Let us go to the upland airy lea, Where the silent flocks are browsing; We’ll pass the dale where the honey-bee His early store is housing. Our path shall lead through the meadow lane, Its daisy blooms will meet us; And the reed-pipe strain on the distant plain, With the herd-boy’s song will greet us. Let us go abroad at the early dawn, With the blue sky bending o’er us; While the mingled music of grove and lawn Goes up in a grateful chorus; For sweet is the breath of the morning, love, And sweet are the opening flowers; And sweet shall our communion prove, In the fields and woodland bowers. Let us go while Nature’s holy strain, O’er the joyous earth is pealing; My pulse has caught its youth again, And throbs with the rural feeling. Each bird, and brook, and dripping bud, Invites with a gentle warning; Then let us away to the field and wood, And drink the health of the morning. * * * * * A PRAYER. BY MRS. C. E. DA PONTE. Weary of earth, and tossed Amid the storms which ever wreck my way, Thou who canst save the wretched and the lost, O hear me pray. Weary of time, which brings Little of comfort to my bosom now, Feeble and worn, to Thee my bosom clings, To Thee I bow. Deep is the inward strife, Thou knowest consumes my sick and weary soul, Deep is that grief still agitates my life, Beyond control. Here joy is o’er, Earth cannot soothe, for life can nothing give, Take me, then, Father, to that mighty shore, For Thee I’ll live. Watch me where’er I go, Guide my faint footsteps through this valley drear; Father, I weep with more than mortal wo, But yet can bear. * * * * * THE LOYALIST’S DAUGHTER. A TALE OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. BY P. HAMILTON MEYERS. (_Concluded from page 274._) CHAPTER VII. The ensuing evening was cold, dark, and stormy. The commandant of Fort Constitution was faithful to his appointment. He was received at the door of Captain Wilton’s cottage by Arabella, and conducted silently to the drawing-room. A single light faintly illuminated the interior, and scarcely served to reveal the figure of an individual, plainly dressed, and enveloped in an overcoat, seated beside a table in the centre of the apartment. He rose on the entrance of Gansevoort, and advancing hastily to meet him, with extended hand, and a cordial manner, said, “I rejoice to meet you, Mr. Gansevoort, or rather Sir Francis, if you will permit me thus, in anticipation, to address you.”