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impse of azure vanished, and I could see nothing but the frowning sides of the precipice as I went down, my pace accelerating every moment. I believed I could gain a hold or footing on the shelving rock where I had found Helen, but it gave way as I touched it and slid suddenly down the ravine. I was dizzy and bruised, but was wondering if Helen would give the alarm--if Georgy would be sorry. I thought with pity of my mother, who would surely weep for me. Then I heard Beppo barking joyfully, and I knew that I was at the bottom of the abyss. I suffered a few seconds of such terrible pain that I was glad when a sickening sort of quietude settled over me, and I felt that I must be dying. ELLEN W. OLNEY. [TO BE CONTINUED.] A SEA-SOUND. Hush! hush! 'Tis the voice of the sea to the land, As it breaks on the desolate strand, With a chime to the strenuous wave of life That throbs in the quivering sand. Hush! hush! Each requiem tone as it dies, With a soul that is parting, sighs; For the tide rolls back from the pulseless clay As the foam in the tempest flies. Hush! hush! O throb of the restless sea! All hearts are attuned to thee-- All pulses beat with thine ebb and flow To the rhyme of Eternity! JOHN B. TABB. THE BRITISH SOLDIER. I allude to the British soldier, more especially, as I lately observed and admired him at Aldershot, where, just now, he appears to particular advantage; but at any time during the past twelvemonth--since England and Russia have stood glaring at each other across the prostrate body of the expiring yet reviving Turk--this actually ornamental and potentially useful personage has been picturesquely, agreeably conspicuous. I say "agreeably," speaking from my own humble point of view, because I confess to a lively admiration of the military class. I exclaim, cordially, with Offenbach's Grand Duchess, "Ah, oui, j'aime les militaires!" Mr. Ruskin has said somewhere, very naturally, that he could never resign himself to living in a country in which, as in the United States, there should be no old castles. Putting aside the old castles, I should say, like Mr. Ruskin, that life loses a certain indispensable charm in a country destitute of an apparent standing army. Certainly, the army may be too apparent, too importunate, too terrible a burden to the state and to the conscience of the philosophic observer. This is the cas
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