POETRY.

THE TOY SHIP.

A TRUE TALE.

FROM the brow of a hill whence a bay open'd wide,
For a while with an interest unspent,'

I gaz'd on the vessels upborne by the tide,
From the fisherman's craft to the ship in her pride,
Each on its own purpose intent.

A beautiful lake on my left was outspread,
Which an isthmus of pebbles divided

From the blue liquid deep: its spare waters were led
Through a path subterraneous, until to the bed

Of the monstrous Atlantic they glided.

The entrance thereto was in water submerg'd,
Above it, in eddying flow;

To a gurgling centre its waters converg'd,

And whate'er floated near to the vortex was urg'd,

And lost in the current below.

On the lake's wavy margin I noticed a lad

Who was launching with sails ready spread,
A toy-ship, which he with some painstaking had
Brought thither to test: how it made his heart glad
To witness how grandly she sped!

He look'd and look'd on with increasing delight,
But fancying he could command

A still better view from a neighbouring height,
He hied with a footstep both agile and light
T'wards the spot where he purpos'd to stand.

Now a few extra steps would have brought him quite round

To the station he aim'd at; but, no,

So eager was he that he sprang with a bound

O'er the dangerous mouth,-insecure was the ground,
And he sank in the whirlpool below.

Alas, help were vain, if help had been nigh:

The current resistless convey'd him

The dark passage onward, obstructions pass'd by,
Until, at its egress, beneath a clear sky,
A corpse on the shingle it laid him.

The ship had not half its short voyage gone o'er,
When that of its owner was ended.

Where landed the spirit? On what hidden shore
Is it destin'd to live, and to live evermore?
With whom is its fellowship blended?

The future alone can an answer supply;
But a lesson of warning was there :
Our life is uncertain, and death may be nigh,
While amusing ourselves we may suddenly die,
And we now for our end should prepare.

Another wise lesson my tale will convey :---
Let it be on the mem'ry imprest-
Be not hasty in action, but thoughtfully stay,
And determine upon, not the easiest way,
But that which is safest and best.

Helston.

W. C. O.

PARADISE.

If God hath made this world so fair,
Where Sin and Death abound;

How beautiful, beyond compare,
Will Paradise be found!

name.

CAPRI.

HIS is a rocky and beautiful island in the Mediterranean Sea; it stands at the southern entrance of the Neapolitan Gulf, and is about twenty miles from the city of Naples, which it faces. It consists of two great masses of rock, with a considerable hollow between them. The first of these called Anacapri, to the west, is about 1,700 feet above the level of the sea, and contains a little town bearing the same

The inhabitants communicate with the other parts of the island by means of a flight of five hundred and thirtyeight steps, which is carried down the precipice in a very curious manner. The other town, called Capri, stands on a shelving rock towards the eastern extremity of the island. The population is, probably, from three to four thousand souls who, by great industry, have secured patches of good soil on the hill sides, and in the midst of rocks and cliffs, which produce most kinds of vegetables and fruits. The circuit of the island is about nine miles; it contains many scenes of great beauty; of one of these we present our readers with an engraving. The Emperor Tiberius lived a long time at Capri, and the ruins of his villa are still shewn near a bold perpendicular cliff at the eastern end of the island.

Until recently Capri was under the sway of the King of Naples; the revolution inaugurated and consummated, a few years ago, by Garibaldi, wrested it from his yoke, and it has since, with the rest of his dominions, been incorporated with the newly-established kingdom of Italy under the rule of Victor Emmanuel.

you."

SORRY.

AM so sorry, Nellie."
"Never mind, Pet.

You could not

help it, and it does not much matter."
"When I get some money I will buy
you another if you will not be angry
this time."

"Oh, no; I am not angry, and you need not buy another. I shall try not to mind very much; don't let it trouble

Quite satisfied, Pet ran off to play, and thought no more of her sister's little work-box which she had just broken.

Nellie never was angry-she would not have struck Pet for all the world if she had broken all her things; but she could not quite keep the tears from her eyes as she saw her treasures, which she always kept so sacredly in her box, lying all about the room. But as soon as she could see for the tears, she picked them all up-her little silver thimble, a little Testament, a purse, a tiny piece of flaxen hair, which once grew on the head of a dear little brother who had died, and all her birthday letters which dear mamma had written to her. When she had gathered them all together she tried to mend the box. She thought as the wood was not very thick she might stick it together with sealing-wax. But although she melted some, and dropped it very carefully, it would not fasten the wood. Then she tried to gum it together, but it was all no use, and she was obliged to give it up at last, and own that she was not clever enough.

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But while poor Nellie was doing all this, thoughtless little Pet, who had said she was so sorry," had gone off to her play and forgotten all about it.

And this was generally the way in which Pet was sorry. She was a merry, thoughtless little child, always getting