was impressed with the gravity and awe of the woman's manner, and with the oppressive stillness of the house; but now, all was lost in the exciting anticipation of speedily meeting her who was so dear to him.

Noiselessly, breathlessly, he followed up a long stair-way and through an upper hall, till they stopped before a chamber door. The door was opened in the same strangely still manner, and advancing he beheld, as the servant drew aside the white drapery of the bed, not the living, loving Anna, whose image had danced before him during all his long journey to meet her, but the pale, lifeless, shrouded semblance of herself. Anna was dead, and he had been led to look at her corpse. He uttered no cry, he shed no tear, he made no exclamation; he seemed suddenly petrified to marble, the blood in his veins seemed turned to ice, his heart was palsied within him, and he stood immovable, gazing fixedly on the dead. The old servant, wondering, asked "if he would go down to the drawing room?" but he heard without seeming to hear; he saw her leave the apartment without attempting to follow; and it was not till Harriet Ashley sank sobbing in his arms, that the icy spell that bound him was broken.

The events of the few succeeding months are even now, in his memory, clothed with indistinct

ness; he remembers them as he remembers a dream. The star of his hope had suddenly set in night, and he groped his way for a time in thick darkness. He refused to leave the sunny land where death had lurked for her whom he loved; he hung about her grave like a ghost; yes, and such wild grief was in his heart, that he would fain have plucked the dear angel from the heaven she had won, to share earth with him. Business was forgotten, pleasure was unheeded, and for months he uttered but one wish, one aspiration, one prayer – and that was for death!

peace!' to the raging calmness came to him,

But God, at last, spake waters of grief in his soul; and then, resignation; he learned to say, 'Thy will be done!' Years have passed since then; he has applied himself to business, and to study, and has found a solace for his lonely hours in the bosoms of a few families where he is cherished. But never, for a moment, has the bride in heaven, who waits for him, and whom he will ultimately rejoin, been supplanted by the fairest, or the best of the daughters of earth. Two mementoes of the past he cherished with religious care; one is a ring taken from the hand of the dead, on that first night, when he knew that the great hope of his life was shattered ; the other is a miniature, given him in the first happy days of their mutual love. But dearer, infinite

ly dearer than these, is the hope, that grows stronger within him every day, of meeting her who had pledged to him her love for time and for eternity! Feeling thus, is it strange he has passed on almost into the winter of life, unmarried, still a 'bachelor?""

There was no reply, for Uncle Phil's brief and impassioned narrative had touched the hearts of his young listeners; and as he rose to depart, they gazed on him with a feeling akin to worship, who had struggled through such deep waters of affliction into calmness and peace, and who walked forward to enter upon that great Future, from which we all instinctively shrink, with such hope and joy.

SYBIL.

SYBIL with her silken hair

And her dark eye softly beaming,

In her richly cushioned chair,

Sat one morning sadly dreaming.

Silken robes in gorgeous folds

Round her drooping figure fell; Jewels decked her, wrought in gold, That became her beauty well.

Flowers of every nameless dye,
Sweets exhaling, near her stood,
But they failed to win her eye,
Or to soothe her saddened mood.

For her heart was far away,
Hovering o'er another scene,
And a heavy shadow lay

Her and happiness between.

"Guardian spirit!" at length she Prayed, with voice as silver sweet "If indeed thou watchest me

Grant that we once more may meet!

"Yesternight I dreamed of him,

As I slumbered on my bed,

But the dream was faint and dim,
And ere I could grasp it, fled.

"Fled—but ah! my bosom well,
By the shadow lingering still,
Truly, surely, can foretell

That with him I love 'tis ill.

"Would the night once more were nigh,

With its stillness and its shade,

For upon my pillow, I

Long again to lay my head.

"Then may some kind angel bring Clearer dreams of him to me, That my heart may wake and cling

To the vision ere it flee.

"Ah! how vain the boon I crave!
Dearer thoughts my heart shall fill,

On the land, or on the wave
God protects my loved one still!"

C. M. S.