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"By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd,
By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd,
By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd,
By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd!


Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dress'd,
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,
There the first roses of the year shall blow,
While angels, with their silver wings, o'ershade
The ground now sacred with thy relics made."—


"Ne from thenceforth doth any fleshly sense, Or idle thought of earthly things remain ;

Their joy, their comfort, their desire, their gain,
Is fixed all on that which now they see,
All other sights but fained shadows be."-

Spenser's Hymn of Heavenly Beauty


ROSINE, one morning, declined the offer of her sister Sophie, to accompany her in her walk: she wished to think alone; and she hurried on, to get quite away by herself: she soon found that she was nearly at the summit of the verdant mountain, which rose above her father's dwelling. The Parsonage of Rossiniere was a large cottage at a little distance from the village; immediately behind it, rose a hill covered with the greenest verdure; two chalets, shaded by pines and birch trees, stood on the side of the hill; and, beyond it, grey sterile rocks, spotted, in some places, with patches of snow, shot up their spiral summits into the sky: these mountains were usually wreathed with clouds, but in the rainy seasons even the green hill above the parsonage was often


half veiled in floating mists. Rosine sat down on the fresh fine turf: her mind was busy with the schemes, which had that morning been half formed; and the thought, that she might be no longer a burthen to her dear father, had given a sort of tumultuous joy to her feelings, which she had not yet examined. Though a thousand suggestions had presented themselves to her mind, as she had ascended the hill, she had put them all off, saying to herself, "When I reach a place, where I can think without being disturbed, I shall be able to determine. Ah!" she exclaimed, as she looked around, "I am come to the very worst place; for every thing here presses round my heart, endued with some charm, by so many endearing associations. This glorious view of my own dear Switzerland! these rocks! and this emerald verdure! that waterfall, like sparkling silver, with its soft melting rainbow! The air, which seems to inspire health and liberty! the very flowers," she added, sprinkling her lips with. the dew, which glistened in the azure chalice of a gentian she had just gathered; "every thing whispers-nay, every thing speaks aloud, of home, and of my country. Oh, how very foolish I was to fix upon this spot! To be sure, I have always come here to think and meditate, before;

but never to think of leaving my own country. Perhaps I am wrong, though; perhaps I am come to the very best place, since I remember that the Tempter led our Saviour to an exceeding high mountain; yes, and with the power that Saviour (who has been tempted, in all things, like unto me,) will give me, I may be able to resist this temptation-this great temptation," she said, as her eye rested on the light volumes of smoke, curling and dispersing above the trees surrounding her own cottage. Rosine knelt down, and, turning her face meekly towards heaven, she prayed earnestly for strength; at first a few tears dimmed her eyes, but she rose, composed and prepared. Whenever she, afterwards, felt inclined to give way, she immediately prayed for support, and her prayers were never disregarded.

"What makes my father look so grave this morning?" whispered one of the young children, to his mother, as they were at breakfast the next day. "Why are you so grave, my love?" said Madame St. Alme?"Rosine is the cause," answered her husband. "How have you displeased your father, Rosine?" Rosine did not speak, but she held down her head, and blushed deeply. She has not displeased me," said her father," she has made me feel happy, in the possession of such a

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