The city is not built on the sea-coast, but two or three miles from the shore, its port being Sandridge, with which it is connected by railway. Vessels of all nations crowd the harbor, and the streets are as full of busy life and gay frivolity as those of Havre or Marseilles. The drives in the environs of the city are replete with picturesque beauty--meadows dotted with many--tinted flowers and magnificent forest trees, about which are festooned flowering vines and creepers. Their thick branches are the resort of cockatoos, parrots and paroquets in brilliant plumage, and perhaps most beautiful of all, because most rare, sparrows, not clothed, like ours, in sombre gray, but rejoicing in vestments of green and gold. But brilliancy of plumage is the solitary charm of these feathered beauties, for their voices are harsh and their song a very burlesque on the name of music. FORECAST. When I, for ever out of human sight, Shall seem beyond the wish for anything, Oh then believe at morning and at night My soul shall listen for thy whispering. The work of life may so fill up the day That not a thought of me shall venture there; And after labor Love may charm away What could not enter for the press of care. But when thou'st bidden all _this_ world good-night, And enterest that which lies so close to mine, _Call me by name_--it is my angel's right-- And I shall hear thee, though I give no sign. When morn undoes the high, white gates of sleep, Pause, as thou comest forth, to speak to me: It may seem vain, for silence will be deep, But uttered wishes wait on prophecy. And when some day far distant thou dost feel That night and morrow will no longer come, The pitying heart will let me then reveal My presence to thee on the passage home. CHARLOTTE F. BATES. THE MATCHLESS ONE: A TALE OF AMERICAN SOCIETY, IN FOUR CHAPTERS. CHAPTER III. I was nearly asleep, though my thoughts were entertaining enough, when again footsteps entered the arbor below. This time the intruder did not pause. A woman's voice humming an air seemed to approach, and in a moment more a swift hand parted the bushes behind me, and Blanche Furnaval appeared. I was very much surprised, but stood up to make way for her, at the same time throwing aside my cigar. "I beg your pardon," she exclaimed immediately, clearly as much astonished as I: "I did not know any one had found this pretty spot but myself." "I think I know how to look for pretty things," I replied, gazing at her face, which was glowing from quick walking, though her breath came evenly through her parted lips. "Do you never tire of making those silly speeches?" she asked, lifting her gray eyes candidly to my face. "Excuse me, you need not answer: I am very brusque. You see I did not expect to find any one here, and consequently left my company manners at home. I am sorry to have disturbed you," she continued, turning to go.