aside their fearful aspect for the occasion. They came now as repentant children to a father, to whose counsel and guidance they would submit themselves. During this meeting, his lordship wished to give a small sum of money to an old man, but not having small change with him, produced a sovereign, and asked if some one would go out and get change for him. Many hands were stretched forth, and Lord Ashley gave the gold coin to a boy, who immediately sprang out with it. As he remained a considerable time away, a general uneasiness spread itself through the assembly; all looked eagerly toward the door, all were evidently anxious that he should not abuse the confidence of his lordship; and when, at length, he returned with the proper amount of change, a general satisfaction showed itself. I am sorry not to know more about this conference, nor what advice Lord Ashley gave to the thieves, because it must have been something beyond mere theory. The Dormitory, as a preparatory institution, and emigration to countries where there is plenty of honest labor and labor’s wages, are good practical means, which Lord Ashley could refer them to. And it cannot be denied that England, in its extensive and as yet scantily-peopled colonies, has an excellent mode of assistance and resource for its dangerous population, and in especial for its superabundant population. And one cannot but acknowledge that it is the increasing emigration to these colonies which gives England at this time freer breathing-room and a more vigorous life. ----- [4] The ourang-outang is dead since Miss Bremer’s visit. He died of inflammation of the lungs; and, with truth it may be said, much regretted. During his short life in the gardens he had shown himself docile, and remarkably intelligent. Trans. * * * * * =THE EXILE.= =BY CAROLINE F. ORNE.= Weep for the dead! for him in silence sleeping, O’er whose lone grave the wild winds coldly sweep; Weep for the dead, yet make but little weeping, He lies at peace, unbroken is his sleep. His last fond look of love on thee was resting, His hands last feeble pressure met thine own; It was of thee he made his last requesting, Fell on thy ear his last, sweet, lingering tone. Weep that ye hear his steps no more returning, That he in darkness and in stillness lies; Make not for him a long and bitter mourning, Calm is the slumber that has sealed his eyes. But weep for him who far away has wandered, Whose feet tread painfully some distant strand, Who sad and long life’s dream has vainly pondered, Who mourns, deep longing, for his native land.