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jailor, as usual, ascended to the chambers that had been occupied by the nobleman and the young lady. He delighted in touching, in kissing the books that had been read, the paper that had been written upon, by his lovely prisoner. He gathered the flowers that she had left behind her ; he delighted to listen to the song of the birds that she had listened to ; he looked at the horizon that she had gazed upon so often, the stars that she had admired, and the beauteous clouds that she had seen crossing the heavens. Cabonis went every day thus to think over and to weep about the past, and to lose his senses in extatic visions. One evening, after one of those strange visits that he loved to make to the absent fair one, the jailor abandoned the prison, and presented himself at the bar of the death-dealing tribunal. There, having recounted to his judges the innocent history of his love, he demanded for himself the punishment that was awarded to one convicted of having favored the escape of two prisoners of state ; of two suspected persons ; of two aristocrats. Cabonis was arrested, convicted, and condemned !· Having been brought to the fortress of Hâ, to await there the passage of the charrette, the jailor of the evening before obtained permission to pay another visit to the chamber of Mademoiselle de Malortie. He visited it, and there he kissed, for the last time, the withered wall flowers that she had given him. He then marched boldly, gaily, to the scaffold, where his last words were, " Long live the Republic !"

SOMETHING NATURAL.

WHEN first I saw thy soul-deep eyes, My heart yearned to thee instantly, Strange longing in my soul did rise ; I cannot tell the reason why, But I must love thee till I die. 4 The sight of thee hath well nigh grown As needful to me as the light ; I am unrestful when alone, And my heart doth not beat aright Except it dwell within thy sight. And yet, and yet,-Oh selfish love! I am not happy even with thee ; I see thee in thy brightness move, And cannot well-contented be, Save thou should'st shine alone for me. We should love beauty even as flowers ,For all, ' t is said, they bud and blow, They are the world's as well as ours,But thou,-alas ! God made thee grow So fair, I cannot love thee so! J. R. LOWELL.

LOVE IN A STAGE - COACH. BY A BACHELOR.

How it poured ! Rattle-rattle-rattle against the casement : splash- splash-splash on the ground underneath all night, and now, when I awoke, here it was raining away harder than ever, as if a second deluge was at hand. Confound that breakfast bell ! I do wish there was no such thing as a breakfast on a rainy morning, for then one might lie abed all day, or until the storm cleared off. Philosophers tell us that rain is necessary for the economy of nature-it may be true, though I never trouble myself about such things- but if so, men ought to be made like dormice to sleep on in a semi-animated state, until the rain sees fit to cease. Nature never intended us to be out in a shower, or we would have been born with patent oil-cloth or india rubber skins. Down it poured! What on earth was I to do ? The day before had been the brightest one of the bright month of May, and, as I had a passion for walking in the country-more fool for it !-I had trudged away off here, eight miles and more from town, to see a country wedding, " after the good order used among Friends." I must say that the thing was very handsomely done, and that I was much edified thereat-so much so, that, one of these days, I shall perhaps tell how the parties deported themselves, how many new hats there were in the wedding companies, who drove the finest horses, and all the other matters of gossip so interesting to young misses, and old bachelors like myself. The day passed off, with a bright blue sky, until toward dusk, when a thunder-shower came up, that lasted until bed time ; but I retired, fully resolved that the morning would see a clear sky overhead. But morning had come ; and here it was, pouring, pouring down, in one dark, splashy, continuous stream, for all the world like an old maid's objurgations when her tongue gets wagging ! Down I hurried to the breakfast table. I had just buttered my bread and was swallowing the first mouthful of coffee, when the horn of the coach to town was heard, and looking out the window I saw the vehicle, with its four smoking horses, dashing down the turnpike. It was my only chance to reach the city that day. I bolted my bread, gulped down the coffee till my throat was scalded, jammed my hat on my head, and made a dive through the door. The driver did not see me, but cracked his whip with a flourish and went on. I shouted. Still the old villain would not notice

me, but with another flourish of his whip, set his four in hand into a brisker trot, and rattled down the hill. Desperate with the fear of being left I pitched after him, spattering the mud around at every step, and shouting at the top of my lungs ; but I might have ran on and