Mr. Percy soon followed his aged companion, and Angela returned with Pauline to France. Here she witnessed, with wonder and delight, the happiness that, through Pauline's virtue, was not incompatible with so great a disparity of age, and rejoiced when a few months after their arrival in Paris, Pauline gave birth to a son and heir. Nothing now was wanting to complete the domestic enjoyment of the circle gathered at the Hotel de Vaissiere; and while the same gay crowds graced its walls, and courted its fair mistress, Pauline never forgot to turn to her husband as the one whose smile was to her the brightest, whose praise the most valued, and whose approbation alone she loved and lived for. THE HERMIT OF NIAGARA. BY MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. It was the leafy month of June, And joyous Nature, all in tune, With wreathing buds was drest, As toward the mighty cataract's side A youthful stranger prest; His ruddy cheek was blanched with awe, And scarce he seemed his breath to draw, While bending o'er its brim, He marked its strong, unfathomed tide, And heard its thunder-hymn. His measured week too quickly fled, Another, and another sped, And soon the summer-rose decayed, The moon of autumn sank in shade, And winter hurled its dart, Years filled their circle, brief and fair, Yet still the enthusiast lingered there, While deeper round his soul was wove A mystic chain of fearful love, That would not let him part. When darkest midnight veiled the sky, You'd hear his hasting step go by, To gain the bridge beside the deep, That where its wildest torrents leap Hangs thread-like o'er the surge, Just there, upon its awful verge, His vigil-hour to keep. And when the moon, descending low, Hung on the flood that gleaming bow, Which it would seem some angel's hand, With Heaven's own pencil, tinged and spanned, Pure symbol of a better land, He, kneeling, poured in utterance free The eloquence of ecstasy; Though to his words no answer came, Save that One, Everlasting Name, Which since Creation's morning broke Niagara's lip alone hath spoke. When wintry tempests shook the sky, And the rent pine-tree hurtled by, Unblenching, 'mid the storm he stood, And marked sublime the wrathful flood, While wrought the frost-king, fierce and drear, His palace 'mid those cliffs to rear, And strike the massy buttress strong, And pile his sleet the rocks among, And wasteful deck the branches bare With icy diamonds, rich and rare.