Ing that Lawrence did not notice her, she crept away. He was roused by her cries, and beheld her sinking in the stream. He sprang up and saved her with much difficulty. The stream was not very deep: had Lawrence been in good health, the exertion would have been trifling; it now hastened his death; he had no sooner given the infant to her mother, than he again fainted, and the blood gushed from his mouth and nose. The next morning, Lawrence whispered to his brother, who had sate up with him all night, "Dear Arthur, take me out into the fresh air once more, and let me see the child.". The mother brought her little girl asleep in her arms: the child woke, and was beginning to cry; when she perceived Lawrence, she stretched out her arms to him, and offered her smiling mouth to be kissed.-Arthur, carried out his brother to the lawn before the cottage, and supported him in his arms: Lawrence tried to speak, but he was unable; he repeatedly moved his hand; at last with an effort he pointed to the sky, and then looked at his brother; his look told Arthur all that he would have said; he was perfectly sensible to the last, and he seemed to hear every word of his brother's

prayer, as he lay and gazed up at Arthur's countenance, till death fell upon him like sleep.

The fresh morning air waved the branches of the trees under which the brothers had been lying, and the cool dew fell in a crystal shower over them. The sun rose flaming above the horizon, and its rich trembling rays wantoned through the shade over the pallid countenance of the corpse; it sparkled in the dew drops which hung on the thick hair, and which mingled with the cold drops of death-sweat upon the marble forehead; even the glowing colour of some flowers which grew near in gay luxuriance, were reflected on the countenance, and flitting and varying, as the blossoms were moved by the breeze, they gave a mockery of life to it.-Arthur observed all this, his mind dwelt upon every, the least circumstance which marked out so strongly the contrast of all that seemed young and fresh, and radiant with life, with cold, senseless, haggard death: he was too agonized to weep; but he tried to raise his thoughts to another world, he tried to tear them from the body of his brother and to follow his soul. "All this must pass away," he, at last, said to himself, " yes, even this sky which re

treats now from my sight as I gaze into its beautiful depths. Heaven and earth must pass away, but the word of our Heavenly Father will never change. There will be a new Heaven and a new earth, and man alone will be preserved from the general destruction, He cannot return to me, but I shall go to him.'”

As Arthur stod, the only mourner over the grave of his brother, he wept when the well remembered words were read, “Spare me a Tittle, that I may recover my strength, before I go hence, and be no more seen.' "These words were alone engraved on the humble tombstone of Lawrence Western.

"Whose portraits are these, grandmother?" said a little boy to an old lady, as he stood before a picture of two young men.-" Mother, will you tell me?" he continued, turning round, for the old lady had not answered him.-His grandmother was weeping.-The child thought he had acted wrongly, and looked up to his mother, blushing deeply, and in silence, asking, by a look, what he had done?" I am not angry with you, Arthur," said the old lady, smiling through her tears; " you are not old enough yet to weep for joy. That is the picture of two brothers. The younger brother, whose hair is

so bright and who appears to speak so earnestly that the colour on his cheek deepens as it did in yours, when you came in this morning from running through the snow, was, when only twenty years of age, condemned to leave his country for acting wickedly. The elder brother was then about to become a clergyman; and was engaged to be married to a young lady whom he loved very much; but he gave up his opportunities of becoming rich, and what many considered to be his happiness; and left England with his guilty but penitent brother, to live, almost in poverty, among persons who had been sent out to that distant land, as a punishment for almost every sort of crime." "I am sure I should love that brother," interrupted the child. "I am sure you do love him," said the old lady; "He is your father."

THE BOWER OF SLOTH,

A FRAGMENT.

And never through those gardens doth the bee
Her lay of industry unwearied sing,

Nor to the hollow of that ancient tree,
Incessantly her gather'd honey bring;

Framing with patient toil her fragrant waxen

cell;

Where, during wintry storms, securely she mote dwell.

But there the butterfly doth idly range

O'er blossoms fading with her summer day, Nor heeds that tempests spoil, that seasons change,

And mortal pleasures swiftly pass away,

That her now brilliant hues will all polluted lie, Her fluttering wings be torn, and closed her gem-like eye.