nimitably sublime is inspired language--and
'turneth the shadow of death into morning.' And how comforting the
promise conveyed," said Mary, earnestly.

"Miss Irving, don't you admire Cassiopeia very much?" said Dr.
Bryant, wishing to turn the current of her thoughts. "I think it very
beautiful, particularly when it occupies its present position, and, as
it were, offers to weary travelers so inviting a seat. Yet often I am
strangely awed, in gazing on the group so enveloped in unfathomable
mystery. Who may say when another of its jewels shall flicker and go
out? And when may not our own world to other planets be a 'Lost Star?'
How childish associations cling to one in after years. I never looked
up at Cassiopeia, without recalling the time when my tutor gave me as
a parsing lesson, the first lines of the 'Task'--literally a task to
me (mind I do not claim the last as original, for it is a plagiarism
on somebody, I forget now who). My teacher first read the passage
carefully over, explaining each idea intended to be conveyed, and
at the conclusion turned to an assistant, and remarked that
'with Cassiopeia for a model, he wondered chairs were not earlier
constructed.' I wondered in silence what that hard word could signify,
and at length summoned courage to ask an explanation. A few nights
afterward, visiting at my father's, he took me out, pointed to the
constellation, and gave the origin of the name, while, to my great
joy, I discovered the resemblance to a chair. Ah! that hour is as
fresh in my memory as though I stood but last night by his side and
listened to his teachings.

"Yes, who will deny the magic influence of association? After all, Dr.
Bryant, it is not the intrinsic beauty of an object that affords us
such delight, but ofttimes the memory of the happy past, so blended
with the beauty viewed as scarcely to be analyzed in the soothing
emotions which steal into the heart. Such a night as this ever reminds
me of the beautiful words of Willis, in his 'Contemplations;' and,
like Alethe, I often ask, 'When shall I gather my wings, and, like a
rushing thought, stretch onward, star by star, up into heaven?'"

A silence ensued for several moments, and then the cry of "Water!"
"water!" fell refreshingly on the ears of the wearied travelers, and
the neighboring stream was hailed as joyfully as was in olden time the
well of Gem-Gem.

Soon the tents were pitched, and a bright crackling fire kindled.
Florence, declar