ce shown to our people, desirous of the right, but
lukewarm in faith and too credulous in the illusions of the old world,
the powerlessness of monarchy to insure the safety of Italy, and the
irreconcilability of papacy with the free progress of humanity. The
dualism of the middle ages is henceforward a mere form without life or
soul; the Guelph and Ghibelline insignia are now those of the tomb.
Neither Pope, nor King! God and the people only shall henceforth
disclose to us the regions of the future.

* * * * *

Future times--nay the present will do ample justice to Mazzini, as well
as to Pio Nono. In the first will be frankly recognized one of those
iron men who are able to beard tyranny and profligacy even while they
stand alone, the apostles of reformation, the originators and heralds of
after change. In the other--but the words just quoted anticipate as it
seems to us, and in no ungenerous spirit, the verdict and language of
history.

FOOTNOTES:

[27] Royalty and Republicanism in Italy; or Notes and Documents relating
to the Lombard Insurrection, and to the Royal War of 1848. By Joseph
Mazzini. Charles Gilpin.

[From the Keepsake for 1851.]

THE MOTHER'S LAST SONG.

BY BARRY CORNWALL.

Sleep!--the ghostly winds are blowing;
No moon's abroad; no star is glowing;
The river is deep, and the tide is flowing
To the land where you and I are going!
We are going afar,
Beyond moon or star,
To the land where the sinless angels are!

I lost my heart to your heartless sire;
('Twas melted away by his looks of fire;)
Forgot my God, and my father's ire,
All for the sake of a man's desire:--
But now we'll go
Where the waters flow,
And make us a bed where none shall know.

The world is cruel; the world's untrue;
Our foes are many; our friends are few;
No work, no bread, however we sue!
What is there left for us to do--
But fly--fly,
From the cruel sky,
And hide in the deepest deeps--and die!

[From the Ladies' Companion.]

A DRIVE ABOUT MY NEIGHBORHOOD IN 1850.

BY MARY RUSSEL MITFORD.

If there be one thing more than another in the nice balance of tastes
and prejudices (for I do not speak here of principles) which incline us
now to the elegance of Charles, now to the strength of Cromwell,--which
disgust us alternately with the licens