lished, and his cireumstances continuing to improve, "about the middle of 1760," says Washington Irving, "he emerged from his dismal abode in Green Arbor Court, and took respectable apart ments in Wine Office Court, Fleet Street."

It was here, on the 31st of May, 1761, he received his first visit from Dr. Samuel Johnson. The commencement of their acquaintance was most characteristic. Goldsmith had invited a large party to a literary supper, and he requested Dr. Percy, as a mutual friend, to bring Johnson with him to the repast. On calling for the great lit erary potentate, Dr. Percy was surprised at his extraordinary smartness, and could not help inquiring the reason of his paying such unwonted regard to his personal appearance. "Why, sir," replied Johnson, "I hear that Goldsmith, who is a very great sloven, justifies his disregard of cleanliness and decency by quoting my practice, and I am desirous this night to show him a better example."

Goldsmith had long felt the want of a monitor and guide. His yielding, gentle nature needed support, and in his weakness he felt that it was good for him to lean in confidence and reliance on the strong minded Englishman. The memorable scene depicted in our plate occurred one morning at Wine Office Court. The story is well known, and has been made the subject of a graphic painting by a modern artist. We cannot do better than give it in Dr. Johnson's own words. "I received one morning," he says, 66 a message from poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and, as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion: I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told me he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it and saw its merit; told the landlady I should soon return; and, having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill."

The novel was the "Vicar of Wakefield," and the bookseller to whom it was sold was Mr. Francis Newbury. Strange to relate, the purchaser kept the manuscript by him more than a year and a half before he ventured to publish it. But

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the work was destined to an extensive and enduring popularity, of which the fortunate bookseller never dreamed. "It came out," says Washington Irving, "on the 27th of March, 1766; before the end of May a second edition was called for; in three months more a third; and so it went on, widening into a popularity that has never flagged. Rogers, the Nestor of British literature, whose refined purity of taste, and exquisite mental organization, rendered him eminently calculated to appreciate a work of the kind, declared that, of all the books which, through the fitful changes of three generations, he had seen rise and fall, the charm of the Vicar of Wakefield' had alone continued as at first; and could he revisit the world after an interval of many more generations, he should as surely look to find it undiminished." We shall not attempt to inquire into the secret of this wonderful popularity. It is enough to say, that the work has been a blessed instrument in disseminating principles of mercy, tolerance, and kindness. The loving disposition and winning gentleness of spirit which characterized its author shine forth in every page. Good predominant over evil is briefly the purpose and moral of the little story. It is designed to show us that patience in suffering, that persevering reliance on the providence of God, that quiet labor, cheerful endeavor, and an indulgent forgiveness of the faults and infirmities of others, are the easy and certain means of pleasure in this world, and of turning pain to noble uses. It is designed to show us that the heroism and self-denial needed for the duties of life are not of the superhuman sort; that they may coexist with many follies, with some simple weaknesses, with many harmless vanities; and that in the improvement of mankind, near and remote, in its progress through worldly content to final happiness, the humblest of men have their places assigned them, and their parts allotted them to play. Apart from its moral teachings, the "Vicar of Wakefield" is also valued as the most delightful picture of English domestic life in the language. All the tendernesses, virtues, and endearments of home-its pure enjoyments and tranquil pleasures, are beautifully set forth. It is a picture that could only have been drawn by one who himself deeply appreciated the ties of family affection.

Before the "Vicar of Wakefield," however, had made its appearance, Goldsmith established his reputation as a poet by the publication of the "Traveler." With many misgivings, on the part of its author, this charming poem was ushered into the world, and its success was most triumphant. His reputation was now too firmly es

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tablished to allow of further distress, and from this point is so well known that we need follow the narrative of his accomplished biographer no further. We consider Mr. Irving's sketch one of the most graceful and pleasing feats of literary biography to be found in the language.

There are few writers who have achieved a wider popularity, or who have exercised and maintained a more general and permanent influence on the English intellectual character than the author of the "Deserted Village." At every stage of life he is a friend and monitor. If, as his biographers have suggested, he was the author of "Goody Two Shoes," and other nursery rhymes published by his frequent employer, Mr. Francis Newbury-and there is nothing unreasonable in the supposition that these drolleries, slight and trivial as they may appear, were really written by wise and thoughtful men-his sportive productions amuse our earliest infancy. His histories of England, Greece, and Rome, still form the basis of the historical knowledge communicated in hundreds of our schools; and if these histories are not remarkable for any

deep research, their clear and lucid style admirably adapt them for the purposes of instruction. His selected essays, the "Vicar of Wakefield," and the "Citizen of the World," are among the first volumes of English classics which, in youth and early manhood, are commended to our attention, and they never fail to leave a permanent impression on the mind. In maturer years they are recurred to with pleasure, and maxims and observations in daily use are taken from them. And when the meridian of life is passed, when the poetry of passion has lost its charm, and the mind is more readily attracted by sedate images and tranquil beauty, the "Deserted Village," and the Traveler," are welcomed as favored friends, and referred to as models of all that is pure, correct, and good. To every stage and condition of life we maintain that Goldsmith has been a liberal benefactor. But, above all, he has left us the example of a life which, though defaced and deformed by many errors, was redeemed by so many virtues that we should be justified in rejoicing that he had lived even if he

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had not written a line.

CHARLES MACKAY, in his "Voices from the Mountain," presents us with a very beautiful poem under the above title. He weaves a pleasing little romance out of the popular Calabrian belief in the "Fata Morgana;" and as many of our readers may have read the poem without a knowledge of the origin of the name it bears, we will present them with a short notice of the singular phenomenon which gives rise to the Italian superstition.

The "Fata Morgana" is one of those remarkable optical illusions which from time to time occur on certain sea-coasts, in consequence of some peculiar refractive power in the atmosphere. Ships at sea have often appeared to be near to mountains, capes, and tree-covered shores, when they really were not; and singular illusions of landscape and town have been seen mirrored in the ocean; the "Fata Morgana" is one of the latter, which is sometimes seen in the Bay of Reggio, and is hailed by the people with joyous clappings of the hands and shoutings of “Morga

na, Morgana, Morgana, Fata Morgana." Fata Morgana means fairy Morgana, a supposed being, whom the inhabitants believe to have visited their bay for a short time. Reggio is a beautiful town, situated on the Straits of Messina, which divide Italy from Sicily. The town stands upon the shores of a sweet little bay, and around it are lovely gardens, and beautiful orange and melon groves. The blue waters of the faro, or strait, flow onward like a river, and beyond are seen the city of Messina and the sweet villages of Sicily. The phenomenon of the "Fata" referred to has been a subject of observation both to ancients and moderns, and the true cause of its appearance is still a subject of speculation. Brydone, in his tour through Sicily and Malta, describes the illusion as the result of some electrical agency, while at the same time he repudiates the theories advanced by native writers to the effect that the appearance was induced by some refractive or reflective power in the water of the straits, produced by whirls,

tion is rather strained, and not very probable; the more likely cause is given by Antonio Minase, who had several times observed and studied the remarkable phenomenon.

The "Fata Morgana" is only seen at certain periods and under certain states of the atmosphere, and the following is Antonio's solution of the phenomenon. When the rising sun attains the point whence its ray of incidence forms an angle of about forty-five degrees on the Bay of Reggio, and when the smooth, bright surface of the water is undisturbed by either wind or current, if the spectator stands on an eminence of the city, with his back to the sun, and his face to the strait, he will suddenly see various objects, multiplied to a great extent, appear in the water. Pilasters, arches, castles, regular columns, lofty towers, and splendid palaces, with beautiful landscapes, alternating with hill and plain, and alive with flocks and herds, pass in all distinctness of form and beauty of color, like a panoramic pageant upon the surface of the sea, during the short period that the coincident causes already men. tioned remain. If vapor hangs like a curtain upon the surface of the bay, the objects reflected from the sea, although not so distinctly, pass along this hazy sheet. If the air, however, be slightly hazy and opaque, and at the same time sufficiently full of dew to produce the iris, the phantasmagoria only appears upon the surface of the water, but then the objects are fringed by the prismatic colors. Antonio Minase describes the sea at the Messina Straits as presenting the appearance of a large inclined mirror. In the channel of this neck of the sea there are two alternate currents, which flow continuously six hours in one direction, and then contrariwise for another six hours. At the time when the change of current takes place from the one direction to the other, there are many eddies, whirls, and ir

junction with the sun's incidentary being in the angle before mentioned, that the phenomena appear. These are, of course, natural objects on shore, reflected and multiplied in numberless forms and sizes. Brydone believed that the illusion was produced by the accumulation of electric vapors, germinated by the volcanoes in the contiguous country, and confined between two mountains, while at the same time this vapor was agitated by the impetuous whirling of the waters, and thus induced to reflect objects, and produce rapid changes in their aspect. Antonio Minase refers the aqueous phenomena to the more philosophical solar and tidal causes already referred to, but the aerial he attributes to the influence of saline and other effluvia suspended in the atmosphere. Various modifications of these ideas have been elaborated, and still the "Fata Morgana" is an object of wonderment and speculation. The Calabrian peasants, who do not much regard cold material laws as the solvents of their most beautiful appearances and fanciful illusions, look upon the "Fata Morgana" as the kingdom of a good fairy, whose palaces, and towers, and green woody lands appear in beautiful disorder in the bosom of the smooth, blue bay, or are hung like a system of radiant gossamers in the sun-lighted curtain of vapor which hangs upon the smooth, unruffled deep. The phenomenon only occurs at long intervals, and lasts but for a few seconds, but, leaving bright and vivid impressions behind it, it supplies the fanciful Calabrians with sufficient materials for a beautiful system of wondrous thought and fantastic fairy tales. The poetry of the visioned fable seems to delight the story-loving inhabitants of Reggio more than its philosophy, so that to this day the fairy influence and ideas maintain their ascendency over the Calabrian people regarding the "Fata Morgana."

WHAT is the warrior's sword compared with thee?
A brittle reed against a giant's might!
What are the tyrant's countless hosts as light
As chaff before the tempest! Though he be
Shut in with guards, and by the bended knee
Be-worshiped, like a God, thou still canst smite,
E'en then, with viewless arm, and from that
height

Hurl him into the dust! for thou art free,
Boundless, omnipresent, like God, who gave
Thee for his crowning gift to man: and when
Thou work'st with thy best weapon, Truth's calm
pen,

To punish and reform, exalt and save,
Thou canst combine in one the minds of men,
Which strength like that of God, united have!

BEAUTIFUL TEAR! whether lingering upon the brink of the eyelid, or darting down the furrows of the care-worn cheek-thou art beautiful in thy simplicity-great because of thy modestystrong from thy very weakness. Offspring of sorrow! who will not own thy claim to sympathy? | who can resist thy eloquence? who can deny mercy when thou pleadest? Beautiful Tear!

Let us trace a tear to its source. The eye is the most attractive organ of animal bodies. It is placed in a bony socket, by which it is protected, and wherein it finds room to perform the motions requisite to its uses. The rays of light which transmit the images of external objects enter the pupil through the crystaline lens, and fall upon the retina, upon which, within the space represented by a sixpence, is formed, in all beauty and perfection, an exact image of many miles of landscape, every object displaying its proper color and true proportions-trees and lakes, hills and valleys, insects and flowers, all in true keeping, are there shown at once, and the impression produced thereby upon the filaments of the optic nerve causes a sensation which communicates to the mind the apparent qualities of the varied ob jects we behold.

That this wonderful faculty of vision may be uninterrupted, it is necessary that the transparent membrane which forms the external covering of the eye shall be kept moist and free from the contact of opaque substances. To supply the fluid which shall moisten and cleanse the eye, there is placed at the outer and upper part of the ball a small gland, which secretes the lachrymal fluid, and pours it out at the corner of the eye, whence, by the motion of the lids, it is equally spread over the surface, and thus moisture and clearness are at once secured.

When we incline to sleep, the eyes become comparatively bloodless and dull. The eyelids drop to shut out everything which might tend to arouse the slumbering senses. The secretion by the lachrymal glands is probably all but suspended, and the organs of sight participate in the general rest. When, after a long night's sleep, the eyelids first open, there is, therefore, a dullness of

vision, arising probably from the dryness of the cornea: then occur the rapid motions of the eyelids, familiarly termed "winking"-sometimes instinctively aided by rubbing with the handsand after a few moments the " windows" of the body have been properly cleansed and set in order, the eye adjusted to the quantity of light it must receive, and we are "awake" for the day, and may go forth to renew our acquaintance with the beauties of nature.

It is from the glands which supply this moisture that tears flow. Among physiologists it is well known that emotions-impressions upon the nervous system-exercise a powerful and immediate influence upon the secretions. As, for instance, the mere thought of some savory dish, or delicious fruit, or something acid--as the juice of the lemon-will excite an instant flow of the salivary fluid into the mouth. An emotion of the mind influences the lachrymal glands, which copiously secrete and pour forth the crystal drops, and these, as they appear upon the surface of the eye, we denominate tears.

A similar action, called forth by another kind of excitement, occurs when dust or other irritating substance comes in contact with the eye; the glands instantly secrete abundantly, and pouring the crystal fluid out upon the surface, the eye is protected from injury, and the offending substance is washed away. The feelings which excite excessive laughter or joy also stimulate this secretion-the eyes are said to "water." It is only when the crystal drop comes forth under the impulse of sorrow—thus speaking the anguish of the mind-that it can properly be called a tear. Hence its sacred character, and the sympathy which it seldom fails to create.

Every tear represents some indwelling sorrow preying upon the mind and eating out its peace. The tear comes forth to declare the inward struggle, and to plead a truce against further strife. How meet that the eye should be the seat of tears-where they cannot occur unobserved, but blending with the speaking beauty of the eye itself, must command attention and sympathy.

Whonever we behold a tear, let our kindliest sympathies awake--let it have a sacred claim upon all that we can do to succor and comfort under affliction. What rivers of tears have flown, excited by the cruel and perverse ways of man! `War has spread its carnage and desolation, and the eyes of widows and orphans have been suffused with tears! Intemperance has blighted the homes of millions, and weeping and wailing have been incessant! A thousand other evils which we may conquer have given birth to tears enough

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to constitute a flood-a great tide of grief. Suppose we prize this little philosophy, and each one determine never to excite a tear in another-how pleasantly will fare mankind! Watching the eye as the telegraph of the mind within, let us observe it with anxious regard; and whether we are moved to complaint by the existence of supposed or real wrongs, let the indication of the coming tear be held as a sacred truce to unkindly feeling, and all our efforts be devoted to the sub stitution of smiles for tears!

LET us go forth and fin 1 where is the dwellingplace of the spirit of beauty.

The beautiful, yes, the beautiful hath indeed its abode in this world of ours !—it lives not alone in the visions that come to us all bright with glorious shadowings, and resplendent with gorgeous colorings. There are scenes of beauty here, full of light, and lustrous as noon, though "unborrowed of the sun"-scenes which thrill the soul and inspire it with love of the godlike. They are hallowed of heaven-all radiant with hope, and clothed with perpetual gladness! And where, indeed, doth dwell the Beautiful, and who hath found her home among the sons of men?

We have searched through the palaces of greatness-we have gazed upon the purple of princes -we have beheld the glitter of monarchs' crowns-looked on the magic creations of the

pencil's power-witnessed the out-births of lifelike beings from lifeless marble-surveyed the sky above and earth beneath; and, all along, invoked the Beautiful to come forth from her sanctuary, if it be among the palaces of men-the folds of purple-the tiaras of kings-the works of art-or the arcana of nature. A response hath, indeed, been given to our call; but its voice, though sweet and melodious, flows not from lips that are holy;-it was an utterance from the tongue of the earth-born beautiful!

We sought again for the abode of the beautiful; we went not among palaces nor princes; we looked not upon royal robes and diadems; and consulted not the oracles of art and of nature. We found, at length, its temple-we felt the presence of its divinity; that temple is the humble and contrite HEART-the spirit that dwells there, is the Beauty of Holiness!