Scott's description of a battle scene, and afterwards another dialogue between a Sultan and Mr. John Howard. Beside this, a piece of poetry, written by the excellent matron, was spoken, and the following hymn, also the product of her kind pen, was sung (I should say) at the commencement of the proceedings:

Welcome, kind friends! once more we meet

In Summer's joyful ray ;

Once more with hands and hearts we greet
Our loving friends to-day.

And while our hearts are gushing up

With filial love and joy,

Oh! take from us the proffered cup

We give without alloy.

And thanks and blessings too we give,
And prayers both night and day,
That you on earth may happy live,
And happy be for aye.

We ask for this but one boon more,

The cup we gave to you;

Oh! give it back, and brimming o'er,
Filled with affection's dew.

And for our patrons, one and all,
We have affections kind;

May He who notes the sparrow's fall,
Cheer them in heart and mind.

We'll wet a garland for their brow,

With orphans' grateful tears;

We'll bless the hand that feeds us now
By being good for years.

There was to have been a speech from one of the boys, who was deputed to present to John D. Williams, Esq.,

a handsome bouquet of their own garden flowers — but unfortunately that gentleman was not present, and so the speech was written and sent with the floral offering to the gentleman. It was a humble but heartfelt testimonial of the gratitude of these poor boys, and therefore I have thought the unspoken speech worthy of notice here.

After the recitations, &c., had concluded, I paid visits to the different apartments, and was not a little pleased with the admirable arrangements every where observable. The sleeping rooms of the boys were admirably calculated to promote their health and comfort, and the cooking department had a letter of recommendation in every scholar's countenance. Sure am I, that with so kind a lady superintendent, the little fellows must be happy – and as for Mr. Morrison, one of the lads assured us, that 'the Master was as good as father to them.'

To the martial music of a drum the boys assembled on the green sward, and paraded for some time backward and forward, in true military style, as a friend whispered in our ear, 'why, they are the happiest lads in the world,' and really we believed him. There they were, reclaimed from the streets and lanes of the city, far away from evil influences, and safely folded on this beautiful spot, with education provided, and employment afforded. I wished, as I gazed, that such like institutions abounded on the other side of the Atlantic. The only jealousy between the Old Country' and this, should be as to who should be most forward in doing good by promoting the founding of such beneficial establishments. This would be better than blazing away at each other, at all events. And well did it become, in my opinion, some of Boston's wealthy sons, to be present, and by their countenance

give encouragement to these poor boys. Oh! the pleasant look and the kind word is never thrown away, and the poor and the destitute have a right to them. But I am not going to moralize, and will conclude this paper by relating one of the most beautiful anecdotes touching kindness to the unfortunate, that I ever heard related.

Mrs. Fry, who is so well known throughout Christendom in consequence of her efforts in behalf of poor prisoners and insane people, was once speaking to a company of maniacs, in her soft, low tones, when one of them, a young man, who had been quieted by her gentle demeanor, put his fingers on his lips and said to her, 'Hush! the angels have lent you their voices.' It was an exquisitely beautiful and poetic idea; a solitary fine tone from a shattered lyre; and it would be well for us often to remember that the ministering angels are ever hovering around our pathway, and that whenever we meet on the world's highway with a fainting wanderer, we have the privilege of borrowing their tones, and pouring them, like balm, upon the lacerated or bruised heart.

But the May Flower comes gliding to the wharf, and bidding farewell to the boys, who follow us with eager eyes, we embark for our short and sunny homeward trip.

A VISIT TO THE CHINESE MUSEUM.

WHAT a rapacious thing the Public is! What a greedy maw it has; and how soon after it has bolted one morsel or tidbit does it, like Oliver Twist, cry out for more.' Truly the eye is never tired of seeing or the ear of hearing but insatiate as it is, the Boston Public has at last a bon bouche, which will not, I imagine, fail to satisfy it for some time to come.

I was taking a quiet stroll a day or two since down Washington street, and happened to look towards the Marlboro' Chapel, when I saw a sight which at first I could not understand. The entrance to what used to be the Chapel seemed to have been metamorphosed by some of the genii of the lamp, who existed in Aladdin's time, for in lieu of sombre-colored doors, and grave-looking gentlemen about them, was a magnificent lacquered and gilt cornice, and beneath it, what I was informed was called the Tsoi-moon,' or Lucky-door, a grotesque, yet gracefully-formed panelled frame, embellished with dragons of all descriptions, from very fierce and rampant specimens, to the most docile and amiable dragon-ettes conceivable. Over the door were strange-looking golden letters, which being translated meant that within was to be seen An extensive view of the Central Flowery Nation,' and having been assured by another inscription

6

that words might deceive, but that the eye could not play the rogue,' we accepted the polite invitation of the proprietors, and went into the interior of the Chinese Museum we had almost said China, and if we had, we should not have been very far out either.

Why, can that be, of a verity, the interior of the Marlboro' Chapel? we exclaimed, as we gazed in wonderment at the strangely-gorgeous scene which suddenly presented itself to our astonished optics. As we ascended the stair-case, on either side of us were an immense number of pictures, embracing subjects of all kinds, and all is 'new and strange too;' but that was as nothing to the coup d'œil as we stood in the large hall. It seemed for the moment as though we had sat upon the wonderful blanket, of which we had all of us read in the Arabian Nights, on which a person having placed himself, and wished to be transported to any particular place, was, by enchantment, conveyed to his desired destination in the twinkling of an eye. Yes, there could scarcely be a doubt of the matter, for just now we were in Washington street there could not be a question as to that, and the mud on our stained boots was scarcely dried-yet, lo! how great the change-how miraculous the transition!

We are beneath a vast circular roof. From the ceiling hang innumerable Chinese lanthorns of all shapes and sizes. That one in the centre, of enormous magnitude, so graceful in its shape and so gorgeous in its hues, surrounded by hosts of smaller and inferior ones, is a lanthorn of state. There it hangs, the monarch of light, like Joseph's sheaf, surrounded by those of his brethren who do it homage. We have seen such an one before now depicted on the pretty fans which have been brought from