fire in the parlor, and got ready the table for supper, and made the room very fit indeed for a man newly arrived from a voyage, and fresh from a dreadful hurricane, to light upon. All the wind had gone. Going to the window to look at the night, I found the heavens clear, and the stars sparkling with a wintry vividness: but the air was icily keen, and the cold and the weariness would make such a room as this we had got ready -the capacious grate as bright as sunlight with a noble, roaring fire, the table laid for supper, the snow-white cloth ashine with glass and plate-a welcome sight to my father. It was striking ten when I heard the house-door open, and running out to meet the only person beside ourselves who would enter without ringing the bell, I was clasped in my father's arms. It was a rare meeting, and mother could scarcely be made to let go his hand. "We saw you arrive, father," said I, "We were down at Shields, and spied your brig when she was no bigger than a แ ELEGY. TENNYSON. WRITTEN IN THE RUINS OF AN OLD CASTLE. [Friedrich Von Matthisson, the celebrated fly. What, ye were both at Shields!" said he, looking from me to mother, and smiling and well pleased. "I don't doubt you held your breath, Jessie, as we crossed the bar. Eh, my word, what a sea! Annie, d'ye know there are fifteen wrecks be- poet, was born near Hohendodeleben 1761, and died twixt Blyth and Marsden Bay; and a matter of over ten-score sailors drowned, by rough reckoning! God help the widows and fatherless! The gale was all along the coast, as far as the Channel. There'll be heart-breaking news coming day after day for the next fortnight, or I'm sadly out." 1831. His verse is distinguished by its musical flow and finish. His works were published at Zürich (1825-29), in eight parts. His life, by H. Döring, ap‐ peared in 1833.] Silent, in the veil of evening twilight, Save that here, amid these mouldering ruins, Rests the plain; the woodland song is still, Chirps a cricket, mournfully and shrill. Here, upon this hill, by forests bounded, 'Mid the ruins of departed days, Sadness! unto thee my song I raise! See Vol. V., page 11. There, where round the column's gloomy | Thistles lonely nod, in places seated ruins, Sadly whispering, clings the ivy green, And the evening twilight's mournful shimmer Blinks the empty window-space between, Blessed, perhaps, a father's tearful eye Once the noblest son of Germany: One whose heart, with high ambition rife, Warmly swelled to meet the coming strife. "Go in peace!" thus spake the hoary warrior, As he girded on his sword of fame; "Come not back again, or come as victor: O, be worthy of thy father's name!" And the noble youth's bright eyes were throw ing Where for shield and spear the boy entreated, When aloud the war-horn's summons rang, And to horse in speed the father sprang. Ashes are the bones of these,—the mighty! Deep they lie within earth's gloomy breast; Hardly the half-sunken funeral tablets Now point out the places where they rest! Many to the winds were long since scattered,Like their tombs, their memories sunk and shattered! O'er the brilliant deeds of ages gone Thus depart life's pageantry and glory! Deadly flashes forth; his cheeks were glow. Thus sinks, in the rapid lapse of ages, ing, As with full-blown branches the red rose In the purple light of morning glows. Then, a cloud of thunder, flew the champion Even, as Richard Lion-Heart, to fight; Like a wood of pines in storm and tempest, Bowed before his path the hostile might. Gently, as a brook through flowers descendeth, Homeward to the castle-crag he wendeth,— To his father's glad, yet tearful face,To the modest maiden's chaste embrace. O, with anxious longing, looks the fair one From her turret down the valley drear! Shield and breastplate glow in gold of evening, Steeds fly forward, the beloved draws near! Him the faithful right-hand mute extending, Stands she, pallid looks with blushes blending. O, but what that soft, soft eye doth say, Sings not Petrarch's, nor e'en Sappho's lay! Merrily echoed there the sound of goblets, Where the rank grass, waving in the gale, O'er the nests of owls is blackly spreading, Till the silver glance of stars grew pale. Tales of hard-won battle fought afar, Wild adventures in the Holy War, Wakened in the breast of hardy knight The remembrance of his fierce delight. O, what changes! Awe and night o'ershadow Now the scene of all that proud array; Winds of evening, full of sadness, whisper Where the strong ones revelled and were gay; VOL. X. All that earth doth bear, to empty night Laurels, that the victor's brow encircle, High deeds, that in brass and marble sparkle, Urns devoted unto Memory, And the songs of Immortality! All, all, that with longing and with rapture Here on earth a noble heart doth warm, Vanishes like sunshine in the autumn, When the horizon's verge is veiled in storm. Friends at evening part with warm embraces, Morning looks upon the death-pale faces; Even the joys that Love and Friendship find Leave on earth no lasting trace behind. Gentle Love! how all thy fields of roses Bounded close by thorny deserts lie! And a sudden tempest's awful shadow Oft doth darken Friendship's brightest sky! Vain are titles, honor, might, and glory! On the monarch's temples proud and hoary, And the way-worn pilgrim's trembling head, Doth the grave one common darkness spread! Translated in Knickerbocker Magazine. FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [La Fontaine's Tales and Fables have been published with splendid illustrations. The best edition of the former is that of 1762, with Eisen's designs, and vignettes by Choffat. The Fables were published in a magnificent edition, four volumes folio (1755-59), each fable being illustrated with a plate. An exquisite edi 224 www tion of the Fables, in octavo, was published by Fournier in 1839, with designs by J. J. Grandville. The reader of this edition is at a loss which most to admire, the exuberant humor and wisdom of the poet, or the extraordinary felicity with which the artist has told the poet's story in his illustrations; but the latest illustrated edition (1868) of La Fontaine, by Gustave Doré, we think the best of all. La Fontaine's fables have often been imitated, but never equalled, in English. A collection of such imitations, done in a very spirited manner, was published in London, 1820. The only entire translation ever attempted is that by Elizur Wright, Jr., Boston, 1841, from which we make extract.1] THE COUNCIL HELD BY THE RATS. Old Rodilard, a certain cat, Such havoc of the rats had made, And wonder no one will, That one, who made on rats his revel, With rats passed not for cat, but devil. Now, on a day, this dread rat-eater, Who had a wife, went out to meet her; And while he held his caterwauling, The unkilled rats, their chapter calling, Discussed the point, in grave debate, How they might shun impending fate. Their dean, a prudent rat, Thought best, and better soon than late, To bell the fatal cat; That, when he took his hunting-round, The rats, well cautioned by the sound, Might hide in safety under ground: Indeed, he knew no other means. And all the rest At once confessed Their minds were with the dean's. No better plan, they all believed, Could possibly have been conceived; No doubt, the thing would work right well, If any one would hang the bell. 'See Vol. VIII., Choice Literature, page 318. That, thus resolving wisely, Fell through like this precisely. To argue or refute, Wise counsellors abound; The man to execute Is harder to be found. THE CAT AND THE OLD RAT. A story-writer of our sort Of one that may be reckoned A league around, its dread; The planks with props more false than slim, By clinging with his hinder claws A judgment for some naughty deed, Or ugly scratch; And thought their foe had got his meed By being hung indeed. With hope elated all Of laughing at his funeral, They thrust their noses out in air; And now to show their heads they dare, Now dodging back, now venturing more; A scanty feast enjoyed these shallows, lows, And of the hindmost caught. "Some other tricks to me are known," Said he, while tearing bone from bone, "By long experience taught; The point is settled, free from doubt, That from your holes you shall come out." His threat as good as prophecy Was proved by Mr. Mildandsly; For, putting on a mealy robe, He squatted in an open tub, And held his purring and his breath;— Well said, I think, and prudently, THE COCK AND THE FOX. Spoke thus in tones of kind regard :"Our quarrel, brother, 's at an end; Henceforth I hope to live your friend; For peace now reigns Throughout the animal domains. And please, my brother, don't delay: That I must spread them far to-day. For which you may, this joyful night But, first, let's seal the bliss "Good friend," the cock replied, "upon my word, A better thing I never heard; And doubly I rejoice To hear it from your voice: And, really, there must be something in it, For yonder come two greyhounds, which, I flatter Myself, are couriers on this very matter; They come so fast, they'll be here in a minute. I'll down, and all of us will seal the blessing With general kissing and caressing." "Adieu," said fox; "my errand 's pressing: I'll hurry on my way, And we'll rejoice some other day." So off the fellow scampered, quick and light, To gain the fox-holes of a neighboring height, Less happy in his stratagem than flight. The cock laughed sweetly in his sleeve;— 'Tis doubly sweet deceiver to deceive. THE WOLF AND THE DOG. A prowling wolf, whose shaggy skin Sir Wolf, in famished plight, But then he first must fight; And well the dog seemed able To save from wolfish table His carcass snug and tight. So, then, in civil conversation, The wolf expressed his admiration Of Tray's fine case. Said Tray, politely, "Yourself, good Sir, may be as sightly : Quit but the woods, advised by me; For all your fellows here, I see, Are shabby wretches, lean and gaunt, Belike to die of haggard want; With such a pack, of course if follows, One fights for every bit he swallows. Come, then, with me, and share On equal terms our princely fare." "But what with you Has one to do?" Inquires the wolf. "Light work indeed,' Replies the dog; "you only need To bark a little, now and then, To chase off duns and beggar-men,- For which you have to eat แ What," said this party, "would you come in between a man and his freehold!" I started as if something unholy_had trampled on my father's grave, and I exclaimed with horror, "A freehold in a human being!" I know nothing of this individual; I give him credit for being a gentleman of humanity; but, if he be so, it only makes the case the stronger; for the circumstance of such a man upholding such a system shows the horrors of that system in itself and its effect in deceiving the minds of those who are connected with it, wherever it exists. We are told that the slave is not fit to receive his freedom -that he could not endure freedom without revolting. Why, does he not endure slavery without revolting? With all that he has to bear, he does not revolt now; and will he be more ready to revolt when you take away the lash? Foolish argument! But I will take them upon their own ground-the ground of gradual amelioration and preparation. Well; are not eight years of education sufficient to prepare a man for anything? Seven years are accounted quite sufficient for an apprenticeship to any profession, or for any art or science; and are not eight years enough for the negro? If eight years have passed away without preparation, so would eighty, if we were to allow them so many. There is a time for everythingbut it would seem there is no time for the emancipation of the slave. Mr. Buxton most ably and unanswerably stated to the House of Commons the awful decrease in lief Bill was carried by the Lords and Commons in 1829, population; that, in fourteen colonies, in He after many years of agitation. In the same year he represented the county of Clare in Parliament. was elected Lord Mayor of Dublin in 1841. O'Connell took an active part in the public agitation for the repeal of the Union government. For this he was sentenced by government to pay a fine of £2,000 and to be imprisoned for a year. This judgment was afterwards reversed by the House of Lords, but his influence and power were on the wane. Retiring from political strife, he commenced a pilgrimage towards Rome, and reaching Genoa, died there, May 15th, 1847.] No man can more sincerely abhor, detest, and abjure slavery than I do. I hold it in utter detestation, however men may attempt to palliate or excuse it by differences of color, creed, or clime. In all its gradations, and in every form, I am its mortal foe. The speech of an opponent on this question has filled me with indignation. the course of ten years, there had been a decrease in the population of 145,801that is, in other words, 145,801 human beings had been murdered by this systemtheir bodies gone to the grave-their In the eight spirits before their God. years that they have had to educate their slaves for liberty, but which have been useless to them-in those eight years, onetwelfth have gone into the grave murdered! Every day, ten victims are thus despatched! While we are speaking, they are sinking; while we are debating, they are dying! As human, as accountable beings, why should we suffer this any longer? Let every man take his own share in this business. I am resolved, if sent back to Parliament, that I will bear my part. I purpose fully to divide the |