He counted the red goud slowly o'er,
By twenties and by tens,

And said I had taken the only means,
To attain my hopeful ends.

And now, said he, your husband's safe,
You may take this pledge of me,
And I'll tell you, fair one, where you'll go
To gain this certaintye.

Gang west the street and down the bow,
And through the market place,
And there you'll meet with a gentleman,
Of a tall and courteous grace.

He is clad in a livery of the green,
With a plume about his bree,
And armed with a halbert glittering sheen,
Your love he will let you see.

O Marjory never flew blithsome bird,
So light out through the sky,
As I flew up that stately street,
Weeping for very joy.

O, never flew lamb out o'er the lea,
When the sun gangs o'er the hill,
Wi' lighter blither steps than me,
Or skipped wi' sic good will.
And aye I blessed the precious ore,
My husband's life that wan,
And I even blessed the popish duke,
For a kind, good-hearted man.

The officer I soon found out,

For he could not be mistook,
But in all my life I never beheld
Sic a grim and gruesome look.

I asked him for my dear, dear James,
With throbs of wild delight,

And begged him in his master's name,
To take me to his sight.

He asked me for his true address,

With a voice at which I shook,
For I saw that he was a popish knave
By the terror of his look.

I named the name with a buoyant voice,
That trembled with extasye,

But the savage brayed a hideous laugh,
Then turned and grinned at me.

He pointed up to the city wall;
One look benumbed my soul,
For there I saw my husband's head
Fixed high upon a pole.

His yellow hair waved in the wind,

And far behind did flee,

And his right hand hang beside his check, A waesome sight to see.

His chin hung down on open space,

Yet comely was his brow,

And his een were open to the breeze,

There was nane to close them now.

'What think you of your true love now?' The hideous porter said;

'Is not that a comely sight to see,
And sweet to a whiggish maid !'

O, haud your tong, ye popish slave,
For I downae answer you;

He was dear, dear to my heart before,
But never sae dear as now.

I see a sight you cannot see,
Which man cannot efface;
I see a ray of heavenly love
Beaming on that dear face.

And weel I ken yon bonny brent brow,
Will smile in the walks on high,

And yon yellow hair, all blood-stained now,
Maun wave aboon the sky.

But can you trow me, Marjory dear,

In the might of heavenly grace,

There was never a sigh burst frae my heart,
Nor a tear ran o'er my face.

But I blessed my God, who had thus seen meet,
To take him from my side,

To call him home to the courts above,
And leave me a virgin bride."

"Alak, alak, bonny Morley Reid,

That sic days we hae lived to see,
For sickan a cruel and waefu' tale
Was never yet heard by me.

And all this time, I have trembling weened,
That your dear wits were gone,
For there is a joy in your countenance,
Which I never saw beam thereon.

Then let us kneel with humble hearts,
To the God whom we revere,

Who never yet laid that burden on,
Which he gave not strength to bear."

AN ANNUAL TREAT.

HENRY J. BYRON.

I HAVE Some friends, some little friends, who live in Camden Town,

Their Christian names are John, and James, and Jane -their surname Brown

Their father is a City-man," of moderate renown.

Joe Brown's a hearty Hercules, as any one may see, With a step as firm as friendship, though he's rising fifty-three

He's bland and baldish-headed, as a merchant ought to be.

Joe Brown and I were schoolfellows-ye gods, how time doth pass!

It seems but yesterday he stood beside me up "in class."

And now I count the wrinkles as I look into the glass.

It seems but yesterday, I bought from Joe his cricket

bat

That I was thrashed for putting stones into the usher's hat,

And Joe they threatened to expel for grumbling at the fat.

But stop-this is irrelevant-I was about to say,

That as the winter cometh round, on every Boxingday,

I take Brown's little family all panting to the play..

I shall continue to do this, and see in it no crime, Till John and James are grown up men, and talk about their time,

And little Jane shall see no fun in Christmas Pantomime.

The little ones count all the days till Christmas cometh round;

They love to feel the cold and see the snow upon ground:

They spell the coloured play-bills through, all breathless, I'll be bound.

I've had an early dinner, and I've had an early tea, The hour-hand points at six o'clock, the time flies rapidlie,

And well I know those little Browns are looking out

for me.

I hire a roomy one-horse fly, I have it every year,
The driver is a civil man, is careful, and not dear;
I never grudge that civil man a pint or so of beer.

I do not say where we are bound, no need is there to tell,

He's been there some half-dozen times, and knows the house right well,

He driveth bravely to the door, and pulleth at the bell. Above the parlour blinds, the little anxious eyes I see, Young John shouts madly in his joy, and Jane is wild with glee,

And James has flatten'd 'gainst the pane his nose since half-past three.

No tea have those three children had no appetite had

they;

Their tops and hoops neglected lie, untouched for many a day

They have no wish for marbles now, or any kind of play.

A word or so and off we go, all jammed into the fly, We drive up to the theatre-a bill or so we buy ; Young John cannot contain his joy, and wildly shouts "My eye!"

We quickly gain our places, and the overture com

mences,

We buy young James the Pantomime, 'tis printed and sixpence is,

Young James doth drop it in the pit, his pleasure so intense is.

The overture is over, and the Pantomime begins,

"Tis full of Ogres, Giants, Fairies, Demons, Dwarfs, and Djinns ;

"Tis called "The King of Laughter and the Island of Broadgrins."

And very grand the children think that mighty King must be,

Who hath a speaking-trumpet voice and head enough for three,

Shakespeare to them's a charlatan, compared to "E. L. B."