"one mighty genius who was nearly her
contemporary has done her the noblest justice."
In fact, Shakespeare alone has properly
appreciated and vividly portrayed the great talents
as well as the moral worth of the right royal
Katharine of Arragon.

Edward, the second Earl of Manchester,
became a great parliamentary general, and
helped to defeat Rupert on Marston Moor.
Cromwell, who hated all half-and-half
measures, accused the earl of refusing to complete
the rout and final destruction of the king's
army; and the earl, in return, accused Cromwell
of urging him to conspire against the
parliament. Cromwell finally was too much for
the earl, and the parliament deprived the luke-
warm earl of all his employments; a severity
he returned by helping to bring back Charles
the Second.

IN THE TROPICS.

The blue waves beat upon the coral reef,
The palm-trees bow their coronals of green,
Kissed by the soft south-west wind. Myriads
Of gold and purple-plumaged orioles,
Of scarlet-crested, snowy-wingèd birds,
Dash, dazzling meteors of living fire,
Across the forest track.
                                          The tiger sleeps,
Crafty and cruel-brooding, in his lair,
Waiting the veil of night, as Evil hides,
Shunning the bright rays of the glorious sun,
And battening on darkness. Crimson flowers
Hang from the creepers, where the boa lurks,
Coiling her deadly folds, with venomed eye
Fixed on the path beneath. The leopards crouch,
Half wakeful in the jungle; scene so fair,
At every onward footstep, threatens—Death!
Low, the red sun declines; within the brake
The stealthy jaguar begins to stir,
The jackal sounds the prelude of attack,
To warn our lingering footsteps. Safety now
No longer waits upon the traveller;
But discord, rapine, and a thousand foes,
Gaunt-eyed, and crimson-robed, and ravenous,
Rise into being 'neath the mask of Night.

MY NEIGHBOURS.

——Like a sick man's dreams,
Varies all shapes, and mixes all extremes.—FRANCIS.

IN a convalescent state, after a serious
illness that had rendered me wholly
incapable of mental exertion, I sat in my
arm-chair by the fire, while on the table
near me lay a volume of Eugene Sue's
Wandering Jew, and another containing a
portion of the history of the renowned
Pantagruel. I had been dreamily turning
over the leaves of both, and had been much
impressed by a chapter in the one last
named, that described how Alcofribas (as
Rabelais called himself) ascended the
giant's outstretched tongue, and thus entering
his mouth, discovered therein a new
world, the inhabitants of which had the
vaguest notions of everything that passed
beyond their own sphere.

"Is  not every one in London," I asked
myself, "much in the condition of the man
who planted cabbages within the precincts
of Pantagruel's jaws, and only had the
faintest knowledge that there was another
world illumined by a sun and moon? I
have lived at least six years in this house,
and what do I know of a certain Miss
Thugleigh, who lives next door, and of
whose ugly name I should never have
heard, had not a letter, directed to her, been
brought to me accidentally by the postman?
She has never left home at any
time when I have been looking out of
window; she is never in her garden,
which, by the way, is in a most neglected
state. I am only reminded of her existence
by an occasional noise. In London and
its suburbs, save by some rare accident,
is not every one in pretty nearly the same
position as I am with respect to Miss
Thugleigh? I know rather more of the man
who is her next-door neighbour on the
other side, and whose name seems to be
Bubblesworth, for the artist who comes to
shave me tells me that he has his hair
curled every morning, evidently intending
to hold up a good example before my eyes.
But knowledge like this is the very reverse
of exhaustive."

The pursuit of this foolish train of thought
had caused me to rise from my chair, and I
was staring vacantly into the glass on
my mantelpiece, when my attention was
suddenly arrested by a remarkable phenomenon.
The movements of the reflected
figure did not correspond to my own. If I
stirred it remained still, or moved in a
different manner. The eyes alone, which were
fixed on mine, obeyed the ordinary laws of
reflection. Presently my own arms being
folded, the figure extended one of its hands.
I extended a hand too, and the figure,
slightly inclining forward, grasped it firmly.
Instinctively I endeavoured to extricate
myself, but so far was I from succeeding, that
I felt myself pulled towards the glass. The
figure, then, was a reality, and a very
muscular reality too, for I could not resist it.
Whither was I going? It was soon evident
that there was no glass at all, but an aperture
in the wall surrounded by a gilt frame,
behind which was a room precisely
corresponding to my own. The position was
alarming.

On—on I was pulled, and for a few
seconds found myself enveloped in darkness.
I seemed conscious of nothing but
vacuity, when suddenly the grasp ceased,
and I was once more in the light, seated at
a table, opposite to a venerable old lady,
whose white hair, neatly parted from the