Oh ! oft in my dreams when all else is still. Save the tempest breeze that blows o'er the hill ; My thoughts will turn to my Native Home, And again with the friends I love, I roam ; I hear their voices, so gentle and mild, And ? I dream that I am again a child ; But 'tis only in dreams that I see that strand, For I'm far away from my Native Land. I dream of the flowers that in England bloom, In meadow or forest, on hill or tomb ; I dream of the violet's transcendant blue, And seem gazing on its lovely hue 3 I dream of all fleeting and beautiful flowers, That I loved so well in those happy hours ; I dream I'm again with a merry band, Gathering flowers in my Native Land. I dream of each friend's beloved voice, And again as in youth doth my heart rejoice ; I dream of each sweetly-smiling face, To which love has given a nameless grace ; I dream of each tender, caressing word, Which I so oft in my childood heard ; And I feel the warm pressure of the hand, As I felt it pressed in my Native Land. I dream of the Sabbath so fall of peace, When the cares of the week seemed to cease ; And even now on my memory swells, The melodious sounds of the Sabbath bells ; Again we seem to kneel down in prayer, While a holy calm stills the Sabbath air ; A simple-hearted and holy band, How different here from my Native Land. Oh ! when, thou land of the faithful and true, Shall I the shores of thy beauty view? Oh ! when shall I meet with the friends so kind ? Few such on these far-off shores I find ; Brighter and lovelier do they seem, When I wake and find it is but a dream ; xind my heart still turns to that loving band, Who wait my return in my Native Land. M. A., Tfl Mat*

Accident. — Early yesterday morning information -was received from our re porter at Queenscliff, that the "Gil 81a9," from Auckland, New Zealand, in coming through the rip at the entrance of Port Phillip Heads, had been pooped by a heavy sea, which swept her decks, carrying overboard her. commander, Mr. H. 