but your cheeks are not pale, acushla, nor
your little hands thin, and the shade of sorrow
has passed away from your forehead like a
rain-cloud from the summer sky. She that
loved you so on earth, has clasped you for
ever to her bosom in heaven; and God himself
has wiped away all tears from your eyes, and
placed you both and our own dear father far
beyond the touch of sorrow or the fear of death.

A GREAT MAN DEPARTED.

   THERE was a festive hall with mirth resounding;
   Beauty and wit, and friendliness surrounding;
With minstrelsy above, and dancing feet
        rebounding.

   And at the height came news, that held
        suspended
   The sparkling glass!—till slow the hand
        descended—
And cheeks grew pale and straight—and all the
        mirth was ended.

   Beneath a sunny sky, 'twas heard with wonder,
   A flash had cleft a lofty tree asunder,
Without a previous cloud—and with no rolling
      thunder.

   Strong was the stem— its boughs above all
          'thralling—
   And in its roots and sap no cankers galling—
Prosperity was perfect, while Death's band was
      falling.

   Man's body is less safe than any tree;
   We build our ship in strong security—
A Finger, from the dark, points to the trembling
      sea.

   Man, like his knowledge, and his soul's
         endeavour,
   Is framed for no fixed altitude—but ever
Moves onward: the first pause, returns all to the
         Giver.

   Riches and health, fine taste, all means of
          pleasure;
    Success in highest efforts—fame's best treasure—
All these were thine,—o'ertopped—and overweighed
      the measure.

   But in recording thus life's night-shade warning,
   We hold the memory of thy kind heart's
        morning:—
Man's intellect is not man's sole nor best adorning.

THE ADVENTURES OF THE PUBLIC
RECORDS.

"BURN all the records of the realm! My
mouth shall be the parliament." Thus spoke
Jack Cade; and it would appear from the
manner in which the public records are at
the present time "bestowed," that those who
have had the stowing of them, cordially echo
the sentiment. The historical, legal, and
territorial archives of this country—believed to
be, when properly arranged and systematised,
the most complete and valuable in existence
—are spread and distributed over six
depositories. Some little description of three of
these only, will show the jeopardy in which
such records of the Wisdom of our ancestors,
as we yet possess, are placed, and the
adventures which have befallen many of them.

Many of the most valuable documents of the
past—including the Chancery Records from
the reign of John to Edward I.—are kept in
the Tower of London. Some in the White
and some in the Wakefield Tower, close to
which is an hydraulic steam-engine in daily
operation. The basement of the former
contains tons of gunpowder, the explosion of
which would destroy all Tower Hill, and
change even the course of the Thames; while
the fate of paper and parchment thrown up
by such a volcano, it is not even possible to
imagine. The White Tower is also replenished
with highly inflammable ordnance stores,
tarpaulins carefully pitched, soldiers' kits, and
all kinds of wood-work, among which common
labourers not imbued with extra-carefulness
are constantly moving about. That no risk
may be wanting, an eye-witness relates that
he has seen boiling pitch actually in flames,
quite close to this repository. When the fire
of the Tower did take place, its flames leaped
and darted their dangerous tongues within
forty feet of it. So alarmed were the
authorities on that occasion, that this tower underwent
a constant nocturnal shower-bath during
the time the small Armoury was burning.
But when the danger was over, though fire-
proof barrack-houses were built for the
soldiers, the records were still left to be lodged
over the gunpowder.

Among the treasures in these ill-kept
"keeps," are the logs and other Admiralty
documents, state papers, and royal letters,
many of which have never been consulted;
because the manner in which they are stowed
away rendered consultation impossible. They
are, no doubt, silently waiting to clear up
many of the disputed points, and to set
right many of the false impressions and
unmitigated untruths of history. Inquisitions—
the antiquity of which may be guessed when
we state that those up to the 14th of
Richard II. have only yet been arranged in
books—are also massed together ready for
explosion or ignition. These are amongst the
most curious of our ancient documents, being
the notes of the oldest of our legal rituals—
the "Crowner's quest." The Chancery
proceedings and privy seals piled in the White
Tower, are endless.

In the Rolls' House, in Chancery Lane—
which, with its chapel, was annexed by
Edward III., in 1377, to the office of Custos
Rotulorum, or Keeper of the Rolls—are located
the Records of the Court of Chancery from
that year to the present time. That every
public document, wherever situated, may be
rendered in as great jeopardy as possible, a
temporary shed, like a navvy's hut, has been
recently knocked up for the Treasury papers
in the Rolls' Garden; other of the Records are
quietly accommodated in the pews and behind
the communion-table in the Rolls' Chapel—