that she used to throw up towards mine, would control her: and never for a moment did she endanger me. This was little short of a daily miracle, when we consider the nature of the country, her character, and my unskilfulness. It can only be accounted for on the ground of that wondrous power which having willed me to work for a time in the vineyard of the Lord, rendered me immortal until the work should be done. Oh that my soul, and all that is within me could sufficiently bless the Lord, and remember all his benefits. I was then unmindful of, and unthankful for his protection; I revelled in the delights of a freedom that none could share but my dog, who never left the side of his associate. Shall I give you a sketch of the group, in some lines composed during one of those excursions? They may partly describe it. I found, them among some old papers. "I know by the ardor thou canst not restrain, By the curve of thy neck and the toss of thy mane, By the foam of thy snorting which spangles my brow, The fire of the Arab is hot in thee now. 'Twere harsh to control thee, my frolicsome steed; I give thee the rein--so away at thy speed; Thy rider will dare to be wilful as thee, Laugh the future to scorn, and partake in thy glee. Away to the mountain--what need we to fear? Pursuit cannot press on my Fairy's career; Full light were the heel and well-balanced the head That ventured to follow the track of thy tread, Where roars the loud torrent and starts the rude plank, And thunders the rook-severed mass down the bank, While mirrored in crystal the far-shooting glow, With dazzling effulgence is sparkling below. One start, and I die; yet in peace I recline, My bosom can rest on the fealty of thine: Thou lov'st me, my sweet one, and would'st not be free, From a yoke that has never borne rudely on thee. Ah, pleasant the empire of those to confess, Whose wrath is a whisper, their rule a caress. "Behold how thy playmate is stretching beside, As loath to be vanquished in love or in pride, While upward he glances his eyeball of jet, Half dreading thy fleetness may distance him yet. Ah, Marco, poor Marco--our pastime to-day Were reft of one pleasure if he were away. "How precious these moments: fair freedom expands Her pinions of light o'er the desolate lands; The waters are flashing as bright as thine eye, Unchained as thy motion the breezes sweep by, Delicious they come, o'er the flower-scented earth, Like whispers of love from the isle of my birth; While the white-bosomed Cistus her perfume exhales, And sighs out a spicy farewell to the gales. Unfeared and unfearing we'll traverse the wood, Where pours the rude torrent its turbulent flood: The forest's red children will smile as we scour By the log-fashioned hut and the pine-woven bower; Thy feathery footsteps scarce bending the grass, Or denting the dew-spangled moss where we pass