God than the fruits of any other tree? In them is shown the almighty power, wisdom, and art of God, who has made them out of nothing." The crossbow with which the eldest boy shoots at the apples of the Christmas-tree reminds us of a letter which Luther wrote in 1530, from Coburg, to his son, then four years old; and in which he told him of "the gay beautiful garden; the many children; the apples and pears; the fine little horses with golden bridles and silver saddles; the fifes, cymbals, and grand silver crossbows." Melancthon is occupied with the little bowman, while "Aunt Lena" looks at a book with the younger boy; and the eldest girl, Magdalen, rejoices in a doll representing the angel of the Christmas festivalas if she had felt a presentiment of soon becoming an angel herself. This hint of the artist prepares us for the solemn nature of the next picture. Luther's finest traits are those known in his domestic life. He valued woman and home. Had I been seized with a fatal illness, I should have wished to summon some pious maid to my death-bed, and wed her, presenting her with two silver goblets as a wedding-gift and morrow's present, (morgengabe,) in order to show how I honored marriage. No one will ever have to repent rising early and marrying young. . . It is no more possible to do without a wife than without eating and drinking. Conceived, nourished, borne within the body of woman, our flesh is mainly hers, and it is impossible for us ever to separate wholly from her. Had I wished to make love, I should have taken thirteen years ago to Ave Schonfelden, who is now the wife of Doctor Basilius, the Prussian physician. At that time I did not love my Catherine, whom I suspected of being proud and haughty; but it was God's will; it was his will that I should take pity on her; and I have cause, God be praised, to be satisfied." "The greatest grace God can bestow is to have a good and pious husband, with whom you may live in peace, to whom you can trust everything, even your body and your life, and by whom you have little children. Catherine, thou hast a good and pious husband, who loves thee; thou art an emperess. Thanks be to God!" WE THE HOOD MEMORIAL. E give a representation of a testimonial, raised by public subscription, to the memory of Thomas Hood, in Kensal-green Cemetery, England, after a lapse of nine years from the distinguished poet's death. The Memorial is an appropriate and tasteful composition by Noble. It consists of a large bronze bust of the poet, elevated on a pedestal of polished red granite; the whole twelve feet high. In front of the bust (which is pronounced an excellent likeness, and has been modeled from authentic portraits) are placed three wreaths (in bronze), formed of the laurel, the myrtle, and the immortelle. On a slab beneath the bust appears Hood's simple self-inscribed epitaph : "He sang the Song of the Shirt.'" Upon the projecting front of the pedestal is carved this inscription : "In Memory of THOMAS HOOD. Beneath, at the base of the pedestal, a lyre and comic mask (of bronze) are flung together-suggesting the mingled pathos and humor in every page of Hood's writings. The most attractive portions of the Memorial, and those in which the sculptor's ability has been most fully developed, are the medallions inserted in the sides of the pedestal. These are oval in form, and illustrate Hood's fine poems, "The Bridge of Sighs" and "The Dream of Eugene Aram." In the first-named composition, the poor victim of deluded hope and love is seen just raised from the watery grave, into which she had rushed headlong to escape from the pangs of cureless remorse and shame, and the consequent "burning insanity" which had rendered life insupportable : "Mad from life's history, Out of the world! released from school, playing in the distance. "Like sportive deer they coursed about, Turning to mirth all things of earth, In the second medallion there is a terrible moral conveyed: the observer is made to feel, by the whole character and erection of monumental tributes to literary Objections are frequently urged to the bearing of the principal figure, that "woe, men; it being asserted that an author's woe, unutterable woe," is the sure fate of writings form his best monument. Miss those who spill "life's sacred stream." Mitford's donation to the fund was acThe haggard countenance and the shud-companied by the following remark :-"It dering aspect of Eugene Aram powerfully portray the dread workings of a guilty conscience : "The crimson clouds before his eyes, In striking contrast to the mental agony is not so much for Hood's sake, as for the honor of England, that such a testimony is needed;" and thousands of grateful admirers have confirmed that estimable lady's opinion. The subscription list is an interesting one, and proves how Thomas Hood's writings have endeared him to all classes of his readers. The Duke of Devonshire placed his name at the head, with a liberal donation of A TRIP FROM ST. PETERSBURGH TO CONSTANTINOPLE. JASSI-CHURCH OF THE THREE SAINTS-MOLDAVIAN Country houses; the latter, it must be ac- SHALL not weary you with the details davia, for I would fain forget the achings of my bones which will ever make the route a memorable one to me; the mere recital renews them, so sensibly were they impressed upon my memory. Very gratefully, however, would I recall my first view of Jassi, for it was to be a haven of rest from my wanderings for a brief season. Its elevated situation gives a pleasant impression to the traveler who approaches from the mountain which overlooks it, beneath which it sits in repose with its feet bathed in the waters of the Bacchlui. Before it rises Mount Bordelu, in the midst of most picturesque scenery; and on the other side of the city a lovely landscape stretches out, as much like an English park as it is possible to imagine. The roads are bordered with vineyards and VOL. V.-30 knowledged, are not of the most elegant construction, and in this particular have little harmony with the beauty of nature built to meet the sheer necessities of their occupants, without regard to gracefulness of outline. In the interior of the city, this want of taste and regularity is still more striking; the buildings are without order or arrangement either in their form or situation. Some of them have a side to the street, while others present their kitchens and stables for public inspection, and some conceal their deformities behind high board fences. The streets are as disagreeable as they can be made by the two scourges with which they are alternately visited: the black liquid pasty mud of winter, becomes in summer a dry stifling dust, which blinds and chokes at the same time. Broken windows and crumbling walls are seen in every direction, for nothing is ever repaired; while |