was a sound of bustle upon deck, she heard the creaking of the canvass, the wind whistling through the sails, the loud voices of the sailors, and, raised above all, the stentorian tones of Orloff,-of Orloff-her husband, her betrayer! The ship was in motion. It was evident that they had sailed. There was then no hope; but her pure and innocent heart commended itself to the God of the orphan.

Her short life passed in dreamy review before ner; the lonely castle, where her childhood was spent, and where the words of Radziwill first awakened ambitious hopes within her; the miserable garret in Rome, the eternal; the arrival of Orloff, like a sunbeam in the darkness; her love, her marriage, her Pisan palace, and the poor, faithful Kathinka! Oh, Heaven! if she could now behold the child of her affections! Then Orloff's tenderness, her pleasant sojourn at Leghorn, her last sight of beautiful Italy, the gay barges, the soft music, the ruffians who had bound her, the last ferocious look of Orloff, and her chains!

Now the silence grew appalling, and she called aloud for help, but no one answered. Towards evening, a sailor came into the hold, and laid some food beside her. Then it was not her death they meditated. What then were to be their tender mercies? A dungeon? and perhaps the fate of Prince Iwan? She appealed to the humanity of the man, but he stared at her in stupid surprise, and left her, muttering between his teeth some words unintelligible. The time passed on in solitude and darkness, and hope was extingnished in the breast of the captive.

- But one morning, a loud noise upon deck roused the Princess from her stupor. There was a sound of violent altercation, and the clashing of swords. The ship's crew had mutinied. Her own name was mentioned in different accents of pity and rage by these rough voices. She dragged herself to the length of her chain, and a faint hope revived in her heart. She felt that the crisis of her destiny had arrived. At length a pause, the voice of Orloff, in a loud and commanding strain of authority, the name of the Empress Catherine, a shot, a groan-and all was silent. She knew not for what to hope or to pray.

Not long lasted that dread silence! Two men entered, and ordered her to rise; then striking off her chains, carried

her upon deck. And there she stood in the pure light of heaven, the fresh breeze blowing on her fevered temples, the bright blue sky above, and the dark blue sea around her, faint, pale, and exhausted. There and thus she stood, till her eyes slowly fell on the commanding figure of Orloff. Then, with a strength that seemed supernatural, she disengaged herself from her supporters, rushed forward, and fell at his feet. Her rich robes and long fair tresses swept the deck, and on her forehead still glittered Orfoff's bridal gift, the diamond coronet. Strangely it contrasted with the dishevelled hair!

Never a word spoke Orloff; but with unmoved and rigid countenance disengaging himself from her, he beckoned to his men, and gave the signal that she must die! "Orloff! my husband," cried the unfortunate girl. "What is my crime? To what, for whom do you sacrifice me?" "To justice and my sovereign," said Orloff. "Your wife! She, whom at the alter you swore to protect ?" "Behold," said Orloff coolly, "the priest who united us; he is now about to sanction by his presence the dissolution of the knot." Slowly and fearfully the young bride turned round, and fixed her eyes upon the ruffian who grasped her wrist, and knew again the features of the pretended priest. She started from her knees. "I see it all," said she; and her words, though low, were distinct. "The murderer of Peter the Third has not hesitated to dishonour the daughter of Elizabeth. Now, God be my refuge! I have no help in man. I am ready!

She stood undaunted; and her pale and girlish beauty appeared at this instant to assume a supernatural character. Orloff stamped his feet, and ground his teeth in fury. "Bandage her eyes," cried he; for their calm, clear light seemed to penetrate and wither his soul. "Not so," said the victim, gently but firmly repulsing the hand that would have obey ed the order. She took the coronet from her forehead, and it was handed to Orloff. He dashed it impatiently into the waves. "Fire!" cried he. The Princess cast upon him a last look, which spoke of pity and forgiveness, then folded her arms, and looked to heaven. Yet, still the men hesitated. ""Tis like firing on the Holy Madonna," said one of the sailors. "Fire!" shouted Orloff, springing forward with the glare of a tiger, his eye flashing fierce lightning. A shot-anotherand the Princess fell!

It was night-a night of darkness and storm. The thunder rolled, and the lightning pierced its way through the dark clouds, flashing over the foaming billows. The wind moaned with a hollow sound; and as Orloff strode to and fro in the darkness, like the gigantic demon of the tempest, superstitious, sailors eyed him askance, with mingled looks of fear and abhorrence. The body of the Princess, hastily wrapped in a coarse shroud, was laid upon the cabin table. The storm was so sudden, that her mortal remains had not yet been committed to the deep. Orloff descended the stairs, and approached the body. A flash of lightning played over her diamond ring. He took her hand, whose icy coldness thrilled through his veins; hastily drew off the gem, and fastened it to a ribbon which hung round his neck.

Then, in a whisper which sounded strange and hollow, he gave an order which was quickly executed. The body was committed to the waters. There was a plash amidst the wailings of the elements, a dead silence, and a hoarse call from Orloff's cabin for brandy. As if the ocean were appeased by a human sacrifice, it suddenly grew calm, the wind lulled, the thunder ceased, and all was still.

Three days and three nights the ship was becalmed in the midst of the mighty waters, close to the orphan's grave; and on the third night, so sure as Orloff watched and could not sleep, so certainly did the pale face of the Princess, with her long fair hair, rise above the waters, and gaze upon him with fixed and glassy eyes. Loudly he called for help, and pointed convulsively to the deep, but the form had sunk; and the wind rose, and onward went the gallant ship, and never again did Orloff see his fair young bride.

The Ekatharineslav (the glory of Catherine), entered the harbour of Petersburgh, and Orloff, as he passed through the crowd, was hailed with acclamations of welcome. The Empress was in her imperial chapel at Czarsko-zelo, prostrate under a crimson canopy, with her son by her side, and rendering thanks to Heaven for the success of the Russian arms. It was evening, and the solemn vocal music of the Greek ritual resounded through the lofty chapel. The folding-doors were thrown open, and the penetralia displayed to view. The light of the tapers fell upon the holy symbols, on the altar with its golden hangings, its richly wrought chalices, and other

sacred vessels; and before it were the venerable priests, with their flowing beards, and costly robes, and jewelled mitres. The host, veiled with cloth of gold, was administered to the Empress. Then the sanctuary closed, and the lofty anthem was answered by solemn voices from within, like the hidden chords of the human heart, when responding to external impressions of harmony and sublimity.

The Empress rose to leave the chapel, and Orloff stood before her with wild and haggard looks. He knelt, and presented her with the ring of her rival. "Your Majesty's or ders are executed." The Empress smiled benignantly, and added the gem to the others which glistened on her imperial hand, then passed on, apparently like Medicean Namesake"Sans remords, sans plaisir, maitresse de ses sens, Et comme accoutumée á de pareils, présens."

THE BENSHEE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF 60 GLEAN-DALACH.”

"He heard the Benshee's boding scream."-Scott.

Now cheer thee on, my gallant steed,
There's a weary way before us;
Across the mountain swiftly speed,
For the storm is gathering o'er us.

Away, away, the horseman rides ;
His bounding steed's dark form
Seemed o'er the soft black moss to glide—
A spirit of the storm!

Now, rolling in the troubled sky,

The thunder's loudly crashing;
And through the dark clouds, driving by,
The moon's pale light is flashing.

In sheets of foam the mountain flood
Comes roaring down the glen;
On the steep bank one moment stood
The horse and rider then.

One desperate bound the courser gave,
And plunged into the stream;

And, snorting, stemmed the boiling wave
By the lightning's quivering gleam.

The flood is past-the bank is gained--
Away with headlong speed;
A fleeter horse than Desmond reined
Ne'er served at lover's need.

His scattered train in eager haste
Far, far, behind him ride;

Alone he's crossed the mountain waste,
To meet his promised bride.

The clouds across the moon's dim form
Are fast and faster sailing;

And sounds are heard on the sweeping storm
Of wild unearthly wailing.

At first low moanings seemed to die
Away, and faintly languish,
Then swell into the piercing cry
Of deep heart-bursting anguish.

Beneath an oak, whose branches bare
Were crashing in the storm,
With wringing hands and streaming hair,
There sat a female form.

To pass that oak in vain he tried;
His steed refused to stir,

Though furious 'gainst his panting side
Was struck the bloody spur.

The moon, by driving clouds o'ercast,
Withheld its fitful gleam;

And louder than the tempest blast
Was heard the Benshee's scream.