

"The beautiful fields

" nc UEUUJIIUl IItIua or England, where amid the growing grass, The daisy bends, the yellow ling-cup shines, In the merry month of May. i'
{"newspaper_name": "The Arkansas banner.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
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In the merry month of May

 But of all my melancholy reflections, none were more melancholy than those which re- lated to Anne Austen, Deep in my heart of hearts lay enshrined the memory of my first, last only love--the recollectons of Anna Sin gleton; of her angelic lovelness, her retiring affection, her early, and deplored, and heart crushing death. But that was wo-an un- avertable and irremediable calamity-a dis. pensation of Providence. To Anne Austen had poured out the waters of Marah. had been the cloud which obscured that star in the uoon-night of its loveliness Why, in- deed, should lhde it from myself and others? had been the means of shortening her life, and the work of frantic minute had been the cause of changing her, as by the wave of a magcan's wand-and she was changed Her peace was blasted for ever, and the toun tain of her affections dried up. The sun never shone for her after that day. From the beauty-breathing, buoyant girl, playful from lightness of heart and innocence of thought, she sank al once into the clouded serenity of pensiveness and the melancholy of settled grief. The elastic tone of her spirit was destroyed. The noonday of her expec- tations had prematurely closed, and the aspect of universal nature was for ever darkened be- fore her