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denly act on the frontiers of Gallicia and Bes- her policy as ever dictated by a view to the sarabia would be sufficient to close the cam-permanence of her present institutions, unpaign. Should she incline to Russia, let there changed and unmodified. Perhaps she may be no longer any hesitation in our policy. see that an alliance with the Western Powers Rally round our standard-that of Liberty is the safest guarantee of this. At all events, the scattered fragments of her dissatisfied we shall know upon what and whom we have states. With Hungary in open revolt, Lom- to reckon. The folly of regarding a secret foo bardy in arms, the Herzogovine supplied by as a friend will be eradicated, and we shall adour coasters with means and munitions of war, dress ourselves to the wider conflict before us she will have enough on her hands to occupy with only the more manly consciousness that her without lending squadrons to the Czar. a more worthy task is before us than the Without the aid of Russia in '48, Hungary emancipation of the Turk, and the integrity had overpowered her. What will not that of the Ottoman Empire. brave people be capable of, when aided by There will be despondency on the Stock the sympathies of all western Europe? In the Exchange, and a fall in the funds, when the last struggle, too, the revolutions of Hungary answer comes from Vienna. Very likely! and Italy were not contemporaneous. Aus- There are many in England credulous enough tria had subdued the former before the latter to pin their faith on Austria; but the spirit broke out. A concerted movement would as of the nation, fully roused as to her great certainly overwhelm her. From the hour that duties, and the gigantic resources then availHungary cries to Freedom, Austria is stripped able for her purpose-the whole force and of the flower of her army. The most splendid power of liberal Europe-will soon restore light cavalry in the world, seventeen regiments courage to the money-market; and with Engof huzzars, each from twelve to fifteen land and France at the head of such a movehundred strong, twenty battalions of infantry, ment, the cause of civilization is assured, and such troops as the French Zouaves, are ar- the dread of the Cossack exterminated for rayed against her. With the French in occu- ever in Europe. pation at Rome, and an English squadron in the Adriatic, Italy will not present such a struggle as in the year '48; nor will Venice have to sustain an hour of that siege which her gallantry supported for months long.

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[It will be manifest to the reader that the foregoing observations were written before the Austrian treaty was, laid upon the table of Parliament. Nevertheless the views it puts Such events as these are doubtless terrible forward are, we regret to say, by no means to contemplate; nor can any man foresee the put out of date by the revelations of that reconsequences. Who is to write the bounda-markable document. A treaty offensive and ries of Europe after the first five years of defensive, which admits of the description giv such a struggle? Who can predicate the en to it by Kord John Russell "certainly not destinies of humanity when such a conflict has containing anything very precise," is not once begun? Happily, the eventuality is not so certain. The peremptory demand upon Austria, if only accompanied by some demonstration of our future policy, may exact from her fears what we could never hope from her affection. They who know her best describe

worth the paper upon which it is written. This treaty may bind France and England to sustain Austria if she should be at war with Russia: it in no way pledges Austria to enter into such a war.]

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ORIGIN OF THE TERM "DUNNING."-Some falsely think it comes from the French, where donnez signifies "give me," implying a demand for something due; others from dunan (Saxon), "to thunder; but the true origin of this expression owes its birth to one Joe Dun, a famous bailiff of Lincoln, so extremely active, and so dexterous at the management of his rough business, that it became a proverb, when a man reDun him?"—that is, "Why don't you send Dun fused to pay his debts, to say," Why don't you to arrest him?" Hence it grew into a custom, and is now as old as since the days of Henry VII.

From the Dublin University Magazine.

PERDITA.

whole family issued from its portals in a state of utmost alarm and confusion.

They sought for the child everywhere; "they sought her east, they sought her west," but A COMPLETE and highly finished rural land- she was not to be found. There was a large scape smiling in the short-lived sunshine of a overshadowed pond adjoining the meadow which clear winter day; vast umbrageous oaks, wrink- skirted the lane I spoke of; here the child had led by storm and time, occupy the foreground, oft resorted with her nurse to see the cattle stand their massive and distorted arms almost touch-in the cool water on the hot summer afternoons; ing the ground, as overpowered by their own but now the pond was one solid plate of frost weight and age, and looking like the spreading iron-and she was not there she was not antlers of a herd of giant elks browsing on some there. primæval plain.

There was an old mill with its rapid race and On the left, a wooden spire, springing from thundering reverberations from the grinding lofts, an ancient church-tower, overtops the trees; and white faced men passing in and out,-thiththere are hundreds of crows flying round it-na-er the child had loved to wander with her parents ture's black musicians-executing bass glees and and gaze at the huge and dripping, and revolving husky madrigals in hoarse acclaim, as if chal- wheel while sparkling in the sun, and mounting lenging in cawing chorus a responsive outburst and descending like the alternations of hope and from the chimes which sleep in their belfry tow-despair in the human heart. But the wheel was still and motionless now, and paddle-axes, spoke and felly allestiffened to the ice-death, and armed with a thousand frost-daggers; and she was not there-she was not there.

cr.

On the right, in the centre of a green clear ance, is a beautiful old parsonage, coated up to the roof with clematis, jessamine, and ivy, with deep, overlapping slate eaves, cornered with oak abutments. On the little close-shaven lawn stands many a green and flowering shrub, which like the true heart of friendship, has a blossom and a bright leaf for a wintry day.

There was an ancient poplar tree at the end of the lane, standing in the middle of the road. It was all shattered by time and fast decaying, and had its legend, which made it to be prized, and there was a green mound round it, where travellers sat down, a kind of sylvan "rest and be thankful;" and here the child would delight to come to gather wild violets on the bank in summer; but now the place knew her not, for she was not there-she was not there.

There is the pyracanthus, or fiery thorn, with its clusters of splendid scarlet berries; and the modest laurel, cold and classical; and the graceful lauristinus, with its dark blue fruit springing from the stem which before had glowed with blossoms, purple, red, and white; and the bay, And so, when the family had wandered deswith the aroma on its leaves; and the inimitable, pairingly through the meadows, and up the lane, luxuriant, warm green of the loveliest arbutus, rushing here and there, and calling her name the type and symbol of angelic pity-for the distractedly amidst the ancient, deaf, unheeding coldest and bleakest rock that abuts on the wa-oaks, they came back, and kept their mournful ters of Killarney is not too bare or desolate for tryste under this old poplar, whose few leaves this rich and elegant shrub to grow from and all wan and withering, seemed on their flexile overshadow, inserting its soft roots into the rock's stems to keep up a continual shaking and myshard fissures, like mercy comforting the riven terious trembling, as if indicating to those who heart of care; and the gentle acacia, whose now stood beneath, the very palsy and decrepibranch was twisted round our Lord's head, and tude of despair. made the acanthine crown which bit into his august temples. The holly, too, was there, bright with green and gold, together with the lustreless yew, like Hope standing side by side with sor

row.

But a faithful servant now runs up and brings tidings. She had lit upon the trail of our little Perdita, far down a road not yet explored;and just near the spot where the lieavy snow shower had commenced to fall, the faithful flakes On one side of the house is a garden-door-surely they had been heaven's chroniclers-had swinging on easy hinges, out of which now is- preserved the foot-prints of the wanderer; and sues a little child about four years old, dressed the eager family now follow on, tracking them as for a walk. She is very beautiful; her blue till they stop at the small wicker road side gate and large eyes sparkle with purpose and good-which leads up to the old church; and along humor; her masses of silky brown hair fall off that path the little foot-prints had turned, and from her sweet and thoughtful face; her mo- were traceable up to the door, and there stopt. tions are marked with gracefulness and earnestness, as, with head erect and a grave smile upon her lips, she passed along the avenue, crossed a lov stile, and, turning abruptly down a long lane flanked with green banks, disappeared in the distance, just as a heavy but very short shower of snow had begun to fall.

Apparently the little one was not missed for a considerable time, as nothing occurred to break the still life of the wintry scene without, till suddenly the hall door was thrown open, and the

She had gone straight from her own home, without any deviation, to the church.

The church was unimaginably old, and always dark from thick, ancient yew trees which grew round it, and which were said to have been planted by an Irish king three hundred years ago;and the people loved this church, all daarp and dim as it was, for many of those they loved were buried in the vaults beneath its chancel.

But our Perdita! what brought, her here, and was

she here They had found the door fast locked, entrancing joy! the little one is found in an oband while one ran for the sexton, the distressed scure pew, out of which she had received "her parents were comforted by the nurse now re- flowers;" she is discovered sitting on a hassock, membering that the child had all the morning in a profound and happy sleep, quite warm and been talking of a certain bunch of Christmas full of life; her cheek reclining on the cushioned holly and ivy which an old peasant had presented her with in the church the previous day, and which she called her flowers, and which she had dropped in the bustle of the breaking up of the congregation.

seat above, a smile on her parted lips, and a withered bunch of holly and ivy clasped in her tiny hand. When the first burst of weeping joy was over-for here "joy was too modest to show itself without a badge of bitterness"-they did not wake the child; but all kneeling down, they half encircled the sleeping innocent, the mother

As they waited the arrival of the keys, there came a sudden shower, a rush of snow-flakes around the church, beating at the door and win-being next her, and the old sexton leaning over dows, as if for admittance, and dipping and driving round the tower, and swooping at the old belfry, as if half in anger, and lodging in the deep ivy, and spreading white table cloths on the flat tomb-stones, and sporting and curvetting round the ancient yews, like bright maidenhood making mirth of age, and gradually filling up and effacing all foot-prints on the church path, so that an hour's more delay, and in vain the faithful and true snow-flakes had kept their indented record of the little one's wandering feet.

from the adjoining pew, with the large drops running down his cheek, and the light from his lantern falling on the face of the sleeper. Then the father, in a low and subdued voice, and not without tears, and beating hearts-which out of happy depths could only sob amen-prayed to him who," as at this time, came to visit us in great humility," and thanked him that the lost was found; and that as he had now saved her from perishing by snow, and night, and hunger, and cold, so he would keep her through greater life-perils to come, and finally make her his own in glory.

Here comes Bruton, the sexton, an ancient survitor, puffing like a grampus; very frosty in As they arose from their knees, the child the fingers, like "Hob the shepherd;" his "old waked up, too; and when she saw them she feet stumbling amidst graves," like Friar John;" smiled, but betrayed no further emotion. Her the keys of the church, like the picture of St. mother then eagerly questioned her why she had Peter, in his right hand; while in his left he left the garden, where she had been playing, and brandishes a lantern, like Guy Faux in the gun-wandered so far alone? But she merely glanced powder vaults, or Diogenes at Corinth in search down at what her hand contained, and said, "I of an honest man. He had been in the church came to get my flowers." It was a strange sight all the morning" regulating " it—had left the door how, amidst all that weeping, rejoicing, happy, open when he went to his dinner, but on seeing excited party, the child alone was calm, and the first short snow shower begin to fall, had sent grave, and unperturbed. She could give no achis boy to lock it. count of why she had done this thing. seemed not to understand the agony her absence had produced; nor did her mind at all go into the consequences of her flight. She appeared to have but the one simple idea, and the one simple, grave, and childlike answer to a hundred questions-"I came to get my flowers."

She

Here is hope enlarging almost to certainty.The child is in the church, no doubt, and eagerly they press into the porch, as the old man casts the heavy door back on its grating hinges. They hurry up the aisle, they call the lost one, they run here and there, they pause and listen, but "there was neither voice, nor sound, nor any And now the storm-gust had drifted off to the that regarded," save the dull rustling of the southward; and, careering in her silver car, the snow flakes at the window, tapping and crowd-white winter moon rode brightly up the deep ing up the panes, and looking in to see the En- purple dome of sky; a hundred light clouds fly fant Trouvée, but alas! it was not so. No over her face, but in a moment they are gone, child was to be found-not in the aisle, nor and she pursues her course with unimpaired brilchancel, nor vestry, nor desk, nor among the liancy. seats is she to be seen. And where is she? Is this hope to be crushed out too, oh, God! and the fierce night gathering wild and black, and the snow flakes falling by thousands, and a sudden raging storm gust, shaking the old church, and whistling through its gray tower, and sobbing and moaning amidst the blackened rafters and girders which span its roof.

The party leave the church, and their feet are crunching in the soft snow, as they retrack their homeward path. The child is in her father's bosom, looking up at the flying moon with curious eye, her hand still clutching the bunch of holly and ivy. And on every branch of ferny yew, or fan-like fir, or drooping, denuded larch, or red-leaved beech, or rugged thorn, or expanded elm, or regal oak, or queenly ash; on the smooth ice-plate of the cattle-pond; on the tall, black wheel of the old mill amidst a thousand congelations, and crowning the ancient paralytic poplar with a white coronet and bright fringes on its lank arms till it looked quite gay and hy. meneal; and on the top of all the meadow ditches, and on the broad flags of the stile, and on the piers of the gate, and on every shrub in Hark! a shout from a distant corner, and oh! the lawn, lay the bright SNOW-FLAKES in myri

Oh, what a world of anguish, compressed into those few minutes of torturing suspense; and oh, what a volume of intense prayer went up from suffering hearts to the Father of Mercies in that house where prayer was wont to be made, and His presence, who answers in the day of distress promised; and as the daylight dies away, the old sexton lights his lantern.

ads, reposing softly in the frosty moonlight, to to listen to her answer, still calm, and earnest, watch the return of the happy family, with the and grave, to the oft-repeated inquiry-" I came child nestled warmly in her father's bosom, and to get my flowers."

From the National Era.

FLOWERS IN WINTER,

PAINTED UPON A PORTE LIVRE.

By J. G. Whittier.

How strange to greet, this frosty morn, In graceful conterfeit of flowers, These children of the meadows born Of sunshine and of bowers!

For well the conscious wood retains
The pictures of its flower-sown home-
The lights and shades, the purple stains
And golden hues of bloom.

It was a happy thought to bring

To the dark season's frost and rime This painted memory of spring,

This dream of summer time.

Our hearts are lighter for its sake, Our Fancy's age renews its youth, And dim-remembered fictions take The guise of present truth.

A wizard of the Merrimac

(So old ancestral legends say) Could call green leaf and blossom back To frosted stem and spray.

The dry logs of the cottage wall

Beneath his touch put out their leaves; The clay-bound swallow, at his call, Played round the icy eaves.

The settler saw his oaken flail

Take bud and bloom before his eyes; From frozen pools he saw the pale, Sweet summer lillies rise.

To their old homes, by man profaned,
Came the sad dryads, exiled long,
And through their leafy tongues complained
Of household use and wrong.

The beechen platter sprouted wild,

The pipkin wore its old-time green; The cradle o'er the sleeping child Became a leafy screen.

Haply our gentle friend hath met, While wandering in her sylvan quest, Haunting his native woodlands yet, That Druid of the West

And while the dew on leaf and flower Glistened in moonlight clear and still, Learned the dusk wizard's spell of power, And caught his trick of skill.

But welcome, be it new or old,

The gift which makes the day more bright,
And paints upon the ground of cold
And darkness, warmth and light!

Without are neither gold nor green,
Within, for birds, the birch logs sing,
Yet, summer-like, we sit between
The autumn and the spring.

The one, with bridal blush of rose,

And sweetest breath of woodland balm,
And her whose matron lips unclose
In smiles of saintly calm.

Fill soft and deep, O winter snow
The sweet azalia oaken dells,
And hide the banks where roses blow
And swing the azure bells!
O'erlay the amber violet's leaves,

The purple aster's brook-side home,
Guard all the flowers her pencil gives
A life beyond their bloom.

And she, when spring comes round again, By greening slope and singing flood, Shall wander, seeking not in vain,

Her darlings of the wood.

DWARFS.-Towards the end of the seventeenth century many slaves were exported by the English from their Indian factory. St. Helena was among the Company's possessions, and they desired to people it. Accordingly, a cargo of natives was despatched; but, at first, only men were taken. They will not live without wives," wrote the Honorable Company, and directed its agents to "send near as many female slaves as male." This we notice for the sake of introducing a little picture of Charles the Second. The following is the postscript of a despatch from the Court of Directors to the factors at Surat:

"His Majesty hath required of us to send to India to provide for him there one male and two female blacks, but they must be dwarfs of the least size that you can procure, the male to be about seventeen years of age and the females about fourteen. We would have you, next to their littleness, to chuse such as may have the best features, and to send them home upon any of our ships, giving the commander great charge to take care of their accommodation, and in particular of the females, that they be in no way abused in the voyage by any of the seamen; for their provision and clothes you must take care to lay it in, and let them be set out with such ear and nose rings, and shackles for ornaments about their legs (of false stones, and brass, but not with gold) as is usual to wear in the country, but let them not be used by them in the voyage, but sent to us apart."

Eng. in West. Ind.

HIRAM POWERS.

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a fillet of shells and pearls, the usual Indian coiffure; whilst her hair, which falls down beA Correspondent of the Athenæum writing hind in braids, is caught up by a porcupine from Florence, gives us some notes on the fastening. In the figure as well as in the face studio of Mr. Hiram Powers.-Perhaps it is the true Indian character is preserved; it is not generally known that, unlike all his lithe and agile. "She can run you, sir," said brethren in the profession, he never models Mr. Powers, " and that right swiftly. Penin clay, which he says shrinks or swells at seroso, pointing to another statue in the times instead of which, he at once prepares course of execution, "could not." A half his conceptions in plaster. The advantages figue of Proserpine' is, I think, one of the are, that he gives fixity and permanency to most charming specimens of ideal beauty I his idea, and can take to pieces the individual ever saw. The expression of the face is only parts for more accurate study and examination. too lovable; and looking on it, I can readily The great difficulty to be surmounted was the understand the possibility of conceiving a impossibility of getting a highly finished and passion for statuary. She has a wreath of smooth surface with the instruments already corn in bloom around her head; and around known to the profession. He has, therefore, her waist is an acanthus wreath, emblematic invented a machine for making open files, and of Pluto and the infernal regions, whence she has taken out a patent for it in America. is rising to spend six months on earth. It is The open file, which he showed me, is appli- remarkable that for this piece of sculpture Mr. cable also to copper and lead, and by means Powers had no model;" and when I have of this he manages to give to his cast the most one," said he, "I never detain it more than polished surface. Whilst no one in modern twenty minutes,-observe it,-and take hints; times has adopted this mode of working, John to keep it longer confuses me. I fear to be a of Bologna was the only one in the past who copyist." This statue is a commission for Mr. ever made plaster a substitute for clay, and King, whose bust, close by, is doubtless like that only in a very rough manner. Mr. Pow- him, and is well executed. Several repetitions ers, on the contrary, and by means of his of the Greek Slave' and of " Proserpine," as open file, renders his cast as perfect as it can yet unfinished, were placed about the studio be rendered. The first work which he show- which was surrounded by casts of all the great ed me, still in an unfinished state, is " America," American statesmen. One of the most beautia colossal statue. She is represented by a ful works that Mr. Powers has now in hand is female figure, the expression of whose face is his " Penseroso," on which he seems to labor beautiful and dignified. Thirteen stars form con amore. The subject is taken from Milton, the coronet on her brow. Her right hand whose idea he has endeavored, and successfully rests on the fasces, which are covered with to embody. There is a silent dignity in the laurels, indicative of the triumph which always expression, which becomes thewaits upon union. The left hand points to Heaven, expressive of dependance on it,-or as an American gentleman present said, of a desire to follow the will of Providence in any further annexations she may be called upon to make. The left foot is to be trampling on chains,—but the Negroes who wore them in "the land of freedom are not, I fear, to be represented. The drapery, which hangs easily and gracefully on the figure, is supported by a band over the left shoulder. This statue has The face is raised to Heaven, her— not been ordered. The same may be said of his " California," on which he is slowly at work, and which promises to realize the conception of the sculptor. It is altogether of a different character from the last. "California" is represented by an Indian woman, and her face bespeaks all the cunning of her race.Sly and cat-like, she is tempting the colonist on by her own personal charms, and by aj quantity of quartz at her feet, to which she impossible to be carried out in sculpture. points with a divining-rod in her left hand. Whilst, therefore, the train is permitted to Her right hand, grasping thorns, she conceals fall even to the ground, it is then gathered up behind her back, as if unwilling to let the unwary gold-searcher know the sufferings which await him. Round her head she wears

Goddess sage and holy, ....Divinest Melancholy ;

whilst there is a concealed grief, which well
describes the-

Pensive muse, devout and pure,
Sober, steadfast, and demure.

Looks commercing with the skies.

With the drapery he had some difficulties to encounter, as Milton represents her

All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,-

and held in front by one hand. The robe is fastened round the waist, whilst over the upper part of the body is thrown a mantle

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