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EDWARD MANN FIELD.

DR. FIELD was born in Belfast, on the twenty-seventh of July, 1822. He was educated at Bowdoin College, in the class of 1845, and received his diploma from the Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia, in 1848, having subsequently passed two years in the Hospitals of London and Paris. In 1850, he commenced the practice of his profession in the city of Bangor, where he still remains.

MY SISTER.

I REMEMBER how I loved her,

When a little guiltless child,
I saw her in the cradle

As she look'd on me and smil'd.
My cup of happiness was full-

My joy words cannot tell;
And I bless'd the glorious Giver

• Who doeth all things well.'

Months pass'd - that bud of promise

Was unfolding every hour;
I thought that earth had never smiled

Upon a fairer flower.
So beautiful it well might grace

The bowers where angels dwell,
And waft its fragrance to His throne

Who doeth all things well.'

Years fled — that little sister then

Was dear as life to me,
And woke in my unconscious heart,

A wild idolatry :

I worshipp'd at an earthly shrine,

Lured by some magic spell, Forgetful of the praise of Him

* Who doeth all things well.'

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She was the lovely star, whose light

Around my pathway shone,
Amid the darksome vale of tears,

Through which I journied on.
Its radiance had obscur'd the light,

Which round His throne doth dwell,
And I wander'd far away from Him

• Who doeth all things well.'

That star went down in beauty

Yet it shineth sweetly now,
In the light and dazzling coronet,

That decks the Saviour's brow.
She bow'd to the Destroyer,

Whose shafts none may repel, But we know, for God has told us,

'He doeth all things well.'

I remember well my sorrow,

As I stood beside her bed,
And my deep and heartfelt anguish,

When they told me she was dead.
And oh! that

cup

of bitterness Let not my heart rebel,

He took — He will restore — • He doeth all things well.'

God gave

MELVILLE WESTON FULLER.

MELVILLE WESTON FULLER is a native of Augusta, and a son of the late Frederic A. Fuller, Esq., who was a lawyer of that City. He was born on the eleventh day of February, 1833, and passed his early years in his native city, where he prepared himself, by a course of self-education, for Bowdoin College, and at the age of sixteen was admitted as a Freshman. He graduated in 1853, with distinguished honor, and has since then devoted himself more particularly to the study of law, in the office of George M. Weston, Esq., of Bangor, but at the present time is a member of the Harvard Law School, at Cambridge.

REMORSE.

I MAY not flee it ! in the crowded street,

Or in the solitude by all forgot, 'Tis ever there, a visitant unmeet,

Deep in my heart, the worm that dieth not.

There is no consolation in the thought

That from her lips no chiding words were spoken,
That her great soul on earth for nothing sought,

Toiling for me until its chords were broken.

Too late, the knowledge of that deep devotion !

Too late, belief of what I should have done!
Chained to my fate, to suffer the corrosion

Of my worn heart until life's sands are run.

Why should I weep? why raise the voice of wailing ?

Why name the pangs that keep me on the rack ?
Or prayers or tears alike were unavailing,

She has gone hence ! I cannot call her back.

And I alone must wander here forsaken

In crowded street or in secluded spot,
From that sad dream, oh never more to waken

Or cease to feel the worm that dieth not.

FANNY PARKER LAUGHTON.

This gifted young lady is the only daughter of Dr. Sumner Laughton, and was born in the village of Orono, on the fifteenth of January, 1836. For several years her parents have resided in Bangor. At an early age she gave evidence of great native talent, and when only ten years of age wrote very creditable verses. She has contributed a number of poems of a high character to the Eastern Mail,' Waterville, and the Daily Mercury,' Bangor, under the signature of Inez.

CASTLES IN THE FIRE.

ALONE in my room one wintry night,

When the world without was dark and cold,
I gazed in the glowing coals, whose light

Flitted over the walls like rays of gold ;
And I saw a castle glittering bright,

And a shining banner, with many a fold,
Waved over the battlement's gilded height,
And
gay

forms bent from the turrets old.

I looked again, 'twas changed ; and where

Were the gardens bright with the proud and gay?
A dim old church was the castle fair,

And the knights were mouldering tombstones grey.
But the banner waved on the lonely air,

Slowly it waved ere it sunk to decay,
And in burning lines it was written there,

Thus do the beautiful fade away!'

And still I gazed, - it was changed once more ;

A bright lyre twined with a laurel wreath,
Seemed on the listening air to pour,

With a music tone its mystic breath ;
The shadows gathered the hearthstone o'er,

But the golden harpstrings seemed to breathe,
As the firelight danced dimly on the floor,

• 'Tis Thought alone that may conquer Death!'

GEORGE W. SNOW.

GEORGE W. Snow, Esq., was born in the city of Bangor, on the thirteenth of May, 1809. He has written much, but little of which, however, has been published, owing to its adaptation to celebrations, anniversaries and the like occasions.

THE TEMPEST DRIVEN.

Adown the gulf, adown the gulf

The trembling vessel flies!
No shore or welcome haven near

To glad the seaman's eyes.

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