Yet though unseen, unseeing,

We meet and part, we meet and part, Be still my worshipped being,

In mind and heart, in mind and heart, And bid thy song that found me

My minstrel maid, my minstrel maid! Be winter's sunbeams round me,

And summer's shade, and summer's shade.

I could not gaze upon thee,

And dare thy spell, and dare thy spell,

And when a happier won thee,

Thus bid farewell, thus bid farewell.

CHARLES MAITLAND, OR THE MESS-CHEST.

BY WILLIAM LEGGETT.

THERE are not many names on the list of those who have sacrificed their lives for freedom, which deserve more honorable mention than that of Riego. I was in the Mediterranean at the time of the brave attempt which terminated so fatally for him ; and I well remember how eagerly we sought every disjointed scrap of intelligence which could be gathered concerning the romantic adventures of Mina with his little army in Catalonia, and the firm and prudent efforts of his noble compatriot Riego. Old Port Mahon, according to custom, had been chosen for the winter-quarters of our squadron; and though the Malionese were by no means well affected to the cause of Ferdinand, yet the habitual caution and reserve of those islanders prevented their disclosing a very full account of what little they knew concerning the progress of events on the continent. Such drops of news as dribbled from them, therefore, rather increased than quenched the flame of curiosity. This had arisen to a great height, when

it was at last suddenly and sadly extinguished by the arrival of a little polacca vessel from Barcelona, which brought the melancholy tidings of the defeat and flight of Mina, and of the capture and execution of his brother in arms. This vessel had been des patched to Mahon with an official account of the triumphal entry of Ferdinand into Madrid, just six days after the inhabitants of that city had witnessed the public termination of Riego's eventful career.

There were bonfires and illuminations in Mahon on the receipt of this intelligence; but the outward demonstrations of rejoicing were rendered by fear not gladness; and were as false as the hollowhearted monarch whose success they were kindled to celebrate. Had the despatches communicated news of his death, and of the triumph of the constitution, the revelry would have been another sort of affair; the faces of the people, as well as their casements, would have been lighted up for joy; and hearts, as well as feet, would have joined in the bolero and fandango, and bounded to the music of the merry castinets.

One evening, during these mock rejoicings, I went on shore with Charles Maitland, one of our lieutenants, and as fine a fellow as ever trod a frigate's quarter-deck. He was young in commission, having been but recently promoted, after a tedious service of two whole lustres in the subordinate capacity of midshipman, during which period he had been the object of a full share of the "fantastic tricks," which naval commanders sometimes choose

to play off upon those beneath them. When I say beneath them, I mean the phrase, so far as Charles Maitland is concerned, to apply to the scale of military gradation; for in any other respect he was beneath no man in the service. It had been his lot, as well as mine, to sail with a commander who allowed no opportunity to pass of proving his title to the nautical distinction he enjoyed, of being "the hardest horse in the navy." But those days were over now; and the more elevated rank, and more definite and important duties of a lieutenant, secured him, in a good measure, from a renewal of the annoyances he had so long endured.

Almost immediately on reaching the dignity of an epaulette, Charles had married a sweet girl, to whom he had been long attached, and whom his narrow and uncertain resources had alone prevented from espousing before. I stood groomsman on the occasion; and I remember well how handsome the fellow looked, as he led his blushing bride to the altar. A forty-four, convoying a trig, snug, cleanrigged little Baltimore clipper, could not appear more stately than he alongside that modest and well-modelled girl. The truth is, Charley was one of the finest-looking men in the service-tall, wellbuilt, round-chested, with an eye like an eagle's, and a mouth, the habitual smile of which, or rather the slight pleasant curve approaching to a smile, denoted an excellent disposition. And never did dogvane show the course of the wind better

than that smile expressed his temper. But I am wandering from my story.

The honey-moon-that briefest moon that ever sheds its light on the matrimonial state-had hardly yet begun to wane, when Charles was ordered to sea in old Ironsides. The old craft was lying in the harbor, her topsails loose, her anchor short-stay apeak, and all ready to trip, sheet home, and be off. His name had been pitched upon at the last moment, to supply a vacancy left by somebody who had begged off; and as there was now no time for remonstrance, he had nothing to do but obey. I am no hand for painting scenes of the tender sort; so I leave Charley's parting with his young wife, and all that, "to sympathetic imaginations,” as the girl in the play has it.

But, avast a bit and belay there! What am I doing all this while? A pretty piece of lee-way I have made of it! Here were we, a moment since, snugly moored in the harbor of Mahon, for winterquarters; and now, in the turning of a glass, have I put the Atlantic between us and the scene of my story. Well, stations for stays!-helm's a-lee, and about she goes! And we must now crack on all sail, and make a short cruise of it, till we get back to our starting point. There is no time now for buckling knee-buckles, as the boatswain's mate says, when he calls all hands in a squall at night; so, to make a short story of it, let it suffice to say, that Charles bade adieu to his wife, old Ironsides sailed, reached the Mediterranean in due time, went