In this unworthy clasp of woman's mould, This poor outside of pliant prettiness, There was a heart and in that heart a love, And in that love there was an affluence Full as the ocean, infinite as time, Deep as the spring that never knew an ebb. Too truly feeling what I left for thee, And with what joy I left it all for thee, And how I would have only followed thee, With soul, mind, purpose, to the far world's end, I cannot think on thee as thou deservest, But scorn is drowned in a well of tears; I will go sit and weep.-- Note.--Theseus, a Grecian hero, according to ancient fable, made an expedition into Crete for the purpose of destroying the Minotaur, a monster which infested that island. While there he made love to Ariadne, (daughter of Minos the king of Crete) who returned his affection, assisted him in accomplishing the object of his expedition, and sailed with him on his return to Athens. She was, however, abandoned by Theseus at Naxos, an island in the AEgean sea held sacred to Bacchus. Bacchus received Ariadne hospitably, but afterwards he too ran away from her. We suspect (as perhaps our poem sufficiently indicates) that the root of Ariadne's misfortunes lay in certain infirmities of temper, which rendered her at times an uncomfortable companion. THE FALLS OF THE BOUNDING DEER. WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE BY ALFRED B. STREET. "Good news! great discovery! new falls!" broke out in full chorus, boys and girls, at a party given by Jobson, in Monticello. "How did you happen to find them, Mayfield?" asked Allthings. "I was fishing, and came upon them all at once. I heard a roar of some waterfall or other, and the first I knew, I saw the chasm immediately below me!" "What was their appearance?" "There were two falls quite precipitous, and two basins. From the second basin the stream ran very smooth and placid again through a piece of woodland." "Good!--great!--new falls!" came anew the chorus. "What is the name of the falls, Mayfield?" inquired Allthings once more. "The people thereabouts call them Gumaer's Falls." "Horrid!--too common!--awful! Sha'n't have such a name!" was again the chorus. "Let's give them a new one at once." "Well, begin." "Let us call them the Falls of the Melting Snow," suggested the sentimental May Blossom. "That would do in the spring, when the snow is really melting," said Joe Jobson, a plain, practical young fellow, who never had a gleam of fancy in his life; "but there's no snow there now, I reckon." "What a heathen you are, Jobson!" broke in honest Allthings (who always spoke out); "the name applies to the water, not the snow!" "Why not the name of the Falls of the Silver Lace?" asked the tall, superb Lydia Lydell, who was also given to poetry. "Was there ever any lace made there?" again remarked Jobson.