Pardoe; the first, a lifeless, dull, travelling dromedary who was introduced into the first circles, as usual, with foreigners. She was here, as everywhere, so well fed, that she saw all couleur de Miss Pardoe on the other hand found it more convenient to be feasted by the liberal members of the Hungarian Diet, who inspired her with their Tokay !"

rose;

The writer does not condescend to inform us what the censured fair ones had said or published, to draw attention to these catacombs. But perhaps you already know! so do we,-and we think the ladies were right.

Shall we write any further at present ?-No,-we will first see what the "Metropolitan " says to this,-after which we will continue our perambulations.

LITERATURE.

NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

The Philosophy of Geology. By A. C. G. Jobert, Late Editor of the "Journal de Geologie," one of the Authors of "Recherches sur les Ossemeus Fossiles, du Puy de Dôme." London: Simpkin, Marshall, and Co.

"The main proposition, I have endeavoured to demonstrate in this work is," we quote the words of our author, "that the phenomena which have succeeded each other, on the terrestrial globe, and in all the sidereal systems, our inquiries can reach, must be considered, not as the consequence of an eternal law of invariable revolutions, enclosed in the circle of the uniform movements, which governs the actual order of things; but as the result of the repeated intervention of a supreme providence, whose thought has successively brought out the actual order; after having directed matter in all its transformations, and left, from period to period, traces visible, of its power, its solicitude, and its munificence." The work is more scientific than popular. Mr. Jobert is evidently a man of great geological information, and consequently has a right to be heard.

Naomi, or the Last Days of Jerusalem. By Mrs. J. B. Webb, Author of the "Child's Commentary on St. Luke;" the "Travels of Durand." Third Edition. London: R. Yorke, Clarke, and Co.

ONE of the most interesting works we have read for some time. The sentiments are appropriate, the style is graceful,-the tale is - well contrived. Jerusalem will ever be surrounded with mysterious associations; there our religion took its rise,-there the Saviour of men agonised, and died,-there prophecy was fulfilled in the woes and ruin that destroved its sons. We are not then surprised at the popularity Mrs. Webb's work has already attained,-it deserves it, we cordially wish it success.

66

Daughter of the hand of snow, I was not so mournful or blind when Everallan loved me."-OSSIAN.

"I have no song of youth or hope, that does not close in care,

I have no tale of woman's love, that ends not in despair,

I only breathe the name of joy, to tell how soon it dies;

I only sing the songs that suit thy notes, my harp of sighs."

"He founded a chapel which was at once to serve for a sepulchre and his chantry, where an altar dedicated to the Virgin, with her image before it, had stood in his youth; and where a mass used to be celebrated every morning, with so much unction that it drew crowds, and was distinguished among the people by the name of Pekismasse, from the name of the officiating monk. The torrent of the Reformation swept away both the altar and image, and put an end for ever to the

masses."

My lot was cast in pleasant places, for a season; and amidst the chronicles and legendary lore of by-gone times I became so identified with my subject, and the interest I felt in the loves and fortunes of these mouldered generations, that I came to think there might be a few others who, like me, desire to explore the truthful passages of human hearts and lives: remembering ever that human hearts, feelings, and motives, have in all ages been the same, only influenced by different outward aspects, but inwardly throbbing with the same hopes, sorrows, and passions.

Sir Alan of Walsingham once ruled over the whole of these extensive possessions; this beautiful valley, these fair rejoicing waters, and these solemn waving woods: but the old grey ruins, covering at the present day so large a portion of the verdant earth, those crumbling masses of ivy-covered wall, rising here and there amid cultivated fields, then arose in stately grandeur, and the castellated dwelling seemed to frown proud defiance on the attacks of time or the devastations of the foeman. An arch still points out the spot where tradition sayeth the far-famed chapel stood: the chapel of Saracenic architectural beauty, where the pious masses performed for the repose of the souls of the departed, as stated in the foregoing extract, brought daily crowds to prostrate themselves before the glorious shrine dedicated to the Virgin, and to join in the October, 1847.-VOL. L.- -NO. CXCVIII.

K

orisons so exquisitely breathed forth, and ascending with the rich perfumes of the incense, where the fancy was lost, and imagination became dazzled.

Oh! but Sir Alan of Walsingham was a devout worshipper, a very saint it would seem. Truly, in those days, as in these, the world was shallow judging, and easily misled by appearances, but from the little history which I shall presently unravel, it will be seen, that in the consolations of religion Sir Alan of Walsingham may have found the surest balm for a disappointed or wounded spirit.

The monk Pekis left these records of this ancient house; the manuscripts had been long hidden, and singularly preserved, and the spiritual counsellor, and long-tried friend, had doubtless good and holy ends in view when he transcribed in secresy, a few years before his death, somewhat of the following narrative: the early English idiom, and the antique lettering, require translation, therefore, indeed, much is lost, but still that which is indited will tell the tale of the heart's folly and deceitfulness: the frail human heart! still the same "yesterday and to-day.'

Well, as I said, Sir Alan of Walsingham was the owner of these extensive possessions, the hereditary dweller in his ancestral halls of sculptured and tapestried magnificence. He was young, and gifted, and with many endearing and noble qualities, to win respect and love; but there was one sad alloy in his nature which poisoned the springs of life's happiness: he was suspicious, suspicious of the motives and feelings of others. I think this morbid hallucination had been fostered by his only sister, who dwelt with him, and was many years his senior. They two were alone in the world, so far as near relationship was concerned, and the Lady Agatha, by fair, or it might be unfair, means, left no method untried from his earliest boyhood to gain and keep an ascendancy over her brother's mind. Yet she was not what the world terms a superior or talented woman, but what often passes for the next thing to it, with common minded people, she possessed a rare stock of tact, as the educated term it, cunning being the vulgar denomination; and I am strongly inclined to think the latter is often more than twin sister to the former, if the former be not exerted in combination with perfect candour and generosity. Two virtues, for virtues they surely are, if rightly directed and ingenuously felt, were visible in every action of the Lady Agatha extreme love for her young brother, and bigoted veneration for all the outward signs and symbols of her faith.

The monk Petris, her brother's tutor, to whose care he had been consigned by their father's dying bequest, was the object of her foolish jealousy, for jealousy was inherent in her nature, as suspicion was in her brother's: two baleful and hateful ingredients, surely but were all human hearts thus laid open, would they be

found less impure? The pure and beautiful affection of an elder sister for a young and only brother, thus tinctured with this unhappy accompaniment, might have broken out into open dislike for the holy man, but there were good feelings on both sides to allay and keep in check such pre-dispositions.

Father Pekis was a single-hearted man, profoundly erudite, and versed in all the lore of the age, and ages gone by; and as confessor and spiritual director, an ascetic, and intolerant also in religious matters, he much approved and revered the Lady Agatha's strict conformance to all the prescribed rules of her ritual; for with him, good unworldly being, outward observance implied inward holiness and faith; therefore, whilst he condemned the jealous surveillance, which he could not but see was exerted by the Lady Agatha in secret over her generous, ardent-souled brother, he would prayerfully desire her to use it in winning Sir Alan to a more devout frame of mind; and she, worthy lady, found an antidote for her jealousy of the holy father in the praise and good will he evinced towards her spiritually directed efforts. Yet Father Pekis sometimes mused and marvelled as to what the result would be when Sir Alan might think fit to marry: how would two ladies tarry thus in the same domain together? But Lady Agatha one day set his mind at rest on that point, by unfolding to him her intention, when that time arrived, of retiring to a convent, richly endowing it, and devoting herself to the service of the church.

And what said Sir Alan of Walsingham to all this, for it would seem as if he were weak and easily led? Habit, indeed, had accustomed him to look up to his sister and Father Pekis on all ordinary occasions, to consult them, and seek their advice and sympathy. Lady Agatha had sense enough never to thwart him in any minor details; thereby she secured her power and influence, for he ever found in her a ready listener and willing counsellor, when emergencies occurred. But the emergencies of his tranquil life had been but sport as yet, and she little suspected,-demure damsel of the olden time, that all the marvellous tact she wielded, and prided herself on wielding, would never bend his will to hers, when that will should be directed by all the now slumbering passion and obstinate defiance of the chivalrous race they sprung from; nevertheless there was a lurking something in those large dark eyes, plainly saying, the resolute will was only slumbering, because never yet aroused to contradiction. Truly, it did not seem as if the Lady Agatha were in any hurry to retire to her pious sanctuary, for by some means or other, all were excluded from Walsingham in the least likely to further that holy object. It might certainly be that it gave her pain to contemplate the idea of a stranger coming between them: the acquaintance, perhaps, of a few weeks taking part in the watchful tending love of years; therefore she was anxious to put off the evil days, and the nobly born