mind.

66

"The words of his revered professional of hardships, though reared in luxury; his associates have borne tribute to his ready in- labor in helping make the regiment the brave sight, his strong reason, and his cultivated and veteran corps it is, and his skill, courage, and daring, were variously illustrated. His kindness to all, his care of the helpless, his sending water to wounded men near him on the field, his care of the wounded at Winchester after Banks' retreat, while a prisoner, were also spoken of.

"But, five hundred miles away, near the battle-ground stained with their and his blood, where, before I left in charge of this sacred trust, the dead faces lay upturned to the sky, the wounded lay helpless, the dying lay gasping-do they weep who in the roughest shock of battle were like iron. From them have I come these many miles; to them shall I instantly return, when the work they have given me to do is ended."

He then proceeded to speak of the honor in which he was held, and the love with which the men regarded him. His ready endurance

faith with which he met death, his bravery The chaplain also alluded to the bright and cheerfulness, and the Christian peace the fatal wound-the speaker being with him which he enjoyed the two days he lived after during his last hours, and when he died.

gloss.

DANIEL WEBSTER IN HIS COFFIN.-We find | ervation, though deprived of its primitive the following account of the private funeral of Col. Fletcher Webster, and of the inspection of his illustrious father's remains, in this week's issue of The Plymouth Rock:

"The tomb at Marshfield once again opens wide its portals to receive the last of the sons of the Great Expounder.'

'In silence the lid was dropped and the box recommunion with thee is o'er. No more shall closed. Farewell, thou great departed! Earth's human eye behold that face over which thought and feeling once flashed the light and shade of that imperial mind.'_ Rest, noble statesman, with thy patriot sons. Thy memory 'still lives enshrined in a nation's admiration and grati

POPE'S

The funeral of Col. Fletcher Webster took place at his residence in Marshfield on Wednes-tude." day, Sept. 10. The body was brought down from Boston in a richly caparisoned hearse with four horses, by way of Hingham and South Shore. Several coaches conveyed his Boston friends from the Kingston Depot, while a large assemblage gathered from the neighboring towns. Rev. Mr. Alden, the village pastor, conducted the services; the body resting on his father's writing table in the library, according to his dying request. A large procession followed his body to the tomb, where the coffin was deposited with the family whom a nation mourns.

By request of Peter Harvey, Esq., and others, the oaken box containing the great statesman's coffin was opened, and the metallic cover of the glass removed. How were the feelings of those personal friends stirred within them to find those lineaments and features, which no man ever looked upon to forget, retaining the same color and impress-natural as when ten years ago they gave him up to the grave.

"The eyes were more sunken, but the heavy shadows beneath the brows were always there in life. Even in death, and for a decade the captive of the grave, that kingly presence inspired the same deep reverence and speechless awe as when in the living temple of his matchless mind. Said one who looked upon his face again, 'I forgot all else, and cannot tell you anything of the tomb or surrounding objects.' The velvet pall with its rich embroidery, was in perfect pres

GENEROSITY. - Pope's conduct toward Gay should always be remembered to his honor. "I remember a letter," says Aaron Hill, "wherein he invited him to partake of his fortune,-at that time but a small one,-assuring him with a very unpoetical warmth, that as long as himself had a shilling, Gay should be welcome to sixpence of it; nay, to eightpence, if he could contrive to live on a groat."-Hill's Works, vol. 1, p. 376.

"THE Stone of Faith is an octagonal stone perforated, of a size fitted to the reception of the hands and cubits of those who were sworn at the altar on covenants of all sorts, among the ancient Gaels and Scots, a custom coeval with the Druidical rites."-Lord Buchan. found one with the date of 1000 in the reign of King Grüm."-Nichols' Illust., p. 506–7.

"He

EARL GODWIN'S MOTHER.-It is reported that she was in the habit of purchasing companies of slaves in England, and sending them into Denmark, more especially girls, whose beauty and youth rendered them more valuable, that she might accumulate money by this horrid traffic.-Wm. of Malmesbury, Sharpe's Trans., p. 255.

POETRY.-France to Italy, 146. The Soldier's Grave, 146. Lord Palmerston's Motto, 146. Battle-Field, 166. In the Woods, 175. Storm at Night, 177.

SHORT ARTICLES.-Bandit and Red Boots, 150. Waterloo Anecdote, 153. New Pensions in England, 163. The Spas of Europe, 166. Druidical Temples, 166. The Romance Language, 166. British Baskets, 166. British Population and Letters, 172. Last of the Byrons, 175. Nunneries in England, 175. Alfred Celwulf, 177. Fine Dresses of Clergy and Nuns, 177. Rushes for Carpets; Harold; William, etc., 180.

NEW BOOKS.

THE CHRISTIAN YEAR: Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and Holidays throughout the Year. By the Rev. John Keble, Professor of Poetry in the University of Oxford. Edited by the Right Reverend George W. Doane, Bishop of New Jersey. New York: H. B. Durand.

PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL, SON, & CO., BOSTON.

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From The Saturday Review.

JOURNALS.

and fragments, associated with sight or sound or scent-but eluding all pursuit, all attempt THERE are few things that show more the at investigation. We just know that there difference between man and man in points is more in our past than our memory reports not easily got at, than how they conduct such to us, but practically they are gone. To how a private matter as keeping a journal. The many does not any sudden question of our practice itself is simple enough, but the pur- doings and surroundings ten, or fifteen, or poses for which it is undertaken, and the mode even five years ago, fill us with a painful in which it is carried out, show the odd con- sense of loss of having parted from ourtrasts the entire variance in aim and view selves? A gathering indistinctness man-that may exist under much outward con- tles over what once engaged our time and formity. Something that must be done daily, interest. A chain is broken, and links are and that a task of no absolute necessity, even missing, which should at a touch have taken if it but three or at most five minutes us back to place and scene recalled to us occupy of every day, is a burden on time and method our fellow-actors in them - brought back which we suspect the majority of men are thoughts, words, and doings in their first not equal to. Everybody at some time of distinctness and reality-and, wanting which, his life begins a journal; but because it ex-all is dull, misty, disconnected, or at best acts a certain punctuality, and because the partially remembered. We are impressed trouble promises no immediate return, and with a sense of self-desertion and neglect, as because, too, people get tired of the seem- though we had not appreciated life, its pleasing monotony of life, and the mere bare ures, its associations, as we ought. All perevents of most lives have a way of looking sons recollect what has once deeply and vevery monotonous when written down,-it is, hemently stirred the feelings; and every we believe, seldom persisted in. No one thing and person associated with such occaunderstands the value of such a record till sions will always stand out in strong relief. it is too late to make it what it might be. Something brands particular days and moWe do not suppose there exists a chronicle ments into the most treacherous memory, or of the daily doings of a life from childhood into something which is more part of ourto old age, yet we can imagine nothing more selves than memory seems to be. But where interesting and valuable to the man who has this passionate sentiment, whether of grief kept it; and who would not be glad-if it or joy, is missing, as we know it is to all could be referred to without too keen a self-persons for long tracts of time, we cannot reproach-of a close and exact memorial of tell. Our inner tablets are too often blurred, his life and actions, and of the influences and have to be deciphered carefully and with brought to bear on them by the progress of very uncertain results. events?

-

We are drawing an extreme case, perhaps; and there are minds so orderly, and

Are we right in surmising that, by many persons, whole tracts of life are forgotten-memories so retentive, that our picture will lost, never to be recovered? If we are mis- convey to them no meaning. But in so far taken, it is only another proof of those inner as it is true, it is an argument for keeping a differences of mental constitution of which record of daily events, however seemingly we have spoken. We suspect, however, that monotonous and trivial-and. even the more it is no unusual thing for men to be sepa- so if they present no salient points. For rated from certain stages of their life-from when our days pass in comfort and ease, unevents that happened after they had begun marked by strong excitements, the ingratito reason and to think, and in which they tude of forgetfulness most naturally slips actively shared by a thick veil of uncon-in; yet what pleasant glimpses will a few sciousness. It may not be utter oblivion lines, containing our comings and goings, perhaps. The memory of them may lie hid and certain familiar names, open out to us, in some corner of the brain of which we have if their definiteness furnishes the key that lost the key; we may even approach very alone is wanting to bring back a distinct picnear their whereabouts at odd times. Now ture of a past stage of life! And how much and then, they may give a faint intimation of does the most condensed chronicle convey their existence by intangible hints-in dreams to us when we are fairly separated from it

forever! What sentiment, and even dig- touching interest when read years after. nity, time throws on the persons and influ- The most homely doings are imbued with a ences which we see now so nearly affected certain poetry when we can do them no us, though we scarcely knew it at the time! longer. Facts external to ourselves are inThe record of the most uneventful life falls vested with an historic value as telling us of naturally into chapters, and has its epochs social or of the world's changes. and marked periods of time which stand out quite separate when we can survey the whole in distinct groups and distances. Nothing in it is really unimportant unless we were wilful triflers, in which case no elaborate formula of confession and self-accusation need teach us a sterner lesson than this brief epitome of a frivolous existence.