THREE RIVERS.

THREE rivers fair in Devonshire
Run southward to the sea :-

One is the Exe, whose stream reflects
Much pleasant scenery,-

The chief of which are pastures rich

Along its upper reaches;

With parks and trees, the eye to please, And Exmouth's bar and beaches.

Here on a night when stars are bright, 'Tis sweet to cross the Ferry!— With moon on high, in tranquil sky, On launch, or swan, or wherry.

Likewise the city looketh pretty
From river points of view !
When looming tall its cathedral,

Stands in the centre true.

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The next the Teign, of placid mien !—

That looks exquisitely!-

When full and wide, in flows the tide,

'Twixt Newton and the sea.

And boats come down unto the town,

With clay for distant ports,—

Whilst all around with varied sound
The graceful sea-bird sports.

Oft have I seen upon its sheen,
As in a looking-glass,

Reflected clear, these birds appear
With sky, and trees, and grass.

Their colours, too, were in the view,
A harmony of mixture!—
And thus did show above, below,

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A most entrancing picture !—

Like silver then on to the den,
And by the lofty Ness,

Past bridge and ships, by quays and slips

It ever on doth press.

A lovely stream, 'neath morning's beam!

Or when the day is done!—

When on its breast doth sweetly rest

The jewels of the sun.

The third the Dart, well known to art,

By picture, song, and story !— Recounting clear, both far and near, The treasures of its glory.

Of these I love that scene above

Where Totnes comes in sight ;—

That quaint old town which looketh down Upon the river bright!—

Then Dittisham, too, is fair to view,

With woods along the ferry,Renowned for its damson plums !— As Kent is for the cherry.

Whilst further south, and near its mouth,
There stands its ancient port;
With castled crag, and many a flag

Of yachts which here resort.

And that old ship, full well equipped

For training of cadets;

Who hence may stand and give command When valour fame begets.

Oft in this town I've wandered round
Amid old streets and houses;

And peopled them with forms of men,

Whose names emotion rouses.

These to and fro again do go

As in the olden time;

When on the main they fought with Spain,

And they were in their prime.

Here Raleigh came, when in his fame,

And likewise Francis Drake ;And Davis too, and many a crew,

Who kept the Dons awake.

But now I pause, yet not because
I've all the story told ;

For still the muse could if she choose
Much further yet unfold.

Therefore, farewell, thou lovely belle !
Thou fairest English stream!

Thy beauty bright is to the sight
Like to a heavenly dream!

ALL SAINTS' CHURCH.

ALL SAINTS' CHURCH at Babbacombe

Is very dear to me ;

For with it is connected

Much pleasant memory.

I've known it since my boyhood,

Some twenty years ago!—

And watched the masons building

Whilst going to and fro.—

I saw them add the chancel

Unto the central nave;

And then the tower and steeple

Which overlook the wave;— Whilst rearing up the latter

An incident took place;

Resulting in a panic

Within the sacred place.

One stormy Sunday evening

When folks were in the church,

And Mr. Hewett preaching !

Upon the roof and porch, A scaffold pole came falling, And on its way to ground Sent forth the most appalling,

Quick, clamorous bursts of sound.

The congregation, startled,

In terror of the tower,

Rushed madly for the doorway

And strove with all their power

To gain a hasty exit,

To beat a safe retreat,—

Thus emptying as they did so
Full well-nigh every seat.

The vicar soon concluded!

The choir had flown away !—