defray the charges of a war, against those whose opulence and power had incited them to aspire to the dominion of the world." This (spoken in the House of Commons upwards of a century ago) may be taken as a tolerably fair estimate of the policy pursued by the Government of the present day; and, were it not that the popular outcry for financial retrenchment has grown too strong to resist with safety, and that there are parties overlooking, in their places in Parliament, the public accounts tendered as estimates by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, we might rest assured of heavier burdens for the support of war, or rather in preparation for it, proceeding from the Treasury.

I have now attempted to show that war is not only against the principles of truth, but that it is unreasonable, inhuman, and expensive; and I would entreat of all financial reformers-of all in whose breasts flows the milk of human kindness-of all who reverence truth as the first-born of heaven-and of all who value peace, and would banish war from the earth, to join in a League of Universal Brotherhood. Let us show to our monarchs that we detest quarrels, and, by international communion, convince the kindreds of the earth that we would be kind-that we would court fellowship, and "hang the trumpet in the hall, and study war no more!" How then would the white sails of commerce glisten in the glorious sunbeams, the weaver's shuttle join in chorus the song of his contentment, and the sledge-hammer of the smith be uplifted

only to forge implements of peace, which would contribute, in happy reality, in forming an Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations, far more effectual, far more practicable, and, in the end, far more economical, than that of the ever-memorable '51! Let Peace, then, be our motto; and the bond by which we unite will bring its blessings in abundance from the God of Heaven. Benign Peace! what wealth is in thy train! what splendour in thy future!-universally received, what a history of love ye reflect back on the past— what holy hopes ye throw forward on the future! To Peace, I would exultingly exclaim with the poet Campbell, to the rainbow

"Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,
The first-made anthem rang
On earth, delivered from the deep,
And the first poet sang;
For, faithful to its sacred page,
Heaven still rebuilds the span,

Nor lets the type grow grey with age
That first spoke peace to man!"

WINGED WORDS.

AMONGST the most astonishing of modern discoveries, the Electric Telegraph, perhaps, stands pre-eminent. On first witnessing its exploits, and contemplating the velocity of its communications, the author involuntarily and audibly ejaculated, "Words on wings!" Viewing electricity and the steam-engine as powerful auxiliaries in the cause of Peace and Progress, he, the same evening, composed the accompanying song of his sentiments.

FLEETLY fly the winged words
On lines of stretching wire-
Swifter than the swiftest birds,
These running thoughts of fire!
Over cloud-encircled towers-

Deep in the dingy dells

Dreams and deeds of distant powers

The passing moment tells!

Mark the lightning-pointed pen!

Clearly, deeply tracing

Hasting on the era when,

Brotherhoods embracing,

Wars and quarrels all unknown,

The mind shall conquer swords;
When intellect and worth alone

Shall mark out Nature's lords.

The Pen-the Press-the Public Good!

The standing toasts shall be; Unfettered mind-untaxed food

Are waiting for the free!

Peace and plenty-right and might—

Hail the happier times;

Justice by the judge will sit,
And fewer be our crimes!

Why shed old father Adam's blood, That runs through all our veins? Why drown earth with a second flood, That deeper, darker stains?

Then, brothers, lend the helping hand

Cast jealousy aside;

Come, join the noble, peaceful band,

To stem the crimson tide!

THE MEMORY OF MUSIC.

I have wandered afar 'neath stranger skies,
And have revelled amid their flowers;

I have lived in the light of Italian eyes,
And dreamed in Italian bowers;

While the wondrous strains of their sunny clime
Have been trilled to enchant mine ears;

But, oh! how I longed for the song and the time
When my heart could respond with its tears.
BOOK OF SCOTTISH SONG.

A LOVE of country is universal, and, perhaps, properly so. The remembrances of youthful scenes are the foreshadows of the traveller's footsteps, wherever he may wander, or however he may be circumstanced. No distance can dim the recollection of the sunny spots of his native vale-no society, however interesting, can seduce his heart's affection to forego the strong and unwavering attachment implanted in his memory for the mountain of mists on which he first roved, or induce him to relinquish the reminiscences surrounding the "village and the village church,"