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nounced by judgment of the Consistory of Berlin in March, 1849. A happier home .was that of the second princess on our list, "Wilhelmina of Wurtemburg, born July 11, 1844, the daughter of. Prince Eugene by' a princess of Hohenlohe-Langenburg. Prince Eugene died some five years ago, and his children are known to be all well educated; but the formidable Doomsdaybook reveals that there is much " morganatic" blood in this family, and the fact that the mother of Princess Wilhelmina is related to Admiral Sir George Seymour would probably act as an obstacle to a union with the royal house of Great Britain. The third candidate is Princess Anna of Hesse, born May 25, 1843, the eldest daughter of Duke Charles of Hesse-Darmstadt, and sister of Prince Ludwig, who lately married our own Princess Alice. Little is known of this young royal lady; but she is said to be very amiable, though not invested by nature with the "fatal gift of beauty." Princess Marie of Saxe-Altenburg, youngest daughter of the late Duke Edward, by a princess of Reuss-Greiz, is the fourth candidate. She was born June 28, 1845, and her father dying when she was only seven years of age; she was brought up in great seclusion. The fifth princess in the list is Catharine of Oldenburg, born September 21, 1846, daughter of Prince Peter of Oldenburg, " doctor honoris juris civilis " of the University of St. Petersburg, and President of the Civil and Clerical Department in the Cabinet of his majesty Alexander H. of Russia. Though probably the British public would not much object to the doctorate of the father of this royal lady, the office in the Czar's ministry might prove a stumbling-block. Princess Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein, born February 27, 1844, the eldest daughter of Prince Frederick of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg Gliicksburg stands sixth on the list. The princess is known to be very amiable and of charming manners; but her father unfortunately, is mixed up greatly in that neverending, still-beginning Schleswig-Holstein embroglio over which the Teutonic night

mares have been hovering these thirty years and longer. With Ireland on our hands, and the spirit-rappings of the ghostly "Eastern question," the Schleswig-Holstein connection certainly appears undesirable. There then remains only one more candidate to complete the list of the sacred seven princesses. This last royal lady is the one whom rumor points out as the destined consort of our future king, Princess Alexandra of Denmark. Her royal highness was born December 1, 1844, and is the second child and eldest daughter of Prince Christian of.Schleswig-IIolstein, heir-expectant to the throne of Denmark, and of Princess . Louise of Hesse-Casscl. She is described as very accomplished, as well as gifted with no inconsiderable share of physical beauty, standing second only in the latter respect to the far-famed princess of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen. The union seems desirable in all respects, except the one that Prince Christian is as deeply involved in the Schleswig-Holstein maze as his elder brother Frederick. He has shown, however, either more wisdom or more ambition by taking the Danish side, and as recompense has been elected, in 1853, to be the successor of King Frederick VII. The friends of Prince Christian assert that he is aiming at something far higher than even the throne of Denmark, and that it is not unlikely he will one day bear on his brow the triple crown of a new empire of Scandinavia. But these are matters not needed to recommend fair Princess Alexandra to the notice of the British public, though the rumor of her selection as the bride of the Prince of Wales has already put the diplomacy of one-half of Europe in movement, created immense excitement at Berlin and St. Petersburg, and caused a panic among the Jews of Hamburg, who have been speculating in Schleswig-Holstein scrip. Here we only ask that our future queen should be a Protestant, her husband's own free choice, and not entangled with burdensome political obligations,—and all these recommendations, with beauty supcradded, seem to meet in the princess.


Short Articles.—Bank of England Notes, 110. Improvement in Lighthouses, 110. Edward Gibbon Wakefield, 120. Saxon Language in England, 125. Mr. Hall's Arctic Expedition, 129. Lady Novelists, 133. Daniel Webster in his Coffin, 144. Pope's Generosity, 144. The Stone of Faith, 144. Earl Godwin's Mother, 144.



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The thrilling bugles ring,

And the vibrant drams are beat; The glory of our flag

Illumes the narrow street; The eager folk throng thick,

Great cheers oppress the air; Our parting breaks my heart—

Yet I'm proud to think bo's there.

The drums sound long, swift rolls,

The bugles blow fierce cries, And marshalling fiery hosts

Our flaming banner flies. The regiments sweep down

Into battle's smoke and glare: A terror chills my heart—

Yet I'm proud to think he's there.

The bugle shrill recalls,

Accordant rings the drum, The stars flash victory

From flags that flaunting come. Paeans nnd bays await

The brave who thus can dare; With welcome yearns my heart—

Yet I'm proud to think he's there.

The bugle's breath is faint,

The muffled drums speak slow, And over arms reversed

Our blood-dimmed flag droops low. To a patriot-soldier's grave

The valiant dead they bear; Thy hopes are slain, my heart—

Yet oh I be proud he s there.

—N. Y. Evening Post.


The Battle Autumn Of 1862.


The flags of war like storm-birds fly,

The charging trumpets blow; Yet rolls no thunder in the sky,

No earthquake strives below.

And, calm and patient, Nature keeps

Her ancient promise well, Though o'er her bloom and greenness sweeps

The battle's breath of hell.

And still she walks in golden hoars

Through harvest-happy farms,
And still she wears her fruits and flowera

Like jewels on her arms.

What mean the gladness of the plain,

This joy of eve and morn.
The mirth that shakes the beard of grain

And yellow locks of corn?

Ah 1 eyes may well be full of tears,

And hearts with hate are hot;
But even-paced come round the years,

And Nature changes not.

She meets with smiles our bitter grief,
With songs our groans of pain;

She mocks with tint of flower and leaf
The war-field's crimson stain.

Still, in the cannon's pause, we hear
Her sweet thanksgiving-psalm;

Too near to God for doubt or fear,
She shares the eternal calm.

She knows the seed lies safe below

The fires that blast and bum; For all the tears of blood we sow

She waits the rich return.

Now on the fettered neck of Italy

Napoleon's grasp of iron will grow stricter; And you, who fondly deemed your people free,

Have lost and gained an enemy, King Victor.

Rebel or hero, call him which you. will,
Ho is the same as in those days Sicilian

When his wild war-cry made the people thrill, When his name brought you subjects by the million.

What then was right can hardly now be wrong: But the deed's done—its memory cannot pass wholly—

Done by the will of one who is far too strong For you, Cavour, Rattazzi, or Ricasoli.

More safely you may wear your crown, perchance, Review your troops at Turin with genteeler


Yet all the while be the mere slave of France,— The puppet of the plotter at the Tuilerics.


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From The Spectator.


Macaulay was never unknown. Before he had ceased to be a boy, his friends and teachers had noted his astonishing talents, his tutor found him the most agreeable of companions for a ramble on a Saturday afternoon, and Hannah More longed for the day when " Tom might bain Parliament and beat them all." Thus at eighteen he began

fortune in stepping almost at one stride from eminence in the Union to triumphs in the House of Commons, is the actual realization of the most dazzling hopes which their wildest fancy can suggest. The feat he accomplished will never be achieved again. No university rhetorician will ever again, under the present condition of English society, turn into a parliamentary orator, and Macaulay will be known as at once the most brilliant and the last of those men of genius

life with a reputation greater than most men whos(j University reputation opens for them

attain at the end of a successful career. Nor

the career of political life. Other men had,

were his friends mistaken m their hopes and before his time, ined a seat in Parliament

anticipations. Throughout his whole uni- on the s th of their thful reputation;

rersity career he was felt to be a man des- b m stood the h test bei

i_T_..J f j ,' . A /".>... A_A«A««.« 4\.nM * ° °

tined for great things. A few extracts from his speeches while at Cambridge fully justify the admiration of his companions. He was, in his tutor's words, "an extraordinary young man," and addressed the Union in language which has all the beauties and merits which gained for him the ear of Parliament . He remains, indeed, the last and greatest of the men for whom fame gained at the university has opened the doors of the House of Commons. To pass from the Union to Westminster, to address real members of Parliament, to bow to the decision of a real speaker, to influence by their eloquence divisions which may affect the fate of the nation, is the secret ambition which stirs the soul of the enthusiastic partisans who week by week parody all the formalities of Parliament, in addresses directed to the president and cheered by "the honorable members of the Oxford

tried by the peculiar taste of the House of Commons. Macaulay vindicated the judgment of the men who applauded his harangues at the Union. No one can say that, as an orator, he failed. A foreigner, whose testimony cannot be suspected of partiality, bears witness to the extraordinary effect produced by his speeches in favor of Reform, and tells how even the Opposition "joined in the roar of applause," and " the House rung for many minutes with peal on peal of approbation, as the Speaker resumed his seat." Time and experience added to his skill, and not long before bis death, Mr. \Vhitty saw " English gentlemen, collected to hear the celebrated orator, as wild with delight as an opera house after Grisi at ten." The Cambridge Union may look with unchecked pride on the greatest orator it has ever produced. But though Macaulay succeeded as

Cambridge M orator> th h his reputation enabled Unions." But they well know their ambi- i him to overcome the bars which keep most hon to be but a day-dream, and that the ad- j En lishmen of the middle classes out of miration of a London vestry is more likely i o th h m Hterary feme gained for

to lead to a seat in the House of Commons I him honors never before conceded to success than the enthusiastic applause of all the un- in literaturej every one feel8 that as a politi. dergraduates of all the universities in Eng- j dan he failed Canning and palmerston, land. The real peculiarity of Macaulay's I peel or Lord John Russell wiu be known to

position is that he was enabled by the force of his own genius, and by the favor of peculiar circumstances, to achieve exactly that success of which other undergraduates dream and dream in vain. His brilliant essays were precisely what they would write, could they attain the power. His university reputation is the distinction which, of all other distinctions, they covet; and, above all his

* Tke Public Life of Lord Macaulay. By the Rev. Frederick Arnold, B.A., Christ Church, Oxford. Tinsley Brothers.

posterity as political leaders; no one will ever care to remember that Macaulay occupied a seat in the Cabinet. The fact of the failure is undoubted; its causes are not at first sight easy to discover. But though it will long remain a puzzle to historians how it came to pass that the most popular political writer of his day, and one of the most successful orators who have ever charmed Parliament, with a character pure from all blemish, and almost free even from the at

tacks of slander, should have failed in achieving an amount of political eminence which has often been attained by men of far less talent and of damaged reputation, a careful investigation into the circumstances , of Macaulay's public life and the peculiarity of his genius accounts for his want of suc. cess, and throws some curious light on the difficulties which beset the career of an English politician who attempts to rise to power from the ranks of the middle classes.

Somfe minor obstacles stood in his way. A certain want of tact is apparent in many of his most trifling acts. This deficiency "caused him to date his address to the Edinburgh electors from Windsor Castle, led him into a scrape at his first introduction to the society of Calcutta, and probably was the cause of a kind of personal unpopularity which his kindness of heart and freedom from petty faults would otherwise make unaccountable. His rugged independence, whilst almost the most admirable feature in Ms career, was not calculated to win popularity. As a young man, though burning to enter public life, he risked his election at Leeds rather than court applause by giving his approval to a Bill which he conceived to embody, under a show of humanity, a plan little calculated to do good, and absolutely refused to give an account to the electors of his religious opinions. Men respect but do not love those who treat them with something like disdain; and the conduct of Edinburgh, which first disgraced itself by making its most distinguished representative the victim of a party of whom one-half were fanatics and the other half hypocrites, and, later, sought by something like servility to regain the glory of being represented by the greatest of English writers, is an exact example of the caprice with which the mass of mankind treat leaders whose honesty and want of pliancy prevent them from bending their principles Bo as to suit the popular cry of the moment. Still other statesmen have known how to rise in spite of faults in manner and without sacrificing the most punctilious independence, and no account of Macaulay's career is satisfactory which does not give some deeper cause for his want of success than those minor defects which, though not without influence, are never the ruling power in a great man's life. Some critics would be disposed to point to the tenacity

with which he held to one political creed as" the error of his career. This solution of his failure is, however, untenable. Whether the doctrines of the Whig school of politicians are true or false, they have undoubtedly been adopted by the mass of the Euglisb, people. Almost every reform which the Edinburgh reviewers advocated has been carried out, and where they stopped short in the course of improvement there the nation too has halted. Macaulay's principles differed so little from those of the politicians of his day that they can have been but a slight obstacle, if they were an obstacle at all, in the path of his progress. Two or three causes acted, we believe, in combination to hinder his political triumph. He possessed talent, reputation, and high character. One thing he lacked, in that he did not possess either rank or wealth. This want was his first and greatest hindrance. The middle class respects high birth and worships property. For talent it has no respect, or rather, it has a respect closely allied with envy. Hence a politician who attempts to rise without money or connections, is exposed at once to the envy of his equals and to the jealousy of his superiors. The former give him at any rate no help, the latter dislike him as an intruder. Literary men have, it is true, risen to power; but It has been in spite of their literary reputation. Disraeli has been more hampered by his novels than by his disgraceful attacks on England's last great minister. Bulwer, though he is a baronet, is looked on with some suspicion because he is an author; and Macaulay was attacked as "Babbletongue" by the Times, with a discourteous vehemence which would never have been employed towards a statesman guiltless of having written epigrammatic sentences. The existence of the popular prejudice against a writer who was not rich enough to live without using his pen, told we cannot but think unfortunately on Macaulay's conduct. He wished apparently to succeed In political life, to gain a fortune, and to obtain a lasting literary reputation. To achieve any one of these objects of his ambition would have tasked the energy and talent of most men. With his powers he might have accomplished two out of the three, and he was perhaps right in thinking that if he were to become a statesman, the possession of

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