humble and modest young hero in the cause of peace? For Lieutenant Bellot has been reserved the honour of a monument raised to a French officer by Englishmen in their own land, and rarely has such a tribute been raised under circumstances so flattering, even to the most renowned of their own sons. At the meeting to inaugurate this monument, all classes vied in their tribute of respect to the memory of Bellot. The Prime Minister and chief members of the cabinet sent their hearty adhesion; the navy of England was represented by the First Lord of the Admiralty, from whose eloquent speech our narrative is principally taken. The meeting was presided over by one of the leading savans of the age (Sir Roderick Murchison), and noblemen, officers, and civilians did generous homage to that triumphant principle of love and good-will embodied in the life and actions of this "Friend of the English." Never was a nation so conspicuously won as by him who had conquered through its affections and gratitude. E. F. TO LIEUTENANT BELLOT. "There was, however, another period which is memorable in the life of Lieutenant Bellot. He served in the Pacific at a moment when a passing cloud of national difference somewhat overhung the relations between England and France, and it is remarkable that, at that very moment, when, perhaps, something of jealousy or angry feeling might have pervaded the sailors of these two great maritime powers, Lieutenant Bellot was distinguished in the British navy, and by the officers with whom he associated, by the appellation of 'L'Ami des Anglais' (The Friend of the English).”—Sir J. Graham's Speech. NO MONUMENTAL stone a vigil keeps Where thy unconscious form uncoffined sleeps; To meet such heart-warmth in that frozen land? What sparkling glories through the windows Garlands of gems sustained on shafts of light, Such is the temple round thy quiet grave; C. M. F. Love has won the Victory. Miss Rutherford's was 64 a finishing school." She, and her sister Miss Anne, had grown old in their beautiful old home, where they were born and educated--where they had known many joys and more sorrows-and where, since their father's death and their consequent reverse of fortune, they had most successfully educated others. Highly cultivated and beautiful minds they had; truly respected and well beloved they were, by all who knew them. Miss Rutherford was rather stately and cold in her manner, till you knew her. Miss Anne, with her unaffected gentle ways, her sweet and joyous spirit, was as a sunbeam and a song in the house. As I said, they were not young, yet, somehow, you never thought of age and them together. Their quaint, old-fashioned house was more than a mile from the solitary village of W- in Herts. When I first went there, what a happy, sociable little company we were-never exceedingseldom less than six in number. One Saturday evening, just after the midsummer vacation, we were sitting round Miss Anne's table, in the window recess, selecting our music for the Sunday evening, when Miss Anne said, "Has my sister told you we are expecting two new pupils?" "Ono! now we shall be six again. I am quite sorry," exclaimed Susan Gurney, the merriest little chatterbox of our party; "but what are their names, dear Miss Anne? and when will they come?" "The eldest is Julia Andrews; the other, Marion Herbert: both come from the same town." "Julia and Marion. I shall like Marion best, I know, for her name's sake,—but when do they come?" "Julia comes on Monday; Miss Herbert the following Saturday." "I did not exactly say he was vulgar,but papa very much dislikes him; and I know myself he is very odd,--gives lectures to the poor people, and also in the Townhall, and strange things which no other gentleman ever thinks of doing." town. I must explain who and what Mr. Herbert was, and how much truth there was in Julia's expressions. He rose from an humble station to be an artist of some eminence, generally residing in his native town of L——. Having amassed considerable property, he gave up his profession, and went to reside with his only child in a small, but beautifully situate cottage, near That night we went up stairs full of talk Here he devoted himself to the education of and all kinds of speculation about the new his motherless daughter, and to all public comers. Monday afternoon brought Miss objects of philanthropy. His fellow-townsAndrews. Miss Anne had the happiest way men were astonished to find in him great in the world of setting strangers at ease, talents for other things than painting. It so Julia was soon introduced to each of us; was Mr. Herbert who so ably formed and and Susan, that same evening, was her guide conducted improvement classes for young through house, garden, shrubberies, with as men-Mr. Herbert who drew all the intelmuch frankness and freedom as if they were ligent people in the town to his lectures in old friends. We meantime had made our the winter, and sent them home in raptures observations on the stranger, and formed and astonishment at his eloquence, and that different private opinions. We all agreed he buried such talents in L--. They she was beautiful--but very haughty-looking. At the end of a week, this opinion was strongly confirmed,-also, that there was a touch of ostentation in her way of speaking of her home and friends. Susan was her chosen companion; she was sure to be the first friend of any new comer. Saturday afternoon came, and with it Marion Herbert. Julia caught a glimpse of her as she entered the hall, and turning round to us, exclaimed angrily, "Is it that girl? I wonder what Mr. Herbert is thinking of, to send his daughter here? I declare I will not speak to her! I will not stay if she does!" We looked up in amazement at her angry face, quite at a loss to understand the outbreak. I remembered then that Miss Anne had said they both came from one town, and I wondered it had not occurred to any one to ask Julia if she knew Miss Herbert. I asked her now. "Know her? yes, indeed, I do. Her father is a man, a mere nobody in fact, who has put himself forward at L——, and somehow managed to get to be mayor in opposition to my papa, who was proposed. She is a spoilt child, I have heard, and I'm certain must be ill-taught and vulgar, living alone with her father and servants." "You may be mistaken, Julia; you do not know her, perhaps; she need not be vulgar because her father is." came to consider him the chief ornament of their best society. Everybody loved him. I must except one, and that was Mr. Andrews. He was the richest man in the town; very stern and proud in his manners; yet a worthy man withal. But he was annoyed at Mr. Herbert's popularity; he would not join in his praise; he would not like him; he was 66 presumptuous," an "upstart, and "very absurd." Mr. Herbert in vain strove to conciliate his neighbour; and the ill feeling was greatly augmented when, upon the death of the mayor, a new one had to be chosen suddenly, and the candidates brought forward were Mr. Andrews and Mr. Herbert. He was annoyed at the nomination of Mr. Herbert with him; he had no fear that he would really be elected; still he thought it too great an honour, that he should even be nominated. Mr. Andrews was too sure. In truth, he did not guess how little he was beloved by the generality of the townspeople. His surprise and indignation cannot be pictured when, upon the day of election, Mr. Herbert was elected by a large majority. Mortified, he drove home with a feeling little short of hatred burning in his heart against his rival. Mr. Herbert returned wearied with the excitement, and half sorry to have made Mr. Andrews decidedly his enemy. Marion's triumphant smile of joyous welcome sobered down as she saw his grave and thoughtful face. papa! are you not glad?" Not quite, my darling." "Why, papa, every one is delighted! Hark! they are ringing the bells! How far off and sweet they sound! O papa, why are you sorry?" "I don't like to feel I have an enemy, Marion, and I am sure now Mr. Andrews will be such he has long disliked and shunned me; this will entirely offend him." "Never fear, papa, you must win him, to be sure. You must say, as Phebe says, 'It's got to be done.' Oh, sure and certain you can." "Why, us a week, we all loved her. Both Julia and herself were really talented and welleducated girls; both had the gift of a rich and beautiful voice. But Julia's brilliant French and Italian songs never impressed and delighted us; we only admired them. But shall I ever forget those still summer evenings, when we used to gather round Marion's harp, while she sang "Oft in the stilly night," or some old and simple ballad? Julia kept aloof; she expressed no pleasure; she was mortified, and felt bitterly that less love was bestowed upon her. Miss Anne saw all these conflicting feelings with pain. Julia and Marion, too, were both unhappy. In vain Marion tried to win Julia by untiring gentleness and loving acts; all seemed useless. She began to despair. One day, in the autumn, Julia sat reading on one of the garden seats, when she heard footsteps approaching, and voices in the walk behind her. Her own name attracted her attention. It was spoken by the chatterbox Susan, whose friendship had cooled long ago to Marion Herbert. "Well, how? Let me hear your scheme for winning' an enemy, my wise Marion." "Not now, papa, you look so tired. Tomorrow I'll tell you." The next morning, at breakfast, the question was repeated, and Marion's plan propounded. "You must be told, papa, that last Friday I happened to go to Wilton's Gardens with Mrs. James. While there, Mr. Andrews came in and wanted some plants of that Eastern birch, like ours, you know. Wilton told him his were all dead-that he could not procure any plants; he added, that you once had some, but he didn't know if they were alive. Mr. Andrews seemed so vexed not to get them. You know he is so fond and proud of his garden. Now, I've been thinking, papa, that you might send up two of our young plants; so then he will see you are friendly still." Mr. Herbert laughed. "Well, Marion, we will do this, though I'm afraid you are expecting too much as the result." So the Eastern birches were sent to Mr. Andrews, who certainly received them with utter astonishment, and sent a polite note of thanks for them. The friendly act did some good-not much. Two or three other neighbourly and kind acts seemed to be of little use. However, they were gradually softening Mr. Andrews. In this position things remained, when Marion and Julia were thrown together unexpectedly at Miss Rutherford's school. Julia, long accustomed to hear Mr. Herbert spoken of as an upstart," a "visionary," or some scornful term, had come to dislike him, and with him his daughter. She considered her own papa had been somehow insulted and wronged. Thus had her ill-will arisen hence her exclamation, when Marion arrived at school. When Marion Herbert had been with "Now, Marion, it's no good scolding, I don't, and I cannot like Julia any more. To see how she sweeps by you at dinnertime, and to watch the scorn in her eyes when you are praised! And, then, for her to tell me you lived in a little box of a house, as if that could alter you." "Susan, you shall not tell me such things. You have no reason to dislike Julia, I am sure. Do I not know of the present she made you last week! and to-" 66 Ostentation!" exclaimed Susan. "Nay, Susan, you must not judge so unjustly. I could tell you of a kind thing Julia lately performed, only that I know she did not wish it known, nor does she guess that any one knows. I found it out by accident, and it was something so noble and disinterested that I quite loved her for it. I would give anything to win her love; there is much in her character fine and admirable.” She Julia stayed to hear no more. sprang forward, and hid her face on Marion's bosom, weeping bitter tears of sorrow and shame. Susan ran away to cry likewise. Marion cried for very joy and astonishment; her kisses fell fast and warm on Julia's forehead and hair. Freely Julia confessed her obstinate pride and dislike-freely Marion forgave. We are firm friends for the future," said Marion, after a long, long talk, in which all was explained; "and so will our fathers be; that is my prediction. Oh, I am so happy!" What a pleasant change there was in our school-circle! How glad Miss Anne washow pleased we were again to have the sunshine of love unclouded. At last, the Christmas holidays came. Julia returned, determined to make friends of her father and Mr. Herbert, whom she had now learned to love. O, what a joyful Christmas day it was in Mr. Andrew's house. Marion and her father were the honoured guests. Cheerily blazed the huge fire in the great hall. Merrily rang the Christmas bells. And merrily blended the beautiful voices of Marion and Julia in a new duet the title of which Marion whispered to her father-and which he guessed to be her own composition when he heard the words-" LOVE HATH WON THE VICTORY." Manchester. H. H. battle. Here are heaps of slain weltering in their own blood, their bodies mangled, their limbs shattered, and in many a form and countenance not a vestige left of their former selves. Here are multitudes trodden under foot, and the war-horse has left the trace of his hoof in many a crushed and mutilated frame. Here are severer sufferers; they live, but live without hope or consolation. Justice despatches the criminal with a single stroke; but the victims of war, falling by casual, undirected blows, often expire in lingering agony, their deep groans appealing in vain to compassion, their limbs writhing with pain on the earth, their lips parched with a burning thirst, their wounds open to the chilling air, the memory of tender relatives rushing on their minds, but not an accent of friendship or Comfort reaching their ears. Amid this scene of horrors, you see the bird and beast of prey drinking the blood of the dead, and, with a merciful cruelty, ending the struggles of the dying; and, still more bereft of all human sympathy, turning a deaf ear on the wounded, and rifling the - These may be warm and almost palpitating remains of the easily conceived from its very nature. By slain. If you extend your eye beyond the war, we understand the resort of nations to immediate field of battle, and follow the the most dreaded methods of destruction track of the pursuing and victorious army, and devastation. In war, the skill, strength, you see roads strewn with the dead; you courage, energy, and resources of a whole see the scattered flocks, and harvests people are concentrated for the infliction of trampled under foot; the smoking ruins of pain and death. The bowels of the earth cottages, and the miserable inhabitants are explored, the most active elements com- flying in want and despair! Nor even yet bined, the resources of art and nature are the horrors of a single battle exhausted. exhausted, to increase the power of man in Some of the deepest pangs which it inflicts destroying his fellow-creatures. are silent, retired, enduring, to be read in the countenance of the widow, in the unprotected orphan, in the aged parent, in affection cherishing the memory of the slain, and weeping that it could not minister to their last pangs.-Dr. Channing. AN OLIVE LEAF FOR THE PEOPLE. melancholy, you see human plunderers, BY ELIHU BURRITT. The Miseries of War. Would you learn what destruction man, when thus aided, can spread around him? Look at that extensive region, desolate and overspread with ruins; its forests rent and leafless, as if blasted by lightning; its villages prostrated, as by an earthquake; its fields barren, as if swept by storms. Not long ago, the sweet influences of heaven descended on no happier or more fruitful region than this. But ravaging armies prowled over it; war frowned on it; and its fruitfulness and happiness are fled. Here were gathered thousands and ten thousands from distant provinces, not to embrace as brethren, but to renounce the tie of brother-in short, a temporary adoption, by men, of hood; and thousands, in the vigour of life, when least prepared for death, were hewn down and scattered like chaff before the whirlwind. Repair, in thought, to a field of recent The Character of War. The first idea that rises to the mind, in regarding war, is, that it is a resort to force, whereby each nation tries to overpower the other. Reason, and the Divine part of our nature-in which alone we differ from the beasts-in which alone we approach the Divinity-in which alone are the elements of justice, the professed object of war-are dethroned. It is, the character of wild beasts, emulating their ferocity, rejoicing like them in blood, and seeking, as with a lion's paw, to hold an asserted right. This character of war is somewhat disguised, in more recent days, by the skill and knowledge which it employs; with cold, and tormented with hunger, I it is, however, still the same, made more was a prey to every kind of suffering. destructive by the genius and intellect Uncertain, at the rising of the sun, whether which have been degraded to its service. I need not dwell on the moral debasement of man that must ensue. All the passions of his nature are unleashed, like so many bloodhounds, and suffered to rage. All the crimes which fill our prisons stalk abroad, plaited with the soldier's garb, and unwhipped of justice. Murder, robbery, rape, arson, theft, are the sports of this fiendish saturnalia. Such is the foul disfigurement which war produces in man; man, of whom it has been said, "How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties; in form and moving, how express and admirable; in action, how like an angel; in apprehension, how like a God!"-Hon. Charles Sumner. Signs of Progress. -The friends of international arbitration are decidedly on the increase. War is becoming more unpopular with the masses. That is a cheering symptom. Men are beginning to look beneath the surface at the real nature of things. Military glory is losing its attractions; and the people are right in looking behind the glare and glitter to see the thing as it is. Are they not right in asking, cannot we, the nation of England, do as well without going to war as other nations? Is it conducive to our commercial prosperity, or consistent with our boasted humanity and justice to do so? Can we not consult our interest in some better way? Yes, we can. There is a God who says, "Vengeance is mine; I will repay." There is a Saviour who says, "I will make thy officers peace." As long as these voices sound in our ears, as long as it is on record that God has made of one blood all nations to dwell on the face of all the earth, we will use our best influence to prevent them from taking up murderous weapons against one another; we will try and bring peoples, and kindreds, and tongues together, and join them in one holy brotherhood of friendship, believing that their true happiness will be thus promoted.—Dr. Davidson. I should see his setting rays, and in the evening doubtful of witnessing another day, every thought was absorbed in the desire of living to preserve the remembrance of what I had seen. Animated by this feeling, I wrote the events of the day every evening, before a bad fire, under a temperature twenty degrees below the freezing point, and surrounded by the dying and the dead. I made my pens from the quills of the raven, with the same knife that I used in cutting up horse-flesh for my food; and a little gunpowder, mixed up in the hollow of my hand with melted snow, supplied the place of ink and inkstand.-Labaume. GERMANY. It would occupy too great a space in the columns of the Bond were I to give in extenso the translations or contents of all the letters and newspaper articles favourable to our cause of peace, that have occurred to me during the last month. The Elberfelder Zeitung especially has, among a considerable number of good pieces, brought out again lately a most excellent leading article (probably written by the editor himself) which greatly resembles, in composition and tendency, our Olive Leaves as they appear monthly in the German journals, and may be of equal usefulness as one of them in its influence on the reading public. likewise continues to co-operate fairly with The Hamburg Literary Gazette us; the last number which I saw of that the cost of modern wars. paper contained very striking statistics of And now I have great pleasure in acquainting our friends in England that we have just got ready the first packet of Leaflets in the German language, containing twenty numbers. They have been very neatly got up, and look exceedingly well. Had we been able to bring them out a little sooner, we might have succeeded in getting them circulated pretty widely before Christmas time, which is the best of all seasons for introducing publications like these in Germany. As it is, we shall try to do the best we can in making them known on the spot. The Records of the Russian Campaign. -It was by the light of burning Moscow that I described the pillage of that city; it was on the banks of the Berezina that I traced the narrative of that fatal passage. It is scarcely possible to conceive the difficulties I had to surmount, in making my The editor of the Nachrichten has promemoranda. Compelled to struggle with mised to write a few lines of favourable the most imperious necessity, benumbed | criticism in his feuilleton. I hope the |