ens, and the
heavens gave the signal to the sun; and in one minute after the
Daughter of Lebanon had fallen back a marble corpse amongst her white
baptismal robes, the solar orb dropped behind Lebanon; and the
evangelist, with eyes glorified by mortal and immortal tears, rendered
thanks to God that had thus accomplished the word which he spoke
through himself to the Magdalen of Lebanon--that not for the thirtieth
time should the sun go down behind her native hills, before he had put
her back into her Father's house.

_De Quincey._

GETTING UP ON COLD MORNINGS

An Italian author--Giulio Cordara, a Jesuit--has written a poem upon
insects, which he begins by insisting, that those troublesome and
abominable little animals were created for our annoyance, and that
they were certainly not inhabitants of Paradise. We of the north may
dispute this piece of theology; but on the other hand, it is clear as
the snow on the house-tops, that Adam was not under the necessity of
shaving; and that when Eve walked out of her delicious bower, she did
not step upon ice three inches thick.

Some people say it is a very easy thing to get up of a cold morning.
You have only, they tell you, to take the resolution; and the thing is
done. This may be very true; just as a boy at school has only to take
a flogging, and the thing is over. But we have not at all made up our
minds upon it; and we find it a very pleasant exercise to discuss the
matter, candidly, before we get up. This at least is not idling,
though it may be lying. It affords an excellent answer to those, who
ask how lying in bed can be indulged in by a reasoning being,--a
rational creature. How? Why with the argument calmly at work in one's
head, and the clothes over one's shoulder. Oh--it is a fine way of
spending a sensible, impartial half-hour.

If these people would be more charitable, they would get on with their
argument better. But they are apt to reason so ill, and to assert so
dogmatically, that one could wish to have them stand round one's bed
of a bitter morning, and lie before their faces. They ought to hear
both sides of the bed, the inside and out. If they cannot entertain
themselves with their own thoughts for half an hour or so, it is not
the fault of those who can. If their will is never pulled aside by the
enticing arms of imagination, so much the luckier for the
stage-coachman.

Candid inquiries into one's decumbency, besides the greater or less