Altogether, we have been much gratified with these Conversations.  As a hint, en passant, we remind the editor of such an oversight as that at p. 350-1, “Order in which the strata lies in the Paris basin.”

* * * * *

THE IDLER.

There were many newspapers in the room, but there was nothing in them.  There was a clock, but it did not seem to go; at least, so he thought, but after looking at it for a very long time he found it did go, but it went very slowly.  Then he looked at his watch, and that went as slow as the clock.  Then he took up the newspapers again one after the other very deliberately.  He read the sporting intelligence and the fashionable news.  But he did not read very attentively, as he afterwards discovered.  Then he looked at the clock again, and was almost angry at the imperturbable monotony of its face.  Then he took out his pocket-book to amuse himself by reading his memorandums, but they were very few, and very unintelligible.  Then he rose up from his seat, and went to the window; and looked at the people in the street; he thought they looked very stupid, and wondered what they could all find to do with themselves.  He looked at the carriages, and saw none with coronets, except now and then a hackney-coach.  Then he began to pick his teeth, and that reminded him of eating; and then he rang the bell, which presently brought a waiter; and he took that opportunity of drawling out the word “waiter” in such lengthened tone, as if resolved to make one word last as long as possible.—­Rank and Talent.

* * * * *

THE BATTLE OF GIBEON.

VERSES ILLUSTRATIVE OF MARTIN S JOSHUA.

“For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise and garments rolled in blood but this with burning and fuel of fire.”—­ISAIAH ix. 5.

  From Gilgal’s camp went forth, at dead of night,
    The host of Israel:  with the rising sun
  They stood arrayed against the Amorite,
    Beneath the regal heights of Gibeon,
  Glorious in morning’s splendour!  Lebanon,
    Dim in the distance, reared its lofty head;
  Light clouds o’erbung the vale of Ajalon,
    And the Five Armies, by their monarchs led,
  Not to mere mortal fight, but conflict far more dread.

  How beautiful, at matin’s early prime,
    Valley, and mountain, and that city fair! 
  Magnificent, yet fearfully sublime,
    In few brief hours the scene depicted there! 
  Below the battle raged, and high in air
    The gathering clouds, with tempest in their womb,
  A supernatural darkness seem’d to wear;
    As heralding, by their portentous gloom,
  Victory to Israel’s host, her foes’ impending doom!