* * * * *

ALL TOGETHER.

Old friends and dear! it were ungentle rhyme,
If I should question of your true hearts, whether
Ye have forgotten that far, pleasant time,
The good old time when we were all together.

Our limbs were lusty and our souls sublime;
We never heeded cold and winter weather,
Nor sun nor travel, in that cheery time,
The brave old time when we were all together.

Pleasant it was to tread the mountain thyme;
Sweet was the pure and piny mountain ether,
And pleasant all; but this was in the time,
The good old time when we were all together.

Since then I've strayed through many a fitful clime,
(Tossed on the wind of fortune like a feather,)
And chanced with rare good fellows in my time;
But ne'er the time that we have known together:

But none like those brave hearts, (for now I climb
Gray hills alone, or thread the lonely heather,)
That walked beside me in the ancient time,
The good old time when we were all together.

Long since, we parted in our careless prime,
Like summer birds no June shall hasten hither;
No more to meet as in that merry time,
The sweet spring-time that shone on all together.

Some to the fevered city's toil and grime,
And some o'er distant seas, and some--ah! whither?
Nay, we shall never meet as in the time,
The dear old time when we were all together.

And some--above their heads, in wind and rime,
Year after year, the grasses wave and wither;
Ay, we shall meet!--'tis but a little time,
And all shall lie with folded hands together.

And if, beyond the sphere of doubt and crime,
Lie purer lands--ah! let our steps be thither;
That, done with earthly change and earthly time,
In God's good time we may be all together.

* * * * *

A TRUE STORY.

Alone in the world! alone in the great city of Paris, a world in itself!
alone, and with scarcely a livre in my purse!

Such were my reflections as I turned away from the now empty house, in
which for two-and-twenty years I had dwelt with my poor, wasteful,
uncalculating father. My father was a scholar of most stupendous
attainments, particularly in Oriental literature, but a perfect child in
all that related to the ordinary affairs of life. Absorbed in his
studies, he let his pecuniary matters take care of themselves.
Consequently, when death suddenly