moments he was at the bottom with them, but too late to save the life of
his friend. The leopard had torn open the jugular vein, and so
dreadfully mangled the throat of the unfortunate man, that his death was
inevitable; and his comrade had only the melancholy satisfaction of
completing the destruction of the savage beast, already exhausted with
several deep wounds in the breast from the desperate knife of the
expiring huntsman.--_London Weekly Review_.

* * * * *


GLOAMING.

BY DELTA.


There is a beauty in the grey twilight,
Which minds unmusical can never know,
A holy quietude, that yields to woe
A pulseless pleasure, fraught with pure delight:
The aspect of the mountains huge, that brave
And bear upon their breasts the rolling storms;
And the soft twinkling of the stars, that pave
Heaven's highway with their bright and burning forms;
The rustle of the dark boughs overhead:
The murmurs of the torrent far away;
The last notes of the blackbird, and the bay
Of sullen watch-dog, from the far farm-stead--
All waken thoughts of Being's early day,
Loves quench'd, hopes past, friends lost, and pleasures fled.