They that have seen thy look in death, "Lone are the paths, and sad the bowers, Mrs. Hemans. The body of the young, the beautiful and good, was laid in the damp cold tomb, but her immortal part had gone to that kingdom where sorrow and sighing are never known. The I was the last to leave the new-made grave, and I lingered long after the church-yard gate was closed, by the old sexton. My thoughts were about death, and with the dead. sun was near his setting, and as I looked upon the clouds brightening and fading, coming and going, I thought of the glories of heaven, and longed to be free from the bondage of sin and the grave. In a remote corner of the burying-ground, I discovered a wild rosebush covered with blossoms. With careful hands I transplanted it to the grave of the early called, and retired. In about five minutes, while standing upon an elevation, a sweet song fell upon my ear, and looking back, I beheld an evening bird perched upon the rosebush, singing his plaintive dirge, and swinging to and fro. MIRTH AND SADNESS. "Chide not her mirth who yesterday was sad; Joanna Baillie. To think on the passions of men, is an instructive, but ever a sorrowful task. When we remember the trifling causes, and often melancholy results of anger, revenge, and many other evil passions of the human heart, we are constrained to weep over the weakness of our nature. When we think of the many trials which originate from love, that passion universally considered as the foundation of happiness, how many feelings of sorrow spring up to darken our thoughts! How many scenes of disappointment and unhappi ness can we recall, as the offspring of that holy passion when perverted or interrupted in its proper course! Mirth and sadness belong to the same great class, but the scenes in which they bear a part are far more numerous and varied. One singular fact respecting them, is, they are seldom seen far-distant from each other, but almost ever in intimate communion. It is not in our power to pry into the secrets of this great mystery; but let us, for our instruction, look at a few of those scenes where mirth and sadness may be discovered mingling their contrary elements. The pages of history and poetry are full of them; and so too are the pages of our own daily experience. On that night preceding the battle of Waterloo, how strangely blended were the passions of men! "There was a sound of revelry by night, Byron. In that assemblage of Mammon's votaries I can discern the spirits of mirth and sadness. Over that banquet of luxury a gloom is suddenly resting; for at intervals a thought of the uncertainty of life steals into the heart; and this utters its under tones in the festive music, and tinges with gloom their joyful feelings. Some are thinking of the past, and some of the morrow; while mirth and sadness have each their portion in the festival. -- I heard the shout of victory echoing through the battle-field; I beheld an army which had conquered its enemies, I approached to hear the song of joy, but that sound was lost amid the groans of the dying, and the blood-stained soil was heavy beneath the tread of the victorious. Mirth and sadness weighed upon the hearts of all, but still heavier did it weigh upon him who was the chief victor. was it with these two armies when they came forth to battle? They were made up of brave soldiers, who went forth joyfully to meet their enemies, resolved to die or revenge their wrongs, to die or redeem their country from How oppression. But when they thought of their |