Thou hast rested on the casement white,
Which the lilac boughs are shading,
Where I greeted the morning's rosy light,
Or looked on the sunset fading.

Tell me, then, bird with the snowy breast!

Of a spot beloved forever;

Of the pleasant walks which my steps have prest, Where now they may linger never.

With thee, I would gladly hasten there,
If wings to my wish were granted;
To the trees that

grew 'neath my father's care, And the flowers my mother planted.

For dearer the simplest blossom there,

Its sweets to the morning throwing,

Than the choicest flower that perfumes the air, In a kingly garden growing.

Vainly I strive to restrain the tear,

The grief like a spring-tide swelling,

When my thoughts return to the home so dear, That is now a stranger's dwelling.

And while I turn me away to weep,
A host of memories waken,
Like the circle spreading upon the deep,
Or drops from the foliage shaken.

Should fate, where affection clings so strong,

A heart from its Eden banish?
Should it suffer a scene to charm so long,
And then like a vision vanish?

I read reproach in that glance of thine,
For words of repining spoken;

When my brow with the olive thou wouldst twine,
I reject the peaceful token.

O, how can a heart be still so weak,
Though ever for strength beseeching,
That from each event would some lesson seek,
And scorn not the humblest teaching!

Trustful, and gentle like thee, sweet dove,
To the watchful care of Heaven;
With unshaken faith in a Father's love,
Be the future wholly given.

I will bid my heart's vain yearnings cease;
I will hush this useless sighing;
Thy visit hath brought to my spirit peace,
Thou dove to my window flying!

SELF-EXAMINATION.

"THANK Heaven! another of these tiresome visits is over,' said Julia H, tossing her bonnet away, and throwing herself upon the sofa.

'Have you not been kindly entertained, this afternoon?' said her mother.

'Why yes,' said Julia, in the tone of one compelled to acknowledge an unwelcome truth; 'yes, Mrs. S. received me very kindly, and her daughters were uncommonly polite and attentive; but

'What, Julia? Could you desire more from them? Is it not a little unamiable to be displeased when your friends exert themselves so much to make you happy? And Mrs. S. and her daughters, especially, have such an exalted opinion a little politeness from you would do

of you-
them so much good!'

A pause ensued. Julia felt a sense of wrong, for she could not deny the facts stated by her mother. All the kind and almost reverential