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per, and checked was the free and elastic step of youth and joy. Winter disappeared; Spring, beautiful Spring, with her leaves and buds came, and the glad earth breathed every where the spirit of happiness and beauty. Even Summer approached in its turn, with its magnificent mornings-its gorgeous sunsets-its long, still, holy nights-and yet there lay the lovely and gentle girl-for she was yet in the bloom of youth-pale and emaciated, with dark languid eyes, and long skeleton withered hands-panting patiently on her pillow. At length she died. We went there one morning; the maid, with eyes inflamed, admitted us, and in reply to our inquiries, only sobbed. The husband met us with a ghastly face, but perfectly calm and quiet, and taking our hand silently, but with a firm grasp, which betrayed a high degree of nervous excitement, led us into the darkened chamber. Yes! the tremendous crisis was passed. That radiant summer face was frozen at last to wintry desolation. Oh death! how awful, how mysterious thou art!

"Old John had been sent from the city several days before, on some business, and did not return till after the funeral obsequies were performed. Poor fellow, he did not even know of her death. We were the first to meet him on the threshold. He looked up fearfully in our

face, and asked, 'how is she to-day? The bereaved husband happened to be passing at the moment through the hall. We pointed to his hat, from which hung the fatal emblem of death

a long black crape. The truth burst upon him at once. He lifted his eyes to heaven a moment the big tears gushed forth and dropped on the floor. He went away, and for some time we saw him no more. Just before the sickness of his lamented benefactress, she had sat for her miniature to an artist of consummate skill. When 'old John' appeared again, knowing his affection for the original, the painter begged leave to show it to him. We were present when the old man was to be indulged with the sight, without being conscious of what he was going to see. The artist brought it before him suddenly, passed his hand over it slowly, and then presented it to him in full view. It is impossible to describe the poor fellow's surprise, delight, wonder, and grief. He clasped his hands together, and then dashed away the drops that sprang into his eyes and obstructed his view, and with such pathetic exclamations of love and anguish bursting from his lips, as at once proved him to be fully susceptible to the enchantment, and furnished a flattering evidence of the painter's skill."

This enchanting relation requires no com

ment-it is one of those brilliant exhibitions of kindness, which stand upon the page of life like the evening star upon the deep blue of heaven, carrying conviction to the soul, that beneficence blesses the giver and receiver. But that fact may be piled upon fact, I hesitate not in adding the following noble instance of kindness. The author I know not.

"Pigalle, the celebrated artist, was a man of great humanity. Intending, on a particular occasion, to make a journey from Lyons to Paris, he laid by twelve louis d'ors to defray his expenses. But a little before the time proposed for his setting out, he observed a man walking with strong marks of deep-felt sorrow, in his countenance and deportment. Pigalle, impelled by the feelings of a benevolent heart, accosted him, and inquired, with much tenderness, whether it was in his power to afford him any relief. The stranger, impressed with the manner of this friendly address, did not hesitate to lay open his distressed situation.

66 6 'For want of ten louis d'ors,' said he, ‘I must be dragged this evening to a dungeon; and be separated from a tender wife and a numerous family.' 'Do you want no more?' exclaimed the humane artist. " Come along with me; I have twelve louis d'ors in my trunk; and they are all at your service.'

"The next day a friend of Pigalle's met him, and inquired whether it was true, that he had, as was publicly reported, very opportunely relieved a poo man and his family, from the greatest distress. 'Ah, my friend!' said Pigalle,' what a delicious supper did I make last night upon bread and cheese, with a family whose tears of gratitude marked the goodness of their hearts; and who blessed me at every mouthful they eat!'"

An incident which occurred in the life of the celebrated Aaron Burr, affords an admirable illustration of the fact that kindness never forgets him who exercises it. I remember perfectly well of having frequently read the fact-but where, has faded from my memory. The substance of it is as follows:- -When Burr was in the height of his prosperity, he, on one occasion, while travelling in Western New-York, saw in a tavern where he happened to stop, what appeared to be an excellent line-engraving. The landlord informed him that it was executed with a pen, by a stupid boy, who was his apprentice at blacksmithing, and whom he expected he could do nothing with. Burr, discovering the native talent of the boy, endeavored to obtain him— but his master, suspecting that he had some secret valuable power about him, refused to part with him. When Burr left, he whispered to the boy to come to New-York city, inquire for Aa

ron Burr, and he would be taken care of. Soon after, when Burr had forgotten the circumstance the boy presented himself, and was assisted by his benefactor. He then went abroad, and became the celebrated Vanderlyn, who, in Paris, acquired honor and a good share of this world's goods. After Burr had fallen from his greatness and was expelled from the country, he was met in France in poverty, by Vanderlyn, who received him with deep gratitude, took him to his dwelling, and for a long time cherished and sustained him with the utmost attention and kindness. By his benevolence to that poor boy, Burr laid up a treasure, which, in after-days of want and sorrow, returned to him with great increase the more prized from the fact, that it came unexpectedly in time of need, when almost every one had forsaken him. How vividly must Burr have appreciated the fact, that kindness abundantly rewards him who exercises it.

The following fact is extracted out of the New York Times and Star, of December, 1840; and refers to an individual who died on the third of that month." More than thirty years ago, Mr. Prime, then engaged in business at Boston, became embarrassed and failed. So well satisfied, however, was one of his creditors with his integrity and business talents, that he loaned him $5000 with which to commence business in this

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