pang that he was to dine with Sir Simon the next day; the head cook had been telegraphed for to prepare the dinner; there was to be a jovial gathering of friends to “cheer him up.” What a mystery it was, this craving for being cheered up, as if the process were a substantial remedy that in some way helped to pay debts, or postpone payment! The count was too sad at heart to smile. He rose from the breakfast-table with a sigh, and was leaving the room when Franceline linked her hands on his arm, and said, looking up with an anxious face: “It is a long letter, petit père; is there any bad news?” “There is hardly any news at all,” he replied evasively. In truth there was not. “Then why do you look so sad?” “Why dost thou look so pale?” was the reply. And he smiled tenderly and sighed again as he kissed her forehead. TO BE CONTINUED. ÆSCHYLUS. A sea-cliff carved into a bas-relief! Art, rough from Nature’s hand; by brooding Nature Wrought out in spasms to shapes of Titan stature; Emblems of Fate, and Change, Revenge, and Grief, And Death, and Life; in giant hieroglyph Confronting still with thunder-blasted frieze All stress of years, and winds, and wasting seas-- The stranger nears it in his western skiff, And hides his eyes. Few, few shall dare, great Bard, Thy watery portals! Entering, fewer yet Shall pierce thy music’s meaning, deep and hard! But these shall owe to thee an endless debt; The Eleusinian caverns they shall tread That wind beneath man’s heart; and wisdom learn with dread. AUBREY DE VERE. A PRECURSOR OF MARCO POLO.