To excel them all in love; we'd read no books
That were not tales of love-that we might smile
To think how poorly eloquence of words
Translates the poetry of hearts like ours!

And when night came, amidst the breathless heavens
We'd guess what star should be our home when love
Becomes immortal; while the perfumed light
Stole through the mists of alabaster lamps,
And every air was heavy with the sighs
Of orange groves and music from sweet lutes,
And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth
I' the midst of roses!-Dost thou like the picture?

(By permission of the Author.)

AMY'S SECRET.

WILLIAM SAWYER.

THE window look'd on a sky of flame,
On the rosy bloom of a rippling bay;
Within we moved in an amber glow,
And purple even our shadows lay.

I lean'd by the curtain's folds and read
Wine-colour'd words in a page of light ;-
Did the sunset only dazzle my eyes?

Did its brightness only confuse my sight?

I had been home from the East a month,
And you know what passes for beauty there,
And I read to listening English girls,

VII.

English beauties, and few so fair.

They were two cousins, Amy and Maud,
(Seen in my dreams, oh! many a night,)
Maud with her dark eyes dreamy and full,
And fairy Amy rosy and bright.

15

Both so sweet and tender and true,

From a boy they had been beloved by me, And I often had thought, "Does either love? Am I more to either than friend may be?"

I read my journal. That was their will:
Page after page of my Indian life,
Dull enough, slow enough, Heaven knows,
With little of peril and less of strife.

Page after page of the daily round,
Monotony stamp'd on every leaf,-
Hunting a tiger, meeting a Thug,
Having a raid with a robber chief:

So ran the record, until at last

News of the Mutiny broke the spell,
And our regiment march'd on the rebel foes,
And my Journal told what there befell.

And here, as I read, my wandering eyes
At the listening faces stole a glance,-

At Amy, pale and with parted lips,

At Maud as she dream'd on this new romance.

Then on I sped to the closing scene,

Where a Sepoy dagger was at my heart, And I saw it glisten, and plunge, and thenBut Amy rose with a sudden start.

"No more! no more! Thank Heaven, you live!"
It was her voice the silence broke,
And Maud look'd up with a face surprised,
As if from a pleasant dream awoke.

I read no more. What need of the rest?
Enough in the sunset I had read.
She loved me, Amy !-her gentle heart
Spoke in the cry that told her dread.

She loved me! Faded the rosy West,

Faded the bloom of the rippling bay ;

But night could not chill, nor the dark depress,
While the thought of her love in my bosom lay.

(Copyright-contributed.)

TACT versus TALENT.

TALENT is something, but not everything. Talent is serious, sober, grave, and respectable. Tact is all that, and more too. It is not a seventh sense, but it is the life of all the five-it is the open eye, the quick ear, the judging taste, the keen smell, and the lively touch; it is the interpreter of all riddles, the surmounter of all difficulties, the remover of all obstacles. It is useful in all places, and at all times it is useful in solitude, for it shows a man his way into the world; it is useful in society, for it shows a man his way through the world. Talent is power; tact is skill. Talent is weight; tact is momentum.

Talent knows

Talent makes

what to do; tact knows how to do it. a man respectable; tact will make him respected. Talent is wealth; tact is ready money. For all the practical purposes of life, tact carries it against talent ten to one. Take them to the theatre, and put them against each other on the stage, and talent will produce you a tragedy that will scarcely live long enough to be condemned-while tact keeps the house in a roar, night after night, with its successful farces. There is no want of dramatic talent, there is no want of dramatic tact, but they are seldom together; hence we have successful pieces which are not respectable, and respectable pieces which are not successful. Take them to the bar, and let them shake their learned curls at each other in legal rivalry. Talent sees its way clearly, but tact is first at its journey's end. Talent receives many a compliment from the bench; but tact receives fees from attorneys

and clients. Talent speaks learnedly and logically; tact triumphantly. Talent makes the world wonder that it gets on no faster; tact excites astonishment that it gets on so fast-and the secret is, that it has no weight to carry, it makes no false step, it hits the right nail on the head, it loses no time, it takes all hints, and by keeping its eye on the weathercock, is ready to take advantage of every wind that blows. Take them into the church. Talent has always something worth hearing; tact is sure of abundance of hearers. Talent may obtain a living; tact will make one. Talent gets a good name; tact a great one. Talent conquers; tact convinces. Talent is an honour to the profession; tact gains honour from the profession. Take them to court. Talent feels its weight; tact finds its way. Talent commands; tact is obeyed. Talent is honoured with approbation; and tact is blessed by preferment. Place them in the senate. Talent has the ear of the house; but tact wins its heart and has its votes. Talent is fit for employment; but tact secures it. It has a knack of slipping into place with a secret silence and glibness of movement, as a billiard ball insinuates itself into the pocket. It seems to know everything, without learning anything; it has served an invisible sen-temporary apprenticeship; it needs no drilling, it never ranks in the awkward squad; it has no left hand, no deaf ear, no blind side. It puts on no looks of wondrous wisdom-it has no air of profundity -but plays with the detail of place as dexterously as a well-taught hand flourishes over the keys of a pianoforte. It has all the air of commonplace, with all the force and power of genius. It can change sides with an almost imperceptible movement, and be at all points of the compass, while talent is ponderously and learnedly sifting a single point. Talent calculates slowly, reasons logically, makes out a case as clear as daylight, and utters its oracles with all the weight of justice and reason. Tact refutes without contradiction, puzzles the profound with profundity, and without art

A Plea for the Ten Hours Factory Bill. 229

outwits the wise. Set them together on a race for popularity, and tact will distance talent by half the course. Talent brings to market that which is wanted; tact produces that which is wished for. Talent instructs; tact enlightens. Talent leads where no one follows; tact follows where the humour leads. Talent is pleased that it ought to have succeeded; tact is delighted that it has succeeded. Talent toils for a posterity which will never repay it; tact throws away no pains, but catches the passions of the passing hour. Talent builds for eternity; tact on a short lease, and gets good interest. In short, talent is certainly a very fine thing to talk about, a very good thing to be proud of, a very glorious eminence to look down from; but tact is useful, portable, applicable-always alertmarketable. It is talent of talent, the availableness of resources, the application of power, the eye of discrimination, and the right hand of intellect.—Imperial Magazine.

A PLEA FOR THE TEN HOURS FACTORY BILL.

JACOB JONES, Esq., Author of "A Century of Sonnets."

O, BRITAIN! O, my Country! stay the pest-
The epidemic canker-lust of gain-

Which threatens all things, sacred and profane,
And eats Man's heart away within his breast.
It stalks thy soil, with lep'rous front and mien,
And, its worst omen, shrinks not to be seen.
'Tis this insatiate lust, which grasping all

For Mammon, and his wealth-besotted few,
Would hasten, Britain! thy decline and fall,

And slay thee, as Rome's empire erst it slew. "Live, and let live," in characters of light,

Stamp on thy laws to check the slaves of gold, By whom their fellow-men are bought and sold, Unless the weaker find in thee their arm of might,