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tears in her eyes. "Let it be, then, as though it had never been, except to teach you Mr. Ellison's lesson," she said. She then approached my guardian. "I knew not," she added in a softened tone, and holding out her hand with an air of respect," how much you lost some years ago by Clement's death. Henceforth, you and I will be better friends." Mr. Ellison pressed her hand in silence; I saw he could not speak; I had an instinct

From Notes and Queries. BISHOP KEN AND SIR THOMAS BROWNE.

TURNING to Bishop Ken, I would observe that, in his excellent life of this prelate, Mr. Anderdon has given the three well-known hymns "word for word," as first penned. These, Mr. A. tells us, are found, for the first time, in the copy of the Manual of Prayers for the Use of the Winchester Scholars, printed in 1700. The bishop's versions vary so very inaterially from those to which we have been accustomed from childhood, that these original copies are very interesting. Indeed, within five years after their first appearance, and during the author's life, material changes were made, several of which are retained to the present hour. It must be admitted that some of the stanzas, as they first came from the bishop's pen, are singularly rugged and inharmonious, almost justifying the request made by the lady to Byron (as I have stated elsewhere*), "to revise and polish the bishop's poems. How came these hymns, so far the most popular of his poetical works, to be omitted by Hawkins in his collected edition of the poems, printed in 4 vols., 1721 ? My present object is to call your attention

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to 66 a Midnight Hymn," by Sir Thomas Browne, which will be found in his works (vol. ii., p. 113, edit. Wilkin). Can there be a question that to it Ken is indebted for some of the thoughts and expressions in two of his own hymns?

The good bishop's fame will not be lessened by his adopting what was good in the works of the learned physician. He doubtless thought far more of the benefit which he could render to the youthful Wykehamists, than of either the originality or smoothness of his own

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that he would wish to be alone, so I followed my aunt quickly out of the room.

She turned kindly round, and despatched me on some message as of old; I felt I was forgiven! Before fulfilling it, I ran into my room, and shut the door; then kneeling down by the bedside, I prayed as I had not before done, with softened heart and contrite tears, for God's forgiveness.

Those few hours have influenced a lifetime.

Sleep is a death; O make me try,
By sleeping, what it is to die!
And as gently lay my head
On my grave, as now my bed.

These are my drowsy days; in vain
I do now wake to sleep again.
O come that hour when I shall never
Sleep again, but wake forever!

Guard me 'gainst those watchful foes,
Whose eyes are open while mine close;
Let no dreams my head infest,
But such as Jacob's temples blest.

BISHOP KEN.

Awake, my soul, and with the sun Thy daily stage of duty run.

Teach me to live that I may dread The grave as little as my bed.

O when shall I in endless day
Forever chase dark sleep away,
And endless praise with th' heavenly choir,
Incessant sing and never tire !

You, my blest Guardian, whilst I sleep,
Close to my bed your vigils keep?
Divine love into me instil,
Stop all the avenues of ill.

Thought to thought with my soul converse,
Celestial joys to me rehearse;
And in my stead, all the night long,
Sing to my God a grateful song.

In the work referred to-one of the most

valuable and best edited of modern days Mr. Wilkin, when speaking of a fine passage on music in the Religio Medici (vol. ii., p. 106), asks whether it may not have suggested to Addison the beautiful conclusion of his Hymn on the Glories of Creation :

What tho' in solemn silence, all, &c.

This passage in Sir Thomas Browne appears forcibly to have struck the gifted author of Confessions of an English Opium-eater (see p. 106 of that work). J. H. MARKLAND.

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From the Spectator.

LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS V. THE BUSH.* This title is rather inaccurate. Mrs. Moodie's new work does not present the same practical picture of daily life and family adventure among gentleman colonists, who have been wise enough to settle upon a cleared farm with plenty of neighbors in a similar position, as her Roughing it in the Bush exhibited of the struggles of a half-pay officer in attempting the part of a backwoodsman and clearing the forest himself. Something of Canadian life among the better classes in or near towns is delineated, and descriptions are given of Kingston and Toronto. In an account of Belleisle, where Mrs. Moodie resides, the reader is presented with a view of the changes which a few years make in Upper Canada in a settlement that succeeds; and many sketches of colonial manners and amusements are found in the volume. As a whole, however, Life in the Clearings wants spontaneity and a sense of reality. There is too much of digression and disquisition- as in an article on Wearing Mourning for the Dead, and another on Education. Tales, rather laid in America than closely illustrative of the writer's avowed object, and partaking too much of the common magazine story, are introduced. They want closeness, strength, and dramatic character.

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Isles without education, and their children, whom the gains of their parents have educated. It may be so, although that does not say much for the sort of education given in Canada; but the same thing takes place in the United States, where the remark does not apply.

Tired and ill, I was glad to lie down in one of the berths in the ladies' cabin to rest, and, if possible, to obtain a little sleep. This I soon found was out of the question. Two or three and their grandmother, a very nice-looking old noisy, spoiled children kept up a constant din; lady, who seemed nurse-general to them all, endeavored in vain to keep them quiet. Their mother was reading a novel, and took it very easy; reclining on a comfortable sofa, she left her old mother all the fatigue of taking care of the children and waiting upon herself.

This is by no means an uncommon trait of Canadian character. In families belonging more especially to the middle class, who have raised themselves from a lower to a higher grade, the mother, if left in poor circumstances, almost invariably holds a subordinate position in her wealthier son or daughter's family. She superchildren; and her time is occupied by a numintends the servants, and nurses the younger ber of minute domestic labors, that allow her very little rest in her old age.

I have seen the grandmother in a wealthy family ironing the fine linen, or broiling over the cook-stove, while her daughter held her place the drawing room.

Age in Canada is seldom honored. You would imagine it almost a crime for any one to grow old with such slighting, cold indifference are the aged treated by the young and strong. It is not unusual to hear a lad speak of his father, perhaps in the prime of life, as the "old fellow," the "old boy," and to address a grayhaired man in this disrespectful and familiar manner. This may not be apparent to the natives themselves, but it never fails to strike every stranger that visits the colony.

The effort of the writer to impart connec-in tion to her papers has contributed to give the book something of the made-up character it undoubtedly possesses. The framework is a voyage on Lake Ontario and the Niagara river from the writer's residence to the Falls. As long as the articles introduced are directly connected with the journey- as the districts or the cities on the banks of the lake, which the steamer sees or calls at the description is appropriate. When night or some other interruption is made an excuse for spinning a yarn or introducing a discussion, the artificial character of the scheme is too apparent. It would have been better to limit the book directly to the voyage, or to have published the papers as what they are a series of tales and sketches relating to Canada.

The

Although Life in the Clearings is not entitled to take high rank either as a book usefully informing respecting a new country or as a production of pure belles lettres, some useful information will be found in it, and a good deal of light and pleasant reading respecting Canadian life and manners. following, however, is not a pleasant picture of the rising generation's contempt for age. Mrs. Moodie is inclined to ascribe it in part to the intellectual difference between the old colonists, who have come from the British *Life in the Clearings versus the Bush. By Mrs. Moodie, Author of "Roughing it in the Bush," &c. Published by Bentley.

To be a servant is a lot sufficiently hardto have all your actions dictated to you by the will of another to enjoy no rest or recreation but such as is granted as a very great favor; but to be a humble dependent in old age on children, to whom all the best years of your life were devoted with all the energy of maternal love, must be sad indeed. they submit with great apparent cheerfulness, and seem to think it necessary to work for the shelter of a child's roof, and the bread they eat.

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"You are wrong, sir, it is not so " "Mamma, that is not true; I know better,' are expressions which I have heard with painful surprise from young people in this country; and the parents have sunk into silence, evidently abashed at the reproof of an insolent child.

As in the United States, and all new colonies where life is frequently risked and time is too much occupied to be given to reflection, death is little thought of. In the following anecdotes, the unsophisticated Ca

'nadians appear not to have learned to affect the solemn on appropriate occasions.

It is certain that death is looked upon by many Canadians more as a matter of business, and a change of property into other hands, than as a real domestic calamity. I have heard people talk of the approaching dissolution of their nearest ties with a calm philosophy which I never could comprehend. "Mother is old and delicate; we can't expect her to last long," gays one. 'My brother's death has been looked for these several months past; you know he's in the consumption." My husband asked the son of a respectable farmer, for whom he entertained an esteem, how his father was, for he had not seen him for some time. "I guess," was the reply, "that the old man 's fixing for the other world." Another young man, being asked by my friend, Captain to spend the evening at his house, replied "No, can't-much obliged; but I'm afeared that grandfather will give the last kicks while I'm away.'

From Notes and Queries.

A POEM BY SHELLEY, NOT IN HIS WORKS. THE following poem was published in a South Carolina newspaper in the year 1839. The person who communicates it states that it was among the papers of a deceased friend, in a small packet, endorsed "A letter and two poems written by Shelley the poet, and lent to me by Mr. Trelawney in 1823. 1 was prevented from returning them to him, for which I am sorry, since this is the only copy of them -they have never been published." Upon this poem was written, "Given to me by Shelley, who composed it as we were sailing one evening together."

THE CALM.

Hush hark! the Triton calls

From his hollow shell,

And the sea is as smooth as a well:

For the winds and the waves

In wild order form,

To rush to the halls

And the crystal-roofed caves

Of the deep, deep ocean,

To hold consultation

About the next storm

The moon sits on the sky
Like a swan sleeping
On the stilly lake:
No wild breath to break
Her smooth massy light

And ruffle it into beams :
The downy clouds droop

Like moss upon a tree,
And in the earth's bosom grope
Dim vapors and streams.
The darkness is weeping,
O, most silently!
Without audible sigh

All is noiseless and bright.

Still 't is living silence here,
Such as fills not with fear.
Ah, do you not hear

A humming and purring
All about and about?
'Tis from souls let out,
From their day-prisons freed,
And joying in release,

For no slumber they need.

Shining through this veil of peace
Love now pours her omnipresence,
And various nature
Feels through every feature
The joy intense,
Yet so passionless,
Passionless and pure;

The human mind restless
Long could not endure.

But hush while I tell,

As the shrill whispers flutter Through the pores of the sea Whatever they utter I'll interpret to thee. King Nepture now craves

Of his turbulent vassals
Their workings to quell ;

And the billows are quiet,
Though thinking on riot.
On the left and the right
In ranks they are coiled up,

Like snakes on the plain;
And each one has rolled up
A bright flashing streak
Of the white moonlight
On his glassy green neck;
On every one's forehead
There glitters a star,
With a hairy train

Of light floating from afar,
And pale or fiery red.
Now old Æolus goes

To each muttering blast
Scattering blows;

And some he binds fast
In hollow rocks vast,
And others he gags
With thick heavy foam.
"Twing them round

The sharp rugged crags
That are sticking out near,
Growls he, "for fear
They all should rebel,
And so play hell."
Those that he bound,

Their prison-walls grasp,
And through the dark gloom
Scream fierce and yell ;
While all the rest gasp,
In rage fruitless and vain.
Their shepherd now leaves them
To howl and to roar
Of his presence bereaves them,
To feed some young breeze
On the violet odor,
And to teach it on shore
To rock the green trees.
But no more can be said
Of what was transacted
And what was enacted
In the heaving abodes
Of the great sea-gods.

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From Bentley's Miscellany. DINING OUT FOR THE PAPERS.

BY W. H. RUSSELL.

I WAS sitting in my attic, very high indeed, up a collegiate Jacob's ladder, in St. John's, Cam. My pipe and fire had gone out together. The festivities of Grouter's party on the other side of the quadrangle, as they celebrated the wranglership of that worthy, but intense, "old stupid," sounded through my dreary domicile.

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at Westminster. There's Sandstone, the hardest-going fellow that ever spirted up the river; but he came up from Winchester, has coached carefully, and is sure of his fellowship after to-day. There's but what is the use of all this? What am I to do? My eye fell mechanically on the newspaper which had been left in my room by Grouter, when I refused to join his party, with the remark, that

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I gave lessons to some pupils, one so fair so (but I'll you about her another day); and besides, I do believe I was stupid. At all events, there I was, Artium Baccalaureus. My great-go passed, and the world, that very extensive and variegated prospect, before me. I was not fit for the church, for the law, or for the dispensary. It is an awfully abrupt thing when, at twoand-twenty, a young gentleman, without any money, is told, Now, my dear fellow, go forth and make your fortune," or when he I, too, had run my academic race; but has to ask himself, "What the deuce am I alas! I had been distanced-beaten from the to do now?" I felt it so, I can assure you. very start. I had worked hard, to be sure, There was Grouter; now, as sure as fate, he'll for many years; but the conviction settled be a bishop, or, if very ill treated, a dean. slowly down on me that I could not do it. I He is heavy and honorable-ponderous, upnever got on well at lecture- the Reverend right, and philosophical to a degree - a hardJack Lupus was always down on me (I was n't working sizar, whom Mr. Sine, our crack on his side, it is true, but then he changed tutor, coached up for the glory of his "side,' sides to have a full opportunity for a cut at and to uphold "John's" against her snubby me). Proctors were always taking me up on neighbor, Trinity. But he is made to get on; suspicion, and discharging me with apologies; and the Earl of Grampound, a great whig -the proctoring became known-the apol-peer, has already engaged him at a fabulous ogies were never heard of. I used now and stipend to make the grand tour with Lord then to take a quiet pull from Logan's to Sarum; and as he is a tremendous Grecian, Chesterton. It was forthwith hinted I was he is safe on his way to the New Palace always on the water instead of reading; and once having been found in a secluded walk with a cigar in my mouth, I was made the theme of an eloquent discourse by Gubbins, our tutor, who got so confused between King James'"Counterblast to Tobacco " (from which he quoted copiously), the Apocalypse and Gregory the Ninth, that he identified one with the other at last, and never got right, all through his sermon; which had, however, there were some instructive remarks, highly the effect of damaging me greatly with the adapted for a contemplative state of mind, in "heads of houses." But the thing that de- the Right Honorable Lord Cinderley's speech, cided my fate was my inability to pay the at the Destitute Goldsmiths' and Jewellers' reverend driver our crack "coach"- the annual dinner," and so, to divert my thoughts fee necessary to come out in honors. I say from myself and my fortunes, I turned, with this without disrespect to anybody-even to a grim smile of satisfaction, to read the the reverend driver, the coach he was aw- debate on a matter in which I had not the fully slow, but dreadfully sure, that's certain. smallest interest, "the income tax." As I I don't mean to assert that fees are demanded read on, I came across the florid reference of for honors by the authorities - far from it Mr. Shiel to the gentlemen of the press in but just go to Cambridge, and get honors with- the reporters' gallery; and first, I was astonout a coach, or get a coach without paying ished to find they came within the tax at all, for that pleasant mode of classical and mathe- and next, that the accomplished little orator matical locomotion, and then-why then who was talking of them should have carI'll engage to give you one of the new East ried with him the applause of the house when India cadetships, when they are thrown open giving a highly eulogistic sketch of their atto public competition. Public schoolmen do tainments and abilities. My slight knowlit sometimes; sometimes, too, men tie wet edge of the mysterious operations of that towels round their heads every night for great agent was derived from occasionally years, and "read" till their brains are as seeing a red-faced, dirty, bald-headed man, limp and watery as the flax outside their in a state of extremest seediness, attending skulls, make a dash at first class and wrang- the meetings of a political club of which I lership, get either or both, and then quietly was a member, as the representative of the retire into some hole or corner to die in their county luminary," which certainly cast a laurels. But as a rule, the coaches are the most unsteady and alcoholic light on most of boys-I could not afford a coach-I could the topics presented to it by the gentleman in not read continuously-for, on the sly, question. The idea suddenly flashed across

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perties of Hodge's Balm of Gilead tremble and am silent.

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I

me, that I would join the press; it seemed easy work, was more lucrative than I had imagined, and I was astonished to find it Dammer soon found out I was as nearly respectable. I remembered that a great useless for his purposes, or, indeed, for most friend of mine, little Beerington, of Magdalen, things, as a good university education could knew the editor of the great metropolitan have rendered me, and was evidently much journal, "The Morning Deflagrator, very perplexed. He could not throw me over well, and my plan was made out at once. that was out of the question; Tom BeeringA few days completed all my arrangements. ton had written him such a letter, had recalMy compact little rooms, overlooking the led so many boasts and promises, and had Bridge of Sighs, was handed over to a lanky put on the screw with such vigor, that Damhospitaller, and I was on my way to London, mer was afraid of cutting off the supplies of much cheered by Beerington's assurances that fat round haunches, of birds, hares, grouse, I would find Mr. Dammer, the editor, a of good mounts and runs, and dinners, which "most regular good brick as ever was!" "The Swill," my friend's family mansion, had Why are newspaper offices always foci of always afforded him in due season, if he did dirty little boys? Why are they interiorly not do "something devilish handsome and seedy exceedingly? (there is, to be sure, one permanent for my best friend, Wentworth exception probably, the "Hymen's Journal;" Rushton." I was young, lanky, with a fine but then all the attachés are compelled to run of spare ribs, and altogether in good conwash themselves once a day, and the gentle- dition for work a great desideratum for men when placed on the establishment have newspaper men - but Dammer had found out orders for bergamott, scented soap and macas- I did not write short-hand, though I was insar, to an unlimited extent.) Why are they, different well at Greek verse; that I could as a general rule, retired into the most myste- not undertake the composition of "leaders" rious quarters of the town, in proportion to on any one of the extensive subjects he placed their influence and circulation, so that one before me-notwithstanding I had gained would imagine the great object of the pro- the prize of my college for English composiprietors was to baffle news-agents and cut off tion (subject, "The Advantages of Steamthe stream of advertisements as far as the power") - and that I was, in fact, generally greatest ingenuity in selecting abstruse re- unfit for anything. "Beerington," quoth he, cesses in unintelligible portions of the metro-" is a great friend of mine, Mr. Rushton polis could do it? These and many other when in the jungles of Ava, shooting. Howthings did I revolve within myself while ever, I must tell you that some other time. seated in a very rickety chair in a dingy I'm anxious to oblige him, and to do you a room, awaiting the advent of Dammer, who service as a friend of his. If you were gohad left directions that I should call on him ing into the church, I'd get you a living at at twelve o'clock at night, for the sake of con- once from my bost friend the Archbishop of venience and a quick dispatch of business. I Canterbury- we travelled through Arabia was listening to a great deal of bell-pulling Petræa together, and I fed him through a and tinklinga succession of feet on the reed for weeks in the jungle-but you 're stairs, as of men running up and down on per- not. I'd ask Lord John, but that I have not petual errands -a hazy murmur out of the spoken to him lately-d-n him. Howupper regions of the house, which flared ever, I dare say I'll find something for you brightly out through the windows with gas- to do, and meantime you can, by a little aplight, white shirt-sleeves, and pale faces plication, render yourself better fitted for a and a heavy thudding sort of hammering good engagement. When I commanded the noise from time to time, which put me in irregular horse of my friend Shah Murdo mind of a set-to with the gloves between the Jung, I-but just wait a moment, if you Rev. Billy Pounder, of King's, and his friend please; I'll just see if I can't try you at a "The Deaf'un". when Dammer rushed in. dinner or two." His personal appearance is a subject too awful Dammer returned in a moment with two to be treated of. Who shall dare to roll back large envelopes-placed them in my hand, the clouds which enshrined the Olympian and said, "Would you be good enough to atJupiter? Who shall live and see-clothed tend to these to-morrow they 're only dinwith that particular description of garment, ners-I've got your address a short of which we have all read, that an ancient paragraph will do-good night!" and left sinner fabricated his "strong expressions me in such a state of mind I could scarcely the ineffable, intangible, impersonal "we?" find my way into the street. Under the first Those who like may essay to limn the terrors lamp I stopped and tore open the envelopes. of his beak (probably somewhat roseate and No. 1 was a request from the committee of fuliginous, as to the tip, with snuff), and the Society for the Amelioration of Mankind behold the lightnings of his eye dimmed, that the editor of the "Morning Deflagrator haply though they be by the ostreafying pro- would favor them with his company to dinner

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