as nothing in it of that tinge of earth--for there is no word for
the thought--which identifies the loveliest and happiest faces with
mortality. There was no shade of care upon her dazzling brow--no touch
of tender thought upon her lip--no flash, even of hope, in her radiant
eyes. Her expression spoke neither of the past nor the future--neither
of graves nor altars. She was a thing of mere physical life--a gay and
glorious creature of the sun, and the wind, and the dews; who exchanged
as carelessly and unconsciously as a flower, the sweet smell of her
beauty for the bounties of nature, and pierced the ear of heaven with
her mirthful songs, from nothing higher than the instinct of a bird.

It seemed as if what was absent in her mind had been added to her
physical nature. She had the same excess of animal life which is
observed in young children; but, unlike them, her muscular force was
great enough to give it play. Her walk was like a bounding dance, and
her common speech like a gay and sparkling song;--her laugh echoed
from hill to hill, like the tone of some sweet, but wild and shrill
instrument of music. She out-stripped the boldest of the youths in the
chase; skimmed like some phantom shape along the edge of precipices
approached even by the wild goat with fear; and looked round with
careless joy, from pinnacles which interrupted the flight of the eagle
through the air.

With such beauty, and such accomplishments, for the place and time, how
many hearts might not Julie have broken! Julie did not break one. She
was admired, loved, followed; and she fled, rending the air with her
shrieks of musical laughter. Disconcerted, stunned, mortified, and
alarmed, the wooer pursued his mistress only with his eyes, and blessed
the saints that he had not gained such a phantom for a wife.

_Romance of History._

* * * * *

INTERIOR OF ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL.

If in exterior magnificence St. Paul's surpasses all our other
buildings, the interior, however, from many causes, is not so beautiful.
You enter, and the naked loftiness of the walls, and the cold and barren
stateliness of every thing around, would induce one to believe that an
enemy--were such a thing possible in Britain--had taken London, and
plundered the cathedral of all its national and religious paintings,
together with a world of such rare works of curiosity or antiquity
as find a sanctuary in the great churches of other countries.