And of course I had to be taken out around our little demesne, Where all its beauties were pointed out and admired again

and again;

And then, in the midst of a merry laugh or a lightly-utter'd jest,

Poor Bessie would quite break down again, and be weeping on my breast!

Talk of the--hem! why there she is!--that's her knock, as sure as a gun!

Now

you take your cue from me,

old man,

and I'll show you

a little fun :

“Bessie, my dear, this gentleman here is a very old friend of

mine

Mr. Smith, Mrs. C.; Mrs. C., Mr. Smith-in the brieflessbarrister line!

“Ha, ha! why, where is your memory, dear? As the singers say, 'Try back.'

Have you quite forgotten our old playmate, the illustrious Dr. Jack?

Hullo! what now? Well, upon my word, this really is a surprise!

Kissing another fellow, by Jove, under my very eyes!

"Only look at her now, old man--there's a picture for you, eh?

Why, she's getting younger, and rosier, and handsomer every day!

Come, get us some tea, there's a dear good girl, and don't stand laughing there,

And we'll make it a jolly meeting to-night, with Dr. Jack in the chair!"

EDWIN COLLER.

[By kind permission of Messrs. Chatto and Windus.]

IN THE MIRROR.

(WRITTEN AFTER A DANCE.)

I look'd in the glimmering mirror
In the mingled gleam and gloom,
And I saw her standing beyond me
At the door of the lonely room.

For all the guests had departed,

And the dawn rose grey and chill: And the light of the lamp was dying, And the sweet dance-music was still.

Alone by the doorway I saw her,

In her soft white shimmering dress, In the gleam of her maiden beauty, And her soul's white loveliness.

I pass'd by the glimmering mirror,
But she did not hear me pass:
And I only saw her reflected,

Like a dream, in the gleam of the glass.

A pale soft dream in the mirror:
A dim face, far withdrawn:
A white-robed form in the starlight,
Like the spirit of light and dawn.

And lo! as I breathed and watch'd her,
I saw the sweet vision decay,

And her face, in my breath on the mirror,
Faintly fading away.

And I turn'd aside for an instant:

And lo! from the mirror'd pane

My breath had pass'd, and I saw her,
Like a spirit glimmer again.

And I thought, as I watched her shining,
When the heart's brief music is dumb,
There are shining souls that await us
In the strange bright world to come.

And I thought the world was the chamber:
And the gleaming mirror was death:

And I, as I stood before it,

Was the shadow of a breath.

I breathed-a shadow-before it,
A shadow-a breathing clod!
And I thought my darling beyond it
Was the shining angel of God.

Standing, white-robed, at the doorway
Of heaven to welcome and bless,
In the gleam of her maiden beauty,
And her soul's white loveliness.

And oh, the day will be gracious

For on earth we are parted wide-
When the mirror of Death is broken,
And we meet at the other side.

And I hope I shall see her hereafter
As I saw her there by the door—
Not changed--but the same for ever,
And ever, and evermore.

For I know no face in heaven

To me will lovelier seem,

Than hers which I saw reflected

In the gleam of the glass, like a dream.

SAMUEL K. COWAN.

[From "Kottabos."-T. C. D., Hilary Term, 1878.-By kind permission of the author.]

ANNABEL LEE.

It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought, than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child, and she was a child, in this kingdom by the sea;

But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee:

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that long ago, in this kingdom by

the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling my beautiful Annabel

Lee,

So that her high-born kinsman came, and bore her away

from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre, in this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, went envying her

and me

Yes, that was the reason (as all men know, in this kingdom by the sea),

That the wind came out of the cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love of those who were older than we

And neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons

down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side of my darling-my darling-my life and my bride,

In the sepulchre there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding

sea.

EDGAR ALLAN POE.

THE ORPHAN'S DREAM OF CHRISTMAS.

It was Christmas-Eve-and lonely,

By a garret window high,
Where the city chimneys barely

Spared a hand's-breadth of the sky,
Sat a child, in age,—but weeping,
With a face so small and thin,
That it seemed too scant a record
To have eight years traced therein.

Oh, grief looks most distorted

When his hideous shadow lies
On the clear and sunny life-stream
That doth fill a child's blue eyes!
But her eye was dull and sunken,

And the whitened cheek was gaunt,
And the blue veins on the forehead
Were the pencilling of want.

And she wept for years like jewels,
"Till the last year's bitter gall,
Like the acid of the story,

In itself had melted all;

M