M [ s G 3 i i A N Y.

From the Iris and Odd Fellows Mirror.


THOUGHTS,
ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF
A DEAR FRIEND.
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Gentle reader, have you ever been called
to weep over the death of relative Me-
thinks there are few, very few, who have
reached the age Of maturity, whose hours
Of gaiety have not been saddened by such q
bereavement. Does memory carry you
back to eallier years open anew many in
teresting as well as melancholy scenes thro'
which you have passed, awakening in your
recollection here and there friend you
have met with--have loved-and who is
gone forever, ESQ, you can sympathise
with me as drop tear to the memory ol
departed worth.


She was cousin-a favorite cousin
But, twas not the kindred tie of blood,


Tho much ia that there be,
Twas the warmth of heart and flow OF soul
That bound this Friend to me.


How feeting-how transitory are human
hopes! Imagination was cheating me with
visions of future pleasure in which she was
to participate, when voice fell suddenly
and unexpectedly upon my ear, saying,
she is dead The eyes that beamed upon
me in joyful welcome, will look on me no
more-the voice to which loved to listen,
is still-the hand that bespoke in its pres
sure the warmth of the heart, is stifened and
cold. Friendships sacred tie has mould
cred into decay; and death, stern death, has
laid her in the tomb. / would not seek the
consolation bought by forgetfulness, but
love to dwell on the history of virtue and
gentleness, that marked her daily walk
The thousand endearments that were law
ished upon me in our intimacy almost un-
needed, ] now delight to recall and find q
bliss in tears: and tho sorrow may throw Q
cloud over moments that would otherwise
pass brightly by, or spaead deeper shade
over the hour of gloom, yet would not
exchange it for scene of pleasure; but muse
on the connecting link in the chain OF re-
membrance. to which shall be added ano-
ther and another, until every circumstance
that rendered her dear shall be presented.


'Tis no fancy sketch-would it were so
| vainly endeavor to persuade myself tits Z
dream, but too soon wake to the reality
which tells me she is gone where death il
not-where sorrow has no sway He
friends mourn, but not without hope. Sh'
had early become interested in the cove
nant of her Redeemer, and is, doubtless
perfectly happy in the enjoyment of he
God Could we but moment draw asid,
the curtain that covers the tomb and lister
10 her language, she would earnestly invite
us to turn aside from the fading joys 0
earth, and join her in that bright world t
which she has gone.


"Farewell, dear NJ, we meet no more


On this side heaven
| The parting scene is o'er,
| The last look is given.


Farewell--my heart shall weep


While memory lives,


From pangs which sink so deep.


No earthly hand relieves.
! Farewell--O may we meet
i In heaven above,


j Aud therein union sweet


Share Heavens love.


l.. A. M.
| BALTIMORE, April, le46.