pture with which the Abbey abounds. But for us, gay in
disposition, and scarcely allowing ourselves time for reflection, such
a scene had few charms, unless, indeed, the English Spy could have
separated himself from the buoyant spirits with which he was attended,
and then, wrapt in the gloom of the surrounding scene, and given up
to serious contemplation, the emblems of mortality which decorate the
gothic pile might have conjured up in his mind's eye the forms of many a
departed spirit, of the blest shades of long-lost parents and of social
friends, of those who, living, lent a lustre to the arts, of witty
madcaps frost-bitten by the sable tyrant Death, nipped in the very bud
of youth, while yet the sparkling jest was ripe upon the merry lip, and
the ruddy glow of health upon the cheek gave earnest of a lengthened
life------But, soft! methinks I hear my reader exclaim, "How now,
madcap, moralizing Mr. Spy? art thou, too, bitten by the desire to
philosophize, thou, 'the very Spy o' the time,' the merry buoyant rogue
who has laughed all serious scenes to scorn, and riding over hill, and
dale, and verdant plain upon thy fiery courser, fleet as the winds,
collecting the cream of comicalities, and, beshrew thee, witling,
plucking the brightest flowers that bloom in the road of pleasure to
give thy merry garland's perfume, and deck thy page withal, art thou
growing serious? Then is doomsday near; and poor, deserted, care-worn
man left unprotected to the tempest's rage!" Not so, good reader, we are
still the same merry, thoughtless, laughing, buoyant sprite that thou
hast known us for the last two years; but the archer cannot always keep
his bow upon the stretching point; so there are scenes, and times, and
fancies produced by recollective circumstances and objects, which create
strange conceits even in the light-hearted bosom of the English Spy.
Such was the train of reflections which rushed in ~324~~voluntarily upon
my mind as I noted down the passing events of the day, a practice usual
with me when, retiring from the busy hum of men, I seek the retirement
of my chamber to commit my thoughts to paper. I had recently passed
through the depository where rest the remains of a tender mother--had
sought the spot, unnoticed by my light-hearted companions, and having
bedewed with tears of gratitude her humble grave, gave vent to my
feelings, by the following tribute to a parent's worth.

MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.

Beneath yon i