to instruct themselves, is notable. There are
separate masters for English and French, but
no boy is allowed to learn those languages
until he has completed his preparatory studies.
Admission into the English and French
classes is held out as a reward to the more
advanced boys, and considered so. French is
more learned than English ; the boys like it
better, though recently the study of English
has gained ground ; of the hundred and eighty
scholars there are now thirty who are
learning it. One of the attachés of the
English Embassy has recently founded a half-
yearly prize for the best English scholar.

On the return of the boys after the
vacations, which are a little longer than they
should be (as vacations generally are, indeed,
at all schools), a solemn ceremony takes
place. The bishop of the diocese (Halki) and
the chief Greek clergy in the neighbourhood
assemble in full canonicals, and high mass is
chaunted with great parade and splendour.
The head master, a very amiable and intelligent
man, delivers a long speech, and the
festival of the re-opening closes with a knife
and fork breakfast, to which the friends and
relations of the pupils who happen to be
present are invited. It is pleasant to see the
perfect harmony that exists between the
pupils aud the masters and the warm and
cordial greeting between them after their long
separation.

The benefits which such an establishment
as this, properly conducted and sufficiently
endowed, might bestow upon Turkey, are
incalculable. But the funds at command of
the directors are wholly inadequate, and
there is, among rich men in Turkey, none of
that warm and enlightened patriotism which
is likely to supply them. Voluntary subscriptions
are, however, thankfully received, and
those persons (they are happily many) who
are looking about for worthy objects upon
which to bestow benefits, would do well to aid
so excellent a foundation by gifts of money,
books, maps, or any of those things which are
likely to be useful in a school of a superior
kind. Money, of all things, they most need,
for building purposes: the house being at
present far too small for the demands
constantly made for admission. Even the chance
traveller, who may happen to be wandering
among the beautiful Princes' Islands (and
our fleet is now anchored off them), may
spend a few hours, not unprofitably, in visiting
the School of Halki. He will be sure, at
least, of a courteous reception, and may,
perhaps, find there better means of judging
of the future prospects of the vast empire
of Turkey, than in the cabinets of princes,
or at the dinner tables of ambassadors. He
will see a fine handsome race of lads growing
up; some of whom are certainly destined to
make a figure in the world one day; all of
whom are receiving the advantages of education
which were completely denied to their
oppressed forefathers. He will see among
them a quickness of intelligence and a docility
of manners which will surprise him, and a
thirst for learning of all kinds which instruction
cannot quench. I venture to predict,
that (when Turkey shall have at length
granted equal rights to her Christian
subjects), this school will produce some of her
best and wisest citizens.

THE VOICE OF THE WIND.

Throw more logs upon the fire!
We have need of a cheerful light,
And close round the hearth to gather,
For the wind has risen to-night.
With the mournful sound of its wailing
It has checked the children's glee,
And it calls with a louder clamour
Than the clamour of the sea.
Hark to the voice of the wind!

Let us listen to what it is saying,
Let us hearken to where it has been;
For it tells, in its terrible crying,
The fearful sights it has seen.
It clatters loud at the casements,
Round the house it hurries on,
And shrieks with redoubled fury,
When we say "The blast is gone! "
Hark to the voice of the wind !

It has been on the field of battle,
Where the dying and wounded lie ;
And it brings the last groan they uttered,
And the ravenous vulture's cry.
It has been where the icebergs were meeting,
And closed with a fearful crash;
On the shore where no footstep has wandered,
It has heard the waters dash.
Hark to the voice of the wind!

It has been in the desolate ocean,
When the lightning struck the mast;
It has heard the cry of the drowning,
Who sank as it hurried past;
The words of despair and anguish,
That were heard by no living ear,
The gun that no signal answered;
It brings them all to us here.
Hark to the voice of the wind!

It has been on the lonely moorland,
Where the treacherous snow-drift lies,
Where the traveller, spent and weary,
Gasped fainter, and fainter cries;
It has heard the bay of the bloodhounds,
On the track of the hunted slave,
The lash and the curse of the master,
And the groan that the captive gave.
Hark to the voice of the wind!

It has swept through the gloomy forest,
Where the sledge was urged to its speed,
Where the howling wolves were rushing
On the track of the panting steed.
Where the pool was black and lonely.
It caught up a splash and a cry—
Only the bleak sky heard it,
And the wind as it hurried by.
Hark to the voice of the wind!