upon his bed, was a most faithful sentinel. The creature sprang forward, barking furiously at the sound of hostile footsteps, and scratching his master's face with his paws.

There was but just time for the Prince to mount a horse which was ready saddled, and to effect his escape through the darkness, before his enemies sprang into the tent. His servants were cut down, his master of the horse and two of his secretaries, who gained their saddles a moment later, all lost their lives, and but for the little dog's watchfulness, William of Orange, upon whose shoulders the whole weight of his country's fortune depended, would have been led within a week to an ignominious death. To his death, the Prince ever afterwards kept a spaniel of the same race in his bed-chamber. MOTLEY'S Rise of the Dutch Republic.

It

The mausoleum of William the Silent is at Delft. is a sort of small temple in black and white marble, loaded with ornaments and sustained by columns between which are four statues representing Liberty, Providence, Justice, and Religion. Upon the sarcophagus lies the figure of the Prince in white marble, and at his feet the effigy of the little dog that saved his life at the siege of Malines.

DE AMICIS' Holland.

THE BLOODHOUND.

Come, Herod, my hound, from the stranger's floor!

Old friend we must wander the world once more!

For no one now liveth to welcome us back;

So, come! — let us speed on our fated track.

What matter the region, - what matter the weather,

So you and I travel, till death, together?

And in death? — why, e'en there I may still be found By the side of my beautiful black bloodhound.

We've traversed the desert, we 've traversed the sea,
And we've trod on the heights where the eagles be;
Seen Tartar, and Arab, and swart Hindoo;

(How thou pull'dst down the deer in those skies of blue ;) No joy did divide us; no peril could part

The man from his friend of the noble heart;

Aye, his friend; for where, where shall there ever be found

A friend like his resolute, fond bloodhound?

What, Herod, old hound! dost remember the day
When I fronted the wolves like a stag at bay?
When downward they galloped to where we stood,
Whilst I staggered with fear in the dark pine wood?
Dost remember their howlings? their horrible speed?
God, God! how I prayed for a friend in need!

And he came! Ah, 't was then, my dear Herod, I

found

That the best of all friends was my bold bloodhound.

Men tell us, dear friend, that the noble hound
Must forever be lost in the worthless ground:
Yet "Courage," "Fidelity," "Love" (they say),
Bear Man, as on wings, to his skies away.
Well, Herod - go tell them whatever may be,
I'll hope I may ever be found by thee.
If in sleep, -in sleep; if with skies around,

Mayst thou follow e'en thither, my dear bloodhound!
BARRY CORNWALL.

HELVELLYN.

This fine poem was suggested by the affection of a dog, which kept watch over the dead body of its master until found by friends three months afterwards. The young man had lost his way on Helvellyn. Time, 1805.

I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn,

Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty and wide;

All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling, And starting around me the echoes replied.

On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was bending,

And Catchedicam its left verge was defending,

One huge nameless rock in the front was ascending, When I marked the sad spot where the wanderer had died.

Dark green was that spot 'mid the brown mountain heather,

Where the Pilgrim of Nature lay stretched in decay, Like the corpse of an outcast abandoned to weather Till the mountain-winds wasted the tenantless clay. Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely extended, For, faithful in death, his mute favorite attended, The much-loved remains of her master defended, And chased the hill-fox and the raven away.

How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber? When the wind waved his garment, how oft didst thou start?

How many long days and long weeks didst thou number, Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart?

No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him, And thou, little guardian, alone stretched before him Unhonored the Pilgrim from life should depart?

When a Prince to the fate of the Peasant has yielded, The tapestry waves dark round the dim-lighted hall; With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded,

And pages stand mute by the canopied pall:

Through the courts, at deep midnight, the torches are gleaming;

In the proudly-arched chapel the banners are beaming, Far adown the long aisle the sacred music is streaming, Lamenting a Chief of the People should fall.

But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature,

To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamb, When, 'wildered he drops from some cliff huge in stature, And draws his last sob by the side of his dam.

And more stately thy couch by this desert lake lying,
Thy obsequies sung by the gray plover flying,
With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying,
In the arms of Helvellyn and Catchedicam.

WALTER SCOTT.

LLEWELLYN AND HIS DOG.

The spearmen heard the bugle sound,
And cheerily smiled the morn,
And many a brach, and many a hound,
Attend Llewellyn's horn.

And still he blew a louder blast,

And gave a louder cheer;

"Come, Gelert! why art thou the last, Llewellyn's horn to hear?

"Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam?
The flower of all his race!

So true, so brave a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase!"
That day Llewellyn little loved

The chase of hart or hare;
And scant and small the booty proved,
For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,
When near the portal seat,
His truant Gelert he espied,

Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gained the castle door,
Aghast the chieftain stood:

The hound was smeared with drops of gore;
His lips and fangs ran blood.

Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise,
Unused such looks to meet ;
His favorite checked his joyful guise,
And crouched and licked his feet.
Onward in haste Llewellyn passed,
(And on went Gelert too ;)
And still, where'er his eyes were cast,
Fresh blood-drops shocked his view.

O'erturned his infant's bed he found,
The blood-stained cover rent