"There is something the matter," said Hugh, pursing his lips in his determined fashion. "In what way?" said I. "Why, my father called Eveline into his surgery just now, and is having a long talk with her." "And what do you suppose," said I, "is the matter?" "I expect that Mr. Howard has been talking to my father about Eveline." There was a moment's silence, as I tried to imagine how far my father's resentment might have been carried. Before we resumed our conversation Eveline joined us. "What has happened?" I exclaimed, excitedly. "Your father has been talking to my uncle," she replied, with evident emotion. It did not need any vast amount of intelligence to see through the plot, which was being carried on against me. "Eveline, what did he say? Surely your uncle would not seek to put barriers in our way? I flattered myself that I was a favourite with him." The good old Doctor had known of our engagement for some time, I felt sure, though we had not said anything to him as yet; we had been waiting for some token of relenting on my father's side, or for some turn of fortune in my favour. "I am going away," said Eveline, simply, "to visit some friends in Cumberland; I have often promised to go, and this will be a good opportunity." My father, as I have already explained, was anxious for me to make a good match in the way of money. This he had been telling the Doctor, who, naturally a proud man, would brook no interference, nor any remark in the slightest degree disparaging to his niece. The consequences had been a few sharp hot words between our respective relatives, and Eveline's contemplated visit to Cumberland. My sister, of whom I had never been particularly fond, I felt sure had abetted my father. They had discussed the matter together previously to this, and little did I thank her for it in my heart. However, the plot to divide us had been formed, and carried out. True, it need only be a temporary separation, but it was a severance at the least. To get Eveline away from the neighbourhood was the most they could do; there their influence ended. And with me what could be done? No one could make me marry a woman against my will. The idea was ridiculous. My father, I knew, could prevent the speedy completion of my professional studies and render me helpless, by keeping me in a condition of impecuniosity. That was the worst, but it was an evil which could be overcome. Our last day came; our last walk through the Abbotsmead meadows; our last walk in the Doctor's grounds beneath the summer sky. Hugh, God bless him! always our friend, had secured for us a quarter of an hour together without fear of interruption. Eveline and I were alone beneath the pleasant summer stars, about to say farewell. I took her in my arms, and held her to my aching heart, and then she was gone. Gone! my darling. Had I but then known what troubles were in store for us, ere we met again, I could not have let you go. How true it is-l'homme propose, mais Dieu dispose. Time passed rapidly; for a month or two Eveline's letters came regularly in answer to mine once a week; then her uncle told me she was going to travel on the Continent with some friends. I wondered that she had not told me anything of this, but supposed that matters had been arranged very hurriedly for the journey. So I wrote 1 1 as usual to her Cumberland address, knowing that her letters would be forwarded; and for several weeks I was not much surprised at receiving no answer. In the meantime, Dr. and Mrs. Abbot removed from Abbotsmead to Liverpool, where a more lucrative opening offered, while Hugh remained behind as incumbent of St. John's. My father had taken chambers for me in London, where I was pursuing my profession. But weeks passed on, and not one word from Eveline; I knew that my letters must have reached her, for I had written to Hugh, and obtained her latest address. I never for a moment doubted my father; I never for a moment dreamt that he had given private directions to the boy he had engaged to attend me at my chambers, "to forward to him any letters with which he was entrusted for Miss Sherwin, or any addressed to me from her." This was a boy from our neighbourhood, in whom I placed perfect confidence, who appeared fond of me, and seemed most anxious to please Alas, for my father's boasted vaunt of unstained honour, and unsullied name! Alas, for the weakness of human nature where self-interest and money are concerned ! me. (To be continued). HUMAN LIFE. I stood by the towers of Ardenveile, O'er field and valley, and silvan glen And each cheek look'd bright as the blush of morn, And each voice sounded gay as the huntsman's horn, And each heart was glad, for an heiress was born. And again by those portals proud did I stand, I stood by those time-worn towers again, And once more came forth a gallant train; And I saw that same knight, but he shrouded his face; But a shroud and a bier and a sable plume! For the heiress was borne to her forefathers' tomb. And such is human life at best, A mother's, a lover's, the green earth's breast, -Neele. SKETCHES BY THE WAYSIDE. A VISIT TO THE CAVE OF ST. MAURICE. BY HELEN ADAMS. To those who have had the opportunity of travelling in Switzerland, and especially of visiting the celebrated Rhone Valley, the town of St. Maurice, situated near the boundaries of the Cantons of Valais and Vaud, will not be unknown. The town is said to have been named after a commandant of the Theban Legion, who suffered martyrdom here about the year 202, near the Chapelle de Verolliaz. Situated on the west bank of the Rhone, and sheltered by a precipitous rock, the ancient town commands the valley, which, at this point, is very narrow. Near the stone bridge, built in the fifteenth century, by which the high road crosses the Rhone, stands the castle, an unimposing looking structure. Above this, half-way up the hill, is the entrance to the 66 Grotte des Fées," well worthy of a visit, either from the tourist who passes St. Maurice on his way to or from Martigny, the point of intersection of the routes over the " Simplon," the "Great St. Bernard," the "Tête Noire," and the "Col de Baum," or as a pleasant day's excursion from the many favourite resorts on the Lake of Geneva, or in the Rhone Valley. In England, people do not usually choose a day in December as the most seasonable time of year for an excursion into the country, but in the beginning of that month in the year 18 the winter at Montreux, on the Lake of Geneva, had not yet commenced, and the 4th of December was a bright warm day, with cloudless sky, and only enough wind to give a refreshing crispness to the air. Leaving Montreux by train at about 9 a.m., we journeyed by the side of the lake as far as Villeneuve, passing the celebrated Castle of Chillon, noted, as readers of Byron will remember, as the prison where Bonnivard was kept in confinement by the Duke of Savoy for about six years. Leaving the lake for the valley, we stopped at Aigle and Bex for a few moments, admiring the mountains which rise on either side. The "Dent du Midi," with its snowy peaks, appeared glorious in the sunlight, from whichever point of view we saw it. As we approached St. Maurice, the train passed through a tunnel cut in the rock, which here slopes down towards the river, scarcely leaving space for the high road at the side. We alighted at the station on the far side of the tunnel, and taking tickets for the "Grotte," walked down the long narrow street through the town, as far as the fortifications, and there turning off to the left, followed a winding pathway which leads up the hillside; in about ten minutes arriving at a small house inhabited by the guide whose occupation it was to conduct visitors through the cavern, the entrance to which was close at hand. Meeting us with a smiling face, and evidently pleased at the opportunity afforded him of having, at this time of the year, a little variety in his necessarily monotonous existence, he took us to the entrance of the cavern, and providing us each with a lamp, led the way, we following in single file. Most of the way we were able to walk in an upright position, and sometimes the roof arched upwards to a height invisible in the gloom, but jecting rocks. are rounded and hollowed by the constant friction of the water which oozes through crevices in the rock, and trickling down into the stream flowing at one side of the path, disappears in a dark hollow, its outlet not yet having been discovered. After walking some distance the path sloped downwards considerably, and according to our guide's information, we learnt that at certain times of the year, the cave is inaccessible beyond this point, the stream swelling to such an extent, that the hollow is almost if not entirely filled. Here our attention was called to a faint musical sound in the distance, and the guide informed us that it was the fairies who dwelt unseen, in recesses of this gloomy cavern, at work upon their tiny anvils! This was the origin of the name given to the cave. As we proceeded further, the noise became louder, lessening the weird effect it had previously caused, as being the first Sound excepting that of our own footsteps and subdued voices that we had heard since entering the cavern. At length we arrived at the place whence the noise proceeded, and discovered that it was caused by drops of water falling from a great height on to a piece of tin placed beneath! Thus our illusion vanished, the mystery of the Swiss fairies disappeared, and the chief idea which occupied our thoughts as we penetrated further into the heart of the mountain, was what insignificant atoms we were, regarding with curious eyes the wonderful result of nature's patient work, the path we now trod having taken ages of time to accomplish. The awful grandeur of the masses of rock, ice, and snow, which latter we had seen glistening in the sunlight, and which we knew were towering for thousands of feet above our heads, seemed to overpower us. Had one small piece of rock become dislodged from its place above, it would have crushed us beneath its weight. However no such catastrophe happened; we arrived at the end of our journey in safety, and were well repaid for our pains by the sight which awaited us. The cavern here arched upwards to a considerable height; and, oozing from crevices in the rocks, the glacial water fell in thousands of drops, forming a beautiful cascade, which in turn became a small lake, feeding the stream we had before noticed. A small wooden platform overhanging the lake, has been attached to the rock at one side. This we mounted by steps, and thus came immediately in front of the waterfall, which the guide illuminated by an electric light; also enabling us to see the roof of the cavern in all its details. A small boat on the lake is at the service of those who care to make use of it, but as we were not particularly anxious to have a shower-bath, we contented ourselves with admiring at a distance the beauties disclosed. Near to the Cascade, the cavern takes a sharp turn, but owing to the bad air, further exploration has been impossible; though some think that the passage extends the whole way under the mountain, an opening having been discovered on the opposite side. We retraced our steps to the mouth of the cave slowly and with care; but in spite of all precautions, our hats had occasional encounters with the lower portions of the rocks overhead. We had provided ourselves with warm wraps, expecting to find the atmosphere cold in the cave, but hitherto had made no use of them, as it proved to be considerably warmer there than outside, although during the summer it is generally chilly. We were glad to avail ourselves of them when we reached the outer air; and, after purchasing some views of the Cascade and cavern, we bade adieu to the guide, and returned to the town. Lucia thinks happiness consists in state; She weds an idiot, but she eats in plate. THE RECENT SURVEY OF PALESTINE. BY ROBERT STEEL, D.D. FIRST PAPER. turies, Jewish, Christian, and Moslem pilgrims have gone to visit those spots around which SO many hallowed Old and New Testament memories are entwined, and where every step was historic. A vast library of works on the Holy Land has accumulated during the ages. The sacred books themselves led the way, and have continued to enjoy a spreading popularity, rendered into many languages. Then came the itineraries of pilgrims during early Christian ages. Next followed the Chronicles of Crusades. And modern times have added an immense number of works of travel. It might, then, have been supposed that the land of Palestine was thoroughly and accurately known, and that all the ancient sites connected with the sacred history were clearly identified. But the very reverse of this has been the case. Tradition had long taken the place of history, and superstition the place of faith. With very few exceptions, such as Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Hebron, and some other places, localities were very doubtful, and even in the cities and towns about which there could be no reasonable doubts very many of the spots associated with Biblical events were either quite unknown, or altogether so different in local surroundings as to make their identity distrusted. It was not likely that this state of things could long remain amidst all the inquiries which have characterised the nineteenth century. It has sometimes, and justly, been said that professional classes are most slow to yield to new inquiries, and that the clerical mind has been long educated in ruts, and is indisposed to adopt new views. But historical criticism at length awoke the slumber of the traditionalists, who, if The land of Palestine has gathered interest around it for nearly 4000 years. If the period of the Call of Abraham be regarded as the commencement of authentic history, his visit to the land so long afterwards connected with his descendants must be one of the earliest historical facts. It is well known, however, that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob sojourned in the land as strangers, but they cherished the hope that it would be the ultimate possession of their posterity. This hope was not extinguished by the migration to Egypt or by the long oppression endured there. The patriarch Jacob was buried beside his fathers in the Cave of Machpelah, and Joseph in dying made mention of his bones, and requested that they should be borne to Palestine when his people returned. The Exodus came at length, and after the desert pilgrimage and the conquest of Canaan, the Promised Land became the home of the Hebrews. The sacred Scriptures have made us familiar with the various localities of the Holy Land in which they dwelt for a long succession of centuries, till the captivity of the northern tribes by Assyria, and till a similar fate befel the southern tribes at the hands of the King of Babylon. But the captivity did not end the occupation of the Promised Land. Though the ten tribes did not return, the Jews came back in considerable numbers, and for 600 years kept up the sacred interest. The history wrought during this period has an undying interest. In so contracted a locality and among so small a people, Christianity had its cradle. This, more than all other events, has shed an immortal halo around the land. It is emphatically "the Holy Land” for ever. Hence during nineteen cen |