LINES. BY SARAH HELEN WHITMAN. “The undying voice of that dead time, With its interminable chime, Rings on my spirit like a knell.” Dost thou remember that September day When by the Seekonk’s lonely wave we stood, And marked the languor of repose that lay, Softer than sleep, on valley, wave and wood? A trance of solemn rapture seemed to lull The charméd earth and circumambient air, And the low murmur of the leaves seemed full Of a resigned and passionless despair. Though the warm breath of summer lingered still In the lone paths where late her footsteps passed, The pallid star-flowers on the purple hill Sighed dreamily “we are the last! the last!” I stood beside thee, and a dream of heaven Around me like a golden halo fell! Then the bright veil of phantasy was riven, And my lips murmured “fare thee well!—farewell!” I dared not listen to thy words, nor turn To meet the pleading language of thine eyes, I only _felt_ their power, and in the urn Of memory treasured their sweet rhapsodies. We parted then forever—and the hours Of that bright day were gathered to the past— But through long wintry nights I heard the flowers Sigh dreamily, we are the last!—the last! * * * * * THE BALIZE. [SEE ENGRAVING.] This is the name of one of the mouths of the Mississippi River. At the distance of 105 miles below New Orleans by the course of the river, and 90 miles in a direct line, this majestic stream enters the Gulf of Mexico by several mouths, the principal of which are the Belize, or North East Pass, in latitude 29° 7' and longitude 80° 10' West, and the South West Pass, in latitude 29° 8' North and longitude 89° 25' West. The depth of water on the bar at each of these passes is 12 to 16 feet, but much greater without and a little within the bar. Most vessels enter and leave by the Belize, and hence the frequency with which we hear this remarkable place referred to. The tall erections in the engraved view are look-outs constructed for observing the approach of vessels, and hoisting signals. The country about the Balize is one continued swamp, destitute of trees, and covered with a species of coarse reeds, from four to five feet high. Nothing can be more dreary than a prospect from a ship’s mast while passing this immense waste. * * * * * [Illustration: THE BALIZE.] * * * * * WILD-BIRDS OF AMERICA. BY PROFESSOR FROST. [Illustration: [Alca Impennis.]] THE GREAT AUK. (_Alca Impennis._)