XVI. a nobilissima matrona Anglicana diu conservatum
et tandem, donationis ergo Deo, et Societati Jesu consecratum."

On the plate there is an inscription, with a double certificate of its
authenticity, which states, that this veil, a family treasure of the
expelled house of Stuart, was finally in possession of the last branch of
that family, the cardinal of York, who preserved it for many years in his
private chapel, among the most precious relics, and at his death bequeathed
it to Sir J. Hippisley, together with a valuable Plutarch, and a Codex with
painted (illuminated) letters, and a gold coin struck in Scotland in the
reign of queen Mary; and it was specially consecrated by Pope Pius VII. in
his palace on the Quirinal, April 29, 1818. Sir John Hippisley, during a
former residence at Rome, had been very intimate with the cardinal of York,
and was instrumental in obtaining for him, when he with the other cardinals
emigrated to Venice in 1798, a pension of L4,000. a-year from the Prince of
Wales, now King George IV.; but for which, the fugitive cardinal, all whose
revenues were seized by the French, would have been exposed to the greatest
distress. The cardinal desired to requite this service by the bequest of
what he considered so valuable. According to a note on the plate, the veil
is eighty-nine English inches long, and forty-three broad, so that it seems
to have been rather a kind of shawl or scarf than a veil. If we remember
rightly, Melville in his Memoirs, which Schiller had read, speaks of a
handkerchief belonging to the queen, which she gave away before her death,
and Schiller founds upon this anecdote the well-known words of the farewell
scene, addressed to Hannah Kennedy.

"Accept this handkerchief! with my own hand
For thee I've work'd it in my hours of sadness
And interwoven with my scalding tears:
With this thou'lt bind my eyes."

DREAMS.

Oh! there is a dream of early youth,
And it never comes again;
'Tis a vision of light, of life, and truth,
That flits across the brain:
And love is the theme of that early dream.
So wild, so warm, so new,
That in all our after years I deem,
That early dream we rue.

Oh! there is a dream of maturer years,
More turbulent by far;
'Tis a vision of blood, and of woman's tears,
For the theme of that dream is war:
And we toil in the field of danger and death,
And shout in the battle array,
Till we