be supposed, offered no vexatious resistance to her
request.

Julie, indeed, had never loved him, and consequently had little
difficulty in forgiving Lucille her treason. Inspired by the example of
her companion, she proved the sincerity of those professions which so
few had believed in, by taking the veil on the same day with Lucille.

The astounding and mysterious adventure which, under these melancholy
circumstances, closed the hazardous romance of Lucille's existence,
would form in itself a story, too long, however, to be told in a single
page.

BARRY CORNWALL'S LAST SONG.

Mr. Proctor does not write very often now-a-days, but he has contributed
several songs lately to the _Ladies' Companion_, which remind us of his
best performances. Here is one:--

Sit near! sit near! I kiss thy lips,
Ripe, richer than the crimson cherry.
Girl, canst thou love me in eclipse?
Tell me, and bid my soul be merry.

My light is dim, my fortune fled;
I've nothing save the love I bear thee.
Give back _thy_ love, or I am dead;--
A word--a look--whilst I can hear thee.

Sit nearer! near! I kiss thine eyes;
There,--where the white lids part asunder.
I love thee--dost thou hear my sighs?
Love thee beyond the world, thou wonder!

My life is spent. I've nothing left
To tender now, save love's soft duty;
Yet, gaze I,--of all else bereft,--
And feed till death upon thy beauty.

From the London Keepsake

ANIMA MUNDI.

BY RICHARD MONCTON MILNES.

"Anima Mundi"--of thyself existing,
Without diversity or change to fear,
Say, has this life to which we cling persisting,
Part in communion with thy steadfast sphere?
Does thy serene eternity sublime
Embrace the slaves of Circumstance and Time?

Could we remain continually content
To heap fresh pleasure on the coming day,
Could we rest happy in the sole intent
To make the hours more graceful or more gay,
Then must the essence of our nature be
That of the beasts that perish, not of Thee.

But if we mourn, not because time is fleeting,
Not because life is short and some die young,
But because parting ever follows meeting;
And, while our hearts with constant loss are wrung,
Our minds are tossed in doubt from sea to sea,
Then may we claim community with thee.

We cannot live by instincts--forced to let
To-mo