ago perceptible to the glance of others less interested. Glycera's young companions had often mentioned it of late; but she only laughed and shook her head, saying, and perhaps believing then, that it was nothing, and she should soon be well again.

"You are ill!" repeated Pausias, once more; while she yet meditated how to answer, and whether to attempt any longer to conceal it from him.

"No; but I fear to be. It is this feeling that makes me impatient sometimes. Pausias, you promised me immortality!"

What mockery there was for him who loved her in those wild words! in the meek, trusting look with which she clung to him! How powerless, after all, is our vain, human worship!-Our purest affection! Is there nothing that we can do? If we were to lay down our very lives for them, of what avail would it be? None! In our strongest love we are as weak as little children to save the object of it from one corporeal pang. We can but pray for them. The young Greek repeated the word immortality with white lips.

"Let me owe it to you!" whispered Glycera, again; and she pressed closer to him, and rested her drooping head upon his shoulder. "It was too much happiness to be with you here on earth; but to live in the memory of your future fame is life enough for me."

Pausias interrupted her with passionate lamentations. It was a sad triumph for her to learn in them how dear she was to him, and how well content he would be to give up all other ties of hope and ambition which the world held for him, to preserve the young life rapidly ebbing away. To be sure, these were mere words; taken from his art, Pausias would have been the most miserable man alive, and even Glycera's love have utterly failed to satisfy or console. But he did not think so then; and she-oh, it was so natural!-believed every syllable he told her, feeling strangely happy in consequence. And yet there was no selfishness in the heart of the young garland-wreather. She would not for worlds have purchased life itself, precious as it seemed to her now, at such a sacrifice; but

it was sweet to die so loved and mourned.

After this, Pausias devoted himself almost entirely to the " Stephaneplocos." And it is said that Glycera not only attired herself with the most studied care, but even painted her face, in order the more effectually to conceal the fearful ravages of disease, lest the original freshness of the picture should be destroyed; or, perhaps, with the feminine desire of looking better in her lover's eyes, not only at the present moment, but when he should have nothing but that portrait left to remind him of the past. While deceived by this womanly device, Pausias continued to indulge a wild, vain hope, destined never to be realised. Sometimes he would advise the picture's being put aside for a few weeks, until she was better; looking into her dark eyes while he spoke with such earnest scrutiny, that Glycera, controlling the sudden impulse which she felt to fling herself upon his bosom, and tell him that would never be, answered only by light, playful words.

Nay, idler! no excuse, or I shall think you have some other work on hand. And it is so nearly finished now, and so beautiful!--the flowers, I mean"-added the girl, with a smile and a blush.

"Not half beautiful enough; and I do not mean the flowers, my Glycera! But you must have your way, I suppose ?

"To be sure;" and she went and sat down in her usual place. It was a strange notion; but Pausias could not help thinking as he worked, how many flower-wreaths had faded away since the picture was first began.

It was a bright summer evening when the masterpiece of the young artist received its finishing touch; and he called to Glycera to come and play the critic as she used. But if there were any faults, she could not see them now for tears; while her grateful thanks, blended with sweet praise, fell soothingly on his ear. And yet she seemed strangely sad, as though her mission were at an end.

It was a wild supposition; but the Greek girl, looking back upon the past, felt that she had been born only for this purpose-to instil into the mind of her artist-lover a gentler

and more refined conception of the beautiful-to win him into a new and hitherto untrodden pathway to the temple of Fame-to be the poetry of his youth-the agent, the incentive, the day-star of future immortality! a portion of which would be reflected back upon herself. A romantic dream, passing early away, and idealising, rather than interfering with the sterner duties of an active and glorious manhood. What happiness!--what a privilege for Glycera, to live and die for him she loved! How many would fain do likewise, if they might! And who knows, thought the young dreamer, but what I may be yet permitted, invisible to mortal eyes, to be his ministering spirit still! A bright smile settled like a gleam of sunlight upon the brow of the maiden as she mused thus; so bright, that Pausias felt awe-stricken as he gazed, for there was a glory in it not of earth.

"Glycera," said he, very softly, "of whom are you thinking?" "Need you ask?"

"But you smiled so strangely, and yet so happily."

"Did I? Ah, it was a glad thought!"

May I not know it ?"

"Not now; wait until it is realised, and then I will whisper it to you-it may be when you least expect it."

Pausias was pleased to hear her allude to the future, little dreaming how vague and uncertain a thing it was-how rayless, for the most part, wanting the Christian's hope of a reunion with the beloved in heaven, or that it was the unknown future to which she referred.

That night Glycera contrived by a thousand innocent and gentle wiles to detain her lover long after his usual time, and yet it only needed for her to have told him how ill she really was and he would never have quitted her again; but the girl had no heart to grieve him thus. Even after he was gone she called him back, and held up her sweet face again, that he might kiss her for the last time; and still Pausias never guessed the truth. How should he, when she looked so bright and beautiful? But as he walked homeward in the quiet moonlight, he began to think that, after all, Glycera did not

seem so very ill; and it might have been a mere womanly devise to coax him into finishing the picture, upon the completion of which she seemed to have set her whole heart, and to laugh gladly within himself for having been so easily duped. Certainly she was much changed, but it might be only a trifling illness that would soon pass away again. How apt we are in believing what we hope! Even while he dreamed thus, Glycera was no more, and the poetry of his life died with her.

It is probable that the young garland-maker fell a sacrifice to the same fatal and cureless disease, which still continues, even in our own time, to mark out for its victims the gentlest and best-beloved of earth, gifting them with a treacherous beauty that mocks and deceives the fondest and most watchful affection, and, brightening ever towards its close, lures on the star of hope and joy only for it to set in tears and darkness over the grave!

Henceforth Pausias belonged solely to his country and his art, whose records speak of him from time to time. It is from them we trace the onward progress of this great artist. Pausanias mentions, in particular, two pictures of his at Epidaurus, of singular merit: one a Cupid with a lyre in his hand, his bow and arrows lying by his side; the other being the famous "Methe," or drunkenness. Subsequently, however, the debts of the state having obliged the Sicyonians to sell their pictures, those of Pausias were brought to Rome during the edileship of Scaurus, where, as we learn from a line in the Satires of Horace, they were a great object of veneration to the connoisseurs. Some idea of the value attached to the "Stephaneplocos," may be gathered from the fact of a mere copy of it being purchased by L. Lucullus at Athens, at the enormous price of two talents (about four hundred and thirty-two guineas).

Pausias undertook the restoration of the paintings of Polygnotus at Thespia, which had fallen greatly to decay. He was also the first who introduced the custom of painting the ceilings and walls of private apartments with historical and dramatic subjects, although the practice of de

corating roofs and ceilings with stars or arabesque figures (particularly those of temples) was of very old date. To his skill in encaustic, in which he was the first who ever acquired much celebrity, we have already alluded; but, more than all, he was the first flower-painter! a branch of art which, under the magic touch of the great flower-painter of our own day, Mr. Valentine Bartholomew, has now attained to the highest state of perfection, almost ceasing to become one in its exquisite truthfulness to nature.

One historian only of that ancient period, the veracity of whose statements are not always to be relied upon, and whose single testimony we should be very careful in admitting, has ventured to hint that after Glycera's death, Pausias, manlike, was well content to solace himself with a new affection. Poor Glycera! And yet if it was so, and she could

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have known it, her woman's heart must have joyed with an unselfish rejoicing in what made him happy too. But we will not believe it! In the romantic annals of Greece her name alone blends with that of her gifted lover. Fame points to the Stephaneplocos," and will know no other! Reason whispers with her cold, mocking smile, that it might have been so, bringing a whole host of past and present experiences to corroborate her words; but they are scarcely heard amidst opposing multitudes of young voices, strong in their sweet and loving faith. Whether it be wiser we know not, but it is certainly far pleasanter to listen to the latter and believe, in spite of the sceptical historian before mentioned, that Glycera had no rival in the affections of Pausias save his art, which her presence, her love, and, it may be, even her early death, assisted to perfect and refine.

THE popular voice places Mr. Macaulay in the very first rank of contemporary speakers. Those who are prepared to admit a distinction between the most distinguished and successful of untrained speakers and the confessed orators, include him, without hesitation, in the latter class. If they form their judgment merely from reading his speeches as reported in the papers, certainly they have ample ground for presuming that he must be a man of no ordinary eloquence, for he scarcely ever rises but to pour a flood of light upon the subject under discussion, which he handles with a masterly skill that brings out all the available points, and sets them off with such a grace of illustration, such a depth and readiness of historical knowledge, as are equalled by no other living orator. His speeches, indeed, looked at apart from all im mediate political considerations, are admirable compositions, which may be read and read again with pleasure and profit, long after the party

feelings of the moment have subsided; and in this point of view they seem to be regarded by the general public. An equal interest and admiration are felt by that comparatively small and exclusive section who form the audience in the House of Commons. When it gets whispered about that Mr. Macaulay is likely to speak on a particular question, the intelligence acts like a talisman on the members. Those who may not take sufficient interest in the current business to be present in the house, may be scen hovering in its precincts, in the lobbies, in the library, or at Bellamy's, lest they should be out of the way at the right moment, and so lose a great intellectual treat; and it is no sooner known that the cause of all this interest has actually begun to speak, than the house becomes, as if by magic, as much crowded as when the leader for the time being is on his legs. So general an interest in one who has not rendered himself important or conspicuous by

any of the more ordinary or vulgar means of obtaining political distinction, or of exciting the popular mind, is of itself proof enough that he must possess very extraordinary claims. In this interest and admiration we most cordially concur. We are not going to question the accuracy of that verdict of the public which places Mr. Macaulay among the very first orators of the day; though, perhaps, we may be able to suggest grounds for a more discriminating criticism and judgment than he is generally subjected to; but, before proceeding to do so, it may be desirable to notice some peculiarities in Mr. Macaulay's political position, and of the means by which he has arrived at it, which illustrate in a very remarkable manner the working of the constitution, and exemplify the real freedom of our institutions.

The theory of the representative system in this country assumes that members of the House of Commons are elected by the free choice of the people, because of their peculiar fitness for the business of legislation. As a large and important portion of those who form the government are chosen from the representative body, the same theory, if followed out, would further assume that they were so selected because they were more distinguished than their compeers for the possession of those qualities of mind, and that general knowledge of the condition of the country, which would make them good administrative officers. This is the theory; but the practice is far different. It seems almost absurd to recapitulate what every politician assumes as the basis of his calculations, and every newspaper and annual register records. Yet this familiarity with the facts blinds us to their importance; and we are not a little startled when told, that under our representative system, which we are so ready to hold up to the world as faultless, intelligence, knowledge of the affairs of the country, and general fitness for the business of the government, are the very last things thought of in a candidate for the suffrages of the people.

Without pushing this view to the extreme conclusions which it will naturally bear, it may be observed

that in practice the rank or property, or local influence, of a candidate, obtains more influence than is exactly consistent with the perfection of the abstract theory of representation. County members are more often returned by this kind of influence than any other. The son of the great local peer, or the head of the preponderating family in the county, is naturally looked to when a vacancy occurs; and he would be regarded as next door to a madman, who proposed a candidate, because he believed his intelligence, his experience, his talents in the House of Commons, qualified him for the post of member, unsupported by any particular local influence. In the boroughs, rules not very dissimilar prevail. In many cases, notwithstanding the Reform-bill, the nomination system still exists; and here, as under the old system, the young man of talent who has his political fortune to carve out, may find the door open which is to lead him into parliament. Where the boroughs are in this respect "open," the influence of property, direct or indirect, is very nearly as strong as in the counties. The leading banker, or brewer, or manufacturer here, stands in a position not very dissimilar to that of the man of family in the more extended electoral sphere. He is returned, either on account of his personal and local influence, or because he is the blind representative of some “interest;" but general legislatorial qualifications are here, as elsewhere, almost the last things required from him. It is true that the borough representation opens the door of parliament to commercial men of high standing, who come forward on their general reputation, and not on any local influence, and that it also ushers into parliament that very important body, the lawyers; but these are only a minority of the whole. There are also accidents of the system, where men like Mr. Wakley or Mr. Duncombe obtain the suffrages of large constituencies democratically disposed, by the usual arts and practices of mob-orators.

The selections made by the aristocratic, or governing body, whether Whig or Tory, of members to recruit from time to time the ranks of the administration, would appear to

be influenced by principles or habits not wholly different from those which guide the constituencies. The man of talent, but without an alliance with nobility, or ostensible wealth, has scarcely a fair chance against those who may combine those advantages with even far inferior abilities. Whether this be a good or a bad system is not in question, though that it should so universally prevail in the face of a watchful public is prima facie evidence in its favour. It does exist, however. A Sir Robert Peel or a Lord John Russell, forming a government, does not first look out for friendless and landless men, even though their lack of wealth might only obscure the genius of a Canning. No, they rather are disposed to patronise the Charles Woods or the Sidney Herberts-very clever men and excellent administrative officers, no doubt, but whose merits have the additional weight of their near relationship to two several earldoms. The heads of the aristocratic parties are accustomed to look to their own ranks for their pupils in the science of government and their successors as the inheritors of power, unless in those offices, limited in number, which are filled by prac tising barristers, whose professional position and success in the house have long since, in the eyes of the initiated, designated their future position as solicitor or attorney-general. For all these reasons, it is seldom indeed that one sees in the higher offices of government men who have not some relationship with the leading nobility, some hereditary political claim, or who are not great city or money lords, or barristers with an acknowledged standing and reputation, and who have already exhibited proofs of parliamentary ability.

Mr. Macaulay is an exception to all these rules. Although he is a barrister, he does not practise as one, -at least, his parliamentary standing in no way depends on his profession. Although indebted to the nomination system for his first admission to parliament, having first sat for the Marquess of Lansdowne's borough of Calne before the Reform-bill, yet he is in no way indebted to any Whig family connexion for the start this gave him at the very outset of the race. Still less is he, or has he

ever been, in that state of political servitude which might otherwise account for his rapid advance to the highest offices in the gift of an exclusive aristocratic party. He has boldly asserted the most ultra-liberal, almost democratic opinions, always tempered by the refinement of a highly cultivated and well-constituted mind, but still independent and uncompromising. It is to his parliamentary talents that he is almost exclusively indebted for his advancement, and in this respect he stands almost alone among his contemporaries. It is because he is a distinguished orator-an orator developing, perhaps, into a statesman-that he has attained the rank of privy-councillor and cabinet minister. To other great men of the day-to such men as Lord Stanley, Lord Lyndhurst, Lord Brougham, or Sir Robert Peel, the ability to address assemblies of their fellow-men with skill and effect has been a powerful agent of their political success; but in their cases it has been auxiliary only, not, as in the instance of Mr. Macaulay, the sole means of coping with established reputations. They cach and all had either birth, social position, or the advantage derived from professional triumphs at the bar, as an introduction to the notice of those who from time to time have been the dispensers of honour and the nominators to office.

The high political rank held by Mr. Macaulay, then,-secured as it has been by no subserviency to the aristocracy on the one hand nor any attempts to build power on democratic influence on the other-is a singular instance of the elasticity of our institutions, and of the opportunity afforded in the practical working of the constitution to men of talent and conduct of raising theinselves to the highest positions in the state. Looked at with reference to the relative constitution of society in England and France, the elevation of Mr. Macaulay, by means so legitimate, is to be regarded as an infinitely greater triumph of mind over aristocratic exclusiveness than the prime-ministership of M. Thiers or of M. Guizot, however dazzling or flattering to literary pride, achieved as each was, in a greater or less degree, amidst the disorganisation of