accounts reached
us every week from India, telling us that refined and delicately-reared
English men and women were being brutally slaughtered or exposed to the
loathsome horrors of a lingering siege. What a paradise the humblest
cottage at home would have seemed to these poor creatures, though some
of them had been accustomed to 'stately homes.'

How beautifully this sentiment of gratitude for the common blessings of
life has been expressed by Emile Souvestre, one of the purest and
noblest writers of our time, and one whose early history presents an
instance of great obstacles and trials nobly met and overcome!

'If a little dry sand be all that is left us, may we not still make it
blossom with the small joys we now trample under foot. Ah! if it be the
will of God, let my labor be still more hard, my home less comfortable,
my table more frugal; let me even assume a workman's blouse, and I can
bear it all willingly and cheerfully, provided I can see the loved faces
around me happy, provided I can feast upon their smiles and strengthen
myself with their joy. O holy contentment with poverty! it is thy
presence I invoke. Grant me the cheerful gayety of my wife, the free,
unrestrained laughter of my children, and take in exchange, if
necessary, all that is yet left me.'

* * * * *

THE MOLLY O'MOLLY PAPERS.

NO. III.

When Dogberry brought Conrade before Leonato, the only offense he seems
to have had a clear idea of, was the one against himself: 'Moreover,
sir, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass. I beseech you,
let it be remembered in his punishment.' Shakspeare has, by this 'one
touch of nature,' made Dogberry kin to the whole world. It would be the
most terrible of punishments to run the gauntlet of a company, every one
of which you had called an ass; whatever may have been the original
offense, this would be the one most remembered in your punishment, I
don't think it would be possible to believe any thing good of one who
had given you this appellation; on the contrary, the reputed long ears
would be worse than the famous 'diabolical trumpet' for collecting and
distorting the merest whispers of evil against him who planted them, or
discovered them peeping through the assumed lion's skin. Apollo's music
probably sounded no sweeter to Midas after he received his 'wonderful
ear.'

But my object in introducing Dogberry was not to give a dissertation on
this grea