I have modernized the orthography of the foregoing quaint and beautiful stanzas, from the dress in which they are clothed in the second part of the Diary of Lady Willoughby, just published by John Wiley, bookseller, in New York. They are happily imitative of the style of the poets of olden time. They remind one of George Herbert—that “sweet singer in the Israel” of the English church, of Donne, of Wotton, and of other lyrists, who chanted the praises of our God. To my ear, much dearer are such simple, tuneful verses than the grandiloquent outpourings of the more modern muse. They come home, as it were, to one’s child-like sympathies. They awaken the thoughts of “youthly years;” they freshen the withered feelings of the heart, as heaven’s dew freshens the dried leaves in summer. Let me recommend this most tender, most soul-touching of “late works”—these passages from the Diary of Lady Willoughby. It is not a _real_ “aunciente booke,” but an imitation; yet, like certain copies of a picture by an old master, it may boast some touches better than the original. Chatterton’s forgeries were not more perfect in their way, though this be no forgery, but what it pretends to be—namely, an invention. I feared, when I took up the second part of this remarkable production, that it would deteriorate in interest, that the hand of the _artist_ would become manifest. But it is not so. Here, throughout, is the _ars celare artem_ in perfection. How touching a lesson do the feigned sorrows the Lady Willoughby present to her sex. What absence of repining! What reliance on the justice and mercy of God! What trust in the merits of her Redeemer! Her faith is never shaken. Her soul is never dismayed. With an expression holier than Raphael has imparted to his pictures of the Madonna, she looks upward and is comforted. Ever into the troubled waters of her soul descends the angel of peace. Perfect pattern is she for wives and mothers. Excellent example of a Christian woman. III. Are not some of the prophecies being fulfilled in these latter days? Trace we not in the decay of old empires the tempest of God’s wrath? Is not the arm of the Lord stretched out over the people and over the nations of the earth? Breaks he not thrones to pieces as if they were potter’s vessels? Where are the kings and princes who were born and chosen to rule over men? “How are the mighty fallen!” Even now, as by the mouth of his holy prophet, Isaiah, may the Lord say, “Is not _this_ the fast that I have chosen. To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdened, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?”