CLEVELAND, Q. She hath no strands of coral, rimmed with gold, Or mermaids, in green dells of ancient story; But rippling, laughing waves her feet enfold, And land and seascape gleam with glittering glory. Clad in her verdant raiment, in the crystal dawning While golden wings of beauty o’er her rest, Its passion, dimming the pale star of morning, The Sun god’s kiss upon her face is pressed. And ’neath the ti-tree’s shade, and spreading fig trees, The meek kine, lowing, wander at their will; While, borne upon the fragrant evening breeze, The mopoke’s notes are heard from “copse” and hill. And lo! When Luna’s orb in splendour lies O’er Stradbrooke’s purple hill, and gem-set isles, She gazes o’er the Point ’neath opal skies To Cotton’s mountain wreathed in vernal smiles. The red land waits for man to till the sod With plough-share and with courage, heart and will-- To sow the seed where lies the barren clod, Turning the grist to gold, with Nature’s mill. THE HAUNTED CHAIR. One of a large house party, on a frosty Christmas Eve, The conversation led to ghosts in which some folks believe. “I wish this house were haunted,” cried a lady young and gay; “I’d shut myself within its gloom, and none should say me nay.” Our host informed us gravely that up the broad oak stair, Was a sealed and disused chamber, which owned a haunted chair. His grandfather long years before was missing from his bed; They searched and found him sitting within the arm-chair--dead. His wealth had been proverbial, but no one found a will; And though in manner sometimes strange, no one had wished him ill. “The secret never had been solved,” our host said, “nor a trace Of ought remained, except the land, and this ancestral place.” “’Tis done,” the lady said; “to-night I sleep in that arm-chair. “And if his ghost appears to me, I’ll never show my fear.” That night the lady went and sat within the chamber dim; She drew the curtain, chose a book, and read a Christmas hymn. And then a fear possessed her, she grasped the huge arm-chair, For in the shadows she could see a man with whitened hair. His hands were clasped above him in suppliant attitude. And tears were streaming down like rain, while words in torrent flowed: “I had a brother once, a boy. I loved him as my life, But he destroyed my happiness, he stole my promised wife. We parted, he to Austral’s land, I for long years to mourn, Until his widow sought me out to aid her infant son. We married, and I brought him up, but he my wealth desired; I hid it here, for of this youth with fear was I inspired. Who’er shall find this secret, as my will doth so declare, Shall take the half, and all the rest the poor shall have a share;