the drink that my insatiable thirst demanded. It soon got to be an old story to me. Then I was found out. I fled. O God! accursed, accursed! My home gone, friends gone, soul ruined. I got money then; ha! ha! and that game was soon stopped. I was pursued too closely. The fiends of darkness that gather round me, begone! begone for a time! There, what a fool! How I quake with fear; for oh! I see his eyes-those eyes! Oh! 'twas in the dim wood at nightfall that I turned at bay. Ah! they'd better have let me alone. The tiger when it feels the pangs of hunger is more merciful than was I-maddened with the liquid fires of hell-RUM! They became scattered; I heard them searching; I crouched down under the bushes, down in the thick, black darkness that choked me; he was close upon me; I clutched the knife; one step more and with a spring I was upon him. Staggered for a moment, he sprung back; with my wild strength I clutched him; I drove the knife into his bosom; with a groan he fell on the ground. Again I was upon him; this time, with truer aim, I drove the blade to his heart; there, in the ghostly moonlight, with his wild, startled gaze full upon me, and that terrible rattle in his throat-I fell back like one dead-it was my brother! I was his murderer! How that white face stares at me now! Those eyes! I knew no more until I found myself here. They took me out for the eager rabble to gaze upon; and I thought, How many of you fine folks are yourselves making murderers with your accursed, demoniac, hellish drink? They condemned me to death-that jury of stern men-without leaving the room they returned their verdict. 'Twas but a mockery, a mere form, though I asked not for pity. I got none. When that murmur of applause went through

The serpent has stung to its death for all

the room, I sprung to my feet; he who had returned the verdict guilty the foreman-was the damnable wretch who had sold me the poison which brought me there; he who had made me what I was; he, whose vile stuff had fired my brain when I did the deed, stood there before heaven and the world-pronounced me unfit to live; HE! and he to live and curse the world yet longer with his hellish traffic-his traffic in souls; HE! There in the gallery among the crowd of women who had come to hear the words that sealed my doom was she who first held the wine-cup to my lips! She who scoffed when I scrupled to take it. I drank it. me sore-aye, poisoned my soul eternity. How I gave vent to the surging, fiery waves within! They thought me mad! He, the vile wretch, sank down as if he had received his death-blow. And well had it been for the world had it been so, and with all such as he. Pale and panting, he cried for them to take me out; they dared not touch me, though my hands were fettered; she, with a wild shriek, swooned, and they bore her away; well might they shrink as from the voice of doom. Oh! my lost spirit shall take keen pleasure, to which the joys of heaven were feeble, in haunting them. At last I sank back exhausted; they led me passive out, while the crowd opened right and left, and stared as on an awful something-they knew not what. And to-morrow I die! For the last time have I seen the sun set; but once more am I to see the blue sky of heaven; and then only to be suspended between it and the earth, in which my body is to lie. Hark! the clock tolls the hour. Soon they will be at work on the gallows. Listen! yes, there is the sound of saw and hammer. O God! can it be for me?

* * * *

Am I to die? To die-so soon? God of mercy, hear me! Visit those who tempted me to fall, as they deserve! And I am lost! Probation ended-lacking six short hours. And I am lost! My mother! O my mother! Never more to meet! My God! MY

MOTHER!

MONA'S WATERS.

H! Mona's waters are blue and bright

OH!

young

When the sun shines out like a gay young lover;

But Mona's waves are dark as night

When the face of heaven is clouded over.

The wild wind drives the crested foam

Far up the steep and rocky mountain, And booming echoes drown the voice,

The silvery voice, of Mona's fountain.

Wild, wild against that mountain's side

The wrathful waves were up and beating, When stern Glenvarloch's Chieftain came: With anxious brow and hurried greeting He bade the widowed mother send,

While loud the tempest's voice was raging,

Her fair young son across the flood,

Where winds and waves their strife were waging.

And still that fearful mother prayed,

"Oh! yet delay, delay till morning,

For weak the hand that guides our bark,

Though brave his heart, all danger scorning."

Little did stern Glenvarloch heed:
"The safety of my fortress tower
Depends on tidings he must bring
From Fairlee bank, within the hour.

"See'st thou, across the sullen wave,
A blood-red banner wildly streaming?
That flag a message brings to me

Of which my foes are little dreaming.
The boy must put his boat across

(Gold shall repay his hour of danger), And bring me back, with care and speed, Three letters from the light-browed stranger."

The orphan boy leaped lightly in;

Bold was his eye and brow of beauty, And bright his smile as thus he spoke: "I do but pay a vassal's duty;

Fear not for me, O mother dear!

See how the boat the tide is spurning;
The storm will cease, the sky will clear,
And thou wilt watch me safe returning."

His bark shot on-now up, now down,
Over the waves-the snowy-crested;
Now like a dart it sped along,

Now like a white-winged sea-bird rested;
And ever when the wind sank low,

Smote on the ear that woman's wailing,
As long she watched, with streaming eyes,
That fragile bark's uncertain sailing.

He reached the shore-the letters claimed;
Triumphant, heard the stranger's wonder

That one so young should brave alone
The heaving lake, the rolling thunder.
And once again his snowy sail

Was seen by her-that mourning mother;
And once she heard his shouting voice-

That voice the waves were soon to smother.

Wild burst the wind, wide flapped the sail,
A crashing peal of thunder followed;
The gust swept o'er the water's face,

And caverns in the deep lake hollowed.
The gust swept past, the waves grew calm,
The thunder died along the mountain;
But where was he who used to play,
On sunny days, by Mona's fountain?

His cold corpse floated to the shore,
Where knelt his lone and shrieking mother;
And bitterly she wept for him-

The widow's son, who had no brother!
She raised his arm-the hand was closed;
With pain his stiffened fingers parted,
And on the sand three letters dropped!—
His last dim thought-the faithful-hearted.

Glenvarloch gazed, and on his brow

Remorse with pain and grief seemed blending; of gold he flung beside

A purse

That mother, o'er her dead child bending. Oh! wildly laughed that woman then,

"Glenvarloch! would ye dare to measure

The holy life that God has given

Against a heap of golden treasure?