heap.
Delaunay? No, he didn't follow,
Nor even drew rein when she fell;
But rode on, the longest way round, sir.
When he came back to claim her--well,
She was dead in the arms of her lover--
Claspt tight in his mad embrace;--
With her life-blood staining her tresses,
And a sad, sweet smile on her face.

I heard the last words that she uttered--
"My love! tell my father I tried
To do what was best for his honour;
For you and for him I have died."

A SONG FOR THE END OF THE SEASON.

BY J.R. PLANCHE.

(_FROM THE "DRAMATIC COLLEGE ANNUAL."_)

Sir John has this moment gone by
In the brougham that was to be mine,
But, my dear, I'm not going to cry,
Though I know where he's going to dine.
I shall meet him at Lady Gay's ball
With that girl to his arm clinging fast,
But it won't, love, disturb me at all,
I've recovered my spirits at last!

I was horribly low for a week,
For I could not go out anywhere
Without hearing, "You know they don't speak;"
Or, "I'm told it's all broken off there."
But the Earl whispered something last night,
I sha'n't say exactly what past,
But of this, dear, be satisfied quite,
I've recovered my spirits at last!

THE AGED PILOT MAN.

BY MARK TWAIN.

On the Erie Canal, it was,
All on a summer's day,
I sailed forth with my parents
Far away to Albany.

From out the clouds at noon that day
There came a dreadful storm,
That piled the billows high about,
And filled us with alarm.

A man came rushing from a house,
"Tie up your boat I pray!
Tie up your boat, tie up, alas!
Tie up while yet you may."

Our captain cast one glance astern,