is and violets dwell.
I know where the foxglove rears its head,
And where the heather tufts are spread;
I know where the meadow-sweets exhale,
And the white valerians load the gale.
I know the spot the bees love best,
And where the linnet has built her nest.
I know the bushes the grouse frequent,
And the nooks where the shy deer browse the bent.
I know each tree to thy fountain head--
The lady birches, slim and fair;

[Illustration]

The feathery larch, the rowans red,
The brambles trailing their tangled hair;
And each is link'd to my waking thought
By some remembrance fancy-fraught.

[Illustration]

Yet, lovely stream, unknown to fame,
Thou hast oozed, and flow'd, and leap'd, and run,
Ever since Time its course begun,
Without a record, without a name.
I ask'd the shepherd on the hill--
He knew thee but as a common rill;
I ask'd the farmer's blue-eyed daughter--
She knew thee but as a running water;
I ask'd the boatman on the shore
(He was never ask'd to tell before)--
Thou wert a brook, and nothing more.

Yet, stream, so dear to me alone,
I prize and cherish thee none the less
That thou flowest unseen, unpraised, unknown,
In the unfrequented wilderness.
Though none admire and lay to heart
How good and beautiful thou art,
Thy flow'rets bloom, thy waters run,
And the free birds chaunt thy benison.
Beauty is beauty, though unseen;
And those who love it all their days,
Find meet reward in their soul serene,
And the inner voice of prayer and praise.

* * * * *

STAFFA.

[Illustration: Letter H.]

Having surveyed the various objects in Iona, we sailed for a spot no
less interesting. Thousands have described it. Few, however, have seen
it by torch or candle light, and in this respect we differ from most
tourists. All description, however, of this far-famed wonder must be
vain and fruitless. The shades of night were fast descending, and had
settled on the still waves and the little group of islets, called the
Treshnish Isles, when our vessel approached the celebrated Temple of the
Sea. We had light enough to discern its symmetry and proportions; but
the colour of the rock--a dark grey--and the minuter graces of the
columns, were undistinguishable in the evening gloom. The great face of
the rock is the mos