might without difficulty be accomplished in a hundred circles; has been accomplished here at an expenditure which, divided into shares, must be comparatively trivial; and by an exercise of mutual trust, uncommon only in social life, and freely offered to a tenfold extent, and as a matter of course, by every business man to his mere business connections. But I have said enough, and the real value of the subject lies in a direction more practical than that of speech. My readers may frame the peroration to their own liking; for myself, I am but a poor second fiddle, content to preach while others have practised. SPRING. ACHESPE "Melt and flow, Cold white snow; Sunshine, bid the buds unfold." So whispers in a south wind Spring's sweet voice! Pale-robed in green Spangled all with white and gold, To mount her mossy throne; Nor cometh she alone. Attendant choirs of amorous birds rejoice! Blue skies, red-blossomed trees and lengthening hours, Say "Winter's reign is over,-He is dead, And buried in the swollen river bed !" J. B. LINES ON THE BURNING OF THE FREE LIBRARY AT BIRMINGHAM. Hark! through the streets that sudden cry of fire! Here Wisdom lived serene, and might be found And here were quaint and curious records stored, Both Art and Science, with consummate toil, The dower of ages long since passed away, Amid his works, the shade of Shakespeare reigned, Here too, might intellectual students gain For thee to make this hallowed place a hell. While through the windows liberated flames Inject swift floods to quench the foe within. Ten thousand souls, twice told, a rueful band For much they mourn, their native boast destroyed- Up the tall columns flaming phantoms steal, As if those sapient souls who gave them birth, Harsh manifesto of unfavoring Fate. Now, day declining seeks his wintry lair, Enough of gloom-the muse would now impart Know then, that while the kindled flames rose high, Then roused such generous ardour in the breast, Ere long, shall Learning, like the Phoenix rise-- C. SAVONAROLA. WITH the sole exception of the Holy Land, there is no country exercising a greater fascination over the minds of men than Italy. Its great men are the world's great men; giants in intellect, to whose names succeeding ages seem but to add additional lustre. The birthplace of our modern civilisation, it has produced some of the greatest and noblest names in politics, theology, literature, science, and art. It is the country of Cicero and of Dante; of Michael Angelo and of Petrarch; and, if some cynic should add, of Pope Alexander the Fourth, we would reply, "Yes, and of Savonarola." And if we claim for the latter a place in the bead-roll of fame, which contains the illustrious names we have just mentioned, and many more, surely we may appeal confidently to those who have studied his life, to say whether or no we are guilty of exaggeration. He who could lead captive one of the principal cities of Italy, and could win over that modern Sybaris, even though but for a time, to a nobler and a higher life, was surely possessed of no mean genius, and has a good title to be classed among the world's great men. Girolamo or Jerome Savonarola, came of no mean family. His grandfather Michael, a native of the city of Padua, attained such eminence at the University of that city, as a physician, that he was invited to settle in Ferrara, at the especial request of the Marquis of Este. His father Nicholas, has few claims upon our attention. He married a daughter of the house of the Buonacorsi, of Mantua, one of the most illustrious families of Italy; a lady possessed of those graces and accomplishments, which are not the necessary concomitants of noble birth. Such was the mother of Girolamo Savonarola, and we see in the son many qualities which he cannot but have inherited from her. He was born on the 21st of September, 1452, at Ferrara: the third of a family consisting of seven children. The eldest son entered the army; the second chose rather to manage his father's property; and so it happened that Girolamo was destined, in the minds of his parents, for the study of medicine. His grandfather too, as grandfathers will, seems to have made a pet of him; and there is little room to doubt, that had his inclinations lain in that direction he might have become a famous physician. But this was not to be, for his natural temperament was of a grave cast and inclined him to the cloister. When he was but ten years old, his grandfather died; and his father then undertook his education. That was the time of scholastic philosophy; and so, at an age when most boys are struggling with the merest rudiments of learning, Girolamo was studying the works of Aquinas and Aristotle. We are told too, that in addition to these more serious studies, "he read the i |