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have nothing to withhold, and no fear of my confidence being misplaced."

"You need not-it shall not," said his friend so softened by his warmth, that the tears dropt hot and fast upon the hand he still retained in his. "Your sister, and your mother too, will find in me a brother and a protector."

"Thank you! thank you, dearest Lascelles!" the expiring and gratified youth found strength to say, in tones faltering between agony and emotion; "your kindness smoothes the anguish of this dying bed and I feel I can leave the world with less regret."

As he spoke, he leaned back upon the rude pillow, overcome by the exertion. There was a fulness of feeling in the heart of Lascelles, too deep to permit his breaking the silence that ensued— and both found occupation for their thoughts in gazing through the open tent upon a purer and a brighter sky than either had ever seen before. The full pearl-like moon, not such as they had been accustomed to, but large and dazzingly bright, held her stately march in heaven. That one solitary star which seems dearer and more radiant than all the rest, from its apparent contiguity, to the queen. of night, had, while the same sympathy fixed the attention of each friend upon the object, its light obscured by a long curtain of cloud which passed slowly over its disc-while every other orb in the sky, untouched by the mist, still shone on undimmed and lovely as Life in the young officer was fast retiring to its source, but consciousness was still awake, he directed his friend's attention to the sky, and while both gazed upon what at that moment was a touching phenomenon, the spirit of the early called had taken its flight; and like the curtained light of that emblematic star, the lamp of his young and warm life had ceased to glow ;—but unlike it, had gone for ever.

ever.

For a few minutes, the dead silence of the grave was in the lonely tent. The young officer remained motionless and abstracted. His eyes were fixed upon the beautiful likeness of the sister thus awfully bereaved; but the hand of the living clasped in that of the dead, might have seemed to pledge a bond of protection, scarcely less sacred, and more delicate, than that of which she had been deprived.

It is not in the camp that such scenes can continue long, or leave a deep impression. Under no circumstances, however, could such one occur without searing a life-long trace upon the heart,-and when Lascelles rose up on the arrival of the surgeon, though the few usual words which might have been expected upon such an occasion were interchanged, yet the expression of his features as he hurriedly concealed the miniature, indicated that settled and wordless grief which exists only in the soul.

A few hours, ere yet the morning had dawned, saw the body of young Selby borne to his lonely and foreign grave, with all those

touching ceremonials which in military funerals give to the most formal pomp a seeming of deeper sadness, than ever attends the ordinary obsequies of the dead. In the commencement of such a campaign, the full observance of the usual etiquette on such occasions would most probably have been dispensed with, but Lascelles took a solemn interest in causing their exact fulfilment in the buria! of his friend. There was an imposing and sad romance in the ceremonials of that midnight procession. The first death in an army where so many were soon to fall-his youth, his bravery, his station-made the fate of Selby the subject of wide commiseration; and thousands of hardy soldiers who had seen death in every shape, and mingled, times unnumbered, without a thought in such pageants as the present, gathered round the tent while the few and simple arrangements for the funeral were going on. Scanty, indeed, for the affection of Lascelles were all the conveniences he could obtain. On a few rude planks he stretched the body of his friend-forming with his military cloak the only pall he could procure. Then with proud minuteness he placed the cap and sword which had been bravely worn upon the bier, and having himself formed the men into their ranks, he wrapped his cloak around him, and with emotion that almost choked him, gave the order for the march. Slowly and sadly, they moved along, the measured tread of the long array according solemnly with the mournful music of that hymn always used upon the occasion, of which the thrilling pathos gives almost sublimity to grief. Many other officers fell into the procession, but to Lascelles was accorded the melancholy precedence of following the bier. Deeply as he felt, he walked firmly on until the procession, striking through the woods, halted in an open and sequestered bay, about a mile from the camp. There, as the last tones of the funeral strains died upon the moonlit wave-and the forest echoed with the report that told all was over-the full consciousness of the hapless fate of his friend gushed for the first time into his mind, and he gave way to an excess of grief, to which all who were present accorded the grateful sympathy of leaving him alone.

The reveillée had been long sounded, before Lascelles returned to the camp, and then his features bore little outward indication of the sorrow at his heart. With a double and restless activity he engaged in the duties of his regiment, and when the order for the army's march had been given, he felt in the hope of speedy vengeance which it held out to him, the first and only sense of animation he could enjoy.

The events of the memorable campaign which followed, are not for such a tale as this. To the British army it was one of toil and danger and disaster, but Lascelles went through all unhurt; and distinguished himself on every opportunity that offered.

by his general's approbation, and indulging in all the warm hopes which the delights of home, and the uninterrupted enjoyment of

peace, offer to the soldier after a protracted absence, Lascelles returned to the proud seat of his fathers, in England, one of the happiest of mortals, and soon forgot all the toils and distresses of a foreign warfare in the sweet enjoyments of domestic, society. Efforts he made to discover the sister of the unfortunate Selby, whose death had affected him more perhaps than any other event of his life; but they were ineffectual; and with that ready facility which present happiness creates in ill-regulated minds, the promise to his buried friend which he had made in the solemnity and full purpose of his heart, was, if not forgotten, at least completely neglected. Often, indeed, in his listless moments, when accident would bring it before him, he would gaze at the miniature bequeathed to him with such an affecting trust, with deep interest, and feel as he gazed a return of those feelings which at the painful time of their occurrence were so completely sacred and absorbing. There was much in it to give even a holiness to such sensations in hearts far more warped by the usages of the world than was that of Lascelles. It was a masterly effort of the pencil, and represented a beautiful girl at that time of life when the child is lost in the dawning consciousness of the woman. Her age might be about fourteen; and while fine rich clustering curls, pensive blue eyes, and features delicately fair, made up a picture which any one would call pretty, and on which the eye would delight to linger, the painter with consummate art had caught each varying indication of unformed character, and made them shed over her countenance that fascinating expression whose memory continues to haunt the soul like some idol of idea. To all this, which had a claim only upon feelings which he held in common with the careless and the cold, Lascelles could not help perceiving, softened and as it were spiritualized in the exquisite features of his sister, the very appearance even to the minutest expression of his lamented friend. The resemblance was so close that it would have struck any who had ever known Selby. There was something in it more than mere family likeness-the same soul seemed to speak from the eyes of both-the same sentiments and disposition to animate each; and the strong recollections which would be thus forced upon his mind, of the noblest being he had ever known, would beget in the imagination of the aristocratic Lascelles a thousand indefinable feelings, which, however, generally ended in inaction and self-reproach. higher society of England is perhaps more essentially exclusive and aristocratic than that of any other land; and the extensive proprietor, esconced in his magnificent residence, and surrounded by walled domain, maintains intercourse only with his equals, and never admits to his privileged abode the less favored whom rank has made his inferiors in society. If the heir of such a family, in the university or the army, when apart from conventional claims to respect, forgot the usual maxims of his order so far as to choose his

associate, or perchance to make his friend, from a class which the parlance of the world would call inferior to his own, though the high-mindedness of inherent honor might withhold from such friend, under such circumstances, no confidence and no familiarity, still upon a separation, when the one, as in the instance of our tale, may be cut off by death or would remingle unnoticed with his fellows, and the other returns to his lordly seat, becomes treated with habitual deference, and resumes the systematic opinions of his set, it is hardly in human nature, but that ties so formed will be weakened, or at all events, removed from that perfect equality in which alone such connections can exist. It was thus that if ever Lascelles, whose heart was naturally generous, but whose habits were formed according to all the feelings and customs of his caste, in the influence of the strong and attached friendship which he had formed in the early romance of situation, warmed to the noble qualities of the hapless Selby, and formed personal wishes, involving his beautiful and unprotected, perhaps unprovided sisterand if, when at times gazing upon her exquisite likeness in his possession, he felt his soul soften to touching thoughts, or expand with generous projects-the instant influence of habit would neutralize the feeling, and acquired lessons of duty to station and connexions would make him instantly shrink within the narrow circle of his selfish privileges; and then the portrait would be laid aside, and the solemn and affecting duty he had self-incurred would be, not forgotten, but again and indefinitely postponed. Was the disposition of Lascelles to blame, or his rank? Both had their share. The prejudices of the one had modified the good qualities of the other and produced that apathy of character, which under some circumstances, and without really bad intentions, has all the effect of crime. Left to his own unassisted feelings, without the extrinsic allurements of his every-day life to distract, or corrupt them-they would all have become, if not personally moved, at least intensely interested, in the redemption of that solemn vow pronounced to the dying, and now doubly incumbent on him as a pledge to the dead.

Circumstances soon proved that this was essentially the case. His regiment was ordered to Ireland; and now that duty opened the path to conscience, Lascelles felt his mind relieved from a pressure which had long given him almost insupportable uneasiness. He hastened to his quarters, and endeavoured by every means in his power to discover the family he was in search of. But removal to the country where they resided, did not facilitate his success; and after several ineffectual trials, judging they had either left the country, or retired to some obscure situation, he gave up the attempt in despair; and after some time, he ceased altogether to think of his friend or his request, save as an affecting incident in his military recollection.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

THE FRANCONIA MOUNTAIN NOTCH.

NEW HAMPSHIRE.

The blackening hills close round-the beetling cliff
On either hand towers to the upper sky-

I pass the lonely inn--the yawning rift
Grows narrower still, until the passer-by
Beholds himself walled in by mountains high,
Like everlasting barriers, which frown
Around, above, in awful majesty-

Still on, the expanding chasm deepens down,
Into a vast abyss which circling mountains crown.

The summer air is cooler, fresher, here-
The breeze is hushed, and all is calm and still-
Above, a strip of the blue heaven's clear
Cœrulean is stretched from hill to hill,
Through which the sun's short transit can distil
No breath of fainting sultriness;-the soul
Imbued with love of Nature's charms, can fill
Itself with meditation here, and hold

Communion deep with all that round it doth unfold.

Thou, reader of these lines, who dost inherit
That love of earth's own loveliness which flings
A glow of chastened feeling o'er the spirit,
And lends creation half its colorings

Of Light and Beauty-who from living things

Dost love to 'scape to that beatitude

Which from converse with secret Nature springs,

Fly to this green and shady solitude,

High hills, clear streams, blue lakes, and everlasting wood!

And as thou musest 'mid these mountains wild,

Their grandeur thy rapt soul will penetrate,
Till with thyself thou wilt be reconciled,
If not with man-thy thoughts will emulate
Their calm sublime-thy little passions-hate,
Envying and bitterness-if such be found.
Within thy breast-these scenes will dissipate,
And lend thy mind a tone of joy profound,

An impress from the grand and mighty scenes around.
VOL. V. NO. XVI.-APRIL, 1839. Y

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