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196 one should read, not only for its account of the fortune-teller, but for its beautiful descriptions of the scenery around Lynn, especially of the bold promontory of Nahant, whose fine beach, invigorating sea air, and, more than all, its grand, rugged old rocks,—the grandest I have ever seen,—washed by the waves of old Ocean, make it the most delightful of summer resorts."

The gifts of nature are of no rank or color; they come unbidden and unsought: as the wind awakes the chords of the Æolian harp, so the spirit breathes upon the soul, and brings to life all the melody of its being. The following poem recalls to recollection some of the beautiful yet solemn strains of Miss Landon, the gifted "L. E. L.," whose untimely death at Cape Coast Castle, some years since, carried sorrow to so many English hearts:—

'Twas on a glorious summer eve,—

A lovely eve in June,—

Serenely from her home above

Looked down the gentle moon;

And lovingly she smiled on me,

And softly soothed the pain—

The aching, heavy pain that lay

Upon my heart and brain.

And gently 'mid the murmuring leaves,

Scarce by its light wings stirred,

Like spirit voices soft and clear,

The night wind's song was heard;

In strains of music sweet and low

It sang to me of peace;