stream. The first is a large civil station,
fashionable and select; at Chinsurah the Dutch
East India Company built their first factory in
1650; Chandernagore is a French town, forming
a little colony in itself, amenable to
different laws from those of the surrounding
country, and affording, under its tricolour flag,
a place of refuge to the runaway debtors and
scamps of Calcutta; Serampoor was the spot
chosen as the site of his mission by Dr. Carey,
the pioneer of British missionary efforts in
Bengal; and Barrackpoor, with its pretty park
and menagerie, is a favourite place of resort to
holiday makers. The houses of the latter town
are contiguous to the outskirts of Calcutta, and
from thence the sights that crowd upon our view
are various and interesting. But we cannot at
present do more than enumerate them, and so
we pass steadily on. On, past private houses,
factories, and native huts; past horrible
burning-ghats, where the smoke and stench rise
continually from funeral pyres; past crowded and
dirty wharves, where piles of goods await
removal to the ship, the train, or the warehouse;
past lines of crowded shipping, with labouring
crews and shouting coolies: past the ghat of
the East Indian Railway Company, whose
busy little steamer puffs backwards and
forwards continually, conveying passengers
between Calcutta and the train. On again,
past English counting-houses and merchants'
offices; on, past the Esplanade, with its
public gardens and promenades, and its pretty
line of East Indiamen that might well be
mistaken for men of war, moored close to the
bank; on, past Fort William, past the Maidan,
and Calcutta's Rotten-row, the Strand. On, past
lines of shipping again; past Kidderpore Docks;
past Allcypore, with its villa houses peacefully
reposing in beautiful grounds; past Garden
Reach, fallen from its suburban celebrity,
contaminated by the presence of the ex-King of
Oude; past the Botanical gardens and Bishop's
College; on, past Calcutta, native, mercantile,
civil, and military; on, past all signs of
human habitation, once more alone with the
swiftly-flowing stream. Then, the river widening,
and retiring with its mud and jungle-covered
banks to the verge of the horizon, no
other objects meet our gaze but lighthouses
and telegraphic stations, until at length the
lightship at the Sandheads rises into view, and
we remember that the Ganges is no longer with
us, but is merged in the boundless sea.

                        ORPHANHOOD.

   THE shadow of the forest trees:
   My childhood withered 'neath their spell,
   In the old home remembered well,
                      Shadowed by forest trees.

   The shadow of the forest trees,
   Between me and the clear sky spread,
   As I lay waking on my bed,
                     Shadowed by forest trees.

   The shadow of the forest trees:
   I wept and struggled for the light,
   But all around was black as night,
                    Shadowed by forest trees.

   The shadow of the forest trees
   Fell on my heart and on the stream,
   Which murmured by without a gleam,
                    Shadowed by forest trees.

   The shadow of the forest trees
   Robbed us of Life's enchanting plays;
   Both heart and stream were dark always,
                    Shadowed by forest trees.

   The shadow of the forest trees:
   We heard of love and of the sun;
   But in our gloomy world were none,
                  Shadowed by forest trees.

   The shadow of the forest trees:
   One morn they quivered in the blast,
   Wild moan'd the storm, and broke, at last,
                   The shadow of the trees.

   The shadow of the forest trees:
   'Mid tossing branches struggling through,
   I hailed a sky of happy blue,
                   Unshadowed by the trees.

   The shadow of the forest trees
   No longer hushed the streamlet's song;
   In glad sweet mirth it flowed along,
                   Unshadowed by the trees.

   The shadow of the forest trees
   Clouded no more the heaven above;
   My heart awoke to happy love,
                   Unshadowed by the trees.

   Alas, alas! the forest trees!
   Once more the time grew dark and still,
   Murmured no more the poor lone rill,
                   Shadowed by forest trees.

   Alas, alas! the forest trees!
   Again they closed around my head.
   And love, and hope, and joy were dead,
                    Shadowed by forest trees.

    Alas, alas! the forest trees!
    The stream is hushed, the gleam is past;
    This heart, wild beating, breaks at last,
                    Shadowed by forest trees.

    The shadow of the forest trees:
     Alas! for heart, alas! for stream;
     But both have had one blessed gleam,
                   Unshadowed by the trees.

     Despite the shadow of the trees,
     The heart has loved, the stream has sung;
     Now let their mournful knell be rung,
                  Shadowed by forest trees.

    THE GROWTH OF THE BAR.

"UNDER the law of nature and of Moses
there were no lawyers " (avocats), says
Boucher d'Argis, in his Short History of
the Order — or, as he goes on to explain,
"no class of persons professionally
appointed to defend the interests of others."
Under the Mosaic dispensation, men pleaded
their own cause in primitive fashion before
the tribunals; and such, for many ages,
was the simple rule of advocacy. Recent
events have seemed to favour the supposition,
that the primitive system is reviving
amongst us, the appearance of Miss Shedden
before the House of Lords, with her father
"to follow on the same side," having
something Mosaic in its nature. We know that,
in those old days, a man might bring down