law of kindness; which has for its example the conduct of holy men and women of old; and which has for its immediate object the harmony and happiness of the family.

Now, in this we may excel, whatever be our talents and education: for it is just as easy to keep a calm house as a clean house, a cheerful house as a warm house, an orderly house as a furnished house, if the heads of it set themselves to do so. Where is the difficulty of consulting each other's weaknesses, as well as each other's wants; each other's temper, as well as each other's health; each other's comfort, as well as each other's character? Oh! it is by leaving the peace of home to chance, instead of pursuing it by system, that so many homes are unhappy. It deserves notice, also, that almost any one can be courteous, and forbearing, and patient in a neighbor's house. If any thing go wrong, or be out of time, or disagreeable, there, it is made the best of, not the worst. Even efforts are made to excuse it, and to show that it is not felt; or, if felt at all, it is attributed to accident, not to design. And this is not only easy, but actually natural, in the house of a friend. I will not, therefore, submit to be told, that what is so natural in the house of another, is impossible at home, but maintain without fear or shame that all the courtesies of social life may be upheld in domestic life. A husband as willing to be pleased at home, and as studious to please, as in his neighbor's house; and a wife as intent on making things comfortable every day to her family, as on set days to her guests, could not fail to make their own home happy.

BALLADS OF SCHILLER

TRANSLATED FROMTHE GERMAN, BY M. M, HACKUS.

LONGING DESIRE.

AH! if thou this gloomy valley,
O'er whose breast the cold mist steals,
Could I forth in freedom sally,

Ah! how happy would I feel!
Yonder, see the hills' dominions,

Ever young and ever green:
Had I wings, oh! had I pinions,
Toward the hills I'd fly, I ween!

Harmonies oh, hear them ringing
Sweetest tones from heaven anew;
O'er the fields the breeze is bringing
Fragrance from the balsam-dew.
Golden fruits I see are glowing,
Flashing through the foliage gray;
Blossoms, too, are yonder growing
Ne'er to be a winter's prey.

Ah! how sweet 't must be to ramble
Ever in the sunshine there,
Breezes from each rosy bramble,

Wafting sweets, and ever fair!
But the stream dark from the mountains
Checks me with its roaring tides;
Swelling from its hidden fountains,
O'er my soul a shudder glides.

Yon a boat I see is tossing;

Ah, but now the helmsman fails! No-again the wave he's crossing,

How the breeze distends the sails! Trust you must, in toils must fare you, Though your God shows not his hand; Miracles alone can bear you

Safe to that fair wonder-land.

THE BROTHERS STOLBERG.

BY REV. E H GILLETT.

1

869

THE Counts Stolberg, Christian and Frederic Leopold, noble by birth, owe their fame less to their rank than their abilities. These eminent brothers must be allowed a high place among the classic poets of Germany. They entered upon their career at the time when Klopstock's influence had given a new and better impulse to the educated mind of Germany. The foreign and affected taste from which some of the best poets of a previous period had failed to break loose, gave place to one formed by the writings of Klopstock, more truly classic, as well as natural and correct. The brothers Stolberg were among the first to reap the benefit of this revolution in literary taste. Their poems are full of the fire of genius, and are conformed to a classic model. They are alike characterized by a generous and lofty spirit, purity of taste, and ingenuity of conception. In the poems of Christian we discover less grandeur of thought, less of brilliant fancy and vivid description, as well as less of that glowing zeal for freedom and fatherland, by which the poems of his brother Frederic Leopold are characterized. Yet in lofty enthu siasm, energy of expression, depth of feeling, tenderness and quiet beauty, he is not excelled by his brother. The genius of Frederic Leopold is more imposing and startling in its conceptions. It delights more in the strange, the gigantic and impressive. The mind of the other is characterized rather by gentleness and grace, sometimes indeed bearing us away on its currents of feeling, sometimes inspiring us to the most generous and noble, or even devout feeling.

Christian, the elder of the Brothers Stolberg, was born in 1748, at Hamburg; Frederic Leopold

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the younger, in 1750, at Bramstadt, a small village in the duchy of Holstein, sixteen miles north of Hamburg. Their father, who resided in Denmark, and was a privy counsellor as well as principal governor of the Queen, gave both the sons a careful and thorough education. In 1769, at the respective ages of twenty-one and nineteen years, both were sent to pursue their studies at the University of Gottingen. It was here that they contributed to the formation of that "Poetic League" which, through the labors of its members in after years, deserves an honorable mention in a sketch of German poetry. Here the Stolbergs found kindred spirits, sharing their own enthusiasm, in Burgen, Voss, Leisewitz, Cramer, Holty, Milles, Hahn, and others, all young men of about the same age with themselves, and allied to them by kindred genius. A generous rivalry in the study of the ancient classics, as well as mutual criticism, conspired to form them to a correct taste.

On the completion of their studies, the two brothers were recalled to Denmark to occupy official stations about the court. But such an occupation was not congenial to the tastes of Christian. The atmosphere of a court had small attractions for him, and he sought to obtain some more congenial and useful occupation. This he obtained in the office of judge at Tremsbuttel in Holstein. For the space of twenty-three years he discharged the duties of the post, but at length contentedly resigned it, to enjoy undisturbed the quiet pleasures of his family and the leisure of literary pursuits.

His brother, Frederic Leopold, left the court in 1777, after three years' residence, to become Chargé d'Affaires of the Danish Government at Lubeck. In 1783 he was married to the Countess of Witzleben, his beloved Agnes, whose early loss he so tenderly and pathetically deplores. This severe blow forced him to leave Lubeck, where every familiar object reminded him of his affliction. We find him next resident ambassador at Berlin, where he was united, in 1790, in a second marriage, to Sophia, Countess Von Redern. In the following year the duties of his post allowed of residence at Cutin, where he renewed his acquaintance with Voss, his old college friend and associate. It was during the period that followed that the French Revolution broke out in volcanic eruption, and shook all the thrones and kingdoms of Europe. Its influence was felt upon the literature and literary men of Germany. Like Frederic Schlegel, Novalis, and others, Stolberg felt its reactionary effect, and

passed over at once to an extreme of conservatism.

Shortly after the completion of their studies, the Stolbergs, fired by the spirit of the ancient classics, and impelled by their young enthusiasm, had been animated by a zealous devotion to liberty. They had sometimes manifested this in a rather extravagant manner. On a journey to Switzerland, in 1775, the year after leaving the University, they called on Goethe, whose name was just rising into eminence. The last, in his autobiography, gives us some account of the two brothers, whom he had known, and with whom he had been somewhat intimate at Gottingen. "At that time"-during their course at the university-"they entertained rather strange ideas of friendship and love. It was simply the lively companionship of youth, each opening himself to the other, and revealing what was in him, full of talent it might be, but yet unformed. Such a mutual relation, which seemed indeed like confidence, they took for love, for genuine attraction. I deceived myself in this, as well as others, and have suffered for it many years, in more than one way. There is still in existence a letter of Burgers about that time, from which it will be seen that there was no discussion of the moral aesthetic among those companions Every one felt himself excited, and thought he had nothing to do but to act, and to make poetry accordingly."

On this visit to Goethe, he has remarked some of their eccentricities. "We had dined together but a few times, enjoying one glass of wine after another, when the poetic hatred for tyrants came out, and they could not conceal a thirsting for the blood of such villains." One of their affectations was the adoption for themselves and those around them of romantic and historic titles. Their conduct on some occasions was characterized by unseemly extravagance. Once, on pretence that the glasses in which they had drunk the health of some fair one would be profaned by a second use, they dashed them against the wall, and materially added, as Goethe, in his cool and matter-of-fact narrative observes, a round sum to their reckonion.

Time, however, and experience tempered this tendency to youthful excess. In the employ of a monarch, Frederic Leopold had leisure and occasion to modify his views and restrain his feelings. As the French Revolution lifted its gigantic front, and cast its fearful shadows over Europe, all the conservatism of his character was brought out by the antagonism. He flung away

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THE DYING-SONG.

In the hour of earthly parting,

Hidden by the future's veil,

When, death in each pulse-beat darting,
Breath and sense and spirit fail ;
Send me pitying peace and rest,
Let me then in Thee be blest;
That, on Thee in faith relying,
I may look to Thee in dying.
And ere yet the struggle endeth,
And the imprisoned soul is free,
Grant that I may trust my spirit
To thy hands-so sleep in Thee.

And as in the death-vale dim,
Shadows o'er my eyeballs swim,
In love, hope, and faith God-given,
May I gaze up into heaven.

Nor in death FIRST.

While yet living,

And my powers in vigor be, To thy hands my spirit given, I hold consecrate to thee:

Tis a sparkle of thy light, Veiled awhile in earthly night: Yet, e'en now, by grace restoring, Towards its native heaven 'tis soaring.

DETRACTION.

AMONG the manifold proofs and disastrous consequences of the fall, none are more lamentably obvious or prevalent than the evils of the tongue. peech-that delightful channel of thought and electric chain of society, by which the animating thrill and simultaneous glow of reciprocated sentiments and feelings are felt; that choice gift of Divine Providence which so eminently distinguishes man from the mere animal creation-is too often, alas! prostituted to the worst of purposes.

Various are the ways in which Detraction works, and as diversified the language she assumes: she seldom, however, comes to the light, and inuendo is a form of speech with which she it particularly conversant. Having experienced its power in effecting her purposes, she most frequently adopts it. For her features are so revolting when seen in their native and naked form, and her voice so discordant and disgusting when she speaks openly and without reserve, that it is now some time since she saw the necessity of altering her plans. To this she was urged by the following occurrence. It chanced on a certain occasion when Detraction was privily on the alert, and watching an opportunity of effecting her malevolent designs, that Candor appeared, and so angelic was her mein and melodious her voice, that many of the children of men were enamored of her person, and hung with rapture on her lips. While she spake a holy

serenity reigned around; the very air was im pregnated with the balmy odors she shook from her wings; the sweet influence of amity and love was felt by each heart, and beamed in every eye. It seemed as though the Prince of Peace were again ushered into the world, and the cherubic band had once more attuned their harps to the heart-ravishing song-"peace on earth; good-will toward men!" Detraction retired in confusion, she could not endure the music, nor exist in such an atmosphere. But though foiled, and greatly chagrined at her rival's success, she continued unconquered. Still she retained her enmity, and to accomplish her designs, had recourse to stratagem. She determined to construct and henceforth to wear a mask in imitation of the features of Candor, and at the same time to affect, as well us she could, the silvery tones of her voice. And in this visor, and with borrowed language, she now generally appears. We often hear her descant with much assumed kindness and apparent good nature on the excellences of an individual, until she arives at the close of a sentence, which is usually rounded by the emphatic and fearful monosyllable-but! Or she will say "It is a great pity there should be any drawbacks on such and such a character. Mr. A. is, to be sure, a person of some merit: it is, therefore, to be hoped, that what is said to his disadvantage is not true: but then, there must, one should think, be something in it." Have you heard what is whispered of Mrs. B. However, the least said is the soonest mended. Besides, she had used to be considered as amiable and praiseworthy, and the world, you know, is very censorious." And

thus the best of characters are too often assassinated by the hand of affected friendship; just as "Joab took Abner aside in the gate to epeak to him quietly, and smote him there under the fifth rib, so that he died." Or, as he said to Amasa, "art thou in health, my brother?" and while he saluted, slew him.

Detraction is then, to drop personification, a mean and despicable vice. And to insinuate anything to another's disparagement is the most despicable form of it. It evinces a base pusillanimity. It betrays a dastardly fear of being confronted and confounded-which would in all

probability be the case, were an explicit, a full,

and frank assertion made. It is the result of conscious littleness on the part of the detractor, and of jealousy, with reference to the admitted superiority of him against whom the impoisoned

dart is hurled.*

"Base envy with'ring at another's joy, Which hates the excellence it cannot reach."

our first page, facing the steel engraving. These are two of the most prominent features of the Cuban capital. Moro Castle was first built in 1638. The present structure was erected on the ruins of the first, destroyed by the English in 1762. The Paseo is the open space where all the beauty and fashion of the town resort, in the after part of the day. It is a mile or more in length, beautifully laid out in wide, clean walks, with myriads of tropical flowers, trees, and shrubs, whose fragrance seems to render the atmosphere almost dense.

In connection with the engravings, we make

a quotation of a page or two, referring our readers to the book itself for the beautiful de

scriptions which it contains. "Moro Castle, frowning over the narrow entrance of the harbor, the strong battery answering to it on the opposite point, and known as La Punta, the long range of cannon and barracks on the city side, the powerful and massive fortress of the Cabanas crowning the hill behind the Moro, all speak unitedly of the immense importance of the place. Havana is the heart of Cuba, and will never be yielded, unless the whole island be given up: indeed, the possessors of this stronghold com