experience, to become, under and like Him, a Saviour of thousands; thou hast been through the preparation, but thy real work of good, thy full power of doing, is yet to begin.

But again: there are some spirits (and those of earth's choicest) to whom, so far as enjoyment to themselves or others is concerned, this life seems to have been a total failure. A hard hand from the first, and all the way through life, seems to have been laid upon them; they seem to live only to be chastened and crushed, and we lay them in the grave at last in mournful silence. To such, what a vision is opened by this belief! This hard discipline has been the school and task-work by which their soul has been fitted for their invisible labours in a future life, and when they pass the gates of the grave, their course of benevolent acting first begins, and they find themselves delighted possessors of what through many years they have sighed forthe power of doing good. The year just passed, like all other years, has taken from a thousand circles the sainted, the just, and the beloved; there are spots in a thousand graveyards which have become this year dearer than all the living world; but in the loneliness of sorrow how cheering to think that our lost ones are not wholly gone from us! They still may move about in our homes, shedding around an atmosphere of purity and peace, promptings of good and reproofs of evil. We are compassed about by a cloud of witnesses, whose hearts throb in sympathy with every effort and struggle, and who thrill with joy at every success. How should this thought check and rebuke every worldly feeling and unworthy purpose, and enshrine us, in the midst of a forgetful and unspiritual world, with an atmosphere of heavenly peace! They have overcome, have risen, are crowned, glorified; but still they remain to us, our assistants, our comforters, and in every hour of darkness their voice speaks to us: "So we grieved, so we struggled, so we fainted, so we doubted; but we have overcome, we have obtained, we have seen, we have found, and in our victory behold the certainty of thy own."

WITCHCRAFT IN WARWICKSHIRE.-It is worthy of note that at Warwick Assizes, on December 15th, 1875, during the trial of James Haywood (who was found to have been insane at the time) for the murder of Anne Tennant, aged eighty years, at Long Compton, "it was proved in evidence that fully one-third of the villagers believed in witchcraft."-Standard, Dec. 16, 1875.

RANDOM THOUGHTS IN RHYME.-
PSYCHOLOGICAL ODDITIES.

BY THOMAS BREVIOR.

PART II.

Let us leave our philosophers now for awhile,

You must bore pretty deep in them ere you "strike ile;"
And when you have tapped it, you are still not quite sure
Though it freely may spout, that it flows very pure.

I don't like the reasoning called ad captandum;
And so only fire off a few thoughts at random
At what I have seen among men as I find them;
If wide of the mark there is less need to mind 'em.

I need hardly say I found great variety

In this modern Babel we call "society;"

I can only just give you a taster of these,

As the cheesemonger does when you're buying your cheese.

There are souls I have known so exceedingly small
You could scarcely aver they existed at all;"

So shrivelled and lean, half-starved and cadaverous,
Depleted and wan,—not fit for a rat or mouse.

And some that I wot of in church and in cloister,
Lie sluggish—shut up in their shell like an oyster;
Beside them the soul of a tinker like Bunyan
Would be as a pumpkin compared to an onion.

A strange sort I have heard of-perchance you have known,—
Who live it is said upon sheep-skin alone;

With their soul incarnated in six and eight-pence,

They can't afford conscience,-it's too great an expense.

For the learned professions I own great respect,
But in every flock we may black sheep expect;
To good men and true I'm sure an offence it is,
But this I remark by the way in parenthesis.

What is stranger than fiction-there are souls who still
Are spirits in prison-fast shut up in a till;
Or, (though poor in the wealth of the soul's currency)
Bound and clasped in a bank-book are marked "£. s. d."

I can't vouch for the legend that some Aldermen
With large waistcoats have their soul in the abdomen,
And their heaven near Cheapside,-whose fe-li-ci-tie
Is a plate of green turtle-en suite--apple-pie!

Like the tale of King Lud (which I've nought to do with,)
Or the Corn-hill near by-it may all be a myth;

But although City landscapes the liners may forge,

It can certainly show a magnificent gorge!

A question has been raised of gravest importance,

By Rabbis and Doctors-who should have had more sense,—
Affecting most deeply of every station,

A considerable part of the world's population:

Do Eve's daughters have souls? Well-of some I have known, It can hardly be said they have souls of their own:

I am sure we all hope it may not be so one day,

But they are most of them owned now by one Mrs. Grundy!

A most terrible creature whose word is their law;

So remorseless and cruel, not caring a straw
For these butterfly souls-poor victims of Fashion;
Who worship her with most infatuate passion!

Some bore holes in their ears, some tighten the waist;
While some cripple the feet, others glitter in paste;
And in order to give their complexion a grace,
Madam Rachel they get to enamel the face!

And others who of sense show a plentiful lack,

Will now dye their hair golden, now turn it to black;

Not what's inside the head is their care but what's on it,
And how they shall look in that "love of a bonnet !"

Would they not look more charming with health's ruddy glow,
Than like models of beauty from Madame Tussaud?
What marvel that souls so enervated are-shall

I much err if I say-hy-po-chon-dri-a-cal!

Or that some are dyspeptic, of so weak digestion,
How to live on spoon-meat and pap is the question ?
They go to soul-doctors to give them a tonic,
And get bottled relics and drugs histrionic!

The imbecile sneer that was once so effectual

When pointed at ladies pronounced "intellectual,"
Like the Blue-stocking Club has become obsolete,

Though a rare bird of that kind you sometimes may meet:

Excepting by sinners most stupid and hardened,

The offence to their owlships might surely be pardoned:
What a happy idea in these lords of creation

To think woman born but for their recreation!

With Juvenal, they would like to keep woman a fool,
Lest they should have to go to a woman to school:
O wise men of Gotham! a dame-school, indeed,
May as nearly as possible be what you need!

Yet for these some excuse may perhaps be found, when
We find women among us who fain would be men,
And usurp all the functions thereto appertaining,
Their own proper duties too often disdaining.

A sect called the "strong-minded" don't care a button
For nursing of babies, and roasting of mutton;

But will mount the stump boldly, and fierce enough,rage
Against "tyrants," and for Amazonian suffrage:—

Proceedings which though they may make a sensation,
Do not excite in us a high admiration;

And dare I but here venture to offer a hint,

For what Nature has made them they might rest content.

Any claim that the sex is by them represented,
Is what I am sure must be deeply resented;
The wiser sort grieve over such indiscretion,
But this by the way is a little digression,

They may have equal rights to talking of bunkum
With the member for Stoke, or the late Mr. Duncombe;
But the good of perpetual public spouting
Political rant, one may fairly be doubting.

That politics should be made more effeminate,
Is surely a notion not well to disseminate;
To true "rights of women" I urge no objection,
But hold that they lie in another direction.

A power they wield which is quite independent,
Reaching far deeper than all Act of Parliament;
A bad bargain 'twould be to exchange e'en in part
For political pottage their sway o'er the heart!

Of souls gentle and brave who pursue worthy ends,
I am proud I can number a few as my friends;
Where so much is found of vexation and vanity,
Men and women so true ennoble humanity.

Could I ever express here in adequate phrases,
My sense of their talents, their virtues, and graces;
To those who don't know them 'twould little matter be,
But modest humility might deem it flattery.

I only allude to this now as the critical

May think me too much disposed to be cynical;
And hope there's no harm in a laugh when it is
Only at what seem so like eccentricities.

I mean no offence to sex, class, or profession,
In ought I have written; if any expression
Should have seemed to my readers a little at fault,
They may just take it à la discrétion with salt.

Who does not confess to a soft predilection
For a soul finely moulded of tender affection,
With graces so winning his heart it entangles,
And-though Sadducee―own the existence of Angles!

In these days of forces named "psychic" and "od," it is
No marvel to find Psychological oddities;

I have given a sample or two, but you know,

More might bring on me a writ de lunatico.

What becomes of some souls from this world I can't say, But some folk though (I trust they may not have their way) Affirm-as they tell us without fear or flamming―

To a place for souls neither worth saving nor damning.

I think that's a slander, and venture to hope

That in "other-world order" all souls may have scope:
And who, did he candidly make full confession,
Would not own to plenty of room for progression ?

A VISION.

[The following short Paper is from a Clergyman who was for some sixteen years in the Church of England, but left to connect himself with what is called the Catholic Apostolic Church. He is evidently a very powerful writing medium, and is frequently compelled to leave his bed in the night to write automatically. He has paid but little attention to Spiritualism, having few sympathisers in the church to which he belongs.—ED. S. M.]

GOD speaketh once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not; in a dream, in a vision of the night, when sleep falleth upon men in slumbering upon the bed, then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction; and thus hath He done with me, His servant, in these days, in that He opened my eyes and my ears that I should see and hear in a vision of the night the things which God hath in store for men by the hands of His elect. As I slumbered upon my bed and slept, the angel of the Lord came unto me and touched me, and said, "Arise, and come with me, and I will show thee of things that shall be." And I arose and followed him, and he led me upwards through many countries, and over many cities exceeding beautiful to look upon, and towns wherein men laboured and wrought with glad hearts and willing hands; and he brought me unto one city which appeared to me fairer than all the rest, and, resting upon a hill covered with trees and with green plants and with flowers, and every sweet smelling herb which the Lord hath made. And in the midst of the plain, which was on the top of the hill, I beheld this city, and in the centre thereof the Temple of the Lord, even the Lord of the whole earth; and the angel which was with me led me by the west gate thereof, and through the streets, and he brought me unto the great gate of the camp of the Lord, wherein, on the North, and the South, and the East, and the West dwelt the high priest, and the priests, and the Levites, who ministered unto the Lord. And he led me unto the north porch of the Temple, and brought me into the vestibule thereof; and I looked and behold a temple exceeding great and high, so that the roof thereof could scarce be seen for its loftiness and the length thereof; so great that I could not discern the end thereof; and a vast multitude of pillars on this side and on that, separating the inner space of the temple from the outer, and over these the arched passages round about the house, and over these also the windows very high and lofty, through which the house of the Lord was lighted by day. And as I looked, behold at the sides of the temple, between the pillars in the wings thereof,