drowsily the banners wave

O'er her that was so chaste and fair : Yea! love is dead, and memory faded ! But when the dew is on the brake,

And silence sleeps on earth and sea, And mourners weep, and ghosts awake,

Oh! then she cometh back to me, In her cold beauty darkly shaded ! 'I cannot guess her face or form;

But what to me is form or face? I do not ask the weary worm

To give me back each buired grace Of glistening eyes, or trailing tresses ! I only feel that she is here,

And that we meet, and that we part; And that I drink within mine ear,

And that I clasp around my heart, Her sweet still voice, and soft carresses! 'Not in the waking thought by day,

Not in the sightless dream by night, Do the mild tones and glances play,

Of her who was my cradle's light!

PASSING AWAY.

O River of Time! how ceaselessly Thou flowest on the boundless sea ! Whether upon the sunny tide

But in some twilight of calm weather She glides, by fancy dimly wrought,

A glittering cloud, a darkling beam, With all the quiet of a thought,

And all the passion of a dream, Linked in a golden spell together.'

W. M. PRAED.

And generations rest in sightless umns
In cities where the great Atlantic rolls :

The sun projects the planet, and now draws
Back to its centre, by eternal laws,
The orb: yet man is Nature's final cause !

-Dublin Magazine,

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ENIGMA.

WHEN IN OUR NURSERY GARDEN. When in our nursery garden falls a blossom,

And as we kiss the hand and fold the feet, We can not see the lamb in Abraham's bosom,

Nor hear the footfall in the golden street. When all is silent, neither moan nor cheering,

The hush of hope, the end of all our cares All but that harp above, beyond our hearing,

Then most we need to trouble Him with prayers. Then most we need the thoughts of Resurrection,

Not the life here, 'mid pain, and sin and woe, But ever in the fullness of perfection

To walk with Him in robes as white as snow.

'A Templar kneeled at a friars knee;
He was a comely youth to see,
With curling locks, and forehead high,
And Alushing cheek, and flashing eye:
And the Monk was as jolly and large a man
As ever laid lip to a convent can

Or called for a contribution,
As ever read at midnight hour
Confessional in lady's bower,
Ordained for a peasant the penance whip,
Or spoke for a noble's venial slip

A venal absolution.
""O Father! in the dim twilight
I have sinned a grievous sin to-night;
And I feel hot pain e'en now begun
For the fearful murder I have done.
• “I rent my victim's coat of green,
I pierced his neck with my dagger keen;

The red stream mantled high:
I grasped him, Father, all the while,
With shaking hand, and feverish smile,
And said my jest, and sang my song,
And laughed my laughter, loud and long,

Until his glass was dry! ««Though he was rich, and very old, I did not touch a grain of gold, But the blood I drank from the bubbling vein Hath left on my lip a purple stain!” “My son ! my son! for this thou hast done, Though the sands of thy life for aye should

run," The merry Monk did say, Though thine eye be bright, and thine

heart be light, Hot spirits shall haunt thce all the night,

Blue devils all the day!”
• The thunders of the Church were ended ;

Back on his way the Templar wended ;
But the name of him the Templar slew
Was more than the Inquisition knew.'

GRIEF IS SHORT, AND JOY. IS LONG. “Hast thou cast us off for ever?"-Psalm lxxiv.

When the tide of bliss is highest,

When we closest clasp the toy
Then the heart feels grief is nighest,

Trembles, looking on her joy;
Singing softly, sighing sadly,

“Joy was never made to last,

Soon the sky shall be o'ercast,
And the voices ringing gladly,
And the pulses leaping madly,

To death's stillness shall have passed."
When the flood of grief is swelling,

Deep is calling unto deep,
Then the soul, in darkness dwelling,

Sits apart to wail and weep;
Wailing always, weeping weary,

Says, “It is perpetual sorrow,
To-day, to-morrow, each to-morrow
Rising on the darkness dreary,
Setting on the evening dreary,

Only grief from time shall borrow."
Soft! a voice is drawing nearer,

“Sweet, my love, why lost in woe ?"
Whispering ever, whispering clearer,

“ Rise, my dove, and mourn not so; Smooth again thy ruffled plume

Thou shalt sing a better song,

Gird thy spirit and be strong;
In the life beyond the tomb,
In the light beyond the gloom,

Grief is short, and joy is long."
“I am lord of land and sea

Hide thee underneath my shield,
All my love is pledged to thee

In summer's sun and harvest field;
And my covenant thou shalt know

Where the loving shall not sever,

Where the storm-cloud darkens never,
Tides will neither ebb nor flow,
Wandering ships will never go
And rests the shining sea for ever."

-Sunday Magazine.

SONNET.

MUTABILITY.
The earth itself is mobile : through the vast
Dim æons of th’immeasurable past

The tropic flamed where now the icy poles Front sunless space in spectral darkness ghast :

The ocean bods to continents have grown

Like bubbles, slowly verdure-clothed and sown Through each condition change with 'forms of life

Progressive, bestial, semi-human souls Insect and giant, multiform and rife. The whale once swam where the Sahara burns,

1

BRIEF LITERARY NOTICES. the fourth chapter of the first book. In this MR. KAYE, the author of the “ History of the chapter Mr. Kaye shows, or at any rate endeavors War in Afghanistan,” has issued the first volume to show, that the cardinal error of English policy of a “History of the Sepoy War in India. "* To lay in the application of a theory, sound in the us he appears admirably qualified for the task tion of the people of India. This policy consisted

abstract, but unsuited to the genius and disposiqualified by experience and knowledge-qualified in the systematic obliteration of the landed arisby sobriety of judgment and enlightened impartiality-qualified, finally, by ample command of tocracy. There were two processes by which the material and ability to shape it into narrative vigor- depression of the native gentry was effected—the ously written, clearly arranged, sustainedly inter- process of settlement and the process of resumpesting. Of the value of the resources at his dis- tion. First, the great besom of the settlement reposal an adequate idea may be formed from the duced the proprietary class to ruin, and converted fact, that the executors of Lord Canning have would have made the friends of the State." Un

into bitter enemies those whom a different policy placed in Mr. Kaye's hands the private and demi- der the name of Resumption Mr. Kaye includes official correspondence of the deceased statesman, all those operations which ensued on the failure of extending over the whole of his Indian administra- freeholders required after undisturbed possession tion; that Sir John Lawrence and Sir Herbert for forty years to establish their title by genuine Edwardes have furnished documents for the de documentary evidence to make good, in this way, scription of the rising in the Punjab; while the their right of proprietorship. These operations are family of the late Colonel Baird Smith, Sir James characterized by Mr. Kaye as wholesale confiscaOutram, Sir Robert Hamilton, Mr. E. A. Reade, and the Secretary of State for India, have all aided tion, involving the fraudulent usurper and the rightMr. Kaye in his arduous labors, by furnishing pa- faith and with the most benevolent intentions, we

ful possessor in one common ruin. Thus, in all good pers, giving personal information, or affording ac- made enemies of a large number of influential percess to official records. Thus a trustworthy and even authoritative account of the Sepoy War is sons-nobles of royal descent, military chiefs with presumably before us, or rather will be before us their feudally attached dependents;

and lastly,

large bodies of retainers, ancient landholders with when the work shall be completed. The first of Brahmins or priests, "who had been supported by the three volumes, in which the entire narrative the alienated revenue which we resumed, and will be comprised, relates the antecedents of the who turned the power which we exercised over mutiny of the Bengal army, touches on the prin- the minds of others to fatal account in fomenting cipal political events, and describes the social and material progress of the previous ten years ; and popular discontent and instilling into the minds of after tracing the history of the Bengal army from tagonism of social reform and positive science to

the people the poison of religious fear.” The anits formation till the retirement of Lord Dalhousie, the cherished fictions and superstitions of Hindetails the incidents of the first year of Lord Can- doo sacerdotalism is forcibly exhibited in pages ning's government, and of the commencement of which reflect or suggest the phenomena of a corthe mutiny up to the period of the outbreak at Meerut and the seizure of Delhi. The first book responding movement in Europe. Intellectual or division of the volume, which is introductory, and beauty, and the exact sciences of the West;

progress excited in India a new appetite for truth relates the conquest of the Punjab and Pegu, dis- with their clear demonstrable facts and inevitable cusses the administration of Lord Dalhousie with deductions, were putting to shame the physical special reference to the right of lapse, the annexation of Oude, and what the author calls the pro- ment a larmed the sacerdotal mind, for it threat

errors of Hindooism. The growing enlightengress of Englishism. The rise, progress, and de-ened the ascendancy of men to whom all the accline of the Sepoy army are the topics of the sec

cidents and concerns of life, the revolutions of ond book; the early life and the beginning of the heavenly bodies, birth, sickness, marriage, Lord Canning's Indian administration, the Oude death, even a future state, were sources of revecommission, the Persian war, and the growth of the mutiny till the final bursting of the storm, form nue. It tended to suppress the murder of wo the subject matter of the third and last book. of men, infants, the sick, the aged, the unsuspecte

ing traveler, and thus to diminish the power or the the spirit in which the work is conceived we are not long kept in doubt. "It was," says Mr. profit of the priesthood. Female education, reKaye in his preface, “in the over-eager pursuit of marriage of widows, physical science in its practi

cal manifestations, all menaced the vested intehumanity any civilization that Indian statesmen

rest of the Brahmins. " That the fire-carriage of the new school were betrayed into the excesses which have been so grievously visited upon the minical priesthood is not to be doubted. The

on the iron road was a heavy blow to the Brahnation. It was the vehement self-assertion of the Englishman that produced this conflagration; it the air and brought back answers from incredible

lightning-post which sent invisible letters through was the same vehement self-assertion that enabled distances in less time than an ordinary messenger him, by God's blessing, to trample it out.” And could bring them from the next street, was a stil! he adds, “If I have any predominant theory, it is this: Because we were too English the great cri- the civilization of the West gave practical proof

greater marvel and a still greater disturbance." sis arose; but it was only because we were Eng- of its ability to do what Brahminism had never lish that when it arose it did not utterly overwhelm done, "and from that time the Hindoo hierarchy This theory is excellently illustrated in lost half its power, for the people lost half their

faith," One institution, of paramount import*" A History of the Sepoy War in India, 1857-1858."

ance, was threatened by English social innovaBy John Wilijain Kay., Author of tho " History of sho War in Afghanistan." la Thr

Vol I. London: tion—the great institution of Caste. The intro

duction of the messing system in gaols gave an

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Volo.

W. H. Allen and Co. 1864.

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