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“Most beautiful among the sons of men !

Oft known to weep, but never known to laugh." Again he is asked:

“ And tell me, she with eyes of olive tint,

And skin as fair as wheat, and pale brown hair,

The woman at his side?" And he answers,

“His mother-Mary.” Didron mentions a tradition current among the peasants of Champagne and Picardy that Jesus was a blonde. Sometimes the legend gives Him brown hair instead of wine-colored. In one version of the Lentulus letter it is said to "flow in those beautiful shades which no united colors can match.”

Below is given a copy of the celebrated letter of Lentulus, predecessor of Pilate in the proconsulship of Judea, to the Roman Senate:

"At this time appeared a man, who is still living and endowed with power. His name is Jesus Christ. His disciples call Him the Son of God. Others regard him as a powerful prophet. He raises the dead to life, and heals the sick of every description of infirmity. This man is of lofty stature and well proportioned; His countenance severe and virtuous, so that he inspires beholders with feelings both of fear and love. The hair of his head is of the color of wine, and from the top of the head to the ears straight and without radiance, but it descends from the ears to the shoulders in shining curls. From the shoulders the hair flows down the back, divided into two portions, after the manner of the Nazarenes. His forehead is clear and without wrinkle; his face free from blemish and slightly tinged with red; his physiognomy noble and gracious; the nose and mouth are faultless; his beard is abundant, the same color as the hair, and forked; his eyes are blue and very brilliant. In reproving or censuring, he is awe-inspiring; in exhorting and teaching, his speech is gentle and caressing. His countenance is marvelous in seriousness and grace. He has never once been seen to laugh, but many have seen him weep. He is slender in person; his hands are straight and long; his arms beautiful. Grave and solemn in his discourse, his language is simple and quiet. In appearance he is the most beautiful of the children of men."

It has been said that this letter is a forgery of the 9th or with centuries. Kugler says that it may possibly belong to the 3d century. The description is evidently taken from the portraits in the catacombs and other existing representations.

Whatever may have been the physiognomy of Jesus, we are sure that it could not be otherwise than radiantly beautiful; for it is not possible that One who was possessed of every spiritual grace and beauty should not also be the very perfection of physical grace and loveliness.

“ Was it not a thing to rise on death

With its remembered light, that face of thine,
Redremer, dimmed by this world's misty breath,

Yet mournfully, mysteriously divine !
Oh! that calm, sorrowful, prophetic eye,
With its dark depths of grief, love, majesty,
And the pale glory of the brow.”

M. A. LLOYD.

HORACE GREELEY.

THE death of Mr. Greeley was the only event that could

I have brought out the actual popular feeling for the man's real greatness. His candidacy had made him the butt of all the vile abuse that a well-known American must expect to encounter in such a struggle, a state of things which will more and more lead to the nomination of obscurities and vacuities—plenty enough already in the short list—to that office, such men being recognized by the political parties as the only safe nominees. All at once the vile attempts at mirth, attempts to associate an honored name with the laughter of fools, were checked. He had gone where our words of blame or praise could not reach him, and the laughers and mockers suddenly discovered how deeply they revered the man and gathered around that open coffin. Only the acrid voice of William Lloyd Garrison broke the silence by his protest ; alas that the first leader in the anti-slavery cause should have spent his later years chiefly in detracting from the glory of his great victory!

Mr. Greeley was a scion of that Scotch-Irish stock that has played so large a part in our history. His family belonged to the little Scotch-Irish group of settlements around Belfast (Me.) and Londonderry (N. H.), and when he was still a lad, removed to the larger area occupied by their kindred in our own State. By · their firesides were preserved the traditions of the great massacre of 1641, which Father Burke tells us never took place. They. like the other Scotch-Irish of New England, came to America before the second great struggle that the Garrison Colony of Ireland sustained for its existence (1688–1694). Mr. Greeley embodied their sterling qualities of character, their staunchness, their dauntless courage, their plainness of speech, their grasp of moral principle as the deepest root of things, their contempt for shams and make-believes, while the influence of American culture had freed him from the narrowness of view that detracts from their many excellencies. He and his family, however, had given up the severe and earnest theology of their fathers, and adopted that of the Restorationist Universalists.

His great achievement as an editor was in breaking down the conventional barriers that kept the press from free speech on all topics of interest. It was almost an impertinence in the ante

Tribune days for an editor to touch on many topics of the widest public interest. His earnest style of address—Men and Brethrengave offense and excited ridicule at first; but as the man's moral earnestness made itself visible, that respect, always sincere though not always reverential, that was felt for the Tribune's editor, took the place of every other emotion. His great services in the antislavery struggle have been made familiar to us by the eulogies of the last few weeks, as have those in the advocacy of protective doctrines. On the latter head he was stronger upon the rule-ofthumb arguments for practical men than upon the philosophic theory. He suited his arguments to counting-houses, not to the study of the scholar, although he accepted Mr. Carey's philosophic statement of the protectionist doctrines most fully.

It seems to us a very high merit in the man that he retained to the last such a capacity for moral indignation. It was a temptation of his position to take rascality and falsehood as a matter of course, and treat it merely with the jeering and sneering laughter of the cynic. Mr. Greeley never fell so low as to accept roguery as the natural outcome of human nature ; to the last he had a fiery furnace of wrath in him, fit to burn up the sins of the world. He would be fiercely and passionately in earnest, and speak ou his just anger in the sort of plain speech that the Bible uses, and

that is commonly supposed to favor another type of theology than the Universalist one:

His most singular service to the nation has received but very slight notice at the hands of his eulogists, and was but poorly appreciated during his life. We mean his unwearied assertion of the sanctities of family life as the basis of all society. From 1848, the date of his great controversy on Free Love with Mr. Owen, up to his death, he was the single prominent political man who saw how dangerous to social stability, and how subversive of all social order, that heresy must be. To him marriage was a taking “for richer and for poorer, for better and for worse, till death do us part," or longer. He could not look on the theory of its being a conventional and dissoluble compact, without utter abhorrence. To him the affections upon which the family life rests were not the silly impulse of a moment's sense of “affinity,” but the flower of the will, the outgrowth of solemn and earnest determination. His whole life bore protest against the looser view; his own wife was not a woman likely to make most men happy in the married relation, although in most respects an excellent woman. He said of her not long before his death that he married her for love, and had loved her ever since.

His philanthropy was of the sort that recalled the old days when the word won its honors, when it was not the name of a profession in which men drew fat salaries and led an easy life. Nor was it of the acrid, censorious sort, that combines kicks with half-pence. He even took pity on the shiftless good-for-nothings that were born with no capacity for getting on, holding that the better endowed members of the race owed them a helping hand; this was the secret motive to many of the acts that led people to regard him as soft-headed as well as soft-hearted, and robbed him of much of the credit he deserved as a shrewd student of human nature. On the other hand, he preached endlessly and with some inconsistency against the ceaseless alms-giving, that only robs the poor of their self-respect, and imparts no help and no impulse to a permanent improvement of their condition.

The nation has lost in him one of its best and noblest advisers; one who made mistakes when questions were suddenly sprung upon him, but one who discerned more clearly than any other—as a bitter opponent confessed—the long drifts of public opinion, and helped to direct them wisely. His last great political declaration—that for universal amnesty—we regard as eminently illustrative of this fact, and the day is not far distant when his services in promoting the Christian principle of generous forgiveness will be acknowledged as they ought. Peace to his ashes.

NO GAME FOR CUPID.

Love in a melancholy way
Through a great city walked, one day;
The city's name I shall not say.
His bright blue eyes with tears were dim,
And (what was stranger still for him)
To flirt he did not even try
With pretty girls who passed him by,
But with a mournful glance he eyed
The quiver hanging by his side,
His bow first tested well, to see
If out of order it could be,
and next his arrow points did feel,
But found them keen and sharp as steel ;
Then pouting cried: “I aim with care,
My bow's well strung-my arrow's fair,
But human hearts have grown so tough,
That nothing can be sharp enough,
Unless indeed the golden dart,
Which pierces through the hardest heart.
Of these I only had a few;
And now my stock I've quite run through.
What shall I do? It's very clear
I can't buy more; not that they're dear-
I'd pay well for a little fun-
But there are none in market; none
Available at present. Stay !
There goes a man who is, they say,
The greatest swell in town ; if he
Will lend a helping hand to me
I soon can have enough of game.

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