Often she breathed that holy strain,
And in mine ear it rang,

As if the full melodious train
Of angels sang.

But at the short-lived summer's close
We ceased to hear the lay,

For she had faded like the rose,
And like the day.

I AM loitering on the beach here, till the boat shall bring my bride
Till it round the sandy reach there, and leave her at my side;
And sun-set reddening o'er me looks down on yonder isles:
Such-like must be the glory of an angel when he smiles.

But sounds like echoes of dirges, the air so still and warm,
And the strong swell of the surges, still speak of the morning-storm;
The beaten sand is spotted with dark rain-loosened loam,
And the sea-weeds are all clotted with gouts of lustrous foam:

And where the waters sunder, on the salt and sterile neck
Of the yellow sand-bar yonder, lie drifts from a recent wreck;
And there, till now unnoted -I know not what 't may be.
Hitherward swiftly floated by the shoreward-sweeping sea,
On the strong swell falling, lifting; nearer, at every bound
Of the massive waters, drifting - 't is the corpse of a woman drowned!

Was she going to her bridal, to her well-beloved's side?
Was she any body's idol? did she bless him as she died?

Does he listen now and tarry for her foot-steps' welcome fall?
Did he love her as I love MARY as his life, his soul, his all?

Ah, for his bitter mourning when he shall learn this truth!
For the gone and unreturning first hope and love of youth!
Why do I shrink from giving the tears I cannot check,
To see here both a living and a dead heart suffer wreck?

See, hither now how surely and rapidly she swims;

See how the robe clings purely round the icy feet and limbs;
See-though she must have striven-how clasped hands, long and fair,
Are pointed up to heaven, as she had died in prayer!

Look how her wealth of tresses is played with by the seas

GOD! even a man's caresses are not terrible as these!

The dark braids are all unplaited; they have lost their silken shine, And the thick drenched locks are matted with weeds and bitter brine!

On that ever-moving pillow, I can see them fall and rise;
But the rolling of the billow hides the dead face from my eyes:
But the bosom, lovingly human, swells out the wave above,
As if the heart of the Woman still throbbed there, full of love!

Another surging motion, and you come within my reach:
Poor waif, by the scornful ocean cast out on the sterile b
I am in the surge: I seize you! I draw you to the shore!
I look in your dead face-JESU! was it this I waited for?

MEN, MANNERS, AND MOUNTAINS.

BY R M. RICHARDSON,

PICTURES O F

BADEN-BADEN.

PASSIM PARTOUT.

'AFTER all,' said Ernest, as we stood in the portico of the Maison de Conversation, 'Baden is the true Paradise of Fools. What a pity that old Erasmus did not live here! under such auspices as these, his 'Praise of Folly' would have been immortal. Think how he would have thriven on the bagatelle that abounds in these ancient purlieus of unreason! Depend upon it, you will never discover another green spot on the globe where the human caravanserai is 'shown up' half so delightfully. But hallo! apropos of oddities, here he comes, the facile princeps, the maguate of monkeys, the great uncaged; behold him slouching up this avenue! When I look upon that man, I can readily conceive how Pythagoras was inspired with his creed; that individual is a walking text of transmigration. His soul has certainly travelled the rounds of creation, though I would stake my life that this is the first time it has tenanted a human receptacle; he is not accustomed to being a human being, that's evident. I don't believe he can quite divest himself of an uneasy suspicion that he is an estray from the Jardin des Plantes or Regent's Park, where he might, without inordinate ambition, aspire to emperorship over the giraffe, ring-tailed and striped creation. Certain I am that the most refractory outang would embrace him in the free-masonry of fraternization, and stupid would be the brute who failed to recognize in him the blended attributes of travelled monkey and dancing-bear. Saw you ever his like?'

In fact, my attainments both in zoology and in human nature were exercised by a bizarre test as I attempted to define within any known classification the object of my companion's mirth; but I found him altogether anomalous.

The semblance of a man he certainly wore. His person was sumptuously robed in a dark-green body-coat, curiously and profusely frogged, and trimmed with a volume of glistening sable, in the nice selection of which, apparently, at least a dozen skins must have been ransacked. A light velvet cloak drooped from one shoulder like a mourning-flag at half-mast. A lofty, peaked chapeau, decked with a plume, and resembling the style in which Persian Mufti appear on high holidays, towered slantingly above his head. A pair of lucent boots, which reflected the very landscape around, rose tasselled to his knees, and became recipients of his brilliant pantaloons, from the consummate adjustment of whose supernal flowing folds it might readily be argued that a no less exquisite discrimination had been exercised in the bestowal of their invisible details. From one hand, flashing with jewels, was suspended by a silken loop an ivory walking-stick, over-wrought with the microscopic chasing which

Chinese art so eminently well achieves, and surmounted with an immense Mont Blanc crystal, of singular form and lustre. A pair of the most piercing eyes I ever met, and a tremendous Huger nose, upon whose summit a pair of lorgniettes of almost fabulous size had perched-resembling a magnified insect newly alit and settling to take flight again—were alone visible of all the phenomena of his countenance. But an owl from the recess of its ivy home could not have peered more watchfully abroad than did the embellished orbs of this personage from their loop-holes amid the Hospodar rankness of his hirsute face.

'And pray, who the devil is your incarnate prodigy of a friend?' whispered I, as the ambulating apparition drew near.

'Softly: Not to know him argues yourself unknown.' Let me present you immediately to Herr Graff, the ERLAUGHT PASSIM PARTOUT, the Polish traveller who has seen every thing, and has fought under the banners of a dozen different nations in as many zones.

A PINCH OF SNUFF.

The process of introduction followed, and the bestowal of a languid nod ensued. These preliminaries being properly completed, a snuff-box of malachite was extended on the part of the prodigy. An almost instan- ' taneous fit of sneezing, coupled with an obeisance of adoring, though involuntary, profoundness, expressed my ineffable sense of the pungency appertinent to the malachite's contents.

This proceeding opened conversation. The ERLAUGHT PASSIM PARTOUT found my demonstration much to his taste, because very flattering; though whether to himself or to his snuff-box, he did not stop to inquire, being one of the numerous class who esteem commendation bestowed upon any portion of their property as a compliment naturally transferable to themselves. Gravely he returned my snuff-inspired bow, and again the treacherous weed's repository was proffered.

a

Again we all three extracted therefrom, particularly the Count, who closed his eyes and threw back his head to repeat his inhalation repetition this time intensified by an absolute unction; a confessed gusto; a brain-beguiling abandon of enjoyment; an excessive and absorbing spell of sensuous sighs, which seemed to float his charmed soul far, far away on the tide of streaming lungs into Araby the Blest, the land of spices and odors. Slowly broke the protracted dream at length, and suffered reviving consciousness to shift the current of his breath from its olfactory channel to his lips, where now it found vent in a peculiarly soft voice.

TRAVELS.

'Ah! Monsieur, you appreciate, I perceive, the fine bouquet of my snuff; permit me to inform you that well you may. It is no ordinary breath you draw when freighted with these aromatic grains. Will you do me the honor to examine my establishment; [presenting the box ;] the rich setting, you will remark, betokens that it is the repository of a superior article; and a very superior article certainly is enclosed. Do me the honor to decipher the legend on the lid; it reads,

The Encense of Heroes:' 'The Hospodar of Wallachia to the Erlaught Passim Partout.'

You look puzzled. It was a present from the Hospodar when I had the good-fortune to render him the service of detailing the topography of the Moldavian frontier, where the insurrection had broken out; and by timely intervention prevented six provinces from being overrun by the lawless canaille. This snuff is produced under glass globes six feet in height and sixteen in diameter, and is supposed to be the finest in the world. One of its most remarkable properties is that of operating powerfully upon the human voice; by means of a few months' assiduous use of it, the most stentorian voice is rendered soprano. As for myself, I do not venture to use it in undiluted purity; this, of which you have just partaken, is at least one third adulterated with rappee. But, as I was saying, after being grown in a very limited quantity, and with the nicest attention for it is full as delicate as a sensitive-plant-the miniature crop of the reclaimed weed is gathered; and, after an almost infinite succession of processes-among which, number eleven pulverizations- the perfected article is deposited and preserved for seasoning in nine opaque urns, usually of sarcophagus, which are in the palace cellar. No doubt you would wish to hear more fully how the true flattering flavor is attained?'

I was making a kind of affirmative noise when Ernest, to whom these snuff-histories were nothing new, and who dreaded the repetition of narratives in which, whether true or false, frequent repetition had rendered the raconteur perfect, suffered his impatience to break through the dumb display it had thus far maintained:

Pardon, but I had quite forgotten to ask your opinion of BadenBaden.'

'I asked you that question long ago, mon cher. Baden is a sponge which is charged with the essences of every thing agreeable in all Europe. I pass by my sejour in the valley of Jehoshaphat, but in order to explain the variance in the systems which came under my observation at the Persian Spas and at the tepid baths of Tartary-speaking of the east do you use haschish?'

"Oh!' exclaimed Ernest, hurriedly, 'you never allude to your health now; pray tell me if you find it much improved.'

"Your solicitude is considerate and kind; but my malady is, I fear, scarcely attainable by these waters. I contracted my last asthma by being precipitated in an avalanche from the Mount of Olives-bah! I mean the Jungfrau. Strange! that lapsus.'

'Which? the avalanche ?

'No, the lapsus lingua. It is because I have seen so much more than I can remember

'Or remember so much more than you have seen,' added Ernest, in an under-tone.

'As I was saying, it was in the month of June that, just as I had arranged my meteorological instruments upon the 'Virgin Mountain,' a beastly avalanche started from its bed, and enveloping my person in its mould, hurled me several thousand feet into the valley. Whether owing to the extreme celerity of descent, or to the pressure of snow upon my chest, I am uncertain; but I am unable to draw a clear breath ever since. Allow me to relate

'But,' insisted Ernest, with great rapidity of utterance, 'it is said that the baths are frequently used with great advantage in such disorders.'

'I grant you, when taken in the north, hot baths are as beneficial as delightful. Only two years ago, I submitted to a course of parboiling in Norway, and derived immense benefit. The rationale of my wintercourse in Norway———

'What! seriously, in winter?' interrupted again my friend.

'Strictly, Sir, in winter. I never regulate my movements by those of other people. My mission to Petersburg was in January.'

"Your entire life, I imagine, must have been devoted to purposes of travelling,' I interposed, equally entertained by the Count's glimpses of narration and by the nervous suspension of Ernest.

'Life-motion-commotion - Sir, you conjecture rightly. I require constant change of air: if I remain so long as a week at one place, I am obliged to seek artificial substitutes for a diversity of scene. Sir, you are an American. A great nation are the Americans; they like novelty. My favorite scheme at present is a horse-back expedition through your extensive country.'

'I think you might be induced to abandon horse-back in favor of a more expeditious mode of travel before the completion of your tour.'

All a mistake, Sir. Horse-back is the only mode for a gentleman to travel. As for time, d-n time! what was travel invented for but to kill time? Beside, my aversion is a trodden track. My chief occupation of afternoons is to seek out some unknown avenue, where mortal foot has rarely or never been before.'

"There go some gentlemen who perhaps can pioneer you to such a terra incognita,' said Ernest, pointing to three sportsmen who were driving by in a dog-cart; at least, I mean, if they succeed in finding game, it will be in parts unknown to me. My fowling-piece has been rusting ingloriously ever since my arrival.

That,' replied the Count, who was always for viewing things in the gross, 'is the result of your own inaction. Practice and perseverance, gentlemen, make the best brace of pointers. A keen huntsman with these may scare up white bears in Arabia, or antelopes in Liberia. I well remember,' continued he, throwing into his countenance an unusual supply of that dreamy abstractedness which was the sure precursor to usher into the world an anecdote of unusual imagination,' I well remember, when in Central Africa, after shooting lions for three months, I began to long for the sight of a pheasant. Says the Sheik, Impossible;' says I, 'If your Highness will wager two Abyssinian eunuchs

Again Ernest dashed impetuously into the web of the Count's fresh historiette: Apropos-who do you think has arrived to-day?' 'Who? Lablache, or the Grand-Duke, or

?' guessed the Count. 'Neither; you are wrong and stupid. But I'm afraid you I'll think it too good to be true. It is no less than GOUTFIN, the Howard of cuisines, the sun of the table, the immortal cook! I had almost forgotten to tell you; he came three hours ago with a suite of turn-spits, and enters upon his artistic duties at Mellerio's this very day. All Baden, as you may suppose, is in a stew."

Enough,' sung the Count; 'this is an advent. I shall go this instant.