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Her people at last saw the melancholy change, and again the warriors went forth to battle, and brought back a prisoner from their enemies, who should supply the place of Arhongo. Such was their custom, but Loisma could not bear the thought, and when at last a consent was wrung from her, she resolved within herself never to pollute the pure, the only love she had ever known. So when the day came on which she was to become the bride of one she knew not, she went early in the morning to the spot where she had so often mused. Strange, but she seemed happy again, far happier than ever since Arhongo's death. The music of the birds sounded as sweetly to her ear ; the flowers had colors as bright and delicate ; and the whole earth appeared as lovely as ever before ; and it would seem that she had resigned herself to her lot, and became cheerful again, for she sang one of her old songs with a sweet but plaintive voice, and when it was finished, she offered up a prayer to the Great Spirit, and then threw herself from the tallest rock into the deep, dark pool below.

They sought her for a bride, but found her not. It was long before the truth flashed on them, for her feelings could not be comprehended by her people. No monument was raised to her memory, but I have often sat on the rock where she last sat, silently admiring her heroism, and her devotion to her first and only love. And I would that it might no longer be called the Old Forge, for that name seems to profane the place ; but that even at this late day, there might be substituted for it the simple title of Loisma's Tomb.

THE TWO MIRRORS.

THERE is a silent pool, whose glass Reflects the lines of earth and sky; The hues of heaven along it pass, And all the verdant forestry. And in that shining downward view, Each cloud, and leaf, and little flower, Grows ' mid a watery sphere anew, And doubly lives the summer hour. Beside the brink, a lovely maid, Against a furrowed stem is leaning To watch the painted light and shade That give the mirror form and meaning. Her shape and check, her eyes and hair Have caught the splendor floating round ; She in herself embodies there All life that fills sky, lake, and ground. And while her looks the crystal meets, Her own fair image seems to rise; And, glass-like, too, her heart repeats The world that there in vision lies.-STERLING.

THE LOST SHIP. BY HARRY DANFORTH. "HARK !" said a young man to a group, of which he formed a part, sitting around the cheery fire of an inn, and momently drowning, in gay sallies and boisterous mirth, the noise of the gale outside-" hark ! was not that a gun ?" Every voice in the company ceased speaking at once, and every ear was turned in eager enquiry toward the window. The roar of the neighboring surf, and the wild tumult of the tempest, as it whistled and shrieked without, broke distinctly on the hearing, but for more than a minute, during which all listened intently, nothing else was heard. "It was but fancy, Jack," said one of the group, “ you— The speaker stopped short, for, at that instant, the deep boom of a cannon out at sea, sounded distinctly and fearfully across the night, so that the hearers started and gazed into each other's faces, as men might gaze if they could listen to a voice from the dead. Neither the pen of the novelist, nor the pencil of the painter, could do justice to that look of horror. The silence lasted for a full minute, and was at length broken by the first speaker. " There is a ship on the coast-hark ! a third gun, and it sounds nearer than the last." "And the wind is right on shore, and blowing a hurricane," said another. "God help them !-but let us hurry to the coast, and see if we can do any thing for them," ejaculated the first speaker. With one consent the party moved toward the door, first, however, calling to the landlord to bring lanterns and ropes in case the latter might be needed. As the door was opened, a gust of wind eddied into the room, flaring the candles in their sconces, and whistling keenly around the corners of the apartment. When the adventurers stepped outside they were almost borne down, for a moment, by the intensity of the gale, which, sweeping unchecked across the plain that lay betwixt the inn and the beach, burst on the house with almost incredible fury. It was snowing violently, and the flakes hissing and spinning in the hurricane, almost blinded the eyes of the adventurers ; but drawing their shaggy coats around them, the compassionate travellers bent their heads against the wind, and hurried to the coast, their pace increasing momently as the solemn booming of that signal gun rose more and more distinctly on the night. The shore to which they turned their steps was a high, bold rocky coast, against which the surf was now beating with a violence that shook the cliff's to their