Dear Nell! If laughter were the only sign
Of the full height of joy, how I would laugh!
My soul springs in my breast, as if it would
Make wing to skyey realms; yet something keeps
It prisoned here in bondage of delight;
Like water-lily floating in a cup

That all but tides the brim. Methinks the flower
Aye saddest looks when flies its humming bee!
And how should I no drooping aspect wear,
Who have a husband found, yet lack the words
That gratulate the ear?


A few hours more,
And at your feet, upon the daisied plain,
That husband shall his whispers breathe again.


Then sorrow like a midnight ghost shall flee,
And sunshine flood the earth.

A longer extract than we have yet offered shall be our last. It presents, to our thinking, a fine dramatic passage; poetry, sentiment, and passion, being happily blended and adequately sustained. Lady de Mortimer and her lord are the dramatis personce, and the scene of deep domestic import.

No-husband! let me stay?


To pry into my heart, and rub my sores

(I'll have no more of it—madam: No more of it!)
With your compassion for my enemies.


No. Shame on them. They are the rudest men


The rudest men !

As one would say, "It is a foggy day!"
Or name a thing of no material point,

With unattending ear," oh, 'tis the saddest thing!"
Madam-guilt's nothing! Villiany's a joke!

Vile deeds are merely garments out of date,
And he who wears them-"he's the rudest man."
Good Heavens and earth-he is the rudest man!
How little know we of a horrid truth,

Till tempests hurl the waters from its head ;-
My very hearth-stone rises with the world
To pelt me into misery !--Amen.

Must I then force you off. (Takes hold of her.)

LADY (weeping.)



I am not, Madam, to be smeared with words;
And lying looks are not a mesh to him
Who knows their worth. What's to be done, I'll do:
I'll follow hate into its furthest nook:

And if there need be blood,-as blood hath flowed
To cicatrise the wound on honour's breast,

And tear false bondage from the turmoiled heart,-
I wear a dagger, too.-Meantime-to your chamber.

(He pushes her out, then sinks bewilderedly in a chair.) What's that I said?-My wife! That opens all!-(Rises.) My grandsire's old infirmity of mind!

My wasted memory like a parched scroll,

Those horrid throbs that creep about my brain,-

I'm touched with the hereditary taint.

(Stopping before a portrait.)

He has my very features, too!
Wife! wife! (Calling-walks in agitation.)
The tree of life has tossed me to the storm;
And I hang by its roots.-Wife--wife! (Calling.)
The baffled heart that struggles with its fear,
Has harder work apportioned to its task,
Than ever daunted Hercules. Yet I—
There have been men who grappling disease,
Have beat down madness as it staggered by,
And laughed upon the very brow of death!
Like them I'll wrench disaster from its aim,
Thrust woe aside,-Why have I drawn my sword?
Madness could never feel so calm, and yet
This prowling dizziness that lures me on
With whispered satisfaction of repose,-
But let me reason. If I kill myself,—
A heart immortal is destruction proof!

But, granting it were done-if I should kill myself-
'Tis strange that I should like a huckster stand
And stutter in a doubt! I'll let me see-
That-tut. (Sheaths his sword.)
The madness lies in thinking myself mad.

DE MORTIMER (going to her.)

Let us sit down. (They sit.)

Look at me, wife. What did I say just now?



DE MORTIMER (aside.)

Her cheek is wet.


Ah, me! Pale-pale again. Husband! How fixed his eye is! Husband, are you well?


I cannot recollect what 'twas I said;

But 'twas a tune I know that sounded harsh.


The instrument we love is never harsh, Let sound what tune it will.


Thou best of wives!

Forgiveness is a music on thy tongue,
As native as the honey to the bee.

You see, I—I am checkered from myself :-
Tell me what 'twas I said?


You lack repose:

An o'ertasked strength will bend down iron nerves.

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My eye turns back to twenty years ago: The loveliest lady, where loveliness is rife, Rejects a prince's hand,―her hand clasps mine, With lofty hopes to my poor fortune bowed; She leaves the Court with me; gives me such love As never yet sprung up by sorrow's side,


And had it all repaid. and paid again,


I can read my whole life in that one smile.


ART. XIV. Scientific Wanderings.-Ey the Rev. R. FRAZER. THE " Wanderings" are the "results of observation and experiment; being an attempt to illustrate the elements of physics, by an appeal to natural and experimental phenomena." The travels, therefore, are fictitious in so far as the frame-work is concerned. However, there is no romance in the scientific matter of the little volume, the author following natural operations in the selection of his examples, instead of artificial experiment; conceiving that such is the best method in order to create a taste for physics, and for furnishing an introduction to this branch of study. Air is the subject of the book, and the ascent of the Peak of Tenriffe givesrise at the starting to a discourse on the necessity of air to breathing and hearing. Dr. Woodbroke and two youths are the voyagers and travellers; and wherever they go they find occasion for studying and conversing about air. By means of incident and description introduced with probable effect, the book is rendered entertaining as well as instructive. Numerous wood-cuts enhance the value of the work.

ART. XV.—The Reminiscences of an Old Traveller throughout different parts of Europe.-By THOMAS BROWN, Esq. 4th Edition.

THESE Reminiscences include "Historical Details of the Russian Empire, and anecdotes of the Court," the present edition being "greatly enlarged." Mr. Brown has an eye to practical matters, and delights in anecdotes and harmless gossip. His style becomes the man, being plain and unaffected. Fourth Edition! What more need be said?

ART. XVI.-The Christian contemplated, in a Course of Lectures delivered in Argyll Chapel, Bath. By WILLIAM JAY. THERE is not one of the volumes in the "collected and revised" edition of Mr. Jay's works that does not strike us in several ways. Warm piety, practical teaching, enlarged philanthropy, sound knowledge, and a mind alive to the sterling in literature, are seen in every page. There is a plain force in all that he says, an unaffected simplicity that is often deeply affect

ing, were it but from its affectionateness, that must have greatly contributed to his celebrity. There is true dignity too in his thoughts, to which his style shapes itself with a Scriptural sort of fitness and kinship. How serenely cheerful, how manfully intelligent, how unassumingly paternal, how devoutly pure is his wisdom! We should think that a better model both as a preacher and a man to all classes, whether learned or unlearned, polished or unhewn, can no where be met with either among dissenters or in the Establishment. The preface to the present volume is of itself a valuable treatise, in which he enters upon the question of pulpit style. It touches the heart while it fills the head.

ART. XVI.-The Emigrant's Hand-book of Facts. By SAMUEL BUTLER, Esq.

A GOOD Compilation, the colonies particularly described being Canada, New Zealand, Australia, Cape of Good Hope, and the Falkland Islands. There is a large map of Canada, and a smaller one of New Zealand and Port Nicholson. These maps are laid down with special reference to the emigrant. This little cheap book is quite sufficient for its purpose, which is merely to detail facts, leaving it to the intending emigrant to use his own discretion in his choice.

ART. XVII-A Course of Lectures to Young Men, on Science, Literature, and Religion. Second series; second thousand.

THESE Lectures were delivered in Glasgow, by Ministers of various denominations. They are able and earnest discourses, exceedingly well adapted to the purpose indicated by the title. It is saying much iu their behalf, that those which treat of the secular branches are not less rich in instruction and suggestion than the discourses that have a more professional character, and that fall within the range of the preacher's weekly ministrations.

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