disappeared on entering into a cave, the mouth of which was nearly upon a level with the torrent.

The shepherd with difficulty followed; but, on entering the cave, what were his emotions, when he beheld the infant eating, with much satisfaction, the cake which the dog had just brought him, while the faithful animal stood by, eyeing his young charge with the utmost complacence. From the situation in which the child was found, it appears he had wandered to the brink of the precipice, and then either fallen or scrambled down till he reached the cave; which the dread of the torrent had afterwards prevented him from quitting. The dog, by means of his scent, had traced him to the spot, and afterwards prevented him from starving, by giving up to him his own daily allowance. He appears never to have quitted the child, by night or day, except when it was necessary to go for his food, and then he was always seen running at full speed, to and from the cottage.

ST. MARY'S WELL. A SONG.

BY P. J. MEAGHER, AUTHOR OF ZEDECHIAS."

Know'st thou not Saint Mary's well,

Where the pilgrim loves to pray—
In Glentevar's lonely dell,

That lies beneath the mountain way?
If on earth there be a spot

Where the heart would fly from men,

And be by the world forgot,

'Tis in that sweet romantic glen!
When the evening sun-beams fell
On the Abbey's glittering pane,
And Cunceartha's sullen bell

Pealed slowly up the silent lane;
At that fount young Eileen gave
All her soul to heavenly love;
Not more bright its silver wave,
Than her blue eye that beam'd above!
Faithful o'er the mimic tide

Knelt the pious fair haired maid;
Gave herself a holy bride

To saints whose beauty never fade :

But, alas! poor Eileen knew

Little of this earth of ours, And the mischief man can do,

Oh! never cross'd her dreaming hours. 'Twas one night she pour'd her soul To the virgin of the shrine, That a vision softly stole

Too brightly near-but not divine; From that eve, her heart, I fear,

Much less oft to prayer was given, And her thoughts entwining here, Love built for them another heaven! From the "brothers' lonely height," Lo the funeral stave is heard Suddenly, one moonlight night,

A fair young monk had disappear'd; Since that fatal night hath been, Eileen came not near the dell ; But two forms are sometimes seen Together, leaning o'er that well.

STANZAS TO M***.

66

BY J. A. SHEA, AUTHOR OF RUDEKKI."

'Twas such an hour as this,
The setting sun was bright,
Our hearts were full of bliss,

As the waters were of light;
But 'twas the bliss that sighs
When lovers first behold,
Within each other's eyes

What the tongue has never told.

Yes, such the hours when first
I thought thine eyes express'd,
The very passion-burst

That struggled in my breast;
And far too bright became
For silence, cold eclipse,
Till freed in words of flame
Upon my burning lips.

And then, yes, then!-thine own
So fervid and so true,

Look'd out, as from a throne,
From thy soft eyes of blue.
Thine eye the soul gave out,
Thy lip was eloquent,
And there no more was doubt
Of what each other meant.

Oh! memory of that day,
May'st thou be like the rose,
That's fragrant in decay
As when in dew it blows;
For when our passions melt
Into infirmity,

The joys we shall have felt
We'll feel again in thee!

THE STOLEN WIG.

While Lord Cranstoun lived in a house in the Advocate's Close, Edinburgh, it was the custom for advocates and judges to breakfast early, and, when dressed, were frequently seen leaning over the parlour windows, expecting St. Giles's to start the sounding peal of a quarter to nine.

It happened, that one morning, while Lord Cranstoun was preparing to enjoy his matutinal treat, two girls, who lived in the second flat above, were amusing themselves with a kitten, which, in sport, they had swung over the window by a cord tied round its middle, and hoisted for some time up and down, till the creature was getting rather desperate with its exertions. In this crisis his lordship had just popped his head out of the window, directly below that from which the kitten swung, little suspecting what danger impended over his head, when down came the exasperated animal, at full career, directly upon his wig. No sooner did the girls perceive what landingplace their kitten had found, than in terror and surprise they began to draw it up; but this measure was now too late, for, along with the animal, up came the judge's wig, fixed in its

talons.

His lordship's surprise on finding his wig lifted off his head, was ten thousand times redoubled, when, on looking up, he perceived it dangling its way upwards, without any means visible to him by which its motion might be accounted for. The astonishment of the senator below, and the mirth of the girls above, together with the fierce and retentive energy of puss between, altogether formed a scene to which language cannot do justice. It was a joke soon explained, and pardoned; but assuredly the perpetrators of it did get many a lengthened injunction from their parents, never again to fish over the window with such a bait for honest men's wigs.

THE UNIVERSAL DOOM.

FROM THE GERMAN.

BY RALPH FERRARS.

The autumn leaf is swept away;
Worn out by nature's slow decay;
Age drops into the tomb.
Does this appal the sober mind?
No-e'en the weakest stands resign'd
To universal doom.

But when the secret arrow flies;
When murderous rage dissolves the ties
Of love, and hope, and life;
When youth and beauty press the bier,
Then, then, we deem the lot severe,
And tremble at the strife.

Lo! clouds on clouds the heaven deform:
Serene we wait the coming storm,

Nor shrink beneath the blow;
Yet may the sudden whirlwind rise,
Or fate descend from smiling skies,
To lay our glories low.

E'en whilst we waste the careless hours,
The foe, unseen, amidst the flowers,
Our promis'd joys may blight;

The sun, perhaps, that gilds our bloom,
Is but a halo round the gloom

Of unexpected night.