light, the appearance of which is differently
described by different observers, was probably
nothing more than the ordinary effect produced
on the retina of the eye by the passage of a
luminous body.

A similar phenomenon to the preceding was
witnessed on the 5th of December last. The
description given of it by many persons who
saw it, is that of a ball of fire of intense
brilliancy, which threw such a strong light, that one
who saw it in the country says it was equal
to that of the moon when at the full. There
are some discrepancies in what has been published
with respect to the appearance it presented.
Apart from the apparent magnitude, which is
estimated from four times that of Jupiter to
about half the size of the full moon, one describes
it as followed by a luminous train; another, that
it scattered sparks as it went; a third, that just
before disappearing, it threw off several balls of a
red colour; and a fourth, that it vanished in an
explosion.

The hypotheses which have been suggested
to explain the origin of these wonderful
phenomena are various. Some thought meteoric
stones must have been ejected from volcanoes
on the earth; but this was very quickly
disposed of, by showing that it was impossible,
from the absence of any volcano from which they
could have been expelled within many miles of
the place where they have fallen. Others
supposed they might have been thrown out from
volcanoes in the moon; but this hypothesis was
likewise considered to be destroyed by the
objection that during all the ages through which
the rnoon has been observed, no visible change
has taken place on her surface, though the
evidence of violent volcanic action at some long
distant period is distinct enough, if we examine
her with a telescope. It was then suggested that
they were generated in the atmosphere by the
action of electricity; but, inasmuch as the
atmosphere does not contain the materials of
which they are composed, in any shape, this
hypothesis is not worth consideration. Another
supposition is, that an infinite number of masses
of matter, of all sizes, move round the sun in an
orbit which closely approaches that of the earth
at the two opposite points which our planet
passes through in August and November.
There is much that is plausible and probable
in the idea that at least a portion of the
meteoric stones which reach the earth, are of
lunar origin; that they may have been discharged
from the moon ages ago; and that they
have gradually been drawn so near the earth,
that their orbital motion was overcome, and they
dropped down upon its surface. But seamed and
scarred as the moon evidently is by prolonged
volcanic action, the enormous number of
fragments of matter which have been seen to pass
through our atmosphere seems to disprove the
notion that they could all have come from this
source; and we are disposed to believe that the
greater portion are the smaller fragments of a
great planet moving between Mars and Jupiter,
which, having exploded, is visibly represented
by the asteroids. Indeed, if it be admitted
that these roving planets moving in such
eccentric orbits are merely the fragments of what
was once a great whole, it would hardly be
possible to dispute that the catastrophe which gave
rise to them must at the same time have
dispersed through space an innumerable quantity of
fragments of lesser size, down even to the
particles which, from their having reached the
surface of our globe in the form of reddish-
coloured dust, have given rise to the oft-repeated
reports of its having rained blood. But the only
real conclusion we can arrive at, is, that we know
no more of the origin of meteoric stones, than
we do of the origin of the globe on which we
live.

                    FLORIMEL.
                           1.

THE night is quiet, this New Year's Eve,
Lull'd in a trance of snow and rime;
For a sighing wind, that seems to grieve
Before the path of the coming time,
Is rather a silence than a sound,—
Or, at most, the voice of the great profound
Of darkness closing half-way round
This orb of earth. And I who sit
In my curtain'd study, hearkening it,
By my study fire companionless,
Will send my own voice sighing out
From the haunted dark of an old distress,
Ere yet, in the stormy swirl and shout
Of the bells that clash from every side,
We kiss the lips of the infant Year:
For my heart this night is open'd wide,
And the wind of verse is rising there.

I lift the heavy coffin-lid
From the sweet dead face of the sad dead Past,
Where it lies all white and still amid
The dust which the stealthy years have cast
On the graves of all things. Ah, how fast,
In the kindling breath of love and pain,
The buried time grows warm again,
And arises living, and speaks to us,
As we speak to it! Behold how thus
From death to life comes Florimel,
The light of her love and loveliness
Just shadow'd with awful distance.— Well!
If I saw her not with the inner eye,
I should feel her presence none the less
In the quick, electric, vital nerves,—
In the quivering blood,— in the heart that swerves
From its natural course,— she standing by.

Once more I behold the face of her
Whose actions all had the character
Of an inexpressible charm express'd;
Whose movements flow'd from a centre of rest,
And whose rest was that of a swallow, rife
With the instinct of reposing life;
Whose mirth had a sadness all the while
It sparkled and laugh'd, and whose sadness lay
In the heaven of such a crystal smile
That you long'd to travel the self-same way
To the brightness of sorrow. For round her breath'd
A grace like that of the general air,
Which softens the sharp extremes of things,
And connects by its subtle, invisible stair