With haughty brow; and, on his ragged coat
Looked with contemptuous scorn? Oh yonder see,
Carelessly basking in the mid-day sun
They lie, and heed him not;--little thinking
While there they triumph in the blaze of noon.
How soon the dread annihilating hour
Will come, and death seal up their eyes,
Like his, forever. Now moralizer
Retire! yet first proclaim this sacred truth;
_Chance_ rules not over Death; but, when a fly
Falls to the earth, 'tis _Heaven_ that gives the blow.

--BLACKETT.




COQUETRY.


It was in one of the most picturesque parts of South Wales, on the
banks of the lovely Towy, that two ladies sat working at an open
casement, which led into a veranda, covered with clematis and
honey-suckle. The elder of the two might be about fifty, perhaps not
so much, for her features bore traces of suffering and sadness, which
plainly told, that sorrow had planted far deeper wrinkles there than
time alone could have done. The younger, an interesting girl of
nineteen, bore a strong resemblance to her mother; they were both
dressed in deep mourning. The room which they occupied, though plainly
and simply furnished, had yet an air of taste and elegance.