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several years, a conductor on the Philadelphia railroad, and has, during the whole of that time, so won upon the good opinion of the public as to render him a universal favourite. He is just the man for the undertaking.

The style of Louis XIV., with its various modifications, is, at present, most in favour. The Elisabethan has also been re|| vived in England, where it divides, with the style just mentioned, the public taste. It is no unusual thing to have the separate styles introduced into connecting suites of rooms. The effect of this arrangement is very marked-as the styles present a perfect contrast to each other-the one being elaborate, and showy in the highest degree, while the other is of a plainer style, very massive and rich, and exceedingly well adapted to bring out that peculiar effect which is imparted by the contrast of plain with burnished gold.

Mr. Magenis, whose Shakspearean readings everybody should attend, has given several intellectual soirées in this city. He brings to his aid sound and practical information, and great experience and erudition. Our old friend, Sheridan Knowles, who heard the worthy professor in London, thus || speaks of him:-"I have the greatest pleasure in bearing testimony to the accomplishments of D. Magenis, Esq., as an elocutionist. Their extent and quality may be inferred from the fact of his having availed himself of the experience of every professor of eminence in the United Kingdom. As a worthy man and a gentleman, he has not his superiour." On the first of next month a new monthly will be issued from the press of this city, to be entitled the "Columbian Magazine." The publisher has had the good sense and the good fortune to engage Mr. John Inman as editor, than whom a more competent person is not to be found among the literary gentlemen of this country. Mr. Inman was, for a long period, associated with us in a similar enterprise, and we, therefore, speak of his qualifications understandingly. That he will make the Columbian a capital work we have not the shadow of a doubt, and we wish it every success. Prescott's "History of the Conquest of Mexico" enjoys a wide-spread popularity, and it richly deserves it. The Harpers have issued the first volume, which contains five hundred pages, and a beautiful portrait of Hernando Cortes, in a superiour manner. We shall look for the second volume with much interest.

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All classes in this country, from the millionaire down to the day-labourer, are patrons of our mirrors, (and surely, if reward follow merit, everybody ought to patronise your mir. rors.) The humble, but tidy housekeeper buys the article in its least expensive form, as one of indispensable necessity; but, with the wealthier classes, while it, in countless ways, subserves this purpose, it is also made to minister to the splendour of the drawing-room, not only as, in itself, a separate decoration, but imparting effect by its reflection to all other embellishments.

Now, that is what I call a most ship-shape and satisfactory document, and the readers of the Intelligencer will not be displeased to know that much more than before of lookingglasses. As this much of amusing, however, is a sufficient solvent for a small lump of instructive, permit me to drop in at the bottom a little information I hunted up for my private satisfaction on getting home, after my conversation with Mr. Williams. When glass is to be cast for mirrors, it is melted in great quantities in large pots, or reservoirs, until it is in a state of perfect fusion, in which state it is kept a long time. It is then drawn out by means of iron cisterns of considerable size, which are lowered into the furnace, filled, and raised out by machinery. The glass is poured out from these cisterns, upon tables of polished copper of a large

Several novelties, in the way of new music, have recently been laid upon our table. The first of these, "Lays of the Parlour," published by Hewitt, is dedicated to the ladies of the United States, and forms a beautiful gift-book for the holidays. Oakes, of Boston, has published "Bertini's Instruc-size, having a rim elevated as high as the intended thicktion-Book," which is considered by teachers the best work of the kind extant. The edition before us is an admirable Atwill's emission of the "National Songs of America" is also a novelty, and deserves especial notice. Besides several old favourites, it contains the "Land of Washington," and the new Yankee Doodle," so admirably sung || by the Hutchinsons. Our worthy friends, Firth and Hall, have published the "Old Granite State," the " Snow-storm," "Calomel," the "Vulture of the Alps," and a number of the other popular songs of the day. There is a great improvement in the recent publications of this old and highly-respectable house. Mrs. Hewitt, one of the sweetest of our lady-poets, has written some delightful words for Wallace's romance of "Le Réve," which will be published in the course of a few days.

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We made an extract from the National Intelligencer last week, in which the writer notices the splendid New Mirror establishment of Messrs. Williams and Stevens, in Broadway. The preparation and importation of the plates are particularly alluded to, and some items of curious information given respecting them not generally known. The manufacture of looking-glass frames is equally interesting, as may be seen from what follows:

ness of the plate. In order to spread it perfectly, and to make the two surfaces parallel, a heavy roller of polished copper, weighing five hundred pounds or more, is rolled over the plate, resting upon the rim at the edges. The glass, which is beginning to grow stiff, is pressed down and spread equally, the excess being driven before the roller till it falls off at the extremity of the table. As the plates which are cast for looking-glasses are always uneven and dull at their surface, it is necessary to grind and polish them, before they are fit for use. The process employed for producing a perfectly even and smooth surface, is very similar to that employed in polishing marble, except that the glass, being the harder substance, requires more labour and nicety in the operation. The plate to be polished is first cemented to a table of wood or stone, with plaster of paris. A quantity of wet sand or emery is spread upon it, and another plate, similarly cemented to another wooden frame, is brought in contact with it. The two plates are then rolled together until the surfaces have become mutually smooth and plane. The emery which is first used, is succeeded by emery of a finer grain, and the last polish is given by colcothar, or putty.*

WE had several things to say to our readers this week"last page matters," as our Governour calls them-but we have had to step out of our treadmill for a few days, and, a little giddy with idleness, we cannot set to work in a miWhile we were in Boston one of the friends we have

nute.

The manufacture of frames for mirrors and pictures, commenced in this country within the last half century, has, within a few years, made rapid strides to perfection. Frames of the most elaborate and ornamented styles, which, within a very short poriod would have been considered as beyond who "keep tally" of our graver productions reminded us of the reach of our most tasteful artistes, are now produced in a style, which, for design, execution, and workmanship, challenge comparison with the best specimens in Europe.

off for putty ?" is intended as a reflection upon the last polish of the Etymological query-Whether the slang question, "how are you gentleman to whom it is addressed?

a Scripture sketch which we had forgotten, and which was left out in printing our late Extra of Sacred Poetry. We give it here, below, and beg our friends to take it as a locum tenens for our usual gossip with them on this page.

LAZARUS AND MARY.

Jesus was there but yesterday. The prints
Of his departing feet were at the door;
His "Peace be with you!" was yet audible
In the rapt porch of Mary's charmed ear;
And, in the low rooms, 'twas as if the air,
Hushed with his going forth, had been the breath
Of angels left on watch-so conscious still
The place seemed of his presence! Yet, within,
The family by Jesus loved were weeping,
For Lazarus lay dead. And Mary sat
By the pale sleeper. He was young to die.
The countenance whereon the Saviour dwelt
With his benignant smile-the soft fair lines
Breathing of hope-were still all eloquent,
Like life well mock'd in marble. That the voice,
Gone from those pallid lips was heard in heav'n,
Toned with unearthly sweetness-that the light,
Quenched in the closing of those stirless lids,
Was veiling before God its timid fire,
New-lit, and brightening like a star at eve-
That Lazarus, her brother, was in bliss,
Not with this cold clay sleeping-Mary knew.
Her heaviness of heart was not for him!
But close had been the tie by Death divided.
The intertwining locks of that bright hair
That wiped the feet of Jesus-the fair hands
Clasped in her breathless wonder while He taught—
Scarce to one pulse thrilled more in unison,
Than with one soul this sister and her brother
Had lock'd their lives together. In this love,
Hallowed from stain, the woman's heart of Mary
Was, with its rich affections, all bound up.
Of an unblemished beauty, as became
An office by archangels filled till now,
She walked with a celestial halo clad;
And while, to the Apostles' eyes, it seemed
She but fulfilled her errand out of heaven-
Sharing her low roof with the Son of God-
She was a woman, fond and mortal still;
And the deep fervour, lost to passion's fire,
Breathed through the sister's tenderness. In vain
Knew Mary, gazing on that face of clay,
That it was not her brother. He was there-
Swathed in that linen vesture for the grave.
The same loved one in all his comeliness-
And with him to the grave her heart must go.
What though he talked of her to angels? Nay-
Hovered in spirit near her?-'twas that arm,
Palsied in death, whose fond caress she knew!
It was that lip of marble with whose kiss,
Morning and eve, love hemmed the sweet day in.
This was the form by the Judean maids

Praised for its palm-like stature, as he walked
With her by Kedron in the eventide-
The dead was Lazarus !

The burial was over, and the night

Fell upon Bethany-and morn-and noon.
And comforters and mourners went their way-
But Death stayed on! They had been oft alone,
When Lazarus had followed Christ to hear
His teachings in Jerusalem, but this
Was more than solitude. The silence now
Was void of expectation. Something felt
Always before, and loved without a name,-
Joy from the air, hope from the opening door,
Welcome and life from off the very walls,-
Seemed gone-and in the chamber where he lay
There was a fearful and unbreathing hush,
Stiller than night's last hour. So fell on Mary
The shadows all have known, who, from their hearts,
Have released friends to heaven. The parting soul
Spreads wing betwixt the mourner and the sky!
As if its path lay, from the tie last broken,
Straight through the cheering gateway of the sun;
And, to the eye strained after, 'tis a cloud
That bars the light from all things. Now as Christ
Drew near to Bethany, the Jews went forth
With Martha, mourning Lazarus. But Mary
Sat in the house. She knew the hour was nigh

When He would go again, as He had said,

Unto his Father; and she felt that He,
Who loved her brother Lazarus in life,

Had chose the hour to bring him home through Death

In no unkind forgetfulness. Alone

She could lift up the bitter prayer to heaven,

"Thy will be done, O God!"--but that dear brother
Had filled the cup and broke the bread for Christ ;
And ever, at the morn, when she had knelt
And washed those holy feet, came Lazarus
To bind His sandals on, and follow forth
With dropped eyes, like an angel, sad and fair-
Intent upon the Master's need alone.
Indissolubly linked were they! And now,
To go to meet him-Lazarus not there--
And to His greeting answer "It is well!"

And, without tears, (since grief would trouble Him
Whose soul was always sorrowful,) to kneel
And minister alone-her heart gave way!
She covered up her face and turned again
To wait within for Jesus. But once more
Came Martha, saying, "Lo! the Lord is here
And calleth for thee, Mary!" Then arose
The mourner from the ground, whereon she sate
Shrouded in sackcloth, and bound quickly up
The golden locks of her dishevelled hair,
And o'er her ashy garments drew a veil
Hiding the eyes she could not trust.
As she made ready to go forth, a calm
As in a dream fell on her. At a fount,
Hard by the sepulchre, without the wall,
Jesus awaited Mary. Seated near

And still,

Were the way-worn disciples in the shade;
But, of himself forgetful, Jesus leaned

Upon his staff, and watched where she should come
To whose one sorrow-but a sparrow's falling-
The pity that redeemed a world could bleed!
And as she came, with that uncertain step,-
Eager, yet weak,-her hands upon her breast,—
And they who followed her all fallen back
To leave her with her sacred grief alone,-
The heart of Christ was troubled. She drew near,
And the disciples rose up from the fount,
Moved by her look of wo, and gathered round;
And Mary-for a moment-ere she looked
Upon the Saviour, stayed her faltering feet,-
And straightened her veiled form-and tighter drew
Her clasp upon the folds across her breast;
Then, with a vain strife to controul her tears,
She staggered to their midst, and at his feet
Fell prostrate, saying "Lord! hadst thou been here,
My brother had not died!" The Saviour groaned

In spirit, and stooped tenderly, and raised
The mourner from the ground, and in a voice,
Broke in its utterance like her own, He suid,
"Where have ye laid him!" Then the Jews who came,
Following Mary, answered through their tears,
"Lord! come and see!" But lo! the mighty heart

That in Gethsemane sweat drops of blood,
Taking for us the cup that might not pass-
The heart whose breaking cord upon the cross
Made the earth tremble, and the sun afraid
To look upon his agony-the heart
Of a lost world's Redeemer-overflowed,
Touched by a mourner's sorrow! Jesus wept.
Calmed by those pitying tears, and fondly brooding
Upon the thought that Christ so loved her brother,
Stood Mary there; but that lost burthen now
Lay on His heart who pitied her; and Christ,
Following slow, and groaning in himself,
Came to the sepulchre. It was a cave,

And a stone lay upon it. Jesus said,
"Take ye away the stone!" Then lifted He
His moistened eyes to Heaven, and while the Jews

And the disciples bent their heads in awe,

And trembling Mary sank upon her knees,
The Son of God prayed audibly. He ceased,
And for a minute's space there was a hush,
As if th' angelic watchers of the world
Had stayed the pulses of all breathing things,
To listen to that prayer. The face of Christ
Shone as he stood, and over him there came
Command, as 't were the living face of God,
And with a loud voice, he cried "Lazarus !
Come forth!" And instantly, bound hand and foot,
And borne by unseen angels from the cave,
He that was dead stood with them. At the word
Of Jesus, the fear-staicken Jews unloosed
The bands from off the foldings of his shroud;
And Mary, with her dark veil thrown aside,
Ran to him swiftly, and cried "Lazarus!
My brother, Lazarus!" and tore away
The napkin she had bound about his head,
And touched the warm lips with her fearful hand,
And on his neck fell weeping. And while all
Lay on their faces prostrate, Lazarus

Took Mary by the hand, and they knelt down
And worshipped Him who loved them.

N. P. W.

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Dined in about one mon, when, one morning, my door || worst scholar in conege, at twenty, he had úavened ov opened, and Lord Belmore was announced!

I sprang forward with surprise, recollecting instantly the soirée at Lady Caroline's and the verses to Laura. But,

half the globe; at twenty-five, his health was gone; at thi ty, he died insane at Villa-Bella. Poor Henry!"

"What! crazy from love for Laura?”

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