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their tunics glistening with precious stones, golden belts studded with diamonds, and high caps and aigrettes of brilliants. On their breasts are orders, stars, crosses, ribbons innumerable; they carry whole fortunes on their backs; they are the rulers and masters of millions of their fellow-men. Then follow numerous Asiatic deputies, in varied national costumes, in all their dazzling oriental jewelled magnificence and splendor. Next follow the personages of the Emperor's household, eclipsing far in imperial splendor all that has gone before. Time and room would fail us fully to describe it. First comes an open phaëton, richly gilt from stem to stern, and lined with crimson velvet, drawn by six noble horses with the richest trappings; at the head of each horse is a footman in green and gold livery

"All clinquant-all in gold, like heathen` gods;

Every man that walked showed like a

mine."

many distinguished personages from most | tor at once back to the days of Ivan the of the Governments of the world. It Terrible. In the imperial train are the was a magnificent wonder, surpassing all nobles of Russia in military uniformsprecedent, of coronation scenes, costing the Russian Government five millions of dollars in its various ceremonies and gorgeous spectacles. The wealth of a vast empire was poured out with superlative profuseness. It vied with oriental traditions of unrivalled splendor. The scene was laid within the vast Kremlin of Moscow, the great central fortress of Russia, amid its time-honored and sacred historic associations. It was in the metropolis of the largest empire the world has ever seen. Instead of tinsel and mock finery, gold and silver and diamonds flashed in the real sunlight. To aid our readers in forming some faint conception of this magnificent coronation scene of historic grandeur, we have had an engraving made and placed at the head of our present number. The numerous portraits will enhance the impression of the august assembly. Vast preparations were made on a colossal scale. The gorgeousness of the imperial carriages and uniforms and liveries and horse-trappings was worthy of the Casars, or some of the great oriental conquerors. We saw and examined them with wonder in the imperial repository at St. Petersburg. We counted more than thirty of them. They were lined with richest crimson velvet, inclosed in plate glass. The running parts-wheels, hubs, spokes, felloes-were covered with the richest gilt, presenting the appearance of wheels of burnished gold. All were transported on the railway four hundred miles to Moscow for the imperial procession to the cathedral church of the Assumption in the Kremlin, within whose consecrated walls the august ceremonies took place. Suddenly the first of the nine cannon announces the approach of the Emperor. In a moment the chimes of four hundred churches over the great city ring out their stupendous clangor, such as no other city of the world can do. In a few moments more the flourishing of trumpets and the strains of martial music rise above all this tumult. Mounted on high-bred, spirited horses, which are covered with rich trappings of an antique character, the escort of the Emperor comes by, and calls the spectaNEW SERIES-Vol. V., No. 1.

And such, in brief description, were all the imperial carriages noted above, in beauty and grandeur surpassing fable. We call to mind the royal procession at the coronation of William IV., which we saw in London, as vastly inferior to that of Moscow.

Next, in gilt casques of beautiful form and workmanship, surmounted by crest eagles of silver or gold, in milk-white coats, and gilded cuirasses and back plates, follow the giants of the first squadron of the Chevalier Guards of the Emperor. Each is mounted on a charger fit for a commander in battle. These are the picked men of sixty millions of the human race, two hundred strong. These are followed by tremendous cheering at the approach of the Emperor. He is dressed in the uniform of a general officer. He wears a burnished casque, with a long plume of white, orange, and dark feathers, and a close-fitting green tunic. Several times his eyes were observed to run over with tears of emotion at the august scene.

The Empress Mother appears next, arrayed in a cloud of light drapery,

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are now delivered to his Majesty, who seats himself on the throne. The Empress now approaches and falls on her knees before the Emperor. His Majesty, lifting the crown from his own head, touches with it that of the Empress, and again places it upon his own brow. At this point he is seen in the engraving just lowering the crown again upon his

through which diamonds shone like stars, | Imperial head. The sceptre and globe wearing on her head a tiara of brilliants. The carriage in which she sat was a triumph of splendor-all gold and crimson velvet. The eight horses which were attached to the carriage by trappings and cords of gold, were the most beautiful in the Imperial stables, and each was led by a golden bridle. Never before did the Kremlin present such a scene of magnificence. All this, and much more, pre-own head, while the Empress has resumed cedes the coronation ceremony as seen in the engraving. The crown of dazzling splendor is ready, awaiting the Emperor's approach. The crown is a cluster of Koh-i-noors with a wreath of diamonds and brilliants. The sceptre is tipped with the famous diamond for which Catharine II. gave £80,000.

her seat. A lesser crown is now brought, which the Emperor places upon the head of the Empress. His Majesty having invested his bride with the Imperial mantle, draws her towards him and tenderly embraces her. Much of this ceremony must be left to the imagination of the reader to fill up. Then follow the conThe scene changes. Now the Impe- gratulations of the Imperial family and rial dais comes in sight, and the Emperor the foreign princes. The Empress Mother presents himself to the people. Before embraces her son, and the little grand him march two priests with a gold basin dukes are seen to clamber up the side of full of holy water which the Archbishop their father, who bends over to kiss them. sprinkles profusely on the scarlet cloth. Next the Emperor descends from his The Empress follows behind him under throne and approaches the chancel, and the same dais, with thirteen ladies of is anointed with holy oil by the Archhonor around her. The metropolitans of bishop of Moscow, who touches the foreMoscow and Novgorod (seen in the en- head, eyelids, nostrils, ears, hands, and graving on the right and left, wearing heart of the Emperor with the golden tiaras) stood at the door of the cathedral branch dipped in consecrated oil, proof the Assumption, in which all the em- nouncing the solemn words, "Impressio perors of Russia for centuries have been doni Spiritus Sancti." The act is done. crowned, awaiting the approach of their The Emperor stands forth the Anointed majesties. This is a magnificent church, of God, the delegate of His power and whose walls glitter with gold and allegor- the high priest of His church. Then the ical representations of Russian faith. All whole Kremlin fortress and the city of around are the sacred relics and images Moscow resound with salvos of cannon, of the saints, and in the centre, raised on the ringing of bells, and the shouts of the a platform and under a canopy of velvet countless throngs within the Kremlin and gold, are the thrones prepared for walls and outside in the city. This is the Emperor and Empress. And now but a faint description of that august certhe Emperor, followed by his bride, emony, already too extended. In the Demounts the platform of the throne, and cember number of THE ECLECTIC for 1865 repeats from a book delivered to him by we gave an engraving of the Kremlin and the Archbishop of Moscow, the confes- a full description of all the Kremlin forsion of his Christian faith. He then re-tress buildings and palaces, which were ceives the benediction of the Archbishop the scene of these coronation ceremonies. (seen on the right in the engraving). Then suddenly the cathedral vibrates with the richest music of harmonious voices. Next the Archbishop proceeds to clasp the shoulders of his Majesty with the Imperial mantle of silver and ermine richly studded with gems. Next follows the great crown, which is placed upon the

We think American travellers would be amply repaid by a summer excursion to that wondrous fortress whose buildings and vast jewelled and diamond.treasures we have never seen equalled. Our visit to Moscow and the Kremlin in the summer of 1864 was full of unrivalled interest.

CHARLES DICKENS.

ANY extended biographical sketch of this well-known and voluminous writer we deem quite unnecessary in reproducing the fine portrait of him at the head of this number of THE ECLECTIC. He has been so long before the public, and such vast multitudes have read his works, that a few facts concerning him will amply suffice for our present purpose.

Press. An early passion for literature, however, a passion which he gratified by abundant reading of the works of English novelists, induced young Dickens to leave the profession of the law, for which his father had intended him. He at once entered the service of the Times and then the Morning Chronicle as critic and reporter, and his abilities as a reporter and describer of scenes of city life soon raised him high in the staff of this journal. From this point he went on with increasing powers and talent in the production and publication of the long list of works which have proceeded from his pen. The reading and literary public have been familiar with his writings for many years past. The fruits of his gifted pen seem

Charles Dickens was born in 1812, at Portsmouth, where his father, Mr. John Dickens, who held a situation in the Navy Pay Department, was at that time stationed. Retiring on a pension shortly after the conclusion of the war in 1815, and the defeat and capture of Napoleon I., the father of the novelist became connected as a reporter with the London | inexhaustible.

ANTEUS.

POETRY.

STRANGE is the beauty of the old Greek myth:
And when the huntsman's bugle, blowing blithe,
Rouses the misty woodland, or when oars
Dip in fresh Eden, 'twixt the fairy shores-
Comes to my spirit, in this Cumbrian clime,
The memories of the great heroic time.

Deep were the meanings of that fable: men
Looked upon earth with clearer eyesight then,
Beheld in solitude the immortal Powers,
And marked the traces of the swift-winged Hours.
Because it never varies, all can bear
The burden of the circumambient air;
Because it never ceases, none can hear
The music of the ever-rolling sphere;
None-save the poet, who, in moor and wood,
Holds converse with the spirit of solitude.

And I remember how Antæus heard
Deep in great oakwoods the mysterious word,
Which said "Go forth across the unshaven.leas
To meet unconquerable Hercules."
Leaving his antre by the cedar glen,
This Titan of the primal race of men,

A sudden impulse of new strength, which heals
His angry wounds; his vigor he regains-
His blood is dancing gayly through his veins.
Fresh power, fresh life is his who lay at rest

On bounteous Hertha's kind creative breast.

Even so, O poet, by the world subdued,
Regain thy health 'mid perfect solitude.
In noisy cities, far from hills and trees,
The brawling demigod, harsh Hercules,
Has power to hurt thy placid spirit-power
To crush thy joyous instincts every hour,
To weary thee with woes for mortals stored,
Red gold (coined hatred) and the tyrant's sword.
Then, then, O sad Antæus, wilt thou yearn
For dense green woodlands and the fragrant fern;
Then stretch thy form upon the sward, and rest
From worldly toil on Hertha's gracious breast;
Plunge in the foaming river, or divide
With happy arms gray ocean's murmurous tide,
And drinking thence each solitary hour
Immortal beauty and immortal power,
Thou may'st the buffets of the world efface,
And live a Titan of earth's earliest race.
MORTIMER COLLINS.

Whom the swart lions feared, and who could tear-Temple Bar.
Huge oaks asunder, to the combat bare
Courage undaunted. Full of giant grace,

Built up, as 'twere, from earth's own granite base,
Colossal, iron-sinewed, firm he trod

The lawns. How vain, against a demigod!

Oh sorrow of defeat! He plunges far
Into his forests, where deep shadows are,
And the wind's murmur comes not, and the gloom
Of pine and cedar seems to make a tomb
For fallen ambition. Prone the mortal lies
Who dared mad warfare with the unpitying skies.
But lo! as buried in the waving ferns,
The baffled giant for oblivion yearns;
Cursing his human feebleness, he feels

CAIROLA.

STANZAS BY A VENETIAN EXILE TO A PICTURE OF HIS BIRTHPLACE, SENT HIM IN APRIL, 1866.

I.

I SEE the Brenta and its level shore,
The budding elms, the gray old sycamore;
The house, with all its windows opened wide,
Looks down with laughing eyes upon the tide,
The slow calm tide, which lapses smooth along,
And murmurs soft its low perpetual song

To Cairolà.

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WE rode towards the margin of the mere-
A lonely curve of emerald. Strangely clear
Were the still waters, and it seemed to us
As if a mighty city, luminous

With marble terraces and porphyry
Cupolas, lay beneath that watery sky.
Long was our gaze; and while, 'mid fading light,
We talked about the visionary sight,
Quoth Raoul: "When supper's over, a cigar
Will cheer us both in the old tavern bar,
And you shall hear the story: Annie Leigh,
The landlord's niece, can tell it pleasantly."

Massive sirloin, and pasty of the deer,
Old ale in silver tankards, amber-clear,
And then the story. Slept mine host in peace,
While sparkling Annie Leigh, his buxom niece,
Told the old tale in simple rustic wise,
With sweet shy lips and brown half-credulous
eyes.

I.

Mighty of old was the City; a great king dwelt therein

A monarch of wide wild conquest, a monarch of cruel sin.

Close by the gate of the Palace a magic fountain

rose,

And all who drank its waters forgot for awhile their woes.

II.

But the King said: "Far more precious than rarest draughts of wine

Is the stream that arises ever from this free fount of mine;

Yet the country lasses drink it, and churls of common clay.

Up with a gateway of granite, and drive the mob away!"

III.

So the magical Fountain struggled within its prison of stone

Like the mighty heart of a Poet by scornful men unknown.

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Tripped the beautiful Princess down the stairs of stone,

Bearing a golden pitcher, dreaming and blushing, alone.

Softly she raised the cover: the water arose in its might,

And she fell in its cold embraces upon her bridal night!

VI.

Angrily rose the flood with a mighty murmuring sound:

The King with his guests of honor, the City and people, were drowned;

And the Magic Mere abideth until the Judg ment Day,

Unless some knightly diver shall bring the pitcher

away.

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EVER thus is memory sighing,
Where my boyhood's love is lying,
I, the while, those words defying,

Stone cold! Stone cold!

Sware I not that Time should never
From my heart her image sever?
Still the sad voice murmurs ever,

Stone cold! Stone cold!

While defying, Faith is fleeting,
Doubt within me wildly beating,
And I hear myself repeating,

Stone cold! Stone cold!

But I say, My love is sleeping,
Strive to wake her with my weeping,
Truth into my heart still creeping

Stone cold! Stone cold!"

Then I fling fresh vows upon her;
Cry aloud the words that won her;

Stone cold! Stone cold! THEO. KENNEDY.

NOTES ON RECENT BOOKS.

As many of our readers will be interested in knowing what is in the market in the way of holiday books, we transfer from Hours at Home the titles and brief notices of some of the chief works of this class, which have as yet made their appearance. Those of Scribner & Co., and Scribner, Welford & Co., New-York, will attract the attention of those who appreciate artistic works. The photographs of the choice productions of Raphael, Mulready, and Rembrandt are especially worthy of notice. The fine standard edi tions embraced in the advertisement of Appleton & Co., New-York, embrace the works of our best and most recent authors. We are particularly gratified in observing the increased appreciation of art-works among us. Selections from the galleries of Munich, Berlin, and Dresden are included among the titles of the Messrs. Apple

ton.

The present season bids fair to outrival all former ones, in the number, costliness, and magnificence of books, prepared with special reference to the Holidays. Already a goodly number have made their appearance, and others are to follow.

Among all the claimants to public favor of native production, the foremost will, no doubt, be Floral Belles, by Mrs. Dr. Badger, of this city. This is a companion volume to Wild Flowers, by the same author, published some five years since, and which at the time attracted marked attention, and was regarded as a marvel of artistic labor and genius. What the gifted and painstaking artist did for Wild Flowers in her former work, she has now done for the Belles of the Greenhouse and Garden. It is, without exaggeration, a most unique, highly artistic, and gorgeous affair-a work that reflects great credit on the artistic taste of the country, as well as on the genius and industry of the author.

The volume is a stately folio, elegantly bound in morocco; and the paper, press-work, and whole mechanical execution are perfect. There are sixteen drawings in the volume-favorite or representative flowers-and each of them is faithfully painted from nature by the patient and laborious hand of the artist. It seems almost incredible, just the mechanical labor of such a work each flower in all its infinite details of

Floral Belles from the Greenhouse and Garden. Painted from Nature. By Mrs. C. M. Badger, author of Wild Flowers." New-York: Charles Scribner & Co.

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