Some one has said: "Instead of sending to Cashmere some hideous designs of shawls, which would corrupt the Indian taste, let us send our pattern-drawers to India to contemplate its brilliant nature and to imbibe its pure light." But it would be necessary that these designers should also catch the soul and the profound harmony of India, for between the great calmness of the patient soul of the Hindoo and the subduing mildness of the nature that surrounds him, there is such a complete agreement that the man and the native can scarcely realize that each is distinct from the other. Nor is this the effect of quietude simply, as some believe, but of that singular faculty, peculiar to the race, of seeing life at the bottom of every thing, and the soul in every living body. The herb is not simply an herb, nor the tree only a tree, but both herb and tree are the vehicles for the circulation of the divine spirit; and the animal is not all animal, but a soul that has been or will be a man. Without this faith they could never have accomplished the first and most necessary of all arts in the earliest times, the art of taming and humanizing the most important and useful servants, without which man could not have long existed. Without the dog and the elephant, man would have been at the mercy of the lion and the tiger. The books of Persia and India relate in a gratified manner how the dog was the first preserver of man, and how the men of those days formed friendships and entered into alliances with the very strong and large dogs who could strangle the lion. And in the Mahabharata it is narrated that the hero of that poem declined the reward of heaven unless he could enter Paradise with his dog.

needed, it must have seemed an almost hopeless undertaking to curb and restrain by force this living mountain, this mighty Colossus.

They succeeded, however, and nothing could have been greater or more beautiful. It was a moral victory. They treated the elephant as if he were a man, a wise man, a Brahmin, and he was influenced by it, and behaved accordingly. To-day the treatment is similar; the elephant has two servants to look after him, to remind him of his duties, and to warn him if he deviates from Brah manical decorum. The cornac sits on his neck, scratches his ears, guides him and rules him by the voice, teaching him how to behave himself: while the other servant walks beside him and teaches him the same lesson with a firm tone and equal tenderness of manner.

At present some writers speak very lightly about all that. The elephant has not only been disparaged, but has greatly degenerated. He has known servitude, and has felt the power of man. But in earlier times he was fierce and indomitable, and to have made him teachable and tractable must have required great boldness, calmness, affection, and sincere faith. Then they religiously believed what they said to him. They respected the soul of the dead in the body of the living; for according to the doctrines of their holy sages, the spirit of some departed one lived in the commanding and speechless form.

When they saw him in the morning, at the hour in which the tiger leaves his ambush of night, coming deliberately out of the dense jungle and going majestically to drink of the waters of the Ganges, empurpled by the dawn, they confidently believed that he, too, hailing the open day, became impregnated by Vishnu, the All Pervading, the good Sun, and while immersing in this great soul, incarnated in himself a divine ray.

AN ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

By Philip's warlike son; Aloft in awful state

The god-like hero sate

On his imperial throne:

His valiant peers were placed around,

Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound: (So should desert in arms be crowned.)

The lovely Thais by his side

Sate like a blooming Eastern bride,
n flower of youth and beauty's pride.
Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deserves the fair.

fimotheus, placed on high

Amid the tuneful choir,

With flying fingers touched the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heavenly joys inspire.

The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above
(Such is the power of mighty love!)

A dragon's fiery form belied the god:
Sublime on radiant spires he rode,

When he to fair Olympia pressed,

And stamped an image of himself, a sov'reign of the world.

The listening crowd admire the lofty sound: "A present deity!" they shout around;

"A present deity!" the vaulted roofs rebound.

With ravished ears

The monarch hears, Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung;

Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young;

The jolly god in triumph comes;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;
Flushed with a purple grace,

He shows his honest face.

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes! he comes!

Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did first ordain,
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,

Drinking is the soldier's pleasure,

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Soothed with the sound the king grew vain;

Fought all his battles o'er again;

And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain.

The master saw the madness rise,
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he heaven and earth defied,
Changed his hand, and checked his pride.
He chose a mournful Muse,
Soft pity to infuse;

He sung Darius great and good,
By too severe a fate,

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And weltering in his blood:
Deserted at his utmost need
By those his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth exposed he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.

With downcast look the joyless victor sate
Revolving in his altered soul

The various turns of chance below;
And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.

The mighty master smiled to see
That love was in the next degree;
"Twas but a kindred sound to move,
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble;
Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying:
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think it worth enjoying:
Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.

The many rend the skies with loud applause;

So love was crowned, but music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gazed on the fair,

Who caused his care,

And sighed and looked, sighed and looked,
Sighed and looked, and sighed again :

At length, with love and wine at once oppressed,
The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast.

Now strike the golden lyre again;

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain;
Break his bands of sleep asunder,

And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder
Hark! hark! the horrid sound

Has raised up his head,

As awaked from the dead,

And, amazed, he stares around.

'Revenge! revenge!' Timotheus cries: 'See the furies arise!

See the snakes that they rear,

How they hiss in their hair,

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghastly band,

Each a torch in his hend!

These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain

And unburied remain,

Inglorious on the plain: Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew.

Behold how they toss their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian abodes,
And glittering temples of their hostile gods.'
The princes applaud with a furious joy;

Ginx hurried off again, but as the crowd opened before him, he was met, and his mad career stayed, by a slight figure, feininine, draped in black to the feet, wearing a curiously framed white-winged hood above her pale face, and a large cross suspended from her girdle. He could not run her down. NUN. Stop, MAN! Are you mad? Give me the child.

He placed the little bundle in her arms. She uncovered the queer, ruby face, and kissed it. Ginx had not looked at the face before, but after seeing it, and the act of this woman, he could not have touched a hair of his child's head. His purpose died at that moment, though his perplexity was still alive.

Nux. Let me have it. I will take it to the Sisters' Home, and it shall live there. Your wife may come and nurse it. We will take charge of it.

GINX. And you won't send it back again? You'll take it for good and all? NUN. O, yes.

GINX. Good. Give us your hand.

A little white hand came out from under her burthen, and was at once half-crushed in Ginx's elephantine grasp.

GINX. Done. Thank'ee, missus. Come, mates, I'll stand a drink.

A few minutes after, the woman of the cross, who had been up to comfort the poor mother, fluttered with her white wings down Rosemary Street, carrying in her arms Ginx's Baby.

The Secretary was an old hand at these meetings. He planned to import into this one a sensation. Ginx's Baby, brought from the convent, stripped of his papal swathings and enveloped in a handsome outfit presented by an amiable Protestant Duchess, was placed in a cradle with his head resting on a Bible. I am afraid he was quite as uncomfortable as he had ever been at the convent. When, at the conclusion of the chairman's speech, in which he informed the audience of their triumph, this exhibition was deftly introduced upon the platform, the huzzas, and clappings, and waving of handkerchiefs were such as even that place had never seen. The child was astounded into quietness.

Mr Trumpeter took the chair-believed

by many to be next to the Queen, the most powerful defender of the faith in the three kingdoms. I never could understand why the newspapers reported his speeches-I cannot.

When he had done, Lord Evergood, "a popular, practical peer, of sound Protestant principles," as the Daily Banner allitera tively termed him next morning, rose to move the first resolution, already cut and dried by the committee

"That the infant so happily rescued from the incubus of a delusive superstition, should be remitted to the care of the Church Widows' and Orphans' Augmentation Society, and should be supported by voluntary contributions."

Before Lord Evergood could say a word murmurs arose in every part of the hall. He was a mild gentlemanly Christian, without guile, and the opposition both surprised and frightened him. He uttered a few sentences in approval of his proposition and sat down.

An individual in the gallery shouted"Sir! I rise to move an amendment!"

Cheers, and cries of "Order! order! Sit down!" &c.

The chairman, with great blandness, said: "The gentleman is out of order: the resolution has not yet been seconded. I call upon the Rev. Mr. Valpy to second the reso lution."

Mr. Valpy, incumbent of St. Swithin'swithin, insisted on speaking, but what he said was known only to himself. When he had finished there was an extraordinary commotion. On the platform many minis ters and laymen jumped to their feet; in the hall at least a hundred aspirants for a hearing raised themselves on benches or the convenient backs of friends.

The Chairman shouted, "Order! ORDER, gentlemen! This is a great occasion; let us show unanimity!"

There seemed to be an unanimous desire to speak. Amid cheers, cries for order, and Kentish fire, you could hear the Rev. Mark Slowboy, Independent, the Rev. Hugh Quickly, Wesleyan, the Rev. Bereciah Calvin, Presbyterian, the Rev. Ezekiel Cutwater, Baptist, calling to the chair.

A lull ensued, of which advantage was taken by Mr. Stentor, a well-known Hyde Park orator, who bellowed from a friend's shoulders in the pit, "Mr. Chairman, hear me!" an appeal that was followed by roars of laughter.