end of the room. Were I to say that the
effect produced on the mind by the appearance
of this apartment was a blaze of gold,
silver, and jewellery, I should not exaggerate.
The old women, seeing me, dropped their
wheels, and, falling on their knees, howled
for mercy, whilst the lady on the charpoy, in
whom I recognised my former vision, buried
her head in a shawl and wept more violently
than before. I made the old man assure the
women of their safety, and stepped up to
her, and whispered in her ears a few words
in her native tongue. She slowly raised her
head and drew up her veil. A face more
lovely I never beheld. She asked if I
intended to kill her? I replied with assurances
of comfort and protection.

I arranged a plan for her. That evening,
disguised as a boy, she and her attendants
passed through the gates of the city, and she
reached my tents in safety, with all her
property in money, jewels, shawls, and
clothes. My servants were too old and too
confidential to blab; and, as I gave my own
tent entirely to her and her servants, and
returned to sleep in the city, with directions
that no one should be allowed inside my
enclosure, the adventure was never known.
Two days afterwards, I contrived her safe
escape to the Punjab, with all her portable
property and servants, including my ancient
guide, who blessed me most fervently when
we parted, and requested Heaven to make
me a General quickly—a prayer which I
hope may be granted. But I rather doubt it.

Our orders to march on the twenty-third
arrived, and we were marched out, a pursuing
force or column of punishment in the
direction of Bolundshuhur; our duty, to burn,
ravage, and destroy, and to leave our path
marked by ransacked villages and deserted
homesteads.

THE LADY'S DREAM.

I STOOD one eve within a forest's shade,
     I saw the sunlight flow,
Flickering and dancing down the pillar'd glade,
A golden shadow that with shadows play'd,
     On a green floor below.

I saw the soft blue sky through latticed trees,
     Soft sky and tender cloud;
I saw the branches tremble to the breeze,—
Saw, as they trembled, still and far off leas,
     To holy musings vow'd.

The sweetness and the quiet of the place
     Deep through my soul had gone,
Till in some world not ours, I seem'd to trace
The skirts of parting glory, and the face
     Of glory coming on.

Ah me! I said, how beautiful and glad
     This sylvan realm might be,
Peopled with shapes too holy to be sad,
Shapes lovely as the fabled foreworld had
     When Fancy yet was free.

Some pastoral quaint of ancient Greece were fit
     To be enacted here;
Or haply here the fairy court might sit,
Or fairy children flowery garlands knit,
     To lead the silk-neck'd steer.

Or yet more fit, amid a scene so calm,
     Might deep-wing'd angels stand,
Or dance, as in great Milton's lofty psalm,
Face fronting face, and palm enfolding palm,
     A holy, happy band.

So mused I, in that sacred forest shade,
     When suddenly I heard
Low voices murmuring down the pillar'd glade,
While, mix'd with song, soft music round me play'd
     Till flowers and leaves were stirr'd.

See, through the boughs that part on every side,
     What children come this way!
See, how the forest opens far and wide,
For entrance to the joyous shapes that glide
     Into its emerald day!

Ah see, what pictures hang upon the air,
     Making the sunset dim!
Full eyes, all loaded with dark light are there,
That gleam mysterious under golden hair,
     Round cheek and rosy limb.

Ah, happy steer! by gentle children led,
     And wreath'd with flowery chain;
Slant ever thus thy proud and graceful head,
And bear us to some Eden, long long fled,
     Or bring it back again.

O wonder not, though heaven should open wide,
     And o'er its flaming wall
A winged messenger should downward glide,—
Angels with children, angels, too, abide,
     Or come when children, call.

Pass on, O dream of antique truth and love!
     Fade, cherub, with thy flowers!
Pass on, O gracious creatures, as ye move!
Fair boys with garlands, sing of worlds above,
     And bring them down to ours.

Pass on, pass on, with merry shout and play!
     Pass on with flute and reed!
Through the long forest aisles ye fade away,
Sweet sounds, sweet shapes, ye fade with fading day,
     And leave us poor indeed.

STRAWBERRIES.

DUKES decorate their coronetted brows
with golden or jewelled strawberry leaves;
thirsty commoners pamper a humbler portion
of their head by the application and
introduction of the ripe juicy fruit. Learned
botanists will tell you that a strawberry
is not a berry any more than it is a nut
or a peascod, but, if you please, a fleshy
receptacle studded with seeds. As the straw
once strewn between the rows of plants, to
keep the ground moist and the fruit clean, is
mostly omitted in the modern course of
culture, we thus have an utterly false denomination,
strawberry, which it would be difficult
to change for the better. The strawberry
grows wild in the old world and in the new;