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scious of particular light, such as day-light, lamp-light, or other kinds of light.

Whose rapt imagination ever became the recipient of the glorious sunshine! What somnambulist ever recounted the seven primary colors! What gay dreamer's optics were ever dazzled by the flammable gas of his imaginary banquet-hall! One might as soon attempt, with the poet of Ayr, under similar circumstances, to count the horns of the moon, as to dream of the overpowering rays of the orb of day.

Yet all things are naturally visible to the dreamer. The mind immortal is not more axiomatic than this, that its self-action and being imparts its own arch and refraction,' and sheds its soft rays, direct and indirect, upon whatever it chooses to contemplate or resolve. And now the scene changes to within the house. We observe the younger of the boys imploring in a tearful manner of these women, who betray sinister and mysterious expressions, for his brother, and essaying, with cries and raving stamps and gestures, to seek him through the house; but with promises, delays, fabrications, threatenings, and even force, he is withheld

in suspense:

"O WOMAN!

Says she that she will, she will, and you may depend on 't;
Says that she won't, she won't, and that's the end on 't.'*

Through the casement, at the same time, several spectre men are seen without the palings, in the act of mowing, in regular time and swing. Here the spectrum vanishes for a moment, and mounting a fairy car or a moon-beam, leaves our mundane sphere, and flits in silence the immensity of space; probably in search of a particle of the milky-way or a comet's tail, for its perennial breakfast. But these redundant journeyings require space only; the disseverance of time and power is absolute, and bears as little affinity to the Herculean twelve labors as mind to body; and in much less time than this digression occupies, our exuberant spectrum's elliptical orbit has restored us again to the yard, which is vacant and still as a charnel-house. The place, the vacancy, and the deep silence of the hour, with fitful but noiseless 'midsummer night's' breezes, alternately arid and damp, become oppressive and almost suffocating, when, heavens and earth! an explosion and a reverberation, as of a file of soldiery, are heard within the house. The scythes vanish from the hands of the mowers, who escalade the paling, gliding and flitting spectre-like above and through its crevices toward the house. Oaths and execrations fill the air in quick succession. Livid countenances and flashing eyes cast inquiring glances toward each other. One overwhelming thought prevails, but no one ventures for the moment to declare it. Men are discursively moving about, singly and in knots, all in a state of exacerbation.

At length a conspicuous and grenadier-like Caledonian advances, and demands admission, which, after many quibbles and complexities on the part of the females, is refused, with the trite plea that 'Me brither is seike, and will saä no one.' Forbearance yielded to impetuosity; restraint, to indignation; and the words, Surround the house!' which were pealed forth in trumpet-tones from a single voice, were echoed and reëchoed in full volition.

*I NERE render all due acknowledgment to a lady-acquaintance for this humorous aphorism

'Who'll go for an officer?' exclaims another. 'I,' replies the noble and compliant Scot, who glided away in a moment. Silence again returns, deep, thrilling, and intense. In a little time, an ominous rushing sound approaches from the south, and several monster birds, with the flapping noise of a full volery, pass over in the direction of the bluffs, uttering cries combining alike the sounds of the shrill whistle of the boatswain and the wild roll of the ataval, and which are reiterated by the crowing of the cock.

The officer now suddenly hove in sight, and, sa! presto! he is here. Cool, intrepid, salient, and prompt in character, like the helmsman Black amid the storm,* he raises and points his long finger toward the door. The waving of the 'swarthy hand' in the 'Vision of Judgment' was not more electric. The door flew open rather from the 'open sesame' of the magic finger, than from the rush of power. The officer quietly walks into the house, and the men follow after, and the search is commenced. A blanket-coat is presently held up to view, blood-stained, and pierced with a musket-ball, corresponding to the thorax of the body. Bloodspots also appear along the stairs, which they now ascend, and in the first room they enter, to their consternation, they find, not the boy, but one of the Irishmen lying upon the floor, dead-shot through the heart, and a discharged musket by his side! Divided interests, non-concurrence, contrition, and above all, the fear of exposure of crime previously and jointly perpetrated, had occasioned a brawl, a not unusual sequence, in their midst, which resulted in the explosion before alluded to, and the death of this man. The others were immediately arrested, and the search was assiduously prosecuted. Boxes, barrels, bedding, trumpery, were consecutively overhauled. Baffled for a time, they at length find a pair of boy's shoes and a bloody stocking in a chest. A little parcel of hair, slightly crisped and matted with blood, and some clothes, ashes, and buttons, known to be those of the missing juvenile, are also found in the chimney

corner.

All semblance of order and human restraint is now disregarded, and the temple of the first law and its enshrined devotee are alike thrown down and trampled under foot: the man is resolved into the animal, and the green eyes of the roused tiger prey and flash in fury upon the surrounding trophies of wickedness and its authors. The remaining little brother appears terror-stricken and cries piteously, which the ever-present, prompt, and willing Scotchman is endeavoring to assuage. Another man holds up a bloody axe, which suggests a search of the cellar; and there, O horror! is found the mangled body of the boy. Vengeance is rife, lending to the scene, if possible, a yet wilder character. The assemblage now discard the majesty of law, except Lynch-law, which they resolve to execute instanter. The guilty females were ushered into the field and shot, and the man was suspended from a branch of one of his own oaks, the awful crisis of which broke the vision, and ended this imaginary tragedy. The prairie, the oaks, the house, the lake, and the men — all, all vanished! It was, indeed, ALL A DREAM!

E. B.

* MR. LIVINGSTON's description of a storm during his return voyage from France, in the frigate Constitution.

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THE rain, the rain, the sweet summer rain,
Is pouring swift o'er meadow and plain
Prism-like gems, moistening the earth,
And filling the farmer's heart with mirth.
In a sheet of white

Fall the rain-drops bright.

Now o'er the withering, parched-up grass,
The wished-for show'rets glistening pass,
Bathing all in their liquid flow;
The rain-gems clear are pendent low
On the chestnut-tree,

Where the birds sang free.

Where the grass-edged travell'd road winds round, Dark'ning, dust-laying the trodden ground,

Falling upon the children glad,

Little maiden and noisy lad,

From school then coming,
Up the hill running.

'Tis falling upon the hawthorn-tree;
Its liquid jewels it flingeth free,
Refreshing all the landscape fair,
Cooling, cleansing the heated air;
Brightening the flowers
In garden bowers.

On the foot-pressed, thirsty village green,
In clustering pearlets it is seen;
Then on the vine-leaves it doth lay;

Now glancing o'er the eaves so gray
Of the cottage small,

Do the rain-drops fall.

Now mingling with the cascade leaping,
Now o'er the blighted verdure sweeping,
Then on the furr'd acacia's stem,

Like a glittering diadem,

Ör on tree-tops high,

Do its crystals lie.

Brightly it raineth into the fountain;
Now it laveth the side of the mountain;
Then into the river falling light,

Jewel encircling mill-wheel bright,

Where waters rush in,

And make all the din.

Then 'gainst the gothic casement glancing
Of village church, anon 't is dancing
Where over the dead creepeth the grass,
And then it gently droppeth fast

On the grave-stones low,

Those records of woe.

VOL. XXXVIII.

Upon the bramble's snowy flower,
Like coronet of princely dower,
Now hiding where the violets blow,
Now shining 'mong the moss-tufts low,
On the dog-wood fair:
Rain is every where.

And on the cottager's garden small,
Dazzlingly clear the rain-gems fall;
Upon the creeper's velvet leaves,
Where to the latticed porch it cleaves,
Like diamonds now,
Rain-sparkles glow.

It quietly raineth drop by drop,
Transparent on the tassell'd maize-top;
Pendent from bearded oat-blade nigh,
Or trembling on the swaying rye,
The rain-drops hide,
Or merrily ride.

Quivering in emerald moss-cups clear,
Or trickling o'er the old rock drear;
Falling into the trysting well,
Sweeping the hill-tops in its swell;
Grass banks empearling,

The rain goes whirling.

Each tiny branch is deck'd with pearls,
While the long grass droops in waving curls;
On the gorgeous golden wheat-sheaves,
And on the soft green willow-leaves,
Like sparks of light,

Are the diamonds bright.

On the amber-flower'd barberry,

Now on the fragrant laburnum-tree,

On dandelion gossamer-floats,

Call'd by gay children witches' boats,'
Lying on the weeds,

Are the Rain-king's beads.

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IN offering a few remarks upon the government of Turkey, which, by common accord, is known in Europe and the United States as 'The Sublime Porte,' it is not intended to quote history, but rather to speak of it only in reference to the present period. It is nevertheless necessary to state that the Turks themselves call the Turkish Empire Mémâliki-Othmanich, or the 'Ottoman States,' (kingdoms,) in consequence of their having been founded by Othman, the great ancestor of the present reigning sovereign, Abd-ul-Mejid. They are no better pleased with the name of Turk than the people of the United States are, generally, with that of Yankee: it bears with it a meaning signifying a gross and rude man something indeed very much like our own definition of it, when we say any one is 'no better than a Turk;' and they greatly prefer being known as Ottomans. They call their language the Ottoman tongue'-Othmanli dilee — though some do speak of it as the Turkish. As regards the title, 'The Sublime Porte,' this has a different origin. In the earlier days of Ottoman rule, the reigning sovereign, as is still the case in some parts of the east, held courts of justice and levees at the entrance of his residence. The palace of the Sultan is always surrounded by a high wall, and not unfrequently defended by lofty towers and bastions. The chief entrance is an elevated portal, with some pretensions to magnificence and showy architecture. It is guarded by soldiers or door-keepers well armed; it may also contain some apartments for certain officers, or even for the Sultan himself; its covering or roof, pro

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