~. Y. Tract Mag.

From the Juvenit Miscellany. MY MOTHERS GRAVE.
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MY MOTHERS GRAVE.

 "I had mother once, like you,

 Who OCT my pillow hung,

 Kiss'd from my cheek the briny dew,

 And taught my ialtering tongue.

 But then, there came fearful day,

 sought my mothers bed,

 Till harsh sounds tore me thence away,

 And told me she dead." L. II. $.

 It was thirteen years since my mothers death, when, after a long absence from my native village, I stoop beside the sacred mound beneath which l bad seen her bu- ried. Since that mourniui period, great changes had come over me. My childish years had passed away, and with them my youthful character. The world was alter ed too; and and as I stood atmy mother's grave, could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtleSs, happy creature, whose cheek she so often kissed in her ex- cess oftenderness. But the varied events of thirteen years have not efaced the re- membrance of that mothers smile. IL seemed as if I had seen her yeSterday-aS If the blessed sound of her voice was then in my ear. The gay dreams of my infan- cy and childhood were brought back so distinctly to my mind, that had il not been for one bitter recollection, the tears shed would have been gentle and refreshing.- The circumstance may seem triAing one, but the thought of it, even now, agonizes my heart, ,-and relate it, that thosechl- dren who have parents to love them, may learn to value them as they ought.

 My mother had been i'll long time; and ! had become so much accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, as children usually are. At first, it is true, I had sobbed violently --for they told me she would die but when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the same, I began to believe she would always be spared to me. ;