THE CAPUCHIN MONK.

BY THOMAS GRAY, JR.

He sat him down within his narrow cell,

Lonely, yet not alone, around him stood

The bold, but shadowed types of life and death-
The King of Terrors, and the mightier king,
The King of Righteousness-and as he gazed
On the blest Virgin and her holy child,
Then on the grisly monarch, thus he spake :

"Over the hall and hearth,

Over the stormy main,

And the battle-field, and the bowers of mirth,
Monarch! 'tis thine to reign.

Over the bleeding heart,

Where crushed affections flow;

Over affliction's dart,

And sorrow's heaviest woe,

Saviour! 'tis thine to charm the pang away,
And from the King of Terrors rend his prey.

"The social hearth, the hall,
Earth, and the stormy main,

Hearts, kindred, friendships, all

Crushed 'neath thy iron reign,

All-all did'st thou beneath thy sceptre bring

Master! behold thy master-king! thy king.

Where are thy terrors now,
King of the conquered grave?
A mightier power than thou

Hath come with strength to save, And o'er thy prostrate throne it brings The mastery of the King of Kings."

"THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN."

BY EPHRAIM PEABODY.

is a me

The spirit

THIS such is the language we often hear chanical age. The soul has left the world. to do and endure nobly, heroic purpose and achievement, faith, devotion, these are gone. Society is hard, grasping, mechanical, commercial, with little in its sentiments or pursuits to interest more generous natures. The world has become tame and common-place.

-a mechanical

But, is it so? Is the world tame and common-place, in reality, or, does it only seem so, because the heart and eyes of him who thus complains, are sealed up, and he cannot see what is around him? It seems to us, that there was never a time, when the highest and noblest sentiments of humanity were more alive. Doubtless this is to use the accredited phrase age,- -an age in which outward good is sought with an ardour, and energy, and enterprise never seen before; but what moves the busy wheels of this visible mechanism? It does not go of itself. There must be some power beneath and out of sight, competent to produce these vast results. That power is in the soul of man. If there is more visible activity and accomplishment in the world around us, it is because the invisible life of the soul is more intense. Could we see the depths as well as the surface, we should see that passion and affection have not decayed — that the central fires remain

and that, though old volcanoes may be extinct, new ones are ever ready to burst out. Even if the sharp contrasts of one of our best poets are true, if

"Ours are the days of fact, not fable,"

though it be true that

"Noble name and cultured land,
Palace, and park, and vassal band,
Are powerless to the notes of hand
Of Rothschild, or the Barings,"

it does not by any means follow, that poetry, or enthusiasm, or nobility of sentiment have diminished. So far from it, there is, probably, at this moment, in "Alnwick," in the midst of its petty traffic, more of living faith, and pure affection, and enthusiasm directed towards noble ends, than in the best days of the Percies. These sentiments always flourish, just in proportion as an improved civilization, by furnishing a greater variety of resources, and opening wider spheres of action to individual enterprise, enables men to become more independent and self-dependent.

There is a spiritual element interfused through the whole material world, and which lies at the source of all action. It is this which lifts the world out of chaos, and clothes it with light and order. The most ordinary act springs out of the soul and derives its character from the soul. It seems trifling, only because its spiritual origin is forgotten. While on the surface of life all may be calm, it is startling to think what mysteries of passion and affection may be beneath. Though heedless of it,

we move in a universe of spiritual life. It is with us as with men that lie dreaming in their beds at sea, between whom and the ocean is but a single plank. Cabined, cribbed, confined in our narrow, individual existence, there is all the time rushing by us, its moanings in our ears, its tremblings reaching to our hearts, the mystic tide of spiritual life.

"The spirit giveth life." We need not go far, if we will but open our eyes, to see how the most ordinary acts of man are penetrated by a spiritual element. And where this is, nothing can be tame or common-place. Nothing, at first sight, is more worldly and unspiritual than a commercial newspaper. It deals solely with the affairs of the day, and with material interests. Yet, when we come to consider them, its driest details are instinct with human hopes, and fears, and affections; and these illuminate what was dark, and make the dead letter breathe with life.

For example:-in the paper of to-day, a middle-aged man seeks employment in a certain kind of business. The advertisement has, in substance, been the same for weeks. For a time, he sought some place which presupposed the possession of business habits and attainments. Then there was a change in the close of the advertisement, indicating that he would do any thing by which he could render himself generally useful to an employer. And this morning there is another change. He is willing to commence with low wages, as employment is what he especially wants. All this is uninteresting enough. Yet what depths of life may lie underneath this icy surface of business detail. It is easy for the fancy to seek out and make the acquaint