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made deep lurrowS in her cheeks. I saw oy the copper color of her skin, that she was an Indian, and therefore I asked her how many ot her tribe were left !! She raised her haggard eyes to mine, and with a trembling voice. m broken English, answered." only me-"

 My heart was full. I prayed to God to bless her, and resumed my journey. But those sad words-"only me only me !' still haunted my memory. And now, at this late day. would not, if could, forget them- mat tRtEe incident gave a new direction to my thoughts, and became an altered man. mat poor old desok,tc woman was the living ruin ot once powerful na:ion-the last de- sccndant of that proud and warlike tribe, whose chief was Philip of Pokanollet.

 In view of the foregoing, which hope has caused pensive pleasure instead of gloom, It IS most appropriate that we should dwell one moment on the following lines by Words worth

 The world is too much with us. late and soon,

 Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers" Do they not find an echo in every thoughtful heart! It is true,-the human mind is too much taken up with the pavthings of its in- tancy. When we remember that in the short space of one hundred yeas, all the inhabit- ants of this world will have passed into an- other state of existence, we cannot but &C., knowledge that the occupations of time en- gage too much of our attention. All of us feel and know these to be true, and vet we live as though we believed them not. Why is this? It is because the deep and dark valley of forgetfulness IS the receptacle of neglected thought. It is a strange truth-we do forget! In the multiplicity of our earthly pursuits we forget that we are but pilgrims to another world. Reason tells the old man that he was once young, but is he not prone to forget the high aspirations, the wild, free thoughts, the innocence and happiness of his early days

 Once there was man who was known, throughout the world, as distinguished mer- chant. His ships floated in almost every sea, and he was called honorable and great. It was midnight, and 1 saw him asleep on his downy couch. His dreams were of luxu- ry and wealth. I saw him again by the light of day, and Q sordid smile was on his face. Care and anxiety had wrinked his cheeks and brow. At last, he died-was buried in great pomp, and now is forgotten. Was it merely to pass through these scenes that he was bora? Was he not too earnest !y engaged in playing with the shado'os of life!