deep solitude of its groves; or at times lulled to a plaintive moan, like the parting gasp of some dying creature: the wide lake, no longer placid, heaved with the violence of the storm, while its waves broke against the shore with a murmuring sound which the ear of fancy, might have almost imagined to be a lament for the devastation the winds of Heaven were committing all around.

But the war of elements was unheeded by the inhabitants of Waldegrave; or if for a transient moment they listened, it was only when the low croak of the raven, or the hollow screech of the night-bird, fell on the shrinking ear, as they mingled with the blast, which rushing wildly by, disturbed their ivy-sheltered repose with unwonted fury: these sounds alone wakened the momentary attention of the dwellers in that ancient castle. A stately tree of their forest, was bending beneath a deadlier crush than that of the tempest and which threatened by its fall, to overwhelm the fair and fragile flower that bloomed so gracefully by its side!

Yes!-the icy hand of DEATH was upon Conrade Waldegrave, and the low moan of suppressed agony, and the stifled sob of tearless anguish, alone were heard to proceed from the darkened apartment where the agonized Lena kept her fearful vigil over each change that stole across those beloved features, which the insatiate grave ere long would hide for ever from her aching vision.

But a few brief months of unalloyed happiness had been theirs and the fell destroyer with unerring aim, levelled his shaft at the bosom of the destined victim, and even then it rankled there festering the immedicable wound it had inflicted.

How changed was Lena, from the bright sunny being, who had so lately at the altar pledged her vows of immutable fidelity; vows alas! too soon, apparently, to be returned to her in all their native purity. Terror at the idea of losing him who was her all of happiness, had attenuated that sylph-like form with incredible celerity, it had stolen the roses from her cheek, the lustre from her eye, and the lightness from her step: who then might recognize in the pale and lonely watcher by the bed of death, the beautiful being who so short a time before, had shone a star almost too bright for earth: a flower whose fragrance seemed too pure for human inhalation! But so it was! and consciousness seemed almost passing from her own spirit, as she wiped from the forehead of Conrade, those drops of agony which too truly told a tale of desolation to her heart. Cold, icy cold, wasthe motionless hand she clasped in her's and all-faintly

fluttered the pulses so lately beating with the warmth and animation of health; the filmy eye was fixed on the gentle being it so loved to gaze on, as if it should be the last object which met the failing sight and at periods a smile that "was not of the earth," passed over those altered features, as if to re-assure the drooping Lena and breathe of hope and resignation.

No parents shared the sorrows of the unhappy girl, for they were miles away, unconscious of the pangs that goaded their child almost to madness: no sympathizing friend supported and soothed her in that hour of bitter trial, for Agnes Montravers was mingling in scenes of brightness afar, unthinking that aught save happiness surrounded the cherished friend of her early years. Thus was Lena, the high-born, gentle Lena, doomed to watch the fast receding powers of her adored Conrade, in that remote situation her romantic fancy had chosen as a temporary home, without one friend or relative to soften the horrors of that painful scene, or to soothe her agony when the silver cord of life should burst asunder, and the beatings of that heart which throbbed with such devoted love for her, be stilled for ever. She thought not of herself, but him and tears which before had been denied her, fell warmly on his face, as she leaned over to wipe the dew of death from his pale forehead. She kissed his whitening lips, and he felt both the tears and the kiss. Affection struggled for utterance, and after many efforts burst the icy chain which bound it, and in a whisper, which breathed of the tomb, he faintly said :

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Weep not Lena, my own love, my heart's idol, for we shall meet again. Yes! meet again in a world of immortality, purified from all those sins which defile us in this imperfect state of being. You will not be lonely, Lena, after I am gone, when you think of this, and know that I am happy: oh! happy far beyond human conception, and awaiting you to join me in those peaceful realms, where 'the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.'"

Exhausted by exertion, the departing sufferer sank back on the pillow from which he had half arose, and the sobbing Lena administered a cordial, which, after a few minutes, revived him, and again he spoke :

"We had hoped for many sunny years on earth, my Lena, but heaven has seen fit to divide us ere those dreams of bliss were realized. Oh! bow, my gentle love, in spirit, to His chastening hand, and exclaim with me-" Thy will be done."

"Even now, when the icy current of death is chilling around my heart, the palmy wreath of immortality is preparing for me

in a world of never-fading bliss: I feel it in my inmost soul; I hear it in every sound,--even the wild rushing of the tempest without brings conviction on its wings; and all that remains on earth for me to do, my Lena, is to request that you will pray with me-for me. Oh! still, still clasp my hand in yours, dearest, that when my failing eyes close in darkness, I may know you are near."

The heart-riven Lena, and her attendants, knelt around the couch, and as her faltering voice breathed forth that pure prayer, she saw the film of death gathering thickly over those eyes, which had never gazed on her save in kindness, and her frame shook with intensity of agony. But the awful moment was not yet arrived; the paroxysms of pain were past for ever, and mortification had commenced its silent work of destruction. Calm as a sleeping infant lay the dying Waldegrave, and the faint respiration alone told of his existence. The medical attendant threw a glance of commiseration on the pale, despairing countenance of Lena, as with one hand she clasped that of her husband, and with the other pressed her throbbing temples, while the expression of unearthly wildness in her eyes told how fearful was the havoc committing by repressed sorrow within that guileless bosom. But no persuasion could induce her to retire, and she sat like one entranced, gazing fixedly on the marble features of Conrade, until day once more returned, and the fatal crisis arrived. The glassy eyes, so long motionless, lighted up for a transient moment with all their wonted expression, and the pale lips moved as if uttering the farewell-the last farewell: a faint pressure of the hand-a few fluttering, deep-drawn breaths, and the disembodied spirit winged its flight to a home "not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." The parting glance revealed the fatal truth to Lena; he was gone, and she was desolate. She gazed for a few minutes in alarming vacancy on the inanimate form, and then uttering a wild, a never-to-be-forgotten shriek, in which was embodied all that can be imagined of anguish and despair, she threw herself on the still warm remains.

The excitement of suppressed agony had done its deadly work of fell destruction; the fragile cords of life were drawn all too-tightly; and when raised from her prostrate attitude, the young, the beautiful—the loving and the loved, was beyond the reach of human misery, or human consolation;-the silver threads of existence had snapped in twain, and Lena Waldegrave was gone for ever.

THE SNOWDROP.

Flow'ret of purity! its spotless hue,

So pure and chaste, of timid modesty

And innocence such semblance bears, to me
It seems a gem might fitly wreathe the brow
Of e'en the fair Alethe;-symbol true

Of her own vestal mind. Ere nature deck
Her fair in sunny smiles, 'mid kindred snow

This flow'ret blooms, as though to mourn the wreck
Of its gay garden sisters. And when Sol
Would lure it with his golden smile it shrinks
Back to its lowly hiding place. Methinks
I've heard why 'tis thus sad and pale.
'Tis told-if I remember right the tale-
How once a fair and gentle girl was won
To the embraces of Latona's son:

But soon the truant God abused his power;
The Maiden died; her spirit sought this flower.

ETA.

ESSAY ON THE DRAMA.-No. 1.

"The Stage is the abstract and brief chronicle of the Times."

THE drama was instituted originally, to adroitly insinuate into the human mind, the .pure principles of morality, under the appearance of pleasure, and to create a reformation in the manners of vicious people. For virtue, it should be borne in mind, if faithfully represented, interests the whole family of mankind. If persecuted, she is like the lofty and majestic oak, great in herself, firm, and immovable, amidst the pitiless stormwhilst to the benevolent mind, her distresses always excite pity, love, and admiration. Happily, she is neither vain, nor ostentatious; and her power becomes ultimately the instrument of her beneficence. Virtue, when fairly represented, becomes a fit subject for emulation, and is in fact a pattern for mankind to imitate. It is by exhibiting virtuous characters in all their forms, that the spectators become acquainted with the advantages arising from benevolence, sound morality, and purity of

conduct. On the contrary, vice may be still more easily imitated, for unfortunately in the present condition of society, crime stares the most virtuous and pious characters in the face, at every step its baneful effects are visible, from childhood to the age of decrepitude—ambition, love of money, and jealousy are the proximate causes of crime-and as the poet truly observes, that

"Vice is a monster of such hideous mien,
That needs but to be hated to be seen."

Thus do Theatres, "hold the picture up to nature," and become an important adjunct to every civilized nation, and the legislative councils should be for ever anxious to extend their fostering influence, and protect them by wise laws, unfettered by prejudice or fanatical motives,-for the reader, I feel assured, will agree with me, that talent must exist on the part of the dramatist as well as in the actor, in order that the passions and phenomena of the human mind, should be faithfully depicted: so as to cause imitation to seem reality, to affect the feelings of the spectators, so that they may actually profit by the examples represented before them-for the stage only causes the peculiarities of our fellow creatures to be presented to our senses, and thus while we have the motes in our own eyes, we can see the vices and follies of others, which ought to be avoided in ourselves, and the beauties of virtue and morality that ought to be imitated. Thus, the stage becomes an auxiliary to the pulpit. The pious preacher earnestly entreats his hearers to avoid crime and practice virtue, but the stage represents and practically illustrates what has been enjoined in the sanctuary. It is part of human nature to follow what they consider pleasure in any form voluntarily, rather than as commands, and that argument is the surest to prevail which awakens our pleasure, whilst it, at the same time, conciliates our interest.

As I have slightly observed, it is true that in those nations where dramatic performances are best cultivated, so will the people be the most refined and enlightened. The Romans, so celebrated at one time for the majesty of their empire, and the severity of their manners, were not a little indebted to the stage for that brilliant and polished taste, which enlarged their understandings, and extended the glory of their own.

Greece has transmitted to posterity a more just and splendid, though a prior title to fame; which after all was only an improvement on the monstrous, though singularly ingenious, and astonishingly magnificent spectacles of ancient Asia.