THE BROKEN HEART.
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fiercely breathing out his soul on the field of

 battle-the miserable convict standing upon

 the scaftold with a deep curse quivcring on

 his l'Es. l have viewed death in ali it's forms of darkness and vengeance, with u

 fearless eye-Gut l never could look on wo- man, fading away from the earth in beauti- tul and uncomplaining melancholy, without feeling the very fountains of life turned to tears and dust. Death is always terrible

 but when form of angel beauty is passing oil 10 the silent land of slcepers, the heart feels that something lovely is ccasing from | existence, and breathes with d sense of utter desolaiion, over the lunely thoughts that come up like spectres from the graves to haunt our midnight musings

 Two years ago took up my residence in Il country village in the eastern part of New England. Soon after my arrival l became acquainted with a lovely girl, apparently about seventeen years of age. She had lost the Idol ot her pure hearts purest love, and the shadow of deep and holy memories rest ed like the wing ot death upon her brow. I first met her in the presence of the mirthful she was indeed creature to be worship, ped-her brow was garlanded by the young years sweetest t1owers-her yellow locks were hanging beautifully and low upon her bosom, and she moved through the crowd with such floating, unearthly grace, that the bewildered gazer looked almost to see her faint away in the air, like the creation of some pleasant dream. She seemed cheer tul, and even gay, but saw that her gaiety was but the mockery of her feelings. She smiled, but there was something in that smile which told that it's mournful beauty was but the bright reflection of a tear-and her cyelids closed heavily down, as if strug- glmg 10 repress the tide of agony that was bursting up from her hearts secret urn.- She looked as if she could have left the scene ot feStivity and gone out beneath the quiet stars, and laid her forehead down upon the fresh green earth, and poured out her stricken soul gush after gush, till it mingled with the the eternal fountain of life and puri- ty.

 Days and weeks passed on, and that sweet girl gave me her confidence, and l became to her as brother. The smile upon her lip was faint, the purple veins upon her neck grew visible, and the cadence of her voice became daily more weak and tremulous.- On quiet evening in June, wandered out with her in the open air. It was then that she first told me of the tale of her passion, and of the blight that came down like mil dew upon her life-love had been portion of her existence. Its tendrils had been twin ed round her heart in its earliest year; and when they were rent away, it left d wound which flowed till all the springs were blood. I"l am passing away," said she, "and it should be so. Tie winds have passed over my life, and the bright bud of hope and the 1 sweet blossom of passion, are scattered down and lie wilhering in the, dust. And yet l cannot go do,ru among the tombs without tear. It is hard to take leave ot friends who love me; it is very hard to bid farewell to those dear scenes with which l have held communion from childhood, and which from day to day have caught the color of my life, and sympathized with it's joys and sorrows. The little grave, where have so often stray ed with my buried love, and where. at times, even now, the sweetest tones of his voice seem to come stealing around me, till the whole s:;;: becomes one intense and mourntul melody; the pensive star in which can st's! picture his form looking down upon mo, beckoning me on to his own bright home every flower and rivulet, on which our early love has set its undying seal, have become dear to me, and cannot without sigh close my eyes upon them forever"

 have lately heard that the beautiful girl of whom have spoken, is dead. The close of her life was calm as the falling of quiet stream-gentle as the sinking ot the breeze that fingers for time around a bed of roses, and then dies us it were from very sweet ness.

 It cannot be that earth is mans only abi- ding place. It cannot be that our life is bubble cast up by the ocean of eternity to 1 float q moment upon the waves, and then to sink into darkness and nothingness. Else

 why is it that the aspirations which leap like angels from the temple of our hearts are for ever wandering abroad unsatisficd! Why is it that the stars which hold their festivity around the midnight throne are set so far above the reach of our limited facul;ies-for ever mocking us by their unapproachable glory? Why is it that the rainbow and | cloud come over us with beauty that is not of earth, and then pass off and leave us to muse upon their faded loveiness! And H. naliy, why is it that bright forms ot human beauty are presented to our view and then i taken from us, leaving the thousand streams of our affection to flow back iil cold and al- pine torrents upon our hearts. We are born for a higher destiny than that ot earth | There is realm where the rainbow never | fades-where the stars will be spread out be- fore us like the islands that slumber in the ocean-and where the beautiful beings that here pass before us like visions, stay in our | dreams! in that realm shall see thee again

 Even now thy lost image is sometimes with me. In the my sterious silence of midnight, when the streams are glowing in the light of the many stars, thy image comes floating upon the dreams that finger around my pil- | low, and stands before me in i,s pale dim loveiness, till it's quiet spirit sinks like q spell from heaven upon my thoughts, and the | grief of years is turned to dreams Oi blessed

 ness and peace.

 | SocIAL JNrErCoURsE.-We should make | :. ., nr;uciule t,, extend inc hand of fellow