i LOV'D THEE. 383 



threading- the rue-du-pont, we arrived in safety at the bureau des 

 messageries royales, where we descended with some difficulty from 

 our elevated position, amid the bawlings of a host of runners from 

 different hotels, to solicit the honour of our company. " L?h6tel de 

 Londres!" "T 'hotel de Paris ! I' hotel du grand Roi d' Angleterre ! " and 

 others, were sounded in our ears till we had gained a footing on terra 

 firma, when one of these officious commissionaires seized a cloak, 

 another a coat, another a portmanteau, with which they would 

 have marched off in different directions, if I had not made a sign 

 to an important personage, yclept a gendarme, who, by a single wave 

 of his magic hand, stilled in an instant the raging of the wordy tem- 

 pest. Stranger! whoever thou art, whether thou speak French or 

 not, make but a sign to one of the gendarmerie, who are always in 

 attendance on the arrival of a diligence, and it will avail thee more 

 than the best French thou couldst ever learn in the very best French 

 school of thy country, even by the patent systems. All was now quiet; 

 but the imploring looks of the waiters, with their respective cards, 

 held invitingly forward, spoke plainly, " Donnez-nous la preference, 

 mes bons Messieurs ! Venez chez-nous, de grace ! " 



Having at length secured our baggage on a barrow, and arranged 

 with our conductor, I gave the word to march : " A V hotel de Londres, 

 mes amis ! " In a twinkling we were in motion, followed by a train 

 of beggars, and were soon seated at the excellent table- d'hote of 

 niadame Marc, at which we entreat our readers to leave us till next 

 month, when, Deo volente, we will present them with further details 

 of our rambles, shifting the scene, perhaps, to countries less known 

 to English travellers, but more worthy of their notice. 



I LOV'D THEE! 

 BY MRS. C. B. WILSON. 



I LOV'D thee when the rose bloom'd on thy cheek, 

 And life's fair morn in glowing hope was dress'd ; 

 I lov'd thee more than words or tongue could speak, 

 Thou wert my bosom's shrin'd and hallow'd guest ! 

 Say not, Oh ! say not, Time can ever see 

 My heart's true pulse forget to beat for thee. 



I lov'd thee when the rose had fled thy cheek, 

 And early grief planted the lily there; 

 1 lov'd thee and still dar'd that love to speak- 

 When sorrow ting'd with snow thine auburn hair ', 

 Say not, oh ! say not, Time did ever see 

 My heart's true pulse less warmly beat for thee. 



I lov'd thee in thy SpRiNG-time's blushing hour 

 I lov'd thee in thy SUMMER'S ripen'd noon ; 

 T lov'd thee in the blossom, bud and flower 

 The tears of April and the smiles of June ! 

 Fear not, then fear not, WINTRY hours will see 

 The heart grow cold, that ever beats for thee ! 



