The tears, till then unshed, gushed forth and all my fatal projects vanished. Unable at first to read it, I pressed the precious letter to my heart, and, when, after having on my knees implored Divine mercy, I opened it and read through my sobs these words which will be for ever engraved upon my heart :- My brother, I shall soon leave, but I will never abandon thee. From the heaven I hope to reach I will look down upon thee, and will pray God to give thee strength to endure thy life with resignation until it please Him to reunite us in another world. There I can show thee all my love. Nothing will prevent thee approaching me.then, and nothing shall separate us. I leave thee the little cross I have worn all my life. It has been my comfort in my sufferings, and ofttimes the only witness of my tears. Whenever thine eye shall fall upon it let it remind thee that my last wish was that thou shouldst be in life and in death a true Christian.' This precious letter never leaves me, I will carry it with me into the tomb; its gentle pleading will open for me the gates of heaven, which else my crime had barred for ever. When I had finished reading it I felt myself fainting, overcome by all I had gone though. A mist seemed to come over me, and for some time 1 lost the consciousness of my sorrows and of life itself. When I revived the night was far spent. By degrees, as my mind became clearer, an indefinable sense of stole over me. All that had passed on the previous peace evening was like a dream. The first thing I did was to raise my eyes to Heaven in gratitude for having preserved me from the most irreparable misfortunes. Never had the firmament seemed so serenely beautiful; a star was still shining brightly in front of my window-I beheld it with inexplicable delight, and thanked God for granting me once more a sight of His works, for I drew a secret comfort from the thought that one at least of those rays was destined to illuminate the leper's cell.

"After regaining some measure of calmness I returned to my own room. There I spent the remainder of the night in reading the Book of Job, and the holy enthusiasm with which its perusal filled my soul, dispersed for ever the dark and terrible temptation which had beset me. As long as my sister lived despair was unknown to me, for the knowledge that she was near me was always enough to bring me peace, and her tenderness sufficed to give me courage and consolation. Ah! compassionate stranger, may God preserve you from ever being forced to live alone! My sister, my companion, is no longer with me; but Heaven will grant me strength to endure life bravely, for do I not pray for help out of the very depths of my heart.

THE SOLDIER.

"How old was your sister when you lost her?"

THE LEPER.

"She was scarcely twenty-five,but her sufferings made her look older. In spite of the disease which carried her off, and which had greatly altered her features, she would have been beautiful if it had not been for the pallor which disfigured her; she looked like living death and I could not help shuddering at her."

THE SOLDIER.

"She died young, then?"

THE LEPER.

"Her naturally delicate constitution could not long withstand such a complication of evils, and long before she died; I saw the end approaching. In her sad case, watching, as I did, her daily sufferings, I could not but look forward to her release with a melancholy joy. A month before her death she grew much weaker; constant fainting-fits menanced her life from hour to hour. One evening, in the beginning of August, I saw she was so much weaker I dare not leave her. She was in her arm-chair, having been unable for some days past to lie down. I sat beside her, and there, in the profoundest darkness, we had our last conversation together. I could not stop my tears, for I had a terrible presentiment of what was coming. 'Why dost thou weep?' she said; why art thou so unhappy? Though I must die I will never forsake thee, and in thy last moments I will be with thee.' A few minutes afterwards she asked me to take her out of the tower, so that she might once more offer up her prayers in the hazel grove, where she spent most of her time in summer. 'I wish to die looking up to Heaven,' she said. I took her up in my arms to carry her down. Just hold me up' she said; 'perhaps I may still have strength enough to walk.' I led her slowly towards the

hazel trees, and made a cushion for her out of a heap of dried leaves she herself had gathered, covering her with a veil as a sort of protection from the damp of the night air. I was about to place myself by her side when she told me she wished to be alone in her last meditations, and I withdrew a little, though I dare not go out of sight. From time to time I saw the veil moving, and her white hands uplifted in prayer. When I again approached her she asked me for some water. I brought her some in her own cup, she wet her lips; but could not swallow any. 'I feel my end drawing near," she said, as she turned her head to me; 'my thirst will soon be quenched for ever. Support me, my brother, help me across this longed for, yet terrible river. Hold me up, and repeat for me the prayer for the dying.' These were the last words she spoke. I rested her head upon my breast, and recited the prayer for the dying. Then I cried, Go into eter

nity, my beloved sister; sever thyself from this world, and leave these poor remains with me." For three hours I supported her through the final struggle. She died at last, quite quietly, and her soul fled from earth without a single pang."

When his story was told the leper covered his face with his hands, and the traveller was silent-full of sympathy. After a while the leper rose. "Stranger," said he, "when sorrow and heart sickness come upon you, remember the leper of Aosta, and you will find your visit to him has not been useless."

They walked together towards the garden-gate. As the soldier was going away he put his glove on to his right hand, and turning to the leper said, "You have never pressed any man's hand; do me the favour of pressing mine-it is that of a deeply interested friend."

The leper retreated a few steps with a kind of terror, and with uplifted hands and eyes exclaimed, "God of love, pour thy blessings on this sympathising man!"

"Grant me yet another favour," said the traveller; "I am going away, and we may never see each other again—at least, not for a long time; could we not whilst using all needful precautions write to each other; such a tie might interest you, and it would be a real pleasure to me."

The leper thought awhile. "Why," said he, at last, "do I attempt to deceive myself? I can never have any society but my own, no friend but God. In Him we shall meet. Farewell, generous stranger, may you be happy! Farewell for ever!"

The traveller went on his way.

gate and turned the key.

The leper shut the garden

THE SUICIDE.

No hope. For she had waited many years,

And watched, and prayed, and hoped, and still she stood
Alone upon the margin of the mere.

No hope. And lo! two angels, Sleep and Death,
Calm-eyed and silent-hearted, clothed with light,
Came down, and stood beside her. Her large eyes
Were wild with woe, and all her heart beat hard,
Like wings that pant for liberty. He said,
And kissed her saying it, when he went away,
That ere the sweet returning swallow thrice
Brought the new summer he would come again,
And make her his true wife for evermore.
And she had watched and waited all those years,
And seen the sweet returning swallow thrice
Bring the new summer and depart again,
And still no speck or glittering glimpse of sail
To bring her dear lord back from other lands,
Never to part again. Her eyes were wild
With sleepless tears, and all her heart beat hard
With hopeless agony. Then she raised her head
And looked at Sleep, and lo! his eyes were calm;
And then at Death, and lo his heart was still.
And then, "O Sleep," she said, "O happy sleep,
That steeps love-hopeless eyes in holy balm!"
And then, "O Death," she said, "O happy death,
That puts an end to all Love's hopeless pain!"
Then, being all aweary, laid her meek head
On the mere-bank, and in the warm still night
Unveiled her shining bosom to the stars,
"Come in, sweet Sleep! come in !" and closed her
eyes,
And slept, and dreamed a happy dream, and waked,
And stared across the mere; and still no sail.
And then she wept, and looked at Death with joy.
"Come in, sweet Death!" and opened her white arms,
And Death came in. Not ever any more

The parted lovers met on earth; but one,
Bronzed with far suns and late-returned with hope,
Wanders alone beside the silent sea,
Calling her name, breaking his heart.
Beyond all voice of anguish, sleeps in peace,
Under the waveless waters of the mere.

But one,

SAMUEL K. COWAN.

THE ARCTIC EXPEDITION.

A SOLID POLE.

IT would be difficult to convey an idea of the pleasure and the sense of relief that was experienced throughout the country when the news was spread abroad that the Arctic Expedition had returned home safe and sound. Some loss of life was experienced, and a considerable amount of suffering undergone on the sledge excur. sions; and there was some almost unanticipated sickness; but it was not more than would have attended upon an exploratory journey in Central Africa, where numbers were concerned; and there have not been wanting detractors of every thing that involves danger and enterprise to point out that, even geographically speaking, much has not been accomplished.

But if the only result had been the exploration of higher latitudes than had hitherto been reached, and the determination of the true character of the Polar circle, enough would have been done to satisfy the physical geographer. It had been advocated by many, from premises which appeared to be unusually plausible, that the Arctic Ocean was, beyond the ice-bound lands, an open sea-a Polynia as it was termed-supposed to abound in living things-fishy or feathery-and to be even frequented by larger animals, such as seals, walrusses, bears, and it was even suggested by an eminent zoologist-sea-cows or manati.

But instead of this, it has been found that the extreme Polar regions are covered with ancient ice of great thickness, and, indeed, increasing in thickness as the Pole is approached; and which sempieternal ice has been graphically described-borrowing terms accepted in geological chronology-as Palæo-crystic or Palæornic Ice.

"At the point where the "Alert "wintered, at almost the extreme north of Grant Land, and in Lat. N. 82° 27', instead of finding a continuous coast-line leading a hundred miles further towards the north, or an open sea, the explorers found themselves on the border of what was evidently a very extensive sea, with impenetrable ice on every side. This ice was of "most unusual age and thickness, resembling in a marked degree, both in appearance and formation, low floating icebergs, rather, than ordinary salt water ice."-(Report to the Admiralty.)

Seventy-three miles north of this point, and to accomplish which the sledge party under Commander Markham and Lieutenant Parr had to travel 276 miles, and in Lat. N. 82° 20′ 26," the ice attained a thickness of 150 feet, while the depth of water was found to be only 72 fathoms. Whether the depth of water continues to diminish as the Pole is approached, or the ice itself increases in