-it is heaven!" He shuddered, "it is fate that has brought me to thy sick pillow. Yet speak, oh, speak-let me once more drink the music of that enchanting voice. Alas, it has been long silent, but its last sounds are still in my ear." These broken sentences seemed to impart a new vigour to the languid and wasted Theresa. "I love thee, Julio, I love thee," she replied, in a faint whisper; and these brief words contained, so to speak, the summary of her whole life-she said not, she could not have said, more.

The moments of an interview like this flew past with the speed of lightning. The hope of meeting again could alone reconcile them to the necessity of parting.

Julio repeated his visit every day-a mutual confidence now sprung up-reserve was laid aside, and Julio for a time forgot his scruples and his remorse. Entirely devoted to Theresa, he followed with the most lively interest every step she made towards recovery. He dared not afflict her; every word, look, and gesture were regulated with the utmost delicacy and caution, in the fear of again conjuring up distressing recollections: he felt that her life depended on him, and he now construed every effort on his part into an imperative duty.

It was now two years since Julio had quitted Rome, and on the second anniversary of the sybil's fatal prediction, he was plunged in a melancholy and profound reverie. He was seated in the chamber of Theresa, and, observing the deep shade that sat upon his forehead, she gently inquired into the cause of his sorrow. Hitherto she had never questioned him; but now, resolved to share in his grief, she felt the necessity of ascertaining its source.

Thus pressed to an avowal, Julio briefly related to her his interview with the sibyl, his flight from the paternal roof, and his refuge in the monastery. In the course of his recital all his horrible recollections were again awakened, and stood embodied before him in fearful array, while, in terrifying accents, he exclaimed-"Love unbounded! sacrilege! murder!"

The emotion of Theresa was extreme: but the word "love unbounded!" threw a fatal spell over her heart and imagination; and when Julio repeated, "sacrilege! murder" she softly replied, "love unbounded!" thinking thus to tranquillize his distracted mind; for to her love was every thing-it was more than life.

At times, Julio, drawn away by the violence of his passion, would fix upon her that ardent gaze which she dared not encounter-she felt her heart throb-all her frame shudder; while a silence, no less dangerous, succeeded to these tumultuous emotions.

Still they were comparatively happy; for as yet their moral natures were unsullied-their souls were not tarnished with the irrevocable impress of guilt-those stains which they supposed could never be obliterated but by the touch of purgatorial fire.

In the mean time Julio, charged with an important mission to a neighbouring monastery by Father Ambrosio, was compelled to absent himself for some time. He had not courage to take leave of Theresa in person, but he wrote to her, and promised a speedy return. Detained, however, by a thousand obstacles, it was a full month before he could again return to Messina.

On his return he instantly flew to obtain news of Theresa, and found her alone on a terrace of the garden which overhangs the sea, and deeply absorbed in reflections upon the strange vicissitudes of her love. Never had she appeared so beautiful as at this moment-never so elegant or so bewitching. He gazed upon her for a moment in ecstacy, but could not long resist the ardent desire he felt once more to address her-once more to hear her voice. He called her; she started up, perceived him, and flew into his arms. Melted by her tenderness, Julio repaid her

caresses with transport. But all of a sudden he spurned her from him with horror-fell upon his knees, and with clasped hands and fixed eye, continued agitated by an universal tremor.

His death-like paleness, and the wild expression of his look, rendered the scene truly terrible for Theresa. She dared not approach him, and for the first time was incapable of sharing his emotion.

"Theresa!" said he at length, with a sombre voice, we must part!-thou knowest not all that thou hast to fear!"

Theresa scarcely heard him, but she beheld his great agitation, and sought to calm it. She approached him, but was again repulsed. "In the name of heaven," he exclaimed, " approach me not." She shrunk back, and there stood trembling and motionless. She knew love only by its tenderness, and could not comprehend the furious agitation to which it may give birth.

Impatient at her silence, Julio suddenly arose. "Tomorrow," said he, "my fate shall be decided," and left the spot without allowing Theresa time to answer.

SELECTED DEPARTMENT.

A GIGANTIC ICEBERG.

AT twelve o'clock we went below, and had just got through dinner, when the cook put his head down the scuttle, and told us to come on deck and see the finest sight that we had ever seen. "Where away, cook ?" asked the first man who was up. "On the larboard bow." And there lay floating in the ocean several miles off, an immense irregular mass, its top and points covered with snow, and its centre of a deep indigo colour. This was an iceberg, and of the largest size, as one of our men said, who had been in the Northern Ocean. As far as the eye could reach, the sea in every direction was of a deep blue colour, the waves running high and fresh, and sparkling in the light; and in the midst lay this immense mountain island, its cavities and valleys thrown into deep shade, and its points and pinnacles glittering in the sun. All hands were soon on deck, looking at it and admiring in various ways its beauty and grandeur. But no description can give any idea of the strangeness, splendour, and really, the sublimity of the sight. Its great size for it must have been from two to three miles in circumference and several hundred feet in height; its slow motion, as its base rose and sank in the water, and its high points nodded against the clouds; the dashing of the waves upon it, which, breaking high with foam, lined its base with a white crust; and the thundering sound of the cracking of the mass, and the breaking and tumbling down of huge pieces; together with its nearness and approach, which added a slight element of fear,-all combined to give to it the character of true sublimity. The main body of the mass was, as I have said, of an indigo colour, its base crusted with frozen foam; and as it grew thin and transparent toward the edges and top, its colour shaded off from a deep blue to the whiteness of snow. It seemed to be drifting slowly toward the north, so that we kept away and avoided it. It was in sight all the afternoon; and when we got to leeward of it, the wind died away, so that we lay-to quite near it for a greater part of the night. Unfortunately, there was no moon; but it was a clear night, and we could plainly mark the long regular heaving of the stupendous mass as its edges moved slowly against the stars. Several times in our watch loud cracks were heard, which sounded as though they must have run through the whole length of the iceberg, and several pieces fell down with a thundering crash, plunging heavily into

the sea. Toward morning a strong breeze sprang up, and we filled away and left it astern, and at daylight it was out of sight. No pencil has ever yet given any thing like the true effect of an iceberg. In a picture, they are huge, uncouth masses, stuck in the sea; while their chief beauty and grandeur-their slow, stately motion, the whirling of the snow about their summits, and the fearful groaning and cracking of their parts-the picture cannot give. This is the large iceberg; while the small and distant islands, floating on the smooth sea in the light of a clear day, look like little floating isles of sapphire.Two Years before the Mast.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND.

BY AN AMERICAN.

(From the "New World.")

"That pale, that white-faced shore,

Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides, And coops from other lands her islanders."

KING JOHN.

THE OLD WORLD presented a forbidding aspect to, the eyes accustomed to gaze on bright gorgeous skies, and the glowing aspect of American scenery. The clouds displayed an uniformly dull and sullen look-the water was of a turbid opaque, red-ochre colour, and the air felt raw and chilly, although it was in the latter part of the "leafy month of June." How different, I thought, the scene upon which I am now gazing, from the gay and animated picture New York displays to the beholder, as you approach it from the ocean and glide upon its superb bay toward the city!

These were my impressions and the comparison I drew, as I looked through the murky atmosphere with straining eyes, for a first glimpse of the town of Liverpool. At length, spires, towers, domes, and the masts of the shipping, rising above the stupendous docks, that seemed like a rampart defending the town, came in sight; whilst clouds of smoke enveloped every distant object in a sooty veil. Our sail up the Mersey, however, was enlivened by the sight of numerous cottages scattered along the shore. To the lover of suburban beauty, they presented almost every variety that the hand of taste could devise. Sloping down to the water's edge, were gardens with trim borders and rich hedge-rows, luxuriant of growth. In the midst of emerald pastures, rose thick clusters of flowers and clumps of graceful trees and dense shrubbery. Near a picturesque strong castle and light-house might be seen groups of happy-looking girls and boys riding upon rough-looking donkeys quite soberly, whilst others were racing on the pebbly beach, and making the air resound with shouts of laughter and the pleasant voices of light-hearted childish mirth. The blood-red flag of St. George floated above the castle, as if to identify the scene as a pleasant picture of merry England.

Presently, the chime of some sweet-toned bells from a neighbouring church tower, fell delightfully upon the ear. It touched a chord within us.

"How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at intervals upon the ear

In cadence sweet, now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Memory slept."

Thus appropriately did the sound of England's chimes usher my approach toward her shores. It seemed to whisper me of many blessed homes-of love-lit bowersof holy quietness-the breath of sabbath hours, and all

the delightful imagery of a land made interesting and familiar to us by her poets and prose writers. How many pleasing documents of poetry and the olden time were in an instant recalled to memory-the moss-clad cottage smiling through its nook of leaves-the silver brookletthe rural hamlet, where the rude forefathers worshipped in their ivy-mantled church, still displaying its crumbling towers above the yew-trees which surround it. All this tranquil kind of scenery and poetical associations lingering in our mind from oft-read favourite authors, stole over me, concentrating past connings into present realities.

In a short time we neared the quay, but no customhouse officer boarded us. We were obliged to wait patiently for these gentry, in the stream. The docks and the river teemed with steam-boats of all sizes, arriving and departing at different places in the vicinity of Liverpool. Some were very gaudily painted; they gave an animated appearance to the river and town. These boats were generally crowded with well-dressed persons, apThe quays parently bound on parties of pleasure. presented a scene of bustle and activity. Groups of men, women, and children, waiting the arrival of some passageboat; police officers, in their neat blue uniform, women selling shrimps, oranges, and ginger-bread, burly porters, cab-men, jarvies, dray-men, and a host of other amphibious-looking animals, who abound and hang about the docks in all countries, were found here; furnishing ample subjects for study or amusement until we should be

delivered from our thraldom.

After waiting a considerable time, during which we officer made his appearance. His first case was to pounce were enlivened by a heavy shower of rain, a custom-house upon the ship's mail-bags; and then our luggage after a tedious process was to be hauled upon land. There it was destined to remain for another long period in the rain, as well as ourselves; for we were obliged to stand over and watch it, until we could learn the will and pleasure of this public functionary; and as he was remarkably taciturn and important, we felt loath to question him, but left our trunks as well as our persons to the tender mercies of those by whom we were surrounded. This part of the business forcibly reminded us that we strangers and pilgrims in the land of our fathers. After then heat, then cool again, a convoy of drays, waggons, the ardour of our feelings had had ample time to cool, trucks, and various other kinds of vehicles hove in sight, bags were thrown into these lumber carts, which, as soon to our inexpressible joy. Trunks, band-boxes, carpetWe soon joined it, bringing up the rear, and together we as they were loaded, were formed into a goodly procession. proceeded on

were indeed

our march to the custom-house under a

smart shower of rain.

But

Now if any city can please or appear interesting to a traveller, under these circumstances, we know nothing about first impressions. After trudging some distance, our caravan arrived in tolerable order at the place of destination; and no pilgrim who had halted at Mecca, could rejoice more than we did at that moment. our joy was but for a moment, as the sequel proved. Here we were presented with another scene of English life, and with a new set of hangers-on and loungers connected with the establishment. We loitered about anterooms, lobbies, and halls, amid the fumes of porter and gin-among men enveloped in upper benjamins, reeking coats of india rubber, and other materials denominated waterproof, until our patience became quite exhausted, and our appetites greatly sharpened, for we are not proof against hunger, more than water, there being no material yet invented to keep the former off, although something may be done for the latter. In short, it had grown late in the afternoon, and we had tasted nothing since we left

the ship. At last we were informed by those in authority,, that our trunks would not be examined to-day, but another must be consumed in the tedious and tormenting process of rummaging and over-hauling. Making, therefore, a virtue of necessity, we decamped for the Adelphi Hotel, in the hopes of obtaining something to appease the sharp appetite engendered by the exciting scenes we had gone through.

The Adelphi we found to be a building of large and handsome exterior. We were ushered into the coffeeroom, where we quickly ordered dinner. In the mean time we took seats, and began to scrutinize the order in which things were done in the old country.

The first objects our eyes alighted upon were the waiters. They were very imposing looking gentry, gliding about the room with the utmost silence and dignity. They attended at several tables scattered over the room, at which sundry gentlemanly-looking persons were taking dinner or reading the papers. One elderly gentleman sat writing not far from me, and a footman was stationed at his elbow to carry the letter as soon as it should be completed. Perfect order and decorum were observed in all things said or done, indicating the most studied respect. The food was served up in a very elegant manner in costly china or silver dishes, and the ale was handed about in silver tankards. Altogether, the quiet, comfortable appearance of this dining-room had a most prepossessing look to me, just landed from ship-board. To while away the time until our dinner was ready, we sat down to read a London paper scarcely dry. Yet notwithstanding the novelty of our situation, and a London paper but a few hours' old, our patience became exhausted in waiting for a mouthful of dinner. We found by sad experience that there was no such thing as hurrying these most dignified of waiters; they "took it coolly," and would not alter their movements for us hungry travellers. Our only remedy was to wait with patience and resignation, and it is no bad state of mind for all to be in who go "a travelling." I would not recommend a person of choleric temperament to patronise the Adelphi; the trial would prove a hard one-he would become as testy as Sir Fretful himself.

At short intervals the solemn silence would be broken by the animating sounds of the Kent bugle, playing some well-known tune, (generally "Rory O'More,") and the rattle of the stage-coach as it clattered through the streets, or pulled up before the Adelphi door, which would in this case cause a general turn-out of waiters and chambermaids. All this sort of bustle was perfectly English, and produced a cheerful and pleasing effect upon the mind. Then it was quite a novelty to us to behold the dashing turn-out of the coachman, and guard in his scarlet coat, seated so cozily in the rear of the vehicle exchanging glances with the chamber-maids, or favouring them with a choice specimen of his skill upon the bugle. This kind of life, new to me, served to break the serene quiet which reigned within the coffee-room as I observed these scenes from the window. And touching the decorum observed at all respectable hotels, I may here remark, that this agreeable feature greatly pleased me. There is an absence of all rudeness or obtrusion in every particular. This pleasant feature in an English inn was probably the cause of Dr. Johnson's exclaiming, "A tavern chair is the throne of human felicity. As soon as I enter the door of a tavern, I experience an oblivion of care, and a freedom from solicitude: when I am scated, I find the master courteous, and the servants obsequious to my call; anxious to know, and ready to supply my wants: wine there exhilarates my spirits, and prompts me to free conversation, and an interchange of discourse with those whom I most love: I dogmatise, and am contradicted; and in this conflict of opinion and sentiments I find delight." The

etiquette observed around me, I should like to see imitated at home. Although we Americans are apt to dislike the reserve and coldness of Englishmen in public, we think it rather preferable to the noisy familiarity often met with at our hotels, where lounging attitudes, coupled with loud and vehement conversation and gesture, make one feel any thing but at home. We purposed noticing the faults, as they struck us in the English character, but we shall nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice," neither close our eyes upon their virtues or agreeable qualities. We detest one-sided pictures of any nation.

Our dinner came at last, and put an end to any further ponderings or surmises for the present. After this meal, notwithstanding the rain continued to pour down, we set out to see the town, first directing our steps toward the Exchange. This is a fine building, and admirably adapted in design for a place "where men most do congregate." In the centre of the quadrangle is the bronze monument to the memory of Nelson. It is of good execution, but viewed in a drenching shower, the group looked more like some poor Africans undergoing the process of a shower bath. From the Exchange we proceeded to the Docks. These, as all the world knows, are stupendous structures, entitling Liverpool to a proud name, which may be rendered without hyperbole--The city of docks! The warehouses beside them are nearly as great curiosities; being of immense height, built of light-coloured stone, and apparently of great strength. Among the vast collection of ships snugly reposing in these basins, we beheld with much national pride and satisfaction, a large number of American vessels, many of our noble New York packets, and others from different ports of the Union. It began to grow late in the evening before we got through with our examination of piers, basins, and ships. It repaid us, however, for our jumping walk over bales of cotton and hogsheads of molasses. Policemen are stationed all over these docks to guard property from the thief and incendiary. On our return to the Adelphi, we took a cursory view of streets and edifices as well as we could, considering we had to trudge over gutters, channels, and pavements overflowing with water. The gin palaces attracted our notice from their ostentatious display of gas, and the squalid votaries of Bacchus who surrounded these showy temples. It was a novel scene to us to see a whole family, consisting of father, mother, and half-adozen children, enter these places in a body. Thirst at length came over some of our party during this ramble, and we entered a shop whose window exhibited an attractive label, inscribed with "tea and coffee." The inhabitants of Liverpool, we thought, must be greater encouragers of gin than tea and coffee, from the specimen we received of the latter; and with this commentary we left the coffee-room.

We were shown to our bed-room at the Adelphi by the chambermaid. I looked upon the clothes heaped upon my bed with surprise. There were blankets enough, it appeared to me, to furnish an entire boarding-house at home, and it was the month of June too! A thick drapery of bed-curtains enveloped the bedstead. Visions of the night-mare and that famous picture of the sleepfiend by Fuseli rose before me, as I viewed this unusual specimen of a summer couch! I soon, however, removed some of the ponderous covering, and was not long invoking the god of slumber. When I awoke, the sun was actually shining, and I looked out from my window upon a very agreeable street view. The buildings have quite a substantial solid look about them, and appear more venerable than I expected. Many of the older portions of the city are quite antique, being narrow and primitive in appearance. From this cause there is considerable picturesque beauty in the street-views of Liverpool.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

PALMYRA: A METRICAL SKETCH. BY E. J. HYTCHE.

SCENE I.-THE PAST.

THE luscious fig was clustering all around,

And ripe grape-bunches hung in tempting guise;
The tamarind distilled perfumeries
Midst hedges where pomegranates rare were found:
It was a pleasant spot,-for not a sound

Came on the breeze save flute-like melodies,
Wafted from lakes, whispering soft harmonies,
As o'er the pebbly beach they gently wound.
Vast cities were up-built of giant height,

With loftiest porticoes; and many a shrine Was piled, where men did worship as divine Those guilty deeds, darker than darkest night, Which stain their souls: thus unto brutish might

They altars raised; and with a drunken whine
They sang of Bacchus, and flower-wreaths did twine
To gore-stain'd Mars, whom murder doth delight.
And palaces were there inlaid with gold,

Whence marble columns rose of palm-like shape;
By gushing fountains at whose outlets gape
The sculptured lion, glaringly and bold:
Incense and gums, sky-waft, in shadowy fold

Forth from the golden censers did escape;
And from flower-odour, and the ripened grape,
Sprang essences of perfume manifold.

And rarest sculpture decked their temples grand,
With forms, where life was graven on each limb;
And eyes that were intelligent did swim

In natural lustre, loving, soft, and bland:

And there were paintings, where with magic wand
The artist drew in native tints, not dim,
A glimpse of nature's loveliness-whose chasten'd hymn
Ariseth unto Him who nature planned.

Nor was the poet silent: songs arose

From voices nervous with the quenchless fire,
Heaven-sprung; then taunted freedom did inspire
An active earnestness; and hence her foes
Were daunted, as a child by fear which grows

In its own brain at midnight shadows dire;
And nature's beauty found a tongue to choir
Those quiet joys her humblest nooks disclose.
And music came in pulses: instrument

Blended with voice in choral harmony;
The reed sang shrillest note; the psaltery
With the harp's dreamy tones in mosaic blent:
Thus from the elysian concert was upsent

A chorus grand as of the boisterous sea,
When through the cavernous earth it flows in glee,
Or through the rended mountain has a vent!
Yes; every beauty of the sense was there-

All that delighteth ear, or taste, or eye;
But in the vestibules you might descry

The slave, toil-worn, crouching in breathless fear
As the thonged whip did limb from body tear:
And painted vice, clad in embroidery
Of rarest hues, stalked by in mockery
Of meek-faced virtue with insulting sneer.

VARIETIES.

INDOLENCE. It is an error to believe that the vehement passions alone, like love or ambition, triumph over the rest. Indolence, nerveless as it may be, is generally master of every other; it steals dominion over every action of life, and stealthily paralyzes alike all passions and all virtues.-De la Rochefoucault.

AMERICA. All is vast solitary grandeur, in the contemplation of which the mind becomes insensibly depressed, at the consciousness of its inability to compass the imposing magnitude of surrounding objects. I have heard many persons, not natives of the country, make this observation; and for myself, I can bear ready testimony to its truth, as applied not only to Canada, but generally to such parts of the North American continent as I have visited. If you traverse its vast lakes, if you penetrate its deep pine-forests, if you cross its wide extending plains, nay, if you wander by the wayside in the outskirts of its towns, you are alike struck with a sense of surpassing loneliness, with a sort of melancholy, at finding yourself an isolated unit, as it were, in the midst of a space so large; knowing, as you do, in the one case, that you are not upon the ocean, and in the other, that you are not treading upon a newly-discovered soil!—Residence in America.

FUSTIAN. A young gentleman having occasion to ask a lady for the snuffers across the table, addressed her in the following emphatic and enamoured strain:-" Most beautiful, accomplished, and charming lady, will your ladyship, by an unmerited and undeserved condescension of your infinite goodness, please to extend to your most obsequious, devoted, and very humble servant that pair of ignipotent digests, that I may exasperate the excrescences of this nocturnal cylindric luminary, in order that the refulgent brightness of its resplendent brilliancy may dazzle the vision of our ocular optics more potently."

It is

POETRY. It is a fine thing for children to learn to make verse; but when they come to be men, they must speak like other men, or they will be laughed at. It is ridiculous to speak, or write, or preach in verse. As it is good to learn to dance, a man may learn his leg, learn to go handsomely; but it is ridiculous for him to dance when he should go. ridiculous for a lord to print verses: it is well enough to make them to please himself, but to make them public is foolish. If a man, in a private chamber, twirls his band-strings, or plays with a rush to please himself, it is well enough; but if he should go into Fleet Street, and sit upon a stall, and twirl a band-string, or play with a rush, then all the boys in the street would laugh at him. Verse proves nothing but the quantity of syllables; they are not meant for logic.— Table Talk.

CHANGING THE TUNE.-" Run and get me an armfull of wood," said a woman to her husband, one rainy day, as you are wet and I am dry." The same plea was used for a dozen other errands. At last it was, "Get me a bucket of water, for you are wet and I am dry." The bucket of water was brought and thrown over her, the husband exclaiming, "Now do your share, for you are wet too!"

Forty years ago there were very few insolvent debtors; no such things as balls in the summer, and very few in the winter, except snow-balls.

WOMEN IN CHINA.-In China, polygamy prevails virtually, if not by name; and the sovereign, self-imprisoned in his golden-roofed palace, with his one empress, six queens, and 300 (or if he please, 3000) concubines, reflects, on the great scale, the domestic establishment of those among his subjects whose wealth may permit the irrational indulgence of their passion or their pride. The female slave, who, at the head of a band of inferior slaves, is dignified with the name of superior (adequate to that of wife), who has been purchased with gold and may be returned, if on trial not approved, is not deemed worthy to eat at her master's table. -Lady Morgan's "Woman and her Master."

LONDON:

W. BRITTAIN, PATERNOSTER ROW. Edinburgh: JOHN MENZIES. Dublin: CURRY & Co. Glasgow D. BRYCE.

Printed by J. Rider, 14, Bartholomew Close, London.