have been mentioning; but how, at the sunset of life, coming events cast their shadows before," is a mystery too abstruse for our mundane faculties. It is equally impossible, we suspect, even to conjecture, with any degree of plausibility, whether these premonitions result from any internal consciousness, or external agency; --from some latent power of the mind suddenly called into action, or from the immediate influence of that Mighty Being, of whom it is only an emanation. Be this as it may, we have adduced a sufficient number of proofs to answer all the purposes of our argument; and to set our thinking readers reflecting on a subject of great, and most interesting importance. R. HOME. When on the last far height, we pause to throw In all its wanderings still the heart is true To that lov'd scene where its young feelings grew : Still o'er the waste of sorrow unforgot, Though brighter lands beyond the ocean lie, A voice in every.breeze; in leaves that hung When, in the silent night, his infant glance Thou who in foreign lands hast lonely stray'd, Know'st when the winds had wafted some sad strain, Seem'd not a voice to hail thee from that shore, That home, perchance, revisited no more, Save when in dreams, beyond the power of Fate, Flies to that far, but unforgotten land, Where first upon the eye creation dawn'd Where, like sweet flowers, the heart's pure feelings sprung, Ere yet the weeds of passion round them clung? But when the fleeting days of youth depart, And from their dream awakes thy cheated heart, Though fair as ever all its scenes remain; Though steals as soft each murmuring stream along, There's something sadly changed-the heart,-the heart But, oh! how sad his fate whom early crimes Is heedless where its number'd throbs are told; That parts for ever sure as doth the grave! Alone divides the living from the dead! Through the long night, the night of fate and fear, How have they sigh'd for that!--the wanderers gone To sweep those sullen seas where Winter piles While the long night hath clos'd around them there Ye links that bend us to our place of birth! The boundless North, earth's regions cold and ruđe Untrod by him would Switzer's mountains rise; Unknown the rapture through his heart that thrills, Home! where the morn of life in brightness rose ! What though thy joys and sorrows, deep, not loud, A gorgeous garb redeem the fool within; Thine the first friendship, and the earliest love, Hobart Town, August, 1833. H. E. R. There is a pleasing melancholy in pacing the pebbly shore, and gazing on the glassy waters, as the sun is slowly sinking in the western horizon. The musing mind recalls the scenes of passing hours, and the incidents of early life flash vividly on the memory. The stillness of all around forcibly depictures the dying Christian, like the orb of day gloriously sinking into eternity, and can it fail to warn the meditator that ere another sun shall rise to glad the face of Nature, he himself may be crumbled in the dust. These thoughts, to some, may be appalling, but for me I have a mind warped to melancholy, darked perhaps by the follies and ingratitude of the world. In my twilight wanderings, the following incident has frequently occurred to my recollection. It was a splendid morning in the fall of the spring of 1828, when I reached the township of The fields, covered with the most luxuriant verdure, the trees loaded with the fullest blossom, and the fragrance of flowers, together with a lovely azure sky", tended to impress the mind with the brightest visions. It was a festive day, for the "pride of the vale," the lovely Ellen-was that day to bestow her hand in wedlock on a youth of the neighbouring district. She was the daughter of a gentleman in affluent circumstances, who had emigrated about five years previous, and the neatness and comfort of his estate fully betokened the opulence of the owner. From the impediments to travelling, which then existed, there were but few to witness the ceremony, beside the friends of both parties. My attention was forcibly attracted towards a young man, habited in deep mourning, who, upon enquiry, I ascertained had but recently arrived in the Colony. He was a playfellow of the intended bride and her sister in England, and viewed by them in the light of a brother, for they had none on whom to bestow that tender epithet. His countenance was of a deadly paleness-his dark hair hung negligently over his forehead -his lip was bloodless-and his eye of a glassy lustre, combined with his sable attire, gave him an unusually ghastly appearance. He spoke not, smiled not, and seemed totally lost to the surrounding objects. The hour for departure to the district church now drew nigh, and the fair girl was summoned from her" tiring room." She was certainly" the pride of the vale," for though I have traversed many portions of the globe, I have seldom seen one so interesting. Her sylph-like form seemed scarcely to press the earth. Her golden hair flowed in playful ringlets round a neck fair as the glittering snow drop, and her cheek outrivalled the young pomegranate hue. A lovely blush overspread her countenance as she entered; but her eye, resting on the youth whom I have described, a slight tremor pervaded her frame, and the roses of her cheek faded as he advanced to greet her. It was but momentary, for by a seeming effort the color re-animated her cheek, and She bent on another her bright blue eye, That dawns in climes of the south. We now proceeded to the church. I felt a sort of interest for the young man in mourning, for I was convinced he was a prey to some inward anguish. I endeavoured to enter into conversation with him, but found it fruitless, and contented myself with narrowly watching his countenance, which was intensely fixed on the intended bride. She met his gaze twice, and again the colour forsook her cheek, and an unbidden tear started in her eye; and I almost fancied that her apparent gaiety was assumed. The betrothed pair stood before the altar-the ceremony commenced-but how can I depicture the agony of the youth beside me. The large drops rolled down his forehead-he breathed with difficulty-and as the ceremony concluded, uttering a wild shriek, he fell senseless at my feet. He was borne into the open air, and on baring his bosom, a small gold locket, appended to a blue ribbon, discovered itself. I immediately recognized the hair of the new bride, and the truth flashed upon nie. On his recovering, I endeavoured to induce him to accompany me to the cottage, but with a harrowing smile he declined my solicitations, and, with a haughty bend, turned in the direction leading to the ocean. But there gleamed in his eyes a sepulchral fire; A wan and unearthly light, And they gazed, when you gazed, with a steadfastness dire, |