than by a Christian and philosophic spirit. It is a remarkable work; the style is often highly eloquent, and distinguished generally by calm dignity and power." Similar testimony is borne by the London literary journals.

The London Morning Chronicle of the 10th

inst. has an editorial article on the American free soil question; more is promised-a systematic discussion. In the same number of the Chronicle

are two extensive documents, suggestive and instructive for the United States. I refer to the report of the commissioner appointed to inquire into the state of the population in the mining districts of Great Britain, and a letter to the lord chancellor from the commissioners on lunacy, with regard to their duties and practice.

The Chronicle of the 17th inst. has a continuation of the editorial views of the Wilmot Proviso question. It is severe on the free soil party, and on Presidents Tyler and Polk. The matter is very curious on the whole, if from a foreigner. The writer says:-" The success of the Wilmot Proviso is the doom of slavery." This is to be

shown.

Lamartine advertises in his journal all his patrimonial estates. By his writings he has gained as much nearly as Walter Scott received. These men of genius ended in the same ruin, though from different causes, and with very different char

acters.

The Travels of Lyell and Mackay scale many eyes in Great Britain; perhaps, also, in the United States, where some Americans are not less prejudiced against their own country.

Louis Napoleon has taken up his residence for the vacations, in the palace of St. Cloud. All the vacant ex-royal palaces must, then, be at his disposal!

Nearly all the continental governments are negotiating, or about to negotiate, loans. The comparative prosperity of the Prussian finances is a wonder.

We return often to the subject of California. It is in fact a most interesting spectacle to behold the Anglo-Saxon race there taking possession, colonizing, administering laws, and making a flourishing country of that, which, a year ago, was a vast desert, and where the immense wealth which it has been discovered to contain, has drawn adventurers from all parts of the world. It is a study full of instruction for France, now attempting the work of colonization, and who for eighteen years has been mistress of one of the most beautiful countries on the face of the globe, where she has expended millions of treasure, and shed the blood of her brave soldiers, but without being able to establish herself permanently on the rich soil and under the delicious climate. For France, still reeling and shuddering from revolution and anarchy, it is well worth the trouble of learning how such a government is founded: -how the concert, liberality, and courage of a handful of honest men, who know what they are about, will succeed in establishing a regular system, make the laws respected, and maintain order and liberty in the midst of a population, of which the elements are, for the most part, as desperate and vicious as those which are now to be found amid

the gold mines of San Joaquin and the Sacramento. We must not forget that the greatest number of these intrepid explorers, inured to all danger by their wandering lives, and hardened to all privations and misery, are also men, who, in violence and disorder, do not yield in any degree to the demagogues of our cities, and who have no more idea of respecting property, the rights of mine and thine, than the socialist school here and elsewhere. But, notwithstanding these evil qualities, which must make a struggle with such men terrible, still, they are in a measure controlled by the energy of honest men, who go to seek fortune by their side. Here, then, is a subject for useful meditation for that laborious but timid population, enemies of anarchy, but who do not know how to unite and organize themselves, which forms the immense majority of the French society, and who have left, more than once, the country without defence, to

In the Constitutionnel of 20th inst., and on the same day in the Journal des Debats, there are articles on California, in which the worst aspects are presented by the former, the best by the other. General Riley's proclamation is expounded and praised by both. The Constitutionnel treats the the hands of a few bold conspirators.

plan of the St. Francisco Assembly as revolutionary. Allow me to translate for you a paragraph of each.

From the Constitutionnel.

If the attempt of General Riley succeeds, he will preserve the rights and maintain the authority of the central power. Part of the population has already

The Moniteur of yesterday morning contains the official report from the Council of State, in the case of M. Lesseps, the late envoy or commissioner of France. It censures and condemns his conduct and treaty in the severest terms, and assigns the reasons of this judgment in detail. It

adhered to his proclamation, and consented to pur- pronounces that he entirely violated his instrucsue the plan he has indicated to them. But the tions, and signed a convention of which the stipuprovincial assembly of St. Francisco refuses him lations were contrary to the interests and dignity the right of taking such a step; it protests against of France. The Constitutionnel of this day has the union of civil and military power, and proposes another article on the Canadian question. It is

in its turn, that the different districts should elect

delegates for a convention, which should give to treated as still pregnant with danger for Great California a definitive constitution, without refer- Britain, and interest for the United States.

Aug. 1st. Mr. Agnew sayd to me this morning, somewhat gravelie, "I observe, cousin, you seem to consider yourselfe the victim of circumstances." "And am I not?" I replied. "No," he answered, "circumstance is a false god, unrecognized by the Christian, who contemns him, though a stubborn yet a profitable servant." "That may be alle very grand for a man to doe," I sayd. "Very grand, but very feasible, for a woman as well as a man," rejoined Mr. Agnew, "and we shall be driven to the wall alle our lives,

he sayd in y morning; and, in writing down ye heads of his speech, to kill time, a kind of resentment at myselfe came over me, unlike to what I had ever felt before; in spite of my folly about my curls. Seeking for some trifle in a bag that had not been shaken out since I brought it from London, out tumbled a key with curious wardsI knew it at once for one that belonged to a certayn algum-wood casket Mr. Milton had recourse to dailie, because he kept small change in it; and I knew not I had brought it away! 'Twas unless we have this victorious struggle with cir- worked in grotesque, the casket, by Benvenuto, cumstances. I seldom allude, cousin, to yours, for Clement the Seventh, who for some reason which are almoste too delicate for me to meddle woulde not have it; and soe it came somehow to with; and yet I hardlie feele justified in letting Clementillo, who gave it to Mr. Milton. Thought

soe many opportunities escape. Do I offend? or may I go on?-Onlie think, then, how voluntarilie you have placed yourself in your present uncomfortable situation. The tree cannot resist y graduall growth of y moss upon it; but you might, anie day, anie hour, have freed yourself from the equallie graduall formation of ye net that

I, how uncomfortable the loss of this key must have made him! he must have needed it a hundred times! even if he hath bought a new casket, I will for it he habituallie goes agayn and agayn to y old one, and then he remembers that he lost y key the same day that he lost his wife. I heartilie wish he had it back. Ah, but he feels

my thinking of him, and may open y way, if God wills, to some interchange of kindnesse, however fleeting.

has enclosed you at last. You entered too has- not the one loss as he feels the other. Nay, but tilie into your firste-nay, let that pass-you gave it is as well that one of them, tho' y lesser, too shorte a triall of your new home before you shoulde be repaired. 'T will shew signe of grace, became disgusted with it. Admit it to have beene dull, even unhealthfulle, were you justified in forsaking it at a month's end? But your husband gave you leave of absence, though obtayned under false pretences. - When you found them to be false, should you not have cleared yourself to him

Soe I sought out Mr. Agnew, tapping at his studdy doore. He sayd, "Come in," drylie enoughe; and there were he and Rose reading a

of knowledge of y deceit? Then your leave, soe letter. I sayd, "I want you to write for me to obtayned, expired-shoulde you not have returned Mr. Milton." He gave a sour look, as much as then?-Your health and spiritts were recruited; to say he disliked y office; which threw me back, your husband wrote to reclaim you-shoulde you as 't were; he having soe lately proposed it himnot have returned then? He provided an escort self. Rose's eyes, however, dilated with sweete

whom your father beat and drove away. If you had insisted on going to your husband, might you not have gone then? Oh cousin, you dare not look up to heaven and say you have been y victim of circumstances."

I made no answer; onlie felt much moven, and very angrie. I sayd, "If I wished to go back, Mr. Milton woulde not receive me now."

pleasure, as she lookt from one to y other of us.

"Well-I fear 't is too late," sayd he at length reluctantlie, I mighte almost say grufflie-" what am I to write?"

"To tell him I have this key," I made answer faltering. "That key!" cried he.

"Yes, the key of his algum-wood casket, which

"Will you try?" sayd Roger. "Will you but I knew not I had, and which I think he must miss let me try? Will you let me write to him ?”

I had a mind to say "Yes."-Insteade, I anwered "No."

"Then there's an end," cried he sharplie. "Had you made but one fayre triall, whether successfulle or noe, I coulde have been satisfied-no, not satisfied, but I woulde have esteemed you, coulde have taken your part. As it is, the less I say just now, perhaps the better. Forgive me for having spoken at alle."

-Afterwards, I hearde him say to Rose of me, "I verilie believe there is nothing in her on which to make a permanent impression. I verilie think she loves everie one of those long curls of hers more than she loves Mr. Milton."

dailie."

He lookt at me with y utmost impatience. "And is that alle?" he sayd.

"Yes, alle," I said trembling.

"And have you nothing more to tell him?" sayd he.

"No-" after a pause, I replyed. Rose's countenance fell.

"Then you must ask some one else to write for you, Mrs. Milton," burste forthe Roger Agnew, "unless you choose to write for yourself. I have neither part nor lot in it."

I burste forthe into teares.

"No, Rose, no," repeated Mr. Agnew, putting aside his wife, who woulde have interceded

(Note:-I will cut them two inches shorter to- for me; "her teares have noe effect on me nownight. And they will grow all y faster.)

Oh, my sad heart, Roger Agnew hath pierced you at last.

I was moved, more than he thought, by what

they proceed, not from a contrite heart, they are
y tears of a child that cannot brook to be chid-
den for the waywardnesse in which it persists."
"You doe me wrong everie way," I sayd; "I

came to you willing and desirous to doe what you principles; and therefore promoted your marriage

yourselfe woulde, this morning, have had me doe."

"But in how strange a way!" cried he. "At a time when anie renewal of your intercourse requires to be conducted with y utmost delicacy, and even with more show of concession on your part than, an hour ago, I should have deemed needfulle-to propose an abrupt, trivial communication about an old key!"

"It needed not to have beene abrupt," I sayd, nor yet trivial; for I meant it to have beene exprest kindlie."

"You said not that before," answered he.

"Because you gave me not time-because you chid me and frightened me."

He stood silent some while upon this; grave, yet softer, and mechanicallie playing with y key, which he had taken from my hand. Rose looking in his face anxiouslie. At lengthe, to disturbe his reverie, she playfully tooke it from him, saying, in school-girl phrase,

"This is the key of the kingdom!" "Of the kingdom of heaven, it mighte be!" exclaimed Roger, "if we knew how to use it arighte! If we knew but how to fit it to y wards of Milton's heart! - there's the difficultie --a greater one, poor Moll, than you know; for hithertoe, alle y reluctance has been on your part. But now"

"What now?" I anxiouslie askt.

as far as my interest in your father had weight. I own I was surprised at his easilie obtained consent-but, that you, once domesticated with such a man as John Milton, shoulde find your home uninteresting, your affections free to stray back to your owne family, was what I had never contemplated."

Here I made a show of taking the letter, but he held it back.

"No, Moll, you disappointed us everie way. And, for a time, Rose and I were ashamed, for you rather than of you, that we left noe means neglected of trying to preserve your place in your husband's regard. But you did not bear us out; and then he beganne to take it amisse that we upheld you. Soe then, after some warm and cool words, our correspondence languished; and hath but now beene renewed."

66

"He has written us a most kind condolence," interrupted Rose, on the death of our baby." "Yes, most kindlie, most nobly exprest," sayd Mr. Agnew; "but what a conclusion!"

And then, after this long preamble, he offered me the letter, y beginning of which, though doubtlesse well enough, I marked not, being impatient to reach y latter part; wherein I found myself spoken of soe bitterlie, soe harshlie, as that I too plainly saw Roger Agnew had not beene beside y mark when he decided I could never make Mr. Milton happy. Payned and wounded feeling made me lay aside yo letter without proffering another word, and retreat without soe much as a sigh or a sob into mine own chamber; but noe longer could y restraynt be maintained. I fell

"We were talking of you but as you rejoyned us," said Mr. Agnew, " and I was telling Rose that hithertoe I had considered the onlie obstacle to a reunion arose from a false impression of your own, that Mr. Milton coulde not make you happy. But now I have beene led to y conclusion that you to weeping soe passionatelie that Rose prayed to

cannot make him soe, which increases the difficultie."

After a pause, I sayd, "What makes you think soe?יי

"You and he have made me think soe," he replyed. "First for yourself, dear Moll, putting aside for a time the consideration of your youth, beauty, franknesse, mirthfullenesse, and a certayn girlish drollerie and mischiefe that are all very well in fitting time and place-what remains in you for a mind like John Milton's to repose upon? what stabilitie? what sympathie? what steadfast principle? You take noe pains to apprehend and relish his favorite pursuits; you care not for his wounded feelings; you consult not his interests, anie more than your owne duty. Now, is such the character to make Milton happy?"

"No one can answer that but himself," I replyed, deeplie mortyfide.

come in, and condoled with me, and advised me, soe as that at length my weeping bated, and I promised to return below when I shoulde have bathed mine eyes and smoothed my hair; but I have not gone down yet.

Bed time. I think I shall send to father to have me home at y beginning of next week. Rose needes me not, now; and it cannot be pleasant to Mr. Agnew to see my sorrowfulle face about y house. His reproofe and my husband's together have riven my heart; I think I shall never laugh agayn, nor smile but after a piteous sorte; and soe people will cease to love me, for there is nothing in me of a graver kind to draw their af fection; and soe I shall lead a moping life unto y end of my dayes.

-Luckilie for me, Rose had much sewing to doe; for she hath undertaken with great energie her labors for y poore, and consequentlie spends less time in her husband's studdy; and, as I help her to y best of my means, my sewing hides my

"Well-he has answered it," sayd Mr. Agnew, taking up y' letter he and Rose had beene reading when I interrupted them.- "You must know, cousin, that his and my close friend- lack of talking, and Mr. Agnew reads to us such ship hath beene a good deal interrupted by this books as he deems entertayning; yet half y time matter. 'T was under my roof you met. Rose I hear not what he reads. Still, I did not deeme had imparted to me much of her earlie interest in so much amusement could have beene found in you. I fancied you had good dispositions which, books; and there are some of his, that, if not soe under masterlie trayning, would ripen into noble cumbrous, I woulde fain borrow.

Friday. I have made up my mind now, that | in church, I converted into prayers and promises. I shall never see Mr. Milton more; and am re- Hence, my holy peace. solved to submitt to it without another tear.

Rose sayd, this morning, she was glad to see me more composed; and soe am I; but never was more miserable.

Saturday night. - Mr. Agnew's religious services at y end of the week have alwaies more than usuall matter and meaninge in them. They are neither soe drowsy as those I have beene for manie years accustomed to at home, nor soe wearisome as to remind me of y Puritans. Were there manie such as he in our church, so faithfulle, fervent, and thoughtfulle, methinks there would be fewer schismaticks; but still there woulde be some, because there are alwaies some that like to be y

upperniost.

-To-nighte, Mr. Agnew's prayers went straight to my heart; and I privilie turned sundrie of his generall petitions into particular ones, for myself and Robin, and also for Mr. Milton. This gave such unwonted relief, that since I entered into my closet, I have repeated the same particularlie; one request seeming to grow out of another, till I remained I know not how long on my knees, and will bend them yet agayn, ere I go to bed.

How sweetlie y moon shines through my casement to-night! I am alınoste avised to accede to Rose's request of staying here to y end of the month:-everie thing here is soe peacefulle; and Forrest Hill is dull, now Robin is away.

Sunday evening. -How blessed a Sabbath!Can it be, that I thought, onlie two days back, I shoulde never know peace agayn? Joy I may not, but peace I can and doe. And yet nought hath

amended y unfortunate condition of mine affairs; but a different coloring is caste upon them-the Lord grant that it may last! How hath it come soe, and how may it be preserved? This morn, when I awoke, 't was with a sense of relief such as we have when we miss some wearying bodilie payn; a feeling as though I had beene forgiven, yet

Tuesday. How heartilie do I wish I had never read that same letter!-or rather, that it had never beene written. Thus it is, even with our wishes. We think ourselves reasonable in wishing some small thing were otherwise, which it were quite as impossible to alter as some great thing. Neverthelesse I cannot help fretting over y remembrance of that part wherein he spake such bitter things of my "most ungoverned passion for revellings and junketings." Sure, he would not call my life too merrie now, could he see me lying wakefullie on my bed-could he see me preventing y morning watch-could he see me at my prayers, at my books, at my needle.

He shall find he hath judged too hardly of Moll, even yet.

Wednesday. Took a cold dinner in a basket with us to-day, and ate our rusticall repast on y skirt of a wood, where we could see y squirrels at theire gambols. Mr. Agnew lay on y grass, and Rose took out her knitting, whereat he laught, and sayd she was like y Dutch women, that must

knit, whether mourning or feasting, and even on y Sabbath. Having laught her out of her work, he drew forth Mr. George Herbert's poems, and read us a strayn which pleased Rose and me soe much, that I shall copy it herein, to have always by me.

How fresh, oh Lord; how sweet and clean

Are thy returns! e'en as y flowers in spring, To which, beside theire owne demesne,

The late pent frosts tributes of pleasure bring.

not by Mr. Milton, for I knew he had not forgiven Grief melts away like snow in May,

me. Then, it must be, I was forgiven by God; and why? I had done nothing to get his forgivenesse, only presumed on his mercy to ask manie things I had noe right to expect. And yet I felt I was forgiven. Why, then, mighte not Mr. Milton some day forgive me? Should y debt of ten thousand talents be cancelled, and not y debt of a hundred pence? Then I thought on that same word, talents; and considered, had I ten, or even one? Decided to consider it at leisure, more closelie, and to make over to God henceforthe, be they ten, or be it one. Then, dressed with much composure, and went down to breakfast.

Having marked that Mr. Agnew and Rose affected not companie on this day, spent it chiefly by myself, except at church and meal times; partlie in my chamber, partlie in y garden bowre by the bee-hives. Made manie resolutions, which,

As if there were noe such cold thing.
Who would have thought my shrivelled heart
Woulde have recovered greenness? it was gone
Quite underground, as flowers depart

To see their mother root, when they have blown,
Where they together, alle ye hard weather,
Dead to the world, keep house alone.
These are thy wonders, Lord of power!
Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell
And up to heaven, in an hour,

Making a chiming of a passing bell.
We say amiss "this or that is;"
Thy word is alle, if we could spell.
Oh that I once past changing were!
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flowers can wither;
Manie a spring I shoot up faire,

Offering at heaven, growing and groaning tnither,
Nor doth my flower want a spring shower,
My sins and I joyning together.

[CHARM OF A FAMILIAR OBJECT SEEN IN ITS HAP-small controversies that had lately taken place PIEST LIGHT.]

wise people, and the gay people, and the silly peo--I don't understand you.' Not understand me!"

said the noble jockey. Why, is it not a horse you are talking about?" - A horse! my lord-why single honey- you are strangely out. No, I am not talking about