THE FRUIT OF SECRET THOUGHT. BY LILLY WATERS. Nature carries on her midnight works so secretly, so slowly, that it often appears to our short-sightedness, like stagnation. We place a seed in the ground; to our impatience it seems a long time before it discloses action, yet at last we see the marvellous manifestation. The gasses have been at their silent work upon the little kernel, till its decay has nourished the infinitesimal germ of life which has sent forth the blade; the influence of the elements shall so operate upon that, that gradually it will bring the ear, afterward the full corn in the ear.' 44 So it is with the soul, it is never idle; whatever may be the condition of the body into which the Almighty has breathed this immortal spark, it is ever active. In sickness or health, sleeping or waking, it is constantly receiving impressions, which are embodied in the needs and wants of daily life. We are scarcely conscious what a mighty influence these silent thoughts, which filter through the mind, possess in forming the strata of our future life, how they outcrop here and there in rich golden veins of love, or the granite of uncharitableness. To-day we are ill, morbid, and uncomfortable. Our hours of self-communion are usurped by gloomy fancies; our prayers are soulless or unsaid, forgetful that "unfelt prayers make need of praying." God is not in our souls, so Satan creeps in and plants a thorn. To-morrowit pierces our dearest friend; then we sorrow and wring our hands in our misery and remorse, and resolve anew to be more watchful of our Eden. We endeavor to plant about us the amaranth of happy, holy thought, praying that no storm of sin may uproot it as a penalty for the soul's transgression. IN THE DESERT. BY E. MACKWAY. By the rock Horeb, stood the frowning crowd Of black browed men whisp'ring, or murmur- I but obey the voice, the signs ye also saw. He struck the solid mass uprising high, A crystal avalanche relieves their pressing need, bore To those who fell in sheer despair before. Pond'ring the past, the future yet in store, more, And Moses from that point could he have seen, With a new significance comes to us the gray dawn, typical it seems to our quickened thought of life and labor. The advancing light of the morning, with its rosy Would he have yielded there or kissed the rod ? hues, the greater glory of noon, thus grad-Resisted fate or meekly bowed to God, ually is developed every secret thought, Doubtless he had accepted, good or ill, till it stands before the world, a creation With deep devotion to his Maker' will. hideous and misshapen, or glorious and Stern to himself, paused not, or turned aside, godlike with the light of eternal love Until he looked upon the land from far, and died! THITHER-SIDE SKETCHES. NO. XXIV. Rome - Ash Wednesday at the Sixtine Chapel -A view of "His Holiness" Michael Angelo's fresco of paradise Humility and pride-Order for observing the Lenten season-Hours spent in the museum of the Vatican-The "Apollo Belvidere." What fatiguing mummery was that of sprinkling ashes upon the heads of pope, bishops and cardinals, which we witnessed during that seemingly interminable morning spent in the celebrated "Chapel of Sixtus!" Sitting back in the shadow of that part of the chapel apportioned to females, as most befitting them upon this most holy occasion, and forming a small iota of the cloud of black dresses and veils which made the dim light still more sombre, we sat wearily through the tedious ceremony, content to leave, could we have done so, after having seen the mildly benevolent face of His Holiness, with his sweeping train of martial attendants, mitred bishops, long robed cardinals, and priests, as they passed into the sacred enelosure of the chancel, where the rite of sprinkling ashes upon each reverend head was duly performed, much to the edification of the faithful, but to the discomfort of at least one heretic of whom we wot! 66 The hour of waiting previous to the entrance of that august procession was spent in examining as best we might by the dim light afforded, that famed frescoe of Buonorotti's Paradise, with Adam and Eve, the serpent," and "tree of knowledge," included. However much has been said in praise of the perfect anatomical proportions of these representations of the first parents of our race, as a whole, the effect is far from pleasing. The defective light, and necessity of looking upward so steadily, to follow closely the varied figures and objects deemed necessary accompaniments to the paradisaical state of the first pair,tends to detract from the enjoyment of contemplating even a master piece like this. As with strained neck and tired eyes, you gaze up, you cannot but appreciate the wonderful skill and patience of elaboration, which has achieved such a splendid result on a field where even Michael Angelo's towering genius, must have met with obstacles quite difficult to overcome. Thus it has stood, and doubtless will stand, for centuries to come, (unless destroyed by fire or violence) a specimen of unrivalled skill in this domain of art-to the wondering admiration of thousands of people in future generations, as it has been in the past. We were not a little amused, after this farce of humiliation was ended in the Sixtine Chapel, to see the pope retire in state, from the ceremony, through his private door, his trailing pontifical robes upborne by those honorable dignitaries, who were, of course, only too happy to serve in that capacity, while the cardinals and bishops stepped from the outer collonade into their splendid coaches, and -humble fol lowers of the LowLY ONE-rolled off in fine style, their rich equipages gleaming in the sunshine, and attended by outriders, clad in costly livery! Thus was the sacred Lenten fast ushered in upon the people of Rome after the festivities of the Carnival had closed. The next step in the way of observing this season was the papal order, suspending the use of animal food among the populace during the forty days constituting this period:-an order, by the way, observed about as strictly as the "dog law" of a New England village, or the keeping of the Christian Sunday by a descendant of the house of Israel. In proof of this, we may cite our table d'hote, the variety and excellence of whose bill of fare, savoring as it did of the interdicted "flesh pots," not of "Egypt," but of Rome, -was never diminished, although in common with all other similar houses-our hotel on Via Condotti, received the pontifical orders. Small as was this matter, it proved that the supremacy of papal power was not absolute, but obliged to succumb more and more to the verdict of a people, upon whose more liberal minds-church traditions, while more or less venerated and observed, are not to be received as commands from even His Holiness, whose determined hold upon the government of State, as well as that of church, is likely to lose him both, if the still lingering spirit of the Revolution of '48 is anyways sig nificant, especially when taken into connexion with the subsequent curtailment of the papal dominions, by the voice of the true Italian people. canvas or in stone, is not particularly salutary or ennobling in its effect upon the generality of beholders. To the naturally tender-hearted, to the nervously sensitive, and to the truly Christian spirit, such representations can only be excruciatingly painful, and we doubt whether a contemplation of impalements, flaying alive, burnings, and all the variety of tortures which a devilish malignity could suggest,-portrayed with such terrible vividness,-can be wholly beneficial to any class of indi What shall we say here of the hours spent among the wonders of the Vatican ? where, wandering from object to object, through that almost countless labyrinth of halls and galleries, we were obliged to leave many things unnoticed, from sheer inability to take in the endless variety of this immense collection of the wonderful, the curious, and interesting, so justly cele-viduals, not even excepting the critical in brated as the greatest in the world! One might remain in Rome a life-time, and resort to this museum almost daily, with the certainty of being able to find something new and interesting upon each succeeding visit-so inexhaustible is the collection, which contains contributions from so many different ages, nations and countries. For a person whose stay in the capital is limited, the best mode we thin, of visiting this museum of the Vatican should be--after taking a rapid general survey, which is work enough for one or two visits,-to select certain objects, the most noted and interesting and devote what time one has in succeeding visits, exclusively to these. - Sweet Madonna of Murillo ! could we ever tire of gazing upon this lovely creation of that worshipper of the beautiful? Only the time, alas! was all too short. The purity and simplicity, the expression of gentleness and innocence,-in short, the naturalness of this human ideal, without those fanciful accompaniments of a mixed divinity, constituted, to our taste, the great charm of this celebrated painting. art-to whom distortion of feature and strained muscles may be deemed profitable objects of study. To know that such individuals or people thus suffered from devotion to principle, from mistaken prejudice, or from stern necessity,-is, of itself enough to inspire devotion to right and duty, if we will heed the lesson; enough to awaken feelings of reverence for the unfaltering faith, and meek endurance, to the end, even of most dreadful tortures, borne by the Christian martyr; to inspire admiration for the heroic courage manifested (sometimes, it is true, in a mistaken course) and profound pity for the victims of overmastering cruelty and inextricable fate, for instance, like those of " the Massacre of St. Bartholomew's eve," that bloody page in the history of France, more shocking than most other scenes of violence characterizing the annals of this sanguinary people. To know that such numbers of the truly noble and good were decoyed into the gay capital upon a marriage occasion, for the ostensible purpose of effecting good feeling between opposing elements, but really to be butchered by thousands, in cold blood, until the streets of the city and the river Seine were reddened with the crimson tide ;-the very thought of this diabolical plot, and its ultimate success, sanctioned by the papal authority, and actually pictured upon the walls of the Vatican, as a glorious triumph of the church militant over her heretical enemies, Of the pictures of martyrdom, so horribly real, that one's heart sinks and flesh creeps at the sight, we have only a feeling of intense disgust, the more so, as some of the finest genius, which meanwhile, might have been exercised in creating forms of the beautiful and elevating, has been bestowed upon these opposite productions. We are aware that these representations of suffering are considered-alk this was too revolting to every huby a large class as most beneficial and elevating in their tendency. Yet our individual opinion, (with all due deference to the judgment of others) is, that a perpetuation of suffering or cruelty, either on man sentiment, to be dwelt upon; enough, of itself alone, to condemn the whole system of Romanism, from the earliest days of corruption, after St. Peter's, down to the present Pius IX. Quite enough for full condemnation, even while acknowledg 66 ing the many instances of beautiful, consistent piety, which have adorned the church during the ages past, comprising a long roll of names whose brilliance shines forth in strong relief against this dark wall of superstition and cruelty, reared between this pretended divine institution, and the great heart of a common humanity without. The Transfiguration," that masterpiece of Raphael, disappointed us-possibly because so different from a preconceived opinion of the manner in which the subject would be treated by this ardent worker in the school of divine art; possibly because, not realizing our own ideal of that scene, so august- so glorious yet ethereal! Unreasonable mortals are we; expecting that the most subtle, unapproachable faculty of our nature,-a purely spiritual ideal can be transferred in all its ethereal perfection, to the canvas even of the greatest master of his art! Who among the most worthy of all the painters and sculptors, has ever fully realized his perfect ideal? who, though his productions have excited the admiration of succeeding generations, could say, "I have brought out upon the canvas, or wrought in marble, the ideal which my inner eye had painted, or my highest thought had chiselled? Not one! Though, according to the distance, or nearness of that approach to this spiritual conception, is always the satisfaction or disappointment of the true-souled artist, who labors from the higher appreciation and love of his calling. Who that visits the museums of Southern Italy, is not struck with the infinite number and variety of articles once belonging to Hadrian's villa! What an array of statues in bronze and marble! What specimens of artistic objects in porphyry and other oriental stones! What numbers of vases and busts, columns and mosaics, that once adorned this pleasurepalace, upon which that Emperor expended so lavishly, the almost inexhaustible treasure of which he was the master! One is led to think of this royal retreat, with its elabora e embellishments and extensive surroundings as something akin to the marvellous productions of giants and genii, the description of whose enchanted palaces fill the mind of childhood with delighted wonder! The collection of the Vatican can boast a full share of these beautiful remains of departed greatness, in a wonderful state of preservation, which cannot fail to attract the interest of the visitor to these galleries. What an immense collection of rare and curious, interesting and beautiful objects, is this wonderful museum of the Vatican! One is lost in amazement at its vastness, its almost endless extent of room! Gallery leading into gallery, and hall into hall, every one of which is found replete with interesting objects; the mere catalogue would fill columns. What did you admire most while in Rome? or what object struck you most forcibly? was the substance of an inquiry made of us by Madame L-, at the dinner-table one day after our return to Florence. Apollo of Belvidere," was the reply that rushed to our lips, without a moment's thought. Hasty as was the reply, uttered from the impulse of the moment, subsequent reflection, and a more careful analyzation of our feelings and experience at the time, when wandering from object to object, in this same museum of the Vatican, we came suddenly upon this glorious creation, convinced us that we gave a correct answer to the question. To us this statue shone out amid the ruins of ages as the embodiment of immortal youth and vigor-of never-fading beauty. By contrast, therefore, with the surrounding atmosphere of the ETERNAL CITY— (eternal, however, in her ruins alone,) always speaking, as she does, of a dead past, to the soul-with the depressing influences naturally accompanying the research and observation in this direction. Thus it happened that the Apollo was glorified in our sight, and even now stands forth in beautiful relief on the canvas of memory, whenever we turn a retrospective eye upon the days spent in city of wonders- Rome, modern. Lilfred's Rest. visiting that ancient and M. C. G. In every Christian denomination there is enough vital, kindling Christianity, to make good hearts. The first Sabbath in November. And how lovely! Autumn seems to have borrowed the smiles of summer, and with them her warmth and geniality. Looking out upon the brown hills and forests, enlivened by the clear warm sunlight, I think of an aged matron with gray hair and wrinkled features, yet whose clear eyes reflect the light of a good heart that cannot wither, and a pure soul that cannot fade. Who can stay indoors, and let the last smiles of the season fade, unappreciated and unenjoyed? Just before nightfall, George and Lu, with little Carrie, T. and myself set forth for a walk. We will visit the grave-yard on the hill. We cannot see it from here, but the little school-house at the "four-corners," half a mile distant, which is so clearly outlined against the eastern sky, stands but a little way from it. By the way, that school-house was the Alma Mater of my childhood. (I hope those imposing and honored institutions which are scattered through the New-England States, and which send forth so many educated youth every year, will pardon the comparison.) There I learned my first lessons in the spelling-book; and also in |