terested in their visitors, could hardly restrain them from joining their comrades in the town. The firing had ceased for some time, and the sentinel was resuming his quarter-deck pace, which he had ceased to listen for some sound that might inform him of the fate of the day, when he was stopped by Belson, breathless through the haste with which he had run. "All right, my lad, in the house!" —“Ay, ay, sir,-all safe and stowed away."-"That's right, my lad-the town is ours, and plenty in it too." A few steps, the room was gained, and Lora folded in the arms that loved her best. The feelings of her aunt were no doubt enviable at that moment. "We'll sail this evening, love, to the land of liberty, in spite of old Fagot there; and when my commission's made out as commander of my tight little hooker here, if I'm not the happiest fellow that ever wore a blue jacket, why, I'm d-d if I don't deserve to be flung overboard, and keelhauled through every fleet in Europe!"

Little more now remains to be told. The plunder they got in the town was beyond their expectation; and their joy was only damped through regret for those who had fallen. The first mate was found dead 'neath the wall of the keep. A bullet had gone through his head. He paid the penalty of his disobedience with the forfeit of his life. In one short hour man or woman's destiny may be accomplished. That very day, on the eve of sailing, five as pretty recruits as ever hoisted "the plain gold ring," volunteered for service in England. May, June, and part of July passed, and the white cliff's of Albion broke the line of the horizon. A few miles from the mouth of the Thames, on the Kent side, stood, in a small hamlet commanding a beautiful view of the river and the distant sea, a small cottage, whose walls were thickly covered with the climatis, honeysuckle, and rose; and before it a neat lawn stretched down to a brawling rill, that murmuring onward glided to the sea. The house was surmounted on the top by the top-mast of a small man-of-war, serving for a flag-staff, and on each side the door were planted three brass six-pounders, whose hoarse throats vomited forth noisy congratulations on every jour de fete, the wonder and pride of the village. 'Twas there the skipper and his bride had come to anchor, attended by old Ben, the faithful companion of their varied fortunes, in that haven to weather out the storms of life; and the many wonderful adventures of the cockswain on the Spanish main, are still current among the peasantry of that coast.

East Lothian Journal.

And still to love, though press'd with ill,
In wintry age to feel no chill,

With me is to be lovely still,

My Mary!

But ah! by constant heed I know,
How oft the sadness that I show,
Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe,

My Mary!

And should my future lot be cast

With much resemblance of the past,

Thy worn-out heart will break at last,

My Mary!

COWPER.

THE SOWER'S SONG.

Now yarely and soft, my boys,

Come step we, and cast; for Time 's o' wing;
And wouldst thou partake of harvest's joys,
The corn must be sown in spring.

Fall gently and still, good corn,
Lie warm in thy earthly bed;
And stand so yellow some morn,
For beast and man must be fed.

Old earth has put on, you see,
Her sunshiny coat of red and green;
The furrow lies fresh; this year will be,
As years that are past have been.
Fall gently, &c.

Old mother, receive this corn,

The son of six thousand golden sires;

All these on thy kindly breast were born-
One more thy poor child requires..
Fall gently, &c.

Now lightly and soft again,

And measure of stroke and step let's keep;
Thus up and thus down we cast our grain,--

Sow well and you gladly reap.

Fall gently and still, good corn,
Lie warm in thy earthly bed;
And stand so yellow some morn,
For beast and man must be fed.

Fraser's Mag.

LA BELLA TABACCAIA.

I WISH this tale had more of the romantic, or was more akin to the every day occurrences of domestic life. As it is, it may chance to please nobody. There are none of these wonderful incidents, which, without the aid of genii and fairies, prove that the tighter we stretch the chord of possibility, the more it vibrates to our extraordinary hopes and fears. Nor has it any thing like a misdirected letter, creating a volume of dilemmas, and then lost, and then getting, in worse hands, worse and worse interpreted; or a lady not at home on that unfortunate Monday, when affairs might have been set on a right footing; or the feeing of a loyal servant-maid, quite by mistake, with a bad sovereign; or the doul ts, deliberations, and delays of lawyers over a plain, straightforward last will and testament; or an amorous gentleman blundering on the aunt's name for the niece's; or a husband seeing his wife embrace a long-lost brother, and calling to Thomas for pistols for three;-alas! I can offer nothing of this interesting nature, It is merely one of those tales, the best parts of which, for the honour of human nature, ought to happen oftener; and perhaps they may be in fashion when men and women grow a great deal wiser. The utmost I can say in its praise is, that it is as true as affidavits and a court of justice can make it. By the bye, being somewhat allied to the favourite Newgate Calendar, it strikes me it may be twisted, with considerable additions, into a tolerable melo-drama, and that is no mean recommendation. Let Drury and Covent-Garden look to it. They can get it crammed full of "good sentiments," so palpable, a child may pen them down. And if at a loss for a title, to prepare the audience for a stronger dose than usual, why not call it "The Queen of Hearts?" Besides, they can introduce an Italian vineyard, the best that can be had in London.

Nina was an orphan, and, at the age of fifteen, mistress of a snuff and tobacco shop in Pisa, under the discreet guidance of an aunt, who boarded and lodged with her by virtue of her experience. The stock in trade, a little ready money, and two houses in the suburbs of Leghorn, were her patrimony. She had the fairest complexion with the darkest ringlets that ever were formed together; and though no one ever criticised her lips as rather too full, yet some fastidious admirers objected to the largeness of her eyes-but they could not have remarked their lustre and expression, nor the beautiful jet lashes which shaded them. She was called La Bella Tabaccaia. The students of the university, as they returned from lecture,

always peeped into the shop, to see if Nina was behind the counter; and, if she was, nine out of ten walked in and asked for cigars. There they lighted them one after the other at the pan of charcoal, and by turns, puffing awhile for invention, ventured on some gallant compliments. If these were received with a smile, as they generally were, and often more roguishly than would be considered within the rules of a bench of old English ladies, then away they went to strut on the Lung'arno with a much gayer notion of themselves. The grave ones of the neighbourhood thought it a pity she could encourage such idle talk; and the aunt constantly advised her to go into the inner room, whenever those wild young fellows made their appearance. But Nina had all the vivacity, the joyousness of youth, almost of childhood, and defended herself by saying, "La! aunt, there can be no harm in their merriment; for my mother used to tell me, young men with serious faces were the only dangerous ones. And the mother's authority never failed in silencing the

aunt.

Late one evening, a student entered while Nina was alone in the shop. After a single glance, he sat down by the side of the counter, took up a knife that lay there, and began seemingly to play with it, but with a countenance that betrayed the most violent agitation. The poor girl, never having witnessed any thing like despair, imagined he was intoxicated; and, as the safest means of avoiding insult, remained firmly in her place. On a sudden, the youth, grasping the knife in his hand, seized her by the hair, and threatened death if she did not immediately, and without a word or a scream, give him her money. Instead of complying, quietly and on the instant, in her fright she shrieked for help, and struggled with him. Had not the youth felt a touch of pity, even in that moment of frenzy, she would have been destroyed. For her strug gles were in vain, and the knife was at her bosom, when some passengers, hearing her cries, together with the neighbours from the adjoining houses, ran in and seized him. Without further question, they placed him in the hands of the Sbirri, who led him directly to the police, and Nina was required to follow. Her evidence was written down, and she was ordered to sign the paper. To this she complied, with no other thought than that she had not been guilty of the slightest exaggeration. As she laid down the pen, the officer assured her she might rely on the utmost redress for such an outrage; as her evidence was not only the clearest, but it completely tallied with the prisoner's confession; and ended with " Be under no apprehension, my good girl, for you will shortly see him in yellow," alluding to the colour which those convicts wear who are sentenced to hard labour for life. It was not till these words were