imself for entertaining such a
delusion; but still, in spite of his efforts to get rid of it, the
feeling continued. He had a dim and vague idea that something impalpable
was near him, now by his side, now before him, _never behind him_,
looking as eagerly and as anxiously as himself for the lost diamonds. He
inwardly cursed his own cowardice, for he thought this apparition was
born from his guilty conscience, and he determined to pay no heed to it.

At last he approached a cluster of alder bushes, which he now remembered
to have been the place where Annie threw away the ring. He was about to
commence a search among these, when suddenly Miriam stood between him
and the bushes. He saw her distinctly for a moment, and then she
vanished from his gaze. He pursued her in the direction she had taken,
but no trace of her could he find. Then, recollecting how very ill she
was, he became convinced that he had become subject to an optical
illusion. But he had now become fearful and nervous, and dared not
return to the spot to renew the search. And thus it was that the ring
was left upon the twig of alder to bear witness against him.

NAPOLEON'S TOMB.

_Written by_ HON. ROBERT J. WALKER (_then a student_) _in 1821,
on hearing of the death of Napoleon_.

See where amid the Ocean's surging tide
A little island lifts its desert side,
Where storms on storms in ceaseless torrents pour,
And howling billows lash its rocky shore--
There lies Napoleon in his island tomb:
Nations combined to antedate his doom.
Mars nursed the infant in a thundercloud,
France gave him empire, Britain wrought his shroud.
Danger and glory claimed him as their own,
And Fortune marked him as her favorite son;
Science seemed dozing in eternal sleep,
And superstition brooded o'er the deep;
Black was the midnight of the human soul,
Such Gothic darkness shrouds the icy pole:
Napoleon bade his conquering legions pour
The blaze of battle on from shore to shore:
Though blood and havoc marked the victor's way,
Blest Science shed her genial ray.
Betrayed, not conquered, round the hero's sleep
The Arts shall mourn, and Genius vigil keep.

THE DESTINY OF THE AFRICAN RACE IN THE UNITED STATES.

Many persons may be disposed to receive with a large share of scepticism
the affirmation that there is an aspect of the 'negro question,' which
has not, within the last thirty years of ceaseless agitation, undergone