Of the King Fisher nothing was heard until after the war, when she was found rotting upon a mud bank, near the place where her commander left her. Her crew had deserted her, and the gallant gun brig never ploughed the ocean furrow more. Washington, November, 1840. * * * * * THE WATERS OF LETHE. BY N. C. BROOKS, A. M. Written for one in dejection. “Oh, for a cup of the Waters of Lethe.” _Letter of a Friend._ Come, Peri, from the well, Where cooling waters steep The soul that’s bound by memory’s spell In soft oblivion’s sleep. The lethean power diffuse; I could not wake again: Pour o’er my heart its balmy dews, And on my burning brain. The plighted hopes of youth— The perished joys of years— Affections withered—slighted truth— The sunlight dashed with tears— The cloud, the storm, the strife, I would recall no more, And all the bitterness of life; The lethean goblet pour! Remembered tones of old— Of friends in quiet sleep, Make other eyes and tones seem cold, And bid the lonely weep; Come then, Oblivion, seal All memory as I drink; This tortured heart would cease to feel, This fevered brain to think. Baltimore, November, 1840. * * * * * YOO-TI-HU. BY J. ROSS BROWNE. I. The Consultation. Yoo-ti-hu, the handsomest and sprightliest Page in the suite of Pokatoka, King of Gazaret, imprudently fell in love with Omanea, the flower of the king’s harem. Pokatoka, though sadly afflicted with rheumatism, was partial to the amusements of the harem. It happened that he had a slight suspicion of Yoo-ti-hu’s integrity, and this rendered him perfectly miserable. Tally-yang-sang, Great Nazir, or Chamberlain of the Harem, was sent for. “Mirror of Vigilance,—Quintessence of Piety,—and Disciple of Wisdom,”—such were the Grand Nazir’s titles, and so the king addressed him.—“Well we know thy skill in affairs of the heart. Well we know thy penetration is never at fault. We have required thy presence to demand if thou hast noticed anything peculiar in the conduct of our peerless Omanea, since the addition of Yoo-ti-hu to our suite?” “There is a lone dove,” replied the Grand Nazir, in his own mysterious way, “whose nest is in the grove of love. Even as this emblem of tenderness awaits the coming of a prisoned mate, so pines in secret my lady Omanea.” “And by whom think you, wondrous Tally-yang-sang, is this change effected?” “Your mightiness would scarcely thank me if I made known my suspicions, since they implicate your greatest favorite.” “Ha! ’tis Yoo-ti-hu! I thought so! I knew it!—he shall die.” “God is great,” muttered Tally-yang-sang.