bent, and with the raven of his hair is blended the faintest tinge of
gray, though he is evidently a man to whom the meridian of life is yet
far in the distance; his fine countenance is sad, yet as he gazes far
out o'er the sea, deep in his piercing eye is a subdued look of
resignation, shedding light over his features, which a stranger might
attribute to a mind of happiness; and yet that look of sadness is
oftenest triumphant, leading those who meet him for the first time to
ask from whence he came, for his countenance betrays that his has been
not the common lot of man. Ah, who is he,--on whom young men and maidens
look with pitying eye? to whom the old man lifts his hat, and little
children cease from their sports as he passes, and quietly slip the
innocent daisy, or the sweet-scented arbutus into his hand, which they
have culled from the wide commons, where, they have been told, the good
Sea-flower loved to stray.

It is Clarence Delwood! his has been a bitter, bitter draught; yet its
dregs have in a measure lost their power, for he has learned that 't is
his Father holds the cup. Little, did he think, as they sat together
there on that high bank, which overlooks the sea, upon that last evening
spent with his cherished one in her island home, that it was to be the
last forever! that her voice would no more be heard! in glad response to
nature's shouts of joyousness. Yet, as alone he sits beneath the silent
night, there where she last told to him her love, he fancies that the
stars in pity smile upon him, and as one more gentle than the rest,
leaves its place in the heavens and slowly descends, drawing nearer and
nearer, finally resting upon the bosom of ocean,--he listens, for the
music of her harp strikes upon his soul, and in the crested billows
which play at his feet, a shining form he sees, her robe all sparkling
with the pearly drops of the sea. He would fain go to her, as she smiles
upon him, as was ever her wont, but a voice he hears, saying, "not yet,"
and the bright one recedes from his view.

Reader, you may visit Nantucket's sea-girt isle, you may walk those
peaceful shores where she loved to roam; you may meet there that lone
man on the shore; you will approach him with feelings of deep regard,
not unlike reverence; but do not hesitate to inquire of him for the
grave of the Sea-flower. With eyes fixed upon the ocean's blue, pointing
with his finger heavenward, he will direct you to a grassy mound, at
wh