So much for the experiment of taking boarders, after the lapse of a single
quarter of a year.

(To be continued.)

* * * * *

DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY OF SIXTEEN.

BY MRS. L.G. ABELL.

Oh, I cannot, cannot think of her without a starting tear;
So late, in youthful loveliness, I felt her presence near:
Her healthful form of fairest mould, I seem to see her still,
And to hear her sweet and gentle voice, as the voice of summer rill.

Her eye of blue, like azure sky of clear pure light above,
With soft silk fringes on the lids, shading the deepest love,
Was a light that gleamed from out the heart, and its rainbow hues
revealed--
A ray from its own full happiness, too full to be concealed.

At twilight's calm and silent hour, on the hushed lake's quiet breast,
I saw her gliding joyously, as glide the waves to rest--
And music, too, was on the air, soft as Eolian strain;
But I thought not then that Death was near, a victim soon to gain.

Oh, can it be that this is life!--a thing so frail as this!
Like a lovely flower that only smiles to give one thought of bliss--
That blooms in light and beauty a fleeting summer day,