blemished character and the devoted respect I entertain for your sex will plead as some slight excuse for this " But before Mr. Pickwick could conclude the sentence the lady had thrust him into the passage and locked and bolted the door behind him. Whatever grounds for self-congratulation Mr. Pickwick might have for having escaped so quietly from his late awkward situation, his present position was by no means enviable. He was alone in an open passage in a strange house in the middle of the night, half dressed; it was not to be supposed that he could find his way in perfect darkness to a room which he had been wholly unable to discover with a light; and if he made the slightest noise in his fruitless attempts to do so, he stood every chance of being shot at, and perhaps killed, by some wakeful traveller. He had no resource but to remain where he was until daylight appeared. So, after groping his way a few paces down the passage, and, to his infinite alarm, stumbling over several pairs of boots in so doing, Mr. Pickwick crouched into a little recess in the wall, to wait for morning as philosophically as he might. He was not destined, however, to undergo this additional trial of his patience; for he had not been long ensconced in his present concealment when, to his unspeakable horror, a man bearing a light appeared at the end of the passage. His horror was suddenly converted into joy, however, when he recognized the form of his faithful attendant. It was indeed Mr. Samuel Weller, who after sitting up thus late in con Mr. Weller stared at his master with the most emphatic surprise, and it was not until the question had been repeated three several times that he turned round and led the way to the long-sought apartment. "Sam," said Mr. Pickwick as he got into bed, "I have made one of the most extraordinary mistakes to-night that ever were heard of." "Wery likely, sir," replied Mr. Weller, dryly. 'But of this I am determined, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick-" that if I were to stop in this house for six months, I would never trust myself about it alone again." "That's the very prudentest resolution as you could come to, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "You rather want somebody to look arter you, sir, wen your judgment goes out awisitin'." What do you mean by that, Sam ?" said Mr. Pickwick. He raised himself in bed and extended his hand, as if he were about to say something more, but, suddenly checking himself, turned round and bade his valet "Good-night.” versation with the Boots, who was sitting up NATURE and Nature's laws lay hid in for the mail, was now about to retire to rest. Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly appearing before him, "where's my bedroom?" night; God said, Let Newton be! and all was light. ALEXANDER POPE. THANATOPSIS. TO him who in the love of Nature holds Turns with his share and treads upon. The oak Communion with her visible forms she Shall send his roots abroad and pierce thy speaks mould. Make thee to shudder and grow sick at Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun; the heart, Go forth under the open sky and list To Nature's teachings, while from all around— Earth and her waters and the depths of air Comes a still voice: Yet a few days and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, vales Stretching in pensive quietness between ; Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,- Where thy pale form was laid with many Are shining on the sad abodes of Death In their last sleep. The dead reign there alone: STORY OF A FAWN.* So shalt thou rest. And what if thou withdraw And what if thou with DOWN from a mountain's In silence from the living and no friend breathe All that Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh care Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee. As the long Of ages glide away, the sons of men- goes In the full strength of years, matron and maid, And the sweet babe and the gray-headed man Shall one by one be gathered to thy side. By those who in their turn shall follow them. craggy brow His homeward way a hunter took By a path that wound to the vales below And over his shoulder his rifle hung, The eve crept westward; soft and pale Watching his children there at play, spray. Faint and far through the forest wide Came a hunter's voice and a hound's deep cry; Silence, that slept in the rocky dell, So live that when thy summons comes to Scarcely waked as her sentinel join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of Death, By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. Challenged the sound from the mountain-side. And a doe sprang lightly by And cleared the path, and panting stood. With her trembling fawn by the leaping flood. She spanned the torrent at a bound, And swiftly onward, winged by fear, Fled as the cry of a deep-mouthed hound Fell louder on her ear; * A true narrative. |