Of good Haroun Alraschid."
It was, perhaps, bathos, on our part, but we wished Tennyson had known enough Arabic to write Er-Rashid!
How far it all seemed from the littlenesses we have learned to confuse with realities—"the greeting where no kindness is," "the dreary intercourse of daily life"!
"We grew in gladness, till we found
Our spirits in the golden age."
Our thoughts turned to dear ones far away as, we may fancy, do those of some who have gone from among us, so far removed we seemed even from those nearest in spirit! We were ready
"To pass with all our social ties
To silence, from the paths of men,
And every hundred years to rise
And learn the world, and sleep again."