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THE STORMY SEA.

Ere the twilight bat was flitting, In the sunset at her knitting, Sang a lonely maiden, sitting

Underneath her threshold tree ; And, as daylight died before us, And the vesper star shone o’er us, Fitful rose her tender chorus—

“ Jamie ’s o’er the stormy sea!”

Warmly shone that sunset glowing ; Sweetly breathed those flowers blowing; Earth, with beauty overflowing, Seemed the love of home to be, Aa those angel tones ascending, With the scene and season blending, Ever had the same low ending— “Jamie ’s on the stormy sea !”

Curfew bells remotely ringing

Mingled with that sweet voice singing:

And the last red ray seemed clinging, Lingering to tower and tree ;

Nearer as | came, and nearer,

Finer rose the notes and clearer ;

Oh! ’twas Heaven itself to hear her— * Jamie ’s on the stormy sea !”

Blow ye west winds! blandly hover O’er the bark that bears my lover; Gently blow and bear him over

To his own dear home and me; For, when night winds bend the willow, Sleep forsakes my lonely pillow, Thinking of the foaming billow—

“ For Jamie’s on the stormy sea!”

How could I but list, but linger,

‘fo the song, and hear the singer,

Sweetly wooing Heaven to bring her Jamie from the foaming sea ;

And while yet her lips did name me,

Forth I sprang, my heart o’ercame me-——

“ Grieve no more, sweet, I am Jamie, Home returned to love and thee!”

THE MERCHANT’S DAUGHTER. RY ABROTT LEE.

Lieutenant Lincoln’s own bulletin of his own state and condition, was that he was desperately wounded and dying. And yet he had fought neither battle nor duel ; his sword was unfleshed and his. pistols had never shot at anything but a mark. Howbeit, Lieutenant Lin- coln was. dying—of love.

However, before quite giving up the ghost so that he could not have it back again, Lieutenant Lincoln thought that it might be as well to inquire if it were necessary to do so at all, and he accordingly wrote to the lady to know ‘whether he should die for her, or live for her? to which the lady, probably thinking that he could be of little service to her if laid in a position to be trodden under foot, ina literal sense, and perhaps thinking it more amusing to have him so that he could be trodden down figuratively, very kindly sent him word that she thought he had better live. Lieutenant Lincoln was of course in raptures. Every trace. of the horrible disorder of which he had so recently been dying, vanish- ed like magic, and it was wonderful.to see how fresh and florid the gentleman that.was expiring immediately became.

‘Well, said Lieutenant Lincoln,‘ I must, as a matter of course, speak to old Ellison: but he is such a nice gentlemanly fellow, that I am sure not to meet with any gbstacle from him. He is, without exception, the most agreeable man of my acquaintance—gives such good dinners, and always sends one an invitation.’

So Liéutenant Lincoln set off full speed to Bedford Square, and found the most agreeable man of his ac- quaintance at home.

Now old Ellison did not think himself old at.all, neither, indeed, did anybody else, always excepting the generation, of twenty, who are decidedly of opinion that the generation of thirty are quite ancient, and according to this caleulation old Ellison was old, for he belonged to the generation of forty. Yet notwithstanding this patriarchal age, old Ellison looked young enough to dress, to laugh, to dance, to flirt, and while men do these sort of things it is of no use for people to tell them that they are old, for they will not believe them.

‘My dear sir,’ said Lieutenant Lincoln, ‘ [have.come to.ask a favour.’

‘ My dear captain, count it done.’

‘Ah, but yon do not know its magnitude!’

‘Do you want to borrow my villa ”

aan penne ae

THRE EXAMINER.

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‘On the contrary, it is the happiness of my life.’ ‘Ha! ha! ha?

‘Without it I shall die!’

‘Ha! ha! ha!’

‘ Yes, indeed, believe me”

‘My dear fellow, you look amazingly well. Your

your eyes as bright as usual. [ do not perceive any- thing of the complaints mentioned in the bills of mor- tality hanging over you.’

‘My dear sir, you speak only of bodily maladies ” ‘What, have you gota mind diseased ?-Ha! ha! ha!’ Now when one fancies oneself in a sentimental state, it isan abomiadle thing to be badgered and bantered as if nothing were the matter. Lieutenant Lincoln’s face flushed as deep as his regimental coat.

‘When a man blushes he is always serious,’ said old Ellison,” so now [ will hear as gravely as you will speak. You know you may depend upon my friend- ship.’

My dear sir,’ began the soldier, ‘ you must have ob- served the attentions which I have been in the habit of paying to your daughter.’

‘Who! what!’ exclaimed Ellison sharply, as the sha- dow of a frown came over his face.

‘To—to—Miss Ellison,’ stammered the embarrassed suitor.

‘Every gentleman must pay attention to the ladies in whose society he is thrown.’

* But mine have been particular. They were meant to be so. I had hoped that they had attracted your at- tention without exciting your disapprobation.’

‘My dear captain, you must remember that I am not the cast-iron father of a romance, nor the dragon-like parent of a farce. I have always wished my daughter to be as happy as she could, but I knew that it was not the way to make her feel so to treat her like a slave.— ido not listen to every word she speaks, nor watch every action. At the same time, I put every confilence in her discretion. 1am not among the number of those men who think all women quite fools. On the contrary. [ have some idea that there are women who may have sense, and [ think my daughter among them.’

‘Her mind is of the finest order!’ exclaimed Lieu- tenant Lincoln, in the true style of a true lover.’

‘She is nota Madame de Steal, nor a Mrs. Somer- ville, but she is passable,’ said the father with great equanimity.

‘Madame de Stael—Mrs. Somerville,’ said the soldier with a tone and gesture of contempt, ‘tut! tut! what are they in comparison with Miss Ellison! mere common- place women !’

Old Ellison, smiled a scornfw! smile, but whether at the lover or the lady we disclose not.

‘And then for beauty!’ ejaculated Lieutenant Lincoln.

‘She is neither a Venus nor a Sutherland,’ said the father quietly, ‘bet she is passable.’

‘Passable! she is angelic !

‘She has her temper as well as other people,’ said the old gentleman provokingly.

She is too good for this. world,’ passionately exclaim- ed the lover.

‘Bat not good enough for another, said the father. ‘My dear fellow, we have all our faults, and she has hers.’

‘There youare wrong, sir! ‘There you are wrong! Isabella can have no fault in unprejediced eyes,’

‘In prejudiced ones, you mean,’ said the merchant quietly.

‘ There are no eyes capable of appreciating perfec- tion in this mistaking world! said Lincoln pathetically.

‘ Because there is no perfection to appreciate.’

‘You-will not see,’ exclaimed the lover.

‘What does not exist,’ said the father.—‘ But enough ofthis. I thought you were out of your senses, and merely wished to bring you into them again.’

‘My dear, sir, | knew that you could, not mean a sin- gle word that you have said !

‘Only them all.’

‘You trifle with my feelings!”

‘At all events, | hope you are not too blind to per- ceive that I am wishing to cure you of your infatuation.’

‘Sir, my feelings are part of my existence! I could as soon part with the one as the other!’

‘Well, I suppose that your disorder must go through its natural stages. After it has had its run it will cure itself. Nature is the best doctor after all.’

‘Mr. Ellison, do you wish to drive me to distraction ”

ae are very young,’ said the.merchant philosophi- cally.

‘Tam referring to youthe hopes of my existence”

‘Very young indeed, younger than [ thought,’ went on coolly speculating the hard-bearted merchant.

‘ You trifle with me” exclaimed Lincoln passionately.

‘Now, my dear fellow, listen to me, dispassionately ‘if youcan. You have no idea how very raw and boyish you are making yourself appear. I really have a liking for you, and therefore I will give you a little of my time, although I ought now to be onthe Stock Exchange,

*Q, no?

& My horses ??

‘ No,’

‘My opera box”

‘No,

‘ Money?

S No

.Pshaw! ther, it is some trifle not worth. mentjon- ‘ag wetween us.’

.

and with talking to you I may be losing some lucky iSpec., and some pretty thousands. However, let that | pass, Now tell me, my good fellow, if you ever thought of the expense of keeping a wife.’ *

* Mercenary feelings can never enter the heart where true affection lodges—-there is no room for them. O, | Mr. Ellison, the pomps and gauds ofthe world, what are jthey! Isabella and myself would live to each other!’

person is as stout as usual, your cheeks as red as usual, | p

roses for dinner, and so on.—Well, you are rather worse than I apprehended. I don’t see that Lean do yon any good until the paroxysm abates.’

‘Indeed my dear sir, | was never profuse’

‘| believe that you never were particularly able to be so. IfI mistake not, you have nothing beyond your ay?”

Lieutenant Lincoln was obliged to allow this, ‘And may | ask how much that exceeds your expen- diture 2”

‘J have not thought of making it.’

‘ And excuse the impertinence of the question—have

ou been able to keep out of debt?

‘ A few paltry hundreds I perhaps may be in the books of some pitiful tradesmen—mere nothing, believe me. Many of my brother officers owe thousands for my petty hundreds.’ :

‘Yes, and probably have a thousand times better means of paying them. ‘They most likely have wealthy connexions.”

‘Well and so have I.’

‘May J ask who?”

‘I have two old rich maiden aunts.’

‘ Ah, indeed, pray how old? Any good encouraging degree of ancientness ?’

‘O, yes, they are getting on fast; the youngest ix seven-and-thirty, and the oldest turned forty.’

‘ Indeed? ejaculated Mr. Ellison; and he eyed hie seen to see whether he were quizzing, or enly «

ool.

*So you consider forty quite a patriarchal age? re- sumed Mr. Ellison.

‘ Everybody must think it old,’ returned the soldier.

‘I am forty, replied the merchant coldly.

Lincoln blushed blue, if we may be allowed to say He had just sense enough in his head to perceive that he had knocked it against a wal}.

‘Notwithstanding such an advanced age,’ resumed the merchant, *it is just possible that they might take into their heads to marry, and if they have property as you say, itis very likely that they wonld find some marketable man willing enough to honor them. There are good-looking fellows at any price onsale at all times,

Lincoln shook his head.

‘Or supposing them not sufficiently in their dot- age for that, they yet may be unreasonable enough to live a long while—tiresome, I allow—but perhaps until you may be as antediluvian when they are kind enongh to depart, as they are at this moment when we are speaking of them,’

‘They are good souJs,’ said Lincoln, remembering & little natural feeling; ‘they are good souls and 1 don’t want them to die.’

*‘ Another thing—would their dying do you any good? Are they obliged to leave you their fortune >”

‘O, that of course.’

‘Well, you are very young,’ said the merchant, sur- veying him from head to foot again after a minute's. silence, and thinking that he had never seen sucha raw simpleton in his life.

‘And you are very old,’ thought Lieutenant Lineoln, as he looked at the merchant, fuily believing, in his in- most heart, that he had. never seen sucha selfish old wretch in the whole course of his life.

‘May. Task,’ said the merchant, ‘if you ever did any - thing in the way of book-keeping ?”

Lieutenant Lincoln looked at him with something of suppressed scorn. ‘It isnot an occupation fora soldier. rid of my profession usually leave such drudgeries to clerks.

‘ But you learnt.a few rules of arithmetic at school?’

‘ Oh, of course.’

‘Then, perhaps you will not think half an hour quite. wasted in assisting me ina little business ?”

Looking beth ina bewilderment and wonderment, the soldier made his drawing-room bow of acquiescence.

‘ There are pens and paper,’ said the merchant, as he pushed them towards the soldier, and they took their seats on the opposite sides of a middle-sized table, and old Ellison proceeded to open a large desk and disin- ter a huge assortment of very suspicious looking papers, whole sheets of foolscap folded particularly neat, and bearing written characters of most orthodox. exactness. ‘ Business, my dear sir, business must be attended to. Here [ have my half-year’s housekeeping accounts, and I have not ascertained the total. You will have the kindness to assist me, ‘These are vulger details I know, hut you will forgive their homeliness. To begin, please to write down, Rent, one hundred and fifty pounds— thank you—taxes, forty-seven—stabling, seventy-five— opera-box—ah, that is an extravagance--three hundred guineas—butcher’s bill—vulger thing—two hundred and, thirty four pounds and sixpence—grocer’s, a hundred and forty-seven—-tailor’s—ah, fie upon me! one hundred and ninety-eight pounds.’

‘Mr. Ellison!’ exclaimed Lincoln, dashing down his pen, his face flushed to crimson, and his. feelings all up in arms and hot—‘I see what you mean! I cannot mis- understand you! You are wishing to show me my presumption in aspiring to your daughter! To make. me feel how impossible it is with my narrow means— to-—to ,

‘I wish to’convince you,’ said the merchant ‘that a wife is the most expensive thing you could undertake to keep, for having her, you are oblized to have a thow- sand things besides.’

i ‘No doubt! no doubt! Love andacottsge. A few] Lievtenant Lincoln dashed his open palms upou bis