Downward, downward! A thrill of horror shot through my veins, as I felt that the rough ocean breeze had shivered my silken vessel to shreds and tatters, and that I was falling with the speed of lightning, through the hollow abyss of the air, into the sea. The jaws of the fretting ocean, gnashing their white teeth in anger, seemed to gape open to devour me, and the black rocks uplifted their jagged spears, to impale my devoted body! But my time had not yet come. A gentle tap on the shoulder aroused me from the profound reverie in which I had been plunged, and I was very glad to recognize, in the visitor who had broken the spell, my good friend Durant, who called to invite me to attend his grand ascension, the following day. ODE, ON OCCASION OF JUDGE STORY'S EULOGY ON CHIEF JUSTICE MARSHALL AT THE ODEON. By Grenville Mellen. Again--the voice of God! How breaks it round! O'er consecrated sod, With locks unbound, Grief in her marble brow appears And bows amid her veil--in tears! That mandate from on high-- The clarion call, That rung through earth and sky His rayless fall, In accents, "thou shalt die," again Proclaims man's dream of years--how vain! We veil not in its grave Ambition's brow-- It is not o'er the brave We gather now! But one who reach'd man's loftier fate. _Good_ without fault--and nobly _great_. A sceptre was his own, Drawn from the sky-- He fill'd a holier throne Than royalty: He sat with deathless Justice crown'd, While Truth, like sunlight, flash'd around! His _life_ to all the earth Proud record bore, Man yet might spring to birth, With angel power! His _death_, that as the "grass," to-day Robes him in glory--and decay! Oh! well, with spirit bow'd, Above his bier May a broad empire crowd, With prayer and tear! --His be its requiem--deep and far-- A nation's heart his sepulchre! THE BOY'S MOUNTAIN SONG. FROM THE GERMAN. By I. McLellan, Jr. I am the mountain boy! Forth o'er an hundred halls I gaze. Here morn his earliest light displays, Here linger his declining rays,-- I am the mountain boy! Here is the mountain-source, Of the cold water-course-- And at sultry noon I dip, In its wave my glowing lip. I am the mountain boy! When the awful lightnings glare, Flashes on the midnight air, On the rocking cliff I kneel, Answering back each thunder-peal. I am the mountain boy! When the quickly-pealing bell, Calls to arms in every dell, In the mustered ranks I stand, Swinging wide my mountain-brand And sing my mountain-song! THE UNCHANGEABLE JEW. By John Neal.