THE GOLDEN ROBIN. BY M. A. C. ON a still, summer day of the last season, I observed from a window that looked into a garden, a Golden Robin of extraordinary beauty. After watching it for some time, and while in the act of putting into verse the impressions received, a message arrived, informing me of the death of a revered relative. The circumstance gave a new turn to the thought in the latter half of the verses: Where the ripening russets hang, The joyous creature sprang, Gayly the softly stirring leaves amid,— Now on a tiny stem, Hung like a living gem, And now once more among the branches hid. Creature of joy and light, Born of the sunshine bright, Thou leapest onward through the foliage green; How gayly hast thou sung, Then bathed thy breast in the day's golden sheen. Thy home is in the tree, O being blithe and free! The quivering leaflets all around thee play Companions of thy life, They move in playful strife, And woo the beauteous one with them to stay. Boston. My heart is in me stirred, At sight of thee, O bird! With gorgeous tinted wings and breast of gold; Sweet dweller of the air, And solemn thoughts within me fast unfold. Art thou a spirit bright, From yonder fields of light, A messenger from that far world unseen? Didst thou descend afar, To wake unwonted thoughts my soul within? A spotless cloud I see, Above the apple tree; Was that thy car of glory to the earth? An echo from the throng Of spirits won from woes of mortal birth? Sweet nature's darling child, Art thou, O robin mild! Yet thought, deep, earnest thought thou givest me,— Where mortal hath not been, And e'er returned that we its home might see. There is a Life in God, Serenely shed abroad, To cheer the heart that faints at earthly grief; The love that sweetly blends With the heart's yearnings mid our sojourn brief. Of old the sacred dove, A pledge of plenteous love, A beam of brightness from the sapphire throne, When He, who came to save, His Father's will mid wondering crowds would own. By no unearthly word, Is yon fair concave stirred; Yet thou, sweet wanderer, art a pledge of grace; To float the woods among, Hides not from lowly hearts his smiling face. THE FOUNTAIN AT WILHELMSHOHE. EDITORIAL. THE beautiful engraving in our present number presents to the American reader objects of special interest. Wilhelmshohe, or William's Height, is the name of the palace belonging to the Elector of Hesse Cassel, and is his summer residence. It is situated one league from his capitol. The whole distance between the two places is a vista lined with linden trees. Nature and art have vied in adorning this locality. The most prominent object, as seen in the engraving, is the great fountain, which, rising to the height of two hundred feet, descends like a moving veil of silver light, touching the earth with feathery spray! Back of the lake from which this fountain rises, is an aqueduct built over fourteen arches, through which the water is driven with a fall of a hundred feet. Still farther in the rear, there is a triple cascade nine hundred feet long and forty feet wide, containing basins at intervals of one hundred and fifty feet, from each of which, beautiful sheets of water flow down. In one of these basins rises an artichoke-plant of vast size sculptured in stone. From the leaves of this plant ascend twelve fountains in arches, the central one rising to the height of forty feet. From another basin rise the head and shoulders of the colossal giant Enceladus, with a mouth seven feet wide, capable of throwing up a jet of water fifty-five feet. By a smaller basin is seen the statue of Polyphemus in a sitting posture. This one-eyed monster is made to play, by means of water, seven different tunes on seven pipes. Near this, on one side of a grotto, is a centaur, and on the other, a fawn, both of which blow a blast from copper horns as long as the water plays. Such are some of the wonders of Wilhelmshohe, the expenses of which were so enormous, that it was deemed expedient to destroy the accounts thereof in order to guard against the reproach of future generations. We may, however, gain some idea of their cost from the fact, that two thousand men were employed in their erection for the space of fourteen years. This whole subject is invested with special interest by the consideration, that the government of Great Britain paid the Elector fifteen millions of dollars for Hessian troops employed against the Americans during the war of the Revolution; and the money thus obtained was expended mainly in beautifying the capital and summer residence of the monarch. These splendid specimens of art are rapidly going to decay. "Sic transit gloria mundi." There is no prospect that they will ever be repaired, certainly not from such resources as were used in their construction, for the Elector can spare no troops from his own domains, threatened as they are by foreign invasion. Says an American traveller, who recently visited that country, "It detracted much from the pleasure of viewing the splendid palaces and parks in the vicinity of Cassel, to think that they were the price of blood; and I could not resist telling our German friends, that, were I a citizen of Hesse, I should rather see these monuments of my country's infamy entirely obliterated." DOING GOOD. How often do we sigh for opportunities of doing good, whilst we neglect the openings of Providence in little things which would frequently lead to the accomplishment of most important usefulness! Dr. Johnson used to say, "He who waits to do a great deal of good at once, will never do any." Good is done by degrees. However small in proportion the benefit which follows individual attempts to do good, a great deal may thus be accomplished by perseverance, even in the midst of discouragements and disappointments. Crabbe. MUSIC COMPOSED FOR THIS WORK BY L. MARSHALL. Allegro Moderato. Treble. Alto. -b 1. Two mutual hearts are like the rills, In sol-i-tude when sin-gle, 2 bb A Bass. 1. Two mutual hearts are like the rills, In sol-i- tude when sin-gle, Tenor. Db2 bb4 b That wan-der from the mournful hills, In riv-er streams to min-gle; That wan-der from the mournful hills, In riv-er streams to min-gle; b Ꮎ b bb And then a-long the fer-tile vale, And then a-long the fer-tile vale, Their And then a-long the fer-tile vale, |