of great profit to them. Thanking me for the suggestion, he called his family after him, and retired.

"I am glad," exclaimed the next who advanced, "to see that false and impertinent scoundrel turned out of his place. He deserves it richly, for he turned me out of mine, many years ago, merely because I did not believe that a man would perjure himself for money. The commissioners, in their wisdom, are coming back to my belief."

"And who are you?" said I.

"I am old and neglected Debt," he answered; " and I still carry the gospels in my hand, although no defendant can now wage his law on them. I am compelled to leave your service; but I rejoice to see the principles of my youth revived. No man should ever be compelled to pay a demand, when he will swear that he does not owe it." And with these words he took his departure.

And now the crowd began to hurry past without any ceremony. Plea and Replication, with their followers; Fi. Fi. and Ca. Sa., arm in arm; Case, Trespass, Injunction, and Decree, all hastened along, as if each were fearful of being the last. Perceiving among them one whose name I could not guess, I called to him and asked him who he was. He replied that his name was Obligor.

"But," said I, "you surely are not going. How shall we do without you?"

"Rather poorly," he answered, with a laugh, "for there is an undertaker coming in my place, and that will be a grave change;" and on he ran to join those who had gone before.

The shelves of the book-case were now nearly empty. Only one or two figures remained, and I was wondering how the vacant places were to be filled, when suddenly appeared at the door a figure of a new shape;

"If shape it might be called, that shape had none,
Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb,

Or substance might be called that shadow seemed,
For each seemed either."

Pushed along by three supporters, it worked its awkward way to the book-case, and mounting upon the shelves, tried, like the ambitious frog, by puffing and swelling, to fill, with its unwieldy carcass, the places lately occupied by those who had just retired. But its labor was all in vain; now it was too tall, and now it was too short; until at last, wearied with its exertions, it gave over, and looking directly at me, exclaimed in a cracked and broken voice, "I am the New Practice!"

I woke at the sound, and discovered that I had just dropped from my benumbed fingers, "the Code of Procedure." My legal reader, was it "all a dream? "

THE PEAN.

ANALYSIS-Yearning for heaven, in holy imaginings we hear the triumph of a soul in bliss, and are impatient to join it—but we cannot go to heaven from Mount Beatitude-we must pass through life-the career of a human being-she is born a child of Satan-is regenerated into the church, and receives the Holy Spirit for a guide. She becomes from that moment an object of contention between two persons-the Power of Evil to regain that which he has lost, and the Power of Good to retain that which he possesses-pleasure-love-humilityfame-affliction-friendship-holiness-death-victory.

The gentle winds, in mournful descants sang

The requiem low, of the departed day;

The western sky was slowly putting off

Its drapery of crimson, blue and gold,

While far off in the east, the clouds were piled

Along the heavens, like alabaster hills.

The dew came down, and songs of birds were hush'd,

And weary earth seem'd turning o'er to rest.

Sad was my soul, though not with earthly grief,
But yearnings deep, for some land where the heart
Feels no desires unsatisfied, and lips

Can find for heaven-born thought, a language meet.
Oft had I gathered flowers around the base
Of Mount Beatitude: though where its brow
Stands veiled in heaven's own drapery of light,
I ne'er had ventured. But with timid steps,
Th'ascent I now began, for earthly cares
Were laying waste my spirit, and I sighed
For loftier regions, and for holier scenes.
Though oft astray, my steps were turned, my eyes
Were upward rais'd, and from my ear all sounds
Of earth soon faded. Onward still I press'd,
And gained the summit. In that higher world
I stood entranced 'mid visions, and my soul
Expanding, seemed to grasp the limitless.
The stars looked down, and heavenly visitants
Seemed all around, and holiness seemed there.
Then from the far off heavens came music sweet,
At first I heard it faintly, but my ear,

By energies from every other sense,

Concentered, quickened, soon took in the strains

Of that unmeasured song. It was no flood

Of angel minstrelsy, that overwhelmed
My senses; one lone voice seemed sending forth

From the celestial realms the triumph song

Of immortality. Then all was still-
With clasped hands and parted lips, I tried
To catch one echo; but, alas! 'twas gone-
And can I turn from regions where I've known
Such ecstacies, and to life's weary scenes
Again descend. Oh, no! my soul revolts,
Here let me learn that song, and hence depart,
To breathe its accents in immortal bowers.

I raised my voice, its melody to learn,
But so discordant was it, that I knew

Mortals untaught, such strains could never reach.
The aid of higher powers I then invoked,

But

ye whose sacred fire inspir'd the bards Of Chios, and of Mantua, not to ye

I raised my suppliant voice; Elysian shades
Ne'er echoed strains like that I sought to learn.
But oh! thou Holy One, before whose throne
The morning stars first sang together; Thou
Who woke the harp of Zion's minstrel; Thou
Who loosed the tongue of Judah's priest, to sing
The "
Day-Spring from on High," to Thee I bowed,
For well I knew that Thou alone could teach
Such songs to mortals-but 'twas vain-there came
From out the heavens, no voice to lead me on,
No key-note sounded to that heavenly strain;
Even the stars grew dim, and dark despair
Then brooded o'er my heart, and bringing forth
From out its depths, her sable progeny
Had trampled me to earth, when there arose
Above the tumult wild, a mild, sweet voice-
At its first word, those fearful phantoms fled;
That potent word was hope." Hope on," it said,
For that triumphant song may yet be thine,
But thou must win the bays of victory,

Ere thou canst sing in Heaven-and on the mount,
Or with the stars, thou canst not gather them;
Down in the world beneath, flow all the streams
That water them-and if thine eye would mark
Thy pathway through that world, I will reverse
The glass of her whose sands have just run out,
And thou canst note each scene.

I looked and saw

A child of tender years, it was a soiled

And abject thing. A dark and hideous form

Dragg'd with malignant grasp the trembling one,

Defying every human power, to wrest

That piteous victim from his cruel hand.

But lo! across his path, a being rose,

Of bright transcendant beauty; on her brow
Was majesty, and on her lip was love.

The folds of her white garments swept the earth;
Strength rested in her arm, and in her step
Dominion. Forms celestial round her bowed,

Saluting her in lofty strains, and sweet

As "Holy Mother," "Spotless Bride," the "Lamb's
Most beauteous wife;" and from his grasp she snatched.
The wretched child; while he with demon rage,

Aloof with looks of hate, regarded her.

She stripped the tainted garments from its form,

And toward that scowling fiend she stretched its hands,
And him and all his works she bade it thrice

Denounce. Then while its eyes were raised to meet
Her gaze ineffable, she bade it thrice,

In words of solemn import, vow to be
Her own forever. In a crystal font

She washed it; on its brow a name she sealed
With her own signet ring; its form now pure,
She clad in robes of dazzling white; then one
Of mild persuasive mien, she called from out
That radiant throng, into whose hand she placed
That of her child adopted, whom she urged,
In words of solemn import, ne'er to swerve
From paths and precepts, by that guide made known.
Then from that demon base forever safe,

'Twould wear its robe unstained, and keep undimmed
The precious seal which shone upon its brow.

Guarded in safety thus, it onward went,

Until the scene had changed. The tender child
Was now a maiden in the pride of youth.

Two forms were lingering near, each sought to win

Her wavering favor, but in different ways.

One was her faithful guardian, who with looks
Of love and hope persuasive, gazed on her.
The other sought by blandishments and lures,
To draw her to himself. To Circean scenes
Which ravished every sense, he led her on.
Soft winds midst fragrant flowers were wantoning,
And bright hued birds blent their impassioned lays
With dreary murmurs of the flowing fount-
And music too was there, breathing such low
Delicious harmonies, as steep the soul
In one soft trance of blissful ecstacy.
Bright forms were revelling o'er the ruby wine,
Gracefully gliding through the mazy dance,
Or by the lute's melodious strains were lapp'd

To languor. Pleasure here dominion held,
And here he whispered her to stay, with vows
That hours should be but measures of her joy.
Seduced by witchery of that scene, and those
Soft honied words, she yielded, and was glad,
Unless she saw in rambling through those bowers,
The sorrowing look of the neglected one.
Then to her lids would rise the mantling tear
Of penitential thought, but soon 'twas sent,
By gales from pleasure's bower, back to its fount.
But lo! a tempest came; on that fair scene,
Wreaking its wrath so terrible; her form
Was prostrate laid with the destruction dire―
She raised her head, now scathed and pale, gazed
Upon the desolation. Fearfully

She sought, and called with tenderness for him
Who erst was by her side; but far above
The death groans of the tempest, mocking laughs
She heard, and looking whence they came, she saw
Far distant him she sought, but now unmasked,
His hideous front revealed, hissing at her
In mad derision. Lifeless she had fallen,
But that sad angel gaze again she met,
She stretched her hands for help, and instantly
Her form from danger far away was borne.

Beside a mountain spring I saw her next,
Which on the breast of nature, calmly slept.
A youth of noble bearing clasped her hand,
And from that fountain they together drank
Of human love, the first deep thrilling draught—
And mirrored in its depths, she naught could see
But their own forms, and the bright heavens above-
Oft laving in those limpid waves, and oft
That blissful draught repeating, on they went.
O'er flowery mead and rugged rocks, and chasms
Dismal and deep, its swelling waves they coursed,
And 'midst the darkest gloom she ever smiled
The sweetest; then that foe with stealthy step
Advanced; a bitter branch upon the stream
He flung, and when its waters met again
Their lips, that youth released her trusting hand,
And from their poison fled. She saw him, lured
By wiles which well she knew, unto the brink
Of an oblivious fountain, there he bathed