{"newspaper_name": "The Litchfield County post.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
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 PROBATE NOTICES. administrators aud Executors S1,OO SIPS

 From the Ne'O York Literary Gazette. There is tongue in every leaf!

 A voice in every Till A voice that speaketh every where, In blood and fire, through earth and air:

 A tongue that's never still 'Tis the Great Spirit, wide diffused

 Through every thing we sec, That with our spirits communeth Of things mysterious-Life and Death,

 Time and Eternity! see him in the blazing sun,

 And in the thunder cloud; ! hear him in the mighty roar That rusheth through the forests hoar,

 When winds are piping loud. see Him, hear Him, every achere,

 In aN Hings-darkness, light. Silence, and sound; but. most of all, When slumhers dusky curtains fall,

 At the dead hour of night ! feel him in the silent dews.

 By grateful earth betray'd; \ feel him in the gentle showers, The soft south wind, the breath of flowers,

 The sunshine and the shade. And yet, iungratefui that amD

 I've turn'd in sullen mood From all these things, whereof He said, When the great whole was finished,

 That they were '' very good" My sadness on the Ioveliest things

 Fell like unwholesome dew The darkness that encompass'd me, The gloom felt so palpably,

 Mine own dark spirit threw. Yet he was patient-slow to wrath,

 Though every day provoked By selfish, pining dscontent, Acceptance cold or negligent,

 And promises revoked. And still the same rich feast was spread

 For my insensate heart Not always sol woke again, To join creation's rapturous strain,

 70 Lord how good Thou art!' The clouds drew up, the shadows fled,

 The glorious sun broke out, And love, and hope, and gratitude, Dispell'd that miserable mood

 Of daI kness and of doubt.

 Frou, the United States Literary Gazette.

 THE LIFE OF THE BLESSED. From the Sparish cf Luis Ponce de Leon. |. Alma region luciente,

 Prado de bien andanza, que nj al hielo, &c. Region of life and light! Land of the good whose earthly toils are OCT ]! Nor frost nor heat may blight Thy vernal beauty fertile shore, Yielding thy blessed fruits for evermore! There, without crook or sling red Talks the good shepherd; blossoms white and Round the meek temples cling; And, to sweet pastures led, His own loved flock beneath his eye is fed. He guides, and near him they Follow delighted. for he makes them go Where dwelIs eternal May, And heavenly roses blow, Oeathless, and gathered but again to grow. He leads them to the height ..- Named of the infinite and long sought Good, And fountains of delight; And where his feet have stood Springs up, along the way, their tender food. And when, in the mid skies bound. The climbing sun has reached his highest as he lies, With all his flock around, He witches the still air with modulated sound From his sweet flute flow forth immortal harmonies of power to still All passions born of earth, And draw the ardent will Its destiny of goodness to fulfil. Might but a little part, A wandering breath of that high melody, Descend into my heart, And change it till it be [thee Transformed and swallowed up, oh love, ii An then my soul should know, Beloved! where thou Hest at noon of day, And from this place of woe Released, should take it's way To u1inCIe with thv Eork ar6 ravar atrav