A pattering of young feet up the oaken stairs, a straining of eyes and waving of kerchiefs from the bower-window. Soon the party was seen to cross the Swarkstone ford, the sun shining on helms of gold and silver and steel, on lance-heads and waving pennons, and then--and then--came the waiting, whilst Prior John discoursed to them of Christian hope and trust, and William Harpur dwelt on the probability of strife and bloodshed, and my lady called on them for help to entertain such guests as still remained at Swarkstone Hall. (_To be concluded._) [Illustration] WINTER [Illustration] The keen, clear air--the splendid sight-- We waken to a world of ice; Where all things are enshrined in light, As by some genie's quaint device. 'Tis winter's jubilee this day His stores their countless treasures yield; See how the diamond glances play, In ceaseless blaze, from tree and field. The cold, bare spot where late we ranged, The naked woods, are seen no more; This earth to fairy land is changed, With glittering silver sheeted o'er. O God of Nature! with what might Of beauty, shower'd on all below, Thy guiding power would lead aright, Earth's wanderer all Thy love to know! ANDREWS NORTON. AN OLD MAN'S VISIONS IN THE FLAMES. BY JOS. CULLEN SAWTELL. Beside a simple hearth I sit alone To watch the plumes of smoke and fitful blaze, And here reflecting how the time has flown, I see in flames the sights of bygone days: I'm sixty-six, with hair of purest white, My brow is wrinkled in a thousand creeks, And dim is now what once was clearest sight, And hollow what were round and ruddy cheeks. But stay--a vision in the flame appears: With flowers a village churchyard path is strewn, A youth and maiden hale and young in years Are wedded 'midst the blossomings of June. Alas! it scarcely seems but yesterday-- For I was that glad youth; and by my side There stood, from head to foot in white array, Her face adorned with smiles, my loving bride. The flames burn low; there comes a change of sight. I stand, as once I stood, with bated breath And anxious mind, throughout the lengthened night, To watch an awful strife 'twixt life and death. At length the morning broke--outside 'twas gay, But inside, sad; my wife had sweetly smiled, And falling back had calmly passed away, And I was left with Fan, my only child. There courses down my cheek the usual tear-- I'll brush it back, and find a brighter theme; See, flames are burning up with ruddy cheer, And I can now discern a sunnier gleam; Aye, aye! and 'tis a brighter theme to think How Fan grew up and was beloved by all, How never from a duty would she shrink, Nor scruple to respond to ev'ry call.