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carefully closed portals, which were only opened when a chorus of priests came out to sing a pious hymn, in the morning to Horus the rising god, and in the evening to Tum the descending god.

As soon as the evening hymn of the priests was heard, the Necropolis was deserted, for the mourners and those who were visiting the graves were required by this time to return to their boats and to quit the City of the Dead. Crowds of men who had marched in the processions of the west bank hastened in disorder to the shore, driven on by the body of watchmen who took it in turns to do this duty, and to protect the graves against robbers. The merchants closed their booths, the embalmers and workmen ended their day's work and retired to their houses, the priests returned to the temples, and the inns were filled with guests, who had come hither on long pilgrimages from a distance, and who preferred passing the night in the vicinity of the dead whom they had come to visit, to going across to the bustling noisy city on the farther shore. The voices of the singers and of the wailing women were hushed, even the song of the sailors on the numberless ferry-boats from the western shore to Thebes died away'; its faint echo was now and then borne across on the evening air, and at last all was still.-Uarda.

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ECHEGARAY, JOSÉ, a Spanish scholar and dramatist, was born at Madrid about 1835. In 1858 he became professor of mathematics and physics in the School of Engineers in his native city, in which capacity he published many valuable works on science and mathematics. In 1868 he was made Minister of Commerce, Minister of Public Instruction in 1873, and Minister of Finances in the following year. It is by his dramatic works, however, that he is best known both at home and abroad. His popularity in this respect began with the marked success of La Esposa del Vengador (1874), a comedy remarkable for the strength of its characters, for its dramatic action, and for the beauty of its language. This was followed by many dramas, most noteworthy among which are 0 Locura o Santidad (1878); El Gran Galeoto (1881), which has been translated into several other languages; and the later El Hijo de Don Juan and Lo Sublime en lo Vulgar. Other works for the stage are La Ultima Noche (1875); En el Puño de la Espada (1876); En el Seno de la Muerte (1879); En el Pilar

en la Cruz (1879); Mar Sin Orillas (1880); La Muerte en los Labios (1881); Conflicto entre dos Debéros (1885). An edition of his collected dramatic works was published at Madrid in 1885.

Hannah Lynch, in a discerning review of his writings, published in the Contemporary, says that “ not even Tolstoi, with all that delicacy and keenness of the Russian conscience, that profound seriousness which moves us so variously in his great books, has a nobler consciousness of the dignity of suffering and virtue than this Spanish dramatist. And not less capable is he of a jesting survey of life. Echegaray writes in no fever of passion, and wastes no talent on the niceties of art. The morality and discontent that float from the meditative north, have reached him in his home of sunshine and easy emotions, and his work is pervaded nobly by its spirit. And unlike Ibsen, he illuminates thought with sane and connected action. Discontent never leads him to the verge of extravagance. Extravagance he conceives to be a part of youth, addicted to bombast and wild words. Man trades in other material than romantic language and rhodomontade. Hence he brings emphasis and plain speech to bear upon him when youth has had its fill through the long-winded, high-colored phases of his scribbling heroes. Thought, perhaps, travels too persistently along the shadowed paths, and we would be thankful to find our world reflected through his strong glass, dappled with a little of the uncertain but lovely sunshine that plays not the least part in the April weather of our life here. The note of unwavering sadness depresses. But, at least, it is not ignoble, and he conceives it borne with so much resignation and dignity that if the picture carries with it the colors of frailty, it brings a counterbalancing conception of the inherent greatness of man.”

ERNEST'S INDEPENDENCE. True, I know little of life, and am not well fitted to make my way through it. But I divine it, and tremble, I know not why. Shall I founder upon the world's pool as on the high sea! I may not deny that it terrifies me more than the deep ocean. The sea only reaches the limit set by the loose sand; over all space travel the emanations of the pool. A strong man's arms can struggle with the waves of the sea ; but no one can struggle against subtle miasma. But if I fall I must not feel it humiliation to be conquered. I only wish, I only ask at the last moment to see the approach of the sea that will carry me whither it will, the sword that will pierce me, or the rock that will crush me. To feel my adversary's strength and despise it falling, despise it dying, and not tamely breathe the venom scattered through the ambient air.-From El Gran Galeoto.

GIVE ME THE SUN." A generation consumed by vice, which carries in its marrow the veins of impure love, in whose corrupted blood the red globules are mixed with putrid matter, must ever fall by degrees into the abysm of idiocy. Lázaro's cry is the last glimmer of a reason dropping into the eternal darkness of imbecility. At that very hour nature awakes and the sun rises ; it is another twilight that will soon be all light.

Both twilights meet, cross, salute in recognition of eternal farewell at the end of the drama. Reason, departing, is held in the grip of corrupting pleasure. The sun, rising, with its immortal call, is pushed forward by the sublime force of Nature.

Down with human reason at the point of extinction ; hail to the sun that starts another day!

“Give me the sun!" Lázaro cries to his mother. Don Juan also begs it through the tresses of the girl of Tarifa.

On this subject there is much to be said ; it provokes much reflection. If, indeed, our society-but what the deuce am I doing with philosophy ? Let each one solve the problem as best he can, and ask for the sun, the horns of the moon, or whatever takes his fancy. And if nobody is interested in the matter it only proves that the modern Don Juan has engendered many children without Lázaro's talent.

Respectful salutations to the children of Don Juan.From El Hijo de Don Juan; translated by HANNAH Lynch.

THE DEDICATION TO EVERYBODY,

worse.

Ernest.- Imagine the principal personage one who creates the drama and develops it, who gives it life and provokes the catastrophe, who, broadly, fills and possesses it, and yet who cannot make his way to the stage.

Don Julian.-Is he so ugly, then ? So repugnant or bad ? Ernest.-Not so. Ugly as you or I may be—not

Neither good nor bad, and frequently not repugnant. I am not such a cynic-neither a misanthrope nor one so out of love with life as to fall into an error of that sort.

Don Julian.-What, then, is the reason ?

Ernest.The reason, Don Julian, is that there is no material room in the scenario for this personage.

Don Julian.Holy Virgin! What do you mean? Is it by chance a mythological drama with Titans in it?

Ernest.-Not at all. It is modern.
Don Julian.-Well, then ?
Ernest.—Briefly-it is a question of everybody.

Don Julian.-Everybody! You are right. There is no room for everybody on the stage. It is an incontrovertible truth that has more than once been demonstrated.

Ernest.— Then you agree with me?

Don Julian.-Not entirely. Everybody may be condensed in a few types and characters. This is matter beyond my depth, but such, I understand, has been the practice of the masters.

Ernest.-Yes ; but in my case it is to condemn me not to write my drama. Don Julian.-Why?

VOL. IX.--6

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