for the poor fellow! Especially as his vocal efforts on the occasion confined him to his house, with an utter loss of speech, for a fortnight afterward.

Mrs. Swinger also did her duty. That is, she fought desperately in defence of her peculiar opinions (contradicting every thing she had ever said, said then, or ever would say thereafter, over and over, in the fury of the combat)-and only surrendered at the "last ditch," into which she was precipitated by a remark of her daughter, to the effect that, if she-Mrs. S.-did not consent to her-Maria's-happiness, she-Maria-would elopeay! elope with the Colonel, even if she had to ask him to run away with her! This is horrible, to be sure! But alas! it is true! And Maria was a girl of her word! And her mother knew she was! Moreover, it is certain that, in spite of the awful revelation of Kenyon's profession, Mrs. Swinger could not help feeling a sneaking kindness for the fellow. And he was a colonel, and in the Regular Army, and nearly forty; so that his habits were formed, and were evidently good-or, if not evidently, apparently-and he would quit the service when the rebellion was over! And so

And so, Mrs. Swinger surrendered at discretion, and (not on that "leave" though) Miss Maria Swinger became Mrs. Colonel Robert Kenyon! And Wheazey actually stood as one of the Colonel's groomsmen-George Harkin was another-and presented the bride (having just made a splendid thing in "Oil Creek") with a silver water-pitcher (emblem of temperance), and was so absorbed in anxiety about the pending "draft," that he utterly forgot to go and pick a quarrel with his friend Percy Vere as he had intended-for giving him such disastrous counsel.

And more wonderful than all, Mrs. Swinger has never since been heard to insinuate-in the presence of her military sonin-law at least-that "our soldiers were only fit to be 'FOOD FOR GUNPOWDER.""

WAITING FOR FATHER.

BY GEORGE COOPER.

THE table was set, and the tea-kettle sang,
By the fireside pleasant and snug;

The voice of the cricket in merriment rang,
And puss lay asleep on the rug.

The rain on the window-pane tapped with a will,
As the mother looked out in the gloom;
And three little children were sitting so still,
In the shade of the dim-lighted room!

They waited for father. So, night after night,
They had watched as the year had gone by,
For his face at the door, till the tear-drops were bright
In the deeps of each play-weary eye.

And by the bedside, ere they lay down to sleep,
Little white hands were folded in prayer,
And soft, pleading lips asked the Saviour to keep
Their loved one in Heavenly care!

For the red fiend of battle went prowling abroad
(Oh, the hearts that were shrouded in woe!)-

And, with heroes of Freedom, their brave father's sword
Met the blades of the traitorous foe.

Ah! slow were the steps of the hours that passed
Though, when evenings grew chilly and long,

And the arms of the wind round the old house were cast,
Still the cricket breathed hope in her song.

The mother turned sadly away from the pane,
And she kissed her sweet darlings, and wept;
And whispered that father would soon come again,
While close to her bosom they crept.

Oh, who is it comes in the darkness and rain

To the farm on the brow of the hill?

And who is it peeps through the glimmering pane,
At the group that is joyless and still?

A hand on the latch, and a voice loud and clear,
Then a form by the door stands in view!
O mother and children, dash by every tear,-
Clasp your soldier, so noble and true!

ONLY ONE.

"THERE is no cloud in all the sky:
I hear the distant bugles play:

You tremble, sister; so do I:

Our soldiers both come home to-day!"

"One cloud there is, Maud, on the blue:

'Tis but a rustic horn you hear:

"I tremble? Nay! Or, if I do,

It is not for myself I fear."

"Not for yourself? For whom then, pray?
For whom can you have cause to feel-?
Those are the bugles, Anne, I say,
And-ha! I see the flash of steel!"

The sabres glitter in the sun :

The war-worn ranks ride slowly past:
One soldier halts-ah! only one!-

And cries: "At last, beloved, at last!"

His steed stands, wistful-eyed, apart,
And looks upon the ripening grain;
But who is to the rider's heart

Thus pressed, again, and yet again?

Alas! One cloud still spans the sky:
And still the distant bugles play,

Poor Maud! The ranks have long passed by;

But only One came home to-day!

VOL. IV.-11

C. D. G.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE

AND

NOTES ON NEW BOOKS.

AFTER having arranged a few new books for notice in this number, we set ourselves to the task of reading them with a view to doing justico to their contents; a labor which may be compared to a good swim, in which we encounter deep water, and shallows, currents, and hard-work up stream, pleasant floating downwards, looking up at the sky, and casting side-long glances at the green banks-but a good deal of it is wading in the mud. Such is monthly criticism of new books. The first we took up was "Naval Duties and Discipline, with the Policy and Principles of Naval Organization. By F. A. Roe, Lieutenant-Commander United States Navy." (New York: D. Van Nostrand.) Let us at once confess to a most charming disappointment. We expected dry tables and geometrical figures, caviare to the million; but found, instead, a most interesting volume for all, and one which gives to the uninitiated a clearer view of the official life of the Navy than we have ever seen before. It contains an analysis of Fleets and Squadrons, striking pictures of the Naval Captain, Executive Officer, Master, and all othor officers and men, instructions in Seamanship and Discipline, and two admirablo closing chapters on "Battle," and "The Naval Officer." Even our unpractised eye can see that the volume will be of great value to the Navy, while it is the only book we have yet seen which a landsman can read with profit, and absolute pleasure. The book is 12mo, 223 pages, handsomely printed, bound in blue, and is ornamented with a crack war-steamer in gold.

We then set to work, feeling sure of a treat, upon "Alfred Hagart's Household, by Alexander Smith" (Ticknor & Fields, 12mo, 240 pp.): a beautiful story, which has appeared in numbers in the English periodical, Good Words. We were delighted at the enthusiasm of Alfred, the manliness of Jack, and the managing powers of the good wife. Little Katy's death made us aware of a sudden and temporary cold in the head. Miss McQuarrie we voted a decided character, and we were sailing on famously in the very current of the story, when, bah! we came to the last page, and found ourselves cheated. Without a word of warning, from first to last, we found that the story is only fairly begun in this volume, and that our labor was lost. Let Messrs. Ticknor & Fields give us the remainder at once, or-but perhaps, as we owe so much to their educated and tasteful imprimatur, we should make no threats and harbor no malice. But we do want to know, without delay, what became of Alfred Hagart's household, after Jack went to live with his aunt.

To Messrs. D. Appleton & Co. we owe something more than an editor's thanks for a volume as handsomely printed as any English book ever was, and the contents of which are worthy of the form: "The Conversion of the Roman Empire, by Charles Merivale, B. D., author of 'The Romans under the Empire.'" It consists of a series of Historical Sermons, constituting the "Boyle Lectures for the year 1864, delivered at the Chapel Royal, White Hall." The subject is presented in a

clear and logical manner. Beginning with a fine contrast of Christian belief with heathen unbelief, and showing how, while Christianity beamed with unabated lustre as a light to lighten all nations, paganism began to move towards it-first looking for a temporal providence, and then expanding under the teachings of the philosophers and the ideas of Roman jurisprudence; we find the heathen aware of his danger, casting about for a saviour, finding the doctrines of Christianity responsive to all his eager inquiries, and at length bowing in the ever-increasing light which was now irradiating every nook and corner of the vast empire. Nearly one hundred pages of learned notes form an appendix to the volume. 8vo, 266 pp.

Matthew Arnold's "Essays in Criticism" (Boston, Ticknor & Fields) are excellent, scholarly, and self-poised. He has struck out a new path in criticism. Most of them have been printed before in reviews, but they are eminently worthy of being collected in a book. We have only space to notice his capital papers "On Translating Homer, Three Lectures," and "On Translating Homer, Last Words," in which we have the truest estimate and justest criticisms of Chapman, Pope, Cowper, Newman, Wright, and others. Among the translators who felt aggrieved by his comments, Newman and Wright were prepared to do battle in defence of their labors, and for them, in especial, the "last words" were written. Every Greek scholar will be delighted with these papers; and, however some may differ from his rhythmic views, will find in them the strongest reasons why Mr. Arnold should be Professor of Poetry at Oxford, and the best proofs that he is the son of his father, Arnold of Rugby. The paper on "Marcus Aurelius" is also particularly excellent. 12mo, 506 pp.

In a little brochure of twenty-three pages, Messrs. Ticknor & Fields have republished from the Atlantic Monthly the strange and touching story of "The Man without a Country." It should be in everybody's hands at the present time, to teach many lessons:-that Rebellion is a fearful crime; that a man without a country is more fearfully ostracized than Cain; and, most of all, a lesson of forbearance and charity towards those who, having sinned as Nolan did, repent as he did. A young man, involved in Burr's treason, and found guilty when greater sinners escaped, declares to his judges-"D-n the United States! I never want to hear of the United States again;" and that was his sentence, to be transferred from ship to ship-never more for fifty years, to see his country, or to hear of it. Of course the story cannot be true, but it excels in vraisemblanc any thing of the kind ever written. Supposing it for a moment to be real, Nolan should have been pardoned long before he died. A beautiful story, which few can read with dry eyes.

A new number of Ticknor & Fields' beautiful little series, "Companion Poets for the People," contains choice selections from Tennyson, entitled "Songs for all Seasons." The illustrations, by Maclise, Creswick, and others, are admirably conceived, and add greatly to the value of the little book. Price 50 cents.

Mrs. Mary H. C. Booth has issued through the press of J. B. Lippincott & Co., of Philadelphia, a small volume of poems, entitled "Wayside Blossoms." They evince fine poetic taste and feeling, and great simplicity of diction, which will give them popularity. Blue and gold, 16mo, 106 pp.

"Social Statics; or, the Conditions Essential to Human Happiness Specified, and the First of them Developed." By Herbert Spencer. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 12mo, pp. 523.

Mr. Spencer is a man of positive views, a patient student, a clear and earnest thinker, and an able writer. His works on education, and his contributions to moral and political science, have made him already favorably known both in England and America. They are among the most noteworthy and suggestive productions in those departments that mark the present period.

This book on "Social Statics"-as he quaintly entitles it-is perhaps his bestmatured and most unexceptionable effort; yet, with all the others, it is subject to very grave objections.

Mr. Spencer may himself have no hostility towards the Christian religion, or want of regard for it; but the grand objection to all his works, and to this among the rest, is a persistent ignoring of Christianity, and that precisely in those departments of human interests and action where it should have its most important practical applications. He would portray an ideal of education, of morality, of social life, of civilization and human happiness, without recognizing the presence or influence or agency of the Christian religion. Now, if morality and civilization and human happiness can be developed to their ideal perfection without the aid of Christianity, the Christian religion would be deprived of one of the clearest evidences of its truth and divinity.

We cheerfully admit that there may be some degree of morality and civilization and happiness attained by the light of human reason in its natural development, and without any immediate aid from Christianity. The ancient civilizations would suffice to prove that point. Neither are we of those who think that a person cannot succeed in learning the alphabet, or arithmetic, or mechanics, unless his teacher mixes religion with his instructions. Still, we do believe—and we think that all experience and history will confirm our belief-that Christianity, with its enlightening and leavening and elevating influence, is highly important, nay essential, to the full and healthy development of the moral and social man; and that to construct an idea of human morality and social perfection without it, is to give us the play of Hamlet with Hamlet himself left out. The practical attempt at such a construction of human society can have no other or better fate than that which befell the tower of Babel. Another grave defect, as it seems to us, of the strictly ethical part of the "Social Statics" is, the substitution of a sensuous for a rational apprehension, as the foundation of moral truth. The term "moral sense may perhaps be used without any wrong meaning, but hardly without making a wrong impression. If it were used in the same way as if one should speak of a "logical sense," or a "mathematical sense," as the organ whereby we perceive logical or mathematical truth, it might be very well. But to perceive truth as truth, is, in reality, a function of the reason itself, if it have any function. And it is no less a function of the reason, and one of the most characteristic functions of human reason, to apprehend tho distinction between right and wrong. The sentiment of approbation or disapprobation follows thereupon, instead of preceding and furnishing the ground for the intellectual or rational apprehension. No such sentiment accompanies the apprehension of merely logical or mathematical truth; and herein lies the distinguishing character of man's moral nature.

Now Mr. Spencer seems to us to invert this; as, for example, in the following passage (p. 38):

"These facts explain how from an impulse to behave in the way we call equitable, there will arise a perception that such behavior is proper, a conviction that it is good. This instinct or sentiment being gratified by a just action, and distressed by an unjust action, produces in us an approbation of the one and a disgust