book, when I quitted my home, and followed your father to the bleak mountains of Savoy. I give it you, Pierre, and in doing so, I give you my greatest treasure! I know it nearly by heart, and can repeat its blessed words to my remaining children.' She folded her arms round us both; for by this time Jaques had returned from his pursuit, and laid his face in her lap. The tears at last streamed down her cheeks, and she consigned us to the protection of our Almighty Father, charging us to love each other, and to read our Bible night and morning. I have obeyed her will; and all I now hope is, that my little Jaques" (here his voice faltered, and his brother clasped his arms around him with all the intensity of agonized feeling)" all I wish now is for some friend to protect my dear Jaques; and," continued he, "promise me, Jaques, before this lady, that if ever you get any money, you will return to St. Veaux, and tell my mother that Pierre suffered hunger and thirst, and much trouble, but that he never forgot to read the holy book of God. Give it back to her, Jaques, and tell her I return the sweet blessing she gave me, and that she must not weep, for I am happy." Little Jaques wept aloud: "Pierre ne mourra pas," and although his marmotte crept closely to him, he heeded it not. "Pierre ne mourra pas," he repeated incessantly; but the fiat had gone forth, and the boy's happy spirit was fluttering in its clay-built tenement, anxious to escape to its God. I promised him that I would protect Jaques. His eyes beamed for a moment, as in the days of healthfulness and peace Ma mere vous

benira," he faintly replied. He then remained still for some time, and at last motioned his brother. Jaques understood him, and, clasping his hand, he sang, or rather chaunted, with broken voice, the following words:

Ecoute moi, je te prie,

Quand je crie,

Eternel! exauce moi;

Du bout du monde mon ame,

Te reclame,

Triste et n'esperant q'uen toi!

A sigh escaped the lips of Pierre as he finished the verse, and his spirit passed into that world where "the weary are at rest."

It is now nearly ten years since Pierre died; and Jaques, for whom a pleasing and lucrative employment was obtained, has been enabled to pay a short visit to his parents among the mountains of his native country, to return her Bible into his mother's hands, and to tell her that she had not " cast her bread upon the waters" in vain. In the church-yard where the remains of the young Savoyard are at rest, a tombstone, containing the following inscription, has been recently placed by the grateful and affectionate Jaques :

PIERRE DE CASTON,

SĮ JEUNE

ET SI BON!

¿PIERRE—TU M’A quitte!

A. M. H.

ON A NIGHT-BLOWING CEREUS.

BY THE LATE MRS. HENRY TIGHE.

THESE moments stolen from sleeping hours,
Thou fairest, frailest of all flowers,

To thee I dedicate;

For, ah! before to-morrow's dawn,
Thy present beauty will be gone,
So transient is thy state.

Thoughts, while I gaze, crowd on so fast,

I seize my pen in eager haste,

Lest they should perish too;

Instruction to attentive hearts,

Our God by various means imparts→→
Him in this plant I view.

Why so much beauty lavish'd here,
Fragrance, that fills the ambient air,
But gratitude 't' excite?

Well pleased, parental goodness gives
To all that on his bounty lives,

The means of pure delight.

Whilst hanging o'er th' exotic bloom,
Approaching fast, I see its doom,
Its life is but a span;

I gaze, I weep, but not for thee,
Thou dost but show my destiny,

And that of mortal man.

In strength and beauty, man appears
Fitted to stand the shock of years-

We look, and lo, he's gone;

He sinks untimely to the grave,

Nor friends nor riches then can save, Nor birth, nor high renown.

And is it thus with life, I cry,

Thus do my short-lived pleasures die,
And yet to life I cling?

And dream I still of bliss below,

Where disappointment oft, and woe,

The soul with anguish sting?

Thus have I seen the faithful friend,

O'er some loved object fondly bend, And watch the slow decay,

Exert in vain the healing art,

Then with a hopeless, broken heart,

Resign to death its prey.

Come, ye fair flowers of human race,
Adorned with each external grace,

Come, learn th' unheeded truth;

For you these glories are displayed,
'Tis thus ye blossom, thus ye fade,
E'en in the bud of youth.

Give me those joys that perish not,
Give resignation to my lot-

The gifts of earth inthral :

Thy gracious presence, Lord, impart, 5
Speak peace and pardon to my heart,
And let the world take all.

'Tis wisdom's voice-I hear her say,
To young and old, Seek God, this day::.

To-morrow is not yours.

The sacred pages all declare,

Redeeming mercy, sought by prayer,

Eternal bliss insures.

But see, these streaks of orient light,
Remind me of departing night,

And coming day foretell.

The faded flower no longer blows,

Its stamens droop, its petals close 18 9 1 Sweet monitress, farewell.