if made high enough, would keep the cuckoo among them, and make the cheerful Spring-days last for ever. The plan was tried, and failed only because, according to popular belief from generation to generation, the wall was not built one course higher. The wetness of the weather in Borrodale is something more than an occasional inconvenience. It may be judged of by observations which show the following results. The average quantity of rain in many parts of the south of England does not exceed 20 inches, and sometimes does not even reach that amount. The mean rain fall for England is 30 inches. Kendal and Keswick have been considered the wettest places known in England; and the annual average at the former place is 52 inches. It was found by experiments made in 1852, that while 81 inches were measured on Scawfell Pike; 86 at Great Gable; 124 at Sty Head; 156 were measured at Seathwaite in Borrodale; shewing, with the exception of that at Sprinkling Tarn, between Scawfell, and Langdale Pikes, and Great Gable, where it measured 168 inches nearly, the greatest rainfall in the Lake District to be at the head of Borrodale. Taking a period of ten years, the average annual rainfall at Seathwaite in that dale was over 126 inches; for the rest of England it was 29 inches. KING EVELING. King Eveling stood by the Azure River, When the tide-wave landward began to flow; And over the sea in the sunlight's shiver, He watch'd one white sail northward go. "Twice has it pass'd; and I linger, weary: How I long for its coming, my life to close! My lands forget me, my halls are dreary, And my age is lonely; I want repose. "If rightly I read the signs within me, The tides may lessen, the moon may wane, And then the Powers I have serv'd will win me A pathway over yon shining plain. "It befits a King, who has wisely spoken, Whose rule was just, and whose deeds were brave, To depart alone, and to leave no token On earth but of glory--not even a grave. "And now I am going. No more to know me, My banners fall round me with age outworn. I have buried my crown in the sands below me; And I vanish, a King, into night forlorn. "What of mine is good will endure for ever, Growing into the ages on earth to be, When--Eveling dwelt by the Azure River, A King--shall be all that is told of me." For days the tides with ebbing and flowing Grew full with the moon; and out of the dim, On the ocean's verge came the white sail growing, And anchor'd below on the shoreward rim. His people slept. For to them descended, In that good time of the King, their rest, While the lengthening shades of the eve yet blended With the golden sunbeams low in the west.