best of nurses. Besides, was not the knowledge that his love was returned, and the sweet companionship of Kate sufficient to ensure his recovery, without other medicaments? It was not long before he was well enough to walk out, leaning on ber arm; and one of his first visits was (o the various localities of the baule-tietd.
“Here,” he said, “ was where Stirling was posted, and with his antiliery, checked the enemy's advance. ‘Thet epor, ciose by the parsonage, you well know; for there Wayne made his terrible stand.”
"Ah! I remember it,” said Kate, “aud how, while the desperate selec continued over the corpse of Col. Monckton, I thought of the etruggie for the dead body of Hector. And then I prayed for my country’s cause.”
“And hore,” continued Mowbry, * was the spot where I stood, with the antilery of Knox, The general says, you know, that (be way in which we served our pieces had much to du in deciding the victory. Here is where I feil.”
Kate pressed ber lover's arm, at these words; and, after a momentary glance at the wampled earth, turned shuddering away.
“I thank God, dearest,” sbe said, “daily, nay! hourly for hie mercy in spuring you, where so many have fallen, Yet I thank him, too, that you bave been instromental in assisting to establish the liber- ties of our country, But the nightair grows chili, aud you are yet weak—we must go back to the house.”
A few months subsequent to these events, Mowbry and his fair cousin were both reconciled, as he had predicted, to their uncle: the more readily, perhaps, because the Stanley estates would have been in tome danger of confiscation, if the next heir had not been such a patriot as our hero,
Again the old mansion was lighted up for @ bridal, but thie time the male guests were Auericun, not British officers; and aguiu a commander-in-chief honored the fete with kis presence, bat now it was Washington, not Sir Wiiliam Howe. Nor did the bride disappoint the company, as on a former ocea- nion; but went through the ceremony, if not without agitation, certainly without unwillingness,
THE DAY OF LIFE.
BY J. M. WILLIS GEIST.
The solar beams of rising morn
‘Come dancing o'er the Eastera bills,
As ebou night from earth is torn,
‘And gladdening day hor empire fille;
Sweet warbling puices Gill the groves,
‘While living Natore swarms sbrood—=
‘Oh, lovely day! thy opening proves
‘The sovereign influence of our God.
Meridian suubeame gild the earth
‘With variegated hues of life,
While prognant Nature groane in birth,
With riches big, with blessings ripe?
The sturdy oxen browsing now
Beneath the ouklets? spreading al
Enjoy a respite from the plough,
‘And graze well pleased the neighboring glade,
The day-god, walking o'er the wos,
His fading glory Gushes buck,
And Binge bis mellow light on me,
Love teacing his diurnal track—
‘Wherein I road the fight of Time
‘Which meseures off each mortal’s span,
Aud learn thie truth for every elime—
Esch day unfolds the type of man?
The morning of our life advenes
Yn innocence aud infant peace;
‘Maternal love and fairy seene
Come bounding forth as daya increane;
‘The prattling glee of childixh bearte
‘Dintlln aveet music nil around,
And young unbroken Hope imperts
Pure joy to pleasures early found
The noontide nf omr mortal years
Comes rushing on with woiay speed,
And seeds of sorrow hopes aud feare—
‘Are seatterud o'er life's dowy mead;
‘Within the beautiful parterre
Which faney nurtared for our owa,
(How prove tho sanguine miud te ere)
‘The weede of sin aud etrife are growa.
The evening of our life draws on,
Tae flickering ump begina to wanes
Oor pilgrim race is lost or won—
A Tace wo ne’er can run agai!
‘Oh, then it aveme a litile while
Siuce aporting in our childieh glee,
‘When manly strength and Portunc’s emile
Gave Guttering hopes of years tu be.
When sinking in the arms of death
And bidding fondest friends ndiea,
How aweet (o yield our fleeting breath
I inhale the life of Heavenly dew !
Tu make our pillow on hie breast,
‘Who made hia bed on flery wrath
‘To purchase everlasting rett,
And lead us in bis Heavealy path!
Tis aweet to think when gloomy night
Throws her dark mantle o'er the ye,
That morning with hia rory tight
Will gild again our lovely sky
And thus when sleeping out the close
Of mutual life's allotted span,
How sweet to dream of that repnee
Which Heaven gives Inamortal man!
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