No. 9. The Soul-The Early Dead. Written for the Ladies' Garland. THE SOUL. BY A YOUNG LADY. Say, would'st thou know the human soul? It is a spark of heavenly flame, It leaves this body far behind, Death cannot chain "the immortal mind." THE EARLY DEAD. "Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither in the north wind's breath, And stars to set-but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh Death!" I never shun a grave-yard. To my mind there is something inexpressibly soothing in its solemn walks and silent tombs. Side by side there sleeps friend and foe; ambition is stilled; genius has lost its sway; beauty has passed to nothingness; the earth is no longer their abiding place, for they have out-soared its clouds, and we remain awhile to mourn over their tombs, and to embalm their memory in the purest sanctuary of the heart. This is the fit place for contemplation. Let those who have seen, "The bark so richly freighted with their love," 205 len upon our hearts, the dew from the bright urn of heaven, the smiles that had brightened the solitary paths of manhood, come back from the land of dreams, re-open the ivory gates of life, and hold out to us the garden of earth-the anticipation of an eternity of happiness and peace. During the summer that has just passed, I visited a school-mate, residing some twenty miles in the country. A few days after my arrival, I strolled out into the woods. It was a clear summer's evening. The last rays of the setting sun shone upon the calm and waveless waters of a small stream that dashed through the thick woods, and wandered on through one of the loveliest landscapes that ever met the eye of man. By the side of the stream I walked until the shades of night were gathering over the earth, and was about to return, when I came in sight of a cottage —a strange place for so neat a dwelling, I thought. It was situated on a gentle rise of ground, and clustering around its door and windows, were many vines and bushes, the honey-suckle, sweet-briar, lilach and laburnum. Every thing around it bespoke rest and happiness. Near the door was a rustic bench, on which were seated an aged couple; and a young and very beautiful girl, completed in this scene the very poetry of cottage life. Full of many pleasant thoughts I returned to my present home, and that night attended a little party with my friend. We had scarcely entered the room before I recognised in one of the dancers the beautiful cottage girl whom I had seen in my ramble. I was soon introduced to her. She seemed about seventeen, and never had I beheld such fascinating beauty. Her's was indeed a countenance "Too fair for worship, too divine for love." The blood could almost be seen coursing beneath her cheeks. Her dark lustrous eyes seemed the home of some mischievous fay, and every glance a wave of its magic wand. Her hair clustered in natural ringlets around a forehead like ivory, and was entwined with the summer's fairest flower. Her voice was like the glad gay notes of a bird singing merrily from the evening skies, and as she moved in the dance she seemed a wandering Peri, sink slowly beneath the wave-let those who which the spell-bound gazer expected every have seen the sick bed changed to the death- moment to float away to its paradise. Have bier, and followed the lost one to the silent you seen a butterfly waving its wings against mansions of the departed, go there and medi- the breeze? Have you seen a rose leaf ere tate. It is there that the dim hosts of Hope the lip of morn had kissed away its sparkling and Joy and Love raise up at the same bid- dew? Have you seen the fleet antelope ding of memory; it is there that the strick-wildly bounding over its native hills. She ened heart goes down into the sweet hours was lighter, fresher, wilder than them all. of the past, and the beings who had lent a The hours winged by, and I was still listensunlight to our youth, the love that had fal-lling to the full rich voice, the sweet words, I called at the cottage next morning, but flowers. VOL. II The old forest and the rushing stream were "Quiet as a nun, Breathless with adoration.". and the touching sentiments of my fair companion. Her mind was a spring of crystal waters; and her thoughts were like the element which, borne above the earth, partakes not of its mists and impurities. There was I stole softly into the room. There lay the something so rare and beautiful in them, that cottage girl with her head buried in the pillong after she had ceased, and her voice had || low, and her hair falling in careless clusters been hushed forever, they thrilled upon my upon her bosom. Alas! the breath was stilled; heart "like the remembered tones of a mute the eye had looked its last upon earth. The lyre." garlands of life had been sundered, and her gentle spirit had passed to its far home in heaven. They buried her in a green and slight cold. Day after day I called, and she banks she had spent the April of her life, pleasant place. The stream on whose grassy had not recovered. The sixth day came, and I again walked towards the house. As I apneath which rang her merry laugh, overpasses by her grave, and the old trees beproached it the physician whom I had seen shadow it like a temple. And often have I in attendance, passed out, and I could see that his face was stained with tears. The left the noise and strife of the living world aged mother stood in the door, and the traces which has arisen a whisper of something around me, and sought that quiet grave, from dearer than all this wide and teeming earth, the whisper of an immortality beyond the could not see her, as she was confined with a of tears were also visible on her withered cheeks. I enquired after the daughter, and without a word she led me into the sick chamber. With a gentle hand she drew the curtain of the bed aside, and I beheld the bright girl whom I had met but a few days before in the flush of health, but ah! how wasted? The voice with which she welcomed me was faint and indistinct; her eyes were dull, her cheek was pale and hollow, and moist with death dews. It was a fearful and sickening sight. Day succeeded day until another week had gone, and I was often at her side. At length, all hope of recovery passed away. I shall never forget her appearance when this was told her. The recollection of that despairing look is forever treasured in memory. In a short time, however, she spoke of death calmly. "I know that I am dying," she said one evening, "but I am prepared. I feel my breath growing fainter, and I must say that mine is not a bit ter fate. Perhaps my life would be a long fellowship of pain and sorrow, to which the grave is preferable. Yet I cannot die with out a murmur. The valley where I have so often wandered, the tree under whose branches I have set, the flowers that I have tended, the star that I have watched, the mother that I have loved, the father whose eye has brightened at my approach, ah! it is a bitter thing to part with them, to bid adieu to all I love on earth, and sink into the grave with none to gladden me: but it must be The next day was the sabbath. I arrived at the cottage early. The stars had faded one by one from the sky, and the sun was just rising over the dim and distant mountains. The dew covered scythe lay untouched on the grass; the laboring bee had not yet left its golden hive. All was silent; not a breath stirred the slumbering leaves, or the drooping tomb. I have beheld woman in many a scene. paths of pleasure, as her eye trembled and P. As the face of the sunflower follows the life-imparting beams of the heavens from east to west, and when it cannot longer imbibe the rays of the glorious orb, droops its head, so follows the eye of an exile the light of his country. No. 9. The Christian Soldier—The Cousins. THE CHRISTIAN SOLDIER. Upon the world he turns A careless, scornful eye, Ilis banner is the cross, His lance a holy prayer, Go, view the foremost seat In the realms of bliss above, Where the saints proclaim eternal praise, Receive the soldier there- THE COUSINS.' 207 busily employed with her silken net work. Mrs. Howard was the widow of a millionaire, and the fair Catherine was her only child. The door opened and another claiming our notice joined the group. She was younger than Catherine, and more slightly formed, and her beauty was not so striking-still she was lovely; but it was the loveliness of expres sion more than of feature, for you knew not whether her eyes were blue or grey, when meeting their soft intelligent glance, and thought not of the pretty mouth and chiselled lips while listening to the liquid melancholy which flowed from them. Her dress was a white merino richly embroidered. An ermine pelerine had slipped off the right shoulder, displaying a white throat, round which was a string of pearls, and her brown hair was smoothly braided, entwining a bunch of lily of the valley. The sweet girl looked fresh and happy, and her name was Viola. "Tea waits for you, cousin," said Catherine, lifting her eyes from the book which you were at the toilet. This is a most unshe was not reading, "but I did not think that genteel hour to be arrayed for the ball, and I fear your dress will hardly pass muster with the ton; why did you not ask my advice? though I must confess the whole effect is fine, and you really look well, Viola, and not at all like a country girl." "A compliment from cousin Kate!" said she, clapping her hands and dropping a graceIt was an early hour of a clear, cold even-ful courtesy. "But I shall dance like a ing in December, that two-whom we wish country girl, I do so love the exercise. It to introduce to you gentle reader-were seat- truly troubled me to see the young ladies who ed in an elegantly furnished room of a hand-were here last night, after a cotillion was some mansion in Broadway. The shaded got up to amuse, lounging through the figure lamps and bright coal fire in a polished grate, as if they thought themselves to dance.sent out their steady light over the glowing colors of the thick, soft Turkey carpet, which yielded noiselessly to the footstep-the marble tables and ornaments-the rich mirrorsthe tea equipage of gilt china, and the heavy curtains of satin damask, which falling over tightly closed shutters, kept from the favored inmates all sight or sense of the piercing air without. The youngest of these favored ones reclined in a careless attitude upon an ottoman of cut velvet, with one arm resting upon a table loaded with annuals and bijouterie, and one hand supporting her head, while the|| other held a volume which had been opened at chapter first long enough to show that the author's commencement was not so interesting as soon to fix her wandering thoughts upon the creation of his fancy. She was in While seated at the tea-table, Viola suddishabille, but beautiful, though looking pale denly exclaimed, "Why, what is the matter, and weary-a belle unadorned and tired of a cousin Catherine, you look very pale!" Her day spent in listless doing-nothingness. Her mother replied that she seemed attacked with companion was a lady also; but not young, a serious cold, and that she had been urging and apparently not in rude health, though still || her to give up the dance. good looking, and her delicate fingers were Any objection to this dress will be useless," "Do not go, Kate, I beg of you! Let us stay here, and Edward shall spend the evening with us, and we will all be social and happy. Then you will not get sick; my dear aunt will be saved many hours of watching, and Viola will escape being laughed at by the fashionable." VOL. II. The door opened, and Edward entered unannounced. Casting a smiling look at his aunt, and putting his finger to his lips in token of silence, he stood for a moment contemplating the sleeper ere his musical voice pronounced the name of 'Viola.' She started, exclaiming, "I am ready, dear father!" at first unconscious of her situation, but Edward's gay greeting soon brought her senses and blushes in requisition. "Ah coz! you are the first lady I ever caught dreaming other than waking dreams before the ball. I congratulate you upon your composure; it is the more remarkable as this is to be your first appearance on any public stage; but here comes our cousin Kate the peerless. 'The rose in her tresses her bright cheek defies, The diamonds she wears are dark to her eyes!"" "Undoubtly! if you keep in their wake, though the course may be erratic. They have been trying to persuade me to stay moping at home this evening, and humor a slight cold, but I am obstinate. Viola shall prescribe for me on our return; you know she professes to be a proficient in the preparation of simples." But Kate was wistful; and ringing the bell ordered Nancy to bring her fur-lined cloak, that she might not freeze in going to her room, and attend her thither, and when the process of dressing was completed she dismissed the girl, forbidding any one to disturb her till the carriage came, and gave the waiting moments to vain and bitter fancies. She was decked in the usual quantity of lace and satin, which goes to make a gala-dress; the ruby and diamond upon her snowy fingers flashed back the changing light, and gems glittered in her dark redundant tresses. She had taken wine to raise her spirits, the paleness of her cheek had given place to the flush of fever, and her large flashing eyes were full of lustre. She drew the costly cashmere more closely around her, as the cold chill which accompanies fever shook her frame, and admonished her of the rashness which heeded not its warnings.There was one powerful motive of action which led to this thoughtless trifling with health. The brilliant Catherine was a careless coquette; but she whose wealth and beauty had led so many captives in her train, was now herself enslaved. Edward Gordon, of the navy, had been in port but a few days, after a three year's cruise, and no little share of his time was given to the fair cousins. Left an orphan in boyhood to the guardianship of the father of Viola, he had resided under the same roof till the world called him forth to seek name and fortune among his Forgive my many faults, dear cousin, but fellows; and now he was rejoiced to find the forget not those golden days which will never playmate of his childhood in the city to glad-return; but come my fair lily and the rose, ly welcome his return, and more than realizing the glorious rose,' the swift-sliding sleigh in her improved mind, and expanded charms, waits your pleasure, and it is late, fashionably all that his dreams or hopes had pictured. late. Muffle your face for the air is sharp as a knife, and the rays of moonlight are almost visibly splintering with the keenness of the frost.' It chills even me who have experienced the changes of many climates-who have felt the hottest air of the desert, and been ice-bound for months amid the gloomy solitudes of the polar seas." The proud Catherine's heart had been won unsought by her handsome and gallant cousin, though she soon saw with pain his partiality for Viola; but trusting to the power of charms which had hitherto been exerted only from a love of conquest, and believing now her heart was interested they could not fail: she determined as he was to leave for the country on the morrow and join his vessel at another port-to-night to put forth all her witchery, and show herself the star of the ascendant. Meanwhile the gentle Viola had read an interesting tale to her aunt, conversed upon its beauties, and meditated upon its moral, till her head sunk upon the table, even at the risk of disarranging her brown hair's smoothness, and she slept. Her dreams were not of feathers, or diamonds, or conquest; but of father, mother, and home. "Yes, and I can testify from experience that she practises as well as professes, for never in my boyish days did I bump my head, or scratch my finger, but she was ready with opodeldoc and balsam. Ah Viol! how many times have I vexed you by gallantly kissing the careful fingers that bound up my wounds!" 6 "Yes," she answered with an arch smile, "you were ever an impertinent youth; but my motto is 'forget and forgive." " 66 "O, Edward! I shudder to think of it, did you not suffer extremely?" 66 Nay Viola! not much-though I occasionally wished myself any where else, but I had my comforts. In the desert a fountain was springing, They soon joined the gay group already They were not all No. 9. An Evening Contemplation. 209 hand which would have led me in the right path, but I refused to follow. I have not been all that a daughter should, but I know you love me, and when I am gone your heart will be desolate; but there is balm in Gilead for the deepest affliction, and He, who calls me hence will be your comforter. It is hard for one so young to think of death with com. who love us, for the still and narrow tomb.But heaven has ordered it, and I pray for resignation; we must part here that we may meet hereafter. I see you no longer my friends, mine eyes are darkened, Viola! Edward! dear mother, farewell! Viola's tears fell fast, and she bent to kiss the wan lips already cold in death. A slight convulsion passed over the features, but it was so quickly succeeded by an expression so soft and sweet, you would have thought "she is not dead but sleepeth." gay, though they might have seemed so to a superficial observer; but there was the languid step and weary look of satiety, roses wreathed the brow of care, jewels and glittering bands oppressed the aching head, and disappointed hearts beat beneath the satin bodice. Among the shining galaxy moved the peerless Catherine, the centre of attraction, the observed of all observers. Her lavish smiles and flash-posure; to leave the pleasant earth and all ing wit were merciless in their execution, and even Edward's head was almost turned by her fascinations. Viola, too, escaped not without a share of admiration; there was something so lovely and new in her manners, and simplicity in her dress, and grace in her gliding step, that many eyes followed her, while she remained totally unconscious of observation. Her spirits, naturally joyous, were raised by the excitement of the scene, and she moved and looked the embodied genius of happiness. There was a pause, and Viola requested | Edward to look for Catherine's shawl. He brought it, and she permitted him to wrap it around her, but soon threw it off, saying she could not endure it for the heat. They passed to the supper room, and the table was loaded with tempting viands. The temperate Viola took only a sandwich and drank nothing, but she saw with anxiety that her cousin ate of the rich cake and preserved fruit; and was raising a glass of cold lemonade to her lips, when she lightly touched her arm, whispering, "taste it not Catherine, I beseech you!" "It will not offend me," she replied, "I am used to it," and quenched her feverish thirst with a copious draught. But a cloud was even then dimming the eye of the thoughtless beauty, the red roses forsook her cheek and lip, and her head bowed upon the shoulder of Viola. The messenger of death had visited that gala-throng, and to her only had he spoken, even there mid that scene of triumph marking her for his own. They carried her home to her weeping mother, and laid her upon the couch which she left not till borne to the grave; though she awoke from the death-like fainting fit and lingered several days, during which the mind of the death-stricken girl was led to the contemplation of holy things, and she sought and obtained that peace which the world cannot give. She requested to see Edward; and taking his hand joined it with Viola's, saying, may you be happy together-I know you love him my cousin, though you have not yet acknowledged it, even in your own heart. I sought to win his love from thee, and become a thorn in thy pathway. O, forgive me the sin, and may heaven bless you with all needed blessings; and amid your happiness banish not wholly the memory of the erring but penitent Catherine. Mother! dear mother! rest my head upon your bosom, and let me hold the "Like one who folds the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." Come hither, ye seekers after pleasure! ye who are chasing the deceitful phantom which recedes before you-come to the grave of Catherine Howard, and learn to trifle not with health which is more precious than beauty; and that she, whose eye lights up with the smile of contentment at home, is far happier than the idol of fashion, or the brilliant coquette with her countless conquests. For the Ladies' Garland. The wearied world lies still; There's not a cloud or breeze disturbs Sweet nature's calm repose, When first the high command, And placed them where they stand. On that transcendant scene; To break that silence deep; But soon a distant sound was heard, |