MY EARLY FRIEND.

WHERE is the sunny brow, the soft and sportive glee.
The step of fairy lightness, the laugh of melody?

My early friend! we parted in the spring-time of thine years:
I prayed that peace might be thy lot through this sad vale of tears;
Some traces of time's work, of earth's woes, I looked to see,
But not this silent stamp, alas! of hopeless misery.

My early friend! thy guileless heart was tender as the dove,
With clinging trust and faith in those, who sought thy youthful love;
Harsh words and cold reproving looks were never known by thee,
And thy sweet tears were shed alone in purest sympathy:
Not loss of children, friends, or kin, not poverty's sharp care,
Hath stamped thy snowy brow with that look of mute despair.

'Twas the slow but dread awakening to a strange and lingering doom, The apathetic blight of mind, which cast its chilling gloom;

Amid the world of strangers, uncherished and unknown,
Ah! easy 'twas to crush thee, my loving, gentle one!
The flowers of a hardy kind can bear the nipping frost,
But delicate and fragile things soon by neglect are lost.

Too well, too late thou know'st, I would have died to save thee,
From every pang that must await our earthly destiny;
Thy life should'st have been poetry, and music, and delight,
And thou, the fairy spirit, the brightest of the bright.
But angels now await thee, thy home is with the blest,
My early friend! my gentle friend! betake thee to thy rest!

C. A. M. W.

LITERATURE.

NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

Noble Deeds of Woman, or Examples of Female Courage and Virtue. By Elizabeth Starling. Third Edition. London : Henry G. Bohn.

To review a work which has reached a third edition, appears almost an act of supererogation, as that would seem sufficiently to testify the high appreciation in which it is already held by the public in general. But it is not so; there may be some, and, even amongst the numerous and enlightened readers of the "Metropolitan Magazine," who have only a superficial knowledge of this treasury of female heroism, tenderness, self-devotion, and presence of mind, truly astonishing, truly admirable, truly angelic, and yet of which not one woman should be ignorant. For, although it may please a gracious God to preserve her from the peculiar trials which elicited the instances of extraordinary greatness and superiority, of which she must really stand in awe, as fearing the power of imitation; still, as it is impossible to say for what any of us are reserved, in a world teeming with eventful changes and startling vicissitudes, it is as well to know of what a woman can be capable, when the energies of her soul, the affections of her heart are called into action; to shield and save those dearer to her than life-the father, brother, son, or husband. How she can, then, throw aside every selfish consideration, every idea of fear, foregoing every long-accustomed feminine custom and luxury, enduring every fatigue, braving every danger, submitting to every indignity, and, in fact, becoming more courageous than man, because stimulated to exertion by a more godlike purpose.

In the volume before us, we have nearly three hundred well authenticated proofs of the " Noble Deeds of Woman," displayed in her "maternal, filial, sisterly, and conjugal affection, humanity, integrity, benevolence, courage, presence of mind, hos

pitality, gratitude, loyalty, eloquence and patriotism." What a glorious list! Well might the cardinal virtues be designated feminine! Who shall now cant about the limited " rights of woman?" Has she not, has she not ever had, the most enviable, the most inalienable of all rights, that of evincing the fidelity, the affection which is ever strongest in adversity? Of rearing her sons to honour, her daughters to chastity, encouraging the one sex to integrity by the reward awaiting it from the other, and only to be obtained by uprightness, boldness, and a manly disdain of corruption or danger?

Has she not the right of shedding the light of happiness around the domestic hearth, in the season of man's tranquillity and joy; and of being still more radiantly bright for him, in the dark and sullen hour of grief and misfortune?

Has she not the right of silencing the sceptic tongue, and compelling the libertine eye to quail before the majesty of virtue? Has she not the right of inspiring piety by her precept and example, and teaching the erring heart to seek for that peace which indeed passes man's understanding?

O woman! great and grand are thy rights; mighty, most mighty are thy privileges! Use them only as the Giver of all good intended thee to use them, for his glory and the salvation

of mankind!

That such a work should have been compiled by a woman, appears most meet. None but a woman would have had the patience necessary for such research, yet, that it was a labour of love to the fair authoress, appears evident throughout. We therefore, can only offer her our sincere congratulation on the success it has already met with, with the ardent hope of a fourfold increase ere long, unmixed with one feeling of that commiseration, the thought of overtasked literary toil invariably begets in those who can feel for others.

Spiritual Heroes; or, Sketches of the Puritans, their Character and Times. By John Stoughton, author of "Windsor in the Olden Time." London: Jackson and Walford.

We have delayed our notice of this interesting work, in the hope that we should have been able to give to it more than a slight notice; in this respect, however, we have been disappointed. We now mention the work, to commend it heartily to all who desire to be familiar with one of the brightest pages presented by the history of the past. Mr. Stoughton is a careful workman, and has skilfully brought together things new

and old.

SWISSIANA.*

CHAPTER II.

An old Friend.

"The isle is full of noises,

Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears.-Tempest.

AFTER our scamper down the Jura, I was glad enough to clamber up the diligence, and ensconce myself once again in its lofty banquette; for, besides feeling wearied, the heat had become so intense that any shelter from the scorching rays of the sun was welcome, and the straight road conducting to Nyon afforded, so far as I could then perceive,-though afterwards I found I was mistaken,-nothing but

"Un chemin mal aisé,

Et de tous les côtés au soleil exposé."

So onwards we rattled amid clouds of dust, the cracking of whips, the shouts of infantine gangs assembled in the hamlets through which we passed, and the curses of the guard, forming altogether so discordant a concert, that I was relieved when we drew up before the neat auberge at Nyon, so charmingly situated on the borders of the lake, upon whose waters I gazed with a longing eye, and into which I would willingly have taken a dive. This, however, was impossible, the conductor having cautioned us not to stray far from the inn, as we should have to resume

• Continued from page 339, vol. lii. August, 1848.-VOL. LII.—NO. CCVIII.

EE

our journey almost immediately, which inclined me to regard the cool waters before me with much the same feeling of disappointment as the wandering Arab does the mirage of the desert. The sun was now at its meridian, and the heat overpowering; I was half choked with dust, and my mouth glued with thirst. All this, with a lake lovelier in its reality than perhaps any ever conceived in the realms of fairy land, at a few paces from me, a plunge into which would have done me so much good, yet impossible, was distracting enough; so I descended from the diligence, resolved at least to taste its waters. With this intent, I hailed a lad who was standing near the hotel door to bring me a cup or glass of some sort, putting at the same time my hand into my fob, at which sight he rushed forward, exclaiming, "Monsieur is thirsty?"

"Yes, my lad; and if you'll run and fetch me a cup I'll reward you."

"But monsieur would not drink the lake water; it is not good. Let me give you something."

"No! no!" cried I, my thoughts reverting to the beer I had tasted at the foot of the Jura; "I hate beer."

"But not limonade gazeuse," exclaimed a voice at my shoulder. It was that of a female, and its tones were sweet and musical. I looked round, and found them to proceed from a fair-haired damsel, with blue eyes and rosy lips, who carried a tastefully worked osier basket containing several bottles filled with liquor, besides a quantity of grapes and melons. She wore so very different a costume from those I had seen in France and already in the canton, that a slight description of her appearance will not be out of place. From a boddice of dark material, fitting exquisitely, and showing to much advantage her velte embonpoint, fell a skirt of coarse cloth to a little above the foot, just allowing a delicate ankle room to peep out and be seen, while her slight shoes with sandals favoured its doing so. Her sleeves were short, and puffed out above the elbows. Her neck a piece of black velvet encircled, clasped in front by a brooch of agate stone. A straw hat, with wide, o'er-spreading brims, to keep her bonnie cheek from the rude glare of Phoebus, was stuck gracefully upon her head, from which flowed pendant silken curls. It was, in fact, a fancy dress; and one something similar, though not so gaudy, but more durable, than those we see upon the stage, when "happy Swiss peasants, full of primitive simplicity and pastoral contentment," are intended to be personated. It had, however, this advantage, that here I viewed it in character, and the wearer of it a contented looking child of nature, in a lovely spot; not a poor painted doll of the boards, a denizen of some two-pair-back. I got the pretty Swiss to display the