"Nowhere does the stranger feel himself more lonely than in the densely thronged metropolis!" Helena re-echoed this oftenmade observation, when some time afterwards alone with her sister; adding, in tones of deepest dejection, "What a prospect! probably up two pair of stairs in some gloomy street in a remote part of the town.'

Diana suggested the more cheering possibility that the street might chance not to be a gloomy one, nor the room so unpleasantly elevated; " and as to the situation," observed she, "I do not think mamma would fix on any very out-of-the-way spot; for you know she wants to be near Mr. Barnard, and his residence is in Berners Street."

"Little matter," said Helena, sadly; we shall be terribly moped, going to live in town, all amidst dust, glare, and noise; -at this season of the year, too."

"The fashionable season of the year, at all events," returned the more light-hearted sister; "though, for my own part, I would never care to set foot upon flags from April to October. But you know it will sound quite the thing.''

A sigh was Helena's response. "Why, yes, no doubt going up to London will cover appearances, and that will be something. Besides, people will not know where we live."

"Little matter," cried Diana, in her turn; any real friends that may be making inquiries, will be as glad to see us in one part of the town as the other; nay (added she, archly) would not even object to mounting two pair of stairs if needs be. And as to the rest, persons who might be curious as to our whereabouts' from motives of vulgar curiosity only, and would shrink from a meeting because of my mother's income being reduced, I would dismiss such individuals from my mind as wholly undeserving consideration."

"I wish I could do the same," returned her sister; " for, undoubtedly you are right, and such summer-friends do not merit a thought. But, alas! the opinion of society has a great hold upon me. I cannot bear to lose caste."

"My dear creature, how shall we do so?" exclaimed Diana, in affectionate interrogatory. "We are not about to be sunk so low as that expression of yours would seem to imply. We shall not have to work for our bread. Though even were it so, and we had thus to descend from our position in society, I do not see that we should forfeit the respect of any whose esteem was really worth having on the contrary, their knowledge of mamma's altered circumstances would rather induce them to give us credit for being desirous to gain by the work of our hands the means of an honourable independence."

"Well, at all events," replied Helena, "I am glad we are going to leave the country, in which we have been known. It

would have been so mortifying to have remained in the same neighbourhood; but to have gone into a smaller house, made shift to do with one servant, and taken to wearing printed cottons and thick shoes."

And Diana did not dissent from this observation, for, without attaching the same importance to externals which her sister did, she certainly thought that it would be just as pleasant to be placed out of the reach of impertinent comment or vapid condolence: so that, on the whole, this very consideration tended not a little (as she remarked to her sister) to reconcile her to the change proposed. "We must only make the best of it," said she," and for mamma's sake try to put a cheerful face on affairs. I wonder whether we shall stay here much longer, and whether she will communicate her money losses to Mrs. Sutherland. "

Helena wondered also; and then observed it was most likely their mother would, for Mrs. S. had always shown herself friendly;" and indeed," added she, "since it must be known sooner or later that our fortune has been greatly injured, there does not seem any use in making a mystery about it. It only remains for us," cried she, " to put (as you say) as cheerful an aspect as possible on affairs, and not allow our changed mien and anxious manners to be the heralds of our misfortunes beforehand. When did people ever gain anything by this sort of pitiful appeal to the sympathy of those around? On the contrary, I would hold my head higher than ever, and not allow my spirits to sink with the occasion.'

Prompted by pride, Helena acted her part to perfection, and during that evening-the first on which we have introduced her to the acquaintance of our readers-her spirits never flagged; sallies of sprightliness passed her lips; and her nightly performance on the piano was distinguished by a life and fire which spoke of excitement certainly, but it might be inferred of a pleasurable kind. "That young lady rattles away with as much vivacity as if she had just received a five thousand a-year offer," was the vinegar-toned remark of an ancient spinster present, who happened to dislike music. Certainly no one could have surmised the bankrupt state of Helena's fortunes.

Diana, on whom the alteration of their circumstances did in fact sit more lightly than on her sister, sustained her part with less effort, though she assumed less buoyancy. Passionately fond of drawing, and intent at this period on completing the copy of a beautiful engraving in one of her hostess's handsomely-bound Annuals, she continued her occupation at the little table beside which her mother sat; and was soon so carried away by love of the art, that as she went on delicately shading with her pencil the moss upon the "ivy-mantled tower," all recollections of the morning's depressing communication passed for the moment March, 1847.-VOL. XLVIII.-NO. CXCI. 2 A

out of her mind. It was recalled as a sigh from her beloved parent reached her ear, while the saddened expression of Mrs. Morland's countenance-at that moment upturned-seemed to indicate pain; and then the affectionate daughter sought, by whispered words of tenderness, and the pressure of the hand, to secretly convey what assurances lay in her power of her unchanging sympathy and love.

(To be continued.)

THE DEAD BRIDE'S PICTURE.

BY MRS. CRAWFORD.

OH! how serenely bright that face!
Oh! how divinely fair!

Of grief, or sufferings past, I trace
No lingering record there.
Dear image! let me gaze awhile

On that sweet brow of thine,
And gather, from its radiant smile,
A ray of light divine.

There is no languor in that eye,
No paleness on that cheek;
Those lips, that smile so witchingly,
Are opening now to speak.
Oh! tell me, thou beloved of years,
Of years no more to be,

That thou hast marked the silent tears,
Which I have shed for thee.

Ah me! how still, how mute thou art!
Thou answerest not my sighs;

I press thee to my throbbing heart,
But no fond pulse replies:

And yet my soul, thus tempest-toss'd,
Some comfort still may find,
That though my loved Eliza's lost,
Her shadow stays behind.

Herself, her very self, thou art!
My beautiful! my bright!

Sole star, that lights my lonely heart,
In sorrow's rayless night!
Those melting eyes again I trace;
Those lips still hold the spell,

The magic spell of that sweet face,

When last they breath'd, "Farewell!"

LITERATURE.

NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

Studies of Public Men, No. II.-Lord John Russell, Lord Stanley, Mr. Macaulay, Lord Grey, and Lord George Bentinck.

To grasp the mind of a great man, it is necessary to have a mind as elevated and comprehensive. Not that it is requisite to have the same faculties for inventive action, the same resources in difficulties, or the same enthusiasm of purpose; but it is needful to exercise a power of mental jurisprudence, to anticipate ultimate aims, and not to look at mere means as though they were positive ends. The Author of "Public Men" possesses these high qualifications for his office. Undisturbed by party faction, unbiassed by prejudice, searching deep for motives, gazing far-sighted into the future for results, strictly just in weighing intentions, and scrupulous as to the mode of working measures out, no man could have assumed the sceptre of the pen-for after all, the pen is a sceptre, and a powerful one-with qualifications more just and more legitimate.

The second series of this political gallery contains the portraits of Lord John Russell, Lord Stanley, Mr. Macaulay, Lord Grey, and Lord George Bentinck. As in its precursor volume, these manifest not only truth in the broad outline, but the utmost nicety of discrimination in every minutia of detail. The calm spirit of contemplative philosophy has presided over each line, and the impartiality is so exact as almost to keep out of view the author's own leaning to either party. We believe it to be true, that out of opposition of feelings and collusion of purposes, our national interests are best preserved; and though heat and rancour may be elicited, true patriotism rises like the Phoenix out of the fires of discord. Nevertheless, though the stripes of faction may be so overruled as to subserve to the true advantage of a country, yet it is not the less admirable to find pure patriotism standing aloof in all her chaste and simple dignity, like the good genius of the land, ever on the watch to guard and avert from her every threatened evil.

It is scarcely necessary to say that this work possesses a far higher character than one of mere biography. Its field is in a great measure metaphysical. It has to do with the actions of the mind, with the progressions of thought, and the operations of the intellect, elicited, stimulated, and expanded by the most powerful of all human interests-the love of country. If we

were to select the most prominent of its characters, we should pause over that of the Premier, which has commanded a closer detail of delineation, not so much from his present elevation of position as from the political course which has raised him to that eminence. Even here, however, we find not the slightest leaning of favouritism nor the faintest taint of prejudice.

Altogether, these two volumes ought to be treasured in the libraries of the land, as a register of those marked men who have sat at the head of our councils, and piloted our national flag through a hundred storms. In closing our notice, we have but one objection to offer. We are told that the series is now closed. We can only say that those who are most able to perform a worthy task are the least justifiable in declining its fulfilment.

Light in Darkness; or, the Collier's Tale. A true History. Edited by JAMES BRIDGES, Esq. Edinburgh: John Johnstone. London: R. Groombridge and Sons. 1846. In these days of no-faith, in which Christianity may be said to have become a vapid formula, almost inoperative, except as a fashion, the transitionary period, it may be, which, like a moral chaos, precedes the light, such works as this, humble and unpretending in character, and religious without cant or affectation, are yet not without effect in enforcing the conviction that a faith in something is a natural want. And, indeed, the proudest sceptic deceives himself if he would affirm that he does not constantly recognize the necessity of believing (and practically acting on this belief) in his own dependence upon some supreme power unknown and unfathomable. But amongst the humbler classes there exists even now a remnant of Christian belief, and their faith is full of a sustaining and invigorating power.

The work before us practically exhibits this great fact, and the strength of moral courage and hopeful energy resulting from a trust not merely in Providence, but the Providence of Christianity; and we particularly commend the unsectarian and liberal views of the editor. The "True History" is that of thirteen colliers left in darkness, and in the fetid atmosphere of a coalmine 360 feet deep, for thirty-six hours of doubt and fear; the pit choked up to within thirty fathoms of the surface, the sides of the pit having given way, and an avalanche of stones and rubbish suddenly enclosed them in the bowels of the earth.

The event occurred near the junction of the Musselburgh and Dalkeith Railways, leading into Edinburgh; and Mr. Bridges personally visited the labourers and their friends before and after the calamity from which they were providentially released. From one of these, a shrewd, and practical, and energetic man,