under which we must pass the night. He gave us the best he had, and that
was bad enough, both of food and wine, before showing us into the hut,
where we found a rough deal coffin lying on the very bench that was to be
our bed. This he ordered away with all the coolness in the world. "It was
_only_ one of his people who had died that morning of _vomito_, or yellow
fever." "Comfortable country this," quoth Splinter, "and a pleasant
morning we have had of it, Tom!"

_Blackwood's Magazine._

* * * * *


DIRGE.


Green be the turf o'er thy head,
Light lie the earth on thy breast,
Peaceful and calm be thy sleep,
Till thou'rt called to rejoice with the blest.

Though we weep, yet we joy at thy lot,
Though we mourn thee, we yet can resign,
Though we sorrow, 'tis not without hope,
Though we lose thee, forbear to repine.

From the cares and the pains of this world
Thy beatified spirit is free,
'Twould be selfish in us to deplore,
For we know that thy God is with thee.