ridiculous mistake before everyone. Amongst those who came on board was Colonel Montmorency Jones, very distressingly polite, very painfully kind, and altogether like a stage gentleman, for it is evident that the character requires to be acted and does not come natural to him. He is a regular old imposition from head to foot. His whiskers and hair are both dyed; but from some cause or another the ends of his whiskers are black, whilst the roots of them are red, whilst his eyebrows again are a shade of blue; so, altogether, with his red cheeks and nose, and green eyes, his face is something like Joseph's coat. He thinks it the correct thing to say "Madam" to any lady he does not know very well, and altogether brings to my mind confused recollections of poor, dear grandpapa, and the monkey at the zoological gardens, only grandpapa had a much more aristocratic manner than Colonel Montmorency Jones. Joking apart, though, the poor creature was really very kind. He said he had got his carriage waiting for us, and had hired all the servants we should require, in order that we might find ourselves comfortable at once. We had got everything packed up, so we did not remain long on board after Colonel M. Jones' arrival. I took care to introduce Bowles to him, for the man is useful, and may do to fall back on if I can't catch a civilian, but I will only take an officer if nothing better is to be had. It was so rich to see how cordial Mrs. Leslie-who also intends to stop at Dum Dum for a short time--became when she found we were going to live with one of the tiptop people of the station. She hates me, and knows I hate her; yet to hear her wish me good-bye, and see her kiss me, any one but a woman would have thought we were bosom friends. She shan't gain anything by it though, for I intend to patronize her most unmercifully, and lament her failings in the most affectionate manner possible. When we landed, we found Colonel Montmorency Jones' carriage and horses waiting for us, and were not sorry when a short drive brought us to Dum Dum. I was so astonished in passing through Calcutta at the quantity of big birds, with long legs and bills, standing on the tops of the houses, and at first thought they were stone. Colonel Montmorency Jones said, "I suppose you never saw adjutants before, Miss Aylmer." I answered, "Oh, yes! the adjutant of the 153d Queen's came out in the same ship with us," and could not understand his and aunt Alymer's bursting out laughing, till I found that the big birds were called adjutants; I suppose, because they are like the real adjutants, more useful than ornamental, for Colonel M. Jones says they act as scavengers. I was very tired when we finished our drive, and went to bed directly after dinner. The next day was Sunday, which I was not sorry for, as it gave me an opportunity of putting on my new Paris dress, and I had such a love of a bonnet that, if the ladies who were at church paid any attention to the service, and weren't horribly miserable, they were not women. It did seem so odd seeing a lot of natives inside the church pulling the punkales all the time. It quite mesmerized me, and nearly sent me to sleep. There was a charity sermon, and at the end a quantity of little bits of paper were brought round, on which everyone

it seems

wrote their names and the sum they intended to give. I must say an old practice to carry the Indian custom of getting into debt so far, that even charity is bestowed on tick. Giving heaven a bill, payable at sight, as the tradesmen call it, is a funny religious ceremony to be sure! For all aunt Alymer's religion, I found she made no opposition when Colonel M. Jones proposed taking a drive in the evening, though she is always so particular about that sort of thing at home. I suppose what is wrong in England is right in India. The Indian ladies are very rude; every person during our drive stared at us so, or rather I suppose it was at me, not at aunt, that I felt quite ashamed; one comfort is, I doubt if they were the happier for it, as I am sure my things were much better than theirs, at least they ought to be, for they cost enough.

I must stop now, for breakfast is ready, and I am very hungry after my morning's drive.

(To be continued.)

AUTUMN.

BY LEILA.

"What sound is that? 'Tis summer's farewell,
In the breath of the night-wind sighing;
The chill breeze comes like a sorrowful dirge,
That wails o'er the dead and the dying.
The sapless leaves are eddying round,

On the path which they lately shaded:
The oak of the forest is losing its robe;

The flowers hath fallen and faded.

All that I look on but saddens my heart,

To think that the lovely so soon should depart."
ELIZA COOK.

THE joyous summer has passed away, with its blithesome days and genial sunshine, its pleasant twilight evenings, breathless in their balmy stillness: one and all are quickly fading from us. Already on autumn's golden threshold do we stand, feeling a brisker breath in the matin and even breeze. From the rivulet's bank, the mountain's side, and the shady lanes do we miss the sweet blossoms of summer flowers, although manifold are the autumn ones that here and there fill their

vacant places. Almost tearfully do we gaze at our woodlands, where the autumnal tints tell us too surely that on the never-ceasing tide of time winter advances. Yet there is a beauty in the present season, peculiarly its own; a mellowed loveliness o'ershadows the stately forests, a richer glow o'erspreads the now gorgeous sunsets. Carefully we cherish the remaining flowerets, knowing that ere long they will follow their summer predecessors, and that winter will soon encircle earth with a cold gray

crown.

As we pause, and listen to the whispers of the many-toned wind, do we not hear a lesson, for indeed they teach one, did we but comprehend ; and likewise do the sered leaves, lying at our feet, whispering many things unto us in their own mournful, eloquent voicelessness. They tell us, that like as the summer with all its beauties fades away, so perish the hopes and pleasures which we thought we should keep for our own. Around our path as we journey on, fall the sered and withered hopes of youth. Joyous dreams fade away, rustling at our feet, phantoms of the past.

Oftentimes our life resembles the autumn tree, with its almost barren branches, and the few remaining leaves which are wafted downwards by the chill northern breeze, as it wanders by; yes, there are times when we stand almost barren, while the cold winds of sorrow and disappointment carries from us the few remaining hopes and treasures which we have; but as the tree lives by the sap within, we live by one inward thing, faith and hope; both are bound together, and make one, so inseparable are they. Thus we feel assured, that as the green leaves will return to the tree in the spring, so in the future we shall have once more our lost treasures and hopes. "Be strong as we are," utter the forest-trees, "bearing the winter storms, they are only for a time." This admonition which we hear from the voice of the wind, shall we not heed? and bravely bear our trials, knowing that a loving Hand is guiding us through all, and a strong right, Arm is shielding us in every trouble, however great it may be.

A ROSY FACE AND CHESNUT HAIR.

BY S. H. BRADBURY (QUALLON)

A ROSY face and chesnut hair,

Beguiled me in the hours of Spring;
No other face I'd seen so fair,

Ne'er thought so much about a ring!
Would she be mine? ah, would she say--
Would she but only answer, yes!

I vowed I'd name the marriage day,
Make one unwedded beauty less!

She shed fresh beauties where she walked,
Gave brightness to each leafy shade;
To doves on myrtle branches talked,
And more delight than music made!
Like summer's latest rose her cheek

The faintest trace of crimson wore;
Words would be poor its charm to speak,
Of beauty there could not be more!

And redder lips I ne'er had seen,

They made enchantment when they stirred;

As sweet before there may have been,

But none so formed to grace a word!
'Twas beautiful to see them part,

And she unconscious of her charms;
As babe wrought by the sculptor's art,
With moonlight gleaming on its arms!

That Spring was loveliest unto me,

By day and night I lived in dreams;

In what we love we daily see

Hope cast, like sapphire skies in streams!

I won the maiden's heart to mine;

Long years have passed and still she's fair;

As freshly yet, as sweetly shine,

Her rosy face and chesnut hair!

CASTLES IN THE AIR.

Ir is an indisputable truism that the most beautiful and attractive things are also the most ephemeral. How many poets and preachers have told us that the bloom on the plum, the hues of the sunset, the merry pranks of childhood, and the fervent enthusiasm of youth, all belong to the same category of transitory things, "whose birth is nothing but their death begun." Practical experience, too, brings the disagreeable fact very vividly home to our minds, and proves that the leafless shrub outlives countless numbers of our summer roses. The toad survives many generations of our household pets, and the Quaker's drab and poke bonnet outwear Magenta coloured gossamer and charming Paris fashions. We fear there is little doubt that our most brilliant and fascinating plans, projects, and desires belong to this unsatisfactory class. No moral philosopher would hesitate to put castles in the air in the same category with card built houses, and those glittering bubbles, the delight of childhood, which are perhaps their best representatives.

Building is generally looked upon by the wise and prudent as a very unsafe speculation. If a man be a builder by trade and education, well and good, no one can say him nay, and he may draw out elastic estimates, and increase the number of our ugly and uncomfortable edifices at his leisure and pleasure. But when a man whose time, thoughts, and experience belong elsewhere, or still worse, a busy idler in want of something to do, thinks fit to expend his superfluous means in bricks and mortar, wise men shake their heads. We all know what it comes to; how, by some extraordinary system of arithmetic, the tens appear to have been omitted in the calculation, and four or five hundred become one or two thousand; how six months, by a similar process, grow into eighteen, and the estimate which includes all imaginable extras, excludes the simplest necessaries. The great saving which was to be effected in rent somehow necessitates a good many other retrenchments of a more practical nature, and the hapless projector, promoter, and payer, as he climbs up his awkward staircase, or sits at his inconvenient window, wishes he had let building alone. Do mental castle builders never wish the same? When turret and battlement and tower come crumbling about their ears, when hall and vestibule and gateway vanish into thin air, do they not sometimes regret that they did not keep to terra firma, and leave the upper element to its native denizens? Birds and butterflies and moths may raise their fairy structures with very slender aid from tangible things; the spider may find his gossamer thread firm enough for safe and rapid transit, but we, poor clumsy mortals, must have very substantial foundations, and very visible pathways, or rack and ruin await us.