There our parents sit dejected In the darkness of their grief, Mourning their last hope departed As the autumn mourns its leaf. But the prayers of these are with us Till the winds that fill the sails Seem to be the breath of blessings From our native hills and vales. Then farewell, the breeze is with us, And our vessel ploughs the foam; God, who guides the good ship seaward Will protect the loved at home. * * * * * [Illustration: HE COMES NOT. Painted by W. Brown and Engraved expressly for Graham's Magazine by W. Holl] * * * * * HE COMES NOT. [WITH AN ENGRAVING.] BY C. SWAIN. Night throws her silver tresses back, And o’er the mountain-tops afar She leaves a soft and moonlight track, More glorious than the day-beams are; And while she steers her moonlight barque Along that starry river now, Each leaf, each flower, each bending bough, Starts into beauty from the dark; Each path appears a silver line, And naught in earth—but all divine. Oh, never light of moon was shed Upon a maid’s more timid tread; And never star of heaven shone On face more fair to look upon. Hark! was not that a whisper light? A step—a movement—yet so slight, That silence holds its breath in vain To catch that fleeting sound again. Well may’st thou start, lone, timid dove, To-night he comes not to thy love. * * * * * RAIL AND RAIL SHOOTING. BY HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT, AUTHOR OF FRANK FORESTER’S “FIELD SPORTS,” “FISH AND FISHING,” ETC. [Illustration: THE VIRGINIA RAIL. (_Rallus Virginianus._) THE SORA RAIL. (_Rallus Carolinensis._)] With the present month commences the pursuit of this singular and delicious species of game, and, although as a sport it is not to be compared with the bolder and more varied interest of shooting over dogs on the upland, still the great numbers which are killed, and the rapidity with which shot after shot is discharged in succession, render Rail-shooting a very favorite pastime, more especially with the sportsmen of Philadelphia, in the vicinity of which city this curious little bird is found in the greatest abundance.