parapet; after two or three efforts, the grappling-hook caught firm

'Go first,' said Morton; 'I will not leave you now; you will be longer getting across than I shall. I will keep guard till you are over.'

'Hark! hark!-are you mad? You keep guard! What is your strength to mine? Twenty men shall not move that door, while my weight is against it. Quick, or you destroy us both! Besides, you will hold the rope for me, it may not be strong enough for my bulk of itself. Stay!-stay one moment. If you escape, and I fall-Fanny - my father, he will take care of her—you remember -thanks! Forgive me all! Go; that's right!'

With a firm pulse, Morton threw himself on that dreadful bridge; it swung and crackled at his weight. Shifting his grasp rapidlyholding his breath—with set teeth with closed eyes - he moved on - he gained the parapet — he stood safe on the opposite side. And now, straining his eyes across, he saw through the open casement into the chamber he had just quitted. Gawtrey was still standing against the door to the principal staircase, for that of the two was the weaker and the more assailed. Presently the explosion of a firearm was heard; they had shot through the parel. Gawtrey seemed wounded, for he staggered forward, and uttered a fierce cry; a moment more and he gained the window-he seized the ropehe hung over the tremendous depth! Morton knelt by the parapet, holding the grappling-hook in its place, with convulsive grasp, and fixing his eyes, bloodshot with fear and suspense, on the huge bulk that clung for life to that slender cord!

'Le voila! le voila !' cried a voice from the opposite side. Morton raised his gaze from Gawtrey; the casement was darkened by the forms of the pursuers-they had burst into the room—an officer sprung upon the parapet, and Gawtrey, now aware of his danger, opened his eyes, and, as he moved on, glared upon the foe. The policeman deliberately raised his pistol-Gawtrey arrested himself from a wound in his side the blood trickled slowly aud darkly down, drop by drop, upon the stones below; even the officers of law shuddered as they eyed him; his hair bristling-his cheek white his lips drawn convulsively from his teeth, and his eyes glaring from beneath the frown of agony and menace in which

yet spoke the indomitable power and fierceness of the man. His look, so fixed-so intense - so stern, awed the policeman; his hand trembled as he fired, and the ball struck the parapet an inch below the spot where Morton knelt. An indistinct, wild, gurgling sound--half laugh, half yell—of scorn and glee, broke from Gawtrey's lips. He swung himself on — near- near-nearer - a yard from the parapet.

'You are saved!' cried Morton; when at that moment a volley burst from the fatal casement-the smoke rolled over both the fugitives a groan, or rather howl, of rage, and despair, and agony, appalled even the hardiest on whose ear it came. Morton, sprang to his feet, and looked below. He saw on the rugged stones, far down, a dark, formless, motionless mass the strong man of passion and levity — the giant who had played with life and soul, as an infant with the baubles that it prizes and breaks was what the Cæsar and the leper alike are, when all clay is without God's breathwhat glory, genius, power, and beauty, would be for ever and for ever, if there were no God!

Bulwer

Jeanie Morrison.

I've wandered east, I've wandered west,

Through many a weary way;

But never, never can forget

The love of life's young day!

The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en,
May weel be black gin Yule;
But blacker fa' awaits the heart
Where first fond love grows cool.

O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,

The thochts o' bygane years

Still fling their shadows owre my path,
And blind my een wi' tears!
They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears,
And sair and sick I pine,

As memory idly summons up

The blithe blinks o' langsyne.

Twas then we loved ilk ither weel,

'Twas then we twa did part;

Sweet time!-sad time!-twa bairns at schule,

Twa bairns, and but ae heart!

'Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink,

To lear ilk ither lear;

And tones, and looks, and smiles were shed,
Remembered ever mair.

I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet,

When sitting on that bink,

Cheek touchin' cheek, loof locked in loof,
What our wee heads could think.
When baith bent doun owre ae braid page,
Wi' ae buik on our knee,

Thy lips were on thy lesson, but
My lesson was in thee.

O mind ye how we hung our heads,
How cheeks brent red wi' shame,
Whene'er the schule-weans, laughin', said,
We cleeked thegither hame?
And mind ye o' the Saturdays—
The schule then skailed at noon
When we ran aff to speel the braes-
The broomy braes o' June?

My head rins round and round about,
My heart flows like a sea,

As ane by ane the thochts rush back
O' schule-time and o' thee.

Oh, mornin' life! oh, mornin' love!

Oh, lightsome days and lang,
When hinnied hopes around our hearts,
Like simmer blossoms, sprang!

O mind ye, love, low aft we left
The deavin' dinsome toun,
To wander by the green burnside,
And hear its water croon?

The simmer leaves hung owre our heads,
The flowers burst round our feet,
And in the gloamin' o' the wood
The throssil whistled sweet.

The throssil whistled in the wood,
The burn sung to the trees,

And we with Nature's heart in tune,
Concerted harmonies;

And on the knowe aboon the burn,
For hours thegither sat

In the silentness o' joy, till baith
Wi' very gladness grat!

Aye, aye, dear Jeanie Morrison,

Tears trinkled doun your cheek, Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane Had ony power to speak!

That was a time, a blessed time.

When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelings forth, Unsyllabled-unsung!

I marvel, Jeanie Morrison,

Gin I hae been to thee

As closely twined wi' earliest thochts

O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,

Since we were sindered young,
I've never seen your face, nor heard
The music o' your tongue;

But I could hug all wretchedness,

And happy could I dee,

Did I but ken your heart still dreamed

O' bygane days and me!

Fading - Dying.

The autumn winds are swelling high,
And autumn leaves are lying low;
And playing through the murky sky,
I see the flocks of wild-birds go.
'Twas on a sunny, bright May day,
Ah! long ago it seemeth now
I turned me from the world away
With weary feet and throbbing brow.

And ever since that fatal hour

Has my life's lamp been waning dim,
And fading with the autumn flower,-
I soon shall sing my evening hymn;
I soon shall sing my evening hymn,
And lay me down alone to rest,
Then Death, the spirit cold and grim,

Will come in clouds of darkness drest.

Through all the night so long and still,
In my shadowy chamber alone I lie -

While the moon shines pale on the window sill,
And the mystic hours go slowly by

I think o'er all the glad, bright way
My life hath passed its few short years;
They are gone, like one long summer day,

And night has come with gloom and tears

Motherwe