interest. Indeed, they are among the | Soubise, who was in the ante-room, and most authentic and detailed records we possess of that period of English history. We give some miscellaneous extracts. THE ASSASSINATION OF BUCKINGHAM. Writing on September 5, 1628, Salvetti says: "Immediately after my arrival in London the news reached me of the tragical end of the Duke of Buckingham at Portsmouth. The author of it is in the position of a gentleman, and it is said that the cause of his act was that the duke refused to give him the company of infantry which he maintained was his by right when his captain died. He avenged himself by a stab with a knife which killed the duke before he had time to say a word. The news of this fatal blow has spread rapidly over the whole kingdom; and, if I may express myself frankly, the appearances of satisfaction are almost universal. His Majesty more than any one is touched to the quick by this assassination; he feels it so much that they say that he is both profoundly afflicted and incensed. The duke's relatives and dependents are those who will be most affected by this loss. As to others, they rejoice in the prospect of dividing the spoils and the offices which he held in the government. All the principal members of the Privy Council went immediately to his Majesty to offer their services; and as all the active management of the government was in the hands of the duke, it will require some time to make the arrangements which may be rendered necessary by a possible change of policy in home and foreign affairs. It is only too evident that the people are gratified by the death of the duke, and they seem to think that they have gained by the act of his slayer that deliverance which Parliament never could obtain. The murderer is named Felton. He is a prisoner, and will be strictly examined to discover if he has accomplices, after which, in conformity with the laws, he must die." A few days later Salvetti was able to give some details of the crime: "The blow was given so suddenly that it was not actually seen by any one. The duke was heard to exclaim, 'Vile animal, you have killed me,' and with his own hand he drew the knife from the wound; then, stepping back as if to draw his sword, he fell to the ground, and blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils. In seven or eight minutes he expired without uttering a word. On the fall of the duke many of those present drew their swords and turned towards Monsieur de who ran a special risk of being killed from the circumstance that several took it into their heads that he had struck the blow, inasmuch as about an hour previously some warm words had passed between him and the duke in public. The actual murderer, seeing that the crowd threw itself upon Soubise, called out, The duke is dead, and it was I who killed him.' One of those standing by with his sword drawn made a lounge at him. This Felton parried, and, throwing down his sword, said, 'Do what you like with me.' He was made prisoner, and, being questioned, he said that he had struck the blow, and that he had intended to do so for some days. Being asked if he was sorry for what he had done, said, 'No,' and that if it were still to do he would do it, having no fear except of the displeasure of God." QUEEN HENRIETTA MARIA. Many details are given respecting the queen-her beauty, her character, her lute-player, her ballets, etc. "The queen appears to be very happy and cheerful. She spends most of her time at Denmark House, which belonged to Queen Anne, the mother of the king, and is now hers, with all its splendid fittings and furniture. The king was greatly grieved by the death of the duke, and the queen expressed her participation in his sorrow and did all in her power to comfort and console him. Her Majesty went personally to visit and condole the king's relations, an act upon her part which has greatly gratified the king, by whom she is more than ever beloved; and, were she not so youthful, and so carried away by her companionships, it would be an easy matter for her to make the king do whatever she pleased, so much is he attached to her. Their Majesties are at Hampton Court and in excellent health, and are enjoying the pleasures of the chase." THE PERSECUTION OF THE CATHOLICS. The attacks on the persons and property of the Papists necessarily attracted the resident's notice. "A monk has been condemned by the judges to be hanged and quartered in Lancashire. This is the first whom they have executed for a long time, and it is said that his Majesty does not approve of the conduct of the judges in this case.' "Preparations are making for the meeting of Parliament, which takes place on the 30th of next month, and to extract new subsidies from it. His Maj esty in anticipation of its meeting, and to gratify it, has declared publicly, through the lord keeper, that it is his will and that he commands all judges and other officers to put vigorously in force the penal law against the Roman Catholics; and in particular that members of religious orders be sought out everywhere and imprisoned, and brought to trial and condemned, in conformity with the rigor of the law, but they are not to be put to death without reference to his Majesty. It appears that the king does not wish that the extreme penalty of the law should be inflicted upon them, but that they should be sent to finish their lives in a certain castle far from this where malaria prevails. With regard to lay Catholics, they are to be confined to certain places and must pay punctually the usual exactions. All this is to please the Puritans and to conciliate the new Parliament; but as with these people it is a maxim to oppose everything, never to be satisfied with the present nor to agree with what is proposed for the future, so it may be believed that all these anticipations and preparations, which are already regarded with suspicion, will not produce the effect which his Majesty supposes, but that as usual he may encounter in the body of the members the same turbulent spirit as before." A FORBIDDEN MARRIAGE. The sovereign took at that time an active part even in the affairs of private families. "On Sunday last the king gave orders to imprison Lord Arundel, the earl marshal, in the Tower of London, in consequence of the marriage of his son Lord Maltravers with the Lady Elizabeth Stuart, daughter of the late Duke of Lennox and a relative his Majesty, whom he intended, it is said, to give in marriage to a son of the Earl of Argyle in Scotland. Although the earl marshal states in his defence that he knew nothing of the marriage, the king will not accept of this explanation, but insists that the marriage has been made in spite of his will to the contrary. The Duchess of Lennox and the Countess of Arundel, the mothers of the married couple, have been imprisoned in separate private houses, and the spouses in the residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury. The event is of serious importance, and has happened at an unlucky moment. Members of the House of Lords are secretly dissatisfied, for they feel that they have lost one of their principal colleagues.' The earl marshal was kept in prison for more than two years. He was then, however, fully re stored to favor. "The day was happily ended by the restoration to his Majesty's favor of the Earl of Arundel, the countess, and their son. This took place at the residence of the Duke of Buckingham, who presented the earl to the king, who received him most graciously and twice gave him his hand to kiss. The earl and his family have been in disgrace for two years. This earl is one of the first persons in the kingdom for ancient family and great ability. Now that he is replaced he will take a distinguished part in the government of the State." The Somewhat which we name but cannot | Impassioned? ay, to the song's ecstatic core! know, Ev'n as we name a star and only see His quenchless flashings forth, which ever show And ever hide him, and which are not he. II. Poet who sleepest by this wandering wave! When thou wast born, what birth-gift hadst thou then? To thee what wealth was that the immortals gave, The wealth thou gavest in thy turn to men? Not Milton's keen, translunar music thine; Not Shakespeare's cloudless, boundless human view; Not Shelley's flush of rose on peaks divine; Nor yet the wizard twilight Coleridge knew. What hadst thou that could make so large amends For all thou hadst not and thy peers posscssed, Motion and fire, swift means to radiant ends? Thou hadst, for weary feet, the gift of rest. But far removed were clangor, storm, and feud; For plenteous health was his, exceeding store Of joy, and an impassioned quietude. IV. A hundred years ere he to manhood came, Song from celestial heights had wandered down, Put off her robe of sunlight, dew, and flame, And donned a modish dress to charm the town. Thenceforth she but festooned the porch of things; Apt at life's lore, incurious what life meant. Dextrous of hand, she struck her lute's few strings, Ignobly perfect, barrenly content. Unflushed with ardor and unblanched with awe, Her lips in profitless derision curled, She saw with dull emotion-if she saw The vision of the glory of the world. The human masque she watched, with dreamless eyes In whose clear shallows lurked no trembling shade: The stars, unkenned by her, might set and rise, Unmarked by her, the daisies bloom and fade. The age grew sated with her sterile wit; Men felt life's tide, the sweep and surge of it, Herself waxed weary on her loveless throne. And craved a living voice, a natural tone. Peace-peace-and rest! Ah, how the lyre | Nor wast thou as a fane mid solemn sands, is loth, Or powerless now, to give what all men seek! Either it deadens with ignoble sloth Or deafens with shrill tumult, loudly weak. Where is the singer whose large notes and clear Can heal and arm and plenish and sustain? Lo, one with empty music floods the ear, And one, the heart refreshing, tires the brain. And idly tuneful, the loquacious throng Till grave men weary of the sound of rhyme. And some go prankt in faded antique dress, Abhorring to be hale and glad and free; And some parade a conscious naturalness, The scholar's not the child's simplicity. Enough; and wisest who from words forbear. Afar though nation be on nation hurled, And life with toil and ancient pain depressed, Here one may scarce believe the whole wide world Is not at peace, and all man's heart at rest. Rest! 'twas the gift he gave; and peace! the shade He spread, for spirits fevered with the sun. To him his bounties are come back- here laid In rest, in peace, his labor nobly done. men and women on one of the many flat roofs of the upper palace, and attendants go about bearing the maharajah's bounty in the form of cakes and sweetmeats amid some three or four hundred men and women, clad in holiday dresses of crimson and purple, saffron and blue, glittering like flowers in the sun, which shines upon the City of Victory' as if its people were indeed his children. Whoever has viewed that prospect from the palace roof of Jeypore has seen India in her inmost grace and beauty." The Ital THE PALACE AT JEYPORE.-A correspond- | of the scene, a feast is being given to Brahman ent, who has had the good fortune to visit the Great Palace of Jeypore, writes about it thus in the Daily Telegraph: "Seven stories of such wild and lovely structure as you would expect to see only in dreams rise here one above the other in rose red and snowy white balconies, oriels, arches, pilasters, lattices, and domes-gay everywhere with frescoes and floral ornaments. In this lowest floor, which is kept-like the second and thirdas a winter residence, we are permitted to inspect a priceless volume, the abstract of the Mahabharata, in Persian, made by the orders of Akbar the Great, at a cost of £40,000, and illustrated in the most exquisite manner with colored and gilded miniature pictures of an incredible delicacy. The Shobha Newas, floor above, is full of strange paintings on the wall, and arcades embellished with gorgeous shells of copper, silver, and foil. Next we ascend to the Cuhabl Newas, or 'hall of splendor,' shining with polished marbles and colored enamelling. Above this is the Shish Mahal, the pavilion of glass, with endless patterns wrought in little mirrors let into carved plaster work, and above that we step forth upon the Mokt, or Crown, of the palace, where the vast roof is encircled with shady alcoves and open chambers, vaulted by graceful curved cupolas. Beneath lie the green palace gardens, full of pomegranates, palms, and bananas; and beyond, the spread of the countless busy streets and lanes, girdled by the walls, and overhung by the encircling hills, topped with forts and temples. It is vain to attempt any description of that enchanting prospect, more absorbing than any which India herself can offer. Nature and man have here allied themselves to produce the most perfect and lovely landscape conceivable. In green and gold, in rose color and white, in distant, dim blues and grays, the gardens and the city, and the far-off walls and mountain ridges of amber, group together at our feet-a picture to delight the eye and feast the mind. But how can words reproduce Govinda's temple, between the upper and lower gardens; the snowwhite sides of the Badal Mahal, or Cloud Palace, on the edge of the lake; the dark ramparts of the fortress in the mountains, and those long lines of rose-red streets which intersect Jeypore? To complete the rich colors THE EXCAVATION OF SYBARIS. ian government, having at length determined upon the excavation of Sybaris, has appointed Prof. Viola, the distinguished explorer of Taranto and other south-Italian_sites, to conduct the projected operations. It is scarcely possible to overestimate the archæological interest of this undertaking. The splendor of Sybaris and the luxury of its citizens have passed into a well-worn proverb; and the fact that it was suddenly destroyed at the moment of its utmost prosperity points with absolute certainty to the richness of the mine which awaits the spade of the explorer. From the hour when the victorious Crotoniats turned the course of the river Crathis in such wise that it inundated the city, and buried its ruins under torrents of mud and débris, Sybaris and the surrounding district became a desolate and pestilential swamp, frequented only by herds of buffaloes, and inhabited by a sparse and sickly population. These events took place 510 B. C.; at a time, consequently, when Greek art had reached a most interesting stage of development. It is to be hoped that the Italian government will approach this important undertaking in a liberal spirit. Sybaris is the Olympia of Magna Græcia, and its ruins are embedded in a very similar deposit of alluvial mud. We know how little that mud has injured the precious fragments excavated at Olympia by the German commission, and it may confidently be expected that Sybaris will yield an enormous archæological treas ure in as good condition. |