weening confidence, has assumed in reality the leadership in Germany which his predecessors have so long claimed. He may also have prepared great misfortunes for his country; but the justice of Heaven is slow; the seizure of Silesia remains unpunished, and meanwhile no kaiser will venture again to summon the German princes to his stirrup without, at least, a cordial previous agreement with Berlin. These are great results for Prussia, enough, at least, to convince her that if she did not misjudge, she at least underrated the squire so suddenly raised to the helm. The truth would seem to be that Herr von Bismark belongs to that order of which the Napier family are the best English examples, men of the true Gascon stamp, whose boasting covers courage and not the absence of it, who talk loudly, but whose performance falls only short of their talk, who can be insolent when excited, but whose insolence is based, not upon pride, but on a conscious sense of power. compelled either to imitate Prussia or to see her rival outstrip her in the race for German favor. The Prussians fired up as all nations fire up at the prospect of aggrandizement; the wrongs of the Parliament were condoned; the press was placed in irons without opposition, and it is doubtful still whether the loans which the government must have raised during the war will not be sanctioned perforce almost without discussion. Finally, Herr von Bismark gratified to the quick the national pride of Germany by meeting threats of foreign interference by an attitude of cool defiance. France appeared, to the public eye at least, uncertain, and England was avowedly hostile to the invasion of Denmark, but Herr von Bismark moved his troops on without attending to either. It is probable that he knew privately how little he had to fear, how difficult it was for Napoleon to break at once with the little powers of Germany and the cry People tell us very gravely and solemnly of the nationalities, how strong allies Germa- that the influence of persons is dying, and ny had in England in Mr. Gladstone and the Tennyson, with Louis Napoleon on the throne, court. But externally his attitude was one sings how the individual withers, and the world of resistance to external influence in a domes- this single man has done. He has visibly grows more and more; " yet look what tic question, an appeal to that imperial feel- retarded the revolution, has driven back the ing which lies so close to the heart of every current which was setting in all over Europe great nationality. Since Rosbach, the Ger- towards freedom. It is not yet two years mans had never felt so keenly how great they since every country in Europe except Russia really were. Austria and Prussia united, became nominally constitutional, since the Denmark invaded, Napoleon silenced, resuscitation of Poland was a visible possiPalbility, since the pope was asking an asylum merston defied, Sweden bidden to retreat,in Malta, and Greece was about to strike the Germans felt proud of themselves and of note of general Turkish revolt. Setting aside each other; and nations pardon all to those phrases, how stands it now? Poland is who make them great abroad. Had James II. crushed to the ground, the pope is as strong but maintained the foreign policy of Crom- as ever; the only free State of the North has well, the mob, at least, would never have disappeared; the Greek revolution has ended shouted about the dispensing power. Nor in a fiasco; the constitution has ceased in Prussia and become powerless in Austria, can we deem the Germans altogether in the and three men, heads of three of those ancient wrong. Success is not the test of statesman- royal houses which for generations have so ship, for government requires moral quali- burdened Europe, are independent masters of ties, but it is of ability; and Prussians who a million and a half of trained soldiers, of a see such results attained are right in believ- conscription which can replace them, of the ing that he who attains them is at least an public wealth, taxes, duties, and monopolies through two-thirds of territorial Europe, and able man. Nor, judging from their point more than one-half its population. And all of view, can we pronounce the premier this has occurred simply because the Prussian wholly without a claim to the gratitude of Court has called to its aid a man who, devoted those who can bear to postpone the national to reactionary ideas, has the brains to discover freedom to the national status. Prussia had means which may be effectively used on their fallen very low; the belief in the artificial behalf, and the evil audacity to use them character of its strength was very general, without dread of results. All this success and the doubts as to its army infected the is temporary, for principles never die, and people themselves. In twelve months Herr nations survive statesmen; but "a time" in von Bismark has vindicated her claim to be history involves sometimes a generation, and one of the first powers of Europe, has chang- for "a time" Europe has no more formided the depression of the army into an over-able enemy than Herr von Bismark. From The N. Y. Evening Post. Alas! no resurrection day shall ope The earthly gates of light and life to them. Are those grim ghosts, in winding-sheet and shroud, Which haunt at midnight hour those silent aisles, That like a spectre passes through the crowd, And while its pale, sad face is wreathed with smiles, Is thinking of the graves? A VOLUME of poetry published by Willis P. Hazard, of Philadelphia, under the title, "The Wind Harp and other Poems," by Ellen Clemantine Howarth, comes to us in-One-half so lonely as the spirit proud vested with a peculiar interest. The author, whose maiden name was Doran, and who now lives in Trenton, New Jersey, was born in Cooperstown, N. Y., thirty-seven years ago. Her parents were Irish, and at the age of seven years she was placed in a factory, working in such establishments in different cities till about eighteen years of age. Marrying a laboring man, she has since then been obliged to work at chair-bottoming to aid in providing for the scanty expenses of her humble household. When a factory girl, she studied at nightschools and devoted all the intervals of her daily labor to reading; and this has been her only education. In writing her poetry she seems to evince what, we suppose, is often commonly called the "poetic afflatus." The theme will be suggested suddenly, and she must needs sit down at once and fix the passing idea in rapid rhyme, or it is gone. After it is once down, there is no revision attempted; and the printer has the first unaltered manuscript. In the present volume, amid some inferior strains and some pardonable repetitions of thought or expression, which might have been avoided by a competent revision, we find many verses of remarkable beauty. The poems are all short,—mere strains of delicate sentiment from a woman's heart. Many of them are tinted with the quiet-almost morbid-melancholy which so often marks the writings of those who feel their position in life is not such as to afford them scope for their finer ambitions. Of such is AMONG THE GRAVES. Among forgotten graves I, too, have wandered oft at midnight hour, Where names are traced by sorrow's sculpture art Here lies my buried hope, With girlhood faith torn from its fragile stem, There is no weary heart, It matters not how reckless it hath been, Some little spot which tears keep fresh and The memory of some little golden head wrong, And 'mid the loudest laugh, the wildest song, In the poem below-" My Kingdom "we see how a lively imagination forgets, in dreams at least, the trammels of homely life, the unpoetic duties of which fall to the share of a laboring man's wife; the idea is the same as that expressed in Whittier's" Maud Müller : ”— "Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls I sit alone in the gathering gloom, For I am a monarch here. I wave my wand, and the ages rise, Of the pagan sage, And the Druid priest with his mystic lore, Are found on the earth once more. I wave my wand, and the Indian isles For I rule where eternal summer smiles, Of the savage courts, Like a panorama's page I see; Kings, castles, and kingdoms, fields and forts, I wave my wand, and a thousand lyres Doth the monarch stand, The very next poem in the volume is as tender a thought for a mourning mother as any of our poets has yet arrayed in verse:— THOU WILT NEVER GROW OLD. Thou wilt never grow old, Nor weary nor sad, in the home of thy birth; My beautiful lily, thy leaves will unfold In a clime that is purer and brighter than earth. 1 Where the air thrills with angel hosannas, and where Thou wilt never grow old, sweet,— Never grow old! Among other selections in this volume decidedly worthy of notice are "The Aged," "Kyrie Eleison," "The Followers of the Cross," "The Poets,"" And Then?" New Year's Valentine,' "The Dying Wife,' "Death," "The Serenade," and " Prayers for the Dead.” We can readily imagine that these poems of Mrs. Howarth, offered to the public in dainty style,-in delicate binding of blue and gold,-would find a welcome in many a home. In some instances we would do away with commonplace similes-with "lutes "and"lyres" and similar worn machinery; but we would not do away with the majority of these tender strains, strains which often remind one of Adelaide Proctor or Jean Ingelow,―strains as sadly beautiful as this :— THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES. The autumn days are here, And I hear the sighs of sadness that a girlish bosom heaves; And I mark the hectic bloom, And I know her strength is waning with the falling of the leaves. It is hard for one so fair, Who hath never known a care, Nor love that hath departed, nor friendship that deceives, To leave this world so bright, For the gloomy shades of night, And to tread the shadowy valley 'mid the falling of the leaves. Hushed is the sound of mirth, As she shivers by the hearth, In the cool and frosty morning and the damp and chilly eves; As she shudders at the knell Of the schoolmate loved so well; Now, canst thou hear from thy home in the skies, For the young are falling round us like the fall All the fond words I am whispering to thee? Dost thou look down on me with the soft eyes Greeting me oft ere thy spirit was free? So I believe, though the shadows of time Hide the bright spirit I yet shall behold; Thou wilt still love me, and, pleasure sublime, Thou wilt never grow old, sweet, Never grow old! Thus wilt thou be when the pilgrim, grown gray, Weeps when the vines from the hearthstone are riven; Faith shalt behold thee, as pure as the day Thou wert torn from the earth and transplanted to heaven. Oh, holy and fair, I rejoice thou art there, ing of the leaves. With the gentle art of love, I would lead her thoughts above And bid her trust the Saviour when her tender bosom grieves ; But still with gasping breath, While fast her tears are falling as the falling of the leaves. Oh, pray for her, kind hearts, May gently fall upon her: not Death alone be reaves. Oh, well may we despair, If the innocent and fair In that kingdom of light, with its cities of Fall with a troubled spirit, with the falling of gold, the leaves. POETRY.-Satisfaction, 386. The Brave at Home, 386. The Angels in the House, 386. SHORT ARTICLES.-Dr. Cureton, the Syriac Scholar, 409. Effects of Tobacco on the Heart, 409. Cotton in Italy, 409. M. Jules Janin, 427. The three hundredth Anniversary of the Printing of the first Book in Moscow, 427. Paper manufactured from Maize-leaves, 427. St. Paul's Cathedral, in London, and English Artists, 427. POSTAGE. Hereafter we shall pay postage on "The Living Age" only when Six Dollars is paid in advance for a Year. Persons paying a smaller sum must pay their own postage. - FIRST SERIES LIVING AGE, 36 vols., Morocco backs and corners, $90 a Set. 66 66 Cloth Binding, 72 66 WE have, at last, with great regret, sold the stereotype plates of the First Series of The Living Age, to be melted by type-founders. We have a small number of copies of the printed work remaining, which we shall be glad to receive orders for so long as we can supply them. Persons desirous of buying odd volumes or numbers, to complete their sets, would do well to order them without delay. 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