But blither still and louder carolled they
Upon the morrow, for they seemed to know
It was the fair Almira's wedding-day,
And everywhere, around, above, below,
When the Preceptor bore his bride away,
Their songs burst forth in joyous overflow,
And a new heaven bent over a new earth
Amid the sunny farms of Killingworth.
* * * * *
LITERARY LIFE IN PARIS.
THE GARRET.
Would you know something of the way in which men live in Paris? Would
you penetrate a little beneath the brilliant, glossy epidermis of the
French capital? Would you know other shadows and other sights than those
you find in "Galignani's Messenger" under the rubric, "Stranger's
Diary"? Listen to us. We hope to be brief. We hope to succeed in
tangling your interest. We don't hope to make you merry,--oh, no, no,
no! we don't hope that! Life isn't a merry thing anywhere,--least of all
in Paris; for, look you, in modern Babylon there are so many calls for
money, (which Southey called "a huge evil" everywhere,) there are so
many temptations to expense, one has to keep a most cool head and a most
silent heart to live in Paris and to avoid debt.
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