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Rh bloom, will only expand in time to form our funeral garland? It is even more solemn than mournful to gaze upon the far blue sky, and feel, in the dimness of the soon-wearied sight, how, pass but a little while, and the whole will have faded from our view—its beauty never more to be heightened by the tender associations of earth, and its rain and shine shedding vain fertility on our grave.

The mysteries of this wonderful universe rise more palpable upon the departing spirit, so soon to mingle with their marvels. A voice is on the air, and a music on the wind, inaudible to other ears, but full of strange prophecies to the ear of the dying:—he stands on the threshold of existence, and already looks beyond it; his thoughts are on things not of this life; his affections are now the only links that bind him to the earth, but never was their power so infinite,—all other feelings have passed away. Ambition has gone down to the dust, from which it so vainly rose; wealth is known to be the veriest dross of which chains were ever formed to glitter and to gall; hope has resigned the thousand rainbows which once gave beauty and promise to the gloomiest hour;—all desires, expectations, and emotions are vanished—excepting love, which grows the stronger as it