In early youth you laughed at me,
And, laughing, passed life's morning;
But in thy age I laugh at thee-
Too late to give thee warning."
"Death! thy shadowy form I see,
The steps of Time pursuing;
Like him thou comest rapidly-
What deed must thou be doing?"
"Mortal, my message is for thee-
Thy chain to earth is rended;
I bear thee to eternity-

Prepare-thy course is ended!"

Attentively the fainting boy perused

The warning lines-then grew more terrified;
For from the grave there seemed to rise a voice
Repeating them, and telling him of time
Mispent, of death approaching rapidly,
And of the dark eternity that followed.
His fears increased, till on the ground he lay
Almost bereft of feeling and of sense-
And there his mother found him :

From the damp church-yard sod she bore her child,
Frightened to feel his clammy hands, and hear
The sighs and sobs that from his bosom came!
'Twas strange the influence which that fearful hour
Had o'er his future life; for from that night
He was a thoughtful and industrious boy!
And still the memory of those warning words
Bids him reflect-now that he is a man,
And writes these feeble lines that others may.

TO A YOUNG LADY,

ON RECEIVING FROM HER A PURSE.

If e'er the purse you gave be full,
Maria, I'll reverse the rule

By which I judge of thee;
Crowded with cash and many a bill,
Dearer to me the outside still

A thousand times shall be.

R. V.

THE AVALANCHE,

OR, THE DOGS OF THE MONASTERY OF ST. BERNARD.

Although liberal in name and aspect, the constitution of Switzerland is not so favourable to liberty as is usually supposed. Privileges of orders, of corporations, of localities, and of families, interfere with the equal rights of the majority of the citizens! The federal diet lords it over the cantons, the large towns infringe the natural rights of the country, and the most valuable privileges of the towns are monopolized by a few families or trades. In countries subsisting under the most despotic forms of governments, liberty is always found unfettered in the wild, poor, and thinly peopled districts; for,

Men remote from power but seldom feel

Luke's iron crown or Damien's bed of steel.

The democratic cantons of Switzerland are generally situated in the wildest and poorest part of those Alpine regions, while the aristocratic members of the confederation, richer and more populous, present most of the evils without the forms, of regal government. Even in many of the new cantons of the Swiss confederacy, constructed on the principle of a perfectly popular representation, the defects of the system admitted of such practical abuses in the management of elections, as to throw the whole power into the bands of a small number of patrician families. But it was not in the nature of the brave and hardy inhabitants of the country tamely to endure inequitable assumption of privilege and power, and frequent insurrections, of various fortune, disturbed the tranquillity of the confederation.

Among those who distinguished themselves as the champions of popular rights and equal privileges, not the least remarkable was Albert Keller, a native of Basle. Defeated, however, and proscribed by an aristocracy, irresponsible because numerous, and vindictive because insecure, Keller was driven from his sylvan possessions, and, with his wife and his children, sought a temporary asylum in the wild pass of St. Bernard, at no great distance from the Hospice*

* A convent for the shelter and acco mmodation of strangers.

which, under that name, has gained so much reputation for the hospitality and disinterested benevolence of its inmates. There in a hut rebuilt out of the ruins of one destroyed many years before by an avalanche, Keller earned a precarious subsistence by bunting, acting as a guide, and occasionally performing the dangerous duties of a winter post-rider through the pass.

When otherwise unoccupied, Keller not unfrequently sallied forth, amidst storms and snow-drifts, in search of bewildered travellers, surprised in spring and autumn by those sudden condensations of moisture so remarkable in Alpine regions. A little time sufficed to give to his hardy and agile frame the useful habits of his new position; and, under the assumed name of Steinmitz, he soon became conspicuous for the courage, fortitude, and sagacity which belonged to the character of the Swiss hunters and shepherds, and which gave to them that heroic moral elevation, signified so gloriously in the bloody battles of Mortgarten, Sempach, and Murten. According to the place in which he found them, Keller conveyed those whom he rescued, either to his own hovel, or to the better shelter of the Hospice of St. Bernard. The monks were thus very soon apprised of his enterprise and skill, and were glad to avail themselves of his assistance in their charitable task. They had planted themselves aloft, amidst storms and perpetual winter, far from the comfort and abundance of the cloisters of the valleys, for the sole purpose of administering to the spiritual and temporal wants of those whose pleasures or whose business led them to encounter the dangers and fatigue of the

pass of the Great St. Bernard. A community of purpose and action, in so wild and unfrequented a region, naturally attached the good fathers to their new associate. Observant of his humanity and disinterestedness, and struck with his noble deportment and elegant manners, they could not fail to wonder at the cause of his sojourn on the wild acclivity of Mont-Mort; but they repected him too much to pry into his secrets, and loved him too well to doubt his virtue. It was always, therefore, with that peculiar interest which is felt for misfortune and honour, especially when shrouded in mystery, that the good brothers of St. Augustine received the frequent visits of Keller. Sometimes, when the con

versation diverged insensibly from literature and pass-adventures, to the political condition of Switzerland, the eye of their mysterious guest would kindle, and his whole manner become so animated, as to lead them to a shrewd conjecture as to the cause of his solitude. But he betrayed himself but for a moment, and by an abrupt transition to less inciting topics, intimated his unwillingness to discuss subjects which evidently produced a too painful interest.

As

"What a singular fate must have been that of Steinmitz;" said one of the monks to his brethren, as, at the close of a winter's day, they were engaged in scrutinizing the aspect of the confused clouds, which began to scatter in wild eddies from around the snow peaks of Le Drossa and Velan; "there seems about him strange inconsistencies, sometimes he appears moody and perfectly regardless of life; at other times, full of rich discourse, he seeks the shelter of our Hospitium, when he might easily have continued his journey to his own abode." "That arises, probably," said another, "from the conflicts in his bosom between disgust of life and the love he bears to his wife and children. these are prest upon his attention variously by varying circumstances, bis character seems to change; but it is always so with men of strong passions, under the constraint of powerful events and contrasted incidents. But there is the man himself, in company with our faithful dog Barré. Some. thing extraordinary has brought them together!" "Good evening, fathers! That noble fellow found me in the pass entirely exhausted by the loose snow which has drifted into the path by which I was returning home, and but for his warm cloak and replenished wine-flask, I should have seen the roof of the Hospice for the last time. Barré seemed himself fatigued when we met, for, as I afterwards discovered, he had scratched a hole into a snow-bank to the depth of nearly twenty feet, where he found the mortal remains of the poor mineralogist who dined with you last week, and whom, with incredible exertion, he had entirely uncovered. When he heard my horn he left the dead man, and came down the pass to my assistance, and by dint of dragging, he has succeeded in making me once more a guest of St. Bernard." "I ought not," continued he, "to forget

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the kindness of that other Maron, who was brought to our aid by the bells around Barré's neck. He is following us, dragging along the mineral bag of the traveller, which he found on the way, and could not be induced to abandon, except for a few minutes at a time, when the larger snowbanks rendered our passage very difficult, and called for his assistance." "You are most welcome, son," said the superior, we expected your arrival, and our anxiety for your arrival made us scan more curiously the signs of the weather. The blast by which the snow was thrown on the pass, escaped our observation, as they did not reach the summit; but it seems our dogs knew it, for they nearly all set off in the afternoon, and most of them are yet out. It was these fantastic movements of the clouds which arrested our attention, and the storm they promise already hides the peaks of Mont-Mort† and Barrason in the driving snow. If augeries fail not, this will be a most memorable night for St. Bernard. But come, let us minister to our fatigued friend's wants, and pray that the signs of the heavens prognosticate no increase to the population of our morgue. It has had a fearful accession of numbers lately, and there is scarcely room among its inmates for another corpse."

Supper was soon ready, but the guest and the dogs partook of it with very different zest. Keller was moody and restless, ate little, and appeared to be attentive to every sound that came from without; while Barré and his fellow, after a voracious meal, ensconced themselves beneath the table, near the blazing hearth, and were soon buried in sleep. "You seem fatigued, Steinmitz," said the superior, "even to the loss of appetite and spirits. Suffer brother Antoine to conduct you to bed!" Keller fixed on the benevolent father a look of sad decision. " My bed," said he, "must be this night on the cold side of Mont-Mort. "Tonight!" cried the good father; "to-night, Steinmitz! It is impossible! Do you not hear how the wind howls over these hills! The storm from the frozen peaks is dashing its wild snow-drifts over the passes. I would not suffer a dog to leave St. Bernard to-night. Even our brave Barré would shrink from such a tempest." "I must go, however,"