Ought not the name of Isabella to be forever associated with that of Columbus, as without her aid he could never have crossed the Atlantic? Should not the honor of the discovery of the western world rest alike upon him who conceived, and her who enabled him to execute the mighty project? And yet the fame of Columbus is wide as the world, and eternal as the lands to which he opened the way across the billows; while she who gave wings to his genius and power to his arm is almost forgotten. But I would wed her name to his forever by christening this great and hitherto nameless republic, by the appropriate and euphonious title of Columbella. Thus would I give honor to whom honor is due. * * * * * EGERIA. BY MARY L. LAWSON. In a soft, still summer twilight, When the sunset’s golden beam Gleamed behind the cold gray mountain, With a misty haze between, When the stars were faintly breaking, One by one, upon the sky, And the winds that whispered near me Were as gentle as a sigh, ’Neath a mossed and gnarled oak, With its branches ivy-bound, Where the mingled sweets of flowers Threw a breathing perfume round, There a lovely dream stole o’er me, ’Twas life’s sweetest, last, and best; Bright Egeria, lost Egeria, Thou hast left my lonely breast. I have sought the spot full often In the morning, in the noon, In the chill and bleak December, In the rosy light of June; And when floods of silvery moonlight O’er the valley slept serene, While its pale and silent splendor Mocked my spirit’s restless dream. Yet I linger as of old— Still I seek the shadowed lake, And the mountains stern and drear, Where the Alpine glaciers break; There I watch the storm-god rise, But I wander on in vain; Bright Egeria, lost Egeria, Will we never meet again.