protracted view, he bent him forward with a deep sigh, which I could plainly hear, and covered his eyes with his handkerchief. What?bless me !-the man is actually crying! This middle-aged, decent, respectable, matter-of-fact man is weeping-really weeping like a weak woman! I was amazed, and observed him intently. After this had continued a little, he began to rock his body from side to side, and sob bitterly. Then he paused, and looked out again at the prospect, frequently wiping his face the while. After he had gazed for some time, he gave way to another paroxysm of grief. Dropping the handkerchief, he clasped his hands, wrung them together, and groaning deeply, looked up to the sky, while I could see the tears actually streaming down his face. His hat fell off, but lay unheeded on the grass, and I remarked his dark hair slightly tinged with grey. His features had no expression in them of remorse or any kindred feeling, nothing but pure and passionate woe. He murmured now an expression, I almost dislike to write in a light paper like this. It was a simple "Oh God!" but in its sound, and the look that accompanied it, was shown forth a heart appealing for relief from overcharging agony of spirit.

I was now deeply moved. I could almost have cried myself: had it been a silly, sentimental-looking fellow, I would certainly have pelted him in derision; but his wailing seemed so sincere, so heartfelt and earnest, that I could not but commiserate with my whole heart. I began to surmise what could have excited in him such vivid emotion. Was it the exceeding beauty of the landscape? I have known people who might have shed a tear, or said they had, at the view of a romantic scene; but they were of quite a different description from him of whose bitter mourning I was now witness. Was it that fair stream? Perhaps he played along its banks in the sunny days of his childhood, and has "wandered many a weary foot" since then! That hamlet so prettily nestling among the wood? It may be he was born there, and spent a joyous youth among the dear friends of that happy season in life-all scattered and gone now-some lost in distant lands, others on the homeless ocean, but most laid in the grave, long, long ago! There possibly he wandered with, and won the heart of that fair being, fairer to him than all nature beside! To that little church, so sweetly rural, he may have led her, blooming in her bridal beauty! Haply in the little churchyard beneath these trees he laid her to sleep, cut from his bosom in her prime: and when he looked upward, may it not have been with the thoughts and feelings of him who sang to "Mary in Heaven ?" Like Mr. Yorick with his captive, I could not sustain the picture my fancy had drawn. I looked down again. The violence of his passion had subsided. He sat with his cheek upon his palm, and his elbow supported by his knee, gazing fixedly upon the landscape. He remained in this position for several minutes, when a great cloud passing across the sun threw a deep, cold, deadening shade over it: he sighed deeply, slowly rose, and shook himself. Then, going to the spring, he took a long draught, and unloosing his stock and opening his shirt collar, bathed his face freely with the clear, cold water. Then dressing himself he put on his hat, took up his umbrella, and went slowly away. When he came to

the angle where the road bent round behind the "peculiar diadem" of trees, he turned and took a long lingering look. At that moment the 'sun shone forth again, and the landscape glowed once more in all its exceeding beauty. An instant, and he resumed his walk, moved round the corner, and was lost to my sight.

My curiosity was much excited. I should have liked to follow him at a distance, and see where he went, but I felt constrained to stay where I was for another hour. It would have been cruel to have given him cause to suspect that his grief had been profaned by the eye of a spectator.

From that hour the tree and the landscape acquired a new interest for me, and my other walks became comparatively little frequented. In a fit of whim I carved on the bark of the sycamore the name of "The tree of sorrow," and on the stone over the fountain, these words; "The waters of Marah." Often afterwards I drank of the water, and sat among the branches, but never more did I see that man, the deep workings of whose bosom had been so strangely displayed before me.

A Tale of Woman's Lobe.

As I was quitting the gateway of Guy's Hospital with a fellow-student, he commenced the following narrative respecting a patient whose case had been regarded by both of us with more than ordinary interest: "She was found sitting on a doorstep in a narrow alley, somewhere about the Seven Dials. It was considerably past midnight, and the sound of her moaning attracted the notice of the watchman, who had just returned to his beat, having been drawn away for some time by an alarm of fire in a neighbouring lane. When addressed, she continued her groans, in the intervals uttering some words unintelligible to the man; who, in the belief that she was drunk, had her conveyed to one of the police stations on a stretcher. Her condition being at once evident there, she was forthwith conducted to the hospital, and the matron sent to me to let me know it was my turn to have the case.

"On entering the ward I perceived she was asleep, and, turning on the gas, I stood looking at her for several minutes, fixed to the spot. She was a most beautiful woman. Not even the wan and anxious look, nor the other peculiarities to be expected from her situation, could for one moment conceal even a trait of her extraordinary loveliness-and it was a style of beauty, too, I had not seen for many years.

"She lay in a tranquil slumber, with her face turned toward me, and one arm laid over the bed-clothes. The clean cap which the nurse had hastily placed on her head was too large, and had come off; it now hung round her neck by the strings, partly confining her beautiful black hair,

which, however, bursting forth from above and below, wantoned in rich curled and wavy masses all over the pillow. Her eyes were closed, the large black pupils appearing in a soft shade through the thin, delicate lids, beneath which their glances of passion or feeling were now sleeping, while the long dark lashes mingled together like fringes of silken filaments. Her skin was soft, and velvet-like, beautifully pale, a shade of brownish red on each round cheek, altering in richness of tint with every breath she drew. Her lips were of the finest cherry red, and were slightly parted, disclosing an even row of teeth. Methought while I looked a faint smile played over them-yes, it was so. Alas, poor girl; her mind had travelled many a league, and was far away in her own sunny land!

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My eyes now wandered to the arm that lay on the counterpane. It was beautifully shaped; the hand was so particularly; it was small and plump, with long tapering fingers, and a tiny dimple over the knuckle at the root of each. The appearance of the hand and elbow at once made it plain to me that they had never been employed at any menial labor. Anon as I looked, a twitch passed over her face, as if from internal pain; it passed off, and the same placid expression returned: it had disturbed her, however; and slowly and indolently she opened her eyes and gazed around her. There was in them, at first, an expression of surprise, then wonder and fear, as, travelling round the still, quiet ward, they at length rested upon me, as I stood leaning over the low iron bedstead, and hanging on with my arms to the cord over it.* By and by, recollection seemed to dawn slowly and gradually upon her; a feeling of where she was, and why she was there, seemed to come full upon her; she turned to the wall, covered her face with her hand, and groaned aloud in very bitterness. Oh, the deep, low, prolonged a-ah,' that seemed as if drawn piecemeal from the inmost recesses of a crushed heart!

"I was with her at intervals throughout the day, and the following night, and next morning placed a beautiful infant in her bosom.

"The short time she was in the hospital she had won her way into the hearts of the matron and nurse. At first they thought her stubborn, from her not answering their questions, but when the found she understood no English, the sympathies of their womanly hearts were excited in a tenfold degree in favor of this poor daughter of the south, alone and unprotected in a land of strangers, and that too at a period of her being when friends and protection were most in need; and again and again, to their oftrepeated little kindnesses, would the dulcet 'gracias-muchas gracias' of the beautiful Spanish woman float around in the full golden tones of her own magnificent language.

"I was convinced of her country from the first, and began hammering up as much Spanish as three months in a counting-house at Seville had given me, with a view to find out something of her history. All my at

* In most hospitals there is a strong cord that hangs from a hook in the ceiling over each bed; it has a cross stick at the end of it, by grasping which the patient, if weak, is enabled more readily to change his position in bed, or even materially to alleviate the feeling of pain.

tempts, however, were fruitless. I seemed by my inquiries but to augment the mental agony she was evidently suffering, while the sweetness of temper with which she bore it so excited my compassion that at length I ceased to importune her. The day I was called to her I managed to ask her if she was not from Spain?

"Es verdad, senor.'

"And what made you leave your home, my good girl?'

"She buried her face in the clothes, and sobbed as if her heart would break; alas, poor thing, it was already broken!

"When her child was laid beside her she became more calm, and smiled upon the little creature with a look of such forlorn affection, that I saw the tears rising in the eyes of the worthy Mrs. Bland; and when she lavished upon it words of endearinent in her own tongue, and pressed it fondly to her, upon my life I thought I had caught the infection.

"During the two days she had been with us she had taken no food, refusing everything the kind-hearted nurse offered her, save some wine and water, with which she moistened her lips occasionally. I was a little troubled at this. I asked her why she did not eat: she made no reply, but covered her face and cried. I pressed some food upon her, announcing to her the simple fact that if she did not eat she would die. "Bueno, senor-nada deseo sino morir-I only want to die.'

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Why, my poor thing, may I ask?'

"Oh gran Dios!-Francisco ha me abandonado-Francisco has abandoned me!'

"And who is Francisco ?'-But my question was lost in the paroxysm of grief to which she gave way.

"I waited for a while, and then told her that if she did not take food she could have no nourishment for her little daughter.

“As soon as I could make her understand me, she appeared struck with some thought, and quietly took the food I offered her.

"She was now getting on tolerably well, and I was flattering myself upon working out a speedy elucidation of the mysteries with which I had been bothering my brains, when the second night after I was called to the hospital, and found my interesting patient about to go from me for ever. Symptoms had occurred which I need not explain, and on my arrival I found she was sinking rapidly. Dr. A- had been sent for, and was already there, doing all that mortal man could for her, but without avail. I told him her brief story. He was much moved.

"I bent over her-she was murmuring something. I listened-she was praying.

"O Maria Santissima!-mia hija-O Dios mio!-no la abandones jamas-Heavenly Father, be thou a father to my poor infant!'

"A few minutes passed-what was that? I shuddered as I heard it— it was that fearful sound that tells that hope is gone.

"She spoke again: Adios, feliz Espana!' I listened attentively: Adios, Francisco-mi a-ma-do-Ad-i- !'

"Oh woman, woman, is his name the last sound on your living lips! -his, who has been your utter ruin in this world, and who, we pray Heaven, may not be your eternal ruin in the next? Such is woman's love!"

Treasure Irobe.

My fellow-student and I were both dressers in the same ward at Guy's; we also lodged together. One evening I said to him,

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Well, I think that odd fellow who lies in No. 7 (alluding to the number of his bed) is one of the most singular characters that ever came under my hands: what a wiry fellow he must have been once on a day; a regular Jack Sheppard; small, slight, and sinewy, and as active as a cat! What a curious square red night-cowl is that he sports! A rum sort of fellow, certainly. He has taken a great fancy to me; he says I am not so proud as the other students, and seems inclined to be communicative. It seems he has been in both the services, and you can't mention a place or a thing but he is sure to have something to say about it. I was much amused by an account he gave me the other day of touching for water at some wild place on the coast of Africa, and finding his way into a lodge of black freemasons, not one of whom had ever seen a white face before, except in a vision of Old Nick or Mumbo Jumbo."

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'Why bless you, man, that is but a joke to what I have heard! He makes a regular confidant of me. It was only yesterday, when I had done dressing his limb, he began a long rigmarole, and as we had no lecture from Addison, I pulled out my note-book, and filled up the space with a report of the story.'

"Let's have it." "Stop a moment.

Oh, here it is. Now, as I read, fancy you hear him talking." I then went on.

It was the time of the first American war. I was a small shaver then, you may believe; I played the triangle in the band of the regiment. My father was a lance-corporal in that corps, and a decent married man; very different in that particular from what his son turned out to be. Well, one autumn evening we were lying encamped on Hounslow-heath, along with a Scotch regiment, Lord Reay's Fencibles, I think; I remember it well, though everything thereabout is changed now. Very different times were those from the present. Highway robberies were as common about the heath as blackberries, and a murder or two occasionally lent an agreeable variety to the course of events. Now, while we lay on the heath, it came into the bandmaster's head that I would make an excellent drum-boy; and consequently I, with two other small chaps like myself, were put under the care of a drummer, and sent out of hearing of the camp to acquire the noble science of which, I believe, he was an eminent master. Nothing pleased me better than this; we used to go on the long sunny days, rattling away like blazes, and march up and down the country foraging upon the natives in the way of everything eatable, and entertaining them with a flourishing tattoo by way of reckoning.