sketched-and carry the reader a few days onward.

There, in the lone room of deep solemnity lay a coffin, containing all that remained upon earth of William Andrews. Rebecca, and Mary Ann were there, and among those who had met to assist in the rites of funeral interment, I appeared, as his friend. It was indeed a day of mourning and a day which I shall never forget; laden as it was with the sad reality of the past, and the far distant hopes of the future. Such a vacancy too appeared in this little family, that every sigh, and every tear-drop seemed to tell that one of their number had left his place.

That day, we followed him to the last resting place prepared for him on earth. Solemnly indeed were the services on that occasion concluded, and deeply in our bosoms sank the lesson which they brought. The evening of the day was devoted, as such evenings should be, to reflections upon the nearness of our own souls to the dark tomb and eternity! Nor will the recollection of that sorrowful night ever leave me. Then it was, that all his virtues and all his endearments were brought to mind; and in soft accents a weeping sister spoke of her brother's worth, and shewed some relics which remained of his affection while living; and then too, were the notes of our evening praises sent above to the throne of the eternal.

Many events since that day have brought me in

connexion with the two sisters, and many a tributary sigh to a brother's memory, has told me he was not forgotten by them; and on many a page has the name of 'Poor William' been inscribed by those who loved to call forth the retrospect of one, who for his gentle qualities was ever courted as a friend. Often has it been my lot to converse with Rebecca of the immortality of a better world; and I can truly say, that the loss of one in some degree, awakened in the minds of those who remained, a desire to pursue the unimpaired bliss of a heavenly mansion.

Oh! it is a vain world, which shows its gilded toys, and lures millions on in a mistaken path, at last to hurl destruction on their heads as recompense.

Of Mary Ann I have but a few words to say; for not only did she strive after those better objects, which her brother had gone before her to enjoy, but kept in mind his dying words of consolation to her, that they should all meet with their parents above! To this end were her spare hours devoted; and although all around beheld her pale cheek, and brilliant eye, as the prophetic messengers of wan disease, yet she perceived not the approach of the king of terrors, until he had announced the very words of his summons. Then, like a flower of tender hope, the fairest, and youngest departed; to take up her rest where there is neither sorrow, nor weeping any more.

Each moment of her time revolves,
And nearer heralds death,

But Oh! a Saviour's power dissolves,
The terrors of his breath;

So, shaken trees around her home,
Which April blossoms bore,
Foretold the hour would surely come !
When, she should be no more!

And now a few small opening flowers,
Bedeck her lonely tomb,

And faintly, as the twilight hours,
Display their tender bloom ;-

But she is gone! in spirit free,

Far, far from earthly pain;

No night is there-no stormy sea-
No bitter galling chain.

Thus was it the will of heaven, that so many of this family should be cut off from the land of all living, and in graves, far separated from each other; rest, until the voice of the archangel's trumpet shall awaken them to meet their Redeemer. Then shall parents and children, in one happy band, assemble in that blessed home prepared for them, never again to part.

We must now bid adieu to the family of Andrews; for, seeing how frail is the bark of human life, which is continually tossed on a tempestuous ocean; we can no more expect our friends and companions to remain with us, for a long continuance; than, that the leaves of autumn should not forsake their parent trees. -Adieu, Rebecca.

THE WATERFALL.

SEE, from the mountain, how majestical
The gushing torrent headlong takes its way;
A thread-like stream at first, but in its fall,

How glistens in its foam, the sun's bright ray!

Hark! now it speaks, and joins in Nature's mirth— "No home is there for me on yonder steep,

But in the darksome caverns of the earth,

Or 'mong the billows of the troubled deep.

"Yet, soon may dawn the morning of young spring,
And I be called to mount in genial showers-
To spread abroad in heav'n my dewy wing,
And be the parent of earth's thousand flow'rs!"

So life, just issuing from its narrow cell,

Treads in its course a long and rugged road;
Slowly begins the trembling sail to swell,
But time swift wafts it, to its last abode.

A few short years the mystery all unfolds,
We read it plain in fair creation's book;
We leave each spot the mem'ry dearly holds,

And of our kindred take the last fond look!

K

O that we then may find a better home,

And through eternity dwell near our God, Where trembling tempest-clouds can never come;The realms all pure that mortals ne'er have trod;

Yes, on we haste-nor old nor young can stay
The hand of death, that blasts our green leaves all:-
Downward we fly, and kiss our rocky way,
Just like the blithsome, bounding, waterfall!

THE PARTING GIFT.

TO COMMEMORATE THE DEPARTURE OF MR. GEORGE GRIFFIN FOR ADELAIDE, SOUTH AUSTRALIA, MARCH 4th, 1839.

Go ye to seek a fairer home,

In distant lands away?

The ocean rocked in gusty foam,

Can surely bid thee stay:

In courts thy feet have trod so long,
All those whom thou hast met
To mingle with in holy song,
Would gather with thee yet;
And 'mid the altar's incense air,
Pour forth again the soul of prayer.