Drenched with cold dews; then noon-tide's burning ray
Enforced repose; sometimes the pitiless rain
O'ertook them on blank wastes; and once a crew
Of miscreants, but for timely succour sent,
Would have maltreated Genevieve. They found,
As ever is the lot of wayfarers,

Hardship with kindness mixed; but virtue still
The rule, and vice the exception. Thus they fared
Five weeks, and more, until before them rose
Fair Boulogne, diademed with sparkling sea.

How oft the end for which we long have striven
Comes to us unawares, with something like
Bewilderment!-'twas thus with Genevieve.
Then first her footsteps faltered when she saw
The moving ocean, and her eyesight swam,
Like that of sailors in the calenture,
With floating pictures of her native fields
Of wavy corn, in strange confusion joined,
Crossed by a vision of Bethesda's pool,
Vexed by an Angel for the lame man's cure.
By the way-side she sate, and hid her face;
And Maurice lifted up his voice and wept.
Enough. The remedy that day was tried,
Ere they retired to rest.

Their story soon

Made eloquent the common mouth; it grew
A landward and a seaward theme of praise:
And mothers to their children lovingly

Each morning on the sea-beach pointed out

The twins of Beauce: gifts were showered down on

them

On all sides: even the rugged fisherman
Contributed his mite, and from his nets
Brought cheerful offering: very idlers gazed
With sympathy. But why prolong the tale ?
Maurice in time was cured, and Genevieve
Was happiest of the happy. He would leap,
And walk, and run, to please her, while she clapped
Her hands in ecstasy. And when the time
Drew nigh for their departure, there was made
A fête for Genevieve: and she was crowned

With roses, seated in the wooden car;

A car of triumph now, with ribbons gay;

And Maurice drew her through applauding crowds Unto a festal bower-the simple girl

Whose piety and resolution won

The suffrage of all hearts, and left to fame
The names of Maurice and of Genevieve.

THE CHILD AND THE PHILOSOPHER.

HE Child looked up beneath the stars,

THE

And said, "I see the skies

Are full of holes-the light shines throughBeyond is Paradise."

The grown-up Sage, with optic tube

Looked on the glorious Sun,

And fixed upon a dusky spot,
Though but a little one,

And said, "Beyond the solar light
Darkness mine eyes doth gravel-"
Which of the two, dear friend, think
Did best the truth unravel?

you,

THE BROTHERS' ADVENTURE.*

WAS in a tropic ocean-bay

TW

Two English boys went forth to swim ;
Brothers they were; trained with the sea
To gambol; lithe of limb

And dauntless; now they float as still

As sea-birds; now with long-breathed skill

Headlong they dive below, and rise

With pied shells in their grasp, and many an oozy prize.

But I must not fail to tell

How a fairy islet lay

About three cables' lengths from shore,

The jewel of the bay.

And thither with swift strokes they race,

Holding pleasure still in chase,

Through cleft waves that, as on they dash,

Close round their shoulders with a rainbow flash.

See CAPTAIN MARRYAT'S Novel of Frank Mildmay, Chapter xviii.

And landing in a tiny cove,

They rove the islet o'er and o'er,
Naked, in boyish liberty;

And high and low explore
Its rocks, and inmost coral caves,
Whose bases mighty ocean laves,
Dashing to their vaulted height
Gleams of mystic azure light.

And now 'tis time to think of home;
'Tis time again to take the flood;—
But O, a spectacle of fear

Congeals their youthful blood!
Blade-like, peaked, black, and thin,

Above the water peers the fin

Of a hungry, roaming shark,

That seems the brothers for his prey to mark; Nor is there within hail one friendly bark.

Ah, well may they grow pale with dread!
The younger clings about his brother,
And cries," We never shall return-
My mother, O my mother!"

The elder boy, with desperate cheer,

Makes faltering answer-"Do not fear”