destined for these remembrances of the deceased philosopher shall be melted for a more useful and domestic purpose, the better will it be for the Boston Public Schools.

The exhibition and presentation over, I was dismissed forever. It may be proper to record here that, with another wicked boy, I lay in wait at the corner of the street until the appearance of our late master, when, joining his hated name to epithets there would be an impropriety in introducing in print, we raised our voices against him and fled.

Depressed in spirits, and unfitted for active life, I left this school, and it was not until a year or two afterward, while studying under one, at once the Christian, the teacher, and the gentleman, that I found that school-days could be made the happiest portion of life, a sentiment seldom entertained by the students of the Boston Public Schools twenty years ago. Since my emancipation, I have, at different periods, passed many months in Boston, but I confess I have never felt disposed to look for myself into the improvements said to have been introduced into the great Institution. It may be true that such improvements are introduced; and it may be, although the body may now be exempt from cruel stripes, the callow mind may be oppressed with a weight of learning it cannot bear; the faded, dreamy look of the poor, narrow-chested boys and girls, who are annually presented with bouquets, ice-creams, and general confectionery at Faneuil Hall by the Mayor, warrants the belief, that less of the public school, and more play, would make Jack a brighter, better boy, and a more intelligent man, and little Fanny more likely to become the mother, one of these days, of some half-a-dozen healthy, dirty, jolly babies.

THAT old school-house, now enlarged, still drearily frowns upon the smaller buildings about it, as it did twenty years ago. The masters who then reigned are gone, and others have, in turn, assumed the sovereign power. But not as is told in pretty storybooks and unnatural novels do the pupils of those days, with longing hearts, now dream of their vanished school-days; to them, those days were a time of trouble and probation; no visions of shady lanes leading to rustic little school-houses, possess their minds, for the frowning red-brick building of their youth allies itself to no memory unconnected with a shudder.

Peace be with you, O friends of those unhappy days! Good luck go with you, Sam H whose corpulent young form was so often banged to a painful jelly by our esteemed master. I here acknowledge to have received, ten years since, a letter from you, written from some barbaric clime, the unfortunate composition of which evinced but too plainly thou hadst got thy learning at a Boston Public School.

Peace be with you, kind-hearted Jack S- -! branded as a villain by our tyrant, who, as he daily whacked thee, predicted thou wouldst one day be a pirate on the high seas, but who art

now preaching the Gospel to the heathen. Thou wert good, but dull, Jack, and thy discourses are better fitted for the heathen than for us.

Glory to you, Bill W now master mariner, who smote the ruffian on the head with his own ferula, one pleasant summer day, and fled the school-room, never to return. Fair winds attend thee!

And now I banish, forever, all remembrance of thee, O dingy School-House! Perchance in days to come, the tale of thy destruction by flood or fire, may meet my eye in the columns of some Boston newspaper: then will I cast my hat high in air, and with all the vigor of my lusty days, vociferate three cheers, rejoicing in thy fall.

LINES: то PART NO MORE.

BY S. OAMERON.

WHEN in the halls the twinkling feet
Pursue the dance,

And beaming eyes, and music sweet,
Make gay romance :

Or when amid the silent bowers,
Beside the sea,

Awake not 'mid the happy hours,
One thought of me.

But if a sad, disturbing care,
Should wound thy heart,

Or sorrow 'gainst thy bosom dare
To wing his dart:

Oh! then, one tearful thought bestow
On him whose sleep

Is where the dewy wild-flowers grow,
And willows weep.

Though on fond memory I would live
When I'm laid low,

Yet to thy bosom would not give
One throb of wo.

O life of painted bliss and pain!
Would thou wert o'er:

In better worlds we 'll meet again,
To part no more.

With her,

My own, my bright, my beauteous bride :
Could I sit for one hour her side beside,
And gaze in the soul of her hazel eye,
I would live for years, though I wish to die!
Yet I know not if beautiful she were
Save unto me:

I only know I loved her-Lillian Lee.

And she loved me: and we were blest;
Nor came a care to ruffle our breast,
Nor a thought of ill to ripple the flow
Of our blended lives, or turn to woe
The joy of love:

Ah! only ye its bliss who know

Its bitterness may prove!

Alas! for the stream of our wedded lives,
That flowed in peerless purity;

"Twas partly quenched at the fountain-head,
And partly staid in its narrowed bed,

And the channel is seared and dry!

But though little joy my soul derives

From the thought of joy that's past to me, Yet I cherish the wound, and foster the pain, And I love the thought, though it racks my brain, When memory brings back my youth again, And my loving LILLIAN LEE.

LITERARY NOTICES.

EUROPEAN ACQUAINTANCE: BEING SKETCHES OF PEOPLE IN EUROPE. By J. W. DE FOREST, Author of Oriental Acquaintance,' etc. In one Volume: pp.276. NewYork: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

THIS Volume forms an exception to most modern books of travel in Europe, of which we began, in common, we may presume, with most other American readers, most heartily to tire. Florid descriptions of scenery, half-made up from MURRAY'S guide-books, and the other half, of affected enthusiasm, or still more affected knowledge, one could hardly 'possess his soul in patience' while trying to accomplish their perusal. And their stupidity was astonishing, their number was almost equally so. Young bloods, who carried their brains in their pockets, and old dyspeptic bores, who had n't any, felt it incumbent upon themselves to enlighten their benighted countrymen concerning the wonderful 'sights to be seen' on the other side of the Atlantic. At length, however, publishers began to be shy of such 'manuscripts,' and the nuisance was in a good degree abated. But, as we have said, the volume before us is of an entirely different stamp. It is pleasantly and vivaciously written, even where it describes — which, by the way, it does not often do scenes and places with the main features of which preceding writers have made us familiar: but it is a perfect daguereotype when it reflects new scenes, and records personal occurrences or experiences. We propose a few extracts. Our author, it will be premised, is an invalid, in search of health at the world-known water-cure Mecca of PRIESSNITZ, at Graefenberg. Here is a ridiculous picture of the fearful surveillance of the Austrian police:

'STORIES innumerable might be collected of ludicrous encounters between travellers and the Continental police, especially that of Austria. The broad brims of wideawakes have repeatedly afforded a spacious battle-field for these two antagonistic classes of society. A friend of mine journeyed in one of those revolutionary headdresses from Florence to Vienna without molestation; but it was not permitted that he should brave the Austrian eagle in its nest with impunity, and that watchful fowl made a triumphant peck at him when he least expected it. Taken into custody in the street by a spy in citizen costume, aided by a couple of soldiers, he was marched to a police-office, with the proof of his political turpitude on his devoted head. The chief of the office got into a fearful rage at sight of him—not so much because of the hat, as because it was late, and dinner was waiting. They were about to secure the government for one night against the seditious broad-brim by locking it up, and focking its owner up with it, when a friend, who had witnessed the capture, arrived with a valet de place from the hotel just in time to make explanations, and save our countryman from repenting of wide-awakes in the night-watches of an Austrian prison.

"It was all a mistake, then?' asked the officer.

Oh! quite a mistake.'

"You had no evil intentions in wearing a broad-brimmed hat?'

None at all; not an intention in the world.'

"Well, go then. But buy another hat. Do not be seen again in the streets with such a hat as this, or the consequences may be very serious.'

'My friend bought a steeple-crown before breakfast the next morning, and thus, for a second time, was the Austrian empire saved from destruction.

A farce on the same subject as the above was played at Milan, partly in my own presence. Presenting my passport at the police-office of that city, I met an English acquaintance, a capital fellow, named BUDD, who, with a look of brazen impenitence, was receiving an admonition concerning the radical character of his hat.

"Good-morning, Signor BUDD,' said the officer from behind his desk, leaning forward, and looking searchingly, though civilly, into the broad, handsome, goodhumored, but determined face which confronted him. We sent for you, Signor, to speak to you about your hat- the one you have in your hand at this moment.'

It is worthy of the honor,' said BUDD; it is a good hat.' And he held up the battered, dusky-white broad-brim with an air of affectionate admiration.

Precisely, Signor; very useful, I have no doubt. But it may bring you into trouble. You are aware, doubtless, that its form and color are both unusual; you are aware that hats of that species have been the badge of a certain disorderly and treasonable party. You have also a full, long beard, which is equally a badge of the said party. The whole marks you as singular, and attracts an unpleasant degree of popular notice.'

But,' responded BUDD, 'I am not an Italian. I have nothing to do with Italian politics. I wear such a hat and beard as suit my style of beauty and my notions of convenience.'

Exactly, Signor. You have nothing to do with politics; we know it well. We know all your tastes and all your haunts. You went into the country yesterday. You were at the Cafe delle Colonne the evening before. You were at the house of Signora BELLINA the evening before that. You have been watched ever since you reached Milan, and we could tell you where you have been, and what you have done on every single day. We now know that you are not a dangerous individual, and we wish to persuade you to avoid the appearance of being such. We have no intentions against your beard, Signor; you are welcome to keep it. But we would counsel you to discontinue wearing that hat; it would be so easy to lay it aside, and might save you so much trouble.'

"Very well,' said BUDD; but, if I am to change my dress at the suggestion of the government, I want some particular directions as to the new style which I am to adopt. Just give me a written order specifying the kind of hat which I am to wear, and I am ready to obey it. But I must have the order. I want to send it to England; it shall be published in Punch or the Times. I could get five pounds for such a paper in England.'

The officer was nettled, and looked angrily at the row of white teeth which glittered maliciously through BUDD's black mustaches. Controlling his temper, however, he went on with his admonition, although not in quite so composedly gracious a tone as before. 'Signor, we cannot give you such an order; it would be absurd. We leave the matter to your own sense of propriety and your prudence. But what we specially complain of is not so much the hat itself, as your manner of wearing it. You wear it turned up, and turned down, and twisted, and cocked, in a style which attracts a great deal of attention, and is particularly obnoxious.'

Oh! I wear it according to circumstances,' said BUDD. 'I will explain all that to you, (sticking it on his head.) Now, when the sun is on my right, I turn it down so, (hauling the right brim down;) and when the sun is on my left, I turn it down so, (a haul at the left brim;) and when I want to take a general view of the country, Í turn it up all around, (brim cocked up throughout its entire circumference;) and when the wind blows, I slap it down on the top for safety, (a smart pat on the yielding crown.)

But just give me an order how I shall wear my hat. It would be better than the other. The Times would give me twenty pounds for such a document as that.'

Signor,' said the officer, losing all patience, and beginning to stammer, 'you will find, perhaps, that this is no jesting matter. You had better consider it seriously, and answer us seriously. We are advising you what is for your own good, and what may save you a great deal of annoyance. Think of it again, and see if you do not come to our opinion.'

In short, they had a long, and, in part, a rather stormy discussion, some of which I heard, while the rest BUDD related to me afterward. In the end, he had the moderation to take the officer's advice, and lay aside his wide-awake while he remained on Austrian territory.'