When the sun’s first ray approacheth,
        Ushering in the noonday light;
    When the noise of day encroacheth
        On the silence of the night;
    When the dreams depart that blest us
        In the hours forever fled,—­
    In which friends long gone carest us,
        Friends we number with the dead,—­
    Comes this thought, Ye ne’er shall hear them,
        Ne’er shall see the friends ye love;
    Voices say, “Ye shall be near them,
        With them in the world above.” 
    When within the grave’s enclosure
        Ye do drop the silent tear,
    Tremble not at its disclosure,
        Myriad spirits hover near. 
    Hark! they whisper, do ye hear not,
        Mingling with your rising sighs,
    Words that bid you hope, and fear not,
        Angel-voices from the skies? 
    And as dust to dust returneth,—­
        That which held the gem you love,—­
    Thine afflicted spirit learneth
        It will meet that gem above. 
    Thus whene’er a friend departeth
        In my soul I know ’t is right;
    And, although the warm tear starteth,
        As he passes from my sight,
    I do know that him I cherish
        Here on earth shall never die;
    That, though all things else shall perish,
        He shall live and reign on high. 
    And, that when a few hours more
        Shall have passed, then those I love,
    Who have journeyed on before,
        I shall meet and greet above.

THE VILLAGE MYSTERY.

About fifty miles from a southern city, about five years ago, a most mysterious personage seemed to fall from the clouds into the midst of a circle of young ladies, whose hours and days were thenceforth busily employed in quizzing, guessing, pondering and wondering.

He was a tall, graceful-formed gentleman, wearing a professional-looking cloak, and buff pants, tightly strapped over boots of delicate make, polished up to the very highest capabilities of Day and Martin.  He had no baggage; which fact led some wise-headed old ladies to report him to be a gentleman of leisure, a literary millionaire, it might be, who was travelling through “the States” for the purpose of picking up items for a book on “Ameriky.”  The old men wagged their heads, and looked most impenetrably mysterious.  The young men became jealous.  To be sure he was not superlatively handsome, but he had a foreign air, which was considerable among the girls; and his appearance indicated wealth, for his dress was of the first quality and cut.  He had half a dozen glistening rings on his hands; he wore a breast-pin of dazzling brilliance; and every time he moved a chained lion could not have made more noise, and clatter, and show with his fetters, than he did with a massive double-linked chain, that danced and flirted upon his crimson vest.

Abby and Nelly, the belles of the place, had each had an eye upon the new comer, since he passed by the splendid mansion of their abode, casting a sly glance up to the open window at which they stood.