bury-my promise to meet him-my visit to the ferry the next morning the sight of Emily Tarleton-and my hasty departure from her presence.

"So Charley has been at the bottom of the mischief after all," said Mr. Tarleton. "Well: I might have guessed as much. However, Horace, you may turn the laugh against him, for he has gone upon a wild goose chase to Detroit in the expectation of finding you. We must think of some good trick to play upon him by the time he gets back. But come-the barouche is at the door-we are going to take a drive to Nahant, you must accompany us."

I did not decline the invitation. I forgot all about the case of Dimity versus Noodle. My soul had rebounded like a lark upspringing, from its depression. Emily's cheek had grown brighter within the short time we had been together. As we rode slowly along the beach, and the fresh air came to us rolling over the big waves that tumbled upon the shore and spread themselves out over the fine sand, in thin, glittering sheets of water that reached to our carriage wheels, we inhaled the exhilaration of the ocean air, the beauty of the majestic scene. But I must take some other opportunity of fatiguing the gentle reader with a description of our adventures at Nahant.

Three weeks after this ride Emily handed me a letter, which she asked me to fold and direct to her brother. It was signed "Emily T. Berkely."

We met Marbury in Washington not many days since. He gave us a most entertaining account of his adventures. Having arrived at Detroit, he had conceived the idea that I had gone to fling away my life in Texas. He started off immediately in pursuit ; visited Nacogdoches; was apprehended by a party of Mexicans, and ordered to be shot; made his escape, and was afterwards seized by a division of Texian troops as a deserter. He quarrelled with the impertinent officer who commanded the expedition, and who was half disposed to hang him without a court martial; was released by General Houston; left for New-Orleans; and, after many perils by flood and field, arrived safely at the seat of government.

"And now, Charley," said Emily, after he had finished his narration, "will you not admit that you have received but an adequate punishment for the hoax you played off upon Horace?"

"We shall pay you back in kind one of these days," said Mr. Tarleton.

"Nay!" added I, "Marbury's faith in practical jokes must be considerably diminished. We have had ample revenge, and we can all now join heartily in the comedy of All's well that ends well.""

Charles seemed lost in meditation for a moment; and then, with an illuminating smile, he exclaimed: Egad! I was thinking if I had been shot by those blood-thirsty Mexicans, how-ha! ha! ha!—how you might have turned the laugh upon me. Wouldn't it have been

a capital joke?"

H. B.

THE PARTING.

By the sad sea they parted,

Wan, fearful, mournful hearted,

The waves, in whisperings low, chided their lingering feet,
And hands fast locked together, that ne'er again might meet.
The billows darkly swelled,—so heaved their breasts with care;
Deep grief was in their hearts,-for oh! fond love was there!
Love, wedded love had bound them

And shed its joys around them.

Red gleamed the setting sun on those two brows of sorrow,
Which far must parted be before he rise to-morrow.
And twilight dimly fades, and turns to night's dark hue,
Yet still those faltering lips refuse to breathe adieu.
Fond hearts with anguish beating,

Is this your last sad meeting?

The waning moon, that oft in nights more soft, more dear,
Had lighted them to joy, with her full beaming sphere-
Now shed her sickly light upon the hapless lovers,
And streaming eyes and wringing hands her ray discovers;
And arms once more entwined, and bosoms fondly prest,-
Ah! oft in happier hours thus had ye sunk to rest!
Ye fond ones! linger not-'tis vain-hence, hence away!
For see in the far east slow breaks the coming day.
Ah! who the grief can tell

Of that dread word-farewell!

Morn is upon the wave! morn glitters cold and fair

Along the sandy waste-but one alone is there!

The waves, still whispering, low repeat the parting moan,

And sigh along the beach-alone-alone-alone.

Far o'er the gloomy deep she strains her tear-dimmed eye

To watch his parting sail, a speck against the sky.

Mourner! cease, cease thy sorrow, thy vain regrets give o'er,

Lost, lost to thee for ever-on earth ye meet no more!

By the dark sea they parted,

Sad, sighing, broken hearted.

SONG OF THE BELL.

[FROM SCHILLER.}

"Vivos voco-mortuos plango-fulgura frango."*

"SEE our massy mould of clay
Strongly walled up in the ground;
We must cast the bell to-day-
Briskly, fellows, gather round!
Let the sweat run now
From the heated brow,

If we mean our skill to prove ;-
But the blessing's from above!

Well seemeth it our earnest work
With earnest words t' accompany;
For labour's stream, with goodly talk,
Will glide along more merrily.
Now carefully let us reflect

What our weak craft is bringing out;
The shiftless man we ne'er respect,
Who labours on without a thought.
'Tis this lends man his highest grace,—
For this the gift of Reason came,
A deep significance to trace

In what his hands have toiled to frame.

Heap the knotty pine-wood higher!
Let it be well dried before,

Till the inward darting fire
Up the narrow passage roar!
Pour the copper in,
Melt it with the tin,

Till the bell-metal grow tough,
And by rule run thick enough.

What we are forming in the mould,
By dint of hand and melting flame,
High in the church-tower shall be tolled,
And far and wide our work proclaim.
To distant days it shall remain;

Its tones on many an ear shall fall;

The old Latin inscription upon church bells, prefixed to this poem by Schiller, is thus given by Gardner in his "Music of Nature," in the chapter on Bells :—

"Laudo Deum verum, plebem voco, conjugo clerum;
Defunctos ploro, pestem fugo, festa decoro.
Funera plango, fulgura frango, Sabbata pango;
Excito lentos, dissipo ventos, paco cruentos.'

In the same chapter he speaks of the old custom of christening bells alluded to in the latter part of the poem.-See also," The Doctor, &c." (Chapters 30 and 31, Part I, page 141-9.) This is one of the most popular of Schiller's Poems; and is frequently performed in Germany with music, in alternate recitative and choruses, with full orchestral accompaniments. 5

VOL. IX.

Its chimes shall echo Sorrow's plaint,
And ring aloud Devotion's call.
Whatever to us mortals here

A shifting destiny may bring,
When struck upon its metal clear,
Repeated loud shall onward ring.

See the snowy bubbles float!
Well-the melted masses run;
Sprinkle it with salt throughout,
That will bring the crisis on.
Let the mixture clear

Of all foam appear;
That the pure sonorous bell,
Clear and full its tones may swell.

Clear and full, with a festal sound,
It hails the lovely infant child,
First entering on his earthly round,
Borne in the arms of slumber mild.
His future lots, or dark or clear,
In Time's deep lap await him yet;
He wakes beneath a mother's care,
And golden morns his glad eyes greet.
-The arrowy years have sped away.-
From tender maid, from childish play,
Th' impatient boy, with ardor burning,
Storms into life, unchecked, to roam

The wide world round ;-and now returning,
He hails his dear paternal home,

A stranger 'mid old scenes,-when, lo!
In ripened youth's full, mellow glow,
Beaming with beauty's every charm,
Majestic as some heaven-lit form,
With downcast eye and cheek o'erspread,
With deep'ning blushes rosy-red,
The maid before his sight appears,—
The child he left in lighter years!

Then creeps a nameless longing feeling

O'er his whole soul; he seeks the shade,
The solitude of wood and glade;
And ever and anon come stealing

Stray tears adown his cheeks; no more

He seeks the sports he loved before;

But in abstracted mood would flee
His brother's gladsome company.

He seeks her steps with burning cheek;
Her welcome smile his only joy;
The fairest of the flowers to seek,
To deck his love, his fond employ.
Ah! tender longing, sweetest hope,

Love's golden prime, when rapt in bliss
The eye sees heavenly treasures ope,
The heart beats high with happiness!
Still ever green and constant prove,
The fairy time of youthful love!

How the pipes begin to brown!
See, it glasses quickly o'er,
When I plunge this ladle down;
Soon it will be time to pour!
Comrades, briskly, ho!
Try the mixture now,
If the soft and brittle join
For a sure and proper sign.

For when the manly and the fair,
When Strength and Beauty form a pair,
Then rings it out a merry song.

Who binds himself in love must prove
If heart with heart in concord move;
For short the dream, the sorrow long.
Lovely in the young bride's hair
Shines the bridal coronal;
While the church-bells ringing far
Summon to the festival.
Ah! life's fairest holiday
Closes when life's May is flown;
The girdle loosed, the veil away,
All the sweet delusion's gone.
The passion is fled,
Yet love must endure;
The blossom is dead,
The fruit must mature;

The husband must forth
Into bustling life;
Into labour and strife;

He must plant, he must reap,
He must gather and keep;
Must dare all, and bear all,
And let no drop fall;

Must plot and contrive,

A fortune to hive.

So rivers of plenty flow into his hand;

His barns are o'er-crammed with the fruits of the land;

His rooms are made wide, his dwellings expand.

And, busily moving,

The modest young wife,
The mother so loving,
With her children, all life,
Looks round over all
In her circle so small.
Her girls and her boys
She is training aright,
Her care and delight;

And she busily plies

Her hands never ceasing,

The household increasing

Neat savoury chests with her treasures are full:
The snowy white cotton, the soft glossy wool;

And she smoothes the bright skeins, while the spindle is

[turning,

Thus with taste and with beauty her labour adorning.

And the father, with sparkling eye,

From his house-top looks down from on high
On the wide-spread scene before,

And counts his fortunes o'er;

His winding alleys well lined with trees,

And the crowded cells of his granaries,

Running in waves the tall corn is nodding;

Heavily home his wagons are plodding-
Pleased in his heart, he says:

'Firm, as the earth's broad base,

'Gainst adversity's power

Shall my wealth endure.'

But from Fate, however strong,

Never title lasteth long!

Watching Malice near him lurks

Ready to destroy his works.