'In his large love and boundless thought.' If our young friend has imperfectly sketched the beauties of the mountains, she has exaggerated nothing. We hope our readers--though, alas! perchance over-wearied now--may make the complete tour of these White Hills, including, as it should, the enchanting sail on Lake Winnipiseogee, the beautiful drive by North-Conway, and the ascents of Kiarsarge, Chicoma, Mount Moriah, and the Red Mountain. THE LAST TOAST. 'Quick! fill up our glasses, comrade true! I hear the reveille,' he fainting said; 'O brave MCCLELLAN! I drink to _you!_' His glass lay broken--the soldier was dead. EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY-TWO. Alone at her window a maiden sat, And toward the South looked she, Over the field, over the flood, Over the restless sea. My Love, she said, he wanders far, He may not come to me. To and fro, to and fro, Sweeps the tide in ebb and flow: You and I, ah! well we know How hope and fear may come and go. With folded hands the maiden sat; Her work beside her lay; She saw the dusty, lengthening miles, A weary, weary way, Dullest links of a leaden chain, Unfolding, day on day. To and fro, to and fro, Breaking waves in restless flow: You and I, ah! well we know How hope and fear may come and go. My Love, she said, he wanders far Over the Southern sea; Nor Paris gay, nor ancient Rome, Could keep my love from me. The good ship drives through the misty night With the black rocks under the lea. To and fro, to and fro, Winter storms may come and go: You and I, ah! well we know Hope of good and fear of woe. I would, she said, I were by his side, Fighting on sea and land; Harder by far the folded hands, Than in battle light to stand-- Stand with the faithful knights of God, Afar on the Southern sand. To and fro, to and fro, Spring may come, but spring must go: You and I, ah! well we know Change is stamped on all below. My Love, she said, is every man Who girds him for the fight, By fortressed coast or Western wood, To battle for the Right. Be still, my heart, the end is sure; From darkness cometh light. To and fro, to and fro, The watchful sentries come and go: You and I, ah! well we know Rifle-shot of unseen foe. I glory with my Love, she said, My heart beats quick and high When captured fort or well-fought field Echoes the victor cry Of those who know 'like men to live, Or hero-like to die.' To and fro, to and fro, Summer's smiles and winter's snow: You and I, ah! well we know Faith may fail and doubt may grow.