Every pulse of my rhythmic numbers,
Like the throbbing at thy breast,
When down the heaven of thy slumbers
Float the visions of thy rest:
Every thought that illumes my pages,
Like the star-gleams of alien skies,
Better, yea! than the lore of sages,
The light of thy gentle eyes!

For to me, ah! to me far dearer
Than the grand Aonian maids
Of the laurel'd hill (though clearer
Their sunset glory fades

Than our own red evening's splendour),
The sweet influence of a wife-
Of that Home Muse who can render
Half divine this human life.

A sweet influence like the night dew,
Turning the earth to flowers,
And filling the grass with cowslips,
And with gems the briary bowers,
With the gems of bud and berry,
With the dog-rose and the haw,
With scarlet and pink and cherry,
Lighting the greenwood shaw.

For whatever visual glories,

Like the bluebells on the lea,
Scattered through my sylvan stories,
Lure the reader like the bee,
By the same serene relation

Clouds rain blossoms from above,

Owe their lowly revelation

To the Nephele of thy love.

Are my thoughts the merest king-moths,
Floating by on wings of gloom-
Gloom of fragile gold and purple-
Thine the radiance, thine the bloom.
Do they fall as tear-drops glimmer
O'er the garlands of a bier,
Thine their fitful diamond shimmer,
Where diaphonously clear.

Or, like fragrance aromatic

From the censer of my verse, Do they rise in coils erratic,

Thine the fire those thoughts rehearse. Silvery from this censer lowly,

Let their soaring wreaths then shine, What they breathe o'er Earth mine wholely, What towards Heaven less mine than thine.

THE GREVAVOE ELOPEMENT.

III.

ANY of our readers who have visited the town of Lerwick in June cannot have failed to observe the beautiful little harbour crowded with those small, clumsy herring vessels, the Dutch "busses," or "bushes." They have come to Zetland for many a long year, at this season, to fish herrings at a certain distance from the coast, in virtue-if we are not mistakenof permission granted by the British government in the reign of Charles II. Sometimes they swarm in great numbers, and we have been told that on one or two occasions there have been so many that, by lying close to one another, they formed a bridge, over which people could walk from Lerwick to the island of Bressay, which, at a distance of about a mile, forms the opposite side of the harbour. During this visit, the principal street of Lerwick is crowded with these Dutch crews, dressed in petticoat trousers and wooden clogs, making purchases (principally of soft goods and crockeryware), chattering Dutch and broken English to the natives, who, by the way, for the most part speak very good Dutch; or taking a little recreation on the back of Shetland ponies, let out for the occasion, up the steep road once called "The Bullet-Loan," and now, by modern, and questionable, improvement, "London Road," which leads to that bluff point guarding the south entry of Lerwick harbour, yclept "The Knab." It is a highly interesting sight for the boys of Lerwick (who usually address all the Dutch, including the very little boys, as "fader") to witness these gentlemen "witching the world with noble horsemanship." The scene reminds us a good deal of a donkey ride on Hampstead Heath. The little horses trot or gallop, and puff, and not unfrequently try to kick off their burden (generally with perfect success); the rider swears, and blows, and strikes, and kicks (and once or twice, they say, in old times the ruffians touched up the poor beasts with their knives); the proprietor, who has brought his animals from one of those grand horseemporiums-the "Tattersalls" and "Aldridges" of Lerwick-Clickamin and Sound-runs behind, armed with a thick stick, trying to keep up with the cavalry, and shouting out occasionally in forcible language, which (as well as the stick) he applies quite as often to the rider as to the horse. And thus puffing and blowing, and kicking, and striking, and swearing, the Dutchman now on the neck, and now almost over the tail of his horse, and now under the belly, and then up again, as mad for the exercise as ever, the cavalcade reach the brow of the Knab, where, the owner having by a perfect miracle prevented horse and rider from going over the cliff, the heads are turned, and the whole party scramble back to the startingpoint in the same fashion they went up.

Unfortunately, our Holland friends do not confine themselves to these innocent pursuits when in Lerwick. They occasionally smuggle a little, with the aid and countenance of a few native friends, and during their stay, of late years, men-of-war from their own country have been sent down to watch them, the officers of which, together with occasionally French and Belgian naval officers, on somewhat similar errands, make a

very pleasing addition to Lerwick society, and are esteemed, especially by the fair inhabitants, very delightful companions at pic-nics and similar merry-makings, and at balls unexceptionable partners. The customhouse officials, and officers and men of the revenue cutter, are also ever on the alert to prevent fraud on the revenue, and if you-as strangers from "the south country," i. e. Scotland or England-happen to spend a June night or two in Lerwick, and happen to put up at one of those houses on the lower side of the street, which look as though they were built in the water, and to stand at the window thereof about midnight, wondering whether it is never dark in these latitudes, and admiring the beauty of Lerwick harbour lying before you like a placid lake, the houses casting a picturesque, irregular shadow on the water, which mingles with the delicate shadows of the masts and rigging of the numerous barks at anchor; of course qualifying your admiration, like a true "south country" man, with the remark, "Ah, but then there are no trees!"-you will catch the sound of stealthy oars, and, if you keep your eyes about you, catch a glimpse of stealthy boats gliding through these shadows from shore to vessel and from vessel to shore; some breakers of the law, some guardians of the revenue, all watching each other, and not unfrequently encountering, but after a most harmless fashion, which would uproot all your traditional romantic notions of cutters and smugglers, if you possessed any.

But to return to our story. Captain Mortimer had ascertained, in the course of conversation, that one of these Dutch "busses" had been for some years in the habit of visiting Grevavoe, and lying off there for a day or two. It was understood that Lieutenant Tomkins had formed the acquaintance of Jan Van Donker, the commander or skipper of this craft, when the gallant officer was commander of the revenue cutter at Lerwick, though it was reported-Mr. William Dicky ascertained-that certain transactions were now carried on between Van Donker and the lieutenant which no Chancellor of Exchequer or Board of Admiralty or Customs would have been likely to smile approval on. "However," Mr. Dicky added, "any blackguardism will do for a place like this. It's my opinion that all the people are equally bad; I'm sure, at all events, that Magnie Smith deserves hanging, and will get it some day, too. And as for Miss Kristy's father and brothers" (Kirsty had recently taken it into her head to turn the cold shoulder on Dicky, and receive Magnie again into favour), "I believe if they want to keep out of gaol the sooner they carry out their plan of going to America the better.'

Mortimer's first idea had been to bribe this Jan Van Donker to take him and his beloved on board in the dead of night, and sail immediately for the mainland of Scotland, and when as usual Mynheer Van Donker arrived in the voe, and had called at the lieutenant's, and been introduced to and evidently fascinated by the manner of the captain, which was made wonderfully affable for the occasion, the captain, after feeling his way and making some presents to the skipper, broke the matter to him. But he found that, although Mynheer Van Donker was quite ready to assist him-for, as old Trapbois says, "a con-sid-er-ation"-he could not by any possibility go so far out of his course, and for such a long time as this arrangement would require. But the skipper was ready with a suggestion. Would it not do as well if, instead of taking the

lovers away himself, he took the lieutenant and any other superfluous and troublesome individual out of the way for a short time, until the captain and the lady had escaped by means of disguise, or such other scheme as might occur to the captain's inventive mind? Although the captain would very much have preferred his first plan, as being much the less complicated of the two, he was forced to take the suggestion of Van Donker as the nucleus of the intended operations, and after further consideration and further consultation between the captain and Miss Julia, the captain and Mr. William Dicky, and the captain and Van Donker, the following course of proceeding was resolved upon:

Mynheer Jan Van Donker was to invite-a not at all unusual proceeding with him-Lieutenant Tomkins and Mr. Eric Sweynson to come on board of his gaily-painted little craft some fine afternoon, and partake of a glass of real Holland schnapps, and hear him sing one of his beautiful native songs; some gentle soporific was to be administered to the guests in the schnapps, and as soon as they were fairly asleep, the light little "buss" was to be steered out to sea, and to cruise there, for a day or two, a good way from the land; the invention of some cock-andbull excuse, in broken English, such as "state of the weather rendering it necessary, for the safety of the craft, to stand off from shore, and no time to land the slumbering gentlemen," or, " merely a bit of joke," &c., being left to Jan Van Donker. In return for which service, Mynheer Van Donker received ten pounds down, and would receive a further sum of ten pounds on the happy marriage of Captain George Mortimer and Miss Julia Tomkins. Meanwhile, after the departure of the "buss" and its precious cargo to sea, Captain Mortimer and Miss Tomkins, disguised in clothes belonging to Mr. William Dicky, would, by some means or other, get out of the island in the dead of night, hurry to Lerwick, and embark on board any vessel bound for an English or Scottish port. Wonderful to tell, Captain Mortimer received his chief assistance in carrying out this final part of his scheme from one who was by no means favourably disposed to himself and his servant. This was no other than Magnie Smith; and the captain consulted him in the matter because he knew the importance of having a native coadjutor, and very shrewdly conceived that Magnie would readily assist in any arrangement which would remove him and his footman from the place, and at the same time play off on Lieutenant Tomkins the grudge Magnie owed him. As the captain had conjectured, Magnie readily promised his aid, and set about the matter most cheerfully and vigorously. It would excite suspicion to take a boat from Grevavoe to the mainland island, because Magnie could not manage to man the boat alone, and how was explanation to be given to the other men? But Magnie volunteered to get some friends of his, who lived in the extreme end of the island, yet at the point nearest the mainland island, to do what was required, so far as landing the couple on the latter island went; these persons not being in any way interested in the Tomkinses, and not knowing Mr. William Dicky by sight, and having a very imperfect acquaintance with Miss Tomkins's appearance, would not suspect anything, and, as long as the strange gentleman paid them well, they would never think of asking why he was going off in this mysterious fashion, for night travelling is not

at all uncommon in Zetland, where persons in a distant island are hurrying to catch some particular vessel leaving Lerwick for "the south.'

These essential matters having been thus satisfactorily chalked out, it occurred to the principals in the transaction how were the Masters Tomkins and Kirsty to be disposed of? The lieutenant most certainly would never permit the young gentlemen to accompany him on board the "buss;" if they went, he wouldn't go. Miss Tomkins found a way out of this dilemma. A clergyman in a northern island, who had in his family one or two sons about the age of the Masters Tomkins, and was tolerably well acquainted with the lieutenant (though we need scarcely add, not well acquainted with the reputation of the young gentlemen), had once or twice requested the officer to permit Master Bob and Master Nelson to pay a short visit to his manse. This the lieutenant-principally at Miss Julia's suggestion-had always declined, with thanks, for the young lady was afraid that her interesting brothers might, when from home, perform some of those wonderful feats which had terrified poor M'Candle and his servants. But now she used her influence with her father in the opposite direction, advised that the invitation, which had been recently repeated, should be accepted; "the minister and his lady might take offence," &c., and the lieutenant, very glad to get rid for a short time of his dear boys (who had been making themselves particularly obnoxious just lately), gladly gave his permission, and the youths, all joyful, were despatched to the other island, with leave of absence for two or three weeks.

Then for Kirsty. Miss Tomkins was convinced that Kirsty was far too clever, and knew her too well, to allow of any deceit being employed in her case. The safest course she saw was to confess the whole matter to her handmaiden, and implore her secrecy. Kirsty was rather flattered by the confidence reposed in her, and after a little dignified demur, and the protestation, "Na, but ye ken dat's aaful; da lootenan 'ill just murder ivry sowl on da spot when he comes hame again," she gave her promise not to reveal the secret.

Further, as there was little doubt that the lieutenant, on his return, after finding the bird flown, would, if not murder, at least visit with his direst displeasure, all persons whom he conceived had in any way assisted in the elopement, it was arranged that Kirsty was at once to apply for and obtain leave to visit for a few days a married sister in a distant part of the island. This, it was conceived, would avert all suspicion from her. Mr. Dicky was not to accompany the couple; it was too well known throughout the country that Captain Mortimer had only one footman: if he travelled with two there would be remarks, and there might be discovery. Moreover, he deemed it advisable to leave Mr. Dicky on the spot to communicate with him afterwards, and inform him how the lieutenant took the affair, and, if necessary, ultimately to try and soften that officer's heart, and prepare him for the happy return of his daughter and her husband to implore, on bended knee, forgiveness. Dicky felt somewhat uncomfortable at being left, and would much rather have accompanied his master; however, the captain was inexorable, and it was decided that Dicky also should be asked by the skipper to visit the vessel, and carried out-a willing captive-on the little trip to sea. If he