candlesticks, and not unfrequently large altars of massive silver, became objects of a _devout regard_. Nor did the pirates fail to present themselves before every accessible shrine; for in truth, they swept over the vast central portion of the continent from Florida to Peru, plundering and laying in waste the most populous regions, and the wealthiest cities--meeting, moreover, with less resistance than attended the march of Cortez and Alvarado in achieving the conquest. Their visitations were sudden, and wherever they struck their blows fell like the thunderbolt. The consequence was that the consternation of the people upon the land became as great as their terror upon the ocean. The great roads were deserted; and the lands were no more ploughed than the sea. VIRGINIA. (SUGGESTED BY A PAINTING BY J. McENTEE.) 'The tree has lost its blossoms,... But the sap lasts,--and still the seed we find Sown deep even in the bosom of the North; So shall a bitter spring less bitter fruit bring forth.' _Childe Harold._ Wan and weird the solemn twilight gleameth in the dreary sky, Dusky shadows growing deeper, sad night-breezes sorrowing by, Sighing 'mid the leafless bushes bending o'er the sullen stream, Wailing 'mid the fire-stained ruins darkly rising 'gainst the gleam Of the wild unearthly twilight. In the shivering evening air Cheerless lie the gloomy meadows--blight and ruin everywhere! Far away the wide plain stretches, dark and desolate it lies 'Neath the shuddering winds that murmur, 'neath the gleaming of the skies; Hark to the swollen river, how it moaneth in its flow, 'Mid the bridge's fallen arches, 'neath the bushes bending low, Now unbroken by a ripple, flowing silently and still, Gives again unto the heavens twilight gleaming wan and chill. Where the corn once waved in beauty its bright wealth of shining leaves, Glittering in the noonday's glory, rustling in the summer eves, As the murmuring wind swept o'er it, bending low each tasselled head, 'Neath the soft and shimmering radiance by the moon of summer shed-- There no plough will make its furrow--waste the sunny field doth lie, And no grain will wave its tresses to the breezes wailing by. Where amid the whispering forests once the laughing sunlight fell, Fallen tree and blackened stump now the dreary story tell Of the woe and desolation sad Virginia shadowing o'er, From the fatal Rappahannock to Potomac's fort-crowned shore, Tell the tale of saddened hearthstones, desolate hearts that mourn each day For the dearly loved ones stricken, wounded, dying, far away.