life has been a life accurst
From youth, and yet I live;
The Future may be overcast,
But never darker than the Past!

My mind will grow, as years depart
With all the winged hours;
And all my buried seeds of Art
Will bloom again in flowers;
But buried hopes no more will bloom,
As in the days of old;
My youth is lying in its tomb,
My heart is dead and cold!
And certain sad, but nameless cares
Have flecked my locks with silver hairs!

No bitter feeling clouds my grief,
No angry thoughts of thee;
For thou art now a faded leaf
Upon a fading tree.
From day to day I sea thee sink,
From deep to deep in shame;
I sigh, but dare not bid thee think
Upon thine ancient fame--
For oh! the thought of what thou art
Must be a hell within thy heart!

My life is full of care and pain--
My heart of old desires;
But living embers yet remain
Below its dying fires;
Nor do I fear what all the years
May have in store for me,
For I have washed away with tears
The blots of Memory:
But thou--despite the love on high--
What is there left thee but to die!

MR. JUSTICE STORY, WITH SOME REMINISCENT REFLECTIONS.(4)

WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE.

BY A. OAKEY HALL.

The hurrying pedestrian in Wall-street, or in some of its bisecting
avenues of commercial bustle, if he have time to glance over his shoulder,
is sure to observe a freshly-painted piece of tin (its brief rhetoric
revelling in the pride and pomp of gold leaf alphabetically shaped),
denominated by lawyers "a shingle"--setting forth that some sanguine
gentleman has then and there established himself as an Attorney and
Counsellor at Law.

The sign is by the front door, shining with self-conceit at the passers
by; and its owner is up some weary stairway, yawning over "twice told
tales" of legal lore, copying precedents for the sake of practice, or
keeping hope alive upon the back benches of the court-rooms in listening
to the eloquence of his seniors while _he_ is waiting for clients.

Heaven help many a young attorney in this "babel" of money-getting. The
race should be prayed for in churches: and it should meet with a
consideration as nearly divine as mortals can call up from crowded
heart-chambers.

Well: the sign keeps nailed up: and by and by the sun blisters it, and
dries out the pomp of the gilded letters, and perhaps the owner yawns over
his one case, or s