only restrained from following up the first assault by the united force of all the females, who hung about him, while the older brother, grasping a heavy billet of wood, and pale with rage, stood awaiting his antagonist.  Passing through the group of weeping and terrified women, Madame Ossoli made her way up to the younger brother and, laying her hand upon his shoulder, asked him to put down his weapon and listen to her.  It was in vain that he attempted to ignore her presence.  Before the spell of her calm, firm, well-known voice, his fury melted away.  She spoke to him again, and besought him to show himself a man, and to master his foolish and wicked rage.  With a sudden impulse, he flung his knife upon the ground, turned to Madame Ossoli, clasped and kissed her hand, and then running towards his brother, the two met in a fraternal embrace, which brought the threatened tragedy to a joyful termination.]

[Footnote C:  It will be understood, that this officer was the Marchese’s older brother, who still adheres to the Papal cause.]

[Footnote D:  She believed herself to be, and I suppose really was, under the surveillance of the police during her residence in Florence.]

HOMEWARD.

BY W.H.  CHANNING

* * * * *

  Last, having thus revealed all I could love
  And having received all love bestowed on it,
  I would die:  so preserving through my course
  God full on me, as I was full on men: 
  And He would grant my prayer—­“I have gone through
  All loveliness of life; make more for me,
  If not for men,—­or take me to Thyself,
  Eternal, Infinite Love!”

  BROWNING.

        Till another open for me
        In God’s Eden-land unknown,
        With an angel at the doorway,
        White with gazing at His Throne;
  And a saint’s voice in the palm-trees, singing,—­“ALL IS LOST, and won.”

  ELIZABETH BARRETT.

  La ne venimmo:  e lo scaglion primaio
    Bianco marmo era si pulito e terso,
    Ch’io mi specchiava in esso, qual io paio. 
  Era ’l secondo tinto, piu che perso,
    D’una petrina ruvida ed arsiccia,
    Crepata per lo lungo e per traverso. 
  Lo terzo, che di sopra s’ammassiccia,
    Porfido mi parea si fiammegiante,
    Come sangue che fuor di vena spiccia. 
  Sopra questa teneva ambo le piante
    L’ angel di Dio, sedendo in su la soglia,
    Che mi sembiava pietra di diamante. 
  Per li tre gradi su di buona voglia
    Mi trasse ’l daca mio, dicendo, chiodi
    Umilmente che ’l serrame scioglia.

  DANTE.

  Che luce e questa, e qual nuova beltate? 
    Dicean tra lor; perch’ abito si adorno
    Dal mondo errante a quest ’alto soggiorno
    Non sail mai in tutta questa etate. 
  Ella contenta aver cangiato albergo,
    Si paragona pur coi piu perfetti.