INTRODUCTORY. HEREIN we have, according to our judgment, a collection adapted to the wants and tastes of that large class whose property in books is restricted to such very narrow limits, that, in many cases, to possess the acquaintance of even a single bookseller, would require the formality of a personal introduction. The bookseller is, in truth, the last man who emigrates-the last to be established in a new community. Among humble people are delicate, sensitive spirits, exquisitely organized, gifted in mental powers, beautiful in moral qualities, but denied the benefits and delights of congenial, social intercourse. This arises from their personal isolation, or from the conventionalities of our even, as yet, imperfectly developed condition, which gives a false estimate to station, family, and material acquisitions, while the Christ-presented view of the value of the human soul, as the greatest of all created things, is only just beginning to be discerned. Thanks for this to Christian Literature; for it is the great leveler and the great elevator-a demo. crat and a more than king. Through it all alike have the best expressed ideas of the finest minds, the utterances of the noblest souls that away in the past ages towered above the forgotten myriads. Being dead, their spirits yet live, and without insulting exactions to pomp, without humiliations to arrogance, come to inform, refresh and solace even the most unobtrusive being that modestly moves along the sequestered paths. In their cheerful company the green pas tures seem more peaceful, and as they lead us beside the still waters, the softtinted glories appear to rest there more sweetly. We Americans are so much absorbed in developing the magnificent resources of our beautiful country, in building for those who are to inherit its blessings, that few, in their hurried lives, find calm, quiet hours in which to read and to enjoy. Hasty glances at the sheet given to the details of passing events, is about the sum total of the attention of the great mass of our people to the great world of letters. Compends of approved literature, arranged for fragments of time, as a kind of intellectual lunches, are therefore a general want and a public benefit. Among much in this collection that is new will be found much that is old. And this last is not an objection. What we have read in youth, we often read again after the lapse of years with fresh delight. The old man grown wise as he approaches the softening twilight, on visiting the scenes of his boyhood, discovers new beauties in the landscape, derives new sensations from its blue arching sky. Memories of the far past tenderly unite themselves to the pres ent with a sweet and soothing melancholy. He reflects upon what he was and what he is. Visions, too, of the future rise before him-perhaps visions of celestial glory, of eternal rest, of the bliss of an all-pervading, soul-absorbing love. CINCINNATI, O H. H. SUNDAY BOOK OF PLEASING AND COMFORTING LITERATURE. Footsteps of Angels........... The Grand Object of Religion............ Comforts of Religion.......... ......... William C. Bryant................ 50 ..Prose...........................Joseph Addison............. SUNDAY UNDAY BOOK OF ITERATURE.t THE DRUID, THE JEW, AND THE CHRISTIAN. WE begin this collection with an article from "Sketches of Christian Life in England. It comprises the open chapter, entitled "Lights and Shadows of the Early Dawn." It is difficult for us Americans, descendants of Englishmen, to Their steps were the slow and measured movements of a sacred mystic dance; and as they circled round the blaze, they realize that, in the ages of antiquity, our forefathers could sang a wild, monotonous chant, to which Iave been so suuken in the depths of superstition as to oler the minor intervals gave, not the plaintphuman beings in sacrifice to the unknown spirits that they elieved controlled the destinies of man. In this contempiaive tenderness of a major melody broken I on we can but see how awful the conception, where reve overns our world, and how the human heart, in all ages, ition has been withheld, of the Power that created and as yearned for spiritual guidance and protection. To 11 it, at last, a loving Father and most tender friend should 1 brief duration-their own existence the most profound of rem a sweet surprise to a race individually given here but Mysteries, and enveloped in alternate gloom and sunshine.] One midsummer's eve, more than sev. enteen centuries ago, the red gleams of A huge bonfire contended with the pale noonbeams in clothing with fantastic light and shade the gigantic piles of grante which crest, as with a natural fortress, hat point of the Cornish coast now called Trerhyn Castle. The wild flickering of the flames leaped high enough at times even to touch with their fiery glow the edges of the mysterious Logan rock, which crowns the summit. by a minor fall, but rather the abrupt and savage restlessness of a combined wail and war-cry. From time to time, the song rose with the flames into a defiant shout, and then sank again into the low crooning of a dirge, the steps of the singers changing with the music from a rapid march to the slow tramp of a funeral procession. The sacred music of that old British race resolved itself into no calm, restful, major close. Theirs was the worship of a conquered race, and of a proscribed religion. Driven by the Romans from their temples in the interior of the island-temples whoso unhewn and gigantic grandeur not even the persistency of Roman enmity could That it was no mere bonfire of merry-ruin-this little band of the old lords of makers might be easily seen in the earnest faces and grave movements of the men gathered round it. They were not mingled in a confused throng, nor scattered in irregular groups, but moved solemnly round the fire from east to west, following the course of the sun, now hidden from the gaze from that shoreless ocean whose waves thundered ceaselessly against the base of the cliff on which they were assembled. the land had met in that remote recess, not yet trodden by the conqueror's feet, to celebrate the rites of their ancient faith, under the guidance of one of their own proscribed Druid priesthood. There, under the shadow of that grand natural fortress, to us so like one of their own Druid temples, they had kindled on May-day the sacred "Fire of God;" and here on midsummer eve they now gath. ered round the "Fire of Peace." |