happily of separation. To leave you, the better to
return, is bearable--even pleasurable--to the
heart's noonday mood. But I have been steeped for a
summer, now, in a presence of visible and breathing
loveliness, (that you cannot forbid me to speak of,
since language is too poor to out-color truth,) and
there will come moments of depression--twilights of
deepening and undivided loneliness--hours of
illness, perhaps--and times of discouragement and
adverse cloudings over of Providence--when I shall
need to be remembered with sympathy, and to know
that I am so remembered. I do not ask you to write
to me. It would entail difficulties upon you, and
put between us an interchange of uncertainties and
possible misunderstandings. But I can communicate
with you by a surer medium, if you will grant a
request. The habits of your family are such that
you can, for the first hour after midnight, be
always alone. Waking or sleeping, there will then
be a thought of me occupying your heart, and--call
it a fancy if you will--I can come and read it on
the viewless wings of the soul.

"I commend your inexpressible earthly beauty, dear
Stephania, and your still brighter loveliness of
soul, to God's angel, who has never left you.
Farewell! You will see me when I am worthy of
you--if it be necessary that it should be first in
heaven, made so by forgiveness there.

* * * * *

_Cell of St. Eusebius, Vallambrosa--day-breaking_."

A BUTTERFLY IN THE CITY.

BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.

Dear transient spirit of the fields,
Thou com'st, without distrust,
To fan the sunshine of our streets
Among the noise and dust.

Thou leadest in thy wavering flight
My footsteps unaware,
Until I seem to walk the vales
And breathe thy native air.

And thou hast fed upon the flowers,
And drained their honied springs,
Till every tender hue they wore
Is blooming on thy wings.

I bless the fresh and flowery light
Thou bringest to the town,
But tremble lest the hot turmoil
Have power to weigh thee down;

For thou art like the poet's song,
Arrayed in holiest dyes,
Though it hath drained t