t. I went. I went into the house.'

* * * * *

THE EKKALAEOBION is the name given to an establishment opposite the
Washington Hotel, in Broadway, where the formation of chickens, _ab
initio_, is 'practised to a great extent.' And really, it is in some
respects an awful exhibition, to a reflecting mind. It is as it were a
visible exposition of the source of life. You see the pulse of existence
throbbing in the yet unformed mass, which assumes, day after day, the
image of its kind; until at length the little creature knocks for
admittance into this breathing world; steps forth from the shell in which
it had been so long 'cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in;' and straitway
walks abroad, 'regenerated, disenthralled,' and ready for its 'grub.' By
all means, reader, go and see this interesting and instructive exhibition.
It is provocative of much reflection, aside from the mere contemplation of
it as a matter of curiosity. . . . THE correspondent who sends us the
following, writes upon the envelope containing it: 'I have endeavored to
preserve the measure of the original, and at the same time to present a
literal translation.' It will be conceded, we think, that he has been
successful in his endeavor. Perhaps in some lines (as in '_Pertransivit
gladius_') the translation is a little _too_ literal:

STABAT MATER.

I. I.

Stabat mater dolorosa, Near the cross the Mother weeping
Juxta crucem lacrymosa, Stood, her watch in sorrow keeping
Dum pendebat filius: While was hanging there her SON:
Cujus animam gementem, Through her soul in anguish groaning,
Contristantem et dolentem, O most sad, HIS fate bemoaning,
Pertransivit gladius. Through and through that sword was run.

II. II.

O quam tristis et afflicta Oh how sad with woe oppressed,
Fuit illa benedicta, Was she then, the Mother blessed,
Mater unigeniti: Who the sole-begotten bore:
Quae moerebat, et dolebat, As she saw his pain and anguish,
Et tremebat, cum videbat She did tremble, she did languish,
Nati poenas inclyti. Weep her holy Son before.

III. III.

Quis est homo qui non fleret, Who is he his tears concealing,
Christi matrem si videret Could have seen such anguish stealing
In tanto supp