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Prison Pastimes. 37

heart was pledged by name, and many a syllable significant of love- liness had been uttered, until it came to St. Leon's turn, when, lifting the sparkling cup on high

" I drink to one," he said, " Whose image never may depart, Deep graven on a grateful heart, Till memory is dead.

"To one whose love for me shall last When lighter passions long have passed,

So holy 'tis, and true, To one whose love has longer dwelt, More deeply fixed, more keenly felt

Than any pledged to you."

Each guest upstarted on the word, And laid a hand upon his sword,

With fury-flashing eye, And sternly said, " We crave the name, Proud knight, of this most peerless dame,

Whose love you count so high."

St. Leon paused, as if he would

Not breath her name in careless mood

Thus lightly to another. Then bent his noble head, as though To give that word the reverence due,

And gently said, " My mother."

"The fortitude that neither calumny nor calamity can crush never fails to command respect. Such fortitude is only attainable when one is calm in the rectitude of the cause in which he suffers, and feels that no false testimony can mislead the universal and eternal Judge. Then, indeed, is the sufferer happy, and despite of adversity feels that the clouds around him are not the frowns of heaven." Bulwer.

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