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as she progresses, the water in her rear closes in and regains its convexity. Now, when the moon depresses the convex surface of the water of the Atlantic, the swell will be in the Pacific; and when it depresses the Pacific, the swell will be in the Atlantic; and really there is but one tide each day. But our continents obstruct the flow of the water from east to west, and this circumstance gives us the appearance of two tides in the twenty-four hours, when in fact, there would be otherwise but one tide and one ebb in the same time. This appearance has no doubt greatly misled the philosopher in his researches concerning the true nature of the tides.

is admitted, that when the moon has passed the western coasts of America, the water rises on these coaststhe moon evidently driving the water from her position eastward, and it being intercepted by the land, will rise high on these coasts. But the moon having passed on ninety degrees, the water recedes from this coast, moving westward, as though following the moon; the pressure of the moon being removed, the water now regains its natural convexity. It is very evident, then, that this receding of the water, following the moon from east to west, will be continued very uniformly until the moon has passed entirely over the Pacific; and the same state of things will exist, as the moon passes over the Atlantic. The convex surface of our elastic circle of atmospheric air, will be depressed in the same way, and with the same effects as is the convex surface of the water-the elasticity of the one and the non-elasticity of the other, constituting the differfore, be a current of air similar to that of the water, following the moon from east to west-and but a very few rotations of the earth, under the pressing influence of the moon, would give a steady permanency to both currents. But the heat generated by the action of the sun upon the continents, which increases the elasticity of the air, will interrupt the aerial current, and produce adverse movements. No degree of heat less than steaming will affect the water; but a small degree of heat will greatly affect atmospheric air, and produce effects not readily calculable. Instead of the water following the moon, as taught in the books, it is regaining its convexity under the equal and direct pressure of our sphere of elastic air, which convexity had been broken down by the pressure of the moon. Hence the moon drives the water to the east of her position, as seen on the western coasts of America; and she drives the water also to the west, as is shown on the eastern coasts of Asia and Africa; and when her influence is removed, the regular pressure of the air forces it into its natural convex figure, and this action or pressure of the air will continue round the globe, driving the water after the moon-and hence the currents of air and water westward, as noticed by navi

If we pass on to the western coasts of America, we shall there find the same phenomena as exist on the western coasts of Europe. When the moon is over this coast it is also low water, and does not begin to rise until she has passed fifteen or twenty degrees over the Pacific, and there rises on each side of her, flow-ence as to effect and appearance. There will, thereing northward and southward, and which is proved by the fact, that the water now runs through the straits of Magellan into the Atlantic, and through the straits of Bherring, so as to reach the mouth of the Copper Mine river, as reported by that veteran traveller, Hearne, I think. Here the tide or high water is kept up for twelve hours, and in the straits of Magellan they have high stationary water for six hours, independent of the flux and reflux, first from the Atlantic and then from the Pacific, according as the moon is over the one or the other. When the moon is over the Atlantic, the water runs for three hours through these straits into the Pacific, and when over the Pacific it runs through them three hours from the Pacific into the Atlantic, and then remains six hours high stationary water. Now I ask is it possible, that if the moon draws up the water under her, that she can thus produce and sustain the phenomena which takes place at these two positions on the globe, as she passes over the Pacific ocean? Then, as she approaches the eastern coasts of Africa and Asia, the tide rises very high on these coasts, particularly at Babelmandel. Then the highest rise of the water on these coasts must be at least six hours before the arrival of the moon, as wherever the moon is vertical to any place, it is invariably low water.gators. Here then we have full demonstration, that the moon not only elevates the water on both sides of her, but elevates it also before her; and, from the high tide in the bay of Panama, she must drive the water back as she passes on; and when the water ebbs at Panama, it will rise at Babelmandel-the moon being, I may here say, ninety degrees from each place. But as the moon approaches the meridian of Babeliandel, the water will fall there, but continues its elevation on each side, as at Tonquin, and in the straits between Madagascar and the African continent. The tide continuing so long up at Tonquin, gave rise to the notion, very strangely indeed, that two tides met at that place. As to the idea of the moon drawing up the water under her, or drawing it after her, it is difficult to conceive the source or phenomenon from which such an idea could have been derived. I cannot discover in the whole of the oceanic phenomena, as given to us in any theory of the tides, a single fact that would justify it, or give the slightest support to such an idea.

But with the tides are connected the winds, or rather the motion of the tropical portion of our atmospheric air, with the current of the tropical waters from east to west. Then, as the fact has been stated, and which

We know of no other agents having direct action or pressure upon this globe, except those bands of elastic matter by which it is evidently invested, and the moon which attends it. The influence of the sun belongs to other considerations, which are not now to be noticed. The moon breaks down and displaces the water under her, and when that greater force or pressure is removed, the pressure of the air again gives to it its natural sphericity. These are the only agents engaged in producing the phenomena we call the tides; and that they are abundantly adequate to produce the phenomena, there can be no doubt. Then admit that the moon does actually press upon and displace the water under her, does it not follow that something more than a depression of the water's surface would result? Can any thing be more reasonably expected, than that the rotation or axillary motion of the earth, so pressed upon, would succeed to such a pressure? And can any other reason be given, why the earth should have such a rotatory motion, as we know she has, and the moon not? It is said, that neither of Jupiter's moons has axillary motion; and they certainly have been revolving round their primary long enough to have acquired it, if it could be acquired without such a pres

turbations of the planets in their paths, show conclusively that they are influenced by matter in a state of high elasticity, as no planet can disturb its own motion, unless it had a mind and muscles through which to effect it, and also a system of nerves for the transmission of its will. The same instrumentality by which the planets are moved in their paths, gives rise to that disturbance which has been observed by the practical

This disturbance is produced by the interference of their electro-magnetic spheres.

sure as the earth receives from her attendant. The more rapid motion of the moon must necessarily throw the pressing force invariably upon the eastern section of the earth, and she must revolve in the direction of that force, from west to east. This, a slight knowledge of their orbits and different velocities, will be sufficient to test the facts, and without my prosecuting the inquiry any further at this time. I will, therefore, only now remark, that some astronomers say Venus re-astronomer, when an inner planet passes an outer one. volves on her axis once in 24 days, and others once in 24 hours; but Herschel says, he could not discover that she had any rotatory motion at all-This is no doubt the truth of the case; for, if she has no moon to give her rotation, she will revolve as the moon does, and during one-half of her period one side will be involved in darkness, and the other half, the other side, will be subjected to the full blaze of the sun. But to show the entire insufficiency of our astronomers' gravitations and attractions to produce such effects, belongs to another place and to another time.

The Copernican scheme or system, as it has been delineated, explained and defended, has greatly misled the scientific as to its mechanism, and the mechanism of all other systems throughout creation. It has been treated as an insulated system-the sun a stationary body. Down to the time of Dr. Wilson of Glasgow, Scotland, there appears to have been not even a hint that the sun might be a progressive body. The astronomers preceding this period seem to have been exclusively engaged in hunting up forces suited to the orbits of their planets round a stationary sun; and when they supposed they had found such forces, then they were principally employed in defending them against those who could not understand the modus of the action of such forces, until finally it was agreed that the system itself was perfectly understood, and their forces infallibly demonstrated to be the true forces, and the only forces which could sustain and perpetuate such a system as they imagined to exist; for the system, as taught by Copernicus, was not the true system as it existed and as it passed from the hands of its Creator. They had the system of Jupiter and his satellites before them, though they seem to have taken no account

When La Place had ascertained the fact, that as the moon passed over the Atlantic, it was low water under her, and the swell was on each side of her, north and south, and the farther from the moon the greater the swell, is it not a little strange that he should have come to the conclusion that the moon was drawing up the water towards herself? Now, whether I shall finally be found either right or wrong, I shall endeavor to wake up American philosophers from the bewildering effects of the opiates administered to the scientific world by the mathematicians of the last century.

It is evident, it cannot be questioned, that Jupiter's moons describe orbits round their primary, invariably concave to the sun, and it is equally evident the phenomena demonstrate it, and equally so do the intuitive recognitions of the mind, that the planets describe the same kind of orbits, and equally concave to some more distant centre, around which the sun himself is describing a similar orbit. Now, the only difficulty which lies in the way of ascertaining the true distance of each planet from the sun, consists in ascertaining the true distance of the moon from the earth, or the diameter of our rotating planet, including its band of elastic matter rotating with it-the planet occupying the centre of this revolutionary band, and which acts directly upon the planet, and not the planet upon it. This elastic sphere of matter carries the planet in its course as it revolves round itself and round the sun, describing just such an orbit as the moon describes round the earth. I know I am treading on unbeaten whatever of the nature of the orbits these satellites de- why I should not proceed. Pioneers are as necessary ground; but that is far from being a sufficient reason scribed round their primary. If they had put a pro-in science, as they are in opening and levelling roads. per estimate upon the phenomena fully presented by Jupiter and his retinue of little worlds, they would It is true I am but a volunteer, and that too without eertainly have discovered, that if their forces were any authority whatever from those who might, in the suited to bodies revolving round a stationary sun or opinion of some, be considered as constituting a legiticentre, they could not be suited to bodies revolving mate authoritative source. It is said the planets are round the progressing Jupiter, or our progressing" deflected towards the sun, and the moons towards Earth. Now, as to such forces as our astronomers have applied to orbits round a stationary body returning into themselves, it is very evident from their own calculations and demonstrations, that they are suited only to such orbits; then there being no such stationary body, and of course no such orbits in creation to which they could be applied, such a stationary sun, and such orbits, could have existed only in their own imaginations. The mechanism of Jupiter's little system gives us, as I have before remarked, a conclusive idea of the mechanism, not only of the greater system of our sun, but of all the systems composing the universe; and a little reflection will serve to convince us, that if there had been no matter in a state of elasticity, there never could have been any motion regularly established. Our own motions depend upon the elasticity of our own muscular system. The very disturbances or per

their primaries;" but to show how they are reflected, if I may use the word, and kept at their appropriate distances, is now the question. The projection of the mathematicians will not do that would have thrown them all together, and we should have had a “crush of worlds" the first revolution that was made by the pla nets and their satellites.

WRITERS.

The thoughts of many writers remind one of dandies-they are extremely well dressed, but then they have the slight misfortune to be brainless.

Hesperian,

BENEVOLENCE AND MODESTY.

AN ESSAY.

By the author of "Adventures of a Bachelor."

nying me to one of my haunts. I will soon be compelled to leave here."

"I will go with you," said I, "and substitute your lessons for the sermon. But what will compel you to leave here?" Just then my remarks were abruptly broken off by the intrusion of a red faced gentleman, who, with an air of uncommon importance, placed his foot under the mendicant, and forced him to rise. "Stop! you impudent scoundrel!" said I, interfering, on recognising the intruder to be the sexton.

"Never mind," said the beggar, laughing, "I am willing to exchange this stand for any other, as far as profit is concerned." And when the old fellow hobbled off, I followed him.

"Now," said my companion, when we were ensconsed under an awning on the wharf, where an old woman, whom he informed me was deaf and dumb, kept cakes and apples for sale, sat dosing by, "I will tell you why you should dispense with your generous and modest face. Genuine modesty comprehends more than mere inoffensive diffidence it is the radiant ne plus ultra of nature's alchemy, formed of all the most valuable particles of the soul, and consequently only fit for heaven."

A modest, benevolent face may be compared to a cupboard without a lock-a repository for peculation, invitingly open to every greedy cormorant, and as little respected when rifled of its contents, as a swine trough, into which the animal's snout is thrust at first, but as the contents diminish, the whole of its body is inserted. A modest man should always be poor; if, for no other reason, only to disappoint the ravenous sharks who know not the virtue. A mild, open countenance may also be compared to a ripe pear, hanging over the highway, a mark for the slings of every passer, and exposed to all the ill winds that blow. Fie upon it! we are taught to cherish it, and find too late that we have nourished a viper. It might be a valuable virtue, if all, or even a respectable portion of mankind harbored it so would there be no necessity of closing our doors at night if all men were honest. These reflections were engendered one fine sabbath morning after setting out for church. It was a most lovely day in autumn, inspiring, even in the city: there had been one or two frosts, that paled the leaves on the lindens before the door, and now the sun shone out clear, mild and invigorating. It was na-pound." tural for a complaisant smile to rest on my lips, as I descended the snow-white steps of my boarding house, and joined the throng of pedestrians, which increased in numbers as we approached the vicinity of the timehonored edifice. The aged man tottered along the same walk he had traversed in childhood; and the young and joyful wended the same road, whilst few of them, it may be, entertained many thoughts of death and the grave hard by. Near one of the fluted columns of the splendid granite "temple of the Lord," seated on the cold steps, with a crutch in one hand and a rusty wool hat in the other, was stationed a cadaverous old beggar. Now, thought I, will be practised the holy charity, on the threshold of the holy house, where the holy precept is taught. As the crowd swept in I found myself standing before the mendicant.

"Well, my good man," said I," you have doubtless reaped a full harvest, this delightful morning."

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"My dear sir," said I, "you put it all to the blush! You tell me to my face that I possess this rare com

"I do say it," he replied, "and instead of a grateful blush, a tear of regret would be more appropriate, unless you retire from the world and live a hermit's life. You would then be beyond the influence of the vices of the world, and, instead of having your virtues preyed upon by the vicious, you might enjoy the treasure which God has endowed you with in peace. Vice and virtue are antagonist qualities, and as there is ten-fold more of the former on the earth, so when they come in contact the victory is to numbers: therefore it is wisdom to keep them asunder, or if they must mingle, it is prudence to dispense with the semblance of the latter, as a soldier does the badge of his country, when surrounded by the enemy."

"This is most extraordinary!" I exclaimed.

"I am perfectly aware of that," replied my companion; "and, if you will give me your attention, I will briefly relate some of the incidents of my life." Unhesitatingly assenting, and signifying great curiosity to know his history, he threw aside his crutch, and leaning back against a keg on which I was desired to sit, he thus began:

Behold," said he, "my treasure." I looked in, and found only some half dozen coppers. "But you," continued he, holding up the hat, "have the right kind of face, and the moment I saw you I knew my little store would be increased." I am sure it was a na- "I was the only child of humble parents, who lived tural impulse, and not his practiced flattery, that in- by keeping a small flower garden near the city. I was duced me to contribute, for my pocket was already deli-sent to school when very young, and was distinguished vered of its little mite, set apart for the church, before for my learning and bashfulness. At the age of thirteen he was half done speaking. I was left an orphan-both my parents dying the same "Heaven bless your generous countenance !" conti-day; being swept off by an epidemic. I was now the nued the old man, looking me steadily in the eye, "it inheritor of a few hundred dollars, and might have conwill be a treasure for you in heaven, but on earth you tinued my father's business successfully, had it not will find it a curse, and I would advise you to dispense been for my constitutional infirmity, modesty, which ever with it as quick as possible." Struck with the singulari- prevented me from bustling with my fellow men and ty of his remark, I was rivetted to the spot in aston- pushing my fortune. I hired myself to a neighboring ishment. gardener, and for several years led a contented life: but "Why should you form this conclusion, and tender the fairest flower, the one with which I was most desuch advice, my friend?" I inquired. lighted, was the gentle Rosa, my employer's daughter. "Were this a fitting place I would tell you; and if Long I loved her; and the passion was mutual. She you really wish to hear me, you can do so by accompa-delighted to descant in my presence on the various sig

nifications of the plants-and, at parting, she would pin on my breast the one which was the badge of love and constancy. Yet the curse of timidity hung over me! When the time arrived for me to act, when it became necessary for me to declare my love in words, and solicit her hand, my tongue refused its office, and I construed her silence and coyness into a rejection; and without seeking another interview, I fled to the city. Here, amongst strangers, whom I had not confidence to ask for employment, nor firmness to deny my purse to any, I was soon left destitute. When on the borders of despair, and wishing that some friendly dispensation of Providence, would take me from amongst the living, a war was declared, and I gladly shouldered a musket in the defence of my country. In the first conflict, urged more by a reckless desire of death, than impelled by a sense of duty, it was my fortune to distinguish myself, and receive the particular commendations of my officer. But in the next action I was made a cripple for life, fell into the hands of the enemy, and when I awoke from a long delirium I found myself in a hospital in England. They had evidently taken me for one of their own party, of the same name, who, I supposed, had perished in the battle. I told them who and what I was, and soon found myself abandoned, in a strange land, without money, and unable to work for a living. For years I pursued the occupation of a beggar, hoarding up my savings to return to my native land. I now thought of my faint-heartedness, and felt certain that Rosa would gladly have been mine, had I only pressed my suit! Aye, the bitterest sting of modesty is the conviction of calmer moments, that it has been hopelessly ill-timed, and could so easily and profitably have beer. dispensed with! I called several times on our minister, but paused at the threshold, and never had the heart to see him, even when he had granted an audience. At length a humane captain gave me a passage in the steerage, and when I again set foot on this wharf, I hastened to Rosa's garden, determined to try my fortune once more, even under more unfavorable circumstances than formerly. I saw her from a thicket of shrubbery, culling flowers as usual, but several prattling children were round her, calling to 'mama!' I turned, and fled away.

"I learned that the wounded of the late war were entitled to pensions, and I repaired to the war office to assert my claims. The functionary looked at the list, stared me in the face, and thrust me out, saying I had been paid only the week before. In vain were my protestations to the contrary. I was shown my name (it was that of the Englishman!) on the pension list, and was assured that I had regularly received my pay for years! Again I fled back to this city, and pursued the mendicant's occupation. Another had usurped my name, and taken my pay, and I was a bashful outcastbrow-beaten out of my own identity-a victim of мoDESTY!

"This, young man, is a portion of my history. My profession has made me a good judge of faces, and I advise you to throw aside your benevolent modesty as soon as possible. To-day I singled you out from hundreds; and, rely upon it, your want of assurance may prove the greatest curse of your life. What have you done to-day? Your yielding disposition has caused you to be guilty of profanity and sacrilege: with the

most laudable purpose you left home; but instead of listening to the pious admonitions of the parson, you are in the company of swearing sailors and drunken ruffians-this is profanity. You put aside a few pennies for the support of christianity, and they are in my hand!" Here my companion laughed and jingled the money in his hand—“ And this,” he continued, “is sacrilege."

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'Snap, you're mad to carry on so, now. Get rid of This was spoken by the old deaf and dumb woAt the same instant my companion ran off, with all the nimbleness imaginable, leaving his crutch behind! I was astounded and stupified. I gave the old hag, who was chuckling at my bewilderment, a hasty glance, and set out in a deep study for my lodgings. “If this be madness, there is method in it!" I involuntarily quoted, when I reached my lodgings and found myself minus a fine gold watch! Reader, this was a lesson with a vengeance! Would it not be well to remember it?

STANZAS.

FROM A LADY'S PORT-FOLIO. Oh! ask me not to breathe the strain Of earlier, happier days; To strike the long lost lyre again,

To gay and gladsome lays. For ah! life's beauty and its pride, Its freshness and its light, Have fled, and little left beside,

But weariness and blight. They rise, fond mem'ries of the past! A bright and hallow'd train; And sadly o'er my pathway cast

Their shadowy joys again.

J. J.

But trust them not! Hope's wreaths are bound
Of fading, earthly flowers;
Flowers, that alas! are only found

To bloom in summer bowers.

For winter comes, and o'er their skies

Its storms and tempests roll ;Their bloom is fled-but canker lies Deep in the shrined soul.

Then call not thou my spirit back

To these frail things of clay,
To seek again the wonted track
Of pleasure's flowery way.
But let me rather turn from all

That binds my being here,
And bows it 'neath the dreamy thrall

Of time's enslaving sphere-
And seek those never failing streams,

That faith's pure fount supplies;
That hope which o'er us kindly beams,
To light us to the skies.

Then ask me not to breathe the strain
Of earlier, happier days;
To strike the long lost lyre again,
To gay and gladsome lays.

5. P.

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"My faithful one!
What thou hast been to me! This bitter world,
This cold unanswering world, that hath no voice
To greet the heavenly spirit-that drives back
All birds of Eden which would sojourn here
A little while-how have I turned away
From its keen soulless air, and in thy heart,
Found ever the sweetest fountain of response,
To quench my thirst for home!"

In the meantime what had been the fate of Grey and Lucile? Ah, what pen may paint the sufferings of the proud and shrinking spirit reduced to the necessity of struggling with the debasing, wearing cares of extreme poverty? Ill health had been added to the other sufferings which Grey had to encounter: neglected, unappreciated where he had hoped for patronage and support, his spirit was crushed-the pride of genius and talent was bowed to the dust; and he saw no refuge for himself and the gentle being who soothed and comforted him-whose voice spoke of hope, when the shadows of fate appeared to throw their most sombre folds around them-for him, for her, with all her beauty, nobleness, and devoted affection, the grave seemed the only refuge, and at times his soul yearned for repose in the "green and quiet mother earth," which offered the only rest his wearied spirit might hope to attain.

stock of money was entirely exhausted-the jewels of Lucile were already gone, and in spite of her exertions, they were getting in debt to the people in whose house they lived. Grey continued to paint, even when the languor of disease almost unnerved his hand, and his bending figure appeared unable to support itself; but it was more from the love of his art, than the hope of obtaining any equivalent for his labors.

The faithful Agnes had at the earnest request of Lucile hired herself to an invalid who was about to travel for her health, and in the whole world she appeared to be the only being who had not abandoned her former mistress to her gloomy fate. Lucile was deeply touched by receiving proofs of the continued devotion of the girl, who regularly got her present employer to write to her dear young lady, enclosing the half of her wages, as an equivalent for the loss of her services. For a long time the sums thus sent remained untouched, to be restored to their rightful owner on her return; but neces. sity at last compelled her to use them, with the determination, that if fortune ever smiled on them again, they should be returned four-fold to her who offered them.

The day was intensely cold;-the snow lay piled up in the streets where it had been shovelled from the pavements. Sidney was shivering over a few embers, while Lucile with a heavy heart was preparing to go out, and the poor girl sighed as she looked on his wasted form, then at the bare floors, and uncurtained windows of their cheerless abode. She thought of their own sunny clime, and contrasted it with the feeble rays of sunshine which struggled through the clouds, and occasionally lighted the desolate apartment. Yet she chid herself for such thoughts-" Rather should I thank Heaven that even this shelter is left to us, and we are not yet houseless in this strange land;" she mentally murmured, "Oh, my father! could you see your once adored child now struggling with poverty and want, would you not relent and receive her again?"

Sidney turned and looked at her.

"When I am gone, perhaps her father will again take her to his heart, and in time she will learn to view our past as a hideous dream, linked with memories which sear the heart and blast the promise of youth. If not, she must perish with him whose baleful love destroyed her, and at last our rest will be unbroken by that frightful phantom, want. Oh, God! can it be that I have brought her to this!" and with the excitement of fever his eyes would wander over the miserable apart-well and strong, dear Sidney, and this wind only makes ment they now occupied. me feel how invigorating are the fresh cold breezes of winter."

Grey had gradually withdrawn himself from all intercourse with the few acquaintances he possessed-his pride shrank from allowing them to witness the poverty to which he was reduced. The severity of the climate had proved too great for one who had been reared in the tropical regions, and when the second winter of their sojourn in Philadelphia set in, his symptoms grew alarmingly worse. As his health declined, Lucile saw the necessity of making some exertions herself, to obtain the very means of subsistence. It was then that she felt most bitterly how utterly unfitted she was to encounter the difficulties which surrounded her, with a hope of overcoming them. She examined her own resources, and any heart less filled with idolatrous affections for her husband, would have despaired. She had been expensively but superficially educated; she had been taught to do nothing except fine needle-work-in that she excelled, and she fondly hoped to obtain enough to employ every moment of her time that was not devoted to Grey. The winter was verging to its close-their

"You are not going out on such a day as this, Lucile? My own love, it is too cold: this freezing wind will chill the current of your life."

"Oh, I do not fear it," said she, with a smile. "I am

He shook his head. "Is that a form to brave the blasts of a northern clime? Alas, alas! to what have I brought you, beloved Lucile! Here am I, helpless, powerless, dying, while you thus make a slave of yourself, toiling, suffering for me. Oh God! 'tis too much!" And he clasped his hands over his eyes to conceal the burning tears that fell on his breast.

He felt a fond arm wreathed around his neck, and a gentle hand parting the tangled clusters of hair from his brow. "Sidney, my own-own love! why will you wring my heart by speaking thus? Would I not far rather be here, even as we are-sustaining, comforting you, as I am―than in the proud halls of my father, wedded to him I loved not? Oh, speak not of dyingI cannot bear it-I should then be alone-alone, utterly bereft of all that makes life dear. You are ill now, and melancholy; but spring will soon be here, and its balmy breath will restore you to your wonted health. Speak not of death-separation—”

VOL. IV.-95

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