This sketch descriptive of its real duties and uses are not necessary to relieve the Greenwich Observatory from the charge of being an abode of sorcerers and astrologers. A few only of the most ignorant can yet entertain such notions of its character; but they are not wholly unfounded. Magicians, whose symbols are the Arabic numerals, and whose _arcana_ are mathematical computations, daily foretell events in that building with unerring certainty. They pre-discover the future of the stars down to their minutest evolution and eccentricity. From data furnished from the Royal Observatory, is compiled an extraordinary prophetic Almanack from which all other almanacs are copied. It foretells to a second when and where each of the planets may be seen in the heavens at any minute for the next three years. The current number of the Nautical Almanack is for the Year of Grace 1853. In this quiet sanctuary, then, the winds are made to register their own course and force, and the rain to gauge its own quantity as it falls; the planets are watched to help the mariner to steer more safely over the seas; and the heavens themselves are investigated for materials from which their future as well as their past history may be written. SWEDISH FOLK-SONGS. THE DOVE ON THE LILY. There sits a pure dove on a lily so white, On midsummer morning:— She sang of Christ Jesus from morning to night, In Heaven there is great joy, O! She sang, and she sang, ’twas a joy to hear, Expecting a maiden in Heaven that year. “And should I reach Heaven ere twelvemonths are o’er, Sickness and pain I should know never more.” To her father’s hall the maiden she went, And through her left side a sharp pain was sent. “Oh! make my bed, mother, in haste, mother dear, I shall in the fields no more wander this year.” “And speak such words, daughter, dear daughter, no more; Thou shalt wed with a king ere twelvemonths are o’er.” “Oh! better that I be in Heaven a bride, Than remain on the earth amid kingly pride. “And father, dear father, go fetch me a priest, For I know that, ere long, death will be my guest. “And brother, dear brother, go get me a bier; And sister, dear sister, do thou dress my hair.” The maiden, she died, and was laid on her bier, And all her hand-maidens they plaited her hair. They carried her out from her father’s hall door; And the angels of God with lights went before. They carried the corpse to the churchyard along, And the angels of God went before with a song. They buried the maiden beneath the dark sod, On midsummer morning:— And her coming was even well pleasing to God; In Heaven there is great joy, O! A WALK IN A WORKHOUSE.