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side. On a small stand near him was the miniature of a most beautiful woman, set round by diamonds of priceless value. Enough of the bust was visible to disclose dress of blue satin, and there was a simple turquoise necklace encircling the faultless neck. The face was exceedingly fair, with large, tender blue eyes, and a white regal brow, from which the parted hair fell in a light crown of golden curls. The mouth was uncommonly beautiful, and there was an expression of angelic sweetness and innocence breathing from the whole face. On the stand also was a paper blotted and written over evidently at intervals during the night. It was as follows:

«• DEATH has no bitterness like life,

Life with a wasted heart!'. Miss LANDON.

How true! Unhappy L. E. L.! But she is at rest; a little prussic acid put an end to her sufferings. After ‘Life's fitful fever' she sleeps well.

"The rain had ceased. Some prospect of clearing: Dreary enough, notwithstanding. Dreary without, lonely and desolate within. How tired I feel! If I could but sleep; but there is neither sleep for my eyes, nor slumber for my eye-lids.'

Strong and well, not yet twenty-seven, and so weary of life! O God! this intolerable weariness! What a life-time of misery before me! I will not endure it! But to rid myself of this cursed existence without sin. How often have these verses, conned in childhood, rung in my ears. (John, tenth chapter, seventeenth and eighteenth verses.) 'I lay down my life, that I might take it again. No man taketh it from Me, but I lay it down of MYSELF. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again." The power to lay it down, and the power to take it again, are equal. Both rest with OMNIPOTENCE. To rush unsummoned into the presence of God! Wretched man that I am! It is fearful ! O GOD! be merciful! Any other, and that raging river would have engulfed him; but no. Well, for the old people, perhaps, it is better. They at least find life tolerable. They are together.

“How her face haunts me to-night! It looked out at me from every flame of the fire till I put it out; peered over my shoulder in the mirror; gleamed up at me from between the blocks of ice in the river; followed me through the darkness every where. Not her face either — too melancholy. Let me see.

How beautiful! No sorrow there. That serene forehead; those calm, soft, holy eyes, with the old loving light in them - just so they looked on him when I last saw them. Madness and misery! It burns, burns my fingers, up my arm into my heart. Prometheus vulture, it eats away fiercely: ha! ha! ha! ha! Deeper! deeper yet! Eat the life out! Impossible !

- it grows too fást. ‘Homeless, with as fair an estate as there is in all England. The sole representative of a time-honored race, friendless, and a wanderer on the face of the earth. The whole earth stretches out before me one dreary interminable waste. I cannot keep myself

still, have no energy left to impel me on. I wander about without motive, without aim. A very Cain without a crime. My punishment is greater than I can bear.

O Emily, Emily ! how different it might have been! How I should have rejoiced to hear thy light step echoing in the halls of that old pleasant home! To see thy gentle, innocent semblance enshrined among the stately dames of the east gallery, the fairest, loveliest of them all; thyself enshrined in my heart, the honored, worshipped mistress of our happy home. It would have sheltered thee, my darling — my white, tender lamb! and thou couldst have made my happiness. What a fearful power to be vested in another and she, that light-hearted, girlish being, to wield that power to my destruction. Was it wise, Emily, to discard the love that had grown with my growth and strengthened with my strength, for one so utterly unworthy? He will trample on thy trusting heart till it breaks. My poor timid dove! God help thee! A wounded spirit who can bear ?' I have borne it more than a year! What a life-time of wretched days and sleepless nights! I will bear it no longer !

*The stars are shining, and half the inhabitants of the globe are wrapped in slumber. Is there another among all God's creatures so wretched ! desolate! used to sorrow ! - Man of Sorrows,' have mercy on me!'

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The stranger was laid to rest in the quiet grave, with the miniature of his beloved on his heart. It is a beautiful spot where they have laid him. The village cemetery covers a high bluff of the river shore, and there, on the farthest point of it, where there is the most beautiful view of the river winding its solitary way afar off, under tall trees, beautiful with sun-shine and verdure, and tuneful with the songs of birds and whispering breezes, a simple white cross points out the stranger's grave. An old white-headed man may still be seen there occasionally, watching the grass, and training the flowers his trembling hands have planted, with reverent care, and if you approach him with kindliness of tone and friendliness of aspect, he will be very apt to tell you, with tears in his eyes, how the noble-hearted dead under that stone periled his life for him, a poor old ferryman; and as he goes on in his narration, he will point you to the old deserted stone house from which the stranger rescued him; and then, lowering his voice, he will tell you of the miniature of the beautiful lady of his love; and then, coming nearer, and in a whisper, while the tears course slowly down his furrowed cheek, he will hint about his melancholy death, and finally, with a fervent God rest his soul !' turn away, and busy himself about the grave agair. Poor old Stephie ! a little while, a very little while, and there will be but that cross and this simple record to tell of the stranger's grave.

Valley-Forge, Nov. 7th, 1857.

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M Y

S P A NI SH NE I G H B 0 R.

It was through the tooth-ache that first I knew thee, O my beautiful Spanish neighbor ! Is it for that reason that I always feel a pain, a sudden twinge when I think of thee? -or did other causes combine? But no; I will be more artistic, and not tell my story so immediately.

That night of tooth-ache! But as the story and the tooth are both out now, I can refer to it. In vain I wooed the soft and warm embrace of my pillow ; in vain tried the becoming effects of a bandana tied above my organ of self-esteem; in vain tried sops of cotton, wet variously with laudanum, chloroform, or that hideously burning substance, the oil of cloves. I simply burned myself, embittered myself, or sickened me with fumes of chloroform; the tooth ached the worse for every application. I at length madly looked out of the window: was it a beaming star which rose before me? No, it was a dentist's light! What a moment, to plunge into boots and broadcloth, to tie the hastiest of neck-ties, to- At this moment I saw two stars. Yes, at this moment, looking (perhaps in a moment of aspiration) upward, I saw a light in an upper window of the house opposite to mine, and looking from that window the most beautiful dark-eyed — in short, I saw my Spanish neighbor! Could she, could this beauteous creature, be suffering too? could she have risen to seek relief from a raging - oh! call it neuralgia, not tooth-ache ? — could she, like me, have variously tried the oil of cloves and other emollients, and, like me, have rushed to the window in despair at their utter inefficiency?

But pangs of physical anguish checked this burst of rapturous exclamation. Perhaps the chloroform had mounted to my brain; be that as it may, I was recalled by a plunge as of forty red-hot knitting-needles through my under-jaw. To the business of the moment; I rushed; I rang. I narrowly escaped being shot for a presumptive murderer by the timorous tooth-drawer; but there is something convincing in the accents of sorrow, and he let me in.

A gyration of the universe, Jupiter and all his moons dancing every where, and all was over. I returned home with a huge cavern in my mouth, and a feeling at my heart as if some very distant relative had died and left me an immense and immediatelyto-be-realized fortune, no portion of which was in railroad stocks.

For a moment I had forgotten her; but entering my room, which was redolent of the fumes of chloroform and laudanum, I hastened to open the window and air the apartment. Again I saw the light; again a figure all in white, beautiful dark hair, and, what seemed to me, a lovely foreign face. The night was bright with a full moon, and I saw her very plainly. She had not moved,

a apparently, since I left. What could she be sitting there for, gazing at the moon ?

I gazed too, charmed with her beauty, astonished at her taste, wondering at her probable reasons. At length, seeing her as motionless as before, (when the clock admonished me that I had gazed an half-hour,) and worn out with my sufferings, I at length gave up, and proceeded to go to sleep at the rate, to use a nautical simile, of ten knots an hour.

My first thought on waking, was to look from my window. Opposite, a dull, dead, white curtain met my view. I knew the house well. It was inhabited by a Spanish family, well known as such by the name on the door, and by their unmistakable physiognomies. But its inmates had seemed to be an elderly woman and two sons; no such vision of delight had ever gone in or out of that front-door, to my knowledge, and I had gazed at it vacantly for several months.

I was engaged at this time in studying my profession. During these days of intense application, for which I was distinguished at this period of my life, I sometimes sought a moment's distraction from the strain upon my intellectual faculties, in the soothing companionship of a cigar. During this temporary relaxation, I usually sat at my window, with my feet raised several degrees above my head, resting on the sill thereof, and gazed contemplatively across the street. My instructors, to whom I had confided this as my only habit of indulgence, were severe enough to say that I indulged in it too much; but I ask all candid observers, who have noticed the medical student any where, if they have not been strụck by his ardent devotion to his studies, his quiet and sedate demeanor, his freedom from all those escapades which mark the youth of other men; and trusting in the unprejudiced verdict of these referees, I acknowledge this, my one indulgence. During these moments of ease, I had watched the out-goings and in-goings of all my neighbors; I had seen the dark old Spanish lady go in and out; I had seen two or three of her nation, apparently, come

and I had often wondered that some kind sprite did not inform some young and handsome woman of the fact that I was looking out expectantly, and send her at least to call somewhere in the block, but such convenient little messenger never seemed to be about.

My studies of the day succeeding the tooth-ache were of such a dry and disagreeable nature that I determined to allow myself a greater degree of ease than usual; for I argued seriously with myself that the consequences of using the brain much after so severe a shock as the pain and subsequent extraction of a tooth, might prove too much, and I resolved not to impair my hopes of future usefulness by any such extreme devotion to the science of medicine.

I was very glad that I had so imperative a reason for not studying to-day, for I determined to watch at my window assiduously, and see my beauty go out, as doubtless she would do, during the morning. I watched in vain. The two young men went down to their business; the old lady issued from the door at eleven, and

her a

visit ; to pay