--fancies without number--
Filled breast and brain with fire.
She dreamed; and, in her dreams, saw, bending o'er her,
A form her fervid fancy deified;
And, waking, viewed the noble one before her,
Who wooed her as his bride.

What words--what passionate words he breathed, beseeching,
Have long been lost in the descending years:
Nevertheless she listened to his teaching,
Smiling between her tears.
And ever since that hour the happy maiden
Wanders unknown of any one but Jove;
Regretting not the lost Olympian Aidenn
In the Elysium--Love!

SUNSET AFTER RAIN.

BY ALFRED B. STREET.

All day, with humming and continuous sound,
Streaking the landscape, has the slant rain fall'n;
But now the mist is vanishing; in the west
The dull gray sheet, that shrouded from the sight
The sky, is rent in fragments, and rich streaks
Of tenderest blue are smiling through the clefts.
A dart of sunshine strikes upon the hills,
Then melts. The great clouds whiten, and roll off,
Until a steady blaze of golden light
Kindles the dripping scene. Within the east,
The delicate rainbow suddenly breaks out;
Soft air-breaths flutter round; each tree shakes down
A shower of glittering drops; the woodlands burst
Into a chorus of glad harmony;
And the rich landscape, full of loveliness,
Fades slowly, calmly, sweetly, into night.
Thus, sometimes, is the end of Human life.
In youth and manhood, sorrows may frown round;
But when the sun of Being lowly stoops,
The darkness breaks away--the tears are dried;
The Christian's hope--a rainbow--brightly glows,
And life glides sweet and tranquil to the tomb.

MONTEZUMA MOGGS.

THAT WAS TO BE.

BY THE LATE JOSEPH C. NEAL.

"Now, Moggs--you Moggs--good Moggs--dear Moggs," said his wife,
running through the chromatic scale of matrimonial address, and
modulating her words and her tones from irritation into
tenderness--"yes, Moggs--that's a good soul--I do wish for once you
would try to be a little useful to your family. Stay at home to-day,
Moggs, can't you, while I do the washing? It would be so pleasant,
Moggs--so like old times, to hear you whistling at your work, while I
am busy at mine."

And a smile of affection stole across the countenance of Mrs. Moggs,
like a stray sunbeam on a cloudy day, b