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From The Spectator, 4 April.
POLAND AND ROME.

of much avail against men who carry in one pocket their commissions from the insurgents, and in the other bonâ fide passports signed by the Archduke Constantine.

France cannot safely move till England has been conciliated. The British ministry, willing to do for Poland all that can be done by diplomacy, agrees to an "identical note counselling Russians to moderation, but perceives, with a strong shade of annoyance, that France is pressing towards results more logical than a Romanoff's promise. An outburst of opinion in England, strong enough to justify Earl Russell in giving way to his own sympathy for freedom, would, in all probability, terminate the dilemma and free Poland-and Rome.

THE emperor hesitates still. That strange indecision which has attacked him in all great crises of his career, and which is the result It is difficult in the cloud of dust raised by of a conflict between his intellect and his im- the chancelleries, which are alive with exagination, rather than of any weakness of citement, and as noisy as rooks when a storm will, seems to have seized him now. On is at hand, to detect the signs which usually Sunday Prince Napoleon thinks he has per- indicate the true position of affairs. The balsuaded him that the hour for action has ar- ance of evidence inclines, however, to some rived, on Wednesday M. Magne is dismissed such statement as this. The event turns on from the Cabinet for impertinence to the the decision of the man who is telling lads in minister who represents in Paris the cause Scotland to study Latin and Greek. The of financial thrift. To-day it is understood Austrian Government professes its readiness that France must be content with an amnesty to act if England joins in the French request; which will simply compel the Russians to Napoleon's plea, honest or subtle, is that invent civil charges against leading Poles instead of punishing directly for treason, and to-morrow all Germany rings with a story of the revival of "Leuchtenberg Poland," i.e., of the erection of the Duchy of Warsaw into a kingdom with the Russian Beauharnais for king. That idea pleases, it is said, everybody except the Poles, who are not dying that they may secure a Belgium on the Vistula, too weak to exist except by the sufferance of Russia or the burdensome aid of France. They have still a strong vote in the matter, for in spite of manufactured telegrams and dissensions among the leaders, deliberately exaggerated in order to diminish the sympathies of Europe, the imperial troops make little way towards the conquest which their chiefs would describe as peace. The Central Committee still levies an income tax under the eyes of the Archduke Constantine. The rebellion "suppressed" in Radom is "increasing rapidly" in Lublin; Poles have crossed the Bug into Volhynia; Podolia is in open insurrection, and all reports from St. Petersburg represent the czar as inclined to "certain" concessions, defined recently as autonomy without a national army. Arms, as we know from authentic sources, are entering the country, and the revolt of Warsaw itself is only a question of the most expedient hour. The Poles, who originally promised to hold out for two months, now say they can resist till harvest, and from every corner of Europe, from Paris as from Thessaly-the latter a regular depôt of Poles-the gallant exiles are swarming home. Englishmen wonder at the break-down of the continental obstructive machinery; but the pompous people in uniform who call themselves a police are not

Unfortunately, the governing class is not decided at all. It has always sympathized with Poland, and there is no tradition, as in the case of Italy, to be patiently overcome. But it dreads France with a dread which every year seems to increase. Will not Poland, it asks, even if free, be still a dependency of France? Even should that result not occur, and the undoubted genius of the Poles for battle make the nation suddenly strong, will not another war, undertaken to liberate a nation, immensely increase French prestige, and make Napoleon the centre and idol of the nationalities which, in the South-East, need only a hope to plunge all Europe in war? If France chooses in a generous fit to incur the unimaginable risks involved in a European contest, let her; but why should England be taxed to support a project which may end in results which Englishmen do not desire, and must produce consequences which Englishmen, being human, have not the power to foresee? A generous effort for a great end is conceivable, and may even be right; but what mortal can see the ends to which a European war might lead? Victory might make

Napoleon as powerful on the Continent as his | There are factions within the kingdom who! uncle, which is not the interest of freedom, would still welcome any pretender whom they and defeat might weaken France till the Western alliance—the best security for the world while it passes through the present cycle of enthusiasms-would be finally broken up.

could trust to remain in alliance with Northern Italy, and the ablest friends of unity feel that for their cause the possession of Rome is becoming matter of life and death. Yet a There is force in all those objections, more united Italy only could balance the new particularly when they display the vastness power France will acquire from the diminand, therefore, the indefiniteness of the sug- ished weight of the czars, the new force of gested enterprise. But those who urge them her vote in the councils of Constantinople. forget,-in the case of the Ultramontanes wil- There would be a logic in the act, which the fully forget, that England has a cause to French mind would appreciate, for why free befriend dearer to Liberals even than that of one nationality while still repressing anPoland. If Poland is to receive more than a other? or why, with a European war to Russian promise-that political expression of commence, decline the alliance of a power, the mathematical zero,- English aid is in- which amidst all its difficulties retains an dispensable to give Austria confidence and army of three hundred thousand mcn. NaFrance security from attack, and she might poleon will not go to Poland unless the presjustifiably ask her price. If Napoleon ad-sure of opinion is almost irresistible, and let vances alone, let him advance, with the good it be once but known that this is the one wishes of all who sigh for the permanent condition of English adherence, and he must peace which cannot arrive while millions are accede, or break once for all with the new under foreign dominion; but, if England is Revolution. The nationalities will never asked to assist, let Napoleon evacuate Rome. again trust the man who, having the power There is no doubt he could do it, if he were of freeing two at a stroke, suffers both to marching with the sympathies of France at his perish rather than relax his grasp on the back on an enterprise which, if successful, throat of one.. The Catholic world might would seat his dynasty. There is no doubt rave, but with France excited, the power of either, that Italy, if Rome were once re- the Catholic world is a measurable quantity, leased, would become in the war a firm and Austria, even if mortified, dared not opthough independent ally. Those two facts pose England and France, and Italy and Poought to suffice for the sovereign who de- land all combined. England, so often accused clares that he only remains at Rome under of selfishness, but which alone among nations compulsion, while, to England, the advantage surrenders a province to fulfil an idea, would would be almost incalculable, would justify then have the glory of freeing one great and the war in the eyes of every class. For three historic race, while sanctioning by its support long years the first object of our policy has the enfranchisement of another. The freebeen the construction of an independent and dom of Poland may not seem to English arpowerful kingdom within the Mediterranean, ristocrats worth the expense of a fleet in the and it is useless to conceal that that policy Baltic; but what of the freedom of Rome? may still fail. The Neapolitans cannot rec- Russia pushed back from Europe; the French oncile themselves heartily to government alliance secure; the Eastern question reduced from Turin. They admit the headship of to a negotiation between England and France; Rome, but they still feel intensely that, till and Italy free and strong-are not these reseated at Rome, the Government of Victor Em-sults, Mr. Gladstone, worth half that treasmanuel must be a Piedmontese government. ured surplus of yours?

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POETRY.-Hymn for the National Fast, 30th April, 1863, 242. A Princess to an Heir Apparent, 242. Light out of Darkness, 242. Dirge for a Soldier, 288. Waiting for our Soldiers, 288. Imperishable, 288.

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HYMN FOR THE NATIONAL FAST, 30TH APRIL, 1863.

BY THE REV. JOHN PIERPONT. "Is it such a fast that I have chosen-a day for a man to afflict his soul; to bow down his head like a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Is not this the fast that I have chosen; to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?"-Isaiah vii. : 5, 6.

IN deep humility,
Worshipping only Thee,
Prostrate we fall,

And while Thy name we bless,
And own Thy righteousness,
Lord, in our sore distress,
On Thee we call.

Our great sin we bemoan-
Our fathers' and our own;

We cloak no more

The hundred years of wrong

We've nursed and made so strong;
The sin we've loved so long
We now deplore.

As sovereign, on Thy throne
Vengeance sits not alone

To scourge our land:
Mercy comes nearer Thee,
And, on her bended knee
Holds back, with her strong plea
Thy chastening hand.

Beneath the tempest's tread
The bulrush bows its head;
But when the blast
That humbled it is o'er,
It lifts itself once more
As proudly as before

The storm o'erpassed.

So be it not with us!

But, while we bow down thus
Beneath Thy frown,

Let us, with penance meet,
Lie lowly at Thy feet,
And ne'er the sin repeat

That brought us down.

-Chronicle.

Washington, D. C., April 5, 1863.

A PRINCESS TO AN HEIR APPARENT. "Jungantur capre lupis!"

THE prize you offer, Prince, is bright,
Is what the world must matchless deem ;
And far above the modest height

Of a poor Danish maiden's dream.

To hear and grant the trembling prayer
Of tribes and nations lowly bent;
The crown of Catharine to bear;
The Empress of a continent;

To reign from ice-bound fields of gloom,
To where the sunlit waters roll;
To sit by him whose word is doom

To Fin and Tartar, Russ and Pole ;

And Pole-ah! then a jarring string-
That mars the music all too soon;
As if when loud the joy-bells ring,

A funeral knell should break the tune!
You frown? But hear. I have been late
A partner in a sister's joy,
Welcomed to share a fairer fate.
A crown without such sad alloy.
And passing many a mile along

Through streets with flowers bedecked and strewed,

Around us, in a shouting throng,

A free and faithful people stood.

But I have heard, and I have read,

Of other sights and sounds than those; Of crowds that met to mourn the dead, And knelt to pray, and never rose.

For, as the city knelt in woe,

There came a flash to light the gloom ;-
And Warsaw's wives and mothers know
What hopes it lighted to the tomb.
Mothers and wives? Not they alone;
In every Polish heart that deed
Deep in the patriot soil is sown :
Beware the bursting of the seed.
And see! the blood-red letters glare,
On memory's page a later line ;-
And shall I not the lots compare-
My sister's, and what might be mine?
Here, breaks from all one hailing shout,
On the free air in gladness flung;
There, on the night the cry rings out,
Of Rachel mourning for her young.

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-Examiner.

LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS.
PLAINLY to read the written doom
Traced on the wall of that dear room,
Yet smile, to check infecting gloom.
From night to night, and day to day,
To keep determined Death at bay,
Our best, our only hope-delay.
To sink with every sinking sun,
On wearied knees, and one by one,
Apart to sob: "Thy will be done,"

To gasp, from lips of dumb despair:
"O God! who knowest all, forbear
To mark the mockery of our prayer.”
All this was seen, and done, and prayed,
The while our hearts felt half betrayed
By Him who thus withheld His aid.

O Ruler of the passion-blast!
Pity, forgive, and bless the past,
And reunite us all at last.

The buried sun from night shall rise,
His reflex steals along the skies,
And day's full dawn behind it lies.
-Chambers's Journal.

PART II.CHAPTER VI.

THE RESULT.

knot of discontent in the boy's throat-that apple of Adam, which Charley swallowed, WHEN the newly married people returned consciously, yet, as he himself thought, unhome, after an absence of about two months, observed by any man. The younger children the new rule soon but gradually made itself were perhaps still more difficult to deal with; felt at Fontanel. Though Mr. Summerhayes for it was hard to teach them that Mr. Sumhad for a long time been the inspiring influ- merhayes was no longer Cousin Tom, to be ence there, there was still all the difference romped with, but that it was necessary to be between his will as interpreted by Mrs. Clif-quiet and good, and not to disturb the meditaford and his will as accomplished by himself. tions of the head of the house. True, it fell Of the two, it must be allowed that the re-to Mary's lot to impress this fact upon the tainers of the family preferred the cordial, rebellious consciousness of Harry and little kind, inconsistent sway of poor Mary to the Alf; but Mr. Summerhayes, who at that parfirm and steady government of her new hus-ticular period of his life was all eyes and ears, band; and then everybody had acknowledged and missed nothing, did not fail to have the her right to rule, which came by nature, benefit. Then some of the servants were petwhile every soul secretly rebelled against his,†ulant-some were insolent, presuming on which was a kind of contradiction to nature. their old favor with their mistress-some reMr. Summerhayes's path was not strewn signed altogether when they knew "how with roses when he came back to Fontanel; things was a-going to be; "the most part then, for the first time, he had the worst of sneaked and gave in, with secret reflections, it. After she was fairly married, and every-every one of which was guessed and aggrathing concluded beyond the possibility of vated by the new master. It is easy to see change, Mary, like a true woman, had found that his position had its difficulties and diṣait quite possible to forget all her previous greeables; but, to do Mr. Summerhayes jusdoubts and difficulties, and to conclude, with tice, he behaved with great temper and forthat simple philosophy which carries women bearance in this troublesome crisis. He made of her class through so many troubles, that it apparent to everybody that he was not to now everything must come right. It was no be trifled with; but, at the same time, preembarrassing new affection now, but acknowl-tended not to see the little petulances which edged duty, that bound her to her husband, and she would not contemplate the possibility of this duty clashing with her former duties. So she came home, having fully regained the composure of her mind, very happy to see her children again, and utterly forgetting that they had not yet become accustomed, as she had, to look upon Cousin Tom as the head of the house. But it was He was a man whose previous life had, to now that gentleman's turn to suffer the pains a considerable extent, belied his real characand penalties of the new position which he had taken upon himself. He was fully conscious of all the troubled, sidelong glances out of Loo's brown eyes; and when Charley burst into the house in schoolboy exuberance at Easter, for his few days of holiday, Mr. Summerhayes noted the gulp in the throat of the Etonian, when he found it necessary to ask the new master of the house about something hitherto settled between himself and the old groom, with perhaps a reference to the indulgent mother, who could never bear to deprive her boy of any pleasure. Mr. Summerhayes let Charley have his will with the best grace in the world, but still saw and remarked that

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were in reality so distinctly apparent to him, and which galled him so much. He swallowed many a mortification just then more bitter and stinging than Charley's soon-forgotten gulp of boyish pride; and steadily and gradually, without any one knowing much about it, the new master of Fontanel won the day.

ter. He had lived idly and without any apparent ambition during these forty years, contenting himself apparently, for the last ten, with his dreary old manor-house and spare income. But this was not because he was of a light and easy temper, or satisfied with his lot. He was active enough in reality, now that he had affairs in his hands of sufficient magnitude to occupy him-and thoughtful enough to keep his purposes locked in his own heart, from which they came forth in act and deed, only when full fledged and ready for the gaze of the world. The house of Fontanel gradually recognized the hand of the master. Without any visi

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