A SIGH FOR THE UNFORTUNATE. WHEN twilight purples o'er the hill, And flowers begin to close,

When warblers seek their downy nests,
And dewy sweet repose;

I sigh for those-the homeless ones-
On whom the silent night,
Descendeth not with its sweet rest,
And pomp of visions bright,-
I sigh for those who fall.

When nature's spell upon the heart
Comes like the breath of spring,
And memory sees her flowers arise,
And hears her sweet birds sing;
I sigh for those to whom the past
Comes fresh and glad no more,
Or cometh but to taunt with joys
No morrow may restore,-

I sigh for those who fall.

When friendship cometh from afar,
Each ancient faith renewing;
When hearts to hearts are knit again,
Nor blam'd the world's undoing;

I sigh for those whom friends forget,
As though the self-same tree
Had rock'd them not in summer times,
That linger'd o'er their glee,-

I sigh for those who fall.

When visions of all glorious things,
All blessed hopes and joys,
Come crowding like the radiant stars
Before the rapt soul's eyes;
I sigh for those who see but clouds
Where all the bright stars glow,
Whose barks the more recede from shore
As tempests wilder blow,-

I sigh for those who fall.

HEAD AND HEART.

WHY speak of beauty of the face,
The hand, the foot, the head, or toe?
"Tis in the mind in which is grace,

"Tis in the heart whence beauties flow.

. Beauty of face is like the flower

That gladdens at the dawn of morn: Night comes, with its all-chilling powerIt droops, it dies, its beauty's gone. Beauty of heart is like the sun

That gladdens all with its bright ray, For mind is light whose life is spun,

When Heart reigns there as king of day.

THE STAR SHINING OUT OF THE CLOUD. "TWAS night when I wander'd forth,

And the sky was cover'd with gloom, Not a moonbeam glanced o'er the earth To gladden it and illume; Unconscious, I inwardly sigh'd,

For the gloom had my spirits bow'd, When suddenly I espied

A star shining out of the cloud. With a thankful heart I gazed

On its tiny but cheering light, And my sadden'd spirits were raised

By its beams so gentle and bright. LOVE and FAITH in my soul were blent, And my praises were breathed aloud To Him, who had graciously sent

A star to shine out of the cloud.
Since then, in my path through life,
When sorrow has bow'd my head;
When memory has been rife

With thoughts of happiness fled;
When those I have loved from me shrink,
Who friendship eternal once vow'd;
I have found it cheering to think
Of the star shining out of the cloud.
To our Father above let us turn

When our spirits despairingly droop,
And Faith will most surely discern

The rays of the bright star of Hope.
This world is a troublesome sea,

Where tempests rage wildly and loud,
But the love of our FATHER will be
As a star shining out of the cloud.

LUCINDA B.

DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. HARK! 'tis a carol we hear thro' the trees, As 'neath mingled sunlight and show'r, Lightly their leaflets are touch'd by the breezeWill you come to my wife's little bow'r ?

Where she shades her and reads, and our little

ones round

Laugh and chatter in innocent glee-
A bright solar star with her starlets around,
That shine, and shine only for me!

Soft is the touch from the hand I adore-
My wife's pretty hand on my arm;
My child's little fingers are tapping my knee,
O fond, irresistible charm!

I gaze in the depths of yon sky to divine
If angels are happier there;

But, lo! the white fleecy clouds heedlessly break
Not a breath on the balmy air!"

I CANNOT FORGET THEE, THEY tell me I shall thee forget,

Rox.

And, as the winds, shall changeful prove, That others I shall worship yet,

That other loves my lips shall move.

Did they say that the sea would cease
Its endless throbbing, and be still;
That man should say as Canute,-"Peace,"
And that the waves should do his will.
Said they the sun would shine no more,
That moon and stars should cease to be,-

I could believe it all, before

I'd join forgetfulness with thee.

ROLANDO.

Commence on the side and centre marked A by taking 1 light yellow bead on each needle; then pass both needles through 1 light yellow, take 2 middle shade, dark yellow, 2 middle, 1 light yellow, 2 light yellow, 1 dark red, 2 dark red, 1 light red, 2 rose colour or pale red, 1 light red, 2 dark red, 1 white, 1 white on right-hand needle, 1 light blue on left hand, 1 light blue, 2

light blue, 1 light blue, 1 dark blue on righthand needle, 1 light on left, 1 black, 2 black, 1 dark green on right-hand needle, 1 black on left, 1 dark green, 1 yellow on right-hand needle, 1 dark green on left, 1 yellow for the centre; then work forward as directed for Mat No. 1. The two mats should both be finished with No. 1 fringe.

THE COMET OF 1861. LOOKING back at the records of former centuries, we find that the appearance of comets was a matter of much less frequent occurrence than it has become in these days, or else that the visits of these starry strangers were chronicled with less accuracy than at the present time. This last supposition appears improbable, because in former times comets were looked upon as prodigies, and were supposed to portend some event of significance in the history of nations; so that the advent of a comet created a great sensation, and was probably recorded with exactness. Persons of advanced age now living also bear evidence to the fact alluded to, telling us that in their early days a comet was a great rarity, and that of late years these appearances have become much more common. The fact, once accepted, leaves much room for conjecture. It is possible that our planetary system, with its surrounding firmament, may be moving onward through space, and that we may have arrived at a region in which comets are more frequently met with; it is possible, too, though it is not considered probable, that the orbits of the comets, always eccentric, may be narrowing, so that their visits to our firmament occur with greater frequency; and again, it is quite possible that successive creations may have taken place, and a greater number of comets evolved and called into existence. Our wisest astronomers are very much in the dark on the subject of comets, and it is reserved, probably, for some future Galileo to discover the nature of the matter composing them, the laws which regulate their movements, and their use in creation. We know that they are composed of matter, because we can see that they are subject to the law of gravitation; we know also that this matter must be exceedingly light and unsubstantial, scarcely possessing any degree of what we call density, because a comet is not capable of influencing in its turn surrounding bodies. Thus the comet that passed among the satellites of Jupiter did not disturb their movements in the least, but was itself drawn out of its course by the force of their attraction. This one fact, which is indisputable, appears to us to ac

count for what astronomers term the eccentricity of a comet's orbit; that is to say, the irregularity of its path round the sun; for if it is so light as to be drawn aside by the attraction of such small bodies, it does not appear wonderful that its path should be irregular.

The use of comets has as yet only been

guessed at, and that very vaguely. People talk of " cometary influences," and endeavour to trace out a connection between certain atmospheric peculiarities and the appearance of a comet, but with very little success. A wise contemporary of ours wishes to make the comet that has just shown itself in our firmament responsible for the great fire near London Bridge. Certainly its appearance gives large scope for the imaginative powers of the astrologers, but in these enlightened days no one pays much attention to their mystifying gabble. The only reasonable supposition respecting the use of comets that we remember to have met with is stated in Sir David Brewster's" More Worlds than One.' The writer conjectures that the tail of a comet is of an atmospheric nature, and that it brings with it and leaves behind it respirable air; so that when it passes by the moon, or any other body that only enjoys a limited allowance of atmosphere, it pays for its passage with a portion of its tail, and supplies that indispensable commodity, atmospheric air.

If we could believe it possible for a comet to be an inhabited world, we should perhaps be ready to envy the intelligent beings whom we might suppose to popu late it; for as it travels round its vast orbit, new firmaments, new systems, new suns, must continually appear around it; but the conjecture is too bold to be hazarded, and we must be content to believe that these mysterious visitants have their use, and move in harmony with one great system, regulated by unerring laws. The comet of 1861 was a very large one, and it travelled with great rapidity; it presented a strange and startling appearance when it was very near the pole, because in that part of the heavens, familiar to the eye of the most inexperienced observer, the stars are small and faint. It appeared extraordinary to see a large and luminous star in Ursa Minor, and even the great stars of Ursa Major looked small beside it when it was brightest. Soon, however, it receded into space, moving with inconceivable rapidity, and growing dim before the many millions of gazing eyes that eagerly noted its progress. And our astronomers have tracked its path among the stars, and striven to cal culate its future orbit, feeling all the time that they can only see a very little way into the mystery, but still advancing, step by step, towards the time when it will become clearer.

THE CAIRO CRIES.

BUT we saw all the pageantry of oriental romance quietly donkeying into Cairo. Camels, too, swaying and waving like huge phantoms of the twilight, hoisted with strange, gay trappings, curbed by tawny turbaned equestrians, the peaked toe of the red slipper resting in the shovel stirrup. It was a fair festal evening. The whole world was masquerading, and so well that it seemed reality. I saw Fadladeen with a gorgeous turban and a gay sash. His chibouque, wound with coloured silk and gold threads, was borne behind him by a black slave. Fat and funny was Fadladeen as of old; and though Fermorz was not by, it was clear to see, in the languid droop of his eye, that choice Arabian verses were sung by the twilight in his mind. Yet was Venus still the evening star; for behind him, closely veiled, came Lallah Rookh. She was wrapped in a vast black silken bag, that bulged like a balloon over her donkey. But a star-suffused evening cloud was that bulky blackness, as her twin eyes shone forth liquidly lustrous. Abon Hassan sat at the city gate, and I saw Haroun Alrashid quietly coming up in that disguise of a Moussoul merchant. I could not but wink at Abon, for I knew him so long ago in the "Arabian Nights." But he rather stared than saluted, as friends may in a masquerade. There was Sinbad the porter, too, hurrying to Sinbad the sailor. I turned and watched his form fade in the twilight, yet I doubt if he reached Bagdad in time for the eighth history. Scarce had he passed when a long string of donkeys ambled by, bearing each one of the inflated balloons. It was a hareem taking the evening air. A huge eunuch was the captain, and rode before. They are bloated, dead-eyed creatures, the eunuchs; but there be no eyes of greater importance to marital minds. The ladies came gaily after, in single file, chatting together; and although Araby's daughters are still born to blush unseen, they looked earnestly upon the staring strangers. Did those strangers long to behold that hidden beauty? Could they help it if all the softness and sweetness of hidden faces radiated from melting eyes? Then came Sakkasmen with hog-skins slung over their backs, full of water. I remembered the land, and the time of putting wine into old bottles, and was shoved back beyond glass. Pedlars -swarthy fatalists in lovely lengths of robe and turban-cried their wares. To our Frank ears it was mere Babel jargon. Yet had erudite Mr. Lane accompanied us-Mr.

-we

Lane, the Eastern Englishman, who has given us so many golden glimpses into the silence and mystery of oriental life, like a good genius revealing to ardent lovers the very hallowed heart of the hareemshould have understood those cries. We should have heard "Sycamore figs-0 grapes"-meaning that said figs were offered, and the sweetness of sense and sound that "grape" hath, was only bait for the attention; or, "Odours of Paradise, O flowers of the henna," causing Muslim maidens to tingle to their very nails' ends; or, indeed, these pedlar poets, vending water-melons, sang, "Consoler of the embarrassed, 0 pips.' Were they not poets, these pedlers, and full of all oriental extravagance? For the sweet association of poetic names shed silvery sheen over the actual article offered. The unwary philosopher might fancy that he was buying comfort in a green water-melon, and the pietist dream of mementos of heaven in the mere earthly vanity of henna. But the philanthropic merchant of sour limes cries,

God make them light-limes!" meaning not the fruit, nor the stomach of the purchaser, but his purse. And what would the prisoners of the passing black balloons say to the ambiguousness of "The work of the bull, O maidens!" innocently indicating a kind of cotton cloth made by bull-moved machinery? Will they never have done with hieroglyphics and sphinxes, these Egyptians? Here a man, rose-embowered, chants, "The rose is a thorn, from the sweat of the prophet it bloomed;" meaning simply, "Fresh roses." These are masquerade manners, but they are pleasant. The maiden buys not henna only, but a thought of heaven; the poet, not watermelons only, but a dream of consolation, which truly he will need. When shall we hear in Broadway, "Spring blush of the hillsides, O strawberries;' or, "Breast buds of Venus, O milk?" Never, never, until milkmen are turbaned, and berrywomen ballooned. A pair of Persians wound among these pedlers, clad in their strange costume. They wore high shaggy hats and undressed skins, and in their girdles shone silver-mounted pistols and daggers. They had come into the west, and were loitering along, amazed at what was extremest east to us. They had been famous in Gotham, no Muscat envoy more admired. But nobody stared at them here except us. We were the odd and observed. We had strayed into the universal revel, and had forgotten to don turbans at the gate. O pyramids! thought I, to be where Persians are commonplace.