and Mudge, is no longer doubtful. The old Lion has brought the Lioness, and the sheep being all gone, they have made a joint attack upon the bullock-house. The Mudiboo has overflowed, and Squampash Flatts are a swamp. I have just discovered that the Monkeys are my own rascals, that I brought out from England. We are

coming back as fast as we can.

THE OLD WOMAN OF BERKELEY.

FROM A STORY RELATED BY OLAUS MAGNUS.

BY ROBERT SOUTHEY.

THE raven croak'd as she sat at her meal,
And the old woman knew what he said,
And she grew pale at the raven's tale,
And sicken'd and went to her bed.

"Now fetch me my children, and fetch

them with speed,"

The old woman of Berkeley said,

"The monk my son, and my daughter the

nun,

Bid them hasten, or I shall be dead."

The monk her son, and her daughter the nun, Their way to Berkeley went,

And they have brought with pious thought The holy sacrament.

The old woman shriek'd as they entered her door.

'Twas fearful her shrieks to hear, “ Now take the sacrament away For mercy, my children dear!"

Her lip it trembled with agony,
The sweat ran down her brow,
"I have tortures in store for evermore,
Oh! spare me, my children, now! "

Away they sent the sacrament,

The fit it left her weak,

She look'd at her children with ghastly eyes And faintly struggled to speak.

'All kind of sin I have rioted in,

And the judgment now must be, But I secured my children's souls, Oh! pray, my children, for me.

"I have suck'd the breath of sleeping babes, The fiends have been my slaves,

I have 'nointed myself with infant's fat,

And feasted on rifled

graves.

"And the Devil will fetch me now in fire My witchcrafts to atone,

And I who have rifled the dead man's grave Shall never have rest in my own.

"Bless I intreat my winding sheet, My children, I beg of you!

And with holy water sprinkle my shroud, And sprinkle my coffin too.

"And let me be chain'd in my coffin of stone, And fasten it strong I implore

With iron bars, and with three chains

Chain it to the church floor.

"And bless the chains and sprinkle them,
And let fifty priests stand round,
Who night and day the mass may say
Where I lie on the ground.

“And see that fifty choristers

Beside the bier attend me,

And day and night by the taper's light
With holy hymns defend me.

"Let the church bells all both great and small Be toll'd by night and day,

To drive from thence the fiends who come

To bear my body away.