Where fortune o'er us hath it borne;

Nor ween the shade will ever lie

If there's a night for every sky,

For every night there is a morn. The wide world's deepest sympathy

Lives thee around, thou lovely one; Ten thousand hearts would do for thee Whatever might by man be done, Could it thy faintest wish fulfil,

And, more, could it bring back to thee The loved of soul, who lingers still,

And whom all living long to see.'

6 Ah, no! ah, no! they lit the hall,' She said, 'that they may cheer the heart, And kindness toils to bring me all

That thus true kindness can impart. But what at home shall cheer the mind Whose thought is sad and far away, Or, home returning, for it find

A charm 'twill bid it cease to stray?

If it must travel o'er each scene

Where first in other days were wove, The wooer and the wooed between,

The ties of true and tender love, Shall it not wing its wayward flight

To regions where the loved is cast? Where thither, too, if e'er it might,

This foot itself would follow fast. The day is drear and night is cold, And desolation marks the clime, Where seas, ice-chain'd since long of old, Sleep in the weariest wastes of time. Yet forth from all that here is fair,

How fondly could this heart comply,
To bear the footstep thither where

I with the loved might live or die.
Ah! could the tempests melt, and lave
The ice aloft to heaven in brine,
The ocean's bosom might not have
A restlessness like that of mine.
And well suspense may bear it high,

And wreck of her each fondest scheme,
Who may not wake without a sigh,

Nor sleep without a troubled dream.
Sad are the woes that life o'ercome
When hope sits anxiously as now,
Where its own light can scarce illume
The band of love around its brow.
Where shall the spirit find redress,
In all the years of life again,
If ties that brought the highest bliss

Live but to bring the deepest pain?
Oh who will sail the wild, wide sea,
To trace, where frosts allay its foam,
The loved and lost, and bring to me,
Alive or dead, the wanderer home?
I ween'd it brought an envied bliss,
The loved of soul to seek and save;
And, if this may not be, there is

At last a blessing in the grave.
When there we know the loved are laid,
Suspense resolves itself in wo;
Hearts sicken not 'mid hope delay'd,

And peace returns when tears can flow.
But ah! 'tis weary pain as may
E'er to the heart of woman be,
Which takes that heart itself away,
And chains it to a frozen sea.'

PART II.

Changed was the vision of my sleep,
And I beheld a lovely form
Fast travelling o'er the troubled deep,
Unstay'd alike by calm and storm.

Bright as a streamer in the air,

Her native light a ray threw back, That show'd her fearless all as fair,

Upon her wild and wayward track. And thus she onward still would hie, Until we thought she paused afar Amid the solitudes that lie

Beneath the still-eyed northern star. With eery thought seem'd she to greet The scene where I would seem to see Time's utmost limitations meet

The border of eternity.

Oh! that has wrought that none e'er stay'd,
That further it might never move;
What could have thither led, I said,
Except the silken band of love!
On-passing, up she wound it aye,

And this, methought, the tie must be,
That took, she said, her heart away,
And chain'd it to a frozen sea.
That pity deep-that tender care
Which all the inward being stirs,
Yearn'd o'er her, when I fear'd despair
Might reach at last a heart like hers.
Calm stood she on an iceberg lone,

High hung upon the glacial steep,
And gazed, with look intensely prone,
Athwart the frost o'er fettered deep.
Serene, amid the region vast,

A being of celestial birth
Seem'd she, the while forlornly cast
Upon the wildest wastes of earth.
And her calm glances aye between

(That dwelt on all, not long to dwell) To fall o'er her pale cheek was seen

The tear that freezed before it fell.
Oh! then, said I, though frost and snow
Usurp the life of limb and arm,
When shall they cool of love the glow
That lives to keep the bosom warm?

I see, though shorten'd, strengthen'd more
That tie which will not let her free,
That, guiding thus the deep far o'er,
Hath chain'd her to a frozen sea.

And if, even as this soul shall live,
And feeling in that life exist,
Were earth's wide treasures mine, I'd give
Them all to see the lovely bless'd.

But gold cannot for love atone,

Nor from the loved make feeling err; Away she given hath her own,

For what, alas! was gold to her?

Nor gold nor gear enough have I,

Though this e'en wounded hearts could heal, Which may as oft have marred their joy As caused them fewer sorrows feel.

No darker frown of fate can fall

O'er that which she has lived to prove, That, that which triumphs over all

The matchless worth of woman's love.
Where-where art thou?' she cried, Ah! where,
Amid the miseries of this clime,
Wouldst thou advent'rously repair,
And tarry thus so long a time?

To these brave hearts that sought for thee,
Thou yet thy course might'st ne'er incline,
But generous all, as wont to be,

Oh, come and heal the woes of mine!
Though worn and weak, once more with thee,
I yet could cheer thy saddest moods,
And thou couldst make as bliss to me
Even these eternal solitudes.

These frosts I'd trow the dews of eve,
That o'er the gladsome greenwood fell,
When others we behind would leave

To walk the ways we loved so well.
That gleam were as the gloaming star
That rose upon the lonely sky,
And shed its beauteous beams afar,
To light us home to love and joy,
But it is vain; and all is drear:

How changed is light and life to me,
When towards me thou canst not steer,
When I would come in search of thee.
Life's deep and dearest sympathies,

That else no power might e'er divide, The zeal of lofty enterprise

Has broken thus, and scatter'd wide. And, whither, whither art thou gone?

'Mid wanderings wild and wasting toils, These realms of desolation on

Where God, nor man, nor nature smiles.
Thou wert so generous aye, and brave,

And would in thee all worth combine,
That made thee loved, by land and wave,
Of every heart, and most of mine.
May fortune cold, oh, ne'er again
Thus doom a loving pair to part,
Unless she sever, too, the pain

Of fond remembrance from the heart.
Might Heaven redouble, o'er and o'er,
Those boons bestow'd to set thee free,
I'd give them all, and thousands more,
To hear one word again from thee.
Oh, ye-ye daughters of the land,
Love as ye ne'er might love before;
Twine closer still the silken band

Around the bosom's inmost core,

And bind advent'rous hearts and strong,
That they may nearer still remain-
Once parted; ah! it may be long
Ere they return to yours again.
And deeply doubled, thus, for aye,

The world its wierd of wo will find,
Since hearts, when sad, that are away,
Leave others all as sad behind.

Deep sighs the bosom o'er the pall,
When lifeless lie the fondly dear;
And weary is the world's cold thrall,
When those beloved come seldom near.

But may ye never prove the pain
Wrought by suspense and wild dismay,
When fate to realms unknown has ta'en
The loved of all the soul away!'
The vision ceased. I woke to ween
That, cheated in my troubled sleep,
It but the lady's thought had been
That roam'd, distress'd, far o'er the deep.
And still I fear that night and day

It following far that tie will be,
Which takes her leal pure heart away,
And chains it to a frozen sea.

But England's sons are free and bold,
And if as generous all as brave,
They, too, as with the lawn and wold,
Are as familiar with the wave,

And they shall yet the lost relieve,

Who home will bring th' unbroken chain;
And she shall to her heart receive
The loved of all her soul again.

HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL.

... ......

AN ODD ADVENTURE BEFORE BREAKFAST. THE three brothers slept lying along the ground within a few feet of one another. Their tent was gone, and, of course, they were in the open air. They were under a large spreading tree, and, wrapped in their blankets, had been sleeping soundly through the night. Day was just beginning to break, when something touched Francois on the forehead. It was a cold, clammy object; and, pressing upon his hot skin, woke him at once. He started as if a pin had been thrust into him; and the cry which he uttered awoke also his companions. Was it a snake that had touched him? Francois thought so at the moment, and continued to think so while he was rubbing his eyes open. When this feat was accomplished, however, he caught a glimpse of some object running off that could not be a snake.

'What do you think it was?' inquired Basil and Lucien, in the same breath.

'A wolf, I think,' replied Francois. 'It was his cold nose I felt. See! yonder it goes. See-see-there are two of them!'

Francois pointed in the direction in which the two animals were seen to run. Basil and Lucien looked, and saw them as well. They were about the size of wolves, but appeared to be quite black, and not like wolves at all. What could they be? They had suddenly passed into a darker aisle among the trees, and the boys had only caught a glimpse of them as they went in. They could still distinguish their two bodies in the shade, but nothing more. What could they be? Perhaps javalies? This thought, no doubt, occurred to the brothers, because of their late adventure with these animals.

'They are too large, and run too clumsily, for javalies,' said Lucien.

'Bears!' suggested Francois.

'No, no; they are not large enough for bears.' All three were puzzled.

They had risen upon their hands and knees, disencumbered themselves of their blankets, and each had grasped his gun, which they always kept close by them when asleep. They remained in this position, straining their eyes up the gloomy alley after the two black objects, that had stopped about fifty yards distant. All at once the form of a man rose up before them, and directly in front of the animals. Instead of retreating from the latter, as the boys expected, the upright figure stood still. To their further astonishment, the two animals ran up to it, and appeared to leap against it, as if making an attack upon it. But this could not be, since the figure did not move from its place, as one would have done who had been attacked. On the contrary, after a while, it stooped down, and appeared to be caressing them!

6

"A man and two dogs,' whispered Francois; perhaps an Indian!'

It may be a man,' returned Lucien, also speaking in a whisper. I know not what else it could be; but those are no dogs, or I never saw such.'

This Lucien uttered with emphasis, and in a serious tone, that caused the brothers to draw closer to each other. During all this time Marengo stood by, restrained by them from rushing forward. The dog had not awaked until the first cry of Francois roused him. He was wearied with the long gallop of the preceding days; and, like his masters, had been sleeping soundly. As all started almost simultaneously, a word from Basil had kept him in; for to this he had been well trained; and without a signal from him he was not used to attack any creature, not even his natural enemies. He therefore stood still, looking steadily in the same direction as they, and at intervals uttering a low growl that was almost inaudible. There was a fierceness about it, however, that showed he did not regard the strange objects as friends. Perhaps he knew what they were better than any of the party.

The three mysterious creatures still remained near the same spot, and about fifty yards from the boys. They

From the Boy Hunters.' By Captain MAYNE REID.

did not remain motionless, however. The two smaller ones ran over the ground-now separating from the upright figure, and then returning again, and appearing to caress it as before. The latter now and then stooped, as if to receive their caresses, and, when they were not by, as though it was gathering something from the ground. It would then rise into an upright position, and remain motionless as before. All their manoeuvres were performed in perfect silence.

There was something mysterious, awe-inspiring in these movements; and our young hunters observed them not without feelings of terror. They were both puzzled and awed. They scarcely knew what course to adopt. They talked in whispers, giving their counsels to each other. Should they creep to their horses, mount, and ride off? That would be of no use; for if what they saw was an Indian, there were no doubt others near; and they could easily track and overtake them. They felt certain that the strange creatures knew they were there -for indeed their horses, some thirty yards off, could be plainly heard stamping the ground and cropping the grass. Moreover, one of the two animals had touched and smelt Francois; so there could be no mistake about it being aware of their presence. It would be idle, therefore, to attempt getting off unawares. What then? Should they climb into a tree? That, they thought, would be of just as little use; and they gave up the idea. They resolved, at length, to remain where they were, until they should either be assailed by their mysterious neighbours, or the clearer light might enable them to make out who and what these were.

As it grew clearer, however, their awe was not diminished; for they now saw that the upright figure had two thick, strong-looking arms, which it held out horizontally, manoeuvring with them in a singular manner. Its colour, too, appeared reddish, while that of the small animals was deep black! Had they been in the forests of Africa, or South instead of North America, they would have taken the larger figure for that of a gigantic ape. As it was, they knew it could not be that.

The light suddenly became brighter-a cloud having passed off the eastern sky. Objects could be seen more distinctly, and then the mystery that had so long held the young hunters in torturing suspense was solved. The large animal reared up, and stood with its side towards them; and its long-pointed snout, its short erect ears, its thick body and shaggy coat of hair, showed that it was no Indian nor human creature of any sort, but a huge bear standing upright on his hams!

A she-bear and her cubs!' exclaimed Francois. But see!' he continued, she is red, while the cubs are jet black.'

Basil did not stop for any observation of that kind. He had sprung to his feet and levelled his rifle, the moment he saw what the animal was,

'For your life do not fire!' cried Lucien. 'It may be a grizzly bear!'

His advice came too late. The crack of Basil's rifle was heard; and the bear, dropping upon all fours, danced over the ground, shaking her head and snorting furiously. The light had deceived Basil; and instead of hitting her in the head as he had intended, his bullet glanced from her snout, doing her but little harm. Now, the snout of a bear is its most precious and tender organ, and a blow upon it will rouse even the most timid species of them to fury. So it was with this one. She saw whence the shot came; and, as soon as she had given her head a few shakes, she came in a shuffling gallop towards the boys.

Basil now saw how rashly he had acted, but there was no time for expressing regrets. There was not even time for them to get to their horses. Before they could reach these and draw the pickets, the bear would overtake them. Some one of them would become a victim.

'Take to the trees!' shouted Lucien; if it be a grizzly bear, she cannot climb.'

As Lucien said this, he levelled his short rifle, and fired at the advancing animal. The bullet seemed to strike her

on the flank, as she turned with a growl and bit the part. This delayed her for a moment, and allowed Lucien time to swing himself to a tree. Basil had thrown away his rifle, not having time to reload. Francois, when he saw the great monster so near, dropped his gun without firing. All three in their haste climbed separate trees. It was

a grove of white oaks; and these trees, unlike the pines, or magnolias, or cypress-trees, have usually great limbs growing low down, and spreading out horizontally. These limbs are often as many feet in length as the tree itself is in height.

It was upon these that they had climbed-Basil having taken to that one under which they had slept, and which was much larger than the others around. At the foot of this tree the bear stopped. The robes and blankets drew her attention for the moment. She tossed them over with her great paws, and then left them, and walked round the trunk, looking upwards, at intervals uttering loud sniffs,' that sounded like the ''scape' of a steam-pipe. By this time Basil had reached the third or fourth branch from the ground. He might have gone much higher; but, from what Lucien had suggested, he believed the animal to be a grizzly bear. Her colour, which was of a fern or fulvous brown, confirmed him in that belief-as he knew that grizzly bears are met with of a great variety of colours. He had nothing to fear then, even on the lowest branch, and he thought it was no use going higher. So he stopped and looked down. He had a good view of the animal below; and, to his consternation, he saw at a glance that it was not a grizzly, but a different species. Her shape, as well as general appearance, convinced him that it was the 'cinnamon' bear-a variety of the black, and one of the best tree-climbers of the kind. This was soon put beyond dispute, as Basil saw the animal throw her great paws around the trunk, and commence crawling upward !

It was a fearful moment. Lucien and Francois both leaped back to the ground, uttering shouts of warning and despair. Francois picked up his gun, and without hesitating a moment, ran to the foot of the tree, and fired both barrels into the hips of the bear. The small shot hardly could have penetrated her thick shaggy hide. It only served to irritate her afresh, causing her to growl fiercely; and she paused for some moments, as if considering whether she would descend and punish the enemy in the rear,' or keep on after Basil. The rattling of the latter among the branches above decided her, and on she crawled upward.

Basil was almost as active among the branches of a tree as a squirrel or a monkey. When about sixty feet from the ground, he crawled out upon a long limb that grew horizontally. He chose this one, because he saw another growing above it, which he thought he might reach as soon as the bear followed him out upon the first, and by this means get back to the main trunk before the bear, and down to the ground again. After getting out upon the limb, however, he saw that he had miscalculated. branch upon which he was, bending down under his weight, so widened the distance between it and the one above, that he could not reach the latter, even with the tips of his fingers. He turned to go back. To his horror, the bear was at the other end in the fork, and preparing to follow him along the limb!

The

He could not go back without meeting the fierce brute in the teeth. There was no branch below within his reach, and none above, and he was fifty feet from the ground. To leap down appeared the only alternative to escape the clutches of the bear, and that alternative was certain death. The bear advanced along the limb. Francois and Lucien screamed below, loading their pieces as rapidly as they could; but they feared they would be too late. It was a terrible situation; but it was in such emergencies that the strong mind of Basil best displayed itself; and, instead of yielding to despair, he appeared cool and collected. His mind was busy examining every chance that offered. All at once a thought struck him; and, obedient to its impulse, he called to his brothers below- A rope! a rope! Fling me a rope! Haste! a rope, or I am lost.'

Fortunately, there lay a rope under the tree. It was a raw-hide lasso. It lay by the spot where they had slept. Lucien dropped his half-loaded rifle, and sprang towards it, coiling it as he took it up. Lucien could throw a lasso almost as well as Basil himself; and that was equal to a Mexican vaquero,' or a 'gaucho' of the Pampas. He ran nearly under the limb, twirled the lasso around his head, and launched it upwards.

Basil, to gain time, had crept out upon the limb as far as it would bear him, while his fierce pursuer followed after. The branch, under their united weight, bent downward like a bow. Fortunately, it was oak, and did not break. Basil was astride, his face turned to the tree and towards his pursuer. The long snout of the latter was within three feet of his head, and he could feel her warm breath, as with open jaws she stretched forward, snorting fiercely. At this moment the ring-end of the lasso struck the branch directly between them, passing a few feet over it. Before it could slip back again, and fall off, the young hunter had grasped it; and with the dexterity of a packer, double-knotted it around the limb. The next moment, and just as the great claws of the bear were stretched forth to clutch him, he slipped off the branch, and glided down the lasso.

The rope did not reach the ground by at least twenty feet. It was a short one, and part of it had been taken up in the hasty knotting. Lucien and Francois, in consternation, had observed this from below, as soon as it first hung down, and prepared themselves accordingly; so that, when Basil reached the end of the rope, he saw his brothers standing below, and holding a large buffaloskin stretched out between them. Into this he dropped, and the next moment stood upon the ground unhurt.

And now came the moment of triumph. The tough limb that had been held retent by Basil's weight, becoming so suddenly released, flew upward with a jerk.

The unexpected violence of that jerk was too much for the bear. Her hold gave way; she was shot into the air several feet upwards, and falling with a dull heavy sound to the earth, lay for a moment motionless. She was only stunned, however, and would soon have struggled up again to renew the attack; but, before she could regain her feet, Basil had laid hold of Francois's half-loaded gun, and, hurriedly pouring down a handful of bullets, ran forward and fired them into her head, killing her upon the spot.

The cubs by this time had arrived upon the ground, and Marengo, who had now partially recovered, by way of revenging himself for the castigation he had received from their mother, attacked them with fury. The little creatures fought fiercely; and, together, would have been more than a match for Marengo; but the rifles of his masters came to his assistance, and put an end to the

contest.

NATIONAL LANDSCAPE GARDENING. THERE is a sense, in which the idea of property in a beautiful object may add to the pleasure wherewith that object is regarded. The florist forms a particular attachment to the flowers that grow in his own garden; and the collector of marbles or of paintings may consider the attractiveness of the various works of art that fill his gallery increased by the fact of their being his own, and under his own control. There is no necessary connection, however, between the idea of beauty and that of proprietorship, as the word is understood, in the transactions of every-day life. The retired merchant may think his own suburban villa the neatest, and most beautiful, and best kept of any that he sees around him; and the owner of broad domains may find something peculiarly attractive in the parks and pleasure-grounds that he can call his own; still, the feelings entertained by both are not of that kind that would go to prove a higher appreciation of the really beautiful on the part of either. The pleasures that a person may experience in looking at his own private garden are not to be despised or discountenanced-rather are they to be en

couraged; for the desire that has been felt by individuals of mankind, in all ages, to possess some piece of land which they could call their own, has been the cause of much happiness and prosperity to the human race; and one of the most obvious means used for bettering the condition of the depressed classes of society, at the present time, is the plan adopted in many places of placing the working-man in a position that may enable him to procure a cottage and garden for himself. And a further argument in behalf of the idea, that to a certain extent property may add to the attractiveness of the beautiful, may be found in the fact, that the working-man, when his cottage and garden are his own, spends far more care on their adornment than when he rents them from a landlord. But, allowing all this to be in accordance with truth, it may still be said that the idea of the beautiful, considered in its strict sense, is entirely independent of the idea of that proprietorship, which bonds, charters, or the payment of a feu-duty, may confer. He who would regard beautiful objects in a pure or highly-elevated frame of mind, must regard them as unconnected with any of the arrangements of human society; and, if he should allow the idea of proprietorship at all to enter his mind, it must be of that holy kind that results from the assurance that 'all things are his, because he is Christ's, and Christ is God's. Cowper, who loved nature, and who taught modern English poets to love it also, looked in this light on the beauties of the scenery around him; and it is because he did so that his writings possess such a calm spirit of cheerfulness, though some of them were penned at times when a cloud of darkness and melancholy, the result of bodily disease, overshrouded his sensitive mind. Had the faith of Cowper not risen above that dark cloud, his 'Task' would have remained unwritten, or it would have been written in a different and far less pleasing style. Of him whom the truth makes free,' it is said by this amiable poet

'He looks abroad into the varied field

Of nature, and, though poor, perhaps, compared
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.'

Considered in this light, the art of the landscape gardener becomes an art of general or national importance; and that designer fails in the object which he ought to entertain, who considers he has done enough when he adorns the grounds within a policy-wall, or surrounding belt of trees, without providing for that unity and harmony which ought to characterise the whole scenery of a countryside. A treatise on Parks and Pleasure-grounds' may be complete, and may satisfy the expectations raised on perusing its title, and still may not nearly exhaust the subject of landscape gardening.

The existence of the natural means whereby ideas of beauty and harmony are raised in the mind, and the capability of entertaining and enjoying these ideas, which is possessed by man in his present stage of existence, are proofs of that benevolence which is inherent in the Creator of the universe.

Our existence ends not with this life; and there have been conferred upon us certain faculties, fitted to appreciate the beautiful and the harmonious, and susceptible of culture and expansion, which yet cannot be fully gratified by anything that this world can place before the eye. But the faculties referred to are possessed in this life, and their culture must evidently be a matter of importance. The love of flowers and other objects of natural beauty will not of itself change the heart of man, but it is, certainly, when in reality entertained, an indication that the general tone of feeling is of a refined and an exalted cast, and opposed to debasing influences. Landscape gardening, then, along with floriculture, may form an agent in increasing the amount of human happiness, and in refining the feelings of mankind. It has even an advantage over floriculture; for this occupation has, through the influence of those flower-shows, that are conducted too much in a spirit of grumbling and covetousness, been less beneficial to those who follow it, in so far as mind and morals are concerned, than it might, under other circumstances, have been.