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federacy) assigns the reasons why he de-stored, if it should become necessary; but sired the election of General McClellan. In it would not become neccessary." that event, he assumed that an armistice would take place, and a convention of the States be held.

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If that body failed to come to an amicable agreement to acknowledge the independence of the South, and " General McClellan should renew the war, with the avowed object of restoring the Union with the old Constitution and all its guarantees,"—which by his letter of acceptance he was pledged to do,"At that moment," says Mr. Stephens, " or as soon as possible, our recognition abroad would come. The silent sympathy of England, France, and other European powers, at present, with Lincoln, arises entirely from their mania on the subject of slavery.' Here follows an omission in Mr. Stephen's letter, made as he himself intimates from public considerations. The passage omitted no doubt enforced the idea that if the North continued the war in order to restore the Constitution with guarantees of slavery, Europe would instantly recognize the Confederacy as an independent power. Mr. Stephens then proceeds as follows: "Lincoln had either to witness our recognition abroad, the moral power of which alone he saw would break down the war, or to make it an emancipation war.

In these explicit terms, the second officer of the rebel goverment, speaking no doubt on the strength of communications from their agents abroad, and holding back what he deemed it not prudent to divulge, not only treats the emancipation policy of the President as a necessary military measure, but maintains that that alone had prevented the great powers of Europe from recognizing the independence of the South, and if necessary throwing their swords into the scale to secure its establishment! May we not reasonably hope, in view of such opinions and disclosures, from such a quarter, that this policy will cease to divide opinion at the North, and that we shall again, as in 1861, present an undivided front in defence of the integrity of the Union. Heavy, I know, is the burden, costly the sacrifice, grievous the trial imposed upon us by the war. Heaven is my witness that I would willingly have laid down the poor remnant of my life to avert it.

But it is plain that Providence has laid upon our generation the solemn duty of maintaining this august nationality, and we have now to choose between allowing the Union, like medieval Germany and Italy, to be broken up into scores, I might say hundreds, of petty States, involved in eternal border He chose the latter alternative, and the wars, wasting, desolating, and barbarizing more readily, because it chimed in so accord- each other, and ending at last in the estabantly with the feelings and views of his par- lishment of half a dozen military despotisms, ty. This, in my opinion, is the plain English or maintaining, at whatever cost and by whatof this whole matter, and just so soon as ever sacrifice, this admirable framework of McClellan should renew the war to restore government, the rich legacy of our Fathers, the Union and the old Constitution with slav- the priceless heritage of our children, and ery, would England, France, and the other which, till this cruel rebellion, had shown itEuropean powers throw all the moral power self the happiest device of human wisdom, and influence of their recogniation on our by which the home-bred blessings of local side. I am not certain that they would not administration can be combined with the go further rather than see the old Union re-safety and power of a great empire.

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VERY SHOCKING, IF TRUE.-At a dinner-party when at the dinner-table, to our great horror, he the plebeian habits of one of the guests had at- suddenly took up the knife, and Good tracted very general attention. Amongst other heavens!" interposed one of the ladies; “and mistakes he used his knife improperly in eating. did he cut his throat?" " Why no, "answered At length a wag asked aloud, "Have you heard the relator, "he did not cut his throat with his of poor L-'s sad affair? I met him at a knife; but we all expected he would, for he acparty yesterday, apparently well and cheerful:tually put it up to his mouth."

THE MERMAID.

"O FISHER, standing by thy wherry,
Wherefore thy knife so fiercely whet?
What fishes from the depths of ocean

Hast won by power of line and net?"
"Ah, never fish is here, young madam,
And nothing fit for pot or dish;
But peep into my net, and merely
Behold a serpent, if you wish!

"My helm and rudder, for the last time,
The witch has broken wantonly,
But long ago she dragged my brother
Down to the bottom of the sea.
"And there she lingers, gasping, bleeding,
Done with her cruel prank and jest,-
And thus I plunge, to end her sinning,
My fatal knife into her breast!'

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"Hold, hold, thou villain! for she liveth, Panting with snowy bosom bare! And mark, how piteously the water

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Is moaning through her sea-green hair! Her ivory arms and gleaming shoulders Bleeding already from thy knife, Pallid upon the strand she trembles,

And quickly yieldeth up her life. "Come, man! I am thy master's lady! Push out thy wherry from the shore, And quickly-for the tempest gathersGrasp firm in either hand an oar. "Come! and the ocean's hapless daughter We twain will take across the foam, And bear her till in deeper water

We sink her to her weedy home!"

Over the billows rowed the fisher,

And blacker grew the sea the while, Stormier grew the clouds of heaven

Casting their shade on sea and isle. Back unto land they rowed in safety; But now, within her castle gates, The lady, trembling for her husband,

Who wanders out on ocean, waits.

The darkness came. The tempest gathered,
And thunders muttered loud and deep;
Murmured a voice in Thora's chamber
"Thora, my Thora, dost thou sleep?

“Ah, is it thou, my love, my Erik?
Or awfully upon my rest
Breaketh a voice that is not human?-
If thou be Erik, to my breast!"
"No spectre, wife, comes thus at midnight
To the sweet chamber where you lie,
Lit by the slowly dying lamplight-
Thora, my Thora-it is I!"
"Ha! from the clay-chill dead thou comest!
Thy garments drip, thy touch is cold!
But still I love thee, dead or living,
And here are kisses twentyfold.'
"Well may my hands be icy-cold, wife,
Well may my face be chill and white,-

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"Dead faces in my vision floated,

And, Thora dear, I thought of you, What time my arms dropt spent beside me, Stiffened with swimming, cold and blue. "But lo! there gripped me round the bosom Two hands that white as crystal shone, Two bloody arms my head uplifted,

And held me up, and pushed me on. "Then, by the faint cold gleam of heaven, I saw a mermaid's breast beneath, And through the blackness of the waters The glimmering of her pearly teeth. "I saw her coldly glistening shoulder,

Her face that glimmered strangely sweetHer hands relaxed not, till with rapture I felt the ground beneath my feet. "Come! now forgot be storm and terror!

He quenched the lamp's uncertain glare. Pale Thora clasped him, and the tempest Moved further off from that glad pair! -From the Danish.

RETROSPECTION.

I TRACE the long line of my bygone years,
As one who, standing midway on a bridge,
Looks back upon the vista of its lamps,
Which burning equi-distant, mock the eye
With seeming continuity of fire,
Until, together blending, all at last
Pale in perspective mistiness of light,
And so confuse distinction. Thus do I
In tremulous manhood and the glow of youth
My near experience trace, to lose at last
The standard lights that backward mark the way
To undefined beginnings, Happy 'tis,
'Tis wisely thus ordained, for memoried past
Should ever subject be to present need,
Nor bind advancement unto vain regret.
Ever on life's long bridge, environed lamps
Light the immediate: all before, behind,
Dwindle into attenuated threads,
Losing their endings to the common eye.
O knowledge impotent! that cannot change
One moment of the moments that have been :
O knowledge blind as dust! that cannot pierce
One moment of the moments that shall be:
O knowledge infinite and strong as truth!
That can the present moment grandly turn
To worthiest fulfilment, and advance
Through each succeeding present, on and on,
Unto a timeless, measureless content.
-Transcript.

T.

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POETRY.-A Little Goose, 674. The Vanishers, 674. Of Moods, 690. A Seasonable Glee, 690.

SHORT ARTICLES.-John O'Groat, 689. Tunnel under the Apennines, 689. Preservation of Felled Timber, 706.

NEW BOOKS.

PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE OF THE LIVING AGE.

THE NARRATIVE OF PRIVATIONS AND SUFFERINGS OF UNITED STATES OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS, WHILE PRISONERS OF WAR IN THE HANDS OF THE REBEL AUTHORITIES, is published at this office in a pamphlet of 96 pp., price 20 cents each, $15 a hundred, $125 a thousand.

This will be read with great interest by every family which has, or has had, a father, brother, son, or friend in the military or naval service of the United States. A knowledge of the facts so calmly and clearly stated herein, is indispensable to every man who wishes to form a true opinion of the Rebels and the Rebellion. It contains photographs from the yet living forms of some of the victims, showing the effects of starvation. Orders for this work have come in at the rate of one thousand a day. The delay in filling them was caused by the breaking of the water power at Lawrence, where the paper is made. That has been repaired, and we are now sending the new edition to all parts of the country.

THE SEER; OR, COMMON PLACES REFRESHED. By Leigh Hunt. "Love adds a precious seeing to the Eye."-Shakspeare. In two volumes. Boston: Roberts Brothers. We are thankful to Messrs. Roberts for so handsome an edition of pieces by an old favorite. When it is worth while to publish a book, it is worth while to do it well.

HOLLOWAY'S MUSICAL MONTHLY. The only periodical published from engraved plates, on sheet music paper, and with title-pages, etc., to correspond. $4 a year. Philadelphia: J. Starr HolloWe beg leave to recommend this work to musical families, and are very glad to get it for the young folk at home.

way.

"THE LIVING AGE FOR 1865.

The Publishers have resisted as long as they could the growing necessity of advancing the price of this work. But when paper costs three times as much as before, and a remittance to London more than twelve dollars for a pound, and every other expense of manufacture is greatly increased (saying nothing of the expense of living), it is evident that sooner or later the Proprietors must follow the course of The Trade.

The change is made only after every other resource has been exhausted; and we confidently appeal to the kindness and justice of our old friends, asking them, not only to continue their own subscriptions, but to add the names of their friends to our list.

Our Terms now are

$8 a Year, free of postage.

18 Cents a number.

Bound Volumes, $2.75.

Complete sets, or sets of First, Second, or Third Series, $2.50 a volume, in Cloth.
First Series, 36 volumes, Morocco backs and corners, $100.

BINDING. The price of Binding is 75 Cents a Volume.

PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY

LITTELL, SON, & Co.,
30 BROMFIELD STREET, BOSTON.

A LITTLE GOOSE.

BY ELIZA S. TURNER.

THE Chill November day was done,

The working-world home-faring;

The wind came roaring through the streets,
And set the gas-lights flaring.
And hopelessly and aimlessly

The scared old leaves were flying;

When, mingled with the soughless wind,
I heard a small voice crying.

And shivering on the corner stood

A child of four or over;

No cloak nor hat her small, soft arms

And wind-blown curls to cover.
Her dimpled face was stained with tears;
Her round blue eyes ran over;
She cherished in her wee, cold hand
A bunch of faded clover.

And, one hand round her treasure, while
She slipped in mine the other,
Half-scared, half-confidential, said,

"Oh, please, I want my mother."
"Tell me your street and number, pet;
Don't cry: I'll take you to it."
Sobbing she answered, "I forget;
The organ made me do it.

"He came and played at Millers' step;
The monkey took the money;

I followed down the street, because
That monkey was so funny.

I've walked about a hundred hours

From one street to another;

The monkey's gone, I've spoiled my flowers; -Oh, please, I want my mother!"

"But what's your mother's name, and what The street? Now think a minute." "My mother's name is Mother Dear; The street-I can't begin it." "But what is strange about the house, Or new, not like the others?" "I guess you mean my trundle-bed,Mine and my little brother's.

"Oh, dear, I ought to be at home

To help him say his prayers; He's such a baby, he forgets;

And we are both such players; And there's a bar between, to keep From pitching on each other, For Harry rolls when he's asleep; -Oh, dear, I want my mother!

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And so I wear a little thing

That tells you all about it; For mother says she's very sure I would get lost without it."

THE VANISHERS.
BY J. G. WHITTIER.
SWEETEST of all childlike dreams
In the simple Indian lore
Still to me the legend seems

Of the Elves who flit before.
Flitting, passing, seen, and gone,
Never reached nor found at rest,
Baffling search, but beckoning on
To the sunset of the blest.
From the clefts of mountain rocks,
Through the dark of lowland firs,
Flash the eyes and flow the locks
Of the mystic vanishers!
And the fisher in his skiff,

And the hunter on the moss,
Hear their call from cape and cliff,

See their hands the birch-leaves toss. Wishful, longing, through the green Twilight of the clustered pines, In their faces rarely seen,

Beauty more than mortal shines. Fringed with gold their mantles flow On the slopes of westering knolls; In the wind they whisper low

Of the sunset land of souls.

Doubt who may, O friend of mine!
Thou and I have seen them too;
On before with beck and sign,

Still they glide, and we pursue
More than clouds of purple trail
In the gold of setting day;
More than gleams of wing or sail
Beckon from the sea-mist gray.
Glimpses of immortal youth,

Gleams and glories seen and lost. Far-heard voices sweet with truth As the tongues of Pentecost Beauty that eludes our grasp,

Sweetness that transcends our taste, Loving hands we may not clasp, Shining feet that mock our haste

Gentle eyes we closed below,

Tender voices heard once more, Smile and call us, as they go

On and onward, still before.

Guided thus, oh, friend of mine!
Let us walk our little way,
Knowing by each beckoning sign
That we are not quite astray.
Chase we still with baffled feet
Smiling eye and waving hand,
Sought and seeker soon shall meet,
Lost and found, in sunset land!
-Atlantic Monthly.

From Fraser's Magazine.

MR. FORSTER ON THE REIGN OF
CHARLES I. *

I., and their parliaments were, so to speak, the second act of the Reformation. They are the political applications of the principles which were then applied to religion on a wider and less definite scale.

THE reign of Charles 1. and the Reformation are the two critical points in English history; and it is far easier both to underThis consideration would amply justify the stand and to study the first than the second. labor which Mr. Forster has bestowed upon In order to trace the gradual changes of opin- the illustration of the reign of Charles I., if ion which come over the temper of a nation any justification of it were required; but his and change its views upon almost every sub- books are, in fact, their own justification. ject, it is necessary to call up a world which They belong to a class of works which, after is past and gone, and to create anew a whole a certain interruption, are again becoming mental atmosphere. Before we can know popular. They aim at making the original how and why England passed from Popery materials of history accessible and interesting to Protestantism, we must know how men to those who have not the power to consult felt, how they argued, what were their meth- the originals for themselves. In former times ods of acquiring knowledge, what their tests such books were by no means uncommon. of truth before and after the change; we For instance, Madox's " History of the Exmust enter into that subtile influence which chequer " is in substance a collection of exevery one feels in his own time, and which tracts from the records, classified in reference no one can define, called the spirit of the age, to certain subjects. Fleury's " Ecclesiastical --that strange but most real influence which History" reproduces verbatim, or in a commakes the difference between Shakspeare and pressed form, the statements of all the most Milton, between Milton and Dryden, Dryden remarkable original ecclesiastical writers. and Pope, Pope and Cowper, Cowper and Barnes's" Edward III." is a book of the same Scott or Wordsworth, Scott or Wordsworth sort. Carte and Rapin tried to write, and to and Tennyson. The difficulty of doing this some extent succeeded, in writing the history is almost insurmountable. Hardly any one of England more or less on the same sort of can hope to unite the comprehensive knowlscale. In edge, the quick sympathy, and the judicial tem of composition came to be considered teprogress of time, however, this syscalmness and clearness, which are indispensa-dious, as, indeed, it undoubtedly is, unless bly and almost equally necessary to the per- the interest of the reader is very strong, and formance of such a task. tories like those of Hume and Robertson the judgment of the author very great. Hiscame into fashion, and were considered a marvellous improvement. These books made up, in elegance of style and in their superior absence of learning itself; and, no doubt, conception of the uses of learning, for the they were as much superior in interest and the old-fashioned collections of materials the kind of ability which they displayed to advocate is to the brief from which it is made. called histories, as the speech of a first-rate In time, however, their great deficiencies became sufficiently obvious. Hume, in particuwould think of taking his opinion upon any lar, has been so far discredited that no one historical question which required careful examination. Of late years a new school of history has been growing up which aims at combining thought and learning,-at selecting and arranging what is really instructive in original documents, and combining them with a certain amount both of philosophy

To estimate the merits of a political contest is another thing. The differences between the combatants no doubt go deep, and the influences by which they were produced are subtile; but the questions at issue are broad and comparatively definite. Every one can form a judgment about them. They gather up into definite shapes differences of sentiment and opinion to which it is hardly possible to do full justice; and thus enable us to arrive at proximate solutions of the wider questions on which they depend, and from which they really spring. The struggle between the Stuarts, especially Charles * 1. “Sir John Eliot; a Biography: 1590-1632." By John Forster. Two Volumes. London: Longman & Co. 1864.

2. "The Debates on the Grand Remonstrance, November and December, 1641; with an introduc! tory Essay on English Freedom under Plantagenet and Tudor Sovereigns." By John Forster, LL.D. London Murray. 1860.

3. "Arrest of the Five Members by Charles I.: Chapter of English History rewritten." By John Forster. London: Murray. 1860.

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