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ture to break the silence, until he had safely paddled them across the river, and was left alone to secure the canoe.

“ From that day,” continued the widow, “he grew worse, and it was evident to all, that the dear boy would not long be with us. The evening preceding his death, he was lying on the bed, and Lucy and myself were taking our solitary meal with little appetite, for he who dispensed joy around our board, was unable to take his wonted place. He turned in his bed, and said in a voice scarcely above his breath, mother, what time does the moon go down ?' I told him the hour, and inquired why he asked. “Nothing,' he added, “ only this, mother, say all you have to say to me, before the moon goes down.' His voice was scarcely articulate. Lucy burst into tears, and removed her chair to the head of his bed. He perceived her grief, and pressing her hand to his feverish lips, said, “do not weep, Lucy, indeed I have more cause to grieve than you, though my heart feels little of sorsow at present.' She asked him his cause of grief. It is this, Lucy, that I cannot live to repay your matchless love, and unwearied care of me. The poor girl's tears flowed afresh, and her heart sobbed as if it would break. The evening was spent in reading such passages of the scriptures to him as he pointed out. His mind continued firm and clear. About midnight he desired that the casement of the window might be thrown open. It opened upon a full view of the river. The night was sultry, and almost as bright as day. An owl was hooting from the grave-yard, and the whip-poor-will was flying low and screaming. Poor Carlo howled sorrowfully. The sounds did not escape the notice of the dying man. Two or three canoes were in the middle of the river, with a bright blazing fire kindled in the stern of each. He said

in a low voice, the villagers are preparing to spear the salmon trout, then the moon must be nearly down.' His bed lay beside the window, and he desired to be removed to the extremity, that he might look out upon the sky. He did so. His face became animated, and as we replaced him in his former position, he said, the works of God never before appeared to me so exquisitely beautiful,' and yet his whole life had been passed in admiring the works of God. He whispered to me, that it was time for us to take our last farewell. My heart in the course of a long life, met only once with so trying a moment as that of parting with the boy; but my Lucy-my poor Lucy; I thought her heart would break outright. He then desired the window to be closed; the light to be removed into the next room, and not to be disturbed. . At a short distance, we listened to the rattling in his throat, for about an hour, when it suddenly ceased. Lucy imagined he slept, and softly approached the bed. I put my hand under the bed cover, and felt his feet. They were stone cold. Animal heat had forsaken his extremities, and the chills of death were fast invading his heart. I induced my child to retire to her chamber, under the belief that he slept, and she did not learn his fate until she arose in the morning.” Thus ended the widow's simple narrative.

Poor Lucy Gray! No being is more deserving of commiseration, than an amiable female brooding over the sorrows of hopeless love. If her afflictions are occasioned by the treachery of man, the bitterness of thought poisons the very sources of life, and works a sure and rapid decay. Even a deviation from the path of rectitude, may be philosophised into a virtue, when occasioned by one beloved, but it will rise up in judgment, when passion has lost its influence, and the fatal convic

tion flashes upon the mind, that the object was unworthy of the sacrifice. But she who has watched by the deathbed of him she doated on, and by her angel-presence, drawn his thoughts to heaven, and taught him resignation ; who kissed his soul when passing from his lips, and watched the glazed eye that even in death expressed his tenderness, until she fancied that he lingered still, and paused to hear him breathing such a one may mingle in society, and pass along unnoticed with the rest of the crowd; she may join the sportive dance and seem to partake of its merriment; the wound may apparently be healed, and the smile of cheerfulness may enlighten her countenance; but still her midnight thoughts are working in the grave, and straining near to madness to picture the being that is mouldering there. She fades, without being conscious herself of gradual decay, and like the tulip, becomes more lovely, in consequence of disease engendered at the root. Such has been the fate of myriads of the fairest and the best of creation, and such was the destiny of Lucy Gray.

y Banos

SUFFOLK'S SOLILOQUY.

[From the Prophet of St. Paul's.]

BY D. P. BROWN.

SHE bade me leave her--and in future deem her
But as a friend.-So should she think of me,
As if the “ charter'd libertine," the mind
Could be subdued and taught forgetfulness,
While each repulsive lesson would revive
Love's dear remembrance and confirm it more.
'T is all in vain--the heart can never learn
To throb by rule or shun what it adores.
Friendship may swell to love and fill the soul,
But love ne'er shrinks to friendship, till it dies.
Extremes beget extremes, and sometimes hate
Usurps the throne of tenderness and joy,
And riots in their ruin.--But true love .
Shudders at diminution as at death.
Nay, it is death--the glowing heart is cold,
Is cheerless, all its charms are lost,
And from its former height it sinks, at once,
To the low level of instinctive brutes.
Hearts that have ever loved, as we should love,
Will stoop to no abatement--no restraint
No change--no barter-but a soul for soul !
Why cease to love-or cease to be beloved ?
The Great Creator taught the breast to glow
With generous emotion, and to cling,
Close as to life, to sympathetic arms.

What is the world without it, what the glare
Of pride and pomp-of wealth and pageantry? ,
They cannot buy, vain-glorious as they are,
The least emotion that I feel for thee.
Who is the richer then? The wretch that hugs
His golden store and nightly gloats upon ’t,
Or the warm spirit that shakes off its chains
-This clod of earth—and limitless, and pure,
As Heaven's own ray, sheds light and transport round?

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