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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,
Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks
Which humour, interposed, so often makes."

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."

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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

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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.

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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,
Since into thy deep blue eye

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,
And I should never look upon

My baby sister here below;

They pointed to the land of light,

And said, though thou wert out of sight,
To thee in heaven I still might go,

For thither had thy spirit fled:-
And thus my Mary was not dead!

I climbed and threw the casement wide,
And long stood gazing towards the skies,
I thought that nothing could divide
Our sister love; and thus I said,

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
Would fill my hopeful, childish mind,
My angel sister surely ought
To fetch the one she left behind.
I argued thus: she could not leave
Her only sister here to grieve;
And go herself to that bright home,
Nor wish that I should also come.
And so methought perhaps she'll fly
From her bright place in yonder sky;
Or else, a golden ladder she
Will lovingly let down for me!

Oh! many, many a busy day
I've put my playthings all away,
And sat for hours still gazing through
The casement, up the heights of blue.
Or, when the streaming sunbeams played,
And o'er the ceiling dancing strayed,
I fancied them the steps of gold,
And Mary I should there behold!

Delusive thought! my heart had fainted,
With the false hope my fancy painted,
Had not my feet been early brought
To Him who my lost soul had sought;
And my young spirit learned to pray
For help from Jesus day by day,-
And then I still hoped on, and said-
Jesus says, "Mary is not dead!"

And as I older grew, I learned
That years pass almost undiscerned;
And even yet, though long delayed,
The boon for which so oft I prayed
Should still in love to me be given,
And I should join, in yonder Heaven,
My own sweet sister: then I said-
"Mary, to me thou art not dead!"

But as I still grew on, how oft
I've thought upon thy cheek so soft;-
That cherub-smile that greeted me,
When dancing by my mother's knee;
And wondered at the reason why?
Thou shouldst alone be borne on high;
While I, alas! was left to weep,
And long, long, mournful vigils keep,
In pain, and woe, and weariness;
In harrowing fear and deep distress.

It was not that I wished thee, child,
To share the sorrows of the wild;
But thought that since thy soul was spared,
I might the pity too have shared.

Ah! wayward thought! ah! dark repining!
That needed all the long refining.
Left!-to grow wiser by my stay-
My rebel doubts all purged away;
Left!-to find mercy through the blood
Poured forth for me- a crimson flood!
Left!-other wounded hearts to cheer;
And strive to bring the wanderer near;-
The watch beside the suff 'rer keeping,-
Mingling my tears with mourners weeping,
And to rejoice with those in gladness;-
To share their hope, or joy, or sadness.
Left!-to press forward to the skies;-
As on the wings of eagles soar;
To still gaze on, with longing eyes,
To Canaan's blissful shore!
Nor yet the port alone to make,
But to allure, persuade, and bring
Others for my Redeemer's sake;
Who will beneath his shelt'ring wing
Hide a forlorn, defenceless head,
And live!-because He once was dead!
And thou art gone, that I might never
Fix my best hopes below the sky.
He who was love-is Love for ever!
He caught thy cherub-soul on high,
To spare thee from the coming sorrow,
And nerve me for the dark to-morrow:
And thus, sweet sister, still I say,
"Thou art not dead to me to-day!"

But often in the hour of need

May trace my wandering feet, and lead
Back to the narrow path forsaken;
And in my spirit's depths awaken-
Fear to offend the God of love,
And hope to guide my steps above;-
May track the Fowler's dangerous tread,
Detect the meshes round me spread,
And break the web-this by the token,
That often has the net been broken!
And oh when on life's ocean tossed,
The heavenly chart or left, or lost,
While boiling billows overwhelm,—
Say-wert thou ordered "To the helm !"
To steer me through the tempest's night,
Till once again the port in sight?-
If for this reason thou wert taken,
I am not then bereft-forsaken!

And oh! how soon, that sky concealing,
Shall burst on my glad sight, revealing
Ten thousand forms, all bright and fair;
And I shall find my sister there!
And there together we'll rehearse
His praise in more exalted verse.

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