ed to sing in mixed companies, and was about
making some objections, when the widow interrupted him with one of those
Irish "Ah, now's," so hard to resist. "Besides, all the noisy pack are
in the dancing-room, or indeed I wouldn't ask you; and here there's not
one won't be charmed with you. Ah, look at Miss Monk, there--I know
she's dying to hear you; and see all the ladies _hanging on your lips_
absolutely. Can you refuse me after _that_, now?"

It was true that in the small room where they sat there were only those
who were worthy of better things than Edward would have ventured on to
the many; and filled with the tender and passionate sentiment his
conversation with Miss Monk had awakened, one of those effusions of
deep, and earnest, and poetic feeling which love had prompted to his
muse rose to his lips, and he began to sing.

All were silent, for the poet singer was a favourite, and all knew with
what touching expression he gave his compositions; but now the mellow
tones of his voice seemed to vibrate with a feeling in more than common
unison with the words, and his dark earnest eyes beamed with a devotion
of which she who was the object might be proud.

A LEAF THAT REMINDS OF THEE

I

How sweet is the hour we give,
When fancy may wander free,
To the friends who in memory live!--
For then I remember thee!
Then wing'd, like the dove from the ark,
My heart, o'er a stormy sea,
Brings back to my lonely bark
A leaf that reminds of thee!

II

But still does the sky look dark,
The waters still deep and wide;
Oh! when may my lonely bark
In peace on the shore abide?
But through the future far,
Dark though my course may be,
_Thou_ art my guiding star!
My heart still turns to thee.

III

When I see thy friends I smile,
I sigh when I hear thy name;
But they cannot tell the while
Whence the smile or the sadness came;
Vainly the world may deem
The cause of my sighs they know:
The breeze that stirs the stream
Knows not the depth below.

Before the first verse of the song was over, the entrance to the room
was filled with eager listeners, and, at its conclusion, a large
proportion of the company from the dancing-room had crowded round the
door, attracted by the rich voice of the singer, and fascinated into
silence by the charm of his song. Perhaps after mental qualities, the