would merely inform me, that her mother died soon after her birth, and that he had remained a widower for his daughter's sake. They had lived without separation for a day; they had met the troubles and shared the enjoyments of life with each other; and they had existed as if they both had but one heart and one wish, until the father was summoned and the daughter was left. “It is for him I mourn, Sir," she said, “but I trust my sorrow is that of grateful remembrance, and not of vain repining. I hope and believe that I am resigned to the will of Him who is my father's Father, as well as mine. "Although it would be idle in me to occupy your attention," she continued, "by any account of the life of him who lies beneath yonder mound of clay, it may be well to tell you somewhat of his death, for his last moments may teach a lesson to more than one." I expressed my earnest wish to hear some particulars of that which I felt assured could have been no common event; and after she had pointed to a seat somewhat nearer to her father's grave, she stated them to me. "Sir," said she, "the last time we walked out together, we entered into this peaceful dwelling of the dead, and together we sat down on the very mound that is now his grave. I never shall forget the calm resignation that was in his look, when he said to me→→→ "Rosalie, my child, my only child, how happy are those who know there is a home beyond this house of clay; a home, to which death is but the passport.' "I listened, but neither strove to lessen nor increase the feeling which told him, too truly, he was not long for this world. My heart would not let me do the one, nor my reason the other. I saw that his thoughts were bent on heaven, and I could not permit a hope of earth to come between them and it. "He went home, and laid on the bed, from which he did not again arise. I never shall forget the morning of his death. The casement of his little chamber was open, and the sun was shining beautifully upon his pillow an emblem of that Providence, which is " no respecter of persons,' but which shineth upon the desolate and the solitary, as well as on the happy and the great. "He called me to his bedside, for I was looking through the little window, and marking the bright clouds as they were gradually giving way and becoming less and less. “My daughter,' said he, 'in my earlier days I was thoughtless. I looked to my own strength; and for all my blessings I never gave the Almighty the return he asks-a grateful heart. As years advanced, I became scarcely less careful of the things that endure when others have departed-less worthy even than the man who had his lord's talents. I had many which I employed worthlessly, and never to his glory. Time is passing, and eternity is near. I will not spend the little breath remaining, to tell you how worthlessly I lived, until I became an alien alike from my God and my country. Reflexion did not come soon,-long, long, I rebelled,-blessed be God, it did come at length; and now I have nothing left to do on earth but to prepare to render my soul into the hands of God, to beseech his blessing on a dear and dutiful daughter, and to shew that daughter how a Christian can die.' "He pressed my hand gently-there was a smile on his features, and his lips murmured, as if he was endeavouring to breathe another blessing on me, and to express again his confidence in the Almighty. He murmured forth the name of the Redeemer, and, without a sigh or groan, expired." When the young female had concluded this account, she rose from her seat; "and now, Sir," said she, "you will please to leave me, that I may return to the daily duty from which the sight of an Englishman led me away." She waved her hand as she spoke, curtesied, and left me to cherish and increase the feeling to which her words had given birth. I felt that I was an intruder on her solitude, and passed onward towards another part of the garden, meaning to return when I conceived her duty might have been performed, to ask her other questions of her parent and herself. It is a circumstance which I shall regret as long as I live, that the mazes of the cemetry led me astray, and it was not until nearly two hours afterwards that I again found the exile's grave. The mould was neatly smoothened all around it; the flowers were blooming sweetly; and some scattered aromatic leaves sent their fragrance towards heaven: but the exile's daughter was gone; and as I had no clew by which I could trace her out from among the tens of thousands of the crowded city, my first meeting with her was my last. H. |