Music! ’tis the voice of Love, Sweetly floating from above, Winged like Noah’s gentle dove; Seeking, seeking wearily, O’er life’s deeply flooded sea, To some higher heart, to flee. ’Tis thy voice, thy language too, Spoken by the Sainted Few, Who still make thy wonders new. Love, was exiled Dante’s theme; Love, was Buonaroti’s dream— Raphael took its sunny beam; ’Twas the pencil with which he Wrought for immortality— Sweet Italia, wrought for thee. And the chaste Madonna grew, From that touch so pure and true, Breathing life, and speaking too. These are they who speak for thee, Speak, though toiling silently— Speak in love, fair Italy. Thus in visions of the night, Oft my spirit takes its flight, Soaring to thy land of light; But, alas! the op’ning day, Finds me from thee, far away, And no more thy minstrel lay, Floats in sweetness over me; But the bird sings on the tree, ’Neath the casement blithe and free. Yes, ’t has vanished into air, And again comes heavy care— Would, O, would, that I were there; So my spirit whispers me, Longing, mourning but to see, Land of Poets, only thee; For I’m lonely, lonely here, Falls for me no kindly tear— Love itself has pressed the bier; And in bitterness of soul, As the racer to his goal, Or the magnet to its pole, So my spirit turns to thee, Land of sweetest minstrelsy, Land of Poets—Italy. * * * * * THE LETTER OF INTRODUCTION. A NEW CHAPTER OF MRS. ALLANBY’S EXPERIENCE. BY MRS. A. M. F. ANNAN. “MY DEAR MARY—I know it will be a pleasure to you to become acquainted with my friends who will hand you this—Mrs. Dilberry and her two daughters. They are quite the aristocracy of our town, being very genteel, as you will find, and also independent as to property. They will be entire strangers in your city, and as they have made up their minds to take a trip there, (having the means, they intend to travel a great deal,) it is nothing but proper in me to give them this letter of introduction.”