woe, haunts me, till I can hardly endure my own reflections."

I asked him if he had heard anything definite from him since his defalcation and flight. "Oh, yes," said he, "as he took large sums belonging to our creditors, they pursued him, but his disguise prevented their taking him; would to God they had, that he might have had space for repentance, for, alas! he became one of those wretched gamblers who frequent the steamers on the great western rivers, and was killed suddenly in a rencontre with one of his vile associates; he died, my heart bleeds to think of it, with imprecations and curses on his lips: Oh, that parents and children would think more of early culture.”

Before I left I saw Lucette; although twentyseven years of care and sorrow had taken off the bloom and the sprightliness of the bright girl just in her teens whom I saw at her father's elegant mansion, yet I thought her expression far more interesting and precious than it was then; for now was seen the sweet smile, radiant of immortal joys, the placid brow, revealing eternal

hopes, the tearful eye, expressive of more grateful emotion than tongue can tell, with a gentle, subdued demeanor, and earnest affection and devotion to her father which none could see without admiring.

Thus I have given you, my young friend, the recital, which, as inculcating and illustrating the benefits of youthful piety even in this life, and the ultimate success of high and virtuous aims, is appropriate and interesting, none the less so for being-founded on fact.

ECHO SONG.

BY ELIZA T. P. SMITH.

ON the shores of the Adriatic the women come down to the shore at nightfall and sing, then listen for a response from their husbands and friends on the water, that they may be guided home by the sound of their voices.

Soft and slow.

@b 3
b-b4

ADAPTED BY S. HILL.

The cur- few

tells the closing day, The

Women sing.

HE curfew tells the closing day,
The last sun-rays have left the bay
And the shore:

Night overspreads the sea and land,
Speed, speed thee on, O faithful band,
Hasten o'er.

Men echo.

Now list! O hark! and echo bear
Response to those we hold so dear
Swiftly now:

O soon we'll all so happy meet,
And joyous hearts a welcome greet,
Row, lads, row.

Women sing.

O hasten, brothers, come to land,

The moon hath dipped her silver wand
In the wave:

Sweet breezes here, and fragrant flowers
Invite us to the evening hours,

Come, ye brave.