About the year 1837, Longfellow, being engaged in making the tour of Europe, selected Heidelberg for a permanent winter residence. There his wife was attacked with an illness, which ultimately proved fatal. It so happened, however, that some time afterward there came to the same romantic place a young lady of considerable personal attractions. The poet's heart was touched--he became attached to her; but the beauty of sixteen did not sympathize with the poet of six-and-thirty, and Longfellow returned to America, having lost his heart as well as his wife. The young lady, also an American, returned home shortly afterward. Their residences, it turned out, were contiguous, and the poet availed himself of the opportunity of prosecuting his addresses, which he did for a considerable time with no better success than at first. Thus foiled, he set himself resolutely down, and instead, like Petrarch, of laying siege to the heart of his mistress through the medium of sonnets, he resolved to write a whole book; a book which would achieve the double object of gaining her affections, and of establishing his own fame. "Hyperion" was the result. His labor and his constancy were not thrown away: they met their due reward. The lady gave him her hand as well as her heart; and they now reside together at Cambridge, in the same house which Washington made his head-quarters when he was first appointed to the command of the American armies. These interesting facts were communicated to us by a very intelligent American gentleman whom we had the pleasure of meeting in the same place which was the scene of the poet's early disappointment and sorrow.--_Dublin University Magazine._ THE CHAPEL BY THE SHORE. By the shore, a plot of ground Clips a ruined chapel round, Buttressed with a grassy mound; Where Day, and Night, and Day go by And bring no touch of human sound. Washing of the lonely seas-- Shaking of the guardian trees-- Piping of the salted breeze-- Day, and Night, and Day go by, To the endless tune of these. Or when, as winds and waters keep A hush more dead than any sleep, Still morns to stiller evenings creep, And Day, and Night, and Day go by Here the stillness is most deep. And the ruins, lapsed again Into Nature's wide domain, Sow themselves with seed and grain, As Day, and Night, and Day go by, And hoard June's sun and April's rain. Here fresh funeral tears were shed; And now the graves are also dead: And suckers from the ash-tree spread, As Day, and Night, and Day go by And stars move calmly overhead. [From Household Words.] ILLUSTRATIONS OF CHEAPNESS. THE LUCIFER MATCH. Some twenty years ago the process of obtaining fire, in every house in England, with few exceptions, was as rude, as laborious, and as uncertain, as the effort of the Indian to produce a flame by the friction of two dry sticks.