the heresy uttered and the orthodoxy violated. So this apparently quite foreign event is strangely enough made the occasion of one of the poet's finest productions. We give a single expression, yet one so full of fruitful truth that it deserves to be set in letters of gold: "All Savior-souls have sacrificed, With naught but noble faith for guerdon; The "Welcome to Kossuth" is a spirited piece, and full of the writer's great idea. Even now many hearts will sympathize with the feelings in which he speaks of that exiled patriot: "He rose like freedom's morning star, And fought in soul for him! full of the author's favorite notion, that every thing is good except what man makes bad. "The Three Voices" is among the most stirring as well as the most musical pieces in the volume. These "voices" come severally from the past, the present, and the future-the first sounds "Drearily, drearily, drearily," and calls to the listeners, "Weep! weep! weep!" for the sorrows inflicted on humanity by long years of social oppression and degradation. The second responds, "Tearfully, tearfully, tearfully," calling its listeners to "Work! work! work!" the only privilege and the only hope of the people. But the last-the future-is more hopeful, calling out "Cheerily, cheerily, cheerily," "Hope, hope, hope," The piece entitled "Eighteen Hundred and while the burden of its song is, Forty-Eight," of eleven Spenserian stanzas, is among the most stirring and powerful of its author's political war-blasts-full of the spirit that distinguished that memorable year. We give one stanza, containing a well-sustained image: "Immortal Liberty! we see thee stand Like Morn just stepped from heaven upon a mountain With beautiful feet, and blessing-laden hand, And heart that welleth Love's most living fountain! O when wilt thou string on the People's lyre Joy's broken chord? And on the people's brow Set Empire's crown? Light up thy beacon fire Within their hearts, with an undying glow, Nor give us blood for milk, as men are drunk with now." "The People's Advent" is in the same vein, but more hopeful, and, therefore, less bitter than the preceding-though still its hope shines out of darkness. The piece opens with, ""Tis coming up the steep of Time, And this old world is growing brighter! Yet high hopes make the heart throb lighter. When it awakes the world in wonder; And heard its voice of living thunder, "Tis coming; yes, 'tis coming.' Several other pieces, which we had marked as specially noteworthy, must be passed over entirely or noticed very briefly. Of these "The Chivalry of Labor" is a highly spirited production, not unworthy to be classed with Burns's "Bruce's Address." "When I come Home," is an additional memento of the writer's domestic affections. "Onward and Sunward" is a collection of beautiful images, and the whole poem is the writer being a steadfast believer in the "good time coming." The structure of the whole piece is highly artificial, and its execution evinces no ordinary power of versification in its author. There are but few better-written poems, considered simply as to its structure, in the language than this one. We must condense our intended estimate of our author as a poet into a very few words. That he possesses some real poetical ability, we have both intimated and proved by the specimens given. We would not, however, pretend that any thing contained in this volume ought to entitle its author to rank as a poet among the contributors to our literature. The work is valuable, rather from the ability which it shows the author to possess than for its own intrinsic merit. Its properties are positive as to both its excellences and its faults; but the latter may be cured by increased culture, and if the poetic spirit should not evaporate during the process, we may yet hope to see something from the fervid mind of Gerald Massey which will transmit his name to future times. Should he, on the contrary, rest upon the early renown to which he has suddenly attained, he will soon sink into the obscurity from which he rose; or should the caresses of the great and learned draw him from his devotion to the wrongs and sufferings of his own peculiar class-the operatives of England-his latter days will be as inglorious as his advent has been glorious. But we hope better things for him, and for humanity by his ministry. THE VALUE OF FRESH AIR. THE HE human lungs possess upward of one hundred and sixty-six square yards of respiratory surface, every single point of which vast surface is in constant and immediate contact with the atmosphere inspired. Let us then consider the quantity of air which is being daily presented to this surface. It will of course vary according to age, constitution, and mode of living. The quantity of air received at an ordinary inspiration, without any effort at all, and when the body and mind are tranquil, is, according to Dr. Smith, about one pint. Considering eighteen respirations to take place in one minute, about eighteen pints of pure air are necessary for sustaining healthful life during that short period. One little minute of healthful life can not be enjoyed without about eighteen pints of pure air being diffused over that wonderful extent of delicate capillary network connected with the lungs. The quantity requisite for an hour of health will thus be 1,080 pints. And, to continue the calculation, during one day's healthful existence, 25,920 pints, or no less than sixty hogsheads of pure atmosphere must enter the lungs; and this is allowing but one pint for each inspiration, and but eighteen inspirations for each minute; though it must be clear to all, that during active exercise it frequently happens that in one minute of time more than twice eighteen inspirations take place, and considerably more than a pint of air enters the lungs at a single inspiration. closed. Now, calculating from the same estimates as before, in one minute from the time of entry, each of the forty pairs of lungs has performed eighteen respirations; and with every respiration a pint of air has been deprived of a fourth part of its oxygen; and the same volume of carbonic acid has been mingled with the atmosphere of the school-room. In one minute of time, therefore, forty times eighteen pints, that is, seven hundred and twenty pints-as we are not speaking of adults, we will say six hundred pints of the inclosed air-have been deprived of no less than a fourth of their creative oxygen; while an equal volume of the destroying acid is floating in the apartment, and influencing the blood at every inspiration. Or-which will be found, upon calculation, to amount to the same thing-in one single minute, as much as one hundred and fifty pints-upward of eighteen gallons of air, have altogether lost their life-creating power; the deficiency being made up by a deadly poison. Now, since such a change takes place in one minute, let me beg of you to reflect what change takes place in ten-what in twenty-what in half an hour-what must be the amount of poison which the lungs of these unfortunate victims are inhaling, after an hour of such confinement. And yet how common it is, not for school children alone, but for persons of all ages and conditions, to be shut up in low-pitched, badlyventilated apartments, for more than five, six, or seven hours together! Allow me to remind you that in the human body the blood circulates once in two and a half minutes. In two and a half minutes all the blood contained in the system traverses the respiratory surface. Every one, then, who breathes an impure atmosphere two and a half minutes, has every particle of his Now, this immense volume of air is on purpose to give life to the liquid essence of our food life to the dead blood. Till acted upon by the atmosphere, the fluid which is traversing the lungs is, to all intents and purposes, dead; and, consequently, totally incapable of repairing worn structures, of carrying on functions, or of main-blood acted on by the vitiating air. Every partitaining any vitality in the system: nay, it even contains in its elements a considerable quantity of pernicious poison, brought to the lungs to be given out in the act of breathing, lest it should kill the human fabric. The poison alluded to is carbonic acid. To breathe in an atmosphere of carbonic acid is death, as rapid as it is certain. Let us imagine, then, forty individuals to have entered a room of sufficient size to receive them without overcrowding. We may as well consider it an ordinary school-room, and the forty individuals, forty industrious pupils. This will give us an opportunity of noticing, among other things, how impure air affects the thinking brain. Suppose them diligently at work, then, in an unventilated apartment, with the door and windows cle has become less vital-less capable of repairing structures, or of carrying on functions: and the longer such air is respired, the more impure it becomes, and the more corrupted grows the blood. Permit me to repeat, that after breathing for two and a half minutes an atmosphere incapable of properly oxygenating the fluids which are traversing the lungs, every drop of blood in the human being is more or less poisoned; and in two and a half minutes more, even the minutest part of all man's fine-wrought organs has been visited and acted upon by this poisoned fluid— the tender, delicate eye, the wakeful ear, the sensitive nerves, the heart, the brain; together with the skin, the muscles, the bones throughout their structure, in short, the entire being. There is not a point in the human frame but has been traversed by vitiated blood-not a point but must have suffered injury. Without food or exercise, man may enjoy life some hours; he may live some days. He can not exist a few minutes without air. And yet, what laws are so infringed as the laws of respiration? In our temples of public worship, in our courts of justice, in our prisons, our mines, our factories, and our schools, ventilation was, till lately, almost disregarded-nay, is still, in many places, entirely disregarded. And as for private dwellings, it may be most unhesitatingly affirmed, that even for the wealthier classes of society, not one house in a hundred-perhaps not one in a thousand-is constructed on sound sanitary principles with respect to its ventilation. I allude not so much to lower stories as to dormitories. How rare to find a dormitory whose atmosphere at early morning would be no more tainted than when it was entered for repose the previous night! Yet, be it borne in mind, that whenever, after a night's repose, the slightest degree of closeness is perceptible in a chamber, it is an incontrovertible proof that the chamber is not well ventilated; and that whatever may have been the benefit which the system may have received from sleep, that benefit has been partly neutralized by the ill effects of an impure atmosphere.Hopley on Respiration. TEACH CHILDREN TO HELP THEMSELVES. THE FABRICII. A STORY OF ANCIENT ROME. BY FRANCES A. SHAW. CHAPTER I. "The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago." RO Ꭱ called by men the "eternal." Nurse of nations, mother of empires, foster-parent of many of those arts which so embellish life! Invincible though thou wert for centuries, thou hast fallen. Thy streets have echoed to the devastating tread of the invader; thy palaces, that even the northern barbarians spared, have fallen beneath the ruthless hand of Time.. Let us of a later age learn a lesson from thy fate, as we trace in all thy calamities the hand of a just but an avenging God. It was in the reign of Domitian. Rome was still a proud, a mighty city; though after the age of Augustus she began gradually to decline from the zenith of her glory, this was as yet scarcely perceptible. But the seeds of decay, which had been so long implanted in her soil, had taken deep root—a worm was even now gnawing at her vitals—a cancer was eating into her still haughty heart. Her power had been founded in treachery and cemented by blood and crime. She had brought restless ambition the whole world had seemed too small; but the giant structure of her empire had been reared upon an unsubstantial foundation, and was even now tottering to its fall. She had wronged the poor; she had oppressed the weak; she had denied the true God: her mer the blood of her slain cried for vengeance from the ground; the dying groans of her martyrs had gone up in remembrance before Heaven, and her retribution was fast approaching. "Mamma, button my shoe," and the like, can not be persuaded that each of these concessions is detrimental; but the wiser spectator sees that if this policy be long pursued, and be extended to other things, it will end in hopeless dependency. The teacher of the old school who showed his pupil the way out of every difficulty,chandise had been "slaves and souls of men;" did not perceive that he was generating an attitude of mind greatly militating against success in life. Taught by Pestalozzi, however, the modern instructor induces his pupil to solve the difficulties himself; believing that in so doing, he is preparing him to meet the difficulties which, when he goes into the world, there will be no one to help him through; and finds confirmation for this belief, in the fact that a great portion of the most successful men are self-made. He who helps himself when young, will know how and have the will heartily to help himself when the years of mature life are on him.-Herbert Spenser. The altars of her religion had been assailed; the foundations of her olden faith had begun to be shaken, for the far-off hills of Galilee had scarcely ceased to echo back the footsteps of the Son of God, and from the scene of his earthly pilgrimage-of his crucifixion and death-had come many a wandering disciple to tell, even in the great city, the simple truths of his Gospel. That a religion founded upon fables could not long stand against the simple but convincing truths of Christianity its followers well knew, and the old cry, "Our craft is in danger," had awakened many to redoubled efforts for preserving the time-worn superstitions of their ancient faith. Since the death of Nero the Christians had suffered but little molestation; but now in the last years of Domitian's reign persecution again raged with great fury. An edict had gone forth from the imperial throne commanding all subjects to return to their allegiance to the heathen gods. The penalty of refusal was well known. It was a time of trial. Then was put to such a test, as might well make the stoutest heart quail, the sincerity of this faith in Jesus. Men, women, and children, whose only crime was a belief that Christ is the Son of God, and a humble reliance upon the merits of his great atonement, were hunted down like beasts of prey-were cast into dungeons-were put to tortures, at which the stoutest heart might quail—were thrown to be torn in pieces by lions not more ferocious than they who sought to drown their mortal agony in laughs of derision, or in shouts of brutal triumph. having dreams as sweet as they upon their beds of straw. No sound breaks the stillness, save the far-off murmurings of the majestic Tiber, or the stealthy tread of the ever-wakeful patrols of the night. Conspicuous among the many gorgeous edifices which adorn the Palatine hill is a stately palace, the abode of one of the proudest patrician families of Rome. The moonbeams are reflected back from its gilded roof and richly adorned columns, and all its surroundings betoken it the abode of elegance and luxury. Let us enter. In the spacious court marble fountains send up their spray, and the sound of their gently falling waters makes sweet music upon the drowsy ear of night. Birds of bright plumage are reposing in golden cages, and exquisitely wrought statues, the rarest works of Grecian sculpture, adorn every niche and recess. We ascend the grand entrance by a flight of marble steps. Now we are in a chamber gorgeous enough for royalty itself; but what avails all this splendor, when its fair mistress is dying? Upon a couch of crimson and gold lies the emaciated form of the lady Cornelia, the widow of one of Rome's bravest and most honored sons, who, some years before, had fallen while leading the armies of his country against a distant foe. Since the death of her husband the lady Cor The flesh is weak, the love of life is strong, and no wonder that many, in view of all these terrors, faltered; but there were those who, despite them all, stood firm. Hoary old men there were, with tottering steps and feet almost in the grave-matrons with their infants at the breast-nelia had led a life of retirement, devoting heryoung men and maidens-little children even, who bore unflinchingly the agonies of torture and of martyrdom, "counting the sufferings of the present time as not worthy to be compared with the glory that should follow." Little can we, in this present day, when the name of CHRISTIAN is the one most honored upon earth; when to be a follower of the Savior is the surest passport to the confidence and esteem of our fellows; little can we realize what it was then to be a Christian. Little can we who, from Sabbath to Sabbath, attend the ministrations of the Gospel-often going up to the sanctuary with our thoughts engrossed in worldly matters-realize how precious was the "word" to them who, to listen to its blessed truths, must hide in the lone recesses of the mountains-must flee to dens and caves of the earth. Should our faith meet a like test, how many of us, think ye, would stand? Night has drawn its mantle around the imperial city. Tavern, temple, and lordly palace stand revealed in the clear moonlight; but the busy multitude who, by day, have thronged those now deserted streets are locked in slumber. The rich have sought their couches of down, the poor are self almost entirely to the education of her only child, now a fair maiden of eighteen summers. It had chanced, years before, that Marcus Valerius, during a campaign in the east, had one day seen exposed for sale a beautiful young Christian maiden, and thinking she would be an acceptable present to his wife had purchased her. Very lovely had the young captive looked as she stood trembling in that crowded mart, the long, black tresses falling over her fair shoulders, her downcast eyes half hidden by their jetty lashes, while upon her bosom glittered a cross of gold, the emblem of her faith. She was conveyed to Rome, and with her she bore a treasure more precious than aught the stately palace of her mistress contained; it was a copy of the Scriptures transcribed by her father's own hand, and which, when dying, he had bequeathed to hera priceless legacy. Helena had been but a few months in attendance upon her mistress ere intelligence came to the lady that her husband had been slain in battle. In the first violence of her grief she refused to be comforted. The tempest of sorrow having somewhat subsided, she went, accompanied by her little daughter and several of her attendants, to the temples of the gods, to place upon their shrines offerings for the repose of her departed lord. Priests were there in the flowing robes of their office. All the vain rites and ceremonies which the pagan creed prescribed were strictly observed; yet they seemed to the noble lady a very mockery, and well they might. She returned to her stately home more sad and desolate than ever. Helena was summoned, that by singing some of the sweet airs of her native land she might divert the attention of her mistress from this overwhelming sorrow. Never had her voice seemed to the lady's ear so sweet; never had a light so holy shed its radiance over her features as when, after a short prelude upon her harp, she sang: "There is a balm in Gilead, And a physician there; A God who heeds the voice of woe, His only Son he sent to earth We count all things but dross. In trusting confidence and faith, And will my gentle lady hear Her poor handmaiden tell Of the dear Jesus, who has gone Home with our Lord to dwell?" rows of earth, passed to mingle with the blessed- The lady Cornelia had embraced Christianity But a mightier grasp than that of the law was upon her. Death had marked her for his own, and Heaven to her was merciful. She was permitted to breathe her last in the abode of her ancestors. Let us again enter her chamber. With hushed voices and light footsteps the menials of that august household move round. The attendants have retired a few paces from the bed of their mistress, and but her fair young daughter remains at her side. The matron's voice is low and tremulous, yet her child listens with tearful eyes, and sobs which seem almost bursting her young heart. "My Octavia," she said, "I leave you in perilous times. Had my life been spared I should have placed the seal of martyrdom to this faith of mine. Such may be your lot, my child. Promise me that whatever may happen you will not deny your Savior, and your mother will die happy." "Strange words are these, my Helen, but go "I promise," said the young girl, while an inon; you may at least divert my thoughts from voluntary shudder ran through her slight frame. the subject which so incessantly haunts them," "Tis a solemn pledge, my daughter, but God, said the lady, interrupting the maiden's simple I know, can give you strength to keep it sacred. song. Helena proceeded. In artless yet touch- You know that I would fain avert from you this ing language she told of Christ and his mission-cup; that were it possible I would drink it in of his sufferings and death. She contrasted the pure Gospel he had taught with the idle mummeries of the heathen temple which they that day had witnessed. A deep impression was left upon the listener's mind; the subject was often resumed, and as she, too, read the Scriptures she became erelong convinced of their divine reality. Time passed, and the lady Cornelia and nearly her whole household had embraced the Christian faith. They had witnessed its power to bid the believer triumph over death, for not long did the gentle Helena tarry with them. Her mission accomplished, she had passed from the earth, but her life's ray went not out in that gloom which must have shrouded the pagan's mind. Faith illumined her pathway through the "dark valley," and in the blessed assurance of an immortal life, her spirit, released from the sor your stead. You know how well I love you, and "Should your strength fail you, read from this "Study this precious book when I am gone, my child. May Heaven avert from you the evil day which is so fast approaching! but in any event I would have you prepared for the worst. "Should you be summoned before this wicked tribunal of our land, think of your Savior, who was dumb before his accusers; who was led as a lamb to the slaughter, yet opened he not his |