VICTOR HUGO ON THE ETERNAL HOPE.
[TO TRY EDITOR or THE "SPECTATOR."] SIR,—After an evening's study of journals and reviews dealing with no other subject than that of the war presented from every point of view, each one for the most part more depressing than the last, I took up for relief of mind a volume of Victor Hugo's poems and read for the first time his beautiful lines from Lea Chants de Crepuscule called "Daps l'Eglise de * * s," in which the poet listens in the semi-darkness to a poor woman moaning out her heart for some hopeful sign to comfort her in the midst of her sorrow and distress, and crying for help and sustenance to her God :-
" Car jo sons qua tout penche."
And the poet bids her take courage, lift up her heart and soul, and- " Soyoz comme l'oisoau, pos6 pour un instant
Sur dos rameaux trop fr6los Qui sent ployer in branohe et qui chants pourtant
Sachant qu'il a des Riles."
The cynic might say that the bird of to-day might well fear he could not avoid nor soar above the devilish Zeppelin of the moment, but we, for our part, who have been taught that we are of more value than many sparrows, know that we can always reach higher spheres and find spiritual light and com- fort when all seems so trembling and insecure on every side. This is the best solace for those at least who cannot actively assist in times like these, and who can only hope on and try to comfort the sorrowing and weak-hearted.—I am, Sir, &o.,
SEPTIIA.GENARIAN.
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