For, from thy lady’s lip, Oft is it thine to sip Sweetness which dwells not in fruit or in flower; And when her shaded eye Rests on thee pensively, Moonlight was ne’er so soft silv’ring thy bower. Likest to thee is Love, Never it cares to rove, When its wild winglets feel Beauty’s control. Would, little bird, that I Might to thine island fly, All, all alone with the girl of my soul! There should’st thou sing to us, Tender and tremulous, Our hearts happy with love unexpressed. Sweet little faery bird, Gentle Canary bird, How would’st thou be by that dear girl caressed. * * * * * A LIFE OF VICISSITUDES. BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ. [Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by George Payne Rainsford James, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the District of Massachusetts.] (_Continued from page 279._) A STRUGGLE WITH THE WORLD. A period of wandering and of danger, of flitting from place to place, and land to land, of difficulties and distresses, of almost daily peril, of constant uncertainty as to the future, would seem to furnish matter enough for memory; but yet the period immediately succeeding my separation from Father Bonneville, is very dim and obscure to remembrance. I staid so short a time in any place, one event trod so fast upon the heels of another, that neither scene nor event had time to fix itself firmly in memory, before, like the grass upon a public pathway, it was trodden down by passing feet. At this time, I could speak three languages with almost equal facility: English, French, and German; but English perhaps, I understood most thoroughly—at all events, I know, I generally thought in that language. This facility was of very great advantage to me, and I notice it on that account, as I could pass wherever those tongues were spoken for a native of the country. It is true, I had not soon occasion to see France again; but I wandered through many parts of Switzerland, where French was in common use.