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GRASS.

ATHER a single blade of grass and examine for a minute, quietly, its narrow, sword-shaped strip of fluted green. Nothing, Nothing, as it seems there, of notable goodness or beauty. A very little strength, and a very little tallness, and a few delicate long lines meeting in a point-not a perfect point, neither, but blunt and unfinished, by no means, apparently, a much-cared-for example of Nature's workmanship, made, as it seems, only to be trodden on to-day and to-morrow to be cast into the oven; and a little pale hollow stalk, feeble and flaccid, leading down to the dull brown fibres of roots. And yet think of it And yet think of it well and judge whether of all the gorgeous flowers that beam in summer air, and of all strong and goodly trees pleasant to the eyes or good for food-stately palm and pine, strong ash and oak, scented citron, burdened vine there be any by man so deeply loved, by God so highly graced, as that narrow point of fee

ble green.

It seems to me not to have been without a peculiar significance that our Lord, when about to work the miracle which, of all that he showed, appears to have been felt by the multitude as the most impressive-the miracle of the loaves-commanded the people to sit down by companies "upon the green grass. He was about to feed them with the principal produce of earth and the sea, the simplest rep

resentations of the food of mankind. He gave them the seed of the herb; he bade them sit down upon the herb itself, which was as great a gift, in its fitness for their joy and rest, as its perfect fruit for their sustenance, thus, in this single order and act, when rightly understood, indicating for evermore how the Creator had entrusted the comfort, consolation and sustenance of man to the simplest and most despised of all the leafy families of the earth.

And well does it fulfil its mission. Consider what we owe merely to the meadowgrass, to the covering of the dark ground by that glorious enamel, by the companies of those soft and countless and peaceful spears. The fields! Follow but forth for a little time the thoughts of all that we ought to recognize in those words. All spring and summer is in them-the walks by silent scented paths; the rests in noonday heat; the joy of herds and flocks; the power of all shepherd life and meditation; the life of sunlight upon the world, falling in emerald streaks, and failing in soft blue shadows where else it would have struck upon the dark mould or scorching dust; pastures beside the pacing brooks; soft banks and knolls of lowly hills; thymy slopes of down overlooked by the blue line of lifted sea; crisp lawns all dim with early dew or smooth in evening warmth of barred sunshine, dinted by happy feet and softening in their fall the sound of loving voices. All these are summed in those simple words, and these are not all. We may not measure to the full the depth of this heavenly gift in our own

land, though still, as we think of it longer, the infinite of that meadow-sweetness would open on us more and more, yet we have it but in part. Go out in the spring-time among the meadows that slope from the shores of the Swiss lakes to the roots of their lower mountains. There, mingled with the taller gentians and the white narcissus, the grass grows deep and free; and as you follow the

though it will not mock its fellow-plants by growing then, it will not pine and mourn and turn colorless or leafless as they. It is always green, and is only the brighter and gayer for the hoar-frost.

JOHN RUSKIN.

STORY OF MATILDA.

winding mountain-paths beneath arching OUR happiness is in the power of One

boughs all veiled and dim with blossoms -paths that for ever droop and rise over the green banks and mounds, sweeping down in scented undulation steep to the blue water, studded here and there with new-mown heaps, filling all the air with fainter sweetness-look up toward the higher hills, where the waves of everlasting green roll silently into their long inlets among the shadows of the pines; and we may perhaps at last know the meaning of those quiet words of the one hundred and forty-seventh psalm: "He maketh grass to grow upon the mountains."

There are also several lessons symbolically connected with this subject which we must not allow to escape us. Observe the peculiar characters of the grass, which adapt it especially for the service of man, are its apparent humility and cheerfulness-its humility, in that it seems created only for lowest service, appointed to be trodden on and fed upon; its cheerfulness, in that it seems to exult under all kinds of violence and suffering. You roll it, and it is stronger the next day; you mow it, and it multiplies its shoots, as if it were grateful; you tread upon it, and it only sends up richer perfume, Spring comes, and it rejoices with all the earth, glowing with variegated flame of flowers, waving in soft depth of fruitful strength. Winter comes, and,

who can bring it about in a thousand unforeseen ways that mock our foresight. If example be necessary to prove this, I'll give you a story told us by a grave, though sometimes a romancing, historian :

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Matilda was married very young to a Neapolitan nobleman of the first quality, and found herself a widow and a mother at the age of fifteen. As she stood one day caressing her infant son in the open window of an apartment which hung over the river Voltumus, the child, with a sudden spring, leaped from her arms into the flood below and disappeared in a moment. The mother, struck with instant surprise, and making an effort to save him, plunged in after; but, far from being able to assist the infant, she herself with great difficulty escaped to the opposite shore just when some French soldiers were plundering the country on that side, who immediately made her their prisoner.

"As the war was then carried on between the French and Italians with the utmost inhumanity, they were going at once to perpetrate those two extremes suggested by appetite and cruelty. This base resolution, however, was opposed by a young officer, who, though their retreat required the utmost expedition, placed her behind him and brought her in safety to his native city. Her beauty

at first caught his eye; her merit, soon after, his heart they were married. He rose to the highest posts; they lived long together, and were happy. But the felicity of a soldier can never be called permanent. After an interval of several years, the troops which he commanded having met with a repulse, he was obliged to take shelter in the city where he had lived with his wife. Here they suffered a siege, and the city was at length taken.

"Few histories can produce more various in

He acknowledged her at once as his mother, and fell at her feet. The rest may be easily supposed: the captive was set free, and all the happiness that love, friendship and duty could confer on each was enjoyed."

OLIVER GOLDSMITH,

THE HANDWRITING OF JUNIUS.

stances of cruelty than those which the French THE comparison of Sir Philip Francis's

and Italians at that time exercised upon each other. It was resolved by the victors, upon this occasion, to put all the French prisoners to death, but particularly the husband of the unfortunate Matilda, as he was principally instrumental in protracting the siege. Their determinations were, in general, executed almost as soon as resolved upon. The captive soldier was led forth, and the executioner with his sword stood ready, while the spectators in gloomy silence awaited the fatal blow, which was only suspended till the general who presided as judge should give the signal. It was in this interval of anguish and expectation that Matilda came to take her last farewell of her husband and deliverer, deploring her wretched situation and the cruelty of fate, that had saved her from perishing by a premature death in the river Voltumus to be the spectator of still greater calamities.

"The general, who was a young man, was struck with surprise at her beauty and pity at her distress, but with still stronger emotion when he heard her mention her former dangers. He was her son-the infant for whom she had encountered so much danger.

ordinary hand, which was a remarkably fine one, with the studiously-feigned hand of Junius's Letters, and of all his private correspondence, seemed to present many points of resemblance. But a remarkable writing of Sir P. Francis was recovered by the late Mr. Daniel Giles, to whose sister he had many years before sent a copy of verses with a letter written in a feigned hand. Upon comparing this fiction with the facsimiles published of Junius's hand, the two were found to tally accurately enough. The authorship is certainly not proved by this resemblance, even if it were admitted to prove that Sir P. Francis had been employed to copy the letters. But the importance of the fact as a circumstance in the chain of evidence is undeniable.

To this may be added the interest which he always took in the work. Upon his decease, the vellum-bound and gilt copies which formed the only remuneration Junius would receive from the publisher were sought for in vain among his books. But it is said that the present which he made his second wife on their marriage was a finely-bound copy of Junius.

LORD BROUGHAM.

FRANKLIN AT THE COURT OF FRANCE.

FEBRUARY 4, 1777.

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FROM THE FRENCH OF DU BACHAUMAL AND THE DUC DE LEVIS.

R. FRANKLIN, just arrived from the English colonies in America, is very much sought and entertained by the savants. He has a beautiful physiognomy, scant locks of hair and a fur cap, which he wears constantly. He is very reticent in public as to the affairs of his country, of which he is very proud. He says that Heaven, jealous of its beauty, has sent it the scourge of

war.

Every one exclaimed that this could never be accomplished, but Franklin not only insisted that it was possible, but that it would soon be accomplished. He lived long enough,' added Priestly, 'to realize not only this hope, but to see forty threads spun at a time. To-day a woman, with the aid of a child, can spin a hundred.' In recalling all that Franklin has accomplished in science, art and politics, we are convinced that there never existed a genius more universal and more capable of grand conceptions and ingenious applications. He descended from those lofty thoughts which had enabled him to conquer the lightning to study the details of domestic economy and

Among the reminiscences of the duc De perfect chimneys, just as he passed from the Levis is the following:

I can

"I was very young when I saw the illustrious Franklin, but his countenance, full of candor and nobility, and his beautiful white hair, will never leave my memory. recall nothing remarkable which fell from his lips, but I remember an incident which was related to me by the celebrated Dr. Priestly, who was very intimate with him. 'We were,' he said, 'together at a reunion where there were many members of the Royal Society of London; the conversation turned upon the progress of the arts, and the discoveries useful to humanity which were yet to be made. Franklin regretted that as yet no means had been found for spinning two threads of cotton or wool at the same time.

charge of his printing-house to the conduct of the negotiations with France and Spain which were to lead to the liberty of his country."

Translation of the EDITOR.

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