interfused, but the prevailing impression to be a sad one. The story
might consist of the various alterations in the feelings of the absent
lover, caused by successive events that display the true character of his
mistress; and the catastrophe should take place at their meeting, when he
finds himself equally disappointed in her person; or the whole spirit of
the thing may here be reproduced.

Last evening, from the opposite shore of the North River, a view of the
town mirrored in the water, which was as smooth as glass, with no
perceptible tide or agitation, except a trifling swell and reflux on the
sand, although the shadow of the moon danced in it. The picture of the
town perfect in the water,--towers of churches, houses, with here and
there a light gleaming near the shore above, and more faintly glimmering
under water,--all perfect, but somewhat more hazy and indistinct than the
reality. There were many clouds flitting about the sky; and the picture
of each could be traced in the water,--the ghost of what was itself
unsubstantial. The rattling of wheels heard long and far through the
town. Voices of people talking on the other side of the river, the tones
being so distinguishable in all their variations that it seemed as if
what was there said might be understood; but it was not so.

Two persons might be bitter enemies through life, and mutually cause the
ruin of one another, and of all that were dear to them. Finally, meeting
at the funeral of a grandchild, the offspring of a son and daughter
married without their consent,--and who, as well as the child, had been
the victims of their hatred,--they might discover that the supposed
ground of the quarrel was altogether a mistake, and then be wofully
reconciled.

Two persons, by mutual agreement, to make their wills in each other's