Supplement to the Westport Times

PUBLISHED BY JOHN TYRRELL, WESTPORT.
Poetry.
WHICH IS BEST ? To feel that heaven were not heaven with out her, Tuat where she is not 'twere sad to be; That all sweet fancieß blossom about her, And she lends enchantment to land and sea; That sunlight is shadow wheie she does not shine, And pain for her sake a rapture divine ? To know that the ground you tread on she blesses. At the sound of your voice all her pulseß stir; That no language or glance or touoh con fesses The half of the love that abides in her; That sweet things are bitter which you do not share, Hope a delusion, and life a despair ? — Mary W. Prescott, in Lippinwil's Magazine.
Nobelist.
THE MYSTERY OF MAJOR MOLINEUX

BY MAKCUS CLARKE.
<» CHAPTEE VII. Soothed and sustained by a night's rest in the unromantic pre cincts of the Club, I returned to Castle Stuart with all the cobwebs swept out of my brain, and with a positive professional delight at the prospect of the cure of Major Molineux. I found my poor friend anxiously awaiting my arrival, and, so soon as lunch was disposed of, he drew me aside.
