At early morn I saw her pass
  The lone lake’s blurred and quivering glass;
  Her trailing veil of amber mist
  The unbending beaded clover kissed;
  And straight I hasted to waylay
  Her coming by the willowy way;—­
  But, swift companion of the Dawn,
  She left her footprints on the lawn,
  And, in arriving, she was gone. 
  Alert I ranged the winding shore;
  Her luminous presence flashed before;
  The wild-rose and the daisies wet
  From her light touch were trembling yet;
  Faint smiled the conscious violet;
  Each bush and brier and rock betrayed
  Some tender sign her parting made;
  And when far on her flight I tracked
  To where the thunderous cataract
  O’er walls of foamy ledges broke,
  She vanished in the vapory smoke.

  To-night I pace this pallid floor,
  The sparkling waves curl up the shore,
  The August moon is flushed and full;
  The soft, low winds, the liquid lull,
  The whited, silent, misty realm,
  The wan-blue heaven, each ghostly elm,
  All these, her ministers, conspire
  To fill my bosom with the fire
  And sweet delirium of desire. 
  Enchantress! leave thy sheeny height,
  Descend, be all mine own this night,
  Transfuse, enfold, entrance me quite! 
  Or break thy spell, my heart restore,
  And disenchant me evermore!

* * * * *

THE GRINDWELL GOVERNING MACHINE.

On the other side of the Atlantic there is a populous city called Grandville.  It is, as its name indicates, a great city,—­but it is said that it thinks itself a good deal greater than it really is.  I meant to say that Grandville was its original name, and the name by which even at the present day it is called by its own citizens.  But there are certain wits, or it may be, vulgar people, who by some process have converted this name into Grindwell.

I may be able, in the course of this sketch, to give a reason why so sounding and aristocratic a name as Grandville has been changed into the plebeian one of Grindwell.  I might account for it by adducing similar instances of changes in the names of cities through the bad pronunciation and spelling of foreigners.  For instance, the English nickname Livorno Leghorn, the Germans insist on calling Venice Venedig, and the French convert Washington into the Chinese word Voss-Hang-Tong.  And so it may be that the name Grindwell has originated among us Americans simply from miscalling or misspelling the foreign name of Grandville.

I incline to think, however, that there is a better reason for the name.

For a good many years Grandville has been famous for a great machine, of a very curious construction, which is said to regulate the movements of the whole city, and almost to convert the men, women, and children into cranks, wheels, and pinions.  As a model of this machine does not exist in our Patent Office at Washington, I shall beg the reader’s indulgence while I attempt to give some account of it.  It may be thought a very curious affair, though I believe there is little about it that is original or new.  The idea of it was handed down from remote generations.