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She is the wasat* prop that stays
Tott'ring domestic state.

Her husband on her doth rely
For all the bliss he hath;

Her children trust her watchful eye
To guide them in life's path
Her very prayers are not her own-
So many dear ones claim
Petitions to the mercy-throne

In fond affection's name.

Such is the sacred task, young spouse,
Thy nuptial vows entail :
Then all thy latent courage rouse,
Nor in thy duty fail;

But struggle nobly on to reach
The port of virtue sure,

And by thy bright example teach
Others to strive-ENDURE!

To vilest purposes by self-abasement,
By coward vices, to whose earthly thrall
He in his wisdom's strength had blindly knelt,
And vainly yearn'd to vanquish. Once he cast-
But once a wild, appealing glance to heaven,
As though he wish'd to pass his soul away,
So weary was it; but the thought that lit
His eye with a brief glory fell and died.
Again the same dark, listless gloom enwrapp'd
His brow as with a shadow; earth once more
Enter'd his heart-earth with her sated train
Of hopes, and fears, and wild imaginings,
That long to him had been a broken dream.
And now, for one brief moment, as he lay
His languid head upon that moonlit stone,
The sickness of the soul, satiety,

The what he had been, was, and should have been,
Came o'er him all, one flood of bitter thought,
Bowing him to the dust; till, fast from eyes
Unused to such a mood, hot tears gush'd forth-
He wept!

LEAVES OF LIFE.

BY MRS. CHARLES TINSLEY.

From the Metropolitan.

THE MOON was up; a full and mellow light
Fell on thy palace tops, Jerusalem !

And from thy glittering halls the voice of mirth
And harmony, together mingled, broke
With most unholy rapture on the calm
Of the night's breathing solitude. Within,
Whate'er of pomp, of splendor, or delight,
To ravish sight or sense the earth could give,
Were congregated in one radiant throng;
Dark eyes were flashing, from whose liquid fire
Glances fell round like starlight, and from lips
Richer than poet-dreams, harmonious sounds
Breath'd forth the soul of melody. Robes that
hung

Bow'd by their jewell'd gorgeousness, were lost
On forms that dimm d the lustrous gauds of pomp
With beauty yet more rare. From arched roofs,
Fretted with burnish'd gold, ten thousand lamps
Threw odoriferous rays, that back recoil'd,
Lost in the mingled blaze of life and light,
Flashing beneath, as though the night of time
Should never close it in. From these retired,
One solitary man had woo'd the breath
Of the pure starlit heaven; and now he stood
Upon a marbl'd terrace, to whose very height
The sounds of revelry came vaguely up,
Mellow'd and dream-like. Not as one enwreath'd
By thoughts luxurious was that listless man ;
For the heart's weariness was written deep
Upon the aching brow that to the heavens
Bared its pale front, as though the silent dew
That played so coldly round each feverish pulse
Brought peace to their wild throbbings. He was
bent,

Not with the weight of years, but with the sense
Of years in folly spent, of talents bowed

* "Wasat is the centre or strongest prop of an Arab tent. The Arabians often seize hold of it, when they take a solemn oath, to give it more weight-meaning, if they violate it, may the prop give way and fall and crush their wives and children."-Arabian Readings,

PICTURES AND THEIR REVERSES.

BY MRS. CHARLES TINSLEY.

MORNING, WITH ITS SUNSHINE.

It was a Claude-like landscape, full of light.
The rich, warm, glowing light of thine own skies,
O sun-born Italy. Far, far away

Stretch'd the blue sea to the horizon's verge,
And thereon, mirror'd in calm beauty, blent
The gorgeous tints of many a wandering cloud,
Full of time-haunted memories. The shore
Swept inland to the base of vine-clad hills,
And 'twixt these two a living Eden bloom'd
of myrtle bowers and orange groves, where wild
The many-hued geranium mixed its flowers
With the light dropp'd laburnum; never gem
Shone with so pure a lustre in its wreath
Of slave-uprooted gold. Sweet were the buds,
And bright the sun-expanded flowers, and rare
The graceful, many-tinted leaves that wav'd
In clustering beauty round them; but far more
Of sweetness, brightness, gracefulness, was seen
In the young laughing face and tiny form,
Light as a fawn's, that ever and anon
Glanc'd like a sunbeam through the blossomy
boughs

And then was lost, to be reveal'd again
Amid outrivall'd flowers; whilst on the air
Long peals of silvery laughter rose and fell,
And merry shouts, and snatches of sweet song-
Sweet where all else was sweetness. A brief

pause

Made the ear ache with silence; then anon
Another burst of most melodious mirth
Shook all their fragrance from the parted trees;
And on a grassy mound with flowers bestrew'd
A rosy child lay struggling in the grasp
Of a young, fair-hair'd girl. Ah, blissful chase!
And happy creature! how ye made bright eyes
Shoot brighter glances, and enrich'd the glow
Mantling on lip and cheek; ay, even on hers,
That fair and fragile girl's; why should they not?
What joy like that, a mother's boundless joy!
I her first-born, sounding the unfathomed depths

Of a fresh, grief-untried and loving heart,
Whose trust had. ne'er been shaken! from the
shower

Of lavish kisses rain'd on lip and brow,-
What precious fruit should from such nurture
spring!

The wayward boy flung back and had escap'd,
Save that another's met his bounding step,
And, borne in triumph to the welcoming arms,
He nestled there till very weariness
Gave to the laughing eye and merry heart
Sweet sleep and sweeter dreams.
glad watch

Then kept

In the rich sun-set hours, love-lighted eyes;
And happy hopes that dreaded not to launch
On the dim ocean of futurity,

Broke into murmured words, or deep'ning gush'd
In rapturous tears-the heart's true eloquence !
And ever with those life-long visions blent
The smiling image of that gladsome child,
A thing of light and beauty to the last!
Thus dream'd the youthful mother and the sire
Of that fair sleeper! and unmark'd by them,
On viewless, soundless pinions, pass'd the hours.
For round, within them, was a world of light,
And joy, and hope, and an unbounded trust
In the soul-felt duration of all these.
Far, far away in thine own happy land,
Old sea-girt England, lay their quiet home,
The scene of blessedness again to be,
Soon-oh, how soon! for health's returning
glow,

Prayed for and watch'd for long by anxious eyes,
Gave to the bloom on that young matron's cheek
A promise of long days. Ah! trusting ones,
Few days hath life like these!

EVENING, WITH ITS SHADOWS.

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Were son and sire, and that in one a race
Of headlong dissipation had perform'd
The work of time more fearfully. That one
Presented in the reckless, ruffian tone
And bearing bold, peculiarly his,

A strong and painful contrast with the low,
Though bitter speech, and shrinking nervousness
Of him to whom he owed the breath of life.
How ill repaid tha debt! Are scenes like these
The wreck of light and beauty long gone by,
Of heart-entwined affections, that seem'd born
To outlast the throbbing pulse whereon they
woke,

Gushing into sweet music as a song
Attun'd to heaven's own harmony? Alas!
For human trust that it is even so!

That for the first fair record of these two
We must turn back to that Italian sky.
With all the light it shone upon; to them,
That glad young sire and that unspotted child,
In the fresh glory of their opening race.
Dread change and true, and little felt by them!
There now they stood, that father and that son,
Vow'd to fierce, life-long enmity; to wage
Unnataral warfare even to the edge

Of the tomb both were bound to and for them
In that dark hour was born no wandering thought
Of the young wife and mother who had slept
Full fifty years in her far foreign grave.

Heaven's blessed light was there-where is it not! Well she so slept! It was a solemn thing

To look upon those two, and then look back-
To think on what they had been, what they were,
And know that the foul present was to them
The centre of ali thought and feeling. Earth

Full of heart-breaking changes.

Mission'd by its free Giver to rejoice
Alike the just and unjust. Yet it came
With a pale glimmering as through prison bars
From the dim casement of the pent-up room.
Without, dark, stately buildings crowded round-Hath no direr change than this, albeit
Mammon's dire boundaries, beyond whose line
The gold-enslaved soul might never pass,
Even with a fleeting dream of far-off peace,
Brooding o'er lonely ills and quiet fields,
And wood-girt waters, where the ring-dove makes
Sweet music for all hours. It needed not

The busy, turbulent hum that swell'd and swell'd
On the close, heavy atmosphere, to tell
That round, within, without, the spirit spake
Of England's mighty Babel. In that room
Heap'd piles of dusty tomes and parchment

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The vain contentions wherewith sordid men
Do gorge their sordidness. In such a scene
Surrounded by such influences, stood
Two old and grey-haired men ; and of those twain
It could not have been guess'd, at the first glance,
Which was the elder, so alike they seem'd
Bow'd down by years of evil. There they stood,
As wide apart as in such narrow space
They might be sunder'd; for contention fierce
Was in that hour betwixt them; bitter hate,
Jealous distrust, and many a life felt wrong.

THE LAST SIGHS OF THE FLOWERS.

Like

THE autumn wind's sighing

In the garden so fair,
Where the roses are dying,

That embalmed summer's air:

Now where are they, where?
How few here and there,

beauty's pale wrecks, 'mid the sear leaves
are lying!

Hark! while they wither,

The breezes waft hither

Murmurs and moans from the desolate bowersThe sweet parting breath, the last sighs of the flowers!

'Tis not the dew steeping
Their colourless cheeks;
'Tis the natural weeping
That their anguish bespeaks!

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Oh! pleasant is the voice of youth,

For it tells of the heart's confiding truth,
And keeps that free and fearless tone
That ne'er to our after years is known:

I hear it rise in each hamlet cot,
O'er evening prayer and page,

But woe for the hearth that heareth nought
But the dreary tones of age.

The glow is gone from our winter blaze,
And the light hath pass'd from our summer days;
And our dwelling hath no household now,
But the sad of heart and the grey of brow:
For its young lies low 'neath the churchyard tree,
Where the grass grows green and wild;
And thy mother's heart is sad for thee,
My lost, mine only child.

But a wakening music seems to flow
On me from the years of long ago,

As thy babe's first words come sweet and clear,
Like a voice from thy childhood to mine ear;
And her smile beams back on my soul again
Thy beauty's early morn,

Ere thine eyes grew dim with tears or pain,
Or thy lovely locks were shorn.

Alas! for the widowed eyes that trace
Their early lost in that orphan face.

What after light will his memory mark,

Like the Dove that in spring-time sought her Ark?

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I STOOD by the sea in the silence of night,
And mark'd the fair moon as she beamingly
shone,

And sigh'd to perceive that her silvery light
Illumined one line of the waters alone.

It griev'd me to watch her thus wooingly play
On so narrow a track of the ocean's vast tide,
Refusing to cheer with one gladd'ning ray

The dark quiet billows that roll'd by its side.

Then I paus'd, for I felt that my strictures were vain,

And blam'd my rash judgment and limited sight,

Which thus had presumptuously dar'd to arraign The course of so wondrous and distant a light.

The moon to our gaze as a niggard may seem, Since few of her rays our perceptions may strike,

Yet she casts on the ocean no favoring beam,
But mirrors her smiles on each billow alike

Thus often with envy those mortals we view To whom dazzling distinctions and honors are given,

Our eyes their bright track in amazement pursue, And we deem them especially favor'd by Heaven.

Yet happiness shines o'er life's varied expanse, Though distance her light may appear to subdue,

And the many are hourly rejoic'd by the glance Which we falsely imagine confin'd to a few. Their fame may not spread, nor their riches increase,

Yet owning pure pleasures, calm thoughts, loving ties.

Their homes may repose in the moonlight of peace, Though the rays be reflected not back to our

eyes.

God pours, with a hand unaccustom'd to spare, The light of his bounty on cottage and hall, And none should distrustfully question their share Of the radiance so amply sufficient for all.

SCIENCE AND ART.

dust, dirt, &c., are a consequence of the potato mischief, and not a cause of it. There is nothing new in the circumstance; we have been familiar with it from childhood, and so have many simple observers who are older in the art of taking notice than ourselves are. It is no novelty in this country, any more than elsewhere; it attracts attention because of the almost universality of its prevalence. And has not the cause been universal? Cold water is the fountain-head! Take our word for it, there is no mystery in the affair; cloudy skies and drenching rains have done it all?"-Medical Times.

THE PLANET MARS.-"Hitherto this planet | similar composition, will give like results when has been distinguished by a fiery redness of color; in a state of decay. These acids, alkalies, atowhich, to use the language of Sir John Hers-mic defects, sporules, granules, ruptured cells, chell, indicates, no doubt, an ochrey tinge in the general soil, like what the red sandstone districts of the earth may possibly offer to the inhabitants of Mars. Such is, however, no longer the case; that planet having lost all appearance of redness, and put on a brilliant white aspect, vying in apparent magnitude and brightness with the planet Jupiter itself. The only changes which have heretofore been noticed in Mars are those the knowledge of which was derived from observations with the large reflecting telescopes of Herschell. These telescopes exhibit the appearance of brilliant white spots at the poles; which spots, from the circumstance of their always becoming visible in winter and disappearing as the poles advanced towards their summer position, have reasonably enough been attributed to the presence of snow. The novel appearance now described to us, however, by the Honorable Company's Astronomer, Mr. Taylor, is such as that the whole of the planet, with the exception of a moderately broad equatorial belt, assumes a decidedly white aspect, strongly contrasting with what he has ever before noticed."-Madras Athe

næum.

POTATO DISEASE.-"We give it as our decided opinion that potato-disease' and 'potato-murrain, are merely idle terms, that bear no direct relation whatever to existent things. There is no 'disease,' no murrain,' properly so called; the potatoes are just rotten; and that is the long and the short of it. The discoloration, commencing in this spot and extending to that, the softness, the waxiness, the fetor, all these things and many more such like, we have seen a score times in potatoes that have spontaneously rotted in a damp dark cellar. We can confirm what the microscopists and chemists say about appearances and reactions, and tell them plenty of untold truths besides but not potatoes only, any vegetable of

:

WATER WALKING.-From Hanover we hear of a practical discovery of a kind so curious as to require some further explanation before we can quite understand it; and we are rather suspicious, inasmuch as we have, or fancy we have, some recollection of a somewhat similar story making the round of the Continental papers several years ago. It is given, however, in this instance, with an imposing detail and the guarantee of namesif there be no borrowing of these for the occasion. The report is, that two young men, one a Swede and the other a Norwegian-taking the hint from that sort of foot-gear of fir-planks called skies, by means of which, in those Northern countries, the inhabitants pass through vallies and ravines filled with snow without sinking-have been exhibiting in that capital the exploit of walking on the water by means of skies-made, however, for the latter purpose, with iron plates hollow within. Backwards and forwards, much at their ease, according to the report, did the exhibitors walk and run, going through the military exercise with knapsacks at their backs, and finally drawing a boat containing eight persons, all without wetting their shoes. The Minister of War has, it is said, put a portion of the garrison of Hanover under the training of these gentlemen, for the purpose

of learning what might prove so useful a military manœuvre; and as M. M. Kjellberg and Balcken propose carrying their invention into other countries, our readers will probably suspend their opinion till they have a nearer view of this novel meeting of sky and water -Mechanic's Mag.

RAILWAYS.—During the first three days of this week the Atmospheric Railway between the Dartmouth Arms station and Croydon has been tested very fully; many trains full of visiters having passed along the line. The result of the experimental trips appears to have been highly successful, both as regards the great speed attained and the facility with which trains were stopped at an intermediate station by the application of the breaks.

We are glad to find that the Directors of the London and Brighton Railway have adopted the plan of setting apart a carriage in every train for ladies only-Brighton Gazette.

An improved locomotive engine has been constructed for the Liverpool and Manchester Railway Company, by their superintendent engineer, Mr. Durance.

"The improvements," says the Irish Railway Gazette, "consist in having a double fire-box, the combustible gases being consumed in the second, which would otherwise escape in an unconsumed state. By this means, a considerable increase of heating-power is obtained, and consequently an increased speed. The most important feature of the new engine, however, is, that in addition to increased power and speed, the fuel used is coal instead of coke, and a considerable saving in expense is thereby obtained. This is perhaps the greatest improvement, as regards the economy of railways in Ireland, that could have been suggested. Coke, the fuel used in England, must ever be a costly fuel in Ireland, particularly in the interior, inasmuch as the description of coal from which it is produced is not imported into this country; whereas ordinary coal of good quality is to be had on reasonable terms in all our seaports. The Conder, now plying on the Manchester line, draws a greater number of waggons, at a higher velocity and at less expense, than any other engine."-Spectator.

FARADAY ON THE RELATION OF LIGHT, ELECTRICITY, AND MAGNETISM.-He shows that powerful electro-magnets so act upon transparent bodies, solid and liquid, but especially the silicoborate of lead, that a beam of poliarized light passing through it is affected, and that the rotation is from left to right. This effect, however, is only produced when the magnetic lines of force are parallel to the ray of light. Numerous dimagnetics were tried, and, with few exceptions, all exhibited this phenomenon more or less; the rotative powers of those substances naturally possessing this property being increased or diminished according as their rotating agency was opposed to or in conformity with the direction of the electro-magnetic influence. Various gases also were submitted to experiment; but as yet no similar effect had been detected in them.-Literary Gazette.

ceived his death wound, at the Battle of Trafalgar-for presentation to Greenwich Hospitaltakes occasion to bring together a number of examples in illustration of the large sums paid under the relic-and-rarity-mania; particularly by the rich enthusiasts of our own island-more especially, it seems, subject to that species of influenza. Some of the cases reported will require testimonials, not likely to be forthcoming, ere they will be inclined to admit these amongst the statistics of the passion. The ivory chair which Gustavus Vasa received from the town of Lubeck, was sold, the Journal des Débats says, in 1823, for the sum of 58,000 florins-not far short of £6,000! This is a startling anecdote to begin with; but such a one was absolutely necessary to prepare the mind for the reception of the following.—The coat worn by Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden, at the Battle of Pultawa-preserved by Colonel Rosen, who followed the adventurous monarch to Bender-was sold, in 1825, at Edinburgh, for the_sum of £22,000 sterling! This anecdote, the French paper itself thinks should have confirmation. It makes the rest, however, easy of acceptance-though there are some even of these which might be a little difficult of digestion, by a faculty less powerfully stimulated.— M. A. Lenoir, the founder of the French Museum, relates that, during the transport of the remains of Abelard and Heloise to the Petits Augustins, an Englishman offered him 100,000 francs (£4,000) for one of the teeth of Heloise!-At that quotation of the price of bone, Lord Shaftesbury had a great bargain of the tooth of Sir Isaac Newton, for which he paid only £730, in 1516!-For want of an Englishman at Stockholm, in 1820, the head of Descartes (teeth and all) was absolutely given away, as the phrase is, at the sale of Dr. Sourmon's cabinet for 99 francs.-The following cases fall within the more mild and familiar examples of this affection-though it will be seen that the English examples continue to be far more striking than the foreign pronunciations. Voltaire's cane was sold, in Paris, for 500 francs (£20); Rousseau's waistcoat for 949 francs, and his copper watch for 500;-Kant's wig, in spite of all the promise contained in the apothegm which suggests the seat of a doctor's wisdom, brought only 200 francs; whereas, the wig of Sterne fetched, in London, 200 guineas-5,250 francs! Luckily, the inference, against the philosophers, as to the relative value (according to collectors' measure) of the good things severally covered by the two latter articles, is escaped by virtue of the differences in the development of this passion established in the previous cases.The hat worn by Napoleon at Eylau, was, in 1835, carried off, by M. Lacroix, from thirty-two competitors, for the sum of 1,920 francs-about £77; while Sir Francis Burdett paid £500 for the two pens used in the signature of the treaty of Amiens.-Athænum.

FIRE-DAMP OF COAL MINES.-"A report on the composition of the fire-damp of the Newcastle coal-mines, and the means of preventing accidents from its explosion," by Prof. T. Graham. The gases experimented on were from the five-quarter seam in the Gateshead colliery, the Bonsham RELICS.-The Journal des Débats, speaking of seam in the Hepburn, and from the Killingworth the purchase some time since made by Prince Al-colliery in the neighborhood of Jarrow. They bert, of the coat worn by Nelson, when he re- were collected with every precaution to insure

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