been said, is one of the deepest importance, and if Dr. Whitelaw shall succeed in thoroughly arousing public attention to this important matter, it will be one of the crowning acts of a long and useful life spent in the service of his Great Master, and in the great cause of doing good to his fellow-men.

FIRST CONGRESSES OF BRITISH ARCHEOLOGISTS.

THE death of Mr. A. J. Dunkin, of Dartford, antiquarian and historian, has just given an opportunity to the veteran archæologist, Mr. Charles Roach Smith, to place on record that Mr. Dunkin, in addition to his extensive and laborious historical inquiries and antiquarian researches, and his numerous contributions towards the history of Kent, was one of the earliest and most active members of the Congresses of the British Archæological Association at Canterbury and Worcester-congresses which are now ramified throughout the entire length and breadth of the land.

The death of Mr. Dunkin, Mr. C. R. Smith remarks, reduces the list of the few survivors of the staff of these the first Congresses ever held in Great Britain, already thinned by the death of its chairman, Lord Albert Conyngham, Mr. Thomas Wright, Dr. Buckland, Dr. Pettigrew, Mr. Crofton Croker, Mr. Fairholt, and others, to a list easily told-The Messrs. Ainsworth (William Harrison and William Francis, F.S.A.), Mr. Halliwell-Phillips, Mr. Joseph Clarke, Messrs. John and Cecil Brent, Mr. Dillon Croker, Mr. G. Godwin, Mr. Alfred White, Mr. Taylor, F.R.S., and Mr. Charles Roach Smith, F.S.A., "the Founder."

When it was decided by the Committee not to print the proceedings of the first Congresses, Mr. Dunkin, in the hearty goodwill, and with that liberal spirit which formed so prominent a feature in his character, at once, single-handed, undertook and accomplished the arduous self imposed labour.

The deceased antiquarian, in addition to his printed materials towards the history of Kent, which Mr. Smith recommends to the collectors of the Bibliotheca Cantiana, leaves a very valuable and unique collection of writings a d engravings, besides some 20 large volumes full of bronze rubbings, engravings, and most curious and important information, arranged with admirable system by Miss Dunkin, who, with her brother, has made these matters the labour of life. The collection of Roman coins, and of stone and bɔne implements of pre-historic periods, is, we understand, to go to the Guildhall Museum of London.

RETROSPECTION.

'TIS a sweet but a sad recollection
Of a blossom that bloomed long ago,
That autumn winds killed long ago:
Of a luscious and fabled affection

That youth-burning youth-may bestow,
That only life's spring may bestow :
A May-born erotic connection

That age-drooping age cannot know;
An omnipotent glorious connection

Adolescence and strength only know!

I remember, the night winds were sleeping!
Scarce an audible sound could be heard,
Only lover-loved sounds could be heard;
For the flowers were mournfully weeping
Overcome by the plaint of a bird,

By the musical sighs of a bird:

And a far fountain's murmur came creeping,
Came faint as a dying man's word:

Came fitfully, fearfully creeping,

Like the tones of a dying man's word!

It was in a mellifluous bower

Intertwined, intertwined with vine, With protuberant riches of vine : That, during night's eloquent hour, When the music of love is divine, When the heart's. strings are harp-string's divine; My belov❜d reached a hand for a flower And lovingly placed it in mine; Reached a hand for a timorous flower And placed it, with kisses, in mine!

'Twas the fairest fair flower that grows
In the valleys and alleys of love,
In the manifold gardens of love
'Twas a beautiful opening rose
Softly mellow'd in hue like the dove,
Like the changes we see on the dove;

And it whispered "Our glories are those
That decline like the rainbow's above;
Evanescently radiant as those

That enchant like the rainbow's above!"

Yes! those virgin tints soon, soon departed,
So I carelessly threw it away,
Oh! I ruthlessly flung it away;
But, astonished, my callous heart started
At hearing it mournfully say,
At hearing it plaintively say :
"Like me you may be broken-hearted
When freshness and beauty decay;
You, too, may become broken-hearted
Should love, like a flower, decay!"

Oh! love, could thy heart be renascent,
Relume and relive-as of yore-
Its ineffable raptures of yore;
! Then pleasure could not be senescent
Nor thou have a past to deplore,
A far phantom past to deplore;
And my heart could be sleeping quiescent
That now can be tranquil no more,
But that dreams of a joyous quiescent,
Dear past that returneth no more!

CECIL MAXWELL-LYTE.

WHILE 'TIS MAY.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "A DESPERATE CHARACTER," &c.

CHAPTER XIII.

JESSIE was not getting on as well as could have been wished in her business, to which she had hitherto been a stranger; never having been, as she told me, in a shop before, except to make a purchase.

"But I like it," she continued, "and, what is more, I believe I shall make it pay by-and-bye. How can I ever thank you and Mrs. De Vere sufficiently?" and the dear little girl's eyes filled with grateful tears.

"Pooh! nonsense!" I said, "I am sure it gave us both great pleasure to help you, and you will get on all right presently.'

Then, I could not account for it, the thought of Mr. Browne's threat flashed across my mind, and before I had time to stop myself, I blurted out: "Have you heard anything more of that

man?"

The fair brow of the young girl contracted to a deep frown. She shook her head, but made no reply; then she turned round to the shelves behind her, and commenced settling some books and cards that were lying on them. I felt terribly vexed with myself for having been so inconsiderate as to recall such hateful memories to her mind as that man's odious name must have excited in my young friend's bosom; and, to mend matters, or rather to make them worse, I further, blunderingly, said, "I am so sorry I said. anything about him: I hope you will excuse me?"

Whereupon Jessie turned round and faced me: "It is good for us," she replied, quite solemnly, "to be reminded, now and then, that we must not expect our path to be always strewed with roses; but one hardly expects one's friends to throw thorns in our way."

What could I do? If I said anything more I should only make matters worse; I had better be silent, or, better still, beat a retreat, for fear of making my blunder greater; so, without even adding "I am very sorry," I said, "Good morning," and hurried out of the shop.

May.-VOL XV., no. LxxxIx.

33

Seated in my brougham, I struck my clenched hands on my knees, until I made them (hands and knees) quite sore, and exclaimed, so loud I am sure my coachman must have heard mefortunately he is neither a very intelligent or observant person"What an awful idiot I am, to be sure!"

Still, when all was said and done, Browne had threatened the girl; and he was not the man to pause in his wicked and malicious. attempt to persecute and destroy her. There was one consolation, there was no fear now of her being tempted to listen to him; she was, happily, beyond the reach, present, at all events, of poverty and distress, than which no less potent motives could induce a girl like Jessie to give heed to the attentions-the dishonourable pursuit, rather-of a man like my ground-landlord. Were Mr. Browne a young man like Willie, now- Ah! that reminded

me of the little passage I had witnessed between those young people, shall I say of love-making? Well, if so, the love-making was all on one side. I had thought to have told my wife of it, and ask her opinion; but the illness of our precious little darling had put it all out of my head. "I will tell her this very day," I finally resolved-and at the first opportunity did so.

"Really," replied my wife, when I had told my tale, "I do not see that it is any concern of ours; if the young people like each other, and think fit to marry, it is nothing to us."

"Nothing to us, my dear!"

"No, papa. I am aware that we are under great, very greatindeed, I might say the greatest-obligations to Willie-I should say, Mr. Page-for his kindness to darling Alfie; but, 'pa, dear, they are both quite strangers to us, and we have no right to interfere in the matter."

My wife was quite right, as she always is; but, though she expressed her opinion so decidedly and freely on the subject, I saw, or thought I saw, that she did not heartily approve of the connec tion; for if she had, she would not have spoken of our friend as "Mr. Page." I thought I guessed her motive, though scarce admitted to herself; but held my peace-I had made enough blunders for one day.

"How is Mrs. Josephs?" then inquired my wife, with the intention, evidently, of changing the subject.

I replied, "As well, my dear, as she will or can be. I do not think I shall require to see her again unless some new complication should arise."

"I am very glad to hear it," replied my wife; " but, though I usually have no difficulty in understanding her, in such a manner as to leave considerable doubt on my mind whether she was glad because the old lady was better, or because there would be no