But the position of the victim under the wheels of this Juggernaut car, (if another simile be allowable,) is enviable, compared with that of Juggernaut himself. Bruised or broken in body or in spirit, the votaries may yet see their delusion; some spring of manliness and self-respect may rise up from the shades to which it has been banished; though difficult or distant, ways of escape still remain for them. With Juggernaut their idol, it is far differentHemmed in by his hypocritical admirers, with their confessions of his infallibility ever sounding around him, the meanness and servility of their worship ever present before him, how is it possible to avoid the inference, met at every turn, that he was born to be the special object of admiration and veneration, not for his learning, or his kindness and charity, his strength and force of character in all that is right and true, but for reasons that I for one am positively ashamed to mention as such.

From advancement of any kind such an idol is bound hand and foot. Perfect as he is, why should he strive to improve. His uncongenialities are pleasing eccentricities, his selfishness and egotism are made, within his own sphere, to appear as virtues, and are fostered to the last pitch of unhealthiness and monstrosity. It is true that this is an extreme instance, but it is easy to trace the same effects, influencing proportionately the idol and the wor shippers, in modified cases.

To end the analogy presented by the story which I have alluded to, there are probably few under such "wind-bound" dominion to whom after patient and cautious waiting, no opportunities of freedom present themselves, or who, with a strong will to do so, can fail to discover a way of throwing off such chains, which it were to be wished, should always be found as galling as they are unjust and prejudicial. The author of the "Elixer for Poverty" has some verses which seem to bear upon the subject, from which I have only room to extract the two following,

The compromise of thought, of free
And glorious open speech-
The bending of the manly head,
The veiling of the brow in dread ;-
To mount the deadly breach

Were little, to some minds compared
With these! where is the goal
E'en of Ambition's Paradise

Worth purchasing at such a price,
Repression of the soul.

There are some unfortunate instances in life where a stagnation arises for a time from great dissimilarity of character and disposition-people being thrown together whose ends and aims are al

most irreconcilable. What I wish to express is told in fewer and more beautiful words than any of mine could be, by Acton Bell :"Grieving to look on vice and sin, Yet powerless to quell

The silent current from within,
The outward torrent's swell:
While all the good I would impart,
The feelings I would share,
Are driven backward to my heart

And turned to wormwood there."

Perhaps a truer or more forcible description of a not uncommon feeling was never written. There is the struggle with self; the warm desire for the sympathy of another mind; the revulsion which ensues on the discovery that the doubts and difficulties which are as death to one, serve only as motives for laughter to another, (the frogs and boys with stones in the old fable over again); and, worst of all, the apparent failure in that dernier resort of gentle hearts, the doing and returning good in spite of evil-I say apparent, for it never can be an entire failure in reality.

And this leads me to see how irrecoverably "wind-bound" are the unsympathising, unloving, and unamiable, so long as they remain so. Miss Martineau is hardly too severe upon them, when she says, "of all mortals, none perhaps are so awfully self deluded. They do not, any more than others, sin for the sake of sinning, but the amount of woe caused by their selfish unconsciousness is such as may well make their weakness an equivalent for other mens' gravest crimes. There is a great diversity of hiding places for their consciences,-many mansions in the dim prison of discontent, but it may be doubted, whether, in the hour when all shall be uncovered to the eternal day, a lower deep will be revealed than the hell which they have made. They perhaps are the only order of evil ones, who suffer hell without seeing and knowing that it is hell. But they are under a heavier curse than this; they inflict torments second only to their own, with an unconsciousness almost worthy of spirits of light. While they complacently conclude themselves the victims of others, or pronounce, inwardly or aloud, that they are too singular, or too refined, for common appreciation, they are putting in motion an enginery of torture whose aspect will one day blast their mind's sight. The dumb groans of their victims will sooner or later return upon their ears from the depths of the heaven to which the sorrows of men daily ascend. The spirit sinks under the prospect of the retribution of the unamiable, if all that happens be for eternity,-if there be indeed a record,an impress on some one or other human spirit, of every chilling frown, of every querulous tone, of every bitter jest, of every insulting word,-of all abuses of that tremendous power which

mind has over mind. What a cloud of witnesses is here! and what plea shall avail against them? The terror of innocents that should know no fear,—the vindictive emotions of dependants who dare not complain,--the faintness of heart of life-long companions, the anguish of those who love, the unholy exultation of those who hate, what an array of judges is here!"

If we would not be "wind-bound" on the road of life, then we must shun this dangerous track, or we shall assuredly be becalmed far from any of the Coasts of Happiness, and like the "ancient mariner," find our bark gradually rotting on a sluggish, slimy sea.

It is an inexhaustible subject, but I must come at once to a conclusion, leaving those who have the inclination, to follow it for themselves at their leisure; amidst all the changes of weather, pranks of fortune, and freaks of opinion in this onward age, gentle readers, may you and the " MIDLAND" ever escape the unhappiness of being WIND-BOUND !

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GERMAN.

TO YOU.

(From Uhland.)

THINE eyes are not the heaven's blue,
Thy mouth has not the rose's hue,
Nor lilies are thy arms and breast:-
O what a glorious Spring it were,
If flowery hill, and valley fair,
Were with such roses, lilies blest!
And to the all embracing heaven,

The clear blue of thine eyes were given!

POESY.

(From Goethe.).

His rude rough children God here sent,
Sent Science, Order, Law, and Art,
Did heaven's grace to them impart,
The earth's sad loss to supplement.
From heaven naked here they came,
Nor aught of meet behaviour knew;
But Poesy her garments threw
Around them, and they had not shame.

THE FROGS.

(From Goethe.)

A wide deep pond was bound by frost,
The little frogs within were lost,
Nor could they farther croak or spring;
But in half dream they promised were,
Found they but open space and air,
Like nightingales they all should sing.
The thaw-wind
came, broke up the ice,
And proud they landed in a trice,

Sat far and wide the bank along,

And-as of old croaked out their song.

IOTA.

JOHN ALFRED LANGFORD.

WHIBBLETON WIDGET

OUT FOR A HOLIDAY, WITH HIS CHARMING ROSA.

CHAPTER IV.

Life, life, with all its burthens dear!
Friendship is sweet, love sweeter still;
Who would forego a smile, a tear,

One generous hope, one chastening ill?
Home, kindred, country!-these are ties
Might keep an angel from the skies!

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

In a very short time after the occurrence of the startling event described in our last chapter, Whibbleton, Rosa, and her brother found their way back to the inn, crossing the open fields, and wending along the green country lane where the soft turf grew in little patches even on the roadway. What marvellous stiles were crossed what wonderful escapes from bulls of savage appearance took place—what amazing leaps Widget made over ditches-how Buggins ran backward into a furze bush-and how Rosa sat down amidst the long grass, and was crowned not Queen of the May alone, but of every other sweet and beautiful flower in the neighbourhood, and what devoted adherents she had-all these particulars may safely be left to the imagination of the reader.

It may be less obvious, however, to picture poor Buggins drinking, on his hands and knees, at the limpid waters of the brook, and the mischievous Widget, in his enthusiasm, ducking the head of that philosophical personage, by a dexterous feat, and being discovered, innocent and harmless, at a long distance off when Robert had recovered himself and opened his eyes.

"Why Buggins, what's the matter, my boy; have you swallowed a salmon? or are you investigating hydropathic principles under difficulties ?"

At the inn, as might be expected, though it was nearly time to depart for the 12.18 train, another conversation took place. Our friend Whibby again contrived to astonish the primitive mind and weak nerves of the landlady; and as for the sentences which fell from Rosa's lips, they should assuredly be set down, were it not for our consideration for the reader, who would feel too painfully the fact that such

Rosas sin espinas*

are not to be found every day.

Buggins was the first to discover that by the inn clock it was a

*Roses without thorns.-CALDERON.

quarter past twelve, and to hurry off Widget and his sister. Matters generally speaking in the country are not conducted in so "fast" a manner as corresponding events in town, whether from the difference in atmosphere or in individuals it is hardly our province to inquire; but we make the foregoing sage reflection to prepare the way for the announcement that, as a matter of course, when our three travellers arrived at the top of the little hill overlooking the station, they were allowed the inexpressible gratification of beholding the last traces of the departing train! There in the distance was the white cloud from the engine, rising over the foliage, and sweeping past the bridges and embankments. The roar of the rapid wheels and puffing of steam

"Further now, now further stealing
Soft it faded on the ear."

Our friends, however, added no "Jubilate" at the sight; Buggins uttered a most uncomplimentary tirade upon inu clocks in general, and Hailsham clocks in particular; as for Whibby, he was a picture to behold-his mouth wide open-his eyes following the steam-track in undisguised amazement. He listened with an attention worthy of a better cause, to the melodious distant whistle, and was at last recalled to a consciousness of his position by the fluffy end of his green tie, which the wind tossed about savagely, as it came to pay the little village another visit, and to give tidings of the distant ocean.

Rosa gave one last lingering look (would it had been on our account-it was wasted on the unsusceptible train), frowned slightly, then smiled, looked round at her despairing protectors, and burst into the prettiest, and withal, the most provoking and natural little laugh you ever heard: not but that it might have easily shocked some very genteel and proper misses—but it could not have caused them a greater sensation than it produced on our two poor friends, who turned round with doubly-lengthened faces, under the extraordinary impression that the accumulation of disasters must have been quite too much for their gentle companion. "Now don't look so utterly disconcerted-oh! oh!—ha ! ha !— he he he! he! he! Rosa was unable to speak for laughing. "She never did go into hysterics," said Buggins feelingly, "that I know, but, upon my word, I suppose it's only what may be

expected in this case!”

This seasonable remark redoubled poor Rosa's mirth.

"Run, Whibby-run and get some water to sprinkle over her face-or go and get the landlady to come, and I will hold her till you come back. Oh, dear! what are we to do?