interested appetite for knowledge, and forms an appreciation for all that is beautiful, noble, and true, shall we according to our day be labouring in that mighty workshop wherein are forged the golden chains which shall bind closer and closer the hearts and affections of husband and wife, brother and sister, man and woman. May it be at least no hasty thought which prompts us to be of the number of those who "stridentia tinguunt æra lacu," and leave it there a dead, cold mass, only accumulating self-consuming rust. C. C. C. THE FISHERMEN. THEOCRITUS. IDYLL XXI. 'TIS Poverty alone provokes the arts, On the dry sea-weed of their wattled hut, When Zeus makes long the days: a myriad dreams I've dream'd already, and it is not dawn. MATE. Blame not fair summer, friend; not at their will The seasons leave their own set course, but care Breaking your slumbers makes the night seem long. ASPH. Have you ever learnt to interpret dreams at all? I've had a fine one, and I would not like That you should be without a part in it; We'll share our visions as we share our fish: Your mother-wit may help you to a guess, He best interprets dreams who follows her. MATE. Besides, we've time, for what can any man Speak then, friend, and let I gave him of his wound, then loosen'd line, But live on land, and king it with the gold. MATE. Well then, don't fear it, for you did not swear; J. H. CLARK. THE LAND OF THE FAMOUS.. "Devenere locos lætos et amoena virecta I MUST confess that once at least in the course of my existence I have been doubtful of my personal identity. This happened on a fine summer's morning, when I unexpectedly found myself in the midst of a pleasantly wooded country, prettily interspersed with gardens, in which I could see groups of men standing under the shade of the trees, or seated in the numerous arbours. How I got there I knew not, and I was equally ignorant of the name or geographical position of the spot where I was. Nor was my perplexity lessened by my noticing that the dress of those of the inhabitants that were visible to me was of the most varied description. Every costume from the Roman toga to the coats still in vogue when our grandfathers were in their prime had numerous representatives. Puzzled beyond measure, I felt greatly relieved to see a sedate looking personage advancing towards me, his dress and bearing indicating that he was English, though of a date some two centuries back. His first words were: "May I ask what illustrious one I have thus the honour of welcoming to these glorious abodes?" "Where am I?" I asked eagerly. "How came I here?" He looked at me for a minute in great surprise, then recovering himself he replied, "I thought that you were a new inhabitant of these realms, but I see that you are but a mortal, who, by the permission of the deities of the place, has come to catch a glimpse of our happy existence." "Am I then in Elysium?" "Not in that so often sung of by the poets," replied he. "This is the place to which the famous of the earth retire after their work has ceased, though the memory of it yet lives. None but the illustrious enter here." VOL. V. U "Do I then see before me the shades of all the departed great?" "Yes," answered my informant, " for though these abodes have not been founded many centuries, all those whose names still live have been admitted." "But how do the favoured ones know of their good fortune? Who decides on those who may enter these happy realms, and by what means is the decision communicated to the successful candidates for admission?" "The shades come to those huge portals that you see to your right, and should the porter permit them to enter, they have no further opposition. Our state is grievously at fault in not having any certain regulations as to the conditions of admission. The sole restriction is that they should continue to be remembered on earth, and it was thought that there would be no hesitation about the fitness of the applicants. Accordingly our porter was directed to admit those who were famous, and it was anticipated that he would find no difficulty in the discharge of his office, but so far from this being the case he has been driven to his wits' end to discover some serviceable test which may enable him to decide on the merits of the various cases presented to him. The hope that he first entertained that it would be safe to admit all that thought themselves worthy, soon proved delusive, and he saw the necessity of adopting some fixed standard of merit. He commenced by noting the behaviour of friends and acquaintances at the death of each, admitting any one whose deaths caused much mourning, but this was found to depend on circumstances which had nothing to do with his fame. Frequently it depended on the influence which the family possessed, of which he was a member, and was put on and off with the hatband. Abandoning this idea our porter turned philosopher for the nonce, and commenced ruminating on the qualities and deeds that secure immortality. He came to the conclusion that it was the powers of the mind by which men became famous, and knowing no form in which these were so clearly displayed as in books, he determined to judge by these alone, especially as he noticed that authors were usually remembered just so long as their books were. A new difficulty arose-how should he decide on the relative merits of the books of different writers? Thinking it natural that books should be most carefully examined and criticized when they first appeared, he sedulously observed the opinions of the critical world, and became as diligent a reader of the various reviews as if he had been an author |