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2 train, and the eyes are closed by languor before sleep.

The day had been oppressively hot, but now a heavy dew fell, and a cool wind stirred the trees. The flowers raised their heads, and repaid the moisture by exhaling their hoarded sweetness; the thrush sang a few notes, low and soft, like the unconscious expression of enjoyment; and the cypresses, whose spiral heads had declined in the heat, now stood upright, stately and refreshed. The last hue of crimson had died away in the west, and the depth of the rich purple atmosphere was unbroken.

"It is too dark," said the young sculptor, as he let his hand fall listlessly by his side, and stood gazing on the bust, as only the lover who looks on the face beloved, and the artist who looks on his own work, can gaze. The tenderness of the one, and the pride of the other, were blended in the youth's countenance. Again he resumed his seat, but not his employment; the lulling influence of the time was upon him. Sunshine, like truth, would have been too strong for such dreams as those in which he was indulging; but they harmonised with the dim shades now flitting round. Suddenly one of those rose-edged clouds in which a chance sunbeam lingers to the