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fearful even to those accustomed to such scenes. The mighty work is finish'd, and at rest Day or night, the change of seasons, or the The instrument of toil-this fetter'd hand ! course of time, brought no alleviation to his tor- And does it tremble, that the glorious structure needs tured spirit; slowly but perceptibly did his No more the labourer's care ? no more her heart gaunt frame waste gradually away ; and when Need keep o'er it its vigil? that 'tis left at length his fiery eyes were quenched in death, Onward, thou Sun! There is no darkness bere

gaze on it with blessing-and depart ? no loving form watched beside his pillow, or

That fears the contrast with thy glory now. shed a tear of pity over his agony; strange Shine out, the while a woman kneels in praise, hands laid him in his narrow bed, and heaped With Death's cold finger resting on her brow. with careless haste the mould above his corpse ; Then, if thou wilt, pass forth! be shadow'd o'er! no gaze of sorrowing love rested upon his lonely The flaming brand would mock thy light; and I grave, and over his memory still hangs the dark can see to read this mystery at last, shadow of guilt and shame.

By the same light that guides me forth to die. “Oh! that man should put an enemy within his mouth to steal away his brains.”

“ DEAR ISLE OF ALBION!"

THE LAST MOMENTS OF

JOAN OF ARC.

(Stanzas suggested to the author on his being asked,

as a foreigner, if he liked England.)

BY F. LOUIS JAQUEROD.

BY ROSE ACTON,

“ England, with all thy faults, I love thee still!”

Where the Switzer treads the mountain snows,

That bask in Freedom's brightest ray,
Where Leman, franght with beauty, flows,

There first I hail'd Life's dawning day;
There smild my happy childhood's bome-

Tho' dear to mem'ry still it be,
Oh! yet I love thy shores to roamn,

Thrice-glorious Allion, brave and free!

In youth, when led with ardent glance,

To climes and citics rich with fame,
I paus'd awhile, nor dar'd advance,

For Peace found there no honour'd name :
I turu'd I haven'd from the scene,

The wild, the threatful storm to flce,
And sought thy cliffs--thy pastures green,

Dear Isle of Albion, brave and free!

The early light comes stealing to my cell,
Flinging a golden halo round my chain ;
The morning air is creeping to my brow,
Sweeping thence traces of a night of pain.
The one is glistening on that human sea
That pours its current on with shout and song,
Rushing through France victorious, to bear
On its red tide the foeman's corse along ;
The other steals through pillared balls, to where
A Royal brow is resting in repose,
Crowned, and in peace, in answer to the pray's
That from a Peasant Woman's breast uprose.
Comes there to those my countrymen a thought,
A passing memory, of her whose hand
IIath led them on to glory; and herself
Hath guided to these fetters and the brand ?
Is Royal sleep so peaceful, that no dream
Of death or danger past can break its charm?
Can Charles's slumber last, the while they pierce
The shield that shelter'd him so well from harm?
Oh! I am weak ! a Woman, and alone-
Alone with scorning and a dreadful doom ;
The rabble's shout of triumph for my dirge,
A fiery path my entrance to the tomb!
Yet were the insult glory, and the flame
Sunlight, to raise bright flowers in my way-
Were there one voice uplifted with the cry,
“ Pass, with thy country's darkness, unto day"'-
Onward, thou Sun! A nation's heart is cold :
Fling down thy warmth, that haply there may glow,
Paling the flame that kindles for my death,
One conscious cheek, in pity for my woe.
Shine in my cell !--the darkness of despair,
The night of bitterness, is lasting yet.
My soul is peopled with wild thoughts, that rise
Like fiery meteors, when Faith's orb hath set.
There is a subtle whisper in my breast
That they have led me to an open grave,
To strip the Conqueror's wreath from off my brow-
This my reward! Oh, Holy Mother, save!
Save! not from death-I ask not this. Look down;
Save from the demon hovering round my heart,
Snaring my lips to curses ! Give me strength
To play in life's last scene my fearful part !
Hath not my pray’r been answer'd ? 'Light and air
Are types in their proud freedom of the land :

Since then, where native beauty shone,

Entranc'd I've bow'd beneath her smile;
And with Life's current glided on,

Where Friendship steer'd my bark the while.
Let others slight thy clouded skies,

Thy homes have sunshine still for me;
For none can glad my heart-my eyes,

Like thine, O Albion, brave and free!

When Life's gay noon shall long have pass'd,

And all its varied tale be told;
When througlı my weaken'd veins at last

The vital stream grows dull and cold--
Let this my truth, my homage prove,

When gone-and let my slumber be
With those, the friends whom now I love,
And thee, dear Albion, brave and free!

London, 1818.

* Allusion is here made to the revolutionary movements abroad.

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ness.

There is a lovely scene on the Ohio, at its hurry.“

“Pull away, Bush,” cries the impatient junction with the little Kanawha-a scene of fairy traveller, as he hears the bells ringing. Bush beauty, which shall yet glow upon the canvas, pulls away, but the motion of the craft is not and awaken many a burst of admiration from accelerated, and the passenger, when he reaches those whose hearts are alive to nature's loveli- the shore, must, by increased speed in walking,

make up for the time he has spent in the ferry. The best view is from the middle of the river- There is the bluff of Kanawha and its pina position easily attained, as there are plenty of nacle of everlasting rock. The dog-wood, with skiffs and obliging boatmen, or good-natured its large snowy flowers, and the red-bud tree, school-boys, on each side. The former will row show well on the hill-side. There is a handyou steadily over for a fip. The latter take you some white house half way up the bluff, and for nothing, but linger to ride the steam-boat look, there is another on its very summit. Perwaves, or, in default of them, to rock the skiff in fection of air and light must be there, but how a manner which, to the unaccustomed, appears could water be coaxed up so high? exceedingly perilous.

Down stream is the fair forsaken island, BlanHere, then, we are in the river; not quite in nerhasset, green, wild, and solitary. The western the middle, but a little towards the Virginia part is inbabited, but that is not visible from shore, to avoid the strong current, with just oar here. The head of the island is pic-nic ground, enough to keep her from falling down stream. and hither, in the hot summer days, some skiffLook at that water-snake carrying his head so loads of curious strangers, or joyous schoolhigh-the ugliest of all ugly things. There is boys and girls, make the silent wilderness reanother following him. How malicious this sound with their careless mirth, scaring the rabone looks, as if he were meditating a sly bite! bits and terrapins to their hiding-places, and the Strike at him with the oar. They have disap- birds to the very tree-tops. peared.

To the northward are the broad luxuriant terIt is between high and low water. We are at races of Belpré. What smooth green fields ! the distance of a quarter of a mile from the Vir- What wealth of red and white roses ! What nice ginia shore, and about a third more from the op- large, white houses, with magnificent elms and posite. Just nine o'clock in the morning. The willows overhanging. Everything there looks sun is shining bright, the mist has vanished, so clean, comfortable, and Yankee. and there is not a cloud in the sky. Up stream 'Twas on as bright a day as this, that I was lies what seems a tuft.of beautiful trees and gay returning from a visit to that lovely green vilflowers, with feathery green vines hanging to the lage, with a basket of fruit and flowers. The sun water's edge. It is Neale's Island.

was going down in red and gold. The river, Farther up, it shows a nice substantial farm, clear and still as a mirror, threw back a perfect with comfortable buildings and cheerful inha- copy of the sky and shore. I took my seat in bitants, whose bright prospect of sky and water the stern of the skiff: little Frank, my compais never to be shut out by long piles of brick nion, was in the bows. “To the Virginia shore, and stone masonry:

George,” said I to the boatman-a stout, fearSouthward, on the Virginia shore, upon two less boy of thirteen years. We shot out from the broad terraces, with a back-ground of hill and bank; and as I noticed a smile in the corner of forest, a lovely little city is rising, whose snow- his eye, I turned my own up stream, and beheld white dwellings, luxuriant gardens, and flow- one of those enormous locomotives of the western ering trees form a beautiful landscape in our waters, which throw a whole river into a foam. panoramic view. Is it not a lovely little city? His quick ear had caught the sound before she Are you seeking for a home where there are had rounded Neale's Island. She was bearing elegance, good feeling, hospitality, and intelli- down with a tremendous rush, and a strong curgence? This is the place. Throw out your rent. The river behind her was like a field of anchor.

snow-drifts. “ Pull in, George,” cried I, “ or Farther down opens the long vista of Ka- we shall be under her bows. Let her pass, and nawha -clear, deep, and blue. Those heavy then we will ride the waves.” George turned elms overhanging its banks, how rich is their the skiff up stream for a few moments, when she spring foliage! Yonder goes the ferry-skiff

, went by like a runaway Niagara Falls. with its freight of merry school-children, all We plunged immediately into her wake; Frank bound for the academy. That black boy, I and I grasping the gunwale, as bows came up, know him by the careless swing of his oar, is and stern went nearly under water. Instantly called Bush, shortened from Bushrod. Smart, the bows sank, and the stern was in the air. good-natured and easy is Bush, but never in a “ Hold fast there-trim the boat--lean forward as she goes down-backward when she comes gold and crimson sky-the white and flame-coup--steady now.”. Not a word of this was loured waves tossing wildly about-the river full spoken, it was all instinctive action. We only of boats. On board one of them a military laughed at the foam and fury of the waves, which company and a full band, in attendance on some would have swamped our little craft, if she had great man, perhaps Henry Clay; I have fornot been nicely trimmed.

gotten who it was. Our mirth was interrupted by a roaring and a “Miss Suvvan, wasn't you been feel little jarring down stream, and looking about in that skeery, bode dat ar skift?” direction, we perceived another large steam-boat No, I believe not, Poney, (Napoleon); did I directly upon our track, while a third was coming look frightened ?” rapidly down the river. “ Pull away, George; “ I reckon. Been right smart o' waves dar, we'll be run down.” At this moment, the largest out yender.” boat, which was just nearing the Virginia shore, wheeled suddenly round, as if an odour from an onion plantation had suddenly caught her olfactories, and now we were under her bows. Her

ON RETURNING A GOLD CHAIN fires gleamed redly upon us, and our little boat

TO A FALSE ONE. man, without the slightest indication of fear in his countenance, strained every muscle to extricate the skiff from the boiling mass of " direct

" Their perfume's gone; waves and return waves," all mixed

up
and jum-

Take these again ; for to the noble mind bled together in unimaginable confusion. If we

Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.” had been provided with four more oars, how we would have cut the waters, and left the steamers behind. Frank, though a mere child, could pull Take back thy gift, 'tis dear no more, a strong oar; he had often rowed me across Since false have proved the vows I trusted; Kanawha; but we were compelled to sit still, Dim are its gems, so bright beforeand enjoy, with some mental trepidation, the Each link by Treachery's breath is rusted. high excitement of the scene. The three howling monsters of the river fol

Firm are those links of purest goldlowed hard with their fiery eyes gleaming upon

Too firm to be a trifler's token us. The waves dashed up their snowy crests

Still with unshaken strength they hold; tinged by the crimson sky. The shores lined

They are not like thy false vows, broken. with spectators. George pulled with astonishing

Thou shouldst have given a rosy chain, effect, and we reached the shore a few yards in

Of buds that fade as evening closes ; advance of our pursuers, but how to land ?

And even then, too well, I ween, The river was boiling like a caldron, the skiff

Thy heart had changed before the roses. was rising and falling too rapidly to permit our landing. The anxious watchers for our safety,

Then as each perfum'd leaf and flow'r now that we had reached the shore, forgot the Of its frail links had dropp'd away, still remaining difficulty, and turned their atten- I might have counted, hour by hour, tion to the marvellous, and to me still unaccount- The progress of thy love's decay. able evolutions of the large boat. A strong ready

KATE. arm might have aided us, and many an arm would cheerfully have done so, had any person noticed our dilemma. Oh, thought I, for a real live Yankee from the far north, his bright blue LOVE'S GROWTH IS LIKE THE eyes moving in every direction, with so little

FLOWERS. effort as not to impart the slightest motion to his flaxen locks, and seeing at once every object before and around him. Few, besides Yankees, trouble themselves to attend to more than one

The flower is not at once a flowerthing at a time.

At first a shoot appears;

Then bursts the leaf, and then the bud “ Poets of old did Argus prize,

Its gentle head uprears;
Because he had a hundred eyes ;

Diviner hours their attributes
But sure more praise to him is due,

Upon its youth bestow,
Who looks a hundred ways with two."

Until at last the flower, full blown,

Its perfect form does show. Not a moment was to be lost. Frank sprung high and dry upon the shore-I followed, with

So, love begins its strange career

A smile, or pleasant thought, some misgivings, but escaped the waves. George

First strikes the heart, till friendship's name threw his oars into the skiff, and fell down stream

To cherish it is taught; with the current. We were now at liberty to

At length, in true progressive course, admire the full grandeur of the scene. No won

The heart does onward move, der everybody was too much engrossed to attend And what was friendship, falsely called, to us after the real danger was past. The clear Is pure and perfect love.

BY G. LINNAUS BANKS.

OLD JAM I E.

BY GROVER SCARR.

Old Jamie was a poor working man; yet on the crag edge, while both of us took a survey though moving in so lowly a sphere, there were of the scenery around. not many persons more respected than he was : It is a glorious thing to inhale the fresh spring indeed his virtues would have done honour to any breezes on the mountain tops; to look far away station of life; his straight-forward and upright and see nothing but mountain and moor, peak demeanour, founded as it was upon correspon- and precipice, rising one above another till the ding qualities of mind, would have graced a blue horizon closes in: such a sight had we that king ; while, at the same time, a sweet mourn- morning, with exception of several deep, rich, fulness, which always shaded his aged counte- green valleys, stretching themselves immediately nance with a natural and unaffected modesty, below us, or peeping smilingly round the corner entirely prevented that presumptuous forward- of a rugged mountain, or over the top of a ness sometimes attending such a character. purple moor. There I sat, viewing the flower

Many an hour have I sat with Old Jamie, spangled fields and wood-embowered lanes, the listening to his old stories, and to his interesting white-washed farm-house and comfortable vildescriptions of the simple manners of our fore- lage, with the venerable old church which stood fathers. Indeed, I could scarcely pass by on a apart amongst groves and meadows, by the side cold winter night, when I saw the fire-light of a solitary stream; and listening to the song cheerfully gleaming through the cottage win- of the mountain torrents as they leaped down dow, without calling to have half-an-hour's talk the hill sides, and to the voices of the birds as with my ancient friend. Sitting before a blazing they rose in rich melody from the depths of the peat fire, the smoke of which found egress vale, mingled with the legendary ballad, sung through a wide open chimney, and wandering by the peasant as he drove his team a-field; and back a few hundred years to the time when then I looked to see what my companion was fairies danced about the old oak tree by moon- doing. He was leaning his arms on his knees light, and when witches could raise storms and as he sat, and looking earnestly towards the spread desolation far and wide; we were then south-west ; his countenance, always pensive, in our glory.

now wore an expression of the deepest anguish, Of all his old tales, however, there was none and he silently wiped away a tear which rolled which interested me like the relation of some down his cheek. incidents in his own early life. The subject was Seeing that I was observing him, “ I was just a very delicate one, and he seldom, scarcely ever, looking at the hill above my native place, and alluded to it. It was pure accident, therefore, on which I used to keep sheep in my younger which caused him to relate them to ine himself. days,” said he. I guessed, too, at the thoughts I will tell you how it happened.

which were passing through his mind; and from Taking a ramble, one beautiful spring morn- this beginning upheld the conversation about ing, I began to cast a longing eye upon the big his early life, until I drew from him, while he crags which skirt our valley to the north, and in was in the humour, the long-wished-for history a few minutes after I was panting up the hill-sides of his first and last love. This, with what I colwhich led towards them. After passing several lected from other sources, forms the substance of deep, woody glens and entangled Shaws, through the following narrative. which the soft vinds dallied with beds of violets He was born in one of the most out-of-theand clusters of primroses, with tall wood hya- way places of one of the most out-of-the-way cinths and snowy hawthorn blossoms, till they dales, just at the very head of it, where it was were loaded with perfume, and climbing on my so narrow that there was only room at the bothands and knees up a crag almost perpendicu- tom for a turbulent stream, and a highway, with larly steep, I threw myself down on the edge of a cottage on each side of it, at a short distance a steep precipice, amongst the wild thyme and from each other. To each of the cottages was short herbage which alone grew there, and en- attached a small parcel of land which had been joyed a moment of delicious rest.

reclaimed from the steep hill-sides, which closed 'I had sunk into a slumber, with my head re- upon the valley so abruptly, that you might clined on my crossed arms, and my face towards pitch a stone from one side of it to the other the ground, when I suddenly felt something like with the greatest ease. two feet gently patting my shoulder, something One of these cottages was inhabited by Jamiesnuffing about my ear, and a tongue very then a robust, handsome youth—and his widowed lovingly applied to my cheek. I looked up ; it mother. It stood just at the foot of the hill, was a playful little cur, a particular friend of which sheltered its not very compact walls from mine, belonging to Old Jamie, whom I perceived the north and east winds. Notwithstanding its coming towards me. He had been on the hills rather infirm condition, however, it usually wore a shepherding, and now seated himself by me an appearance of neatness and comfort. Its low, yet carefully thatched roof, its leaded win-1 years advanced their attachment grew, until dows, surrounded by living wreaths of wood-their very existence seemed to depend on each bine and sweetbriar, and its trim little flower-other. If ever her heart knew a sorrow, his garden, inclosed by a low hawthorn hedge, were words of love alone could soothe it. And when sufficient to indicate that decent, tidy sort of folk a frustration of some cherished plan caused him lived within : nor were you disappointed on to betray gymptoms of anger or impatience, her looking inside. Everything there was done sweet embrace, with a glance of her soft blue with the most scrupulous nicety, from the sand- eye, and a smile from her winning countenance, ing of the floor to the arranging of the plates shaded as it was by luxuriant curls of brown and dishes in the frame against the wall, round hair, caused his heart to throb with a gentle which, here and there, were placed divers highly- emotion. prized pictures, some representing the cruel It was during the sweet spring-time, when the treatment of the “Children in the Wood,” wild roses were budding, that young Jamie another the “Stoning of St. Stephen;" while found, to his great mortification, that his marone, according to accounts, was supposed to be riage would have to be put off for many months, a portrait of “good King George," of whom the on account of his having to transact some old woman never spoke but with an air of the business for his master in one of our northern deepest reverence.

towns, which would require his absence for that The other cottage stood on the opposite side space of time. It was in a little glen in the hillof the road, just on the edge of a low precipice side-a favourite resort with them—that they which hung over the water. It was in a much met to take a final parting. more exposed situation than the other; yet it The hawthorn blossoms and wild roses hung wore the same neat and orderly appearance. In in rich wreaths overhead, and the violet, primthis lived John Redford, and his family of five rose, cowslip, and harebell grew in wild prochildren. John was rather past middle age, of fusion on every bank; while the moon sweetly a serious and religious turn of mind, and having, shone upon the trees, and reflected itself in the moreover, a thorough knowledge of his occupa- crystal stream which glided past them. Here tion, was much valued by his master, he acting they talked over their weighty affairs – the as shepherd for a neighbouring rich farmer. chances of their meeting again at an early He had been like a parent to Jamie, for he period--of their being married before the spring having lost his father while very young, would came again ; while every time the maiden exhave been turned adrift with his aged mother pressed a fear for his safety (of his constancy upon the wide world, had not John Redford she had no doubt) he folded her more fondly to declared that, if a little assistance were granted his breast, and kissed her ruby lips over and the youth for a year or two, which he himself over again. With great reluctance, they at length would supply gratis, he would be fully able to parted at her father's door; and the next mornfill the place of his deceased father, who, during ing he bade his mother farewell, and hied him his lifetime, had also acted as shepherd to the up the hill, in order to cross the moor, deterrich farmer mentioned above.

inining not to cast behind a single look upon the As might be expected, a firm and lasting cottage in which his beloved was. friendship grew up between these simple fami- He had given himself credit for more resolu. lies, who seemed to live in a little world of their tion than he possessed. “Surely I may take a own, and to be all in all to each other; for they single look,” thought he; and he did look, and did not often see much more of the wide world who should he behold but Mary herself standing than the very inconsiderable portion which they at her cottage-door? It was early in the mornviewed from the hill tops. Their union was, ing, and she had risen before her usual time. however, about to be drawn still closer, by the He stood irresolute. “I wish,” said he," that marriage of the young shepherd with the I could speak to her once again.” Mary had, daughter of his friend, which was expected to undoubtedly, been wishing something like the take place in a short time at the date of the com- same; therefore, when he beckoned for her to mencement of our story; indeed, such an event come, she did not give a second thought upon could not but be expected to take place, for few the subject, but caught her hat, and bounded up men could resist the captivations of Mary Red- the hill towards him. Seeing her nearly ex. ford. I shall not attempt to give any description hausted, he advanced to meet her ; and caught of her person. Anything that I could say would her in his arms till she recovered her breath. give but an imperfect idea of her charms. She But reclining on his breast, and listening to his was one of those “winsome wee things,” those words of love, were in no way conducive to that sweet and bewitching little creatures, which run end; she therefore wished him to proceed, as away with a man's heart before he knows that she intended to “set” him a short distance. he is in the least danger.

They walked hand-in-hand up the mountain The attachment of the young people had and across the moor, until the rising sun re. grown up they knew not how: they could give minded her that she must return. no date to its commencement, for they had once more; but each turned, ever and anon, and known each other from their earliest years. motioned to the other. At length he came to They had wandered together in their sunny the edge of a hill, down which he was to childhood, through primrose-spangled dells, and descend; he turned and waved his hat; she did gathered blackberries on the purple heath. As the same in another moment he was out of

They parted,

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