"Just to think!" exclaimed she, as she clasped those same pearls, that had once been cast aside in scorn, upon her darling—and pure and lovely they shone among her soft, brown curls, and on her snow-white arms and neck, and around her lithe and slender waist—"to think that I could have mistaken Ferdinand, the reigning Duke of Bernstorf, for Ferdinand, the Prince. Really, though, my lady, to look at them, one does not see much difference in their appearance—they are both so handsome and grand-looking. Oh, yes! you see a vast odds in their looks—that's natural! These old eyes, I suppose, are growing dim—but they are bright enough to see that thou art the dearest, loveliest, most beautiful bride that ever the sun shone upon."
"Sic transit gloria mundi."
THE CITY OF MEXICO.
WRITTEN WHILE THE WAR WAS PENDING.
BY M. E. THROPP.
Pride of the South, thy glittering spires
Point to the arching sky,
While tower and palace proudly rear
Their stately forms on high;
Thy spacious squares spread far and wide
Along the valley green,
And bright above thy hundred fanes
An hundred crosses gleam.