bois, eagerly
advancing toward the Lady of Croye, his eyes gloating over the rich
jewels which adorned her person, and his long, skinny fingers seeming
ready to tear the coveted gems from her fair neck and arms. Indeed,
but for the presence of his stern daughter, Martha, I doubted whether
he would not at least make the attempt.

"Father, come home! this is no place for you--come home!" she said, in
deep, slow tones.

"Nay, daughter, I would but offer to serve these rich nobles for a
small con-sider-ation; let me go, Martha--let me go, I say!" as
placing her powerful arm within his, she drew him reluctantly toward
the door.

Suddenly a flourish of warlike music swelled through the lofty
apartment--peal on peal reverberated around--and while I listened with
awe to notes so grand and solemn, the music as suddenly changed its
character. Now only the dulcet tones of the harp were heard, sweet as
the soft summer shower when the tinkling rain-drops merrily pelt the
flowers--strains so sweetly harmonious as seemed too heavenly for
mortal touch. And as fainter and fainter, yet still more sweet, the
ravishing melody breathed around, one by one the company glided out
silently and mournfully--the tapestried walls gradually assumed the
appearance of my own little parlor--the rich and tasteful decorations
vanished--_and where was I?_ Seated in my own comfortable
rocking-chair, reclining in the same attitude as when so suddenly
summoned forth by the gipsy carline. Truly,

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio.
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

HOMEWARD BOUND.

BY E. CURTISS HINE, U. S. N.

For weary years my feet had wandered
On many a fair but distant shore;
By Lima's crumbling walls I'd pondered
And gazed upon the Andes hoar.
The ocean's wild and restless billow,
That rears its crested head on high,
For years had been my couch and pillow,
Until its sameness pained my eye.

The playmates of my joyous childhood,
With whom I laughed the hours away,
And wandered through the tangled wildwood
Till close of sultry summer day;
My aged, gray, and feeble mother,
Whom most I longed to see again,
My sisters, and my only brother,
Were o'er the wild and faithless main.

At length the lagging days were numbered,
That bound me to a foreign shore,
And glorious hopes that long had slumbered
Again their gi