LADY MARY.

And you are just six feet!—that's what Lady Carberry said" such height," said she, "such a figure to set off the dress; et puis des moustaches; ah, ciel!" You know how enthusiastic she is.

MR. LESLIE.

A fascinating creature, certainly, at times, and not without considerable tact; but, won't Harry Dormer's mustachios do?-ha, ha, ha! they might drop off, to be sure

LADY MARY.

I hear he does nothing, from morning to night, but practise before a pier glass; and says you're just six inches too tall for the part.

MR. LESLIE.

Good; excellent; capital! he makes quite sure of it then?

LADY MARY.

Oh, yes ! for when I was sounded on the subject, I gave no hope whatever of our breaking the Hendon engagement.

MR. LESLIE.

Confound the Hendon engagement!--you might have consulted me, Lady Mary. I never give definitive answers; always to be avoided, if possible; and I hate a decisive tone in women. My brother may be led by the nose, if he pleases; but I- However, my life! I know your intention was admirable, but another time

are you sure they've really got Petitjean at Beau-Vallon?

LADY MARY.

Oh, positive! - Lord and Lady Cormorant are just come from thence, and they rave about the new chef de cuisine: and poor Marchmont, who has been down at Hendon, filant le parfait amour, with your sister, you know, and is really devotedly attached to her, told me, the other day, he was absolutely obliged to run up to town to get a decent feed. Such a table at Hendon now! des infamies- he swore he could not stand it a day longer.

MR. LESLIE.

Nor will try the experiment, by all that's good. Lord Hendon must take the consequences; for, in my state of health-under existing circumstances-taking every thing into consideration-I know how wretched you would be on my account, my dear Lady Mary-and there's a certain duty a man owes to himself—and,— and all that sort of thing—and, thereforeDo you

think the part of Jaffier is open yet?

LADY MARY.

Oh, I'm sure of it-or if it were not, Lady Carberry would not hesitate a moment to discard Harry Dormer, and make room for you. But consider a moment, what will Lord and Lady Hendon say? what will people think? They may fancy you are influenced by me.

MR. LESLIE.

Oh, no! they know me too well that would be

vastly too absurd; but, when a man's life's at stake (and I really do not feel well); and as my Lord Hendon pleases to forget what is due to his family and friends; and—and then, Beau-Vallon being near town; that all things considered, you may accept Lady Carberry's invitation, and I will arrange the other matter. Poor Dormer! ha, ha, ha! "six inches too tall;" capital! [Exit, laughing.

SILBURY-HILL.

GRAVE of Cunedha, were it vain to call
For one wild lay of all that buried lie
Beneath thy giant mound? From Tara's hall
Faint warblings yet are heard, faint echoes die
Among the Hebrides; the ghost that sung
In Ossian's ear, yet wails in feeble cry
On Morvern; but the harmonies that rung
Around the grove and cromlech, never more
Shall visit earth: for ages have unstrung
The Druid's harp, and shrouded all his lore,
Where under the world's ruin sleep in gloom
The secrets of the flood,-the lettered store,
Which Seth's memorial pillars from the doom
Preserved not, when the deep was Nature's tomb.

H.

TO A DEPARTED SPIRIT.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

I.

FROM the bright stars, or from the viewless air,
Or from some world, unreached by human thought,
Spirit, sweet spirit! if thy home be there,

And if thy visions with the past be fraught,

Answer me, answer me!

II.

Have we not communed here, of life and death?
Have we not said that love, such love as ours,
Was not to perish, as a rose's breath,

To melt away, like song from festal bowers?

Answer, oh! answer me!

III.

Thine eye's last light was mine-the soul that shone
Intensely, mournfully, through gathering haze;
Didst thou bear with thee, to the shore unknown,
Nought of what lived in that long, earnest gaze?

Hear, hear, and answer me !

IV.

Thy voice-its low, soft, fervent, farewell tone
Thrilled through the tempest of the parting strife,
Like a faint breeze-oh! from that music flown
Send back one sound, if love's be quenchless life!

But once, oh! answer me!

V.

In the still noontide, in the sunset's hush,

In the dead hour of night, when thought grows deep; When the heart's phantoms from the darkness rush, Fearfully beautiful, to strive with sleep;

Spirit! then answer me !

VI.

By the remembrance of our blended prayer ;
By all our tears, whose mingling made them sweet;
By our last hope, the victor o'er despair;

Speak!-if our souls in deathless yearnings meet,

Answer me, answer me !