66

my brow, and that it was easier to breathe Even in her desperation her voice took a out of the house. Before I reached the tenderer tone in calling on bis name. And I wicket, through which Mary bad already dis- did not move. Shriek upon shriek smote on appeared, I was joined by Geoffrey.

the stillness ; but well I knew that all ears “ You said you were too tired to walk with save mine were far away; that the loudest me,” he said in smiling reproach ; " but you cry that could come from the young, delica te are going with Mary. Well, I forgive you. girl, would never be heard, except by me. And, ah! Bertha, let me tell you now- - Soon, exhausted by her own violence, her

No, no, I can't wait," I cried ; “ besides voice died away into a piteous wailing, amid - don't you hear my father calling you ? which I could catch broken words — words IIe is impatient - you must go to him di. that rooted anew my stubborn feet to the rectly."

ground ; words that scorched and seared me, "Soil!” He turned away shrugging his and hardened into a purpose the bad thoughts, shoulders with an air of forced resignation. that at first only confusedly whirled and I watched bim till a turn in the path hid throbbed at my heart. him, and the sound of his footsteps ceased. “ Geoffrey ! come quickly to me. I shall I was quite alone in the solemn stillness of die. O, Geoffrey ! it is so hard to die now! the twilight. faint odor stole from the Where are you, that you do not come to save Aowers that nodded on their stems in the me? 0, Geoffrey ! my Geoffrey !" evening breeze; the murmur of the waves " Ile will never hear, he is far away,” I flowing in on the shore below came hush- said to myself'; “ there is no help for her, ingly to my ears; and the moon was just none." I felt myself smiling at the thought, breaking from a great white cloud - its "I am drowning! O, the cruel sea — - the beams lay on the sea in a long, trembling dreadful, dreadful rocks!" shrieked the voice. column of light. The purity, the peace of “ The beautiful rocks," I muttered ; you the time fell on my heart like snow upon a said you loved them, but a little while ago. furnace. There was that within me which It was there that you and he Ay, shriek was fiercely at war with everything calm or on!” holy. I turned away from the moonlight- The advancing tide was not more cruel, the from the flowers; and, with eyes bent fixedly hard rocks more immovable, than I, as I on the ground, I trod the garden path to and stood listening, till again the cries subsided fro — to and fro — thinking!

into a moaning that blended with the rush of

the waves. " Bertha - Bertha! 0), come!”

0, my mother! my mother! Heaven A voice, strained to its utmost, yet still help me have mercy on me!” coming faintly, as from a distance, called The voice was suddenly quite hushed. I upon iny name. I know I must have heard shivered, and a strange, awful, deadly feeling it inany times before it penetrated the chaos stole over me.

In that minute wbat an age of my mind, and spoke to my comprehension. passed ! Then I knew it was Mary, who had long ago

I know how murderers feel. hastened down among the rocks, and who wondered, doubtless, that I did not join her. But God is merciful — most merciful. Again I paused and listened again...

the supplicating voice rose to any ears, this "0, come! Bertha, Bertha, help me!" time like music. I sprang from the ground The voice sunk with a despairing cadence. where the moment before I had crouched, and What could it mean — - that earnest, suppli- dashed down the cliff. cating cry? I was bewildered, at first; and! My mind was perfectly clear. It has been then I thought it must have been my own a blessed thought to me, since, that it was no fancy that invested the dim sounds with such delirious impulse now turned me on my way a wild and imploring tone. But I hurried to save her. I might have been mad before ; through the wicket and down the path, when, I was not now. I had full command of my midway, I was arrested by another cry, more reason, and, as I clambered along, I at once distinct now, because nearer.

decided on the only plan by which I could “ Save me! Bertha, Bertba — help !”

rescue her.

I knew every turn and twist of Then I understood all. Her inexperienced the rocks, and very soon I gained a high peak, steps had wandered into one of those bewil- above where she stood, at the farthest corner dering convolutions of the rocks, and the ad- of a little creek, into which the tide was driv. vancing tide now barred her egress. I stood ing rapidly. There was no time to lose. I motionless as the conviction flashed upon me. slid down the steep, smooth rock to her side. Quick, shrill, despairing came the cries, now. She was nearly unconscious with terror, yet

“ Come to me, "o, come and save me! I when she saw me she uttered a glad cry, and shall be drowned — drowned. O, Geoffrey, wound her arms round my neck in her old Geoffrey! help me! Don't let me die caressing way. I let them stay there. I come to me, Geoffrey !"

tried to arouse her courage. I told her I

S

would save ber, or we would die together. I A sound of voices came confusedly from the bade her cling fast to me, and fear nothing ; cliff. I answered with all the power I could, and then, with one arin strongly holding her and I was heard. Ere I gained the foot of slender, childish form, and with the other the cliff, I saw, in the clear moonlight, a grasping the rocks for support, I waded with figure rushing towards us – Geoffrey. It yet her through the waters.

rings in my ears, the terrible cry which burst Before we rounded the chain of steep rocks from bim, as he beheld the figure lying lifeless which had shut her in from the shore, she in my arms. fainted. I was very strong. I raised her in “She is living, she is safe!” I cried. I my arms, and clasped her close. I climbed saw the change in his face, as he snatched my way with vigor. I never felt her weight. her from me to his heart. Then I fell at his I felt nothing, except thanksgiving that she feet, and knew no more. was living, breathing, safe!

From the Dublin University Magazine.
A

A DAY-DREAM.

To tell of them. The stern baronial hold
Has fallen long before the storm's bleak breath,
And of its glory there is nothing told.

Darkness our dreamy life encompasseth,
And we are shadows all, and naught is real but

death.

From the Dublin University Magazine.

I.
I SEE a castle of the olden time -
A turret chamber, whose quaint windows

look
Over the great oaks in their forest prime;
So high, the thunder of the falling brook
Is all unheard — so bigh, the dusky rook
Throws in swift shadows from his passing

wing.
Within, in fair confusion, many a book,
· Lute, virginals, and every faery thing
Which ladies of those days chose for sweet dally-

ing.

LOTOS-EATING.

II.

But the bright beauty that is sleeping there -
In the full moonlight sleeping! As she lies,
Her veinéd eyelids are so very fair
That a rash gazer might believe her eyes
Were living light. The silent midnight skies
Seem as they watched her slumbers. While

they fly on
In their majestic march, which never dies,

The Pleiades protect her ; grent Orion
Looks nightly on her couch, stern as a guardian

lion.

Who would care to pass his life away,

Of the Lotos-land a dreamful denizen
Lotos-islauds round a waveless bay,

Sung by Alfred Tennyson ?
Who would care to be a dull new comer,

Far across the wide sen's blue abysses ;
Where, about the earth's three thousandth

summer,

Passed divine Ulysses ?
Rather give me coffee, art, a book,

From my windows a delicious sea-view ;
South-down mutton, somebody to cook –

“ Music ?" I believe you. Strawberry icebergs in the summer time

But of elmwood inany a massive splinter, Good ghost stories, and a classic rhyme,

For the nights of winter.

JII.

God be praised !
Here is Mr.-DUDLEY, senior,

And JANE, his wife, also,
Who, whilst living, was his superior ;

But see what Death can do.
Two of his sons also lie here,

One Walter, t'other Joe ;
They all of them went in the year 1510

Ah, woe to man! The Lady Geraldine,
Her knightly lover, and her father old,
Are faded into Time’s dim hyaline,
Which not a single shadow doth eufold

ASPARAGUS.

of cruelty he practised on all whom he de

feated. He used to bend down two pine The delicate ASPARAGUS, with its pretty trees till they met; then he tied a leg and a Greek name (aonapayoc, a young shoot not yet arm of the captive to each tree, and suddenly opened into leaf). Is there not much beauty letting the pines fly back to their natural po in a bed of asparagus run to seed? The tall, sition, the unfortunate victim was torn asunslender, feathery, green sprays, with their der. This monster was conquered by Theseus,shining, bead-like berries, have an air of great and put to death in his own manner. On bis elegance, especially when begemmed by the defeat, his young daughter, Perigone, fled morning dew. Asparagus was first cultivated away, and hid herself amid a brake of wild in England about 1662. Some species of the asparagus, praying the plants, in childish wild asparagus are still found in Wales, in simplicity, to conceal her, and promising the Isle of Portland, and near Bristol. Ta- never to root them up, or burn them. She vernier mentions having found some enor- lay among them so well sheltered that she mous asparagus on the banks of the Euphrates ; escaped discovery by Theseus, till she was and Pliny mentions asparagus cultivated at induced by the conciliatory tone in which he Ravenna, three of which would weigh a called upon her in his researches, to come pound.

forward to him. He subsequently married Asparagus is an especial favorite with our her; and their grandson, Iosus, founded in Gallic neighbors. Of the French philosopher, Caria a colony who kept in memory tho Fontenelle, an anecdote is related, which pledge of Perigone to the plants that had shows how completely his gourmandise could given her refuge. conquer all natural emotions of the mind!

The wild asparagus being full of prickles, One day, a brother literati, with whom he yet agrecable and wholesome to eat, its had lived in habits of friendship for many sprays were used by the Bocotians as wedding years, came to dine with him. The principal garlands, to signify to the bride, that as she part of the meal was to consist of asparagus, had given her lover trouble in wooing her, 80 of which both liost and guest were extremely she ought to recompense him by the pleasfond, but they differed in their tastes as to antness of her manners in wedded life. We the mode of dressing it; the latter preferred will accompany this reminiscence with the it with butter, the former with oil. After address of i dying poet to his beloved wife, some discussion, they came to a compromise ; which we translate from the Italian :the cook was ordered to make two equal divis ions, and to dress one share with oil, and the other with butter. This knotty point being settled, the friends entered into some literary

(Oui d'un uom che more, &c.) conversation. In the height of their dis

Hear my last accents spoken,

Thus in my dying hour ; course, the guest fell from his chair, sudden

And keep, as mem’ry's token, ly struck with apoplexy. Fontenelle hastily

My gift, this withered flower. summoned all necessary assistance, but in rain ; for, despite of every exertion to restore

How dear to me this blossom him, the invalid expired. What were the

Thy thought can scarce divine ; reflections of our French philosopher on this

I stole it from thy bosom abrupt and melancholy termination of a long

The day that made thee mine. standing friendship? Awe? Sorrow? Re- Long on my heart I wore it, ligious aspirations ? No! but a happy recol- Pledge of affection's vow ; lection that now his own taste could be fully Ah! to thy heart restore it, gratified, without the necessity of any defer- The pledge of sorrow now ! ence to that of another.

He left the corpse, With love by time unshaken, and, running to the head of the stairs, called

Remember when from thee out to his cook “ Dress it all with oil

This withered flower was taken, all with oil !” « Tout à l'huile – tout à

And when restored by me. l'huile !”. It is not surprising that a man so exempt from the wear and tear of human The Carrot came to us at an early period emotions as Fontenelle, lived to be upwards from Flanders. The roots of caraway boiled of ninety-nine years of age.

He was for were often used as a substitute. When the forty years Secretary to the Academy of Sci- carrot was more rare than at present, it was ences, and died in 1756.

at one time a fashion among ladies to wear Wild asparagus was held in reverence by its graceful foliage in their caps and bonpets, the Ioxides, a colony in Caria, in-remembrance and in their hair. The wild carrot (whose of their ancestress, Perigone. She was the seed enjoy some reputation as medicinal) is daughter of Sipnis, a robber of gigantic stat- called by the English peasant, bird's-nest, ure, dwelling in the Peloponnesus, who was from the hollowed and fibrous appearance of its surnamed the Pine-bender, from the species cymes of small white flowers, when withered.

THE DYING POET TO HIS WIFE.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF REDAELLI.

LITTELL’S LIVING AGE. — No. 482. — 13 AUGUST, 1853.

CONTENTS. 1. John Knox,

Westminster Review,

387 2. Chloroform,

Bentley's Miscellany,

412 3. Gentlemen in History,

Household Words,

418 4. Life of Benjamin Robert Haydon,

Examiner, .

421 5. Napoleon at St. Helena,

Spectator, Athenaum, f Lit. Gazette, 429 6. Professor Faraday on Table-Moving,

Athenæum,

442 7. Watson's Cruise in the Pacific,

Spectator,

446 8. Free Trade as a Bond of Peace, .

N. Y. Times,

447 POETRY: To the British and Irish Telegraph, 385; A Poet's Morning - Epitaph, 386 ;

The Contented Man, 428. SHORT ARTICLES : 'Tis Eighty Years Since, 420 ; The Cabbage, 427; Form of Chimneys, 428. New Books: A Few Notes on Shakspeare, 417; Lord Bacon and Sir Walter Raleigh, 427;

Adventures of a Gentleman in Search of the Church of England, 448.

:

From the Dublin University Magazine.

TO THE BRITISH AND IRISH TELEGRAPH.

0, WONDROUS chain, thou well canst prove

A change for better things !
When even love, for carrier dove,

May trust the lightning's wings ;
Prove it but needs a willing mood,
To turn aught evil into good.
Yea, in itself, a spirit good,

Which thou hast brought us o'er ;
That feeling of near neighborhood,

As England were next door ;
Nay, rather, as a friend so near,
That we may whisper in her ear.
Here mind meets mind with rapid spring ;

It seems as thought had cast
Betwixt our shores the magic ring

By which she travels fast,
And bound her geni to our will;
What mission shall our slave fulfil ?

For cloudland who? we bid thee say,
Through Ireland lies the nearest way.
And to our Royal Lady say,

That this, her green domain,
Is yearning for a sunny day -

So will she come again?
Then shall thy wires with welcomes quiver,
Our “ hundred thousand” few to give her.
But shalt thou tell how ruin treads

On yonder hearthstone cold ?
Of hungry mouths, and houseless heads ?

Alas, the tale is old !
And should'st thou all such tales convey,
'Twould wear thy wires too soon away.
Of Erin's slothful hands, that waste

Rich gifts bestowed in vain?
How party's bonds are o'er her cast

How passion shakes the chain ?
No ill news flies apace, we trow,
Without such messenger as thou.
But whisper gently, as most fit,

To men of high degree,
That harp of tone most exquisite,

May yet mishandled be ;
Alas ! our part in Britain's song
Hath been the discord far too long.
Some say thy chain was not the first

That fastened us to her ;
But thou hast made the word accursed

Sound kindly. We could bear
Another chain betwixt us wove,
Unfrayed and firm — the links of love.
And love's true type thou surely art;

It hath its signs like thee
The telegraph 'twixt heart and heart,

Life's electricity !
That, like thee, to the depths goes down,
That many waters cannot drown.

First, ask our friends in yonder land,

Why keep they thus apart?
Say, even Erin's wasted hand

Holds Beauty to her heart ;
And hides her where, 'mid dewy dells,
The green earth dimples into wells.
That 'mid our hills as wild and free

As one at home she seems,
And lets her voice accompany

The music of our streams; Her mantle tangled in the brake, Her shadow on the silent lake.

Like thee, through dark and tangled places From nature's hand — his mistress dear - for Its way it can pursue –

she Als delicate the touch that traces

Loves then to court his eyes
Its errand swift and true ;

With beauteous mysteries,
But, unlike thee, behind it cast,

Which to the untouched heart must age-deep It leaves a brightness where it passed.

riddles be. Not parted would our islands seem,

Then o'er his soul she flings
Could love's lost links be found ;

The radiance of her wings,
The channel were a narrow stream

And wakes within his heart a solemn hymn; In one fair pleasure-ground,

Flowers, birds, and bees are waking, Where either side for shade might thank

And night is slowly taking The trees on the opposing bank.

Her sleepy farewell o'er the horizon's brim. What lessons England's quickened sight

Then Dryads bathe their tresses
Might learn through such a chain !

In the sweet dewinesses,
And Erin's passion-lightnings write

That net all o'er the world of forest flowers ; A harmless message then ;

Whilst morn comes, slyly creeping, And learn to strike the better part,

To check night's balmy weeping, Not Britain's head, but Britain's heart.

And Phæbus kisses up her tears from leafy Twins should they be, and closely joined,

bowers. That, like the Siamese,

Then through the moss-lined antres
With arms around each other twined

The music Oread saunters
Could only feel at ease ;

In search of cool springs hidden from the sun ; Should feel that were that band cut through,

Where Dian may recline 'T would spill the life-blood of the two.

And sip the creamy wine And England teach her sister weak

From the lush clusters of cloud-berries won. Her firm and stately tread,

'Tis sweet to wander where And grateful Erin's fingers deck

Some valley stretches fair,
The grand, exalted head

Hugging a river in its verdant arms ;
With gems, the richest ever set

And, while Apollo sheds E’en in that glorious coronet.

Upon the mountain heads When shall it be? When each torn half His first smile, gaze upon earth's glowing Of Erin's self shall join

charms. When love hath set its telegraph 'Twixt Wexford and the Boyne ;

Perhaps the eye may glide

On Naiads in their pride When God is felt, and error Aled,

Floating upon the bosom of the wave ; And prejudice is lying dead.

Or, by some streamlet's side,
Then welcome, messenger of power!

May see through vistas wide
If e'er that bright day break,

Troops of gay wood-nymphs in the ripples lave.
Sure we shall need thee every hour
Some friendly word to take.

For then, those spirits old,
Become, though lightning be thy dower,

Of whom great bards have told
An Iris for our sake

Are visible to him whom nature loves
Tell England how we long to prove,

And every flower that springs The rainbow tints of peace and love.

Around his footsteps, brings

Mem'ries of storied shapes that haunted ancient From Tait's Magazine.

groves. A POET'S MORNING.

And every wood's recesses,

And dingle's leafinesses,
BY CALDER CAMPBELL.

Are gushing o'er with bright and aeriel things ; 'Tis sweet to watch the dawn

O'er which he loves to think
Glide slowly o’er the lawn,

At eve, by runnel's brink,
And steal upon the hare in her soft sleep ;

When twilight o'er the globe her dreamy mantlc
Nor hurt that timid thing,

Alings !
So gently slumbering,
Nor wake the feathered brood that solemn silence

EPITAPH
keep.

ON A LINENDRAPER
'Tis sweet to wander then
Through dell and bosky glen,

COTTONs, and cambrics, all adieu,
Till comes the lark to hymn the rosy day ;

And muslins, too, farewell ;
While o'er the sedgy mere

Plain, striped, and figured, old and new,
Mists rise and disappear,

Three quarters, yard, or ell ; Like shadowy shapes, that come and fit away.

By nail and yard I've measured ye,

As customers inclined,
'Tis at this hour the bard

The churchyard now has measured me,
Will meet his best reward

And nails my coffin bind.