In an instant she was on the brow of the cliff. She gave a convulsive cry of joy and relief, and reached out her little hand to me. I almost stretched out to grasp it; then, remembering that with her slight weight I might easily drag her back into danger, I took hold of a little bush: it was dried to the roots, and came out in my hand. My footing gave way: I slipped down, with nothing to break my fall--not a shrub, not a fissure in the rocks. The blue sky had been above me, but that blessed glimpse of azure vanished, and I could see nothing but the frowning sides of the precipice as I went down, my pace accelerating every moment. I believed I could gain a hold or footing on the shelving rock where I had found Helen, but it gave way as I touched it and slid suddenly down the ravine. I was dizzy and bruised, but was wondering if Helen would give the alarm--if Georgy would be sorry. I thought with pity of my mother, who would surely weep for me. Then I heard Beppo barking joyfully, and I knew that I was at the bottom of the abyss. I suffered a few seconds of such terrible pain that I was glad when a sickening sort of quietude settled over me, and I felt that I must be dying. ELLEN W. OLNEY. [TO BE CONTINUED.] A SEA-SOUND. Hush! hush! 'Tis the voice of the sea to the land, As it breaks on the desolate strand, With a chime to the strenuous wave of life That throbs in the quivering sand. Hush! hush! Each requiem tone as it dies, With a soul that is parting, sighs; For the tide rolls back from the pulseless clay As the foam in the tempest flies. Hush! hush! O throb of the restless sea! All hearts are attuned to thee-- All pulses beat with thine ebb and flow To the rhyme of Eternity! JOHN B. TABB. THE BRITISH SOLDIER.