"If he did, I would pray the wind and sea
To keep him forever from thee and me!"
Then out of the sea blew a dreadful blast;
Like the cry of a dying man it passed.

The young girl hushed on her lips a groan,
But through her tears a strange light shone→
The solemn joy of her heart's release
To own and cherish its love in peace.
"Dearest!" she whispered, under breath,
"Life was a lie, but true is death.
"The love I hid from myself away
Shall crown me now in the light of day.

"My ears shall never to wooer list,
Never by lover my lips be kissed.
"Sacred to thee am I henceforth,
Thou in heaven and I on earth."

She came and stood by her sister's bed:
"Hall of the Heron is dead!" she said.

"The wind and the waves their work have done, We shall see him no more beneath the sun.

"Little will reck that heart of thine;

It loved him not with a love like mine.

"I, for his sake, were he but here, Could hem and 'broider thy bridal gear,

"Though hands should tremble and eyes be wet, And stitch for stitch in my heart be set.

"But now my soul with his soul I wed; Thine the living, and mine the dead!"

THE DAGMAR CROSS.

Where the angry billows of the Baltic,

With the North Sea meeting, surge and swirl,

And the rocky reefs and shores basaltic

High the snowy foam-flakes upward curl,

Valdemar the victor rode to glory,

While his deeds were sung in minstrel rhyme,

Greatest of all kings,-so runs the story;

'Twas in Denmark, in the olden time.

Fair the Lady Dagmar was, and saintly,

And the fierce king bowed him at her feet; Said he, while her cheek was flushing faintly, "What gift on my marriage that is meet For the bride of Valdemar, O maiden,

Shall I bring to grace the marriage morn? See, my slaves are near, and heavy laden With the jewels Danish queens have worn." And the lady made him answer, lowly,― "Gifts of precious stones are not for me; Better far are noble deeds and holy

Than a mighty kingdom held in fee. From the plow-tax wilt thou free the peasant, And release the captive from his chain? Lo, I ask, my lord, no costly present:

This my marriage gift, and this my gain!" Answered the monarch, like a lover,

"Such a gift befits not thee, my queen;" And o'er Dagmar, as he bent above her,

Cast he chain and cross of golden sheen. Holy figures, wrought in wondrous fashion By Byzantine workmen, glowed thereon; Pictured was the suffering Saviour's passion; There the Virgin stood, and there Saint John. Then away, by barren height and foreland, Rode King Valdemar again to war; Round him swept, in fury, storms of Norland, And the storms of battle, wilder far. While the good Queen Dagmar, ever tender, Richer harvest in kind deeds would glean; And to this Danish hearts will render

Loving homage to the "darling queen." Homeward came King Valdemar in gladness, With the victor-wreath around his head: In the royal halls was silent sadness:

Dagmar slept the long sleep of the dead In her handmaid Kerstine's arms, when riding Up the long street came the king that day, Still the rose-flush on her cheek abiding,Dead, the young queen in her beauty lay.

And the king a mighty voice of sorrow

Raised, and called on Dagmar by her name: "Dagmar, live, and glad me on the morrow

With one kiss!" and wondrous answer came From the dead; and still the old petition Sprang from her loved lips, a ghostly prayer: "Free the outlaws from their lone condition; Let the weary captives freedom share.”

Low in Ringsted, with the cross that tarried
Still upon her breast, the queen they laid;
Fairer, purer corse was never carried

Home to rest beneath the church's shade.
Years rolled on, and Christian's royal pleasure
Oped the tomb; and since death knows no loss,
Now old Denmark boasts no dearer treasure
Than the young Queen Dagmar's holy cross.

CURING A COLD.

The first time that I began to sneeze, a friend told me to go and bathe my feet in hot water, and go to bed. I did so. Shortly after, a friend told me to get up and take a cold showerbath. I did that also. Within the hour another friend told me it was policy to feed a cold, and starve a fever. I had both; so I thought it best to fill up for the cold, and let the fever starve awhile. In a case of this kind I seldom do things by halves: I ate pretty heartily. I conferred my custom upon a stranger who had just opened a restaurant on Cortland street, near the hotel, that morning, paying him so much for a full meal. He waited near me in respectful silence until I had finished feeding my cold, when he inquired whether people about New York were much afflicted with colds. I told him I thought they were. He then went out and took in his sign. I started up toward the office, and on the walk encountered another bosom friend, who told me that a quart of warm salt-water would come as near curing a cold as anything in the world. I hardly thought I had room for it, but I tried it anyhow. The result was surprising. I believe I threw up my immortal soul. Now, as I give my experience only for the benefit of those of my friends who are troubled with this distemper, I feel that they will see the propriety of my cautioning them against following such portions of it as proved inefficient with me; and acting upon this conviction I warn them against warm salt-water. It may be a good enough remedy, but I think it is rather too severe. If I had another cold in the head, and there was no course left me,-to take either an earthquake

or a quart of warm salt-water, I would take my chances on the earthquake. After this, everybody in the hotel became interested; and I took all sorts of remedies, hot lemonade, cold lemonade, pepper-tea, boneset, stewed Quaker, hoarhound syrup, onions and loaf-sugar, lemons and brown sugar, vinegar and laudanum, five bottles fir balsam, eight bottles cherry pectoral, and ten bottles of Uncle Sam's remedy; but all without effect. One of the prescriptions given by an old lady was-well, it was dreadful. She mixed a decoction composed of molasses, catnip, peppermint, aquafortis, turpentine, kerosene, and various other drugs, and instructed me to take a wineglassful of it every fifteen minutes. I never took but one dose that was enough. I had to take to my bed, and remain there for two entire days. When I felt a little better, more things were recommended. I was desperate, and willing to take anything. Plain gin was recommended, and then gin and molasses, then gin and onions. I took all three. I detected no particular result, however, except that I had acquired a breath like a turkey-buzzard, and had to change my boarding place. I had never refused a remedy yet, and it seemed poor policy to commence then; therefore I determined to take a sheet-bath, though I had no idea what sort of an arrangement it was. It was administered at midnight, and the weather was very frosty. My back and breast were stripped; and a sheet, (there appeared to be a thousand yards of it,) soaked in ice-water was wound around me until I resembled a swab for a columbiad. It is a cruel expedient. When the chilly rag touches one's warm flesh, it makes him start with a sudden violence, and gasp for breath, just as men do in the death-agony. It froze the marrow in my bones, and stopped the beating of my heart. I thought my time had come. When I recovered from this, a friend ordered the application of a mustard-plaster to my breast. I believe that would have cured me effectually, if it had not been for young Clemens. When I went to bed, I put the mustard-plaster where I could reach it when I should be ready for it. But young Clemens got hungry in the night, and ate it up. I never saw any child have such an appetite. I am confident that he would have eaten me if I had been healthy.

NNN

KATHLEEN BAN ADAIR.-FRANCIS DAVIS.

The battle blood of Antrim had not dried on freedom's shroud,

And the rosy ray of morning was but struggling through the cloud;

When, with lightning foot and deathly cheek, and wildly waving hair,

O'er grass and dew, scarce breathing, flew young Kathleen ban Adair.

Behind, her native Antrim in a reeking ruin lies;

Before her, like a silvery path, Kell's sleeping waters rise; And many a pointed shrub has pierced those feet so white and bare,

But, oh! thy heart is deeper rent, young Kathleen ban Adair.

And Kathleen's heart but one week since was like a harvest

morn

When hope and joy are kneeling round the sheaf of yellow corn;

But where's the bloom then made her cheek so ripe, so richly fair?

Thy stricken heart hath fed on it, young Kathleen ban Adair.

And now she gains a thicket where the sloe and hazel rise; But why those shrieking whispers, like a rush of worded sighs?

Ah, low and lonely bleeding lies a wounded patriot there, And every pang of his is thine, young Kathleen ban Adair.

"I see them, oh! I see them, in their fearful red array;
The yeomen, love! the yeomen come-ah! heavens, away,
away!

I know, I know they mean to track my lion to his lair;
Ah! save thy life-ah! save it for thy Kathleen ban Adair!"

"May heaven shield thee, Kathleen!—when my soul has gone to rest;

May comfort rear her temple in thy pure and faithful breast; But to fly them, oh! to fly them, like a bleeding hunted hare; No! not to purchase heaven, with my Kathleen ban Adair.

"I loved, I loved thee, Kathleen, in my bosom's warmest

core

And Erin, injured Erin, oh! I loved thee even more;
And death I feared him little when I drove him through

their square,

Nor now, though eating at my heart, my Kathleen ban Adair."