Fair Alice Lee, and the brave old knight, Sir Harry, did not escape my notice--nor Master Wildrake, or the gay monarch, Charles, still under the disguise of Louis Kerneguy; and whose shuffling, awkward gait, and bushy red head, caused no small mirth in the assembly, as wondering to see one of so ungainly an appearance in such close attendance upon the lovely Alice. "Old Noll" had grouped around him in one corner the "Devil-scaring-lank-legs," the "Praise-God-barebones," and the "smell-sin-long-noses" of the day; but not finding any thing very attractive in that godly company, I passed on to where Isabella of Croye and the gallant Quentin Durward were holding earnest converse--not aware, unfortunately, that the snaky eye of the Bohemian was watching all their movements. I quickly stepped aside as I saw the miser, Trapbois, eagerly advancing toward the Lady of Croye, his eyes gloating over the rich jewels which adorned her person, and his long, skinny fingers seeming ready to tear the coveted gems from her fair neck and arms. Indeed, but for the presence of his stern daughter, Martha, I doubted whether he would not at least make the attempt. "Father, come home! this is no place for you--come home!" she said, in deep, slow tones. "Nay, daughter, I would but offer to serve these rich nobles for a small con-sider-ation; let me go, Martha--let me go, I say!" as placing her powerful arm within his, she drew him reluctantly toward the door. Suddenly a flourish of warlike music swelled through the lofty apartment--peal on peal reverberated around--and while I listened with awe to notes so grand and solemn, the music as suddenly changed its character. Now only the dulcet tones of the harp were heard, sweet as the soft summer shower when the tinkling rain-drops merrily pelt the flowers--strains so sweetly harmonious as seemed too heavenly for mortal touch. And as fainter and fainter, yet still more sweet, the ravishing melody breathed around, one by one the company glided out silently and mournfully--the tapestried walls gradually assumed the appearance of my own little parlor--the rich and tasteful decorations vanished--_and where was I?_ Seated in my own comfortable rocking-chair, reclining in the same attitude as when so suddenly summoned forth by the gipsy carline. Truly, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio. Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." HOMEWARD BOUND. BY E. CURTISS HINE, U. S. N. For weary years my feet had wandered On many a fair but distant shore; By Lima's crumbling walls I'd pondered And gazed upon the Andes hoar. The ocean's wild and restless billow, That rears its crested head on high, For years had been my couch and pillow, Until its sameness pained my eye.