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Hera, though essentially a gentlewoman, was one of an early time, while simplicity was still barbarous, and before an after-civilization had refined the rudeness of the heroic age; much therefore that she does, is scarce in harmony with the luxurious elegance of later Ionian manners. And would not we stare at the gentility of a Maid of Honor, even so late as Queen Elizabeth's day? Why a very servant girlnot to speak of a Swiss bonne, or a Parisian femme-de-chambre — would toss her head, right saucily, at the manners of the best-bred woman about the court! She would stand aghast at the beef-steaks and ale, wherewith the daintiest coquette among them all braced up her strength for further conquest; and offering her some bitter tea, and most unwholesome cakes, swimming in salt butter -- mayhap not too fresh she would beseech her uncouth ladyship to try for once what gentility was made of! Few can distinguish refinement from the conventional etiquette of the present society - whatever it may be. So few know where art, and where nature should step in-nor how far conventionalities stand in the room of the real and the actual. A breach of etiquette is always more severely visited than an offence against morals; and the man who should appear without gloves, and in a frock-coat, in a ball-room, would be scouted from society sooner than one who eloped with his friend's wife, or cheated his friend's son at a gaming house! This, too, will be different!

A fine, regal, voluptuous woman, was this | imperious wife, he is equally open to their Samian queen!-grandly beautiful, with her seductions, and equally subservient to their large ox-eyes, white arms, and glorious form!a woman to be loved with a slight alloy of fear, and no little respect and obedience. And have there not been English Heras, even in this work-day life of ours? — though, let us whisper by way of parenthesis, that they do not add much to the comfort or the heart's happiness of the workers! Are they not still living, amongst our very acquaintances and friends, to make up the chain of harmony in womankind, of which Hebe, Aphrodite, Demeter, Athene, and Artemis, all form deep, distinct, and glorious links? They are the women who dress in black velvet and gold ornaments-whose voices are calm with a terrible calmness, and have but little intonation, though they are so musical and soft; proud and serene are they, with long white hands, whose fingers taper gently to the points, and whose muscles are firm and strong, yet not prominent-women who walk with a stately step, not treading high, nor yet gliding like summer wavelets to the beach, but slow and smooth, with an undefinable air of superiority, as if earth were too gross a footstool for their proud and haughty place; their eyes move calmly, and seem to take in all objects with a certain serene contempt, an indifference that results from high consciousness of superiority; fixed and steady is their gaze, not startled, not responsive, not loving, not admiring and yet full of deep expression; but it is an expression that arises from the excess of that still, proud life within, not from any sympathy excited by that which is without. These are women met with in life-though not frequently; for it is rare to find any character with one extreme development, created by an inward power, and not by exterior circumstances. These women become the queen-oracles of their society; and at their ban the men tremble, and the maidens are annihilated; their reception stamps as current, or their rejection brands as illegal, each smooth unvalued coin presented; and few there are in the coteries, over which such modern Heras hold supreme sway, who would dare to dispute their word. They rarely meet with their equals rarely marry their superiors. And this is not strange. One of two must ever be the strongest; and where the strength results from extreme pride and unyielding will, it is not to be conquered even by a mightier intellect, if of less energy of determination. Thus, we see the struggle between Zeus and his regal spouse frequent, and often undecided. Jove, with all his power and majesty, had a "soft part" in his heart, which could not withstand a woman's in fluence. And be it sweet Semele, or nymph, or mortal maid, or be it his virgin daughter, or his

Much in the Homeric poems, which are our truest index to the humanities of the Gods, seems to us rude and uncouth; and many of the mythes are such as men, only in their earliest mental childhood, would have dared to have framed. What a sad blur on the picture of our stately velvet-clad dame, that threat of her lordly master, when he talked of punishment and stripes, and reminded her of the day when she was suspended between earth and sky, with golden anvils round her beauteous feet! That is a glorious touch that golden anvil!-true, too, for the age, in its mixture of barbarity and luxury, like the Eastern courts of the present day. But we will not think of this! Turn we to her festivals — to the iɛpos yaμos · the sacred marriage between herself and Zeus, which gave its name to the month Gamelion, and set the fashion of the Grecian January marriages; to the Heræa of Argos, where games and sacrifices — the "bed of twigs,"—took place near her flowery temple - where the priestess of her shrine rode in a splendid car, drawn by two milk-white oxen -where the prize, to that brave youth who

could unfix the brazen shield, suspended so high upon her temple walls, was the simple myrtle garland; to the Samian Festival, or Heræa, to which beautiful youths, and glorious maids, with floating hair and magnificent apparel, flocked from all parts of Greece to witness the maiden race, where, clothed only in the short chiton which came but to the knee their long hair loose, and waving in the wind the sweet victors received their prize, the olive chaplet; - turn we to the legend of that Nauplian bath, the fresh fount Canachos, wherein she bathed each year, and rose from its waves-not the mother of Ares or of Hebe, but an unsullied virgin, whose first young bashful kiss had been nor sued nor won; -turn we to all these rather than to other less endearing memories, until we learn to love the regal dame, as though we our selves had been brought up upon her knee, her children and her darlings.

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We will not think of her victims! Sorrowful their histories, undeserved their fates! Names in the list of her jealous enmities, which have the sweet echo of a sad poetry round them, such as the south wind brings in the latter autumn days! They tell of fallen greatness, of beauty dead, and a gentle life departed; they tell of bright days and sunny skies, hours when all was joy and glory; and now a chill cold mist, a fiery storm, a blasting tempest-wind, ruin and desolation, alone remain upon the flowers! The noble Heracles, so giant-souled and child-like as he was; doing such grand work, so unconscious of his worth, and his patient mother, the chaste Alcmena the hapless Io with her stinging madness Semele, so cruelly and so falsely wooed to her own destruction- the brave Trojans, against whom such direst woe was worked, in revenge for the fatal judgment of the god-like Paris- Athamas and Ino- and more than these we will not remember them!. we will veil them, as the painter veiled his sacrificing father; we will not look upon their grief! She would have been a strict disciplinarian, our Olympian queen, had she presided over an earthly court, where she met with none of aught approaching equal rank!- and stern would have been her judgments on all of youthful frailty, on all of passion, love, and weakness! Not Tudor Bess would have visited an unallowed love more sternly; not a Spanish King would have maintained a stricter code of courtly etiquette! We can fancy her young Maids of Honor, glancing down, so shyly and demurely as she passed; or some, with a pretty assumption of profound innocence, looking full into the glorious face, whose anger they so dreaded, openeyed and frank, as if they had never thought even of the forbidden, while — pretty rogues!

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their lips still pouted, and their cheeks still flushed, with no matter what! And woe to the unfortunate, gentlemen-at-arms, or page, or well-born serf, among them all, who happened to appear untimely appointed. As La chère mère would say, she would be "down like the day of judgment" upon them!- as if she bore her husband's thunder-bolts, to scatter destruction and dismay at will.

We cannot pass over that passage in the Iliad, where Hera borrows the love-inspiring girdle of Aphrodite to subdue the heart her anger had no power to control. Of all the pictures of this divine poem, none equals, in gorgeous beauty, that scene of her robing. Even in Pope's translation, or rather paraphrase, it is most beautiful; though the original, naturally, gives it with more strength. Its extreme simplicity and delicacy, yet its glowing gorgeousness, make it altogether a wonderful piece of poetic painting. It is like the completed Parthenon, of the chaste Ionic style, yet all its parts dazzling with gorgeous colors, and gleaming with burnished gold. It united simplicity and elaborate beauty — a union which few can effect, and which none of ancient, or modern times, blended so harmoniously as the Hellenes. The whole scene is in such admirable keeping! - there is no patching together of incongruous parts- no painting of green skies and blue fields; but all is in harmony, from the first line, where she enters her palace, built by Hephaistos, with such "skill divine," to that when the son of Chronos sleeps among the flowers which earth has outpoured upon his breast. Many and beautiful as are the scenes in this most exquisite poem, none excel this, and few can be said to equal it.

The wholeness of Hera's character throughout all her mythes, is eminently well preserved. She is the most Grecian, and the most life-like of all the Olympians; so thoroughly natural, too, in her jealousy, her imperiousness, her woman's craft to gain her end, her pitilessness for the frailer fair, her indignation as the neglected wife, her severity towards her rivals. Athene and Artemis claim high rank for beauty and perfectness, but they do not so thoroughly embody an entire and living character, as our own majestic Hera. They are slightly more mystic and intellectual; they are not so palpable, not so fleshly — πολυσαρκος· as the sister-spouse.

Yet Artemis -or Diana, as men will barbarise her full open, splendid name --if not considered in any of her more mysterious impersonations, but simply as the virgin huntress-Goddess, has a sweet and evident character. Pure as snow, chaste, spotless, and not all unlovingfor we cannot part with that exquisite legend, which gives her the boy Endymion, with his

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love-awakened eyes, to be her beauteous flower | clusion on the heights of Ida she stands before us in marked contrast to the haughty queen of heaven. We will not consider her as the Ephesian Goddess, with her swart face, and mystic emblems; nor as the Orthic deity, at whose shrine the blood of the brave Laconian boys flowed freely forth; nor as the mysterious moon-goddess, Selene, that pale, evanescent form, which fades away into the obscurity of night as we look; nor as the Hecate of the under-world, or hypochthonian, deities. We will not ask whether she be the same as Isis—whether she be an Arkite emblem- but we will take her simply as she was worshipped in Arcadia, as the strong vigorous maiden of the chase.

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We can hear her ringing laugh, as she speeds away upon the track of the fleet stag; we can see her bright eyes glance out from the thick wood, in all the clearness of health and purity; we can touch the firm flesh, the rosy cheek, the open and smiling lips, and hear the echo of the light foot, as she bounds over the Taygetan hills the wind blowing round her form, and stirring the short kirtle braced up so high above her knees. More brave and beautiful than all her companions is she: the tallest, the most vigorous, the most energetic; and glad, and loving the homage paid her a homage rendered with such respect! She, too, is severe toward the frail; but not from woman's jealousy, simply from offended modesty. The fates of Actæon and Callisto attest her reverence for a chaste and virgin life; the slain children of Niobe avenge her insulted pride as a goddess daughter; while all they who die young are said to die by her arrows. A beautiful idea! - one of many! Oh, how rich were the Greeks in beauty of all kinds! Like dew-drops in the morning they clustered round each flower of thought; like diamonds in the mine they illumined the very darkness, till it glowed with varied light; like a rainbow in the sky they spanned the wide earth, -things born of the sun and the cloud a golden band of harmonious blending; like a galaxy of fair young maids, they bound man's life to love

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these beautiful creations of the Hellene! Hail to the men who could stamp their age with such immortal glory! Hail to the men who could sculpture out the Parthenon, and enshrine the Athene who could frame the divine Iliad, and embody the Aphrodite of Cnidos! They are not to be forgotten, like the mean things of earth; they are not to be unloved, like the base! Love them well!-aye, love them well! They were the Gods of their day! Let us reverence all the Gods!

Keeping aloof from men and gods, see our "golden-shafted Artemis," in her beautiful se

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shy and timid with all her boldness, timid from ignorance of love. Without any of a woman's passion, with all a woman's delicacy, without any of a child's fondness, and with all its innocence, Artemis is the type of a young mountain maid, over whose dwelling sorrow has never brooded, in whose heart love has never been awakened. Little can we picture her with mincing steps, and the free, yet scornful bearing of a London ball-room! - little of the artificial, the false, or the constrained belonged to her. Our Virgin Goddess as little taught her clear eyes the bold looks of the London belles, as she enclosed her beautiful body in their abominations of stays, and pads, and tightened girths, or whirled in the arms of every mustachioed coxcomb who offered, through the strict embrace of the polka and the waltz. Nature is her home; the woods, encompassed by the boundless sky, her domed halls; the fountains are her mirrors; and the birds and flowers her companions through the night and day. The Gods themselves must honor. her! Zeus rises to receive her, and Apollo takes the game she bears upon his own divine shoulders; Hermes frees her of her golden bow and quiver; the very Goddesses love and reverence her- the sweet virgindaughter of the lovely-ankled Leto! Even in He''as, where a life of keen and voluptuous sensation left scarce room for any altar to cold chaste virtue - even there was woman's modesty respected to the utmost, and a Goddess decreed to its further idealization.

Honor to the Greeks, - glory to their memory! Oh, keep one little spot still sacred to them! Let not the music which they sang be mute for ever! It is good, it is wise, to turn back from all this present glare to the cool shades where the Gods are worshipped — where Pheidias worked and Plato taught. Let us not forget the benefits we owe them; let us not be ingrates to our fathers! Even on this day-aye, and on all succeeding days, Hellas has left the impress of her influence; even among the Christians the Gods of Greece yet hold their place! — Douglas Jerrold's Magazine.

SEA SNAKES.-The Sooloo seas appear to be swarming with sea snakes, perhaps on account of the calmness of the water, and heat of the atmosphere here, which tend to produce astonishing fecundity in the world of waters. Sea snakes always appear to prefer calms, swimming on the still surface in an undulating manner, never raising the head much from the surface, or vaulting out of the water. They dive with facility on the approach of danger, but do not appear to be particularly timid. Their progression is tolerably rapid.-Voyage of the Samarang.

MEMOIR OF ELIZABETH FRY.

Memoir of the Life of Elizabeth Fry, with Extracts from her Letters and Journals. Edited by Two of her Daughters. Vol. II. Gilpin.

Some months have elapsed since we offered an account of the first volume of this interesting biography, and endeavoured to indicate a few of the lessons which it contained in its exposition of the character of one who played a noble part in the world of Beneficence. The concluding portion of the work is executed with no less care than its commencement; and the interest and we may add instruction — of the narrative never flag, to the last page. In the former notice we hinted at the discrepancies, scruples, difficulties, &c., unfolded by the confessions of Elizabeth Fry, -recorded at the time when probably she appeared serenest and most exclusively occupied by the main objects of her life. We observed that to a certain degree she stood on debateable ground with regard to the Society of which she was a member: that the departure of her family from its rule and her own high endowments and refined tastes conspired to increase her tolerance towards matters against which Quakerism is by its disciplinal constitutions intolerant- and thus involved her in natural dilemmas of conscience. These were evaded with a gentle but sincere self-deception which should speak trumpet-tongued to the religionists who would better manhood by mutilating it of half its senses. Again, Elizabeth Gurney's passion for great people could hardly take even such a modified form as Elizabeth Fry's desire to talk with Royalties for the good of their subjects without stirring frequent commotions in the breast of one whose lawn handkerchief and "staid cap" were ensigns of severe nonconformity to the world's ordinances of rank, ceremony, and attire. Additional light is thrown on all these points in the volume before

us.

We do not call attention to the matter from any vulgar desire of depreciating the remarkable virtue and energy of one of England's worthies by indicating the strain of humanity which mingled itself with her highest aspirations; - but because no opportunity should be lost of showing those who make laws which cannot be kept, how much of insincerity, worldliness, all that is most disparaging and impeding, must be involved in the word "Subscription." We learn something, too, in this volume, regarding those difficulties and dangers of missionary enterprise which do not come into the category of me e

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physical pain and peril. But, besides these revelations, valuable to every student of opinion, there is more of adventure in the second volume than in the first. Vicissitudes of fortune are therein recorded-foreign journeyings described - each with its benevolent purpose by way of motive. We have glimpses into convict ships, preventive stations, royal palaces, — succeeding each other with the rapidity of a phantasmagoria. We observe, too, throughout the foreign portion of the history, that Elizabeth Fry enjoyed the opportunities of observation afforded her by her singular exaltation with the eye of an artist as well as of a philanthropist ; albeit her friendly habits of life and expression tinctured her record and her descriptive powers. Once upon a time a sister missionary from some far county chancing to be in the metropolis, was invited by her conductor, while passing through St. Paul's Churchyard, to look up and admire Wren's masterpiece. "I did not come up to London," said the zealous woman, riveting her eyes on the curbstone, "to see sights." And though such an one could hardly serve as a prototype to the friend of princes and bishops - who travelled" with all her carriageable comforts" around her, and in honor of whose coming "dinner napkins," as we shall see, sprang up in an unfrequented corner of France- where a few world-denying Quakers are to be found, -the same effacing spirit of quietism which rendered such folly mistakeable for self-sacrifice has passed its pale finger over Elizabeth Fry's letters and journals, though unable wholly to destroy there all traces of lively color. The following" meetings," described for her by her biographers, are of a kind rarely recorded in the Athenæum.—

"Congenies is a retired village to the west of the road from Nismes to Montpelier; about four leagues from the former place. To abandon hotels, towns, and high-ways, and diverge amongst lanes and cross roads, to spend a fortnight in a country village in France, amongst its simple inhabitants, was an event not without its great interest, and even amusement. As it was considered necessary to take provisions, hampers well-stocked with coffee, sugar, candles, &c., were piled upon the carriage, or the attendant van, which was also the Congenies and Cordognan diligence. The country became less and less interesting, although well cultivated; a group of gray flat roofs in a little hollow among the hills was the first appearance of Congenies. After passing some distance through the village street, the carriage stopped at the door of a large, dull prison-like house, the windows barred with iron, and the door at one side up a flight of eight

or ten steps. This was the house prepared for the reception of the travellers. A hall with no one single article of furniture; an ante-room containing a buffet, a fire-place, and a couple of chairs; and a saloon with white curtains to the windows, a table, and some rush-bottomed chairs; all these vaulted, whitewashed, and floored with stone, formed the suite of reception rooms. Other rooms of the same character communicated with the hall of entrance; from which ascended a dark, wide stone staircase, leading to suites of rambling, comfortless chambers. Various needful articles were willingly supplied by the friendly peasants-spoons were lent by one, by another a bed-side carpet for Mrs. Fry. A second table was arranged in the saloon, and after a day or two a sort of homely comfort prevailed. The finest anchovies from the neighbouring Mediterranean, a cask of olives of the village produce, and sweet wine made expressly at the last year's vintage, were prepared by these kind people. The hostess had good store of white household linen, her kitchen was in high activity; though provisions were uncertain, and had to be obtained from Calvisson. The Savoyard waiter, who had accompanied them from Nismes, superintended the cooking. The day's bill of fare, hung by him on a nail in the kitchen, was an inexhaustible source of amusement to the village women, who were perpetually gossiping with the hostess, and watching with curiosity the proceedings of her foreign inmates. There was one peculiarity in this ménage, the usual operations of a scullery being carried on in the entrance hall! where an old woman and girl had established themselves, with a broken-down table and chair, perpetually flooding it, in process of cleansing all manner of pots and pans, iron and copper, and earthenware, red, yellow, and green. The houses were mostly entered by cartgates, under an archway, beyond which a court-yard, filled with dust and straw, with chickens and rabbits running about. On one side of this court, or yard, was the sitting-room with a vine-covered porch, under which the women sat and knitted silk gloves and mittens. An open outside flight of stairs led to the chambers. A stable opposite the entrance, a well in one corner, and a cart under the gateway, such was the style of most of their dwellings. These cottagers all possessed abundant supplies of table linen, and in every house where Mrs. Fry dined, she found dinner napkins provided. Soup, one or two entrées, a roast of a lamb or a fowl, salad, and vegetables composed the dinner. Although there are no horned cattle, the villagers possess a good many sheep, and some goats, which gather a scanty subsistence from the herbage of the rocky hills, where the vine cannot grow. Their milk is excellent, and so is the butter made from it. The flocks are invariably attended by a shepherd and strong dogs, to protect from the wolves of the Cevennes mountains; after watering them at the fountain in stone troughs, a most picturesque sight, they are folded in the village at night. The Friends in Congenies and the neighbouring villages appear to be a respectable, wellconducted body of people. Louis Majolier was

a valuable minister amongst them. Accompanied by her friend Josiah Foster, Elizabeth Fry visited them in all their families, and regularly attended their Meetings for worship and discipline, by which she became exceedingly interested in their welfare. Their Meeting House was neat, and abundantly adequate to the needs of the congregation. The women Friends wear their caps and peasant costume with, perhaps, a graver shade of color over the whole. The men in their peasant dress. In all the villages round, there seemed a most eager, willing ear to hear the truths of the gospel. The Meeting held at Congenies on the last Sunday evening, was crowded the people clustered up to the top of the doors, in all the open windows, and on the walls outside, yet in perfect quietude and order. At Calvisson, on the following Sunday, the Meeting was held in the Protestant Temple. The party broke up from Congenies on the 27th, and after again partaking of the abounding hospitalities of Doctor Pleindoux, at Nismes, proceeded by the ancient city of Arles to Marseilles."

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