102 HOME, & c.
With my eye still on the form of Miriam, I applied my utmost force-her hand beckoned ine
on.
“I gazed around, a physician was near my bed, and my friends were watching me with anxiety depicted upon their faces. I attempted to move, but was too weak. I slowly recovered my strength, and felt that with physical powers, I acquired mental energies and capacities of directing my thoughts. To what had passed that night, I was fully sensible, and I learned that the building in which I was confined, was struck by lightning, and I was dragged, bruised and lifeless from its smouldering ruins. The shock I had sustained, may have restored in some measure, my shattered senses-but still agitation, disquiet, and one train of thought unsettles me.
“It was not long before I recovered sufficient strength to leave the house. I was no longer watched. I visited every spot along the shore consecrated by the remembrance of Miriam's instructions. You, who never knew confinement, who was never shut out from life and its engagements, cannot judge of my feelings, when again I set my foot upon these sands. 1 gazed over the bay with inexpressible fondness. I bared my bosom to the cooling breeze from the waters-I stretched out my arms, as if the yielding air could be embraced-how 1 doted upon every hill and rock, and with what ecstacy did I remark that I was alone. There were none to gaze upon my expressions of fondness, as there were surely none who could understand them.
“There is, scarcely a rod beyond us, a brook which rises near the road above us, and finishes its most limited course here in the bay. In the shade of that rock, I kneeled and bent over the stream to drink. I started back with amazement -sickness might have wrought much upon my face-but my hair, which, when last reflected from that surface, was black as the raven's, was
now bleached to the whiteness of snow, and this was grief-mental anguish.
“Among the few articles left by Miriam, appeared a gold coin-almost unobserved, I smoothed the piece, and with my knife 1 etched upon it her name and age, and at night I visited her grave. There was neither stone nor hillock to denote it, yet I knew the spot, and with an iron bar, I forced an opening from the surface to the coffin, and I dropped into it the piece of gold. I heard it fall upon the decaying tenement of her sacred frame, and filling the aperture, left the place.
“The coin which I had deposited, would have purchased a splendid monument for Miriam, but her memorials should be like her virtues-pure, rich, and unobtrusive.
“Should any event lead to the disturbance of the dead in yonder cemetery, her resting place may be recognised by the coin, with this simple legend : -
' HERE SLEEPS
MIRIAM DAVIDS,
DAUGHTER OF ABRAHAM JOSEPHS,
A NATIVE OF SALTZBURG, IN TRANSYLVANIA. ' “I have done. From that time, I have spent my days upon this shore and the distant beach, combatting, at seasons, with the disposition of my mind to wander, leading a useless and an unhappy life. When again we meet, I will place in your hands, the manuscripts of Miriam. I. cannot trust myself to read them. "
A few days following that on which the unhappy man concluded his narrative. I met him in his usual walk; when he put into my hands the manuscript, which he had promised, together with a small package containing papers, which he himself wrote during his confinement. These perhaps, I should not publish; but I have his permission to print the whole or any part of Miriam's writings. A liberty which I shall use, upon any reasonable intimation of curiosity on the part of my readers.
1
HOME.
On! if there be on earth a spot
Where life's tempestuous waves rage not, Or if there be a charm-a joy-
Without satiety, or alloyOr if there be a feeling fraught
With ev'ry fond and pleasing thought, Or if there be a hope that lives On the pure happiness it gives, That envy touches not-where strife Ne'er mingles with the cup of life; Or if there be a word of bliss, Of peace, of love-of happinessOr if there be a refuge fair, A safe retreat for toil and care, Where the heart may a dwelling find, A store of many joys combin'd, Where ev'ry feeling -ev'ry toneBest harmonises with its own, Whence its vain wishes ne'er can rove, Oh! it is Home! -a home of love.
THE METEOR.
YE, who look with wondering eye, Tell me what in me ye find, As I shoot across the sky, But an emblem of your kind.
Darting from my hidden source, I behold no resting place; But must ever urge my course Onward, till I end my race!
While I keep my native height, I appear to all below Radiant with celestial light, That is brightening as I go.
When I lose my hold on heaven, Down to shadowy earth I tend, From my pure companions driven; And in darkness I must end!
