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the cell, he still heard the maddening peal, which seemed to split his brain.

"Light! light!" he moaned at last, as he rose painfully from the floor. "I must have light, or I shall become a raving maniac."

a sweeping wind rushed through the long grass upon the graves, and swayed to and fro the tall branches of the yews and cypresses; next came the sound of falling rain, large, heavy drops, which plashed upon the foliage, and then fell with a sullen reverberation upon the dry and thirsty earth. Gra- And then he strove to re-illumine the dually the storm increased; and ere long, lamp; but his shaking hand ill obeyed the as the thunder began to growl hoarsely in impulse of his frenzied will. And still, the distance, it beat angrily against the without the intermission of a second, the diamond panes, and dropped in a shower bell rang on. At length he obtained a from the eaves of the little building. Elric light, and staggering to the wall, he fixed his breathed more freely. This elemental war-eyes upon the frightful wire. fare was more congenial to his troubled "It stretches," he muttered, unconsciousspirit than the fearful silence by which it ly; "still it stretches, and there is no wind had been preceded. He tried to think of now; there is a lull. Some one must be Mina; but as though her pure and innocent pulling it from the other chamber, and if image could not blend with the objects so, it must be around him, he found it impossible to pursue a continuous chain of thought. Once more he bent over the book before him, but With a frantic gesture he seized the lamp as he turned the page a sudden light filled and turned towards the door which opened the narrow chamber, and through the into the death-chamber, and still the bell sheeted glare sprang a fierce flash, which rang on, without the cessation of an infor a moment seemed to destroy his power stant. A short passage parted the two of vision. He rose hurriedly from his chair; cells, and as he staggered onwards he was the thunder appeared to be bursting over compelled to cling to the wall, for his knees his head, the lightning danced like fiery knocked together, and he could scarcely demons across the floor, the wind howled support himself. At length he reached the and roared in the wide chimney; and sud-inner door, and desperately flung it open. denly, as he stood there, aghast and con- A chill like that which escapes from a vault science-stricken, a sharp blast penetrating fell upon his brow, and the sound of the through some aperture in the walls, extin- bell pursued him still. He moved a pace guished his solitary lamp. At this instant the bell rang.

His voice became extinct; he could not utter the name of his sister.

forward, retreated, again advanced, and, finally, by a mighty effort, sprang into the centre of the chamber. One shrill and piercing cry escaped him, and the lamp fell from his hand.

"The Bell!" shouted the young count, like a maniac,-" THE BELL!" And then, gaining strength from his excess of horror, he laughed as wildly as he had spoken. "You are then here?" murmured a low "Fool that I am! Is not such a wind as and feeble voice. "You, Elric von Königthis enough to shake the very edifice from stein, the renegade from honor, the sororiits foundation? and am I scared because it cide, the would-be murderer! Yours is has vibrated along a wire? Has not the the affection which watches over my last same blast put out my lamp? All is still hours on earth! The same hand which again. My own thoughts have made a cow-mixed the deadly draught is ready to lay ard of me!" me in the grave !"

As he uttered these words, another and a brighter flash shot through the casement and ran along the wire, and again the bell rang out; but his eye had been upon it, and he could no longer cheat himself into the belief that he had endeavored to create. The fiery vapor had disappeared, but still louder and louder rang the bell, as though pulled by a hand of agony.

Elric sank helpless to his knees. At every successive flash he saw the violent motion of the bell which hung above him, and as the darkness again gathered about

As the words fell upon his ear, a vivid flash filled the room, and the count saw his sister sitting upright wrapped in her deathclothes. A deep groan escaped him.

"That draught was scarcely swallowed," pursued the voice, "ere I detected that it had been tampered with; but it was then too late to save myself, and, for the honor of our name, I shrank from denouncing you, though I felt at once that you were the murderer. But you were coward as well as sororicide. You have subjected me to all the agonies of death, and have not

merely condemned me to an after-life of suffering, but of suffering to us both, for I shall live on under the knowledge of the fate to which you destined me, and you beneath my irrevocable curse."

The last few sentences were uttered feebly and gaspingly, as though the strength of the speaker were spent, and then a heavy fall upon the bed betrayed to the horrorstricken Elric that some fresh catastrophe had occurred.

With the energy of despair he rushed from the room, and hastened to procure a light. A frightful spectacle met him on his return. Stephanie lay across the bed, with a portion of her funeral-dress displaced. The arm with which she had rung the fatal bell was that from which her medical attendant had striven to procure blood during her insensibility, and which, in preparing her for the grave, had been unbound.

The violent exertion to which it had been subjected, added to the power of the poison that still lurked in her veins, had opened the wound, and ere the young count returned with the lamp she was indeed a corpse, with her white burial-garments dabbled in blood. The scene told its own tale on the morrow. She had partially awakened, and the result was evident. None knew, save he who watched beside her, that the fatal bell had rung!

The curse worked. Madness seized upon the wretched Elric, and for years he was a raving lunatic, who might at any moment be lashed into frenzy by the mere ringing of a bell.

great nebula in Orion, which is visible to the naked eye, and which retained the same aspect large reflector, has, when subjected to the still of a faint, diffused, irresolvable haze to Herschel's higher power of this searcher of the heavens, distinctly presented itself as a firmament of stars. And the resolution of this most decided of all the other will be found to resist the powers of this nebulæ leaves very little probability that any instrument; that, in short, any such diffusion of unaggregated or aggregating matter as was defined by the name nebula exists in the heavens. The existence of these bodies has never before been doubted; though many rejected the hypothesis as to a formative process through which the heavenly orbs had passed, which had been founded on their existence and appearances; and others, while willing to give the hypothesis all the consideration due to it, as in the circumstances unwarrantable use which was being made of it as a most probable speculation, protested against the a proven generalization. It is scarcely necessary to add, that the whole nebula speculation now the abstractive probabilities in favor of its truth, falls to the ground; that, at least, whatever be inductive evidence for it can no longer be shown.

-British Quarterly Review.

SHOULD STUDY BE CONFINED ΤΟ ONE SUBGerman Literature, delivered at Manchester by JECT?In a series of lectures on the study of Mr. George Dawson of Birmingham, the following remarks (quoted from the Manchester Examiner's report) are made: Sometimes you heard men warning people against a dissipation of horting them to confine their attention to one study, against studying too many things, and exthing. Now, up to a certain time, he considered that this was bad advice He did not think that this should be the foundation of culture to those to whom literature was a secondary thing. They should in early life gather in a variety of knowledge--form, as it were, a good weft--and then inweave the particular study which after-life required should be the pattern on the cloth. For a literary man, he need not say how necessary total culture was. He had before protested against fractional studies, as contradistinguished from a subdivision of labor in teaching. To exhort people to cultivate one branch of knowledge to the exclusion of every thing else, was like urging one man to direct his efforts solely to the strengthen

THE NEBULE-An announcement has been recently made, which renders it in the highest degree probable that all of that class of appearing of his right arm, another of his left, a third ances in the heavens which have been known by of his feet, and so on. One man recommended the name of nebulæ, and which have been repre- you to cultivate the exact sciences only, and sented as anomalous in many of their features, hence society had been supplied with men who are not so; that the so-called nebulæ have no ex- were mathematicians only--men whose gospel istence whatever. We were aware, that some was a right angle, and whose religion was a cirof the faint spots included under that nam, had, cle. In other cases, men had become so engrosson examination by the powerful telescope con-ed with a particular study, that they would spend structed by Lord Rosse, assumed an appearance an enormous amount of time in settling the quanwhich proved them to be vast clusters or firma-ity of a Greek syllable, and write most elaborate ments of stars; had been, as it is called, resolved, treatises on the Greek digamma. A fully-culturor had put on the resolvable aspect. But those ed man could turn his attention to any thing; which, up to that time, had been examined, were and, when fully cultured, he should turn to the almost entirely such as, lying on the furthest con- division of labor which stern necessity imposed fines to which former instruments had penetrated, upon him. Sometimes, however, natural propenmight have been in very many cases expected to sity would come in to check this. Nevertheless, prove not true nebulæ, but very remote clusters: we should all aim at what the Germans called while others seemed at that time to defy resolu"many-sidedness;" so that, whichever way we tion. It is now, however, announced that the turned, there might be a polished side presented.'

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BEAUTY and Truth in Heaven's congenial clime,
Inseparate seen beside the Almighty throne,
Together sprung, before the birth of time,
From God's own glory, while he dwelt alone ;-
These, when creation made its wonders known,
Were sent to mortals, that their mingling powers
Might lead and lure us to ethereal bowers.

But our perverse condition here below
Oft sees them severed, or in conflict met:
Oh, sad divorce! the well-spring of our woe,
When Truth and Beauty thus their bond forget,
And Heaven's high law is at defiance set!
"Tis this that Good of half its force disarms,
And gives to Evil all its dearest charms.

See Truth with harsh Austerity allied,
Or clad in cynic garb of sordid hue:
See him with Tyranny's fell tools supplied,
The rack, the fagot, or the torturing screw;
Or girt with Bigotry's besotted crew,
What wonder, thus beheld, his looks should move
Our scorn or hatred, rather than our love?

See Beauty, too, in league with Vice and Shame,
And lending all her light to gild a lie ;
Crowning with laureate-wreaths an impious name,
Or lulling us with Siren minstrelsy
To false repose when peril most is nigh;
Decking things vile or vain with colors rare,
Till what is false and foul seems good and fair.

Hence are our hearts bewilder'd in their choice,
And hence our feet from Virtue led astray:
Truth calls imperious with repulsive voice
To follow on a steep and rugged way;
While Beauty beckons us along a gay

And flowery path, that leads, with treacherous

To gulfs remote from happiness or hope.

Who will bring back the world's unblemish'd

When these two wander'd ever hand in hand;
When Truth was Beauty, Beauty too was Truth,
So link'd together with unbroken band,
That they were one; and Man, at their command,
Tasted of swes that never knew alloy,
And trod the path of Duty and of Joy?

Chiefly the Poet's power may work the change:
His heavenly gift, impell'd by holy zeal,
O'er Truth's exhaustless stores may brightly

And all their native loveliness reveal;
Nor e'er, except where Truth has set his seal,
Suffer one gleam of Beauty's grace to shine,
But in resistless force their lights combine.

From the Literary Gazette.


Wild flowers, sweet friends of our youth and age,
We come to your haunts again,
Eager as birds that have burst the cage,

Or steeds that have snapped the rein.
Fill your bright cups in the balmy air:
We have thirsted long for the draught they bear.

We have languished all for the sunny day

That should call us back to the green-wood's

Our dreams have been of the songster's glade,
And starry showers of the fragrant May.
The fairy moth, and the dark wild bee,

Mingle together the gleaming wing;
And the squirrel skips from tree to tree;
And sunbeams dance in the pebbly spring.

Sweet are thy waters, O rippling pool!

There do the first green cresses grow,
And the Meadow-queen on thy margin cool
Sheddeth perfume from her tuft of snow;
And there, on the sedgy bank beneath,
Love's tender flower, with sorrowing eye,
Is telling still of her true knight's death,
Or looking above on her own blue sky.

Again in the mossy wood and glen

We track our steps by the feathery fern,
Startling awhile from her happy nest

The thrush or the gentle wren.
A graceful lesson of life we learn ;

Happy and free our footsteps roam,
Seeking and finding the violet's home;
But like the loved of our early day,
Fairest and first, they have passed away.

Cuckoo-hark, 'tis the joyous sound!

Bird of promise, we hear thee nigh,
In the wood's green depths profound:

Oh, welcome, child of a sunny sky!
How could we trust capricious Spring,

Though her bright garlands floated free,
The flowering thorn, the balmy morn,

Or e'en the dusky swallow's wing?
Loved stranger, no-we looked for thee.

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The joy-bells peal a merry tune
Along the evening air;
The crackling bonfires turn the sky
All crimson with their glare;
Bold music fills the startled streets
With mirth-inspiring sound;
The gaping cannon's reddening breath
Wakes thunder shouts around;
And thousand joyful voices cry,
“Huzza! huzza! a Victory!"

A little girl stood at the door,

And with her kitten played; Less wild and frolicksome than she, That rosy prattling maid. Sudden her cheek turns ghostly white; Her eye with fear is filled, And rushing in-of-doors, she screams"My brother Willie's killed!" And thousand joyful voices cry, "Huzza! huzza! a Victory!"

A mother sat in thoughtful ease,
A-knitting by the fire,
Plying the needle's thrifty task
With hands that never tire.

She tore her few gray hairs, and shrieked, "My joy on earth is done!

Oh! who will lay me in my grave?
Oh, God! my son! my son!"
And thousand joyful voices cry,
"Huzza! huzza! a Victory!"

From the Metropolitan.



O Memory! thou of foes the worst-
To mortal mind, of friends the best-
How of thy potent spell hath burst
With magic force the spirit's rest,
And the fell fiend regret hath nurst
With noxious venom from thy breast.
And if his writhing victim durst

Fly to the future to be blest,
Still will thy phantom, doubly cursed,

His soul of yearned-for joy divest;
Still will it wing o'er scenes when erst
On penitence pain reared her crest,
Till follies past by thee rehearsed

With o'erstrained force, and hellish zest, May drive the overgoaded soul Beyond e'en reason's blest control.

And yet thou art the best of friends,
Dear memory, thou whose piercing ray
Will shoot where darkest grief extends,
Where hope lies prostrate 'neath her sway.
Yes, sorrow for a while will stay
Her blighting hand whilst thou art near,
And joy will beam as sunbeams play
Where snow eternal rules the year.
And memory such dost thou appr
To him who here in vacant gaze
O'erlooks dark heaven's indignant blaze,
And but discerns thy placid star,
Which o'er wide seas of thought from far
Shoots its all-varying ray, that thought
To scenes his childhood loved is brought-
That thought rolls backward to the time
When cautious law he dared to break
And tempt the dangers of the lake,
When some proud forest chie' he'd climb
In wayward sportiveness, and hide
From monkish task with chieftain's pride.

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