cadi read the letter,
When he call'd together all his bridesmen,
Boune himself to bring the lady homewards,
And he brought the veil as she entreated.

Jocundly they reach'd the princely mansion,
Jocundly they bore her thence in triumph;
But when they drew near to Asan's dwelling,
Then the children recognized their mother,
And they cried, "Come back unto thy chamber--
Share the meal this evening with thy children;"
And she turn'd her to the lordly bridegroom--
"Pray thee, let the bridesmen and their horses
Halt a little by the once-loved dwelling,
Till I give these presents to my children."

And they halted by the once-loved dwelling,
And she gave the weeping children presents,
Gave each boy a cap with gold embroider'd,
Gave each girl a long and costly garment,
And with tears she left a tiny mantle
For the helpless baby in the cradle.

These things mark'd the father, Asan Aga,
And in sorrow call'd he to his children--
"Turn again to me, ye poor deserted;
Hard as steel is now your mother's bosom;
Shut so fast, it cannot throb with pity!"

Thus he spoke; and when the lady heard him,
Pale as death she dropp'd upon the pavement,
And the life fled from her wretched bosom
As she saw her children turning from her.

MY FIRST LOVE.

A SKETCH IN NEW YORK.

"Margaret, where are you?" cried a silver-toned voice from a passage
outside the drawing-room in which I had just seated myself. The next
instant a lovely face appeared at the door, its owner tripped into
the room, made a comical curtsy, and ran up to her sister.

"It is really too bad, Margaret; pa' frets and bustles about, nearly
runs over me upon the stairs, and then goes down the street as if
'Change were on fire. Ma' yawns, and will not hear of our going
shopping, and grumbles about money--always money--that horrid money!
Ah! dear Margaret, our shopping excursion is at an end for to-day!"

Sister Margaret, to whom this lamentation was addressed, was
reclining on the sofa, her left hand supporting her head, her right
holding the third volume of a novel. She looked up with a languishing
and die-away expression--

"Poor Staunton will be in despair," said her sister. "This is at
least his tenth turn up and down the Battery. Last night he was a
perfect picture of misery. I could not have had the heart to refuse
to dance with him. How could you be so cruel, Margaret?"

"Alas!" replied Margaret w