Weeping for all my long lost years, I go, And for that love which to this world confined A spirit whose strong flight, for heaven designed, No mean example might one man bestow. Thou, who didst view my wonderings and my woe, Great King of heaven! unseen, immortal mind! Succor this weary being, frail and blind; And may thy grace o'er all my failings flow! Then, though my life through warring tempests passed; My death may tranquilly and slowly come; And my calm soul may flee in peace at last: While o'er that space which shuts me from the tomb, And on my death-bed, be thy blessing cast-- From Thee, in trembling hope, I wait my doom. * * * * * [From Bentley's Miscellany] THE FEMALE WRECKER; AND THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY. A BRACE OF GHOST STORIES. BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE EXPERIENCES OF A GAOL CHAPLAIN." It was a glorious summer's evening in July. The sun, robed in a thousand hues of gorgeous brilliancy, was setting behind the noble hill which towers over the little hamlet of Shaldon; light pleasure-skiffs, with tiny sail, were dotted over the bay;[A] the ebb tide was gently laving the hissing strand; and at intervals, wafted by the breeze, came from some merry party afloat, a ringing, joyous laugh, or some slight snatch of song. It was an evening which breathed serenity and repose. [Footnote A: Teignmouth, Devon.] Seated on one of the benches which skirt that pleasant promenade[B] were two feeble-looking men, with whom the summer of life had apparently passed. They conversed slowly and at intervals. That the theme interested both was clear from the earnest tone of the one, and the attention rendered by the other. It was connected too in some way with the sea: for, from time to time, the speaker paused and eyed wistfully the slumbering monster at his feet; and more than once the ejaculation was audible--"the secret is buried there!" [Footnote B: The Denne.] "And you believe this?" said the listener, half incredulously, half respectfully, when his elderly companion ceased. "I do--firmly." The other smiled, and then continued in a lower tone-- "All delusion! the result of a heated fancy--all delusion from beginning to end!" "What is delusion?" said a tall military-looking figure, striding up and joining the group. "We all have, at one period or other of our lives, to battle with delusion and succumb to it. Now. sir," turning to the elder gentleman (his name was Ancelôt) and making a courteous bow--"pray favor me with your case and symptoms." The party addressed looked nettled, and replied-- "Mine was no delusion; it was a stern and solemn reality." "Well, give it what name you please," returned his companion, "only let Major Newburgh hear the tale as you narrated it to me." "To be again discredited? Excuse me, Trevor, no."