N.B.  It is hoped the above guttural word will not stick in the throat of the reader.

P.T.W.

* * * * *

SONG.

(For the Mirror.)

  Oh fly with me my lady love, my island home is free,
  And its flowers will bloom more sweetly still, when gazed upon by thee;
  Come, lady, come, the stars are bright—­in all their radiant power,
  As if they gave their fairy light to guide thee to my bower.

  Oh fly with me, my little bark is waiting ’neath the steep,
  And the midnight breeze is fresh to waft thee o’er the stilly deep;
  Though tempests blow they should not raise thy fears, nor scathe thy form,
  For love would hover o’er thee still, a halo in the storm.

  I’ve found for thee, my lady love, the freshest flowing springs,
  Whose cooling waters ever burst in crystal sparklings;
  It is for thee my shaft will wing the wild bird in the air,
  Or strike the swift gazelle to deck our simple mountain fare.

  Oh ’tis thou canst bid my spirit throb with rapture’s warmest sigh,
  As gushing winds will make a lute’s strings sleeping melody;
  When other hopes have faded like the flow’rets of the spring,
  Thou’lt be to me a joyous wreath for ever blossoming.

  Then fly with me my lady love, my island borne is free,
  And its flowers will bloom more sweetly still, when gazed upon by thee;
  Come, lady, come, the stars are bright in all their radiant power,
  As if they gave their fairy light to guide thee to my bower.

* * * * *

WRITING INK.

(To the Editor.)

I see in your admirable work one of the never ending disquisitions about making writing ink.  As I have used as much as most people in the threescore and ten years of my life, and my father used perhaps three times as much, and we never were nor are troubled, I suppose we manage as well as most folks—­and as it is begged of me to a great amount, I infer that others like it.

I improve a little on my father’s plan, by substituting a better vehicle, and the knowledge of this improvement I obtained from a lady to whom a Princess Esterhazy communicated it.

It is so convenient, that whenever I go to Leamington, Brighton, Tunbridge, or such places of temporary residence, I send to a chemist’s my recipe, reduced to the quantity of half a pint; and my ink is in use as soon as it comes, improving daily.

My home quantities are these: 

  Three quarts of stale good beer, not porter. 
  Three quarters of a pound fresh blue Aleppo galls, beaten. 
  Four ounces of copperas. 
  Four ounces of gum Arabic in powder. 
  Two ounces of rock alum.

This is kept for a week in a wide-mouthed pitcher close to the fire, never ON it, frequently stirred with a stick, and slightly covered with a large cork or tile.