She had drawn rein within the castle court Under its arching gateway, and there stood, Curbing the hot steed that, with upreared hoofs, Bearing upon the gilded bit, pressed forward. Her eyes had measured distance, and her lips, Parted and eager, seemed to drink the air Now fresh with morning, and her light form kept Its throne exultingly. A single plume Waved from her hunting-cap, and the quick wind Close to the floating ringlets of her hair Pressed down its snowy fringes. But the folds Of her rich dress hung motionless, and its hem Swept to the shaven turf. Near by, a page Held in a leash of greyhounds, and a hawk Sat hooded on the bend of her gloved wrist. HILLSIDE COTTAGE. BY MRS. JULIA C. R. DORR. There was no spot in all Elmwood that we children so dearly loved to visit as Hillside Cottage. No matter where our wanderings began--whether we started for the meadow, in pursuit of the rich strawberry--for the thick woods, where the wild flowers bloomed so luxuriantly, and the bright scarlet clusters of the partridge-berry, contrasting beautifully with its dark green leaves, sprang up at our feet--for the brook, to gather the shining pebbles, or to watch the speckled trout, as they darted swiftly through the water--no matter where our wanderings began, it was a strange thing if they did not terminate somewhere about the sweet wild place where Aunt Mary lived. Now, prythee, gentle reader, do not picture to your "mind's eye" a stately mansion with an unpretending name, when you read of Hillside Cottage. Neither was it a cottage _ornée_, with piazzas, and columns, and Venetian blinds. It was a low-roofed dwelling, and its walls had never been visited by a single touch of the painter's brush: but the wild vines had sprung up around it, until their interlacing tendrils formed a beautiful network nearly all over the little building; and the moss upon the roof had been gathering there for many years, growing thicker and greener after the snows of each succeeding winter had rested upon it. It stood, as the name given it by the villagers indicated, upon the hillside, just in the edge of the woods that nearly covered the rounded summit of the hill; a little rivulet danced along, almost beneath the very windows, and at a short distance below fell over a ledge of rocks, forming a small but beautiful cascade, then, tired of its gambols, it flowed onwards as demurely as if it had never leaped gaily in the sunlight, or frolicked, like a child at play, with every flower that bent to kiss its bright waters. We thought there was no place where the birds sang half so sweetly, or where the air was so laden with fragrance; and sure am I there was no place where we were more cordially welcomed than in Aunt Mary's cottage.