SOLID SILVER TABLE WARE, PRESENTATION SERVICES With unrivalled facilities for selecting fine Silver-Ware, our stock fully represents the latest and most approved designs GORHAM MANUFACTURING COMPANY. We are daily in receipt of specialties made by this company, and call attention to their new style of finish, both novel and pleasing in effect, without increase in cost. DESIGNS FOR PRESENTATION FURNISHED. Theodore Parker's Writings. NEW EDITION. A Discourse of Matters Pertaining to Religion. Sermons of Theism, Atheism, and Popular Ten Sermons of Religion. $1.50. Critical and Miscellaneous Writings. $1.50. Speeches, Addresses, and Occasional Sermons, 3 vols. $4.50 Additional Speeches. Addresses, and Occa- The Two Christmas Celebrations, A. D. I. and A Sermon of Immortal Life. 15 cents. HORACE B. FULLER, Publisher, NEW BOOKS. COFFIN-The Seat of Empire. 1 vol. 16mo. With Original Illustrations and Excellent Map. $1.50. This book sets forth the geographical and topographical features, the resources, attractions, and future prospects of the vast region west and northwest of Lake Superior. It contains full and reliable information in regard to soil, climate, productions, present and prospective railroad facilities, which renders it a most valuable handbook for emigrants seeking homes in the West. BRYANT-Homer's Iliad. Vol. 2, completing the work. 8vo. Uniform with LONGFELLOW'S DANTE $5.00. The two volumes in Half Calf, $ 20.00. "America may fairly claim to have produced the standard English translation of Homer. William Cullen Bryant's is a version alike for the academy and for the people. Any one who, knowing no word of Greek, has made himself master of this translation, is qualified to judge of Homer, not merely as a story-teller, but as a poet; and has filled his mind with the spirit, the grandeur the beauty, almost even the melody, of the greatest epic poem of all time."- The Independent. HAWTHORNE-English Note-Books. 2 vols. 16mo. Uniform with HAWTHORNE'S WORKS. $4.00. THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. A Magazine of Literature, Science, Science, Art, and Politics. VOL. XXVI.-JULY, 1870. - NO. CLIII. THE ALARM-BELL OF ATRI. "By Henry Wadsworth Ling. Now, Α T Atri in Abruzzo, a small town Of ancient Roman date, but scant renown, - So many monarchs since have borne the name, Then rode he through the streets with all his train, Was done to any man, he should but ring How happily the days in Atri sped, What wrongs were righted, need not here be said. Hung like a votive garland at a shrine. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by FIELDs, Osgood, & Co., in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. One afternoon, as in that sultry clime It is the custom in the summer-time, With bolted doors, and window-shutters closed, Turned on his couch, and listened, and then rose Went panting forth into the market-place, Where the great bell upon its cross-beam swung, In half-articulate jargon, the old song: "Some one hath done a wrong, hath done a wrong!" But ere he reached the belfry's light arcade, He saw, or thought he saw, beneath its shade, No shape of human form, of woman born, But a poor steed dejected and forlorn, A Meanwhile from street and lane a noisy crowd To heathen gods, in their excessive zeal. And set at naught the Syndic and the rest, That he should do what pleased him with his own. And thereupon the Syndic gravely read The Knight withdrew abashed; the people all Henry W. Longfellow. [July, I A SHADOW. SHALL always remember one winter evening, a little before Christmas-time, when I took a long, solitary walk in the outskirts of the town. The cold sunset had left a trail of orange light along the horizon, the dry snow tinkled beneath my feet, and the early stars had a keen, clear lustre that matched well with the sharp sound and the frosty sensation. For some time I had walked toward the gleam of a distant window, and as I approached, the light showed more and more clearly through the white curtains of a little cottage by the road. I stopped, on reaching it, to enjoy the suggestion of domestic cheerfulness in contrast with the dark outside. I could not see the inmates, nor they me; but something of human sympathy came from that steadfast ray. As I looked, a film of shade kept appearing and disappearing with rhythmic regularity in a corner of the window, as if some one might perhaps be sitting in a low rocking-chair beside it. Presently the motion ceased, and suddenly across the curtain came the shadow of a woman. She raised in her arms the shadow of a baby, and kissed it; then both disappeared, and I walked on. What are Raphael's Madonnas but the shadow of a mother's love, fixed in permanent outline forever? Here the group actually moved upon the canvas. The curtains which hid it revealed it. The ecstasy of human love passed in brief, intangible panorama before me. It was something seen, yet unseen; airy, yet solid; a type, yet a reality; fugitive, yet destined to last in my memory while I live. It said more to me than would any Madonna of Raphael's, for his mother never kisses her child. I believe I have never passed over that road since then, never seen the house, never heard the names of its occupants. Their character, their history, their fate, are all unknown. as disembodied types of humanity, the But these two will always stand for me Mother and the Child, they seem nearer to me than my immediate neighbors, the goddesses of Greece or as Plato's yet they are as ideal and impersonal as archetypal man. child, whether black or white, native or I know not the parentage of that foreign, rich or poor. ference. The presence of a baby equalIt makes no difizes all social conditions. On the floor of some Southern hut, scarcely so coma dusky woman look down upon her fortable as a dog-kennel, I have seen infant with such an expression of delight as painter never drew. No social culture can make a mother's face more than a mother's, as no wealth can make a nursery more than a place where chillars on your baby-clothes, and after all dren dwell. Lavish thousands of dolthe child is prettiest when every garnakedness, at least, may adorn the ment is laid aside. That becoming chubby darling of the poorest home. I know not what triumph or despair wayside house since then, what jubilant may have come and gone through that guests may have entered, what lifeless what sin may have come between that form passed out. What anguish or worlds they now wander, and whether woman and that child; through what separate or in each other's arms, — this is all unknown. Fancy can picture other joys to which the first happiness was but the prelude, and, on the other cial heritage of human woe and call it hand, how easy to imagine some spetheirs! "I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest, And Grief, uneasy lover, might not rest Save when he sat within the touch of thee." Nay, the foretaste of that changed the kiss. Who knows what absorbing fortune may have been present, even in |