Imagens das páginas

sence of communication between guard | tors and the great body of civil engineers. and driver; deficient brake power; and The conclusion of the whole matter is this, negligence of servants, owing to excessive that the vast majority of railway acciwork, insufficient pay, and inadequate num-dents are preventable; and that they are bers. There is nothing new in all this; it not prevented is owing to mismanage has been said over and over again. But ment-that is, to parsimony, and to the it is something to get a conspectus of the starving system adopted by the Compawhole case. It is something to argue it, nies. Confront this fact with the other not upon single casualties, but upon full fact that the working expenses of railways returns spread over a series of years, and have been diminished, are annually diminembracing the whole railway system of ishing, and that it is the avowed policy of the United Kingdom. And it is something all directors to diminish them still more. to have all these facts produced in an au- And now, pondering over these two great thoritative shape, and to have the usual facts, let us enjoy our railway trips this arguments expressed, not in mere news- autumn with such appetite and confidence paper articles, but by government inspec- as we may.

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For I can only think of thee;
Of thee, the kindest, loveliest, best,
My earliest, and my only one;
Without thee I am all unblest,

And wholly blest with thee alone. Afar from thee! the words of praise

My listless ear unheeded greet; What sweetness seemed in better days, Without thee seems no longer sweet. The dearest joy fame can bestow

Is in thy moistened eye to see, And in thy cheeks' unusual glow,

Thou deem'st me not unworthy thee. Afar from thee! the night is come,

But slumbers from my pillow flee; Oh! who can rest so far from home?

And my heart's home is, love, with thee. I kneel me down in silent prayer,

And then I know that thou art nigh; For God, who seest every where,

Bends on us both his watchful eye.

Together in his loved embrace,

No distance can our hearts divide: Forgotten quite the mediate space,

I kneel thy kneeling form beside. My tranquil frame then sinks to sleep, But soars the spirit far and free; Oh! welcome be night's slumbers deep, For then, sweet love, I am with thee.



WE own no houses, no lots, no lands,
No dainty viands for us are spread,
By sweat of our brows and toil of our hands
We earn the pittance that buys our bread.

And yet we live in a grander state,
Sunbeam and I, than the millionaires
Who dine off silver and golden plate,
With liveried lacqueys behind the chairs.
We have no riches in houses and stocks,

No bank-books show our balance to draw, Yet we carry a safe-key that unlocks

More treasure than Croesus ever saw. We wear no velvet nor satin fine,

We dress in a very homely way, But ah! what luminous lusters shine

About Sunbeam's gowns and my hodden gray! When we walk together (we do not ride, We are far too poor) it is very rare We are bowed unto from the other side Of the street-but for this we do not care; We are not lonely, we pass along, Sunbeam and I, and you can not see, We can, what tall and beautiful throngs Of angels we have for company.

No harp, no dulcimer, no guitar,

Breaks into music at Sunbeam's touch, But do not think that our evenings are

Without their music; there is none such In the concert halls, where the palpitant air In musical billows floats and swims;

Our lives are as psalms, and our foreheads wear A calm, like the peal of beautiful hymns.

When cloudy weather obscures our skies,

And some days darken with drops of rain,
We have but to look in each other's eyes,
And all is balmy and bright again.
Ah! ours is the alchemy that transmutes
The drugs to elixir-the dross to gold,
And so we live on Hesperian fruits,

Sunbeam and I, and never grow old.

Never grow old, but we live in peace,
And love our fellows and envy none,
And our hearts are glad at the large increase
Of plentiful virtues under the sun,

And the days pass on with their thoughtful tread,
And the shadows lengthen toward the west,
But the wane of our young years brings no dread
To break their harvest of quiet rest.

Sunbeam's hair will be streaked with gray,
And time will furrow my darling's brow,
But never can Time's hand steal away
The tender halo that clasps it now.
So we dwell in wonderful opulence,

With nothing to hurt us or upbraid,
And my life trembles with reverence,
And Sunbeam's spirit is not afraid.


In the cool and quiet nooks,
By the side of running brooks;
In the forest's green retreat,

With the branches overhead,
Nestling at the old trees' feet,

Choose we there our mossy bed.

On tall cliffs that woo the breeze,

Where no human footstep presses, And no eye our beauty sees,

There we wave our maiden tresses.

In the mouths of mountain caves,
Whence the rapid torrent gushes,
Joying in the spray that laves,
As it wildly foaming rushes.

In the clefts of crumbling walls,
On old ruins sad and hoary,
Filling up the ancient halls

With a new and verdant glory.

Where the shady banks are steepest,
Sheltering from the sunlight's glow,
Loving best the shadiest, deepest,
Where the tallest hedge-rows grow.

In the pleasant woodland glades,
Where the antlered deer are straying,
Lifting there our lofty heads,

There our mimic groves displaying.

Then the treacherous marsh's bosom,
Decking with our regal pride,
There alone allowed to blossom,
(Boon to all our kin denied.)

Though we boast no lovely bloom,

That can rival with the flowers; Though we fling no sweet perfume; Though no varied hue is ours

Yet hath nature framed our race
In a mould so light and fair,
That a beauty and a grace
Shed we round us every where.
-Chambers's Journal.


Оn, the weary, solemn silence
Of a house without the children!
Oh, the strange, oppressive stillness

Where the children come no more!
Ah! the longing of the sleepless
For the soft arms of the children!
Ah! the longing for the faces

Peeping through the opening door-
Faces gone for evermore!

Strange it is to wake at midnight
And not hear the children breathing,
Nothing but the old clock ticking,
Ticking, ticking by the door.
Strange to see the little dresses
Hanging up there all the morning;
And the gaiters-ah! their patter,
We will hear it nevermore
On our mirth-forsaken floor!

What is home without the children?
"Tis the earth without its verdure,
And the sky without the sunshine;
Life is withered to the core !
So we'll leave this dreary desert,
And we'll follow the Good Shepherd
To the greener pastures vernal,
Where the lambs have "gone before"
With the Shepherd evermore!

Oh, the weary, solemn silence
Of a house without the children!

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Heaven help me! how could I forget
To beg of thee, dear violet?

Some of thy modesty,

That blossoms here as well, unseen,
As if before the world thou'dst been,
Oh, give, to strengthen me.


THE kingly sun gives forth his rays;
Asks no return; demands no praise;

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WE propose to note each month the chief books -James Russell Lowell. of interest which appear on the other side of the



THE Histoire Anecdotique du Théâtre en France,

is one of the most amusing books we have had the | being reserved) will be utterly ineffectual to save society when the hour of peril comes. La Religieuse is beyond a doubt the most remarkable novel of the past month.-Saturday Review.

good fortune to meet with for a long time. M. du Casse takes up his subject quite ab ovo, for he begins with the mysteries and moralities of the medieval age. The letters-patent granted by the provost of Paris in 1402 to the confrères de la Passion are the first document he mentions, and the brothers Gréban open the long list of dramatic authors. The title Histoire Anecdotique is amply justified by the contents of the two volumes. Leaving to Parfait, to M. Hippolyte Lucas, and to M. Jules Janin, the erudite side of the question, M. du Casse abounds in amusing stories, in parodies, in legends from the green-room, and other details which render his narrative extremely entertaining. In the second chapter we are introduced to comparatively civilized tragedies and comedies, associated with the names of Garnier, Jodelle, and that inexhaustible Hardy whose debut on the stage was a tragedy in eight parts of five acts each! The price of admission at the beginning of the seventeenth century was five sous to the pit and ten sous to the boxes; so that, as M. du Casse remarks, the spectators who had the patience to sit through the forty acts of Theagène et Chariclée could scarcely complain of not having enough for their money. Two chapters alone devoted to the Comédie Italienne are scarcely sufficient, for the plays of Boissy, Favart, and Anseaume are particularly characteristic of the manners and customs of French society a hundred and fifty years ago. The voluminous collection of what is called La Theatre de la Foire might easily have supplied M. du Casse with a large number of interesting extracts; and it is well known that, amongst much that is worse than rubbish, those plays contain many specimens of true humor and genuine wit. Saturday Review.

THE authority which naturally belongs to every
publication bearing M. Guizot's name will no doubt
cause many persons to take up his new work; but,
independently of this circumstance, the Méditations
sur Essence de la Religion Chrétienne may be pro-
nounced one of the most striking productions called
forth by the present theological crisis. M. Guizot
begins by remarking that, however virulent may
have been the attacks which from time to time have
been directed against Christianity, none have ex-
ceeded in gravity that which is going on in our
own day. The especial importance of the most
recent assaults on the Christian faith results from
the position occupied by Christians in the presence

and under the influence of modern civilization. The
development of scientific research, the constant
progress of democracy, and the consolidation of
political liberty are three facts which imprint upon
the age in which we live its distinctive character,
and with which Christianity is compelled to deal.
In former times, when the spiritual and the tem-
poral elements of society were closely connected,
when the church could call upon the state to guar-
antee its existence and to enforce its decisions, the
conditions of the struggle were altogether different,
and we may say that they were hardly fair.
church must now accept the chances of the strife
on its own responsibility; it must not look beyond
its own pale for arguments or for edicts against
superstition on the one hand, or infidelity on the
other. Hence, according to M. Guizot, it becomes
necessary for every section of the Christian commu-


THE new clerical novel, La Religieuse-ascrib-nity to set aside minor differences, and to join for ed, like Le Maudit, first to M. Renan, then to the the purpose of defending the essentials of faith Abbé Guettée, and finally to M. Louis Ulbach-is against their busy adversaries. The true Catholics in the strict sense of the word a continuation of are those, he continues, who see that the principle the previous work. The author, whilst attempting Protestants, in their turn, feel that Protestantism of authority must not be overstrained; the true to describe the wickedness and absurdity of cloister life, and to explain his views of the way in which does not signify indifference to all positive religion; reforms ought to be carried out, has introduced and the union of these genuine representatives of some of the characters with which we are already Christianity will be enough to overrule the undue familiar. The preface deserves notice because it pretensions of science, the blind hatred of some, and the carelessness of others. Such is the sumndiscloses the very natural irritation created amongst mary of the ideas contained in M. Guizot's preface. the higher clergy by the bold denunciations of a writer who is evidently familiar with the facts he The volume itself, being the first of a series, emexposes, and to whom the line of Racine may Natural Religion; 2. Christian Doctrines; 3. The braces eight meditations on-1. The Problems of strictly be applied: "Nourri dans le sérail j'en connais les détours." To the diatribes of M. Eu- Supernatural Element; 4. The Limits of Science; gene Sue and the tirades of Diderot, it might be 5. Revelations; 6. The Inspiration of the Scrip answered that they were the result of party spirit Christ as he is exhibited in the Gospels.-Saturday tures; 7. God according to the Bible; 8. Jesus and of prejudice. The author of Le Maudit and La Religieuse is distinctly beyond such an accusation; and therefore the anger of the clerical party in France has proportionably increased. If, he says, we study attentively the condition of Europe at the present time, we can not fail to see that the idea of religion is losing ground every where; and as the very existence of society is intimately connected with the vitality of religious belief, the ruin of the one must necessarily imply the downfall of the other. Such is the argument upon which the author of La Religieuse rests the whole development of his tale; and he maintains that religion as now understood by Roman Catholics (all parts of doctrine


LA RELIGIEUSE. Par l'Abbé ***, Auteur du Maudit.
Paris: Lacroix et Cie.

THE London Quarterly is rather severe on Reade's Savage Africa, republished here by the Harpers:

"To the two well-known sensation novelists, must now be added a sensation traveler of the same name. The very title of this bulky volume shows its character. The word 'Equatorial' has only a very doubtful right to appear there at all, seeing that the journey was confined to the West Coast, or, rather, to sundry points of the coast between Cape de Verde and the river Congo. As for the 'Gorilla' country, the author did enter it, but he saw none of that species of pre-Adamite man.

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