bold outlines of the occurrences of yesterday, while others fall behind in the dream-like dimness of an age ago. I shall select, from the more retiring and less vivid reminiscences, the baby recollections of a sweet Madonna countenance, ever smiling into mine; soothing and caressing, cradling and consoling me. If I were not sure it was my mother, I could almost fancy I had been nursed by some guardian angel. Thou lovely, loving, kind, and gentle one! There is no accuser amongst my memories of thee; no harsh, ungentle word; no severity, nor petulance, nor passion; but instead "A constant flow of love which knew no fall, After these earliest recollections, I find the traces deepening; and distinctly remember my beloved father, leading me into my mother's room, and lifting me upon the bed to receive a morning salutation from mamma. When, gently raising the bedclothes, they together showed me the loveliest little creature that ever my eyes had beheld. They called her my sister, and said her name was, that sweetest of all sweet names-Mary. I wanted to have her up, and examine her, to gratify my now excited curiosity. I felt a great desire to look into her eyes, and kiss her downy-looking cheeks, but had to be satisfied at that time with the kiss, and to wait for the examination until another time; when the old, fussy, homely sort of woman, who was introduced to my bewildered senses as "the nurse," should find a convenient opportunity. I never can forget how long it seemed, until it so happened that the "little. stranger" was positively washed and dressed before my wondering gaze. The tiny hands and feet were kindly submitted to my inspection; even the little eyes were wide open, and I peeped in, and they were blue-blue as the azure sky above. Thou મળ્યું. heavenly infant! we little thought then thou hadst "Just come to show how sweet a flower In Paradise would bloom." When mamma had got "down stairs again, when the monthly nurse had resigned her post, the important doctor had ceased his visits, and all went on smoothly again-oh! then I was a happy child. Many a merry gambol did I make, and many a noisy shout set up, to amuse "little Mary," as I called her. I raced up and down the long passages of that old house, and along the walks of the large garden; and then suddenly leapt into sight, for the pleasure of her baby chuckle, and mamma's rewarding smile. After this brief sunshine, over which a cloud had never passed, I first learned what sorrow was. From this moment a sombre shade seems to hang about the scenes. The two characters I so much dreaded had returned, the doctor and the nurse, with whose presence was most disagreeably associated an upset, and with their absence a return to accustomed joys. It was an ungrateful association I admit, but so it was. Then my kind aunts came anxiously and hurriedly running in, and scarcely seeing me. Mamma was not to be disturbed, for baby was ill. Scarcely knowing what "ill" meant, I sat down in my little chair, and began to fret. There was no mamma, nor papa, nor baby; and no one seemed to care for me. At last, I remember, one dear aunt seemed attracted by my loneliness, and told me that grandpapa had sent for me, and that I should go with her to see him. And I was soon folded in grandpapa's arms, and almost as happy as I could wish; and contented myself until the evening of the third day set in; but then, unable to hold out any longer, I insisted upon going home. Alas! how changed that home appeared! Papa and mamma were in mourning, and looked so sorrowful when I bounded gaily into the room. Mamma's eyes were suffused with tears; the baby's place upon her knee was vacant; while I who had been so long "turned over to papa," was now again folded in her fond caress, and called her "only one." I wondered at the stillness of the house, and took an early opportunity of climbing papa's knee to inquire where was "little Mary ? He told me that she was gone to heaven, and pointed upwards to the sky. I no sooner heard this than my resolve was made. Feeling quite sure that the baby loved me far too much to remain long away, I determined to keep watch until she returned for me. Thus, day after day, climbing upon a high table, I drew up after me my little chair, and having thrown open the casement, there I sat gazing up into the deep blue sky, expecting every moment to see a little golden ladder let down, and the cherub child descending to fetch her less favoured sister. Hope deferred maketh the heart sick." Day after day, week after week, I watched for hours,— "Till all my stock of infant sorrow spent, I learned at last submission to my lot, But, though I less deplored thee,-ne'er forgot." TO MY INFANT SISTER IN HEAVEN. Mary! many years have past, I looked so oft, and looked my last, Ere thou wert" caught up" to the sky. But though so many years have fled Since thou wert numbered with the dead, Still in my dreams thy form I sce, And thus thou art not dead to me! When first they told me thou wert gone, My baby sister here below; They pointed to the land of light, And said, though thou wert out of sight, For thither had thy spirit fled:- I climbed and threw the casement wide, While longing looks and tears and sighs Heaved my young breast and dimmed my eyes, "My Mary is not dead!" And ever as I looked, the thought Oh! many, many a busy day Delusive thought! my heart had fainted, And as I older grew, I learned But as I still grew on, how oft It was not that I wished thee, child, Ah! wayward thought! ah! dark repining! But often in the hour of need May trace my wandering feet, and lead And oh! how soon, that sky concealing, |