DEATH AND BEAUTY.

BY GEORGE D. PRENTICE,
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have seen the infant sinking down like stricken flower to the grave-the strong man fiercely breathing out his soul upon the field of battle-the miserable convict

 standing upon the scaffold with deep curse

 quivering on his lips-I have viewed Death

 in all it's forms and vengeance with tear

 less eye-but never could look on woman,

 young and lovely woman, fading away from the earth in beautiful and accomplishing

 melancholy, without feeling the very foun-

 tains of life turn to tears and dust. Death

 is always terribIe-but when form of an-

 gel beauty is passing off to inc silent land

 of the sleepers, the heart feels that some-

 thing lovely is ceasing from existence, and

 broods with scene of utter desolatIon,

 over the lonely thoughts that come up like

 spectres from the grave, to haunt our mld-

 night musings.

 Two years ago, I took up nay residence for a few weeks, in country village in the eastern part of New England. Soon after my arrival became acquainted with q lovely girl, apparently about IT years of age. She had lost the idol of her pure hearts purest love, and the shadows of deep and holy memories were resting like the wing of death upon her brow. l first

 met her in the presence of the nlirthful.-- J She gas indeed a creature to be vorshipped