over our bright hopes, and led us to wan
der on, half wishing to prolong the time
that was TO reveal the truth.


How strange is the nature Of man what
curious combination Of mind and matter,
of dust and Deity. Well has the dark but
mighty and immortal Poet said of man. He
10

"Half dust, half Deity,


Alike unfit to sink or soar..'
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Alike unht to sink or soar.


! lie is conscious of being mortal, yet at
times feels Immortality struggling within
him, striving to break the chains which
binds him to earth, preventing him from
soaring through unlimited space with un-
fettered spirits; he feels that he is man, vet
knows there is that within him which par
ticipates in the glorious nature of God;
yet there is something about man not
participating of earth. Earthly, not depen-
dent upon life for its existence, or death for
its annihilation, but breath, particle, an
infinite spark Of that Omnipotent being who
was ere time began, and will be when time
is no more.


How strange, how incomprehensible the
operations of this living spirit AT times
it leaves, as it were, its earthly prison, flies
into the unknown future, and returns
clothed in smiles, or bathcd in tears, as
joys or sorrows brighten or darken our
path. Again it shrinks within its tenement
OF clay, as if fearing to face the storms
that are bowling in the unborn hours. Who
IS there that has not experienced these
strange presentiments and what are thew
but the attributes of the spirit reused by
powerful emotion from its lethargy-the
soul exercising its proper functions. But
we are specializing, perhaps, on things


which we do not understand for who can


explain the complicated compound-man-


lay open to the mind of another the secret


workings of the undying portion of his


nature ? All may, do feel, in Il greater or
less degree, but none, not even the giants
IN intellect, can explain. Time, in his tran
sit, will break the chains, dissipate the
darkness, and leave us free, beneath the
Sun of immortal knowledge.


1t was with heavy heart that we de.
scended from the hill where we first caueht
glimpse of our home-not our home. but
the spot where it once stood-a strange.
unknown feeling of fear crept over us all
our bright anticipations were gone; the
future was dark, our heart trembled with
fear-our soul had gone before us, expert
enced the sad truth, and returned weepino
.o'er the sorrows that were yet unknown.
%! how true were its predictions. We
were stranger in the land of our birth:
alone amid the scenes of our youth. All,
all were gone: the log hut in which we
were born had given place to splendid
mansion: our childish playground was
now covered with bricks; the little rose
bushes which we planted with our boyish
fingers, were by some rude hand rooted
from the ground, to make room for more
grand, but less lovely flowers. Not yes-
tIse OF our youth remained and they, the
authors OF our existence, where were they.


"Go ask the dead;


You'll find both their names on the stone At their


head"


Yes, they slept in the grave; they laid
within the silent tomb the sod was green
above their forms, they had passed from
this sorrowing world, leaving their absent
son their ala blessing. Nor did they
sleep alone. Near them, and around them,
lay sleeping calmly, unmindful of our tears
or sighs, many dear friend of our youth
all, all, that we loved on earth-and she with
whom dwelt the very existence Of our hap
pines, our hopes Of JOY, our dreams of bliss,
was now covered for ever from our sight.
An! how drear looked the sod that hid her
dear form from our view, yet it was green
and decked with violets, planted by sis
ter's loving hand and watered by tears OF
affection: fit emblem Of the spirit bloom
ing beyond the tomb, in regions OF eternal
bliss--our home was rooted from the earth,
our friends had passed from the land of the
living, and left us bighted in hope, and
scared in soul Time, time, rolling on, on in
to eternity, had carried with it hopes,
dreams, friends, ALL


Oh !, how dark appears the world, to one
- r