I pray you have the ditty o'er again! Of all the strains that mewing minstrels sing, The lover's one for me.

I could expire To hear a man, with bristles on his chin, Sing soft, with upturn'd eyes, and arched brows, Which talk of trickling tears that never fall.
Let's have it o'er again.
J.S.

KNOWLES.
The meditations of Stanhope were suddenly interrupted by the loud barking of a dog, which lay in his kennel below the window; and it was presently answered by a low, protracted whistle, that instantly quelled the vigilant animal's irritation.

Arthur mechanically raised his head, to ascertain who was intruding on the silence of that lonely hour, and saw a figure approaching, with quick, light footsteps, which a glance assured him was M.de Valette.

He was already near the building, and soon stopped beneath a window in a projecting angle, which he appeared to examine with great attention.