This night the proud chief his presumption shall rue ; Like glimpse of the moon through the storm of the night, Macgregor's red eye shed one sparkle of light: It faded-it darken'd-he shudder'd—he sigh'd— "No! not for the universe!" low he replied. Away went Macgregor, but went not alone; To watch the dread rendezvous, Malcolm has gone.- Her sail was the web of the gossamer's loom, The glow-worm her wake-light, the rainbow her boom; Like wold-fire, at midnight, that glares on the waste. Young Malcolm beheld the pale lady approach, Tho' fast the red bark down the river did glide, 66 'Macgregor! Macgregor !" the echoes replied, He struck at the lady, but, strange though it seem, THE INQUIRY. Charles Mackay. TELL me, ye wingèd winds, That round my pathway roar, Do ye not know some spot Where mortals weep no more?— Some lone and pleasant dell, The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, Whose billows round me play, Where weary man may find The bliss for which he sighs, And friendship never dies?— The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, And thou, serenest moon, Tell me, in all thy round, Hast thou not seen some spot May find a happier lot?— Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, Tell me, my sacred soul, Oh! tell me, Hope and Faith, Is there no resting-place Where mortals may be bless'd, And weariness a rest? Faith, Hope, and Love-best boons to mortals given― Wav'd their bright wings, and whisper'd-" Yes, in heaven!" CELADON AND AMELIA. Thomson. 'Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all, The tempest grows: but, as it nearer comes, Guilt hears appal'd, with deeply troubled thought: And yet, not always on the guilty head They lov'd; but such their guileless passion was 'Twas friendship, heighten'd by the mutual wish; So pass'd their life-a clear, united stream, In vain assuring love, and confidence In Heaven, repress'd her fear; it grew, and shook Which thunders terror through the guilty heart, To clasp perfection!" From his void embrace- ? SCENE FROM "THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE." Lady R.-O la!-I am quite fatiguedwhy don't you help me, you barbarous man? Sir C.-There: take my arm Lady R.-But I won't be laughed at- -I can hardly move -I don't love you. Lady R.-No. Dear me! this glove! why don't you help me off with my glove! Pshaw! you awkward thing; let it alone: you an't fit to be about me.- -Reach me a chair-you have no compassion for -I am so glad to sit down.-Why do you drag me to routs?— You know I hate 'em. me. Sir C.-Oh! there's no existing, no breathing, unless one does as other people of fashion do. Lady R.-But I am out of humour-I lost all my money. Sir C.-How much? Lady R.-Three hundred. Sir C.-Never fret for that-I don't value three hundred pounds to contribute to your happiness. Lady R.-Don't you !-Not value three hundred pounds to please me? Sir C.-You know I don't. Lady R.-Ah! you fond fool! But I hate gaming-It almost metamorphoses a woman into a fury-Do you know that I was frighted at myself several times to-night-I had a huge oath at the very tip of my tongue. Sir C.-Had ye? Lady R.-I caught myself at it—and so I bit my lips; and then I was crammed up in a corner of the room with such a strange party at a whist table, looking at black and red spots-did you mind 'em? Sir C.-You know I was busy elsewhere. Lady R.-There was that strange unaccountable woman, Mrs. Nightshade. She behaved so strangely to her husband; a poor, inoffensive, good-natured, good sort of a good-for-nothing kind of man. But she so teazed him; "How could you play that card? Ah, you've a head! and so has a pin-You're a numskull, you know you are-] -Ma'am he has the poorest head in the world; he does not know what he is about—you know you don't; ah fie! I'm ashamed of you!" Sir C.-She has served to divert you, I see. Lady R. And then, to crown all, there was my Lady Clackitt, who runs on with an eternal volubility of nothing, out of all season, time, and place. -In the very midst of the game she begins: "Lard, ma'am, I was apprehensive I should not be able to wait on your Ladyship—my poor little dog, Pompey; the sweetest thing in the world! A spade led?—there's the knave-I was fetching a walk, M'em, the other morning in the Park—a fine frosty morning it was; I love frosty weather of all things-Let me look at the last trick- -And so, M'em, little Pompey— and if your Ladyship were to see the dear creature pinched with the frost, and mincing his steps along the Mall, with his pretty little innocent faceI vow I don't know what to play; and so, M'em, while I was talking to Captain Flimsey-your Ladyship knows Captain Flimsey? Nothing but rubbish in my hand! I can't help it. And so, M'em, five odious frights of dogs beset my poor Pompey, the dear creature has the heart of a lion; but who can resist five at once? And so Pompey barked for assistance— the hurt he received was upon his chest-the doctor would not advise him to venture out till the wound is healed, for fear of an inflammation. Pray, what's trumps?" Sir C.-My dear, you'd make a most excellent actress. Lady R.-But, Sir Charles; how shockingly you played the last rubber, when I stood looking over you! Sir C. My love, I played the truth of the game. Lady R.-No, indeed, my dear, you played it wrong. Sir C.-Po! nonsense! you don't understand it. Lady R.-I beg your pardon, I'm allowed to play better than you. Sir C.-All conceit, my dear: I was perfectly right. Lady R.-No such thing, Sir Charles; the diamond was the play. Sir C.-Po! po! ridiculous! the club was the card against the world. Lady R.-Oh, no, no, no; I say it was the diamond. Sir C.-Madam, I say it was the club. Lady R.-What do you fly into such a passion for? Sir C.-Death and fury, do you think I don't know what I'm about? I tell you once more the club was the judgment of it. Lady R. May be so-have it your own way. Sir C.-Vexation! you're the strangest woman that ever lived; there's no conversing with you-Look'ye here, my Lady Racket-'tis the clearest case in the world, I'll make it plain in a moment. Lady R.-Well, Sir!-ha! ha! ha! Sir C.-I had four cards left- -a trump had led-they were sixno, no, no, they were seven, and we nine-then you know-the beauty of the play was to Lady R.-Well, now, 'tis amazing to me that you can't see it—Give me leave, Sir Charles—your left hand adversary had led his trump-and he had before finessed the club and roughed the diamond-now if you had put on your diamond Sir C.-But, Madam, we played for the odd trick. Lady R.-And sure the play for the odd trick- |