Some to the fevered city's toil and grime,
And some o'er distant seas, and some--ah! whither?
Nay, we shall never meet as in the time,
The dear old time when we were all together.

And some--above their heads, in wind and rime,
Year after year, the grasses wave and wither;
Ay, we shall meet!--'tis but a little time,
And all shall lie with folded hands together.

And if, beyond the sphere of doubt and crime,
Lie purer lands--ah! let our steps be thither;
That, done with earthly change and earthly time,
In God's good time we may be all together.

* * * * *

A TRUE STORY.


Alone in the world! alone in the great city of Paris, a world in itself!
alone, and with scarcely a livre in my purse!

Such were my reflections as I turned away from the now empty house, in
which for two-and-twenty years I had dwelt with my poor, wasteful,
uncalculating father. My father was a scholar of most stupendous
attainments, particularly in Oriental literature, but a perfect child in
all that related to the ordinary affairs of life. Absorbed in his
studies, he let his pecuniary matters take care of themselves.
Consequently, when death suddenly laid him low, and deprived me of my