girl! whom having overshadowed with his ineffable passion of death—­suddenly did God relent; suffered thy angel to turn aside his arm; and even in thee, sister unknown! shown to me for a moment only to be hidden for ever, found an occasion to glorify his goodness.  A thousand times, amongst the phantoms of sleep, has he shown thee to me, standing before the golden dawn, and ready to enter its gates—­with the dreadful word going before thee—­with the armies of the grave behind thee; shown thee to me, sinking, rising, fluttering, fainting, but then suddenly reconciled, adoring:  a thousand times has he followed thee in the worlds of sleep—­through storms; through desert seas; through the darkness of quicksands; through fugues and the persecution of fugues; through dreams, and the dreadful resurrections that are in dreams—­only that at the last, with one motion of his victorious arm, he might record and emblazon the endless resurrections of his love!

DINNER, REAL AND REPUTED.

Great misconceptions have always prevailed about the Roman dinner.  Dinner [coena] was the only meal which the Romans as a nation took.  It was no accident, but arose out of their whole social economy.  This we shall show by running through the history of a Roman day. Ridentem dicere, verum quid vetat?  And the course of this review will expose one or two important truths in ancient political economy, which have been wholly overlooked.

With the lark it was that the Roman rose.  Not that the earliest lark rises so early in Latium as the earliest lark in England; that is, during summer:  but then, on the other hand, neither does it ever rise so late.  The Roman citizen was stirring with the dawn—­which, allowing for the shorter longest-day and longer shortest-day of Rome, you may call about four in summer—­about seven in winter.  Why did he do this?  Because he went to bed at a very early hour.  But why did he do that?  By backing in this way, we shall surely back into the very well of truth:  always, if it is possible, let us have the pourquoi of the pourquoi.  The Roman went to bed early for two special reasons. 1st, Because in Rome, which had been built for a martial destiny, every habit of life had reference to the usages of war.  Every citizen, if he were not a mere proletarian animal kept at the public cost, held himself a sort of soldier-elect:  the more noble he was, the more was his liability to military service:  in short, all Rome, and at all times, was consciously “in procinct."[1] Now it was a principle of ancient warfare, that every hour of daylight had a triple worth, if valued against hours of darkness.  That was one reason—­a reason suggested by the understanding.  But there was a second reason, far more remarkable; and this was a reason dictated by a blind necessity.  It is an important fact, that this planet on which we live, this little industrious earth of ours, has developed