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THE CLOSING OF THE GATES.

OME few years since the Rev. Mr. Norcross, of

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Framlingham, willed the sum of five hundred pounds to "the bravest man in England." The Duke of Wellington was applied to upon the subject by the executors: he at first declined to answer their question; but in a few days sent for them, when he stated that, upon considering their request, he had determined to afford them all the assistance in his power. The Duke then said, "It is generally thought that the battle of Waterloo was one of the greatest battles ever fought: such is not my opinion, but I say nothing upon that head. The success of the battle of Waterloo, however, turned upon the closing of the gates of Hougoumont. These gates were closed in the most courageous manner, at the very nick of time, by the effort of Sir James Macdonnel. I cannot help thinking, therefore, that Sir James is the man to whom you should give the five hundred pounds.”

Sir James Macdonnel was applied to: he listened to the story of the executors, expressed his thanks to the great hero for his award, but said, "I cannot claim all

the merit due to the closing of the gates of Hougoumont; for Serjeant John Graham, who saw with me the importance of the step, rushed forward, and together WE shut the gates. What I should therefore propose is, that the Sergeant and myself divide the legacy between us." The executors, delighted with the proposal, adopted it at once, and Sergeant Graham was rewarded with his share of the five hundred pounds.

SECOND SIGHT.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

Ne'er erred the prophet heart that grief inspired,
Though joy's illusions mock their votarist.

A

MATURIN.

MOURNFUL gift is mine, O friends!
A mournful gift is mine!

A murmur of the soul, which blends

With the flow of song and wine.

An eye, that through the triumph's hour
Beholds the coming woe,

And dwells upon the faded flower,
Midst the rich summer's glow.

Ye smile to view fair faces bloom
Where the father's board is spread;

I see the stillness and the gloom

Of a home whence all are fled.

I see the withered garlands lie
Forsaken on the earth,

While the lamps yet burn, and the dancers fly
Through the ringing hall of mirth.

W

I see the blood-red future stain
On the warrior's gorgeous crest,
And the bier amidst the bridal train,
When they come with roses drest.

I hear the still small moan of Time,
Through the ivy-branches made,
Where the palace, in its glory's prime,
With the sunshine stands arrayed.

The thunder of the seas I hear,
The shriek along the wave,

When the bark sweeps forth, and song and cheer
Salute the parting brave.

With every breeze a spirit sends

To me some warning sign ;-
A mournful gift is mine, O friends!
A mournful gift is mine!

Oh! prophet heart! thy grief, thy power

To all deep souls belong;

The shadow in the sunny hour,

The wail in the mirthful song.

This sight is all too sadly clear

For them a veil is riven;

Their piercing thoughts repose not here,

Their home is but in heaven!

NARRATIVE

OF AN ASCENT OF MONT BLANC IN AUGUST, 1830.

A

SI was ascending the Mont Anvert on the 1st August,

1830, with Captain Pringle and the Comte de Hohenthal, the beauty of the weather and clearness of the sky put the idea of ascending Mont Blanc into my head. I made a few inquiries of our guide (Dépland), who said there was every probability of the fine weather continuing, and that it would be an excellent opportunity for doing so. He offered willingly to accompany me, but referred me to another guide (Favret), who was ascending the Mont Anvert with a party at the time, and who had been at the top of Mont Blanc already two or three times. I remained in a state of indecision till I reached the Mer de Glace, the first sight of which fixed me in my resolution. I spoke to Favret, who tried to dissuade me from the attempt, but said he would accompany me if I was resolved on making it, and that I should find plenty of guides willing to go with us.

On our way down, we met Joseph Marie Coutet, the

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