The conclusion of the work of M. Chasles is, that our literature, our manners, our nationality even, will some day disappear before the rising glory of the great Western Republic, but I can declare without emotion that I have no fear of my country. America offers us examples; we also have some to offer her. The future of the United States is developed day by day in a manner that astonishes Europe. But notwithstanding the patriotes de clocher, and French humanitaires who suppress the very word native country, I believe in the higher destinies of France.
A PHANTASY.
WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE
BY R. H. STODDARD.
"Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean."
The light of the summer noon
Bursts in a flood through the blind;
But few are the rays of joy
That shine in my darkened mind.
My heart is stirred to a storm,
And its passions intense and proud
Feed on themselves, like fires
Pent in a thunder-cloud!
I think of the days of youth,
And the fountains of love defiled,
Till I hide my face in my hands,
And weep like a little child!