describe. At a certain period of the night our entertainer knew by the longing looks which I cast to a beloved corner of the dining-room what was wanting. Then he would take out a small gold key that hung by a chain of the same precious metal to a particular button-hole, and stalk away as tall as the life, open two splendid fiddle cases, and produce their contents, first the one, and then the other; but always keeping the best to himself. I'll never forget with what elated dignity he stood straight up in the middle of that floor and rosined his bow: there was a twist of the lip, and an upward beam of the eye, that were truly sublime. Then down we sat side by side, and began at first gently, and with easy motion, like skilful grooms, keeping ourselves up for the final heat, which was slowly but surely approaching. At the end of every tune we took a glass, and still our enthusiastic admiration of the Scottish tunes increasedour energies of execution redoubled, till, ultimately, it became not only a complete and well-contested race, but a trial of strength to determine which should drown the other. The only feelings short of ecstasy, that came across us in these enraptured moments, were caused by hearing the laugh and joke going on with our friends, as if no such thrilling strains had been flowing. But if Sym's eye chanced at all to fall on them, it instantly retreated upwards again in mild indignation. To his honour be it mentioned, he has left me a legacy of that inestimable violin, provided that I outlive him. But not for a thousand such would I part with my old friend.

SACRED MELODIES.

SACRED MELODIES.

JEWISH CAPTIVES PARTING.

MUST I leave thee broken-hearted,
All our hopes for ever thwarted?
Early met, and early parted,–
Yet while love was new!

Just when the bud had fondly spread
Its breast to heaven, with blushes red,
The fruit, within its bosom hid,

Shrunk from its fostering dew!

There's a pang (I may not name it!
Heart of alien cannot frame it,
Tongue of angel cannot blame it)
Wrings this bosom still:-
Oh! thou art all with softness blent,

Mild as the lamb, and innocent;

But thou art in the stranger's tent,
And subject to his will!

Bitterer term was never spoken! Take this last, this farewell token,— All my hopes with it are broken, Save in one sole deed:

On that pure breast and form so fair,
Should eye or hand of violence dare-

How is the gold become so dim?
How hushed the virgin's coral hymn?
Our cup of misery wets the brim-
'Tis slavery or the grave.

Was ever sorrow like to mine?

The daughters young of Judah's line
Are led in bonds and shame to pine,
And none to help or save!

THE CAPTIVE'S SONG.

RISE! rise dawn of the morn!

In glory awake, for thy hour is nigh! Comest thou afar, by cherubim borne, O'er lands of the East, o'er star and sky? Or sleep'st thou on yon mountain gray?— Awake, thou sun! and come away.

Yes, thou wilt wake; but, woe is me,

For the shame and guilt thine eye must see!—
The stranger's incense burning still
On the heights of Zion's holy hill;
And the rude Sabine's altar-stone
In the green groves of Lebanon !—