without pain to the poor little patient. Her
mother is inconsolable, nevertheless: declaring
that now, should it be necessary, she cannot
work for her living, and must consequently beg.

Next morning, our steam is up, we get under
weigh, and leave the scene of the late destruction:
having in tow the recaptured trading
junks. On the first attack of yesterday, a
hoary-headed pirate was seen to fire a gun right
in the faces of our men: the recoil of the gun
(which had no breeching) sending him flying
down the hatchway, breaking his legs, and
Heaven knows what more of him. Now it so
happens that the reinstated Chinese crew of
this junk (which is one of those in tow), while
cruizing about on board of her, to see what is
left to them, come across this old fellow, groaning
away fearfully, and they, thoroughly terrified
at the presence of one disabled pirate, set up a
yell, such as those acquainted with the Chinese
will be able to imagine, which, it being pitch
dark, rather startles those on board the steamer,
causing them to "stop her," and lower a quarter-boat,
to send on board and see what is the
matter. The general impression is, that there
are some fifty men concealed, who have suddenly
broken forth to recapture the vessel. The
disgust of the boat's crew is inexpressible when
they discover that they have had all the trouble
for a single powerless old man, more dead than
alive.

A few days later, after a run along the coast,
we find another of Her Majesty's ships anchored
at Amoy, with a full cargo of piratical prisoners,
taken out of the many captures which she has
made during her cruize along the coast. Notice
having been given to the "Laouti," or governor
of that place, a party of mandarins and their
soldiers proceed on board to take charge of the
criminals. After tightly binding them with cords,
this party convey them to a prison on shore, in
the yard of which (which answers the purpose
of an execution ground) they were all beheaded,
after the mock ceremony of a trial, in which
they are allowed to have nothing to say for
themselves.

                   TOO LATE.

         HUSH! speak low–tread softly—
             Draw the sheet aside:
         Yes, she does look peaceful;
             With that smile she died.

         Yet stern want and sorrow
             Even now you trace
         On the wan, worn features
             Of the still, white face.

         Restless, helpless, hopeless,
             Was her bitter part ;
         Now, how still the violets
             Lie upon her heart.

         She who toiled and laboured
              For her daily bread :
          See the velvet hangings
              Of this stately bed.

          Yes, they did forgive her,
              Brought her home at last,
         Strove to cover over
              Their relentless past.

          Ah, they would have given
              Wealth, and name, and pride,
          To see her looking happy
               Once before she died.

         They strove hard to please her,
              But, when death is near,
          All you know is deadened—
              Hope, and joy, and fear.

         And, besides, one sorrow—
              Deeper still, one pain—
         Was beyond them: healing
              Came to-day in vain.

          If she had but lingered
              Just a few hours more;
          Or had this letter reached her
              Just one day before!

          I can almost pity
             Even him to-day,
         Though he let this anguish
              Eat her heart away.

          Yet she never blamed him.
               One day you shall know
          How this sorrow happened:
               It was long ago.

          I have read his letter:
              Many a weary year
          For one word she hungered—
             There are thousands here!

          If she could but hear it,
              Could but understand!
          See, I put the letter
              In her cold white hand.

          Even these words, so longed for,
              Do not stir her rest.
          Well, I should not murmur,
               For God judges best.

          She needs no more pity;
              But I mourn his fate,
         When he hears his letter
             Came a day too late.

        VERY COMMON LAW.

As it is not to be expected that Mr. Blank
should get through life without a certain amount
of railway travelling, we will furnish him with
a few fragments of railway law.

And first, as to the liability of railway
companies for statements made in their time-tables.
A gentleman, whom we will assume was
our illustrative man himself, having important
business to transact in Peterboro' and Hull, fell
to a consultation of the Great Northern Railway
time-bills. From one of these documents, which
he found hanging in the offices of the company,
he discovered that a train was advertised to leave
London at 5 P.M., arrive at Peterboro' at 7.20
P.M., and proceed subsequently to Hull. On a
further investigation of the document, he came
upon this supplementary notification: "The company
make every exertion that the trains shall
be punctual, but their arrival or departure at the
times stated will not be guaranteed, nor will the
company hold themselves responsible for delay,
or any consequences arising therefrom." Undeterred
by this announcement, Mr. Blank started
upon his journey to Hull, and, having transacted
his business at Peterboro', presented himself to