exclaiming, "Oh! what has he done? If there has been mischief, it is not his fault-he would not hurt a flyFor all his rough way, he is as tender hearted as a child-Richard! Richard! speak to them-tell them 'tis a mistake." He neither spoke nor moved, nor lifted up his eyes from the ground on which they were fixed. "No mistake at all, mistress," said one of the men, "he has only shot one of our people, that's all, and we must just fit him with a couple of these new brace lets." And so saying, he began fastening a pair of handcuffs round Camp bell's wrists. He offered no resistance, and seemed indeed almost unconscious of what was doing, when the eldest of Amy's children, a pretty little girl of four years old, who having been awakened by the noise, had crept softly from her bed, and made her way unperceived towards her grandfather, burst into a fit of loud sobbing, and climbing up upon his knees, and clasp ing her little arms about his neck, and laying her soft cheek to his dark rough one, lisped out, "Send away naughty men, grandad-naughty men fright en Amy."

by the rash hand of the wretched culprit before us, whose aim was not the less fatal, for having been almost unconsciously taken in the bustle of a desperate conflict. "We've missed our boat, and we could not let him lie bleeding on the beach,” said one of the new comers, in reply to an exclamation of surprise from those who before occupied the cottage. Campbell's agitation was dreadful-He turned, shuddering, from the sight of his victim. The women stood petrified with horror. I alone retaining some selfpossession, advanced to examine if human aid might yet avail to save the poor youth, who was laid (apparently a corpse) on three chairs, near the door. Comprehending my purpose, the humane tenderness of poor Margaret's nature surmounted her agonizing feelings, and she came trembling to assist in the painful examination. The young man's face was turned from us towards the wall, and almost covered by the luxuriant hair, (a sailor's pride) which, escaping from the confining ribbon, had fallen in dark wet masses over his cheek and brow. His right hand hung down from his side, and on taking it into mine, I found that it was already cold as marble, and that no pulse was perceptible in the artery. Margaret had, as expeditiously as her agitation would permit, unclosed his sailor's jacket, and checked shirt, and though she started and shuddered at the sight of blood thickly congealed over his bosom, she persisted heroically in her trying task. His neck handkerchief had been previously untied, and stuffed down as a temporary pledget into the wounded breast. In removing it, Margaret's finger became entangled by a black string passed round the youth's neck, to which a small locket was sus

The springs of sensibility that seem ed frozen up in Campbell's bosom were touched electrically by the loving tones and caresses of his little darling. He hugged her to his bosom, which began to heave with deep conlsive sobs, and for a moment the tears of the old man and the child mingled in touch ing silence. As he clasped her thus, the handcuff that was already fastened to his left wrist, pressed painfully on her tender arms, and as she shrunk from it, he seemed first to perceive the ignominious fetter. His brow was wrung with a sudden convulsion, but its distortion was momentary, and turning to his weeping daughter, he said quiet-pended. She was hastily moving it aside, ly," Amy, my dear child! take the poor baby; I little thought, deaf lamb! she would ever find hurt or harm in her old grandfather's arms." It was a touching seene-even the rough sailors seemed affected by it, and they were more gently executing their task of fitting on the other manacle, when again steps and voices approached; again the door opened, and a second band appeared at it, a group of sailors likewise, bearing amongst them a ghastly burthen, the lifeless body of the unfortunate young man who had been shot in the execution of his duty,

when the light held by one of the sailors fell upon the medallion, (a perforated gold pocket piece) and her eye glancing towards it at the same moment, a half choaked exclamation burst from her lips, and, looking up, I saw her standing motionless, breathless, her hands clasped together with convulsive energy, and her eyes almost starting from their sockets, in the stare of indescribable horror with which they were rivetted on the suspended token. At last, a shriek (such a one as my ears never before heard, the recollection of which still curdles the blood in my

veins) burst from her lips, and brought her daughter and husband (even the unfortunate man himself) to the spot where she stood absorbed in that fearful contemplation. She looked up towards her husband (on whose brow cold drops of agony were thickly gathering, whose white lips quivered with the workings of a tortured spirit) she gazed up in his face with such a look as I shall never forget. It was one of horrid calmness, more fearful to behold than the wildest expressions of passionate agony, and grasping his fettered hand firmly in one of her's, and with the other pointing to the perfo rated gold piece, as it lay on the mangled bosom of the dead youth, she said in a slow steady voice, "Look there! what is that?-Who is that, Richard?" His eyes rivetted them selves with a ghastly stare on the object to which she pointed, then wandered wildly over the lifeless form before him; but the tremulous agitation of his frame ceased, the convulsive work ing of the muscles of his face changed into rigid fixedness, and he stood like one petrified in the very burst of de

spair. Once more she repeated, in the same calm deliberate tone, "Who is that, Richard?" and suddenly leaning forward, dashed aside from the face of the corpse the dark locks that had hitherto concealed it. "There, there!" she shrieked-" I knew it was my son!" and bursting into a frenzied laugh, she called out, " Amy! Amy! your brother is come home! come home on his birth-day!-Will nobody bid him welcome? Richard, wont you speak to your son, to our dear Maurice! wont you bless him on his birthday?" And snatching her husband's hand, she endeavoured to drag him towards the pale face of the dead. He to whom this heart-rending appeal was addressed, replied only by one deep groan, which seemed to burst up the very fountains of feeling and of life. He staggered back a few paces-his eyes closed-the convulsion of a moment passed over his features, and he fell back as inanimate as the pale corpse that was still clasped with frantic rapture to the heart of the brainstruck mother.

NOVEMBER,

In Six Sonnets.
No. I.

SLOWLY the glittering morning star declines,
As, from his cloudy shrine in eastern skies,
The sun comes forth with a forlorn uprise,
And on the grass a pearly hoar-frost shines;
Athwart the bosom of the waveless lake,

In volumed mass, a thin blue vapour broods;
Still, and immotioned are the leafless woods,
And not one bill to music is awake:
Where, oh! ye minstrels of the early morn,
Where are ye fled, that thus the dawn of day
Is silent, and the hills, in bare array,

Look down on fields of all their honours shorn-
No marvel that the heart should feel forlorn,
When even the silence tells us of decay!
No. II.

How chill and cheerless is this barren scene!
With haze and cloud the pale sky ever glooms,
And the shorn sun, with powerless ray, illumes
Forest and field, where beauty erst hath been.
The golden grain, and honied clover flowers

Have disappeared; and, on the breezes borne,
Sere yellow leaves from the dark branches torn
Dance dizzily among the faded bowers ;-
Prone o'er the steep its swoln and muddy tide,
From bleak and barren hills, the river pours,
And, downward to the ocean as it roars,
Washes lone perish'd flowers on either side:
Above-beneath-the wandering eye deplores
Ravage and ruin, everywhere descried!!

C.

No. III..

WHAT art thou, Beauty, but a baseless dream?
A gilded halo that beguiles the eye;

A glorious rainbow, spanning earth and sky,
To fail and fade-a momentary gleam!-
It seems but yesterday, when these bare walks
With flowers of every tint and hue were spread;
When, from a thousand branches overhead,
The ripening fruitage hung-now tangled stalks
And leafless boughs that, to the wintry air,
Lift up their heads, all shelterless and bare,
Alone are left of summer's gaudy store;
The robin, with red breast, and jet black eye,
Pours forth his melancholy minstrelsy,

A funeral dirge for pride that is no more!!
No. IV.

A DIM blue haziness o'erhangs the sea,
While here and there, upon the surgy tide,
With bellied sails, the vessels, dim descried,
Against the opposing blast toil heavily:
On sullen wing the sea-gull wheels away
To isles remote, in crevice dank to dwell
Of bleakest rock, beyond the utmost swell
Of billow, lashing high its dizzy spray :-
The wild waves curl their bleak and foamy heads;
From the cold north the wind impatient raves;
Tumultuous murmurs through the ocean caves
Ring dismal; while the gloomy tempest spreads
Athwart the joyless deep; the showers down pour,
Toss the rough main, and drench the sandy shore.
No. V.

THE sun descends, his long and feeble ray
Lies on the waters; the forsaken glades,
The cottages, and trees long heavy shades
Behind them cast, as sinks the lingering day;
The labourer leaves his toil, and homeward wends;
The oxen low 'mid pastures brown and bare;
And, fitful, on the chill and biting air,

A plaintive cry the widow'd partridge sends.
Season of deepest thought! what eye can turn

Untouch'd to gaze thy fading scenes? what heart,

As to the past regretful memory strays,

Struck with a change so mournful, would not start ;— Dread lessons to us, who are few of days,

November! thou art fitted to impart!!

No. VI.

Now when the shortening day its crimson eye
Closes in haste, a calm delight it yields

To wander lonely through the twilight fields,
And mark the evening star gleam out on high!
While, mournfully, a twilight mantle lowers

On hill and vale, dim forest, and blue stream;
And cottage windows, with a casual gleam,
Speak of domestic peace.-Oh, fading bowers!
Oh, shortning days! and nights of dreary length!
How emblematic of the fate of man

Are ye, and of his fast declining strength,
His chequered lot, frail life, and fleeting span ?
Thousands have fall'n since joyous spring began
Its smiling course,-say, shall the next be ours!

A

NOVEMBER BREATHINGS."
"The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine."---BURNS.

THERE are a few fine days, which generally occur about the end of October or beginning of November, and immediately before the setting in of winter, which, as far back as I can recollect, have possessed a peculiar, and though melancholy, somewhat pleasing influence, over my feelings. There is an enfeebled but soothing mildness in the light of day, nearly allied to the effect of moon-light. A kind of Sabbath pause, interrupted only at intervals by the call of the cow-herd, or the thud of the fowling-piece, prevails. The fields and inclosures are just cleared of their harvest treasure, and the web of the gossamer extends in unbroken and floating pathway over stubble and lea. Vegetation is every where passing rapidly into decay; and the brown-breast, and solitary chirp of the "Robin," accord well with the withered fern and seared leaf, with that sombre aspect of colouring, which tree and forest every where put on. In the appropriate and picturesque language of Scripture The earth mourneth and languisheth-Lebanon is ashamed, and withereth away-Sharon is like a wilderness-and Bashan and Carmel shake off their fruits." There are a great many reflections, which not only spontaneously, but as it were urgently, offer themselves to 'one's consideration at this season, all closely associated with the appearance of external nature. A few of these which occurred to me, or which, upon reflection, I can now imagine actually did. occur, when I was a few days ago engaged in a solitary, and somewhat of a protracted ramble, I shall endeayour to recal. It is in fact by such silent and occasional communings with one's self, that the heart is quieted and made better; and it is in the hope that some of your readers may happen to be of the same opinion, that I have thus presumed on your attention.

It is now that the Labourer is about to enjoy a temporary mitigation of the Season's toil. His little store of winter provision, having been hardly earned, and safely lodged, his countenance brightens, and his heart warms with the anticipation of winter comforts. As the day shortens, and the hours of

darkness increase, the domestic affections are awakened anew by a closer and more lengthened converse. The father is now once more in the midst of his family ;-the child is now once more on the knee of its parent;-and She, in whose happiness his heart is principally interested, is again permitted, by the blessed privileges of the season, to increase, and to participate his enjoyment.

It is now that the Husbandman is repaid for his former risk and anxiety, that having waited patiently for the former, and the latter rain, “he builds up his sheaves, loads his waggons, steeks his stiles," and replenishes his barns, that he is prepared, or at least authorized to exclaim, in the fulness of a grateful heart" Soul, take thy rest, for the work of the season is accomplished, and the year hath been crowned with the Great Creator's bounty."

It is now that the Moon begins again to renew her claims to the gratitude of the rustic Lover, as he travels fearlessly on through glen and over heath, up to the very window, and close to the very secret corner, where the fair object of his Travel is waiting to acknowledge the long-expected signal.

It is now that men of study and literary pursuit are admonished of the season best suited for the acquisition of knowledge. Learning is opening her gates, and night is fast advancing her claims to the renewed labours of the Student-to those evening hours of watching and reflection, and investigation, which will so amply repay the trouble. To those individuals whom a love of knowledge has redeemed from a world sunk in sensuality, and in the pursuit of gain, this season is heard to address herself in the words of sacred inspiration— "If thou criest after knowledge, and liftest up thy voice for understanding, if thou seekest her as for silver, and searchest for her as for hidden treasure, she shall undoubtedly promote theeyea, she shall bring thee to honourshe shall give to thine head an ornament of grace-a crown of glory shall she deliver to thee."