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though, in spite of all care, she slowly sank into the grave. To me that period was a memorable one. The alteration in my sentiments being confirmed by the happiness I tasted from the hour of the change, I became a new being. When my sister-in-law died, my niece was left, of course, with me. Since that time she has never been from my side. Her joys have been my joys, and her life has been a part of mine. And I owe her so much! That tear of hers precious pearl gathered by my heart — has been to it what the dew-drop of morn is to the unopened flower, expanding it for the entire day of existence.”
LII. — SELECT PASSAGES IN VERSE.
With storm-daring pennon and sun-gazing eye,
'Tis merry in greenwood, thus runs the old lay,–
Invites to forest bower;
Then rears the ash his airy crest,
Like a chieftain's frowning tower : Though a thousand branches join their screen, Yet the broken sunbeams glance between, And tip the leaves with lighter green,
With lighter tints the flower;
When the sun is in his power.
LOVE OF Country. — Scott.
SABBATH MORNING. Grahame. How still the morning of the hallowed day! Mute is the voice of rural labor, hushed
The ploughboy's whistle and the milkmaid's song.
DANGER AND HONOR. - Shakspeare.
A DEW-DROP. Trench.
VILLAGE BELLS. - Cowper.
FIELD FLOWERS. — Campbell.
waft me to summers of old, When the earth teemed around me with fairy delight, And when daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight
Like treasures of silver and gold.
I love you for lulling me back into dreams
And of birchen glades breathing their balm ; While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine remote, And the deep, mellow crush of the wood-pigeon's note
Made music that sweetened the calm.
Since trifles make the sum of human things,
LIII. - THE PIRATE AND THE ZENAIDA DOVE.
The impressions made on the mind in youth are frequently stronger than those at a more advanced period of life, and are generally retained. My father often told me that when yet a child, my first attempt at drawing was from a preserved specimen of a dove; and he many times repeated to me that birds of this kind are usually remarkable for the gentleness of their disposition, and that the manner in which they show their natural affection, and feed their offspring, was undoubtedly intended, in part, to teach other beings a lesson of connubial and parental attachment. Be this as it may, I have always been fond of doves. The timidity and anxiety which they all manifest on being disturbed during incubation, and the continuance of their mutual attachment for years, are distinguishing traits in their character. Who can approach a sitting dove, hear its notes of remonstrance, or feel the feeble blows of its wings, without being sensible that he is committing a wrong act ?
The cooing of the Zenaida dove is so peculiar that one who hears it for the first time naturally stops to ask, “What bird is that?” A man who was once a pirate assured me that several times, while at certain wells dug in the burning, shelly sands of a well-known key,* which must here be nameless, the soft and melancholy cry of the doves awoke in his breast feelings which had long slumbered, melted his heart to repentance, and caused him to linger at the spot in a state of mind which he only who compares the wretchedness of guilt within him with the happiness of former innocence, can truly feel.
He said he never left the place without increased fears of futurity, associated as he was, although I believe by force, with a band of the most desperate villains that ever annoyed the navigation of the Florida coasts.
So deeply moved was he by the notes of any bird, and especially by those of a dove, — the only soothing sounds he ever heard during his life of horrors, - that through these plaintive
* Key, a strip, or island, of sand.