himself about, when his eye rested on the stiff and frozen carcass of the Newfoundland dog which had followed the young poet in his peregrinations. It was apparent that both Henri and his faithful dog had been some considerable time dead.

Even in this thinly-peopled locality the news of the murder spread like wild-fire, and from far and near strangers still visit the gloomy scene where the French traveller found a tomb, known as the "Poet's Cairn." Every effort was made to discover the perpetrator of the diabolical outrage; but although suspicion rested on Pere B- who had accompanied Henri part of his last and melancholy journey, and with whom, it was reported, he had quarrelled in Edinburgh, yet no direct evidence having ever been obtained of their again meeting each other, the matter, till this day, is veiled in mystery. It had been the wish of the poet that he should be buried in whatever land death stayed his erratic footsteps, and his parents religiously acquiesced in this desire; and on that lonely mountain his bones are "canonized and hearsed in death”—a suitable sepulchre for the imaginative and wandering minstrel of the Garonne!

THE CHAPLET OF SONG.

BIND we a wreath of Summer's broad leaves
On brow of the Child of Song-

A thousand sweets he with fancy weaves
In his numbers gushing strong;
Twine the rarest flowers of sunny earth

In the garland of his fame;

Bring fruits of the mellow south wind's birth

An offering to his name.

With votive mirth let us crown him priest

Of Nature's enchanted land;

He spreads before us a sumptuous feast,
When waves he his magic-wand;

Round his altar-throne he hath paintings fair,

And a million sainted things;

His wild harp over the fragrant air

The softest of music flings.

Sweet are the notes of his silver lyre,
When attuned with lovers' sighs;

And heaven-born truths-a living fire—
From his measured accents rise;--

N

He courts the strain of the murmuring stream,
And laughs with the midnight blast,

As o'er the depths of his fancy's dream
Bright memoried thoughts sweep past.

Then bind his brow with the holly wreath,
Entwined with the laughing flower

Of garden gay, and the gloomy heath,
And the far-secluded bower.

He loveth the sapphire lights of eve-
The moon and the starry throng-

A spangled garment of these he 'll weave
With the golden threads of song!

PEACE-A PROSE PROLOGUE.

INSCRIBED TO MY FRIEND, ELIHU BURRITT.

WERE the masses educated as they ought to be-with a view to making better, rather than brilliant, minds— a degree of reason would be infused into all our dealings, whether with friends or neighbours, in social or national transactions, which would have a decided tendency to make us live at peace with all men,—the olive branch would supersede the sword,-the right hand of fellowship would be extended to all, irrespective of the distinctions and differences of colour or caste, and the grand reciprocal feelings, which alone can bring happiness on the earth, would be beautifully exemplified in the acknowledgment of the humanizing truth, that "God has made of one blood all the nations of the earth!" Our heroes would no longer be those who wear the blood-besprinkled bays, but those who did the greatest possible amount of good for the greatest number. I live in the expectancy of these better times; and my hope is doubly winged when I find engaged in this, the cause of God, of enlightenment, and of humanity, such men as Cobden, as Burnet, as Burritt, as Sturge, and the other great

minds enlisted under the banner of social reform,― men who have long, faithfully, energetically, and, in some cases, successfully, struggled for the victory of reforms which have now become "great facts" in the land, whether by their being chronicled in the statute book of the realm, or in their numerical strength as regards agitation for their acknowledgment. I long for the day when universal brotherhood shall put down universal rivalry-when few shall seek the bubble reputation at the cannon's mouth-when war shall be no more-and when "swords shall be beat into ploughshares, and spears into pruning-hooks!" Men may laugh at our efforts to abolish the war system-they may laugh at the feebleness of the Peace controversy, as compared with many questions of popular agitation-they may term it a mere dream of good, impracticable and improbable, (for they do not deny to the agitation the compliment that it would be well if won)-the most powerful organs of the press may send the "paper pellets of the brain" against our small but united forces; but let those who oppose us remember, that

"The smaller is its budding,
The more its room to grow."

And grow it must; for truth, and reason, and humanity, ay, and reform, are with us. On these four points alone would I argue the cause of Universal Brotherhood.