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The Little Graves.-ANONYMOUS.
'Twas autumn, and the leaves were dry,
And rustled on the ground,
With low and pensive sound.
As through the grave-yard's lone retreat,
By meditation led,
Above the sleeping dead,
Three little graves, ranged side by side,
My close attention drew; O'er two, the tall grass, bending, sighed,
And one seemed fresh and new.
As, lingering there, I mused awhile
On death's long, dreamless sleep, And opening life's deceitful smile,
A mourner came to weep.
Her form was bowed, but not with years,
Her words were faint and few, And on those little graves her tears
Distilled like evening dew..
A prattling boy, some four years old,
Her trembling hand embraced, And from my heart the tale he told
Will never be effaced.
“Mămma', * now you must love me more,
For little sister's dead;
And brother too, you said.
“Mamma, what made sweet sister die ?
She loved me when we played : You told me, if I would not cry, You'd show me where she's laid.”
a sounded as in fothers
" 'Tis here, my child, that sister lies,
Deep buried in the ground: No light comes to her little eyes,
And she can hear no sound.”
“ Mamma, why can't we take her up,
And put her in my bed?
And then she won't be dead.
" For sister'll be afraid to lie
In this dark grave to-night, And she'll be very cold, and cry,
Because there is no light.”
“No, sister is not cold, my child;
For God, who saw her die, As he looked down from heaven and smiled,
Recalled her to the sky. " And then her spirit quickly fled
To God, by whom 'twas given ; Her body in the ground is dead,
But sister lives in heaven."
*** Mamma, won't she be hungry there,
And want some bread to eat?
And keep them clean and neat?
'Păpa' must go and carry some;
I'll send her all I've got;
Mamma, now must he not?”
But, if you're good and true, You'll one day go to her ; but she
Can never come to you. «• Let little children come to me,'
Once our good Saviour said, and in his arms she'll always be,
And God will give her bread."
Life and Death.--New MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
O FEAR not thou to die!
But rather fear to live; for life Has thousand snares thy feet to try,
By peril, pain, and strife.
But life !—the spirit shrinks to see
of wo may
O fear not thou to die !
No more to suffer or to sin;
No traitor heart within :
The gay, the light, the changeful scene, The flattering smiles that greet thee here,
From heaven thy heart to wean.
Fear, lest, in evil hour,--
Thy pure and holy hope o'ercome, By clouds that in the borīzon lower,
Thy spirit feel that gloom, Which, over earth and heaven,
The covering throws of fell despair; And deems itself the unforgiven,
Predestined child of care.
O fear not thou to die !
To die, and be that blessed one, Who, in the bright and beauteous sky,
May feel his conflict done May feel that, never more,
The tear of grief or shame shall come, For thousand wanderings from the Power Who loved, and called him home!
The Burial of Arnold.*_CONNECTICUT JOURNAL,
YE've gathered to your place of prayer,
With slow and measured tread:
But the soul of one has fled.
The manliest of ye all;
And ye around his pall ?
Ye reckon it in days, since he
that foot-worn aisle, With his dark eye flashing gloriously,
And his lip wreathed with a smile.
To mark whose lamp was dim,
Would ye have singled him?
Defiance to the ring ?
Yet not for glorying?
No rivalry might brook,
There lies hemgo and look!
On now-his requiem is done,
The last deep prayer is said On to his burial, comrades-on,
With the noblest of the dead !
It is a man ye bear!
On the noble sleeper there.
Tread lightly, comrades !--we have laid
• A member of the senior class in Yale College:
‘Like life- -save deeper light and shade :-
We'll not disturb them now.
That blue veined eye-lid's sleep,
Its slumber we will keep.
Cruelty to Animals reproved.--Mavor. A YOUNGSTER, whose name we shall conceal, because it is not for his credit it should be known, was amusing himself with a beetle stuck on a pin, and seemed vastly delighted with the gyrations* it made, occasioned by the torture it felt. Harley saw this with emotion; for he would not wantonly have injured the most contemptible animal that breathes,
He rebuked the unfeeling youth in the following terms; and the impression, which the lecture made, was never after eifaced from his mind : “I am deeply concerned,” said he, “ to observe any one, whom I so tenderly love, fond of cruel sport. Do you think that the poor beetle, which you are thus agonizing, is incapable of sensation? And if you are aware that it feels pain as well as you, how can you receive amusement from its torture ? Animals, it is true, were formed for the use of man; but reason and humanity forbid us to abuse them.
“Every creature, not immediately noxious to ourkind, ought to be cherished, or, at least, not injured. The heart of sensibility bleeds for misery wherever it is seen. No amusement can be rational that is founded on another's pain. I know you take delight in bird-nesting : I wish to discoutage this pursuit too.
*g sounded like j.