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knew by those agonising tears that my folly had met its own punishment, and I fainted away again.

I will not tire you with the account of my long recovery. It was only when I was convalescent that my mother put a letter in my hand, whose every word is engraven on my memory. It was from Albert. By the date I knew that it was written on the night of that fatal ball. The note had neither address nor signature. " Farewell," it said, " and forever. I see that I have been deceived ; but-oh ! Mary-that it should have been by you. Never more can I love you, since I cannot longer confide in your truth. Farewell !”

How many tears I shed over that little fragment of paper it avails not to say. I felt that it cut me off from hope ; and I knew that my own folly had brought on this punishment. This aggravated my grief, and long kept me on the borders of the grave. I learned that Albert, having been brought unexpectedly near our village by business, had determined to surprise me by a visit. He had stopped at the house, but hearing that I was at the ball, he had ridden over for me, as he had but a single day to spend at our house. Bitter! bitter ! was that visit to me. And yet my deceit merited such punishment. I never saw Albert after that fatal night. He returned to the distant city of P, and thenceforth I was cured of my vanity. I trust this trial changed me, and made me a different being. And now you know, dear Carry, why I am an old maid, and why a shade of sorrow will often steal over mc. Oh ! take lesson by me, and discard vanity.

My aunt Mary ceased, and as she turned away, I saw her wipe a tear from her eye. The snows of fifty years had not quenched the feelings of her heart ; nor could the lessons of religion wholly remove her sorrow. Often, during her narration; had her voice faltered with emotion From that day I loved my aunt Mary more than ever ; and from that day, I too, I trust, was a better woman. Cincinnati, 1842.

THE ICE SHIP.

Now weeks on weeks, and months have flown, And still her snowy sails are spread ; But now she 's on the sea alone, Where never keel before was sped. Then out from jewel'd grot and cave, Came servants of the frosty king, Leaping and dancing o'er the wave ; Like children wildly wantoning. They sported round the vessel's prow, As if to coax her into play ; And, laughing all the time, they threw O'er bow and stern large showers of spray, And then they pelted her with gems, And scatter'd wreaths upon her deck ; On mast and yard hung diamonds Composed of jewels without speck.

Then round her side they fasten'd strings, Long strings of diamonds, pure and bright, And rows of that fair stone that flings Out from its heart a sea-green light. Heap after heap they threw and piled, "Till all became one glittering sheet ; And the good ship as though beguil'd By their fond witch'ry, grew less fleet.

And sluggishly she lagged along ; Then laugh'd the frost king's imps jocund, And in their ice bands, bright and strong, The goodly ship they firmly bound. They fann'd the green sea with their wings, And with their breath they cooled the waves, And all around grew fairy things, Castles and cities, vales and caves. All bright and wondrous things were they, A mammoth jewel every one ; And in the midst that chain'd ship lay Glittering in the cold, cold sun. And then the sailors where they stood They seized, and with their icy breath They bound their eyes and chill'd their blood, And left them fast asleep in death.

There lies that ship, she and her crew, Fast prison'd in that frozen sea, And on her deck the winter through The frost imps keep their revelry, And each poor sailor is a light To gild that frozen banquet hall, Each standing on the deck upright, A ghastly, glittering icicle.

BY EDWARD YOUNG. A SHIP flew o'er the waters blue, Bound for the distant Arctic sea ; The breeze was fair, and aye her crew, Sang "yeo heave oh !" right cheerily. On, on she sped, day after day, And still the pleasant breeze prevail'd ; And oft, upon the watery way, A sister ship she pass'd and hail'd.

Reflecting back the arrowy lights Along the northern skies that play ; Like diamonds that shoot forth at night The beams that they have caught by day. There must she lie ; in vain the sun Of summer strives to thaw her chain, For ere one half the work is done The frost imps forge new links again. Southport, W. T.