imagination pictured what was destroyed. The valleys of Jehosaphat and
Gehinnon, Mount Calvary, Mount Zion, and Mount Acre, stretched before me.
The palace of King Herod, with its sumptuous halls of marble and of
gold--the gorgeous Temple of Solomon--the lofty towers of Phaseolus and
Mariamne--the palace of the Maccabees--the Hippodrome--the houses of many
of the prophets--grew into existence again, beneath the creative force of
fancy. I stood and wept. I knelt, and kissed the consecrated earth which
once a Saviour trod."

* * * * *


"THE HUNTED STAG: A SKETCH.


What sounds are on the mountain blast?
Like bullet from the arbalast,
Was it the hunted quarry past
Right up Ben-ledi's side?--
So near, so rapidly he dash'd,
Yon lichen'd bough has scarcely plash'd
Into the torrent's tide.
Ay!--The good hound may bay beneath,
The hunter wind his horn;
He dared ye through the flooded Teith
As a warrior in his scorn!
Dash the red rowel in the steed,
Spur, laggards, while ye may!
St. Hubert's shaft to a stripling reed,
He dies no death to-day!