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"Tell me a story, or sing me a song

Of a princess, who dwelt by the sea,
And what the waves sung to her, all the day long,

And what to the waves answered she.'
The waves, in calm weather, came trippingly, trippingly,

Ripplingly, up from the sea,-
· The flowers at thy casement are blooming and dying,
The smile on thy mouth, it has ended in sighing,

As thou sittest alone by the sea;
But the mast is of gold, and the ship is of pearl,
And its sails take the light, like this long amber curl

That droops from thy neck to thy knee.'
Cheer up, pretty princess! the white sails are flying,
At the ends of the world, they are shining and flying,

That bear a fond suitor to thee!
And she listens in fear, 'twixt a smile and a tear,

Half-pleased and half-pensive is she,
And she tosses her head, just as if she had said,

'He may tarry for ever, for me!'
But the waves, in rough weather, came roaringly, roaringly,

Pouringly, up from the sea,
And the land-echoes moan,' Wilt thou go all alone,

To be tossed on the storm-driven sea ?
Leaving father, and mother, and sister, and brother,

For a stranger thou never didst see ?'
And loud winds arise, as she weepingly cries,

He may come, but he'll never have me!
The waters are cold-not for silver and gold

Would I trust to the treacherous sea,O say, only say, you won't take me away,

Ye wild-flowing waves of the sea!'
*Ah, what a sad song!' little Golden-hair said;

But finish the story, I pray;
The prince he is coming quite soon, I'm afraid,

And then will he take her away?
Nay, now, little Golden-hair, how can I tell ?

Run away, for a troublesome elf!'
But she clapped her small hands, crying out, ' Very well,

I can finish it all for myself!'
Ah, whisper, sweet Golden-hair, close to my ear,

Do tell me I want so to know!
• The prince he is handsome—the prince he is dear,

And the princess will willingly go.
• The ship is all sparkling with gold and with pearl,

The white sails are fluttering free,
And there, on the deck, like a little bright speck,

The pretty princess I can see.
* The prince he leans over her all the day long,

Or plays his sweet lute at her side;
And when the waves roar, and the wind is too strong,

He soothes her with loverly pride.'
' But is she unhappy? or is she afraid ?'

Little Golden-hair capered for glee; 'She's as merry again,' said this mischievous maid, *As she was when she sat by the sea!'


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A Story of London Life.




TISS ENGLEHEART'S sweep- wife like So-and-so's dearest friend's,

ing condemnation of men's who should insist upon going to hearts, brains, and principles was balls without him every night of not entirely correct as regarded the week, why it would be a Oliver Carew. He was as little con- nuisance, and he must make the ceited as any handsome lad could best of it-no difficult matter when be upon whom the prettiest faces of one has all the pleasantest ingremore than one London season had dients for material enjoyment so smiled not unfavourably. In mat- very ready to one's hand. In the ters pertaining to his own gratifica- mean time, he was duly thankful for tion he was hot-headed and impul- having escaped the strong ankles sive as a schoolboy. He would not and sandy hair of that wealthy have stepped a line out of the path young woman his relations had dewhich he had been taught to con- sired him to win, and had every sider honour had the crossing of intention of continuing in his prethat line been the one and only sent unfettered condition as long as means that should rescue him from possible. death.

But what are intentions when & But in saying that he was doubt- well-favoured face looks up to yours less thinking vastly more of his own in the loneliness of green-shaded amusement than of falling seriously woods? What are intentions when in love or marrying Miss Joan this face smiles at you, flushed and had approached very nearly to the animated, amidst the golden glory truth. When Mr. Carew had thought of the moors at sunset? What are of marriage at all, up to this period, intentions, what are fixed and steadit had been as of a necessary condi- fast resolves, when this face turns tion of existence that would doubt- from you blushing, as you whisper less come upon him some day, leav- soft adieux at twilight amidst the ing his own happy selfish life very perfumed, voluptuous silence of much as it was, but adding the the summer lanes? In a fortnight companionship of a good-tempered, from the time that Oliver first met pretty, affectionate sort of young Miss Fleming he believed her to be woman, whose tact and devotion to the loveliest and (which charmed him should prevent his ever feeling him more) the most loving woman in bored when at home, but yet never the world; the only one he had ever stand the least in the way if he admired; the only one who could wanted to amuse himself elsewhere. by any possibility make him happy. The domestic lot of such of his more He believed that he could not live intimate friends as had married did very long if he were to be separated not invariably serve as an illustra- from her, or at least that life under tion of these optimist opinions; but such circumstances would be much he was a great deal too easy a phi- too shattered and objectless to be losopher to trouble himself with any worth holding. He did not care deeper views of life than those about her position or her lack of which his own favourably-placed money, of these he had enough for circumstances suggested. If he did them both: he wanted her. No eventually get a wife like So-and- man who married Esther Fleming so's, who should bully him, or a could be said to marry beneath him

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