gination oft conjures up a troop of fairy beings
with bright wings, stealing away into the dim recesses of the
shadowy forest. And often, when the noon-day sun renders the
air oppressive with his heat, I wander into the depths of that
forest, where the giant trees, forming a vast arch overhead,
exclude the glare of summer, and produce a soft, delicious
twilight. My favorite resting place is upon a mossy bank, near
which flows a crystal brook whose dancing waters murmur with a
melody almost as sweet as the low breathings of an Aeolian
harp.--Here, with a volume of philosophic Cowper or
fascinating Scott, I sometimes linger until twilight begins to
deepen into darkness, and then return to meet with smiles the
playful chidings of my husband, for my protracted absence--an
offence he can easily forgive, if I present him with a bouquet
of wild flowers gathered during my ramble; although he
laughingly calls the floral offering a bribe.

We have almost succeeded in banishing the remembrance of our
past sorrows, and look forward to the future with trustful
hope. I am happy, Alice--very, very happy; and oh! may no care
or trouble ever o'ershadow our tranquil home.

CONCLUSION

'So on your patience evermore attending,
New joy wait on you--here our play has ending.'

[SHAKESPEARE]

Reader, our task is done. Thou hast kindly accompanied us through our
rambling narrative, until the end; and now it but remains for us to
dispose of the _dramatis personae_ who have figured in the various
scenes, and then bid thee farewell.

Frank Sydney and his beautiful Sophia were united in marriage, and are
now residing in one of the most romantic spots to be found in all New
England. Sophia has long since ceased all correspondence with her
wretched and abandoned mother, who has become the keeper (under an
assumed name) of a celebrated and fashionable brothel in West Cedar
street.

Josephine Franklin terminated her miserable existence by poison
(procured for her by her own mother,) on the day after her marriage with
Mr. Thurston, who, when he beheld the hideous deformity of his bride,
instead of the beauty which he expected, recoiled with horror--and after
bitterly reproaching her, drove her from his presence, bidding her never
to let him see her again, and refusing to make the smallest provision