From the Trenton Emporium. THE MEMORY OF FRIENDSHIP.
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THE MEMORY OF FRIENDSHIP. Amid the deepest shades of gloom,

 That brood OCT life's decline, A vision rises from the tomb

 Lost friendship it is thine !- Thou comest like pilgrim grey. But light is round thy misty way,

 The light of early love When life was fresh and hope was high, And rainbows spahn'd the cloudless sky, And music filled the grove. 1t was joyous season. Mirth

 Fill'd up the laughing hours o then we never thought that earth

 Could nourish aught but flowers ARd oft when, in the still profound, We gaz'd upon the mountains round,

 Or trod the valley green Or mingled in the giddy rout, Till the far rocks sent back the shout,

 We deem that life had been, From ages past, a fairy dream

 OfunalIoy'd delight Der which young joys meridian beam

 Each day threw rays more bright. 1t was the summers calm-the bloom That clothes the flowers ere tempests come; The pause-when far and still, The cradled storm is lulPd to rest, And on the verdant valleys breast

 The dews their balm distil Once-'twas day as beautiful

 As ever knew the eastern cline, When flowers invited maids to cuI

 Them in their glorious prime l cast long ing, lingering look On the still vale and winding brook,

 And saw the laughing band Of merry school-mates gathering To the accustom'd sportive ring

 All sniling-hand in hand. My heart was light even then-I left

 My boyhOod's pleasant dome Nor knew till far, of friends bereft,

 How dear is home-sweet home But it was pleasant still, in dreams, To visit my own native streams-

 To join the good and gay To think how from the worlds rude blast should escape, and fly at last

 To home--to frienGs---for aye, Life had its troubles-I was worn

 With pain aud toll and care; MislOrtunes came-hut they were borne, And hope repelld dspar- At length the chain was broken-and sought once more my native land--

 My own sweet valley rangd- Its meads and brooks were still the same Twas to my home-my home-I came,

 But oh that home had chang'd! That gladsome band was scatter'd-gone-

 Over the worlds wide waste trimm'd our household fire alone, #

 The church yard had the rest stood upon the school-house green The place deserted long had been

 And, as weary pilgrim wends, He knows not whither-day by day, rov'd a-down life's dreary way,

 My all the memory of friends. -I D.