I heard the last words that she uttered—­
“My love! tell my father I tried
To do what was best for his honour;
For you and for him I have died.”

A SONG FOR THE END OF THE SEASON.

BY J.R.  PLANCHE.

(FROM THE “DRAMATIC COLLEGE ANNUAL.")

Sir John has this moment gone by
In the brougham that was to be mine,
But, my dear, I’m not going to cry,
Though I know where he’s going to dine. 
I shall meet him at Lady Gay’s ball
With that girl to his arm clinging fast,
But it won’t, love, disturb me at all,
I’ve recovered my spirits at last!

I was horribly low for a week,
For I could not go out anywhere
Without hearing, “You know they don’t speak;”
Or, “I’m told it’s all broken off there.” 
But the Earl whispered something last night,
I sha’n’t say exactly what past,
But of this, dear, be satisfied quite,
I’ve recovered my spirits at last!

THE AGED PILOT MAN.

BY MARK TWAIN.

On the Erie Canal, it was,
All on a summer’s day,
I sailed forth with my parents
Far away to Albany.

From out the clouds at noon that day
There came a dreadful storm,
That piled the billows high about,
And filled us with alarm.

A man came rushing from a house,
“Tie up your boat I pray! 
Tie up your boat, tie up, alas! 
Tie up while yet you may.”

Our captain cast one glance astern,
Then forward glanced he,
And said, “My wife and little ones
I never more shall see.”

Said Dollinger the pilot man,
In noble words, but few—­
“Fear not, but lean on Dollinger,
And he will fetch you through.”

The boat drove on, the frightened mules
Tore through the rain and wind,
And bravely still in danger’s post,
The whip-boy strode behind.

“Come ’board, come ’board,” the captain cried,
“Nor tempt so wild a storm;”
But still the raging mules advanced,
And still the boy strode on.

Then said the captain to us all,
“Alas, ’tis plain to me,
The greater danger is not there,
But here upon the sea.

So let us strive, while life remains,
To save all souls on board,
And then if die at last we must,
I ... cannot speak the word!”

Said Dollinger the pilot man,
Tow’ring above the crew,
“Fear not, but trust in Dollinger,
And he will fetch you through.”

“Low bridge! low bridge!” all heads went down,
The labouring bark sped on;
A mill we passed, we passed a church,
Hamlets, and fields of corn;

And all the world came out to see,
And chased along the shore,
Crying, “Alas, the sheeted rain,
The wind, the tempest’s roar! 
Alas, the gallant ship and crew,
Can nothing help them more?”