From the Ladies' Maga=tne TO THE SEA.
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Grant me thy company thou solemn sea! Earth speaks of nsan,-her trimly trec'd walks, Her groves, her gardens, and her gorgeous domes, All speak ofman. Even the pure, lofty sky, With all its change of garniture.-its robe Of morning purple and its garb by day Ofblue and silver tissue, richly wrought, Its mantle for the eve, ofpameless dyes, Of seems to me (may Heaven forgive the thought!) Like some fair woman Tn her coquetry.

 Pit thOw dost speak of God,-thou holy Sea! Thou wonder-working, mortal-mocking One. Alone upon thy shore rove, and count The crested pillows in their ceaselcss play; And when dense darkness shrouds thy awful face, l listen to thy voice, and bow me down In all my nothngness to Him whose eye BehoIds the congregated world of waves Blu; as a noteess dew-drop. L. H. s.