THE NEW-BOKN YEAR. 7 



all of them, under forms of death, forms of vitality, arrested 

 or unexpanded, lie hidden; as in all real deaths, merely 

 natural, are contained the germs of life. Even this departing 

 year does not wholly die, since being full fraught with causes 

 (seeds which are sure to ripen into the fruit of consequences), 

 in these it will continue to live to the end of time, aye, even 

 to eternity; but believe, and philosophize, and hope as we 

 may, neither death nor death's semblances are the most en- 

 livening objects of contemplation. At all events, we felt our 

 spirits growing flat and our thoughts confused, as we looked 

 at our waning candle (like the year, approaching to its end), 

 and reviewed the subjects, defunct or drowsy, from amongst 

 which we must, perforce, choose one for that of our opening 

 essay. Dreaminess trod on the heels of dullness, and before 

 we had come to a decision as to what sleeping insect should 

 constitute our commencing theme, we were ourselves nodding 

 beside our solitary fire. 



Suddenly we were awoke by a clang of bells from the 

 neighbouring steeple of our parish church, the requiem of the 

 departed, and salutation to the new-born year. It was soon 

 pealed out, and we were left once more to the silence of our 

 little parlour, a silence which seemed deeper than usual, and 

 more solemn, yet not to the spirit's ear unbroken ; for it is in 

 pauses such as these on life's rattling road, that the "small 

 still voice " is always audible, unless it be drowned, as is com- 

 mon, by the noise of social mirth. We sank into a reverie, 



