Another calls her his Love. And by-and-bye in his nest she will sweetly sing this song:

"I love my Love

And my Love loves me."

He is worthy any woman's love. Yet as I sit in my sculptured palace, here-and here only, mark you-do I pronounce him unworthy her Love. For he can not, he can not love her as I did. Nor can she ever be with him the woman she would have been with me. Do you think this boastful and vain? Remember, I may say in my private room what I would not in my parlor. There I should hide the deformed neck. Here I may cast off my cravat, if I will. No, she will never be with him what she might have been with me. I should have treasured the Cremona, and drawn from it such grand wierd tones as the common viol never sounds. He does not know that she is a Cremona. And I? Yes, that makes me sad. Oh, she would have made me so much wiser, so much better, so much more all that is desirable than I can now be.

Once in a life-time the golden chain of possibility is let down before us. If we seize it, we attain; if we fail to grasp it if it elude us, it never comes again!

What grieves me chiefly is, that if she had been mine, and I had attained to pluck the golden fruits, they should have been all poured into her lap! She can never know the tenderness of desire there was in me to make her happy.

Well, I staked all. I lost! I have since done something. But, oh, how unlike my attainment has been to what it would have been had she blessed me!

But

The sun shines upon all the world. It makes the broad meadow glad, fertilizes the glebe, ripens the flowers, and goes even into the caverns and deep holes in the rocks and beautifies them. there are spots where the sun seems to shine all the year round, and with tender affection. And on these spots there grow such life and beauty that only poets may describe them.

The moon bathes everything in silver. But she kisses Endymion.

She, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, makes fertile all minds that her light falls on, and betters all hearts. Even the dark and bad lose their darkness and grow good in her

presence.

But I should have been Endymion, and the Sun should always

have shone upon me.

When the sun has withdrawn, the forces of Cold and Death do yet something notable. There are mountains and fields and castled battlements, and the aurora flashes with all its beauty above them. But they are all icy and cold-a ghastly counterfeit of Life.

Possibly I may do something; but it shall have only the strength of ice, and be lighted only by the cold phantasm of shifting Popular Favor- while my mind might have been tropical, and its fruits luxuriant, and the moon might have ever kissed her Endymion!

Do you wonder, then, that, when I see what I am and what I might have been, what I was and what I shall be, I come often to my secret chamber and look at these sculptured walls?

Here I can sit and dream my dreams over, till, dreaming the sweetest of them all, I fall asleep to the lullaby of—

"I love my Love,

And my Love loves me."

AWAY, haunt thou not me,

Thou vain Philosophy!
Little hast thou bestead,

Save to perplex the head

And leave the spirit dead.

Unto thy broken cisterns wherefore go,

While from the secret treasure-depths below,

Fed by the skiey shower,

And clouds that sink and rest on hill-tops high,

Wisdom at once and Power,

Are welling, bubbling forth, unseen, incessantly?

Why labor at the dull mechanic oar,

When the fresh breeze is blowing,

And the strong current flowing,

Right onward to the Eternal shore ?

CRITICAL NOTICES.

WOMAN'S RIGHT TO LABOR; OR, LOW WAGES AND HARD WORK: In Three Lectures, delivered in Boston, November, 1859. By CAROLINE H. DALL. Boston: Walker, Wise & Co. 1860.

Whilst her husband is battling with the religion and the caste of India, Mrs. Dall seems to find India at her door in Boston. The Professor opens his story in the Atlantic with a chapter on "The Brahmin Caste of New England;" and when we read the Laws affecting Women throughout the country-Laws pretty generally given by New England-we feel as if the Professor had hit the nail on the head a little harder than he meant to.

The work before us goes straight to the point; and reading certain eloquent passages we feel that Margaret Fuller's mantle did not pass into heaven with her. Mrs. Dall does not occupy her time or ours with discussing the millennial privilege of voting and going to Congress. She deals with pressing evils, and affirms necessary claims. In these days, when Woman is passing the bridge Al Sirat-fine as a hair, sharp as a scimitar's edge-which leads to her Paradise of Development, it is encouraging to have a Voice to call men to their manhood, and show them that it is bound up with the health and safety of their imperiled sisters. We place her final appeal on record: "In the ballads of Northern Europe, a loving sister trod out with her bare feet the nettles whose fibre, woven into clothing, might one day restore her brothers to human form. Your feet are shod, your nettles are gathered will you tread them out courageously, and so restore to your sisters the nature and the privileges of a blessed humanity?"

EVENINGS AT THE MICROSCOPE; OR, RESEARCHES AMONG THE MINUTER FORMS AND ORGANS OF ANIMAL LIFE. By PHILIP HENRY Gosse, F.RS New York: D Appleton & Co. 1860. Cincinnati Rickey, Mallory & Co.

It is verily true, then, as George Herbert announces, "Man is one world and hath another to attend him." But how little do we know of our attendant ! How many heedless travelers had passed over those old fields of Mesopotamia, and seen nothing: yet here comes one who knows how to look at pebbles as keenly as stars, - a brick with some human carving on it arrests his attention; he picks it up and scrutinizes it, then begins to dig: then forth shines the ancient and long-buried splendor of Nineveh! But we need not go East for the exploration of buried palaces and marvels; there is no Layard like your microscope. Under it your hair waves, a palm-grove; your skin shows your relation to the ancestral Saurus; and looking at your blood, which is strangely like that of a Kangaroo, you no more wonder that Swedenborg saw the whole Animal Kingdom in a globule of blood. We intend to present our readers with a paper on this subject in some future number of the Dial, and so content

ourselves for the present with advising all who can, to go to Dr. King of this city, obtain his help in getting a good microscope, buy his Microscopist's Companion" and get Gosse, -then you need not travel to "see the world"; it will come to see you, every atom of it.

NEW MISCELLANIES. BY CHARLES KINGSLEY, Rector of Eversley; Chaplain in ordinary to the Queen. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1860. Cincinnati :

Rickey, Mallory & Co.

Those words, "Chaplain in ordinary to the Queen," read to us as the epitaph of a Soul. This, then, is the price paid for a man in England. Mr. Kingsley began his career by a noble word for the poor and the wronged: as towers may be measured by the shadows they cast, so may a man's work in these sad days be measured by the persecution which follows it. And when Charles Kingsley preached his discourse, "He hath sent me to preach the Gospel to the poor," this same Queen's Laws which he had arraigned, arraigned him. At the same time was published Alton Locke, in which an earnest heart seemed to pour out its protest. The "Times" and the Bishop leveled their shafts at him: alas, he began to evade his task! The fused ores of his hot heart, an between the moulds prepared for them; spurted here and there, into ancient Alexandria, ancient Eglaud, ancient Spain,-anywhere but in the England of to-day, where the comfortable Rectory of Eversley loomed up, and a little beyond it the Chaplaincy to the Queen! How much more tragical, sometimes, Life is than Death! Another Lost Leader:

Just for a handful of silver he left us-
Just for a riband to stick in his coat;

Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,
Lost all the others she lets us devote."

Yet we thank the publishers for promptly producing these Miscellanies. It is a high mead of praise which we can still award Kingsley, that he has never written one dull line. Therefore, O bored reader of books, you can safely undertake this, which is full of lively description and racy, though not always healthy, criticism.

VIEWS AND EXPERIENCES OF RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS. By HENRY WARD Beecher. New York: Derby & Jackson. 1859.

THE CONCORD OF AGES: OR, THE INDIVIDUAL AND ORGANIC HARMONY OF GOD AND MAN. BY EDWARD BEECHER, D.D., New York: Derby & Jackson. 1860. Cincinnati Rickey, Mallory & Co.

These books, taken together, form a curious study, not only of the idiosyncrasies of the Beechers, but of the phases which Orthodoxy must assume in two classes of minds. Perhaps there was never so much individuality and freethought endured in the orthodox ranks since Calvin burned Servetus, as now ; and this is chiefly due to the Beechers. We have lived to see Calvin's progressive ideas of independent Church government checkmating his dogmatism; and the Beechers have been the first to see how safe they were from the Synods, etc., under their Congregationalism. Despite the howlings of the Observer and the Recorder, and of the Assemblies, Mr. H. W. Beecher "brothers," Parker and

Furness and Chapin ; avows his disbelier of Total Depravity, and his indifference as to what Moses thought of Slavery.

It is curious to see Mr. Beecher's remoteness from all clear perception of Theological differences. The recent ideas which he has put forth of the Trinity and the nature of Christ, are the Comedies of the Theological Stage. More than his lecture on Hearts and Heads they show us how completely his religion is a matter of feeling. Here is his brother Edward struggling till the bloodsweat starts on his brow with the terrible problems of Theology; conjuring up a preexistent state to relieve him, by the drug Mystery, of the intolerable pains of Doubt. But H. W. B. sits looking on in infantine wonder. In these two books, the brothers seem to sit together as Hamlet with the Queen. Enter Phantom problem.

Edward B. Look you how pale he glares!

H. W.B.

E. B.

H. W. B.
E. B.

H. W. B.

His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable. *

To whom do you speak this?

Do you see nothing there?

Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.

Nor did you nothing hear?

No, nothing, but ourselves.

The Concord of Ages, like the Conflict of Ages, of which it is the counterpart, is valuable as showing one of the many shifts to which clear and active intellects are driven to avoid the stultifications of Calvinism. An honest Thinker here testifies that the doctrine of millions and ages can only be retained by supposing that we are in a Purgatorial World for sins committed in a preexistent state, and that Christ's mission is to put down a rebellion of Spirits against God; and when that is accomplished, the Universe will be reorganized and start on afresh!

A HISTORY OF THE DISCOVERY OF THE CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD. By P. FLOURENS, Secretary of the Academy of Science (Institute of France), &c., &c. Translated from the French, by J. C. REEVE, M.D. Cincinnati Rickey, Mallory & Co. 1859.

This is a very valuable work, and well translated. It is interesting to the most casual reader, and performs much more than its title-page promises. It not only gives an account of the discovery of the Circulation of the Blood,tracing it beyond Harvey to Servetus, in a copy of whose work, saved from the fire which burnt him and his writings, he (Flourens) read it himself, but also of the development through Servetus, Galen, Descartes and Malebranche, of a right view of the Vital Spirits, the Temperaments and the Seat of Life.

THE GREAT TRIBULATION; OR, THINGS COMING ON THE EARTH. BY the Rev. JOHN CUMMING, D.D., F.RS.E., &c. &c. New York: Rudd & Carleton. 1860. Cincinnati: G. S. Blanchard.

Of this theologic ghost-seeing, the less said the better. Dr. Cumming reminds us of Montaigne's neighbor, who never heard a chorus of cackling from the barn-yard, but he rushed out to see if the conflagration of the world had not begun.