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Ton granite dome

AH time to come A Grief-ftwined monument shall lower

Where nature stern

Bids man discern
His feebleness before her power.

Why may we not

Keep one bright spot
Pure from man's tread in desert snows,

Where pence may dwell

In light, and tell The world-tired heart of Heaven's repose?

No Jungfrau now

With crystal brow
In stainless vestal robe can rise;

No Alpine crest

In quiet rest
May wait beneath the Sabbath skies.

The butterfly

flight mount as high— To man what can such goal avail?

Oh, lubor vain!

Oh, fearful gain!
A ghastly grave, a country's wail!

8. H. F.


Tender and true,

Yon kept faith with me, , As I kept faith with you; —

Though over us both

Since we plighted troth

Long years have rolled 3—

But our love could hold
Through troubles and trials manifold,

My darling tender and true I

Tender and true.

In your eyes I gazed,
And my heart was safe, I knew!
Your trusting smile
Was pure of guile,
And I read in sooth
On your brow's fair youth
The earnest of loyal trust and truth,

My darling tender and true I

Tender and true,

All my own at last!
My blessing for all life through—
In death as life
Jdy one loved wife—
Wine—mine at last,
All troubles past—

And the future all happiness, deep and vast,
My darling tender and true I

London Society.


Otteh, little things we hear,

Often, little things we too,
Waken thoughts that long have slept

Deep down in our memory.

Strangely slight the circumstance
That has force to turn the mind

Backward on the path of years,
To the I. n I'd scenes far behind I

Tis the perfume of a flower,
Or a qmu'nt old-fashioned tune;

Or a song-bird 'mid the leaves
Singing in the sunny June.

Tis the evening-star, mayhap,
In the gloaming silver-bright;

Or a gold and purple cloud
Waning in the western light.

Tis the rustling of a dress,

Or a certain tone of voice, That can make the pulses throb,

That can bid the heart rejoice.

Ah, my heart 1 But not of joy

Must alone thy history tell, Sorrow, shame, and bitter tears

Litttle things recall as well.

Chambers't Journal.


In a shattered old garret scarce roofed from the sky, Near a window that shakes as the wind harries by. Without curtain to hinder the golden sun's .thine. Which reminds me of riches that never were


I recline on a chair that is broken and old,
And enwrap my chilled limb:)—now so aged and


'Ncath a shabby old coat, with the buttons all torn. While I think of my youth that Time's footprint!

have worn, And remember the comrades who Ve one and all

fled, And the dreams and the hopes that are dead with

the dead.

But the cracked plastered walls are emblazoned

and bright With the dear blessed beams of the day's welcome

light. My old coat 's a king's robe, my old chair is a

throne, And my thoughts arc my courtiers that no king

could own;

For the truths that they tell, as they whisper to roe, Arc the echoes of pleasures that once used to be. The glad throbbings of hearts that have now ceased

to feel. And the treasures of passions which Time can not


So, although I know well that my life is near spent. Though I'll die without sorrow, I live with content.

Though my children's soft voices no music Dot

lend; Without wife's sweet embraces, or glance of a


Yet my soul sees them still, as it peoples the air With the spirits who crowd round my broken old


If no wealth I have hoarded to trouble mine ease, [ admit that I doted on gems rich as these; And when death snatched the casket that Lekl each

fair prize,

It flew to my heart where it happily lies;
So, 'tis there that the utt'rings of love now are mid
By those dear ones, whom all but myself fancy dead.

So, though fetid the air of my poor room may be,

It still has all the odors of Eden for me,

For my Eve wanders here, and my cherubs here

sing, As though tempting my spirit like theirs to take

wing, Though my pillow be hard, where so well could I

rest As on that on which Amy's fair head has been

pressed? So let riches and honors feed Mammon's vain heart, From my shattered old lodging I'll not wish to

part'; And no coat shall I need save the one I Ve long

worn, Till the last thread be snapped, and the last rent

be torn. —Chambers's Journal.


What time Life's weary tumult and turmoil Threaten my feeble struggling soul to foil, Which, faint and desolate, sinks with my sorrow's weight, Thus sings my heart to cheer me for the toil:

"The threatening thorn is mother of the rose, The sternest strife is herald of repose, And they who labor best amH this world's unrest Claim the best guerdon at life's welcome close.

The greenest herbage owes its hue to rain, 'Tis tedious toil that lends the worth to gain; Is it a strange thing, then, that in the lives of men The sweetest sweetness is the dower of pain?

The safest bays nestle round dangerous capes, The clearest spring from prisoning granite 'scapes: Toil on—and understand, 'tis honest Labor's hand Presses the richest wine from Life's full grapes!" T. Hood.

Cornhili Magazine.


Life Scenes From the Four Gospels. By the Rev. Geo. Jones, A. M. Chaplin in the United States Navy—New York: Jno. P. frail, 1SG3. pp. 460. '1'he author is well fitted for this work, by his tilents, scholarship, literary attainments and extensive travels, not only in the Holy Land but in numerous other countries. His researches in Jerusalem and its neighborhood, and his descriptions of scenes in the Holy City, published many years since, aie exceedingly interesting and instructive. In the volume before us Mr. Jone3 has done much to interest and instinct all readers who love the scenes of S.icred Story. Few minds can grow weary in reading the memorable naratives which have their foundation in the Bible. We should be glad to see this volume in all the Sabbath-school libraries in the land.

Coming to the Kin').—By Mrs. Grace Webster Hinsdale. New York: Anson D. F. Randolph, 770 Broadway, lHlio. 12 mo. pp. 114. The subject of thi3 beautiful book is, D;iilv Devotions for Children. It is a little book of great value and practical importance. It is

neatly-printed on tinted paper and finely bound, and attractive in all its aspects. The gifted author is a daughter of the late Prof. Haddock, of Dartmouth College, and a niece of the Hon. Daniel Webster. Parents who love their children and feel a deep interest in their true welfare in this world, and in that to come, will act a wise part by putting this choice volume into their hands for daily use. It contains auexercis* for every day in (he month.

Golden-Haired Gertrude.—A story for Children. By Theodore Tilton. With illustrations by H. L. Stephens. New York: Tibbals <fc Whiting. This is a beautiful story; short,graphie and well told. It will please all children who read it, and many who are not children. Mr. Tilton. we believe, has rare 3Kill in talking to children in the Sabbath-school, as well as others who are full grown. If he possesses th» genius to write books for youth, and stori'S for children, we hope he will not hide it under a bushel. This story is good lor the holidays.

Kdward the Sixth.—Mr. Peacock's revised edition of Burnet has set us thinking once more about that inexhaustible subject of thought, the great changes of the sixteen h century. Among the various steps of those changes, the reign of Edward the Sixth runs perhaps some chance of being overlooked, beside the more exciiiug careers of his father and sisters. Edward himself, the English Josiah, is a favorite Protestant saint; on the other hand, his reign, as a reign, is one of the least satisfactory in our history. Politically, there is nothing to be said for it; it is a period of disgrace abroad and of confusion at home. It is a time which makes us understand that there was a better side to Henry the Eighth, when we see whit things came to when they fell into the hands of men who were quite capable of imitating any of Henry's crimes, but who altogether lacked his greater qualities. Henry had in him. after all, an element of honesty and straight-forwardness, which sets him as high above the low cunning of Northumberland as his determined vigor sets him above the weakness and vanity of Somerset. The whole six years were a wretched time, unrelieved by a single gleam of national glory, unless any one is determined to see national glory in the useless devastation of Scotland, and the useless slaughter of Pinkie-cleugh. If we look at the time ecclesiastically, it is hardly more satisfactory. To the Romauist the ecclesiastical changes under Edward are of course odious, while they hardly went far enough completely to satisfy the extreme Protestant. From the strictly Anglicau point of view, it is a reign which began well and ended ill. The First Book of King Edward is the idol of the High Churchman, the exact medium between the Pope ou the one hind and the Puritan on the other. The Second Book is a step in the downward course, the fruit of leaving our own insular wisdom to listen to the perverse counsels of meddling foreigners. Anyhow it is certain that the existing Church of England is essentially the Church of Elizabeth, and it is certain that the Church of Elizibeth was something quite different from what the Church of England was tending to in the latter days of Edward. Then people are apt to forget that church-robbery went on through the whole reign of Edward, and in a still more odious form than that in which it had gone on in the days of Henry. Henry did his sacrilege, like everything else, in a grand way; Somerset and Northumberland did theirs in a paltry way. For the monasteries to undergo a sweeping reform, and for large portions of their wealth to be transferred to other uses, was the uecessary dictate of sound policy, even if no changes of a strictly theological kind were to follow. Had Henry carried out in their fullness those schemes of which he only carried out a small portion, there can be little doubtthatthe Church would have been as distinct a gaiiier as the State. A large foundation of Bishoprics and Colleges wai designed by a prince who was rapacious with one hand and liberal with the other, and it was doubtless owing to his being beset by men who sh ired his rapacity, but not his liberality, that only so small a portion of his scheme was accomplished. But Somerset and Northumberland sought nothing but their own enrichment. No prey was too small for them, as no prey was too sacred for them. Henry spared Peterborough for the sake of his outcast wife, and Westminster for the sake of his royal ancestors Somerset deprived Westminster of its Bishop, and contemplated the destruction of Minster itself. Probably in no generation before or after would any Englishman have entertained such an idea for a moment. Henryseized Abbeys and hanged their Abbots if they refused to surrender. Thiswas doing business in an imperial sort of fashion. liut the counsellors of Edward were always nibbling at smaller game. The Abbeys were gone, but scattered up and down the land there remained a number of Colleges and Hospitals—foundations for the relief of aged persons or for the more solemn performance of divine worship in this or that parish church. Henry had received Parliamentary authority to deal with these foundations, but he hail exercised it very sparingly. Somerset came down upon them with a swoop. Then c ime the systematic bullying of Bishops into illegal surrenders of their estates—a practice which Elizabeth found too profitable to give up. but which she had the grace to legalize and in most cases to salve over by some pretended equivalent. Henry had hanged the Ab bit of Glastonbury, and grunted the Abby to his brother-in-law. But this was not enough for my Lord Protector-, till he had frightened the neighboring Bishop into surrendering his palace, and the most valnab'e of his manors, and had. with a sin rular scruple in f.ivor of legality, got an Act of Parliament to alienate the estates of the Deanery. And when the locust, and the caterpillar, and the cankerworm, and the palmerworm had thus crawled over monasteries, colleges, and bishoprics, the parish churches still remained. They had bells which might be melted into cannon; they had chalices which might be sold tor much or which, unsold, would look well on a Protector's sideboard; they had copes and altar-cloths which might adorn a Protector's conches and tables; they had walls whi h. when convenient, might be pulled down to provide materials for a Protector's palace. In all this there was neither worldly policy nor real ; it was simply avarice and havoc in their basest form. When a mob of Scotch fanatics

pulled down St Andrew's Cathedral, when Will Dowsing broke stained-glass windows, and tore up monumental brasses, they doubtless honestly believed that they were doing God service; but Somerset and Northumberland sought neither God's honor Tior man's profit, but simply the filling of their own coffers. All this went on during the whole reign of Edward, and under Elizabeth it re-appeared only in a very mitigated form

Now, how far had Edward personally any share in either the evil or the good - if there was any good—of his reign? It is clear that the two must stand together. We may, if we please, say that a boy of his age could not be responsible for either, or we may, if we please, make him responsible for both. But it is not f.iir, without distinct evidence in each particular case.oe acqnit him of all the evil and to reckon all th good to his personal credit. In one case there does seem to be such distinct evidence: the foundation of the Grammar-schools, which wera to a great extent endowed out of the revenues of the suppressed colleges, does seem to have been Edward's own act and deed. It was a form of munificence which was most natural to occur to a boy-king who loved his books ; it was one which has borne lasting and most profitable fruit, and which may fairly be set against ninny of the mischiefs and disgraces of his reign. For this at least the memory of Edward is worthy of the personal honor in which his adviser's are entitled to no share at all.

Our truest picture of Edward is to be found in the Journal still extant in his own hand.and which Burnet printed in his collection. It gives us the picture of a boy of unhealthy precocity of mind, clever by nature and brought up in a kind of hot-bed of education. He had been trained to be a king in days when to be a king meant really to govern, and at nine years of age he was ns serious about it as a privy-councillor of seventy. The puzzling Homeric phrase about the ivreoopoS fiaGiXtvi seems to have been designed specially for him. We feel sure that from the day when, in his sixth year, the two well learned men, ■■ Mr. doctour Cox and John t'hicke Mr. of art,"' began "to bring him up in learning of tongues, of the scripture, of philosophy, and of all liberal sciences.7' his whole mind was full of the Pope and the V.mperor. the affairs of the realm and the ref irmation of the Church. Whether he had any influence on affairs or not, he certainly watched every thing that happened with an eye preternatural ly keen for such a child. No wonder that such premature exertion of nrnd soon wore out a naturally feeble body. There is no distinct evidence that Northumberland poisoned him, but, if he did, we can not fancy that he deprived him of many years of life.

One thing strikes one throughout the whole journa'—namely, its strangely unimpassioned character, so utterly unlike childish and youthful compositions in general. Either the boy was absolutely without feeling, or he thought it unkingly to express any sort of feeling. Was he not moved in any way by the execution of two uncles, one through the agency of the other— two uucles who. whatever their crimes, had not been personally unkind to him? It is not enough to say, with Mr. Fronde, that he thought "A sum of money" in p. 273 should be "a soma money," but the mistake here is Burnet's and not Froude's. But in the same extract, where Edward says that Beaumont "did buy land with my money," Mr. Froude makes nonsense of it by turning it into "buy land with my own money." In p. 282 again, the grammatical inaccuracy "to any should " is King Edward's own; hut Edward wrote, and Burnet copied, "Yorke, master of one of the mints at the Tower." That there should be more than one mint at the Tower was a fact that Mr. Froude might have been reasonably called on to explain, but he found it much easier to get rid of it altogether by changing the difficult words into "Master of the Mint at the Tower," with all the dignity of official capitals. Edward records the marriage of "Lord Lisle, the Earl of Warwick's son," and of "Sir Rolicrt Pulley, third son to the Earl of Warwick." Mr. Froude, incapable of attending to such small matters, calls them "Lord Ambrose Dudley " and "Lord Robert Dudley" respectively. In p. 330 (a page in which Mr. Froude confounds Gardiner and Goodrich i among the "garnish of vessels out of Church stuff" we read of "reliqucs of Plessai/." What are "reliques of Ptessayt" We do not know, but it is Mr. Froude's business to tell us, and not to get rid of the question by leaving the words "of Plessay " out. In the next page, the phrase, very characteristic of a young Tudor, "on my frontier at Calais" is softened into "over the frontier." In p. 373 a "base company" should be a ithar4 company, "and so on—a blunder wherever a blunder could be made room for.—Saturday Renew.

them guilty. An ingenuous boy who thought hia nearest kinsmen guilty would surely feel some painful emotion at the thought. But Edward if he felt any, expresses none, and that in a Journal which is by no means meagre, but which goes very much into detail. So, again, the burning of Joan Bocher. into which the prevalent I'rotestaut legend makes him overpersuaded by Cranmer, is recorded by him in the most matter-of-fact way in the world. He clearly had no more objection to burning people than his father and sister; like Mr. Froude, he only differed from them as to who were the proper people to bum. He had clearly a high idea of his own kingly dignity and greatness, and a firm conviction that the final cause of "Church Btuff" was to fill the King's pocket and to adorn the King's house. He kept a keen lookout after the smallest and meanest sources of revenue, and he entered into puzzling speculations about the coinage which we will leave to profess d financiers to examine.

Altogether it seems plain that Edward had the true Tudor spirit in him, a spirit which his education would certainly tend rather to foster than to subdue. Had he lived really to reign, and had he enjoyed health to act for himself, we can well believe that his rule would have been as imperious as that of Henry or Elizabeth. He would probably have stuck to business from the very beginning, and not have wasted much time upon the sports and pageants which were the delight of the early years of his father. Sometimes, to lie sure, he condescends to mention such things. He tells us, in a strain as cool as if he were recording the beheading of an uncle or the burning of a heretic, of the bearbaitings with which the French ambassadors were regaled, and of a still beastlier sport which graced the marriage of Kobert Dudley and Amy Kobsart:—"After which marriage there were certain gentlemen which did strive who sin 'ill.1 first take away a goose's head which was hanged alive on two cross-posts." At another time, "a challenge was made by me that I, with sixteen of my chamber, should run at base, shoot, and run at ring, with any seventeen of my servants gentlemen in the court." "The first day of the challenge at base, or running, the King won." Two days after, "I lost the challenge binH'tin;: at rounds, and won at rovers."

Mr. Froude, as his readers doubtless know, has made large use of this Journal. It may therefore be as weli to mention that the greater part of his quotations from it are inaccurate. We have tested him not only by Mr. Pocock, whose text we feel sure accurately represents the original manuscript, but to which Mr. Froude of course could not refer, but also by the first folio edition of Burnet. And we find some mistake or other, great or small in nearly every extract. Mr. Froude not only torments us with that vague sort of reference which is the scholar's abhorrence, but when the passage is got at, we find him pursued by an incapacity, like that of a Frenchman, for copying a plain piece of print without some error or other. For instance, in Froude v. 237, we find, within inverted commas, as an extract from the Journal, "the lords fearing the rage of the people, so little quieted." The real words are "so lately quieted," making quite another sense. A little way on (p. 2u6) "bolts and bars" become "boltsand locks."

The Poems of Thomas Bailetj Aldrich. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1865. Many of these poems are gems in their way. They are mostly very brief, so that the little volume of Blue and Gold contains some seventy poems in all. Interludes, lyrics, ballads, and sonnets. The longest by far, is "Judith," which possesses a good deal of lyrical beauty and force.


Recollections of the Meeting of the British A ssomation at Birmingham, September, 1805. By a Lady Associate. [Written for the Eclectic]— The sun never shone more brightly for a whole week together than it did during that of the British Association Meeting at Birmingham—not a cloud—not a shower—nobody put up an umbrella on their way to and from the section rooms or on the enjoyable excursions, unless indeed it be those who would ward off the scorching rays of the brilliant sun. At Bath, last year, we had scarcely a fine day, but it was a glorious meeting. We missed many faces at the meeting of 1865, which tended to make that of 1864 one of the most perfectly successful gatherings ever held by the Association. Who among that company can ever forget the intense excitement caused by Dr. Livingstone's lecture in the theater, on September 19, when we waited for more than an hour before the doors were opened, caring neither for being crushed or pushed, so that we could get a seat somewhere, to listen to that wonderful story, which he told so well. For the hundreds who turned away disappointed from the doors of tho theater, that same lecture was being given at the time by Mr. Clement Markham in section E, and Dr. Livingstone, after quitting one lecture-room amidst deafening applause, had to turn to another j to receive the congratulations of those awaiting! him. It was the first time he had appeared at any public meeting since his return, and he shed i a brightness and created an interest which no , rainy days could damp. In that Queen of cities we had a most memorable meeting, very fondly do we linger over the remembrance of those happy days, bnt the present, and not the past, is what we have to say a little about. A very simply told tale will ours be, not intended for the eye of one scientific man or learned woman.

For the benefit of those who never attended one of these great scientific meetings, I may say that the payment of one pound makes you an associate for the year; the ticket is obtained at the reception room, and in this room members write letters and receive them, as there is a regularly organized post office; they may read all the daily papers, procure tickets for the various excursions and entertainments which are going on, receive each day a journal at 8 a. m. of the sectional proceedings, and also a list of those members who have registered their addresses, so that every one may know who's who, and who's where. A list of all places of interest which might be seen by visitors on presenting Association tickets was also printed, and given to every one. Among those places,' the list of which was very long, were the interesting Museum of the Midland Institute, the Pathological Museum, and those of Dudley and Warwick. Three news-rooms were thrown open, and if any one could find time for a game at chess, they had to show their ticket, and they were admitted to the Chess Club. The Working Men's Industrial Exhibition, the Exhibition of the Society of Artists, Aston Hall and Park, the Botanical Gardens, the Borough Gaol and Lunatic Asylum, could be visited by an associate: as well as manufactories of every description—guns, swords, nails, needles, and fish hooks; screws, lock;-, steel pens, and pins; iron tube, flint glass, papier machie, plate glass, electro plate and iron works; also the beautiful mediteval metal working and stained glass works of Messrs. Hardman, so nobody need be dull or lack employment. There was not a shining hour when the -'busy bee" might not be employed in "gathering honey."

The opening address was delivered on Wednesday by Professor Phillips, president, in the Town Hall. What a glorious address it was! How much it contained of the doings of others, and how little of his own! I wish somebody would solve the problem—are true modesty and true greatness divisible? Professor Phillips is the beau ideal of a man of science, and he made the most charming and excellent president. One short extract from his address will show the object of Mich meetings as the present:—" If it be asked what share in the discoveries and inventions of the last thirty-three years is claimed for the British Association? Let us answer fearlessly—wo had a part in all. In some of them we took the foremost place, by the frequency of our discussions, the urgency of our recommendations, the employment of our influence, and the grant of our funds. For others we gave all our strength to support the Hoyal Society and other institutions in their ef

forts to accomplish purposes which we approve. In all instances our elastic si-stem responds quickly to pressure, and returns the friendly impulse. If we look back on the work of previous years, it is easy to mark the especial action of the Association, in fields which hardly could be entered by any other adventurers. Many of the moat valuable labors, of which we are now reaping the fruits, were undertaken in consequence of the reports on special branches of science which appear in the early volumes of our transactions—reports in which particular data were registered for confirming or correcting known generalizations or for establishing new ones.

But we must leave the Town Hall, and on Thursday be ready by eleven o'clock for the section room. Which of the seven shall it be? Mathematics or chemistry, geology, botany, zoology, physiology, economic science, and statistics or mechanical science. All these are going on in rooms A, B, C, D, F, and G. But section E is devoted to Geography and Ethnology, and to that room we will resort—the Midland Institute.

Sir Henry Rawlinson was the President, The first paper read was on "The result of surveys in Palestine." The Palestine exploration business is just now exciting very considerable interest in the scientific world. A fund has been formed for the purpose of promoting the exploration of the Holv Land. Mr. George Grove is the Honorable Secretary, and if you want to know more on this very important subject, you have only to address a note to him at the Crystal Palace, SydiMiham, and he will gladly send all particulars. This paper was followed by letters from Mr. S. Baker to Sir K. Murchison, on the discovery of the second source of the Nile, the Lake Albert Nyassa, 270 miles long. It was half expected that Mr. Baker might have arrived before the meetings closed. Had he done so it would have added greatly to their interest, but our expectations were disappointed. His letters bore testimony to the truth of all the statements made by Captain Speke. Poor Speke! His death was the only thing which dimmed the brightness of the Bath meeting. The other paper of Thursday, which caused an animated discussion, was one by Professor Vambery on "The origin of the Hungarians." This wonderful man has done what no other European traveler ever attempted. He, too, told us last September what he had suffered for the sake of prosecuting geographical inquiry when traveling in Central Asia, disguised as a Holy Musselman beggar, and without him the meeting at Birmingham would have been devoid of much of its interest, so far as the geographical section is concerned.

The soiree at the Town Hall that evening wa» a brilliant all'iir. A wonderful collection of tilings was brought together. Nothing' was more beautiful than Breeze's instantaneous stereoscopic views —moonlight;—the evening star;—sea birds on the wing;— and the dashing spray;—all so novel and exquisitely done, that they mu*t Ix: seen to be believed in. The original models of the engine of James Watt, a huge file-cutting machine —a strange business to be carried on in that gay scene—Blakely shot and shell, microscopes and spectroscopes. Photographs were taken by magnesium light in the committee room. The great organ was grandly played by Mr. Stimpson, and

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