claimed, "She is not here, but risen, and gone, we may hope, into Paradise! Stand no longer, as if you thought she were present, as if you were not gazing at her lifeless body, but think of her as one happier than us: recal her not by one selfish wish she requires no longer our prayers." This could be no one but Lady Falkland, Rosine's dearest English friend; she took my hand and led me again to the coffin. "With this body," said she, "beautiful, perfect as it appears, corruption is already at work; it will be soon shapeless and loathsome: this is not Rosine." While I was sitting, shortly after, in a corner of the room, a little girl entered softly, holding up her frock, which was filled with small branches of myrtle; she went up to the coffin, and decked it with them. Taking a rose (which is now so rare) from her bosom, she kissed it, and was about to place it on the body; when its leaves fell away and strewed the floor. "Oh grandmama," said the child mournfully, whilst her eyes were filled with tears, "my only rose is lost; there are no more: but it is just like her; it looked as fresh and beautiful, and it dies, just as she did, when I could not expect it." "My gentler rest is on a thought, Conscious of doing what I ought." Andrew Marvell. "Stern Law-giver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace, Nor know we any thing so fair As is the smile upon thy face: Flow'rs laugh before thee on their beds, And fragrance in thy footing treads." Wordsworth's Ode to Duty. A MERCHANT'S SON. This THERE are times when the mind indulges itself in a sort of security of happiness; when it allows itself to anticipate a thousand little delights, without one accompanying fear of the future. particular feeling, from its very nature, can only last a very short time; it is a weakness of mind in any one; it is almost wrong in the Christian, for it is one of those intervals when he neglects to watch and pray; when he is, from trusting to the world, often bitterly disappointed by the world-it was when indulging in the full luxury of this feeling, that Duncan Forbes returned home; two young men with whom he was slightly acquainted, had accompanied him from the place where he had last stopped: they were to sleep at Glasgow, on their way to England. "Don't you envy me?" said Duncan; "you are both going to a strange inn; while I shall be welcomed by a dear family, who love me, I believe, more than I deserve. Some of them will run out to meet me, I suppose, and I shall be thought so much of, and so anticipated in all my wishes, that if I am my real humble self again, for some time, I only know I shall wonder."-The young companions separated. "Well," exclaimed Duncan, 66 'they can't know I am come, yet James spoke to me as he opened the gate; but there are none rushing out, however, to meet me. Where can Florella and Jeanie be? and that idle little Marion? How does every one do?" said he, laughing, as he entered the house. He flew into the room and kissed them all: "You see I am quite well, my dear mother; and I have so much to tell you. Highland air and hard study agree so well with me: I've found time to see every thing, to ramble about, not with guides, but quite by myself, often in the most unfrequented spots. I have been half wild, Florella, when I allowed my mind to relax in the delights of poetry in such poetical scenery. I expected to find wonderful beauties in the Highlands; and I, who have eyes for every depth of mist, who distinguish the thinnest blue which softens the distant landscape, |