marriage of her daughters, without thinking of Lady Ogilvie, and fancying, that could I penetrate into the secret recesses of her heart, I should there find lurking an indomitable vanity, and a consequent resolution, never, if she could possibly prevent it, to become a GRANDMOTHER. Such a

parent, I have also thought, would do well to impress upon her mind, in order to avoid family dissensions, consequent upon clandestine engagements and unions, the truthful old saying:

Marry your daughters early, or they will marry themselves." Great Marlow, Bucks.

The woods are bright with summer;
And the violet's bower is graced
With the rose, a queenly comer;
The stars, that in the air

Like kindred spirits burn,
Seem watching for thy steps;
Oh! when wilt thou return?

When wilt thou return?

The sheathless sword is idle,
And each warrior from his steed

Has thrown aside the bridle.
Hark! 'tis the trumpet's call !
With hope our bosoms burn;
We hear its echo from the hills
Announcing thy return.

No. 5.-WHICH IS THE SWEETEST HOUR?

Which is the sweetest hour?
When the moonbeam glows,
And lights the dewy bower››
Of the rose?

Or when the bee-birds kiss

Each song enchanted flower;
Is this, oh! is this

The sweetest hour?

Which is the sweetest hour?
When the skylark sings,
And feels the sunbeam's power,
On his wings;

And the ocean, like a bride,
Receives its golden dower
From the monarch of the tide ;
Is this the sweetest hour?
No-when thy fairy lute
To me imparts its power,
And the balmy winds are mute
In thy bower.

Then, as the moon above
Illumes each purple flower,

I consecrate to love

The sweetest hour!

No. 6.-THE FOREST STREAM.

Like a spirit from its bower,
Forth its sunny waters gush,

Filling all the leaves around
With a gentle hush.
Softly on the lucid air

Its responsive echoes die,
And its cadence seems to hold
Commune with the sky.

With the dream-like hum of bees
How it blends its tuneful voice,