nge the subterranean vast,
Dark catacombs of ages, twilight dells,
And footmarks of the centuries long past,
Which look on us from their sepulchral cells.

Then glad emerge we to the cheering day,
Some sun-ranged height, or Alpine snowy crown,
Or Chimborazo towering far away
O'er the great Andes chain, and, looking down,
On flaming Cordilleras, mountain thrown
O'er mountain, vast new realms.
The Creation--REV. I. WILLIAMS.

The same impression of the Illustrated London News which delighted Jane
Beckett's simple heart in England, caused no small sensation at Lima.

Dona Rosita cast one glance at El Visconde there portrayed, and then
became absorbed in Clara's bonnet; Mr. Robson pronounced Lord
Ormersfield as good a likeness as Mr. Dynevor, Mr. Ponsonby cast a
scornful look and smile at the unlucky figure representing Fitzjocelyn;
and not a critical voice was heard, excepting Tom Madison's, who
indignantly declared that they had made the young Lord look as if he
had stood behind a counter all his life.

The juxtaposition of Lord Fitzjocelyn and Mr. Dynevor's niece, was not
by any means forgotten. It looked very like a graceful conclusion to
Oliver's exertions that he should crown their union, and the county
paper, which had likewise been forwarded, very nearly hinted as much.
Mr. Ponsonby took care that the paragraph should be laid in his
daughter's way, and he offered her the sight of Oliver Dynevor's own
letter.

Mary suspected that he regarded it as something conclusive, and took
care to read it when there were no eyes to mark her emotions.
'Ormersfield and his son were there,' wrote Oliver. 'The young man is
not so soft as he looks. They tell me he is going to work sensibly at
the estate, and he has a sharp eye for the main chance. I hear he
played fast and loose till he found your daughter had better prospects
than Miss Conway, whom my fool of a nephew chose to marry, and now he
is making up to my niece. My mother dotes on him, and I shall make no
objection--no extravagance that I can see, and he will take care of the
property. You will take no offence, since you refuse the tender
altogether.'

Of this Mary believed two sentences--namely, that Aunt Catharine doted
on Fitzjocelyn, and that he was not so soft as he looked, which she
took as an admission that he was not comporting himself foolishly. She
was quite aware that the friendship between him and Clara might