this was a living, breathing apparition. | matters which a search in that chamber She was throwing off her bonnet and brought to light. I triumphed, and I shawl, and stood there at home in a mo- now go abroad leaving Frank and his ment in her plain black dress. I drew Mary made happy by the possession of my hand across my eyes to make sure what could only have been a burden to that they did not deceive me. I had be- me. held so many supernatural visions lately that it seemed as though I could scarcely believe in the reality of anything till I had touched it. "Oh, sir," said the visitor, "I am Mary Leonard, and are you poor Frank's friend? Oh, sir, we are all the world to one another, and I could not let him die without coming to see him!" And here the poor little traveller burst into tears. I cheered her as well as I could, telling her that Frank would soon, I trusted, be out of all danger. She told me that she had thrown up her situation in order to come and nurse him. I said we had got a more experienced nurse than she could be, and then I gave her to the care of our landlady, a motherly country-woman. After that I went back to Frank's bedside, nor left it for long till he was convalescent. The fever had swept away all that strangeness in his manner which had afflicted me, and he was quite himself again. There was a joyful meeting of the lovers. The more I saw of Mary Leonard's bright face the more thoroughly was I convinced that she was the living counterpart of the vision I had seen in the burial chamber. I made inquiries as to her birth, and her father's history, and found that she was indeed the grandchild of that Mary Thunder whose history had been so strangely related to me, and the rightful heiress of all those properties which for a few months only had been mine. Under the tree in the orchard, the thirteenth, and that by which I had seen the lady digging, were found the buried deeds which had been described to me. I made an immediate transfer of property, whereupon some others who thought they had a chance of being my heirs disputed the matter with me, and went to law. Thus the affair has gained publicity, and become a nine-days' wonder. Many things have been in my favor, however: the proving of Mary's birth and of Sir Luke's will, the identification of Lady Thunder's handwriting on the slips of paper which I had brought from the burial chamber; also other So the Ms. ends. Major Thunder fell in battle a few years after the adventure it relates. Frank O'Brien's grandchil dren hear of him with gratitude and awe. The Rath has been long since totally dismantled and left to go to ruin. JOHN STUART MILL, M.P. THE name of John Stuart Mill has long been known to the intellectual world on both sides of the Atlantic. He stands deservedly high on the pinnacle of mental fame. His writings, his opinions, his works, on the great questions which stir the intellects of men in this age, have acquired for him an imperishable renown among all modern thinkers, as a giant in the intellectual world. The portrait of such a man, so well and widely known, can hardly fail of meeting a cordial welcome as an illustration and embellishment of our present number of THE ECLECTIC. The portrait has been finely engraved by our artist, Mr. Perine, and imparts a just impression of his massive intellect. A brief notice of this eminent man will suffice for our present purpose. We quote from a London paper of a recent date: The learned late Master of Trinity, a few days before his death, congratulated the electors of Westminster on having realized a suggestion of Plato's, that it would be well for a country to give its philosophers a place among its political rulers. It is yet too soon for us to anticipate the part which Mr. John Stuart Mill is likely to take in the practical debates of Parliament, though his bill for the reorganization of local government in the metropolis seems a valuable contribution to the legislative stock. But his theoretical opinions on nearly all the questions of essential principle that underlie the controversies of the present day are very clearly defined. They have been published in those consummate expositions of sound thought and generous sentiment which have helped to guide the councils of the most intellectual sec- | belief, or who seeks to analyze the contion of Reformers in England during stitution of the mind, to define its capacimore than thirty years. Liberal and ties and operations, and the conditions progressive in the truest sense; full of a and the limits of its acquaintance with frank confidence in the disposition of the the universe?' The Englishman angreat body of the people; full of the swered: Yes, we have John Stuart purest zeal for the elevation of mankind, Mill. He is not only a political thinker, the strongest faith in the good results who has defined the functions of governof indvidual and national freedom, his ment, and whose Essay on Liberty is writings could never be quoted by any as good as your Rousseau's Contrat orator who strove to stir up the hatred Social is bad: for Mill concludes in of one class against another, or who pro- favor of the perfect freedom of the indifessed to urge the claim of mere numbers vidual, while Rousseau ends by estabto control the government of the State. lishing the absolute power of the comWith what important reservations, or munity over each of its members. Mill what hopes of giving an equitable and is not only an economist who has treated useful direction to the advanced radical -with the most refined scientific analparty, Mr. Mill has now condescended ysis, and in a most comprehensive disto leave the tranquil atmosphere of his cussion-of the laws of the production lofty studies and mingle in the actual and diffusion of wealth, yet regarding fray, might partly be gathered from his them as subordinate to the improvement declarations last year, when he was of humanity. He is not only a moralist, elected, and from comparing these with who has enlarged, elevated, and purified his books. It is not our purpose here to the meagre Utilitarianism of Bentham; estimate the significance of his presence and, while vindicating the ethical princiin the new House of Commons. He is ple of the greatest happiness, shown how welcomed there by the wisest and most it may be reconciled with the aspirations thoughtful men of all parties-Conserva- of heroic virtue and devotion. He is tives as well as Reformers-who cher- also a mental philosopher, allied most ish the intellectual reputation of that nearly to Locke, but one who has arHouse, and trust that the standard of rived at the best results that are attainaargument in its discussions may be im- ble within the limits of that theory which proved by the example of one of the makes experience the source of all our greatest masters of the art of thinking. knowledge; and on this ground he has "His eminence in that capacity is rec- taken a position rivalling at least the ognized by all the educated classes of chief of the Scottish metaphysicians. his countrymen. Some years ago, when He is, above all, the author of a complete a meeting of the British Social Science system of logic, exhibiting all the methAssociation had brought many strangers ods or processes, both the syllogistic and to Oxford, a Frenchman, happening to the inductive, which can be employed by talk with a resident member of the the intellect in the pursuit of truth; he University, inquired about the state of has laid down rules for the investigation philosophical pursuits among us. 'I of facts, and for drawing correct inferensee here,' he said, 'in your ancient col- ces from their evidence, with a view to leges a richly-endowed provision for that positive science, as the lawyers have kind of scholarship which consists of the their own rules of evidence to direct the study of the classical languages and lit- trial of cases in our courts; and so far erature; I see, too, in the movements of as the moral sciences are concerned, he your scientific societies and congresses a has, with as much success as M. Comte great deal of activity employed in the in your country, described their place investigation of physical phenomena, or and order in a general system of philosoin the collection and comparison of sta-phy, and the respective conditions of tistics relating to the practical interests their study.' of mankind. But have you any philoso- "This being the intellectual reputation pher of first-rate powers who studies to of Mr. Mill, whose works are used as verify and to account for the original authorized text-books in the great Engsources of human knowledge-who lish Universities, and who is held by his strives to understand the process of numerous disciples to have superseded the famous philosophical teaching of the University of Edinburgh, there is one thing about his personal history which seems to deserve special remark. His mind, one of the most highly cultivated, as well as one of the most original which the age can boast, was never subjected to academical instruction in school or college. In his youth he was taught at home by his eminent father, and no education could have done so much for him as to be the child and pupil of such a man as James Mill, whose merits and achievements are rather enhanced than eclipsed by the more illustrious career of his son. In the year 1773, at the time when two other great thinkers of Scotland, David Hume and Adam Smith, were shedding clear light upon the most important themes of mental and social philosophy, James Mill was born, of humble parents, in a village in Forfarshire. By the assistance of a gentleman in the neighborhood, Sir John Stuart, whose liberality has since been nobly recompensed through the glory acquired by his namesake in our days, James Mill received the benefits of learning. He commenced a literary career, first in Edinburgh, afterwards in London. He turned his attention first to psychology, as a follower of Hartley, founding all the conceptions of the mind on mere combinations of sensations; secondly, to political economy, in which he followed Ricardo. He produced books on each of those subjects, the best that could then be written from their own point of view. He then composed a History of British India, a work not only of accurate research, but of great narrative interest and philosophical insight. An official appointment in the India House relieved him from the toils and cares of one who has to earn his bread by his pen, and thus gave him leisure to form the mind of his son, born at Pentonville, in the year 1806, whose career has been in harmony with that of the father." In 1851, Mr. Mill married Mrs. Harriet Taylor, the widow of one of his oldest friends. He has no children. UNREQUITED. I. POETRY. FEW and low were the words I spoke, Yet in that one moment a man's heart broke, II. In a little moment of time, The bright hopes of a life all paled; A brave man knew he had dared the leap, And a proud man knew he had-failed! III. Failed! 'tis often a fatal word, For to fail in some of the ventures of life IV. If the fowler hang o'er the cliff, Upheld by a treacherous rope, Should the frail thing break or the strong man blanch, He is lost-and beyond all hope. V. So I set my hopes on a word, Launched a shell on a boisterous sea; And the waves up-rose, and my shell downsank It can never come back to me! -London Society. UNREQUITED. A REPLY. He passes by, with cold and heartless gaze, And yet no word of mine shall ever break I see him yonder, basking in the smiles Oh! I could bear it all, did I but know That love, true, faithful, lay within her heart, So he might never feel, as I have felt, Hope slowly, hour by hour, depart. Or leave for lighter words, or brighter smiles, Without a thought-without a sigh ! -London Societ.y MY HERITAGE. In close communion with the mighty dead With Homer's warriors on the plains of Troy I hear the conquering Greeks, all flushed with joy, With Lear into the pitiless storm I go, No friend below-above; I weep for Juliet and her Romeo, I pity the pure Desdemona's fate, But give Iago all my changeless hate, I see the shaggy brows of Shylock lower I smile to see him shorn of all his power, COLD looks, hard words: these wear away the stone, Yet, to its veriest fragment will it be Of one whose heart lies underneath thy feet. That thou shouldst trample on it, is but meet Reward for all the evil it has wrought; But when 'tis cold and still, and can no more For thee its floods of tenderness outpour, I dread lest unrelenting memory bring With late regret, remorse's bitter sting. Oh, let it not be so-recall alone The loving life I built, into thy throne. When I am lying in the cold, dark grave, Shut out from light and love, from hope and fear, Perchance thou'lt pause to drop a silent tear O'er one whom once thou wouldst have died to save. With Bunyan's pilgrim, clogged by doubt and Nor do I deem that thou now lov'st me less; sin Rent by soul-agonies I travel, till I see him pass within The great Italian takes me by the hand, Shows me the mysteries of the spirit-land, I shake with laughter at the immortal knight And at his esquire, Sancho, luckless wight!-- Goethe, the life and sun of German thought, Flame-tipped, his passionate words are all inwrought, With the heart's deepest core. With our sublime and most seraphic bard, I sorrow for our woes; Behold the world prisoner in devil-ward I see the Roman Empire rapid rise, I ponder its decline; The illustrious Caesars pass before mine eyes, And many a famous line. Into the broad domains of sweet romance I linger o'er fair Enid's countenance- And many others wile with me their lays, As Burns and Bacon; worthy of high praise— Yet, had I served my God as I have thee, He had not in my need forsaken me. Then, by the memory of my tenderness, Be gentle with the little one I leave To face life's miseries alone-believe That woman's heart can break, but never roam When once she's raised her idol to his throne. Then guard my darling, lest her future be Blasted, like mine, and end as bitterly. -Temple Bar. L. W. F. THE WOOD-CUTTER'S NIGHT SONG. Joyful are the thoughts of home. If I stop and stand about, Well I know how things will be: Every now and then for me. So fare ye well, and hold your tongues; All day long I love the oaks, But at nights yon little cot, These in her fancies have no part: The sound of winds and waves it takes Wide underneath the June-blue sky And on the far horizon-white It cuts its way with creak and strain, Oh, brave young sailor! eyes of blue BRIEF LITERARY NOTICES. Summer Rest, by GAIL HAMILTON. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1866. Gail Hamilton has many admirers. Her thoughts are generally vigorous, her style direct and forcible, her aim practical. An earnest purpose pervades all her writings. And yet she needs to be read with discrimination. There is evil mixed with the good. Her intense convictions often betray her into extravagances of expression; while zealous to conserve and vindicate the spirit of religion and of its institutions, she would abrogate and destroy all the forms and enactments which are essential to its very existence. We have a specimen of this in the volume before us. Why, we know not, but she sees fit to assail the settled faith of the Christian church on the fundamental point of the Sabbath. She takes occasion to review and severely condemn Gilfillan's work on the Sabbath, published by the American Tract Society (New-York) and the New-York Sabbath Committee, and extensively distributed. In the course of this most unjust and arrogant tirade we find such sentiments as these: "The Old Testament is a sacred book, but it is not ours. It is a divine revelation, but not to us. Moses belonged to the Jews, but we have Christ. . . . But who made this distinction ?" [that is between the " ceremonial law" and the "moral law."] "Where in the Bible do we find the Mosaic laws thus classified and disposed of? We affirm that it is done solely on human authority; that the Bible countenances no such arrangements; that, on the contrary, the whole Mosaic law, decalogue and all, was, by the coming of Christ, disannulled. We are no more under the law of the ten commandments than we are under the law of ablutions and fringes. Christ and his apostles taught, as clearly as it is possible to teach, that the Mosaic law was superseded. They drew no dividing line between moral and ceremonial law, but dismissed the whole law as a thing of the past." And much more of the same sort. For our part, we are quite disappointed in this book. The title-Summer Rest-is a misnomer. We expected something appropriate to the season -something easy of digestion; not knotty points in theology-sentiments freely and confidently expressed which deny the faith and shock the moral sensibilities of nine tenths of her readers. The Maiden and Married Life of Mary Powell, afterwards Mrs. Milton. New-York: M. W. Dodd. The previous works by this author have been received with marked favor. The quaint style |