macy, and the cruel stings of poverty, and its death could be a subject of regret to none but its mother. To her, however, blasted in character, and deserted alike by her seducer and her family, her child was the sole link which bound her to the world; and being deprived of him, she looked as if her only wish was to seek the same refuge from its scorn and contempt. Pale, emaciated, and heartbroken, her sorrows vented themselves not in words or tears; and the most common observer could not fail to be struck with the placidity of her woe. Hers was not

But,

"the loud, obstreperous grief,

That rudely clamours for relief;
"Twas not the querulous lament

In which impatience seeks a vent;"

"The bursting heart, the imploring eye
To heaven uprais'd in agony."

It was obvious that she felt that no earthly hope, no human consolation was left her; that for her there was no fond husband to share, no friend to mitigate, her grief. Nor had she a mother, sister, or brother, who would visit her in this her hour of misery and degradation. Who can describe, even under the most favourable circumstances, the desolation of a mother's heart when weeping over the corpse of her child? The caresses, and the earnest but vain kind

ness of the partner of her cares-he, alas! wanting

the consolation which he tries to impart,-
-are alike
unheeded. One object alone occupies her thoughts,
and it is not until time has had its wonted effect that
she feels she has other claims upon her affections.
Then it is that the value of a husband's love, his
anxiety to alleviate her distress, and his efforts to fill
her mind with new objects are appreciated and be-
come efficacious. The acuteness of her woe gradually
subsides; and, if she does not become reconciled to
her loss, she is at least capable of fulfilling her duties,
and eventually recovers her cheerfulness. But con-
trast her situation with that of the wretched victim to
a villain's wiles, whose appearance on the day of her
child's burial I have been trying to describe. Her
woe was unshared her grief was unalleviated: her
desolation was uncared for. Despised by her own
sex, since

"All other woes a tear may claim
Except an erring sister's shame,"

she will be only noticed by the other from the most despicable motives. When she may become sufficiently recovered in mind and body to be sensible of kindness, there is no one to bestow it: a change of scene might improve her spirits and her health, but who is there to assist, or who to sympathize with a deserted and degraded woman? Her reflections, when she can think of aught excepting of the object from which she has been for ever separated, will only

add to her wretchedness, for they must remind her of her dishonour; that she is a mark for the scorner and a prey for the profligate; and that her bread can only be earned by the wages of infamy. If compassion be extended to her, she will nevertheless be deemed to carry about her a moral contagion, from which it is the duty of the pure to keep aloof. The commonest act of humanity will be to her an important favour; her future life must be one of endurance and privation, if not of sin; and though repentance, deep and sincere repentance, may obtain for her the forgiveness of her God, she can never hope for that of her less merciful, though scarcely less sinful, fellow creatures.

Such is the penalty which erring woman pays, and for the interests of morality, wisely pays for an aberration from virtue; but if the prompter and partner of the crime which destroyed the happiness of the wretched being in question had seen her on the occasion to which I have alluded, he must have possessed a heart of adamant, and a mind capable of any atrocity, if he had not felt shame, sorrow, and repentance for the “ruin he had wrought.”

H.

SONNET ON EMIGRATION.

QUICK, Swarming England! do not seek to coop
Thy rising myriads in one narrow hive,
Where their young vigour hath not space to thrive ;
But for their flight thy portals freely ope.

Till

The task of Adam's sons is not complete :
Earth is not yet replenished and subdued.
East, west, north, south, send then thy multitude,
every climate hath its numbers meet;
Exert thy magic arts, thy time-taught skill
To till the lands; the sultry south compel
To let thy sons uninjured with her dwell;
Nor suffer more the frozen north to kill.
To plant the wastes of earth with Adam's seed
Than thine I know not of a hardier breed.

F. G.

THE MINSTREL GREY.

66

OH, list to my lay," said a minstrel grey, As he paused at a baron's proud hall; The lord said nay, the lady said ay,

But fair Emmeline spoke not at all. Then a strain he sung till the castle walls rung, For his harp had wondrous power;

And sweet was his tale as the summer eve gale When it kisses the sleeping flower.

Red blood like wine flowed in Palestine

The holy cross to rear;

But the feat is done, and the field is won,
And the pilgrim has nought to fear!
And the crescent lies low, and the Soldan foe
Long, long o'er his loss shall wail;
For the Lion-heart played a gallant part,
When the lilies of France grew pale.

In that fair land, on King Richard's right hand, Fought one for his lady love;

By a father's pride to his suit denied,

But vows are recorded above.