and, what is strangest of all, never learned them from a book, but from mouth to mouth. The wind whispers them, the birds whistle them, the corn, barley, and bulrushes hoarsely rustle them, nay, the music-boxes, at Geneva, are framed and toothed to play them; the hand-organs of the Savoyards in all cities repeat them, and the chimes of bells ring them in the spires. They are the property and the solace of mankind.

LEES FROM THE CUP OF LIFE.

[Julia Ward Howe, a distinguished author and poetess, was born in New York, 1819. She wrote many fine poems, of which the following is an excellent example.]

Once I was sad and well could weep,
Now I am wild and I will laugh:
Pour out for me libations deep,

The blood of trampled grapes I'll quaff,
And mock at all who idly mourn,
And smite the beggar with his staff.

Oh, let us hold carousal dread

Over our early pleasures gone! Youth is departed, love is dead,

Oh, woe is me that I was born! Yet fill the cup, pass round the jest, Methinks I could laugh grief to scorn.

"Tis well to be a thing alone,

For whom no creature cares or grieves, To build on desert sands a throne,

And spread a couch on wintry leaves, Ruthless and hopeless, worn and wise, The fool, the imbecile, believes.

Make me a song whose sturdy rhyme

Shall bid defiance bold to Woe. Thou caitiff wretch, come down to me; See, at thy gate my trump I blow, And armed with rude indifference,

To thee my scornful glove I throw !

Ah me! unequal, bootless fight!

Ah, cuirass, that betrays my trust! Sorrow's stern angel bears a dart Fatal to all of mortal dust; He is a spirit, I of clay;

He cannot die; alas, I must!

THE HIRELING NURSE.

[Luigi Tansillo, an Italian poet, was born about 1510; died 1568.]

What ceaseless dread a mother's breast alarms,
Whilst her loved offspring fills another's arms!
Fearful of ill, she starts at every noise,
And hears, or thinks she hears, her children's
cries;

Whilst, more imperious grown from day to day,

The greedy nurse demands increase of pay. Vexed to the heart with anger and expense, You hear, nor murmur at, her proud pretence; Compelled to bear the wrong with semblance mild,

And soothe the hireling as she soothes your child.

But not the dainties of Lucullus' feast
Can gratify the nurse's pampered taste;
Nor, though your babe, in infant beauty
bright,

Spring to its mother's arms with fond delight,
Can all its gentle blandishments suffice
To compensate the torments that arise
From her to whom its early years you trust,
Intent on spoil, ungrateful, and unjust.

Were modern truths inadequate to show
That to your young a sacred debt you owe,
Not hard the task to lengthen out my rhymes
With sage examples drawn from ancient times.
Of Rome's twin founders oft the bard has

sung,

For whom the haggard wolf forsook her young:

True emblem she of all the unnatural crew
Who to another give their offspring's due.
But say, when, at a Saviour's promised birth,
With secret gladness throbbed the conscious
earth,

Whose fostering care his infant wants repressed?

Who laved his limbs, and hushed his cares to rest?

She, at whose look the proudest queen might hide

Her gilded state, and mourn her humbled pride:

She all her bosom's sacred stores unlocked, His footsteps tended, and his cradle rocked;

Or, whilst the altar blazed with rites divine,
Assiduous led him to the sacred shrine:
And, sure, the example will your conduct
guide,

If true devotion in your hearts preside.

But whence these sad laments, these mournful sighs,

That all around in solemn breathings rise? The accusing strains, in sounds distinct and clear,

Wake to the sense of guilt your startled ear.
Hark in dread accents Nature's self complain,
Her precepts slighted, and her bounties vain!
See, sacred Pity, bending from her skies,
Turns from the ungenerous deed her dewy
eyes!

Maternal fondness gives her tears to flow
In all the deeper energy of woe;

Whilst Christian Charity, enshrined above,
Whose name is mercy and whose soul is love,
Feels the just hatred that your deeds, inspire,
And where she smiled in kindness burns with
ire.

See, true Nobility laments his lot,
Indignant of the foul, degrading blot;
And Courtesy and Courage o'er him bend,
And all the virtues that his state attend!
But whence that cry that steals upon the
sense?

'Tis the low wail of injured innocence; Accents unformed, that yet can speak their

wrongs

Loud as the pleadings of a hundred tongues. See in dread witness all creation rise,

The peopled earth, deep seas, and circling skies;

Whilst conscience, with consenting voice within,

Becomes accomplice and avows the sin! Translated by W. ROSCOE.

ETERNITY.

[Daniele Wülffer was born in 1617 and died in 1685. The first seven stanzas of this striking poem are from the old Catholic Hymn-Book, of Cologne, 1625. The remainder was added by Wülffer, a clergyman of Nürenberg.]

แ LYRA GERMANICA."
Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity.
And yet to thee Time hastes away,
Like as a war-horse to the fray,

Or swift as couriers homeward go, Or ship to port, or shaft from bow. Ponder, O Man, Eternity!

Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!
For even as on a perfect sphere
End nor beginning can appear,
Even so, Eternity, in thee
Entrance nor Exit can there be.
Ponder, O Man, Eternity!

Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!
A circle infinite art thou,
Thy centre an Eternal Now,
Never, we name thy outward bound,
For never end therein is found.
Ponder, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!

A little bird with fretting beak
Might wear to naught the loftiest peak,
Though but each thousand years it came,
Yet thou wert then, as now,
the same.
Ponder, O Man, Eternity!

Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!
As long as God is God, so long
Endure the pains of hell and wrong,
So long the joys of heaven remain⚫
O lasting joy, O lasting pain!
Ponder, O Man, Eternity!

Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!

O Man, full oft thy thoughts should dwell
Upon the pains of sin and hell,
And on the glories of the pure,
That both beyond all time endure.
Ponder, O Man, Eternity!

Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!
How terrible art thou in woe,
How fair where joys forever glow!
God's goodness sheddeth gladness here,
His justice there wakes bitter fear.
Ponder, O Man, Eternity!

Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!
They who lived poor and naked rest
With God forever rich and blest,

And love and praise the highest good, In perfect bliss and gladsome mood. Ponder, O Man, Eternity!

Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!
A moment lasts all joy below,
Whereby man sinks to endless woe,
A moment lasts all earthly pain,
Whereby an endless joy we gain.
Ponder, O Man, Eternity!
Eternity! Eternity!
How long art thou, Eternity!
Who ponders oft on thee is wise,
All fleshly lusts shall he despise,
The world finds place with him no more;
The love of vain delights is o'er.
Ponder, O Man, Eternity!

Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!

Who marks thee well would say to God,
Here, judge, burn, smite me with thy rod,
Here let me all thy justice bear,
When time of grace is past, then spare!
Ponder, O man, Eternity!

Eternity! Eternity!

How long art thou, Eternity!
Lo, I, Eternity, warn thee,

O Man, that oft thou think on me,
The sinner's punishment and pain,
To them who love their God, rich gain!
Ponder, O Man, Eternity!

HARK THE GLAD SOUND. [Philip Doddridge, D. D., a well-known religious writer, was born 1702, and died 1751.]

Hark, the glad sound! the Saviour comes, The Saviour promised long;

Let every heart prepare a throne,

And every voice a song! . . . .
He comes, the prisoners to release,
In Satan's bondage held;

The gates of brass before him burst,
The iron fetters yield.

He comes, from thickest films of vice
To clear the mental ray,

And on the eyelids of the blind
To pour celestial day.

[Niclas Muller, a printer by trade, born 1809, at Langenau, near Ulm, went, after the German revolution of 1848, to New York, where he died August 14th, 1875.]

Beside the River of Tears, with branches low,
And bitter leaves, the weeping willows grow;
The branches stream like the disheveled hair
Of women in the sadness of despair.
On rolls the stream with a perpetual sigh;
The rocks moan wildly as it passes by;
Hyssop and wormwood border all the strand,
And not a flower adorns the dreary land.
Then comes a child, whose face is like the sun,
And dips the gloomy waters as they run,
And waters all the region, and behold
The ground is bright with blossoms manifold.
Where fall the tears of love the rose appears,
And when the ground is bright with friend-
ship's tears,

Forget-me-not, and violets, heavenly blue, Spring glittering with the cheerful drops like dew.

The souls of mourners, all whose tears are dried,

Like swans, come gently floating down the tide. Walk up the golden sands by which it flows, And in that Paradise of Tears repose.

There every heart rejoins its kindred heart; There, in a long embrace that none may part, Fulfilment meets desire, and that fair shore Beholds its dwellers happy evermore.

Translated by W. C. BRYANT.

FALLING STARS.

[Friedrich von Sallet, born April 20th, 1812,

at Neisse, was from 1829 to 1838 lieutenant in the Prus

sian army, and died February 21st, 1843. Of his principal and most popular work, Laienevangelium, the late Charles T. Brooks prepared an English translation.]

Oh, know ye not the meaning

When swiftly earthward flies Some silver star, whose beaming Refulgent, lit the skies?

Yon stars, above us shining,

With light so wondrous fair, Bright wreaths of glory twining Ten thousand angels are.

As God to these hath given

The sleeping world in charge, Around the walls of heaven

With watchful eyes they march; And when on earth below them

Some struggling soul they see,
With all its wounds would show them
And in humility,

For heavenly help is pleading,
And rest from earthly woe,
Thou'lt see an angel speeding
On starry wings below!

Upon the mourner's pillow
Celestial glory beams;

He stills the raging billow,

He soothes the heart with dreams!

This is the holy meaning

When swiftly earthward flies Some silver star, whose beaming Refulgent, lit the skies!

Translated by CHARLES W. HUBNER.

THE FEDERAL CONSTELLATION.

"As far as I can see, the American Constitution is the most wonderful work ever struck off at one time by the brain and purpose of man."-GLADSTONE.

"We hold these truths to be selfevident, that all men are created equal, and are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, among which are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Round this doctrine of the Declaration of Independence as its central sun the constellation of States revolves. The equality of the citizen is decreed by the fundamental law. All acts, all insti

tutions, are based upon this idea. There is not one shred of privilege, hence no classes. The American people are a unit. Difference of position in the State, resulting from birth, would be held to insult the citizen. One and all they stand Brutus-like and

"Would brook

The eternal devil to keep his state
As easily as a king."

Government of the people, for the people, and by the people is their political creed. The vote of an Emerson or a Lincoln weighs no more than that of the poorest negro. The President has not a privilege which is not the birthright of every other citizen. The people are not levelled down, but levelled up to the full dignity of equal citizenship beyond which

no man can go.

The first voice of the people may not be always the voice of God. Indeed, sometimes it does seem to be very far from it; bat the second voice of the people-their sober second thoughtcomes nearest to it of any tribunal, much nearer than the voice of any class, even that of the most highly educated, has ever come in any government under the sun. Hence there is no voice in all America which has the faintest authority when the ballot speaks.

It has often been objected to this republican theory of the State that under it a dead level of uniformity must exist. The informed traveller, who knows life in America, can be relied upon to dispel this delusion and to certify that nowhere in all the world is society more exclusive or more varied than in republican America. Certainly it is far less so in Britain. The difference is that while in monarchical countries birth and rank tend to override personal characteristics, republican society is necessarily founded upon real character and attainment. "Natural selection" has freer play. Congenial persons associate with each other, uninfluenced by birth or rank since neither exist. Nor has wealth of itself nearly so great an influence in society in America as in Britain. It is impossible, in the nature of things, that it should have, because it is much more easily acquired, and, what is much more telling, much more easily lost. The law of acquisition is indeed as free to act in the Republic as in the Monarchy, but

then the law of dispersion is also allowed | full force in the former, where primogeniture and entail are unknown and the transfer of land is easy. There are but three generations in America from shirt sleeves to shirt sleeves. Under such conditions an aristocracy of wealth is impossible. The "almighty dollar" is just like the restless pig which Paddy could not count, because it would not stand still long enough in one place to be counted. Wealth cannot remain permanently in any class if economic laws are allowed free play.

The Federal constellation is composed of thirty-eight stars, the States, and eleven nebulæ, the Territories, which are rapidly crystallizing into form. The galaxy upon the national flag has grown during the century from thirteen to thirtyeight stars, and the cry is still they come. Every decade new stars are coming into view, and ere long the entire cluster of nebulae will be added to the Federal constellation. They are to come forth as the new star in Andromeda came in the fullness of time. A new State sweeps into the Federal constellation every now and then like

"A star new-born, that drops into its place, And which, once circling in its placid round, Not all the tumult of the earth can shake."

The question arises, "How is it possible to govern successfully under one head, not this nation, but this great continent of nations?" The answer is, "Through the federal or home rule system alone is it possible.' Each of these thirty-eight States is sovereign within its own borders. Each has its own constitution, its own parliament consisting of House and Senate, its own president, courts and judges, militia, etc., etc. All the rights of a sovereign State belong to it, except such as it has expressly delegated in common with sister States to the central authority, the National Government at Washington.

ternal affairs are for the nation; all local matters are for the States, all general matters for the nation. The division is easily made and maintained. The Constitution defines it in a few clauses by stating what the National Government has charge of, as seen in section eight (appendix). Any powers not here expressly delegated to the nation remain in the States, to be exercised in any manner they choose.

The Supreme Court of the nation stands ready to inform States or nations of their respective powers. With the exception of the claim made in the interest of the slave-power, that a State had the right to secede from the Union, no serious question between State and nation has ever arisen. It is difficult to see how any can arise, since that has been definitely decided in the negative. The integrity of the nation having been assured, all other questions must be of trifling import and readily adjustable by the Supreme Court, which has proclaimed the nation to be "an indestructible Union of indestructible States."

The differentiations shown in the laws of the various States, which have resulted from the perfect freedom or home rule accorded them in their internal affairs, prove that the political institutions best suited to each community are thereby ensured, since they must necessarily be healthful growths of the body politic. Genuine outbirths of the people themselves, and therefore certain to receive their cordial and unwavering support, the number and extent of these differences in laws are surprising. The customs and habits of cold, cultured, old Massachusetts find expression in laws not best adapted for tropical, agricultural new Texas, just as the laws of England would be found less desirable for Scotland or Ireland than those which have been evolved by these communities, and which would be still more freely evolved by home rule, under their slightly different environments.