Shall recompense her pure and child-like special transgressions-which they

could not have who lived without the light of the Gospel. These Thoas yields to this, and to Iphi- unquestionably modern, because

Iphigenia, the high ideal character of the drama, though supernatural, is not unnatural in her goodness. Her lofty excellence does not oppress us as something forced and impossible. Though marvellous and rare as that flower which the same century beholds not twice, the discerning eye acknowledges it as the true product of the stem on which it blooms.

So it is that the mind feels calmed and elevated by Goethe's 'Iphigenia in Tauris.' It is the confluence of three mighty streams of poetrythe Sacrifice of Iphigenia, the Fall of Troy, and the Death of Agamemnon. While we stand beside it, we hear the roar of their distant torrents, flinging their foam over the forest as they dash through its rocky chasms. Their waters speed towards us, as yet troubled by their past conflicts; but at their meeting-place they spread out into a broad and tran

quil river. The eye may follow it
with still delight on its way through
meadow and woodland, rolling in
its silent strength to seek perfect
rest at last in the bosom of the
ocean. There is a tranquil pleasure
breathed into the soul by such a
scene; though the tumultuous joy
be wanting with which we tracked
the torrent's earlier, more eventful
course. "These," we say, as we
take our last look at Iphigenia and
her brother standing on that Cri-
mean shore, now for ever dear to
England's memory-" these have
suffered more than most; they have
found life's fiery furnace hotter
than most men do, but they stand
unconsumed; nay, more, they stand
before us purified." Their poet's
words on another occasion are true
concerning them now, as sooner or
later they will be concerning us all
in this world-

"Alle ruhen, die gelitten,
Alle ruhen, die gestritten."

GASTER, THE FIRST M.A.

"The Ruler of this Place was one Master Gaster, the first Master of Arts in the World."-RABELAIS.

THERE'S a comical fellow that all of us know,
And who always is with us wherever we go;

But our constant companion and guide though he be,
Yet our eyes never saw him, and never will see.

Of Science the source, and of Arts the first Master,-
The name of this wonderful fellow is Gaster.

Search history through with attention and skill,
And you'll find him still busy for good or for ill.
With his mischievous doings you early may grapple

In the old and unhappy affair of the Apple.

Though the Serpent's designs chiefly caused that disaster,
The Serpent was greatly assisted by Gaster.

But when Man was then sentenced to trouble and toil,

It was Gaster that taught him to labour the soil;

To dig, and to delve, and to plant for his diet;
And he never would let him a moment be quiet.
Despotic and stern, and a rigid taskmaster,

But an excellent friend and instructor was Gaster.

After living some ages on water and greens,
Gaster found out that bacon ate nicely with beans ;

And he also found out that, to moisten such food,
Something better than water was needful and good.
The Nymph of the Well owned that Bacchus surpassed her,
And gave way to the Grape, as the liquor for Gaster.

Now baking, and brewing, and hunting, and fishing
Arose from what Gaster was wanting or wishing.
The grain in the furrow, the fruit on the tree,
The flocks on the mountain, the herds on the lee,
All acknowledged his sway; never empire was vaster
Than the fertile dominions thus subject to Gaster.

Geometry sprang from the Nile's spreading flood,

Just that Gaster might know where his landmarks had stood;
And Commerce grew busy by land and by sea,
Just that Gaster at home well provisioned might be.
See! the camel, the car, the canoe, the three-master,
All speed with their loads on the missions of Gaster.

Then cities were built, with their shops and their houses,
Where in plenty and peace Gaster feasts and carouses.
And a half of the houses and shops in a town,

If great Gaster were gone, might as well be pulled down :
So splendid and spacious on pier and pilaster
Rise the halls we've erected in honour of Gaster.

But I ought to observe that the changes thus made
For the most part took place with Dame Poverty's aid:
For Gaster and She, you don't need me to mention,
Are the father and mother of every invention.
When the pockets contain not a single piaster,
The wits become sharp in the service of Gaster.

I must own we've had bloodshed by Gaster's advice,
And proceedings besides that were not over-nice.
Neither Rob Roy nor Cacus had been such a thief,
Hadn't Gaster been always so partial to beef.

When the Mosstrooper's wife saw he'd soon be a faster,
She served up his spurs at the bidding of Gaster.

Yet if Gaster would stay in his natural state,
His exactions would seldom be grievous or great.
But Luxury comes with suggestions officious,
And Cookery tempts him with dishes delicious,

And the Doctor's called in, with his rhubarb and castor,
To remove the sad ills of poor surfeited Gaster.

O! close upon frenzy the maladies border
That Gaster begets when he's long out of order.
Like madmen we hurry, in hopes of release,

To Malvern or Germany, Gully or Spiess,

When perhaps the disease would be put to flight faster,
If we just stayed at home and did justice to Gaster.

Try always to suit Gaster's wants to a tittle,
Nor supply his demands with too much or too little.
You will ne'er put a sick man in hearty condition,
If Gaster won't join and assist the physician.
In vain to a wound you'll apply salve or plaster,
If you don't take the pains to conciliate Gaster.

When Beauty puts forth all its glory and grace,
And unites the full splendour of form and of face;
When each gesture is joyous, each movement is light,
And the glance of the eye is serene and yet bright;
When the rose-hue of health tints the pure alabaster,
Let us own that 'tis partly the doing of Gaster.

Nay, ev'n in your noblest possession, the Mind,
Your dependence on Gaster too often you'll find.
A redundant repast, a rich supper or soirée,
Will oppress the divinæ particulam auræ ;
While at times, we may see, no professor or pastor
Teaches kindness and charity better than Gaster.

Oft when petty annoyances ruffle the soul,
And the temper defies philosophic control,
The commotion is quelled, and a calm will succeed,
Through the simple device of inhaling the Weed:
Such magical power has the soothing Canaster
To bring balmy content and good-humour to Gaster.

As for me, who thus venture his praise to proclaim,
And adorn his high worth with his classical name,
Let me hope from my patron these verses may bring
Some appropriate boon to assist me to sing;
For it must be confessed that the poor poetaster
Finds always his best inspiration in Gaster.

TICKLER II. AGAIN!

THE GREAT QUEERNESS OF TICKLER II.

I HAVE no hesitation in saying that I think Tickler II. the queerest dog I ever knew. But, by the way, how many dogs have I ever known? And, again, what is meant by knowing a dog? For dogs are a study; and who has really studied his dog? He, however, studies his master, and treats him with much more nicety of appreciation than he may be aware of. Note the demeanour of a dog to a brute of a master, who only curses, kicks, and starves him; is it not piteous? He crouches and trembles all day long, as if he had done something wrong; whereas he has done nothing of the kind, but only directed a dismal up-turned eye to his master, to indicate an empty stomach and a broken spirit. He can do no more -he dare do no more (though he has spent half the day in searching

and sniffing over the gutters in vain), for he knows, by sad experience, the consequences. But with my dog and me it is quite different. Tickler, years ago, found out the blind side of me, and has quietly stuck to it. In fact, the little rogue does what he likes with me, and must often laugh in his sleeve at my simplicity. When I am eating anything which he considers particularly nice, he says nothing, but creeps from under the sofa, and sits on the hearth-rug looking into the fire, as if he were thinking of something important; but in a moment or two, without changing his position, he turns his face towards me with a timid, solemn look that has a world of quaint meaning in it. "Tis in vain that I pretend not to see him; he knows better. He feels that I am looking at him out of the north-east corner of my eye; and without moving his head, or re