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do we see a fairer view of men than in their graves, for their faults lie buried with them. "Man wars not with the dead. It is a trait of human nature for which I love it." And is it not well to pass by the graves on our way to worship in the temple of that God whose eternal temple we must enter through the grave.

But there are graves of another kind. Is not each man's heart a grave, wherein lie buried many a sad and mournful memory? Many bright and glorious forms fill our youthful hearts, making all around us seem glad and merry with their presence. As in the healthful child of half-a-dozen years we see no symptom of decay and death, so do we deem that these visions and hopes of our youth will last for ever. But time, as its years roll on, spares them not. One by one they fade, they die; and in our hearts they make their tomb, chilling them with the chill of death. And often what pangs of fearful agony are there, ere they thus sink to rest in that cold sleep! When some fond affection, that the heart hath cherished as its dearest, holiest treasure, is blighted, scorned, betrayed,-all the bright dreams and visions of a whole life changed to a dread desolation,-long and bitter are the sufferings of that heart, ere the spirit that had so beautiful, so glorious, so loved a form, can die. And, oh! when their grave is in the heart, what a dreary blank and void doth all around it seem!

Over our churchyard graves the green grass grows, and many a flower of beauty to deck the pillows of the dead, and breathe a perfume around their resting-place. And are there no flowers of the heart that bloom over the graves of buried hopes and loves? Sweet and holy flowers are there of gentle and beautiful thoughts, -thoughts that spring from the chastened heart, as water from the stricken rock,-thoughts that shed their own sad sweetness over many a poet's page,-thoughts that have borne with them many a heart from this poor earth, to the heaven that ever shed a brightness over the darkened spirit. And as the flowers in our churchyards seem to whisper of life even at the grave, so do these funeral flowers also tell that those affections and earnest longings of the soul, though lost to us for a little time, will one day live again; that though they are now in a sleep from which there is no earthly awaking, they will rise again, and in a form more pure, more holy, more heavenly.

I will never believe that those earthly children of a heavenly love were formed but to perish. Flowers were they from heaven, and though in the sinful soil of our hearts they withered and died,

when we are borne into their own warm climate, beneath their own sunny sky, and the dry ground of our souls is watered by the blood of redeeming mercy, then will those flowers again revive, and blossom, and spread abroad their green branches, and bear glorious fruit, the fruit of love, and peace, and consolation.

And there are too in our hearts graves less gloomy and mournful in their nature-graves of thought. Is there not buried there many a lovely and gentle thought that has come, surely, from a better world, to shed a momentary ray of joy and brightness on our spirits? They have passed through our minds so quickly that we have scarce known them; for in the rude sinfulness of our nature, they found no home or resting-place for their own pure essences: and so they died almost ere they were born. But in our hearts have they made their graves, and over their sepulchres also have sprung flowers-flowers that have given promise of their rising. For in that day when the graves shall be opened, and the fetters of death broken,-when our bodies shall arise from the loathsome bed of corruption, clothed in a glorious immortality,-then also shall there be an awakening of the heart, and from the depths in which they lie buried, shall be called forth each dream and vision that hath haunted the spirit, and every thought shall be arraigned-a fearful array-before the tribunal of the Judge. And then shall those on whom the blood hath been sprinkled be changed, even as our bodies shall be changed; and those dearly loved guests of our hearts, which died in this cold stranger world, shall arise clothed in the beauty of a heavenly immortality, to enter the home whence they came. And then, in their own land, they shall form for us the paradise of which they could only teach us to dream here; while each thought of beauty, whose brightness was dimmed and hidden in the dark murky atmosphere of our souls, shall there shine forth as a glorious jewel to deck our brows.

Upon the grave of the murderer there rests a curse: no flowers will bloom over it. So there is no curse that can fall upon our hearts so dire, as the curse of secret sinful thoughts. They lie there mouldering and rotting, converting all around them into loathsomeness and corruption; casting a withering blight over our whole souls, so that no green thing or flower of beauty may bloom there;-all is a gloomy, dreary waste. Men see not upon earth the corruption that lies rankling beneath the surface; they know not what it is that sends a man forth among his fellow-men unloving and unloved, a curse wherever he goes. But for such an one there

shall also be an awakening; and when he shall stand before his Judge, from his heart shall be called up all these black thoughts, that shall stand fearfully forth as the mark, the brand upon his vesture, of a cursed immortality.

Oh, then, as we kneel upon the grave, and pray that our death may be "the death of the righteous, and our last end like his," let us strive and pray against thought sins, lest they make their graves in our hearts, and blight our spirits with their curse. Let us pray that, during our earthly life, our inner and unseen world may be peopled by spirits from the heaven, that may first brighten our existence here, and afterwards bear up our souls on their angel wings to their own blessed home!

PUCK.

THE PARTING CUP.

'Tis our last cup at parting ;-oh, let it go round,

As full as our hearts are of sorrow to-night;

Our last cup at parting!-oh! breathe not a sound

That may sadden the wine-cup which sparkles so bright!
We have long known each other';-then why should we borrow

A pang from the joys we already have seen;

Or doubt that our friendship will prove on the morrow

As firm and as true as it ever hath been?

"Tis our last cup at parting;-the days that are gone
Come sadly before us as tearful we part;

And, fresh in our memory, many an one

Of the lost friends still dear to the desolate heart.
But, oh! if they linger in death round the dwelling
That's dear to them yet in the mansions of light,
Be sure they are here, while our bosoms are swelling
With sorrow, as circles the wine-cup to-night.
"Tis our last cup at parting,-and many long years
May pass ere we taste of its nectar again;
And the eye may ere then be a fountain of tears,

And the gladsome heart broken by sorrow and pain.
But why dream of ill, while the sky that is o'er us
Is shining in beauty, unclouded and bright?
Let us hope that the future, expanding before us,
May beam like the wine-cup that circles to-night.

C. H. H.

EMILIA GALOTTI.

a Tragedy.

(Translated from the German of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing)

ACT II.

(The Scene, a Hall in the House of the Galotti.)
SCENE I.-CLAUDIA GALOTTI, PIRRO.

CLAUDIA. (in entering, to Pirro, who enters from the other side.) Who galloped then into the court?

PIRRO. Our master, madam.

CLAUDIA. My husband! Is it possible?
PIRRO. He follows close upon me.

CLAUDIA. So unexpected?-(hastening towards him.) Ah! my best one!

SCENE II.-ODOARDO GALOTTI, and the former.

ODOARDO. Good morning, love!-What, have I surprised you? CLAUDIA. Most agreeably !—if it mean no more than a surprise.

ODOARDO. Nothing more! Be not uneasy.-The happiness of the present day caused me to awake so early; the morning was so fair; the way so short; I imagined you all here so full of business-How easily, it struck me, might something be forgotten! In a word, I come, and look, and hasten back immediately.Where is Emilia? Without question, occupied in adorning

CLAUDIA. Her soul!-She is at mass.-" On this, more than on any other day, I have need to seek grace from above:" she said, and left every thing as it was, and took her veil, and hastened— ODOARDO. Quite alone?

CLAUDIA. The few paces

ODOARDO. One is sufficient for a fall!

CLAUDIA. Be not angered, my best one; come within,—to rest for an instant, and, if it please you, take refreshment.

VOL. II.-NO. VI.

TT

ODOARDO. As you will, Claudia.-But she should not have gone out alone.

CLAUDIA. And you, Pirro, remain in the antechamber to deny all visitors to-day.

SCENE III-PIRRO, and soon afterwards ANGelo.

PIRRO. That come from curiosity alone.-For the last hour what questioning have I not gone through!—And who comes there?

ANGELO. (still half behind the scene, in a short cloak, drawn over his face, the hat shading his forehead.) Pirro !—Pirro ! PIRRO. An acquaintance?-(as Angelo advances, and throws open his cloak.) Heaven! Angelo ?—You?

ANGELO. As you see. I have been long enough skulking round the house to speak with you.-A word now.

PIRRO. And do you dare to come again to light ?—You have been, since your last murder, declared an outlaw; a reward is offered on your head.—

ANGELO. Which you, surely, have no thought of earning ?— PIRRO. What would you with me?-I entreat you, make me not unhappy.

ANGELO. With that, mean you? (showing him a purse of gold.)-Take it! It belongs to you!

PIRRO. To me?

ANGELO. Have you forgotten? The German, your last

master

PIRRO. Not a word of that!

ANGELO. Whom you led into our toils on the way to PisaPIRRO. If we should be overheard

ANGELO. Had the kindness to leave behind him for our use a precious ring. Do you not remember?-The ring was too valuable to be turned to money at once without suspicion being raised. At length I have succeeded. A hundred pistoles I received for it: and that is your share. Take it!

PIRRO. I will have none of it,-keep all.

ANGELO. As you please-If it be the same to you! how high your head is raised for nothing-(as if about to return the purse into his pocket.)

PIRRO. Give it me then! (takes it.)-And what now? For, that you should seek me for this purpose only——

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