cavalcade of youthful heroes, who were now entering in solid column the hall of beauty. A standard-bearer moved in front, directing the movements of the troop, with the obsolete word, constancy, in letters of gold upon his floating banner. The procession of the virgins was instantly dissolved, and each betook herself to her favourite retreat. The youthful cavalcade advanced to the centre of the garden. Night descended gently over the scene, and every individual repaired to his repose. Sweet and charming repose! resting in the bosom of love and constancy.

JUVENILE AMUSEMENTS.

Sacred your play and gladness,
Fair creatures! to recal
Those dim refreshing memories
On which no taint can fall;
A charm too, like the sunset
On the young blossom's hue,

They fade amidst the waning hours,
And change must come o'er you.

You can wake our early pleasures,
When dream-like and unknown

Life stretch'd beyond,-a glittering morn

Before the dew has flown;

You can give us back unsullied

The phantasies of youth,

When the sunshine from the bosom veil'd

The ruggedness of truth.

Those visions soon are ended,

For deeper thoughts must fill

The current of our after years,

Yet we are losers still;

For with them goes the innocence

That own'd no evil thought,

And knowledge, at that heavy price,

Alas is dearly bought.

As those who in a tempest

Are shuddering o'er the grave,

When hope has almost ceased to nerve

Their strivings with the wave,

Discover some green island,

Some calm sequester'd spot,

Where terror may be lull'd to rest,

And ocean's rage torgot.

Thus, O ye joyful children!
Appears your radiant glee,

Aairy land to which the soul
From storm and cloud can flee.
'Midst bitterness and discord
Ye come like music sweet;
A zephyr from the balmy dawn,
To check the noon-day heat.

120001

THE BLACK PRIEST'S PROPHECY.

In the midst of the desert mountains that separate the kingdom of Valencia from the plains of New Castile, stands the monastery of Cienfuegos. Driven by the war of invasion far from its devastated cloisters, the monks no longer tenanted their peaceful cells. The grass grew in the chapel. The altar was stripped of all its sacred ornaments, and alone, amid the general ruin and desolation of the holy place, a large statue of our Saviour, in beautiful black marble, remained standing.

The regiment of hussars, commanded by the young Albert, was encamped around the convent. The young officer had established his bivouac before the ruined portal of the church.

It was night. The stars glittered in the darkened sky, as gilded spangles on the black velvet robe of a Sevillian belle, and the moon slowly moved along, showing her pale crescent curved like the bended bow of Sagittarius.

Albert stretched himself by the dying embers of the bivouac fire, enveloped in his large cloak; his weary head reposing on the saddle of his horse. Already he heard only the shrill cry of the cricket, the loud neighing of the numerous steeds, and at long intervals, the watch cry of the sentinels.

Time was rapidly passing; he thought of his beloved one, of the youthful Eleonora, promised to his constancy on his return from the wars-of that sweet image, whose memory had been ever present to his mind, and whose bright-blue eyes and soft sweet smile, neither the superb beauty of the Roman, nor the fascinating graces of the Granadian women, had taught him to forget.

Dreaming of love, he was just falling asleep, when the rising sea-breeze, driving before it large bodies of clouds charged with rain, brought down the tempest on the French camp. Albert rose and sought a shelter from the pouring storm. The church door being open, he hastily entered.

Gloomy and damp was the interior of the building; and the lightning flash, as it gleamed through the stained glass of the windows, illumined for an instant the sculptured tombs of the departed, and shed a momentary brilliancy on the profaned altar of our Saviour. The young warrior, finding himself thus alone in a desolate hall, could not master his sensations of terror.

He advanced through the body of the church, whose deathlike silence was broken only by the noise of the steps and the clickering of his spurs.

A bell tolled the hour. Albert listened. Twelve strokes slowly sounded on the silver-toned metal.

The door of the vestry-room silently opened. A priest, robed in black and decorated with a silver cross, entered the church, bearing in his hand the holy cup and consecrated host. He trod lightly, gliding over the flags of the pavement without awakening an echo.

After placing the cup on the altar, he turned to Albert, apparently desirous he should approach. The young officer, actuated by an unknown impulse, advanced and quietly knelt on the steps of the altar. A nod from the unknown minister of God seemed to approve the action of the young man, and he commenced reciting the service of the departed. This remembrance of his days of childhood, and the grave and impressive tone of the old man's voice, awakened the slumbering piety of Albert, who made the responses as would have been done by the usual assemblege of hearers. When the service was concluded, the priest repeated the usual farewell prayer, as though the church was graced with its numerous and magnificent olden assemblages. Then turning to the young officer:

"Young stranger," he said, in a voice melodiously soft, "the pious service you have this evening rendered me has obtained the salvation of my soul. During two centuries I have here atoned by this nocturnal penance for a fault committed in my youth. For two centuries I have awaited the aid of a human being to terminate my penance-night after night has passed, and for two long centuries no mortal ever appeared. This night you came, and on your knees before the altar of Almighty God you have prayed for me-you have aided my guardian angel in bursting the bonds that confined my soul, and prevented it from ascending to the regions of eternal bliss. Thy piety shall be rewarded. Ask me, my son, one question, and one only may I answer. Think then what

thou most desirest to know. Ask me, and I will satisfy you."

Albert had trembled when the mysterious stranger first addressed him, but encouraged by the mildness of his voice and the benignity of his features, he soon recovered his equanimity, and when the latter had concluded, Albert, with deep motion, replied:

"Father, tell me how long have I to live?"

66

My son !" and his face assumed a sadness it did not wear before," what hast thou asked me? You desire me to Three years from this day, when

answer: well, listen then.

the sun sheds its first ray of light onthe earth, thou wilt not