m
In remembrance. I shall sink as sinks
A stranger in the crowded streets of busy London,
A few enquiries, and the crowds pass on,
And all's forgotten. O'er my grassy grave
The men of future times will careless tread
And read my name upon the sculptured stone;
Nor will the sound, familiar with their ears,
Recall my vanished memory. I had hoped
For better things; I hoped I should not leave
This earth without a vestige. Fate decrees
It shall be otherwise, and I submit.
Henceforth, oh, world! no more of thy desires,
No more of hope, that wanton vagrant hope;
Now higher cares engross me, and my tired soul,
With emulative haste, looks to its God,
And prunes its wings for heaven.

--KIRKE WHITE.

AN EMBARKATION SCENE.

A short time since, I found among other papers, one containing an
account of the embarkation of a few detachments to join their
respective regiments, then engaged in the Burmese war, in India. It
was written almost verbatim, from the description by one, who was not
only an eye witness, but who took an active part in the proceedings of
the morning. As so very many similar and trying scenes are occurring
at the present time, among our devoted countrymen, leaving for the
Crimea, it may not be wholly uninteresting now; as it is founded on
facts, which alas, must be far, very far, out-numbered by parallel
facts and circumstances.

Having business at Gravesend, I arrived there late at night, and took
a bed at an Inn in one of the thoroughfares of that place; I retired
early to rest, and was awakened in the morning by the sound of martial
music; and ever delighting in the "soul-stirring fife and drum," I
jumped out of bed and found it was troops, about to sail for India; I
therefore, dressed myself and strolled down to the beach to witness
what, to me, was quite a novel sight, the embarkation.

It was a clear bright morning in June, and the sun was shining in full
splendor, while the calm bosom of the beautiful Thames reflected back
all its dazzling effulgence. The river was studded with shipping, and
to add to the beauty of the scene, two or three East Indiamen had just
anchored there, and as I viewed them majestically riding, I could
easily fancy the various feelings their arrival would create, not only
in the breasts of those who were in these stately barks, but of the
hundreds of expectant friends, who were anxiously awaiting their
return. With how many momento