A pallet, undisturbed by night, Fell on the careful matron's sight. And Alice Hill from thence had fled, With shoeless feet and naked head. Long was the search, and every track Pursued to bring crazed Alice back. But vain pursuit, reward in vain, To bring crazed Alice back again. Wrapped in a cloak of faded red, With shoeless feet and naked head, And ringlets shorn, a woman stood Half muttering, in a crazy mood, And watched with glazed and jealous eye A gorgeous equipage move by. Reined in the light of glaring lamps The restless steed his bridle champs. A form alights with agile bound, But reeling, totters to the ground. They said, who passed, a weapon's gleam Danced in the moonlight's silvery beam. Crowds gathered round, a crimson tide Was slowly ebbing from his side, When on their sight a weapon flashed, And feet that living current plashed, Till bending o'er his shivering frame A woman wildly shrieked his name. "Turn on me now your treacherous eyes! Speak, lying lips, while perjury dies, See what a work a falsehood wrought, My love with life were dearly bought, But peace and reason with it fled-- Eternal curses on your head! You stole my love, an artless child By sacred promises beguiled, Then left me to a blighted name, To add new laurels to your fame;-- To death's avenging altar led, This be the seal by which we wed." Upraised, the weapon gleamed again On coward hearts and awe-struck men: Beside Fitch Moreland, fainting, dead, Lay Alice Hill, their spirits wed In that eternal, dreamless sleep, Where souls their solemn bridals keep. DR. VANDORSEN AND THE YOUNG WIDOW. BY ANN E. PORTER. To assure my readers that I am telling them what is truth, and not drawing upon the treasury of fancy for a sketch, I will first relate to them in what manner I became acquainted with the Doctor and the Widow. I was once a teacher: yes, for seven years I held sway in the school-room, and learned by severe discipline the art of self-government, and to bear in secret many a sorrow of which the cherished daughter in the domestic circle remains in blissful ignorance. Whenever I see a young lady, at the close of school-hours, turning with a weary step to her solitary room in some boarding-house, my first impulse is to go and ask her to share my own fireside, sit down at my table, and forget for a while, in my little family circle, that she is away from the loved ones of her own home.