Vischer and Adam Krafft, including, besides, the great Nuremberg door and the effigies of the archbishop electors of Mayence. Among the French examples are the bas-reliefs from the choir of Nôtre Dame. Among the samples of Italian art are selections from the works of Pisani, and the great altar of the church of Or San Michell, the celebrated work of Andrea Orcagna. Besides these, there are selections from the architectural and monumental remains of England; altogether the most comprehensive and valuable collection of the kind ever brought beneath a single roof.

the preponderance of Egyptian material— enough to give an old-world aspect to what we may call the court end of the edifice. There is a sphinx, which may almost vie in dimensions with the great Sphinx of the Desert; and a brick throne is erected in front of the grand entrance, for a couple of Egyptian colossi, who confront the visitor on his entering from the gardens-their motionless forms towering above him to the height of some fifty or sixty feet.

Besides the courts we have visited, there is a Sculpture Court, containing the works of Thorwalsden, Canova, Gibson, Wyatt, M'Dowell, Lough, Rauch, Tieck,Tenerani, Benzoni, Rimaldi, Marshall, and numerous other celebrated men. Then we also have a Walhalla, or Temple of Fame, containing the busts and statues of the greatest men of every age and country-heroes, statesmen, and warriors, popes, philosophers, and savans, architects, poets, dramatists, and musicians, from all parts of the

The Renaissance or Elizabethan Court presents the greatest novelty to the mass of visitors. The façade is a restoration of the Hô Bourgtherould at Rouen, with the basso-relievos of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, representing the meeting of Francis and Henry in 1520. Here also are the celebrated Florentine gates, by Ghiberti, said by Michael Angelo to be worthy to be the gates of Paradise; the famous win-world-forming a school for the student dow of the Cortosa, of Pavia, and the of biography and a shrine for the aspirant elaborate alti-relievi, accounted the most for fame. marvelous works of the kind in existence, sculptured by Bambeya to adorn the entrance of the Cortosa; the monument of John Galeazzo Visconti; and the entire frieze of the Hospital of Pistojia. The Nymph of Fontainebleau stands over the entrance from the garden; the great Caryatides of Jean Gougon, the finest productions of modern art, stand on each side of the door-way; and Germain Pilon's exquisite group of the Graces takes its place in the center of the court. The Elizabethan specimens consist of such examples as the tomb of Henry VII. by Torregiano, that of Queen Elizabeth in Westminster Abbey, and select specimens of carving in various kinds of material.

In the Italian Court are found specimens of the works of the revived classical period. The architectural details are founded on the Cortile of the Farnese Palace at Rome. In the center is seen the Fountain of the Tortoises, with statues in bronze, and around the fountain the reclining statues of Morning, Noon, Twilight, and Night, the great masterpieces of Michael Angelo for the Medici Chapel; the group of the Pieta by Bernini; also the Pieta of Angelo.

While wandering about in this huge wilderness, we cannot help being struck with

The profusion of statuary, both in the building and in the grounds, forms a marked feature of the People's Palace, and we know no more agreeable and striking contrast which the combination of art and nature can produce. It must be remembered that the palace itself is a garden ; the whole of the sides of the nave, the transepts, and the divisions between the several courts on either side being filled with plants, shrubs, and trees from every clime, interspersed with animals, statues, fountains, and works of art. As any required temperature may be maintained within the building through the whole year, the vegetable productions of any latitude may be preserved in all their native vigor, and exotics which perish beneath the rigor of winter, will continue to flourish from year to year.

Looking at the People's Palace in the light of an educational institution, we are justified in regarding it as one of no trifling value. It will offer, as we have seen, unprecedented facilities for the study of the arts in all their industrial applications-of geology-of natural history-of botany—of mechanics—of manufactures— and of many things more which are scarcely of less importance. It is worth a passage across the Atlantic to see.

L

SLEEPERS AWAKENED.

dence once more dawning on his mind. We do not pretend to interpret what they whispered; but it is certain that, soothed by the chimes, he yielded to a gentle and profound slumber, in which his wife found him shortly afterward.

Care was at first taken not to break this desired repose; but as noon, evening, night, nay, a second day passed, and still it continued, his family became alarmed, and tried to rouse him. In vain! The awful slumber was as inexorable as that of death itself. It bound his senses in an iron forgetfulness. He could not be awakened by sound or touch. Sun after sun rose and set, and still the deep sleep continued. Meantime the evils he had dreaded gathered round his family. His physical condition preserved his personal freedom; but an execution was put in his house, and his wife and daughters were exposed to the direst evils of poverty. The rumor, however, of his trance-like slumber was noised abroad, and reached the lordly dwelling of a nobleman who resided near the spot, though he was not one of the clergyman's parishioners. Being much given to the study of physical

ET us introduce our reader to a small chamber in a country parsonage. The room presented a perfect picture of neatness, quiet, and repose. It was very plainly furnished, but manifested a certain elegance and refinement in the arrangement of the few simple ornaments on the chimney-piece, the flowers and books, and the old china cup of cooling drink that stood on a small round table by the open window, through which the warm air of summer stole softly, laden with perfume from the mignonette and stocks that flourished in the little garden beneath it. The sun's rays, broken by the fresh green leaves of a large walnut-tree, cast a clear, pleasant light through the snowy dimitycurtains of the bed on the face of an invalid who lay there, gazing, with the listlessness of weakness, on the glimpse of blue sky visible from the open casement. It was a countenance that sunlight might be imagined to love, so good and gentle was it. Nor did its expression belie the heart within. A holy, charitable, unselfish man was that village pastor; but with the resemblance he bore-and it was a strong one-science, he visited the parsonage to reto Goldsmith's portrait of his brother, there mingled much of the thoughtlessness and improvidence of the poet himself; and the consequence of his boundless charities, and of his ignorance of money-matters, had led him into embarrassments, from which he saw no escape. He would have cared little had his difficulties affected his own comfort only; but they fell likewise on those dearest to him, and anxiety for their sakes preying on his affectionate and rather timid spirit, the probable shame of an execution in his house, and the nervous horror he felt at the idea of being consigned to a prison, had brought on his present illness, and haunted his thoughts as he lay there in solitude after many restless nights of agonized and perplexed reflection, listening to the church-bells ringing for Sunday service, at which a stranger was to fill his place. From the days of Whittington to the present, the imagination has frequently given a language to those airy voices; and the poor pastor, as he lay overpowered and exhausted by long hours of painful and fruitless meditation, felt the nightmare, like a load of care which oppressed him, pass off as he listened, and a childlike faith in the goodness of ProviVOL. V.-35

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quest permission to see the sleeper, and thus learned the varied sorrow that had fallen on its gentle inmates. With equal delicacy and generosity, he proffered as a loan the means of paying the harsh creditors, assuring the poor wife that if her husband should ever wake, he would give him the means of repaying the pecuniary obligation. The offer was thankfully accepted, and the debt discharged. For the following two days, Lord E- was a regular visitor at the parsonage.

Sunday morning again dawned-once more the sunlight fell on the sleeper's pillow, and the bells called men to pray. Beside the couch were seated the miserable wife and her noble friend. The faint, regular breathing of the trance-chained man deepened and to her anxious ear the difference was perceptible, though Lord

E

it.

shook his head, as she told him of She bent eagerly over the pillow: there was a slight flutter of the eyelids; she held her breath, and clasped her hands in an agony of expectation and dawning hope. The hand so long motionless, stirred; the eyes opened: she could not speak for overpowering joy. The sleeper raised his head, slightly smiled on her, and

observed: "I thought I had slept longer -the bell has not yet ceased ringing!

describe. She tried to speak or cry, but vainly--she had no power of utterance; it was equally impossible for her to raise her hand or open her eyes, as she vainly endeavored to do. She felt as if she were imprisoned in a dead body. But when she heard them talk of nail

of her mind attained its height and agony, the funeral-hymns reached her ear, the anguish mastering that awful spell of unnatural slumber, and producing the moisture on her brow which saved her from being entombed alive.”

He was unconscious that a whole week had elapsed since its tones had soothed him to rest. The wife fainted, and was conveyed from the chamber. The doctoring the lid on her, and the mournful music of was summoned; he found his patient weak, but not otherwise ill. A still more extraordinary mental cure had been effected by the genius of Sleep: he had totally forgotten his threatened difficulties, and from that hour recovered rapidly. Lord Econferred a living of some value on him; and when he was strong enough to bear the disclosure, his wife informed him of the loan so nobly bestowed on them, and the suffering from which he had been so marvelously preserved. The lesson was not lost. The new rector henceforward strove to unite prudence with generosity; and a career of worldly prosperity, as well as the far greater blessing of an implicit

and cheerful faith in Providence, attended the renewed life of the sleeper awakened. In this instance the sleep or trance was dreamless and unconscious. But there is one remarkable case on record,* in which the body only of the sleeper was subject to this deathlike thraldom of slumber, the mind remaining awake; and the account given by the individual who endured this interval of life in death, is very singular and interesting. She was an attendant on a German princess; and after being confined to her bed for a great length of time with a nervous disorder, to all appearance died. She was laid in a coffin, and the day fixed for her interment arrived. In accordance with the custom of the place, funeral songs and hymns were sung outside the door of the chamber in which the fair corpse lay. Within they were pre

paring to nail on the lid of the coffin, when a slight moisture was observed on the brow of the dead. The supposed corpse was of course immediately removed to a different couch, and every means used to restore suspended vitality. She recovered, and gave the following singular account of her sensations:

"She was perfectly conscious of all that passed around her; she distinctly heard her friends speaking and lamenting her death; she felt them clothe her in the garments of the grave, and place her in the coffin. This knowledge produced a mental anxiety she could not

In an old Magazine, dating 1798; and also in Dr. Crichton's Essays.

One more little anecdote of a somewhat similar kind, which was related to us on the authority of a Hastings fisherman, and we will close our paper. It occurred durThe people of England ing the cholera. have an especial horror of this terrible scourge, and nothing will induce them to believe that the infection is in the air, and not in the person affected by the complaint; consequently it was difficult, in some places, to persuade them to perform the last offices for the dead, and they hurried the interment of the victims of the pestilence with unseemly precipitation. A poor seafaring-man, who had been long absent from his native land, returning home at the time it was raging, found that his wife had been dead about three days, and that her coffin had been placed in a room with those of others, who, lodging in the same dwelling, had also perished of the disease. Greatly afflicted, the sailor insisted on seeing his dead wife. The neighbors would have dissuaded him; but his affection and grief disdained all fear, and he rushed into the chamber of death. There, forcing open the lid of the coffin, and bending over the beloved corpse, the rude mariner shed tears, which fell fast upon the pallid face, when suddenly a sound, something like a sigh, was emitted from the white lips, and the next instant the exhausted and deathlike sleeper opened her eyes, and gazed up in his face! The joy of the poor fellow be well imagined. may

THERE are two processes of civilization which go on, sometimes in conjunction, sometimes separately: one is moral civilization,—that is, beliefs, laws, and the customs and virtues of a people; the other is material civilization,-that is to say, the more or less progressive development of the purely manual or industrial trades and arts. When, by the term civilization, we compound these two processes, we render our meaning obscure.-Lamartine.

AMBROSIAL READINGS FROM THE

GERMAN OF SCRIVER. CRIVER was born at Rendsburg, in

preacher in several places, died at last in 1693, as Hofprediger and Oberconsistorialrath at Quedlinburg. A "quiet and peaceable life;" and there remain as the fruits thereof some six dozen volumes of the delightfulest reading, if our faith be of that simple kind which can nourish itself thereby. He is never at a loss for a text: all God's creatures point him God-ward he hath ever a ready eye to detect the lurking lesson, and the rendering he gives of what he reads is usually, in its quaintness and simplicity, very beautiful.

THE BIRD IN THE CAGE. GOTTHOLD* had a singing-bird, which he had kept in a cage for some time. It had become so accustomed to its prison, that it not only sang gaily and pleasantly, but even when the door was set open, showed no desire to get out. "Ah," he thought in his heart, as he saw it, "if I could but perfectly learn from this little bird to be content with mine estate, and resigned to the will of God! O that I could but once become rightly accustomed to the manner and the ways of my God, and could from the heart believe that he cannot mean any evil with me! This little bird is in captivity, but because it has food always enough, it is content, and hops and sings, and has no wish to alter its condition. God surrounds me oft with all manner of cross and affliction, but he has never let me be lacking in comfort and aid, and why then am I not happy? Why, even in tribulation, do I not sing and thank my God with joyful heart? One might, indeed, as Luther expresses himself, take off the hat before such a little bird and speak to it, My dear Sir Bird, I must acknowledge that I understand not this art in which thou excellest. Thou sleepest the night over in thy little nest, without all care, arisest again in the morning, art cheerful and well at ease, and dost sit and sing, and praise and thank the Lord, and thereafter thou goest to seek thy food and

findest it: now, my God, I will also be
contented and glad: I will desire naught
save what thou wilt. I would not be free
from my cross, from my calamities and

Yes, I desire not to be in thy heaven, so
long as thou wilt that in this troubled
world, in this weary life, I should still
serve thee and thy Church.
Let thy
will be my heaven, thy counsel my wis-
dom, thy pleasure my delight. My desire
is that it go well with me in time and
everlasting: such is thy will too: our
purpose is one, only about the means and
And what mat-
ways we are not agreed.
ters it that thou leadest me otherwise
than I in my folly deem good, if thou yet
leadest me well, and I attain at last to
that which I long after?"

BEANS IN BLOSSOM.

WHEN the beans are in blossom they give forth a very sweet and lovely odor, which the wind wafts to us often from afar. And as Gotthold once smelt this sweet perfume, he recollected how he had read somewhere, that the islands, Ceylon, Madagascar, and others, on which costly spices grow in abundance, send forth such a powerful fragrance that people can frequently sooner smell these islands than see them. Thereupon, with a hearty cheerfulness, he said: "My God, if these earthly fruits can yield me such a charm, what may I expect from the heavenly? Ah, how many fragrant airs do thy faithful ones enjoy, brought there out of the land of life by the heavenly Pentecost wind, thy gracious Spirit! Therein they have a sample and a foretaste of blessedness. And were it not for that, how might they endure so great tribulation ?"

THE VIOLET.

As a nosegay of blue violets was presented to Gotthold one March, he was charmed by their lovely perfume, thanked his God who had bestowed so manifold means of refreshing on man, and took occasion therefrom for such thoughts as these :-"This fair and fragrant flower doth very agreeably represent to me a humble and God-loving heart. It grows Gotthold is Scriver's nom de guerre in these parables. It is this imaginary Gotthold that and creeps, a lowly plant, upon the earth; sees all the sights, and reads us all the lessons. | but is prankt in most heavenly blue, and