Hues how fantastic dost thou still assume, Deluding man, amid life’s sweetest scene, Spreading o’er all his way gay, gorgeous green, With fairest flowers, which but a moment bloom— Like evening cloud which golden Sol hath decked, All evanescent, fading soon away; So, Pleasure! grasped, thou hastest to decay, Bidding each rising hope in bud be checked— In Eden, erst, truth-like didst thou appear. Thy right hand holding sweets surpassing fair, Till, with her sombre train sin entered there, To drag man thence, an exile full of fear— Farewell, false Pleasure! and again, farewell— Thy guests, the Wise hath told us, “are in depths of hell.” * * * * * NELLY NOWLAN’S EXPERIENCE. BY MRS. S. C. HALL. “I broke off in my last without an ending, which I could not help; I am not a bit more mistress of my own time than if I was a born lady, and oh, aunt dear, but I _do_ pity them ladies—you’d never believe how hard they work—not with their heads or their hands, but in a way twice as bad. You think it hard enough to put on your things of a Sunday. Oh! if you knew the dressing and undressing, the shopping, the driving round and round and round in a place they call a park—where there’s no sign of a mountain or any thing to raise the spirits—the visiting! not having a bit of friendly talk with those they like, but wearing the life and liveries off their servants, posting from house to house, and just leaving little squares of _pasteboard_ at the doors.” “‘Has Lady Jane Vivian never inquired how I am?’ asked my poor mistress. “‘Never, Ma’am,’ I said. “Well, she had a puzzled look on her face, and there it ended for awhile. “‘Ellen,’ she said again, a few days after, ‘Mrs. Brett tells me, Lady Jane Vivian called every day, and left cards.’ “Well, I was fairly bothered about the cards.