At eleven o’clock we are back in our cozy London lodgings, and at twelve we are sleeping the sleep of profound fatigue, and dreaming of ghostly monks wandering among the weird old ruins of Netley.

WIRT SIKES.

DAY-DREAM.

  Here, in the heart of the hills, I lie,
  Nothing but me ’twixt earth and sky—­
  An amethyst and an emerald stone
  Hung and hollowed for me alone!

  Is it a dream, or can it be
  That there is life apart from me?—­
  A larger world than the circling bound
  Of light and color that lap me round?

  Drowsily, dully, through my brain,
  Like some recurrent, vague refrain,
  A world of fancy comes and goes—­
  Shadowy pleasures, shadowy woes.

  Spectral toils and troubles seem
  Fashioned out of this foolish dream: 
  Round my charmed quiet creep
  Phantom creatures that laugh and weep.

  Nay, I know they are meaningless,
  Visions of utter idleness: 
  Nothing was, nor ever will be,
  Save the hills and the heavens and me.

KATE PUTNAM OSGOOD.

OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.

THE GLADSTONE FAMILY.

There is no doubt that had Mr. Gladstone followed his personal inclinations when his Irish education scheme broke down last March, he would have retired from office.  He is now sixty-four, and it may be fairly questioned whether there exists a man who for forty-six years has worked his brain harder.  It is no light labor to read for the highest honors in even one school at Oxford, and Mr. Gladstone read for them in two.  He gained “a double first,” which meant at that time a first class both in classics and mathematics.  Forthwith he plunged into political essay-writing, until in 1834 he further added to his labors by entering the House of Commons as M.P. for Newark.

Mr. Gladstone’s father was, as most people are aware, a Liverpool merchant of Scotch descent.  This gentleman was the architect of his own fortunes, which arose in no slight degree out of his connection with the United States.  Having been sent to this country by a firm largely interested in the corn trade, he discharged their business to their entire satisfaction, whilst at the same time he made very valuable business connections on his own account, which materially served him when at a later period he himself embarked in business.  He made a large fortune, but it did not appear at his death to be so great as it was, because he gave his younger sons the bulk of their portions during his lifetime—­to avoid legacy duty, people said.  To his eldest son he left considerable estates in Scotland—­to the younger sons, about one hundred thousand pounds apiece.  The eldest, Sir Thomas Gladstone, is a very worthy man, but nowise remarkable for ability.  He has one son, and has had six daughters.  Four survive, and all are unmarried.