him, which he could not get rid of. His mind was so unaccustomed to thinking of any kind, and, above all, to gloomy thinking, that he knew not what to make of the matter. He whistled and sung in vain to dispel the feeling. The same load hung upon his mind, and oppressed it grievously. In this train he found himself at length in front of the clachan of Ballacher. This small village was in possession of the individual to whom he was journeying. His dwelling, a large farmhouse, was in the centre; the cottages which surrounded it were occupied by his servants and tenantry. It was about mid-day when he entered the village. It was deserted, while a strange and subduing melancholy seemed to hang over it. He strode slowly on, but no human being made his appearance. At length a funeral procession, followed by many women and children, came silently up the middle avenue of the village. It might be a deception of his fancy, but he thought the looks of the mourners were more sad and more profoundly interesting than he had ever witnessed on any previous occasion. He followed the convoy to the cemetery, which was not far distant, and when the last shovelful of earth was thrown upon the grave, he inquired whose funeral it was. "It is that of Allaster Wilson, our master," was the reply. "Good Heaven! and how did he die?" cried William, deeply agitated. "That no one knows," answered an old man who stood by; "he was found murdered; but a day will come when the Lord will cause his blood to be requited on his murderers." "And where was his body found?" said the astonished Borderer. “In the chalk pit near the Cairn of Dal· gulish," replied the senior, and he wiped his aged eyes and walked slowly away. William started back with horror, and instantly recollected his dream. It was indeed the very individual to whose house he was journeying, that he now saw laid in his grave. His first duty was to go to the bereaved family of his departed friend, and to comfort the widow and the fatherless. A tear rolled from his manly eye as he entered the mansion of sorrow; and when he saw the relict and the weeping family of his friend he thought his heart would have died within him. Having paid into their hands the money he owed them, and performed various offices of kindness, he bade them for the present adieu, and went to Inverness. He had no business to transact there; his only object was to obtain the aid of justice in pursuit of the three men whom he supposed to be the murderers. Neil M'Kinnon was apprehended at the house where Laidlaw first saw him; but though his guilt was strongly sus pected, no positive proof could be adduced against him, and he was dismissed. The two other men were never heard of. It was supposed that they had gone on board a smuggling cutter which left Fort-William, and afterwards perished, with all its crew, in the Sound of Mull. The dream still continued to agitate the yeoman's mind to a great degree, and from being the gayest farmer of the Borders, he returned as thoughtful as a philosopher. TIME. BY THE REV. BENJ. MARSDEN. I ask'd an Aged Man, a man of cares, Wrinkled, and curved, and white with hoary hairs: "Time is the warp of life," he said, "Oh tell The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well!" I ask'd the aged Venerable Dead, Sages who wrote, and warriors who bled: From the cold grave a hollow murmur flow'd, "Time sowed the seed we reap in this abode." I asked a Dying Sinner, ere the tide Of life had left his veins: "Time," he replied"I've lost it! Ah, the treasure!"—and he died. I asked the Golden Sun and Silver Spheres, Those bright Chronometers of days and years: They answer'd, "Time is but a meteor glare, And bids us for Eternity prepare." I asked the Seasons in their annual round, Which beautify and desolate the ground; And they replied (no oracle more wise), "Tis folly's loss, and virtue's highest prize." I ask'd a Spirit Lost; but, oh! the shriek Of Things Inanimate my dial I Consulted, and it made me this reply: "Time is the season fair of living well, The path of Glory, or the path of Hell. I ask'd my Bible, and methinks it said, "Time is the present hour, the past is fled: Live! live to day! To morrow never yet On any human being rose or set." I ask'd Old Father Time himself at last; But in a moment he flew quickly past; His chariot was a cloud; the viewless wind I ask'd the Mighty Angel, who shall stand One foot on sea, and one on solid land: "By heaven," he cried, "I swear the mystery's o'er; Time was!" he cried, "but Time shall be no more." EHRENBREITSTEIN. [Mrs. Catherine Grace Gore, born in Nottinghamshire, 1800; died 29th January, 1861. A prolific writer of novels chiefly descriptive of "fashionable life." She produced upwards of 150 volumes, besides contributing prose and verse to miscellaneous publications. Her first novel, Marchmont, or The Maid of Honour, appeared in 1823. Bond, a dramatic poem, and Two Broken Hearts are the most notable of her poetical are: The Ambassador's Wife: The Debutante; Hungarian Tales: The Money-Lender: The Soldier of Lyons; The Woman of Business: The Woman of the World, &c. &c. They "reflect accurately enough the notions current plains, and commerce from the ensanguined waves of the Rhine, civil discord had embroiled the citizens of almost every town of mark along its course. But affairs were now beginning to wear a more promising aspect. The Congress of Rastadt had already opened its negotiations, and despair on one side, and exhaustion or weariness on the other, had succeeded in cooling the heat of those national feuds which had brought the ruinous footsteps of advancing and retreating armies to trample the bosom of an afflicted country. That there were some among its sons over-eager to avenge the deep scars thus inflicted, the murder of the French deputies at the very gates of Rastadt terribly attests. It chanced that some days previous to the opening of the congress, a French noble,the Count D'Aubigny,—with his wife and son, had been arrested, on their return to their native country, by the authorities of Coblentz; who, judging from the passports and papers in his possession that he had high influence, and an important connection with the Directory, secured him in the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein as a valuable hostage for the interests of their among the upper classes respecting religion, politics, city. The count, who had sought safety in efforts. Of her numerous tales the best remembered domestic morals, the social affections, and that coarse aggregate of dealing with our neighbours which is embraced by the term common honesty."-Athenæum.] In the course of the campaigns immediately following the French Revolution, the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, on the banks of the Rhine, experienced, on more than one occasion, the unequal fortunes of war; and was compelled to submit to the superior force, or superior skill, of a conquering army. After the passage of the French troops under Hoche, effected at Weisse Thurm, in 1797, a blockade, which endured until the peace of Leoben, harassed its devoted garrison. It was then abandoned to the possession of the troops of the Elector of Mayence; and although the little town of Thal, situated at its base, had been sacrificed in the course of the siege, Coblentz, whose position on the opposite bank, at the confluence of the Moselle with the Rhine, derives its best security from the fortress, was thus restored to tranquillity, and a hope of happier times. The confusion of an ill-disciplined and inexperienced army had indeed rendered abortive to the Rhenish shores those local advantages by which they ought to have been secured from devastation; and the prolonged disorganization and disunion prevalent in the adjacent provinces had, by the most impolitic inconsistency, embarrassed every branch of public business, and while agriculture was driven from the ravaged emigration during the short supremacy of one of the earlier and more furious factions of the republic, had been recently recalled to fill an appointment of dignity and honour under the new government. Galling as it was to his feelings to be thus thwarted and restrained upon the very threshold of France, yet his trust in the efficacy of an appeal which he had forwarded to the congress prevented him from giving way to the natural impatience of his mind. A deeper feeling, however a feeling of horror and desperation-soon superseded his irritation and regrets: a body of French troops presented itself before the fortress, menacing its garrison and luckless inhabitants with all the horrors of a protracted siege. It was in vain that D'Aubigny recalled to his own mind, and whispered to his fair companion, that the fortress was bomb-proof and casemated with unequal art; and still more vain were his entreaties to Colonel Faber, its brave but sturdy commandant, that his wife and child might be conveyed under a flag of truce to Coblentz. The colonel, to whom his prisoner was both nationally and individually an object of distrust, persisted that the interest of his command forbade the concession. "Your ladies of France," said he, "God give them grace-are too nimble-tongued to be trusted in an enemy's camp, and Moritz Faber will scarcely be tempted to enable the fair | soft cheek grow wan under the deprivationcountess to carry tidings of the nakedness of the land, and of the impoverished resources of the fort, unto a band which bears the tricoloured rag as its ensign, and treachery as its password. No, no!-abide in the old eagle's nest. Our galleries are a surety from your friends in the valley; and when our provisions fail-which fail they shall ere I yield the charge committed to my hand unto a gang of marauding cut-throats-the countess and her son shall honourably share our fare and our famine. Perhaps the plea of a lady's sufferings may more promptly disperse your gentle countrymen yonder, who write themselves preux chevaliers, than falconet or culverin!" his little voice gradually weaken-his step bound less playfully along the rude pavement of their chamber; and they looked into each other's faces with tearful eyes as they first noted the change; but dared not interrogate the boy, or utter one audible comment. Soon. however, fatally soon, the miserable fact became too loudly a matter of comment in the garri son for even the child to remain in ignorance of their threatened destiny. Day after day passed, and brought nothing but sights of death and sounds of lamentation; and the wasting strength of the prisoners rendered their minds still more susceptible of terror and despair; but neither their wants, nor the mur murs of the soldiery, could influence by the weight of a feather the stern determination of the commandant to yield but in his hour of death. Count D'Aubigny, finding persuasion fruitless, and knowing that resistance might even less avail him, could only pray, that either the return of his own estafette from Rastadt, or of that despatched by Colonel Faber, might bring Let those who limit their consciousness of a mandate of intelligence between the besieging the pangs of hunger by the loss of an occasions! and besieged. A few days sufficed to show him, meal, which may have rendered restless their and the expiration of several weeks tended luxurious couch, affect to underrate the agoniss most horribly to prove, that the fortress had of starvation, and to attemper according to been indeed surprised in an hour of security Adam Smith's theory of morality their arguand consequent destitution; he looked tremb-ments for the indecency of bewailing a vulgar lingly to the result, and marked the daily diminution of their apportionment of provisions, with a sense of dread he dared not reveal to his companions in misfortune. If any woman, however, could be gifted to receive with fortitude an announcement of evil, severe as that anticipated by the count, it was Eveline his lovely and most beloved wife: for her mind was as firm and elevated in its character, as her demeanour and disposition were femininely gentle: and her attachment to the young Eugene, the son of D'Aubigny by a former marriage, partook of a conscientious devotion to his interests, such as the mere tenderness of maternal love could not have alone suggested. It was for him-it was for that fair boy, who had loved her so fondly-that her first apprehensions of the horror of their position became terrible to her mind. Eugene was frail and delicate, and had been nurtured with the softest tending; he had attained neither the strength of body nor mind essential to the endurance of an evil from which his high condition might have seemed to secure him; and his parents, for they were equally so in affection for the child, had not courage to forewarn and inure him to the approaching calamity. They saw him from the first reject with silent but evident loathing the coarse food tendered for his support. They marked his lack of food. But the actual sense of famine, the gnawing, irritating sense, which confuses the ears with strange sounds—the body with sickness-the heart with perturbation— the head with dizzy bewilderment-these are sufferings which defy the mastery of mental fortitude! D'Aubigny was the first to give utterance to his feelings, for they were solely urged by the suppressed torments he was condemned to wit ness. "My Eveline," said he, "my sweet, my heavenly-minded wife, could I have believed when I sought your hand, amid the lofty pomp of your high estate, that I should but win it to share in the horrors of my evil destiny-could I have dreamed, when I wept my first glad tears over this boy's cradle, that I should live to wish him unborn-to see him perishslowly-horribly-” "Hush! D'Aubigny, he sleeps; his head hath sunk upon my knee." "No! mother," said the boy, very faintly, “*] am not sleeping; I am listening quietly to my kind father's voice." "It is exhaustion! by the God of mercy! it is exhaustion which hath bowed his head!" exclaimed the count, taking his son into his arms, and gazing with an indescribable thrill upon his attenuated countenance, then rushing forwards in despite of the outery and resistance of the various sentries, he forced himself into the presence of Colonel Faber, still straining his child to his bosom. "Look on him!" said he, with a voice broken by sobs; "tis my only child,—look upon him, -and if you have the heart of a man, deny not my petition. It is not yet too late, send him from Ehrenbreitstein." "It cannot be," answered Faber, resolutely; although the manifest condition of the lovely boy brought a deep flush even to his temples. "I will give him up my own share of provision with pleasure, Count D'Aubigny; but not a living soul must leave the fortress!-I am deeply responsible to my country: and the famishing condition of my soldiers-my children-might otherwise prompt me to desert a trust which the Congress of Rastadt appear so little interested to protect. My duty, sir, is one of sternness; I cannot grant your request." "Do not weep, father," murmured the child, faintly, "I never saw tears of thine before; do not let them fall for Eugene. I will be better; I will feed heartily on the food we can still procure;-do not weep, father." And with an effort mighty at his age, the child did indeed force between his lips the loathsome morsels which fell scantily to their share. Every domestic animal within the walls had been sacrificed; and the obscene flesh of dogs and horses had become a delicacy beyond the soldiers' power of purchase! and on such revolting aliments did Eveline force herself to feed, in order to entice and deceive the boy's enfeebled appetite. But all would not do;already many of the least hardy of the garrison had fallen a sacrifice to want of wholesome food; and the failing strength and tremulous lips of Eugene and his mother proclaimed that they were soon to follow. Yes, they were dying of starvation! Again the count attempted to move the feelings of Faber in their behalf; but he no longer bore denial with resignation. Moved beyond his patience, he raved, threatened, and even attempted violence; and as the scene had many witnesses, the commandant felt it due to himself to punish the offender with solitary confinement. Thus, too," thought the stanch old soldier, "I shall spare this unfortunate parent the misery of looking upon sufferings which he cannot alleviate." 66 The wretched chamber inhabited by the Countess D'Aubigny was situated in one of the loftiest and most secure towers of the fortress; and when the sun, which had lost its power to cheer the desponding prisoners, dawned through the arrow-slits on the day succeeding that of D'Aubigny's imprisonment, Eveline rose to drag her failing, quivering limbs towards the morning air, and resting her head beside the narrow opening, looked down upon the blue, glassy, dancing, free waters of the Rhine, that rippled far, far below the fortress, and prayed that they might rise and overwhelm her. But she instantly reproved the thought, as she had already done the proposal of her husband, that they should anticipate their inevitable and horrible end. "This child," she had replied, "is a sacred deposit in our hands; we have no right to leave him orphaned, to his sorrow; and you could not-no! you could not attempt his little life!" "What seest thou yonder, mother?" faltered the boy, whom her movement had disturbed, but who was now too weak to approach the soupirail for refreshment. Beside "I see Heaven's mighty sunshine, dear Eugene, bright as if it shone upon no human misery. I see the white city of Coblentz, backed by its green plantations, and sending up the smoke of a thousand hearths. them there is happiness, Eugene,-smiles and food, child,—and with us abideth nought save trust in the mercy of God. Think upon it,— think, beloved child, that we shall soon be free from pain and grief!" "I cannot think, mother; my head swims strangely. But there is still feeling in my heart, and it is all for thee and for my father." Eugene, should we survive this peril, and thou hast the strength of youth in thy favour, let this remembrance become a pledge for the tender mercies of thy future life; so that the poor and the hungry may not plead to thee in vain. "Mother, thy words reach not my failing ears; draw nearer, mother, for I would die with my hand in thine." On that very day the destinies of the fortress were accomplished; and the sacrifice which had been made was made in vain:-the fiat of the Congress of Rastadt commanded the brave Faber to open its gates to the enemy of his country. The noble brother of Eveline D'Aubigny, whose anxiety for her liberation had motived in a great measure the blockade of Ehrenbreitstein, was the first to rush into the chamber of the captive. No living thing stirred there. The boy had died first, for his face was covered, and his limbs composed; and Eveline if the fair wasted thing which lay beside him might claim that name-had perished in the effort of executing that last duty! SONGS OF ROBIN HOOD. BY LEIGH HUNT. ROBIN HOOD, A CHILD. It was the pleasant season yet, When the stones at cottage doors The green leaves they looked greener still, Robin Hood's mother looked out, and said, Nor welcome up from his sick bed And Robin leaped, and thought so too; And so he has grasped her gown; And now looking back, they have lost the view Of merry sweet Locksley town. Robin was a gentle boy, And therewithal as bold; To say he was his mother's joy, His hair upon his thoughtful brow But ran into a curl somehow Great love to him his uncle too The noble Gamelyn bare, Gamelyn's eyes, now getting dim, For Robin already let him see He should beat his playmates all At wrestling, running, and archery; Yet he cared not for a fall. Merriest he was of merry boys, And would set the old helmets bobbing; If his uncle asked about the noise, "Twas, "If you please, sir, Robin." And yet if the old man wished no noise, |