majority, and therefore it is highly probable would not be an injudicious one: besides, we may ask, is the selection of candidates at present a fit or becoming one? The strongest supporter of the existing state of things cannot sustain them by any argument derived from the selection made by the electors in returning the present House of Commons.

The history of Rome, Greece, Venice, Genoa, and other ancient states, afford many arguments in favour of popular power, or rather in favour of an intellectual democracy; but we have no occasion to resort to ancient history; the modern example of America, is in its favour. Under its auspices a new land has rapidly advanced in the Arts and Sciences, and already rivals (although not yet a century in existence) the oldest nation of Europe in the products of peace and the materials of war.

The exercise of the democratic power in America has been, it is true, frequently abused; but the abuses attendant upon it have not at all approached to those of despotic institutions, and have been more than counterbalanced by the numerous great and solid advantages derived from the exercise of democracy.

Where an Intellectual Democracy is established, and is carried out by appropriate details, it matters little what form of government may be adopted. In England, the monarchical form is supported by the majority of the nation, and limited as it is, presents one of the best models for a paternal constitution; the triple power vested in the Monarch, the Lords, and the Commons, if properly exercised, would be productive of many advantages.

But this is not so: the Monarch is surrounded by a Court, which is characterised by profuse expenditure and reckless extravagance, which is to be provided for by the nation. The Lords have become insolent, and have violated the privileges of the people, the Commons do not deserve the name—they are not returned by the commons or people.

These abuses spring, and are almost inseparable, from any monarchical form of government, and are with difficulty resisted and with difficulty overcome: the Monarch or the Lords constantly encroaching on the popular rights for their own advantage, these become gradually contracted, until the Monarch finds it necessary to resort to the people for his own protection, or the people have recourse to measures for the vin

dication of their rights, which lead either to a reformation or a revolution.

The British Constitution then approaches to perfection in theory, but in practice it fails to realise the good which should be expected from it. The unceasing efforts on the part of the Monarch and the Lords to encroach on the people, and the constant struggles of these to protect their rights and liberties, too frequently leads to a discordant state of society which is neither advantageous nor enviable.

The British Constitution therefore does not present to any of the nations who are now engaged in constructing a form of government, a model which is to be more than imitated; its abuses must be carefully provided against in time; those who make an exact copy of it will be miserably disappointed.

The recent events in Paris afford much cause for congratulation, and strong evidence in support of an Intellectual Democracy, a traitor king has been deposed, a dynasty has been overthrown, the Bourbon curse has been expelled from France, a government has been formed, property has been respected, and peace preserved by the voluntary heroism of an Intellectual Democracy.

Shall we be laggards in the march of Intellect? in the manifestation of Intellectual power? No! Heaven forbid! Impelled by the growing intelligence of the age, by the ardent desire that is springing up for the possession of manly liberty, and incited by the wants and wishes of a people deprived of that which is necessary to both mind and body, to pander to the licentiousness of an extravagant nobility, a tyrant oligarchy, and an insolent and profligate priesthood, an advance must be made to place the Rights and Liberties and Privileges of the Nation secure from the extravagance of Monarchs, the insatiate rapacity of Lords, or the political profligacy of a servile Commons.

Who shall accomplish this? AN INTELLECTUAL DEMOCRACY.

ON HEARING MUSIC.

How soon those soothing sounds depart,
And cease to fill the air!

With rapture they entrance my heart,
And find an echo there!

Oh--lady fair! renew that strain,
That filled me with delight;
Touch the sweet lyre but once again,
But once again to-night;

And let me while its music flows,
Reflect on mortals fate,

The mournful thoughts its strains disclose,
That I may estimate.

'Tis ever thus with Happiness!

As fleeting Time rolls on;
'Tis but a temporary bliss,
A moment and 'tis gone!
And like the music's balmy breath,
That glides upon the wind-

It softly echoes into Death,

And leaves the wreck behind!

MADEIRA, THE OCEAN FLOWER.

There's a blossom that bloometh in Nature's wild glee,
And in fragrance it floats on the breast of the sea;
And its buds are all ruddy and blooming and gay,
And it wafteth the perfume of health o'er the spray.
And the droopings that nestle its petals among,

Like the changing moths creep from their caves hale and strong;
And that bloom of all seasons, the sunshine and show'r,
Is the joyous Madeira, the bright Ocean Flow'r.
'Tis the refuge of Beauty when chased by her bane,
For its breath scares her foe to the offing again;
You may quaff of its nectar, its fragrance inhale,
As 'tis borne on the wings of the life-giving gale;
You may bask in its sweetness or bathe in its dew,
For its balm is soul-healing, enduring, and true.
In the calm or the tempest, the sunshine and show'r,
Ever bloometh Madeira, the glad Ocean Flow'r.

LITERATURE IN FRANCE.

BY HENRY VINCENT FALKLAND.

DRAMA.

(Continued from page 416.)

ΚΕΑΝ.

Will my lady be pleased to ratify the favour shown me by her noble husband?

But......I really......

I entreat you.

ELENA.

KEAN.

AMY. (takes the Count's arm)

Come, once your wife is possessor of the secret, you will have no difficulty in guessing it. You are a diplomatist.

THE PRINCE. (takes the Count's other arm)

And when you know it, you will let us share your fortune, will you not, sir Count? provided always it be not contrary to government orders.

[They lead the Count towards the fire-place.

ELENA.

Give me the letter, then, since its perusal can exculpate you.

KEAN.

Here.

ELENA. (reads)

"Sir, I have called upon you; but have not found you at home. To say, though I have not the honour of your acquaintance, that on the interview will depend the course of my life, is to assure myself that I shall have the pleasure of meeting you to-morrow. Anna Damby to Kean." Thanks, a thousand thanks, sir......but what answer did you return?

Over the page, my lady.

JUNE, 1848.-NO. VI. VOL. IX.

KEAN.

L L

ELENA. (reads, while Kean converses with the Prince and Count) "I knew not how to see you, Elena; and I dared not write. An opportunity offers, and I seize it. You are aware that the precious moments in which you turn from me to those around you, pass so rapid and tormented, that they mark their passage in my life but by remembrance....

[She stops astonished.

KEAN. (coming forward)

Be pleased to continue, madam.

ELENA.

(reads)

"I have often considered how a woman of your rank, and who truly loves me, might devote an hour to me without compromising herself, and I have hit upon the following expedient. If this woman loved me sufficiently to give me an hour, in return for which I would give her my life, she might, when passing Drury Lane Theatre order her carriage to stop at the box office, and enter, under pretext of engaging tickets. The box-keeper is devoted to me; so I have desired him to open a secret door communicating with my room, to a lady veiled and in mourning, who would perhaps come and see me the first night I play." Here is your letter, sir.

KEAN.

A thousand thanks, my lady Countess. (He bows and is about to retire). Sir Count, my lady, your Highness......

ELENA. (slowly)

It was a foul slander to accuse Mr. Kean of the abduction of Miss Anna.

I thank you, my lady.

KEAN.

[Exit.

THE PRINCE. (looking after him)

Ah! Mr. Kean, you have just been playing a charade which, I assure you, I can easily solve !