It's the gripes; the gripes are wholesome;
Quick the fénnel; mix some súck with 't:
Deár, sweet creáture, how it suffers!
"Tmúst be pain that mákes it crý so.

Give 't the breást; what! wónt it take it? Don't be cross, dear prétty Bóbby;

På wont have you if you crý so;

Thére there! go to sleep, sweet Bóbby.

Deár me! what can bé the matter?
Máybe á pin 's rúnning in it;

Strip it quick; see! there 's no pín here
Poór, dear bábe! what is it ails it?

Heát the flannel át the fire well,

Dróp six drops of brándy on it,
Bind it tight round nót so strait quite
Still it criés as múch as éver.

Where's the saffron, thé magnésia?
I'm beginning to be frightened;
Bút it looks ill! cáll a dóctor;

Stóp, I think it's growing quiet.

Húsh-o húsh-o; whát 's that noise there? Shút the door to, dráw the curtains,

Lét no foot stir; húsh-o húsh-0;

Húsh-o, dárling báby, húsh-o.

Nów it 's quiet, it 's asleep now;
Húsh-o, dárling báby, húsh-0;

And it's slóbbering, thát 's a goód sign,
This time Gód wont take his chérub.

Whát a sweet smile! it 's awake now;
Take it úp, put on its cleán bib;
Nów 'twill take the breást I wárrant;
Hów it sucks, the little glútton!

Púking! lovely; it 's all right now.

Wipe its mouth another cleán bib;
Bléssings on it for a fine child!

Ít will bé a greát man some day.

Walking from TODTмOOS to MENZENSCHWAND in the BLACK FOREST (BADEN), Octob. 7, 1854.

WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT PREDAZZO IN VAL FIEME (ITALIAN TYROL) WHERE GEOLOGISTS FIND CHALK UNDERLYING GRANITE.

BREAD upon bútter spread is rare,
Rare heels up and heads down,
Grass growing toward the centre 's rare,
Rare underfoot a crown;

Bút of all rárest, granite here
Lying on chalk is seen,

And by some blunder chalk below,
Where gránite should have been.

July 27, 1854.

WITHIN the convent of Johannathal,

Before daybreak upon Ascension day

There is a sound of móre life than is common
Within Saint Ursula's bare and lofty walls.
Three times the porteress to the latticed window
Óf the locked gáte has put her ear to listen
If foot of prior's mule might yet be heard
Or réverend bishop's up the valley wending
From får Saint Martin's, and fourth time at last
Hearing the hoofs, the portal wicket opens
Ánd to "Gelobt sei Jesus Christus," answers
With folded hands "In Ewigkeit, Herrn Väter."
"God greet the lady Philippina," said
The bishop and the prior entering the parlour,
"And Gód greet all the sisters here assembled,
And God greet trebly her whom here today,
Sáved from a sinful world, we are to add
To hóly Ursula's pious sisterhood."

"I need not ask, Sir prior," then said the bishop,

"ff to our dear child Agatha has been

Dúly administered for seven days past

Each day the sacrament of the Lord's body,

Her heart being first prepared for its reception

By full and free confession of her sins

Even the most vénial?" "As thou say'st, my lord."

"And thoú, my lady abbess, of no cause

Art cógnizant why to this sisterhood

Should not be added one more loving sister,
Not planted in the garden of the Lord

This shoot of promise, this sweet, fragrant branch?"
“Í of no hindrance am aware, my lord,
Unless it be a hindrance, to have passed
In pénitence, obedience, selfdenial

And works of mercy and beneficence
The years of her noviciate and white veil."
"Then let the child attend us in the chapel,
If ready there the coffin and the pall."
The youngest sister then the candles lit,
And two by two, each with a light in hand,

They walked in slow procession from the parlour
Alóng the corridor and down the stair..

And round the cloister court into the chapel,
The novices before, the white veils last,
Behind the novices the prior singly
In gówn and scapulaire, the bishop then
In púrple pallium, on his head the mitre,
And in his hand the golden, jewelled crozier,
Between whom and the white veils the long train
Of black veils headed by the lady abbess,

The great bell all the while the death knell tolling.
Meanwhile two sisters, beckoned by the abbess,
Conducted to the chapel from her cell

The lady Agatha pale, weak and trembling,
And on her knees in front of the crypt's staircase
Pláced her beside a lidless, plain deal coffin.
Of coárse black stuff her raiment; from her head
Behind in loóse folds hung the long white veil;
Ón her white néck a crucifix of jet;

A góld, gem-studded hoop on the ring finger;
Behind her and at each side of the crypt stair
Stood mótionless the two attendant sisters;

Behind the crypt the altar hung with black;

And cúrtained black the doors, lucárnes and windows;
A single dim lamp from the high vault burning.
The tolling ceased as entering the chapel

The sisters ranged themselves in triple file
Half-moón shaped round the entrance of the crypt,
The kneeling Agatha and open coffin,

In each right hand still burning bright the taper.
"Selécted child of God," then said the prior
Beside the bishop standing in the midst
And putting into the maid's trembling hand
The véry crucifix Saint Ursula

Préssed to her lips upon her martyr day,
"If of its own free will thine heart accepts
The words thou now shalt hear the bishop utter
Words which for ever from the world divide thee,
From father, mother, friends, and house and home,
Brother and sister, all the joys of life →

Swear to the words and kiss the holy rood."
"Thou swear'st," then said the bishop, "that till death
Thou wilt be faithful to the mother church,

That to the letter thou 'lt observe the rules
And órdinances of Saint Ursula,

Obey the lady abbess of this convent

In preference to thy father and thy mother,
And love this sisterhood more than thy sisters,
Swear'st that thou 'It live in chastity perpetual,
Seclusion, poverty and self-abasement,
And in all things conduct thee as becometh
The bride of Christ, the adópted of the Lord;

And as thou keep'st this oath or break'st it, so
Máy thy soul when thou diest ascend to heaven
Thére to live éver in the joy of the Lord,

Ór be thrust down to hell to dwell for ever

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