was not even a continuous track to guide us, but it was a sort of navigation from landmark to landmark, where the thinly-scattered inhabitants would tell us, "indeed there was no path at all, but we must keep looking at a large tree, and when we had come to that, we should see another," &c., where, after staring at us, they would say they had never seen the like; where the wild ponies would stand in herds, and after gazing fixedly upon us, suddenly snort, and, tossing their long manes and tails in the wind, fly from us as if laughing at our bridled steeds, who, by the by, were sorely tempted to gallop after them, especially my beautiful, gay, prancing mare, who, with her long slender legs and satin coat, presented a striking contrast to these untamed, ragged creatures.

We occasionally found the way dull and heavy, but, foreseeing this, we had bought two grammars of a language which Mr. Annesley and myself wished to learn; and, tearing each leaf out as we wanted it, we tucked it into our cuffs, and learned our lessons whenever we wanted to beguile the tediousness of a road; the fun of saying them to each other inspired us with fresh vivacity, and, moreover, as soon as we were at fault we could ride away.

We were frequently obliged to travel as long as it was light, only occasionally getting a bait for our horses at some of the better cottages for want

of inns; and then we ourselves were well contented with a substantial tea. Of the article itself we generally found a good supply, but butcher's meat and poultry were often scarce, and not good when found; we could not always eat bacon and cheese, but, when seated before a good fire, on a large old settle, and plenty of tea, sugar, milk, eggs, and bread, we had no wish for dinner; indeed, we thought it very agreeable occasionally to be without it, provided that, at the end of the day's journey, we could meet with the above fare. In succeeding years, the one quarter of what we then thought a moderate meal would have been a luxury.

On approaching Builth, my frolicsome steed played me a terrible trick. A storm was evidently approaching, and, as I had loosened my habit and wrappers in the closeness which preceded it, I began to prepare to meet the rain, and to throw my shawl around my shoulders, when the mare gave a violent start. I was fortunately not unseated, and wondered at the cause; I soon, however, discovered that it was occasioned by a man leading a horse to the market, with the beast's tail tied up by a profusion of scarlet lacing. This so attracted the fancy of Slop that she began to dance about; then, starting off at a furious pace, she passed the ornamented steed, flinging her hindlegs in the air, and every effort which I made to stop her was in vain. I was therefore obliged to

let her have her way, and as following her closely would only have increased her speed (if possible), Mr. Annesley was obliged to keep quiet, while I vanished from his sight. Slop dashed through the town, scattering men, women, and children, to the right and left, and I was much more alarmed for them than for myself. She never stopped till she got into the middle of the marketplace, where, her fun being exhausted, she stared around her and became as quiet as possible.

I then turned her head, and, as she came at that rate for her own pleasure, I, John Gilpin-like, made her resume it for mine, in order to relieve her master's anxiety as soon as possible. We met him just outside the town, which we entered in another direction, and housed ourselves in the principal inn. As it continued to rain, I was no more seen in Builth, for we left it the next morning at daybreak; but the sensation which I produced was afterwards related to me by a gentleman with whom I accidentally dined, after an interval of two years. When talking of the superstition of the Welsh, he said that a curious circumstance had occurred at Builth, near which place he lived, and as he could never explain it, he had never succeeded in convincing the good people there that a supernatural appearance had not taken place. The story they related to him was, that a violent clap of thunder, succeeded by as violent rain,

occurred in the month of March, and that, as they were busied in protecting their wares from the wet, a wild woman, riding a wild horse, suddenly appeared among them. Her long dress was floating in the air, and long streamers came from her shoulders; her horse's legs were so thin that they seemed scarcely able to bear any weight. She stopped for a moment, looked round her with an unearthly air, and, turning about, vanished, no one knew how, but some thought they had seen her afterwards in the sky. What it portended no one could tell, but every unexpected disaster that had happened since had been referred to the wild woman.

I could scarcely keep my countenance as the gentleman continued his narrative; but when he had finished I expressed my sorrow at having been taken for an evil spirit, and to his great astonishment and relief told him that I was the wild woman of Builth.

On our way to Caermarthen for the second time, we passed through Newcastle Emlyn; and as we crossed the bridge thrown over its rapid river, we saw a salmon caught. Hailing the fishermen, we bought the salmon, and in an hour it was served for our dinner. This first trial of fresh salmon, and every succeeding one, has convinced me of its superior wholesomeness when so immediately dressed. It is then fit food even for children, and the delicacy of the taste renders it at that time much more agreeable to the palate.

More beaten roads, after quitting Caermarthen, did not yield us any further adventure, and as our time was drawing to a close, we pushed on, making on the last day a distance of seventy miles. That same night I presented myself to my half-provoked elders, with strengthened health and a heart full of gratitude for the protection and happiness afforded me from above during a journey on horseback of more than eight hundred miles.

CANZONET.

BY CALDER CAMPBELL.

Love that changes is not love!
True affection never changeth;
Try it, vex it, wound, reprove-
From its cell it never rangeth,
Never hath a wish to move!

Love that alters is but hate,

Born of selfishness, and lasting

Only whilst it can create

Food for its fruition, wasting

When its appetites abate!

Alter!-Thou wilt find my love

Changeless still-a bird that cageth
Wilfully, though urged to rove;
Which no prison-bar enrageth,

Tempted by nor fruit nor grove!