doubtless resulted from the extreme care he took to avoid the slightest misrepresentation. Now that Nanking has been taken, we are anxious to bestow our marks of approbation on every private soldier. They are most certainly, therefore, entitled to the highest reward, and to have the cup of favor filled to overflowing. Moreover, as to the mandarins employed in San-ko-lin-sin's camp, we request him carefully to pick out the most distinguished and recommend them for promotion, waiting for our orders as to the marks of distinction to be bestowed. To the soldiers in the camp the sum of ten thousand taels is granted, to be distributed by the commissariat officers, in order to show our approbation and sympathy. To sum up, when the empire is completely pacified, we shall be at a loss to find adequate rewards to shower on our devoted follow ers. Respect this!" deaths from this cause among the foreign community at Shanghai, where he was resident, filled many a heart with feelings of dread and sorrow: "We have come to the throne of this great empire, and have received authority over it. We respectfully receive the assistance of the gracious empresses dowager, who attend the deliberation on public affairs. We have diligently sought the proper mode of rule, and have been assisted by the great princes of the court. The present times and affairs are full of difficulty, and all officials are anxious that the best men should be appointed to fill offices in the State, and are arduously exerting themselves to govern rightly, and bring down Heaven's favor. Now, on the 15th day of the 7th moon, at night, there were seen many stars darting towards the southwest, and on the 25th there was seen a comet in the northwest. These appearances in the The reigning emperor, Tung Chee, heavens did not come for nothing, and being a minor, as already stated, and for two months the city has been overnow in his thirteenth year only, attend-run by cholera. Though we are still ing to his studies under the wisest tutors of the realm, the decrees quoted are not the production of his juvenile vermilion pencil. They emanate from the Court of Regency, consisting of Prince Kung, his uncle, the empress, his mother, and the empress dowager, the first wife of his father without issue. The prince is a man of high attainments and liberal principles, as may be perceived by the tone of the edicts; still, he is bound to interpret the "signs of the times," according to the superstitious antecedents of Chinese history. We finish our extracts of The Peking Gazette with a characteristic decree illustrative of the whole fabric of Chinese ethics, framed, no doubt, under the supervision of the ladies and some sage censor, which maintains the superstitions of the darkest ages in Europe, and reads like a literary production of the remotest antiquity suddenly vivified in the middle of this matter-of-fact scientific nineteenth century. The appearance of the comet, and the prevalence of cholera, referred to, occurred during the residence of the writer in China, when the awful devastation caused by the latter scourge was well qualified to give the mysterious edict all the effect intended among the native population; and the number of sudden youthful, we are deeply afraid, and have received from the dowagers their united opinions, that these frightful occurrences in the heavens and amongst the people must be caused by some defect in our government. All the officials are alike in fear, and examine their conduct in order to rectify their faults. Since our accession we have ever sought good advice, and have taken care to extract good advice from other officials of the empire when they have had occasion to memorialize us. But we fear that, in the multitude of our affairs, and the great extent of our empire, there may be some defect that has escaped our notice, and of which the court has not heard, that the officers, in memorializing, have been deterred from speaking their mind from fear of giving offence, and have not told the facts of the case. Therefore we on purpose issue an edict ordering that all officials, great and small, should with their whole heart consider whether there be any shortcomings in the great and important affairs of our government; should honestly expose them, and not hide them; should not keep back anything as unimportant or trivial, and should obey Heaven in reality and not in name only. At present we are in painful anxiety as to the many troubles all around us; we and our officials must diligently fulfil our public and private duties, and, taking warning from these appearances in the firmament, entreat Heaven's favor. Respect this!" PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH. AT the head of this number of THE ECLECTIC we have placed quite a life-like portrait of Goldwin Smith, the able and learned Regius Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford. Many of our readers, we are confident, will give a cordial welcome to this portrait, inasmuch as his person and character secured to him a very flattering reception in this city and country some months since. His warm interest in, and bold advocacy of, the Federal government in its efforts to put down the rebellion, has won for him many friends and admirers. The Union Club in this city gave him a warm reception, and treated him with distinguished consideration. He was invited to address the New-York Historical Society, which he did to a very intelligent and crowded assembly, on the origin and history of the great family of English universities at Oxford. It was a masterly presentation of the leading facts, which he gave without preparation, as he remarked, and without a word written upon which to rely. His lecture was received with marked attention and interest. The press of this city announced his arrival in this country in flattering terms. Professor Goldwin Smith was born at Reading, England, in 1823. His father, who still lives, has been for many years engaged in the practice of medicine. Goldwin Smith was sent to school at Eton, and afterwards was entered at Christ Church, Oxford, where he remained until he was elected to a Demy-ship at Magdalen College. In 1845 he took his B. A. degree, having gained the Ireland and Hertford Scholarship and the Chancellor's Prize for writing the best Latin verse. His next step in promotion was his election to a tutor's chair in University College. Having made himself acquainted with law, he was called to the bar at Lincoln's Inn in 1847, but being disinclined to practice his profession, he ac cepted the post of Assistant Secretary to the first Oxford Commission, (that of inquiry,) and as Secretary to the second. He was also chosen member of the Education Commission of 1859. His published works embrace lectures on historical and other subjects. He is now Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford. He incurred the displeasure of some un-American journals because he had the courage and honesty to defend our struggling nation against the assaults made by the University with which he is associated. His clear and forcible tract on American slavery, and his letter on Southern independence, show him in the light of the true friend of freedom. His opinions have the true ring, and will cause his visit to this country to be long remembered. He returned to England about the first of February, 1865. A CITY FLOWER. "Il-y-a des fleurs animées."-Polite Colloquialism. The dust is over his heart. But violets hid i' the green; But a flower that charms me more, I think, Hazel eyes that wickedly peep, With a delicate ecstasy; Over the papery bonnetry- THE wheel of Time turns whirring on, It never varies, never stays; Somewhiles we watch, somewhiles we shun, But it nor lingers nor delays. And if perchance Love seize the wheel, And seek to stop it in its flight, He only learns the more to feel He cannot lengthen Life's delight. Yet Love will strive to change its course, F. G. F. THE OLD CATHEDRAL ORGANIST 'Tis forty years ago since first I climbed these dusty, winding stairs To play the Dean in: how I spurned Beneath my feet all meaner cares, When first I leant, my cheek on fire, And looked down blushing at the choir. Handel, and Haydn, and Mozart I thought they watched me as I played; While Palestrina's stern, sad face Seemed in the twilight to upbraid; Pale fingers moved upon the keysThe ghost-hands of past centuries. Behind my oaken battlement Above the door I used to lean, And watch, in puffing crimson hood, Come stately sailing in the Dean; On this, the organ breathing low, Began to murmur soft and slow. I used to shut my eyes, and hear Before the prayer the lull and calm, I knew those thirteen hundred pipes The voices of the friends they love, The bird's song, and the thunder too; And the fierce diapason's roar, Like storms upon a rocky shore. And now to-day I yield me up The dusky seat, my old loved throne, Unto another; and no more Shall come here in the dusk alone, Or in the early matin hour, To hear my old friend's voice of power. And yet methinks, that centuries hence, To hear the anthem's swell once more, Vision unto vision calleth, While the young child dreameth on. Fair, O dreamer, thee befalleth With the glory thou hast won! Narrow their world, but sunny its airs, Full of small joys that were great to them, Transient sorrows and simple cares (Burs on youth's glittering raiment-hem); Darker wert thou in the garden, yestermorn, by And innocent hopes, that loomed so large summer sun. We should see the spirits ringing Round thee-were the clouds away! 'Tis the child-heart draws them, singing In the silent-seeming clay Singing!-Stars that seem the mutest, go in music all the way. As the moths around a taper, As the bees around a rose, As in sunset, many a vapor So the spirits group and close Through the purple mist of their morning-prime, In the sand-glass turned by a child in play. They had a language that mocked at rules, Round about a holy childhood, as if drinking its Learned it was not, nor was it wise, repose. Shapes of brightness overlean thee, While thou smilest-not in sooth Thy smile-but the overfair one, dropped from some ethereal mouth. Haply it is angels' duty, During slumber, shade by shade To fine down the childish beauty To the thing it must be made, Ere the world shall bring it praises, or the tomb shall see it fade. Softly, softly! make no noise! Now he lieth dead and dumb-* Now he hears the angels' voices Folding silence in the room Yet it had purport earnest and true, Figures-which love and the hearer knew; Tender half-meanings; metaphor bold; Than the heart held or the kind eyes told; Jests-whose memories now bring tears. For the "strong hours" came, that come to all, All the poor treasures, great and small, Love had amassed as his precious things; All the rare joys, on the path they trod, And the cares that look so like joys, when pastWhen one great grief-like the serpent-rodHath swallowed all lesser griefs at last: Now he muses deep the meaning of the heaven- All the rich harvest of mutual thought, words as they come. Speak not! he is consecrated Breathe no breath across his eyes. Lifted up and separated On the hand of God he lies, The sweet life-memories-reaped in vain, Ne'er to be uttered nor heard again. One was taken-the other left; Where was the use of that idle lore? In a sweetness beyond touching-held in clois- Bury it deep in the heart bereft, tral sanctities. Ne'er to be uttered, nor needed more! Bless the dimple in his cheek? Dare ye look at one another, And the benediction speak? "What doth it matter? solemn and sweet Would ye not break out in weeping, and con- How should we want these foolish words And-deaf to the quiring angels-pines THE CROAKERS. FROM GOETHE, BY REV. DR. HEDGE. THE pond in the meadow was frozen tight, LEISURE. GRAND is the leisure of the earth; But goes to sleep in snow-wreaths dim. Dread is the leisure up above, The while he sits whose name is Love, He waits for us, while, houseless things, The ruined world, the desolate sea: Decreed from His eternity. Where is our leisure? give us rest! -Jean Ingelow. LINES WRITTEN IN A FRANCISCAN CONVENT. How oft from this small casement high, Toward that heaven so pure and calm, One looked, but sight so beautiful Awoke no answering thrill in him; And, with a heart benumbed and dull, He saw as if his eye were dim. Perchance, some mind of finer mould And wings of angels waving fair- St. Francis showed his mystic wounds. One, with a heart of slumbering power, He may have found in cloistered walls, How many felt, through blighted years, With nature frenzied by control, Could chain the fiends that haunt the soul ! Their minds roamed sadly through the past To youth, with hope's bright fancies flushed, Ere clouds the prospect overcast, Ere care life's opening blossom crushed; Then weary days and nights forlorn, The struggling mind, the sickening heart, Till, in the conflict overborne, All earthly ties they rent apart. They sought the fenced, the holy ground- That they had brought the world within. So Jerome through the streets of Rome And all its pomp and pride despise; Brought back Rome's voice on every wind, And every leaf, that idly stirred, The thought of friends left far behind. Some died in hoary age, some young, Their hearts grief-cankered at the coreAnd bells were rung, and psalms were sung, When opened was the chancel floor; They moulder there, that ghastly bandTheir shadows glimmer through the gloomAnd I, a stranger in the land, Muse mournfully above their tomb. -J. D. Burns. The distinguishing badge of the Order of St. Francis. |