he drawing room. It was suppressed and soft--so
sweet that it melted into the heart in very stealth. Ah! it is gone.
"Home, sweet home!" Poor Paine! like you, wandering in the friendless
streets of England's metropolis and listening to your own sweet song,
breathed from titled lips in palatial Homes, the listener to-day was
homeless. He thought of you and the convivial hours he had passed with
you, listening to the narrative of your vagrant life, and how happy you
were in the poetry of your own thoughts when you were a stranger to
every one, and your purse was empty, and you knew not where you were to
find your dinner.

Genius, thou art a fatal gift! Ever creating, never realizing; living
in a world of beauty etherialized in imagination's lens, and hating the
material world as it is; buffeted by fortune and ridiculed by fools
whose conceptions never rise above the dirt.

A little note, sweetly scented, is placed in his hand:

"Cousin and I propose a ride. Shall we have your company? You are aware
it is the Sabbath. You must not, for us, do violence to your
prejudices."

"Is this," thought he, "a delicate invitation to save my feelings, and
is the latter clause meant as a hint that they do not want me? Well,
the French always, when a compliment has as much bitter as sweet in it,
take the sweet and leave the bitter unappropriated. It is a good
example. I will follow it. Say to the ladies I will accompany them."

"The horses are all ready, sir; and the ladies bonneted wait in the
drawing-room."

The sun was in the tree-tops and the shadows were long. There was a
flirtation going on between the leaves and the breeze. The birds were
flitting from branch to branch. A chill was on the air: it was bathing
the cheek with its delicious touch, and animated life was rejoicing
that evening had come.

Arriving at the great mound of the temple of the sun, with some
difficulty they climb to its summit. So dense is the shade that it is
almost dark. Here are two graves, in which sleep the remains of the
grand-parents of these two beautiful and lovely women. All around are
cultivated fields clothed with rich crops, luxuriant with the promise
of abundance. At its base flows the little creek, gliding and gabbling
along over pure white sand. Sweet Alice! How sad she seems! She stood
at the grave's side, and, looking down, seemed lost in pious reverie.
Every feature spoke reverence for the dead. Her cousin, too, was
silent; and if no