In it the wealth and glory of Gallicia are thus exalted: “Iaroslaf Osmomuisl of Gallicia,” cries the poet, apostrophizing the prince, “lofty is thy throne of beaten gold! Thou holdest up the Carpathians with thy regiments of iron! Thou art he who shutteth the gates of the Danube, and putteth a bar across the pathway of the King of Hungary. At thy good pleasure the gates of Kief are opened. With thine arrows thou smiteth from afar!” The division into appanages delayed but did not strike at the root of the unity of the empire. Nay, it may be said to have nourished this idea in its nascent development. At the death of every powerful sovereign fresh divisions were made; hence no principality remained sufficiently secure to become the home of a distinct, an enduring nationality. Identity of race, of language, and of religion characterized these states, whose princes were kinsmen, and whose ties of blood were strengthened in many instances by the bonds of wedlock. The descendants of Rurik bore rule from the Straits of Ienikale to the borders of the Frozen Sea. The Grand Prince was held in fatherly respect; and if some of his contemporaries stood ready to contend for his throne, more were at hand to defend him with their money and their arms. The unity of the nation, notwithstanding its numerous divisions, was more distinct than that of Germany or of France during certain periods of the mediæval era. The isolation of the Russian realm maintained the permanence of this idea, in that it was preserved from alien invaders, and from diplomatic or other complications with powers that might have interfered with its internal affairs, or that might have modified its advancement. The unity of the realm initiated by Rurik, was developed gradually but irresistibly, and with no considerable fluctuations down to the national uprising in 1612, when it attained its fullest strength, and rendered the nation impregnable alike to the designs of aliens, or to the subversions of internal discord. [To be continued.] THE STRANGER. By ADA IDDINGS GALE. Thou dazzling vision in the Eastern sky, Moving so grandly through the fields of space, Thou stranger in our starry populace, On what swift errand dost thou sunward fly? Haply, among the everlasting host Thou art a messenger fleet-winged as fate, On some grave matter sent by powers of state, Thy winged speed thy special pride and boast. Or, art thou but a vagrant—fetterless Roaming at will among the wand’ring spheres, As naught to thee the pulsing of the years, A shining type of starry willfulness? Speed on, oh, wonderful! through endless space, One All-puissant marks thy tireless race. “For he who manages his own life badly, how is he likely to take proper care of what is external to himself.”—_Euphron._ PICTURES FROM ENGLISH HISTORY. By C. E. BISHOP. III.—THE FIGHTING TROUBADOUR’S RETURN FROM THE WAR.