vainly endeavouring to elicit a reply from its unceremonious inmate. In an agony of terror lest after all he might have been wrong in his conjecture of the preceding evening, he ventured at last to unclose, as slightly as possible, the door of the cell. All was silent! Rendered yet more desperate, he flung it wide open and entered. With pen, ink, and paper before him, the monk was seated, as if in study, at his solitary table; but he rose not he did not turn his head to look at the intruder: the porter approached and laid his hand gently upon his shoulder to rouse him from his reverie, yet he stirred not-Father Francis was dead.

"Ah! some writing was there?" said the prior to the terrified monk who brought him the astounding intelligence; "let us see it, Brother Anselm; it may be we may find some clew,”—and he devoured with eager impatience the few lines which had been found upon the table of the departed monk. Thus they ran:

"No! I am not mad! It was a fool's thought to say it. And yet I have seen things of late which might warp a strong mind. Ah! here again? It is but an hour since we parted—and dead, sayst thou? Nay, but the blow was light, and-ha! ha! ha! Oh! fool, to dream that the Cross could kill! Verily it is a glorious thing to stride alone at midnight through the still streets, with the white cold snow to lap one's burning heart withal! Thou, too? Away! art thou not avenged? What, thin, and chill, and hungry? Ha! ha! ha! there is rare feasting in the grave! Ah! so soon to matins? lend me thine arm. What-soft, and fair, and round? Away! it is too palpable! Heard ye ever of a woman-monk, my good Lord Prior? Nay, then, an thou wilt promise

not to shriek so wildly, I will follow, and quietly! oh! so quietly!"

"Now the Lord have mercy upon his soul!" said the prior, as he locked up the document as unenlightened as ever; "for the Monk's Manuscript is but a strange one!"

BALLAD, FROM THE SPANISH.

THE FLIGHT OF THE LADY FLORIDA.

'Twas just as April's tears were dried by the smiles of merry May,
And the lilies and the roses all put forth their rich display,
And on a night, serenely bright, with moon and many a star,
From latticed Jalousy stepp'd forth the Lady Florida.

Within her father's bower awhile, beside the choice parterre,
She stopp'd to cast one parting glance, for old affection there;
And as she vainly strove to hide the tear that dimm'd her eye,
Before she went, thus made lament, that lady, mournfully.

O never more, thou paradise of childhood's happier day,
May I, a careless wandering thing, amid thy pleasaunce stray,
When nightingales at evening hour with music fill the grove,
Or on the stately terrace falls the moonbeam from above.

And oh, ye flowers that I have rear'd, at once my toil and pride,
And with sweet showers have water'd oft, drawn from the crystal tide;
And thou, whose sparkling wave for me hath many a treasured spell
Of old delight and pleasures past, fair fountain !—fare ye well.

The silver stream will leap and flow as fresh when I am gone,
The laughing flowers as brightly ope their painted cups at morn;
But I, in stranger clime forgot, perchance shall ne'er again
My fairy home exulting roam, nor the wilds of pleasant Spain.

And should my father seek his child amid each well-known haunt,
Where oft she loved to while away with gay guitar or chaunt
Her maiden hours; oh, who for me, will plead with him and say,
How knightly love and princely worth have stolen my heart away?

Then spake Don Duardos: Weep no more, my all of love, my life!
For England's realms with streams as pure and fairer flowers are rife;
And there three hundred damosels shall in thy chamber wait,
Of high degree, to mate with thee, and grace thy proud estate.

Of gems shall be the palaces that guard thee, lady mine,-
With emerald and with sapphire hues thy tapestry shall shine;
Thy chamber floor enamell'd o'er with jewell'd gold shall be,
And chronicled with feats of yore and tales of chivalry.

And there thou'lt read in burning line of high adventure wrought,
When he, whose bosom throbs to thine, with haughtiest champions fought,
And thy remember'd image, like a prize of glory, rose,

And nerved with power, in combat's hour, the arm that slew those foes.

Thus as, with tales of old emprize and speech of love, the way
The knight beguiled, they reach'd the place where his tall galleys lay:
The lady dried her weeping, though I ween her heart was sore,
From that fair home and native land to part for evermore.

Upon the strand a gallant band of mariners are met;

A moment more, they leave the shore;-and now their oars are set-
A thousand eyes each step may haunt, on every movement wait,
But watch and ward are feeble guard when Love lies at the gate.

THE THREE PROFESSIONS.

WHENEVER I avail myself of the privilege of entrée to "the Green" it is rather to view than to join in the revels, sports, and wiles of the place, and consequently I am permitted to pursue my musings in silent speculation, moralizing on, but not adding to, the hilarity of the

scene.

It was, I think, on the occasion of the last "match" that I observed three "Uppers" leave the tent which had just been reared and saunter towards my beat; they seemed rather pensive, which induced me to take more notice of them than I otherwise might have done: probably this was a parting converse; one at least seemed about "to leave”—to quit the sparkling stream of boyhood and become perhaps (who knows?) a troubled particle in the varied ocean of life. In imagination I set them down as future graduates in the three learned professions, each might be said to "look his character" with some correctness. Austen, as I named my young divine, was plump and comely, of rather military cast of countenance; while the slight and nimble figure, the expressive and versatile features of Barker, formed a striking contrast with the tall frame and imperturbable aspect of the third associate, whom I fancied to be a physician in embryo, and called Du Cane. The latter part of their trilogue came home to my own business and bosom, if I heard it accurately, and is here recorded.

"No bad speech that of yours at the library meeting last night: how many fines did you box?" asked Austen.

"It was rather a failure in that respect," carelessly answered Barker; "two or three laughed when, adverting to the motion for the Irish Melodies,' I ventured an opinion that we had rather too many of Moore's books already; there was one melody,' I said, ' to the tune of twenty guineas, more or less, which we had better pay or play' before we began a fresh score; but it did not tell well-the president was unmoved; the treasurer only gave a vacant stare. No, no; when I get into Westminster Hall I must give up that strain and try the sentimental."

"I really wish," said Austen, "your governor would change his mind as to making a lawyer of you: only two sorts of people shine at the bar, those who are, and those who deserve to be, brought to it."

"And they differ more in degree than in principle," added Du Cane; it's a profession that every one speaks ill of."

"Mere human nature or ill-nature," replied B., "to speak ill of those who speak well.”

"Ay, but they write ill of you too," said A.

"And you can't retaliate now; for you'll hardly stickle for the writings of the craft whatever you may have to say for their eloquence," rejoined Du C.

"Oh, pray, doctor," exclaimed B., "who is the magnus Apollo of your shelves? you'll hardly think to stop my mouth with Dr. Kitchener and his peptics?"

""T will be well if your palate meet with no worse employment," chimed in A., who, to do him justice, really looked like no hater of good living.

“Well, if the culinary professor does not (as you express it) stop your mouth, we have one author who, I am sure, will give you a Lock-jaw," answered Du C., his composed muscles not even relaxing at his triumphant allusion to the prince of logicians. "Come, come," continued he, " confess that when you have named Blackstone-Carthusian Blackstone-you have gone through the alphabet of your catalogue and are fairly gravelled."

"Oh, no; there's Bacon," cried B.

"He only affected to be a lawyer, and the less you say of him in that character the better for his memory."

"Moses, then," chuckled B.

"Oh! oh!" sung both adversaries in concert.