The grave of Ellen is now forgotten by all, save me. The grass has grown over it for long years. But often, in the still watches of the night, I think I hear a celestial voice whispering in my ear; and sometimes, in my dreams, I behold a face looking, as it were, from amid the stars: and that face, all glorious in light, is as the face of that sainted girl. I cannot believe that the dead return no more. * * * * * THE RETURN HOME. BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. I’m with you once again, my friends— No more my footsteps roam— Where it began my journey ends, Amid the scenes of home. No other clime has skies so blue, Or streams so broad and clear, And earth no hearts so warm and true, As those that meet me here. Since last, with spirits wild and free, I pressed my native strand, I’ve wandered many miles at sea, And many miles on land; I’ve seen all nations of the earth, Of every hue and tongue, Which taught me how to prize the worth Of that from whence I sprung. In distant countries when I heard The music of my own, Oh how my echoing heart was stirred!— It bounded at the tone! But when a brother’s hand I grasp’d Beneath a foreign sky, With joy convulsively I gasp’d, Like one about to die. My native land, I come to you With blessings and with prayer, Where man is brave, and woman true, And free as mountain air. Long may our flag in triumph wave, Against the world combined, And friends a welcome, foes a grave, On land and ocean find. * * * * * MISS THOMPSON. A TALE OF A VILLAGE INN. BY MRS. A. M. F. ANNAN. It may be out of keeping with our subject to apply the homely epithet of a “fish out of water” to Mr. Bromwell Sutton in the rural village of G——, but as no periphrasis suggests itself which would express his position as well, we must fain eschew elegance for the occasion, and let it stand. It was a sultry afternoon, in the middle of summer, when he arrived at the Eagle Inn, and after changing his dress, stepped to the door to see what could be seen. He looked up the street, and down and across, and not a living thing was visible besides himself, except a few sheep dozing in the market-house, and two or three cows silently ruminating in the shade of the town hall, both of which edifices were near at hand. Then having decided that there was nothing in the architectural aspect of the straggling village worth a second look, he concentred his scrutiny upon himself.