I must hastily pass over my long and painful convalescence. A month elapsed before I could venture to go beyond doors. Aleukâ attended upon me, and through her economy my purse yet held out. The plague had greatly subsided; the month of December set in with uncommon severity of cold, and checked its progress. Oh! the exquisite delight with which I left my hard and burning bed and close apartment, the scenes of all my sufferings, for the first time! With a prayer of thankfulness on my lips, I crossed the threshold of the humble dwelling, and once more slowly mounted the steep hill of Pera. It was a bright, sunny, clear morning; the fresh, cool breeze from the Black Sea blew over me, infusing new strength and life into my shattered frame. The streets were again re-peopled, and business renewed. No one recognized me in my pale, haggard and swollen countenance; and when I presented myself at the door of a countryman in Pera, he drew back with an exclamation of surprise, as if he had beheld a spirit. My short story is told. I have comprised in a few words the tale of many long days of agony and suffering, both mental and corporeal. I fast regained my strength and vigor; the hollow furrows of my forehead and cheeks soon gave way to the effects of a generous diet; and I once more stood forth in health and full powers. But you will ask, 'And where is she who watched over you during your moments of suffering?--whom you called your guardian angel, and of whose friendship and love you spoke in such feeling terms?' I reply, that she sits even now at my side; her handsome and intelligent countenance reading in my face the varied emotions to which the tracing of these lines give rise. Devoted Aleukâ is my loving and much-loved wife. J. P. B. A SONG BY JOHN WATERS. Time was I thought that precious name Less meet for Court than Alley; But now, no thrilling sound hath Fame, No clarion note, like SALLY! There seems at first, within the word, Some cause to smile, or rally; But once by her sweet glance preferr'd, Ev'n Heaven itself loves SALLY! The world moves round when move her Eyes, Grace o'er each step doth dally, The breath is lost in glad surprize; There is no belle, like SALLY! Old hearts grow young, off flies the gout, Time stops, his Glass to rally; I hardly know what I'm about-- When lost in thought on SALLY! Sometimes she's small, sometimes she's tall, I can't tell how, vocally; For there's a spirit over all, That beams abroad from SALLY! A spirit bright, a beam of light, Ah! fear not that I rally-- No man can Evil think in sight Of this pure-hearted SALLY! And yet Time was, I thought the name For Court less fit, than Alley; While now, no herald sound hath Fame, No clarion note, but SALLY! REMINISCENCES OF A DARTMOOR PRISONER. NUMBER THREE.