distance, a truly summer sound, and indicative of the calm and dewy summer night?-or at the decline of day, the clear and liquid call, the "wit-wi-wit" of the QUAIL (perdix coturnix), from similar localities?or, as night approaches, can turn aside the attention from the incessant jarr of the GOATSUCKER or FERN-OWL (caprimulgus europæus), as it beats the margins of coppices and hedgerows, or around timber trees in search of its prey, the night insects? Nearly the last in the train of summer visitors is the REDSTART (motacilla phoenicurus), not noted for the superiority of its song, but welcomed from its appearance and habits; building its nest near the habitations of man, in gardens and orchards, about greenhouses, vineries, and the like. The last comer of all is the FLY-CATCHER (muscicapa grisola). Almost mute, it delights not the ear with its song; but it gratifies the eye by its graceful evolutions on the wing, and is endeared by its familiarity with man. It forms its nest in climbing plants and vines in front of houses, and brings forth its young even in the presence of the inmates, with whom it becomes familiar. It subsists wholly upon insects, and takes its departure at an early period.

And is there not a high gratification in marking the habits and instincts of these several birds of passage? Knowledge is blended with delight, and health with both, as almost every description of locality and, consequently, every variety of scene, amid the pure air of the invigorating country, are embraced in the observation and the inquiry. Nor can the mind divest itself of higher considerations. While revolution, silent or turbulent, succeeds to revolution,-while we behold changes in forms of government and ways of fashion, in creeds of belief and modes of devotion,-the habits of these summer migratory visitors remain the same, and speak of the wisdom and goodness of their great Creator.

TO THE EVENING STAR.

FAIR Star! I gaze on thee, and o'er my brow
Plays the soft breeze of evening. Evermore
The shrine of pure and holy thought be thou,
Winning my soul from earth's dark dreams to soar.

I do remember me in childhood's hour,

When first my spirit drank thy glorious light,

Young fancy pictured an elysian bower,

Unfading wreaths, and skies for ever bright,

Within thy glittering orb ;-but ah! that dream,
Like other dreams, hath faded fast away,

And rarely Fancy casts its golden gleam
Upon the storm-clouds of my wintry day.

Yet, Star of Evening! furnish hopeful thought,
Thy trembling beams so soft and pure instil;
And the sad breast, where earthly passions wrought,
Peace from above with holiest calm shall fill !

Н. В. К.

In the parlour of a small inn situated in one of the dreariest districts of North Wales sat a young man of somewhat striking appearance; his lofty forehead and clear eye seemed to betoken intellectual powers of no ordinary grade, while lips thin and compressed, added to a heaviness about the brow, gave his countenance an air of decision and severity not perhaps altogether prepossessing. A light walking costume of shepherd's plaid shewed to advantage his tall and active figure as he balanced himself restlessly upon a couple of mine host's rickety chairs; a soiled newspaper was in his hand, from the perusal of which his glances wandered to the window with every symptom of impatience. At length the door of the apartment opened, and a short red-nosed individual, habited in dingy black, with a cravat which, by the effect of contrast, might pass for white, walked or rather shuffled in. Instantly rising and proffering a seat, the original occupant of the "Golden Goat" proceeded to apologize to his visitor for the liberty he had taken in summoning him thither :—

"My object, sir," continued the former, "is, as stated in my note, to discover a gentleman sufficiently acquainted with this locality to inform me what faith may be put in this description of a neighbouring estate which is for sale." So saying, and handing across the newspaper, he pointed to an advertisement wherein every figure of speech, and every variety of type seemed to be exhausted in the attempt to convey "a very inadequate notion" of this "most unparalleled opportunity;"-the paragraph ran on as follows:

"This Estate, or rather Territorial Domain, embraces every attraction that can captivate the Artist, the Angler, the Poet, the Philosopher, the Man of Taste, and the Man of Business; comprising excellences at once unique and unequalled, and affording every facility of restoring to the arms, or rather pocket, of its fortunate proprietor that

'Lost Pleiad, seen no more below.'

FIVE PER CENT ON CAPITAL!!

Plinlimmon, Cader Idris, and, above all, the Snowdonian Range, which, although inferior in altitude to

CHIMBORAZO AND MONT BLANC,

may yet be termed, if not The Monarch of Mountains,' at least
THE PRINCE OF WALES,

is distinctly visible through a tolerable telescope; while nearer home, the stupendous cataract of Pwllyndd Bwllchy, the ancient and antique ruins of Llfndd, and the commodious market-town of Cyddwllwll, afford every variety of food for the imagination, and luxuries for the table. The enviable proprietor of this Paradise would probably erect, in place of the present more homely residence,

A CASTELLATED MANSION IN THE ELIZABETHAN STYLE,

Thus ensuring to himself the title of the

MAGNUS APOLLO LOCI !!

with every probability of eventually ranking among
THE LEGISLATORS OF THE LAND,

whenever this portion of the county shall return a Member to Parliament. In a word, Mr. Jobbins feels it his duty to state, that a possibility can never occur again of securing at one purchase so marvellous a combination of the

66

NE PLUS ULTRA OF NATURE!

with the

BEAU IDEAL OF INVESTMENT!!!

'Well, sir," observed the elder personage, whom we may introduce as Mr. Williams, the village curate. "In what particular planet this estate may lie, I cannot pretend to guess, but I do much doubt its existence in ours, and above all its connection with this neighbourhood."

"But surely," rejoined the other, "our figurative friend must have some site for his gorgeous scenery; there must be an estate to

be sold."

"Most undeniably there is," said Mr. Williams, taking snuff, "a large tract of mountain and morass, affording pasturage for a few sheep and turf for those who tend them."

"And the cascade?"

"Some ten miles distant."

"The castle ?"

"Periere etiam ruinæ."

"The present homely residence?" pursued the inquirer. "A dilapidated building, tenantless for years."

"And as touching the commodious market-town?"

"Circumspice," replied Mr. Williams.

66

I need scarcely ask then," said the stranger, "if the spot be retired and undisturbed?"

"Retired in good truth, it is," returned his companion, with a sigh. "A parochial Patmos, sir, where human visits are as few and far between as those of angels were wont to be."

Within a couple of months from the date of this interview, the young stranger, under the name of Mervyn, was formally announced as the "enviable proprietor of —," and workmen were forthwith employed, not indeed to erect the Elizabethan mansion suggested by Mr. Jobbins, but to put the old house into a state of habitable repair. But although no more was done to the dwelling itself than what might seem to render it weatherproof, a large building was adjoined, which was fitted up with powerful furnaces, and the various machinery requisite for pursuing chemical experiments on an extensive scale,—a circumstance which gave rise to no trifling speculation among the good gossips of the vicinity.

Mr. Mervyn himself, although now completely settled in his new domicile, was rarely seen abroad. His days and (as the constant lights bore witness) his nights also, were spent within the walls of his laboratory, the tall chimney of which ever and anon gave forth its sparks and flames after the manner of a small volcano. In the "good old times" he had been inevitably arrested, and probably punished as a practiser of unholy arts, and even in this enlightened day, the cottagers began to regard him with some feelings of suspicion and alarm. For some time his only visitor was the curate, and as that gentleman perceived that his advances were met with a degree of coldness but just consistent with good breeding, he soon

thought ft to discontinue them; not so Squire Penrose, whose Welsh bospitality was proof against every rebuff, and who, on calling, posirely refused to quit his new neighbour without a promise from the latter to spend a few days with him at the hall. As a guest was evidently à para aris in the land, and the Squire was obviously bent upon bugging the specimen, Mervyn resolved to accept the invitation, and with the best possible grace.

The party to which the young Englishman was introduced consisted of two maiden aunts, a young married couple, the Squire's only child, a lively girl of seventeen, handsome, witty, and coquettish, and his niece, a young woman some four years the senior, and in most respects the reverse of her cousin. There were besides one or two young men staying in the house and waiting with great impatience for the commencement of the shooting-season. Such society was not altogether suited to the taste of Mervyn, and at first the time hung heavily enough upon his hands. The Squire's attention was almost exclusively devoted to the "home-farm," the maiden aunts employed themselves with great resolution, and to the perpetual irritation of their very sensitive modesty, in watching the connubial endearments of the newly-married pair, who, on their part seemed wrapt in happy oblivion of the existence not only of their censors, but of all the world beside; while the young gentlemen contrived to pass away the day in smoking cigars, washing the dogs, and flirting with Miss Hermione. It was not unnatural, therefore, that our hero should find himself pretty frequently the companion of the elder of the young ladies, who being an orphan and a poor relation to boot, was honoured with but little notice from the rest of the family.

Gertrude Lloyd was, as we have intimated, neither handsome nor what the world would term accomplished; but in lieu of these higher endowments she possessed the more insignificant qualities of a gentle nature, a kind heart, and a certain warmth and vividness of imagination which especially recommended her to Mervyn. But so little accustomed was she to kindness or consideration from any one, save the master of the house, that she received the attentions of her new acquaintance with a suspicious timidity that half amused and half annoyed him. Her reserve, however, becoming by degrees dispelled, she seemed to lighten as it were into a new existence, and, with a kindling eye and flushed cheek, she would sit for hours on some turfy bank listening to the impassioned eloquence of Mervyn as he spoke of poetry, or music, or those unseen and mysterious workings of nature which more especially formed the subject of his own thoughts and study. She too had her dreams to tell: brought up almost in solitude among those mountainous wilds, her mind had acquired a tinge of gloom, and a more than common share of that love of the marvellous with which we are all to some extent imbued.

It was a calm and cloudless evening, and they were looking forth on the broad sky, glittering with all its lustrous jewellery.

And may we not hope," asked Gertrude, that some one of those glorious worlds now so far beyond our ken may hereafter become our home and that of those we love?"

Mervyn smiled. "I should the rather think," he said, "that man's destiny is wrapt up in that of the planet which has given him

birth. This globe is manifestly in a state of transition and change; with what particular link, indeed, of the great chain of development our present existence may be involved, we know not; but it is one far removed from that state of perfection towards which we are advancing. It may be in after ages we shall tread again this very earth,-beings endowed with far nobler faculties, far higher intelligences than our feeble imagination at this time can conceive."

"A doubtful doctrine," said Gertrude musing.

"Doubtful, because unfamiliar," pursued her companion: "and yet not unsupported by analogy. The age of physical power has passed; that of intellect, of which ours is but the dawn, approaches. As the Behemoth and Leviathan, the predecessors of our race, excelled us in corporeal strength, so may we look for future creations immeasurably our superiors in might of mind; and we may well believe that our indestructible spirits, which have animated bygone generations may exist in those to come, fitted indeed with nobler and more numerous organs."

"And can you give serious credence," asked the lady, "to the idle tale of a previous existence?"

"Does not your own experience confirm that tale?" asked Mervyn in return; "have you never known faint flashes of memory revealing dimly and by glimpses words spoken, things done, and places visited which have had no reality in this life? So distinct, indeed, is the existence of the soul from that of the body, that the former needs only a fresh and fitting supply of material apparatus to preserve its present share of existence and identity for ages or for ever: could man but penetrate one secret in the alchemy of nature, master one power with which he has even now commenced to grapple, life, so long as the framework of this globe shall endure, might be his portion."

Gertrude gazed on the excited countenance of the speaker as he gave utterance to these wild fancies with a surprise not unmingled with alarm. "Suppose, for example," pursued the latter vehemently, "that with the means of dissolving the union between soul and body, I could attain unto a further control, could arrest the fleeting spirit at the moment of departure, and transfer it, with all its consciousness and memory, its feelings and affections fresh and uneffaced, into some new tenement duly prepared for its reception."

At this point the approach of Miss Hermione, with two gentlemen in waiting, broke up the conversation, and Mervyn's departure being fixed for the morrow, no farther opportunity occurred for renewing it.

It was on his return from a similar visit to his new friends, between whom and himself a cordial intimacy sprung up, that Mervyn found a stranger awaiting his arrival. This personage was a stout and muscular man, of the middle height, possessing features deeply scarred by small-pox, sharp grey eyes, and a profusion of red hair, which hung in masses about his face and shoulders. An enormous dog, of a foreign breed, lay at his feet, resting his dark muzzle upon paws of marvellous size and whiteness.

"I did not think," exclaimed this individual, hardly returning Mervyn's salutation, "to find the great work stayed, and the master

absent."