distance to the beach,) it was struck by a wave, capsized, and boat, passengers, and all, tenveloped in the angry surge! The wretched husband saw but too distinctly the destruction of all that he held dear. But here, alas, and forever were shut out from him all sublunary prospects. He fell upon the deck-powerless, senseless, a CORPSE-the victim of a sublime sensibility.

5. But what became of the unhappy wife and child? The answer shall be brief. Mrs. G. was borne through the breakers to the shore by one of the brave sailors; the nurse was thrown upon the beach with the drowned infant in her arms. Mrs. G. was taken to a hut senseless, continued +delirious many days, but finally recovered her senses, and with them, a consciousness of the awful catastrophe which, in a moment, had made her a CHILDLESS WIDOW.

1. I know thou art gone to the land of thy rest;
Then why should my soul be so sad?

I know thou art gone where the weary are blest,
And the mourner looks up and is glad;

Where Love has put off in the land of its birth,
The stain it had gather'd in this,

And Hope, the sweet singer that gladden'd the earth,
Lies asleep in the bosom of bliss.

2. I know thou art gone where thy forehead is starr'd
With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul,

Where the light of thy loveliness can not be marr'd,
Nor thy heart be flung back from its goal;

I know thou hast drunk of the Lethe that flows
Through a land where they do not forget;
That sheds over memory only repose,

And takes from it only regret.

3. This eye must be dark that so long has been dim,
Ere again it may gaze upon thine;

But my heart has revealings of thee and thy home,
In many a token and sign;

I never look

up with a vow, to the sky,
But a light like thy beauty is there;

And I hear a low murmur, like thine, in reply,
When I pour out my spirit in prayer.

4. In the far-away dwelling, wherever it be,
I believe thou hast visions of mine;

And the love that made all things as music to me,
I have not yet learn'd to resign.

In the thush of the night, on the waste of the sea,
Or alone with the breeze, on the hill,

I have ever a presence that whispers of thee,
And my spirit lies down and is still.

5. And though like a mourner that sits by a tomb,
I am wrapp'd in a mantle of care;

Yet the grief of my bosom—oh! call it not gloom—
Is not the black grief of despair.

By sorrow reveal'd, as the stars are by night,
Far off a bright vision appears;

And hope, like the rainbow-a creature of light,
Is born, like the rainbow, in tears.

1. ALMOST all the people in the parish were loading in their meadow-hay on the same day of midsummer, so drying was the sunshine and the wind; and huge heaped-up *wains, that almost hid from view the horses that drew them along the sward beginning to get green with second growth, were moving in all directions toward the snug farm-yards. Never had the parish seemed before so populous. *Jocund was the balmy air with laughter, whistle, and song. But the *tree-gnomons threw the shadow of "one o'clock" on the green dial-face of the earth; the horses were unyoked and took instantly to grazing; groups of men, women, lads, lasses, and children, collected under grove, and bush, and hedgerow; graces were pronounced, some of them rather too tedious in presence of the mantling milk-cans, bullion-bars of butter,

and crackling cakes; and the great Being who gave them that day their daily bread, looked down from his eternal throne, well-pleased with the piety of his thankful creatures.

2. The great golden eagle, the pride and the pest of the parish, stooped down, and flew away with something in its talons. One single, sudden, female shriek arose; and, then, shouts and outcries, as if a church spire had tumbled down on a congregation at a sacrament: "Hannah Lamond's bairn! Hannah Lamond's bairn!" was the loud, fast-spreading cry. "The eagle has ta'en off Hannah Lamond's bairn!" and many hundred feet were, in another instant hurrying toward the mountain. Two miles of hill and +dale, and +copse, and shingle, and many intersecting brooks lay between; but, in an incredibly short time, the foot of the mountain was alive with people.

3. The aerie was well known, and both old birds were visible on the rock-ledge. But who shall scale that dizzy cliff, which Mark Steuart, the sailor, who had been at the storming of many a fort, attempted in vain? All kept gazing, weeping, wringing their hands in vain, rooted to the ground, or running back and forward, like so many ants essaying their new wings in discomfiture. "What's the use, what's the use o' ony puir human means? We have no power but in prayer!" and many knelt down-fathers and mothers thinking of their own babies-as if they would force the deaf heavens to hear!

4. Hannah Lamond had all this while been sitting on a rock, with a face perfectly white, and eyes like those of a mad person, fixed on the aeric. Nobody had noticed her; for strong as all sympathies with her had been at the swoop of the eagle, they were now swallowed up in the agony of eyesight. "Only last sabbath was my sweet wee wean baptized in the name o' the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost!" and on uttering these words, she flew off through the brakes and over the huge stones, up—up—up— faster than ever huntsman ran in to the death, fearless as a goat playing among the precipices.

5. No one doubted, no one could doubt, that she would soon be dashed to pieces. But have not people who walk in their sleep, obedient to the mysterious guidance of dreams.

climbed the walls of old ruins, and found footing, even in decrepitude, along the edge of unguarded +battlements, and down dilapidated staircases, deep as draw-wells or coal-pits, and returned with open, fixed, and unseeing eyes, unharmed to their beds, at midnight! It is all the work of the soul, to whom the body is a slave; and shall not the agony of a mother's passion, who sees her baby whose warm mouth had just left her breast, hurried off by a demon to a hideous death, bear her limbs aloft wherever there is dust to dust, till she reach that devouring den, and fiercer and more furious far, in the passion of love, than any bird of prey that ever bathed its beak in blood, throttle the fiends, that with their heavy wings would fain flap her down the cliffs, and hold up her child in deliverance before the eye of the all-seeing God?

6. No stop-no stay,-she knew not that she drew her breath. Beneath her feet, providence fastened every loose. stone, and to her hands strengthened every root. How was she ever to descend? That fear but once crossed her heart, as she went up--up-up-to the little image of her own flesh and blood. "The God who holds me now from perishing, will not the same God save me when my child is on my bosom?" Down came the fierce rushing of the eagles' wings; each savage bird dashing close to her head, so that she saw the yellow of their wrathful eyes. All at once, they *quailed and were cowed. Yelling, they flew off to the stump of an ash, jutting out of a cliff, a thousand feet above the cataract; and the Christian mother falling across the aerie, in the midst of bones and blood, clasped her childdead-dead-dead-no doubt-but unmangled and untorn, and swaddled up just as it was, when she laid it down asleep among the fresh hay in a nook of the harvest field.

7. Oh! what a pang of perfect blessedness transfixed her heart from that faint, feeble cry,-"It lives-it lives-it lives!" and baring her bosom, with loud laughter and eyes dry as stones, she felt the lips of the unconscious innocent, once more murmuring at the fount of life and love! "O thou great and thou dreadful God! whither hast thou brought me, one of the most sinful of thy creatures? Oh! save my soul, lest it perish, even for thy own name's sake! Oh thou, who diedst to save sinners, have mercy upon me!"

8. Below, were cliffs, chasms, blocks of stone, and the +skeletons of old trees-far-far down-and +dwindled into specks, and a thousand creatures of her own kind, stationary, or running to and fro! Was that the sound of the waterfall, or the faint roar of voices? Is that her native strath? and that tuft of trees, does it contain the hut, in which stands the cradle of her child? Never more shall it be rocked by her foot! Here must she die; and, when her breast is exhausted, her baby too! And those horrid beaks, and eyes, and talons, and wings, will return, and her child will be devoured at last, even within the dead bosom, that can protect it no more.

-

CIX. THE EAGLE'S NEST.
SCREES; precipices. MAUN; must.

CONCLUDED.
CLAES; clothes.

1. WHERE, all this time, was Mark Steuart, the sailor? Half way up the cliffs. But his eye had got dim, and his heart sick; and he, who had so often reefed the top-gallant sail, when, at midnight, the coming of the gale was heard afar, covered his face with his hands, and dared look no longer on the swimming hights. "And who will take care of my poor, bed-ridden mother?" thought Hannah, whose soul, through the exhaustion of so many passions, could no more retain in its grasp that hope, which it had *clutched in despair. A voice whispered "God." She looked around, expecting to see an angel, but nothing moved, except a rotten branch, that, under its own weight, broke off from the crumbling rock. Her eye, by some secret sympathy of her soul with the inanimate object, watched its fall; and it seemed to stop not far off, on a small platform.

2. Her child was bound within her bosom she remembered not how or when, - but it was safe—and, scarcely daring to open her eyes, she slid down the shelving rocks, and found herself on a small piece of firm, root-bound soil, with the tops of bushes appearing below. With fingers suddenly strengthened into the power of iron, she swung herself down, by briar, and broom, and theather, and dwarf-birch. Here, a loosened stone leaped over a ledge, and no sound was heard,