dialect, and the same city which had been the birth-place and cradle of
the infant language was permitted to become its sanctuary at last.

Y.M.

* * * * *




SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

ELISE.

(_By L.E.L._)

O Let me love her! she has past
Into my inmost heart--
A dweller on the hallowed ground
Of its least worldly part;
Where feelings and where memories dwell
Like hidden music in the shell.

She was so like the forms that float
On twilight's hour to me,
Making of cloud-born shapes and thoughts
A dear reality;
As much a thing of light and air