ees she there
But quarrels and cavils, but sorrow and care?
She looks in within, and she feels in her breast
A dawning o' glory, a foretaste o' rest.

The hope o' hereafter her lane bosom cheers,
She langs sair to meet him wha left her in tears;
And life's flickerin' licht, as it wanes fast awa',
But fades to gie place to a far brichter daw.

The God o' high heaven is her comfort and guide,
When earthly friends leave her, He stands by her side;
He soothes a' her sorrows, an' hushes her fears,
An' fountains o' joy rise frae well-springs o' tears.

Then, oh! shew the widow the smile on your face,
She 's aft puir in gear, but she 's aft rich in grace;
Be kind to the widow, her Friend is on high,
You 'll meet wi' the widow again in the sky.

MRS ELIZA A. H. OGILVY.

The accomplished author of some poetical works, Mrs Eliza A. H. Ogilvy,
is the daughter of Abercromby Dick, Esq., who for many years held an
appointment in the civil service of the Honourable East India Company.
Her childhood was passed in Scotland, under the care of her paternal
uncle, Sir Robert Dick of Tullymett, who, at the head of his division,
fell at the battle of Sobraon. After a period of residence in India, to
which she had gone in early youth, she returned to Britain. In 1843, she
was united in marriage to David Ogilvy, Esq., a cadet of the old
Scottish family of Inverquharity. Several years of her married life have
been spent in Italy; at present she resides with her husband and
children at Sydenham, Kent. "A Book of Scottish Minstrelsy," being a
series of ballads founded on legendary tales of the Scottish Highlands,
appeared from her pen in 1846, and was well received by the press. She
has since published "Traditions of Tuscany," and "Poems of Ten Years."

CRAIG ELACHIE.

Blue are the hills above the Spey,
The rocks are red that line his way;
Green is the strath his waters lave,
And fresh the turf upon the grave
Where sleep my sire and sisters three,
Where none are left to mourn for me:
Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!

The roofs that shelter'd me and mine
Hold strangers of a Sassenach line;
Our hamlet thresholds ne'er can shew
The friendly forms of long ago;
The rooks upon the old yew-tree
Would e'en have stranger notes to me:
Stand fast, stand fast, Craig Elachie!

The cattle feeding on the