[_To be continued._ * * * * * THE EXILE’S FAREWELL. BY W. H. RACEY. My own, my native land, my happy home, Where lie inurned the ashes of my sires, Mournfully from your sacred scenes I roam, While, in my heart, the light of joy expires! Far from your broad lakes, and your sunlit bays, Your forests vast and boundless flowery plains, Stern fate commands, and scarce its power delays Till this rude harp has closed its dying strains. The wanderer leaves: but if perchance he sees, When far away, a fairer face or form, Or if at eve, far floating o’er the breeze, Some swelling melody is sweetly borne, The sight will bring the loved and distant near, And he will deem the soil he treads his own; The music falling on his wearied ear Will waken thoughts of home in every tone. The wanderer leaves: but if a closing day Departs with brighter glories in the west, If e’en a cloud in evening shades away, Stainèd with brighter hues than all the rest, Then will he pause, where’er his steps may be, Oh father-land! and, as he heaves a sigh, Dream that, far o’er a thousand leagues of sea, He treads your soil, he views your twilight die. * * * * * ELIZABETH. BY J. T. S. SULLIVAN. Oh, were I a bird that could sing all the day, I would fly to her bower to carol my lay! Or were I a breath of the soft scented air, I would waft all my sweets to her bower so fair! Or were I a thought could awaken a smile, I would rest on her lip all her woes to beguile; I would make my bright throne in her sorrowing heart, And each impulse that grew should its pleasure impart! Oh, were I a strain of some melody sweet, I would steal to her chamber her slumbers to greet! Or were I a dream could recall to her mind The pleasures and joys she has long left behind, I would hover around in the stillness of night, And her visions of sleep should be joyously bright! I would kiss from her cheek ev’ry envious tear, And guard her fond bosom from sorrow and fear! * * * * * HARRY CAVENDISH. BY THE AUTHOR OF “CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR,” THE “REEFER OF ’76,” ETC. THE LEE SHORE. “All hands ahoy!” rang through the ship, as the shrill whistle of the boatswain awoke me from a pleasant dream. I started, hastily threw on my monkey-jacket, and in a minute was on deck.