In war they encountered their enemies openly, without recourse to stratagem, relying rather on their valour than on the wiles of tactics; "aperti, minimeque insidiosi, qui per virtutem non per dolum dimicare consueverunt." They rushed headlong to the combat in blind rage, or under the excitement of intoxication, often without a preconcerted plan, or studious of the advantages of position, "nullâ præter vim et audaciam re instructos." The same author relates that they were accustomed, before the commencement of a battle, to make vows and offerings to their gods, and were animated by the recital of songs commemorative of the achievements of their forefathers. When charging the enemy, they beat their shields with their swords, brandished their weapons, and uttered loud and menacing exclamations: the onset was furious; but in a protracted contest, and especially if under the oppression of a warmer climate than their own, they were deficient in perseverance; so that, if they did not overthrow their antagonist in the first dreadful collision, they were generally routed. Polybius says the Romans took advantage of the discovery of this circumstance, which they had learnt from experience of former attacks, of which also Livy has given a description corroborative of what is recorded by other historians of their appalling and deafening cheers: "ad hoc cantus ineuntium prælium et ululatus et tripudia et quatientium scuta in patrium morem horrendus armorum strepitus!" During the battle, the women and children, and those incapable of bearing arms, remained in the rear, in a situation fortified by their waggons: they excited the warriors to the combat with every animating exhortation; the timid they impelled either through violence or reproach; the valiant they rewarded with their admiration. Strabo describes the Celts as availing themselves of the advantages of victory with sanguinary and barbarous cruelty, that they were in the habit of tying the heads of their enemies to their horses' manes; and Posidonius states that he saw them exhibited over the gates of their towns, but the heads of the hostile leaders of rank were preserved by them by means of spices and drugs; they considered them trophies, which were ostentatiously displayed. The weapons of the vanquished were suspended in the houses, a ceremony which was accompanied by singing the praises of the victor; according to Diodorus, "hostium spolia famulis tradunt in foribus domorum cum cantu atque hymnis affigenda; nobiliorum capita aromatibus uncta, in thecis condunt, ostendentes hospitibus nulloque pretio ea vel parentibus vel aliis reddunt." If the warriors were defeated, the women preferred death rather than survive those they loved: in this they were encouraged by the belief that they should meet them in a future state.

An invincible attachment to freedom, and a strong inclination to war, were their striking characteristics. The favorite subjects of their poetry were warlike prowess and the glory achieved in

their hostile irruptions, and these verses were transmitted through many ages to their descendants.

THEIR HABITATIONS.

The Celts lived in separate dwelling houses: they selected situations in woods by the banks of streams, "vitandi æstus causâ." To these abodes they gave names descriptive of their locality, and sometimes the possessor was designated by the name of his residence.

Both the greater and lesser clans had their separate districts allotted to them, but which in the aggregate were comprehended in states, Evornμara, (Strabo.) These consisted of a certain number of contiguous tribes, and when several were thus united, the district (pagus) was distinguished by the name of the more numerous tribe which composed it, and in whose territory was situated the principal place of strength, which, according to Justin, they learnt from the Greeks to fortify with walls and ditches; and later, in every hamlet united by consanguinity, (Kidwâd,) "vicatim per familias cognationes," arose a fortress, though Polybius says, "villas habitabant nullis septas moenibus," yet in other parts of his writings he agrees with Strabo that they possessed fortified places. Athenæus makes mention of their cities: " κωμοι και πολεις.” The period in which they began to fortify is not known, but it appears, from Justin, that they were instructed to do so by the Grecian colony at Marseilles, from whom also they learnt the arts of more civilized life, "ab his coloniis Phoceorum igitur, et usum vitæ cultioris et urbes mœnibus cingere dedicerunt."

To each separate dwelling was apportioned land and wood sufficient for the maintenance of the family, and when this increased beyond the means of subsistence thus afforded, a separation ensued in search of other lands.

The Celts lived in wooden houses, into which their cattle were brought for protection; the roofs were of thatch, on which they placed large stones, to secure them from the effects of the winds: "domos e tabulis cratibusque in speciem camera fastigiatæ vel tholi construunt multâ superinjectâ arundine vel magno imposito tecto."

The custom of introducing the cattle into the dwelling house still exists in the mountains of Wales, and in the Caucasus.

(To be continued.)

NEW-YEAR'S DAY.

STAY, stay,
Good New-Year's day!

Just whilst my "thousand things" I sing or say.
There, rest and list: but, first, resolve my doubt
Where to begin;

Or with the "opposition" year that's "out,"
Or with the "ministerial" year that's "in."
Well! be it with the last: "the last!"

'Tis what thyself shalt be, ere twelve brief hours are past.

That year, that "last," is dead! and of its crew,
Its "twelve" brave captains; serjeants, "fifty-two;
And "rank and file" three hundred sixty-five,"
Not one is left alive!

Where are they now? ask of th' inconstant wind,
Where thou may'st find

The strains that, only yesternight,
From pipe and jocund horn,

Upon its viewless "wings" were borne,
To prelude in thy long expected morn,
Steeping our senses in delight;
Or ask the virgin moon, whose brow,
Unwrinkled, shines, where now
Sleep all the glancing beams, that lit thy way
To-day;

And, when they've told thee, I will tell thee true,
Where bides the parted year with all his crew.

But they have left their tokens; yes!
Some in the sore distress

Of friends, and weeping kin;

Some, in the catalogue of sin,

Fearfully multiplied; and some again
In sickness, weakness, weariness, and pain!
And is this all the reckoning? then farewell
Gone year! and who shall ring thy knell?
But no, thou unsubstantial shadow, no!
We may not wrong thee so:

O'er many a human lot thy presence threw
A mantle of the freshest, greenest hue;
Yea, there are those that almost could believe
That year one summer's eve:

And, on their heart,
Thine epitaph have penned,
As of "a dearest friend,"

And wellnigh wept from such a friend to part.

But this is to delay the song
That does to thee, my gentle Day, belong,
Trick'd out in all thy bravery;

The quaint fantastic gear,

Which thou hast worn this many a hundred year:
(For thou art old, tho' young,

Born, when the infant world from nothing sprung:)
And ready, in thy glee,
Amid the sprightly din,

That warns us of thy "coming in,"

To foot it on the crystal snow,

With all thy store of New-Year's gifts, a goodly, goodly shew!

So now I brace the lyric string,

Thy praise, and only thine, to sing. And now, ye bells, your merry descants ring:

And now, good maids, and youths, your wonted off'rings bring!
Lo! there they are-

"Gloves" for the honest hand to wear;
"Penknives" the grey goose quill to mend,
That friend may talk with friend;

And "Almanacks," with crimson covers,
To note the meeting hours of lovers;
"Comfits," for younger folk, and "cakes;"
Bright "silver sixpences," for your dear sakes,
Ye serving damsels! hoarded up;

And, for the hearty clown, the froth'd and brimming cup.

Lo! they are there:

And each and all shall share
My roundelay.

For each and all belong to thee, oh jocund day!
But who are ye dark scowling wights, that come,
With measur'd steps, like spectres, and as dumb?
And why, with shaking head, and waving hand,
Bid ye our choral troops disband,

As if sweet minstrelsy were treason to the land?
Oh, ye are they

That would uncalendar our New-Year's day.
Fashion, of dainty garb, and mincing mien;
And Pride, that deems the touch unclean
Of lower folk; and he, the cheat that tries
To foil unwary eyes,

Dress'd in religion's rev'rend guise.

Now hold, ye nightmares of this ridden earth!
And we will shew you why the day is consecrate to mirth.

Life is the journey of a parlous way,
Stage after stage:

And some its morning reach, and some its day,
And some its night of age.

And little reck'd it to the tale

Of this life's fortunes, when or where

The pilgrim's march might fail,

If all were black and bare;

If not a sunbeam cheered,

If not a flower appeared,

If not a friend bore company, his wanderings still to share.

But life, with all its sorrow,
And tho' it may not borrow
Assurance for the morrow,
Hath its joys, too,

Nor mean, nor few:

Friendship and love connect him with his kind-
And he hath converse with the things of mind;
And he hath 'eyes to see,' and 'ears to hear'
The charms and wonders of this poised sphere;
And what is better, heart and soul to trace
The mercies of that richer world of grace.
These its keen relish to our being give,

And wing that praise, "Thanks be to God we live,-
"And still

"In that good school may discipline the soul
"For its acceptance at the heav'nly goal

"On Zion's hill!"

And when with thee we stand, fair Day!

We know that we have reached a stage of their own parlous way;
We joy that yet a "little longer's" giv'n,
That we may win our upward flight to heav'n.

And, "two-fac'd" Janus! even thou canst teach,
Thou, whom the "nat'ral man" of yore
Chose, from his deities, to go before
The months of the revolving year,
And did a temple to your name uprear,
(So tell the masters of the Roman lore,)
That pleasant 'tis, to onward time to reach,—
Pleasant to see th' unwearied sun,
"Rejoicing as a bridegroom," run
His course anew,-

To see, in graceful dance,
Advance

The hours, the months, the days,

Hymning, in Faith's calm ear, their mighty Master's praise;
Pleasant to feel, in nature's deathlike face,

To love and life reviving,

The token that our mortal race

Once run, is not our all,
Nor this revolving ball

Our only home,

Throughout the universal, circling dome,

But that another bourn "awaits our earthly" strivings.
So "two-faced" Janus taught

Such were the whisp'rings of the inward thought
In "lightless" man:

But we

Have our clear promise of eternity;

And, more than he,

May love the herald of the annual train,

The "witness," too, which cries aloud "that promise is not vain."

But list! ten thousand thousand spirits chide

The ling ring of the new-born "tide."