ance only half remedied is a grievance still, as any philosopher will tell you; so, to do away all mischief, and all pretence for it, I took her other hand. She knew it would be useless to struggle; so she remained as peaceable as a lamb. Just then came on the fit of the lips, and the nervous spasm; and under their sad influence I drew her forward, and — O dear! I don't know how it is our lips met, and I kissed her once, twice, thrice, and again and

again, and I am not sure for I was a good deal flurried- but several times after that. She burst into tears, and her head dropped on my shoulder. I have only to add that Dr. Brownlocks is now my wife.

I'VE nailed my colors to the mast;
The anchor of my hopes is cast:
Come life or death, come weal or woe,
I shall not change my faith below.

I shall not change. She that I love
Is soft and gentle as the dove;
The breeze no glossier ringlet stirs,
Earth hath no rubier lip, than hers.

I cannot change. So oft mine eye
Has seen her light foot tripping by,
That, by my fears-oft urged in vain
I cannot rend away my chain.

I've nailed my colors to the mast;
The anchor of my hope is cast:
Come life or death, come weal or woe,

I shall not change my faith below.