Whence do you come, you unrequited Longings,
                From what remote grey shore,
You, whose uplifted and remembered faces
                Look backward evermore?

You who, from the unperceived horizon
                For ever round us cast,
Summon to shadowy and brief existence
               The phantoms of the past.

In sunny fields or cloud-enveloped cities,
               Under the midnight skies;
Alone, or, with the crowded world communing,
               You look into my eyes.

Your gentle voices, tender with emotion,
               Rich with divine delight,
Fall round me till I breathe and walk entrancéd,
               A spirit world of light.

Turn from the past, you unrequited Longings,
               Turn from that barren shore;
There are the graves of our departed kindred,
                But they are there no more.

Lift up your faces to the shining Future,
               Unto the better place,
There shall we meet you in celestial beauty,
               Before the Father's face.

      RUSSIAN FOUNDLING HOSPITALS.

ON a bright sunny day, with a brilliant
atmosphere, we were admiring, in September of
the present year, the magnificent prospect from
the top of the Kremlin: a view hardly to be
equalled. After attempting to count the three
hundred and sixty-five churches which are said
to exist in Moscow, and after scanning the
spots pointed out where the great fire of 1813
began and ended, and where the first Napoleon
watched the ruin of his plans, our eyes
rested on a vast building in one of the more open
spaces outside the walls of the fortress. We
learned it was the Foundling Hospital, and,
having a weakness for babies of all nations,
we determined upon making that one of our
objects. The following morning at an early
hour was appointed for our visit, and, punctual
to the time, we were introduced to the decorated
and accomplished director, who courteously
conducted us over the immense building, and gave
us every information we could desire.

The hospital is of vast extent, four stories
in height, each floor very lofty, forming a
large square, surrounding an inner court, which
is laid out as a garden, and is nearly as large as
Hanover-square, London. Projecting from one
side, the building is still further extended to a
wing in the shape of the letter L, and in the
space in front there is again a garden of
considerable size, laid out in broad walks with
flower-beds. The basement floor of this extensive
pile is occupied chiefly with the offices,
with ranges of cellars for wood, and stores of
various descriptions.

As we approached the principal entrance
through the outer gardens, we saw from fifteen
to twenty children, varying from two or three
to eight or ten years of age, very neatly and
comfortably clad, playing and walking about
in groups, with young good-natured-looking
women attending upon them, all well fed and
happy. These young nurses were all dressed in
uniform costumes, and so were the children; the
boys in long grey great-coats and grey cloth caps,
with little boots drawn over their trousers; the
girls with grey-hooded cloaks and large white
bonnets of cotton.

We were then informed that this great
establishment consisted of two divisions; one of
which was limited to the orphan and quite
friendless children of nobles, who were brought
there at any age when their destitution was
recognised, maintained, and educated, at the
expense of the state, and fitted out in the world
when of the proper age. The children we saw
in this garden were a few of these nobles.

We ascended a flight of broad iron steps, and
were conducted to the range of rooms where the
accounts and general management of the
hospital are carried on. Desks covered with large
folios, shelves lined with the same, all numbered
according to the year; busy clerks and
messengers, and all the arrangements of an extensive
department.

We shall return to these rooms, to enter into
the details of the plans. We were first taken
to the show places: the chapel, highly gilded
and ornamented, with the pictures on the walls
and on the sides and over the altar, according
to the usual mode of the Russo-Greek Church,
which admits of no images, although there is
quite as much of kissing and bowing as ever is
seen in the Roman Catholic churches. Long
galleries and ranges of rooms, with pictures of
the imperial family, and of great benefactors or
directors of the hospital, with glass-cases
containing various objects of antiquity or of art,
presented from time to time to the establishment.

We then arrived at the wards. They are all
so much alike, that in describing one we describe
the whole, as they only vary in size when
separated for special objects. On entering, we were
at once astonished at the wonderful symmetry
of the whole. Down a long and yet wide apartment
were ranged beds on each side, standing
out into the room; between each bed, close
together, were two cots side by side, at the foot
of each bed was a wooden seat, which also was
a closet—the seat lifting up to give access to
the clothes deposited below. At the head of
each bed on each side, was a smaller seat,
between the bed and the adjoining baby's cot.
At the head of each bed was a large broad card,
or rather wooden placard, with a number on it,
and some few words in white chalk. The cots
had all hoods, were made of wood, and a
small eider-down full-bellied quilt covered each
little inmate. At the foot and in front of each
bed—as our visit was expected, and we were
accompanied by the director and two or three
of the staff—there stood two women, all drawn
up, erect and still, like a line of soldiers, in
number about sixty of a side, or a hundred and
twenty in the whole ward. Their appearance
was made more military by their being all dressed
exactly alike—one regular uniform. These were