us for a little space from earth, into the society of the holiest
sentient beings, and to the beauty of a celestial, surpassing, world?
Does it not bestow on our souls their long-lost ethereal wings? and do
not the delighted strangers soar for a little while above the grossest
realms of matter? Alas! even but for a little while; now do they drop,
for now flag and droop those angelic pinions which are too humid and
heavy with that atmosphere, from whence they could not wholly disengage
themselves; the golden harps of heaven murmur in their entranced ears no
longer; the smiles of the Sons of Peace fade from their enchanted sight;
and the clouds of this nether world retain from their enamoured gaze,
the treasures of infinity!

Perhaps we have enjoyed a very enthusiastic, a very poetical, Christmas
Day! we pretend not to deny it, though steadfastly believing it was
neither an anti-Christian, nor an utterly unprofitable one; nay, we even
venture to hope, that the beatitude of spirit just feebly portrayed was
not unpleasing in His sight, unto whom, for His gift of immortal life,
we upon Christmas Day render our peculiar thanksgivings!

M.L.B.

* * * * *


THE FALL OF ZARAGOZA.

(_For the Mirror_.)


Awake, awake, the trumpet hath sung its lay to the sunny sky,