hope, the purpose and plan, of her life. The unconquerable character of her attachment, and the triumphs it had achieved, checked the incredulity with which, in any other case, Mr. Beaumont would have received such an idea; but he had learned to look upon the humble woman before him, so meekly ignorant of her own magnanimity, as chartered by her virtues to hope where all others should despair, and unexpectedly he found himself in a position again to give her aid.

one.

Mr. Beaumont was appointed to a commission of inquiry into the state of Norfolk Island. On his arrival there, it was among his first objects to inquire out Robert Horrey; he heard he was an altered man he soon saw he was a dying Representations, backed by certificates from the medical man, and sustained by powerful and universal advocacy drawn from sentiments of admiration and regard for Kate, were successful when Mr. Beaumont returned to Hobart Town, he brought Robert Horrey with him, and with what he had left of life and strength, the wretched man found refuge with his devoted wife.

For a time he rallied to behold himself once more in the secure shelter of his home, beside that creature who, through "bad report and good report," had unchangeably clung to his destiny;

and to see his little children at his knees, to feel the babe which Kate had borne to him since they last parted, on his bosom, created a powerful reaction. The springs of his better nature gushed forth, as if to refresh and purify the heart, the pulses of which were now numbered to regenerate the spirit which was soon to pass from time and trial forever. One month after their reunion, Kate received his last sigh. There was no violence in her grief; her sorrow was as serene as the hopes that soothed it. Now," she said, "there is but one more journey for me. He cannot come to me, but I shall go to him. When Robert and I meet again, we shall part no

more."

FRIENDSHIP.

BY S. JOHNSON.

FRIENDSHIP, peculiar boon of Heaven,
The noble mind's delight and pride,
To men and angels only given,
To all the lower world denied.

While Love, unknown among the blessed,
Parent of thousand wild desires,
The savage and the human breast
Torment alike with raging fires:

With bright, but oft destructive gleam,
Alike o'er all his lightnings fly,-
Thy lambent glories only beam
Around the favorites of the sky.

Thy gentle flows of guiltless joys
On fools and villains ne'er descend;

In vain for thee the tyrant sighs,
And hugs a flatterer for a friend.

Directress of the brave and just,

O, guide us through life's darksome way! And let the tortures of mistrust

On selfish bosoms only prey.

Nor shall thine ardors cease to glow,

When souls to peaceful climes remove :

What raised our virtue here below

Shall aid our happiness above.

UNCLE BENJIE'S RING.

BY G. C. P.

MANY a long summer day have I dreamed away in the pleasant bowers and under the stately oaks that adorned the old manor-house of F, and in the cool old rooms, too, unspoiled by modern windows, dim and shady, even in blazing July. True, these windows had their disadvantages-they were somewhat too high, and rather overgrown outside by honeysuckles and mossroses; but there were stained glass doors, opening to the garden in various directions, which led you through bowers of fragrant limes to terraced parterres. In this paradise, as, indeed, it appeared to me after my dusty chambers in London, I used to spend as much time as I could snatch from my professional avocations. The family partook, as much as the house, of former times. Squire Ratcliffe was the best specimen I ever saw of a genuine English country gentleman, and his daughters were warm-hearted, unsophisticated girls, radiant in health and good humor. The children of the eldest son, who had been left a widower, were added to the family