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a ruinous war. We have such faith in the to Windsor, by command, for her majesty's energies of the people of the North that we inspection, and is now restored to its former are convinced they will either achieve the con- abiding-place-there are upwards of one quest of their refractory neighbors, or so far frustrate their designs that human freedom will be universally established, and most sincerely hope the consummation will not be delayed. It is still, and is likely to be, the main hope and deliverance to Lancashire.

From The Reader.

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S WORKS.

thousand original sketches, drawings, proofetchings, oil-paintings, etc., from the hand of the indefatigable master; and the intelligent guardian of these art-treasures walks round the room with the visitors, a living commentary upon things past and present; for George Cruikshank's etchings are the pictorial record of our manners and customs, fashions and changes, of nearly three quarters of a century, some fifty years of which they illustrate to the full. The earlier sketches may have taken their inspiration from Gilray and Bunbury, borrowing a grace, it may be, from Rowlandson; but soon these trammels fell away, and if we mistake not, constant, careful study of the smaller masters of the German school of the sixteenth century, and of the mass of wood-cut bookillustrations which they produced, cleansed of all their impurities by a modest, thoughtful mind, gave that solid bent to his afterpursuits which placed Cruikshank at the head of our comic school of art for more than thirty years, till the Doyles, father and son, Leech and Tenniel, and others came forth to dispute the palm with him.

During that period he produced his admirable “Points of Humor," his "Comic Almanacks," the" Omnibus,"" Peter Schlemihl, the Shadowless Man ; "illustrations to Grimm's Fairy Tales" and Scott's "Demonology and Witchcraft," " to Ainsworth's " Tower of London," "Guy Fawkes," and

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WHAT a wonderful man is George Cruikshank! And now he gives us the opportunity to see him as he is; and to know him as he was. In a quiet little room in Exeter Hall is the Cruikshank Gallery. The earliest sketch is one bearing the date of 1799, when the precocious boy-artist was about eight or nine years old; and the latest, his great work, measuring thirteen feet four inches by seven feet eight inches, "The Worship of Bacchus"-upon the painting of which the veteran has spent a year and a half of recent life-a pictorial sermon against the use of "the Bottle," in which, as in glass, he holds up to view the rise and progress, the danger and folly of drinking anything stronger than the pure produce of the spring as it comes forth bubbling through the earth for man's refreshment, or is presented to him in the more luscious form of full-ripe fruit. "Drink not!" is his text; and he sends it home as few preachers can hope to do-to parson and people, to the bench and the bar, to rich and poor, to "genteel" folk and vulgar ones, to" Jack Sheppard," and to Dickens's "Oliver fighting-men and stay-at-home laggards, to the lounger at the clubs, the man about town, the drunken mechanic, and the maudlin old washerwoman. That picture is, as a work of art, so thoroughly original, so unlike all that ever préceded it, such a study of life as it is in the mind's eye of the great tee-total apostle, that, though group upon group fills the canvas, and the subject is drunkenness in its most humiliating forms, yet, truthful as the pictures are, unlike Hogarth, Gilray, Bunbury, and Woodward, George Cruikshank eschews all unscrupulous freedom, and never offends the modesty of the beholder by what, in the works of the comic painters just named, is known as broad" humor," though indelicacy would be the more appropriate term.

Besides this great picture—which was sent

Twist," his own" Punch and Judy," and a host of other book-illustrations, which will live as long as the books they were made to adorn. High life and middle class he left wisely to the Doyles, to Tenniel, and to Leech; but who can approach him in the delineation of the Dodgers, the Fagins, the Gentlemen of the Road, the rollicking, reckless, paid-off Jack Tars, and the Pucks, Brownies, Kobbolds, and all the devilries which the brothers Grimm delight to dwell upon, and the giants, dwarfs, and goblins they carefully conjure up?

'Tis a pleasant lounge into that little quiet room at Exeter Hall; and to many of us it recalls happy memories of the past, as we walk from one wall to another, and recognize the old familiar faces of impersonations so

perfect that they have no need to have the fire stolen from Olympus to give them life and being.

[WE copy from the National Intelligencer a notice of the death of another subscriber and friend of forty years' standing] :—

Died, on the 16th July, at his residence, in this city John T. Sullivan, Esq., at the advanced age of eighty-one years. This was truly honorable old age, and it was honored by a life eminently distinguished for usefulness and graced with many virtues.

Mr. Sullivan had an ardent temperament, always directed by generous impulses and disciplined to serve the ends of justice, benevolence, and humanity. He made it a line of duty to do what was right and shun what was wrong. If ever betrayed into error, he had the magnanimity to acknowledge it, and the honor to repair it. He loved his fellow-man with an enlarged philanthropy, and essayed, whenever opportunity offered, to prove it by deeds that make and dignify the nobility of the heart. He was a patriot by every impulse that could bind him to his country. With a firmness that never quailed

was mingled a keen sensibility that would
melt at the touch of sympathy.
In the 80
cial relations of life he courted society for
its charms, and gave to it a zest by his genial
disposition and the playfulness of a fruitful
mind. His hospitality was proverbial; it
reached far into society, and brought to his
board a circle of friends that had eminence

in our land and fame beyond our country.
From these pleasing entertainments he could
turn to the claims of the least favored of

fortune, and with an open hand would soothe the afflicted and relieve the needy. From his own cherished family he reaped the luxury of life and dispensed a warmth and cheerfulness that consecrated the dearest ties of nature, and dedicated all to love of family.

His life was varied with the vicissitudes of fortune, but in the darkest hours of adversity he persevered with unbroken energy until he gained the rich reward of well directed industry, on which he leaned gracefully and usefully in old age.

Death has closed this fountain of many virtues, and has left a void that a large circle of friends will feel—an aching void with those who are left to mourn the broken and buried ties of husband and father.

being crushed by the engine on the rails, make them excessively greasy and slippery, so that the wheels will scarcely bite. The consequence is some degree of danger, and sand has to be dropped on the rails to give the wheels a hold. Several trains from Ephesus have been considerably behind time through the locusts taking possession of the line.”

MR. ALFRED W. BENNETT of Bishopsgate | man Railway and compelled the engine-drivers to Street, who is availing himself to a considerable proceed with great caution. The locusts, on extent to the use of photography as a medium for landscape illustrations of our descriptive poets, has just issued the "Bijou Photograph Album," containing twenty-four photographs of the scenery of the " Lady of the Lake," most admirably executed by Thomas Ogle in carte de visite size, and elegandy bound in morocco or in gilt cloth. It is a pretty gift-book, and one that is sure to be appreciated. Mr. Bennett has also published the poem itself in small quarto, with fourteen photographs by the same artist, and a view of the poet's tomb at Dryburgh Abbey, by G. W. Wilson. From that charming book, "Ruined Castles and Abbeys of Great Britain, by William and Mary Howitt, for the benefit of summer tourists he has struck off separately "The Wye: its Abbeys and Castles," with six photographs by Bedford and Sedgfield.

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"WE continue to receive alarming accounts of the ravages committed by the locusts. The swarms have in many cases lodged on the Otto

IN the preface to Messrs. Macmillan & Co.'s "Cambridge Shakspeare" the editors acknowledge their obligations to Mr. John Bullock, who has furnished them with valuable critical and literary notes. The Publishers' Circular says "Mr. Bullock is, we believe, a mechanicbrass-finisher in Aberdeen-who has devoted his leisure to the study of English literature, for which, though still following his manual labour, he has obtained in his own locality a considerable reputation."

PAST AND PRESENT.

AND Arthur is coming home, Alice, I think I heard you say?

Arthur, the son of our neighbor, with whom you used to play:

He went to the war last summer; I wondered at it then,

That a boy should go to battle, when they used to send only men.

So strange it seems, little Alice, as I watch you standing there;

Why, you are almost a woman, a woman grown I declare;

Strange, indeed, when I think of it-'tis a long, long time, I know

I stood just where you are standing, nearly fifty

years ago.

Stood there awaiting my Willie, your grandfather,
Alice; for he

Had been off a fighting the British, we beat them
on land and sea.

The elm tree there by the gate, darling, was not what it is to-day,

Its bark was smooth, like a sapling's, and now it is ragged and gray.

Ah! things have changed, little Alice; the sunlight seems less fair

As it falls through the vine's thick leafage, and tangles itself in your hair;

The days, too, seem to me shorter, and the notes
of the birds less bold-

But it may be I'm growing old, dear, it may be
I'm growing old.

And now I think of it, Alice, and recall it all to
mind,

I was wondrously like what you are wondrously like, I find,

Older, of course; a woman; what age are you did you say?

Eighteen! why that was my age-just eighteen years and a day.

For I remember my birthday had come on the one before

And your mother, now you remind me, was younger even than I

When she married; yes you are right thenhow swiftly the years go by!

What was I saying?-that you, Alice, are like what I used to be?

One would'nt think to see us you could ever resemble me;

But time works wonderful changes; and this afternoon I seem

To live over the past again, Alice, as though in a pleasant dream,

To watch your grandfather's coming, a girl once more where you stand

Come sit here beside me, daughter, so, now let me take your hand

Seven long years since he left me; perhaps before seven more,

I too shall have crossed death's river, to stand on the further shore.

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"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; were the words the minister said,

The years of our life, say the Scriptures, at best But at times I think I see him, and doubt if he be

are only four score,

And I have numbered of mine nearly three score years and ten

Girls were much older in those days, girls were

much older then;

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Eighteen did you say, little Alice, are you sure | And you have made no mistake?

I should certainly think I was dreaming, were I That not sure I'm awake,

hasten the promised time when strife and contention shall cease;

Golden Age of the prophet, when the world shall be at peace.

And Arthur, you say, little Alice, is coming and | And this the greeting that we send to those

soon will be here,

What are you looking that way at, and why do you tremble, my dear?

The sun is bright above us, and the air is calm and still,

I can hear the big wheel turning in the hollow down at the mill.

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Who've fought and bled on many a gory field, And now at last in triumph have appealed For help, that they may surely crush our foes. What damning blots are these upon thy name; For shame, New York! ten thousand times for shame!

Monday Evening, July 13, 1863. J. H. E. -Evening Post.

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No. 1002.-15 August, 1863.

CONTENTS:

1. A Modern Quaker Apostle,

2. Gamesters and Gaming-Houses, 3. Wits of the French Revolution, 4. Clever Men's Wives,

5. Old New England,

POETRY.

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Love and

-On Seeing the 54th and 35th Mass. (Black) Regiments, 290. Money, 290. Beranger, 290. A Bird's-Eye View, 336. To the Alps, 336.

SHORT ARTICLES. - How to avoid Pitting in Small Pox, 304. Incident connected with Captain Dwight's Death, 304. Ancient Roman Villa, 304. Dinner of the Acclimatizing Society, 332.

PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY

LITTELL, SON & CO., BOSTON.

For Six Dollars a year, in advance, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded free of postage.

Complete sets of the First Series, in thirty-six volumes, and of the Second Series, in twenty volumes, handsomely bound, packed in neat boxes, and delivered in all the principal cities, free of expense of freight, are for sale at two dollars a volume.

ANY VOLUME may be had separately, at two dollars, bound, or a dollar and a half in numbers.

ANY NUMBER may be had for 13 cents; and it is well worth while for subscribers or purchasers to complete any broken volumes they may have, and thus greatly enhance their value.

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