Rejoice that, though with light regard
Men mark thy works of love,

Even here they have a great reward,—
A greater far above.

And though thy grave untimely seem,
Thou hast not lived in vain,

If thou, through faith, hast learn'd to deem
That death to thee is gain.

Rejoice that, though on earth unknown,
Thy name is writ in heaven,

Where to the souls whom Christ shall own
A crown shall yet be given.

Ay! and thou shalt not slumber here
Among the nameless dead;

But many a heart's regretful tear
Shall o'er thy tomb be shed.

THE WEE FLOWER.*

A BONNY wee flower grew green i' the wuds,
Like a twinklin star amang the cluds,

And the langer it livit the greener it grew,

For 't was lull'd by the winds and fed by the dew.
When the mornin sun raise frae its eastern ha',
This bonny wee flower was the earliest o' a'

To open its buds seal'd up in the dew,
And spread out its leaves o' the yellow and blue;
When the winds were still, and the sun rode high,
And the clear mountain-burn ran wimplin by,
When the wee birds sang, and the wilderness bee
Was floating awa like a clud o'er the sea,
This bonny wee flower was bloomin unseen,
The sweet child o' simmer in its rokely green;
And when the nicht clud grew dark o'er the plain,
When the stars were out, and the moon on the wane,
When the bird and the bee were gane to rest,
And the dews o' the nicht the green earth press'd,

The bonny wee flower lay smiling asleep,

Like a beautifu' pearl in the dark green deep;

And when hairst had come, and the simmer was past,
And the dead leaves were strewn on the circling blast,
The bonny wee flower grew naked and bare,

And its wee leaves shrunk i' the frozen air;

So this bonny wee flower hung down its braw head,

And the bricht mornin sun flung its beams on its bed,

And the pale stars look'd out-but the wee flower was dead. * Knight's Weekly Volume, "Flowers," &c.

Roche, Printer, 25, Hoxton-square, London.

TAN-Y-BWLCH, that is, below the pass, is one of the most beautiful, and, to tourists, one of the most celebrated, places connected with the range of Snowdonian mountains. It takes its name from being situated at the brow of a hill, where it overlooks the vale of Ffestiniog.

Plâs Tan-y-Bwlch, the residence of the late W. G. Oakley, Esq., is delightfully and romantically placed amongst the embowering woods on the northern side of the valley. The view from the terrace of this mansion is most splendid and interesting, embracing the panoramic scenery of almost the entire vale of Ffestiniog, from the village to Traeth Bychan, watered by the river Dwyryd in all its meandering windings, with the range of Merionethshire mountains in the distance. On the right are the majestic castle of Harlech, and the lake-like intervening scenery, relieved by a small sheet of Cardigan Bay. About a quarter of a mile distant, on the opposite side of the river, is the small village of Maentwrog, (pronounced Maentoorog,) that is, the pillar or stone of Twrog, (Toorog,) which an absurd legend tells us, the saint threw from the top of Moelwyn to this place, where it has ever since remained, attached to one of the angles of the church.

A very curious ancient MS., said to have been written by Toorog in the time of King Cadvan, is mentioned by the learned Dr. John Davies, as having been seen by Dr. Thomas Williams, in the year 1594. It was kept for a long time in Clynnog church, Carnarvon, and was the property of St. Beuno: it is also said that it was called Tiboeth, (inconsumable,) because it was left entire when that church was burnt down many centuries ago, probably about the year 1400, during the unsettled and eventful times of Owain Glyndwr.

The learned Edmund Prys, (Price,) Archdeacon of Merioneth, was Rector of this parish in the reign of Queen Elizabeth and James I. He translated the metrical Psalms used in the Welsh churches. It is stated that he versified one regularly for every time that he had service in his church, until the whole were sung there, before their publication. He also assisted Bishop Morgan in his versions of the Welsh Bible.

He was born about the year 1544, in the neighbouring parish of Llandecwyn, and resided at Tyddyn Du, in the parish of Maentwrog. He was a student of St. John's College, Cambridge, and died about the year 1623. He was interred underneath the communion-table in his own church.

He understood nine languages, and was an excellent Welsh poet: many of his compositions are preserved, particularly his poetical contest with Hugh Machno and William Cynwal, two celebrated Welsh bards, the latter of whom (as it is reported) fell a victim to the poignancy of his wit, and the severity of his satire.

About two miles from the village of Maentwrog, is a noble fall called Rhaiadr Du, (pronounced Dee,) or the Black Cataract. The water foams with a thundering noise down two precipices about sixty feet high. The scene has a singular appearance from the adjacent black and uncouth rocks being in many places covered with a pure white lichen. The water, being obstructed by a huge projecting stone in the centre, forms two sheets, which afterwards unite, and fall into a large and deep basin, from which the torrent dashes itself along the rugged channel to the river Mawddach. There is an excellent footpath, both to the base and to the upper part