I take it that the personal appearance of Mr. Hunt is too well known to require description. He is, take him altogether, perhaps the finest looking man in the House of Commons--tall, muscular, with a healthful, sun-tinged, florid complexion, and a manly Hawthorn deportment--half yeoman, half gentleman sportsman. To a close observer of the human face divine, however, his features are wanting in energy of will and fixedness of purpose. The brow is weak, and the eyes flittering and restless; and the mouth is usually garnished with a cold simper, not very compatible with that heart-born enthusiasm which precludes all doubt of truth and sincerity. * * * * * TRUTH. Friend, Truth is best of all. It is the bed Where Virtue e'er must spring, till blast of doom; Where every bright and budding thought is bred, Where Hope doth gain its strength, and Love its bloom. As white as Chastity is single Truth, Like Wisdom calm, like Honour without end; And Love doth lean on it, in age and youth, And Courage is twice arm'd with Truth its friend. Oh! who would face the blame of just men's eyes, And bear the fame of falsehood all his days, And wear out scorned life with useless lies, Which still the shifting, quivering look betrays? For what is Hope, if Truth be not its stay? And what were Love, if Truth forsook it quite? And what were all the Sky,--if Falsehood gray Behind it like a Dream of Darkness lay, Ready to quench its stars in endless, endless night? _New Monthly Magazine._ * * * * * SCENE FROM "THE FROGS OF ARISTOPHANES" _Translated in the Quarterly Review._ We are not at present breathing the air either of Christ Church meadow or Trinity gardens; and if our version of a piece of mere pleasantry, which involves nothing in it beyond a moment's laugh, should be so happy as to satisfy the 'general reader,' we shall affect 'for the nonce,' to know nothing of the objections which more scientific persons, the students of the brilliant Hermann, and acute Reisigius, might be supposed to make to our arrangement of this little extravaganza. _Scene, the Acherusian Lake. BACCHUS at the oar in Charon's Boat; CHARON;--CHORUS OF FROGS; in the background a view of Bacchus's Temple or Theatre, from which are heard the sound of a scenical entertainment._ _Semi-chorus_. Croak, croak, croak. _Semi-chorus_. Croak, croak, croak. (_In answer, and with the music an octave lower._) _Full Chorus_. Croak, croak, croak. LEADER _of the Chorus_. When[1] flagons were foaming, And roisterers were roaming, And bards flung about them their gibe and their joke; The holiest song Still was found to belong To the sons of the marsh, with their _Full Chorus_ Croak, croak.