And with that up jumps Scroggin, You see where he stands, Dangling the very rope

In his great, rough hands.

And moreover than that,

To make it past a doubt, There's the cat-skin in his pocket, Which he will presently pull out.

And he tells all the company

Assembled there that day, How Crabthorn had misused the cat, And had her made away.

Now if you inquire of me

Why her death he did not smother, I can only say, bad people

Often betray one another.

And I can very well suppose

They have quarrelled since that day, And now to be revenged on her

He determines to betray.

But you see how angry she is,
How her face is in a blaze;
But she deserved her disappointment,
And so every one says.
And now remember this,

My dear little brother,
Never be unkind or cruel
To one thing or another.
For nobody knows how sorely

They may have cause to repent;
And always, sooner or later,
There comes a punishment!

ANDREW LEE,

THE FISHER BOY.

AH! Fisher Boy, I well know thee,
Brother thou art to Marion Lee!
What! didst thou think I knew thee not,
Couldst thou believe I had forgot?
For shame, for shame! what? I forget
The treasures of thy laden net!
And how we went one day together,
One day of showery summer weather,
Up the sea-shore, and for an hour
Stood sheltering from a pelting shower,
With an upturned, ancient boat,
That had not been for years afloat!
No, no, my boy! I liked too well
The old sea-stories thou didst tell;
I liked too well thy roguish eye-
Thy merry speech - thy laughter sly;
Thy old sea-jacket, to forget,—
And then the treasures of thy net!

Oh Andrew! thou hast not forgot, I'm very sure that thou hast not,

All that we talked about that day,
Of famous countries far away!
Of Crusoes in their islands lone,
That never were, nor will be known,
And yet this very moment stand
Upon some point of mountain land,
Looking out o'er the desert sea,
If chance some coming ship there be.
Thou know'st we talked of this-thou know'st
We talked about a ship-boy's ghost-

A wretched little orphan lad
Who served a master stern and bad,
And had no friend to take his part,
And perished of a broken heart;
Or by his master's blows, some said,
For in the boat they found him dead,
And the boat's side was stained and red!

And then we talked of many a heap
Of ancient treasure in the deep,
And the great serpent that some men,
In far-off seas, meet now and then;
Of grand sea-palaces that shine
Through forests of old coralline;
And wondrous creatures that may dwell
In many a crimson Indian shell;
Till I shook hands with thee, to see
Thou wast a poet-Andrew Lee!
Though thou wast guiltless all the time
Of putting any thoughts in rhyme;
Ah, little fisher boy! since then,
Ladies I've seen and learned men,
All clever, and some great and wise,
Who study all things, earth and skies,
Who much have seen, and much have read,
And famous things have writ and said;
But Andrew, never have I heard
One who so much my spirit stirred,
As he who sate with me an hour,
Screened from the pelting thunder-shower —
Now laughing in his merry wit;
Now talking in a serious fit,
In speech that poured like water free;
And that was thou-poor Andrew Lee!

Then shame to think I knew thee not-
Thou hast not, nor have I forgot;
And long 't will be ere I forget
How thou took'st up thy laden net,
And gave me all that it contained,
Because I too thy heart had gained!

THE WANDERER'S RETURN.

THERE was a girl of fair Provence,
Fresh as a flower in May,

Who 'neath a spreading plane-tree sate,
Upon a summer-day,

And thus unto a mourner young, In a low voice did say.

"And said I, I shall dance no more;
For though but young in years,
I knew what makes men wise and sad,-
Affection's ceaseless fears,
And that dull aching of the heart,
Which is not eased by tears.
"But sorrow will not always last,
Heaven keeps our griefs in view;
Mine is a simple tale, dear friend,
Yet I will tell it you;

A simple tale of household grief
And household gladness too.
"My father in the battle died,

And left young children three;
My brother Marc, a noble lad,
With spirit bold and free,
More kind than common brothers are;
And Isabel and me.

"Oh! many tears my mother shed; And earnestly did pray,

That he would still abide with us,
And be the house's stay;
And be like morning to her eyes,
As he had been alway.
"But Marc he had a steadfast will,
A purpose fixed and good,
And calmly still and manfully

Her prayers he long withstood;
Until at length she gave consent,
Less willing than subdued.
"'T was on a shining morn in June,
He rose up to depart;

I dared not to my mother show

The sadness of my heart;

We said farewell, and yet farewell, As if we could not part.

"Three years ago, unknown to us, When nuts were on the tree, Even in the pleasant harvest-time,

My brother went to seaUnknown to us, to sea he went,

And a woful house were we.

"That winter was a weary time, A long, dark time of woe;

For we knew not in what ship he sailed, And vainly sought to know;

And day and night the loud, wild winds Seemed evermore to blow.

"My mother lay upon her bed, Her spirit sorely tossed

With dismal thoughts of storm and wreck Upon some savage coast;

But morn and eve we prayed to Heaven That he might not be lost.

"And when the pleasant spring came on, And fields again were green,

He sent a letter full of news,

Of the wonders he had seen; Praying us to think him dutiful As he afore had been.

"The tidings that came next were from A sailor old and grey,

Who saw his ship at anchor lie

In the harbour at Bombay;

But he said my brother pined for home, And wished he were away.

"Again he wrote a letter long,
Without a word of gloom;
And soon, and very soon he said,
He should again come home;

I watched, as now, beside the door,
And yet he did not come.

" I watched and watched, but I knew not then It would be all in vain;

For very sick he lay the while,
In a hospital in Spain.-
Ah, me! I fear my brother dear

Will ne'er come home again!

"And now I watch-for we have heard That he is on his way,

And the letter said, in very truth,

He would be here to-day.

Oh! there's no bird that singeth now Could tempt me hence away!"

-That self-same eve I wandered down Unto the busy strand,

Just as a little boat came in

With people to the land; And 'mongst them was a sailor-boy, Who leaped upon the sand.

I knew him by his dark blue eyes, And by his features fair;

I've been tossed into the apple-tree just as if I was a ball,

And though I caught hold of a bough, I've had a terrible fall;

I'm sure I should have cracked my skull, had it not been for my hat.

You may see what a fall it was, for the crown 's quite

flat;

And it never will take its shape again, do all that ever I may!

ZEDEKIAH.-Never mind it, Peter! Put it on your head, and come along, I say! PETER.-Nay, I shall not. I shall sit down under this tree;

I've had nothing but ill-luck to-day. Come, sit down by me,

And I'll tell you all, Zedekiah, for I feel quite forlorn;

Oh dear! oh dear! I'm lamed now!-I've sate down upon a thorn! ZEDEKIAH.-Goodness' sake! Peter be still-what a terrible bellow

One would think you'd sate on a hornet's nest; sit down, my good fellow.

PETER.-I'll be sure there are no more thorns here, before I sit down;

Pretty well of one thorn at a time, Master Zedekiah Brown!

There, now, I think this seat is safe and easy-so now you must know

I was fast asleep at breakfast-time; and you'll always find it so,

That if you begin a day ill, it will be ill all the day. Well, when I woke, the breakfast-things were clattering all away;

And I know they had eggs and fowl, and all sort of good things;

But then none may partake who are in bed when the morning bell rings;

So, sadly vexed as I was, I rolled myself round in

bed,

And, “as breakfast is over, I'll not hurry myself," I

said,

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