cannot enjoy it by reason of despotism or ignorance;
and others, again, consume wine in variable
quantities, according to prevailing economical,
or medical prejudices. But, however this may
be, the social condition of these people
confirms, everywhere, and without exception, the
great law which decrees that the civilisation of
a nation is always in proportion to the quality
and quantity of the wine it drinks." And the
converse of this proposition he asserts to be
equally true. "Let it never be forgotten that
the aristocracy which governs England drinks
claret only; that the middle classes, who are its
great support, absorb the generous wines of
Portugal and Spain; and that beer and spirits
are abandoned to the common people, who, in
consequence, cannot possibly take any part in
public affairs; for a brain impregnated with
porter or gin, is utterly incapable of understanding
them."

What the gentlemen who read the debates at
the Red Lion and the Blue Anchor will say
to this, is a question for them to settle with
the shade of our Bordeaux doctor.

ROSEMARY FROM THE CAMALDOLI
MONASTERY, NAPLES.

NOT on the breast of the unconscious dead,
Breathe out thy life, O melancholy leaf!
But on a heart that tears of blood has shed
Lie, like a message, quaint and sweet and brief,
From Rest outliving Grief.

The hermit-hill o'er the voluptuous town,
None may forget that ever rested there;
God, who made beauty, can Thine eyes look down
On earthly vision wider and more fair
Than yonder gorgeous picture, spread by Thee,
For those Camaldoli?

The ocean laughs amid its storied isles,
Bathed in fresh rainbows by the evening shine.
The mountain burns, whose terrors, with the smiles
Of this warm region flushed with corn and wine,
Make harmony divine.

The spreading pine above the olive grey
His canopy of orient emerald flings;
The solemn oaks, whose leaves no frosts decay,
Like giant patriarchs murmur holy things;
Whispering, "Be mute, look forth, and bend the knee,
Ye blest Camaldoli!"

For here Devotion hath ordained a cell
Almost as still and narrow as the tomb;
Where worldly thought shall ne'er intrude to dwell—
Nor passion shall provoke, nor hope shall bloom,
So awful is the doom.

The speechless monk, beside his open grave
Must meditate his years on years away:
Let Kings be crowned, let mad rebellions rave,
Let new-found worlds their treasure-mines display:
What part hath he in all this change and care?—
Perchance, a change of prayer.

And why not gather to retreat like this,
Poor weary heart, that tears of blood hast shed?
Why not, worn brow, bend to the icy kiss
That seals another of the living dead?—
Thy book is well-nigh read—

The bell tolls " Angelus"—the song hath died;
The autumn glory faded off the hill;
With none to tend thee left, with all to chide,
Why struggle on, perplexed and pining still?—
They have a rest for even such as thee,
Those mute Camaldoli.

The breeze was in the ilex bough, and spoke
Clear to my heart, as oracle of old;
"And wherefore," said the Angel of the Oak,
"Shouldst thou in cerements of oblivion cold,
Thy waning life enfold?

"To some the harvest-field, whose reapers tire
Only from age;-- to some the restless sea;
To others, pathway up increasing fire,
And steepest toward its close; be this for thee!
Life claims its lone ones to endure and dare,
Duped—stricken home—pressed hard by dull despair,
Who shall not fly from Care."

RUSSIAN TRAVEL.

FROST AFTER A DECEMBER THAW: RISK BY
THE RIVER.

I HAVE a journey from Moscow southward of
eight hundred versts before me, and the sooner
I am off the better, for have I not, for no fault
of my own, been twice in the hands of the police,
and has it not cost me in two days four pounds
for bribery? A long land journey in Russia
with one's wife and children, is a thing to flinch
from: but I desired to see Russia to its innermost;
I desired also, yet more, to fulfil my
engagements, and having already come six
hundred versts upon the way, I could not, as an
Englishman, turn back. Having decided, therefore,
on the "padaroshni" and the free post
route, I hastened to the governor-general's
office, but was told that a padaroshni was not
needed for that road.

"Go to the free post-office, show your passport,
and you will get horses and tarantasses as
far as you may require on the main road."

At the office referred to, which was at the other
end of Moscow, I opened a negotiation for six
horses and two conveyances. They had a fixed
price of four kopecks, or three-halfpence, per
horse per verst (a verst being about two-
thirds of a mile) as far as Tula, then of three
kopecks to Orel, and after that to Kharkov, or
Charkoff, two and a half kopecks, or rather less
than a penny. For each of the tarantasses the
charge was five roubles, or about fifteen and
sixpence, to which had to be added ten roubles for
road-money or tolls—in all the cost was of about
two-and-twenty pounds. After travelling thus
on the main road, I was to leave it and proceed
as I best could for another one hundred and
eighty versts, across the country, with roads or
without. By adopting this plan I could travel
at what rate I chose, as the conveyances were my
own for the time being.

In the bottom then of two tarantasses we
packed our trunks, portmanteaus, and carpetbags
as smoothly as possible, covered them first
with straw, and then with feather-beds and many
pillows, rugs and blankets, while bread, tea,
sugar, sardines, brandy, wine, pistol-case,
blunderbuss (belonging to our friend Harry), fur