A GLORIOUS day in early Autumn was waning to its close - a gorgeous pile of clouds rich and varied as the tinting of a sunmer rainbow, like a splendid procession, clustered about the sun at his kingly setting, and mingled their purple and crimson and golden hues, as he wheeled his red disk down to the western horizon. A gush of warbled melody poured itself out from the tuneful throats of a thousand feathered worshippers, as they gathered to their leaf thatched homes, twittering and singmg in the very plenitude of their joyousness. The hum of a myriad of restless insects, threw in a discordant but merry alto, and the near ocean rolled in the "deep profound eternal bass, ' in nature's evening anthem.

But the soft sunshine, and the glad music, found no admittance to one magnificent apartment. The Venetian shutters were carefully closed, and the bright crimson curtains drooped in heavy festoons to the carpet. The bed was hung with the same ostly material, and the long tinselled fringe trembled and glistened in the subdued light of a shaded lamp. By the side of that bed stood a father and a mother, struggling to hide

their tears and agony - a physician with a thoughtful and troubled countenance, and an anxious weeping nurse; and supported by pillows beneath those elegant hangings, lay the wreck of a beautiful creature in the fair spring time of her joy and happiness. And one there was in that rich chamber, who came unbidden and unwelcome, with his grim visage smiling on the speechless depths of human sorrow, and his bow all bent and rudely aimed at his reluctant victim. O reader! that visitant was the messenger of death, and the dying girl was the gay and accomplished and envied Eliza Thurston!

She had left school some months before, triumphing in the honors of successful study, with her heart dancing in anticipation of such gay and brilliant years as fancy painted before her. She rushed into the whirl of fashionable life with a zest and a passion which soon made most obvious inroads on her strength. The proud father and the flattered mother, saw nothing but the lavish admiration which followed every step and glance of their beautiful daughter. If her eye sparkled with an unwonted fire, they dreamed not it was but a sudden flash, heralding an expiring dimness—if her cheek glowed with fresher bloom, they forgot that death loves a shining mark, and that

"In the cheek the fairest, he

But the fairest throne doth see!
Though the roses of the morn
Weave the veil by beauty worn;
Aye, beneath that broidered curtain
Stands the archer, stern and certain!

lf a languid weariness took the place of elasticity and grace, they little thought her young life had been chilled by a cold breath from the grave. If her brow grew pale and her smile faded, they little fancied it was the shadow of the pall. Days and nights of excitement through the quick lapse of months passed over her, and her parents counted not the "heavy interest in the tomb" they must pay for those brief hours of pride and triumph. They could forget the future in the gay dreams of the present, but they could not unclench the iron hand of mortal sickness when it had once firmly grasped its prey.