Eugénie tried in vain to get some light on the point, but was not able to obtain much. The interview took place. Mr. Smithson seemed vexed and thoughtful after his wife left the office. Mme. Smithson went directly to give the porter orders to send the engineer to her husband as soon as he arrived. Louis had sent word the evening before he should return the following day.
TO BE CONTINUED.
[SONNET.]
THE RUINS OF EMANIA (NEAR ARMAGH).
BY AUBREY DE VERE.
Why seek we thus the living ‘mid the dead?
Beneath yon mound—within yon circle wide—
Emania’s palace, festive as a bride
For centuries six, had found its wormy bed
When Patrick lifted here his royal head,
And round him gazed. Perhaps the Apostle sighed
Even then, to note the fall of mortal pride—
Full fourteen hundred years since then have fled!
Then, too, old Ulster’s hundred kings were clay;
Then, too, the Red Branch warriors slept forlorn;
Autumn, perhaps, as now, a pilgrim gray,
Her red beads counted on the berried thorn,
Making her rounds; while from the daisied sod
The undiscountenanced lark upsoared, and praised her God.